Chapter 43

Chapter 43

____________________

“Hmmm.”  The girl, Alyea, surveyed the area with grudging admiration.  “Seems she’s not so helpless after all, Dev.”

The wolf growled, as if agreeing.

Ignoring them, Devlin’s green gaze met Miriam's grimly.  Slowly he lowered his sword, but by then she was already starting to back away.

“Miriam, wait!”

She ran.

Turning on her heel, she sprinted past a stunned, bleeding Carl and tore through the side entrance that led out into the fields.

Outside, darkness had almost fully fallen, swamping everything in dark shadow.  Once she crossed the parking lot and entered the woods, there wasn't any light to see by except for the random glow of a passing car's headlights--until even those faded in the distance.

Without any clear direction, she just ran ignoring the icy chill that easily sliced through her thin tee shirt.

Looking back, she couldn’t have said just how far she’d gone.  A few yards?  A few miles?

All she knew was that when she finally came a stop, trees surrounded her on all sides and the moon hung pale and full overhead, casting just enough light for her to realize that she was in the middle of nowhere.

She panted, hunching over to brace her palms against her knees and just tried to catch her breath.

Her mind.

Any shred of a gameplan now that she was winded, alone and stranded in the middle of the woods.

After all, even normal wolves didn't need sight to track their prey as much as smell--and with all the sweat gluing her shirt to the back of her neck she certainly smelled...

“Miriam!”

Her stomach sank.  For the first time, she realized that someone had been behind her the entire time, calling her name.  On impulse, she darted in a random direction, lungs heaving for air.  Branches and thorns snagged at her skin as she felt her way through the brambles with her hands.

She couldn't see anything.

“Miriam, Wait—"

She screamed as ice cold hands encased her from behind, crushing her against a solid chest.

“Let me go!”

She kicked, bit and screamed but her attacker just held her even tighter.  Finally, she paused to suck in some air--just long enough to hear them insist, “It’s me.”

She went limp.

“E...Eliot?”

She turned.  In the dark, she only managed to catch sight of that pale skin and red eyes, but she was already throwing herself against him.  His arms went around her, holding her tight.

“It’s okay…it’s okay,” she heard him murmur, fingers running through her hair.  The motion was comforting, even though her scalp still ached from being pulled.  Her teeth were chattering together.  She couldn't stop shaking--but not from the cold.

He just held her, not saying anything until the last tremor left her body.  Then, gently, his finger slid beneath her chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze.

“What happened?”

In a rush, she told him everything.

About Devlin, Carl, Sidney—everything.  His gaze narrowed when she mentioned Devlin’s veiled threat and he looked downright murderous when she mentioned Carl’s attack.

Still, his touch was gentle and he waited until she finished, all the while brushing her hair back from her face with his thumb.

“Are you alright?”  He asked when she finally went still.

She thought for a moment and shook her head.  “No.  I'm not.”

He just nodded, frozen fingers stroking her back.

“Let me see what the shadow hunter gave you,” he said after a moment, pulling his hand away.

Miriam dragged the piece of paper from her pocket and gave it to him.  Eyes dark, he unfolded it and held it out so that she could see.

There, drawn neatly in the center of the page was symbol; a shaded in quarter moon with a small circle framing it.  Four small black diamonds surrounded the entire shape.

“What is that?” She wondered.  It was only when she glanced up that she realized Eliot was tense, eyes crimson with anger.

“Nothing.”  He crumpled the paper in his fist and turned away—but the dark look in his eye made her stomach twist into knots.

“Eliot…”  She reached out, placing her hand on his shoulder.  “Please, talk to me.”

She swallowed as she remembered what Devlin had said; if you did know the truth, you wouldn’t be just standing her, kid—you’d be running away from him, far and fast in the opposite direction.

"Please..."

He glanced back at her, eyes seeming to glow in the faint strips of moonlight that sliced between the branches overhead.

“Do you really want to know?”  His voice was low and rough, as if just saying the words cost him something from deep inside.

“Please.”

He surprised her by holding out a hand.  Without hesitation, she took it, feeling the icy fingers enclose her own, as he led her back through the trees.

He moved slowly.  Almost as if he was...stalling.

Glancing around, Miriam could tell she had run further than she’d thought.  The trees here were thicker, reminding her of the deep woods surrounding her house.

Somehow, she wasn’t very surprised when they broke through the trees a second later and entered the clearing that surrounded lake Kai.

Moonlight streamed from overhead, bathing everything in a soft glow that reflected almost magically off of the water.

“Alright,” Eliot said, as they came to a stop right before the water’s edge.  “I’ll tell you--but you’re not going to like it.”

