Iphigenia struggled. “Hurry!”
“Almost got it,” Helena assured her. The certainty that the trap was about to close around them made Helena short of breath. Every nerve ending felt jagged. The knife slipped, cutting into her palm. She wiped the cut on her shirt and went back to sawing. The ropes finally frayed apart. Iphigenia stepped out of the pile coiled around her like pale snakes.
And then she screamed as loud as she could.
Helena recoiled, then tried to slap her hand over her mouth. “Iphi,” she said, thinking her friend hysterical. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to get you out.”
“I’m not afraid,” Iphigenia assured her, drawing another breath and jerking free. Her next scream was more specific. “She’s here!”
“Iphi?” Helena goggled. “I don’t understand.”
“They wanted you, Helena. Not me.” She shrugged one shoulder. Her waifish pixie face hardened. “It’s always you.”
“But … why?” She could not wrap her head around the betrayal.
“They promised to turn me.” Iphigenia looked enthralled, fascinated. It made Helena want to throw up. “So I can be strong, strong like you.”
Helena shook her head, as if it could change the truth. She took a step back. “This can’t be happening.”
Iphigenia’s scream called her vampire allies out of hiding. They raced between the trees, pale and deadly. They moved so fast, as if Helena was in slow motion. A knife flew past her head, but it missed its vampire target and landed in the ferns. Billie’s knife. Bruno’s shotgun went off from the ridge but Helena couldn’t see where the bullet had struck. She was too busy fighting off Iphigenia. She finally let go with a right hook, sending the tiny blond girl sprawling in the mud.
“You were a lost girl,” she spat.
“And now I’ll be immortal,” Iphigenia spat back. “No one will ever be able to hurt me again. Not Grady, not my brother, no one.”
“Iphi.”
Iphigenia folded her arms. “You pissed them off, saving all those girls.”
“I thought you were saving them too.”
“We both know I was holding you guys back, that I’d be next.” She shrugged. “So I had to save myself first.”
Helena stayed low in the concealing smoke, kicking out when a vampire woman streaked past her. She rolled through the long grass and jabbed down with her stake. Ash clung to the wild-flowers. She crawled away, hoping the fire and the smoke would conceal her.
No such luck.
“Got her!” Three more vampires sprinted in her direction. Bruno shot again but with the fire eating through the leaves and belching thick smoke, he was shooting blind. Helena threw a stake but she missed too. Heat from the encroaching flames hissed at her. Sweat stung as it dripped into her eyes.
She couldn’t hide here any longer. Her escapes were being cut off by fire and vampires. She jumped to her feet and ran, flinging stakes behind her. Bruno’s shotgun blasted again, and another, closer. She slammed right into a guy with black hair and nose plugs. “Who the hell are you?”
He looked military, in cargo pants with a walkie-talkie strapped to his shoulder. He even had night-vision goggles on his head. But he didn’t look that much older than she was. “Roarke Black. Stand down.”
“Bite me.”
“We have it covered,” he insisted. “This is no place for a civilian.” He relented enough to incline his head. “We’ve been keeping an eye on your gang. Good work.”
“You were the ones trailing Portia!”
“Yes. Now get out of here. Don’t run until you’re sure they’re chasing us!”
He and three others, also armed to the teeth, launched themselves into the melee. Crossbow bolts whipped through the air. They burst through the clearing and spread out in all directions. The vampires followed, unable to resist. Iphigenia had already gone to ground. One of Billie’s knives shot past Helena, nearly slicing the tip off her nose. She jerked back, swearing.
There were a lot of the commandos.
But there were a lot more vampires.
She let out an ear-piercing whistle. Three of the other vampires snapped around to look her way. She waved her fingers teasingly. “Hello, boys.”
Then she ran.
She pushed her legs until they felt like they’d crumble, ran until her chest tightened and her breath was like hot sandpaper at the back of her throat. She could hear them behind her, closing in. She tried to stay out of the shelter of the ridge, hoping Billie and Bruno could see her pursuers. One of them fell back, knife in his eye. Helena leaped over a log and kept running. Bruno’s gun took out a second, so Helena had just enough time to turn and stake her through her rib cage, as the vampire clutched her leg. There was only one vampire left and he halted. “Screw this,” he muttered, taking off.
