“Do you taste it, then?” he asked, shifting away from her. “Did you truly think I’d come to you unprepared?”
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes widening, and the veins in her face showing like blue lines.
“A newly anointed Venator,” he replied. “I drank a good portion of blessed water before and after the Trial, and it still runs through my veins.”
She hissed at him, her irises impossibly red, her fangs long and wicked… Then her fury eased into a feral smile that bothered him much more than her anger. Death would be so much easier.
“Indeed, Maximilian, pet, you continue to surprise me. I wonder if you shall continue to do so as the centuries progress… or if I’ll become bored with you.”
She pulled him closer and looped a link from his chains high on the wall so that he couldn’t move away.
“So I cannot feed on you until your blood is no longer diluted by holy water. How very clever of you to create such anticipation.” Her cool, skeletal fingers cupped his shoulders, then smoothed down the curve of his biceps. “There are many other ways to pass the time until then, my dearest.”
And so continued the second day of his captivity.
Sebastian sat upright, pulled abruptly from sleep.
Sweat poured off his skin, partly from the blaze of noontide sun pouring from the window of an inn, and partly from the dream that still pounded him. His heart raced, his fingers dug into the fabric around him.
Good Lord, would it never end?
This series of nightmares had come with stronger images and a deeper sense of urgency than the others. Shaking his head to dispel the last tendrils of the dream of Giulia begging him to save her, he drew in a long, deep breath and closed his eyes. What was he to do?
He couldn’t help but wonder if it was related to the events of last night, when he stuck his beringed hand into the pool and felt himself sucked into a vortex of memory and images. She’d never begged him to Save me. … Not until now.
Was it possible that he even could?
Was there some event that might allow him to do so, after all these years?
Or was he simply going mad?
As he lay there, wisps of words and phrases mixed and mingled like threads of smoke in his mind. A long promise… a savior.
Those for whom he lives… shall be saved.
He shoved away the unnecessary blanket that had stuck to his perspiring flesh and sat up, his heart pounding. Brim, who’d been keeping watch while the others rested, glanced over at him.
Sebastian stood, unsteady on his feet, and hissed, “Rest. I’ll watch now.”
The rings glinted on his hand as he reached for the pitcher of water. Damn rings. Would they never come off?
What did it mean?
He gulped the water, lukewarm in the heat, and glanced out the window. They’d found the orb last night and left immediately, traveling until late this afternoon. The sun burned hot all the rest of the day, leaving its heavy imprint even on the night, making sleep miserable even when he could turn off the disturbing images.
Giulia’s face still haunted him, the phrases paraded around in his mind as though trying to embed themselves like a burrowing worm.
A savior who carries the deepest taint. A long promise.
If she were here, Wayren might be able to interpret the words.
Sebastian looked out the window again, his eyes going to the mountain far behind them. Pesaro, poor devil. How long would it take for Lilith to turn him? Surely she wouldn’t allow him to escape again, but he’d fight it.
No one understood that more than Sebastian, the fear of being turned undead. The fear of losing one’s soul, having it twisted and perverted… and damned, the moment he gave in to the craving to feed from a mortal.
Could an undead resist the burning need to drink? That driving, bullying desire? Could it be ignored, that horrible craving, that demonic taint?
The deepest taint.
A tainted soul?
Sebastian’s heart began to pound. The deepest taint… a twisted, undead soul.
A long promise.
Good God… immortality. Someone who gave up his soul, freely… in a long promise.
How long?
His mouth felt as though he chewed on a wad of cotton, and he swallowed hard. His fingers were shaking, and the middle of his belly felt full and unsteady. His head lightened, and a renewed sheen of sweat dampened his forehead.
Those for whom he lives… shall be saved.
Save me.
And the reverberation of Rosemunde’s prophecy sang in his head like a tune that would not be silenced.
Then, finally, he understood. Those words had burned into his brain for a reason.
And in the new world shall be a savior who carries the deepest taint. A long promise shall the savior make and in the end those for whom he lives will be saved.
It wasn’t Pesaro who was the savior.
It was he.
Sebastian rose, suddenly more clearheaded, more purposeful than he’d been for years. Even, despite the task ahead, light in the heart.
Victoria awoke when the sun had lowered enough to blaze directly in her face, angling perfectly through the window. She had been so damn tired, her weariness laced with worry over Max-and though she hated to admit it to her companions, she’d been relieved to rest in the middle of the day.
