Kindred of the Fallen (10 page)

The flowing give and take of their merged streams energized her body better than eight hours of rest. “I think I understand,” she said, but so much of what he’d explained escaped her.

If only he had more time to help her understand. Cyrus stroked her arms, wanting to lessen her confusion.

Growing up in House Herut, he never had to explain something as natural and simple as existing or the curse that afflicted their species to anyone before. She must feel like Alice after slipping through the looking glass and landing in Wonderland.

Abbadon entered the room, silent as ever, and lurked near the door. His jacket concealed the arsenal of weapons he now wore strapped to a holster.

Cyrus met his inquisitive gaze.

“They’re here. We have to leave now,” Abbadon said.

Serenity tightened her grip on his hand. “Take me with you.”

Cyrus shook his head. “It’s not safe. I can’t risk putting you in danger.”

“I want to believe the things you’ve told me. I
want
to believe in you, but I need proof. Show me this Kindred with blood rage.”

A golden opportunity to solidify her trust in him and open her eyes to the suffering of their people. But could he keep her safe?

“In time all of your questions will be answered,” Abbadon said as he stepped forward. “You’re too important to jeopardize your safety on a mercy killing.”

Her eyes locked on Abbadon. “Who are you?” Her tone rose.

Cyrus didn’t need to hear the irritation in her voice to know something about Abbadon chafed her. He could sense her emotions clearly in the stream uniting them.

“I am Cyrus’s advisor and protector.”

Clamping the top of her shirt closed, she cut her gaze from Abbadon, dismissing him. “Don’t leave me here,” she said to Cyrus.

“I won’t,” he said, rubbing her shoulder. “You’d be unprotected without Cassian and Talus to safeguard you. I’ll take you.”

“Cyrus, this isn’t wise—”

“This isn’t a debate. After what those mercs tried earlier, they’re liable to do anything. She comes with us and you’ll keep her safe while the rest of us take care of the matter at hand.”

There was no way he could ask his undermanned team to risk their lives while he sat on the sidelines holding his mate’s hand.

Abbadon’s chin lifted as he crossed his arms. “You’ll need all four of us to take down one with blood rage. Besides, I’m no babysitter.”

“You’ll do as you’re told. This is not up for discussion.”

Though his features remained soft, Abbadon’s gaze settled on Serenity, staring at her like he was trying to unpeel the layers of her mind with his eyes.

She edged away, just a step or two, and glanced around the room.

Cyrus took her by the hand back into his bedroom. “Don’t mind Abbadon. He takes some getting used to.”

She halted at the entrance of his closet. He snagged a lightweight body armor vest from the wall. It’d help shield her in a worst-case scenario, but as long as Abbadon did his duty she wouldn’t need it.

He handed her the vest. “Put this on.”

Her jaw hung open as her fingers skimmed the weapons lined on racks opposite his clothes: knives, juttes, a steel tanbo, swords. She stopped in front of a tray of ballbusters—quarter inch metal balls packed with high-yield explosives and set to detonate ten seconds after impact. One could blast through six feet of reinforced steel.

“Be careful with those. They’re highly explosive.” He spun her around, slipped the vest over her head and zipped the side.

“Why do you need all of this?”

“I’m a warrior, love. Sometimes killing is required.”

She gulped, staring at him with doe eyes.

“Does this frighten you?” he asked.

She glanced back at the weapons. “Yes. But you don’t.”

He smiled, took her by the hand and hurried out into the office. Abbadon leaned against the doorframe, arms still locked over his chest. Serenity lowered her head as they passed him. Abbadon trailed behind.

Cyrus cut through the conservatory, out to the courtyard. Her head twisted, taking everything in. This wasn’t the way he wanted to show her the house, snippets in fast-forward that she couldn’t appreciate.

“The others aren’t to know who she is,” he said to Abbadon.

“Why not?” Serenity asked.

If the others knew, they’d scare her off with talk of Blessed mates and salvation. “There’s a time and a place for everything. I need them focused on the mission and nothing else right now. A distraction could get us killed.”

“They’ll ask questions,” Abbadon said. “It’s odd and unwise to bring a…civilian.”

“That’s why you’re going to quash any questions before they arise. See to it.”

Abbadon quickened his pace and rounded a corner on to the lawn out of sight.

Cyrus stopped next to the fountain. “I know you have lots of questions and I promise to answer them when we get back to the house. You’re going to see things, horrible things. The more questions you ask in front of the others, the more it will pique their curiosity at an inopportune time. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“You want me to act as if everything is normal and not ask any questions.”

“Yes. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “One soul split into two different bodies, you’re not human, I’m not human, curses, a closet full of weapons—”

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Please, close your eyes.”

Her eyelids shut and she took a deep breath.

“Listen to the sound of the fountain, the fluid trickle of water. Clear your mind. Root yourself in the current of our merged energy streams. The vitality you feel is my life force flowing into yours. When the two combine it amplifies our anima. You may not understand how, but you feel it as surely as you feel the wind.”

She met his gaze.

“I will show you proof so that your mind can comprehend what your heart and spirit already know to be true,” he said.

He drew her close, yearning to steal a kiss. Her rosy lips parted as if preparing to meet his. What he wouldn’t give for time. Five minutes to savor the taste of her mouth, another ten to learn the lines and curves of her face. He ran his fingers through her wavy hair. In this light, every variation of brown in her curls shone like cocoa beans glistening in the sun.

The sound of the helicopter revving up chopped through his thoughts.

After the mission she would believe him, and then they’d have all the time in the world.

