None of this belongs to me except Nat/taleen and the Guard. The rest of
the world and my two favorite twin vamps belong to AAR. A big shock, I
know. Hmmm. The language in her spell is a language I'm making up for my
fantasy epic.and there's not intended to be any relation between her
raising the dead and Anita Blake (someone pointed the possible resemblance
out recently and I thought I should clear that up). Oooh. Damn. I'm
spoiling my own story. Bad me. So in any case this takes place over a
year and under a decade post Shattered Mirror. I think that's about it.
Read and enjoy. (and please please review! I'll mention you in my bio.not
that you really care but hey.plus I'll review your stuff.) Oooh. And also
anything between and is people talking in eachothers' minds. Kay. So
that is really it.
~Bad Wisdom~
"Taleen, right?"
Shit. That was it. There is no way she was going to walk out of here alive tonight. And after all that work too. Damn. Now the question was whether she should admit it or not. Perhaps a blank stare would work. And perhaps he would move so that she could make a run for it.
"It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
Or not. Oh well, she hadn't really thought that was going to work. It was never that easy. Or at least it never had been before. It had been eighteen years since she'd messed around with this kind of trouble and she found herself wondering if perhaps she wasn't getting a little old for this kind of shit.
"Not really."
"Does anyone else know you're back?"
"No. But there's really no need for you to let them know. It was a mistake coming here and if you would just move out of the way I'll make a discreet exit and you can pretend you never saw me."
"I don't think so."
"Right." She hated the smirk he had on his face right now. Just because she just made what was quite possibly the biggest mistake (and probably the last mistake) of her life by coming here did not mean he could mock her. "I didn't think that work."
"Then why did you bother?"
She fought the impulse to give his chest a nice shove and tell him to back the fuck off. She knew it wouldn't really do any good. In some part of her mind she realized she must be really stressed if she was swearing again. But that little voice was covered up by the thought that he was too close to her and that she didn't have the space or the strength to get away from him.
"It's always worth a try."
Nat was trying to keep her voice even at the same time she tried to keep her heart rate down. She suspected she was failing at both and she knew that he suspected it. His eyes were laughing at her as he bent his head and kissed her throat. Shit shit SHIT she thought. It wasn't midnight yet so he couldn't actually do anything (unless he loses control) but somehow that didn't really make her feel any better.
"Nat?"
"Hey Hannah."
He raised his head, the expression on his face betraying the bloodlust just below the surface. He was still laughing. There were really no words that could accurately express how much she hated him right now.
"You go by Nat now?"
"Nathalie." She said at the same time that Hannah asked, "Did she ever go by anything else?"
"You haven't told your friend about your past then?" He asked, knowing she hadn't and knowing that she didn't want her to find out like this.
"What past?" she asked, her tone light and somehow more dangerous. She was trying for unconcerned. And failing. And now there was the question of what she wanted to do. She could beg or she could fight. She knew in the back of her mind how that fight would go too. She was faster (or she had been) and she had equal stamina, but she wouldn't be able to take him without a weapon. And to even think about winning she would have to open herself up to the magic again. That wasn't something she was totally sure she could afford to do. But, if she tried to avoid using magic and begged he would laugh, and probably kill her. Or she thought, she could bargain. She was good at bargaining. Hell, she'd give up her soul if she thought it would keep her alive. Or maybe she already had.
Everyone had a price. She knew that from experience. And she decided now was as good a time as any to make her shot. Now was as good a time as any to finally admit to herself that it was better to risk using power again than it would be to die.
What do you want? she asked him, reaching into his mind.
Just a little fun. You don't object do you?
He pressed his thumb into her throat a little harder then. Just enough to make breathing hard. Just enough to leave a bruise. His other hand brushed a loose strand of hair off of her face and his lips touched hers. This was not going well. She was at his mercy and he knew it.
That wasn't what I meant. I want to know what you want over everything else. What you want so badly you can taste it.
Maybe I want your blood, or maybe I just want to see you broken.
He was trying to psych her out. Trying to make her wince again. But before he had answered her she had seen something else. She had felt the truth there. He wanted his brother.
What happened to Kristopher, Nikolas?
She had known it would be a loaded question. But she hadn't been expecting the blow to her head. It was a hit that left her barely able to stand. If she had been human it would have done some permanent damage. Luckily, she was not. But if he kept hitting her like that she might get knocked out. And she wasn't sure she'd wake up. But if she was going to die tonight, she would prefer it fast then slow. And it would be slow if he let the rest of the vamps here in on it.
If he's dead I can bring him back.
