Selene

“—carefully,” the woman’s voice said. Scrape of metal. Smell of salt. “She’ll heal, but she must have absolute rest.”

Darkness again, a slow gelid darkness. Selene struggled up through it, a swimmer in deep water. The roaring noise retreated a little, and she could think again, if only a little.

But I was dead. I know I was. I was dead. Am I in hell now?

“—blood,” someone else said. A dark voice, full of cold hurtful Power, a voice she would have struggled to get away from if she could. “How much more?”

“As much as you can give her.” It was a woman’s voice. Scorching-hot fingers resting against her forehead. “I’ve never seen healing this quick, even with my help. I see the mark, she is Acolyte?”

“Tantraiiken,” the cold male voice replied. It sounded familiar, even if she did want to hide until the owner of that hurtful voice went away. “And I. . . I. . .”

“Yes, I see. So the rumors are true.” The woman sounded amused. Her voice was deep and restful, smooth as satin. Selene smelled violets and musk, an odd combination. The voice wrapped Selene in comfort, sent heat through her cold, leaden body. “She’s out of immediate danger. I’ll leave you to it for a while, she can’t take any more Power tonight. You must call me if she grows fevered. Now I’ll go see if Jorge has left me anything to eat.”

“As you like.” Now a cool touch came and pressed against her cheek, stroking and tender. Was it the woman?

What woman?

There was a sound of silk moving. Then a silence. Selene opened her eyes. Everything swam in front of her, a blur of color and shadow. “Prince,” the woman said. “About Rigel.”

Rigel? Selene thought, dimly. I hope he’s okay, what happened to me?

“He is lucky.” The Power in the cold hurtful voice was enough to strip flesh from bone, Selene heard a shapeless whimper. It was her own. “Were it not for your intercession, sedayeenen, he would be dead.”

“It wasn’t his fault.” The woman sounded firm, but Selene detected something else—was it fear? Maybe. But maybe not, it could have been anger.

The blurring in front of Selene’s eyes slowly started to coalesce into shapes. Velvet, hanging across something. Dark blue.

There was a cold exhalation, and Selene’s skin prickled. It was a shock to discover she was still breathing. “Jesu,” she said, and blinked, her eyelids falling down. Then she opened her eyes again, and the shapes slowly started to settle into sharply-defined objects. “Am I dead?” It was a stupid thing to ask, but it was all she could think to say.

“You may have Rigel if you wish, healer.” A snarl rose in the words. Selene’s skin prickled again, but thankfully no wash of desire or Power rose in her. Her arms and legs felt cold and heavy. “I give him to you. May he offer you better service than he offered me. Now get out.” Deadly, deathly Power rattled the air of the room. Was it Nikolai’s nest? It had to be.

“Rigel. . .” Selene coughed weakly. “Is he. . . is he okay?” She looked up at the blue velvet hanging. At least it’s not red. She shuddered. Or she would have shuddered, if she hadn’t been so weak. Her entire body was weighted with lead.

“Better than he has any right to be,” the chill voice told her. She couldn’t see him. Was it Nikolai? He sounded so. . .dangerous.

“He saved. . . my life,” Selene said, softly. There was a rush and crackle, and the smell of smoke. A fire? In a Nichtvren’s nest? They feared open flame, it was one of the few things even a very old Master might not survive.

“You almost died, Selene.” There was something so familiar about that voice.

Is that Nikolai? He sounds so scary.

A door shut, and someone sat down on the bed next to her. Selene blinked again. Her vision was oddly blurry.

Nikolai leaned over her, his face marked with dried blood across forehead and cheeks. It looked like a strange kind of warpaint, and Selene examined him for a long moment. His hair was dirty, hanging over the black holes of his eyes. He looked gaunt, his cheeks hollow, pale skin stretched over aristocratic bones. He was still wearing a white shirt, only now it was in bloody tattered rags, and Selene had to look twice to make sure it was the same one he’d been wearing before. His pale unmarked flesh showed through the tatters. Of course, he wouldn’t scar after he Turned, she thought, with a dozy sort of logic, and she felt the corners of her mouth tilt up.

