Pure Healing (21 page)

“Second…” she hesitated, darting a glance at Rain, and then at Valerius.
Valerius braced himself, knowing that he wouldn’t like the next words to come from the Guardian.
Ayelet addressed the Healer, “Second, if you get close enough to Drako, Rain, you can calm his defenses with your
zhen
,” referring to the needles of Rain’s hair. “Perhaps if he feels your positive energy, he will let down his guard and allow us some time to at least make our case. He can always reject our offer later, but we need him to let us in long enough to be heard.”
Rain was nodding even as Valerius stated, “It’s too dangerous. We don’t know whether we can trust him.”
Rain took one of his hands in both of hers and entwined their fingers to reassure him. “Valerius, the same can be said of us, can it not? Why should he trust us? We are seeking him out in his own home, which he has taken great pains to hide. We are planning to take him out of a peaceful, simple existence into a world of violence and danger. He has every reason to try to thwart us in our mission.”
Valerius opened his mouth to object, but she silenced him with a finger against his lips. “Ayelet is right. Among the three of us, I have the greatest chance of reaching through his barriers. He is a Pure One, don’t forget. He’s using his powers to protect himself, not to harm us. Don’t worry so for me. I am powerful in my own right. You have witnessed it personally, have you not?”
Her smile took some of the sting out of her admonishment, but Valerius was not ready to relent. “There must be another way,” he insisted. “You could also throw a few
zhen
to force his eyes closed, and we can convince him at a distance.”
“Hardly a way to build trust,” Rain rejected the idea right away. “And if he is as superior a warrior as we expect, he would have intercepted my needles before they reached him. He would then interpret the action as aggression and there’s no telling how he’d respond. We could be escalating the encounter to a full out battle.”
“I agree,” Ayelet interjected, trying to ignore the piercing glare that the Protector threw her way. “We cannot afford inciting mistrust even before the conversation begins, and Rain is the only one of us he’d let near, if for no other reason than their shared ancestry, language and the fact that she appears the least threatening of us three.”
Rain smiled wryly. “My smallness has its uses.”
Valerius knew defeat when he met it. He would not be able to change the Healer’s mind. As one of the Dozen, he respected her decision as well as her ability to take care of herself. But as her Consort… no, he admitted to himself, it was more than that.
As the male who loved her. His entire being rebelled at the idea that his female was putting herself at risk. Every nerve, every cell shouted to protect her.
But he did not have that right, he knew. He was merely her Consort for the remainder of the Phoenix Cycle. He was far from her Eternal Mate. He dared not even imagine that his wishes mattered to her.
Valerius was not aware that the Guardian watched him closely as he systematically tried to shut down his Mated male urges to protect his female. But Ayelet saw the truth.
The Protector had Fallen.
Suddenly, it all made sense. The starkness of his countenance. The shadows beneath his eyes. The tremendous pain that weighed him down, so pervasive, she could almost see it eating away at his flesh and bones. This was not the appearance of a Consort, no matter how much strength the Healer drew from him into her own body. This was the appearance of the Fallen – a Pure One who loved, but who did not receive in kind.
This was the visage of the dying.
Ayelet averted her face and looked out the train’s window at the scenery outside. Tears filled her eyes at the sight of her friend wasting away. She knew that he must be in constant, unimaginable pain. She knew what it cost him to cover the signs of his Decline from the Healer, from her. If she hadn’t watched him so closely, if she didn’t know what to look for… If she hadn’t seen the soul-deep anguish in his eyes when he looked upon the female he loved with such longing and hopelessness…
Tristan must have known, it occurred to her. Before they departed on their journey, her Mate had warned her not to interfere, referring to the Healer and the relationship with her Consort. Ayelet had been puzzled that she would have any cause to interfere in the first place. But Tristan had not enlightened her further. He just pulled her into a tight embrace and told her to have faith in the ways of the Goddess.
Now she knew what Tristan had meant. And no, she would not, could not, interfere, even if she wanted to.
The Protector had made his choice. He’d Fallen for the one Pure-female who could never fall in love. To do so, she would have to give up everything she was – her Gift as the Healer, her very identity as a Pure One.
Ayelet prayed to the Goddess for a miracle even as she prepared herself for the inevitable.
*** *** *** ***
Alexandros pushed his body to the limit in the training room after hours.
