4 - We Are Gathered Read online

  “You will enter the Great Hall with me. You will be standing or you will be hauled over my shoulder. Which is it to be?”

  She tilted her head, considering it, and watched a sparkle hit deep in the one eye that wasn’t shadowed.

  “Shoulder,” she dared, and then got a full view of how well they’d crafted the stone floor.

  CHAPTER TWO

  One thing she’d learned was to roll with whatever life threw at you. No matter how strange, heinous, or just plain mean. That made it simple to hang there and watch the floor blur into a mesh of gray stone and darker colored pigment where they’d mortared them together. It wasn’t due to anything obscuring her vision, or the amount of blood filling her head. It was the speed at which he moved. She couldn’t even see legs moving, or if they were. He took a large stone staircase like it was just a step or two, and then stopped so abruptly that it rocked her into his back. Thank goodness. He’d read her mind. She didn’t want to enter any room hanging like a sack of grain from his shoulder. Especially in a dress. She didn’t wear dresses as a rule, and while being upside down in one hadn’t been in her reasons, it made an excellent one now.

  But then he reached into a pocket and pulled out what looked to be a cell phone. Rori arched up from him and watched. It wasn’t like any cell phone she’d ever seen. For starters, it was a lot smaller – and clicked right on his ear. She couldn’t tell where the mouthpiece was.

  “Yes?”

  There wasn’t a hint of sound from the other end, but he must’ve gotten an answer, since he spoke again. Nothing fancy. No words of greeting. Just numbers.

  “Sixteen. Non-negotiable. Wire. One-six-eight-four-one-one…” And he finished with the word yes again.

  That was it. He pulled the ear-plug thing out and slid her off his opposite shoulder as he placed it back into a pocket somewhere on his tight pants. No wonder his cell phone was so small. There couldn’t possibly be room in his pants for anything larger, especially as he had them practically painted on pretty impressive thighs. And she wasn’t looking! Rori ground her teeth together as the effort didn’t work, and he probably knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

  One peek at his face and she knew it for certain. He wasn’t just blushing. He looked embarrassed enough for both of them.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, and then worked at pulling her dress into place, since static cling looked to get worse if polyester rubbed along what looked to be a silken shirt. There wasn’t any help for it. Her dress clung to everything, outlining just about everything, and he probably knew that thought process, too.

  “Don’t be. I was told it would be so.”

  “What would be? And no—.” She held her hand up for emphasis, still not looking at his face. “Don’t answer that.”

  “You readied, then?”

  To meet a roomful of vampires? In a castle that didn’t exist? Sure. Why not? Rori shrugged, and he opened the door.

  o O o

  They’d gone overboard with their renovations. The castle was too authentic, from the stone making up every surface to the lack of lighting throughout the cavernous room into which he led her. They’d also kept heating to a minimum, despite the roaring fires going in all three fireplaces. At first the place looked empty, and then gradually she could make out groups of people; some sitting in chairs, some reclining on settees, others just standing about eyeing her. And all of them looked like extras in a vampire video…or perhaps the better description was a Film Noir. Rori gathered her shawl closer, and actually stepped closer to her escort, which was truly stupid.

  Her eyes adjusted, as did her ears, and now she noted how every person in the room seemed to move, standing and then sliding to where she was being marched through them. It was like being in a parade, with nothing joyous about it. She was surrounded by beings that moved like liquid and were disturbingly silent, blurred, nearly opaque. They surrounded, making a swirling ebbing mass of bodies…glaring at her, examining her, smelling and nearly tasting her, closing in as the man escorting her kept walking.

  He took her to a raised platform thing along the far wall, beneath huge banners with strange, tribal-looking demon images on them. They were all done in deep red hues – almost black - on various shades of backgrounds. They all seemed to point to a throne-like chair. It was empty. The moment she noted it, her escort must have, for he swiveled and addressed the sea of people following them.

  “Where’s Akron?”

  The force of his voice made her jump, but the only one who knew was the man holding her. The legions of wraiths following them didn’t do more than stare. And there wasn’t anything in the room containing heat anymore. She couldn’t even feel the fire at her side.

  “Oh cease. You’re ruining the ambiance.”

  Ambiance?

  One of them stepped forward and looked right at Rori’s escort, standing eye-to-eye to him. The woman was tall and lithe, and stunningly beautiful.

  “Akron?” He barked it.

  “Called away. What have you brought us?”

  “Yes, Tristan. What have you brought?”

  Tristan. His name is Tristan.

  The name fit him and that thought was even more madness. They were getting surrounded now. She could feel it and sense it. Menace wasn’t the only emotion fueling the space. Rori recognized her own stirrings of fear. If she had to go insane, she was going in her own way, and in her own fashion. There was a reason she’d joined the coven. She held out her free hand, palm outward and started chanting her order three times.

  “Sinja Dor-A. Sinja Dor-A. Sinja Dor-A.”

  A shove pushed an invisible barrier outward, sending them all back a step, then another. Her spell had never worked this well before, or with such effect. Usually it got her sent to solitary quarters for punishment. Rori kept the satisfaction hidden, as if every time she spoke a chant it worked.

