Rail's rueful look acknowledged it. "You're far too sharp to be pretending not to be, son. My time is coming to an end. Very soon. I can feel it. I'm sad because it's not easy to say goodbye to everything you've known. Not just turn toward the void, but step full out into it, not knowing if all your memories will go with you, if you'll remember the beauty of a full moon or the touch of woman's hand, or even what happened to me to have this knife fall into my hands. I want to hold onto that memory as I pass, take it with me wherever I go next."
He rose to come around the table and sit down next to Uthe, placing a hand on his shoulder. His brown eyes were kind and thoughtful. He was such a different vampire, the kind Uthe fervently wished he could be. The opposite of everything his sire was.
"Now that I look back," Rail said, "I know that's what that man was doing. He knew his time was coming and he was saying goodbye to this world and all it had to offer. Doesn't matter how good what comes after is. When you have to say goodbye to all you've ever known, and you don't know if you're going to remember it, facing that end is how a person grieves, on the front end, before you let go of this life. Whereas it's the job of those who remember him to grieve on the other side after he passes, and honor what he gave us. There's a balance to that too, I expect."
Grasping Uthe's wrist, he placed the dagger in his hand, closing his fingers over the hilt. "Take it. For whatever bit of foresight I've been given, I think the peace you need will be found in the Holy Land where I found it. Among humans, not vampires. You need to free yourself from the skin of your own maker, and that won't be found in your own world. Not yet."
* * *
After Uthe finished the story, Kel said nothing for quite some time about it, though Uthe could feel him turning it over in his mind. They roved over idle topics from there: Council issues, tidbits about the Fae world Uthe was curious about, and past debates they'd had. They also spent a good bit of time hiking in silence. It wasn't until the day moved toward twilight that Keldwyn returned to the dagger's origins.
They'd reached the summit of a rocky peak. A glance down said they'd be deep into another maze of them before long. Uthe stopped, propping a foot against a jutting stone, and tipped his head back, looking at clouds scudding across the darkening sky. He liked the way twilight turned the clouds into smoke against the firmament.
Keldwyn stood at his side. Uthe realized he was leaning against him as if he were dizzy and out of breath. He was dizzy. Must be the effect of the sun. Damn it, he'd forgotten. Yes, the dagger let him walk in sunlight, but it doubled or tripled his blood needs. He'd had to feed once a day when he was using it. Most vampires his age only had to feed once every several days. Sometimes he'd been able to go even longer, unless a stressor increased his metabolism. Well, he'd figure that out later. At sundown, it should be easy enough to steal through the night and take a meal from one of their invisible trackers, a sleepy goatherd or nomadic shepherd.
"So he was suggesting," Keldwyn said slowly, one hand steady on Uthe's back, his other curled loosely around his arm, "that Jesus of Nazarus gave him the dagger? And when he cut his wrist to feed Rail, it gave the blade the powers it carries today?"
"He said none of those things. But the timing and its properties suggest it's very possible. Or the knife may have already been carrying those gifts. There's a lot about the life of the Nazarene that's not known, particularly before he started preaching. There's speculation that he was engaged in more mystical studies before that time. But I've thought about what Rail said, about him being just a man. Maybe one man's extraordinary understanding of peace and love created a magic even stronger than a sorcerer's."
Keldwyn fished a band somewhere from within his clothing and lifted his arms to efficiently wrap it at the top of his thick braid. By doing so, he re-captured several of the shorter strands that had loosened from it and framed his face. "It is possible."
"Really?" Uthe watched Keldwyn's hands move over the task, the curving of his biceps. He imagined unbraiding the Fae Lord's dark mane, letting the heat and weight of it spill over his hands, cover his face, slide along his chest. He wanted to touch Keldwyn's precise features, the lips that could be set in cruel, stern lines or a tempting, mocking smile. He thought of the way they'd feel, softening and curving under Uthe's fingertips. Clearing his throat, he turned his attention back to the sky. "It surprises me to hear you say that, my lord."
"The power of love is something no magic user can deny after seeing it in action. It is the most miraculous thing to witness when it succeeds. Just as it crushes the soul to see it fail." Keldwyn finished getting the hair out of his eyes, but he hadn't missed Uthe's absorption. "I think you like my hair, vampire."
