The King's Vampire (30 page)

Darius lurched forward, in a vain attempt to free his wrists from the shackles, but they were bound so tightly, he could not generate any fiery energy from his hands or fingertips. He glanced over at Lance, who appeared unconscious, and remained shackled to the wall. No doubt Julian would deal with them after he had the opportunity to gloat over the fact that Elizabeth and Charles were under his control.

“I have to find Elizabeth before it’s too late,” he said aloud.

He couldn’t panic now. What had Charlemagne told him? He must keep faith that God would provide him the strength he needed for the task at hand. And Christopher Wren told him it was God’s intention for him to listen to what he needed to do. God hadn’t wanted him to be a Benedictine monk, and instead, he’d become a warrior.

He closed his eyes for a few moments, his lips moving rapidly in prayer. This was a good time for God to make his plans clear. He heard a whining sound and he shot a look in Lance’s direction. The wolf was stretching his muscled haunches and shaking his head, trying to free himself from the iron manacle.

Darius held his breath, scarce daring to breathe. “Can you change yourself back into human form?”

Lance’s entire body quivered with the effort. He crouched down and stretched out long. His pelt started to disappear and his legs turned into those of a human. Once his forelegs had turned into arms and his great wolf head and body had changed back into human form, Lance twisted and turned his head until he managed to slip it out of the iron collar.

He rushed over to Darius, struggling to free him from the iron manacles. “Look for a key in the outer chamber,” Darius said.

Lance quickly disappeared, and then came back with a triumphant smile, his long teeth startlingly white in the glow of the torchlight as he held up an old, rusted key. He released Darius from his shackles and then reached for his cape. “I must wear a cloak when we rescue your beloved Elizabeth, so I don’t inflame her wild passion with the sight of my naked body.”

At first, Darius was outraged, but then smiled when he saw the teasing light in Lance’s golden, glowing eyes. Tossing his cloak to the shape-shifter, he said, “I think Elizabeth will be able to contain herself at the sight of you, but come, we’ve no time to spare in finding her if we’re to help her recover her soul in time.”

Chapter 32

Buckingham gave Elizabeth a mighty shove. She stumbled through the doorway of the king’s bedchamber. “This is your last chance to make the king a vampire. If you don’t, you’ll be dead before morning. I’ll give you one hour. A guard is posted in the hallway so no one might interrupt you. If you fail, Julian won’t be happy.”

She entered the king’s chamber with her heart hammering and the frenzy of bloodlust causing her fangs to appear. Elizabeth licked her lips and forced her mouth to cover the telltale fangs. Charles leaned against the fireplace, wearing only his purple knee-length breeches, a full-sleeved white linen shirt, and his riding boots, which emphasized his powerful legs. A half-dozen of his spaniels yipped around his feet, playfully nipping at one another’s ears. Once Elizabeth entered, their hackles rose and they scampered beneath the king’s bed.

He gave her a quizzical lift of his eyebrow. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit? Buckingham seemed most anxious for you to come this night, and he said you insisted on seeing me.”

“Your Majesty, I’m pleased to see you, although this meeting was not of my making,” she said, dropping her eyes and curtsying low.

She was all too aware it was past midnight and now Christmas Eve and the chances of recapturing her soul were becoming remoter by the minute, but she refused to bring the king down with her. In the flickering firelight, Charles smiled, his dark eyes brightening with passion, and something else she couldn’t identify, almost like he was relieved to be put in this position.

“Please remember, I’m only that pauper, Charles Stuart, tonight. Call me Charles.”

“Well, I’m glad you don’t want me to call you pauper.”

He tilted back his head and gave a booming laugh. “Come.” He led her to the windows where they stared out at the moon’s reflection dancing across the Thames, slipping his arm at the base of her spine, massaging her back. “You seem troubled. Are you concerned about making me a vampire? I must confess I did agree with Buckingham to allow you to turn me.”

Tears stung her eyes. “I heard the clock strike midnight. If I don’t find a way to recapture my soul by Christmas Day, I’ll remain a vampire forever.”

He raised his hand and ran his fingers lightly across her fangs. “Would that be such a bad thing? I can’t think of anyone I would rather be a vampire with then you. You could be the king’s own vampire”

“I thought after what happened in France, you no longer wanted to be a vampire of any sort.”

