The Prophecy (2 page)

“Why?” Raven whispered.

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead he pushed himself from the wall and paced the confines of the cell, like a caged animal. Finally, he came to a halt in front of her, hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans, and answered her question with one of his own. “What do you know of the prophecy, Raven?”

“Everything.” He raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “My father told me that my mother’s sisters brought me to The Council when I was a baby. They told them that a prophecy had been made at the time of my birth. A prophecy foretelling the future. They said that if either The Council, or the fire-demons, were to sacrifice me on my twenty-first birthday, then that side would win a great victory over their enemies.”

“Do you know the actual words?”

“Yes, my father taught me.” She closed her eyes and began to recite. “‘That whosoever shall spill the blood of the virgin…’” She paused. Opened her eyes and stared at him. “Oh.”

She’d never really thought about the significance of that word before, except to be thankful that she would at least be saved the horror of rape at Sorien’s hands. Now it suddenly occurred to her where he was going with this.

He took a step closer. “Raven, you don’t have to die. There is another way.” He reached out and stroked one finger down her cheek.

Her skin tingled where he touched, and she swallowed, forcing herself not to flinch. “What way is that?” she asked. She thought she knew the answer but wanted to be absolutely sure before she made a complete fool of herself.

A faint flicker of amusement flashed across his features, but he answered the question. “Once you have lain with a man the prophecy cannot come to pass.”

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that. She wanted to object. Or did she? She forced her eyes to linger on the long length of him and felt a queer twist in her insides. She couldn’t deny that he held a strange, unexpected attraction for her, something she had never expected to feel.

She remembered her first vision of Kael. Her father had told that her mother had the sight, warned her that it might pass to her, and she’d known she was seeing her future. She’d been fourteen at the time and only hours from being taken by the fire-demons. Less than a year later the blood-thirst had come upon her and she had been locked in the darkness. After that, Kael had come to her often, in dreams and visions, reminding her of the sun she would never see again.

She had felt drawn to him from the first, but as she had grown, matured, those feeling had changed until she had come to want him as a woman. She could now still feel the pull of erotic heat from the feeding. But she also couldn’t forget that he was from The Council. She had no reason to trust anyone from The Council. And every reason not to.

“You have to understand,” Kael said when she remained silent, “there are still those among us who believe we are fools not to take advantage of the prophecy, not to make the sacrifice ourselves. This is the only way to guarantee your safety once you’re out of here. If you want to live, you cannot leave this castle a virgin.”

A shiver ran through her at his words. He was right, she knew it, but while she was ready to acknowledge that she felt the pull of desire, she was not sure she was ready to allow anybody that closeness. When she closed her eyes she could see again the fates of the humans brought here so she could feed. Raped, tortured and abused by Sorien and his men, their bodies torn apart for their pleasure. Kael must have seen the revulsion reflected in her face because his voice was harsh when he spoke again.

“Would you rather the prophecy came to pass, that Sorien gains supremacy over the human race for a thousand years?”

The words broke into her contemplation. She stared up at him, not attempting to hide her disdain. What did he know? A warrior? He had probably never faced defeat, despair. This was just one more thing over which she had no control. And he was so arrogant; he no doubt presumed that she would jump at the opportunity to lie with him.

No, she did not want Sorien to win. And if she was dead then that wasn’t going to happen. But would she really prefer to die than to lie with him?

She forced herself to really think about escaping from this place, being reunited with her father, and a tremor of apprehension ran through her. What would her father think of the monster she had become? He had always told her that a vampire didn’t have to kill, that she should never feed on the blood of the unwilling. How could she ever face him with the blood of innocents on her hands? Have him look at her with revulsion? She smoothed her features into blankness.

“I’d rather you killed me.”

Kael couldn’t believe the stab of pain that wrenched through him at her words. She would prefer death to lying with him. He stared at her and slowly took in the tenseness of her muscles. Strain showed in every line of her body as she held herself rigid. Her posture reminded him of how she had stood before Sorien, how she had taunted him, tempted him to kill her. What had life shown her that she should choose to live? What could she know of love?

