Secret Worlds (201 page)

If that had been the true source of her fascination, she would have shared it with Lawrence. She didn’t know why, but she knew that telling him of Michael’s reappearance and her little excursions to see him would not be wise. Not only did she have a feeling that he would be upset with her, but she knew he would insist on orchestrating a coupling between Michael and a woman with a strong energy. She found the thought supremely distasteful.

A spray of water hit Amaia squarely in the face. “Stop brooding.” Through the droplets of water hanging from her eyelashes, she saw Meg stand, her hand poised to deliver another splash. “You have nothing to brood over. You’re the wealthiest courtesan in Aachen, you have a sire who adores you, and you have the greatest best friend in the history of the world.” Meg’s expression held mock severity, but Amaia saw a hint of truth in Meg’s eyes and knew she was worried.

“I’m not brooding.” Amaia returned the splash.

“Good. I’d hate for you to get wrinkles.” Meg giggled.

“I can’t. I’m eternally preserved in youth, which is more than can be said of some people.” Amaia lunged at Meg, dunking her underneath the water.

“Eternally young, eternally foolish,” Meg spluttered as she broke the surface.

“Girls, girls. Don’t make me break you up. Besides, we all know I’m the one with the looks in this little party.” Meg and Amaia launched themselves at Liam. His muscled arms easily captured them, pinning their arms to their sides.

“Let us go, Liam.” Amaia kicked furiously at him below the water, but he didn’t so much as flinch.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“Please, Liam?” Meg gave him a pouty expression, her large, blue eyes sparkling as she gazed up at him.

“Nope. Not going to work this time. Now I can enjoy a peaceful evening.” Liam, keeping a firm hold on each woman, exhaled and sank to the bottom of the pool.

Amaia and Meg struggled to no avail. Liam was physically stronger than both of them. While she didn’t need to breathe, it still felt strange to Amaia to be without air. Too many years spent mimicking humans.

After a few minutes, Amaia felt Liam’s grip loosen. Amaia looked up at him. His jaw was slack, mouth parted in pleasure. A glance toward Meg revealed why. She had bitten him and sucked sensually on his blood.

Amaia was able to easily squirm out of Liam’s hold and swim to the surface. Several minutes later, Meg and Liam followed suit. “Eww. Really, you shouldn’t be doing that in public.”

Meg disengaged from Liam and looked at Amaia with a sly grin. “So says the whore. There’s nothing wrong with exchanging blood.”

Exchanging blood was one of the most intimate and pleasurable acts vampires could perform. Amaia wouldn’t know; it was something one only did with a mate. “I think I’d rather still be trapped than see you two mating.”

“You’re just jealous.” Meg gave Liam a deep kiss.

Amaia rolled her eyes. “Please forcibly stop me if I ever look so ridiculous over a man.”

Meg laughed. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that. It would require you stop working long enough to actually meet someone.”

Amaia only half heard what Meg said. Two gray eyes stared at her. The warmth in them made her more uncomfortable than Meg’s mating ever could.

***

“I’m back.”

Lawrence’s voice entered Amaia’s head shortly before dawn. They were still at the hot springs, floating lazily in their underclothes, bellies full courtesy of a few fellow swimmers who had stumbled upon their pool.
“How was it?”

“Good. I need to see you. If Meg and Liam are with you, you might as well bring them too.”

Amaia froze. There was only one reason Lawrence would want to see all of them. Time to move again.
“We’re at the hot springs. We’ll be there soon.”

Amaia stood and walked from the water. “Lawrence is back. He wants to see us.”

“So? He’s not my sire. Run along to daddy. I’m staying here.” Liam continued to float, but Meg was already exiting the pool.

“Don’t be an ass, dear. No one is saying you have to do what Lawrence says, but we might as well see what’s happening.”

Liam heaved a dramatic sigh and joined Meg. “Fine. If you’re going.”

“I am.” Meg rose on tiptoe and kissed him.

Thankfully, it was a short run to Lawrence’s home. Amaia didn’t need a lot of time to speculate about where they were going to move. She especially didn’t like how much she hoped it would be closer to Michael rather than farther away.

Upon entering Lawrence’s townhouse, Amaia embraced her sire and gave him a peck on each cheek.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, my dear.” Lawrence smiled.

