Pure Healing (28 page)

What a confusing creature, Sophia thought to herself. She wouldn’t be surprised if it had a split personality disorder.
“Are you settled in and comfortable?” the vampire asked solicitously.
“I don’t plan to stay long,” Sophia replied.
The vampire laughed with delight, truly amused by its precious guest. “No,” it returned, “I don’t imagine you will. Not when your friends are already on their way to come to your rescue.”
“I suppose it’s too much to ask you to let them take me back without a fight?” Sophia ventured.
The vampire shook its head almost regrettably. “I’m afraid I cannot grant your request, lovely one. But never fear, even if the last one of your rescuers fall, you will remain unharmed.”
A tingle of recognition flitted down Sophia’s spine. She almost felt like she knew this vampire.
But then her host revealed its face, taking the hood down as it walked closer to Sophia’s cage.
It was a beautiful woman, but it was also a stunning man. Truly, Sophia could not tell at all its gender. Large, heavily lashed black eyes with red centers gazed curiously, avariciously back at her. Elegant black brows, a thin, high-bridged nose, sharp cheekbones and blood-red lips completed the mesmerizing pale visage. The thick, dark brown, almost black wavy hair further blurred the boundaries of sex. Even more confusing, it was wearing heavy mascara and eyeliner, reminding Sophia of ancient Egyptian pharaohs and queens.
And then there was the flat chest and Adam’s apple that bobbed in the creature’s throat, Sophia noticed upon closer inspection. So it was a male?
“I am whatever and whoever you wish me to be,” the vampire said with a sensuous smile, as if reading Sophia’s mind. “If I became your deepest desire, would you stay with me?”
Sophia abruptly blinked away her confusion. She’d almost been hypnotized by the vampire’s ghostly beauty. “I don’t stay with monsters who hurt my friends,” she replied matter-of-factly, without heat, as if she were having a casual conversation across a tea table. “No matter how you portray yourself.”
“You judge without knowing,” the vampire said, moving ever closer, until it stood almost flush against the bars of Sophia’s cage. “Who is to say what monsters are? Your friends have killed many of my kind across the millennia. Why do you not call them monsters? Why only me?”
“Vampires started the war,” Sophia said with conviction, “
you
sent assassins after one of us first.”
The vampire nodded to the latter part of Sophia’s proclamation. “I did indeed put a test to the Roman warrior. You call him the Protector, don’t you? But as to who started the war… don’t be so certain of what you think you know.”
“You invaded and destroyed our home,” Sophia accused, ignoring the vampire’s last words. “You took my friend and turned him into a monster like you.”
“Collateral damage,” the vampire responded quickly, dismissing its hand in Leonidas’ fate. “And don’t worry, your friends will now have the chance to invade and destroy my home as well and probably wipe out most of my Horde in the process. So we’re soon to be even on that score.”
Sophia looked at her host in consternation. “Don’t you care what happens to your own? You act like we are all just toy soldiers to play with and crash together and break at will.”
The vampire tilted its head like a curious child. “More like chess pieces,” it corrected Sophia’s analogy upon consideration. “I like to play with my pretty chess pieces.”
“Life and death is not a game,” Sophia said vehemently.
“Oh but it is,” came the vampire’s hiss, “it’s all just one big game. And we’re all dispensable toy soldiers in the end. I do not fear my death and neither should you.”
“Then why don’t you kill yourself right now?” Sophia goaded, “Or give me a sword and I’ll be happy to do it for you.”
The vampire chuckled behind its hand with delicate amusement, the sounds of its laughter tinkling like chimes. “What a bloodthirsty child you are,” it said after catching its breath, “what an adorable playmate you’ll make.”
Leaning closer until its haunting face pressed every so gently upon the gold bars of the cage, the vampire widened its gaze until red flames danced within its bottomless black orbs. “Let’s make a bargain right now,” it said on a dark, venomous whisper. “It’s no fun to play the game when you have no control of the pieces, so I’ll give you a choice. As we speak, the six Elite warriors are headed to my humble abode to rescue you. If you had the ability to save four and sacrifice two, which two would it be?”
“I wouldn’t sacrifice any,” Sophia quickly replied, “they’ll kill you all first.”