"It is easy to enjoy beauty, my lord."
"That depends." Keldwyn swept a glance over him. "On how much it resists adoration. So you went to Jerusalem, then?"
Flummoxed by how the Fae Lord had thrown the compliment back over him, like a net of possibilities, Uthe took a second to recall the storyline. "I did. My first night in the area, I stumbled on a camp of soldiers, and shared a meal with them. Popular history tends to remember the Templars as an order that stretched through the Holy Lands and Europe, but in the beginning it was just nine men and their retainers. The men were mostly connected by family lineage to Hugh of Payns, the founder of the Order. It was those nine I met that night, and Hugh who invited me to share their meal. And that's a story for another time. I think it is your turn."
Uthe cocked his head. "This journey will be far more interesting if we trade stories along it. Perhaps for every story I offer, you offer one in return. The only parameter is that it must be a true one, and tell me something of yourself."
"But who better than a Fae to tell a fairy tale?"
Uthe chuckled. "These days, the lines of reality and fantasy can blur for me. If I could rely upon your stories as truth, that would be a comfort. It shouldn't be too taxing for you. If the Ennui advances quickly enough, you can tell me the same story, and I will think it new."
Keldwyn didn't smile at the jest. He reached out and closed his fingers on Uthe's arm, but then, as if remembering what Uthe had said about the eyes focused on them, he dropped his hold. Instead, he asked a question as personal as the most intimate touch. "Your story about Rail suggests what I've always expected, that Uthe is not your given name. I want to know it. I've waited patiently for you to tell me."
"The word patience obviously means something different to the Fae."
Keldwyn merely gave him an expectant look. Uthe knew it should be of no consequence, but it had been years since he'd spoken it. He hadn't been able to bear hearing it in his head, and he'd been able to banish it, except in his nightmares. Yet it was simply a name. He shouldn't make Keldwyn think it had more significance than it did. He sighed. "Varick, my lord."
Keldwyn's eyes brightened, his lips curving in a way that made Uthe not displeased he'd told him, at least in this moment. "It means protector and ruler. Your parents had auspicious hopes for you."
"My father. I sincerely hope I disappointed him. I do not use my given name for that reason."
Keldwyn considered him. "A story for another time?"
"Or perhaps never. There are better stories to tell and hear. We should keep moving."
"Are you steadier now?"
"Well enough." Uthe lifted his head, inhaled. "Odd. A wolf, by itself. Loner."
Keldwyn didn't have a vampire's olfactory senses, though he could detect whatever life forms were in a certain range around him. His eye for terrain more than made up for his less acute sense of smell, since he'd already identified several better paths through the rocks. "Why is it odd? Syria has wolves, and a loner could be an injured or older animal."
"This one just smells...off." Uthe shrugged. "He's well ahead of us. If our paths cross, we'll see what's peculiar about him." He held still, reaching out with all his senses, nostrils flaring. "We also have a different form of watcher now. One far less benevolent than our mountain people
. I don't detect anyone from the tribes, so they've backed off in the face of this new development, which suggests the new arrivals are a threat." Uthe frowned, brow creasing. "Their scent is...familiar, though I can't identify it."
"Should we try to circle around, flush them out?"
"I think it's best we continue onward," Uthe responded. "But when possible we should choose terrain where we have the tactical advantage. I'd dislike getting caught and surrounded in one of these gullies without knowing exactly what we are facing. It will be dark soon. My guess is they are waiting for us to reach our destination before they make their intent known."
"Is there any reason to conceal it from them?"
"No. Only I can obtain what is here and, once we reach that destination, we will be protected from the threat they pose. I detect about twenty of them. Human, mostly. Let's keep going, my lord, unless you object."
"I trust your judgment, Lord Uthe."
They started to descend the slope. Down into a crevice, then winding through flat lands flanked by rocks that jutted and curved over them like stone vultures with sharp beaks and pointed feathers. Another incline, back up and over more peaks. They repeated the up and down trek several times, sometimes the incline so steep they were climbing instead of hiking. Despite Uthe's weak jest about the Ennui, this didn't appear to be a path he had trouble remembering, for Keldwyn noted he never seemed to take his bearings.
