4 - We Are Gathered (2 page)

“You can cease lying. I’m immune to it. We can’t be at Tirgoviste Castle. It’s a ruin. In Romania. It’s part of the Dracula Castle Tour.”

He smiled. And it was devastating. Rori lost her breath, and then lost control of her mouth as her jaw dropped. She’d read it in books, but never experienced it, and that was just too much in an already too full evening. And worse. He looked like he knew every bit of her train of thought and where it led. It was in his expression, and in the slight warble of laughter in his voice.

“You know your vampire lore. Excellent. I stand corrected. You are at the redone Tirgoviste Castle. Call it, Tirgoviste Number Two.”

“I know more than lore. I know physics. We are on the corner of a street in Salem, Massachusetts. I’m having a very bad trip on some really potent acid, and I’m really starting to get angry.”

“Didn’t you wish to meet a coven?”

Her words evaporated, alongside her emotion. “Coven?”

“A real one this time. Mine.”

“You’re a witch?”

He held out an arm as if to escort her, just like she’d seen in campy movies from the 60’s. Rori eyed it with suspicion before raising her eyes to his again. It didn’t help. She’d already noted how black they were, and with the torchlight behind him, there wasn’t anything to see.

“The proper term is warlock. And no. I’m not.”

“What are you, then?”

“A vampire.”

A snort escaped, and then the chuckle. Rori couldn’t help it. It felt good, too, like the release of pressure from a steam-cooker. She suddenly felt light as a feather, and about as serious.

“You find that amusing?”

“You think?” She’d failed. It was outright laughter now, especially at the comical expression on his face. Maybe if everyone Naomi introduced her to wasn’t claiming supernatural ties, his claim wouldn’t get him laughed at. But she’d met five vampires already this weekend. No. Counting this guy, it was now six. Heck, her last semi-boyfriend had even claimed it.

“You dare laugh?”

“Don’t take it so rough, Romeo. It’s just—. You’re just—.” She had a stitch in her side now. That’s what came of tasting that noxious concoction Elizabeth had worked up after telling them it would give glimpses into their futures. And then Rori wondered if it had actually worked. Why…if this was her future, and this guy was involved, heck. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“Come. We waste time.”

She‘d angered him. Or something. There wasn’t much of the previous cavalier attitude about the grip he placed on her hand when he placed it on his arm, nor how he then folded it against his chest, capturing her like a trailing scarf on his arm. Nor was there anything hesitant about his steps. Pools of light gathered her into their embrace before releasing her as they went, coming from real lit torches along real stone walls. They passed beneath an arch, then another, and if she wasn’t mistaken, they looked to be as old as the castle he claimed this to be.

“Where are we going again?”

“To meet my coven.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Why, again?”

“I didn’t say why.”

He was tight-lipped and still not looking her way. For some reason, that made him even more attractive. In a dangerous kind of way. Rori sighed dramatically and her feet slid several steps before he slowed and finally stopped. It took another few seconds before he looked back down at her.

“Say why.”

She prompted it after more moments went by than she cared to count. They matched her increased heart-rate, and that just seemed to make him loom even larger with each one.

“I was told to find you and bring you.”

“Told? You mean there’s a bigger, badder vampire somewhere in this castle-thing that gives orders – and you just obey?”

That combination of words, combined with her sarcasm seemed to trigger something more vast than she could absorb. He snarled at her, changing everything from the debonair, slightly flirtatious man into a creature of menace and superior strength. And he had really elongated, sharp-looking canines. Rori told her mind to ignore them and worked at making her body obey. It shouldn’t matter. The last three vampire-claiming guys had the same affectation.

“You will enter the Great Hall with me. You will be standing or you will be hauled over my shoulder. Which is it to be?”

She tilted her head, considering it, and watched a sparkle hit deep in the one eye that wasn’t shadowed.

“Shoulder,” she dared, and then got a full view of how well they’d crafted the stone floor.

