Blood Awakening (9 page)

“Why is that infant still crying!”

Salvatore Nistor glared at the worthless human
nanny he had captured to care for his newborn nephew, Derrian. Ever since his
youngest brother, Valentine, had disappeared five days ago, the eight-day-old
infant had done nothing but scream. Vampire infants grew at a much more rapid
rate than humans, at least psychologically. They knew their parents right away
and were aware of even the smallest change in their environment; unfortunately,
this one wanted his father.

Salvatore was seething as he stared at the
trembling human female he had abducted from a daycare parking-lot four nights
ago on her way home from work. Snatching, cloaking, and transporting the human
had been as easy as walking and breathing for the twelve-hundred-year-old male,
and he knew deep inside that it wasn’t truly her inability to calm the baby
that was causing him such rage: What really had his blood boiling was the
ever-increasing realization that Valentine wasn’t coming home...

Not ever.

True, Salvatore had expected the sons of Jadon to seek
vengeance for his brother’s crimes, and the heart of the matter was—Valentine
had never really known when to say
when
. His arrogance and love of the
game had always preceded his better judgment, and the Dark One had simply gone
too far when he used Shelby Silivasi’s
destiny
to father his son,
ultimately murdering both Dalia and Shelby.

And as if that hadn’t been enough, he had impregnated
Marquis’s housekeeper by pretending to be Marquis in the hopes of achieving the
same result. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked out quite like Valentine planned.

Salvatore rubbed the bridge of his nose, still fuming.
Joelle Parker had been laid to rest earlier that day, which meant her body had
been returned to her family, and that meant she hadn’t given birth to
Valentine’s sons. It was simply impossible to go on believing Valentine was off
having a good time somewhere—perhaps feeding or enjoying human women—celebrating
the birth of two more offspring. The cocky son of Jaegar would have incinerated
Joelle’s body immediately after the birth, leaving no trace of her demise for
her loved ones to bury.

No, someone had gotten to Joelle first—and someone
had gotten to Valentine. Most likely,
Nathaniel or Marquis Silivasi,
one
of the detestable Ancient Master Warriors in the house of Jadon. Salvatore refused
to believe that the wizard, Nachari, could have managed such a feat, and Kagen,
the healer, was kept as far away from battles as possible because of his value
to his people. No, the warriors had sought blood-vengeance. And in doing so,
they had started a feud that Salvatore intended to finish.

Salvatore raised his arm and backhanded the stupid
female the moment she lay Derrian down in his crib, sending her flying sideways
into the cavern wall. As her head cracked against the limestone, she put both
hands up in front of her defensively. “
Please
…” she groveled, her
high-pitched voice only irritating him more.

Salvatore stalked over to where he had thrown the
five-foot-six wisp of a human. Her dirty auburn hair had become a tangled mass
over the last week, and her long bangs partially shielded her eyes from view. “Please
what!” he thundered, towering over her—his own feral eyes burning with rage. His
fangs exploded from his mouth, and he ran his tongue over them slowly, moaning
as his eyes swept over her body.

Her knees came up in a defensive posture, and she folded
her arms around them, hugging both legs tightly to her chest.

Salvatore snarled and snatched her by the hair. He
had left her clothed in her raggedy blue jeans and rock-band tee, not because
he cared about her dignity, but because if she had been naked, the temptation
to take her would have been too strong to resist. And there were several good
reasons Salvatore did not want to rape the female...yet.

First, she would get pregnant, and after taking
care of Derrian for twenty-four hours, he knew he was not ready to be a father;
besides, he had matters of vengeance to attend to which took precedence over
all else. And last but not least, the birth would kill her, and he would just be
forced to search for another nanny—which also meant he would have to take care
of his nephew by himself in the interim.

Salvatore let go of her hair and stepped back, not
trusting his own rage. “What did you say your name was again?”

The human shook so hard her teeth rattled. “S…S…Susan.”

Oh, to hell with it. Her weakness irritated him. Maybe
she wasn’t worth keeping, after all. Salvatore crouched down, his feet floating
just inches above the ground, and grasped her by the back of her neck, fisting
another handful of hair—this time hard enough to rip some out.

