Blood Law (30 page)

He
stared hard at her, sensing she was being honest. In truth, she was. Rafael had
been less than forthcoming with information. Falon took several deep, cleansing
breaths to calm her rattled nerves. They continued toward the far end of the
hall.

A
multitude of cloying scents wafted around her, clogging her nostrils.

The
people, dear Lord, the people were dressed like Conan. Was she at a medieval
reenactment? She glanced at Edward and saw that while he wore more modern garb,
several pieces, like his leather boots, were lined with what she was sure was
wolf fur. His wide leather belt and tunic-style shirt were reminiscent of the
Old World. The hair on the back of her neck rose when she looked closer at the
people in the hall. Many of them were not whole. Limbs were missing. Some just
missing hands or maybe a foot. Some with severely ravaged faces. Good God, what
happened to them?

Edward
smiled bitterly at her astonished face. “The work of pack Vulkasin.” He strode
toward the end of the hall. Every person in the place stopped whatever chore
they were about and stared uneasily at her. Every part of Falon screamed for
her to run. But she knew if she were to understand herself, she must stay,
because here she knew she would find the answers she sought.

“What
are you?” Falon asked as she stepped deeper into the bowels of the building.

“You
know who we are. We are Slayers.”

“Why?”

“Our
king decreed it eight hundred years ago. Until no wolf walks this earth, we
will hunt them and destroy them.”

“But,
Lycans are human.”

“They
are wolves first.”

Falon
didn’t belabor the point. So they were wolves some of the time. Apparently that
was enough to get you killed by a Slayer. She stopped and looked up at the
tapestries. The ones farther back depicted witches and sorcerers casting
spells. The black magic Rafe spoke about. The last and most elaborate tapestry
illustrated a large blond man richly garbed in Old World threads with his hands
raised to the heavens and a huge black wolf that hovered among the ominous
clouds. Falon stepped closer and gasped. The ring on the man’s finger. It was
Rafael’s ring! And Conan’s before him. And perhaps, her father’s before that.
Falon cleared her throat. “Did he encourage your use of the black arts?”

“Necessity
dictated we embrace magic. When the wolves were given human life, we had no
choice. We do not abuse the power.”

“When
were the wolves given human form?”

“Three
hundred years ago. During the great war of the North, my ancestors were on the
verge of eliminating the last packs from the earth. The northern gods took pity
on them, knowing they could no longer survive as they were. So they were given
human life.”

“So
you went against the gods to obey a dead king?”

“You
insult my clan. We do not worship the gods of the Lycans. We are Christian men
and women as was our king!” He stepped back and extended his hand toward the
hall and the people within it. “I’m sure Vulkasin has spoon-fed you lies about
us. We are not animals like the Lycans, but civilized, and honor bound to our
ancestors. Until the last wolf is no more, we live as my ancestors lived. We
are steeped in our traditions and will not rest until the king’s work is
completed.”

Falon
nodded. So much for love thy neighbor. She pointed to the tapestry. “What of
the ring in the tapestry?”

“The
Eye of Fenrir, a gift to my ancestor from his king for his loyalty and good
work.” He turned narrowed eyes on her. “It belongs to me. You know Vulkasin
wears it.”

“I
do, but I was not aware it was yours.”

“Did
Vulkasin send you here to spy?”

“No.”
She looked directly at him and continued, “I have been cast out.”

“Do
you take me for a complete fool? I saw how it is between you and that cur.” He
cocked his head and looked sideways at her. “I also know if you leave here, you
will die by the hand of his brother. Vulkasin will not stop him.”

She
knew that but asked, “Why not?”

Edward
took her elbow and steered her to an upholstered chair near a smaller hearth
and indicated she should sit. He pulled another chair over and sat facing her.
“Do you know why I have not separated your head from your neck?”

Falon
swallowed hard and shook her head. “No, why?”

“Because
you are not Lycan. Because I am the only one who can save you now. Because you
can deliver me Vulkasin, but truth be known, more than all of those things
combined, there is something compelling about you. I felt it the moment our
eyes met. I know you felt it, too.”

Falon
nodded, unable to deny it. It was why she was there. “Tell me why Rafael will
not stop his brother from killing me.”

Edward
snapped his fingers; immediately, two women dressed in ye olde garb set a tray
of food and wine on the small table next to Edward. They disappeared as
noiselessly as they had appeared. Yet when Falon looked around, she felt like a
speck under a microscope. The people had slowly stopped what they were doing
and quietly watched her. She couldn’t say they were unhappy. Their auras,
though black, were tinged with green and yellow. Content colors.

She
dragged her attention back to her host. He poured a goblet of wine and handed
it to her then poured one for himself. She watched him warily. He smiled and
sipped the wine. “It is safe to drink.”

Falon
took a sip and found it surprisingly sweet and tasty. “Tell me.”

“The
Lycans are ruled by two things, both of equal importance to them. The Blood
Law, their covenant, and their thirst for Slayer blood. The Blood Law dictates
an eye for an eye. Vulkasin slew his brother’s chosen one. The law decrees
Mondragon has the right to exact the same as payment for the injustice done to
him. He despises his brother and will see it done. Only then can Vulkasin take
another mate and add his devil’s spawn to the mix.”

“Some
say Lucien’s chosen one was Slayer,” Falon ventured, bracing herself for an
explosion.

Edward’s
face reddened, but he did not break his stare. Slowly, he said, “A lie. Never
has a Slayer lain with a Lycan.”

“Why
would Rafael lie about that?”

“At
the time, the brothers were co-alphas. Vulkasin felt threatened by his
brother’s taking of a mate, so he destroyed the threat and made up lies that
she was a Slayer to justify his actions.” He laughed contemptuously. “Vulkasin
didn’t plan on the fallout or how it would weaken the packs.”

Edward
poured another cup of brew and drank deeply from it. “Vulkasin’s continued
reluctance for more than a decade to take a mate has worked in our favor as
well. Until the alpha breeds, the pack cannot. Vulkasin’s refusal to take a
mate has kept the packs small, and we have been making them smaller.”

“Why
are you telling me all of this? You know Rafael has marked me?”

Edward
looked at her as if she were a dunce. “Because I know that his brother will
destroy you. Because you are human and value your life. You will fight for it.
You are safer here with me than anywhere else in the world. And even if I
believed Vulkasin cast you out, which I don’t, the Lycan has no choice but to
come for you if he will ever be able to take another mate. For me, for my clan,
you are a means to two ends: Vulkasin’s life”—he sneered—“and the return of my
ring.”

So it
really had been a mistake to come here. He had no intention of allowing her to
freely go. The cold fingers of fear scurried down her spine. She fought the
shivers. “Other than being Lycan, what has Rafael ever done to you?”

Edward
stood so quickly, the chair he had sat upon flew back against the wall, hitting
it with a thud.

“He
took my son!” he roared. “He skinned him alive not more than three months ago!
Right before my eyes!” He slammed his fists against the block wall. “I will do
the same to him!”

Falon
sat stunned. She had seen Rafael kill. Understood it even. If she believed
Edward’s statement—and she did—she understood his hatred. But his son was a
Slayer, and were not all Slayers fair game to Lycans, as Lycans were to
Slayers? “How old was he?”

Edward
turned bright onyx eyes on her. Falon caught her breath and sat back. They
turned, just as Lucien had explained they did when a Slayer became enraged. “A
day shy of eighteen.”

Dear
God, just a child. “Why would he do such a terrible thing?”

“Because
it is what Lycans do. It is why eight hundred years ago a great king charged my
ancestors to destroy the wolves. They were rabid thieves, preying on humans,
stealing our children and feeding them to their young. They are evil. They
procreate evil. They must be eliminated!”

Falon
sat for long moments, digesting what she had just been told. In that moment,
she realized that the hate between Lycans and Slayers was so deep, so profound,
and such a part of their DNA fabric that there was nothing anyone could do to
broker peace between them. There would only be peace for one side or the other
when the enemy was extinct. She was foolish to have come here and even more
foolish to think she could be the catalyst to peace between the warring people.
Yet, in some big or small way, somehow, somewhere, she had a place in this all.
But where?

She
drew in a deep breath and looked squarely at Edward, a man her lover—the Lycan
she loved—had vowed to destroy. “My name is Falon Corbet. What does that mean
to you?”

EDWARD’S
STUNNED EXPRESSION caught her off guard and filled her with instant dread. Just
as quickly, however, his face smoothed back into a normal mien. “It means
nothing. Corbet is a common enough name.”

She’d
seen his shock. Why? She stood and took a step toward him. Toward the truth.

“Then
how do I know you? You said yourself we have a connection. You felt it. Who am
I?”

He
averted his gaze for a second before staring straight at her. “Tell me about
your parents. Perhaps there is a distant blood tie.”

“I
don’t remember my parents. I was a foster kid. My only tie to my past is my
name.”

“Perhaps
your foster parents gave you the name?”

Falon
shook her head. “No, I’m sure Corbet is my family name.” She thought for a
moment then asked, “Are there any of your clan who have broken off to go on
their own?”

“The
clan never separates. Our strength is in our numbers.”

“Is
there some way you can tell if I’m a Slayer? A test or something?”

“You
have failed the only true test of a Slayer.”

“I
have?”

“You
do not posses the one thing all Slayers are born with: hatred for Lycans. You
have shown the opposite, having lain with one, an animal.”

Falon
bit her tongue. She took exception to that last remark. “But what if I wasn’t
taught to hate? Could I still be a Slayer?” She had to know!

“Our
hatred is woven into our genes.”

Why
was he not questioning her more in depth? His demeanor had noticeably shifted
from highly curious to indifferent. As if he had lost all interest in her. This
was not going anywhere close to how she had imagined. What had she imagined?
That he would ask her questions then reveal who she was based on them? Well,
yes, sort of. At least she had one answer, the important one. All indicators
pointed to a non-Slayer status. For that she was eternally grateful. One less
bullet Rafe could use against her, and just as important, she thought Slayers
sucked. Hugely.

Part
of Falon’s anxiety relaxed. She was not a Slayer, but—she eyed Corbet
cryptically—while she may have read more into her initial meeting with him,
there was more to all of this. “Why did you try to capture me at the warehouse?
And how did you know Rafael would show up?”

He
shook his head at her like she was a child. “The answer is not plain to see?”

“I’m
not good at cat-and-mouse word games, Edward.”

“Why
capture you? Bait. If I could not destroy Rafael then, he would come for you,
and I’d destroy him now. In my own environment, I am unbeatable. How did I know
Vulkasin would show up? Smythe, may he rest in peace, maneuvered his employer
seamlessly. It was Harold who kidnapped the daughter, then suggested he go to
Vulkasin for help. Harold’s magic is—er, was—strong. He hid his Slayer status,
but then you, my dear, saw through it.”

“How
do I see through it?”

Corbet
shrugged again. “That is the question of the day now, isn’t it?”

“Why
did you kill Smythe? He’s one of you.”

“I
would never kill a Slayer. His employer discovered his duplicity and”—he
shrugged nonchalantly—“he was eliminated.”

“So
let me get this straight: your guy gets whacked, and you could care less. You
used an innocent child as bait, who you would have allowed to die had Rafael
not cut the rope. Your war with the Lycans spreads into the innocent human
world. What honor is there in that?”

He
shrugged, nonplussed. “Collateral damage is a sad fact of our quest. It does
not happen often.”