What?
She could hear the anger in his tone, but it was mixed with confusion and pain. The kind of pain that sinks deep into the soul and tears away all remainders of humanity. It was a kind of pain that she was intimately familiar with, and for just a moment she felt bad about using it against him. But just for a moment. Then she remembered that he would kill her and her resolve returned. She had gotten weak with time.
I can bring him back. That's my strength remember? Bringing the dead back to life.
She'd only brought one older vamp back from true death successfully. And that had been at least a hundred years prior, at close to the height of her power. But she might be able to do it. And she was more than willing to risk her life on that gamble. It would give her extra time. It was enough to make her feel okay about taking advantage of his obvious weak spot. Of something that obviously brought him pain. Besides. This was all his fault for remembering her.
"Nat? What's going on?"
Hannah sounded worried and Nat knew that if she got any closer or anymore involved then that might be it. She knew she was only going to get one chance to get out of this house alive (although how long she would stay alive once she was outside the house was a whole other matter) and she had to make it work.
Get me out of here and I'll bring your brother back from the dead. Tonight.
Perhaps it was a bit hasty of her, but Nat can't make herself feel that she is chasing anything but the best option. Better one vamp than a group any day of the week.
He doesn't respond with words. He just pulls her a bit closer and blinks them out of there. Straight to a room decorated in black and white. He releases her so quickly she starts to stumble and then he shoves her into the wall. As her head hits against it, she thinks she will have one hell of a headache the next morning if she survives the night. It's a big if.
He looks at her with anger in his eyes, and the only think she can think is at least he isn't laughing at me anymore. Which is ridiculous, because she knows that she was safer with the laughter in his eyes than this anger barely covering pain so raw that she can feel it.
"If you can't do it I'll kill you."
How odd that his voice was so calm when he said that. He doesn't look calm. With her power she can sense that he is barely in control and his aura is battering at the edges of hers. In some part of her mind the danger is exciting. A fix she hasn't had in a long time, but that she had convinced herself that she no longer needed. This, she knows is why she hasn't used a drop of magic for close to a century. Well, excepting the occasional spell for rebirth. And the power that she has already used tonight.
Finding her voice she tells him she will need some things. Four candles, two black and two white, a bowl, lavender oil, and something belonging to the dead. He starts at the last part of her request. She realizes Kristopher must have died recently if his brother has not adjusted to thinking of him as dead. Or maybe it is just that he's not used to hearing someone speak of his brother so casually, as nothing more than part of a job or spell. She wonders how she would respond if someone were to talk about Karein or Amaria that way.
He looks at her for a moment before disappearing again to get the things she has requested. She knows that she could leave now. That she could make a run for it. But what would be the point? He would find her and she can sense that her death would not be a quick one. So she sat on the bed and found herself examining the artwork around her.
She approved of his choice of colors. Black and white had always dominated her wardrobe, although never her point of view. Life had never been as simple as that. But the panicked anger that she could sense in the jagged lines was not simple. It was much deeper and much more familiar. She wondered what had been there before it was painted over. She could see the faint lines beneath the paint and found herself tracing them with her eyes. From the few she could see they looked like portraits. Why had he covered them up in such haste, she wondered?
Before she could spend anymore time analyzing the décor he appeared back in the room. Carrying the things she had asked for. Now there was only one thing that she needed. The corpse. Although she suspected that that would not be the phrase she used when she asked him for it. It might set him off again, and she couldn't afford that.
"I'll need to do this over his body."
"There're only ashes left. I presume that won't be a problem."
Evidently he had regained some of his control while he was away from her. His voice was back to its former mocking tone, and he had managed to hide most of his surprise at her comment. Although why he had been surprised was beyond her. Surely he didn't think she would be able to raise his brother from thin air. Or maybe he did. For all their power most vamps knew relatively little about actual magic.
"Are you going to get them?"
"Are you going to do it right here?"
"Why not. Nowhere better for it."
"Then I suppose you should get started."
She was about to remind him that she needed a body, or at the very least, ashes before she could do anything, but he stopped her with a finger pressed to her lips. And he handed her a black box inlaid with a white rose pattern. The design was similar to that of the knife that lay on the floor, but with the opposite colors.
This was it, she realized. The moment of truth, where she would find out if she still could use her power the same way she used to. She hoped that a century of neglect might've left her magic stronger rather than weaker, but it was hard to say. But it was pointless to worry, so she began to light the candles. One in each of the four directions, for each of the four elements, air, fire, water and earth. She kneeled just next to the earth candle, and steadying herself, picked up the knife. She had always disliked this part. She pressed the sharp side of the blade to her wrist and cut over the bowl, letting her blood splash in, coating the silver. Nikolas was standing close by, watching her. She heard his slight intake of breath, and realized he hadn't fed yet. Oh well. Not her problem.
