Prophecy: Child of Light (22 page)

His eyes quickly moved to follow her finger and he frowned when he saw two dark, dangerous shapes coming towards them on the opposite side of the river.

“Werewolves,” he whispered and tried to calculate how much time he had before they reached them.

“Getting weak in your old age,” the hunter said and pushed himself up onto his feet.

“No. I could kill you in a heartbeat, but that is not the purpose of our tryst. This is merely a warning. If you go near her again, I will end this.”

Valentine responded fast as the hunter launched a fist at him. Catching hold of it, he twisted Caden’s arm around and punched him hard in the chest, launching the man into the air. The hunter landed heavily on the ground and lay still. Valentine stared at him for a moment and extended his senses. He hadn’t killed him. He could hear the man’s heartbeat coming quiet and steady. It took a lot more than idle play fighting like this to hurt the hunter. He knew that from experience.

He could feel the werewolves coming now. They were there on the edge of his senses and closing in. He watched Caden get to his feet once more.

“Leave. This is not your fight,” Valentine said and the hunter looked at the werewolves as they approached.

The smaller werewolf was running over the bridge, a larger one following a short distance behind it. The hunter nodded and gathered his jacket before leaving.

Valentine set his jaw, slid into vampire guise and roared at the approaching werewolf.

He could feel Prophecy close behind him, could sense that she had changed into her demon face too.

She would have to fight now.

Prophecy reacted the second the werewolf sprang towards Valentine. As it landed, she moved swiftly, kicking it hard in the back at the same time as Valentine caught it across the jaw. She dodged its claws as it swiped at her and snarled. The other werewolf was fast approaching. They didn’t have much time.

She swept its legs out and extended her own claws in an attempt to level the playing field. Lashing out, she slashed down its back, smiling grimly as it howled in pain and then rolling out of the way when it turned to bite her. She found herself standing by Valentine. He had a hand pressed into his shoulder.

“You’re hurt. Fall back,” she said and ignored the dark look he shot her way.

The werewolf pounced and she pushed Valentine to one side while she went the other way, dodging it and punching it hard on the back as it moved past them. She growled and leapt on it, digging her claws in and avoiding its jaws as it tried to get hold of her.

Valentine appeared in view and she motioned for him to leave but he stood firm as the werewolf went straight for him. She jumped from its back, trying to kick at it but missing. It roared at Valentine. On the edge of her senses, she picked up the other werewolf and turned in time to see it crossing the bridge.

She looked back at Valentine. He growled with effort and twisted the werewolf’s arm, snapping it clean in two and forcing the bone through its skin. It whimpered and tried to escape, but he blocked its path and grabbed it around the throat, crushing it to strangle the beast as it struggled against him.

She ducked when she felt the second werewolf leap towards her and rolled underneath it. Coming to a standing position, her eyes widened when she saw that she’d allowed it to run straight at Valentine.

“Valentine!” she almost screamed his name.

He turned just in time to catch hold of the werewolf’s front legs.

She grimaced as the stars began to itch and her right hand tingled. She could feel the power growing inside of her as the marks became hot, burning her skin until she could almost feel the ones on her back connecting to those on her front. When Valentine was thrown to the floor, threads of purple crackled between her fingers, making them prickle with tiny spots of pain as the magic passed through them.

Her breathing became heavy when she watched Valentine stand with a wobble and the werewolf began to close in. He couldn’t fight any more. She couldn’t let him fight any more.

She looked down at her hand where the magic was beginning to grow. It twisted ever faster as it formed a ball of purple and became white as it started to move so fast that she could no longer make out the individual threads.

“Valentine!” she shouted at him while he grappled with the werewolf again, his face contorting in pain. “Run!”

The moment he rolled to one side, she grasped hold of her right wrist, letting her palm face the werewolf. It turned to look at her and snarled as it started towards her. She curled her hand into a fist, forcing the power back inside of her, and drew it back as far as it would go.

The werewolf pounced.

