TWO
I ran several blocks, merging with the shadows until I was nearly a mile from Tristan. A horrible trembling had started in my limbs and began to vibrate through my entire body. I throbbed and ached with a mixture of fresh wounds sustained during the past few hours and old wounds not completely healed from the night before. The world was an angry swirl of pain and noise and glaring lights. Pushing it all aside, my focus narrowed to a single pinpoint of finding prey.
Hunting had been a solitary act almost from the moment I was reborn. For me, it was a personal moment. Most nights I was particular about my prey, choosing him or her based on history or personal philosophy. I would listen to my prey’s thoughts until something finally enticed me to move. And then there were nights like tonight, where I grabbed the first poor fool to cross my path.
She was nineteen, and for a second she thought I was a rapist. Grabbing a handful of her dark brown hair, I jerked her into the deep shadows of a doorway. She pushed against me, tears gathering in her wide hazel eyes. I sunk my fangs into her throat as a scream rose to her lips. Out of some latent kindness, I pushed her thoughts down into a deep sleep as I drank. Swallowing her blood, I let its warmth and life fill me, and I drank until my memory of the night grew blurry and distant. The monster in my chest, hiding behind the remnants of my soul, was briefly appeased by the offering.
Reluctantly, I released her as her heart slowed to a lethargic beat. Holding her in my arms, I stared down at her smooth young face. I didn’t know her. She could have been a college student or a young mother on her way home. I hadn’t taken the time to sift around in her thoughts, learn her hopes or her fears. I didn’t know her dreams for the future and I felt cheated. Hunting and feeding were more than a power rush. It was my last contact with humanity, the last thing that kept me bound to a race I had once been a part of. While I felt rejuvenated, a more subtle ache had started in my chest. A type of weariness that might have worried me if I allowed myself to dwell on it, but there simply wasn’t time.
I gently sat her against the doorjamb and healed the wound on her neck. It was a gift of evolution, I think. We could heal the puncture wound caused by our fangs so we could remain hidden. Unfortunately, I couldn’t heal knife or bullet wounds, forcing me to watch more than one injured human companion die in my arms.
Before leaving, I wiped her memory clean. It was better that my kind not be remembered just yet. But it was more than a need for our own protection. She didn’t need to recall the momentary horror of being held in my arms.
On my way back to the hotel I fed twice more, using the same care as with the young woman. While I never bother to learn their names, they would never remember that they had been stopped. I walked down the winding London streets, angling back toward the river as I slipped through the crowd of people. Those few remaining on the lamplit streets were oblivious to my presence. My bloodstained appearance would have caused a panic.
The night air was thick with moisture, as if the skies were preparing to open up in a late night summer shower. A slim mist hovered just above the ground and wound its way around the occasional tree. Thin and wispy, it seemed little more than a ghost, or maybe the forgotten soul of this old town.
Wandering the streets, I let the warm summer air dance around me as I thought of my home in Savannah and walking along River Street. After a night of entertainment at the bars in the area, I would stroll through one park after another that dotted the neat little city, heading back toward Forsyth Park. I would smile at the scantily clad young people as they hurried to and from the row of bars, restaurants, and nightclubs, oblivious to me even if I wasn’t using an enchantment. Their laughter and voices lowered to rough, giggly whispers skipped about me like leaves caught up in a breeze, bringing a twinkle of amusement to my eyes.
At Forsyth Park, I would pause at the enormous fountain bathed in yellow lights. Seated on the edge, I’d close my eyes and listen to the steady hum of traffic as it swirled around me. The leaves would rattle and the Spanish moss sway in the breeze, whispering to me old tales of love and death and loneliness. From there I could feel the pulse of the people in my city.
But trudging along the streets of London, covered in dried naturi blood, I couldn’t hear my city or the soft murmur of laughter from her people. For the first time in a very long time, I was homesick. I missed my city’s streets, dotted with old oak trees and tidy little parks. I missed her fountains and the river that caressed her banks. I would have liked to see her one last time; to stroll along the historic district and gaze up at row after row of vintage homes restored to their pre–Civil War beauty. To enjoy just one last dance at the Docks, where the music pounded in loud, angry beats and the air was thick with the scent of sweat and blood.
Just days ago I had been queen of my little mountain, or as we preferred to say: Keeper of my domain. Then Danaus waltzed in and destroyed my world. The vampire hunter brought news that the naturi were threatening to escape their bindings and enter our world for the first time in centuries. While Danaus obviously held no love for nightwalkers, he at least understood that the naturi were worse.
Guardians of the earth for centuries, the naturi had finally decided that the only way to truly protect the earth was to destroy all of mankind. So a war was waged over countless years, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of naturi, humans, and nightwalkers. We finally succeeded in locking most of the naturi in another world, separate from earth but forever linked. But it was temporary. With naturi on both sides of the seal working to open the doorway, we knew it would be a constant struggle to keep them contained. A triad of nightwalkers kept the seal protected, but all went strangely quiet for roughly five centuries, and despite our long memories, we forgot to pass along information to the fledglings we created.
The end result was a series of deaths that should have never occurred. After nights of struggling to reform the nightwalker triad that sealed the naturi host away, I not only failed to protect Thorne, who was to join the triad, but also lost my precious bodyguard. Michael, my guardian angel with golden locks. Adding to my worries, I discovered that I was to be the weapon wielded by the triad, which now included a vampire hunter.
With a sigh, I looked up and found myself standing in front of the Savoy. It was time to return to the task of saving the world. I was tempted to say the hell with it all, but I would be losing my beloved city as well. And if I didn’t protect it, who would?
Smiling grimly, I slipped inside the hotel and rode the elevator up to my room, where Tristan and Danaus were patiently waiting for me. Well, one more patiently than the other.
When I opened the door, Tristan was lounging on the sofa, hands behind his head, ankles crossed. His cheeks were flushed and he radiated blissful satisfaction. He had fed again after I left him and was obviously feeling quite pleased. It also probably helped that he’d showered and was clean of all the blood that once covered him. He was still wearing his bloodstained clothes, but I knew he couldn’t care less. There was something about having a full stomach that made a nightwalker much more tolerant and amiable. It also didn’t hurt that Sadira, our controlling maker, was already in Venice, giving him an extended break from her.
The vampire hunter, on the other hand, was standing at the window, arms folded across his chest. He was still in his torn, bloodstained clothes, but like Tristan, the blood had been washed from his skin. His dirty hair was pulled back from his face, revealing high, strong cheekbones and vibrant eyes of deep cerulean blue. His chin and jaw were covered in a shadow of dark stubble, giving him an even grimmer appearance than usual. I imagine he wasn’t used to patiently waiting around for anyone, much less a nightwalker.