However, though Keldwyn was not affected by the climb, he noticed Uthe was slowing more with each incline. The vampire didn't need to feed daily but perhaps, dagger or no dagger, the sun took its toll. "There's a cave nested in those rocks over there." Keldwyn gestured in that direction. "Shall we take a short respite?"
Uthe nodded, but as they moved that way, he stopped, straightening up so abruptly Keldwyn heard his spine crack with the effort. When he did, a fitful breeze wafted toward them, bringing Keldwyn the same vibration, if not the scent.
Another vampire.
"What are the chances?" Uthe muttered. Any signs of tiredness vanished. He was alert, his gaze sharp, body loose with the expectation of violence, communicating his substantial ability to meet it with a greater show of force if necessary. The vampire world was so entrenched in power hierarchies, their protocols for dealing with them were as ingrained as their dominant instincts. This was one of the most important--establishing from the first instant who was the strongest vampire. Since it often saved the trouble of unnecessary violence, Keldwyn couldn't argue with its efficiency. Or how intriguing it was watching Uthe shrug into its mantle.
"Show yourself," Uthe said shortly, his voice ringing among the stones.
"I haven't had my coffee yet," came the reply. "And you're up awfully early for a bloodsucker."
"Uthe." Keldwyn said. "Downwind."
The vampire turned, following his gaze. On a ledge above them was the wolf Keldwyn was sure Uthe had scented earlier. In the deepening twilight, the creature was a menacing silhouette. It was an exceptionally large black wolf, with one blue eye and one gold. His expression was intent, a predator deciding whether or not to leap. Uthe showed his fangs and the wolf responded in kind, laying back his ears.
"It's definitely too early for that kind of shit. Ease up, Rand." The vampire had emerged from the caves, but his attention was on the wolf, not Uthe and Keldwyn. The wolf's gaze flicked toward him and the vampire held the bi-colored eyes in a lock, his expression suddenly far more commanding, his voice sharp, not sardonic. "Ease. Up."
The air became saturated with tension, but then it sprung a leak. The wolf settled down on the ledge with a sound between a grumble and a snarl. If a wolf was capable of saying "Fuck you," Keldwyn was pretty sure he'd just heard it, but he'd complied grudgingly with the vampire's order.
Keldwyn, satisfied that the wolf was not an immediate threat, turned his attention back to the vampire along with Uthe. His black unruly hair fell to his shoulders and he possessed blue eyes clear as a daylight sky, a dark ring around the irises. He had the classic alpha male square jaw and sloped cheekbones. Shunning native garb, he instead wore faded jeans, heavy-tread shoes and a sleeveless T-shirt that showed the rippling layers of arm muscles. He was broad-shouldered, long-limbed and well made, as most vampires were, though Keldwyn expected this male had been striking, an athletic and impressive specimen, prior to his turning. He'd been around vampires long enough now to detect the slight differences between one born and one made, and this one was made. Probably about two hundred years old, so nowhere near a match for Uthe, though Keldwyn noted the younger vampire wasn't showing any apprehension on his own behalf.
The tension he'd exhibited when the wolf challenged Uthe had to do with the wolf itself. He probably was concerned about the wolf's well-being, knowing that Uthe could easily destroy the animal. Or perhaps not quite as easily as one might assume. Keldwyn saw Uthe studying the wolf, trying to place that "off" feeling, but now that Keldwyn was close enough, he identified it with no problem.
"Shifter," Keldwyn said.
Uthe concealed his surprise. He'd never met a wolf shifter. He'd heard stories of them, but they were reclusive to the point they were considered myth--or extinct. He studied the wolf more closely, but the creature was ignoring him now, studying the darkness off somewhere to his right. He wasn't fooled, though. He expected the shifter was aware of every twitch either of them made, since he seemed to have the same protectiveness toward the vampire as the vampire did toward him.