She cried out in pain and clutched at his hands,
trying to wrench free.

“Why can’t you make my nephew content,
Susan
?”
he hissed.

She struggled to speak through her fearful sobs. “Pl…please…he…he
doesn’t want me...I...I think he misses his mother.”

Salvatore threw back his head and laughed. His
thunderous voice shook the walls of the lair and rattled the heavy antique
chandelier looming above their heads. “Oh, I can assure you, Susan, he does not
miss his
mother
!”
He leaned in closer, so that his hot breath
brushed against her ear. “He killed his mother the day he was born.”

He licked the side of her jugular, and she fainted.

Salvatore moved away from the woman then, taking a
perch on the platform just in front of his heavy iron bed. He paused and looked
around the room: The lair was one of hundreds in the underground fortress, a
limestone and granite masterpiece carved out of rock and clay, built far
beneath the earth, revealing centuries of brilliant architecture. The ancestral
females of his race might have cursed the vampires’ souls, but they had not
taken away their minds, their talents, or their brilliance. And make no
mistake, the Vampyr race as a whole was brilliant.

While the Light Vampires lived and thrived above
the surface, walking in the sun and interacting with humans in their precious
Dark Moon Vale, the Dark Ones had built an entire colony deep underground, utilizing
thousands of acres just to the west of the Red Canyons, creating an elaborate
system of tunnels, lairs, and structures that stretched all the way beneath
Dark Moon Vale itself.

It had been both a necessary and defensive plan: Should
the Light Ones ever discover the true scope of their civilization, the sons of
Jadon would be forced to destroy their own empire, economy, and way of life in
order to eradicate the colony of the sons of Jaegar. The two were intrinsically
connected.

No, unbeknownst to their arrogant brothers of
light, the Dark Ones lived—and thrived—miles underground, right beneath their
own domain. And they had for over two-thousand years.

Salvatore watched as Susan woke up, scampered to
the crib, and gently began to rub Derrian’s back. Her trembling hand jerked
back every time the babe hissed, as if the child might bite her. It only took a
few minutes for the boy to fall asleep, after which time, Salvatore relaxed and
sat down on his bed. The female was anchored to the wall by a thick length of
chain, manacled to her ankle. She had enough room to move around, but couldn’t
possibly escape; therefore, Salvatore didn’t have to watch her that closely. She
moved to the small stone-bench that sat just a few feet beyond Derrian’s crib,
wrapped the thin blanket Salvatore had given her around her shoulders, and
nervously rubbed her tired arms.

Salvatore swung his legs onto the bed, stretched
back, and closed his eyes—just as the door to his lair swung open so hard a
piece of the wood splintered against the wall.

“
What the—
”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Zarek
Nistor—Valentine’s twin and Salvatore’s only remaining brother—snorted as he
stalked into the room.

A narrow bolt of blue lightning shot across the lair,
hurtling from Salvatore’s hand to Zarek’s, clipping the tips of two of his
fingers right off.

Zarek grabbed his injured hand and howled in indignation.
“What the hell did you do that for?”

Salvatore snarled. “Next time, knock!”

Zarek shot him an evil glare and raised his hand
to his mouth. He released his incisors and dripped healing venom over the cauterized
fingers, a process that would quickly grow the digits back.

“Now what was it you came to tell me?” Salvatore barked.

Zarek turned his head as if he had just noticed Susan
for the first time, and a low, demonic hiss escaped his throat. He turned back
to Salvatore. “The Blood Moon—have you seen it?”

Salvatore nodded. He’d seen it, all right, even though
he hadn’t been outside when the phenomenon occurred.