“You look awful,” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, unusually rough.

He smoothed his fingertips across her forehead. His skin was chill, and her forehead was clammy. “Thank you, dear one.” Something gentler passed over his face. The shadows over his eyes dispelled a little, though they were still black from lid to lid. “How do you feel?”

“Rigel saved my life.” Selene took in a gasping breath. “Tell me you didn’t hurt him.”

Nikolai’s mouth thinned. “He will live.” He kept touching her forehead, his fingers slowly warming. “Twelve centuries I have roamed this earth,” he said finally, quietly, “I have never feared immortality. I have never feared anything that walks in shadow or in sunlight. But you. . .” He trailed off, touched her cheek, with just his fingertips. His fangs slid out, pressing into his lower lip, and Selene began to feel a faint drowsy alarm. It wasn’t like him to show his fangs without provocation. “I fear losing you, Selene.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. His skin was cold again, cold and perfect.

You can’t just pick up another tantraiiken off the street, after all. Selene shivered, tried to stop herself, couldn’t. “I smelled it. What killed Danny. It was there.”

Nikolai stilled, looking at her. “And how do you know this?” His fingertips brushed a stray strand of her hair.

“The wards,” she answered, her eyelids drooping and heavy again. “The wards. . . I did them, they’re mine. I took them. Looked at them the day after. . . yesterday? When was it?” She tried to remember, but it was so hard with the languid exhaustion weighing down every muscle, every inch of her skin. She had never felt so exquisitely, completely tired.

A muscle jumped in Nikolai’s pale, blood-marked cheek. “I am beginning to think I should chain you in my sanctum.” He sounded serious. “What did the wards tell you, Selene?”

“Showed me. . .what killed Danny. . .” She was falling asleep again. Why wouldn’t her arms move, and her legs?

“And what did you see?” Nikolai stroked her cheek. His fingers traced her jaw, dipped down to touch her throat. There was a faint, pulsing warmth—the mark. Why wasn’t it burning?

“Tired.” Selene’s eyes drifted closed. “I smelled it. Something old, so old. . . and teeth. . . and. . .”

“And it smells of blood, doesn’t it?” he asked, his breath against her cheek now. “Sleep, Selene. I will watch over you.”

“Beads,” Selene whispered. “In his hair. . . Give my regards. . . to Nikolai. . . he said. . . to Danny. Before. . . it killed. . . him.”

Nikolai hissed a phrase that made the air quake. Wood groaned and glass shattered. She knew she should be frightened, but she couldn’t work up the energy through the choking drowsiness.

Selene fell into darkness again, but before she lost consciousness entirely, she felt Nikolai’s lips against her cheek, her chin, and finally her slack mouth. He was murmuring something between kisses, phrases she couldn’t quite hear.

She slept.

***

“—werecain.” Another familiar voice. It was Jorge, he sounded like himself again. “What do you think?”

“I’m not paid to think about it.” The woman’s voice again, satiny and restful. A warm touch brushed Selene’s forehead. “It’s bad enough dealing with him as it is. If there’s any intimation she might not survive he’ll tear the house apart. He almost killed Rigel.”

“Rigel’s a thrall. It’s a risk,” Jorge sighed. “I can’t believe he let you have him.”

“Rigel is a person, Jorge. Not an object, though it matters little enough. But for the record, I’m thankful.” The woman sounded thoughtful. Her voice was so beautiful, restful and clear. “She’s waking up. Hello, Selene.”

Selene opened her eyes to find a woman sitting on the bed where Nikolai had been. For a moment she felt oddly. . . bereft, as if she’d expected to see him instead.

As if she’d anticipated seeing him.

The woman had long dark hair, slightly curling, and she smelled like musk and violets. Her face was triangular, catlike, with large dark-blue eyes. The smell of her was strong and fragrant the way an ordinary person’s never was—paranormal, Selene thought, staring at her. She’s a paranormal. Only not like me. Something else.

“I’m Marina.” That smile was like music, like dawn breaking over soft green hills. “I’m sedayeenen. A healer.”

