Blood Born (40 page)

She supposed living forever was a pretty decent tradeoff, though honestly, who wanted to live forever all
alone? Maybe Luca had friends he hadn’t talked about. Maybe he’d even been married in the past. She didn’t know how old he was, but he hadn’t gone through life in complete solitude.

“What’s it like?” she asked.

“What?”

“To live forever. To see the world change again and again.”

“Interesting, maddening, dull, fascinating, sad, hilarious. All the things life is to you, I imagine, only … more.” He glanced toward her. Traffic had thinned and he didn’t have to pay such close attention to the vehicles around them. “And no one, not even a vampire, is invincible. I can die; both my parents died, though I suppose that, to be accurate, vampires don’t die, they’re killed. The world isn’t safe, not even to an immortal.”

“Do vampires go to, well, heaven?” She wanted to know, but once the words were out she wished she’d phrased the question differently. Having lived with the possibility of death for so long, she’d given more than a passing thought to heaven, or whatever life after death might be called. She believed. She
had
to believe that there was something more. “Do you believe there’s something beyond
this
for you?”

“I know there are other worlds, other planes of existence.” He shrugged. “Whether or not the kindred go there when they die, I can’t say.”

He didn’t seem bothered by this notion, didn’t seem to be annoyed that he didn’t know. Maybe, after such a long time, the idea of going to another place wasn’t a big deal.

“The world where the warriors live, what’s it like? I think I saw it once, in a dream, but I can’t be sure if what I saw was real or just a dream.”

“From what I’ve heard, it’s physically a lot like this one: green fields, blue skies, clear waters. The warriors
live a normal life there, or as normal as life can get, between battles and wars.”

“If this world is so ideal, then why would they ever leave?”

“To preserve the good that’s left in
your
world.” He glanced at her briefly, and again she wished she could see his eyes. “To preserve you.” He abruptly changed the subject, as if talking about the warriors and life after death and worlds beyond this one was not what he wanted to do right now. “We’re going to visit an old friend of mine. He’ll give us a place to stay now, so we can get some rest.”

Chloe wondered what would constitute an “old friend” to a vampire who’d been around for who knew how long.

And then she made a few more phone calls: work, to give them an update on her supposed illness; Valerie; a couple of other friends who might worry about her. She wanted to warn them all, as she’d wanted to warn her mother, but she couldn’t, didn’t. All she could do was stick by Luca’s side and do what she could to stop the vampire revolution. She was amazed at how easily she lied. She was feeling pretty rotten, she told Valerie, and don’t come over because she didn’t want to give her whatever bug this was.

Phone calls done, she settled back and closed her eyes, though sleep was far from coming. Her thoughts kept spinning, darting here and there.

What good would she be in a fight against an army of monsters?

What choice did she have but to try?

    Going to Ahron was a last resort. Luca never knew how he’d find the old man. Hibernating, having a crazy spell, maybe, if they were lucky, enjoying a lucid moment. They needed lucid today.

It wasn’t coincidence that Ahron lived less than an hour from D.C. The Council housed and fed him, which was a good thing since he was, in his weaker moments, incapable of hunting for himself. Even on his best days, when hunting came as easily to him as it did to Luca, Ahron couldn’t show his face in public. Hundreds of years had passed since Ahron could be mistaken for human.

If this was what true immortality did to a man, Luca could only hope someone would take his head before it happened to him. Ahron had been alive much longer than Luca had, though how much longer no one really knew, not even Ahron.

Ahron’s face was perpetually young, but his hair was snow white and he had a frailness about him that gave away his age. His eyes were such a pale, vivid green they glowed. His skin was like porcelain, perfect and white and fragile-looking, as if it would crack if you tapped it with a fingernail. His fangs were perpetually extended, though he only needed to feed once a month, or even less often than that.

Even the Council members were afraid of him, which was why the elder wasn’t housed in their headquarters. If Ahron ever displayed his full strength and abilities, which was entirely possible, the Council didn’t want to be anywhere nearby. The ancient vampire, a psychic since his turning and perhaps before, saw too much. In a lucid moment, he could see anything and everything. No secret was safe from him, no treasure or pitfall could remain uncovered. It was no wonder he was mad more often than not. Luca wanted to believe that it was Ahron’s gift, not his age, that had transformed him, but who could know with certainty what had made him this way?

