Lothaire

12

“Are you an extra sentry, then?” Lothaire asked Thaddeus Brayden, one of his fellow prison escapees. The young man had been pacing outside the Valkyries’ antebellum mansion, marching in and out of the fog banks stirring from the nearby bayou.

Thaddeus twisted around, his fierce expression relaxing instantly—far from Lothaire’s customary reception. “Guess I am, Mr. Lothaire! We’re kind of under siege,” he said with a marked Texas drawl. He wore faded jeans, a T-shirt, and cowboy boots, looking ridiculously human.

Though Thaddeus was new to the Lore, having only discovered he wasn’t mortal a month ago, the boy could be useful tonight.

“How’d you get through Val Hall’s boundary?” He gazed past Lothaire. “When no one else can?”

Lothaire smirked over his shoulder at the immortal lynch mob congregating at the front gates, kept from their vengeance by a Wiccan’s enclosure spell. It was similar—but inferior—to his own druidic barrier. Easy for me to breach.

As predicted, all those Loreans wanted revenge on Chase. What they didn’t realize was that the Blademan had been only the muscle behind the Order, had been brainwashed from the time he was a lad by the true leader—Commander Webb.

Webb, the mortal who’d taken Lothaire’s ring off the prison island, had a secret hideout.

Chase would know where it was.

Lothaire wished all the best to the bloodthirsty mob, but knew they’d never get past the boundary—much less the Valkyries’ second line of defense.

The wraiths.

Garbed in tattered red robes, those ghostly echoes of deceased female warriors swarmed the mansion in a whirlwind, a skeletal face peeking out occasionally.

The Valkyries had hired the Ancient Scourge—with their supposedly impenetrable guard—to protect the manor after a recent vampire incursion.

Hadn’t Lothaire been a part of that? Ah, yes. That was I.

“I’ve told you, Thaddeus, I have powers that others cannot begin to fathom. And you can too, paren’. Merely drink from choice prey.”

Thaddeus laughed, though Lothaire was in earnest. Ages ago, he’d consumed a sorcerer who knew how to neutralize Wiccan spells. Lothaire still remembered the taste of his blood, still remembered the unlikely ally who’d helped him seize it. . . .

Thaddeus rushed forward, hand outstretched. “In any case, it’s good to see you.”

Lothaire gave his hand a withering glare until the boy dropped it with a grin. No matter how unpleasant he was to the young immortal, Thaddeus still thought the best of him.

In their first encounter, Lothaire had been starving from his captivity and singled Thaddeus out to drink. Young, not so many memories, preferred. The boy lived only because he was part vampire.

“I guess you’re here to check on Chase, huh? I could ask the Valks if they’ll let you past the wraiths, but”—he shuffled his snakeskin boots, discomfited—“they don’t seem to care for you much.”

“I do not ask for anything—I take it. If I wanted in badly enough, even the wraiths couldn’t stop me.” Had I packed appropriately . . .

But he didn’t need to be inside, just nearby Chase.

Thaddeus raised his brows at that but knew better than to disbelieve. Lothaire’s feats on the island had mind-boggled the lad. “Chase is hanging in there—barely—but still unconscious.”

The man had been gutted with a sword. “To be expected, Thaddeus.”

“My friends call me Thad.”

The Enemy of Old conversing with a teenage football-playing Eagle Scout named Thad? A vampire/phantom halfling named Thaddeus was more palatable.

In any case . . .“We are not friends,” Lothaire said, then frowned. The words had made his throat burn, almost as if they were a lie.

How could that be? Thaddeus was everything he wasn’t: a good and decent virgin devoted to his loved ones and friends. Other than the fact that he and Thaddeus were both considered remarkably attractive—Lothaire much more so, of course—they couldn’t be more dissimilar.

“I gotta tell you, Regin’s still really pee-ohed at you for screwing all of us over.” He kicked a stone in the path.