Salvatore’s command of Black Magic had become so
powerful over the centuries that the Omens now presented themselves to him in a
crystal cube he kept on a night-stand beside his bed: Whenever the cube glowed,
Salvatore examined it for information. Why the cube could not reveal what had
happened to Valentine, he wasn’t sure. Unfortunately, the information it had
relayed on the subject was spotty at best:
fire
. Whatever that meant… 

Valentine had been headed toward the Dark Moon
Lodge on the night of his disappearance; that much, Salvatore had discerned. But
shortly after that, the energy field had become static, as if someone had
intentionally caused a rift in the quantum waves. In fact, the entire thing
reeked of the presence of another sorcerer; well, in the case of the Lighter
Vampires, the male would be viewed as a wizard...

No matter.
Their time would come
.

Salvatore glanced back at his brother and sat up
on the bed. He folded his hands in front of him.
If Zarek only knew...

“Draco—the dragon?” he drawled.

“Yes, brother. Not only do they have the two,
original females now, but the warrior Marquis will soon be permanently
immortal.”

Salvatore waved his hand in dismissal. “No more
immortal than Valentine was—”

“Is!” Zarek corrected.

Salvatore shook his head. Zarek was having a
really hard time accepting that his twin was not coming back, and it was
beginning to border on delusional.

“Was...or...is,” Salvatore said, “you and I both
know that immortality is the natural order for a vampire...unless that order is
severely
interfered with. Trust me, brother; I intend to run
interference with Marquis Silivasi. As far as I’m concerned, he is the one responsible
for Valentine’s dea—
disappearance
—and I have no intention of letting it
go.”

Zarek glared at Salvatore, his own rage building. His
dark eyes narrowed into two tiny red slits of hatred. He undoubtedly knew what
Salvatore was about to say, and for a minute, it looked like he was going to challenge
the older vampire. Luckily, he thought better of it.

Just the same, seeing Zarek so worked up was extremely
unsettling.

Salvatore sighed. While the vast majority of
vampire twins were fraternal, every now and then, two identical sons were born—and
such was the case with Zarek and Valentine. They both had identical black eyes
and the same wavy hair; their straight noses were sculpted in the exact same
shape; and even the way their thick lips turned up in a snarl when they smiled
was the same. But that was just it, unlike Zarek, Valentine had rarely smiled.
Unless, of course, he had been hurting someone, plotting to hurt someone, or
celebrating the fact that he had just succeeded in hurting someone. Seeing
Zarek with such a cold, empty look in his eyes only made the loss of Valentine
more real to the ancient vampire. It was like looking into the face of his lost
brother.

Salvatore looked away. “Regardless...believe me
when I tell you, Zarek; I am intimately aware of what is happening with Marquis
Silivasi.” He absently stroked the hard leather cover of an ancient tome lying
on the top of his bed, and a wicked laugh rumbled in his throat. “Is that all
you came to tell me?”

Zarek frowned. “No, brother—I also sensed your
hunger: Do you need to feed?”

The question was asked without emotion or
intent—just a simple
yes or no
inquiry.

Salvatore threw back his head and shook out his
long black-and-red banded hair, the signature crown of a Dark One. While cut in
different styles and lengths—some wavy, some straight—all of the sons of Jaegar
had it. His fangs began to throb, and his gut ached. Ah, Zarek had been
diligent after all, just as a youngest sibling should. Indeed, he was extremely
hungry; he had just been too wrapped up in Valentine...and Derrian...to notice.

“Your sense of duty pleases me, little brother.
Come.” He motioned his hand forward.

Zarek’s gait was proud and unafraid as he
sauntered over to his eldest brother, his shoulders back, his head held high—whatever
differences they had, unimportant.

Although all vampires needed to feed every five to
eight weeks, unlike the sons of Jadon, the Dark Ones preferred to kill their
human prey, innocent or not. And the tendency to always give into blood-lust
had created serious problems with the humans over the centuries: Wherever they
chose to hunt, dead bodies were left in their wake like carnage behind a plague
of locusts, often riling up humans into hunting parties. Eventually, the house
of Jaegar had found a suitable remedy:

The youngest male of every family would join with
his brethren to hunt together in packs—sometimes traveling hundreds of miles
away to find new prey—and then they would return to the colony and feed their
elder brothers and fathers. Not only did it keep the body count down, but it
taught the youth how to fight...and how to submit to the natural hierarchy of
the Vampyr world.