CHAPTER 8
At two forty in the morning, Alison rolled to a stop beneath a lone security light in the middle of the downtown Phoenix alley. She sat in her beat-up Nova, letting the engine idle for a few seconds before turning it off. Her heart slammed in her chest.
Why was she here?
So many reasons—a warrior who smelled of cardamom and had enormous white wings, death vampires, pale skin with a faintly blue hue, beautiful creatures, persistent dreams, dimensional worlds, a yearning.
Yes, a deep persistent yearning that never seemed to leave her.
Ascension.
A call to ascension.
She peeled her fingers off the steering wheel, settled her hands on her lap, then closed her eyes. She took deep breaths.
After a moment, the thumping of her heart settled … a little. Kerrick had said he wasn’t certain she had received a call to ascension. She wished now she’d thought to ask him some details about the process. Yet her instincts told her this was her call, all of it, the alley, meeting vampires at a club in downtown Phoenix, the dreams, the powerful yearnings.
She yearned for this world. Even the vein in her throat throbbed. Her eyes flashed open. She felt the pulse at her neck and she thought of Kerrick. She thought about his fangs piercing her neck and taking her blood.
She leaned back against the seat as desire bloomed between her legs, specific, real, sexual. How was this possible? To feel so much for someone she hardly knew, someone who was a vampire, and without understanding why, to want to give him her blood.
Reality tugged on her mind. If ascenders were vampires—some good, some very bad—then … logically … wouldn’t she become … a vampire?
She tried on the word, but how could it possibly fit? Vampires were supposed to be creatures of the dark, the undead, that which had no heart and lived on blood to survive.
She took another deep breath. Once more her hands gripped the steering wheel. The explanation that came to mind made sense: that somehow the darker element of the world of ascension, the habits of death vampires, had made its way into the culture of her world, enough to create the vampire mythos, creatures that moved in the shadows, enthralling humans, draining their blood.
But Kerrick, Warrior Kerrick, fought these addicted beings, killed them, worked as his conduct suggested, to protect both Mortal and Second Earth against their depredations. And he was a vampire, the best of vampires.
It all made sense … and yet … the reality of her present situation kept her fingers fused to the steering wheel.
She swallowed hard, once more forcing herself to relax. Tonight, this night, she would open a door to a different world, the world of the vampire, of winged beings with power matching her own, a world that included a man-warrior-vampire who was her equal.
Tonight, she would change her life forever. A tremor raced through her, of excitement, of fear, of hope.
She opened the car door, slid out, then drew in a deep breath. Even with her sweater on she was cold. She rubbed her arms and shivered. The desert temps dropped at night in early March.
As she looked up into the night sky, she recalled Kerrick mentioning the Borderlands. Without being told she knew this alley was a Borderland to the Second Dimension, a gateway to the world of the vampire. Her heart beat faster.
Her instincts shouted at her to run and hide, to leave this place, this moment of responding to a world she knew so little about. She looked down at the crumbling asphalt and thought again about just climbing back into her ragged car and running away.
But where would she go? Back to Carefree, to her sudoku puzzles and slavish addiction to old movies, to reading every night yet not really living, to working out in a gym and getting strong but for no particular purpose, no boyfriend, no possibility of children and a family, to be of only partial use to her future clients?
No. That was her old life and tonight that life passed away.
Once again she looked up. On opposite sides of the alley, two rows of buildings, also two stories in height, boxed in the backstreet. Beyond, only a handful of stars broke through the wedge of dark night sky.
Still looking up, she held out her right hand, palm up, the same hand that had recently held a pocket of time. The pressure in her chest grew, of longing for a new world, of needing to answer her call to ascension. The need swelled then spread to her limbs until she trembled. She felt tingling in a V down her back, the promise of wings.
All paths had led her here, to this moment, from the first time she had moved a toy as a toddler with just the wave of her finger.
Ascension was her destiny.
She seized energy from all around her, gathering power into her hand, as she never had before. Her heart thudded, swift and loud. She took a deep breath and without questioning what she was doing, she flipped her wrist backward then whipped it forward, sending at the same moment a concentrated blast upward into the night air.