Regin the Radiant was a warmongering Valkyrie. Along with Lothaire, Thaddeus, and eventually Chase himself, she’d been part of a group of six allying solely to escape the island, a not-so-merry band. Lothaire had saved their lives in exchange for vows from Chase.

If the Blademan lives, he’ll go into my account book.

The six had been on the run together for a week, had fought mutual enemies side by side. Until Lothaire had cut a deal with their adversaries—whom he’d ultimately dicked over as well.

“I saw a play open and took it.” In a thoughtful tone, Lothaire said, “And yet, Regin forgave Chase for all his sins against her?”

Before Chase had remembered that he’d loved her in a past life, the Blademan had followed Webb’s orders and tortured Regin, had looked her in the eyes and released an excruciating pain poison into the Valkyrie’s body.

Later he’d been wracked with guilt.

“Regin knew DC wasn’t evil, not deep down,” Thaddeus said. “She’s certain you are.”

Sanctimonious Valkyrie. Regin had probably killed thousands of Loreans over her long life. Yet she was admired for it. Lothaire? Reviled.

“I hope your blood does the trick for DC,” Thaddeus said. “If you saved his life, then they’d have to forgive you, right?”

“You are so naïve, it physically aggrieves me.” Besides, not every man survived the transformation.

Thaddeus nodded gravely. “Been hearing a lot about you, Mr. Lothaire. None of it good. I take up for you all the time, but it seems like half of these Lore folks have this really bad impression of you.”

“For accuracy’s sake, I’d put that percentage closer to ninety. And their impressions are accurate.” Lothaire had happily wronged most of them in reprehensible ways. “Taking up for me only makes you appear pitiably uninformed or willfully obtuse . . .” He trailed off, his attention already wandering toward the house. Keen to get back to my Bride.

The thought brought him up short. Why did Lothaire feel so connected to her now? Years before, he’d easily parted from her. Now, spending mere moments without her was affecting him. Blyad’!

“Regin also said your red eyes mean you’re going crazy.”

“Surely she phrased it more colorfully than that?” Regin was a loudmouthed attention whore who thought herself amusing.

Thaddeus ran his hand over the back of his neck. “She said, ‘Look at me, I’m Lothaire, I am the walrus, koo-koo-ka-choo.’ Or something like that. She told me you were gonna be even loopier than Nïx. Is that true?”

Nïx the Ever-Knowing, the Valkyrie oracle. His nemesis for millennia, she’d thwarted more vampire schemes than all the other factions’ soothsayers combined.

“Crazier than Nïx? Impossible.” She was much worse off than Lothaire. He wondered if she’d foreseen Saroya. The only good thing about Nïx? She was so maddened that she often forgot her visions.

But what if she had remembered? What if Nïx conspired against him even now? White queen moving against black king on the chessboard . . .

Thaddeus muttered, “Your eyes are changing by the second. Worse than I’ve ever seen them.”

Uneasy leaving my Bride alone. Mercenaries and assassins from all factions hunted him constantly. Whenever powerful Loreans owed him blood debts, they usually opted to send their best warriors for Lothaire’s head. “Occupational hazard. But the benefits are fantastic.”

“What was that, Mr. Lothaire?”

Yet now they would target Lothaire’s Bride. He reminded himself that technically Saroya couldn’t be killed.

But I want her in Elizabeth’s comely form. Thinking about her gray eyes, sexpot lips, and fantasy-worthy figure, he again determined it crucial to secure her body for Saroya.

Not to mention her delectable blood. She tastes of wine and honey—just as his father had said. Lothaire’s fangs sharpened even now.

“What about wine and honey?” Thaddeus asked. “You’re not making sense.”

I spoke aloud? As if to dislodge the memories, Lothaire shook his head hard, inadvertently stepping back into the line of the wraiths.

“Watch out!” Thaddeus cried.

Before Lothaire could trace out of their path, they’d clawed at his face, leaving bloody furrows.

