Lothaire

46

“It’s happening,” Ellie admitted to Balery as she sipped a Coke. “I’m falling in love with him.”

She and the fey were on the deck watching the sunset as Ellie anxiously awaited Lothaire. He’d been missing all day.

As he’d set off, Ellie had again told him she wouldn’t worry. So much for that.

Earlier Thad had visited. For hours, he and Balery had tried to distract her, but her sense of dread had grown steadily throughout the day.

At four in the afternoon, she’d demanded that Balery roll her bones. Whatever the fey had seen had leached her face of color, had wrested one gasped word: “ . . . burning.”

Yet once she’d collected herself, Balery had pasted on a fake smile and deemed that roll a “dud.” No matter how much Ellie wheedled, she’d refused to offer more on the subject.

Now Balery said, “I could tell, just by the way you look at him. Have you told him?”

Ellie muttered, “Not yet.” Holding on to a thread of her formerly stubborn self, she’d backed herself out of her vows. Never falling in love with Lothaire had turned into not telling him I love him first. . . .

“Elizabeth,” Balery began in a pained tone, “there’s something you need to know about Saroya and—”

Lothaire appeared; Ellie’s jaw dropped.

He was burned in deep patches, his muscles bulging, sweat and blood seeping from his charred skin.

Before either Hag or Ellie could manage a word, he’d snatched Ellie’s arm, tracing her to their bedroom at the apartment.

“Lothaire, my God! What has happened to you?” What did Balery witness?

His irises were a deeper red than Ellie had ever seen them, the color bleeding across the whites of his eyes. “Look what I’ve retrieved, Lizvetta.” He pinched a simple gold band with two white-knuckled fingers, his expression a mix of insanity and agony.

“That’s good, right?”

He laughed bitterly. “Good? It’s your doom.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t save you. . . . No matter what I try, my vows control me.”

Chills skittered up her spine. “I don’t understand. Please calm down, Lothaire. Did you drink from someone?”

“Lizvetta, I can’t even kill your body first to spare your soul—”

“Kill me? What about my soul? You’re talking crazy again!” she cried. “Just use that ring to cast Saroya out of me.”

He began to pace the room, never a good sign. “I can’t betray her. You don’t understand!”

“Then make me understand!”

As if with great difficulty, he grated, “I vowed to the Lore to make Saroya immortal—and to destroy you. You don’t merely die. Your soul is extinguished. Tried everything to get out of the vow . . . fighting it even now.”

He’d known all along that he’d have to do this? Even she understood that vows to the Lore were unbreakable. “Let me run, Lothaire.”

More pacing. “You could be on the other side of the earth. Won’t make a difference when I’m forced . . . forced to . . . end you.”

She couldn’t quite get enough air. “Will my soul be extinguished from this body—or from everything?”

“Gone! As if you never were!”

Breathe, Ellie, breathe. “This is what you were hinting about! Why didn’t you tell me? To prepare me?”

“Couldn’t . . . physically couldn’t set you on a path that might interfere with my vow. Thought I could save you anyway.”

Desperation deepened. And still I’m going to die. Right back to where she’d started.

No, now it was so much worse. At least before, she hadn’t been falling for the vampire. At least before, she would have gone from death row to heaven, or so she’d believed.

Now she was to go from a paradise of pleasure to . . . nothingness.

I’m to be no more? Destroyed by the man I’d started to love?

He shoved his fingers through his sooty hair. “Couldn’t even remain in the sun. . . .”

Her lips parted. That was why his skin had burned? Balery had told her that pain was excruciating for a vampire. “You tried to die for me?”

“Of course!” he bellowed, yanking her into his arms. “I would rather die than hurt you!”

She couldn’t quite believe that, but knew he couldn’t lie.

Today, Lothaire had sought to end his life for her, had defied a survival instinct that had kept him alive for thousands of years. “How are you able to tell me all this now? Because it’s as good as done?”

He clutched her shoulders, gazing down at her face. His expression answered her.

“Oh.” Tears gathered and fell. Why not cry? She’d never felt more hopeless.

At last she knew what he’d been struggling with. “Will it h-hurt?”

At her words, he roared with anguish, blood tracking from the corner of one eye. “Lizvetta, don’t. . . .”

“Can you use the ring to bring me back?”

“Can’t reverse a wish! But I will find a way to bring you back!”