That explained it. A pacifist healer, capable of mending shattered bones and broken bodies, but incapable of using violence against anyone, even to defend herself. No wonder she was here in the nest. “Oh,” Selene said.

Jorge’s face swam into view over the woman’s slim shoulder. The healer wore dark-blue velvet, an empire-waisted dress that suited her pale skin and pretty eyes. She held her hand to Selene’s forehead, and a warm tide of Power flushed down Selene’s injured body.

The Power folded around her like a warm cloak. Thankfully, it didn’t trigger the tantraiiken curse—it only filled her veins with new strength. The medallion lay cool and quiescent against her skin. “It’s daylight.” The healer’s pretty mouth shaped the words quietly. “Nikolai is sleeping, but he will wake if you call. He’s given you quite a bit of his blood.”

Selene’s head dropped back against the pillows. “He. . .gave me—” She was wrapped in cotton wool. None of it mattered.

“You shouldn’t have told her,” Jorge said mildly. His bald head gleamed.

“She has a right to know,” Marina replied, unaffected. It didn’t look like much affected her calm amusement at all. “Why don’t you run along and fetch breakfast, cutie-pie, and tell Rigel to step on in.”

“Nikolai won’t like that either. He’s mad at Rigel.” But he stepped back from the bed; it seemed impossible to argue with the healer’s cool, beautiful voice. Jorge dropped his gaze from Selene’s. He wore the same gray suit he always did, his dark eyes sharp and alert.

“Nikolai has abdicated all right to like or dislike what Rigel does. I’m responsible. Now do as I say, or I’ll tell His Highness you disobeyed the healer. And since I’ve dragged his paramour back from the dead, my stock is particularly high with Nikolai right now.” Marina’s face didn’t change, but her voice held just the faintest hint of contempt.

I wish I could sound that sarcastic without even raising my voice.

Marina looked back down at her. Jorge backed away, then stalked for the door.

The room was pretty, blue velvet and cream-colored silk. A black-and-white Japanese print of cranes flying over the moon hung on one wall. Four graceful torchieres gave an even light. There were three chairs and a loveseat, a huge pre-War rolltop desk made of pale blond wood, and bookcases ranged on the walls between long falls of blue velvet drapery. A restrained blue-and-white vase on an endtable—must be a Ming, Selene thought, with a sort of weary wonder. This is the most tasteful I’ve ever seen a Nichtvren get. I’ll bet Nikolai didn’t do the decorating in here.

“You were shot in the back,” Marina said. “You lost quite a bit of blood and might have been paralyzed, I can’t tell. Nikolai had to give you his blood, even your ability to heal would have been. . . well, severely strained.” The warmth flowing into Selene’s body didn’t stop. Marina’s eyes were infinitely kind. “Besides, he’d already made up his mind to Turn you. You could do worse, you know.”

The door closed, and Marina glanced away from Selene. “Here comes Rigel.” The smile in her voice was just as calm as the rest of her.

“Did Nikolai hurt him?” I’m super-infected now. A shocked calm descended on her. Gave me his blood. Am I his thrall? Oh, Jesu. Her hands and feet seemed very far away, floating at the end of long strings.

“Not very much,” Marina said. “I was able to stop him, but it was difficult. He values you, Selene. Nikolai has never had an Acolyte before. He’s never even made a grave-head. He thought Rigel had let you be harmed, and he was furious.”

“Jesu.” It cost her precious energy to talk. The Power the healer was pushing into her crept through every nerve. Sedayeenen were almost as rare as tantraiiken, and had their own curse, their inability to fight back. Selene hadn’t even known that there was a healer in Saint City. Most of them ended up attached to stronger paranormals, not quite slaves but definitely not free. There were superstitions about harming a healer, but Selene sometimes wondered just how useful a protection those superstitions were.

There’s a whole hell of a lot I didn’t know. The fire creeping through her fingers and toes spread, tingling, up her arms.

