The Jewel Page 9

  “What is this? More trickery?”

  Gemma didn’t answer. Her eyes were glued to the smooth black stone around his neck. Her stone. The one her mother had given her to shield her until she could handle her gift.

  Had he been wearing it all this time, unaware of its significance?

  Cold laughter bubbled from across the room as Andrei took in the scene. “No, Thanatos. Her life force is inexorably linked with mine. As I fade, so shall she.”

  Viktor turned suspicious eyes back to Gemma. “Does he speak the truth?”

  Her eyes flicked back to his, still wary, but now also confused. “Yes.”

  “Then why would you release me, knowing I would kill him?”

  Gemma didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Better she die without him knowing than for him to remember and experience the same grief and sorrow she now held in her heart.

  Andrei laughed again, cruel and vicious. “Because you two have history.”

  Viktor crouched down by her, just out of reach. “What history?”

  She parted her lips to cast a spell of silence, but her magic was gone.

  As she slipped into the blackness, she heard Andrei whisper on his last breath, “Recordas ...” Remember.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The barely audible spell hit him with a sudden barrage of images so vivid that Viktor fell to his knees. He looked upon the female before him, just as her eyes shuttered closed.

  “Gemma!” he gasped, scooping her up into his arms and cradling her against his chest. “Gemmalyn, wake up!” he barked the command, pushing hair away from her face, his acute hearing straining to her a heartbeat and hearing none.

  “No! You will come back to me, Gemmalyn!” He lifted his wrist and savagely tore it open, then pressed it against her lips. “Swallow!” Prying open her lips, he let the blood flow into her mouth until it overflowed. Then he massaged her throat, begging her to take his healing blood, to no avail.

  “She’s gone, Viktor.”

  Constantin’s quiet voice came from behind him. Viktor was vaguely aware of the rest of his brethren standing just outside.

  Viktor didn’t turn around. He continued to clutch Gemma, rocking slightly back and forth. “Did you know?”

  “I suspected,” Constantin confirmed, a rare flash of sympathy in his eyes. “But I did not know for certain until I saw the way she looked at you upon our arrival. Like you, her human memories were unreachable when she was made vampire, but she sensed some connection with you, as you did, no doubt.”

  “And you did nothing?” Viktor raged. “Said nothing?”

  “There was nothing you could have done, Viktor. Andrei demanded a blood vow, and she willing gave it. He used his dark magic to shackle her life force to his. It is not uncommon, although it is usually reserved for immortal life mates, ensuring that, when one dies, the other will not have to endure an eternity of grief and sorrow.”

  “They were not life mates,” Viktor growled. Gemma was, had always been, the other half of his soul. That was why, after feeling nothing for nearly five hundred years, he had been so overcome at finding her again. His conscious mind hadn’t remembered her, but his soul had.

  “No,” Constantin agreed. “Andrei’s vow was not made for love, but for power. He knew it was the only way to bind her to him, and the only way to protect himself.”

  “That’s why she slipped me the blades,” Viktor said quietly. “Because she couldn’t do it herself.”

  “Yes. It is of small consequence, and surely less comfort, Viktor ... but know that, in granting her death, you have ultimately freed her.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next few days were a blur. Following ancient tradition, the bodies of Andrei and the slain guards were burned. However, Viktor refused to allow Gemma to be burned with them. Instead, he built a separate pyre himself, selecting only the finest hardwoods. He was the one to prepare her body, lavishing her with expensive oils and dressing her in the simple finery the girl he remembered would have liked. And when it was time, he was the one who laid her upon the timbers and lit the flame.

  Throughout it all, he remained stoic and unmoving. Only once the flames had long since expired did he seek out Constantin, finding him exactly where he had expected to—in the castle’s library.

  Unlike Constantin’s own libraries, Andrei’s appeared mostly unused. Rather than the scent of old leather and lemon oil, Viktor’s nostrils drew in fine dust and the aroma of musty, poorly cared for volumes. That would certainly explain the subtle frown gracing his sire’s classic features.

  After a respectful bow, Viktor wasted no time on useless pleasantries. “I request a sabbatical.”

  Constantin stared at him for a long while. His implacable expression remained contemplative as always, the monk he was once still very much a part of him.

  “The last of the council is due to arrive in the next day or two,” he said finally. “We officially convene in three.”

  Viktor remained silent and still. This was not news; he had seen the other vampire lords arriving with their entourages over the last few days, swarming like carrion. Andrei’s death left a large hole that needed to be filled, and each lord would petition to have one of his own assume the position. Viktor had been avoiding the nightly welcoming dinners in favor of solitude, unable to feign interest in the complicated web of vampire politics.

  “Many expect me to nominate you to succeed Andrei and assume his territory.”

  A slow blink was Viktor’s only reaction. He was an assassin, not a leader. Politics had never been of interest to him, beyond knowing where the power lay, and the events of the last few days had made him unfit for either.

  “Alexander is the obvious choice from your region.”

  Another long pause. “Agreed. Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Constantin nodded again, as if that was what he had expected. “When?”

  “Immediately, if it pleases you.”

