Authors: Linda Winstead Jones
“I don’t know how you managed this, but I will enjoy killing you all over again.” And with that, she flew.
Sorin placed himself in front of the others. Marie was his. She had guided him, promised him power, promised him everything he’d ever wanted. She’d shown him how power corrupts. She unknowingly caused him to leave behind the monster he had become for the Warrior he was today.
And she had killed him. He owed her for that. He owed her for Jonas — the vampire she’d tortured and killed, a vampire without whom this war would not have been possible — and for Nevada, for Chloe’s mother. He owed her for Phillip, for Phillip’s mother, and for all the humans she had killed or glamoured beyond repair. He owed her for Melody, Sorin’s own vampire offspring who had died early on in this war, a silly, bloodthirsty child who never should’ve been called a soldier.
What he owed her was justice. That was who he was now, who he had become. Justice.
He had seen her fight many times, so he knew how she would attack, what she would do when she reached him. Her eyes were on him; she seemed to have forgotten about or else foolishly dismissed the others. Mistake. Sorin took a stance that indicated he intended to meet her head on. His sword was held high and ready. His eyes locked to hers. She was coming for him; she wanted to kill him again. When she reached Sorin he ducked down, tucked the sword close to his body, rolled along the floor, and shouted a name.
He rolled up in time to watch Indikaiya swing her sword and take Marie’s head.
Marie had time to scream in frustration, just once, and then she went to dust. It had happened fast, perhaps too fast, but it was done. The power in the mansion shifted instantly. He felt it. Luca felt it more strongly, he could tell by the way the blood born glanced up. Marie’s children were now weakened. Her glamoured humans were free of her influence. The war was not over, but it soon would be.
Luca stepped over Marie’s dust as if it were poison. “You could have warned us what you two had cooked up.”
“It was not planned,” Sorin said.
Luca scoffed. “Looked planned to me.”
The four of them walked toward the stairway. A few vampires would need to be dealt with, before they could retake these headquarters. Sorin took a moment to ruminate on the fact that he was walking down the hallway side by side with Luca Ambrus. They had been on the same side for a while, but they had never been what anyone would call friends, or even friendly acquaintances. And yet now there was no animosity.
“What will you do now?” Sorin asked.
Luca did not hesitate to answer. “I’m going to take my family and go home.”
“And home is…”
“None of your business,” the blood born mumbled.
Scotland
, Sorin thought, though he wasn’t sure why. He had a lot to learn about being a Warrior.
As they reached the end of the hallway, four heads snapped to the side when they heard a meek call from beyond a closed door. Rurik shouted for the woman they’d heard to stand back, and then he kicked in the door.
Sorin smiled, and offered the woman in that room a hand. It was a very good day indeed. Though she would not remember him — he had seen to that — he remembered her well.
“Mrs. Stargel, Phillip will be so happy to see you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The war was over; she should not cry. Marie had been dead a week, and every day there were fewer battles. Fewer rebel vampires. The time for shedding tears was over, right? The world was safe, or at least as safe as it had once been.
Nevada turned her head and wiped her eyes when Rurik walked into the room. She didn’t want his last memory of her to be one of her red-faced and puffy. Some women might look attractive when they cried, but she was not one of them.
She’d heard them talking. Tomorrow the Warriors would depart. They were no longer necessary.
How could she tell Rurik that he was necessary to
her
?
“Sorin has located your family,” Rurik said, his voice sounding not much happier than she felt.
Good news. Maybe she felt a little better.
But not much. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, working to keep the tears out of her voice. “Where are they?”
“Not far. A cabin in Virginia, he said. He was quite annoyed that they seem to be trying to block him.”
Emily had more than a touch of the same magic Nevada possessed. What about Justin? Which of her parents had witch’s blood? She’d find out. After Rurik left.
He walked up behind her and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. It was a soldier’s hand, large and calloused, but it was also a kind and gentle hand. She lifted her own hand and placed it over his. After tomorrow she would not be able to touch him, not ever again.
“I love you,” she said, whispering.
“I know,” he answered just as softly.
I know? Really? How embarrassing! Then he said, “I love you, too. I have since I first saw you. You were traveling remotely and did not think anyone could see you, but I did. I will always see you, Nevada.”
Forget about holding in tears! She turned, buried her head against his chest, and sobbed. “I don’t want you to go! It’s not fair!” As if life had ever been fair. “Can’t I go with you? I’m no soldier, I know that, but don’t the Warriors need a witch?”
“Impossible,” he whispered as he stroked her hair. “You cannot travel to my world.”
“But true love is supposed to fix everything,” she said, her words garbled and teary. “That’s what we have, right? True love.”
He took her chin in his hand and made her look up at him. “True love is pain and joy in equal measure. It breaks worlds and fixes them. My heart is broken and yet it is also full.”
Tears streamed down her face. “Isn’t there a spell…”
“No.”
“There has to be a way I can go with you!”
“No.” He leaned down and kissed her tear-stained lips. “But if you will have me, I can stay.”
Nevada held her breath. It had not even occurred to her that he might be able to stay with her! “Is it possible?”
“Yes.”
She experienced a moment of ecstasy followed by… doubt. “You are an Immortal Warrior. How does that work?”
“If I stay, I will become human again. You and I will grow old together. We will make babies, and make a home. We will be husband and wife, and we will know all the joy and pain of a long but very human life.”
