In the Dark (15 page)

The captain's home was close by, and Soren didn't bother turning on the lights as he entered. Not wanting to risk damaging any progress he'd made in calming her, he avoided the bed, and sat in an overstuffed chair and cradled her on his lap, rocking her gently.

He rested his cheek against her soft hair, his shoulder absorbing her broken sobs. If he hadn't awakened to her mumbling about the cold, she would be dead. The thought chilled him. He had no desire to live without her.

In an effort to calm himself, he breathed deeply. She was here in his arms. Her human life was fragile, but she lived. He had a sudden urge to bite his arm and force her to drink from him. Being vampire would give her a greater chance of survival, and he wanted that for her. Badly.

But he couldn't do it. Unless they were first mated, the act was punishable by death. Besides, judging by the way she'd gaped at him when the Guardians separated him from the demon, he doubted she would enjoy being bound to him forever. He hadn't just been defending himself. He'd had every intention of ripping that demon apart. When the Guardians tore the demon away, he'd been pissed.

She'd seen the whole thing, his murderous focus, the rage within him, the power to kill viciously.

“I'm sorry, Faith,” he whispered. “You're right. I am an animal.”

Head raised, she studied his face. The tracks of her tears caught the dim light. “The demon would have killed us if you'd been anything other than what you are,” she said, her lower lip quivering.

“You weren't scared?”

“Out of my mind scared,” she said, and Soren turned his face away. She wouldn't let him, took his cheeks with her hands and guided him to her. “I was afraid he'd kill you.”

“None of this should have happened. If I were not vampire, I wouldn't have bitten you in the streets or kidnapped you. You would never have known that creature existed.” He shook his head, unable to look her in the eye.

“Maybe not, but I'd be dead in an alley if not for you. I see how much you care for the people around you, and I understand why you brought me here. This is not your fault.” She curled up on his chest, her tears streaming anew. “I wish I knew why he came after me.”

Her tears soaked through his shirt, burning his skin. “It wasn't trying to kill you.”

“Then why did he...” Her eyes grew wide, the look in them, fearful. “He was there to kill you? Why?”

Careful not to jostle her, he shrugged his right shoulder lightly. “We won't know unless the demon explains its actions.”

“Teach me,” she demanded, chin set stubbornly.

Soren cocked his head. “Teach you what?”

“Anything. Show me how to shoot a gun, or use my knife.”

“Why?”

“I pushed a damn button, Soren. A button. I couldn't physically do anything to save your life.” Another tear slid down her cheek, but the weeping had stopped. Now she was angry. “I hated being helpless.”

He searched her eyes, adoring the courage he saw in her. “And here, I didn't think you had any desire to be one of my...what did you call them?”

“Warrior women.”

“Change your mind, did you?” He relished the fact that preserving his life triggered her determination.

“You brought a sword to bed. That's the kind of world I live in now. You need to bring me up to speed,” she said with a sharp nod.

He chuckled. “I promise.”

He couldn't soothe her fears, because they were real. However, he would use the literal arsenal at his disposal to give her confidence and peace of mind.

Chapter 14

The decorative pale blue walls seemed odd, but not as out of place as the white carpet. Not a single light had been switched on and yet the whole place practically glowed. She hadn't expected Captain Savard to have a home this beautiful and pristine.

Sometime after she'd fallen asleep, Soren had someone bring in a change of clothes for them and had moved her to the bed. Even in sleep, sprawled on his belly, he'd kept his arm wrapped around her. She rolled away, his hand flopping onto the mattress the moment she gained freedom. He didn't wake.

She went in search of the bathroom. Her puffy eyes and tear-coated cheeks wanted the soothing shower spray. A similar theme of pale blue walls with white and gold trim flowed into Captain Savard's bathroom. The distant, cool blue color matched the captain, but the wealthy image his home projected did not.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, she yanked off her socks, and waited for the water to warm. The bathroom door swung open and Soren walked in without making any excuses. He simply closed the toilet lid and sat.

“I'm taking a shower,” she said, shooing him away. He didn't budge. “Get out.”

“I'm not leaving you alone.” He leaned back, shifting to find a comfortable position.

“You don't need to sit in the bathroom. Go out there and I'll leave the door open a crack.”

“I'm staying here,” he said firmly.

She narrowed her eyes on him a brief moment then climbed into the shower, clothes and all, and tugged the striped curtain closed. The swish of fabric hadn't sounded as angry as she'd anticipated. Once her wet clothes were off, she threw them over the top of the curtain, aiming for Soren. He didn't say a word, but she truly hoped she'd hit him. Stubborn man.

The hot water poured over her, but she didn't have the luxury of a long and relaxing shower. The conversation she wanted to have with him wouldn't happen if she were soaking wet and under water. She washed and dried herself quickly.

Soren parked outside the shower, a few feet away, seemed overkill. He had every right to act edgy after what had happened, but something about it had burrowed under his skin.

She stuck her arm out, palm up. “Give me my pants.”