Dipping the knife in the blood, she coats the tip before bringing it out far enough to add a drop of oil. And then, saying the ritual words for the opening of a great spell, she places a drop of blood and a drop of oil in the flame of each candle. She continues to chant, praying to God that he grant her request.
"Nea tri.
Bei Limnia ny Kymria shei
Nea tri
Bei Lundra ny Sundar shei
Shei tri.
Nea shtei ereian a nyka limnia."
("I am of three.
I am between light and dark.
I am of three.
I am between sun and moon.
I am the third.
Grant me the power to make this right.")
She felt it flowing into her. Felt the energy pulsing just under her skin, the familiar fire brushing against her mind. The candle flames were turning the pale lavender of her magic, and all that was left was to free the body. She raised the box with the ashes into the air with power and used her magic to make them settle in the faint outline of the body. And then, taking the knife, she dripped a drop of blood where the heart would lie. And then the ceremony was over. From here, it was just power. It would be power that would recreate the physical form, and power that would recall the soul to its owner.
And she called. Letting her magic spin in tendrils, reshaping ashes into the form that was still so clear in the mind of Nikolas. The ashes wanted to reform, wanted the spark of life. She gave it to them, watching them swirl and slowly gain solidity and color. Leaving a naked man. But it was not finished yet. She had yet to call the essence.
So she let her mind travel with her power, seeing herself and the room, before sweeping through walls and above lights. She swept up and down at the same time. Finding, as she had before, the realm of the dead. Floating there she searched through shades of gray, through faces at once old and young. Delving into pain and peace, she searched for the one she needed.
When she found him she pulled him back with her. He didn't fight her. Sometimes they did. But he seemed to want to return to his brother as much as he was wanted. In part of her she knew this was a good thing. They were easier to refix to the body if they wanted to be there.
She sensed the moment when the soul reentered. It had managed without her which was rare, but fortunate. Then she let herself withdraw. Felt the power flowing out and in, settling back. And slowly, she returned to herself, she saw through her own eyes again. The exhaustion hit in a wave, and for a moment she thought she might not be able to finish. But in the end she did, saying "Jentray" to end the spell as she blew out the candles. And then it was too much.
As the blackness started to slip around her, her body relaxing without her permission she saw Nikolas kneeling by his brother. And she felt a pain she had thought well buried rising up again. And then she felt nothing.
~Bad Wisdom~
"Taleen, right?"
Shit. That was it. There is no way she was going to walk out of here alive tonight. And after all that work too. Damn. Now the question was whether she should admit it or not. Perhaps a blank stare would work. And perhaps he would move so that she could make a run for it.
"It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
Or not. Oh well, she hadn't really thought that was going to work. It was never that easy. Or at least it never had been before. It had been eighteen years since she'd messed around with this kind of trouble and she found herself wondering if perhaps she wasn't getting a little old for this kind of shit.
"Not really."
"Does anyone else know you're back?"
"No. But there's really no need for you to let them know. It was a mistake coming here and if you would just move out of the way I'll make a discreet exit and you can pretend you never saw me."
"I don't think so."
"Right." She hated the smirk he had on his face right now. Just because she just made what was quite possibly the biggest mistake (and probably the last mistake) of her life by coming here did not mean he could mock her. "I didn't think that work."
"Then why did you bother?"
She fought the impulse to give his chest a nice shove and tell him to back the fuck off. She knew it wouldn't really do any good. In some part of her mind she realized she must be really stressed if she was swearing again. But that little voice was covered up by the thought that he was too close to her and that she didn't have the space or the strength to get away from him.
"It's always worth a try."
Nat was trying to keep her voice even at the same time she tried to keep her heart rate down. She suspected she was failing at both and she knew that he suspected it. His eyes were laughing at her as he bent his head and kissed her throat. Shit shit SHIT she thought. It wasn't midnight yet so he couldn't actually do anything (unless he loses control) but somehow that didn't really make her feel any better.
"Nat?"
"Hey Hannah."
He raised his head, the expression on his face betraying the bloodlust just below the surface. He was still laughing. There were really no words that could accurately express how much she hated him right now.
"You go by Nat now?"
"Nathalie." She said at the same time that Hannah asked, "Did she ever go by anything else?"