CHAPTER TWO

One thing she’d learned was to roll with whatever life threw at you. No matter how strange, heinous, or just plain mean. That made it simple to hang there and watch the floor blur into a mesh of gray stone and darker colored pigment where they’d mortared them together. It wasn’t due to anything obscuring her vision, or the amount of blood filling her head. It was the speed at which he moved. She couldn’t even see legs moving, or if they were. He took a large stone staircase like it was just a step or two, and then stopped so abruptly that it rocked her into his back. Thank goodness. He’d read her mind. She didn’t want to enter any room hanging like a sack of grain from his shoulder. Especially in a dress. She didn’t wear dresses as a rule, and while being upside down in one hadn’t been in her reasons, it made an excellent one now.

But then he reached into a pocket and pulled out what looked to be a cell phone. Rori arched up from him and watched. It wasn’t like any cell phone she’d ever seen. For starters, it was a lot smaller – and clicked right on his ear. She couldn’t tell where the mouthpiece was.

“Yes?”

There wasn’t a hint of sound from the other end, but he must’ve gotten an answer, since he spoke again. Nothing fancy. No words of greeting. Just numbers.

“Sixteen. Non-negotiable. Wire. One-six-eight-four-one-one…” And he finished with the word yes again.

That was it. He pulled the ear-plug thing out and slid her off his opposite shoulder as he placed it back into a pocket somewhere on his tight pants. No wonder his cell phone was so small. There couldn’t possibly be room in his pants for anything larger, especially as he had them practically painted on pretty impressive thighs. And she wasn’t looking! Rori ground her teeth together as the effort didn’t work, and he probably knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

One peek at his face and she knew it for certain. He wasn’t just blushing. He looked embarrassed enough for both of them.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, and then worked at pulling her dress into place, since static cling looked to get worse if polyester rubbed along what looked to be a silken shirt. There wasn’t any help for it. Her dress clung to everything, outlining just about everything, and he probably knew that thought process, too.

“Don’t be. I was told it would be so.”

“What would be? And no—.” She held her hand up for emphasis, still not looking at his face. “Don’t answer that.”

“You readied, then?”

To meet a roomful of vampires? In a castle that didn’t exist? Sure. Why not? Rori shrugged, and he opened the door.

o O o

They’d gone overboard with their renovations. The castle was too authentic, from the stone making up every surface to the lack of lighting throughout the cavernous room into which he led her. They’d also kept heating to a minimum, despite the roaring fires going in all three fireplaces. At first the place looked empty, and then gradually she could make out groups of people; some sitting in chairs, some reclining on settees, others just standing about eyeing her. And all of them looked like extras in a vampire video…or perhaps the better description was a Film Noir. Rori gathered her shawl closer, and actually stepped closer to her escort, which was truly stupid.

Her eyes adjusted, as did her ears, and now she noted how every person in the room seemed to move, standing and then sliding to where she was being marched through them. It was like being in a parade, with nothing joyous about it. She was surrounded by beings that moved like liquid and were disturbingly silent, blurred, nearly opaque. They surrounded, making a swirling ebbing mass of bodies…glaring at her, examining her, smelling and nearly tasting her, closing in as the man escorting her kept walking.

He took her to a raised platform thing along the far wall, beneath huge banners with strange, tribal-looking demon images on them. They were all done in deep red hues – almost black - on various shades of backgrounds. They all seemed to point to a throne-like chair. It was empty. The moment she noted it, her escort must have, for he swiveled and addressed the sea of people following them.

“Where’s Akron?”

The force of his voice made her jump, but the only one who knew was the man holding her. The legions of wraiths following them didn’t do more than stare. And there wasn’t anything in the room containing heat anymore. She couldn’t even feel the fire at her side.

“Oh cease. You’re ruining the ambiance.”

Ambiance?

One of them stepped forward and looked right at Rori’s escort, standing eye-to-eye to him. The woman was tall and lithe, and stunningly beautiful.

“Akron?” He barked it.

“Called away. What have you brought us?”

“Yes, Tristan. What have you brought?”

Tristan. His name is Tristan.

The name fit him and that thought was even more madness. They were getting surrounded now. She could feel it and sense it. Menace wasn’t the only emotion fueling the space. Rori recognized her own stirrings of fear. If she had to go insane, she was going in her own way, and in her own fashion. There was a reason she’d joined the coven. She held out her free hand, palm outward and started chanting her order three times.