Helena leaned against a tree, panting. The light from the fire pierced the smoke, dancing cheerfully. It was surreal. She forced herself to stumble back toward the clearing.
“I told you these backwoods hicks would make a mess of it.”
Helena froze, recognizing the musical sing-songy voice.
Elisabet.
“Lady Natasha won’t be pleased,” Lyle agreed. “But she can hardly blame us.”
“We’re her reapers, idiot. Of course she can blame us. We’re meant to be reaping. Now even that blond twit of a girl is gone.”
Helena didn’t dare move, didn’t dare even exhale. Somewhere, very faintly, fire-truck sirens sounded. The only reason the Domokoses hadn’t seen her or caught her scent yet was because of the smoke and the general mayhem. Shadows shifted, veiled in curtains of gray fog and ash.
“There are two girls left in the cage,” Lyle reminded his sister.
“Leftovers.” Elisabet sighed. “She won’t be impressed with that.”
“Better than nothing. Let’s bring them to her as a peace offering.”
There were two girls left. Helena held onto that thought, punched on it like a hungry cat. Two girls who weren’t dead. Yet.
She followed the reapers, hoping the sounds of the fire and the fighting would cover her footsteps. Portia and Cass intercepted her.
“I can’t believe Iphi’s a traitor,” Portia said, disgusted. Blood ran down her leg from a deep gash. “That little weasel.”
“Helena?” Cass frowned at her. “You’re going the wrong way. That way’s full of fire and fangs.”
“There are more girls that way,” she said, straining to see where Elisabet and Lyle had gone. If she waited much longer, she’d lose them altogether.
“We’re coming too,” Portia said, gritting her teeth against the pain of her leg.
Helena shook her head. “You’re wounded. Cass, take her back to Bruno and Billie. I have to go.”
“It’s like you do it on purpose,” Portia muttered. She leaned on Cass, shooting a glare at Helena. “If you die you’re really going to piss me off.”
Finding two vampires in the dark smoky woods wasn’t easy.
If it wasn’t for a pair of sleepy doves startled into the sky at their passing, Helena might have wandered for hours. She followed the commotion, staying well back when she caught a glimpse of moonlight on pale skin and gold hair. The Domokoses moved quickly, eyes glowing even from a distance. They were scared.
Good.
They crossed a valley to a small cave nestled among rocks and roots. It was really more of a weed-choked hollow created by a long-ago avalanche. Inside, Helena caught a glint of iron.
The cage.
Lyle pulled out two bony girls in tattered clothing, wearing necklaces of dried blood. They were alive, though, and able to walk. She stayed far back enough that she couldn’t hear what they were saying. One of the girls was trembling so violently she looked like an aspen leaf falling from a tree. Helena scurried after them, picking her way around twigs and branches, praying she wouldn’t get caught.
She paused on a crest of rocks, staying hidden in a scraggly bush. Elisabet and Lyle were coming around
the crest, toward another set of caves ringed with torchlight and guarded by fierce vampires. A woman came to the opening and looked out impatiently. Helena fell back, holding her breath. She had straight white-blond hair in a perfect waterfall down her back. She wore an old-fashioned dress and a ransom in diamonds. She glittered and preened, deadly as ice breaking on a winter lake.
Helena knew she had to head them off at the pass, had to get the girls free before they reached the caves and reinforcements. It had to be now.
She had no weapons left except a single stake. She scrounged on the ground for rocks, scrambling back around to the other side of the hill. She aimed the first rock at Elisabet’s head. She nearly took out one of the girls instead. The second rock caught Elisabet’s ear. The third was snatched out of midair.
It wasn’t enough.