The quick release flung her down hard onto the asphalt, bruising her backside, as electric shocks drove through her veins, muscles, and bones.
She pulled herself up and into a crouch, then hunched as close to the Nova as she could. If so much power had gone up into the air, something else might come falling down.
* * *
Kerrick remained in his crouch, near the Trough, waiting, listening, every sense on alert. He didn’t immediately mount his wings. He needed to see what the enemy intended first. He gripped his sword hard, his vision in constant motion, his hearing sharp. He heard laughter and extended his vision. Half a mile away Leto stood with twelve death vampires, just as Thorne had said.
There was only one reason such a large contingent would be present right now, and the truth hit him square in the face—Alison was below the Trough at the downtown Phoenix alley right in the middle of her call to ascension.
Shit.
As he watched the death vamps in the distance, he tried to understand what had brought him to exactly this point, above the Trough with the woman meant to be his breh waiting below. He’d been trying to escape this moment from the time he’d first caught her lavender scent.
Yet here he was, apparently destined to serve as her guardian.
Suddenly Leto’s unit dematerialized.
He kept very still.
All twelve materialized a hundred feet away, at the edge of the wash, all facing away from him and staring down into the Trough, waiting.
Kerrick’s heart beat a strong cadence in his ears, a heavy thump preparing him for what was going to happen in the next few minutes. No matter what, he had to get to Alison first. If even one of these death vamps preceded him, she’d be dead within the next ten minutes.
What he needed was for Endelle to dump him into the Trough, since she was the only one who had that kind of power. He also hoped like hell the opposition didn’t do the same. Provided that neither Leto nor any of the death vamps got dumped, a fall through a dimension would give him a lead time of four minutes, enough to get Alison to safety. Nothing less would do, even though it would hurt like hell.
Greaves could do a dump, and he’d heard rumors that at least one of his minions also had sufficient power. One more disadvantage for Endelle’s side.
He just had to trust the situation to work out. What he could do was keep all the death vamps in front of him so busy they’d have to stay put.
Endelle, he sent, hoping against hope she was tuned in to him.
Hang tough, Warrior, she responded instantly, straight into his head. Your lavender sweetheart’s call hasn’t made it to Second yet. That’s what all these morons are waiting for.
He took a breath. Thank God for Endelle.
I should give you a little warning, though. Leto’s packing a bomb, a little shredder package he won’t hesitate to use, so keep your nuts tight.
Don’t I always, he sent.
Endelle laughed then fell silent. After a moment, her voice pummeled the inside of his head. Holy shit! Can you hear that? Damn, this ascendiate has power.
Kerrick turned his attention to the Trough. He could feel it now, a deep vibration within the dimension. Beneath his sandals, the earth rattled back and forth, earthquake-fashion, and a sound like a freight train grew louder and louder.
The next moment an explosion ripped the air. The sand rose like a geyser straight up out of the Trough, a quarter of a mile high and a full ten feet across. He’d never seen anything like it in his life.
Holy shit. A hand-blast through a dimension.
He had never known an ascendiate with such a highly developed level of power. She would be one helluvan asset to Endelle and one huge threat to Greaves. No wonder he’d sent Leto and three squads of death vamps to head her off. He needed her dead. Period. And despite the big rule of no death vamps on Mortal Earth, this was war and the bastards would follow him into the Trough anyway. When Leto and his crew showed up on Mortal Earth, COPASS would treat it as part of the ascendiate’s rite of ascension and not the usual violation of Second Earth Law.
He sighed. Same old shit.
He thought of Alison, of having held her in his arms and how difficult it had been to penetrate her mind, the same woman who had folded out of the Blood and Bite.
He moved back several yards as the sand began cascading back on itself, falling into the wash as well as the surrounding lawn. Leto and his men dropped into crouches and took the brunt of the sand on their backs. One of the vamps writhed under the onslaught. The others held steady. Leto, as expected, didn’t flinch.
Kerrick focused on securing the ascendiate for Endelle. Nothing else mattered.
Leto rose and reached for his phone.
Kerrick called to him sharply, not wanting him to contact anyone who could start sending death vamps into the Trough. “Hey, dickheads. Looking for me?”