“Are you all right, Mr. Lothaire?”

Pain. Grasp at a thread of lucidity. Show no weakness, demonstrate no madness.

When blood dripped to his lip, he darted his tongue for a taste. He detected a top note of Elizabeth’s blood mixed into his own, and it calmed him.

The wraiths slowed, and their leader gazed at him with a spectral face.

“I alone know how to destroy you,” Lothaire grated. “Touch me again, Scourge, and I will demonstrate.”

She shrieked; Lothaire smirked. “I knew you when you were pretty.”

Her face flashed to her former visage, that of a beautiful Macedonian warrioress.

In a contemplative tone, Lothaire asked, “Didn’t I do you when you were pretty?”

Another furious shriek, then she was swept away in the tide of their tempest.

Lothaire shrugged. “Guess I did.” Onward to Chase.

Thaddeus persistently followed. “What do you want with DC?”

“I’m going to reach inside his mind and read his thoughts.”

“How?”

Imploring the sky for patience, Lothaire bit out, “I drank blood from him, and then I later gifted him with my own. We’ve a bridge between us forever.”

“So that’s what you meant when you warned Regin about unbreakable ties.”

Partially.

Thaddeus planted himself in front of Lothaire. “Why should I let you mind-meld or whatever with DC?”

Lothaire gave a bitter laugh. “What can you do to stop me? Now step aside.” He almost added, “Or I’ll kill your beloved adoptive mother and grandmother for your insolence,” but the rána arose in his throat.

Which meant that would be a lie. Why would I not murder two insignificant humans? Why would he feel even a scrap of allegiance to Thaddeus?

Because there was one instance with the boy that affected me. A demonstration of loyalty . . .

Thaddeus put his shoulders back. “I could raise the alarm.”

And I could snatch your throat out before you took a breath to yell. But because of their past interactions, Lothaire would spare him this eve. “I plan to use Chase’s memories to find Commander Webb—the one who ordered our abductions and those tedious experiments. The one who could still hurt your family.”

The one who holds the key to my entire future, in the shape of a ring.

The young man’s fangs lengthened. “I want to hunt him too.”

“Why would you possibly think I need help carrying out a blood vendetta?”

Don’t I? Lothaire had yet to complete his age-old ones. He recalled Olya, that human female in Helvita, recalled how badly he’d wanted to murder her. She’d been drained by Stefanovich long before Lothaire could get to her.

He remembered the mortals brutalizing his mother. “Avenge me!” she’d screamed.

Only now was Lothaire on the cusp of retribution. To find Serghei at last . . .

“Don’t care if you need it, Mr. Lothaire. I’m hankering for vengeance too. Besides, we are friends. And friends watch each other’s backs. Just like you and me did on the island.”

In the heat of the escape, Lothaire might have saved the boy a few times, without receiving anything in return from Thaddeus, but only because it served Lothaire’s own ends.

He’d also endangered Thaddeus’s life repeatedly.

Lothaire cut off further arguments with a curt: “We’ll discuss this later.” To make the statement true, Lothaire envisioned the extent of their “discussion.”

Thaddeus would ask, “Can I go with you?”

Lothaire would reply, “No. Now, fuck off.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Mr. Lothaire. Now what exactly are you looking for with your mind-meld thing?”

Below the window of Chase’s room and out of the way of the wraiths, Lothaire answered, “He must have visited Webb’s hideout. If I can access that memory, I can trace directly to it, as if I’d been there myself.”

“Then access it, and let’s go kick ass!”

“Step one is you shutting up.”

Thaddeus nodded eagerly. “Right on.”

Lothaire steadied his breathing, calming his heart as he listened for Chase’s own heartbeat. Once it began to grow loud in his ears, like a repetitive quake, Lothaire briefly closed his eyes—but he still could see. Straight into Chase’s afflicted mind.

Lothaire found . . . blackness there. Blankness.