Helena crouched down, jamming her back against a boulder. She dug with her feet, kicking and shoving dirt, pebbles, rocks, anything she could reach. The rockslide wasn’t enough to bury Lyle and Elisabet, but it was enough to distract them. The girls scurried like rats to safety. Helena kept kicking rocks. When there was nothing left but dry dirt she hurried to the ledge, helping them up.
“Run,” she gasped, not caring that running was generally a bad idea around vampires. There were no choices left. They had to get out of there.
Fear outweighed starvation and fatigue and pushed them down the rocky hill and through the trees. Helena whistled around her thumb and forefinger, three short blasts, hoping Bruno was close enough to hear. She looked over her shoulder, saw fangs and furious eyes.
She cut right, away from the girls running on bleeding bare feet. The Domokoses followed her. She knew she couldn’t keep up this pace much longer. And it didn’t matter. Vampires were faster, always. She tried to stay within view of the glow of the fire, but she was getting turned around. She was lost and exhausted.
She stopped running when she was gagging on her own breath. She turned warily, not saying a word. Elisabet and Lyle smiled at each other.
Helena raised her chin. If she was going to die here, she’d die with curses on her lips and their blood under her fingernails.
She only just barely saw someone standing behind them.
Liam.
He paced them like a sleek vengeful panther, dark hair blending into the night. Only his eyes gave him away—and the flash of his fangs.
Shock made Helena laugh. Elisabet turned her head.
Liam attacked.
Helena leaped at Lyle, last stake in her hand.
He deflected, sending her crashing into a tree. She slumped, using the same tactic she’d used in the Thunderdome: look more wounded than you are. She waited, gasping. Lyle approached her slowly, even as his sister blocked Liam’s stake.
“Liam Drake.” Elisabet laughed. “Protecting this one, are you? Won’t Lady Natasha be interested to hear that.” She smirked. “She so enjoyed Deirdre.”
Helena was the one who hissed at that.
Lyle grabbed her by her tank top and hauled her up. Her feet dangled. She let herself go boneless. His fangs lengthened. She staked him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t strong enough at that angle to pierce his heart. The stake ricocheted off his ribs. He snarled. She tried to gouge his eyes out but he had her pinned. His fangs brushed her neck.
And then she was falling, ash drifting around her.
Liam’s stake finished the job, piercing Lyle’s heart, ripping her tank top, and landing in a maple tree. Elisabet whirled, too shocked to scream for a moment, before rage made her insane. She howled like a rabid animal, pupils ringed with red. She went for Liam’s throat with her teeth, her nails, every part of her a weapon. Liam fought back but there was already a gash on his upper arm. His shirt was ripped. Elisabet slammed a stake into his chest, just under his collarbone, missing his heart. He pulled it out, blood dripping into the grass.
Elisabet continued to howl. She was strong, snapping Liam’s shoulder out of its socket with a single blow. He snapped it back, blocking the tip of her boot as it jabbed at his kneecap. It wasn’t enough.
Helena yanked at Liam’s stake embedded in the tree, trying to work it free. Sweat made her hands slick.
Liam went down, blood on his face.
Elisabet grinned savagely. She retrieved her stake in the grass and pierced Liam’s shirt, skin, flesh.
Helena finally got the stake out, tears of frustration stinging her eyes. The end was broken. She didn’t care.
She leaped on Elisabet’s back, jamming it toward her heart as hard as she could. Elisabet screeched, releasing her own stake as she flung Helena off. Helena managed to turn over, hands and knees bloodied from her landing, just in time to see Liam pluck the stake from his own chest and drive it into Elisabet.
She turned to ash, drifting like gray snow between the trees.
Helena sat up, wincing in pain. Three short whistles sounded from the woods near the fire. Bruno. Everyone was okay. Helena whistled back as Liam crawled to her, gathering her up in his arms. “You just took years off my life.”
She smiled. “Good thing you’re immortal.”
Liam took her to the lake. It was cold but Helena didn’t care. She stripped down to her bra and underwear and jumped into the water, rinsing the blood and mud and ashes off. Liam followed, pale and perfect.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re insane?” he asked.