  “I will grant your request on one condition, Viktor,” Constantin said carefully. “You must vow to return. You found strength and purpose once before. I have no doubt you will do so once again.”

  “Sire.” With a slight inclination of his head, Viktor turned and began to walk away.

  “Oh, and Viktor?”

  “Yes?”

  “I thought perhaps you would like to have these.” Constantin placed a pair of small jeweled dirks on the massive desk. Gemma’s blades. The ones she had used to free him. Now cleaned and polished, the jewel hilts gleamed and the blades gave off a subtle blue glow.

  Viktor accepted both.

  After slipping them into their sheaths, he put them into the inner pockets of his long black duster. Then he gathered his things, and without a word to anyone else, left Andrei’s ridiculous castle.

  Only when he was well beyond the eyes and ears of any sentient being did Viktor allow himself to succumb to the crushing grief. He roared and raged, laying waste to everything around him until nothing remained but acceptance.

  Gemma had sacrificed herself for him not once, but twice. This time, there would be no vengeance, no plan to bring her back. She was well and truly beyond his reach.

  He had failed to protect her. Again.

  This time, no one would take his memories. And because of that, a part of her would always remain with him. That was something.

  Sometimes, when the pain was overwhelming, he thought about seeking the true death. There were those who believed vampires were soulless creatures, but the ache in his chest suggested that wasn’t true.

  If he did end his miserable existence, would he be able to find her again in the afterlife? Would they finally have the future together they had always dreamed?

  He came close a few times, but ultimately, to do so would be a betrayal. Gemma had given her life so that he would live. Ending his own existence would negate her sacrifice. Therefore, no matter how much it hurt, he forced himself to continue. Day by day. Hour by hour. S
ometimes, minute by minute. The pain didn’t lessen, but his ability to bear it grew stronger.

  The world was a big place, but not as big as it had once been. Viktor traversed it all. He spent nights on the white sand of tropical beaches, staring up at star-filled skies. He sat atop the highest snowy peaks, surrounded by icy fog. He gazed upon the Northern Lights, hiked through the rain forests, trekked across ancient deserts. And through it all, he carried the memories of his beloved with him.

  Eventually, he gathered enough strength to make one final stop on his journey—the village where he and Gemma had once lived.

  Oh, the village was no longer there; hadn’t been for centuries. Thatched cottages had been replaced by tenements and houses. Dirt paths had become paved roadways. The quiet, peaceful farmland was now filled with ignorant humans, poisoning the once-pristine air with their filth. His father’s keep was nothing but a distant memory, the fertile soil now far beneath concrete, brick, and asphalt. All that once was a magnificent forest had been cleared.

  Viktor crouched on top of one of the higher buildings, fingering the black stone around his neck. In a way, it seemed fitting that the beauty of those early days was now gone, along with everything else he had once held precious.

  Chapter Twenty

  Viktor could no longer ignore the summons of his sire. The draw had been growing stronger over the past few weeks, and he knew it was time. More than a year had passed since the day he had said a final goodbye to his beloved and left his life behind.

  He had reconciled himself to the fact that this horrible ache was never going to go away. That was the price of his failure, one he would be paying the rest of his long existence.

  Regardless, he had told Constantin he would return, and that was one vow, at least, he would keep. How long he would remain, well, that was something else entirely. His debt of service to Constantin had long since been satisfied, and while the powerful vampire lord would always have his allegiance, perhaps it was time to move on and strike out on his own.

  Viktor returned to the stark and beautiful mountains where he had lived with deadly purpose. For centuries, he had performed his duties to the best of his ability, oblivious to the real reason for his pilgrimage all those years ago. The others, the ones who had been there at that time, they knew of course, but they had never spoken of it, and he had never asked. One simply did not discuss the circumstances of one’s turning, a rule of vampire etiquette embraced by most. Since none of them remembered their human lives after their turning, the why of it was no longer relevant once reborn.

  A small, selfish part of him wished that was still the case.

  No one greeted him as he entered through one of the private entrances, and he was glad for that. Certainly, his arrival had not gone without notice, since no one came in or out of Constantin’s private lair undetected, which meant he was being granted yet another gift—the opportunity to enter quietly and get himself in the proper state of mind before joining the others.

  He made straight for his private quarters, taking some small comfort in the familiarity of it. The bleak coldness of the black and gray stone was a good match for the emptiness he felt inside; the sparse, utilitarian décor of his room a fitting metaphor for his life. He, too, was a creature without embellishment, crafted for a singular purpose. For a long time, it had been all he knew, and it had been enough to serve his sire and his immortal brethren. But now ...

  Thankful for Constantin’s progressive thinking when it came to modern plumbing, Viktor stripped his traveling clothes and stepped beneath the scorching spray of the shower. The burn was welcome, but it provided little respite. No matter how hot the water became, or how long he remained, the chill inside persisted. That in itself wasn’t a problem.

  Dispassion was a useful thing in his role, and his conscience was quiet in that regard, believing that everything he had done had been for the greater good.

  But no amount of “good” he had done changed the fact that he had failed to do the one thing he had set out to accomplish. Or the fact that his exceptional skills had proven absolutely useless when it came to something that had really mattered—saving Gemma.

