Night's Honor
Page 8
Finally she paid for her cup of coffee, thanked her patient waitress and left all of her change on the table for an inadequate tip. Her eyes were dry and scratchy, and her body ached. Stretching, she climbed into her car and headed for Rodeo Beach, just a few miles away.
Along with the money she couldn’t access in her bank accounts, she had left behind comfortable, good quality furniture and what few mementos she owned in a spacious, stylish apartment. Now, for any practical purposes, everything she owned was in her car, a jumble of hastily packed clothes, and odds and ends.
One thing she had grabbed as she left home was a thick, soft throw blanket, since she knew she would be sleeping in her car. After pulling into the parking lot near the beach, she retrieved the throw and headed down the path to look for a likely spot to relax.
By the water, the world was wild and windswept. She could just see the tip of Evenfall, the palace of the Nightkind King, which was one of California’s great architectural oddities. The massive Normandy-style castle sprawled prominently along the southwestern coast of the peninsula. The blues of the ocean stretched into infinity, while the green shoreline curved up to gently rolling hills that had been molded over time.
The threat of imminent rain had fled along with the night, leaving behind an uncertain, moody morning. A fresh, piercing wind blew away the cobwebs that had gathered in her head. After living in the desert for two years, the view seemed impossibly lush. If it weren’t for the persistent fear that dogged her footsteps, she could have been very happy in that moment.
Wrapping the blanket around her torso tightly, she walked until she found a spot where the beach had eroded a niche into a higher point of land, and she settled with her back against the bluff, looking out over the water. The spot afforded some protection from the wind along with some privacy, and gradually, she relaxed.
Maybe being an attendant wouldn’t be so bad. Normally, humans could only donate blood every eight weeks. Because a Vampyre’s bite stimulated more than just the immune system, their attendants could donate more often, every four to five weeks, or even more frequently.
Still, it wouldn’t happen every day, or even every week. If Xavier was as principled about not having sex with those under his authority, he must be adept at controlling himself, despite the euphoria his attendants must experience.
Unless he had lied.
She sagged, feeling stupid that the possibility hadn’t occurred to her sooner.
Either he had lied, or he had told the truth. She would find out soon enough. All she knew was, despite everything, if she had to do the last two weeks over again, she would still do the same thing.
I guess that says something, she thought. Even if it costs me my life.
Tired of dealing with the constant fear, she wrapped the blanket tighter around her torso and pulled a corner over her head to block out the sun and wind. Her heavy eyelids drifted closed, and a veil of darkness descended as she fell into an uneasy doze.
In her apartment, the spring night was so warm, she had propped open all her windows and her front door. As she turned away from setting her dining table for supper, a creature slit open the screen at the front door and crawled inside. Neither a cat nor a dog but a demonic combination of both, its slanted eyes glowed with evil intent.
Terror pulsed. She grabbed her carving knife even as the creature slinked toward her, its sleek body menacing and boneless. It leaped, daggerlike claws spread—she grabbed it by the throat and fought to stab it. . . .
And it melted away into nothing.
Dread tasted acrid and repulsive, like somebody’s ashes. She backed in a circle, knife out, her frightened gaze darted everywhere. Invisible hands settled at her waist. She screamed and whirled, and Malphas stood in front of her.
The Djinn’s presence was so Powerful a corona of energy surrounded him. She had no magic other than a spark of telepathy, but even she could sense his Power burning in her mind’s eye.
Djinn were creatures of pure spirit, so Malphas had no fixed form, but the physical shape he chose to take was angelic. He looked like a slimly built man wearing an elegant suit, with golden hair, seraphic blue eyes and a beautiful, deadly face.
He gave her a light smile that showed too many teeth. “Of course I’m looking for you, Tess. It’s only a matter of time before I find you.”
“Get out!” she hissed. Horror tightened an invisible hold around her neck, restricting her breathing. She brandished the useless knife. “Get out of my head!”
“You shouldn’t have done it, Tess.” Malphas’s voice held a caressing tone. He strode toward her, moving at a leisurely pace. “Eathan was mine, and you stole him from me. And I never forgive someone who steals from me.”
“He wasn’t yours to take,” she said between her teeth. “He didn’t know any better. He was just a stupid kid.”
“You know, most people don’t really understand the definition of agony,” said Malphas as he circled her. “Nor can they grasp the concept of eternity, yet both of those things together are a powerful combination.”
At his words, wind blew over her and grew hot, until every inch of her skin burned. The pain was truly unendurable. She screamed again and, desperate to stop it any way she could, she turned the knife on herself.
The noise she made, half grunt, half whimper, woke her up. As she bolted into an upright position, her breath sawed in her throat and her gaze darted everywhere.
Her tired back muscles protested the sudden movement, sharp pain shooting down her spine. The day had progressed significantly, the sun was high overhead, and the temperature had warmed so much that she was burning up, wrapped as she was in the blanket. She pulled it off then tore out of her jacket to let the balmy air cool her overheated skin.
She could sense no presence other than the ocean, no other sound but the wind and the waves.
“It’s just a dream,” she whispered, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. “It’s not real.”
She had been telling herself that for a week, ever since she had run away from Las Vegas and Malphas’s employment. No matter how many nightmares she had, they were all just dreams. Not even the most ancient and Powerful of the Djinn could enter a person’s dreams.
She didn’t think.
