Warrior Rising (3 page)

“What if we kill Nevada, and find out what she said about the breaking of the spell being tied to her heartbeat is bullshit?” he snapped. “What if she thinks that’s the way it works but she’s wrong? Without a powerful witch to recast the spell, we’re screwed.”

“Screwed?”

“Fucked. Up a creek without a paddle. In a world of —”

“I understand,” she interrupted tersely. “That is a valid argument. You should present it to the others.”

“You can argue for her.”

“No.” Perhaps that twitch at the corner of her mouth was a smile, but surely not. “I do not have your charming way with words.”

Frustration gnawed at him. He stalked toward the Warrior, moved in dangerously close. She was tall for a woman, especially for a woman of her time, whenever that had been. If he went by the clothes she’d been wearing when she’d arrived, it had been a very long time since Indikaiya had walked this earth as a human. Because he wanted her to be as annoyed as he was, he kept prodding. “Where are you from?
When
are you from?”

She didn’t back away. “Save the witch and perhaps I will tell you.”

He leaned down slightly, sniffed her throat. She stiffened at his nearness, at the inherent threat of his action, but again she stood her ground. Her scent was warm and female, and she smelled human enough, though that was open to question. She’d been human once, as had he. He knew what he was, but he wasn’t completely certain exactly how the Warriors would be categorized. Superhuman? Paranormal? Or just humans from another plane? They were puzzling. He inhaled again, because human or not, woman was woman and he liked the smell. “Why do you care if I save Nevada?” he murmured.

Narrow-eyed, she took her own investigatory sniff. He was so taken aback he almost laughed. Damn if he didn’t like that he couldn’t intimidate her. He also liked how close they were standing, so close that with each inhale his chest almost touched the tips of her breasts. For a second, just a second, temptation raced through him, the temptation to touch her, to feel her bare skin under his hands.

He jerked back to attention when she said, her voice low, “The world does not hold enough strong women. I would hate to see one so powerful snuffed out on the mere chance that it might save us a bit of trouble.”

“Well, that’s interesting,” he said. “You like a bit of trouble, don’t you?”

Her mouth quirked. “On occasion.”

That he could relate to. He smiled. “So do I.”

She tipped her head back and looked him in the eye. The movement sent the thick blond braid of her hair swinging down her back, brushing back and forth across her ass. She had a powerful gaze, bright and intelligent and forceful. Her eyes were blue, but not a blue like his own. There were swirls of green in those deep depths, as well as an unexpected spark of gold. “Your flirtatious manner is a waste of time, vampire. You can’t charm me into your bed.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You did not have to. Your manner speaks for you. I admit, you are handsome and strong. I suspect you are talented in sexual ways, and I have been a long while without a man. But — no.” For a second her gaze turned inward, as if she was looking back across the endless years with longing and… grief? Then her body shifted as if she couldn’t stand still, as if thinking about the possibility of having sex with him had caused an itch down her spine similar to the one he was feeling.

He was too experienced to miss the signal, as unexpected as it was. His entire body sprang to attention. “So, why not?”

Impatiently she said, “You’re a vampire. You have chosen to fight on the side of right, for now, but that does not change who,
what
, you are.”

Sorin didn’t say a word. He caught Indikaiya’s gaze and held it. Neither of them looked away, neither spoke. There were many beautiful and willing women in the world. Human and vampire, tall and short, voluptuous and thin, sweet and not so sweet. Each woman was special in her own way.

At the moment, no other appealed as this one did.

“Never,” she whispered, even though he hadn’t spoken. Perhaps his expression said more than mere words.

She turned and walked away from him. “Come to the meeting or do not. I will try to argue for your witch, if I can.”

Sorin watched her walk away, then impatiently swore under his breath and followed her. Leaving would be easier, it would be more in keeping with his character, but he wasn’t going to abandon this war he’d helped to set into motion. And if he wasn’t going to leave, he damn well needed to be in on the decision-making.