Chapter Eight

On the lawn, a black helicopter with spinning rotor blades sat on a landing pad adjacent to the house. Serenity clenched her hands, longing to feel Cyrus’s fingers interlaced with hers as they hurried to the helicopter.

The armored vest she wore covered her torso and was surprisingly lightweight, but hung loosely, swinging as she jogged beside Cyrus.

From the helicopter, two men seated in front of the controls and Abbadon watched them intently through the windows. She ducked underneath the rotating blades, holding her hair down.

Cyrus held open the door and ushered her into the back. Heads turned and the men stared, but said nothing. He sat close, his leg pressed against hers.

Being near him, touching him was better than being wrapped in a blanket of sunshine—pure bliss. The newfound stasis of their mingled energy stream was like suddenly having more oxygen after existing on the brink of asphyxiation. The ethereal connection joined them beyond touch or words, but she couldn’t shake the disquiet gnawing her.
Not human.

“Where are we headed?” Cyrus asked easily, without the roaring noise she’d expected from movies to muffle his words. The inside of the helicopter was quiet.

“Montauk,” Abbadon said. “We have to euthanize Jude. The bloodlust took him over with little warning. The others are on their way to D.C. to handle an easier case.”

Cyrus’s brow wrinkled and he faced the window. The cords of energy between them wavered as if plucked. On the vibrant ripples sorrow resonated harsh and clear.

Against her better judgment, she reached for his hand, but he checked the strap of his sword and weapons fastened to his utility belt, averting contact. She cupped the edge of the seat. It’d been foolish to attempt to ease the sense of distress flowing from him.

Discretion and the pretense of normalcy, she reminded herself. Not that she should be touching him anyway. If pretending everything was okay led to answers, she could do it.

He opened a black foot locker near Abbadon’s seat. Bundles of coiled metal with leather handles were stacked inside. He hooked one set to his hip. The shiny metal had sharpened ridges and appeared pliable like a steel whip.

Undulations of their shared energy stream softened, returning to sublime equilibrium. He clasped his hand over hers and squeezed gently. A heartbeat later his hand was gone.

The two men she didn’t know sat upfront flying the helicopter, oblivious to their interaction. Abbadon had her locked in his sights, monitoring every gesture and breath. There was something about him she couldn’t quite pinpoint that unsettled her. His brusque manner definitely rubbed her every color of wrong, but something else lurking in his cold eyes stung of a frightening recognition she couldn’t shake.

Paying no attention to the landscape below, Cyrus stared out of the window.

Jude Alucio of House Herut had fallen to bloodlust. Jude had to be euthanized.
Jude.

They were the same age. If blood rage could take him over so suddenly without warning, the same fate he’d soon impose could have befallen him had he not found his
kabashem
. So young, not even close to three hundred years. The torment of the curse afflicted more at an earlier age every day. A millennium ago, Kindred could endure for five hundred years, sometimes six before the torments of the curse laid siege victorious. Now, it had an unpredictable edge, striking old and young alike, wiping their species from the face of the earth.

Jude. Warrior. Kinsman. Beloved brother.

The helicopter circled Jude’s estate. The house was on lockdown. Steel Rolladens covered all windows and doors. A good thing Jude didn’t slack on proper security measures considering the house was practically made of glass. A beauty in the sunlight and stunning views from every room, but containment without the metal shutters would have been impossible.

Krevitch, the human housekeeper waved to them, a frenzied expression upon his face. The chopper touched down on the lawn near the driveway.

Jude no longer existed. It would look like his friend, but Jude’s mind was now lost. The creature suffering inside needed to be set free by the blade of his sword. Jude was already dead.

Cyrus steeled himself and flung the chopper door open. He turned to help Serenity out, but if he touched her the tenuous hold he had on his focus would dissolve. He beckoned her to follow and hurried to Krevitch.

Blood stained the housekeeper’s cheek, ascot and cuff of his jacket. The man stood steady as a tree trunk, but his hands shook.

“I was told to call if anything odd happened,” Krevitch said with a thick Russian accent. “I was told to call if…” He pulled a crumpled business card from his pocket.

Cyrus took the blood soaked card, acknowledging it with a nod. “What happened?”

Krevitch shook his head as the others gathered around. “Jude…he began losing his temper early this morning over little things, the way the table was set for breakfast, a pen running out of ink. Then while Marisa went to change for a meeting, he stared at a painting on the wall for an hour, insisting it was crooked. I checked it with a leveler twice, but he insisted. When she came down, he went into a rage because she’d worn green. His eyes…his eyes…”

His eyes were now the color of blood. Once the eyes changed, it was too late. Krevitch was lucky to be alive.

“I’ve never heard of
sangre saevitas
taking over so quickly,” Abbadon muttered.

It was the fastest case they’d heard of to date. Blood frenzy usually set in slowly, becoming apparent with fleeting fits of madness and rage, taking weeks until the eyes finally changed and the tormented Kindred was completely lost to the affliction.

“Marisa?” Cyrus asked, wondering if she might still be alive and trapped inside.

“He tore through her. She injured him before he finished her. Gave me time to get away. I followed protocol: Shut the house down. Call the number on the card. Wait for help.”

“Where are the others?” Cyrus asked. They always stayed in groups, never alone. Jude had his sister Marisa with him and at least three others from the collective.

“Jude said he was going to be reassigned later this fall. The others had already been summoned back home. That’s what he said.”

“Krevitch, you did well in following the protocol.” Cyrus turned to Serenity. She stared at the human, her face pale. “I need you to stay with Abbadon and to do exactly what he says.”

“Abbadon said you need at least four. He should go with you. I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t leave you out here unprotected.”