Ahron lived in the basement of a deserted warehouse. In the past, the Council had tried to keep guards in the building, but none stayed very long. It took a lot to
spook a vampire, but Ahron was capable of sending the strongest among them running. Not that it mattered; the old vampire didn’t really need bodyguards. While he was no longer capable of hunting aboveground, he could certainly handle any unwanted intruders. Trespassers who had the misfortune to wander onto the property at night didn’t live to tell the tale of the creature who lived in the basement.

You couldn’t always count on having a handy trespasser, though. The Council saw to it that meals—glamoured humans who’d happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time—were delivered to Ahron’s home every month.

Luca led the way down a narrow stairway and knocked on the steel door, though he knew that Ahron would’ve been aware of their presence as soon as he’d driven into the deserted parking lot. Knocking was the polite thing to do—and the safest.

Ahron opened the door, a smile on his face. Chloe gasped and grabbed ahold of Luca’s shirt, perhaps searching for something solid with which to ground herself. Ahron’s smile was that terrifying.

“Luca Ambrus!” Ahron said brightly, though he was too frail for that voice to have the hearty ring he tried to inject. “How nice of you to call. Did you bring me a snack?” His eyes flicked hungrily over Luca’s shoulder at Chloe. “I just fed a week or so ago, or was it three weeks? Doesn’t matter. She looks like a tasty snack. Perhaps even dessert!”

“This is Chloe,” Luca said. “We’re bonded, so she’s mine. Chloe, this is Ahron.”

“Too bad,” the old man with the young face said breezily, as he opened the door wide. “Come in, all three of you.”

For a moment Luca thought Ahron had suffered a mental slip, but suddenly he knew that wasn’t the case.
The ancient seer saw not only Luca and Chloe, he also saw Chloe’s Warrior. Indikaiya was with them enough for her presence to be sensed.

Chloe gave him a confused look, then hesitantly said, “I’m pleased to meet you,” to Ahron.

“Are you?” Ahron stopped in his tracks, looking surprised. “How about that.”

Luca hadn’t been here in more than ten years, but nothing had changed. Ten years was nothing to him; the short amount of time was even less to Ahron. The computer was newer, and the television had been upgraded to a flat screen. The leather couch and matching recliner were the same, as were the paintings on the walls, paintings from the old masters such as Michelangelo. Did the human world even know these paintings existed? Their worth was unimaginable.

Ahron turned off his computer and sat in the recliner, moving slowly as if he were afraid he’d break if he sat too hard. “I suppose you’re here about the revolution. Isn’t it exciting?”

“I suppose that’s one word for it,” Luca said. He and Chloe sat side by side on the sofa. Her eyes were wide and, after greeting Ahron, she’d all but glued her lips shut. Considering she’d punched
him
—he still hadn’t gotten over his shock—she must really be intimidated.

“Vampires should’ve taken over centuries ago,” Ahron said with a wave of a delicate hand that was white as milk. “It’s the most logical progression of events. We’re stronger, we’re smarter. Humans are our
food
, for pity’s sake.”

“I liked the hotel better,” Chloe whispered under her breath, her words so low they were obviously intended only for him. She had no idea how sensitive Ahron’s hearing was, how sensitive the old one was to all stimuli.

Ahron responded with a wide grin, as he fixed his gaze on Chloe. “My, my. That’s twice you’ve spoken.”
He looked back to Luca. “That’s very generous of you, letting her talk. But allowing such liberties can be a mistake, as I’m sure you know by now. She serves two purposes, and I suspect she’s adequate in both senses, but to allow her to speak to you as if she’s an equal …” His green eyes glowed and he spoke directly to Chloe. “I’ve seen women like you come and go many thousands of times since I became vampire. You’re very pretty, useful in your own way, but still, you
are
temporary. Don’t be offended; it’s your nature, like a flower is temporary.” His smile faded. “Some are more temporary than others. I remember … bah. I don’t know what I remember. I scare you, I see, and I should try not to scare you any more than someone would purposely frighten a child, but that is in
my
nature.”

