Shadow Rising (2 page)

Sariel approached, shutting the door behind him. To anyone else, even their own kind, Ariane knew he would have been incredibly intimidating. The men of the Grigori dynasty of vampires, particularly the ancient ones, all stood nearly seven feet tall, broad-chested and well muscled, with skin like pale marble. But in the dim light, he looked so like Sam that she could feel nothing but the same dull ache she had felt for a month now, ever since they’d all realized Sam was not simply traveling, but gone.

Sariel’s face belonged on a statue carved by a Renaissance
master, but his beauty, like all Grigoris’ beauty, was cold. His white hair, the same shade as all ancient ones had, was an oddly attractive contrast to a youthful face. It fell to his shoulders with nary a wave to mar the gleam of it. His eyes glowed a deep and striking violet, a shade they all shared, in the dim light.

“I know you had your hopes up, Ariane,” he said, his normally sonorous voice soft. “You don’t have to pretend you didn’t. If it helps, you were strongly considered. But the others felt that, ultimately, Oren was the better choice.” He paused. “If Sammael can be found, he will be. I realize he is important to you, as he is to us all.”

The better choice.
Simply because she had not been handpicked by the elders, because the circumstances of her turning had been borne of emotion instead of reason. No matter how hard she worked, how lethal she became, she would be seen as a mistake. The weakest among them. And Oren, above all, had orchestrated her being shunned for it.

The Grigori were taught that hate was a wasted emotion. But for Oren, who excelled at the art of subtle humiliation, Ariane feared she felt something very close to it. And now he had bested her again, finally taking from her something she desperately wanted.

“Yes, Sam is important to all of us,” Ariane said, trying to choose her words carefully as she turned back toward the window, the beckoning night. “But of everyone here, I am closest to him, Sariel. I think you know that. I don’t understand why we’re sending only one of our own to search for him when he could be hurt out there. He could be
dead
.”

It was her greatest fear, and Sariel was as dismissive as
she’d expected him to be. He simply didn’t give in to his emotions. She didn’t really expect a vampire like Sariel to understand how much a simple friendship meant to her. He seemed above such things, beyond them. He was strong, unlike her; she was weakened by her attachments and her most private dreams. In those dreams, which she had never shared with a soul, she was happy, fulfilled, even loved—and far away from here.

A palace, however opulent, could still be a prison.

“Ariane,” Sariel said, affecting the air of a parent lecturing a willful child, “your concern is admirable, but if Sammael is still alive, he shouldn’t be difficult to find. We are adept at seeking as well as watching, as you know.” He paused. “Tell me, little one, is this about my brother? Or is it about your desire to get beyond these walls?”

Anger roiled deep within her at his suggestion. Of course she wanted to get beyond these walls! But her own needs paled in comparison to Sam’s… wherever he was.

Finally, she managed to speak, her voice steady only through the strongest effort.

“Sariel, I swear that I’m only concerned about Sam. But since you brought it up, you’re obviously aware of how stifling my situation is. In all these hundreds of years, I’ve been out exactly once.
Once
, when I have worked harder than anyone to show my worth. Do you know how that feels?” She waved her hand before he could answer. “No, of course you don’t. If you want to go out into the world, you go. But I…” She trailed off, wanting to make him understand how she felt about her life. “I can only sit here. Wander the grounds. Try to enjoy the little bits of life that the humans who are brought here carry with them before they’re taken back.”

“The palace is huge, as are the grounds,” Sariel pointed out. “Everything you could want to do is here or could be brought here. We’re not beholden to the same rules as the others. It’s why this place is hidden, why we are hidden. You know that. The vampires accept us as their own, and it’s important that they continue to do so. The less they know about us, the better.”

“But we
are
vampires,” Ariane snapped, exasperated by the same old conversation. “Aren’t we? We don’t walk in the day. We drink the blood of humans to survive. We are the
same
!”

