Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed! I loved hearing what you
thought :-) Thank you: Dwayberry (This is set after Flamechild. Flamechild is
the first of the series, Nightfire is the sixth :-) Thanks! I always enjoy
writing the characters...they just run away with the plot. ),
Diomede (I'm a big fan of suspense. I'm impressed you remember all
those names, especially when they're so bizarre! I'm trying to get the chaps up
regularly, exams are getting in my wicked way :-) Thanks!),
Me (Hey, my house is bullet-proof! And torture proof...anyways, there's
another story after this one (as ever). Thanks!),
Myst (Hey, rant all you want. I'm trying to break my cliffhanger
'sessiveness. I'm getting there! Cat Stevens, I've heard of him – I'm listening
to David Grey at the moment. His 'this year's Love' is so nice.),
Persephone (Can't be nice too long, don't want people to get the wrong
idea :-) The upcoming story, Chimera, is about Blue…I'm having a lot of fun
writing the various ideas that pop into my head! Thankye!),
Starrika (I think I was having a bad week when I did this chapter –
however bad I feel, you can guarantee my characters get it worse :-) One of the
perks of writing...there's always someone worse off! Thanks!) and last but
infinitely not least,
Starwisher ( Jal does get it a bit in this story...well, someone has
to! ::grins:: I hope you like the next part! Thank you!)
As you can probably guess,
comments are adored and worshipped; they are the icing on the cake of writing,
so please tell me what you think and make life a bit sweeter! If you want to
get ahold of me via email, I'm at kiananw@hotmail.com
Hope you enjoy,
Ki
Nightfire Part Eighteen
The hunter who had once been
Jallakri ap Ganra ran wild under an open sky, slaughter hot in her blood, and
she laughed for the joy of it.
Her smile was fierce as the
hawk, a being of untamed death. Where she walked, the helpless cried out, and
in their voices she felt her solace. Her thoughts flew out to the boy who
followed her. So close now...
She bounded up the last of the
slopes with a roaring laugh that bounced back from the smooth stone around her,
and spun to wait for him, loving the wisps of chill air that brushed her and
power burning in her. The moon spilled full on her face, turned her skin to the
pale gold of crocuses smoothed over with frost, and her eyes blazed with a fell
light.
She liked this place. It was
secure. A shallow cave beckoned at her back, and before her lay only the
sweeping ground. Nothing could approach without her knowledge.
The boy moved quickly,
movements lithe and supple, emerging from the wings of the gloom. His tainted
blood made a foul orange light cocoon him. It hurt her eyes to look at him,
sent wriggles of slow pain through her head. His eyes swung up, widening
fractionally. A few steps, swift and sure, and he faced her.
The mahogany hair was
disarrayed, and the violet shadows of his eyes confused. She saw his wrongness
in them, the gentleness of witchblood, mixed with the shapshifter's agile ease
and the vampire's careless grace. It made her teeth tingle to tear it from him.
She grinned at him slowly.
"Welcome."
To your death.
* * * *
Chatoya, Cougar and Donna Ares
were picking their way through the woods carefully. They had left everyone else
in the clearing, as the three most capable of dealing with Jal if they met up
with her. Chatoya glanced at Cougar. His eyes were golden in the dark, two tiny
flames that threw feeble light on his captivating face.
"Hold it." The husky voice
belonged to Donna. She had stopped, stooping low to the ground, her nose
quivering. Alone of the Pack, she hadn't been terrified by Jal. "They came this
way. Both of 'em."
Chatoya couldn't smell
anything, but she trusted to the werewolf's honed senses. "Which way?"
Donna stood, brushing the dirt
from her chic clothes. Surprisingly for someone so wild, her clothes were
always perfectly cut and made an utter contrast with her tangle of russet hair
and grimy hands. "Dead ahead. There's blood there too."
"Lots of it," Cougar added
darkly. He grimaced, and Chatoya saw the two thin triangles of white indenting
his scornful mouth. "It's making me hungry."
"Don't even think about sinking
your fangs into *me*, Dracula throwback," the werewolf leader snapped at once.
