AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Well, who is he?" Chase asked impatiently.
"Shamas! It's our cousin Shamas!" Camille sputtered. "We thought you were gone for good!" She sprang forward and threw her arms around the tall, black-haired man who shared her pale skin, raven hair, and violet eyes.
Shamas, who had been fighting for Tanaquar against the Opium-Eater, had been captured by Lethesanar and sentenced to death a month ago. He'd managed to escape when a triad of monks were sent by Tanaquar to assassinate him before he hit the torture chamber. At least that way he'd die without too much pain. But somehow Shamas had managed to grab hold of their energy and use it for his own purposes—namely to get the hell out of Dodge. He'd vanished and nobody had heard from—or of—him since.
"Shamas! How did you… why… how did this happen?" I couldn't believe my eyes. "When you escaped from Queen Lethesanar, we all thought you might have imploded or something."
Our cousin laughed, but his voice was raw and strained. "Camille, Delilah, Menolly… it's so good to see your faces. I wasn't sure I'd ever see any of my family again until I crossed over to our ancestors." He shrugged off the robe, revealing a too thin body, with the pale sheen of healed scars lacing his arms. So Lethesanar had started on him before the triad of monks had intervened.
"Let the man sit down," I said. "Can't you see he's exhausted? Are you hungry, Shamas? Would you like something to eat?"
He rubbed his forehead, squinting. "I'm overwhelmed, that's all. So much has happened in the past few weeks." As we led him into the living room, he added, "I'd love a cup of tea or some broth."
Iris took the matter firmly in hand. "Soup it is, and tea, and some fresh, hot bread. You're far too thin. And you look so tired. Girls, get him a blanket and a pillow and settle him in the recliner. I assume your wounds have already healed and don't need treatment?" Iris didn't mince words.>"Menolly D'Artigo, do you choose to walk the realms of the worlds, bound only to yourself and the gods to whom you have made oath, forsaking the path laid out to you by your sire?"
"I do." A shriek rose up and I suddenly felt Dredge starting to stir. "Hurry, he's noticing!"
"Stay where you are. He only senses a disturbance. Don't feed him with your fear." Jareth knelt behind me, his right hand on my shoulder, his left holding the dagger. "Menolly D'Artigo, do you refute Dredge's right to claim you? Do you renounce your sire?"
And this was the end. I could feel it. My answer to this question would turn me into a pariah among traditional vamps—they'd know I'd turned traitor. But then again, once I killed Dredge, I'd be doubly damned in their eyes.
"I renounce Dredge. I refute him. I banish him from my life. I forever revoke his right to connect with me or my path."
As I spoke, Jareth plunged the dagger into the back of my neck, directly into the center of the cord that bound me to the monster of my nightmares, to my maker and sire.
The blade entered clean, but the pain of the cord breaking was beyond anything I'd experienced since the night Dredge turned me. All of my anger and pain, all of his lust and greed, coiled up like a maddened serpent and turned on me. I could see it hovering, ready to strike, but then Jareth drew a runic symbol in the air between the snake and me. The creature let out a deafening shriek and exploded in a red cloud. I wavered, then as Jareth yanked the blade out of my neck, fell sideways, landing on the cold marble.
Jareth knelt down and gathered me in his arms. I grimaced. For the first time in years, my body ached. As he lifted me up and carried me out of the circle and over to a bench, I wondered if I'd be less powerful without Dredge shoring me up.
"Is first light coming?" I whispered, exhausted.
"No, you've still got a while before the sun rises, but you've been through what amounts to major surgery on your psyche. You need to regain strength. I'll make sure you all make it home safely, but before you go, you must drink."
"I can't hunt; I'm too tired," I said.
"You need fresh blood. Reserve won't do." Jareth pulled his robe away from his shoulders and knelt beside me. "Drink. You won't be able to hurt me. Take what you need. I've done this before."
I stared at him. "You want me to drink from you?" He'd saved my butt. In fact he may have saved all our lives. "I can't just treat you like a juice box after all you've done."
"Drink. I will shore you up until you regain your strength. You don't really have a choice. At this point, if you don't drink, you could die."
He hadn't mentioned that as one of the side effects. I blinked, looking over at Camille, who said, "For once in your life, just obey without asking questions. Jareth said to drink, so drink."
I cleared my throat. "Only if you and Morio leave. I don't want you to watch me feeding."
She nodded, silently assenting. Jareth motioned to the other two participants in the ritual who had guarded the elemental gates. "Take them into the preparation room. I'll call you when we're done."
As soon as they'd left the room, I said, "Jareth, I need you to sit by me. I'm too weak to stand."
He settled in beside me on the bench, the pale skin of his neck enticing and wan. "You don't get out in the sun much, do you?" I asked, attempting to break the tension. I gazed up at him. "You say you've played blood host to a vampire before?" Monk from the Order of the Crystal Dagger or not, I had to make sure he knew what he was getting into.
He let out a long sigh. "Many years ago, long before you were born, I was engaged to a woman named Cassandra. She was a vampire. The villagers near the monastery staked her. That's when I left the Tygerian Mountains and came here." There was no tremor in his voice, no change of expression, but I read the world into the little lines that appeared around his lips when he said her name.
Cassandra. I wondered what she'd looked like, who she'd been, why he'd loved her so much he'd take a chance on marrying her. But I asked none of those questions. His memories were none of my business. His pain wasn't mine to excavate and expose.
"Then you understand the beauty of blood." A statement, not a question.
Jareth nodded. "More than you think. Drink. Restore your strength. I can take care of myself, and I trust you to know when to stop."