“Lothaire, I’m”—she gave a sob—“I’m afraid.”

Another agonized bellow followed, then he enfolded her against his chest. He was shuddering all around her, fighting that inner battle. “If I can’t save you, I will follow you.” Clasping her tighter, he rocked her, murmuring unknown words in Russian.

His charred skin and clothes smelled of ash. He tried to burn for me.

Would that be the last scent she ever perceived? “Don’t follow me, Lothaire. I don’t want you to—”

“RIIIIINNNNNNGGGGG!”

Ellie’s head whipped up. “What is that?”

“Remove my riiiinnnnngggg!” sounded a woman’s shriek from just off the balcony—twenty-five floors up.

At once, Lothaire pushed Ellie aside to take off the band. “Dorada. How the fuck did she find us?”

Some female outside was controlling him? Just as they’d feared!

“Enemy of Old!” Dorada’s words sounded staticky, as though they’d been passed through a filter. “Allow me entry. Do not resist me.”

“I can’t fight her,” Lothaire snapped under his breath as he crossed to the wall beside the balcony door. Symbols were etched into the plaster. “Get to the front door, Elizabeth! You’ll be able to open it soon.”

Once Lothaire had unlocked the boundary, Dorada dropped down over the balcony railing, as if she’d just stepped through an invisible entrance. With a wave of her hand, the French doors flew open.

While Ellie gaped, the sorceress floated inside, half a foot off the floor.

Lothaire had revealed some things about Dorada—how she’d been half-mad, grotesquely mummified, shrieking for her ring.

Now the sorceress was regenerating. She still had only one eye, but it was striking—olive green with sweeping lashes. Some strands of her hair were a thick, luxurious black, others lank strings. Half of her face had smooth, tawny skin; the other was crusted with rotting gauze.

A solid-gold breastplate covered her torso, a skirt of golden threads wrapping around her hips—

“Run, Elizabeth!”

Ellie snapped her jaw shut, and whirled around, sprinting toward the front door. Down the halls she ran. The front entrance in sight.

She reached it, unlocked the ordinary deadbolt, then threw open the door—

Ellie drew up short with a scream; Lothaire gave an answering bellow from his room.

Wendigos blocked her way.

Their emaciated bodies were hunched and misshapen, their fangs the size of her finger. Pasty skin stretched tight over their skeletal frames, yet seemed to billow in places—

Horror struck. They were wearing others’ skin.

Sleeves, vests, collars . . .

Ellie slapped her hand over her mouth, backing away. Too much. I can’t handle much more of this.

As they scuttled into the apartment, they licked their lips at her, their red eyes alight.

With hunger.

She fled back to Lothaire, pumping her arms, running as she never had before. They were on her heels, grunting, slavering. Into the bedroom she scrambled.

Eyes wide, Lothaire held out his hand for her, but didn’t move, didn’t try to protect her. She darted behind him anyway.

“She’s controlling me, Elizabeth! Told me not to move. I’m trapped as I stand.”

Dorada pulled out Lothaire’s desk chair, taking a seat with a casual air. But her movements were sluggish.

“How did you find this place?” he demanded.

The sorceress held the band up to the lamp’s light. “An old acquaintance told me.” She slipped the ring onto her thumb, then waved for Ellie. “Come, girl.”

She shook her head slowly.

“Come, or I’ll make your vampire drink you to death.”

Lothaire gripped her wrist—until Dorada commanded, “Release her.”

He did at once.

Seeing how much control the sorceress had over him, Ellie crossed the room to stand before Dorada. Will she kill me? Turn me into one of those things?

“Kneel.”

With no other choice, Ellie did.

The sorceress scrutinized her with that one eye. “Is that Saroya the Soul Reaper buried deep within this mortal, Lothaire? Was the goddess of vampires the Bride you sought? Perhaps you wanted to make this human host into an immortal with my ring.”

He remained silent.

“Do you guard the body so vehemently to preserve Saroya? Or is the girl yours?”

“Did you come here to insult me? You know the answer to that question.” Lothaire-speak?

Dorada raised her good hand to touch Ellie’s forehead, commanding, “Face me, Saroya.”

Ellie recoiled, resisting Saroya with all her might.

“No, sorceress!” Lothaire yelled. “Don’t do this!”

