Shadows on the Soul

“Les vieux translates to something like the Old Ones. They are the oldest, most powerful vampires in the world. As you no doubt realize, vampires get more powerful as they age—such a lovely contrast to the human condition, don’t you think? But even among the oldest of them, there are variations in power. Variations in potential. Les Vieux are the vampires whose potential was the greatest, who have achieved the pinnacle of power.

  “My mother is one of them. Hence, the reason I am alive, while Gabriel would have been killed if anyone knew about him.” She stopped walking, turning to face Jez. “Do you know what differentiates Les Vieux from other vampires of great age and power?”

  Since Jez had never heard of them before today, obviously she didn’t. She mustered just enough willpower to resist making a sarcastic comment to that effect. Instead, she shook her head silently.

  “They take root,” Brigitte said, as if that made perfect sense.

  “Huh?” Jez asked.

  Brigitte regarded her with piercing eyes. “They become bound to the land on which they live.”

  Jez suppressed a gasp, not sure she was understanding Brigitte’s implications. Brigitte grinned at her.

  “We think that’s where the legend of vampires having to have the soil of their homelands in their coffins comes from. Les Vieux must have the soil of their homelands beneath them at all times.”

  “You mean. .” But Jez didn’t finish, because of course she knew exactly what Brigitte meant.

  Brigitte laughed, no doubt at Jez’s stunned expression. “Yes. It seems that sometime in the last couple of centuries, Eli has taken a leap in power without even knowing it.”

  Jez gaped at her. “How can you call that a leap in power? He’s a prisoner in his own home!”

  “Oh, I think if he plays around awhile, he’ll find that taking root has certain advantages.”

  “What advantages?”

  “The greatest advantage of all—he can create avatars.”

  Brigitte looked at her expectantly, making Jez want to swallow all her questions. But her curiosity was too strong. If Brigitte wanted her to jump through hoops and ask questions, she’d just have to live with it.

  “What’s an avatar?” she asked, rolling her eyes at the little game.

  “A Doppelgänger. An illusion. The most powerful glamour of all. That is the power of Les Vieux. They cannot leave their homes in body, but their avatars can walk the length and breadth of their territory, limited only by the Old One’s power. And the best part? The avatars can’t be killed. So the Old One stays safe and secure in a fortress of a home, shielded by powerful glamours, while still enjoying the freedom of traveling the land.”

  Questions continued leaping to Jez’s mind, but she shouted them all down except for one. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  Brigitte’s smile turned mischievous. “Why, just a little girl talk, of course.” She shared a look with Henri, who had come up behind Jez. Uncomfortably close.

  “There’s got to be some reason you’re being so chatty all of a sudden.”

  “Well, yes. I suppose there is. I’m trying to explain why I want your master, but I’m afraid it’s a long story.” She glanced up at the sky. “You have at least a full hour before the sun rises. You can spare the time.”

  When she saw she had Jez’s undivided attention, she continued. “Having just watched Eli’s performance at his front gate, I can say with certainty that he has become an Old One. Whatever conceit he devised to explain his reluctance to leave his house was no doubt a construct of his subconscious.

  “And that brings us to Gabriel, and why born vampires are outlawed in the Old World. You see, a born vampire from a strong bloodline can eventually become an Old One too. Only, these Old Ones aren’t bound to the land. They are known as Les Vieux Marchants. We only know of one who ever attained this level of power in the last millennium. Just imagine what a creature of that power can do, free to roam anywhere he pleases! The last Vieux Marchant killed three of the Old Ones and took over their territories before the rest of them mustered an army powerful enough to defeat him. Naturally, the current Old Ones do not wish to see history repeat itself, and the easiest way is to ensure that no born vampires are allowed to live.” She frowned. “At least, not past a certain age.”

  The frown disappeared as fast as it had come. “So, to make a long story short, I would like to live long enough to become Vieille Marchante myself, but I doubt I will be allowed to live even to Gabriel’s age. What I need is an ally. One powerful enough to help me fight off the assassins who will no doubt come after me when my mother realizes I have gone. And there is no better ally for me than a five-hundred-year-old born vampire. Especially when his father has become an Old One and proven his bloodline strong.