But her words were a cold comfort. While her dreams might not be real, they were still, in the end, quite true. She used to believe she had a bright future, and now, suddenly, her life was reduced to choosing the lesser of two evils in an effort just to survive.
Along with the money she couldn’t access in her bank accounts, she had left behind comfortable, good quality furniture and what few mementos she owned in a spacious, stylish apartment. Now, for any practical purposes, everything she owned was in her car, a jumble of hastily packed clothes, and odds and ends.
One thing she had grabbed as she left home was a thick, soft throw blanket, since she knew she would be sleeping in her car. After pulling into the parking lot near the beach, she retrieved the throw and headed down the path to look for a likely spot to relax.
By the water, the world was wild and windswept. She could just see the tip of Evenfall, the palace of the Nightkind King, which was one of California’s great architectural oddities. The massive Normandy-style castle sprawled prominently along the southwestern coast of the peninsula. The blues of the ocean stretched into infinity, while the green shoreline curved up to gently rolling hills that had been molded over time.
The threat of imminent rain had fled along with the night, leaving behind an uncertain, moody morning. A fresh, piercing wind blew away the cobwebs that had gathered in her head. After living in the desert for two years, the view seemed impossibly lush. If it weren’t for the persistent fear that dogged her footsteps, she could have been very happy in that moment.
Wrapping the blanket around her torso tightly, she walked until she found a spot where the beach had eroded a niche into a higher point of land, and she settled with her back against the bluff, looking out over the water. The spot afforded some protection from the wind along with some privacy, and gradually, she relaxed.
Maybe being an attendant wouldn’t be so bad. Normally, humans could only donate blood every eight weeks. Because a Vampyre’s bite stimulated more than just the immune system, their attendants could donate more often, every four to five weeks, or even more frequently.
Still, it wouldn’t happen every day, or even every week. If Xavier was as principled about not having sex with those under his authority, he must be adept at controlling himself, despite the euphoria his attendants must experience.
Unless he had lied.
She sagged, feeling stupid that the possibility hadn’t occurred to her sooner.
Either he had lied, or he had told the truth. She would find out soon enough. All she knew was, despite everything, if she had to do the last two weeks over again, she would still do the same thing.
I guess that says something, she thought. Even if it costs me my life.
Tired of dealing with the constant fear, she wrapped the blanket tighter around her torso and pulled a corner over her head to block out the sun and wind. Her heavy eyelids drifted closed, and a veil of darkness descended as she fell into an uneasy doze.
In her apartment, the spring night was so warm, she had propped open all her windows and her front door. As she turned away from setting her dining table for supper, a creature slit open the screen at the front door and crawled inside. Neither a cat nor a dog but a demonic combination of both, its slanted eyes glowed with evil intent.
Terror pulsed. She grabbed her carving knife even as the creature slinked toward her, its sleek body menacing and boneless. It leaped, daggerlike claws spread—she grabbed it by the throat and fought to stab it. . . .
And it melted away into nothing.
Dread tasted acrid and repulsive, like somebody’s ashes. She backed in a circle, knife out, her frightened gaze darted everywhere. Invisible hands settled at her waist. She screamed and whirled, and Malphas stood in front of her.
The Djinn’s presence was so Powerful a corona of energy surrounded him. She had no magic other than a spark of telepathy, but even she could sense his Power burning in her mind’s eye.
Djinn were creatures of pure spirit, so Malphas had no fixed form, but the physical shape he chose to take was angelic. He looked like a slimly built man wearing an elegant suit, with golden hair, seraphic blue eyes and a beautiful, deadly face.
He gave her a light smile that showed too many teeth. “Of course I’m looking for you, Tess. It’s only a matter of time before I find you.”
“Get out!” she hissed. Horror tightened an invisible hold around her neck, restricting her breathing. She brandished the useless knife. “Get out of my head!”
“You shouldn’t have done it, Tess.” Malphas’s voice held a caressing tone. He strode toward her, moving at a leisurely pace. “Eathan was mine, and you stole him from me. And I never forgive someone who steals from me.”
“He wasn’t yours to take,” she said between her teeth. “He didn’t know any better. He was just a stupid kid.”
“You know, most people don’t really understand the definition of agony,” said Malphas as he circled her. “Nor can they grasp the concept of eternity, yet both of those things together are a powerful combination.”
At his words, wind blew over her and grew hot, until every inch of her skin burned. The pain was truly unendurable. She screamed again and, desperate to stop it any way she could, she turned the knife on herself.
The noise she made, half grunt, half whimper, woke her up. As she bolted into an upright position, her breath sawed in her throat and her gaze darted everywhere.
Her tired back muscles protested the sudden movement, sharp pain shooting down her spine. The day had progressed significantly, the sun was high overhead, and the temperature had warmed so much that she was burning up, wrapped as she was in the blanket. She pulled it off then tore out of her jacket to let the balmy air cool her overheated skin.
She could sense no presence other than the ocean, no other sound but the wind and the waves.
“It’s just a dream,” she whispered, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. “It’s not real.”
She had been telling herself that for a week, ever since she had run away from Las Vegas and Malphas’s employment. No matter how many nightmares she had, they were all just dreams. Not even the most ancient and Powerful of the Djinn could enter a person’s dreams.
She didn’t think.
But her words were a cold comfort. While her dreams might not be real, they were still, in the end, quite true. She used to believe she had a bright future, and now, suddenly, her life was reduced to choosing the lesser of two evils in an effort just to survive.