Twelve. Thirteen, counting Leto. Well … this would be a challenge. He dipped his chin. Bring it on.
Leto turned around, dispensed with his phone, folding his sword into his hand at the same time. “Well, if it isn’t Thorne’s lapdog. Look, boys. Cocksucker just arrived.”
“F*ck you, Leto.”
“You first, a*shole.”
Kerrick would have preferred to mount his wings but since he’d be heading into the Trough, he couldn’t. You never got dumped in full-mount. The wings would never survive the fall. Besides, he could manage this bunch on solid ground.
Endelle? he sent.
Just get me some blue skin first then prepare to get dumped. Whatever you do, don’t mount your wings.
Got it.
He lowered his head, lifted his sword, and with preternatural speed launched at all thirteen vampires at once.
* * *
“Will you look at that,” Endelle cried. Her chest felt on fire as she watched Kerrick fight. She had Marcus’s wrist in a stranglehold to keep him from folding into the fray. “Three down and the rest of those motherf*ckers are scratching ass, wondering what the hell happened.”
Marcus shouted, “Endelle, let go of me. Now!”
“No can do, gorgeous.” Of course he was anxious to do battle. He was a goddamn warrior and she was streaming Kerrick’s moves straight into his head, a blow-by-blow event, which caused Marcus’s face to darken and his lips to curl into a fierce snarl.
She stood with him in front of her desk, restraining him. She wished she could have sent him immediately to back Kerrick up, but as much as she valued his readiness to wield the sword, she couldn’t risk the two of them being together right now, not with so much bad blood between them.
“Let me go!” he cried. “Ten to one. If Leto engages…”
She smiled. Marcus was a warrior at heart, in every cell of his body, no matter what he’d been doing for the last two hundred years.
“Relax. Be patient. Leto’s too busy texting, which tells me things have gone awry at the f*cking compound. Besides, Kerrick is doing just fine.”
He outmatched all the death vamps in preternatural speed, which meant nearly every thrust or slice of his sword counted. She let out a loud whoop. “Two more bastards down and he’s barely started.” There was nothing so fine as watching one of her Warriors of the Blood, all virile, muscled, highly sexed vampires, doing what he did best with a sword in hand. She drew deep breaths, all the while keeping Marcus in check.
“Turn me loose,” he shouted. “He can’t defeat them all.”
Endelle met Marcus’s gaze straight-on. “I thought you hated him, wanted to kill him.”
“F*ck you.”
Endelle smiled. She knew her men well. “You sure you’re ready to go back to work? You sure you’re strong enough after so much soft living on Mortal Earth?”
She watched a red haze slide over his eyes as his chin dipped. “Don’t I look ready to you?” He split his resonance three times.
Nice.
Again she smiled. He was almost as tall as Kerrick and as muscled. Of course he wouldn’t have let his training lapse. “I have to send Kerrick into the Trough and the moment I do, I need you ready to take on the rest of these motherf*ckers. Keep as many of them from entering the Trough as you can. Have you got that?”
“Yes,” he growled.
From the vision in her mind, Leto continued to function separately from the battle. He shouted into his phone, once, twice. He made call after call, which all told her that something had gone wrong.
Thank you, Creator!
“On my mark, half a minute from now and not a second before. Do you understand? Will you obey because I’ll have your nuts if you don’t? Nod if you agree.”
She watched him draw a shallow breath. That was good enough for her.
She released his wrist and focused on Alison as well. She wished she could just fold Kerrick directly to her, but she’d be breaking a big rule. No resident of Second Earth could await an ascendiate on Mortal Earth while the mortal answered a call to ascension. If that rule wasn’t upheld, no powerful ascendiate would ever survive even the first three seconds after demonstrating preternatural power.
No. This was the way it was done.
She gave Kerrick a single mental warning then a damn solid shove with the powers the Creator had given her. Down he went through the dimension, flying, his kilt flapping like a black leather wing. At least he wouldn’t be conscious for the trip.
She shifted to the downtown alley, mentally charted his course, and had to laugh. Would you look at where he was going to land? How about that for f*cking destiny. But boy, it was gonna hurt.