  “Who knows? Being older than I, he will make the transition to Vieux Marchant sooner, and perhaps together we can return to the Old World and show Les Vieux what true power is.” Her eyes glowed with fervor. “And in these modern times when hardly anyone believes in vampires, it will be next to impossible for them to raise an army against us.” She raised her hands over her head. “We can rule the world!” she hollered, then laughed maniacally.

  Is this nutcase for real? Jez wondered for a moment. Then Brigitte abruptly stopped laughing, her eyes twinkling with genuine humor.

  “Just kidding,” she said, though Jez wasn’t sure that was entirely true. “I mostly just want to stay alive, and Gabriel seems like my best hope.”

  Jez crossed her arms over her chest. “Then get him away from di Cesare and Camille. You could take them both all by yourself, couldn’t you?”

  “Possibly,” she agreed. “At least, I could with Henri at my side, though it would be a real battle. Remember, I’m not as old as Gabriel. But here’s the thing—he didn’t seem too interested in having me in his bed when he already had you there.”

  Oh shit, Jez thought, but she wasn’t in any position to defend herself. All she could do was stand straight and proud and look her death in the face.

  Brigitte waved a hand at her carelessly. “Oh, don’t get all jumpy. I’m not going to kill you. I seriously doubt Gabriel would forgive me for that and stand by my side as I need him to.”

  Brigitte stepped in closer, and Jez couldn’t help taking a hasty step back—right into Henri, whose hands clamped down on her shoulders and squeezed as hard as they could without breaking bones. Jez couldn’t help the wince that tightened her features.

  “No, I have to be a little more subtle than that,” Brigitte continued, reaching up to touch Jez’s face, then stilling her with glamour when she tried to pull away.

  “I’m not going to get him out of that warehouse myself,” she continued. “But I’m going to tell you how you can use your bond with him to help set him free.”

  24

  DESPITE HIS DISGRUNTLEMENT WITH the Founder, Drake answered Eli’s summons, arriving at the mansion shortly before sunrise. At his age, Drake could stay awake another hour or two, as long as he kept out of direct sunlight. It took most of that time for Eli to explain to him what Jezebel had learned through the born vampire, Brigitte. And it took most of Drake’s willpower not to express his outrage that Eli had been willing to leave the house to save Gabriel when he hadn’t been willing to leave to stop him.

  Swallowing the bile as best he could, Drake kept his voice steady. “And why did you call me here at dawn to tell me all this?” he asked.

  Eli probably heard the anger under the steady tone, but he didn’t react beyond a sharp look. “Because I need help determining just what this avatar can do.”

  Drake raised an eyebrow. “So you really can do it?”

  The lines at the corners of Eli’s mouth tightened. “I’ve managed to create a faint illusion once or twice. Nothing more than that so far. But I’m going to keep trying. I’m hoping to have something more solid by the time you awaken for the evening. Then you and I can test out the avatar’s limits. If it’s even remotely possible, I mean to put a stop to all this
tonight.” His face became even more grim. “Before Camille sends me another part of my son’s body.”

  There wasn’t time for much more discussion. The rising sun was already making Drake’s mind and body sluggish with sleep. He retired to one of the guest bedrooms, collapsing onto the bed and trying not to think.

  Luckily, his daytime sleep was dreamless, and when Drake awoke he felt rested and ready. The resentment was still there, an ever-present companion, but despite his mixed feelings he knew he had to help Eli deal with Gabriel and with the other Killers who’d invaded their city. Afterward, the two of them could have a long talk about Drake’s future with the Guardians, but now was not the time.

  He found Eli in the library, where he’d left him last night. The Founder was fast asleep in his chair, snoring softly. Drake had never seen him sleep before, never seen his face look so open and unguarded. For just a moment, Eli looked almost human, as vulnerable as the rest of them.

  “I wonder if I’ve always snored,” Eli said.

