The Vampire Gift 6: Secrets of Hope Page 2

  Paolo clears his throat. “I’m sorry. The former leader made sure we would not go after the witch after she was taken.” He glances at Smithson. “Of course, we knew someone had come. But Cierra had communicated with—him—and said that we were not to interfere.”

  “Communicated in her sleep,” I say stiffly. “That is a trifle difficult to believe.”

  “There are more possibilities in this world than you know,” he says. “You’ve lived your life amongst creatures of the supernatural. Why would you doubt something so trivial?”

  “It’s one thing to be conscious and be capable of remarkable things,” I say. “Quite another to do it when you’re passed out.”

  “The Dream Realm,” Sylvia murmurs.

  My attention snaps to her. “What?”

  Smithson makes a choked sound. “No.”

  “Silence!” I bark. “Sylvia, what do you mean?”

  “The Order,” she begins.

  “You’ll give away all our secrets?” Smithson demands.

  “I said, QUIET!” I yell. In my impatience, I direct a flick of the Mind Gift at him.

  To my absolute shock, the former Captain Commander goes flying across the room, as if hit by an enormous force straight in the chest.

  He collides with far wall hard and crashes down, body limp.

  For a second, all is still.

  Then all the other vampires leap to their feet.

  “What did you do?” Victoria screams at me. She runs to be first to Smithson’s side. April follows her immediately.

  Liana, on the other hand, stares at me as if she thinks I’m a god. She takes a tiny step closer.

  Paolo narrows his eyes at me. “Who are you?” he whispers.

  Victoria has one arm under Smithson’s shoulder, already helping him up.

  He stands slowly, unsteady on his feet.

  “James,” Victoria repeats. “How did you do that?”

  I shake my head and almost tell her that I don’t know before I snap to my senses.

  Instead of admitting ignorance, I flash her an impious grin. “It’s a gift.”

  “It wasn’t done with the Elemental Forces,” Sylvia mutters. She’s looking at me with a clinical eye, like a scientist who’s just discovered a new species of moth. “April, did you feel anything as a vampire?”

  My former lover shakes her head. “Nothing.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I say. “Smithson pissed me off. End of. There’s nothing to discuss here. Other than what we were talking about before. Namely, the Dream Realm?”

  I direct a fistful of my influence toward Sylvia so that she answers without deflection.

  “We study many things, in The Order,” she says. Her voice takes on a robotic, monotone quality. “Just like there are portals in the world leading to other realms, there are openings that give access to areas not directly accessible in the physical part of this world.”

  “Like this ‘Dream Realm?’” I ask.

  She nods. “It is exactly as it sounds. The world of dreams. Humans can all access it inherently. They are born with the ability. When they sleep, their minds shutter off and the subconscious takes over. The subconscious is the gatekeeper of the soul. Souls, being ethereal things, cohabit our bodies but are predominantly on a different plane.”

  “Naturally,” I quip.

  “Yes,” she continues, taking no note of my sarcasm. “So, humans unconsciously are able to transport to the Dream Realm in their sleep. It is a place where the soul is truly at home.”

  “Wait, wait, hold on,” I tell her. “Are you saying that every time a human dreams, their soul goes into a separate realm?”

  Sylvia scoffs. “No. Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. It happens very rarely. It would be a great danger if regular people could cross over all the time. What happens to a body physically in the Dream Realm is mirrored in the real world. And the Dream Realm is dangerous, for it is there that imagination becomes reality.

  “Humans dream all the time. That does not mean they’re in the Dream Realm. The crossover is a rare occurrence. When someone wakes from a deep sleep complaining of aches or pains it is very likely they brushed up against the Dream Realm as they dozed. The small injuries sustained there were brought back with them here. But the human consciousness does a phenomenal job protecting itself. When it senses somebody has crossed, it fights immediately to wake them up, to get to safety.”

  “Yet vampires don’t dream,” I say carefully, considering the implications of this new information. “When the sun rises our bodies and minds shut down. Nothing goes on up here.” I touch the side of my head. “So how are you suggesting that Cierra could have communicated with Chandler?”

  One of the vampires of the pack stiffens when they hear the name. I ignore the reaction.

  “You said vampires don’t dream,” Sylvia says. “That’s not true.”

  “And how would you profess to know?” I demand. “You’ve been in the blood for less than a few days!”

  “The Order studies all matters of the preternatural,” she says darkly. Her eyes wash over me, then slide to Smithson, who’s only now rejoining our group. “We’ve had vampires in our labs for years.”

  I scoff. “Based on your reaction when you first came face to face with me, I find that extremely hard to believe.”

  She shrugs. “Believe what you will. But a vampire’s brain gives out the same wavelengths when its inactive and the sun is up as when a regular human is in deep REM sleep.”

  “Listen,” I tell her slowly. “I’ve been a vampire for more than five-hundred years. I’ve stood at the top of the coven ruled by my mother. I’ve had experiences and interactions with hundreds of vampires over the years. If we could dream—” my eyes narrow into slits, “—I’d know it.”

  “You just haven’t been taught how to remember,” she tells me softly.

  One of the vampires in the group stirs.