"You haven't told your friend about your past then?" He asked, knowing she hadn't and knowing that she didn't want her to find out like this.
"What past?" she asked, her tone light and somehow more dangerous. She was trying for unconcerned. And failing. And now there was the question of what she wanted to do. She could beg or she could fight. She knew in the back of her mind how that fight would go too. She was faster (or she had been) and she had equal stamina, but she wouldn't be able to take him without a weapon. And to even think about winning she would have to open herself up to the magic again. That wasn't something she was totally sure she could afford to do. But, if she tried to avoid using magic and begged he would laugh, and probably kill her. Or she thought, she could bargain. She was good at bargaining. Hell, she'd give up her soul if she thought it would keep her alive. Or maybe she already had.
Everyone had a price. She knew that from experience. And she decided now was as good a time as any to make her shot. Now was as good a time as any to finally admit to herself that it was better to risk using power again than it would be to die.
What do you want? she asked him, reaching into his mind.
Just a little fun. You don't object do you?
He pressed his thumb into her throat a little harder then. Just enough to make breathing hard. Just enough to leave a bruise. His other hand brushed a loose strand of hair off of her face and his lips touched hers. This was not going well. She was at his mercy and he knew it.
That wasn't what I meant. I want to know what you want over everything else. What you want so badly you can taste it.
Maybe I want your blood, or maybe I just want to see you broken.
He was trying to psych her out. Trying to make her wince again. But before he had answered her she had seen something else. She had felt the truth there. He wanted his brother.
What happened to Kristopher, Nikolas?
She had known it would be a loaded question. But she hadn't been expecting the blow to her head. It was a hit that left her barely able to stand. If she had been human it would have done some permanent damage. Luckily, she was not. But if he kept hitting her like that she might get knocked out. And she wasn't sure she'd wake up. But if she was going to die tonight, she would prefer it fast then slow. And it would be slow if he let the rest of the vamps here in on it.
If he's dead I can bring him back.
What?
She could hear the anger in his tone, but it was mixed with confusion and pain. The kind of pain that sinks deep into the soul and tears away all remainders of humanity. It was a kind of pain that she was intimately familiar with, and for just a moment she felt bad about using it against him. But just for a moment. Then she remembered that he would kill her and her resolve returned. She had gotten weak with time.
I can bring him back. That's my strength remember? Bringing the dead back to life.
She'd only brought one older vamp back from true death successfully. And that had been at least a hundred years prior, at close to the height of her power. But she might be able to do it. And she was more than willing to risk her life on that gamble. It would give her extra time. It was enough to make her feel okay about taking advantage of his obvious weak spot. Of something that obviously brought him pain. Besides. This was all his fault for remembering her.
"Nat? What's going on?"
Hannah sounded worried and Nat knew that if she got any closer or anymore involved then that might be it. She knew she was only going to get one chance to get out of this house alive (although how long she would stay alive once she was outside the house was a whole other matter) and she had to make it work.
Get me out of here and I'll bring your brother back from the dead. Tonight.
Perhaps it was a bit hasty of her, but Nat can't make herself feel that she is chasing anything but the best option. Better one vamp than a group any day of the week.
He doesn't respond with words. He just pulls her a bit closer and blinks them out of there. Straight to a room decorated in black and white. He releases her so quickly she starts to stumble and then he shoves her into the wall. As her head hits against it, she thinks she will have one hell of a headache the next morning if she survives the night. It's a big if.
He looks at her with anger in his eyes, and the only think she can think is at least he isn't laughing at me anymore. Which is ridiculous, because she knows that she was safer with the laughter in his eyes than this anger barely covering pain so raw that she can feel it.
"If you can't do it I'll kill you."
How odd that his voice was so calm when he said that. He doesn't look calm. With her power she can sense that he is barely in control and his aura is battering at the edges of hers. In some part of her mind the danger is exciting. A fix she hasn't had in a long time, but that she had convinced herself that she no longer needed. This, she knows is why she hasn't used a drop of magic for close to a century. Well, excepting the occasional spell for rebirth. And the power that she has already used tonight.
Finding her voice she tells him she will need some things. Four candles, two black and two white, a bowl, lavender oil, and something belonging to the dead. He starts at the last part of her request. She realizes Kristopher must have died recently if his brother has not adjusted to thinking of him as dead. Or maybe it is just that he's not used to hearing someone speak of his brother so casually, as nothing more than part of a job or spell. She wonders how she would respond if someone were to talk about Karein or Amaria that way.
