Come to Me, page 10
And she, too, had her first chance to study him with mortal eyes. He looked both different and the same as he had when she last saw him. Her human eyes saw less in the torchlight, his features half in and half out of illumination. He looked a stranger, almost frightening with his black hair and severe expression. His eyes, though— those were the same, and if anything they looked deeper and more full of emotion than when she had seen them last.
Something inside her reacted to the touch of his gaze: Her body shifted, some muscles relaxing, others tensing, and a strange warmth rushed through her. She became aware of the rapid thumping of her heart in her chest.
She gasped, and laid her hand against her breastbone. She looked at Nicolae in wonder. “I feel it. A heart. I have a heart!”
“Ehh...” Constantin muttered suspiciously. “What’s she talking about, my lord?”
Nicolae tilted his head, still staring at her. “I’m not sure.”
“Feel it!” Samira said, and reached forward to grab Nicolae’s hand. He jerked back, out of her reach, and suddenly Constantin’s sword was back up, between them.
“Keep your distance, demon,” Constantin warned.
Samira turned her hand, palm up, and held it there, beside the sword. She looked imploringly at Nicolae. “Feel it.”
He hesitated, then lifted his hand to hers.
“My lord!” Constantin barked.
Nicolae ignored him, and let Samira take his hand. As her fingers closed around his, she drew in a breath. He didn’t feel at all as she’d expected. His hand was solid and heavy in her grasp, and yet she could feel the strength and pull of muscles and tendons, and the underlying structure of bone. His skin was so warm she suddenly felt her own body chilled in comparison. Her hand was small against his: fragile, even. He would have but to squeeze her fingers together, and she was certain they would be crushed.
As she held Nicolae’s hand, her own body became more real to her, as if the contact with him proved her own solid existence. So this was mortal flesh.
She pulled his hand to her chest, and laid his large palm against the side of her breast, where she could feel the beating of her heart most strongly. “Do you feel it?” she whispered, half afraid he would say he did not.
His eyes widened in a flicker of surprise, and his gaze met hers for an instant before returning to his hand upon her chest.
“You do, don’t you?” Samira asked eagerly. “You feel it! I have a heart, just like you.”
He pulled his hand away and ran his fingers through his loose hair, saying nothing, looking as if he expected to wake at any moment and discover that this was all a dream.
“I’ve come to help you,” Samira explained. “I promised I would help you, and here I am. Human. Ready to serve you.” She smiled, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. She wouldn’t tell him that her present form was a punishment from Nyx, or why she was being punished. She might be a former demon, but she wasn’t stupid.
“Help me? How are you going to help me like that?” he asked, gesturing at her body. “You are only of any use to me as a succubus.”
Her smile faltered.
He flicked his fingertips at her. “Go on, change back.”
She tried to lever up one side of her mouth in a lopsided smile. “I can’t. I’ll be human for thirty days.”
He pulled his chin back, a look coming over his face as if she’d just told him she was carrying his half-human baby. He shook his head and began to turn away. “Come back in thirty days, then, when you’re of some use. Constantin, show her—excuse me, show it—to shore, and take up the planks so it can’t come back.”
Samira’s jaw dropped open. “I have a heart! You felt it! I am not an it!”
“I know what you are,” he said, and started walking back toward the island. Constantin held up his sword, to keep her from pursuing.
“I have never been an it, you night-blind, food-obsessed, sex-starved—” She struggled to find the right word. “—human! And I’m as human right now as you are!” She stopped, realizing she’d just insulted herself.
“Er... my lord,” Constantin said, speaking over his shoulder to Nicolae’s retreating back.
Nicolae turned. Samira could barely make out his features in the darkness. “Yes?”
“Your pardon, my lord, but she won’t last long among he villagers. They’ll make short work of her, what without clothes and that drawing on her back, and her telling them all she’s a demon.”
Nicolae sighed. “Petru, fetch her some clothes to cover herself.”