The thought brought him up short. Love? His people had always found love within their own kind, and when they had been wiped out by the fire-demons he had put aside all thoughts of ever finding a true mate. Now he looked at Raven and felt again that curious stirring in his heart. She was meant to be his.

But he owed her. If he’d offered her the protection of The Council all those years ago, rather than a sentence of death, then she might never have been taken by the fire-demons. And, if the life she had led now made her crave the peace of death, could he deny her that? His mind went back to his sister. She had spent a year imprisoned by the fire-demons, and she had begged for death. Could he do less for Raven?

“Do you really want to die?” He had to force the words out.

“I’ve longed for death many times.”

“I won’t kill you.”

She sneered. “Will you rape me instead then?”

He turned from her, his fists clenched. He didn’t know what to do. He had seen her fear, her pain. But he couldn’t just kill her, couldn’t just put her out of her misery like a damaged dog. His whole being fought against it.

He forced himself to concentrate; there was something else here. Raven was a fighter, he’d seen that. She wasn’t afraid of pain. So why was she so willing to die? He took a deep breath and turned back to her.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “Allow me to do what I must. Don’t fight me and afterwards, if you still wish to die, I will see to it that you get your desire.”

She hesitated and he felt the anger rise in him.

“Raven, I promise you, however distasteful you find my taking of your body, it will cause you no pain.” He took a deep, calming breath. He knew there was something between them, some bond. Instinct told him that what they would have together would be special, magical. He needed the chance to show Raven that, to prove to her that life was worth living. “Come,” he cajoled, “you have known only darkness and pain for so long, let me show you a little of the pleasures of life, and afterwards, if you still desire to die, then the decision is yours.”

Raven looked at him, tried to imagine what it would be like, his hands on her body. More than just his hands, and she felt a queer unexpected jolt of heat in her belly. Could she do it knowing that at the end he would grant her the peace she craved?

His lips formed a grim line. He drew the knife from the sheath at his thigh. It was a wicked-looking blade and she felt a flicker of unease. Was she afraid after all? One thing she did know, she didn’t want to die on her knees. She struggled to her feet, clumsy in the chains. He didn’t help, just watched through narrowed eyes. He took a step closer. There was nowhere she could go; she could already feel the rough stone cold against her back. She watched, mesmerised as he reached out slowly and touched the point of the dagger to her belly. The metal was cold and she glanced down. It pressed lightly against her flesh, one quick thrust and it would pierce her. But he knew what she was; he must know he couldn’t kill her like this. Did he mean to torture her first? She closed her eyes. But instead of the expected sharp stab of pain, she felt the tip of the knife glide over her flesh. It slid up over the flat plain of her stomach, leaving a trail of fire, over the swell of her breast, pausing briefly to tease the sensitive peak. She felt the heat flare again in her belly and shivered at the sensation. She raised her head as the knife continued upwards, coming to rest at the base of her throat. The tip pierced her skin and her eyes flew open.

“Do you really want death so much?” he asked softly

She stared into his eyes. They were deep-blue, cold, showing no emotion. “I don’t fear death,” she said.

His face twisted into an expression of scorn. “No, it’s life you fear.”

Her anger rose at his words. She pressed against the point of the blade, felt it sink deeper. He pulled back and she felt a flicker of satisfaction. “What I fear is being the instrument of my enemy’s ultimate victory.” But even as she spoke she wondered at his words. She had accepted death, could she now accept a chance at life? Could she somehow learn to live with what she had become?

“Well, then,” he said, “yield to me and the prophecy will never come to pass.” He paused. “Come on Raven,” he coaxed, “wouldn’t you like to live to see Sorien meet that messy end?”

“I told you, I made that up.”

He smiled then, a cold, cruel smile. “I could make it happen for you.”

She considered him for a moment. “Why do you care?”