Rigel’s lean dark face appeared over Marina’s shoulder. He had a black eye and a split lip, and moved very slowly. “Hallo, Selene.” His accent made the words crisp. “My apologies. I should have acted more quickly.”

“Oh, Christos,” Selene whispered. “Did Nikolai beat you up?” It was getting difficult to talk, something seemed to be stuck in her mouth. Her tongue was thick and clumsy, too.

Rigel shrugged. His hand rested on Marina’s shoulder and she glanced up at him, smiling. He didn’t look down at her, but he straightened a little, self-consciously. Selene had seen that response too many times not to understand it. So Rigel. . .well, it was none of Selene’s business.

Her chest ached, her ribs squeezed mercilessly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Dammit, Nikolai, if you’ve made me an enemy out of one of your own thralls it’ll be the last straw. Why do you do things like this?

“It wasn’t your fault,” Marina said briskly. “Now you just rest. Jorge will bring breakfast, and I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry. When Nikolai rises tonight. . .” She trailed off, looking across the room as if struck by a new thought.

Selene realized the velvet hung on the walls was probably covering windows. “The windows,” she managed through her clumsy lips. “Sunlight. Open the windows. Please.”

Marina leaned over. Her hand left Selene’s forehead, she lifted up Selene’s top lip and checked her teeth.

Selene thrashed up, teeth snapping together. Rigel tore Marina back, both of them falling on the floor as Selene flopped down on the bed, the covers flung back. Her body literally wouldn’t obey her. The medallion was icy against her chest. She heard a long low hiss, like a kettle whistling with steam. Is that me? Am I making that noise? What is happening to me?

“Ow!” the healer yelled at the same time, and the sound of her landing cut off the cry midway. Selene lay against the pillows, dimly aware she was snarling, a low thrumming sound coming from her chest. Silk strained against her chill clammy skin—the sheets and a black silk nightgown. Nichtvren have a thing for silk, Selene thought dimly, and coughed again, rackingly. Her ribs twisted, and she heard crackling. Bones, re-forming.

Panic slammed through her, all her muscles contracting at once. No. Please, no, tell me it’s not happening. Please, no. I don’t want to be a sucktooth.

Rigel appeared. He bent down and helped the healer to her feet, hugged her, his dark eyes never leaving Selene. “All right then, love?” he asked her, his accent wearing through the words. “Rina?”

“Fine.” Marina pushed her hair back, glancing up at him. “Just a bit shaken, that’s all. Help me.” She started forward, but Rigel almost lifted her off her feet and stepped back, quickly. Her dress swung with her. He set her down on her bare feet gently, reluctantly.

“You’re not going near her. Look at her. She’s Turning. Go get Nikolai.”

“Open the drapes,” Selene whispered. I was trying to take her finger off. I wanted to bite her—oh, God. God, please—“Please. God. . .help me. Please!” Begging again, God help me.

The healer tried to shake free of Rigel again, he pulled her back.

Selene coughed again, a dry deep hacking sound. Thirsty. Something was creeping through the horrible weakness that lay on her body—a kind of slow twisting fire. And with the fire rose the thirst. I’m thirsty. So thirsty. Parched.

“Let go, Rigel.” The healer’s soft voice demanded obedience. “She won’t hurt me. I order you to let go of me.”

Silence ticked through the room. Selene’s body jerked and twisted. “Open. . .the. . .fucking. . .blinds. . .”

Rigel slowly released the healer. His lean dark face was blank. “Be careful, love.” His voice was husky. “Please.”

Marina shook free of him, smoothing her robe down. “I can’t open the blinds.” Her voice seemed to make the slow creeping fire a little less. “You’re too far gone. Sunlight will hurt you, might even kill you. You’re very weak.”

I don’t fucking care, if I’m weak it will be mostly painless, just open the goddamn motherfucking blinds! “Open. . .the. . .blinds. . .”

“Get my bag, Rigel,” Marina snapped, and stepped close to the bed. She leaned down, caught one of Selene’s wrists, and Selene froze. The healer’s skin felt scorching-hot against hers.

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.

The sound drove into Selene’s head.