"Want some coffee?" The vampire asked, lifting a cup. He'd emerged from the cave with it in hand. "I figured the smell of it was what drew you this way. Not many coffee shops in this part of the world. It's a good Columbian blend, not that chicory shit. Though if you can't hang around, that's fine. Just leave me and mine alone, and we'll be good. I've no quarrel with either of you." His blue eyes moved to Kel, lingered. "You're way too pretty, even by vampire standards. So you must not be vampire. Some kind of glamor? Fuck, you're one of those Fae bastards, aren't you? Hiding your pointy ears?"
Keldwyn said nothing, though the expression on his face had the vampire lifting a pacifying hand. "Don't get worked up. Manners out here can be rough. I'm not trying to be insulting."
"You did it without effort. Almost as little as it would take me to change you into a rat for your oversized dog to swallow."
The wolf let out a rumble, though Kel didn't remove his eyes from the vampire. "Him I can turn into nothing more than a stray wind that gathers desert sand. Keep that in mind, in case your appearance of affability is a farce and you intend either of us harm."
The vampire didn't seem concerned. When he blinked, one deliberate closing and opening of the lids, Uthe saw the dangerous soul lurking under the handsome charm. All vampires could be lethal when challenged. Whether this vampire posed an honorable form of hazard or not remained to be seen. "Is the wolf your servant?" Uthe asked.
"Depends. Is that against the rules of the mighty Vampire Council in their ivory tower?"
"Not to my knowledge." Uthe lifted a brow. "The Council meets on the ground level of a Georgia estate."
"Cushy digs all the same. Bet they serve great finger foods and Bloody Marys in crystal."
"Nothing better than this, though." Uthe looked around. "Endless scorpions and snakes and scant rainfall."
"True. Our little corner of paradise." The vampire took a step forward, held out a hand. "I'm Mordecai, go by Cai, rhymes with lie. That's Rand. Don't let him fool you. He may lick his own balls, but of the two of us, he's more civilized."
Uthe clasped his hand. "Uthe."
Mordecai glanced toward Keldwyn, who said nothing. Mordecai didn't offer his hand, which showed he possessed some common sense. "So, want that coffee? We don't get much company out here, except for the kind that's entirely disagreeable. Like the crew that's following you. I assume that's not your lot?"
"Not exactly. They are watching us, but they have not yet claimed to be allies or enemies. We suspect the latter."
"Hmm. Good gues
s." When Uthe accepted the invitation, Cai preceded them into a cave hidden among the rocks. It was deeper than the narrow opening suggested, providing a roomy space big enough to accommodate all of them. A scattering of camp supplies indicated he'd been here several days, his sizeable backpack positioned to provide a pillow to an unfurled bedroll. After Cai found two more cups and poured the coffee, he gestured to the ground on the other side of the pot, tossing Uthe a folded blanket as a cushion. Then he positioned himself so his back was propped against the pack, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Uthe took the seat across from him, and passed Keldwyn his cup of coffee, since the Fae sat down on a rock a few feet away from them both, exhibiting his usual detachment from a conversation until he was inclined to participate.
"This doesn't seem a hospitable place for vampire or wolf," Uthe said.
Cai shrugged. "If you know the cave system in this area, you're fine enough. For blood, there's more than you think. Brigands, insurgents, the Russians who snuck through here with the WMDs from Iraq in the months before the 2003 war." He winked. "We had a nice little smorgasbord then. Fresh food every night. But the problem with bad men is they taste bad." The vampire spat. "So at least in this corner of Syria, Syrian food leaves much to be desired. However, the occasional shepherd...that's manna from heaven."
Rand slid into the cave, giving them all a warning look before he stalked over and took a seat on the other side of Cai, stretching out with front toes and ears pointed in their direction. Uthe noticed the wolf had a pronounced limp, and he lowered himself with effort.
"What does he eat?" Keldwyn asked.
"Whatever doesn't run away fast enough. He doesn't care too much for human flesh, though he's been known to share a brigand or two with me when his four-legged pickings are slim. And right now, while his leg is healing, he isn't as fast as usual." The vampire passed his hand over the wolf's fur and tossed him an enigmatic look when the creature curled a lip at him. "Fuck with me, and I'll rub your belly in front of company," Cai warned, then continued. ""Shifters don't heal as fast as vampires, but my blood helps. When he's on top of his game, even a vampire has a hard time outpacing him."