Time Without End (The Black Rose Chronicles) (42 page)

“Leave Kristina alone,” I warned. The warlock now had my undivided attention. “If you go near her, I’ll drain every drop of your poisoned blood into the nearest gutter!”

He took a glass of whiskey from the table, without putting his feet down, and indulged in a thoughtful sip before replying. “Let us confine ourselves, for the moment, to the business at hand. The two of us, I fear, are prone to endless disagreement on an infinite number of points. Do you still want my help in destroying your brother?”

I did, but the very necessity of the act struck me like a blow to the solar plexus. Would I never get used to it? Would I grieve for Krispin even as I burned among the very coals and embers of hell?

“Yes,” I said in a miserable whisper.

“Then let us lay a plan.”

My eyes were narrowed, for I was recalling the previous encounter with Dathan, there in the Last Ditch. He wanted something in return for his assistance, of course, but he had yet to say what it was he meant to require of me, in the event of our success. “First,” I said, “tell me what you hope to gain by this.”

He took another draft of the whiskey, and I envied him the warlock’s ability to eat and drink like a mortal, momentarily at least. A glass of wine—nay, a tubful of the stuff—would have been a blessed comfort just then.

“It is time,” he said at considerable length, “to join our two races. To produce a being that is part vampire and part warlock.”

I was so horrified that I forgot the craving for wine that had been clawing at my core only a moment ago. “Great Zeus—it’s an unspeakable thing you’re suggesting!”

“Is it? Consider a creature with your powers and mine. A vampire able to walk in daylight, for instance. A warlock with the propensity for time-travel. The possibilities are truly staggering.”

“You’ve lost your mind, such as it was!”

Dathan laughed and raised his glass in a mocking toast. “There are those of both our species who will hasten to agree. To hell with them all.” He drank again and made a sound of satisfaction afterward that grated on my every nerve. “Here’s the bargain, blood-drinker: take it or leave it, as the mortals say. Inventive, these humans, and oft-times amusing, though given to the odd cliché. In any case, as payment for my help, I want a vampire for a mate.”

I shot to my feet. “What blood-drinker would have a warlock?” I demanded. Alas, tact, even in situations where it was crucial, had never been my forte.

Dathan’s brown eyes, which could shine with a saintly glow when he looked upon a woman, flashed with restrained temper. “Sit down and listen, you incredible fool. My own kind isn’t going to rejoice over the union, either, after all. But it must be done.”

“Why?”

“Because I want it.”

This, for better or worse, was an attitude I understood. I sat down again despondently, reminded that I had no choice in the matter. With Dathan’s assistance I might succeed in tracking down and destroying Krispin. Without it, though it galled me to acknowledge the fact even to myself, I could very well lose the battle.

And Daisy.

“So I am to become a matchmaker,” I muttered. “By the gods, though, I don’t know how I’ll manage it.”

Dathan laughed. “Am I so wretched, so offensive, as all that?”

“Yes,” I answered.

The warlock smiled. “Never fear. You are the most persuasive of creatures—and you have so very much at stake, don’t you?”

Again I thought of Daisy. “Oh, yes,” I replied, reaching for a deck of cards that lay in the center of the table, among neat pillars of blue, white and red poker chips. “Everything, in fact.”

“You also have an agreement with Nemesis, I understand.”

I began to deal. “You’ve done your homework,” I said. “He promised me the power to put an end to Krispin, though I must admit I haven’t seen any sign of it yet. Which, of course, accounts for my willingness to cooperate with the likes of you.” The warlock took up his cards, and I gathered mine, frowning as I pondered the possibilities they presented. “Our bargain, warlock, will not hold good unless you are instrumental in my brother’s destruction. And I believe you can be, or I would not be sitting here now.”

“I’ll take two cards,” Dathan replied. “And none of your tricks.”

I smiled. “You expect too much of a mere vampire,” I replied. And while I systematically divested him of two castles, a horse, and a pocket watch, we discussed our strategy.

CHAPTER
20

Valerian

Colefield Hall, 1995

The warlock and I found Challes at Colefield Hall, half buried by the stacks of musty books he had left to me so many years before, along with the property itself. At his side sat a magnificent white wolf with pale blue eyes.

Upon our appearance, the beast raised himself to his haunches and growled.

“Be still, Barabbas,” Challes said with firm affection, and the wolf whimpered once and dropped at his master’s feet, resting his muzzle on his paws. “These are friends.” I did not correct Challes on this point, though I certainly wouldn’t have counted myself among his friends just then, and I felt no fear of the great wolf, only admiration. Had my business not been so urgent, in fact, I think I might have envied my tutor the company of such a fantastic creature and wanted Barabbas for my own.

“It is time to make restitution,” I said without expression in voice or in manner. “We know from Calder Holbrook’s experiments that it is possible to track Krispin into the other dimension through a grave. You will show me where that particular tomb is, please. Now.”

Still seated, with the wolf lying watchful at his side, Challes looked up at me with mingled sorrow and amusement. “Still the same officious, haughty brat you always were. Ah, but what—or who—could ever have changed you? Nothing and no one, that is certain. And I think I should not have wanted you to be different—you would have been so much less interesting.”

An ancient clock ticked loudly on the mantel, reminding me of the need for haste, and I was mindful, too, of Dathan’s impatience. “Please,” I said again. I would kneel to him if I had to, and beg, but of course I hoped to be spared that humiliation.

“At one time I wanted to take you through the looking glass, Valerian, and show you the other world. You refused—quite adamantly, as I recall.”

“I was afraid.”

“Poppycock. You’ve never been truly afraid in your life. But you will be. Your bowels will turn to water, beautiful one, when you see what awaits you beyond the veil, where Nemesis will take you.” He spoke without rancor, and he took no pleasure, it seemed, in my fate. He was, however, resigned, and he made that sighlike sound that I had learned from him long before. “I am so tired, Valerian. So very tired.”

