Her adored nieces and nephews?
Her friends.
Her colleagues.
Every patient she’d ever treated would likely die before her unless her life was ended by violence. Makeda would exist in a shadow world the sun never touched where human lives were barely seasons. If she thought about it too closely, she might just go mad.
She focused on immediate goals. She still needed to finish the cure for the Elixir virus. She needed to control her hunger.
After that?
“Baojia said I’d need to be isolated for at least a year.”
“That’s the typical period of time,” he said, still scribbling in his notebook. “Individuals vary based on training, personality, violence of the change, and many other factors. I’ve seen immortals blooded for five years and still out of control. I’ve seen others at six months who were nearly Zen masters. It varies greatly.”
“I’ve never heard the term blooded before.”
He glanced up. “It’s archaic and comes from the Latin word for the process of turning someone, which is sanguinem. If you use the term, you date yourself.”
“How old are you?”
He stopped writing, looked up, and held her eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m spending eternity with you,” she said. “Small talk has to start somewhere.”
“Two things.” He started writing again. “You’re not spending eternity with me. Do you see me hanging on my mother’s hem? You’ll be independent soon enough. And two, don’t ask vampires their age.”
“Impolite?”
“Imprudent,” he said. “Age is a good indicator of power—though not the only one, as you’ve seen with Baojia—so asking someone directly how old they are is the vampire equivalent to the crude human phrase ‘dick measuring.’”
“Hmm,” Makeda said. “I’ve never had any need to participate in that particular activity.”
“Neither have I. You still shouldn’t ask my age.” He closed his notebook and put it to the side. He walked across the converted hold and sat in the seat across from her. “I know we don’t get along very well, but it’s my responsibility to teach you what you need to know in this life, so please listen to me.”
“Baojia has already taught me—”
“Baojia is an infant.” He didn’t let her finish her thought. “He’s my friend, and I have a great amount of respect for him. He’s highly intelligent, and I trust him, which is a rare thing, even among those I count as friends. But you have to understand, Makeda: I sat at the foot of kings in my infancy. My teachers were emperors, and my mother is a god. What Baojia counts as wisdom is nothing to me.”
Makeda’s heartbeat picked up and she felt her fangs drop. She didn’t understand her reaction.
Was she fearful? Excited? Hungry?
Aroused. She frowned at the realization. The promise of so much knowledge aroused her.
Drawing in a deep breath, Lucien sat back and stared at her. “You like that,” he said. “The power attracts you. It’s a predictable—”
“Not the power.” Her voice was heavy and slow. “The… knowledge.”
“Interesting.”
He stared at her as if she were a bug under a microscope. It should have felt clinical and cold, but it didn’t. His examination heated her skin. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, which perused her body with such focus she lost track of time. He traced her legs, lingering on her ankles and her thighs. The silent attention to her breasts should have enraged her, but it didn’t. His gaze slid over her body like a caress.
Had it been hours or minutes?
The plane began its descent, and Makeda snapped out of her spell at the quiet murmur of the captain’s voice. She strapped herself in and made ready to land, ignoring Lucien’s unwavering attention. She pretended the roaring in her ears was the sound of the engines and not the pulse of her blood.
It didn’t matter. He knew.
The tires bumped on the runway, and his eyes finally returned to hers. There was the hint of a smile on his lips. “Welcome home, Makeda.”
“I guess I’ll see.”
“See what?”
“If reality is better than dreams.”
Saba
Alitea, Aegean Sea
She flew in his arms, wrapped around Ziri as he transported her across the water and into the heart of Laskaris’s domain. They landed in the highest balconies of the sea fortress, the walls rising up against the crashing waves below.
Alitea was no natural island.