The heavy weight landed in her hand and she pulled them on, a tricky feat in a slippery tub.

“Shirt,” she prompted, then snatched it from him after it appeared. “I realize I don't know demons like you do, but I doubt they'll start popping out of the walls. He's dead, Soren. He can't hurt me.”

“It's not dead,” he said, his voice flat.

“What?” She threw the curtain open. “I saw him get stabbed. He lost a lot of blood. I thought they killed him.”

“You look nice,” he said with a smile.

Dang it, she'd got her arms through her shirtsleeves, but hadn't finished pulling it over her head. She chose to ignore her state of undress. “Why didn't they kill him? You killed the ones in Paris.”

“We protect an entire city, which makes things different down here. The Guardians bled the demon to weaken it, then locked it away. Savard likely questioned it throughout the day. Tonight it will be executed.”

“Executed?” Wow, they worked fast.

“Faith, I know this will be hard for you.” He paused before adding, “You'll be at the execution.”

“I have to watch that thing die?”

“Watch as much as you can, but you must be there. This is our way of life, and it will not change.”

Well, that certainly ended the conversation. She flipped on her hairdryer and closed her eyes.

The demon being alive and somewhere in the city made her jumpy, but finding
attend execution
on her to do list for the day scared the living daylights out of her.

He should have told her, prepared her to face the demon again. Or had she been better off not knowing?

If he'd told her the demon lived last night, she wouldn't have slept a wink. She switched off the hairdryer and set it on the floor. Soren hadn't moved. “I know why you didn't tell me, but I wish you would have.”

He nodded, a touch of sadness and regret in his expression, then said softly, “I didn't know how.”

A knock at the door interrupted them and had Soren moving swiftly. Captain Savard waited patiently outside his home.

“It's time,” the captain said.

“Already?” she asked, and Soren gestured for her to join them. A lump lodged in her stomach, twisting.

His fingers splayed wide over the small of her back as he placed her between him and the captain.

They made the short journey in silence, and as the chattering ahead grew louder, Soren asked, “Did it say anything?”

“No.” Captain Savard surveyed the crowd entering through two massive, arched doors with wrought iron hinges, handles, and curled designs.

Instead of melding with the crowd, she continued on with Soren and Savard to an average sized door.

“What's in there?” she asked the captain.

“Lord Navarre's private box,” the captain answered, allowing them to enter before him.

A set of steeply angled stone stairs loomed before her. She reached out to Soren and he clasped her hand, kept her steady as they climbed together.

“What's a private box?” she whispered to Soren.

Captain Savard answered, his voice tinged with revulsion, “Think of it as going to the opera. Box seats are the best in the house.”

She didn't want the best seat for this.

Light flooded the small landing at the top of the stairs that opened into an enclosed, bi-level room made from the same gray stones as the stairwell.

Royal blue curtains and gold sashes lined the room, covering the stone walls and creating a more refined atmosphere. Three beautifully fashioned stone seats ran across the upper level, and three matching ones filled the lower. Even stuffed full of colorful pillows, each seat would easily be wide enough for two people.

Lord Navarre sat in the center of the first row, and as he saw them, quickly rose, his hand extended to Soren.

“I'm pleased to see you are well, my friend,” Lord Navarre said, and they grasped each other's forearm in their own version of a handshake. “And, Faith, how are you?”

She gave him an unsteady smile. “I'm fine.”

“Good. Come with me.” Navarre took her hand and led her to the seat at his right.

Soren settled next to her, but stunned and at a complete loss for words, she gazed out on a vision that could have been torn from ancient Rome.

Pale sand stretched out like a wavy sea contained by a solid, circular wall. The wall stood a dozen feet or more tall and formed the barrier between the crowd and the spectacle below.

Above the wall, the first two rows of vampires sat on brightly colored pillows. The rest sat on bare stone, thousands of them watching the sand. Waiting.

This place had obviously been designed to keep something trapped inside. Two doors had been set several feet into the wall opposite each other, one on her left, and the other to her right. The old and abused fat wooden boards were riddled with deep gouges.

Gripping the stone edge of her seat, she straightened, leaned forward. This was a bullfight, an unfair battle between a capable matador and a weakened animal. Did they enjoy this kind of entertainment?

The captain lingered at the top of the stairs they'd come through, making no attempt to sit, watch, or enter the box. His gaze avoided the sand. Navarre, on the other hand, seemed to drink in the experience, savor the event. And Soren? His eyes were glued on the door to the left, no doubt the same one the demon would come through.

“What is this place?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“This is the arena. We built the arena, then we built Balinese around it,” Navarre answered. Each breath he took lifted his proud shoulders.

“How long ago?” she asked.

“After the Romans built their Colosseum,” Navarre hinted with a smile.

“So you built this for death and sport.” She glared at him.

“No, Faith,” Navarre said, looking disappointed, the pride gone from his face. “People have and will continue to die in this arena, but the purpose is justice. Always justice.”

“Then does he get a trial?”