The vampire pressed even closer, until the bars of the cage rubbed against its lips, lifting them until they revealed its sharp white fangs. “So bloodthirsty,” it murmured with delight. “What fun we could have together… but that is not the choice I gave you, lovely Sophia. Choose the two friends that will die, or all of them will perish.”
Sophia uncurled from her position and stood immediately before the bars on the inside of the cage, facing her foe almost nose to nose. Defiantly, fearlessly, in a woman’s voice that was not her own, she said, “If there is to be a sacrifice, then take my life in exchange for my friends. Otherwise, there is no bargain. If we must, we will all die together and see you in Hell.”
The vampire hissed and darted its long tongue out at her through the bars, but Sophia did not retreat. She held her ground and stared the creature down, awaiting for its next move, whatever blow might come.
“Magnificent,” the vampire said on an almost reverent sigh. “You are indeed a worthy playmate.”
With that, it quickly withdrew, leaving Sophia once again alone in her cage with her sole vampire guard in the dimly-lit underground catacomb.
*** *** *** ***
Four piles of ashes behind them, Dalair and Alexandros advanced stealthily through the maze of tunnels, the rest of the Elite only minutes on their heels.
Thus far, the enemy base seemed almost unguarded. The vampires they’d just disposed of were merely civilian brutes, not the trained assassins they’d been facing before. But they knew better than to take their situation for granted. They were undoubtedly walking into a trap.
At a locus where several tunnels met like the center of a spider web, the trap finally revealed itself.
Standing in front of each tunnel entrance were three to four fully armed vampire warriors. At the mouth of the largest tunnel that Dalair instinctively knew led to Sophia’s captivity stood the Spartan himself, a
makhaira
at the ready in each hand.
“You go no further, Pure Ones,” the former Sentinel said with grim determination.
“I will be the judge of my own destiny,” Alexandros answered as he stood back to back with Dalair, facing the throngs of vampires that surrounded them without the slightest hint of fear.
Leonidas inclined his head in acknowledgement a moment before he leapt high into the air for a fullfrontal attack.
And thus the bloodbath began.
Two minutes into the carnage, just when Dalair and Alexandros’ defenses were weakening, Aella, Tristan, Valerius and Cloud arrived at the scene through two separate tunnels, obliterating the vampires that stood in their way. With the odds improved from twenty to one to a little under seven to one, the weary pair was invigorated with renewed confidence and strength.
“Dalair,” Alexandros shouted above the fray, “leave Leonidas to me. You find the Queen.”
Dalair nodded and lowered to a crouch, then leapt into the air like a powerful panther just as Alexandros swiped at Leonidas’ shins with his long
sagaris
. Forced to roll sideways, the Sentinel moved far enough from the entrance of the tunnel he guarded for Dalair to fly over his head and land safely on all fours on the other side. Without a backward glance, Dalair raced down the passageway, the faint scent of Sophia guiding him, urging him on.
“Let us finish this,” Alexandros said to his longtime friend, his brother in arms. “It is my fault you were taken. It is my duty to release your soul from this monstrous shell.”
Leonidas smirked darkly. “Not if I release you first.”
They came together in a mighty clash of swords and axe, each warrior of similar build, height and strength. They’d sparred with each other and fought alongside one another over countless years. They were as familiar with the other’s moves and style as their own.
But Alexandros was fighting for a heftier cause: his love for and his need to save his comrade fueled him with extra vigor and stamina, despite his recent weakening. With each stroke of his axe he pushed the Sentinel back. With each swing, he chanted to himself that he could not fail his friend again. He could not let a Pure, courageous soul shrivel and die within this vampire form.
But Leonidas was matching him stroke for stroke. Though he gave ground, his strength did not wane. It was almost as if he were testing Alexandros, waiting for the right moment to land the lethal blow.
And then Alexandros realized what he needed to do. As the Spartan faked to the left, then twisted around to thrust his cross swords into his opponent, Alexandros did not evade the blades. Instead, he pushed forward at the same time Leonidas thrust and took the twin blades inside his flesh, one through the heart, one through the liver.
“See you in the next life, my friend,” Alexandros said as he gazed into the Spartan’s blood-red eyes, widened in shock and disbelief, and in the next split second, the General’s axe swung through Leonidas’ neck, cleanly severing head from body.
Falling to his knees, Alexandros watched his old friend disintegrate into gray specks of dust even as he felt his own body shifting to mingle with the air around them. He heard the other Elite call out his name, was vaguely aware of their rushing footsteps, but soon his vision became blinded by an intense white light.