It had been formed millennia before by the careful partnership of Sofia, an earth vampire of ancient lineage, and Eris, her sister and a fire vampire of singular skill. They had formed the island off the coast of the mainland as a haven for immortals, shaping it from the volcano Eris had called. After Kato had retired from his empire, Laskaris came and shaped the currents in his own way, adding his mark to the island haven. Jason and his people had been the most singular of craftsmen, flying above the trees and bays of the island, carving the rock that formed the outer perimeter walls into terraced luxury before he took his place on the council throne. Mortals from all over the ancient world had been brought in to build the lavish temples and palaces before they offered their lives as blood sacrifices to the living gods of Alitea.
Ever since, the council had hidden Alitea from human eyes. In ancient times, they had draped it in legends that kept the mortals away. Tales of shipwrecks and cursed waters still kept modern humans at bay. Mortals were not welcome on Alitea. Its residents hunted elsewhere, bringing back offerings for their gods.
Saba watched a group of water vampires climb from the moonlit water of the harbor and walk toward the temple at the base of Eris’s volcano. All carried skins she would guess contained blood. All looked flushed and healthy.
They were reverent and joyful in their bearing. No shadow of Elixir lived here. No fear stained Laskaris’s happy island kingdom.
Saba curled her lip in disgust.
“What did you want to see?” Ziri asked.
“I don’t know.”
“They all reside in the temple, you know. Even Sofia does now.”
Sofia. How Saba had once loved the woman and envied her joy in Laskaris as a mate. Was this Saba’s fault? Had she been too lenient? Given all of them too much freedom?
The vision of her daughter’s ashes flashed across her mind.
This is what comes of freedom.
Death.
Ruin.
Extinction.
“Have you decided?” Ziri asked.
“Not yet.”
He lounged against a pillar, his black robes fluttering in the ocean breeze. “You’ll have to decide soon.”
“He has time.”
“Not much.”
CHAPTER NINE
Lucien watched Makeda as she leaned over the edge of the small boat carrying them to the island. For as long as any human on Lake Tana could remember, Tana Genet, the island where his home was located, was simply one of the many monasteries dotting the water. It wasn’t a monastery—though it was isolated—but the humans who lived on the sister island spread the monastery rumor until it was the only truth anyone remembered. The fishermen gave the island a wide berth, and no boats landed except his own and those of his brother, Gedeyon, who lived on the neighboring island.
“Are there hippos near your island?” Makeda asked over the buzz of the off-board engine.
She was still wearing scrubs. There had been no clothes waiting at the airport, only an old van driven by one of Gedeyon’s vampire children. It was the same young vampire who escorted them through Bahir Dar and piloted the boat that took them to the island. Lucien had sent a message to Gedeyon before they left the United States, informing him that no humans could be around the newborn, though she wasn’t as uncontrolled as some. His brother, as always, listened to him and had arranged everything.
Now with the moon high in the sky and the quiet of the lake broken only by the small
motor, Lucien felt his soul relax on the deepest level. He was home. Makeda was home. He watched her with new eyes, seeing everything through her childlike fascination. He didn’t think she’d blinked since the plane landed.
“Hippos?” he asked. “Not many. If there are, they’ll flee when you set foot in the water. They’re remarkably perceptive, and they recognize our kind as predators.”
“Crocodiles?”
“Not here. You’ll be able to swim as much as you like, though I’ll have to accompany you.”
“Why?”
“The islands are far out in the lake, but we’re still among humans. They know to keep their distance, but there are fishermen. Tourists. Pilgrims who are ignorant of our true identity. It’s my responsibility to keep you—and the humans around you—safe from your bloodlust.”
He saw Gedeyon’s arm lift as they approached.
“Who is he?”
Lucien couldn’t stop the smile. “My brother.”
Makeda frowned.
“I suppose he’s a cousin, in the vampire sense. His sire was one of Saba’s older children. Lake Tana is his home.”
Gedeyon was dressed in the white robe typical to monks on the islands, but his head was uncovered and his bright smile shone under the half-moon. He wasn’t a monk, but those on his island thought of him as such. He had no mate, and most of his children were independent except for one daughter who also lived on Tana Beza, the sister island to Lucien’s own.
