One With the Night (40 page)

And she almost lost her nerve. What if he hadn’t felt it? What if she had been transformed and he had not? They would be stranded on opposite sides of a divide again. She remembered the fierce look of dislike he had given her when she forced him to reveal his past. There was a chance she had killed his love. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

Forced him.

Ugly-sounding, isn’t it?
She had forced him to give up his secret self, the one he never revealed to anyone. It suddenly felt like rape, no matter her good intentions. Was she any better than Elyta? Her eyes drifted closed. She never wanted to open them again. But she had to. She must apologize to him, admit her guilt. She owed him that.

She looked up at him. His eyes were full of tears. They gleamed in the darkness. Even as she watched she saw one slide across his cheek. His teeth were clenched against the emotion, and his lips pressed together firmly. Oh, God in Heaven. Had she caused him so much pain? “I’m so sorry I made you tell me about your past,” she whispered, her own eyes filling.

He blinked, spilling more tears, and put his lips to her forehead, gently. They were trembling. “Nae, lass. Ye were right…”

“Kilkenny!”

The hated voice seemed to reverberate around the tower room. Jane and Callan stared at each other, eyes wide. Jane realized the voice came from outside.

Elyta.

CHAPTER
Twenty-three

Callan withdrew from Jane quickly, rolled to his feet, wiping his hand over his face, and went to the window. Elyta stood on the shore of the loch in the moonlight just near where the road began to wind up toward the castle. The full moon cast a glittering path across the waters of the loch. Flavio stood behind her. Clara was there, as well. Callan’s eyes were drawn to the water. Out on the loch, moonlight glistened on a smooth rolling hump. Another hump broke the surface and then submerged.

The things must be attracted by the vibrating energy of vampires. Maybe they were maddened by it. That’s why there had been so many sightings whenever Jane was at the loch.

“I know you are there, Jane.”

Callan jerked his attention back to Elyta. So this was it—a moment of truth that would change the rest of his life and Jane’s. Their lives would be either very long or very short.

“I can feel your vibrations,” Elyta called. “Now do you come down with him or do I come up and get you both?”

He mustn’t lose his courage now. For Jane’s sake. There was a slender chance of success here, but he must thrust himself through that narrow opening. He couldn’t hesitate. He couldn’t think about failure.

“You can’t escape now. It takes much power to translocate. Together we can block you,” Elyta threatened.

“We’ll be down,” he called. He turned to Jane, who stared up at him with big eyes. “Trust me now, lass. There is a way through this tangle.”

She nodded, her big violet eyes serious. She still had the flush of their lovemaking in her cheeks and on her breasts. Callan had never felt anything like what he’d just experienced with Jane. All he could think about was that phrase in her notebook where she had talked about being transformed. He’d never been sure what that meant until now. Now he knew it in his bones and sinews, in a place so deep that the knowledge could never be eradicated. What had happened? That wasn’t just vampire sex. Was it because he loved her that he had glimpsed that other world that hung behind some veil all around them? Had she felt it? Probably not. Especially if it required love to see it. She had apologized for making him talk about Asharti, about his sins. He knew why she had done it. She had thought to pry him out of the shell that always threatened to close down on him entirely. He hadn’t treated the action as the kindness she meant it to be. He’d been angry. What mollusk likes to be pried from its shell? And he was a very ugly mollusk that should never see the light of day. He’d seen the horror in her eyes at what he’d done, no matter that she tried to gloss over it later with excuses for him. That was just her generous nature.

The sad truth was that if her vampire nature had not required the use of his body just now, she probably would never have brought herself to be anywhere near him. He felt an emptiness come to crouch in his heart where so lately there had been an incredible fullness.

That didn’t matter now. What mattered was that he saved her life. He shook himself.

“Get dressed. We must go down ta her.” He reached for his own clothes and dressed hastily as she searched for her shoes and scattered clothing, then turned to help her tie her bodice. It was an intimate action but one that felt comfortable now between him and Jane. She looked up at him when they had done.

She was about to speak, then thought better of it, and just smiled a fragile little smile at him. He couldn’t smile, not in these circumstances, but he did feel his features soften. How could they not, looking at Jane?