“Yes and no,” Sariel replied, his expression guarded. “We carry a responsibility the others do not. We are the oldest by far, though that, too, must stay hidden. Especially now, when things have begun to shift. We are watchers,
d’akara
. We do not interfere. Sammael understood this. The others understand this. But you…”

He trailed off, letting Ariane finish the thought herself. And how could she not? She’d heard the words enough times, even when she wasn’t supposed to.

You’re not ready. You’ll never be ready. You’re different.

“I may not have been chosen,” Ariane said, trying to keep all anger from her voice, her face, “but that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of carrying out our duties. The duties I have trained for alongside everyone else. I’m
ready
, Sariel.”

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t beg. And yet here she was again. Sariel’s indulgent smile made her want to scream.

“Of course you are. One day soon, perhaps. Though, it isn’t just up to me. Given the circumstances of your
turning, there is concern about your ability to refrain from intervening.”

“That was hundreds of years ago,” Ariane interjected, a snap in her voice she couldn’t cover. “I’m being punished because I was upset when I was turned?”

Sariel’s eyes darkened. “
Upset
is the wrong word, as you well remember. A traumatic siring will linger, Ariane, sometimes forever. Do you really think you could stand by and watch what happened to you and your family? Even your sire could not and succumbed to weakness.”

“My sire—”

Sariel held up a hand to stop her. “You already know I will not tell you who he is. He asked that the shame remain his own. It’s best for both of you. For all of us.”

Ariane stiffened, even as her stomach twisted into knots the way it always did when she had a conversation like this… and there had been many. She remembered so little of her siring, and only flashes of what had come before. Those brief glimpses of horror were bad enough. There had been blood, smoke, hideous laughter… beloved voices raised in tormented screams. Then strong arms, a hushed voice. Darkness.

Most of her mortal life remained a mystery to her. Her memories began in earnest at the weeks she’d spent confined to her chambers, weeping so long and hard that the tears had turned to blood. Weeping without truly knowing why. And there was no one to give her even a piece of her mortal past. Only the ancient ones knew who her sire was, and they kept their silence on the matter.

Sometimes she wondered if they’d killed him for what he’d done.

“We have all felt it, the desire to shape things to our
will instead of watching events unfold,” Sariel lectured her, his tone soft and condescending in the way only an ancient one could manage. “But that is not our place. We must detach from instinct, leave our humanity behind us. Living as we do and trying to exist any other way is madness. Yet even now, Ariane, all these years later, I still see you struggle with what you were.”

“But Sam said—”

“His name is Sammael,
d’akara
. Show his name the respect it deserves.”

Ariane’s mouth snapped shut at the steely command. It was worthless to argue with him, and she should have known better. He demanded respect, but he called her
d’akara
, “little one,” as though she were a child. She was fast and strong. She could speak a multitude of languages, debate music and philosophy and art. She could fight more nimbly than most of her blood sisters and brothers. And she had learned these things for… what? To sit here and rot because she had
feelings
?

No. Not this time.

“Sammael, then,” Ariane allowed, trying not to say it through gritted teeth. “He said it was important to remember how to feel for the mortals. To not just watch but to be able to understand. He’s an ancient one too. Do you disagree?”

Sariel’s expression shifted quickly from insincere warmth to genuine displeasure. “Sammael has an… unnatural affinity for the humans. Always has. I’ve indulged him, but humanity is like a troop of bellicose monkeys. Understanding them is simple enough. It was a defective design, I’ve always thought,” he said with a small, cold smile.

Ariane never knew what to make of him when he said things like that. It was as if he had never been human, though more likely it had just been so long that he had no recollection of what it was like.

Sariel waved his hand dismissively. “In any case, Ariane, this is not an appropriate first mission for you. It’s too delicate a situation, and time is of the essence. One day,” he continued, stepping closer, his eyes glowing softly in a way that might almost be called warm, “I will make sure you get your chance to keep our watch. You have my word on this,
d’akara
.”

She stayed still, though his nearness had begun to make her uncomfortable. The visit itself was highly unusual. Sariel’s interest in her well-being was even more so. She couldn’t recall him ever paying much attention to her… though Sammael’s disappearance, and her connection to him, seemed to have remedied that in spades. She should have enjoyed it. And yet somehow it provoked nothing but a faint revulsion.