Her heartbeat, it’s her pulse, oh my God, I’m Turning. “The windows,” Selene gasped. “Sun—let the sun in.”

“You’ll die.” The healer’s fingers were skilled and gentle. Rigel dropped a small black bag onto the bed and tore it open—it was the kind of bag physicians used to carry a long time ago. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t lost a patient yet, and I’m not about to start with you.”

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.

Selene’s body lifted on its own, arching between her heels and the crown of her head without any direction from her, dropped. “Hold her,” Marina snapped at Rigel, who pushed Selene’s shoulders down. He was stronger than he looked, even wounded. His hands bit her shoulders, bruisingly hard. Fire twisted through her bones, racing toward her heart, reshaping crackling bone and sliding muscle in its wake. Her heels scrabbled weakly at the sheets as she bucked, trying to slip out of his grasp.

Marina’s hands were quick and deft, tying something around Selene’s arm and subtracting a hypodermic from her bag. “Hold her, she’s going to thrash.”

“Nikolai won’t like this,” Rigel said darkly.

“If she Turns now she’ll be crippled, even with steady infusions of his blood. She’s too weak. I know what I’m doing.” Marina’s long dark hair fell down, tickling Selene’s arm, and she slapped the hypo on. “Hold her!” Marina snapped the tourniquet off, and a bolt of cold agony shot up Selene’s arm.

Selene screamed. The medallion gave a livid flare, and blue sparks flew.

The door flew open, hitting the wall and splintering. Jorge strode into the room, and Rigel’s hands left Selene’s shoulders. The healer looked up, Selene’s body twisted helplessly. Thundering, thundering, the healer’s pulse had barely altered, as if she wasn’t holding down a struggling almost-Turned Nichtvren.

“Stop it!” Marina yelled, her eyes flaring with violet light. The entire room shook, velvet and silk billowing and snapping in the sudden breeze. “Jorge, don’t be an idiot, haul your Polish ass over here and help me! Rigel, dammit, let go of him!”

Selene rolled onto her side. Marina had both her hands, fingers laced together and straining as bones cracked. Marina grimaced, her long hair falling forward as she climbed up on the bed, her knees on either side of Selene’s hips. She leaned down, pushing Selene back, holding her hands, and was soon nose-to-nose with her. The healer’s skin was fine and clear, her eyes glowing bright blue. Those eyes seemed to bore into Selene’s skull. Heat slid from the healer’s palms into hers, a soothing human heat.

“It’s all right, Selene,” she said, softly, as if she hadn’t been screaming at the two thralls a moment ago. “I’m here. Squeeze my hands. It will hurt, but I’m here with you.”

Selene stared at her. Kill me. Let me die. Let me go so he can’t hurt me anymore. “Open. . .the. . .shades,” she whispered. “Please.”

“In a minute.” The healer kissed Selene’s sweat-slick forehead, a gentle clean touch. “The enzyme will start to work, and you’ll be drained afterwards. It’s all right. Shhh, hush, it’s all right.” Her lips were warm. She kept talking, soothing little nonsense phrases, her voice full of a deep smooth Power that caught and held, mesmerized Selene. It was a thin thread, that Power, holding her to sanity while the Turn fought with the enzyme treatment for control of her body.

Selene’s body arched. It was cold, it raced up her arm and hit the rest of her bloodstream like a mass of ice spikes, tearing through muscle and nerves. In the wake of the crashing ice, the familiar bite of desire came, an old enemy she could never shake.

I’d rather be dead than go on living like this. But the pain rose again and Selene sobbed out a broken breath. She had a revenge to accomplish, Danny’s killer to track down. There was time for death later, wasn’t there?

Wasn’t there?

The shudders passed, the convulsions lessening. The healer stayed with her the entire time, her eyes never leaving Selene’s, her voice holding the tantraiiken to sanity while her body threw off the changes Nikolai’s blood had produced.

Marina finally looked up. Her hair fell forward, brushing Selene’s face, enfolding her with the smell of violets and white mallow. “Right. That’s better.” She cleared her throat. “Will you two please wait outside?”