She slammed her fist into it, punching a hole straight through its chest and releasing the magic inside of it.

The werewolf yelped and exploded, showering the square with blood and flesh.

Panting hard, she fell to her knees, her head spinning, and closed her eyes.

“Prophecy?” Valentine’s voice appeared close to her and she looked at him. He was plastered with bits of werewolf and was gripping his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said and pushed herself up into in a sitting position. “Just feel a little weak.”

“What in the Devil’s name happened?”

“I don’t know.” She stared at the amulet. He’d been in danger. The witches had told her that the strength would be called whenever her heart feared. She’d been scared that she was going to lose Valentine.

He offered his hand to her and she looked at it for a moment before slipping hers into it. It felt comforting as his fingers wrapped around hers and he gripped her tightly, helping her stand. When he released her, she stared at her hand again. When Valentine had been hurt by the werewolf below the Eiffel Tower, she’d feared for his life and the strength had come. It couldn’t just be a coincidence. It came whenever she wanted to protect him the most. It hadn’t come when they were fighting the vampire hunter or when the hunter had attacked her. It had only come when she’d been petrified of losing him.

“We should move,” Valentine said, picking a piece of werewolf flesh off his jacket. He frowned at it and then slung it to one side. “You might want to work on using something less volatile next time.”

She smiled at his mock annoyed tone. He was still impressed by the power she now commanded. She could see it in his eyes.

A clock struck out the hour in the distance and she tiptoed to pick a piece of werewolf out of his hair.

“You might want to get cleaned up.” She continued to smile.

He ran his hands over his hair, frowning as he found it was saturated with blood and small chunks of flesh. He gave her an unimpressed look and then started walking in the direction they’d been heading in before the hunter had shown up. She followed him, wondering how he was going to get cleaned up before they went to the station. As they rounded a corner, she saw a fountain and then looked at him. He was smiling.

“You’re not...” She started.

He peeled his jacket off and handed it to her. “I am.”

She raised her brows as he dunked his head into the clear pool. Threads of red crept through the water, turning it a pale pink.

Holding his jacket up, she wrinkled her nose up at it and began to remove all the little bits of werewolf. She shook it at the same time as Valentine shook his head, flicking water all over her. She frowned and he smiled at her.

Handing him his jacket, she kept her face blank when he took it from her, the smile not moving from his face. She wanted to tell him it was incredibly childish to take such obvious pleasure from splashing her, but couldn’t find the words when he continued to smile at her, his whole face lighting up with it. She’d never seen him smile properly before. They’d always looked restrained or forced, but now he was really smiling at her and she was glad that she couldn’t blush.

She drew her eyes away from him as he put his jacket on and was thankful that he had stopped smiling when she looked up at him again.

“Where now?” she said to fill the silence.

He picked up the bag and started walking. She hurried to catch up with him and fell into step beside him, smiling when he looked at her and spoke.

“Venice.”

T
he ceiling above her bed was cracked and dirty. She’d never been in a room as small as the one she was currently occupying. The sun was setting outside. The call of the night had awoken her and she was giving herself a moment to wake slowly for the first time in a week. It was nice, relaxing, and something she was missing dearly.

They had arrived in darkness at the main station in Venice. The vaporetti had all finished for the night, so Valentine had made her walk all the way along the Grand Canal to their hotel. They’d found it down a tiny side street. All of them seemed to be narrow around here. It must have been a haven for her kind considering that sunlight would barely penetrate most of the city. They could probably move safely around it during the day if they needed to.

She hadn’t seen much of the city as none of the landmark buildings had been lit because of the late hour. The ornate streetlights did nothing to illuminate the murky streets but they did give Venice a feeling of antiquity. She could see the attraction for humans and demons alike. All of the pictures she’d seen of it had been beautiful, making it look like something out of a dream rather than reality.