  My eyes catch the movement. I turn on him. “You. You have something to say?”

  He shifts, glances at Paolo. In a second I judge his strength.

  He’s the weakest amongst them.

  “Well?” I prompt.

  He clears his throat. The hierarchy is exerting its natural influence, even if he cannot consciously feel my strength.

  “When we were here… before,” he says, “our leader used to say...”

  “Yes?” I encourage. “Out with it!”

  “He used to say that if we could learn to remember, we would have much greater influence over the world.” He shares a look with the others. “None of us had any idea what he meant.”

  I glance at Paolo. “Is this true?”

  He nods. “Aye. It is.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  “You didn’t ask.” He rolls his shoulder—in indifference or defiance, I cannot quite tell which.

  I decide to let it slide.

  “And anyway,” he continues, “it never seemed relevant. Nor did it make much sense. We all took it as one of his eccentricities.”

  “So you really do think he was communicating with Cierra through the Dream Realm?” I ask Sylvia.

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense,” she says.

  “Interesting,” I murmur. “But it does nothing to help us figure out what’s behind that door.”

  “The only person who would know that, seems to me,” says Liana suddenly, “is your aunt. The witch.”

  I grimace. “You’re taking the claim that we’re related as gospel.”

  “You don’t think it’s true?” April asks. “You never know, James. The Queen always had her secrets.”

  “More than you could imagine,” I sniff. “But no. I put no faith into the rambling stories of some lunatic.”

  “Then how did Chandler recognize you?” Liana asks.

  “I warned you about that name!” I growl at her.

  She flinches away. “Sorry.”

  I shake my head. “We’re getting nowhere. Paolo,
do you have any more artifacts from before? All of this, I can’t believe that this—” I gesture around me, “—is all you have to show for yourselves, for all your time here.”

  Victoria moves away from Smithson and comes up to me. She leans close and whispers in my ear, “You’re in over your head.”

  I glare at her. “What are you talking about?” I hiss.

  “What you just did to Smithson,” she says, loud enough so everyone can hear her. “Demands an explanation. That was real power, James.”

  I grin self-indulgently. “You didn’t think I was strong?”

  “Not like that,” she tells me. “Nobody who knows you would say you are. You’ve been a vampire a long time, yes,” she adds quickly when she sees me ready to interject. “But that does not grant you gifts like the one you demonstrated now.”

  Without warning, she grabs my head and jerks it down so she can stare into my eyes. For a brief moment I’m too surprised to react.

  Then I viciously twist out of her grip.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I demand.

  “No miasma,” she mutters half to herself.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She turns away and walks to the spot Smithson hit the wall. She gestures vaguely at her own eyes.

  “The miasma is the darkness that comes when one channels blood magic. It’s the corruption stemming from the original source. It manifests itself by dark flecks that float across the whites of ones’ eyes.”

  “Of course, it wasn’t blood magic,” I tell her imperiously. I can almost laugh. “How could you even suggest something so absolutely ludicrous?”

  “Magic flows through your whole family. Its effect is very strong. There might not be a lineage on Earth stronger.”

  “What about Eleira’s?” I challenge.

  “Eleira is an anomaly. An exception. Your family, on the other hand, is the rule.”

  “Whether that’s true or not,” I say. “I cannot do magic. No real man can.”

  She turns around and smiles at me. It’s the smile of a shark.

  “That’s what your mother always wanted you to believe.”

  I laugh out loud. “You think different?”

  “I know it’s different,” she bristles. “Remember I was part of the King’s Inner Circle before I came to you. I’ve seen things.”

  This really seems like a conversation we shouldn’t be having out in the open. But the hell with it. All of the vampires here have bound their lives to me.

  “And what is it exactly that you know?” I ask darkly.

  “That your Father, the King? He could also do magic.”

  Chapter Two

  James

  The vampire pack’s lair

  I fall back, laughing.

  “The King? You think the King could do magic? No, darling. Trust me. He cannot. He would not.” I remember the way he treated Riyu, with so much disdain. There’s only one male alive who can do magic. And he’s not much of a ‘man’ at that.”

  “If you think being gay has anything to do with it, you’re a complete fool,” she counters. “Riyu can wield the Elemental Forces not because of his sexual tendencies, but because he was born from your Father’s seed.”

  I blink. Then I focus my gaze and push myself forward. “Are you suggesting that Riyu and I are related?”

  “He is your half-brother, through and through.”

  Smithson hoots a laugh.

  “Silence!” I cut him off. I feel my anger take hold. I’m seething.

  I jump up and leer over Victoria. “You knew that Riyu and I were related,” I say, trying hard to keep the rage from my voice, “and you kept it from me?”

  She flips her hair back in obvious defiance. “There wasn’t an opportune time to tell,” she says. “Besides, what would knowledge of that help you do?”

  “It would have helped me know how far I can trust you!” I snarl. On impulse, I seize her by the neck.

  The other vampires all jump up. With my free hand, I motion them down.

  Reluctantly, they follow the order.

  “What are you going to do, James?” Victoria challenges. “Choke me to death?”

  With a disgusted grunt I let her go. She falls back.