Chatoya sighed and followed after Cougar, making sure she separated the two of
them. "We got enough problems without you getting the munchies."
It was stiflingly warm, even in
the depths of evening. Above, the moon was a dire reminder of what had
happened.
Ahead of her, Cougar stopped.
Chatoya cannoned into him and to her surprise, he didn't say a word.
"Oh hell." His tones hopeless,
almost baffled. "Oh god. Please..." She tried to move past and was startled when
the vampire swung back to her, shaking his head. He actually caught hold of
her. Chatoya was startled – Cougar wasn't one for tactile contact, and she
could count the number of times on one hand when she had heard that despairing
ring to his voice. "You don't want to
see this, Toya."
Donna slunk past, and she too
drew in a sharp breath, and when she turned back, for once no mockery on her
face. She looked younger, softer...exhausted. Her emerald eyes were closed, one
fist clenched.
Chatoya looked at her vampire
friend. "I don't want to see it," she told him calmly, trying to bury deep the
trepidation rising in her. "But I have to. You know that."
A pause, and he nodded and let
her by.
She stopped breathing.
Bloodbath. That was what this
was, in the truest sense of the word. Around her, the world seemed to stop as
she walked forward, her legs trembling between each step and her stomach
watery. She knew that face...that pretty, open face that had too often been
bitter and hurt. Below the face...someone's meal.
She drew a breath and the world
flooded back in on her. Cougar by her, staring down solemnly. "It looks like
something Hannibal Lecter would do," the lamia commented glumly.
"Should we hunt down Anthony
Hopkins then?" she murmured. It didn't seem real. It couldn't be real. Things
like this didn't happen to them, not anymore.
"Yeah, 'cause that film was
murder...but after we hunt down Jal." The graveyard humour was a way to keep
away the reality. He had made Ruby and once, they had been close. She knew it
had to hurt him.
She wished she felt more upset.
But she had barely known Ruby. Only known her hatred, her resentment, her
anger. She had never shared anything, never joined in the girl-talk, never
joined a conversation with anything other than antagonism or sarcasm. Known her
for a year, and not known her at all.
Donna Ares, dragging her finger through a pool of liquid and holding it
up to the light. "Blood."
"Gee, how did you work that one
out?" Cougar drawled shakily. Chatoya put a hand on his arm, willing him to be
calm. "I need a cigarette. Hell...I need about five packs."
She could look at it
objectively now. That helped. All right...Ruby Luthman was dead. That was one
thing to be thankful for; she wasn't alive after that. Something had...gnawed
on her. Not something. Jal. Why, though? Ruby was a made vampire. Nothing
impure about that—
But there was. Made vampires
couldn't have children. The knowledge was Blue Malefici's, stolen from his
mind, and for once she welcome the invasion of the cold memory. It made it
easier to deal with when emotions didn't get in the way.
Jal was...programmed to kill
any half-breeds – and any creature that had no use. That could not add to the
glory of the Nightworld. Made vampires were...blights. Parasites. Easily made,
hard to destroy.
Thinking about the number of
made vampires in Ryars Valley made her head hurt.
"Hey. Witch girl." Donna again.
She had stopped by a dark mass, a mass that was disturbingly body-shaped and to
Chatoya's surprise, appeared to be dripping blood onto him. No. Giving blood.
The way Cougar had for her. "This sweetheart belongs to your lot, I think."
She almost jumped when Jepar
sat bolt upright suddenly, his green eyes wide. "She snapped my neck!" he said
incredulously.
"Where the hell have you been?"
she demanded, worry mixing with relief. He was okay...but he was here. With
Ruby.
He shook his head. "Later.
Jal...she..." He gestured to what remained of Ruby. "I tried to stop her." He
sighed deeply and raked his hands through his hair. He didn't seem shocked but
then, he was Nightworld. He had grown up with sights like this. This time, it
wasn't anyone close to him getting hurt. "Gods, I don't think even Ruby
deserved that."