“My brother!” Gedeyon called as they approached. “Welcome home.”
“Salam.” Lucien hopped out of the boat and onto the dock, bowing his head before he grasped Gedeyon’s hand and embraced him. “How are you? How is your family? Is your daughter well?”
“They are all in very good health. Hirut has prepared a meal for us.” He looked to Makeda. “Sister, welcome to Tana Genet.”
“Gedeyon,” Lucien said. “This is Makeda. Sired to water by my good friend in America, but under my aegis by choice.”
The young vampire who’d been piloting the boat was helping Makeda onto the dock, careful with the American vampire in the strange clothes.
“Thank you.” Makeda spoke in Amharic, delighting Gedeyon from the expression on his face. “I am sorry. I did not travel with fresh clothes.”
“My daughter will find something to suit you,” Gedeyon said, bowing to Makeda and holding her hand in his. “I am Gedeyon, and I am honored to be your host during your stay here. If you have need of anything, you must tell me, and my people will see to it. We both know Lucien would rather be in a book than making conversation.”
He took the ribbing from Gedeyon because… his brother was right. And also because for nearly six hundred years, Gedeyon had been one of his closest friends. Lucien didn’t like all of his immortal family. In a clan as vast as Saba’s, it would have been impossible. But he liked Gedeyon and he’d liked Gedeyon’s sire, who had come from the land across the Red Sea.
Gedeyon asked, “Have you fed this evening?”
“We had preserved blood on the plane.” He put his hand on the small of Makeda’s back, ushering her up the dock and knowing Gedeyon would notice the gesture. “But if you have fresh, it would be appreciated. Makeda will need to feed before dawn.”
“Of course.” Gedeyon spoke quietly to the young vampire on the boat before he led them up a path twisting through a sacred grove of coffee plants. The night birds went silent as they passed, wary of the new predators on the island. Gedeyon glanced at Lucien’s hand, which remained on the small of Makeda’s back, and lifted an eyebrow before he said, “Tarik will bring some blood before dawn. Hirut and the women cleaned the house for you, but I told them to leave the laboratory alone.”
“Thank you. I shut everything down before I left last time, so it should be fine.” Lucien took a deep breath. The air on the island was rich with green plants and rain, and the fecund scent of forest humus lay under the sharp bite of cooking fires. “No storms?”
“Ah.” Gedeyon lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Nothing significant. My people checked the generators and cleaned the solar panels. I started the water system. You and Makeda should be comfortable.”
“Thank you.”
“My brother, I am so happy to have you here.” Gedeyon grinned. “But you must tell me about this plane of yours. Who ever heard of our kind traveling on planes? What is the world coming to?”
❖
Makeda was bathing and changing into clean clothes when Gedeyon passed Lucien a beaker of tej, the honey wine he brewed on his island, while they sat near the dock. “So you finally bring a woman home and Mother isn’t here.”
“Makeda’s not ‘a woman.’”
Gedeyon grinned. “My brother, what is wrong with your eyes? Is there any cure for it, do you think?”
Lucien smiled. “She’s not my woman. She is—was—a human colleague. She was almost killed by someone trying to stop us from finding a cure for the Elixir virus. That’s why Baojia turned her. I need her for the research.”
All amusement fled Gedeyon’s face. “This vampire stole her human life?” A quiet curse. Rarely did Gedeyon curse. “Did you kill this person?”
“I killed the one who did it, but he was a small fish.”
“Is she still in danger?”
“I told no one we were coming here. They will suspect Ethiopia because it’s my home, but the only human aware of our location is Giovanni Vecchio’s pilot.”
“So Vecchio knows you’re in Bahir Dar.”
“Mother says he’s trustworthy.”
“Saba says many things,” Gedeyon said. “But she’s not here right now, is she?”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Tobruk, last time I heard. Inaya sent a request for a visit months ago.”