Like a switch, he turned his attention back to Luca. “I would offer to introduce you to someone I know who could lead you to the rebels, but you don’t want to join them, you want to destroy the movement. It wouldn’t be fair for me to interfere. I must remain impartial. Well, outwardly impartial, at least. The outcome of this clash is not set in stone. So little is, I have found. It’s maddening to see so much and not know what is meant to be and what is mere possibility. My mind is filled with possibilities, potential outcomes, all riding on the swing of a sword or the path of an arrow.”

Rambling was Ahron’s stock-in-trade, but if you listened carefully enough, you could get his meaning. “Who is leading the rebels?” Luca asked. “How many are there?”

“I cannot tell you who leads, as you would surely use that information against the rebels. Besides, she would be very unhappy with me if I were to tell, and I would miss her company. Though she does not call as she once did,” he mused. “Perhaps when the revolution is
over and she is queen, she’ll come to me again. Even better, perhaps she will offer me a new and better home, one where I can see the sun if it pleases me. I would make a superb minister of … something. I’m certain she sees that for herself.”

So. The leader was a woman. He wasn’t surprised; he’d always known the female Council members were far more dangerous than the males.

“How many?” Ahron continued. “Too many, not enough, more every day. Who among us does not wish to be accepted and embraced for who we truly are? Who does not wish to claim that which is his or her right?” His eyes glowed bright again; he changed the subject as if he’d been yanked from one time to another. “Your mother was incredibly beautiful, when I made her one of us. She stayed beautiful for many years. Even when she was carrying you beneath her heart and her health was not at its best, she was beautiful. I wish I had given her a child, I wish I had created a powerful blood born, but it was your father, the ungrateful bastard, who got her with child.” A flash of hate altered his expression for a moment. “I was finished with her by that time, I did not care who she gave her body to, but you almost killed her coming into the world. She was never quite the same after that; beautiful women are often not the best of mothers, wouldn’t you agree?”

“The rebels,” Luca said, trying to turn the seer’s mind back to the subject at hand.

“Yes, yes, your questions. Who? I can’t say. I could, but I won’t. How many, eh, who can know? When does the strike begin in earnest?” Again, his eyes flashed. Chloe flinched, and Luca didn’t blame her. “Stop the Warriors, lift the spell, take the city. It’s a good plan. Take the government as our own, rule their army, their government, and their people. From there it will spread, one city, one state at a time.”

“What spell?”

“Soon I will need no invitation,” Ahron said with barely disguised glee. “The world will be my own. Every home,
every one
, will be open to me. The spell that keeps me out isn’t natural, it isn’t right. When the spell is broken, nothing will stop me.”

A chill touched Luca’s bones. It had to be the sanctuary spell. The rebels must have a witch, either captured or paid, who was strong enough to break the spell. If the sanctuary spell was broken, Chloe would never again be safe, not even in her own home. There would be no place for any mortal to hide.

    Sticking close to Luca was never exactly a chore, but Chloe stayed especially close while they were in Ahron’s basement home.

Luca and Sorin, even the creepy trio who’d shown up at the hotel, could easily pass as human, if they wanted. Ahron couldn’t. Nothing could disguise the kryptonite eyes, the skin that looked like milk glass, the fangs that were permanently extended. He’d actually been handsome once, she could see. He had the face of a man of around twenty, she’d guess, though what that translated to aeons ago, she couldn’t guess. His careful movements and white hair marked his age, and against the young face that age was really strange.

Though he moved very carefully, like an old man, she had a suspicion that if he wanted to he could be very, very fast, which was all the more reason to stay close to Luca.

Were there others like Ahron, hiding around the world? If the rebels won the world might be overrun with monsters like this one. She’d known for years that she could die at any moment, though she’d always had hope that death wouldn’t come too soon. In that respect, nothing had changed; it just might not be her heart that killed her.

Ahron liked to talk, even though most of what he said was nonsense. He talked about television shows and movies, his blog—proof that anyone could have a presence on the Net if they wanted it—and those he had once known. Talk about name-dropping! Alexander, Caesar, Mozart, King Henry … more than one of them … as well as many names Chloe didn’t recognize. She got the sense they’d been no less important in their time; their names simply hadn’t made it into the history books.