  “Come.”

  He didn’t need to say it. She wasn’t staying here. Rori clung to him, and got lifted from the floor as they traversed another hall, and then another, and then another flight of steps, and through a series of high Gothic arches that shamed the ones in their cellars, until finally she faced a large set of carved double doors, complete with a large door knocker in the shape of a dragon. All of which was going to make an excellent short story for her English Lit class when she woke up from this. If she woke up.

  “Come in.”

  The voice came clearly through what looked like solid wood, and Tristan hadn’t even knocked yet.

  “Open it.”

  His whisper sent more than sound onto her throat. Sensation laced all along her neck before slithering right down her spine. He looked like he knew it, too, but that shouldn’t be a surprise. He read every thought, why wouldn’t he know every nuance of how he affected her?

  “Open the door. Use your powers.”

  “I haven’t got any—.”

  One eyebrow quirked up again, stilling her tongue and scrambling her thoughts. Damn him. If she was still capable of glaring, she was. He found that amusing, too. It was in the smile he tried hiding, as well as the motion to remove her hand from his arm, where the imprint of fingers still creased his shirt. Then he put both hands on her waist and placed her in front of him, facing a door without a handle.

  “Use them.”

  “How do you know I have them?”

  “Later.”

  “Is your name really Tristan?”

  “Open the doors first. Flirt later.”

  “You keep saying that like I’ll actually be with you later, and want it that way.”

  “You do. Now, open the doors.”

  Rori swallowed, lowered her chin in order to look through her eyelashes at the door, giving it a death wish. Only, she wanted him getting the glare, not some stupid blocks of wood. He chuckled behind her. She was really getting tired of that. She sucked in air, put both hands up, palms outward, fingers spread, and said the spell beneath her breath.

  And before her very surpri
sed eyes, both sides swung inward.

  “You took your time, Invaris.”

  The authoritative voice seemed to originate from somewhere behind the desk, in the shadowed section directly beneath an alcove. That scene was backed by a cavern of bookcases, holding what looked like real leather-bound books. She’d see more if the fireplace put out enough light to see properly, or if the scattering of torches, smoking from high in their sconces, shedding dim light onto everything, worked. The only other light source was an open laptop on the desk, and it completely ruined the medieval feel.

  “I thought your name was Tristan.”

  The shadow answered. “It is. Sir Tristan Navarre Invaris. Knight…Hospitaler.”

  “You’re a knight?”

  She turned her head to ask it. He didn’t answer. He simply moved her into the room by lifting her and walking to the center of a circular rug woven with more dark red hues into the same demon-looking design. The position put them in a framework of light, almost like it had been staged for this.

  “For shame, Invaris. You didn’t bother with introductions?”

  This trip just got weirder and murkier, and there didn’t seem to be a way out. Rori narrowed her eyes on the speaker. “I’m really tired of arguing with shadows and talking in code. Why don’t you just come out of there and show yourself?”

  “There are many who would wish that.”

  “Don’t count me among them.”

  “Feisty, Invaris. I approve.”

  Rori was really getting annoyed. It sounded in the strangled exclamation she bit back. She knew Tristan heard it, because his huff of breath hitting the back of her head held the amusement.

  “Don’t you wish to know why you’re here?”

  Rori stopped her mental tirade mid-word, and glared at the space beneath the alcove. “Okay. I give. Why?”

  “I’m recruiting you.”

  “To what?”

  “Invaris?”

  Her head got tipped to one side, a hint of air touched her neck, and then fire-spewing spikes sealed the deal. Rori screamed, but the sound sounded choked before becoming a cough, and then it turned into a mew of something resembling pleasure. The carpeted floor shifted, changing into a cauldron of red liquid, swirling and sucking at their feet, while her hair whirled into the maelstrom about them, joining Tristan’s long locks, masking the scene into a meld of stone and shadow. Fireworks accompanied the sensation, rocketing off her skull, and putting a light show into existence behind the eyes she shut tight.

  “Enough!”

  She heard the command through what sounded like water, and then everything went black.

  CHAPTER THREE

  He knew he should get her back. He had contracts to assign, funds to transfer, communications to make, it was going to be dawn soon, and she wasn’t to be initiated quite yet. He was under orders. No turning without her full consent. He’d known it and still had to be commanded to cease taking her fluid. He couldn’t help it. Nothing had ever felt so good, been so fulfilling, or salved so many wounds. Nothing.

  He wasn’t a crusader knight anymore, blindly adhering to his vows. That life ceased the moment Akron found him dying of his battle wounds and changed him, granting him this after-death existence, but he’d always known there was something more. And now he had it. Or soon would. She was his mate. The glow infused him again just at the fact she actually existed and he’d found her. His mate! Somehow Akron had known it, too.

  The man was unreadable and complex. Tristan knew little more than when he’d first sworn allegiance to the man. As Akron’s most trusted vassal – the man holding the secrets and codes to the entire operation - Tristan should’ve been a close confidante, but he wasn’t. No one got close. He should also be well above an easy mission like this one. And yet, he’d been the one sent to get this one woman. He guessed why Akron wanted her. With her powers, she’d be an enormous asset to the league, but there were thousands who could have gone. Tristan knew now why he’d gotten the assignment. He’d known it the moment he touched her.