“Is Inaya still stable?”
“As far as I know. The visit could be for any number of reasons. It might just be diplomatic.”
A distant kinswoman by mating, Inaya had taken control over her territory in North Africa only five years before, ousting a corrupt immortal with tenuous ties to Athens. The territory she controlled consisted of both Libya and Egypt, so she was carefully watched by everyone in the Mediterranean and North Africa. Since her first move was establishing a new overseer for the Suez Canal and lowering the tariffs paid by vampires traveling through the canal, she’d become almost instantly popular. She was seen as moderate, pragmatic, and cautious in her associations. A diplomatic visit from the mother of the African continent was a smart, but not particularly daring, political move.
“Is Ziri still involved with Inaya?” Lucien asked.
Gedeyon shrugged. “Probably not, but who knows?”
Lucien stared across the lake. “Saba wrote to me from the Caucasus.”
“Is that so?”
He sipped his tej. “Arosh and Kato are in the Caucasus. She was near the Black Sea before that.”
“Are you saying our sire is playing politics?” Gedeyon asked. “Lucien, you know she hates politics.”
“Yes, she does.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and watching a kingfisher dive from a branch. “She’s stayed out of politics for a thousand years, and now the Elixir threatens us all.”
“Sounds like you better get to work.” Gedeyon rose from his seat. “I suppose it’s a good thing you have such a pretty assistant this time. Though this one has fangs, so I’m not sure if you’ll know what to do with her.”
“Your opinion was not asked for, Gedeyon.”
“I’m just saying that vampire women have more bite, brother.” Gedeyon’s eyes lit in amusement. “Why do you think I prefer them?”
Only with his brother would Lucien joke of such things. “And when was the last time you were warm in bed?”
Humans were warm and soft. That’s why Lucien preferred them. They didn’t care about his age or political connections. His lineage wasn’t nearly as enticing as his skills in pleasuring them. Human lovers were simple.
 
; And yes, short-lived. But that made their lives all the more precious.
“You are blind if you don’t see what is in front of you,” Gedeyon said. “Besides, I’m sure you and your lovely queen could create your own heat between you.”
He waved Gedeyon away and rose from his seat on the dock. Dawn was nearly on them. Lucien needed to check on Makeda and make sure she’d eaten. Then he’d be able to—
Oh damn.
He’d forgotten how spartan he kept the living quarters on the island. Other than the lab, which was very well-appointed, there were only a few outbuildings for storage, an outdoor washhouse and kitchen, and one tukul, the windowless round house he preferred for sleeping.
One tukul and one bed.
❖
When Lucien returned to the tukul, Makeda was already asleep on the bed. Piles of blankets and embroidered pillows surrounded her. The bed lay low to the ground, raised on a wooden platform he’d carved one year from a cedar tree that had fallen on the island. It was long and wide. Lucien was not a small man, and he liked to lounge when he had the time.
Makeda’s hair was damp and curling around her face, and she wore a long linen dress Gedeyon’s daughter, Hirut, must have found. Makeda was so tall the dress only came past her knees.
Modern men were so foolish, Lucien thought, gazing at the delicate bones of Makeda’s feet and ankles. Artificially molded bodies had nothing on the delicacy of a woman’s bared ankle. He resisted the urge to stroke her skin from her arch to the curving heel and drew a sheet up to her waist.
Then he secured the tukul, setting the alarms that would wake him should anyone try to disturb him or Makeda as they slept. She would not wake. She was sleeping the unmoving, heavy sleep of the newly turned. He doubted she would even twitch.
He glanced around the tukul as he stripped off his traveling clothes and put on a loose pair of pants that wouldn’t scandalize an American woman. He’d have to share the bed with her. There was no place else to sleep, and he wasn’t taking the floor. There were low stools, but not even a couch or chair because he never had visitors here.