  That was hard to reconcile.

  Introspection was useless at this point. No matter how many times he went over it, the past was still the past—irrevocable and uncompromising.

  Victor turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, then donned a fresh pair of soft leather trousers and a shirt of fine silk, both black.

  Stefan was just walking down the corridor when Viktor stepped out of his room. “Brother,” Stefan said with a smile and a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, “it is good to see you again.”

  Viktor nodded, silently returning the sentiment. Despite his inner void, there was some solace to be found in familiar surroundings and faces. What he was most appreciative of was the lack of sympathy in the other man’s eyes.

  “Constantin is in the library?” Viktor guessed as they walked along.

  “Of course.”

  “He is expecting me, I am sure.”

  “Yes.”

  Stefan had always been a man of few words, but something about his tone made the hairs on the back of Viktor’s neck stand up.

  Viktor shot him a sideways glance, frowning when Stefan’s normally impassive gaze revealed a hint of ... anticipation?

  A sense of foreboding ghosted over Viktor’s skin, but he knew better than to ask. He would be told what he needed to know soon enough.

  “Come,” Constantin said when they arrived.

  Stefan smiled, but did not accompany him inside. That sense of foreboding grew noticeably stronger.

  “Sire.” Viktor bowed low in a respectful greeting.

  Constantin looked up from the parchment he was bent over, a stunningly vivid depiction of a scene from the Spanish Inquisition, and gestured to the chair adjacent. “Welcome back, Viktor.”

  “Thank you, Sire.”

  “I’m assuming your presence means you have made your peace? You are ready to resume your duties?”

  No and no. “I have, and I am.”

  “Good,” Constantin said. “We have a situation requiring immediate attention, and I want you to handle it.”

  “I am at your command, Sire,” Viktor said, wishing he could summon some interest. No doubt Constantin hoped to throw him right back into the thick of things, thinking to ease his transition back into the fold. That was all right. Viktor was more than ready to kill something. After he did that a couple dozen times, then perhaps, he would consider moving on.

  “Excellent. Tell me, what do you know of phoenixes?”

  Whatever he had been expecting Constantin to say, it wasn’t that.

  Momentarily forgetting his dark funk, he sat up and thought about it.

  In fact, Viktor knew very little of that mystical race of shifters. They were one of the rarest creatures, wielders of extremely powerful elemental magic. More importantly, they were nearly impossible to kill. An assassin’s nightmare. When close to death, they burst into flame, then rose hale and hearty from the ashes, even stronger than before. Viktor’s extensive knowledge and experience gave him the most effective means to kill just about any immortal ... with the notable exception of phoenixes. Thankfully, he had never been sent after one.

  “You wish me to dispatch a phoenix, Sire?”

  Amusement flickered briefly in Constantin’s nearly colorless eyes. “Not exactly. We have added one to our ranks in your absence. Someone not without skill, but who would benefit from your tutelage.”

  No! The blatant refusal was there, right on the tip of his tongue, but Viktor held back. Not once in the last half-millennium had he balked at a direct request from his sire.

  He kept his voice respectful when he said, “A useful addition, indeed. Although, perhaps Stefan or Alexander would be more suited to training.”

  “Are you questioning my judgment, Viktor?” Constantin spoke the words softly, but there was no mistaking the aura of power that acco
mpanied them.

  “Of course not, Sire. I do, however, question my own.” Viktor could take care of himself, but he had no wish to be responsible for another, even if the newcomer was a legendary phoenix. “I do not work well with others. You know this.”

  Rather than be offended, Constantin looked thoughtful. “That was the case. But things have changed, Viktor. You have changed. And your duties must change accordingly.”

  “With all due respect, Sire—”

  “In any case,” Constantin said, halting Viktor’s protest before it could pass his lips, “my decision is made. You will assume complete responsibility, beginning immediately. Come. Your new charge is expecting you.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Perhaps he had been hasty in returning so soon, Viktor thought miserably as he trailed slightly in Constantin’s wake. Inside, he knew better. Another year, another decade, another century wouldn’t have made a difference.

  Maybe that was the reason for his unusual assignment. Constantin knew he preferred to work alone whenever possible. On rare occasions, Constantin would pair him up with another, usually Stefan or Alexander. But to saddle him with a neophyte?

  Perhaps his perceptive sire had sensed his darker thoughts and thought to be proactive by forcing Viktor to focus on someone else besides himself. The idea held no appeal.

  The short walk to the recreation room seemed even shorter than usual. Once one of several grand ballrooms, the space had been transformed only recently. Still a youngster in so many ways, Benjamin thought it would be a good idea to have an area where the men could gather and bond over various games of skill and sport. Surprisingly, Constantin had agreed.

  Now their home fortress, carved into the mountains more than a millennia ago, contained a multitude of diversions and amusements: billiards, darts, ping pong, air hockey, assorted video games, and an obscenely large “flat screen” with “surround sound.” Preferring to spend his leisure time training or reading, it was not an area Viktor had visited often, but some of the others seemed to enjoy it. The fact that his new charge could be found here was not a good sign.