  She was beautiful; more beautiful than he’d been led to expect, and more than he deserved. She had dark brown hair so silky that it curled about his finger; deep, green-shaded eyes that pierced and scorned; a form that was driving him mad – especially with her dress clinging to every inch of it, despite her efforts to prevent it…and her thoughts! Tristan didn’t adhere to telepathy, and yet he instantly knew every one of her thoughts and answered them. He didn’t need her little blushes for verification, but he really liked watching for them.

  Everything about her pleased him, especially her instant recognition of the castle. It had been his idea to copy Vlad Dracula’s castle for their use. The novel had appealed to him. He’d been given the assignment, and his plans, construction, and oversight made it happen. He’d spent eighteen years studying the real one before committing one block to the foundation, and then a full century making certain no one involved with the construction remembered its existence. It wasn’t their only one but it was his first, and therefore, his favorite.

  As with the others, this Tirgoviste Castle was an exact replica of the fifteenth century one – except for one major detail. They were all constructed underground. Hidden. Completely invisible. Accessed only through caves in the rock face, and a series of satellite receivers that would never be spotted in the woods surrounding it. It was the only way to keep a business like Akron’s functioning.

  The ear-com shivered in his pocket, as if he’d ordered a call. Tristan put it on message link and lifted Rori. He knew he had to take her back and leave her, and wait until tonight to reach her again. He also knew it was going to hurt.

  o0o

  Smoke was wafting about the clearing, diffusing moonlight into bands of light, and then a siren went off, altering everything.

  Rori leapt onto her feet, slapped a hand at the offending piece and watched the alarm clock disintegrate against the wall. An instant check revealed she was in her room, there wasn’t anything male or handsome except the wall poster on the closet door, and she was still wearing the black dress. A few things she could say about polyester: it may cling with static, but it was cheap, and it didn’t wrinkle. An early glow of sun hit on her next, feeling like needles skewering her eyes. She put up a hand and the blinds fell with a clatter.

  “Hey! I just bought that.”

  Naomi stuck her tongue out at Rori before tossing the covers back over her head. Rori flicked her wrist and the bedspread peeled right back. And with it came Naomi, sitting and then staring.

  “Did you just do that?”

  “What am I doing here?” Rori’s voice croaked. And it hurt to use it. She swallowed, and that hurt, too.

  “You live here.” Naomi yawned through it, and then snuggled back into her mattress. “And you owe me another ten minutes of sleep.”

  Rori flicked her wrist, and this time not only the sheet but Naomi ended up at the foot of her bed on her knees, while wide eyes mirrored Rori’s with surprise.

  “Wow.”

  “I meant, how did I get here?”

  “You have powers! You really have them! We have to tell—.”

  Rori put a finger up and her roommate’s words halted. Just like that. She put her hand down, and Naomi finished it, although the name limped out in two parts.

  “Eliz…abeth.”

  “How did I get here?”

  “How are you doing that?”

  Rori put her hands in fists and knocked them into her shoulders and it sounded like every door in the house slammed in response.

  “Can I get up? And maybe…dress?”

  Naomi put a foot on the floor and hesitated as if Rori might stop her. And she actually considered doing it, just to see if she could. All of which was weirder than her vision last night. She had to consciously force the desire down and watched as her roommate grabbed a robe, pulled it on, and then just stood there, staring.

  “How did I get here?”

  Naomi shrugged. “Don�
�t ask me. You were here when we got in.”

  “When was that?”

  “Near dawn I think. It was a great evening. I don’t know why you left.”

  “What was in the little stars?” She was probably coming down with something. Her throat was sore from staying out in the night mists. That might also account for the headache just beginning behind her sinuses, getting an accompaniment from her pulse.

  “Your neck.” Naomi pointed and then came a step closer.

  “The star you gave me. What was in it?”

  If she gritted her teeth it kept the throb to a minimum. It also made her sound more forceful and commanding. At least, it should have. It didn’t work on Naomi. She just came closer, and then pointed.

  “Candy. From the specialty pipe shop.”

  “You bought it at a stoner shop?”

  “Where else am I going to get stuff that looks like that?”

  “What was in it?”

  “Mostly sugar. I swear.”

  “Sugar doesn’t cause hallucinations.”

  “You had a hallucination? Was that before or after someone bit your neck?”

  Rori put her forefingers to her temples and rubbed in a circular motion. The pain lessened, but not enough.

  “You two could like make a little less noise. We’ll be kicked out – if someone like posts bail after the police get finished booking us.”

  Elizabeth was always cheerful. Loud. Annoying. Rori moved a hand toward her intrusion. The girl slid backwards to the wall, and then stayed there, like she’d been glued in position right next to the closet.

  “Rori has powers,” Naomi told her.

  “Wow.”

  “Exactly as I said.”

  “How did you—?”

  A finger in the air cut off the words, but Rori could still see Elizabeth mouthing them. Her headache was getting worse, too.