“I missed you too. What news do you have for us?” Amaia stood behind the couch occupied by Meg and Liam.

“We’re moving to Milan,” Lawrence announced.

Amaia wished she were sitting. Living in Milan would make it almost impossible to see Michael regularly. She wouldn’t see him age. For some reason, it was incredibly important to her to see Michael as an old man, to see him move past the age at which she had known him.

“Why?” It was the only thing she could say.

“I want to investigate some bloodlines there.” Damn Lawrence and his obsession.

“But there are plenty of good bloodlines here. People from all over Europe come for the hot springs. We can study more varieties of auras and energies here than anywhere else. There’s no need to move.” This couldn’t be happening so quickly. She needed more time.

Three pairs of eyes stared at her in surprise. It was the first time she had ever contradicted her sire in public. “And there’s no need to stay here.” Lawrence’s voice was firm.

“What about the peace treaty between France and Spain? Zenas will want us here to make sure it’s signed.”

“And that’s why we’re not leaving for a couple more weeks. As soon as the treaty is signed, there will be no more reason for us to be here. We’ve already stayed too long.” Curse Lawrence’s cool reason.

“Why do you want to stay so badly?” Meg scrutinized Amaia, and Amaia knew her friend would be able to see through her if her lie wasn’t solid.

“This is the best place in Europe for someone in my profession. Why would you want to leave?” Amaia’s voice didn’t betray her panic. The last thing she needed was Lawrence’s suspicion.

“We don’t need the money. Don’t confuse your profession with your purpose. We have more important matters to attend to.”

There would be no arguing with him. It had been foolish to even try. Three weeks later, they arrived in Milan.

Milan, January 1673, 4 years, 9 months later

The pull drove her mad. As she dressed, all Amaia could see were Michael’s eyes, the same way she saw them every time she had sex anymore. The disgusting snoring from the bed reminded her that she hadn’t been particularly hard to distract during her latest encounter. Regardless, she had to see him.

In the almost five years since moving to Milan, she had seen Michael over thirty times. It took around fourteen hours for her to reach him, but she tried to make the trip every six to eight weeks. The last visit had been only three weeks ago. It would be difficult to get away again, but she didn’t think she could get by much longer without seeing him. There was an increasing urgency that she couldn’t explain.

“That man was vile.”
Amaia was already headed out of town after changing into a plain brown dress, following the pull to Calais, but she needed to check in with her sire first.

“How was his energy?”

“Not worth breeding. I wouldn’t want that man breeding a goat.”

Lawrence chuckled.
“Fine. Are you going home?”

“No. I want to run. When’s my next appointment?”

“Two days.”

“Very well. I’ll be back by then. I’ve got to get the trace of human off me.”

“Let me know if you need me.”

“Always.”
Amaia wished she could go to Lawrence with this. She needed his counsel now, but there was too great a risk that he would forbid her from seeing Michael. She didn’t want to disobey a direct order.

As her journey progressed, she felt increasingly that something was wrong. Michael’s eyes stayed with her constantly. She saw their affection the moment he saw her just after Lawrence had bitten her, the shock as she attacked, the glassy emptiness staring from his corpse. About halfway there, the date clicked in Amaia’s head. More precisely, Michael’s age came into focus. This was the day in his life when she had killed him nearly fifty years ago. That had to be the reason for the sudden urgency. There was a measure of relief in understanding.

Peering through the trees, she caught sight of him alone on the archery range behind his manor house. He released arrow after arrow into the target. His breath puffed in the cold air with each shot. It was such an ordinary, even mundane, picture that it brought her up short. This scene had drawn her from six hundred miles away?

Forty-five minutes elapsed before anything unusual happened. Mid-shot, Michael dropped his bow. For someone so sure of his movements, it wasn’t likely an accident. He wavered on his feet and then clasped his chest with his right hand. His left arm stiffened at his side. His energy crested. Crashing to his knees, he gave an exclamation of pain before collapsing to the ground. A few minutes later, his energy vanished.

He was dead.