She pushed her wet hair off her face. “Once or twice.” Maybe it was shock, but she felt good. Happy. The girls were safe, she was safe. Liam was at her side. There were a million stars above them and the blood was out of her hair. She drew her fingertips around the gash the stake had left under his collarbone and over his shoulder. “Does it hurt?”
He shook his head, drawing her close. “I don’t feel anything but you.”
His mouth took hers or hers took his, she wasn’t sure. She only knew that his claim on her seared through her and burned all the way to her toes. He tasted her, his tongue touching hers, his hands stroking her bare spine. She wrapped her legs around him. The cold water held them up as they finally gave into the longing and the need between them.
“We have to stop,” he murmured against her lips.
She looked at him as if he’d proposed tea with Lady Natasha. “Why?”
He groaned. “Because I’m way too old for you.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re undead and you’re worried about a little thing like age?” Her tongue touched his lower lip.
He swallowed and pulled back, jaw clenched. “You’re turning me into a dirty old man.”
She tilted her head. “How old are you, really?”
“Eighty-one.”
She blinked. “Oh.” She ran her hands up his muscular arms. “You look good for a decrepit old perv.”
He laughed despite himself. “I’ve never known anyone like you.” He kissed her again, quickly, too quickly. “I’ll wait for you.”
“Where am I going?”
“Not you. Me. I’m leaving Violet Hill.”
“Forever?” The water was suddenly cold, freezing her to the bone. She swam to shore. “Then why bother with all this? You should have let Lady Natasha kill you, since you’re letting her win anyway.” She pulled her clothes on angrily, teeth chattering.
Liam was suddenly behind her, arms around her waist. “I’m not leaving you,” he murmured in her ear. “Never. But you’re sixteen. I’ll come back for you in two years. After I’ve had some time to draw Lady Natasha away from this town. She doesn’t know to fear you yet, not with Elisabet and Lyle gone.”
“Are two years really going to make that big of a difference? You’ll be eighty-three instead of eighty-one. Big deal.”
“But you’ll be legal. And you’ll have a chance to find a sense of yourself, a sense of who you could be. You might not want this life.”
“I want you,” she said softly. Admitting it took as much courage as facing down a vampire queen and all of her minions. “And I’m going to take those two years to
learn how to really kick your sorry undead ass.”
He turned her around, kissing her tenderly. “Promise?”
She nodded solemnly. “I promise.”
“Good.” He kissed her again and it flared so hot and so desperate it was physically painful to pull away. “I have to go,” he said. “But I’ll find you.”
She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers. “If you don’t find me, Liam Drake,” she vowed, “I’ll find you.”
MEET ALYXANDRA HARVEY
Alyxandra Harvey was born in Montreal, Canada, during an ice storm, the day after Christmas. Before becoming a writer, Alyx worked as a volunteer for an archaeologist, cleaning and cataloguing bits of pottery and bones in a dark basement in Toronto, and as a jewelry designer. She even owned her own bead shop. But writing has always been Alyx’s first love. She is now the author of Haunting Violet, Stolen Awayand the Drake Chronicles series. Alyx likes medieval dresses and tattoos and has been accused of being born in the wrong century – except that she really likes running water, women’s rights and ice cream. She lives in an old Victorian farmhouse in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, her dogs and a few resident ghosts. To find out more, read on …
What are your three favorite books, and why?
Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen. Mr. Darcy! Need I say more? Also, Elizabeth Bennet is my hero. She’s smart and sassy and gets to wear a pelisse. I could do without the bonnet though.
Wood Wife, Terri Windling. Beautiful, magical, poetic.
Shadowy Horses, Susanna Kearsley. Historical, atmospheric, lovely.
What was your favorite book when you were a child?
Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte (I have a dog named Bronte)
Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley
Memory and Dream, Charles de Lint (in college)
What book do you wish you had written?
Wood Wifeby Terri Windling.
When did you start writing?
Family legend says I started to write seriously around age 9 on a vacation where a friend of the family suggested I write a short story because I was very, very bored and in need of distracting. I suspect I was also being very, very annoying.