It had been well more than two hundred years since one of her descendants — a conduit like Chloe Fallon — had called her into the world to fight. Indikaiya had been a rebel, of sorts, during the American Revolution. She had fought in a number of skirmishes, rather than the more well-known battles, but at the call of a man in her bloodline she had played her part in securing the victory for the revolutionaries. Many of her fellow Warriors had been on this earth since then, in war, in minor battles. She, however, had not been needed or called.

Never before had so many Warriors been summoned to the same fight. It was difficult, in an age where no one knew of their existence, to find a way in, to be invited into the world to do battle for the human race. In the days when the Immortal Warriors were not only known but revered, it had been much simpler to be called. That time had been gone a long time now. As years passed, the Warriors became more myth than fact, and then… they had disappeared from memory entirely, and had not even existed in tales. The little witch so many now wanted to kill had cast the spell that made the unprecedented influx possible.

Indikaiya would enjoy fighting alongside her fellow Warriors, and she would enjoy fighting alongside the humans who had been called here. Inevitably some of them would find themselves in her world, the world of Warriors who were dedicated to protecting humankind, when they died. Most people who died in battle truly died, went to earth, but some special ones instead crossed the plane to abide with the Warriors, immortal until they chose not to be, willing to come to the aid of humans who were fighting for the right causes, sometimes for humanity itself. She would gladly fight back to back with any of them without a second thought.

She did have second thoughts about fighting alongside vampires, no matter how good they were in battle. Luca Ambrus was an extraordinary fighter, true, but he was a blood born vampire and, even worse, he had turned her descendant Chloe into a vampire, too. The only thing that had saved him from her sword was that being turned had been Chloe’s choice, and his act had saved her life.

It stung that her blood descendent, her conduit, had been turned into one of them. It had been that or death, for Chloe and the child growing inside her. Indikaiya couldn’t kill Luca and, in truth, at this time she could kill none of the vampires who were fighting with them. They needed every sword — every fang — at their disposal.

Chloe’s pregnancy was disturbing. Part of Indikaiya was appalled that one of her descendants was half vampire, but another part was worried sick that the child wouldn’t survive. Human/vampire pregnancies were extremely rare, all but unheard of. She could not imagine that the results would be good for either mother or baby.

She wanted Chloe to live; to see the end of such an unquenchable spirit would be devastating. But there was no precedent for Chloe’s circumstances, so Indikaiya had no idea what to expect. Chloe was a conduit. Luca was a rare blood born. With both mother and father being so different, would that change the outcome for this pregnancy?

If either Chloe or Luca realized that she was carrying his baby, neither had made it known, but the pregnancy was so new and they’d been so embroiled in one crisis after another that she doubted either had had the opportunity to even think of the possibility. Luca would soon notice, though, because Chloe’s scent would be different… perhaps. Now that she was a vampire, perhaps not. Indikaiya had no intention of telling them, because words spoken aloud could always be overheard. They would have good reason to keep the news to themselves for as long as possible. There were those who would see the child as an abomination, an unnatural thing who should not be allowed to live. The unknown was always frightening, and the child… the child was most definitely unknown. If the babe survived to see the world, would she come into it human or vampire? Would she be strong or weak? Would she be able to walk in the sun? Would she need blood or milk to thrive? That — and more — remained unknown.

Indikaiya entered the room where the meeting would soon begin, and instinctively moved close to Chloe’s side. As a newly made vampire, Chloe hadn’t been able to resist the overpowering urge to sleep while the sun was up, even though she exhibited unusual control for one so young, but now that night had fallen again she was wide awake and ready to take on the world. Her cheeks were pink with healthy color; perhaps Luca had fed her with his own potent blood, giving her strength. Indikaiya felt a surge of unwelcome gratitude for the vampire, because without him Chloe would be dead.

The room was crowded with vampires and humans and Warriors, the unusual alliance uneasy but necessary. As they were settling down, the door opened once again and Sorin came in. Indikaiya didn’t want to notice his presence, but she couldn’t help it. She knew he was in the room, was aware of his location even when she wasn’t looking at him. There was an electricity about him, the force of his personality blasting out in all directions.