Aella had already dismissed the last of the Chevaliers, and he’d sat uselessly on the benches against the wall and watched her while she trained the recruits with a mastery he was impressed by even as he involuntarily resented her for taking over his job.
She’d given him a warning look before heading to the showers, wordlessly advising him not to overextend himself with the training weapons in her absence. He’d raised an eyebrow at her in reply, effectively telling her to shove her concern where the sun didn’t shine. She’d quirked a corner of her mouth in response and shrugged.
There was no holding back a warrior if he was bent on self- destruction.
Now Alexandros ached from head to toe, barely able to catch his breath, sweat pouring off him in rivulets. He was reacquainting his body with fighting moves, but he was also exorcising his frustration.
A whole day of concentration and he was not able to pinpoint where the vampire assassins had taken Leonidas. He’d only been able to hone in on two points from the images Aella and Tristan had taken on their hunts. But the points were several days, if not weeks, old. He needed at least a third point to give him some confidence in the coordinates. As it was, he’d be sending the team out to find a needle in a haystack if he took wild guesses on the two old tracks.
Sitting against the wall with his legs spread before him, his head leaned back, eyes closed as he concentrated on getting his breath back, Alexandros didn’t notice that the handmaiden had entered the training room with a basket of balms.
His hand jerked out reflexively when he sensed someone near. Opening his eyes, he realized he was gripping Wan’er’s wrist with almost enough force to break her bones. Immediately, he released her but frowned instead of apologized for the hard clasp that must have hurt her.
“What are you doing here? I don’t need a babysitter,” he groused.
Wan’er resisted rubbing her wrist to ease the soreness from the warrior’s grip. Instead she answered calmly, “You were not in your quarters when I sought you out earlier. Do recall that you still have a few days of treatment left. And since you ignored my advice not to strain yourself physically, I have to make sure I give your body a chance to recover from the wringer you put it through.”
She handed him a towel and gestured for him to wipe himself off before she could administer the balms. Alexandros roughly did as she bid, taking a second hot damp towel from her hands after wiping off his sweat with the first. The second towel had some sort of mint or menthol in it for it opened up his pores as he rubbed it over his skin. Immediately he breathed easier and his muscles seemed to relax.
“Now the balms,” the handmaiden said as she opened a large jar and scooped a portion out with her fingers.
“I’ll do it.” Alexandros quickly took the hunk of jelly from her hand and rubbed it between both of his, then began to slather it over his arms and chest. He relished a little too much the idea of her rubbing her hands all over his body. It was safer for both of them that he took care of business himself.
Wan’er watched the warrior methodically rub the balm into his skin as rapidly as he could, as if he was racing to get done so he could depart from her presence. She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips.
“Are you afraid of me, General?” she asked teasingly.
Abruptly, Alexandros jerked his eyes to meet hers, but quickly looked away from the amusement and attraction he saw there. He grunted in response, hoping she would let the absurd subject drop.
Wan’er chuckled softly at his discomfiture, and didn’t needle him more. Wordlessly, she took the balm from him when he’d finished with all of his body except his back, which she began to work on herself. He didn’t fight her on it, she was glad to note. Perhaps he realized she was not so dangerous after all.
“You are adept at this,” the General said gruffly after a few moments. Then cleared his throat and added, “Healing, I mean. Have you always been handmaiden to the Healer?”
He sensed, rather than saw her nodding. “I met Rain shortly after I was revived as a Pure One. She’d already established the Jade Lotus Society by then. I heard of her good deeds and her sanctuary and decided to join. My wish, you see, when the Goddess offered me a second chance was to be able to save lives, especially the lives of persecuted women during my time.”
She paused at that and Alexandros waited patiently for her to continue. After a while, her hands began roving across his back again.
“Apparently, I had a knack for the healing arts, though I always thought I was destined to be a woman of literature or perhaps a royal scribe.” She gave a delicate shrug. “As it were, I was one of Rain’s best students.”
“One of?” Alexandros inquired, noticing the slight emphasis in the handmaiden’s words.
“Yes, I excelled in Chinese medicine and natural remedies. I was proficient in acupuncture and other physical cures, but I was by no means expert.” Wan’er paused again as if struggling with a disturbing memory.
Hesitantly, she said, “There was one other student who mastered the technique of harnessing the energy within living creatures, though it was before my time at the sanctuary. Some say she manipulated the energy for her own gains, that she misused her powers. Had she not disappeared the year before I joined the Society, undoubtedly she would have been the favorite as Rain’s handmaiden.”