The General sighed. It was time to rest at last. *** *** *** ***
Dalair burst into the chamber at the end of the tunnel without thought to his own safety. He was ready to face ten assassins, a hundred. He was tired of playing hide and seek. He’d tear down the entire catacomb with his bare hands if that was what it took to find Sophia and bring her home.
Only one guard accosted him on his way to the center of the chamber where a gilded golden cage drew his entire concentration. He disposed of the impediment quickly, not even tossing the vampire a glance as he slashed his way through the bloodsucker.
But when he halted just before the cage, he saw that his senses had deceived him, for on the bed lay a bundle of crumpled clothes, the ones Sophia had been wearing that day.
“Looking for your Mate?” a whispered hiss echoed along the cavern walls.
Dalair stilled himself and turned full circle very slowly, assessing his surroundings with heightened vision, smell and hearing. He could tell that Sophia was very close, but her exact location was difficult to pinpoint, her soft scent masked by the pungent musk of his enemy.
“Return my Queen,” Dalair demanded with utter confidence and certainty, “before I rip your head from your body.”
Delighted laughter bounced off the damp stone bricks in a haunting tinkle of chimes. “Such
vehemence, such passion!” the disembodied voice exclaimed. “And you hide it all so well behind that mask of stoicism and restraint.”
Dalair chose to remain silent and concentrated on the information that the air around him carried. He could faintly hear Sophia’s breathing. It was deep and even, as if she slept. He moved purposefully to the east side of the chamber, but was confronted with a solid rock wall.
“If you admit your feelings, perhaps I can be persuaded to give her back to you,” the voice taunted. “But you can’t do that, can you? Not when you know she’ll never forgive you for the sins of the past.”
Dalair ignored the fission of alarm at the secret truth of the vampire’s words. It wasn’t the time now to dwell on how the bastard knew about his past. He had one single-minded goal – to get Sophia out of here alive.
Dalair pressed his palms flat against the wall, feeling for any crack, and breath of air. Suddenly, he heard a click as the rock beneath his palm depressed and the entire wall began to shift to the left. His crescent blades at the ready, Dalair stepped carefully into the secret passage, drawn inexorably toward a pale light at the end of the tunnel.
As he drew closer he saw the stone table shrouded in a bluish light, and upon that table lay Sophia, dressed head to toe in a long white robe. Standing behind the table was an exquisitely beautiful vampire who beckoned Dalair forth with smiling blood-red lips.
The Paladin’s eagle sight confirmed that the lips were not simply crimson, they were glossy with fresh blood.
Sophia’s blood.
Involuntarily, Dalair lurched forward in a deadly move, but was stopped mid stride by the glint of steel held against Sophia’s throat.
“Wisely done,” the vampire said with approval when Dalair drew back slightly and grew still again, a few feet away from the table. “Another step and my blade might have slipped across her delicate skin as I quivered in fright.”
Dalair’s gaze shifted to the twin puncture marks on Sophia’s neck, already healing but still leaking a few drops of blood. His entire body tensed into a bow as he thought through the ramifications. Had she been turned? Was he too late?
“She is simply resting,” the vampire answered his unspoken thoughts. “No need to panic just yet. I merely sampled a bit of her sweetness. No harm done.”
A guttural growl echoed against the tunnel walls, and Dalair belatedly realized that it came from within himself.
The vampire giggled behind one pale hand at Dalair’s reaction to its words.
And then Dalair held his breath in shock, for the vampire’s face and form began to change, shimmering at the edges with an eerie red glow, until it turned into a ghost from Dalair’s long-buried past.
“Did you miss me?” the vampire said in a melodious woman’s voice, a voice that haunted Dalair’s dreams every single night.
His knees buckling, Dalair staggered back a step and shook his head to clear it. Surely this was a trick.
She
could not be here when Sophia lay sleeping right in front of him!
The vampire smiled an achingly familiar smile, a smile that was etched in Dalair’s memory for all of eternity. A smile he’d received a hundred times, a thousand times, but that was never meant for him. It had always belonged to another.
And then the face changed again, the figure growing taller and broader until Dalair felt as if he were looking into a mirror, for his reflection stared back at him.
Except the irises were pitch black with red glowing centers instead of his own pale gray.