“I let you down once before when I demanded your death. I won’t do it a second time. Besides…” he paused.

“Besides?”

He didn’t answer straight away. Instead his gaze wandered down over her body. His eyes, when they returned to her face were sleepy, heavy-lidded. A slight smile curled the corner of his mouth.

“Besides,” he murmured, and his voice had lowered, soft, like velvet caressing her sensitive ears. “I find I want you.”

Raven stared at him. It was the last thing she had expected to hear and she was speechless.

His smile faded. “I didn’t expect to,” he continued, almost speaking to himself. “Nor desired to. But since you latched those pretty fangs into my flesh and sucked my blood, I’ve been as hard as a rock. You expect me to kill you and all I can think about is sinking myself into your body.”

She felt warmth kindle inside her at his words, a throbbing heat between her thighs and she stared at him, almost mesmerised. She licked her lips and he smiled again. “So what do you say, Raven? Let me take the body you so obviously have no more use for, and afterwards, if you still desire it, I will take your life.”

Kael searched her face and knew in an instant that her resolve was weakening. She had a slightly panicked look in her eyes; they darted from his face, down his body, no doubt searching for the truth of his words. Her eyes widened at the obvious evidence and then flew back to his face. He forced his breathing to slow as he watched her. She was still chained to the wall and he knew he should release her, but first he needed to touch her, taste her.

He opened his fingers and the knife clattered to the floor. He took a step closer, reaching out to smooth the spot where his blade had pierced her throat. He traced the line of a vein as it pulsed beneath the fragile skin and he could feel the rapid throb of her blood beneath his fingers. His hand fell to gently cup her breast. Her skin was like satin, and he scraped the pad of his thumb over the taut nipple and felt a tremor run through her. He paused.

She was a virgin and he had one chance to show her that she didn’t want to die. He felt a moment of panic. But then he was overcome by a feeling of rightness. This was meant to be. He leant forward and softly kissed the corner of her mouth, then brushed her lips with his. She stayed still and he deepened the kiss, stroking her lips with his tongue until she opened her mouth slightly and he slipped inside. She tasted sweet and hot and his hands slid up to cup her face, his mouth slanting over hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. He finally felt her move against him then. Felt the tentative stirring of her tongue against his, heard the clink of the chains as her arms came up to grip his and he was filled with a fierce exultation. She would be his.

Then she went still. He forced himself to pull back, looked down into her face. Her silver eyes were unfocused, as though she was seeing something inside her head. A shiver of awe rippled through him.

“Someone’s coming,” she said, her voice strangely blank. “One of Sorien’s men.”

He frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t have the sight.”

She blinked as if awakening from a trance. “No,” she replied, “I said I hadn’t seen Sorien’s death. You have to go.”

He shook his head. “I won’t leave you.”

The aftermath of a vision always left her slightly dazed and Raven frowned. Then it came to her—obviously he couldn’t leave her; he hadn’t yet done what he had come for and he couldn’t allow the prophecy to be fulfilled. Now they had run out of time and he would have to kill her after all. She felt a brief stab of regret and wondered at it. She had thought herself so willing to die, had welcomed the thought of peace at last and now she wavered. What had changed?

She could still feel the sensation of his lips on hers. At the first touch she’d felt her body stir to life and, for a brief moment, she had felt as though he truly cared. But nothing had changed. He hadn’t come to save her; he had come to save the rest of the world. She bowed her head, praying for the strength to see this through, to be strong.

“If they come now, then Sorien will win. Don’t you understand? I’d accepted my death. It was the thought of Sorien gaining from it that was truly killing me.” She slammed her hand into the rock wall behind her. “You must prevent the prophecy from being fulfilled.”

He stared at her through narrowed eyes. “Forget it!” he snarled. “I came here to save you and I am not killing you now.”

She searched his face. He spoke the truth. But he had to know that there was no way he could get them both out of here and she wouldn’t let them take her alive. He had to kill her. The prophecy could not come to pass. She could feel the panic clawing at her mind.