“You are the best candidate for the role,” the General reassured her quietly, “I have never met such dedication to a craft as you are to healing.”
Wan’er gave the warrior’s shoulders an extra squeeze, and he felt the tension there dissipate like fog in a strong warm breeze. “You are likely biased. I do not tend to all my patients with the same dedication as I tend to you, General,” she said in her lilting voice, the teasing tone back in full force. Alexandros was prepared for her verbal spurs this time and grasped one of her hands over his shoulder.
“I am glad to hear it,” he murmured in a rumbling baritone, sending shivers of delight dancing down the handmaiden’s spine.
Oh she knew she was playing with fire, but how delicious was the burn.

Aella silently gestured to Dalair to advance from the left while she took the right path.
They were on the trail of three vampire assassins in the suburbs of Worcester, almost fifty miles outside of Boston city. They’d noticed the vampires following them when they were conducting surveilance close to South End, the location of Valerius’ previous attack. As dawn approached, they decided not to engage their foes but rather play a game of cat and mouse. They hoped to keep their prey engaged in the chase until the night eroded with the first rays of sun, when the vampires would need to retreat to their lair.
Then the hunted would become the hunters.
The vampires did not bring their own mode of transportation. Instead, they traveled on foot and hitched rides on top of trucks and buses, making it extremely difficult to keep track of their movements. Aella suspected that was their goal, to confuse and disorient any tail they might have, so that they couldn’t be traced back to their Horde. But the two Elite warriors kept up with their targets, leaping from vehicle to vehicle at a distance enough not to be detected.
The vampires went back on foot within the city limits of Worcester, disappearing like shadows into an underground tunnel. As Aella and Dalair followed, they came upon a forked passage that led in two directions. There was no other choice but to split up, even though they sensed a trap. Two of the vampires went down the left tunnel and one went down the right. Dalair gestured earlier that the tunnels would eventually meet, since he traced the sound of dripping water and echoes through the passageways ahead. If they split up, at least they wouldn’t lose each other in the underground maze.
If they stayed alive of course.
Aella pulled out two chakrams and locked them together to form a short saw. She held a third in her other hand to let fly at the first scent of danger. Her senses were nowhere near as sharp as Dalair’s, so she moved more slowly, not wanting to rush into an ambush. As she felt along the almost pitch black passageway, she encountered slime, rats, debris and water that dripped from the ceiling and ran along the bricks. There was also the pungent odor of decay and refuse, confirming her earlier suspicion that they were in a sewer system.
There was a dim light ahead, filtered from above ground through a drain gutter. Aella approached more carefully, knowing that she would expose her position, however briefly, when she went past the point of illumination.
Then she heard the clanging of metal not too far ahead, followed by a grunt and thumps that sounded like a body getting slammed into the passage wall and ground. Dalair must have engaged the two vampires he’d been tracking, and if she could hear the sounds of their battle so clearly, the two passageways must have merged ahead.
Aella broke into a silent sprint.
Goddess forbid the three vampires had rounded upon Dalair all at once. Under normal circumstances, she would not be in such a rush to offer assistance, but these were not average vampires and they did not fight fair.
Sure enough, as she pulled around the corner where ghostly tentacles of light shot through the gutter bars, she caught glimpses of the vampires circling Dalair like sharks drawn by the scent of blood.
The Paladin tried to keep his enemies at bay with his two giant crescent blades, one in each hand. His hyper-developed senses helped him to anticipate the vampires’ moves, keeping him always one step ahead of them.
Aella assessed the situation with one fleeting glance. Soon the vampires would figure out the best way to attack. They could swarm Dalair all at once, and two would probably sacrifice themselves against his blades in the process, but the third would surely be able to execute a lethal blow. From what she knew about these assassins after studying the tactics they used with Valerius, then Leonidas and Alexandros, she knew that such a kamikaze move would be right up their alley.
They had no fear of death. They were concentrated on one goal and one goal only. To exterminate the Pure Ones.
Aella leapt into the fray with two bounding strides while letting fly her chakram with deadly force.
At the screeching whirl of the steel, the vampire nearest to her looked up and narrowed his eyes, which is exactly what she wanted him to do, for the chakram zinged against the wall to his left, bounced off at a seventy degree angle with a flare of metallic sparks and sliced clean through the vampire’s neck from the side.