“Just trust me, lass.” He hoped he wasn’t leading her to her death. That thought shook him. Was he bringing on the very tragedy he so wanted to avoid? And why should she trust him? But he held out his hand and for some unknown reason she took it. He pulled down the ladder to the floor above and handed her up. As she climbed, he gathered up her cloak and headed after her. When they came to the fifth floor, they were confronted by the great wooden door now blocked outside by the huge stone and the fallen crenellations. Callan gripped the great metal strap bolted to the wood that served for a door handle with both hands. The door was meant to open out, but those heavy metal hinges could be bent inward instead. He pulled, straining with thighs and back against the thick metal straps. They creaked and then bent. The door opened slowly inward, cascading in a fan of small stones.

“Stand back,” he said sharply. Jane skittered back until the scree settled. The huge stone, irregularly round, blocked the entire entrance. Callan found purchase and put his shoulder to it. His thighs and shoulders strained. It was uphill outside the door. Too difficult. Perhaps he could roll it to the side. He changed angles and put his shoulder to it again. Two small hands appeared beside him.

“Let me help,” Jane murmured.

“On three, then. One, two, three.” They shoved and the stone rocked. They shoved again and watched it roll away from the door. The moonlight shone into the tower, bathing them in light much gentler than daylight. Callan plunged through the rubble and turned to hand Jane out.

“On the third day, they rolled the stone away,” she said softly. She picked her way among the stones. She was so dainty, so ultimately feminine. He hoped she realized how wonderful that was someday. He only hoped he could make her reference to being reborn come to fruition.

They climbed the rise up to the broad sward of grass inside the castle.

“I half expected her to be waiting here,” Jane said, looking around.

“She likes ta ha’ th’ prey come ta its own fate,” he said grimly. God, what was he doing? There was so little chance that they would live through the night. And all might depend on a cowardly man finding courage and the love of a woman for that man in spite of all odds.

He grabbed for Jane’s hand and they started across the ruins to the road. He could see Elyta clearly now. She hadn’t moved. She stood, waiting, imperious, sure of herself. Movement caught his eye out on the loch, but when he glanced toward it there was nothing there. Must have been the moonlight glittering on the choppy surface.

He turned to Jane. She must play her part here. He took her by the shoulders. “Now lass, ye must ha’ courage. Ye did no’ make me. I relapsed. Stick ta that story nae matter what she says. Ye’re grievin’ because there’s nae hope for ye ta make it back ta human. There is nae cure. That should no’ be sa hard, since it’s true. For th’ rest, ye’ll ha’ ta lie. Can ye do that?”

He saw her processing all the ramifications. Her eyes searched his face. She was not the kind to lie. He knew that. But this was life or death. Then she nodded. Just that. Now she seemed to be the silent half of their pair, and he the one whose words tumbled out, unbidden.

“And if it comes ta that, remember—if we join our power we ha’ more chance against them.” He couldn’t make his mouth anything other than a grim line. “Just think about our Companions joinin’ forces and they will.”

They walked down the road until it dipped to the shore of the loch. He saw Elyta’s brows contract. She had just realized he was vampire again.

*   *   *

Jane’s heart was in her mouth. She’d always heard that saying without thinking much about it. It seemed ridiculous on the face of it. But now she understood what it meant. Her throat was closed. It throbbed with her pulse. She didn’t like the feeling.

Callan was going to try to fool Elyta into thinking there was no cure and never had been. That must have been his plan all along and why he wanted her to make him. All that about wanting to be vampire again must have been a lie, no matter how sincere he had seemed at the time. Even if Elyta believed their ruse, she didn’t see how Elyta wouldn’t just kill them both in outrage. They were made vampires, after all. He had asked her to trust him. And there really wasn’t any other choice. They couldn’t escape. They had to face the vampires from Mirso Monastery. So she hoped to God Callan knew what he was doing.

They walked down toward the shore of the loch under the tower with its roots in the water which had been their refuge for three days. The crenellated, crumbling stone now rose above them. At the edge of the water they halted. Elyta was frowning, as she thought over what Callan’s being vampire again meant. Flavio looked pained and Clara had eyes only for Flavio.

“What have you done, you little bitch?” Elyta spat. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m taking you two back up to that house and every day you don’t produce results I’m going to torture him. I can’t imagine how I let Flavio talk me into being lenient with you when you challenged me, but I shan’t make that mistake again.” She glanced to Callan. “And I’ll enjoy myself, too.”