Hearing it from him was worse than Devlin's smug statement.  She glanced down to his hand, still holding hers.

“I know,” she admitted.

In a way, at the back of her mind, she had always known that there was something...about him; there would always be that part of her that flinched whenever he was close.

That noticed how unnaturally his eyes glowed.  How they happened to stray to her throat whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.

But there was another part of her that reacted to him, too.  A part must larger than the rest that sighed at his touch.

That hated not being around him.  That hated seeing him in pain...

She tilted her head back up to catch him staring.  “I want to hear it from you.”

He watched her with an odd expression for so long that her fingers started to go numb.  Then, he glared down at Devlin’s symbol, still crumpled in his fist.

“It’s the mark of an organization called ‘Dark Midnight,’” he said after a moment.  “An old, old organization.  I didn’t think I’d ever see this symbol again...”

“Dark Midnight?”  Miriam tasted the word over her tongue and shivered.  “What does it mean?”

Eliot seemed to stiffen against her touch.  He wouldn't look at her.

“It was the name of a vampire-run trade network.”

Something in his tone made Miriam realize that he wasn’t talking about the kind of merchandise found at the local Walmart.

“T-trade?"  She almost choked on the word.  "Of what?”

He did look at her then, and the expression in his eyes was almost as grim as what he said next.

“Humans.”

She flinched—she couldn’t help it.  Her fingers slipped from Eliot's and he let her go.

Looking at his face, she could only describe the expression she saw there as ‘resigned.’  As if he expected her to run away and wouldn’t try to stop her.

But all she did was take a deep breath and say, “You mean slaves.”

It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway.

“Yes.”

She swallowed part a hard lump that had risen in the back of her throat.  Fear and unease ran down her spine in taunting whispers.   Overwhelmed, she sat down suddenly, not caring as the back of her pants became soaked by the damp rocks of the beach.

“What does that have to do with you?”  She felt too horrified to look at him—to watch his reaction.

So, she eyed the calm silver of the water instead.

He didn’t answer for a long time, and it was only by chance that she glanced over to find him beside her, though not too close.  He  faced the same direction she had, watching the moonlight play off of the surface of the lake.

It can't be that bad, she tried to tell herself.  He can't be that bad.

“I was a part of it, Miriam," he said, dousing her hopes in flames.  "For a short time…I even ran it.”

Painful.  That was the only word that could describe it; this ache running through her chest....

Pain.  Confusion.  Some fear, too.

But mostly it was pain; all because of the haunted torment in those amber eyes.  It was the type of agony one would gladly die to escape.

A pain that only came from years of witnessing the unspeakable.

“Tell me.”  Her voice was hoarse, but slowly she reached out for his hand.  “I want to know.”

He stared down in awe at her hand, fingers cradling hers, and forced himself to say more.

“Dark Midnight was a dark, corrupt idea, repelled even by vampires—vampires, true vampires, have their own set of laws to live by.”  His mouth formed a dark smile as he stared at what Miriam guessed was hundreds of years into the past.  “In their own world, vampire law—vampire needs—reign supreme.”

His smile fell.  “But here, in the mortal realm, we need to play by certain rules; not killing during a feed is one of them.  Dark Midnight existed to help…circumvent some of those rules.”

“Like killing,” Miriam croaked, trying to imagine the horror of it, but she doubted that even her nightmares could come close.

Eliot nodded.  “Like killing.  Among other things.  The trade ring was first created by a man named Vaddrian; a vampire with a lust for power who didn’t like playing by the laws set by the rulers of my kind; pure bloods known as the Lira.”

She shifted as his hand gripped hers a little tighter.

“Vaddrian wanted to overthrow the Lira and take away their power. To do that he created the Dark Midnight to undermine their authority in the mortal realm and enlisted the help of a pure-blooded witch from one of the most powerful covens.”

“Lizzie.”  Miriam didn’t know how she knew, but Eliot’s grim nod proved it.

“Her real name is Alazzdria, and she is descended from a strong bloodline of witches known as…the Danva.”

Miriam shook head.  “Danva?  But that’s—”

"Yes."  He nodded before she could even get the words out.  “The same bloodline that you descended from through your mother.”

He paused, allowing the words to sink in.

A witch.  Miriam had to pull her hand away just to pinch the skin of her wrist—to make sure this was real.  She didn't wake up, but she still wasn't convinced.

“But I’m not…”

Special?

Magical?

Powerful?

“Not what?”  She shivered at the feel of an icy caress against her cheek and blinked to find Eliot closer.  The tip of his finger trailed the up along her jawline to settle by her ear, raising tiny electrical sparks whenever it brushed.  “Miriam…I could always sense that you were different.”