And not a moment too soon, for Dalair had his hands full fighting back the two other vampires who redoubled their efforts in concert. It was all he could do to parry and deflect their varied blows, and they advanced upon him with increasing speed.
“Jump!” Aella shouted a split second before she left fly her other two chakrams in opposite directions at a one hundred twenty degree angle from a deep oneknee crouch.
Dalair obeyed without hesitation and so did one of the vampires, but the other vampire was not quick enough and suffered the consequences as one of the chakram sliced through his shin, taking him down to one leg instantly.
As he fell with a shout of pain, he released twin daggers on the way down in Aella’s direction. She deflected one with her wrist cuffs crossed together in front of her and would not have been able to dodge the other if not for her Gift – superhuman speed.
Dalair pushed back the remaining vampire by spinning the crescent blades so fast, they became the lethal wheels of death in his hands. Despite how the vampire jabbed and swung at the warrior with his long axe, Dalair’s saws did not falter, until finally, the vampire could move no further, his back against the tunnel wall.
With a twist of his wrist, Dalair severed the bloodsucker’s axe arm from his shoulder and pressed forward with the other crescent blade, now stationary once more, against the vampire’s throat. Behind him, he heard Aella make short work of the fallen vampire and collect her chakrams within seconds.
As Aella came up beside her partner, she could see that the vampire still struggled despite the edge of Dalair’s blade against his throat. He was cutting himself in the process, but he didn’t relent.
“He’s not talking,” the Paladin said grimly, trying to keep the vampire alive long enough to question. Perhaps Aella would have better luck.
Aella tilted her head to get a better look at the vampire’s face, streaked with blood and hidden by straggles of sweat-soaked hair. An icy tingling began at the base of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
“I know him,” she uttered with shock and horror.
“Tolya,” she whispered the vampire’s name.
Involuntarily, the bloodsucker turned toward her, revealing more of his face, and Aella gasped in full recognition.
He was once her lover, hundreds of years ago. She’d spent more time with him than any other beau. They’d been so decadent and carnal in their creativity around the Sacred Law that intercourse was but an overrated indulgence. Of all her lovers, Tolya was the only one she considered taking the leap with. And if she didn’t truly love him, she certainly cared deeply for him.
But the bloodshot vampire eyes that stared back at her did not hold the same recognition. Instead, Tolya bared his fangs and hissed, reaching behind his back.
Before he could take out whatever it was he reached for, Dalair ended his life by pressing the crescent blade all the way through his neck in one forceful punch.
“No!” Aella cried, rushing forth to push Dalair away only to see Tolya’s torso slide against the wall to the ground while his head rolled forward and fell separately with a wet thud. Within seconds, he disintegrated into gray nothingness.
“I’m sorry, but I could not take the chance,” Dalair said from behind her, regret in his voice.
Aella nodded even as tears of sorrow slid down her cheeks. She crouched before the ashes of the fallen vampire and examined the object he’d left behind –a small throwing knife, its tip blackened with poison.
Dalair had saved her life. She’d been immobilized with shock. She doubted she would have noticed if someone had thumped her over the head with a two by four.
“You knew him,” Dalair stated, knowing from the way that Aella remained on her knees beside the vampire’s remains that there was no mistake.
Again she nodded. “He was a friend,” she whispered, “more than a friend. He was a good male, a Pure-male. I used to live in what is now the Ukraine for a period of time in the sixteen hundreds. For a while he was my family.”
Dalair lowered himself to a crouch beside her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He was of warrior class, I gather.”
“Yes,” Aella responded. “When Ayelet recruited me to join the Elite, I wanted him to join with me. He-he refused.”
She swiped an arm across her eyes and refocused. “He said that we could not remain in the same place together for he would not be able to maintain distance.”
She laughed briefly, despondently. “He fancied himself in love with me.”
“He is no longer Pure,” Dalair observed, frowning at the fact.
Aella frowned as well, unable to make sense of it. Could it be that Tolya Fell for a Pure-female in the time they’d lost touch with one another? And the female did not return his feelings?
Briefly, Aella felt a pang of loss. There was a time she’d wanted to be that female. Ultimately, she could not take the leap of faith. She did not love him with all her heart and soul. She was saddened that Tolya might have devoted himself to a female only to have his love unreturned. He had been a male of worth. He deserved happiness with his Eternal Mate.