“It does, though the verdict is clear.” Navarre pointed at a group of seats sectioned off to his right where five men sat. “You would normally sit there, but human rights down here is a tricky subject, therefore you will not give testimony. Those five men are the Guardians who saved your lives, and will be the witnesses for this trial.”

The crowd shouted and jeered as two Guardians escorted the demon into the arena, prodding him along from behind with their swords. Inky black blood covered the demon's clothes and his slow steps dragged shallow tracks in the sand.

The Guardians brought him to the center of the arena, pulled two chains from the sand, and shackled the demon's legs in place. She covered her mouth. He looked like a man, an ordinary, exhausted man with red eyes.

Soren tucked her close and whispered, “I'm right here, Faith. It can't have you.”

She grabbed his hand, drawing on him for strength.

Lord Navarre stood and walked to the ledge. In a loud, commanding tone, he addressed the five men he'd pointed out to her a moment ago. “Witnesses, let one speak for all. Where did you find this demon?”

One man stood, replying, “In the home of Soren Rayner.”

His testimony likely having confirmed several rumors, a gasp rippled through the crowd.

“And what did you see?” Lord Navarre asked.

“The demon attempted to kill Soren, and when it failed, it tried to kill Soren's woman as we took it from his home.” She thought the Guardian had finished, but he spoke once more. “We had no other choice but to bleed the demon. It had no intention of leaving without taking a life.”

An odd vocal mix rose from the people around them. Some whispered, putting their heads together, while others shouted out their opinions.

Navarre faced the creature, and his voice rang through the arena. “Demon, you and your kind are not permitted to enter Balinese or any vampire city. Yet here you stand. Not only did you break our law, you attempted murder. Twice. Have you anything to say?”

The demon only smiled, his fangs glinting as they caught the light.

“Entering our cities will not be tolerated, and attempted murder is punishable by death. You have broken two sacred laws. This is my city. Live by my laws or die.” The arena fell silent as Navarre paused. No one moved, no one breathed. “You, demon, have chosen death.”

The door to her right opened, and wild cheering rose in a roar around her. Bareth stepped into the arena wielding a large broadsword. Navarre's words ricocheted through her mind at the sight of the polished metal.

“Is he...is Bareth going to kill him?”

“He is,” Soren said evenly.

Bareth approached the condemned man cautiously, though he remained shackled. The demon scanned the arena with his red eyes, then fixed them on Bareth. Tipping his chin up, the demon braced for death.

Bareth drove his blade through the demon's chest, straight through the heart. For a moment, the demon stood and stared. Then his lips moved as if he spoke to Bareth, who with a short jerk, pulled the sword out. The demon's body crumpled. The thirsty sand drank in the fresh blood.

It was done.

Faith turned away, pressed her cheek against Soren's chest. The violence and the slicing jab of Bareth's sword had been hard to watch, but she'd needed the closure. As the tension ebbed from his shoulders, Soren's hold on her became less crushing. He'd needed this, too.

“Soren...” Navarre leaned forward, studying the scene before him.

On the sands below, Bareth stood absolutely still, the kind of stillness that suspended time. He stared at the black blood on the end of his blade, then slowly looked up to Navarre. Bareth turned away, heading for the door. He took only a handful of steps, then peered over his shoulder at the fallen demon.

Soren stood at her side. Something was wrong.

“Captain, Soren, go to Bareth. Now,” Navarre ordered. Captain Savard had already sprung into motion, vanishing down the stairwell.

Soren hesitated, still holding her hand.

“She's safe with me. Go,” Navarre commanded. Soren squeezed her hand, then darted after the captain.

“What's wrong?” she asked quietly.

“I don't know,” he answered her, but without turning his head or physically acknowledging the man's presence called, “Sampson?”

“Yes, my lord?” the man said, remaining hidden, probably in the folds of the thick curtains.

She remembered Sampson. He'd been the only Guardian to knock Soren on his ass. A skilled man like him hidden at his lord's side eased her mind.

“I want Nero and Steffen here.” Navarre searched the slowly dispersing crowd.

Sampson spoke again, but not to Navarre. Faith couldn't make out the words.

“Steffen is...” Sampson had paused, or maybe his voice had faltered. “Nero and Flynn are on their way.”

Not more than a minute later, a man she recognized appeared from the stairway, then another familiar man followed on his heels.

“My lord?” the first man asked.

“Nero, Flynn, this is Faith,” Navarre introduced them. “She is Soren's woman. Guard her with your lives.”

Both men nodded and immediately flanked her.

“I don't like this at all,” she whispered.

“Neither do I.” Navarre's focus had already been relocated to the door through which Bareth had exited.

What would worry the lord of Balinese to this extent? She couldn't see it. The crowd talked happily among themselves as they shuffled into the aisles, on their way home. Unaware.

* * * *

“Bareth?” Captain Savard asked, cautiously approaching his High Justice so as not to startle him.

Bareth remained silent, staring at the floor, a hand covering his mouth.