I don't think. The cool glint
in his eyes said that something had happened with Ruby. Something he didn't
like.
He stood, smeared with blood
that wasn't his and rubbing at his neck with a faint frown. "Thanks Donna. I
needed that. It would have taken another few minutes to heal."
"No big deal," the wolf-woman
said, peering up through her lazy spirals of hair. "But this Jal girl is. Can't
we stop her?"
Chatoya shook her head firmly.
This one at least, she could answer. "Not us. There's only one way to stop her
now."
"Typical," Cougar muttered. His
fangs were glinting; the blood in the air was thick and heavy, and she knew it
was an instinct he couldn't help. "And I bet it's fiendishly difficult and
dangerous."
Jepar cocked his head, the
emerald eyes narrowing. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but she was asleep before,
wasn't she? Can't we just do that again?"
"Oh, you're going to *love*
this one," Chatoya said grimly. Blue's knowledge was in her veins now, and he
knew rather a lot about Jallakri ap Ganra. "Not now she's found Cern. The
soulmate bond surpasses the spell. It would wake her every time."
"Why the bloody hell didn't
they think of that?" Cougar's scowl would have slain lions at fifty paces. But
she didn't let it faze her.
Donna Ares snorted. "Easy one,
Dracula. What didn't the Nightworld believe in until it smacked them in the
face?"
The lamia groaned. "Soulmates.
Damn. So it's death or nothing?" His mouth curled. "So is there *any* chance of
us grabbing some popcorn and watching *someone else* risk their life try to save
us all from certain peril? At all?"
Yes to the first, no, no.
Simply. They saw the answer on her face. Cougar turned away with a curse. The
werewolf pursed her dark lips, clearly lost in thought.
"Can't Cern...?" Jepar began, a
faint hope shining in his face, one that was cut off as she had to shake her
head and shatter that optimism.
"No. He's half-bred," she
explained grimly. "Jal would...butcher him." She blinked, realising that they
were standing around *talking* while he was hunting down Jal. Deep inside, she
knew they couldn't have caught him, but there was no point wasting time here.
"Guys, we have to go find him. Jep, can you stay here? Cougar, go back and find
the others. Lisa's made – Jal might go after her. Donna and I'll find Jal. We're
both pureblood – we should be okay."
As Cougar disappeared back into the night, the werewolf and the witch
followed the trail.
* * * *
"Jal?" he said uncertainly.
Something was wrong, Every sense screamed that at him, screamed with instinct
and ancient knowledge. He was not the hunter here...he might even be the prey.
She held out a languid hand,
her smile warm and sensuous. This was not the shy girl he had seen before.
Every movement now was honed, aware. She knew exactly how to tilt her head so
her long throat glowed in the moonlight, how to purr in a soft voice.
Take it, Cern told himself.
Touch her and know. He reached out cautiously, praying that he was wrong and
that it would just be the same appealing innocence.
It was molten lava that seared
through his head, bringing with it the overpowering stench of death and clammy
feel of cooling blood. In his head, her voice bayed endlessly at the moon,
howling out her power and need.
He knew what she was. He knew
what she killed.
He jerked back, stunned.
"You're not Jal," he whispered, as Jepar has said before him. But where Jepar
had had only curiosity, in Cern's mellow voice was fear.
"You have no comprehension of what I am."
She stood and stared at him,
that flaring gold hair spilling smoothly down her back like a living cloak. It
swung to mid-calf, eye-catching now she had let it down, glittering in the
silvery light. She was nothing human; not anymore. Her eyes, that icy pale
green, were pitiless and filled with a hard desire.
"Evil," he said softly. It hurt
his throat to force the words out, but he knew. He knew now and it couldn't be
hidden. "Nothing but evil."
"Humans have always labelled
what they cannot understand as evil." That throaty, rich voice was not Jal's;
there was no hesitancy or wonder in it. Only dry bitterness, one who had seen
it all and valued none of it.
"I'm not human."
"Humanity is not a matter of
race." She slunk closer and every movement suggested sensuality, suggested
burning wants and most of all, dark promise. "It is a quality."