“
Sinja Dor-A. Sinja Dor-A. Sinja Dor-A.
”

A shove pushed an invisible barrier outward, sending them all back a step, then another. Her spell had never worked this well before, or with such effect. Usually it got her sent to solitary quarters for punishment. Rori kept the satisfaction hidden, as if every time she spoke a chant it worked.

“Come.”

He didn’t need to say it. She wasn’t staying here. Rori clung to him, and got lifted from the floor as they traversed another hall, and then another, and then another flight of steps, and through a series of high Gothic arches that shamed the ones in their cellars, until finally she faced a large set of carved double doors, complete with a large door knocker in the shape of a dragon. All of which was going to make an excellent short story for her English Lit class when she woke up from this.
If
she woke up.

“Come in.”

The voice came clearly through what looked like solid wood, and Tristan hadn’t even knocked yet.

“Open it.”

His whisper sent more than sound onto her throat. Sensation laced all along her neck before slithering right down her spine. He looked like he knew it, too, but that shouldn’t be a surprise. He read every thought, why wouldn’t he know every nuance of how he affected her?

“Open the door. Use your powers.”

“I haven’t got any—.”

One eyebrow quirked up again, stilling her tongue and scrambling her thoughts. Damn him. If she was still capable of glaring, she was. He found that amusing, too. It was in the smile he tried hiding, as well as the motion to remove her hand from his arm, where the imprint of fingers still creased his shirt. Then he put both hands on her waist and placed her in front of him, facing a door without a handle.

“Use them.”

“How do you know I have them?”

“Later.”

“Is your name really Tristan?”

“Open the doors first. Flirt later.”

“You keep saying that like I’ll actually be with you later, and
want
it that way.”

“You do. Now, open the doors.”

Rori swallowed, lowered her chin in order to look through her eyelashes at the door, giving it a death wish. Only, she wanted him getting the glare, not some stupid blocks of wood. He chuckled behind her. She was really getting tired of that. She sucked in air, put both hands up, palms outward, fingers spread, and said the spell beneath her breath.

And before her very surprised eyes, both sides swung inward.

“You took your time, Invaris.”

The authoritative voice seemed to originate from somewhere behind the desk, in the shadowed section directly beneath an alcove. That scene was backed by a cavern of bookcases, holding what looked like real leather-bound books. She’d see more if the fireplace put out enough light to see properly, or if the scattering of torches, smoking from high in their sconces, shedding dim light onto everything, worked. The only other light source was an open laptop on the desk, and it completely ruined the medieval feel.

“I thought your name was Tristan.”

The shadow answered. “It is. Sir Tristan Navarre Invaris. Knight…Hospitaler.”

“You’re a knight?”

She turned her head to ask it. He didn’t answer. He simply moved her into the room by lifting her and walking to the center of a circular rug woven with more dark red hues into the same demon-looking design. The position put them in a framework of light, almost like it had been staged for this.

“For shame, Invaris. You didn’t bother with introductions?”

This trip just got weirder and murkier, and there didn’t seem to be a way out. Rori narrowed her eyes on the speaker. “I’m really tired of arguing with shadows and talking in code. Why don’t you just come out of there and show yourself?”

“There are many who would wish that.”

“Don’t count me among them.”

“Feisty, Invaris. I approve.”

Rori was really getting annoyed. It sounded in the strangled exclamation she bit back. She knew Tristan heard it, because his huff of breath hitting the back of her head held the amusement.

“Don’t you wish to know why you’re here?”

Rori stopped her mental tirade mid-word, and glared at the space beneath the alcove. “Okay. I give. Why?”

“I’m recruiting you.”

“To what?”

“Invaris?”

Her head got tipped to one side, a hint of air touched her neck, and then fire-spewing spikes sealed the deal. Rori screamed, but the sound sounded choked before becoming a cough, and then it turned into a mew of something resembling pleasure. The carpeted floor shifted, changing into a cauldron of red liquid, swirling and sucking at their feet, while her hair whirled into the maelstrom about them, joining Tristan’s long locks, masking the scene into a meld of stone and shadow. Fireworks accompanied the sensation, rocketing off her skull, and putting a light show into existence behind the eyes she shut tight.