Petru jogged off to do his bidding.
“Did you hear Constantin’s warning?” Nicolae asked Samira. “Stay clear of the village. And if you do meet people, for God’s sake don’t tell them you’re a demon.”
Constantin cleared his throat.
Nicolae frowned at him. “What now?”
Constantin looked like he was struggling with a moral dilemma almost too big for his comprehension. “It’s just... if she truly is a human woman, for however short a time, and even if she is damned and soulless, is it the honorable thing to send her out on her own, with no food or shelter, nor any way to get it? Would it not be a sin to do so? I should like to think we had more charity than that. If she is human at this moment, then perhaps there is a hope for redemption for her.”
“Don’t let her body and pretty face fool you, Constantin,” Nicolae said harshly. “She’s a soulless demon still and not a creature we can trust within our walls. Her type knows how to get what they need.”
“And don’t let a pretty face blind you to what is right. My lord.”
Samira waited, her breath caught in her throat, for Nicolae’s response. The moment stretched, the tension building as they all stood motionless on the walkway waiting for his aye or nay.
Petru jogged back up the walkway and tossed something white to Nicolae. Nicolae handed it to her without so much as a glance. She took the wad of soft whiteness and wondered what she was supposed to do with it.
“The last time I saw her, she lied to me,” Nicolae said to Constantin at last, his voice low. “She looks pitiful and helpless, but I assure you, she is not. I don’t know what manner of evil she is intent upon, but I will not be drawn in by it. Nor should you be. Don’t fear for her well-being—see how quickly she has turned you yourself to her cause?”
“I—” Constantin started.
Nicolae held up his hand, stopping him. “She’s a sex demon, and uses her wiles to get what she wants. She lies and she manipulates. We do not want her within our walls.”
Samira looked at Nicolae’s cold face and felt a terrible squeezing where her new heart was beating in her chest. Her lower lip began to tremble, and a strange tingle was stinging the end of her nose and her eyes. Her face felt like it was swelling, her throat tightening. “D-don’t send me away. P-please, Nicolae.”
He handed the torch to Constantin, turned his back, and started walking off.
“N-nicolae!” She felt a trickling under her nose and wiped it away with the back of her hand. Now she was leaking! She felt the cold of the air upon her skin once more, and her leg suddenly throbbed with pain, reminding her of her wound. The night, once her home, was chill and dark and empty around her. She began to shiver, quaking through every muscle of her body.
“Go on, then,” Constantin said, nudging her with the flat of his blade. “Don’t make this difficult.”
“N-nicolae!” she cried once more, piteously.
But there was no sign that he even heard.
Chapter Nine
Nicolae heard her call his name yet again, in that sad, forlorn, beaten-puppy cry. He clenched his jaw against the pity that was blooming within him and kept walking.
She was a demon. A liar. A danger to him and to his men. And he was only half certain he wasn’t dreaming or insane. The entire drama was taking on a decidedly unreal quality, and he felt dazed and disoriented.
Was Samira a product of his imagination? Was she a demon, or a human woman possessed of dangerous powers, or was she a dream? Perhaps he slept still, upon that text of demons, and these past three nights had never happened.
All he knew for sure was that a beauty who lied could bring Death knocking on his door. It had happened once before, and he wouldn’t let it happen again.
“Where am I going to go?” Samira asked Constantin plaintively, her voice carrying across the water. She sounded so lost....
Nicolae felt a piercing twinge of guilt: He had summoned her twice, the second time intentionally. He had trapped her and demanded her help, and was therefore indirectly responsible for her present helpless form.
What had she been thinking, that would make her believe that she could best aid him by being in human form? Maybe demons weren’t very bright.
He slowed his steps. Even wet, muddy, and chilled, she was a sight that male eyes could hardly forget. When he’d put his hand on the side of her breast, she had felt as real as his own flesh, only twice as soft and a thousand times more pleasing to look upon. She was so fragile-looking now, so small and earthbound without her wings. Even his weakened arm was probably strong enough to hold her. What harm could she do?