Yet he’d died as a vampire. One who did not recognize Aella.
She could not understand why he would have no memory of her if he’d Fallen and failed. In the instant when their eyes had met, he seemed mindless, an empty shell of his former self.
Soul-less.
He did not recognize her, and in that moment, as she gazed into his bloodshot vampire eyes, she did not recognize him either.
“He was changed.”
Dalair regarded Aella closely at that
pronouncement. He knew that the words were not chosen at random. She didn’t say “he changed,” or “he Fell.” What she said implied that the change was forced upon him, likely against his will.
They’d always suspected there was a new way to create vampires. Now they had irrefutable evidence that it was true.
Goddess help them.
*** *** *** ***
The vampire eyed the chess set before it with a smile of amusement. Things were starting to get interesting.
It moved the black queen diagonally to challenge the white queen, then sat back in its cushy chaise lounge and steepled its fingers contemplatively.
Your move.
The only sound to break the heavy silence in the catacombs was a small, blue flamed fire crackling in the hearth, providing ghostly illumination for the battlefield that stretched before the beautiful vampire.
What would the white troops do? Sacrifice a knight? A bishop? A rook? The possibilities left the vampire in breathless anticipation.
They must make a sacrifice, of that it was certain. The white side would do anything to protect their precious queen.
Which exquisite piece would it be?
Who
would it be?
The vampire was so giddy it wriggled a bit in its seat as a giggle of delight gurgled forth.
And then a pale hand extended from the robed figure sitting across from the vampire, its guest’s body all but swallowed in the luxuriously deep cushions of the velvet red and gold armchair.
With elegant fingers, the one and only white pawn was picked up and deposited in between the white and black queen.
The vampire’s eyes widened a fraction as its glee turned to fascination.
To anyone observing the game, it looked as if the pawn was sacrificing itself to protect the queen. But the vampire knew better.
If the black queen took the pawn, she would be immediately taken in turn by the white queen. Instead, the most logical move would be to remain stationery and maintain the challenge while a black pawn continued to advance.
So decided and acted upon, the vampire leaned forward to await its opponent’s next move.
While it waited, it said silkily with a flash of shiny white fangs, “You must be over-warm, my darling. Those robes must be stifling.”
Wordlessly, the figure in the armchair shrugged, and the robe fell away to reveal pale, naked skin to the vampire’s avaricious gaze.
“How lovely,” it murmured as it rose from the chaise and floated to the figure’s side.
A graceful hand reached up to lie flat upon the vampire’s smooth belly, revealed by the opening of its satin kimono. The hand slid steadily down, brushing the inside of the vampire’s thighs, finally curving around its sex.
What a delicious game, the vampire thought as it bent forward at the waist, its lips seeking the guest’s long, pale throat.
A few sips of Pure blood would make the evening complete.
*** *** *** ***
At dusk, after another day of hiking up a mountain whose barely-there roads were too steep and narrow for vehicles to pass, Ayelet, Rain and Valerius came to a yawning ravine that they needed to cross to get to Cloud Drako’s village on the other side.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the Guardian muttered when they came to the edge of the ravine.
Looking down, way down, she saw the rushing rapids of Nujiang (translated directly as Furious Ford, how appropriate) below, crashing against sharp rocks. They were so high up on the mountain, mists of clouds whirled at their feet. The wind was so strong if she didn’t brace herself she’d be pushed off the slippery ledge. There was no safety railing, no ropes, nothing to prevent a deadly fall.
And they were going to cross the quarter of a mile ravine by dangling at the end of a chain that hooked around a person’s backside to form a makeshift seat. With momentum gained by the passenger pushing off the ledge with their feet, the chain would slide along a thick rope that hung between the two sides of the ravine to a lower point on the opposite mountain ledge, transporting its passenger across.
The three travelers watched as local folk stepped fearlessly up to the rope, rubbed their hands with the juices from plant leaves that grew nearby to prevent slippage and slid effortlessly down the hanging rope to the other side as if it were just a breezy walk in the park.
“How much weight can the rope support?” Valerius asked, and Rain translated the question to one of the villagers.
“Up to one hundred and ten kilos or so, about two hundred forty pounds” the Healer replied.
Just enough for his weight, Valerius thought. He hoped the “or so” didn’t mean ten kilos less than the estimate, because then things would get a bit precarious.