Another sign she was finally ready to go.

As though he’d sensed the direction of her thoughts, Sariel murmured, “I have no idea why your beauty has escaped my notice for so long. All these centuries, and you and I have never truly spoken.”

“That’s true,” Ariane agreed with a small nod, self-consciously tucking a lock of long, silvery blond hair behind her ear. Her hair was pale even for a Grigori, almost as silver as an ancient one’s. She’d always thought it made her more of a spectacle than beautiful… but the way Sariel’s eyes tracked the motion of her hand through her hair made her wonder if she’d been wrong about her appeal among her own kind.

She hoped he didn’t reach for her. What would she do then? Running was always an option, but a very poor one when your pursuer was a seven-foot-tall vampire.

To her relief, Sariel seemed to realize that his sudden attentions had surprised her. He came no closer, but the keen interest in his gaze was unmistakable.

“I would like to see you, Ariane. To spend some time with you. Tomorrow night, perhaps? We should get to know one another, after all this time.”

It was all she could do not to sob with relief. “Of course,” she replied, and even managed a small, demure smile. “I would enjoy that.”

It seemed to satisfy Sariel, and he nodded.

“Good. I’ll send someone for you then.” He turned and strode to the door, but stopped just before leaving, looking back at her. “Don’t worry about Sammael,
d’akara
. If he lives, he’ll be found, and he would not be so easily killed. Trust me… I’ve known him a great deal longer than you have.”

Ariane nodded. “Then I’ll just keep hoping for the best,” she said.

When the door shut and Sariel was finally gone, she expelled a long, shaky breath, her legs going wobbly. She bent at the waist, placing her hands on her knees and breathing deeply, trying to regain her balance. The visit had rattled her, even more than she’d thought. Why had he really come? Was he worried that she might do exactly what she was planning? And if he was, had he seen that he was right?

She didn’t think so. Whatever Sariel had come looking for, whatever he had seen, nothing had changed. For once she had a choice, and she chose to act. It was terrifying, yes.

But Ariane had faith it would also be freeing.

When she thought enough time had passed, Ariane moved to the bed and pulled a small beaded satchel from beneath the mattress. In it was the handful of things that held any importance for her. A sorry commentary on a life that had lasted so long and yet meant so little to anyone. She slung the long, thin strap of the satchel across her body, then moved to the window, her diaphanous skirt swirling gracefully about her legs.

She flipped a small latch, and the two panes of glass swung outward, revealing a gateway to the night. Ariane paused for only a moment, steeling herself. She had no desire to look back, to take in the pretty room that had been her safe haven for so long. It would be too easy to lose her nerve, and she would need all of that and more if she really wanted to find her friend. Not to mention evading her own capture. The Grigori did not take kindly to deserters. If she ever returned here, she doubted Sariel would be inviting her to his chambers again.

Not in the short space of time before she vanished forever.

No. That isn’t going to happen. I can do this. And if finding Sam doesn’t sway them, then I’ll stay gone and stay on my own. Make a real life. Somehow.

Reassured, Ariane stepped onto the slim window ledge, glad that her room faced the desert and not the courtyard. Her only witness was the moon. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and summoned the gift that she had so rarely been able to use. She felt them rise from her back, sliding through her flesh as easily as water flowing from a stream. Her wings.

Ariane extended them, allowing herself only a moment
to turn her head and admire the way they shimmered in blues, lavenders, silvers—twilight colors. And gods but it felt good to free them, to free this part of herself. She lifted her hands to her sides, like a child balancing on a beam or a dancer poised to begin.

Then she leaped into the darkness and, in a flutter of wings, was gone.

chapter
TWO

D
AMIEN
T
REMAINE LEANED A HIP
against the Master Shade’s desk, made a show of examining the snifter of brandy in his hand for a moment longer, and then cocked an eyebrow at the man who’d been his employer for a good two hundred years now.