Sitting up, she clawed her hair back out of her face and sighed. She was getting tired of it being in her eyes all of the time. She scanned the room, searching for something she could use to tie it back. Rummaging through the empty drawers in the dresser, she smiled when she found a length of string sitting discarded in the bottom of one. It would have to do until she could find something more suitable.

She pulled her hair back again and wrapped the string tightly around it before tying it off. She ran her hands over it and smiled again, satisfied with her work.

Another glance around the room brought her amulet to her attention. She retrieved it from the nightstand and slipped it on, fastening the bracelet around her wrist and wriggling her fingers to make sure it was comfortable.

She still couldn’t believe what she’d done in Paris. She’d blown the werewolf up. Ever since then, she could sense a slight edge of uneasiness in Valentine whenever he looked at the amulet, as though he wasn’t sure about the magic she suddenly had control over. She wanted to know more about where it came from just as he did, but there was no way it was going to happen any time soon. For now, she would have to deal with it without having any information about it, just as she had to deal with everything these days.

Her eyes fell to the star on her chest and she touched it lightly. Would they ever go away? Was she going to be marked forever?

The door opened, only to be quickly shut again. She dropped her hand away from her chest.

“Sorry.” Valentine’s voice drifted through the closed door.

She grabbed the shirt that was on the bed and slipped into it, buttoning it up as fast as she could before putting on her black trousers. She suppressed a giggle when she tried to picture what he looked like right now. He’d shown her such chivalry by not watching her change in Prague. He was probably mortified that he’d walked in on her when she was only in her underwear.

Opening the door, she smiled at him when she found him standing with his back to the door and his hands clasped behind him.

“You might want to knock next time,” she said.

He turned to look at her, his eyes betraying how awkward he felt.

“I was coming to see if you were ready... obviously you weren’t.” He stepped back and looked her over, his eyes settling on her bare feet. “And still aren’t.”

“I won’t be long.” She nipped back into her bedroom, pulled her socks on and then shoved her feet into her boots and tied the laces. Walking back into the other room, she leaned against the doorframe, amused by the fact that Valentine was again standing with his back to her. “Ready.”

He walked across the room and picked up a small piece of paper. She frowned.

“What’s that?” she said with a nod in the direction of his hands.

“The location of the curator. It is not far from here.” He put the piece of paper into his pocket and took his jacket off the back of the armchair in the cramped area between their bedrooms.

It had to be the smallest suite on the planet.

She watched his fingers while he buttoned his jacket up carefully, smoothing the area around each one as he fastened it. Sometimes, he was so methodical and practical that she could really see why he had wanted to be a Law Keeper. Other times, she couldn’t figure him out at all. It was as though he was two people. One was nothing more than an emotionless assassin just like a Law Keeper and the other was caring and protective, as he had been in Paris when he’d wanted to take revenge on the hunter for what he’d done to her and give him a message to never touch her again. In both, there were common qualities, like loyalty and duty, skill and determination. She wished he’d decide which one he wanted to be and stick with it, but she got the feeling that he didn’t know that yet.

If he let himself go more, he’d probably find he was the protective one, and that the emotionless side of him was only there because he felt he shouldn’t feel anything towards a vampire of another bloodline, just like she felt she shouldn’t have feelings for him.

She averted her eyes when his expression told her that he’d known she’d been staring at him.

“Shall we go?” he said.

She nodded, going straight to the door without looking at him. She wished that she could shake the feeling inside of her that said she shouldn’t care about him, but it wouldn’t shift. She didn’t care if it was wrong. The law meant nothing to her, and it meant nothing to him. If they were caught, they’d be sentenced to death regardless of the things they did now. As far as she could see, they may as well make the most of it. She reasoned that she only kept a tight hold on her emotions because Valentine did so with his. Whenever he slipped and let himself go a little, her feelings rose to the surface and she didn’t feel the need to contain them. On the Eiffel Tower, she’d felt as though the law didn’t exist, that their families meant nothing, because it was just about the two of them and that moment together. He’d been so gentle, his eyes full of tenderness, that it had only served to confuse her even further.