Selene saw Jorge’s face, chalky-pale. “What have you done?” He sounded like a little boy caught in a terrible nightmare.

Rigel stood in front of Jorge, his arm extended. The gun was absolutely steady, pointed at Jorge’s face. “The lady said to wait outside. Let’s go, old chap. Nice and easy. We’ll have some coffee.”

Jorge nodded. His hands trembled slightly “I’m sorry, Selene,” he said, pointlessly. His dark eyes never left Rigel’s face. “Nikolai will—”

“If I would have let her Turn she would have been crippled, I’ve seen it before. I’m the professional here, you hunk of brainless muscle. Just go.” The healer’s hair brushed Selene’s face.

Selene bit back a moan.

The two men left, Rigel holstering his gun. Jorge said something in a low tone, and Rigel replied in an equally soft voice. “Nothing personal, old son.”

Marina waited until the door was closed. They had to rattle it to get it closed all the way, and the healer sighed. “Men.” She looked back down at Selene, who was writhing against the sheets. “Driven by their crotches or their testosterone. They never think.”

“I’m. . .tantraiiken,” Selene gasped. Her body writhed, betraying her again. “I’m. . .sorry.”

“It’s all right.” The healer leaned down, kissed her cheek. Ice slid through Selene’s fingers, spread down her legs, and her muscles unlocked. The sound of the healer’s pulse receded, faded altogether.

Selene realized she was squeezing the healer’s hands as hard as she could. She tried to make her fingers unlock, couldn’t. “My hands.”

“Just relax,” the healer replied. “It’s the enzyme. Partial paralysis in the extremities is normal. It will pass in a few moments. Breathe, Selene. Look at me. Breathe.”

She did. The healer’s hands were no longer scorching-hot. Instead, they were only warm. Marina’s breath brushed her cheek. She smiled, looking down. It was a human smile, and Selene felt relief spill out into her chest with the ice.

A human smile. Not like Nikolai’s good-natured grin or chilling little grimaces. Human. Whatever else she was, the healer was also blessedly human, and she was kind. She’d stopped Selene from Turning, and that put her number one on the list of Selene’s favorite people just at the moment.

Her body strained again, arching up, and the healer rocked back a little, pressing her back down. “Good girl,” she murmured. “That’s it. Just try to breathe. I should have given you the enzyme sooner, but I didn’t think you were so far gone. He must have been coaxing you along for a while now, bringing you into the Twilight. Ah, well, hindsight’s twenty-twenty, isn’t it?” She looked thoughtful, chewing at her full bottom lip with small white teeth.

The Twilight? “I’ve never seen you before,” Selene said. “What. . .”

“I direct the Free Clinic downtown,” the healer replied. “But only for the past six months. I tried to negotiate entry into Nikolai’s territory and had to wait for a while. I was living down the coast, in Altamira.”

So that’s who she is, I’ve heard of her. How did she get here? “You’re the one that—”

Marina nodded. “I was the Prime of Altamira’s prize pet for a long time. I understand, Selene. Truly, I do. Now just relax. I’ll answer all your questions later.” She cocked her head, watching Selene’s face. “You’ll need to feed when this is done,” she said, softly. “I know you’re tantraiiken. It doesn’t bother me. Do you want me to call one of the thralls, or—”

“No!” It burst out of Selene. If she had to lay under one of Nikolai’s thralls. . . “Please.”

Marina nodded. “I’ll stay,” she said, and smiled. “It should be quite an experience.” Her hair brushed Selene’s face, drenched her in that soothing violet-musk smell. Selene shut her eyes, trying to breathe deeply, failing.

Gradually the ice retreated, and breathing became easier. She also found Marina was right—wherever the ice receded, a different kind of fire began. She stayed still for as long as she could, but her body betrayed her yet again, her hips rocking upwards slightly, pleading. She was wet, and now her skin felt as if it was dipped in warm oil.

The healer slowly slid her hands free. Selene’s fingers curled into fists.

“Now,” Marina breathed. “You need to feed. Have you ever had a sedayeenen before?”