But now they would move on and perhaps reach Midiverse by late tomorrow. Hurry, hurry, hurry. The sooner they finished, the sooner she could get back to Max.
She sat up and looked over the room, counting the lumps on the floor-one-and on the pallets. Another.
Who was missing?
Maybe he’d gone to buy provisions. She rose from her pallet and rushed over to look out the window. The shadows had grown long from the lowering sun, but she could still see the road leading north, empty of any travelers.
As she turned back, she saw the note, pinned to the wall by a knife. The paper was folded in half, with a large V on the outside.
Victoria tore it off the wall and unfolded it, noting the signature-a large, sweeping S –before reading the letter.
She sank onto the nearest bed, the one Sebastian had used, and read it again.
Victoria ~
I’ve gone for Max. Know that I will always love you though you foolishly chose another. That’s why I’m going, no matter what may come. Ask Wayren about Rosamunde’s prophecies. Tell her I’ve made the long promise. Above all, keep yourself and the new Gardella safe.
~S
Damn and blast.
Damn and blast.
Trust Sebastian to write an adieu that would bring both pain and hope.
She folded the paper once, twice, thrice.
The new Gardella.
Did he know for certain, or was he merely guessing? Or was that simply Sebastian, being wry and amusing?
She’d only recently suspected it herself.
Sebastian, you fool. I need you, too.
Was she going to lose them both now?
She looked back at the mountain, nearly two days’ ride behind her, purple-black in the distance, with a swatch of sunlight beaming onto it from between a break in the trees.
Godspeed, Sebastian. Bring both of you back safely.
Nineteen
Of Dreams and Sacrifice, and the Incurrence of a Debt
Sebastian woke just before dawn to find Wayren standing before him.
Or, at least, he thought it was Wayren… but perhaps it was a hallucination. She seemed insubstantial, and she glowed. Perhaps he was dreaming… but at least it wasn’t a nightmare of Giulia begging and pleading with him. Although if it weren’t to be a nightmare, he’d prefer that he went back to the old dreams, where his lover wrapped him in her long, dark hair, and they rolled in a nocturnal bed together… rather than dreaming about an angel.
It just didn’t seem right.
The obnoxious snore next to him told him that the other traveler who bunked in his room was still sleeping soundly. The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon, and he’d be back to the mountain in a few hours.
“Sebastian,” said a voice, and he looked over.
She was still there.
“Am I dreaming? Wayren?”
“I’m here. I’ve come to wish you luck and bring blessings.”
He nodded. Whether it was a dream or not, he felt contentment.
Wayren’s presence in the past had been a source of discomfort for him when he knew he wasn’t being true to his calling or following through on his duty. Now her presence-whether it be real or in a dream-felt like a commendation of sorts, an acknowledgment and a blessing.
“And I came to bring you this. Wear this and don’t remove it, and… it will help.”
Something silver glinted in the dusky light, then plopped onto the bed next to him. A ring, heavy and silver, set with a garnet the size of his thumbnail.
“What is it?”
“It will help you follow through on your intent and keep you strong in the face of weakness. I can do nothing else. The rest is up to you.”
He picked up the ring and slid it onto the middle finger of his left hand. “Thank you.” He then he looked at her. “And thank you for Rosamunde’s papers. They led me here.”
“I knew that they would.” She nodded, her blond hair shifting with the movement. She paused; then he felt the wisp of a touch on his hand, and still wasn’t certain if it was real or imagined. “You’ll do well, Sebastian Vioget.”
And then he woke up.
The silver ring was on his finger, the sun was blazing just atop the horizon… and he was ready to begin his last day of life.
Two hours later, Sebastian stood at the stone crevice that led to Lilith’s hideaway.
He had no trouble gaining entrance to Lilith’s lair once he showed the five rings to her guards and surrendered his stakes. They didn’t attempt to take the silver ring that Wayren had given him, which he wore on his other hand. Sebastian didn’t intend for this little meeting to last more than an hour, and he was arriving at the high point of noon.
He was taken to the same room as before, only a short walk down a twisting corridor made of stone.
The chamber appeared the same, and he greeted Lilith calmly. She sat on her chaise, just as she had the last time they’d met. Today, she wore a gown of black, which made her skin appear starkly blue-white.