“I’ve come to the conclusion I have no choice.”

It took every ounce of control not to bite down on his fingers. Sweat beaded her forehead in her effort not to succumb to the bloodlust. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She forgot she spoke to a king. “An immortal life without a soul is a living death. Eternity without God is hell, even if you don’t have the psychic vampire demons to plague you.”

He dropped his arms to his sides. “I changed my mind. Buckingham makes quite a convincing argument. Why are you here, if not to make me a vampire?”

“The duke is trying to force me to make you a vampire. He’s one of them now, you know.”

“I knew Buckingham was a devil long before this. Why is it so important to him I become a vampire?”

“Julian’s the leader of the demons, and he thinks he would be better able to rule the world through you.”

“They might do a better job at ruling the kingdom than my brother James ever will.” His mouth gave a downward twitch.

“This is no joking matter, Sire. Don’t you see how late the hour grows? All the vampires in London are leaving for Southampton today.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “So you did manage to tell them what happened?”

She gulped and looked away. “Yes. I told them about the aristocrats in King Louis’s court escaping from the witch finders. It’s just a matter of time before they send more witch finders to London in order to destroy us all.”

He gave her a cynical look that made gooseflesh dance down her arms. “Louis is a fool to have let the commoners find out he was dealing with the supernatural. But never mind him. He was a fool even when I lived at his court. I would never be so foolish if I had such powers. But tell me, what can I do to help you?”

Through sheer willpower, she forced her fangs to disappear. She couldn’t think clearly with the bloodlust upon her, and she had to force herself to concentrate. “You’re willing to help us, Your Majesty, even though I won’t make you a vampire? Why?”

He brought her to him, kissing the nape of her neck, causing an unexpected thrill to race through her veins. “Because I believe you are the only woman, other than Nelly, I’ve ever truly loved. One woman with whom I wouldn’t mind going through all eternity with.”

Elizabeth took a step backward. “Please, Sire, this is hardly the time.”

“What better time for me to love you forever.” He nuzzled her throat teasingly.

She brushed back a stray curl that had fallen across her forehead and her breath quickened. “I admire you greatly, Sire, but I . . .”

“What is it? Is it that you love that big, handsome man Darius—that courageous man whom I couldn’t hold a candle to—in courage or in looks?”

It was impossible to meet the king’s eyes. “It’s not that. I don’t love Darius.” Then she stopped and pictured Darius in her mind, from his broad strong shoulders to his long, powerful legs, to the furious passion and concern in his eyes when he looked at her. She nearly collapsed when recalling those warm sensual lips pressing down on her own. She loved him. How could she ever have pretended to anyone that she didn’t?

Charles waited for her to go on, a subtle smile on his face. His look of doubt at her declaration made her confess. “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t telling you the truth. I do love him, of course I do.” Once she spoke, she knew that, in her condition, loving Darius was the worst possible idea.

Charles shrugged and gave a rueful smile. “I suppose that’s good then you’ve finally realized your true feelings, even though that leaves me pretty much out in the cold. But tell me, how can I help?”

Touched by his concern, she tried to smile. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help me concerning my soul, but, if I may be so bold, how is the state of your own soul?”

He looked shocked by her brashness. “Do you think there’s any way you might be of help to Charles II, King of England, Ireland, and Scotland with the condition of his soul?”

She lowered her head. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I didn’t mean to offend you. I spoke too boldly. Sometimes when I’m with you, I forget I’m in the presence of a king.”

Charles dropped to his knees, clasping her hands in his. “You’re right. I don’t really want to become a vampire. I want nothing more than to go back to the one true Catholic faith, but my English subjects will never allow it. What can I do?”

Elizabeth could hardly believe it was Charles II who knelt before her, clutching desperately to her wrists. She sank down beside him and wrapped him in her arms. “Perhaps if you pray, God will understand why you must keep your faith a secret.”

“Even though Louis is meddling with the dark powers, he still made me swear I would become a Catholic, and I’ve tried to pass religious toleration in Parliament, but they block me at every turn. I know if my brother ever becomes ruler, the Stuart reign will end. He’ll force Catholicism on the English people, whether they wish it or not. That’s why I’ve been so tempted to become a vampire. I wanted my family to rule England for eternity.”