I went to Challes’s chair and crouched beside it, opposite the wolf. The animal raised his head, then lowered it again, having decided, apparently, that I represented no significant threat to his master. “Will you make me plead?” I asked softly. “Is that what you want?” Challes’s face, once beloved, crumpled with some emotion I could not recognize. “No.” He reached down to pat the wolf’s huge, silvery head. “It is wrong to humble such creatures as you, and as Barabbas here.” ‘Take me to Krispin’s hiding place. Or simply direct me there. I implore you.”

He put aside the volume that had been resting in his lap and stood at long last. A muttered command kept the wolf from springing up with him, but the beast gave a low, chilling whine to declare his displeasure.

“It is day in that other world,” Challes warned. “Krispin lies resting in a vault, deep beneath the earth, but I cannot promise the light will not reach you there.” I was willing to take that chance—to take any chance. My smile, I fear, was on the rueful side. “Do not worry, Master,” I said. “I cannot be destroyed. I must survive to endure my damnation, remember?”

Tears glittered in Challes’s eyes, and I remembered when I had loved and admired him. “Nemesis is to have the both of us, then.”

“Both of us?”

Challes smiled, though the tears had not lessened. “I made a bargain of my own long ago with the great Warrior Angel. I have eluded him, thus far, by trickery, but I daresay he will prevail.” He took one of my hands in both of his. “Forgive me, Valerian, for making you what you are.”

“Forgive you? I will always be grateful, Challes. Even in hell.”

“Come, then,” he said with another sigh. And we were gone from that place in an instant, leaving the wolf to snooze placidly on the hearth.

When we materialized again, we were inside a tomb whose headstone had long since crumbled to dust. Still, I was chagrined to recognize the place, for I sensed immediately that it was at Dunnett’s Head, on the grounds where the baron’s keep had once stood.

“By Apollo,” Dathan grumbled, making a fruitless and disgruntled attempt to shake the dust from his costly cape. “Who but a vampire would pass even a moment in such a place?”

“Feel free to leave at any time,” I offered with biting politeness.

“We must make of ourselves a single mist,” Challes said, taking no notice of the tension between Dathan and me.

“Is the warlock capable of such a trick?” I asked of my teacher, not to bait Dathan, but merely because I was curious.

“The warlock,” Dathan interjected in an angry whisper, “is quite capable!”

I said nothing further, but simply concentrated on Challes’s instructions. We became as one entity, we three, in the moments that followed, and solidified again, mercifully separate once more, in a vast dark chamber beneath a great castle or fortress of some sort.

“Where are we?” Dathan asked, sounding for the first time in our acquaintance as though he might be suffering a few doubts where his conviction of eminent superiority was concerned.

“Second Earth,” Challes replied in a weary tone. For one who had once wanted so badly to bring me to this place that he would hold me prisoner and try to force me to accompany him, my tutor seemed reticent.

I offered no response, for I was drawn to the dusty silver outline of a large mirror covering the whole of a nearby wall. I crossed to it, touched the glass with splayed fingers, and gave a cry of alarm when, in the length of a heartbeat, it was filled with dazzling light.

“This looking glass once graced the ballroom on the third level of the castle,” Challes said, standing beside me. As he spoke, the light faded a little, and I saw dancers beyond the smooth surface. Women in colorful, full-skirted frocks whose hems swept the floor, men in waistcoats and breeches and ascots. I could almost hear the music to which they whirled, smiling, talking, full of joy.

“They are of this world—Second Earth?” I wondered aloud, somehow stricken by the tableau, and sorrowing that I was not among those happy dancers, with Daisy beaming in my arms. Oh, to be mortal, for just one lifetime!

Challes touched my shoulder, as if to console a mourner. “No, lovely one. They are of the world we just left. Come—we much reach Krispin before he awakens.”

Although I was as intent on the task ahead as ever, I found I did not wish to leave that mirror. I wanted to go on looking at those people, sharing vicariously in their innocent felicity.

Challes led the way out of the chamber, with Dathan following after him. I brought up the rear, reluctantly, gazing back often at the fading images in the glass.

It was remarkably easy to find Krispin’s resting place.

Too easy.

He was lying, like a slain statesman in the rotunda of some great government edifice, with his arms crossed over his breast and candles burning all around. He wore a white suit, reminiscent of
The Great Gatsby
, and his golden head gleamed in the dim light.

I stood over him, remembering so many things.

“Make haste, Valerian!” Challes muttered. “If Krispin awakens, he will make a formidable foe.”

I was trembling as I held out my hand for the stake and mallet Dathan provided. Whether the warlock had carried those implements with him, conjured them, or simply found them along the way, I shall never know. Never care to know.

I took the stake first and placed the point over my brother’s heart, holding it there with my left hand. In my right I held the mallet.

“Do it,” Dathan said. “Kill him!”

We had underestimated Krispin’s cleverness, for beneath my stake and raised hammer, he suddenly became the little fair-haired boy I had known as a mortal. He looked as peaceful as a sleeping cherub, the child of angels.

“Do not be fooled,” Challes warned quietly.

I was weeping now, though in silence. I prepared myself to drive in the stake, and Krispin changed shape again. This time he took on the image of our mother, Seraphina. I had forgotten how lovely she was, how fragile and small.

“Valerian!” Challes spoke more sternly this time. “Can’t you see what’s happening? He is a chameleon— there is no end to the forms he can take! In the names of all the old gods,
destroy him
before—”

I was about to wield the mallet at last when Krispin took on still another guise. This time he was the perfect image of Daisy, and he had awakened to gaze up at me, imploring, with her emerald eyes.