Sorin, along with Rurik and the human Jimmy, argued for the witch’s life. Why? A creature such as he cared for no one but himself. Did he love Nevada? It seemed ludicrous that a vampire could love a human, but Luca had fallen in love with Chloe so it was not impossible. Did Sorin lie with his redhead? Did she offer him comfort and release? That made more sense than love. Perhaps lust was why he argued so passionately for the witch’s life.

No, Indikaiya decided when the witch entered the room uninvited and unwanted. Sorin did not look at Nevada the way he had looked at her, just moments ago. He cared for the girl, he was protective of her, but his caring was not of a sexual nature.

Rurik, on the other hand…

Indikaiya thought the young woman might plead for her own life. She did not. In fact, she looked ready to accept her fate, no matter what it might be. She possessed bravery of a different sort, a bravery that should be respected.

The petite redhead held her head high. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was wearing the same clothes from last night. She had not rested, that much was clear. “I have been working on recasting the sanctuary spell. I can do it, I know I can, but it will take time. A few days, at least.” She took a deep breath. “I want to live, I will not lie about that, but if my death is what’s best…”

“No,” Sorin said, and with that he placed himself in front of her. As they had last night, Rurik and Jimmy did the same.

It was Rurik who put forth, “If we murder this girl to make our battle easier, if we sacrifice her, then we do not deserve to be called Warriors.”

Many agreed with him. Indikaiya caught a glimpse of the witch, as Jimmy swayed to the side. The human was tired, so it was only natural that he would be weakened. That movement revealed that the witch was relieved. She was willing to sacrifice her life, but she wanted to live, as she had said.

Sorin turned, looked down, and whispered to the girl. She scampered off, back to her chamber to work on the spell that would save countless humans.

And if she could not recast that spell?

The attitudes of many in this room would change, if that were the case. How many could be sacrificed in order to spare the life of one witch?

As talk turned to plans of strategy and of leaving this place, Sorin walked across the room to join Luca, Chloe, and their vampire friends. She had not known vampires were capable of friendship. She looked to Luca. Or of love.

That knowledge was a complication she could do without.

Nevada was so tired, she was literally seeing double. Four books on the worktable instead of two. Two piles of small, multi-colored stones instead of one. She gripped the edge of the table to ground herself.

It had been almost two days since she’d murdered countless innocent people. The ancient spell she’d broken had once given humans a safe haven, a place to hide even on the darkest night. The sanctuary spell. The protection at the doorway of a human’s home. She was the one who’d broken it, who made it fall. She was to blame…

She wasn’t surprised when the familiar knock sounded at the door of her room, which in the past few years had been prison, workshop, and — on occasion — home. Rurik’s knock was both gentle and strong. Like him.

“Come in,” she said softly, knowing he would hear her even if she whispered.

Rurik opened the door and stepped into her room. For a large man, he was eerily silent in his movements. A Warrior thing, she imagined. Some of the Warriors had adopted modern clothing since coming into this world, but not Rurik. His plain shirt looked like it was made of coarsely woven dark linen. The pants were much the same. And the sword that hung at his side was massive and extremely sharp.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I wanted to see you. That is all.” His accent — Russian or Russian-like, since she didn’t know exactly where, or when, he had come from — was both harsh and harmonious. “I will be outside your door, should you need anything. Anything at all.”

Unlike most of the men Nevada had known in her lifetime, Rurik was simple and straightforward. No games, no riddles. He liked her; he had made that clear from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. She barely knew him, and yet he’d stood up to his own in order to protect her.

“I should’ve been stronger,” she said. “I should’ve told Sorin to go fuck himself when he kidnapped me and put me to work on breaking the spell. I should’ve stood up to him and given him the finger. Yeah, he would’ve killed me, probably. Likely, anyway. Okay, he definitely would’ve killed me.” Six foot plus, no telling how old though he’d always look thirty-ish, all muscle and fangs, long blond hair like some kind of Viking, he was one scary dude. He was fond of black leather and massive swords Nevada couldn’t lift with both hands. Even now, when he was on the right side… scary.