With the dump well under way, she nodded to Marcus and told him to do his worst.
* * *
Alison now stood beside the Nova, completely still, her hand on the car as an anchor.
Her heart pounded in her ears, the toms still beating out a painful rhythm. She’d heard the voices of several men and she knew for certain one of those voices belonged to the winged vampire warrior she’d come to know as Kerrick.
She had also heard the clanging of metal like swords being struck hard together, which made sense since she’d already witnessed a sword fight. Then suddenly, as quickly as it had begun, the fighting ceased and silence followed.
A third man with a nasally voice gasped, “Where the hell did he go? F*ck. We’ve lost him.”
“He got dumped into the Trough.” She recognized the voice of the man called Leto, the one Kerrick had taunted. “Shit, where the hell is Crace? Goddammit.”
“He’s not answering?” another voice asked.
“No.” A string of obscenities followed, then, “What the hell?”
“Hello, Leto. Wanna stop playing with your phone long enough to show these numbnuts how a real fight is conducted?”
“Well, f*ck me,” Leto said, “look what just crawled out of the swamp—Marcus the f*cking Coward. You done hiding on Mortal Earth?”
“So you went traitor, you goddamn sonofabitch.”
More steel clanged … then silence, like someone had punched a mute button.
Alison stared hard up at the dark sky. So, Kerrick had gotten dumped. What exactly did that mean?
From out of nowhere, a blast of arctic air descended on her. The temperature had been a little chilly a moment earlier and yet a powerful stream of icy cold air suddenly flowed from nowhere. She started to shake. What on earth was happening?
The airwaves above began to pulse. Her heart thumped all over again. She sensed that something—no, someone—was coming.
Kerrick, her winged vampire warrior?
Her heart beat heavily in her chest all over again. She shouldn’t want to see him so much, but she did.
The air now pounded on her as though the sky expanded and contracted in slow heavy waves. The pressure increased and her head started to hurt. An intake of air rushed from both ends of the alley, sweeping up in a funnel around her then taking her off the ground. She cleared a whole foot of space. Loose papers whirled everywhere.
She thought, Tornado, maybe? However, not even the faintest wisp of a cloud marred the black sky.
Her chest constricted and she couldn’t breathe. She trembled all over. Maybe she shouldn’t have sent a hand-blast into the air after all. Maybe ascension was something she didn’t really want to take on.
A little too late for that.
Suddenly the air collapsed. She fell to her knees and cried out as rough asphalt bit into her skin. She rose up and plucked grit out of the palms of her hands.
What the hell had just happened?
Again she looked up.
Silence followed.
An awful, deafening silence.
She dropped into a protective crouch again, hunching as near to her Nova as she could get. Something bad, really bad, was about to happen.
She heard a fluttering, which got louder in incremental bursts as an object came into view heading straight for her. Not an object, a man in a kilt. Oh, God! He was going to fall hard.
She turned away from the sudden crunch of metal as Kerrick landed on the hood of her car. At nearly the same instant an odd metallic clattering sounded onto the asphalt in front of the vehicle.
The airwaves stopped pulsing.
Silence followed. No breeze, no voices, nothing. Even the chill had disappeared.
She rose up to look at him, her legs locked in place.
Surely he was dead.
Tears stung her eyes.
She blinked several times.
Okay, Alison, get a grip. At least see if he’s still alive.
She rounded the front of the car and looked down at him. He wore his black leather kilt with a harness belted around his waist and covering his chest, shoulders, and back. His arms were muscled and corded just as she remembered. He’d held her in his arms like she’d been a feather.
He lay in a depression in the metal, his legs hanging off the side of the car at an awkward angle. Part of his long thick wavy black hair fanned over his face; the other part was held back by some kind of leather clasp. She wanted to push the strands off his cheek to look at him again but he couldn’t still be alive, not after falling so far. Her heart constricted. She really didn’t like the idea at all that Kerrick might be dead.
Oh, God. Please don’t let it be true.
Something rattled on the asphalt behind her. She turned around. His sword vibrated against the asphalt.
She bent down to pick it up.
“Don’t touch the sword.”