Amaia could hardly believe it. For twenty-four years, his energy had been a constant companion. She had seen him grow from an infant into a man. His whole life had been hers to observe. She experienced a sense of loss that bewildered her. In a way, her favorite hobby had been taken away, and there was a void that would need filling. Maybe it was time to tell Meg. The twenty-four year saga was over, and Amaia could confide in her best friend again.

What would she do now? Perhaps she should concentrate on finding a mate. She had no particular desire for one, other than as a distraction. Liam seemed to keep Meg occupied. Such a bond might be strong enough to cease Michael’s haunting.

The moment she thought it, the warm gray liquid of his eyes penetrated her soul. This wasn’t over. Far from it. Amaia grew convinced he would come back, and no vampire could supplant him. Her legs began to move, then run. Time to seek Meg’s help.

Outside Milan, January 1673

The night air was crisp and cool. Frost from the grass soaked through Amaia’s dress where she lay looking up at the clear sky. Little crystals frosted her eyelashes and began to form on her skin. Amaia loved the cold, even if she did have to increase her heart rate to keep the blood coursing through her. She would have to eat again soon to make up for the extra energy, but it was worth it. Around humans, her skin was heated by their energy, imitating their life. Away from civilization, with her own kind, she could let the coldness of death overcome her.

“Are you sure it’s going to snow?” Meg lay beside her, looking at the same clear sky. The skepticism in her voice was clear.

“Yes.” They were waiting on the first snow of the new year. Amaia felt it in the way the breeze swayed. Once the wind picked up, it wouldn’t take long for the snow clouds to roll in.

“You’re crazy.” Liam sat several yards away, whittling an owl with unnatural precision to add to his collection of little wooden figurines.

Yes, Amaia was indeed crazy, but not for the reason Liam thought. She had yet to tell Meg about Michael. When she’d returned from watching him die, finding the words had been too difficult, and the last week had passed without telling her.

“Here.” Liam placed the wooden owl on Meg’s breast. “I’m going to find some more wood and a meal. You may keep staring at the sky like fools.”

Ten minutes of silence passed after Liam left.

“What is it you’re not telling me, Amaia?” The question came softly, without any hint of accusation.

“What do you mean?” Amaia couldn’t help feigning ignorance.

“I had thought that maybe you were waiting for us to be alone. I can understand you not wanting to speak privately in front of Liam, but you’re still keeping something from me.” Tinges of hurt marked Meg’s voice.

This was ridiculous. There was no sense hurting Meg when Amaia needed her so badly. “Do you remember when I saw Michael in that tavern?”

“Yes.” Meg was patient, letting Amaia tell the story at her own pace.

“About two years later, I felt his energy stop.”

“So you felt it up until then?”

Amaia had forgotten that Meg wouldn’t know. “Yes. It was faint but constant. Then it surged and disappeared. I was relieved.”

“I can imagine.”

“The only problem is, it came back less than a year after that. My curiosity nearly killed me. It didn’t make any sense. I followed it to a small house in Calais. A baby had just been born. It was Michael.”

“Are you sure?” Meg turned to look at her.

“Yes. Positive. It was so strange to see him as a baby. I left, hoping that would be enough to sate my curiosity. It wasn’t. For the past twenty-four years, I’ve been journeying to see him when I can. I feel a constant pull to him.”

“But something happened recently.” Meg spoke with the surety of a best friend.

“Yes. A week ago, I was thinking about him more than usual. The draw to him was inescapable. I realized on the way there why: it was on that day in his life that I had killed him. When I got there, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then he suddenly died. His heart just stopped and…”

Meg reached over and covered Amaia’s hand with her own. “And?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“No, I won’t. At least not because of this.” Meg quirked a half smile. “You’re crazy, but for plenty of other reasons.”

Amaia smiled. “Thanks.” It took a moment to summon the words. “I felt a loss at his death.”

“That’s understandable, Amaia. For twenty-four years, you’ve watched him.”

“That’s not the worrisome part. I know he’s going to come back. I feel certain this isn’t the last time it’s going to happen. He will keep being reborn and calling me to him.”

“Why?”

“To punish me.”

“Amaia, that doesn’t make any sense. He obviously doesn’t remember you. You look the same as you did the day you killed him. Are you saying you believe there’s a god who sends him back to punish you for your sins?”