Maybe he should give her the benefit of the doubt; keep her under guard but still let her into the fortress. If she was telling the truth, and she truly had become human for thirty days, then Constantin was right and she wouldn’t survive on her own. She was a vulnerable, beautiful woman utterly alone in the world. If nothing else, she’d get herself burned as a witch, and then she’d never be of any use to him.
“I’m going, you sun-baked human!” she shrieked behind him. “Ow! I’m going!”
Nicolae turned, and he saw Constantin chasing Samira down the walkway, Petru following, the torchlight surrounding them in an orange glow of illumination that looked unsettlingly like hellfire. The white tunic she’d been given was trailing from her hand, unworn.
“Curses on you and your heartless master!” Samira screeched over her shoulder, sounding now both hurt and infuriated. “May you never satisfy a woman! May your cocks turn small and floppy as worms! May your balls shrivel to the size of peas, and be eaten by angry chickens!”
Nicolae winced. She was a fiend. But was driving her away the right decision? Distrust and—yes, he had to admit it—fear were making it difficult to think clearly. It wasn’t fear of Samira, though: Her being so easily driven away was proof enough of her helplessness in this form.
No, he had to admit to himself, the fear was of his own bad judgment. He was afraid of the power that her face and body might hold over him. He was afraid of what she might influence him to do.
Damn. He wasn’t a coward, and he refused to be ruled by the past. He was his own master. He controlled his own body, his own thoughts, and he would control his own fate. He wouldn’t let fear make his decisions for him, especially not fear of her.
“Be gone with you!” Constantin yelled.
“Go, you demon wench!” Petru added.
Samira was on the far shore now, and Constantin held the torch while Petru started pulling up planks.
“I’ll be gone, I will! I’ll go right to Dragosh and help him understand magic texts on demons and creatures of the Night World! He’ll want to know what I know about the forces and powers you humans can’t see!”
There was that. She might be of some use, after all.
“Stop!” Nicolae called out.
The three figures froze, and all eyes turned toward him. “My lord?” Constantin called.
“Put the planks back. Bring her to the fortress.”
“My lord?” Petru asked, sounding disappointed.
“Bring her inside.” He was not going to shout explanations across the water. It was undignified. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction, either. It was better to keep her in a position of ignorance and powerlessness, from which she would be less likely to cause trouble.
He couldn’t see Samira’s expression from this distance, but she’d stopped screeching her vile curses.
He turned away and went back into the fortress, resisting the urge to turn and watch as they replaced the planks and led Samira back across the water. He passed through the gateway in the outer wall—an arched tunnel with dark holes overhead, from which monks and villagers had once dumped boiling water and oil onto the heads of Tartars and Turks. For all the good it had done them: The invaders had always found a way inside.
He grimaced, hoping he hadn’t just committed the worst sort of failure: handing the enemy the key to the gates and cheerfully inviting him to come in.
Andrei, Grigore, and Stephan were waiting for him in the grassy courtyard. The monastery walls formed a large rectangle around the ruined church. Rooms were built into the thick walls, cells where the monks had once lived and studied, and where this small band of men now passed their dreary days, waiting for the chance to reclaim their lives and their honor. It was Nicolae’s fault that they were here, and he would die before he would abandon his efforts to bring them all back to glory. On those days when there seemed no hope left for he himself, thoughts of his responsibility to his men pushed him forward.
“A problem?” Andrei asked. He was dark and slender, with a hooked nose and hooded, languorous eyes. Deeply intelligent and devoted to the pleasures of the flesh, Andrei was as much a poet as a warrior, and he was Nicolae’s oldest friend and most loyal companion. Given the choice, Andrei would rather spend his days in bed with a beautiful woman than don a breastplate and ride into battle, but he never abandoned a friend.
“A problem of a wickedly female sort.”