He shrugged and had to force
himself not to step back. To run would only entice her. He could taste her
aura, his senses flicking out and it was dreadful. It had no colour, but was
more like a choking toxic smoke that tried to reach out and draw him in. "It
doesn't stop you being evil."
She laughed and it was a full,
deep sound. Her mouth was half-parted, and he could see the odd depth of colour
to it; the shimmering scarlet of someone else's life. So beautiful in that
moment, powerful and terrifying, some dark goddess.
"You see the truth." She was
close enough now to caress his face, let her hands run through his hair, curl
around his neck, distracting him with, he admitted grimly, a great deal of
success. His hands stayed at his sides only with immense self-control he hadn't
known he had. "Can you fight it?"
I'm no fighter, he thought. Her
eyes were filling with something older and darker, something that rose to the
surface from where it had lain silent and waiting. Then she buried her head in
his neck, and she smelled of the wild outside, rich and exotic as a desert
flower.
And he felt it subtly, the
change from woman to beast. Her hands shifting slightly to the back of his
neck, the small of his back. The contact that was no longer affectionate, but
purposeful. He swallowed hard and heard her sigh. It was unbelievably
frightening.
He sent a nudge, a tiny thread
of magick at her, felt her leap back as if burned and he stepped away,
breathing hard and not caring if she knew how much she was affecting him. "No,"
he said softly. "I can't fight it. But I can deny it."
"The thing is," she said with a dry little laugh, "you'd love to
believe that this isn't your soulmate, your sweet other half. But the truth is
that magick can't work on the unwilling. Some part of your lady wanted this.
Some part of her loves it, needs it. Because the truth is this; underneath all
of us, there's a beast that has been waiting to smell the blood and live the
hunt."
"Bullshit."
She chuckled and reached out
for him again, her touch burning. "Wrong. This is my beast, Cern. This is my
truth." Her eyes hardened suddenly, and flashed an eldritch red. "And here's
yours. You cannot live."
If only he had had his magic,
perhaps it would have been all right. But the Elders had banned him; they had
put spells on him to stop him reaching the core of purple fire that burned
inside him.
He
had nothing to fight with.
She
pounced.
* * * *
She felt the air so cool on her as she moved, flowing along her body
like silk, felt his skin open under her claws like paper tearing.
The power was phenomenal.
The hunter felt as though the
moon plummeted from the sky and exploded in her heart, striking in a wave of
hot white lightning, lighting up every pore and sense as though she was a thing
made of diamonds. She screamed with the intensity, screamed her thrill to the
heavens, ached to feel the first sting of blood.
He was fighting her dimly,
struggling to reach her. She ignored his pleading voice, dipping her head to
lap at his blood. Oh, by the burning moon, it was pure power. Pure sorcery.
Then she felt his mind reaching
in hers and shocked, the hunter tried to bat him away.
But it was too late. He was
within.
She blinked, and she was in the
temple, ringed by black marble and simmering torches. She was gold within jet,
beauty within darkness. The hunter in the night. Shimmering with power, she
stepped down gracefully. Around her swung seven figures, hanging from ropes
that were made with the simple creativity of the hunter. And the hunter thought
only in flesh and blood.
Those who had made her; six
ringing the altar, swinging gently, and
one above it. That one with the dark hair and dimmed gold eyes of Kaajen mal
Ifiche. Vampire. Creator. Sacrifice.
He was nothing compared with
her. Nothing.
Just like this witch boy, with
the foolish belief in his eyes and innocence seared on every line of his face.
And he stood before her like he was an *equal*. Fool. She would destroy him.
~ No...I won't let you win this
one, ~ he said grimly. Determination strong in his voice and desperate hurt
too. He loved her, she realised, and he pitied what she had become.
~ You *dare* pity me? ~ she
shrieked enraged.
He strode forward and took hold
of her shoulders. And to her immense outrage, he shook her. ~ I dare. ~
. ~ I will destroy you. ~ The hunter wrenched herself free, her face
contorting furiously
His smile was heartbreakingly
sweet. ~ I will find you. ~
Before she even knew what he
had done, she saw him glance to the ceiling where the moonlight poured through
so thickly. And he put his hands together, as if to pray...and heard him murmur
words she didn't understand.