  But the voice didn’t come from the figure in the chair. The hairs on the back of Drake’s neck stood on end, and he slowly turned toward the sound of that voice.

  Eli stood behind him in the doorway, smiling faintly. Drake looked back and forth between the smiling Eli and the sleeping one. A chill crawled down his spine, and he suspected his face lost its color.

  “What do your senses tell you?” Eli asked. “Do you sense one of us, or both of us?”

  Drake closed his eyes and reached out with his senses, finding the psychic footprints of two vampires in the room with him. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

  “Both,” he said, and the smiling Eli smiled more broadly.

  “Good. Hopefully, that means Camille and her friends will sense the avatar as a vampire and will therefore be convinced it’s really me.”

  Drake looked back and forth between the two Elis again. “That is very unnerving,” he commented. It was an understatement.

  The smiling Eli disappeared, and the sleeping Eli opened his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding terribly apologetic. He sat up straight in his chair, stretching. “I’m getting better at it, but I still can’t seem to keep the avatar going for more than about five or ten minutes at a time.”

  Drake took a seat. “And how far from the house can your avatar go, or have you tried leaving the house yet?”

  Eli nodded. “I’ve tried. I’ve managed to send it a couple of blocks from the house, and I’ve managed to wrap it in glamour so mortals can’t see it.” He frowned. “But obviously that’s not far enough. Not yet.” His frown deepened. “I seem to be getting better with practice, but I don’t know how long it will take before I’m good enough to take on vampires of Camille and di Cesare’s age. If indeed it’s possible for me to have that kind of strength.”

  “And you don’t know how long the two of them are going to keep Gabriel alive,” Drake finished for him.

  Eli nodded. “Precisely. I need to keep pushing. And I need you to spar with me. With my avatar. I need to know what my limits are.”

  Drake couldn’t think of any excuse to refuse. “All right.”

  “Thank you,” Eli said, sinking back into his chair and closing his eyes. A ghostly image of him formed in front of Drake’s eyes, growing progressively more solid.

  “Let’s take a walk, shall we?” Eli’s avatar said.

  Once again suppressing a shudder, Drake nodded silently and followed the avatar out of the house.

  JEZ LISTENED WITH ONLY half an ear as Eli described his plan of attack. He hadn’t come right out and said it, but she could tell from every nuance of his body language and tone of voice that he wasn’t expecting to get Gabriel out of that warehouse alive. It made her almost wish she hadn’t told him everything Brigitte had told her.

  Well, actually, she hadn’t told him all of it. She’d told him what Brigitte knew of the Old Ones, and she’d told him where Brigitte said Gabriel was being held. She hadn’t told him about Brigitte’s plan to both free Gabriel and get rid of Jez all in one fell swoop.

  “Have you heard anything I’ve said, Jezebel?” Eli asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

  “Yeah. You’re going to send that avatar thing to storm the building.” She swallowed hard. “And you’re going to try to use it to set off the explosives and kill everyone inside.”

  Eli stiffened. “That’s not what I said.”

  “But it’s what you meant.”

  Eli shared a quick but significant look with Drake. Jez understood that look perfectly well. There was a reason Drake was here at the moment, and it wasn’t because Eli needed his help carrying out this brilliant plan.

  “If I can get him out of there alive, I will,” Eli promised.

  Jez snorted. No doubt he meant what he said, but she knew he wasn’t planning to try terribly hard. Why should he, when he’d made it perfectly clear that Gabriel was still under a death sentence?

  “I mean it,” Eli said earnestly. “I will try to get him out of there alive. Whether he stays alive after the smoke clears is up to him.”

  She swallowed a sharp retort. Arguing with him was only going to strengthen his conviction that he needed Drake to act as prison guard and keep her in this house while he went off to save the world.

  Damn, she was turning bitter.

  For two seemingly endless days and nights, Eli had practiced with his avatar, stretching his range until he knew he could make it all the way to the warehouse. Mock battles with Drake had shown him that his power waned the farther he got from his house. By the time he’d stretched to the warehouse, he wouldn’t be much stronger than Jez herself.