“I think your faith is more important than living in this world forever. Do you believe in God, Charles?”

“Yes, I do.” He looked at her shyly, or as shy as a king could look. “I have something to show you. It’s a secret I haven’t shared with anyone else, except for Sir Christopher Wren.”

“Are you talking about the man who’s planning to rebuild St. Paul’s?”

“Yes, the very one,” he said. Charles sprang up like a young boy and rushed to his gold-leafed desk, pulling out a key he’d tucked inside a book. Opening the top drawer of his desk, he shuffled through some papers and brought back a drawing he spread out on the Egyptian rug.

“What’s this?”

“It’s his design for the dome of St. Paul’s.”

Elizabeth kneeled down on the floor. With her finger, she traced the outline of the Corinthian columns and the mighty dome that would surely reach to the sun. She drew in a sharp breath. “It looks like St. Peter’s, at the Vatican in Rome.”

Charles stooped down by her, sitting on his heels. “It’s the very same. Do you like it?”

She knew by the glow in Charles’s dark eyes how much these architectural plans meant to him. “It’s gorgeous. But what will the English Protestants say about it?”

With a grim chuckle, Charles said, “That’s why Wren and I are keeping the plans under lock and key. I’ve put a tax on coal to raise the money for the church’s construction.”

“If this doesn’t prove your faith, Sire, nothing will.”

He cupped her face between his hands. “That’s what I had hoped. Are you certain you can’t love me, just a little, Elizabeth?”

“You know I love you as my king and as my friend,” she said, kissing him on both cheeks. “I must leave now. Buckingham will return soon, and if he discovers I haven’t made you a vampire, he’ll be furious and enlist Julian’s help.”

A huge commotion came from just outside the bedchamber. A growl, a shriek, and a thump caused Elizabeth and Charles to leap up and dash to the door. He grabbed his sword from the mantle before opening the door slowly. There stood Darius and Lance. Apparently, Lance had just turned back into human form because Darius tossed him his cloak to cover his naked body.

She glanced at the two men, and then stared down at the yeoman guard who must have been attacked by Lance.

She looked concerned until Lance said, “Don’t worry, I just knocked him unconscious.”

“Come in quickly.” Charles motioned the two men inside.

Darius had eyes only for Elizabeth. He hugged her to his chest. “Are you all right, darling?”

“I’m fine, but we’ve got to get away before Buckingham returns.” She pulled a little away from him and looked up, always searching his face for any trace of revulsion for what she was, but all she saw in his eyes was love and concern.

The sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway caused them to jump. “It appears we’d better hurry.” Darius gripped Elizabeth’s hand in his own. “We’ve got to escape now.”

“His Lordship is right,” Lance said. “Do you want me to stay behind as a wolf to protect the retreat?”

“No. Come with us,” Elizabeth said. She glanced at his left leg. He still had a limp from the mini-ball he’d taken at the Tower. “You’ve been hurt enough in our defense.”

“Follow me.” The king led them out through a paneled wall that opened and closed at the touch of his hand. Once they were in the tunneled stairway, which was lit at intervals by torches, Charles took a torch from one of the brackets on the wall. “These are my backstairs.” The secret passageway led them out to the gardens, and they continued on until they reached St. James Park.

“What shall we do now?” Elizabeth whispered.

“Shush!” Darius said. “I hear a noise.”

They stopped, none daring to breathe.

Elizabeth heard a rustling noise, much like leather being rubbed together, and then she caught the demon’s rotting sulfurous stench before she spotted him. Charles raised the torch in the direction of the noise and the flame flickered in front of the seeping, red sockets of Julian’s eyes.

The king nearly dropped his torch. “Holy Mother of God!” he said. “What in the name of heaven is this unholy creature?”

Julian unfurled his leather wings to their fullest extent, blocking out the moonlight. He hovered in the air just above them, his rotting skin oozing with putrefaction. Lance transformed into a wolf, growling and snapping, he leaped toward the demon, but Julian batted him away, knocking him up against a tree trunk where he fell, only to remain lying in a heap.