Words she knew were a spell.
But he had no magic. And as she
felt a tremendous tug on her mind, she realised he was using her own power to
entrap her.
~ No! ~ she cried angrily, and
flew across to tug at his hands, to try to stop him saying the words that
pulled her power from her, inch by inch. But she, the hunter of the moon, could
not defeat the simple words of one halfbreed.
~ Let go! ~ she raged, meeting
the velvet depths of his eyes. She felt the power surging in him. ~ Stop it! ~
His eyes met hers, and in them,
the summer still flourished though she had tried to tear it from him.
Unnatural, unwanted...unstoppable.
~
Yes. ~
Suddenly his grasp broke apart
and from it exploded a burning light that ripped through her and tore her away
from herself. She felt herself melt under the heat of that light, flung back
into the depths where she had smouldered and waited so long...
The last thing she saw was the
sadness on his face, this boy who had nothing and with that had defeated her.
Their minds peeled away from one another, and she felt the weakness in him, for
an instant saw him sprawled limply upon the dark ground.
I
will wait again, she swore furiously, as she felt that other weak creature
surface. Tumbling now, back into the patient shadows of the soul.
After
all – he will not be there to stop me.
I can
wait. The hunt continues and one day, the hunter shall rejoin it.
* * * *
The world crashed in on her
like a thunderstorm. Jal moaned faintly, and put a hand to her pounding head.
Dear gods, what a strange dream...night, and slaughter, and the deep sweet flavour
of blood...
No dream.
She sat bolt upright, to find
her hands sticky with things she couldn't bear to think about, with her body
aching in strange places. She looked up and the moon filled her vision like a
sickly eye, looming down towards her until she felt as though she would vomit
right there.
She turned away with a gasp,
and pushed herself to her feet. She was freezing, filled with an awful limp
shakiness as though she had run for her life. And there was an odd taste in her
mouth. A coppery, succulent taste. She spat, trying to get rid of it, all the
while struggling to recall what had happened.
The hunter had come back.
She remembered now, clear as
crystal. Time seemed to spin out inside her head.
"Zade!" A woman screamed for
her child, a sweet-faced blond thing, while Jal tore him into pieces despite
the woman's frantic fighting. She had been an assassin, she recalled now,
called Elise Seille whose crime had been to marry a coyote shapeshifter. Jal
had killed that child, and killed their hopes with him.
The dead, dull acceptance in
the eyes of a witch-wolf as Jal held her by the throat and crushed the breath
from her, and then buried her in molten silver.
The fierce grin on the face of
the human-dragon who had fought her for three nights and three days. Until he
was but dust, and she was triumphant.
Dozens of memories, all the
same brutal horror.
She was a killer. An evil
thing. And she could never weep enough tears to atone for what she had done.
Slowly the memory of the night
filtered in on her. Of leaping from that circle, while Bane Malefici tried so
hard to capture her with old magick. Ruby Luthman...no...she hadn't but yes,
she knew she had. The cool voice of Jepar...and the neat crunch of his spine.
And someone chasing her,
catching her, pushing the hunter back to the dark where she belonged—
Jal froze.
And slowly, oh so slowly, she
turned back to look at the body that was heaped in the shallow niche of the
cave.
Details struck her gradually,
like glints from a stained glass window.
The disarrayed waves of the
mahogany hair.
The parted lips of that wide
mouth, no longer curved in a smile.
The broken, lifeless body.
The pool of blood.
The violet eyes, the summer
snatched from them.
Jal screamed and screamed and
the sound echoed back at her from the sky. There was only her, only him, alone
on the summit. And above them, the clouds floated by like nothing mattered.
Like nothing was wrong. As if her soulmate wasn't lying there, broken in his
own blood.
She ran from what she had done.
* * * *
Thanks for reading! I'd love to
hear your thoughts on this :-)