  Maybe if he’d been willing to wait a little longer, practice a little longer, he’d have a better shot of getting Gabriel out alive. But each night, Camille had called to let him know another body part was waiting for him at a new drop-off point, and tonight he’d decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

  Which was for the most part fine with Jez. She couldn’t go help Gabriel all by herself. Brigitte had given her an explanation of just what it was she had to do to give Gabriel the strength to break free of the drug, but it was mystical, metaphysical shit that wasn’t easy to explain in words. It was going to take a considerable amount of trial and error to figure out how to accomplish it. And while she was trying, Camille and her cronies would sense her presence. And that would be that.

  She needed the diversion, needed Eli there to distract them while she figured out what to do. She just wished she had faith that he would buy her enough time.

  “So, when are you going?” she asked.

  Again, Eli and Drake shared a look.

  “What?” she asked. “Why do you guys keep doing that?”

  To her surprise, it was Drake who answered, not Eli. “Because you’re being way too quiet and accommodating. What are you planning?”

  Great. Now she’d gone and made them suspicious! She narrowed her eyes and glared at both of them. “Why should I bother arguing?” she asked, and it wasn’t hard to get a convincing dose of bitterness into her voice. “It’s not like you’d listen to me. You’re going to do it your way no matter what I think, and if Gabriel gets killed …” She exaggerated a shrug. “Oh well!” Her voice had risen steadily, and she felt the hot flush of blood in her cheeks.

  “I’ve told you, I’ll get him out alive if I can,” Eli said. “What more do you want from me?”

  “I want you to mean it! I want you to do everything you can, not just make some half-assed effort.” She let tears of frustration flood her eyes. Nothing like a bout of screaming hysterics to put a pair of men into a state of mental shutdown! If she was lucky, she’d knock them off balance enough to kill their suspicions.

  “Calm down,” Eli said in a soothing croon, a tone that had calmed many a temperamental Guardian.

  Jez let it have the exact opposite effect on her. “No, I won’t calm down! I won’t be a good little girl and be quiet!” Her voice became shrill. She could hardly reco
gnize it as her own. “If you get him killed, I will never forgive you.”

  Mentally crossing her fingers, she covered her face with her hands, letting the sobs bubble up from deep inside her, and ran for the door.

  And Eli let her go.

  She ran for the first few blocks, trying to put as much distance between herself and Eli as she could, getting out of range of his vampire senses. She had hoped that like most men, he’d be unwilling to intervene in a bout of feminine hysterics. It seemed that even thousand-plus-year-old vamps could be flummoxed by tears.

  The tears weren’t entirely fake, however, so she had to stop and pull herself together. She huddled in the shadows between the stoops of two houses, letting the tears run their course, giving in to terror now so that she could be calm later when she needed to be.

  When she wiped away the last of the tears and got shakily to her feet, she found herself face to face with Drake. Her shoulders slumped. Apparently, she hadn’t diverted suspicion after all.

  She refused to look the Killer in the face, though she figured his glamour was probably strong enough to subdue her without eye contact.

  “Please, Drake. Just leave me alone. You and Eli both.”

  “Whatever you’re planning to do, you don’t have to do it alone,” he responded. “And don’t pretend you don’t have some kind of plan. You’re not fooling me any more than you’re fooling Eli. Who, by the way, is already on his way to the warehouse.”

  Alarm jittered through her nerves. She didn’t have time to waste arguing. “Get out of my way.”

  Drake stepped aside and she frowned at him. “I’m following you wherever you’re going,” he explained. “Feel free to get started.”

  She briefly considered trying to talk him out of following her, but she doubted she’d have much luck, so she pushed past him and started walking briskly. He fell into step beside her. At least he hadn’t tried to stop her yet.

  “So, what’s the plan?” he asked.

  She cast a sidelong glance his direction. She’d refused to tell Eli her plan because he would go all protective and try to stop her. But maybe Drake would treat her like an adult, capable of making her own decisions and allowed to take her own risks.