Jane let her shoulders sag. “But I have done nothing,” she said sadly.

Elyta advanced on them. “You made him…”

They all felt the new presences. Just down the lochside, three vampires stepped out of the trees. Elyta, Flavio, and Clara turned as one to face them. Jane recognized the ferret-faced man who had escaped the night her father died. The other two were strangers, one a gaunt, hawk-faced man, the other so baby-faced and rotund he looked a little like partially risen bread dough. They approached along the rocky shore, the tall, gaunt one leading. The ferret-faced one seemed afraid. The short, doughy one scrambled to keep pace with the others.

“Oh, dear,” Jane breathed. Now there were six vampires who would want them dead. No words seemed adequate to express how bad this was. She glanced to Callan.

“I dinnae know…” he muttered. She could feel his brain racing behind his eyes. “Maybe it’s better this way, at least if…”

A wave sloshed over their feet and Callan drew Jane a little farther up the pebbled shore.

“She’s the one, his daughter,” the ferret-faced man cried, pointing. “And the traitor Kilkenny was human last time I saw him. They’d cured him.”

The three interlopers stopped, the other two flanking the tall, gaunt one, who was clearly the leader. His vibrations were tight and high, almost a hum. He was old. The others vibrated at different frequencies, younger. Together with those from Muir Farm they created a chorus of energy. It filled the air. How could she and Callan prevail against all this power?

“Khalenberg.” Elyta sneered. “Come yourself at last?”

The gaunt one with the hawk nose and salt-and-pepper hair nodded. “The Elders must not be allowed to possess a cure. You know how they would use it.” His accent was Germanic.

“And who says I want them to have it?” Elyta asked, speculating. She took a step toward the newcomers. “Anyone who has the cure will have power. You want to stand against the Elders? Don’t destroy the cure—join me. We will control it together.”

“And use it as a weapon against our kind? I know you too well, Elyta.”

“And you are so pure with Treadwell and Russo as followers? I know them, you forget. We all make our armies of the stuff at hand.”

“I hate ta spoil this delicate negotiation,” Callan said. The new vampire faction flicked their eyes to Callan and Jane. Elyta and Flavio turned their heads slightly but only Clara took her eyes off Khalenberg. “We were tryin’ ta tell ye, there is no’ a cure.”

“What do you mean?” Elyta barked. “We all saw you turn human.”

“He isn’t human now,” Khalenberg pointed out.

“She made him again.”

“I didn’t. He … he relapsed.” Jane protested. “The effect was only temporary.” She thought of her father, and how he had died for nothing really, since the cure he was seeking had now helped no one, and was lost forever. Tears welled in her eyes.

“His Companion was gone!” Elyta protested. “He had no vibrations at all.”

Another wave sloshed up, bigger this time.

Flavio and Clara had both drawn their brows together, wondering what to believe.

“It wasn’t gone. It was … neutralized, for a while.” Jane improvised frantically. “I began to smell cinnamon and ambergris and knew what was happening.”

“Sa we went,” Callan finished. “We did no’ know how ye would react ta th’ failure.”

“I don’t believe you,” Elyta said. “Why didn’t you run farther? You stayed because you made him and you needed someplace to go to ground with a sick man.”

“We knew you’d search for us in Inverness,” Jane said.

“You could have gone to Fort Augustus to the west, then.” Elyta advanced on them.

“Th’ process o’ reawakening was no’ a picnic. But she did no’ give me blood.”

“You’re lying. There is a cure. She just has to find it—”

“Look,” Jane said, growing desperate, “I’ll never find Papa’s formula again, cure or not. There are too many variables, too little information on how Papa did it. You could torture Callan every day for years and I wouldn’t be able to find Papa’s formula. And now, even if I found it, it would be temporary.” She could feel her face begin to crumple. “So what’s the use? I’ll never be human again. And neither will Callan.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to master the sobs. Some part of her asked if they were real. Another part answered that they were connected to emotion, if not the right emotion. She was frightened and tired and she’d lost her father. And she would never be human again, even if … if that had stopped being quite so horrific lately. She let the sobs shake her.