No thoughts, no dreams. Is he in the grip of death?

Gods, to have his own mind at rest like this? Might be worth dying. He delved deeper, but all was quiet.

There’d be no thoughts of Webb anytime soon, and Lothaire couldn’t scratch at all the scars in Chase’s mind to search for a specific memory. He might as well try to navigate his own. At least he knew where the black holes were, the quicksand traps and points of no return.

He released his hold on Chase, exhaling with frustration. Nothing to show for his trespass, no new information.

His claws bit into his palms. Chto za huy! Must have that ring! Kept from him though it was his.

Thaddeus asked, “Did you find Webb? Anything to help our mission?”

“Our mission? I didn’t see anything to help my aims! You say nothing of this—of anything concerning me—to anyone.”

“Why should I keep secrets from my other friends? Do you mean any of them harm?”

Lothaire didn’t have time to do any of them ill. “I don’t. Not yet,” he added to prevent the rána.

After a hesitation, Thaddeus said, “Okay, I’ll keep it close to the vest. But I need to know how I can get in touch with you. What’s your number?”

Lothaire stared at him. “Number? Why do you want this?”

Thaddeus rolled his eyes. “One more time. Because—we’re—friends. I plan to help you with Webb, and give you some backup against Dorada. They said she’ll be coming for you.”

She is. When last Lothaire had seen her—mummified, hideous to gaze upon—she’d been shrieking, “RIIIIINNNNNGGGGG,” as she hunted him through the Order’s prison, her Wendigo lackeys prowling beside her.

He’d had quite a surprise waiting for them all. . . .

“Lothaire? Hellooo.”

“What?”

“I said, I want to meet the missus.”

Lothaire tensed, slowly craning his head around at the boy. “Missus?”

“They say you’ve got your Bride now.”

“They meaning Nïx.” Lothaire bared his fangs, felt them drip on his tongue. Yes, he’d toyed with his enemies, threatening their families, mocking their frenzied reactions while he was ever cold and calculating.

No longer.

Unaware of Lothaire’s rising impulse to do murder, Thaddeus continued, “There are a lot of folks around here talking about the bounty on your lady—”

Before Thaddeus could blink, Lothaire had his hand around the boy’s throat, squeezing. . . . “What’s the bounty? Who posted it?”

Foolish, Lothaire! Why hadn’t he acted uncaring? Why reveal his crazed possessiveness of Saroya?

How smug I was in the past, confident I’d never care about anything enough to reveal a weakness.

Thaddeus bit out, “I don’t know what it is . . . but they said it’s priceless. Don’t know who . . . posted it.”

Priceless? “Someone set hunters on our trail? Then he’s sent me meals to torment. If my deadly Bride doesn’t get to them first.” Lothaire released Thaddeus with a shove that sent him sprawling to the ground.

Between wheezes, the boy said, “I knew you had a lady, then! You made some comments. . . . That’s why you would’ve done anything to get off the island.” He was delighted by this, scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off as if nothing had happened. “That’s the reason you screwed us all over. I knew you weren’t as bad as Regin and Nïx and Cara and Emma and—”

“Enough!” The soldiers of the Vertas army—the supposed white hats in the Lore—acted holier-than-thou. Yet they would punish a female who’d never harmed any of them?

Hypocrites in league.

Have to turn her into an immortal as soon as possible. Saroya had to be able to defend herself, to trace in escape if necessary.

“Well, then, what is she?” the boy pressed. “Not a vampire, ’cause Regin told me there were no female ones left. Maybe she’s a demoness or a witch?”

Can’t think . . . can’t think. Why this interest from Thaddeus? “Did they plant you here, to get information from me?”

“No, of course not!”

Even if Lothaire kept Saroya behind a boundary, nothing in the Lore was foolproof. Panic tightened his chest.

Return. Never leave her unguarded again. To Thaddeus he grated, “You forget you ever knew me, boy.” Then he disappeared.