She gasped as she rose, turning to stare at Kerrick. Through the thick strands she caught sight of a glistening eye then he blinked at her.
“Don’t touch it,” he said, more quietly this time. His deep voice drove into her chest, wrapped a couple of times around her heart, then pulled tight. “You’ll die.”
“Kerrick?” she asked, wanting to make certain she had not mistaken his identity.
“So you remember me.”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Yes.”
The eye closed. Come to me whispered through her head, then his body went limp.
She stared at him for a long moment. This really was Kerrick, her warrior-vampire from the medical complex and from the club.
So what had just happened? Had he given her a warning about the sword, spoken tender words over her mind, then dropped dead on the hood of her car?
She settled two fingers on his neck.
Thank God. His pulse beat steady and strong. She pushed the hair away from his face. How had he survived such a terrible fall? She placed her hand on his cheek.
“You are so beautiful,” she whispered. A new ache settled deep in her chest.
Come to me.
Could he really speak to her while unconscious?
I’m here, she sent.
His chest rose and fell as if on a sigh.
She felt dizzy, her legs weak beneath her. How had they both ended up in the same alley right now, here, tonight? She had never been big on destiny, but given the evidence in front of her she could almost believe.
She stepped forward and couldn’t resist pushing his upper lip back. And there they were, lengthened incisors. She touched the left one at the tip but apparently pressed too hard. Blood pooled instantly and dripped against his lips.
He moaned and sucked at her finger yet didn’t awaken. The feel of his mouth doused her in sharp arousal. As she withdrew her finger, desire sank low. My God, even unconscious this man-vampire-warrior had the power to undo her.
He was as she remembered him, unutterably handsome, even more so up close like this, the planes of his face strong, his lips full and sensual. She felt drawn to him like sun to the desert. The smell of him struck her nostrils and buckled her knees.
She leaned close and drew in a deep breath. His familiar scent assailed her, of cardamom and his tough leathery musk. The combination caused her internal muscles to clench and shivers to fly down her neck and back. She wanted to touch him … everywhere.
Her conscience assaulted her. The warrior was clearly out cold, severely wounded, and all she could think about was putting her hands on him? Where had her professionalism gone? Her humanity? Had she no sense of decency?
Apparently not since she settled her hand on his arm, the swell of his muscles warm and thick beneath her fingers.
Come to me.
She heard his voice again within her head.
Once more she sent, I’m here.
He groaned.
Alison closed her eyes. Winter drifted out of her life and spring emerged, little shoots of bright green rising everywhere. Her lungs opened. For how many years had she been holding her breath, longing to breathe, hoping to have a man in her life who wanted her in this way? How long? Tears bled from her eyes.
The answer was simple.
All her life.
She took in a mainsail full of air. She opened her eyes and looked down at the vampire. She fell into the addiction of him, hard, complete, secure.
She worked her hands down his body. Nothing seemed to be broken, but her fingertips hummed strangely and her attraction to him increased tenfold. Shivers stole up her arms and down her neck. His warrior world had hardened every muscle of his body. The scent of cardamom rose again. She leaned close and inhaled once more.
She wanted him painfully but she worked to get hold of herself. She continued down his legs. All his bones remained intact. She couldn’t find even an abrasion, let alone a deep gash or wound—nothing to indicate serious trauma.
Unfortunately he was still unconscious, so he must at least have a concussion.
It dawned on her that she should call 911.
Could emergency services treat a vampire?
Well, no time like the present to find out.
Maybe the circumstances surrounding his accident were a little bizarre but he obviously required medical attention.
Still, she found it almost impossible to leave his side. It was as though an intangible force bound her to him.
Seriously, she should tear herself away from him long enough to make sure he stayed alive.
She drew in a deep breath and ignored the humming of her fingers as well as the profound need she felt to keep touching him. She took two steps away, took another frayed breath, then hurried around to the driver’s side of the car.
She got in and reached for her purse then withdrew her cell. She had just poised a finger over the number nine when Kerrick started to move. He flexed his right arm like he was simply enjoying the feel of his muscles.
Ascension offers a new life,
But the mortal without understanding repeats the past.
—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth