Dark Illusion (16 page)

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Authors: Christine Feehan

BOOK: Dark Illusion
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“Olen wäkeva pita belső kulymet.”

Surprisingly, her pronunciation was excellent. He glanced over his shoulder at her. Her gaze was fixed on the dark scarring on his back.

“The second line says, ‘Staying strong to keep the demon inside.’” Her hand covered the line. He felt the imprint of her palm like a brand. It felt a little as if she was trying to take the weight of his demon from him.

He swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat. “Each of us in the monastery lives with our own personal demon. I know that sounds silly because all people do. The difference is, as the gray nothingness grew inside us, making up our world, it fed the worst of our traits, the killer inside us. Our demons are very real, and they are living and breathing, waiting for the moment we are so weary we are no longer diligent, and they can slip free. We vowed to stay strong, so those demons would never be unleashed. As brethren, we watched one another, just as the monks taught us to do, to help when needed. When one was at a very low point, we all pitched in to get them stronger.”

“That’s amazing, Isai,” she murmured softly.

Were her lips brushing those dark scars? Either he had a vivid
imagination, or they were. If so, he wasn’t going to turn to see. He wanted her that close to him.

“The monks taught us so much about working together. We had almost always worked alone, tracking and destroying vampires. We were not near our families, or even our people as time went on. We traveled to various countries. Alone. Now, we were living in close proximity to one another and we had to learn to live that way. The monks offered us so much and we were grateful to them.”

“And the third line?” She ran her fingertip over it.

He felt reverence in her touch. The lump in his throat grew. “That line is extremely sacred, Julija. To each of us in our own way, that line keeps us and everyone around us safe. When the demon rises, and we can’t beat it back any other way, we repeat that line. Sometimes, when it was particularly bad for one of us, we all sat in a circle and chanted that line from sundown until sunrise.”

“Olen wäkeva—félért ku vigyázak,”
she read. “What is the exact interpretation and why is it important?”

“‘Staying strong for her.’” He glanced over his shoulder again and this time his gaze collided with hers. He didn’t look away. “For you. I stayed strong for you. When all else failed, I knew I couldn’t give in because you were somewhere, in this time or another, and you were more important than anything else to me. I might break under any other circumstances, but not as long as my lifemate might need me. I stayed strong for you.”

She pressed her lips together and then leaned in to brush a kiss over the scars. “I understand what you meant when we first met, and I refused to open my mouth. I’m so ashamed of that, Isai. I swear, I’ll try to be worthy of all that time you spent alone.”

“Don’t,” he said, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. “Really, Julija. I would have been leery as well, knowing your background. Forgive me for jumping to conclusions.”

She shook her head and pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades. “You don’t. Not ever. I don’t want you to apologize to me ever again for that. I won’t, either, if it makes you feel better, but knowing
what you went through humbles me. I can barely comprehend it, let alone understand how you managed to survive it.”

He turned once more away from her, looking toward the sliver of a crack in the rock. They were going to have to move soon if he was going to pick up the trail of his brother. Iulian had the book somewhere in the mountains and he needed to recover it and if warranted, send his brother to the next life.

“The last line clearly says it all for every single one of us. We know what holds us to this earth. We know the importance of our lifemate.”

“Hängemért.”
She’d murmured the word softly. “That means ‘for her,’ doesn’t it?”

“Such a simple word, but meaningful and beautiful.
Hängemért.
For her. That is everything, Julija. You are everything, and always will be to me. There will never be another, nor would I want there to be. As centuries went by, I became aware of you. Everything about you. The way we would fit together. The way your smile would be. The sound of your laughter. Your touch on my skin. The talks we would have, walking together, hand in hand. Each new idea that came into my mind made me realize the importance of you. The need to stay strong, to be honorable and to earn the right to be with you.”

“Isai.”

She’d whispered his name and he thought he felt the burn of tears dripping hotly down his back. He wouldn’t be surprised. His woman was emotional, and he found he liked it. He liked knowing she had a soft heart and that she showed her emotions when he could barely change expression.

“It is true, Julija. The more centuries that went by, the more I understood that my lifemate was to be cherished. Treasured. Put before all things.”

“I swear to you, I will do the same for you.”

He turned then and drew her into his arms. “This is new for us, but we will find our way,” he assured.

“We’re already in enough trouble just trying to find the book from hell, but now we’ve got my family hot on our heels.”

He pulled back to look down at her face. “Your choice of descriptions is always interesting to me.”

“I forget you’re really, really old.”

He heard the mischievous note in her voice and he dunked her before taking the long step that would put him on the other side of the pool. He sank down onto the seat. There was one more thing he wanted to get straight between them before they went chasing after the high mage’s spell book and his brother, who by all accounts hadn’t turned vampire but had stolen something important that threatened the Carpathian people. Worse, he’d brought the book to the United States, in close proximity to Sergey, who had slivers of Xavier in him.

Water sprayed into the air like a geyser, hitting his face as Julija retaliated by splashing him. Her laughter teased at his senses. He loved the way it made him feel. He had gone through his life occasionally hearing laughter, but not really understanding it. He was far too old to remember anything about his childhood or life in their village before he’d gone on his first hunts as a slayer.

“I love your tattoo, Isai,” she informed him. “It’s beautiful. All the other writings on you? What are they?”

“Silliness on my part,” he said hastily. “And for another day.”

“Which only makes me more curious.”

He sent her a small grin. “We really have to get after Iulian. We do not want any member of your family to find him ahead of us.”

“Anatolie has said he will send Barnabas.” All playfulness was wiped from her face and tone. There was fear there, although she tried to hide it from him.

“I hope Barnabas does come,” Isai admitted freely. “I wish to meet this man.”

She gave a delicate little shudder and wrapped her arms around herself. “No, believe me, you do not. He appears to be quite the virtuous gentleman. Very scholarly. In fact, he’s almost beatific, but I can assure you, he’s the devil himself.”

“He is still Anatolie’s puppet, Julija,” he pointed out, keeping his voice
deliberately mild. Every instinct told him to hold her, but her expression was too still. Too frightened.

“Please don’t underestimate him, Isai. Please, when you meet him, and you will, don’t fall under his spell. He’s very good at fooling people. I’m not easy. I see through illusions as a rule. He made me doubt myself.”

“That was his purpose,
sívamet.
That doesn’t make him more powerful than you. It makes him cunning. You also have to remember, you were set up beautifully. Your father went so far as to include your brothers in that class. Had he not, you might have been much warier, but the fact that he wanted all three of you to take the class caught you off guard.”

She rinsed her hair one more time, more he knew to give herself time and separate herself from the conversation than because her hair needed it. Anytime Barnabas came into the conversation, she retreated. Isai would have to find a way around that.

“You said there was one more thing. I said two and you answered my questions,” Julija said as she once more sat across from him. “What was important to discuss before we go find that book?”

He nodded, studying her face. She was still holding herself very stiff. He shrugged. “We can talk about it later.”

She shook her head. “Not if it matters to you.”

“It matters,” he admitted. “I think it is very important.”

“I’m listening.”

He saw that she was. “As a rule, Carpathians do not scar.” He plunged right in. “The wounds must be deep for that to happen, but I have scars everywhere. I have lived a long time and been wounded countless times. Some were wounds that would have killed others. I survived, but those times remain on my body. Do you mind the scars?” he challenged. “I need you to tell me the truth. Do you find them abhorrent to look at?”

She looked shocked. “No. Absolutely not. They’re part of you. Part of who you are. Your past shapes you, Isai. You might not think so because you didn’t feel anything at the time, but your emotions were there, buried deep, and you were affected by every single thing that happened. If you weren’t, you would never have entered that monastery. Why would you think that? Have I done something to make you think I can’t look at your scars?”

“You seem to think your own scars are so repugnant that you need illusion to keep me or anyone else from seeing them.”