  “A temper you cannot control is one sign of blood magic,” she says. “Those who wield it become enslaved to the most tempestuous emotions.”

  “There’s not a shred of magic in me, damn you!” I swear.

  “Why are you so against it, James? Is it your father’s influence again? Or are you secretly trying to be the man he is not? Or are you secretly trying to please him, to impress him, in everything you do?”

  “That’s a crockful of garbage,” I snarl. Slowly, in as much of a controlled manner as I can manage, I turn and return to my place by the fire. “Logan has nothing to do with any of this.”

  “I’d think the master of The Crypts has a role to play in all our lives, no matter who we are,” Smithson comments.

  I glare at him. “So, what, you’re a philosopher now?”

  “I’m a better man than you.”

  I snort a laugh. “Is that how you found yourself my captive? Enough of this. You, you, and you—” I point out three of the pack’s vampires at random, “take my prisoner away from here. I’m sure you have a holding facility somewhere in this place.”

  They rise and do as I say. Smithson grunts when they take him by the arms but doesn’t resist.

  “Now that that’s settled,” I say when they are out of earshot, “It’s Victoria’s turn to answer for herself. Why did you suggest something so vile as magic?”

  “Magic isn’t vile. And that’s not you speaking. It’s your Father.”

  I move to interject, but she continues, and I don’t get the chance.

  “The door,” she says, motioning to the etched out carving on the far wall. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since we first saw it. It’s not just a door. Nor is it a torrial. But it obviously, very clearly, has something to do with magic.”

  “Well, that much is obvious,” I say dryly. “It only is visible under fire light. Cierra had some relation to it. Tell us something we don’t know!”

  “I think it could be a portal,” she tells me, very seriously. “Into a particular world.”

  Sylvia gives a little gasp and then murmurs, “Of course!”

  “You think so, too?” I ask of her.

  “We’ve all heard the story of the original witches. Their purpose, the ones who opposed them, as well as their use of the torrials, the contra-torrials, and the portals they closed throughout the world.”

  “Maybe not all of us,” I say, directing a meaningful look at April and Liana. “But we know enough. What, you think this has something to do with it?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Victoria says. “And if you weren’t so thick, you would see it yourself. One of the little known secrets of the portals was that they amplified magic. In whoever was around. That’s why Sylvia and I immediately felt that draw. That’s why, I suspect, you were able to channel—without ever realizing what you did.”

  “And no miasma means that it wasn’t blood magic,” Sylvia adds. “Yet, I didn’t feel him do it. You know that I would.”

  Unconsciously, perhaps, she touches the back of her head.

  “The portal is an intersection between the worlds,” Victoria continues. “The material threads of this one here are weak. The tapestry that makes up this particular reality thins the closer you get to the intersect. Regular rules no longer apply.”

  I move a hand through the air. “Reality feels pretty solid to me.”

  “The parts of it that you sense,” Victoria corrects.

  “You think my senses are less?” I laugh. “I am the strongest vampire here, sweetheart. Mine are the best.”

  “Not the one’s you’ve always been blind to. Not the ones that direct the currents of magic.”

  I frown. “Color me skeptical.”

  “What else would explain wha
t you did to Smithson?” she asks.

  “The Ancient once used the Mind Gift on me,” I admit, not caring if it makes me appear weak. It shouldn’t. “He dropped me to my knees as easily as if I were a cricket.”

  “That required significant time in the blood,” Victoria says. “Centuries. Millennia.”

  “And?”

  “You don’t have that.”

  “I’ve felt the Mind Gift being used around me,” April says. “When you did that—nothing.”

  I scowl at her.

  “James?” Victoria asks. “Do you know how you did it?”

  The question catches me flat-footed. When I’m too slow to respond, Victoria says, “I thought not.”

  “So what if what you say is true?” I challenge. “It doesn’t change who I am!”

  “Are you really so dense, James Soren?” Victoria exclaims. “If you can do magic—if you can learn—it’s an incredible gift, not a curse! You’ll make our coven even stronger. We won’t need a witch on our side as powerful as Eleira. We will have you!”

  I feel a sudden rush of excitement. Why am I so against the prospect, after all? There’s nothing I hate so much as weakness. And if something like this grants me strength…

  “Very well,” I say. “Let’s assume this is true. Then what? What happens next? How do we make use of it?” I clench and unclench my fist. “How do we use it to our advantage? To the Nocturna Animalia’s advantage?”

  Victoria’s eyes positively shine. “Now,” she tells me softly, “we finally see eye-to-eye.”

  Chapter Three

  Eleira

  The stronghold

  I cry out as the first lash of power strikes me across the chest.

  Morgan, looking all the more like a decomposed corpse come to life, laughs as she directs wisps of her dark, otherworldly energy at me. The bleeding half of the Narwhark’s body is in her hands, perilously close to my face.

  The stench from the blood is horrid. Rivulets ran down Morgan’s face as she’d consumed her half, carving out horrible, permanent scars on her awful body. The blood that seeps over her fingers, down her hands, has the same horribly corrosive effect. It burns through her sickly, pale skin and carves out trenches so deep parts of bone show.