“I know you can sense me deep down, goddess,” Dorada said, ignoring him. “Now rise!”

The female’s gold plates seemed to vibrate as power infused the room. Ellie could feel Saroya skittering wildly in her chest, but still she fought.

Lothaire too strained against Dorada’s control. “This has to do with more than my crimes against you. What do you want from Saroya?”

“Revenge.”

Ellie remained silent, grappling to hold the goddess back.

“For what?” Lothaire grated.

“Why do you think I was in that tomb, vampire?” Dorada said. “Because Saroya’s assassins hunted me down without cease! In desperation, I turned to the ring, but she was too powerful for it to vanquish. So I wished never to be found by her killers, to be freed of her torments. And the ring made sure I was forever out of her reach—by having my other enemies trap me in that tomb for ages.” She stared off with her sole eye for long moments, then turned back to him. “Until you came along, waking me. At once, I sensed Saroya’s lack of godhood. I refused to let you use my own ring to empower her in any way.”

“This makes no sense, Dorada. Saroya would have no reason to assassinate you. Who were you to a goddess?”

Ellie’s vision wavered. She was losing ground, couldn’t hold on much longer. . . .

Dorada frowned at Lothaire. “You don’t know about the prophecy?”

“What are you talking about?” he bit out. “What prophecy?”

Amusement. “Hmm. Just know that it’s about to be fulfilled.”

With that, Ellie gave a cry, collapsing as her sight went dark.

Saroya felt herself compelled to rise, blinking open her eyes. She was in Lothaire’s room? Hand to her forehead, she rose to her knees . . . and found herself surrounded by Wendigos.

Facing her old nemesis.

The foretelling! Fear surged within her, seeming to swell inside her throat. But Saroya would bluff as if she still had power. “Dorada,” she sneered. “It’s been ages.”

The Gilded One grinned, revealing rotted teeth among gleaming white ones. “You’re no longer the cat-eyed goddess,” she said, speaking staticky English through some kind of translation spell.

“You’re no longer decent to look upon. Fitting that you keep the company of drooling beasts.”

“Regeneration.” Dorada shrugged. Her customary adornments were nearly blinding, gold plates so heavy they looked like they’d crush her putrefied form. “Your male harmed me quite thoroughly. I wanted revenge on Lothaire. I had no idea I could mete it out to you as well.”

This couldn’t be happening. It is foretold . . . It is foretold . . . Dread inundated Saroya, but she forced herself to give a dismissive wave. “What can you do to me?” Am I sweating from fright? “I am a goddess.”

“You have no powers. And you’re pure evil. Easy for me to control. Shall I do as was divined so long ago?”

Saroya swallowed. “If you attempt this, you will fail. And then I will smite you with a god’s wrath.”

Dorada smirked, her face drawn into a repellent mask. “I believe I will risk it.”

Saroya turned to Lothaire. “Vampire, do something!”

His muscles were knotted, his expression strained, but he remained unmoving. Dorada clearly had him under her thrall.

“Don’t take Saroya, sorceress. There must another way to settle this!”

Comprehension hit her. Lothaire was acting as if she were his Bride, because he knew that Dorada would cast her out to punish him.

Sure enough, he’d discovered a way out of his vows. “Dorada, I am not his Bride! If you seek vengeance against Lothaire, then you must kill—”

“Why do you deny me now, Saroya?” Lothaire yelled.

Dorada raised her hand, her splayed fingers directing mystical energy at Saroya. The gold jewelry on her body reverberated, her sole eye glittering. The Wendigos howled as the air grew electric.

“No!” Saroya shrieked. “Do not do this!”

“I never would have harmed you, goddess, never would have targeted you, had you not beset me with your assassins. Fool! You turned me onto this path. You fulfilled this prophecy.”

“You will pay, Dorada! My sister—”

“Sends her regards.” Dorada shut her eye and snatched closed her fist.

Blackness spread before Saroya, the prophecy repeating over and over as her consciousness began to dim.

It is foretold that La Dorada, the Queen of Evil and of Golds, a sorceress of great power, will destroy Saroya the Soul Reaper, Goddess of Divine Death, condemning her to the Ether that spawned her, forever as formless as the chaos whence she sprang. . . .

Foretold. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Dark. Silent. Cold.

Nothingness.

Saroya’s last thought: My actions had a consequence.