She had half risen out of the water, but she sat back so that the water rocked back and forth in the small basin. “It’s different.”

Isai studied her face. Color had swept under her skin, leaving her naturally pale face a delicate rose. “Why? I do not understand. Those scars are part of you and your past, the past that shaped you, just as mine are a part of me. What would be different?”

She was silent a moment, flicking her fingers in the water so little drops shot in an arcing bridge from her side of the pool to his, almost as if she was flicking him away, or at least his words. She was so close he could have reached out and touched her, given her the comfort she so obviously needed, but he knew she would have rejected him, so he stayed very still. Waiting. Forcing her to think about it. Put her reasoning into words. It took longer than he anticipated.

“I didn’t get these scars the way you got yours, fighting valiantly to save the world. I got them in a vile, demeaning way. Strung up by my wrists.” She rubbed them as though they still hurt. “In front of his class, whipped until I was bleeding from deep wounds, deep enough to cause scars. At the same time my body was being forced into enjoying sex. It was humiliating. I can barely stand to look at those memories let alone know they’re etched into my body.”

“Julija,” he said softly. Reprimanding her. “You do not think you earned every scar? That you were not valiantly fighting in your way to save the innocents they wanted you to murder? Your father set you up deliberately to be torn down by Barnabas. When you did not break, they took it further, hurting you, humiliating you, and you still did not break. I would say each and every scar you received is a badge proclaiming your unbelievable courage. You should rejoice in them. I would. I know, when you allow me to see them, I will worship these scars, knowing you held out against the dark arts trying to manipulate you. Few can say that, Julija. Very few.”

“Did you hear me say they used my own body against me?” she murmured softly, her gaze not meeting his.

He remained silent, waiting until she had no choice but to look at
him. There was so much pain in her eyes he winced. “I heard. That makes what you did even more courageous. They did not defeat you. Barnabas getting your body to react doesn’t mean anything more than he was skilled at what he did. He wasn’t strong enough to break you. Wear your scars with pride,
sívamet
. Your courage humbles me. Believe me, if you allow your lifemate to see them, I will love every inch of you, but those scars will be sacred to me.”

Isai meant every word and he wanted her to know that he did. He caught her chin and looked her in the eye. “Come into my mind,” he invited softly. “See how much I admire and respect my lifemate.”

She hesitated just for a moment, and then, her eyes staring into his, he felt her pouring into his mind. She came gently, a hesitant presence, filling him with her feminine beauty. She filled the darkness in him with light.

He savored the feeling of her. The way she was inside, all that strength and power, tempered with compassion and empathy. There was no greed in her. No need to use her gifts for herself. She didn’t have selfish thoughts about acquiring wealth. She didn’t want to harm others. She definitely wanted to reacquire the spell book, but not for her own gain. She knew quite a bit about the book, more than he thought most Carpathians, including the prince, knew.

He opened his mind to her a little further. He was dark and shadowed, but her light spilled inside him, warmed those cold places and took every vestige of loneliness from him. He didn’t try to hide from her. He had admitted to being a killing machine. He had vast knowledge in most subjects, but he had learned in an effort to be a better hunter. She would either accept him as he was, or she wouldn’t.

He felt her moving through his memories. Lingering over some, hastily retreating from others. He knew the moment she found the memories in the monastery. She stayed there for far too long, but those times were the ones where he had sent every message into the universe, unashamedly begging for his woman to be in this time period but feeling there was little hope.

He had, like the others, times over those long years of being too close
to the demon, but his brethren had stood with him. Chanting.
Olen wäkeva—félért ku vigyázak.
Hours of chanting. Stay strong for her. She had saved him over and over. So many times. Julija had saved his honor.

She left him after a long while and when he looked at her face, tears tracked down her cheeks. Her lashes were wet and dripped diamond-like tears. He reached out tentatively, but she didn’t flinch, so he touched her face gently, following the path with the pads of his fingers.

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