“Would you like me to take care of it?” the man asked, his dark eyes showing a flicker of awakening interest.
Nicolae looked at the three soldiers and sighed. They hated that he was dabbling in black magic, and feared for his soul and their own. They also hated their exile at Lac Strigoi, though; and their faith that Nicolae might find a way to return them to their former lives clashed with their faith in a god who would damn them for associating with evil. Nicolae wasn’t at all certain of what their reaction to this minor success of his was going to be.
“You’ll not want to touch this one, Andrei. None of you will. She’s a demon.”
Stephan and Grigore, young brothers who had once pinned all their hopes of future advancement upon serving Nicolae—and paid a price for that faith—gave twin grimaces of fear. “A demon?” Stephan asked with alarm. “Why is there a demon here?”
“I summoned her. Unfortunately, something went wrong, and now she’s temporarily human. Powerless, too, it appears.”
“It appears?” Stephan asked, his voice screeching upward into high registers. He, like the others, knew how often and how wrong Nicolae’s magic experiments went.
The last time Nicolae had had a success, Stephan’s skin had turned blue for a fortnight. Another time, Grigore had suffered visions of giant spiders and sent them all half mad with his shrieking. Andrei’s glass of wine had turned to jelly and crawled onto his hand and tried to mate with it. It had put him off his favorite drink for weeks.
Nicolae shrugged, hoping a casual attitude might reassure the men. “Yes, she’s powerless. Keep your distance from her, though. She’s wily, and full of lies.” He looked at Andrei, one eyebrow raised in an effort at humor. “She’s not the type to whom you want to read poetry and invite into your bed.”
Andrei pursed his lips. “I do draw the line somewhere.”
“Not that I’ve seen,” Grigore muttered.
Andrei’s large dark eyes—the best weapon in his female seduction arsenal—narrowed ever so slightly as he looked at Grigore. It wasn’t a glare so much as Andrei’s subtle evaluation of whether this comment deserved the effort of retribution.
Samira emerged from the gateway at that moment, and whatever Andrei might have said was lost forever. A trio of jaws dropped and six eyes bulged as all three men gaped at the muddy, disheveled, stark naked woman who had stepped into the torchlight, orange tongues of light licking over her voluptuous body, the tunic she still held by the end of a sleeve now filthy and tangled under her feet.
“Good God,” Stephan said under his breath.
Samira stopped and frowned at the three men who were gaping at her. Nicolae saw her gaze settle on Andrei, whose eyes couldn’t seem to find one place to rest on her, his gaze touching up and down her body. Samira dropped the tunic. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and gave an annoyed sigh, unconscious perhaps that she’d just forced her breasts up into even greater prominence.
“Hey Hook Nose, haven’t you ever seen a woman before?” she asked.
Grigore snickered, and Andrei had the grace to color, the darkening of his skin visible even in the dim light. He turned his eyes away.
“Where shall I put her?” Constantin asked, his air that of a man who had dealt with demons all his life. Having spent ten more minutes with Samira than the others, he clearly considered himself the expert.
“I’ll go to the tower with Nicolae, of course,” Samira said. She flicked one of her soggy locks back over her shoulder, dropped her arms to her sides, and started purposefully toward him.
His alarm must have shown in his face, for suddenly everyone was reaching for their swords, a hubbub of “Halt!” and “Stop!” filling the courtyard. Samira did as they commanded, but her lips thinned into a narrow line. Nicolae couldn’t tell if she was about to cry or about to rip someone’s eyes out.
He hoped the latter. It would be easier to deal with that than with the piteous puppy whining she’d done earlier. “She can stay in the storeroom,” he said.
“With our food?” Petru waited. “My lord, I shouldn’t like to be poisoned!”
“And what, pray tell, would she use to poison us?” Nicolae asked dryly. “Surely you don’t think she carries a vial of some noxious substance on her person? Hidden in her hair, perhaps?”