She caught his eye and held it. “You would give up immortality for an ordinary life with me?”
“I would give up immortality for one more night with you. My love for you is that deep.”
Nevada shook her head. “I can’t ask you to…”
“Don’t ask me to live a thousand years without you,” he interrupted. “Even a week would be torture.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to torture you.” Nevada wrapped her arms around Rurik’s neck and held on tight. She smiled. She kissed him. And then she pulled away slightly and whispered. “I should have known. True love always wins.”
They were no longer needed. With leaders like Jimmy and Kevin in charge, the last remaining vampire rebels had been defeated in a matter of days. Or else they slunk back into darkness, where they would once again hide. It would be foolish to say the rebel vampires were no longer a danger, but with Marie gone there was no more risk that they would claim power.
It was discussed that perhaps Nevada, who had a gift for casting spells of remembrance, could cast a worldwide spell that would allow humans — or most of the them — to forget. But while ignorance might be bliss, it would be foolish to wipe away the knowledge that the danger of vampires continued to exist. Humans needed to know to be cautious about inviting strangers into their homes after dark.
Indikaiya stood, side by side with Sorin, at the edge of Arlington Cemetery. Warriors were buried here. Heroes. Soldiers. Row upon row upon row of precisely placed headstones stretched before them. She felt a reverence, as she often did when she stepped upon hallowed ground.
There were battle sites all around the city, scarred ground all around the world, but no vampire battle had taken place here. The stones were pristine; the grounds unblemished. In the distance, a small bit of fog had already begun to form.
It was in this way that they’d depart, as they were no longer required in this world. When a war was finished, the Warriors returned home to wait until the next time they were called. They entered their world through the sacred burial grounds of other warriors.
They would be remembered now. No more would the Warriors be forgotten.
On this crisp autumn morning, they had an audience for their departure from this world. Humans they had fought with, a few vampires who could withstand the early morning sun — Luca Ambrus included — Phillip Stargel and his mother. And Cupcake, of course. She would miss the dog, more than she’d imagined she would, but Cupcake and Phillip made a fine pair. They would be happy with one another.
Philip had hugged Sorin with all his might, when they had returned from the final fight with Marie with his mother, but most of his attention had been — rightly — for her. He did not seem to notice that his mother was pale and thin. She recovered a bit more every day, and soon she’d be herself again.
Nevada stood to the side, grasping Rurik’s hand tightly. She’d hugged Sorin and Indikaiya moments earlier, and she’d shed emotional tears. Tears of loss, as it was likely they would never see one another again. She was not at all comforted to know that if he chose to, Sorin could watch her for a lifetime. Unless there was a need, she would not see him again. If she led a blessed life from this moment on, there would never be a call.
Indikaiya caught Rurik’s eye and lifted her eyebrows in silent question. He nodded once. Once the decision was made, there would be no changing his mind. No regrets in a day or a month or a year. If he did not walk with the other Warriors back to their home, he would become human again. He would age, his strength would fade. Rurik had chosen Nevada over immortality. He had chosen her over his calling.
The witch was his calling now. Nevada was his purpose. He smiled, looking so odd swordless and wearing modern clothing. This was his life now.
Indikaiya turned her attention to the front, to the cemetery that awaited. She had so much to show Sorin, so much to teach him. Yes, they would return to this world when called, but until then — whether the wait was months or years or eons — they would have a life. A good life, together.
She patted the leather bag she would carry home with her. There wasn’t much in it, just one small souvenir. She wasn’t sure that the iPod Jimmy had given her would work in her world, but she was going to do her best to take Joan, Aretha, and Janis with her.
As they watched Warriors from every time imaginable enter the cemetery, the fog that had begun to form when they’d arrived grew and rolled toward them. Just a few feet away, a mist formed on the grass. That mist grew thicker and taller as more armed men — and a few women — walked into it and disappeared. It seemed to swallow them whole. Sorin took her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back, in a comforting way she had not even thought to offer in thousands of years.
“I have been reborn,” Sorin said softly. There was a short pause, a deep breath, and then he said, “I’m not sure I deserve this second chance.”
“If you had not earned it you wouldn’t be here.” She didn’t mean to snap, but she had never been a coddler. Not even as a mother, a wife, a human with human frailties.
She glanced up, wondering if she’d hurt his feelings, but he wore a charming Sorin smile on his handsome face. “I love you,” he said. It was not a romantic offering but was, instead, a statement of fact.
“And I love you,” she responded. It was the first time she had said the words to him. It would not be the last.
Hand in hand, they stepped forward, following others of their kind.
“I wonder what the future holds, in this new world,” Sorin asked as a tendril of mist wrapped around his ankle and crawled up his leg.
Indikaiya smiled, her heart soared, and as the mist swallowed them she said, “Let’s find out.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda's first book, the historical romance
Guardian Angel
, was released in 1994, and in the years since she's written in several romance sub-genres under several names. In order of appearance, Linda Winstead; Linda Jones; Linda Winstead Jones; Linda Devlin; and Linda Fallon. She's a six time finalist for the RITA Award and a winner (for
Shades of Midnight
, writing as Linda Fallon) in the paranormal category. She’s a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of seventy books. Most recently she's been writing as Linda Jones in a couple of joint projects with Linda Howard, and rereleasing some of her backlist in ebook format. She can often be found playing on Facebook, and information is always available at
www.lindawinsteadjones.com
.