He looks at her for a moment before disappearing again to get the things she has requested. She knows that she could leave now. That she could make a run for it. But what would be the point? He would find her and she can sense that her death would not be a quick one. So she sat on the bed and found herself examining the artwork around her.
She approved of his choice of colors. Black and white had always dominated her wardrobe, although never her point of view. Life had never been as simple as that. But the panicked anger that she could sense in the jagged lines was not simple. It was much deeper and much more familiar. She wondered what had been there before it was painted over. She could see the faint lines beneath the paint and found herself tracing them with her eyes. From the few she could see they looked like portraits. Why had he covered them up in such haste, she wondered?
Before she could spend anymore time analyzing the décor he appeared back in the room. Carrying the things she had asked for. Now there was only one thing that she needed. The corpse. Although she suspected that that would not be the phrase she used when she asked him for it. It might set him off again, and she couldn't afford that.
"I'll need to do this over his body."
"There're only ashes left. I presume that won't be a problem."
Evidently he had regained some of his control while he was away from her. His voice was back to its former mocking tone, and he had managed to hide most of his surprise at her comment. Although why he had been surprised was beyond her. Surely he didn't think she would be able to raise his brother from thin air. Or maybe he did. For all their power most vamps knew relatively little about actual magic.
"Are you going to get them?"
"Are you going to do it right here?"
"Why not. Nowhere better for it."
"Then I suppose you should get started."
She was about to remind him that she needed a body, or at the very least, ashes before she could do anything, but he stopped her with a finger pressed to her lips. And he handed her a black box inlaid with a white rose pattern. The design was similar to that of the knife that lay on the floor, but with the opposite colors.
This was it, she realized. The moment of truth, where she would find out if she still could use her power the same way she used to. She hoped that a century of neglect might've left her magic stronger rather than weaker, but it was hard to say. But it was pointless to worry, so she began to light the candles. One in each of the four directions, for each of the four elements, air, fire, water and earth. She kneeled just next to the earth candle, and steadying herself, picked up the knife. She had always disliked this part. She pressed the sharp side of the blade to her wrist and cut over the bowl, letting her blood splash in, coating the silver. Nikolas was standing close by, watching her. She heard his slight intake of breath, and realized he hadn't fed yet. Oh well. Not her problem.
Dipping the knife in the blood, she coats the tip before bringing it out far enough to add a drop of oil. And then, saying the ritual words for the opening of a great spell, she places a drop of blood and a drop of oil in the flame of each candle. She continues to chant, praying to God that he grant her request.
"Nea tri.
Bei Limnia ny Kymria shei
Nea tri
Bei Lundra ny Sundar shei
Shei tri.
Nea shtei ereian a nyka limnia."
("I am of three.
I am between light and dark.
I am of three.
I am between sun and moon.
I am the third.
Grant me the power to make this right.")
She felt it flowing into her. Felt the energy pulsing just under her skin, the familiar fire brushing against her mind. The candle flames were turning the pale lavender of her magic, and all that was left was to free the body. She raised the box with the ashes into the air with power and used her magic to make them settle in the faint outline of the body. And then, taking the knife, she dripped a drop of blood where the heart would lie. And then the ceremony was over. From here, it was just power. It would be power that would recreate the physical form, and power that would recall the soul to its owner.
And she called. Letting her magic spin in tendrils, reshaping ashes into the form that was still so clear in the mind of Nikolas. The ashes wanted to reform, wanted the spark of life. She gave it to them, watching them swirl and slowly gain solidity and color. Leaving a naked man. But it was not finished yet. She had yet to call the essence.
So she let her mind travel with her power, seeing herself and the room, before sweeping through walls and above lights. She swept up and down at the same time. Finding, as she had before, the realm of the dead. Floating there she searched through shades of gray, through faces at once old and young. Delving into pain and peace, she searched for the one she needed.
When she found him she pulled him back with her. He didn't fight her. Sometimes they did. But he seemed to want to return to his brother as much as he was wanted. In part of her she knew this was a good thing. They were easier to refix to the body if they wanted to be there.
She sensed the moment when the soul reentered. It had managed without her which was rare, but fortunate. Then she let herself withdraw. Felt the power flowing out and in, settling back. And slowly, she returned to herself, she saw through her own eyes again. The exhaustion hit in a wave, and for a moment she thought she might not be able to finish. But in the end she did, saying "Jentray" to end the spell as she blew out the candles. And then it was too much.
As the blackness started to slip around her, her body relaxing without her permission she saw Nikolas kneeling by his brother. And she felt a pain she had thought well buried rising up again. And then she felt nothing.