His eyes bore into her, almost pleading.  “But I had no idea how different.”

The way he was looking at her…

It was too much.  Feeling dizzy she leaned forward, allowing the tips of her fingers to graze the ice cold water of the lake.

“Lizzie--Alazzdria is a witch,” she whispered.  Though, in a way, it all made sense.  Something about ‘Lizzie’ had always seemed off; the graceful way she moved around effortlessly, even while blind.

“No,” Eliot said, carrying on his dark tale.  “She’s something else.”  His fingers left her face to fan out over the gravel beside her.  “Something in between a vampire and a witch.”

True witches are nothing at all like the way mortals like to depict them; they are pure beings in tune to the very heart of nature, he had said.

“But I thought that a witch couldn’t be turned?  I thought they became…”

She trailed off.  A witch who becomes a vampire, makes the choice…

“Vaddrian corrupted her,” Eliot explained.  “She used to be just like you; different from everyone else.  Trying to hide in her own skin, but he promised her something.”  His jaw clenched as he glared into the distance.  “Something more important to her than anything else.”

“What?”

He shrugged.  “Power.  Revenge…love.  You name it he tempted her with it.”  His gaze narrowed thoughtfully.  “Only Vaddrian had a habit of following through on his promises.  He gave her everything she asked for, and in return she helped him to take down the Lira.  Forming the Dark Midnight was even her idea—which is ironic considering that she damned others to the very same fate she herself had escaped.”  He met her gaze ominously.  “In those days, the Danva weren’t very fond of cripples.”

“Oh.”  Miriam glanced over in the direction where she knew their houses to be, thinking of the witch with her wide blind eyes.  Though, suddenly she didn’t seem quite so helpless, anymore.

“This man, Vaddrian,” she began softly, “he turned you?”

“Yes," Eliot said.  "Though I was just a pawn to him—a disposable subject.  In the beginning, at least...but soon, I became his formidable instrument in the creation of the Dark Midnight.”

A cold wind blew from overhead and Miriam wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly frozen to the bone.

“We procured fresh blood to suit any client’s taste,” Eliot went on.  “Human, witch—anything with fresh blood and a pulse.  I was in charge of the bulk of it.  It’s how I know this area so well.  Long ago…this place was one of my favorite places to hunt.”

He looked sick.  Those red eyes deepened to scarlet as they trailed over the rippling surface of Lake Kai.

“It was years ago,” he added, glancing up at her with burning eyes.  “But that doesn’t erase what we did—what I did.  And I wish that I could tell you that I hated every minute of it.  That I had been threatened or forced.  That I hated Vaddrian and loathed everything he stood for...but I didn’t, Miriam…”

She watched as his finger slipped up to trail over his bottom lip as if remembering the feel of it slick and coated with blood.

“I loved every minute of it.  I loved the taste of blood,” he added voice cracking.  “I loved the chase.  I admired Vaddrian—he was everything that I thought I wanted to be.  Strong.  Ruthless.  Fearless.  He’d never sell his soul to save someone else…”  He laughed, the sound like shattering ice.  “And I thought that made him brave.”

“But, one day, Vaddrian went too far.  He forced his way into the vampire realm to attack the Lira directly and was punished for it.”  His voice was flat and empty, but Miriam could guess what he meant.  “As one of his followers, I thought that I would be killed as well.  But instead, one of the council leaders made me an offer.   It turns out that Vaddrian’s uprising had hit the Lira harder than I realized; almost a third of the council had been wiped out.”  He smiled coldly.  “You see, there’s also an internal war between the ‘pure’ vampires, who are born this way, and the ‘made,’ like me.  In order to ensure his bloodline in the deadly power struggle that was bound to ensue, the council member made me a bargain; protect his niece and nephew until they were old enough to assume power and I could live…”

"Sage and Hazel," Miriam blurted.

For a moment, Eliot's face took on that hard, mask-like appearance.  Glacial.

“At first, I did it only as a way to bide my time until I could form the Midnight again and carry on where Vaddrian left off," he admitted.   "I knew that Alazzdria had escaped—I thought she’d help me.  I even offered her two of last pure blooded Lira as an offering.”  He sighed.  “But the first chance she got, Laz betrayed me and I started to realize that maybe everything I had done in the past had been for nothing..."  He laughed, but there wasn't any warmth in it.

"But the key word is ‘started’ to.  It took me years; much longer than I would like to admit.  Eventually I began to realize what I had become….but even still I kept my ties to the old remnants of the Dark Midnight.”

“For how long?”  Miriam forced herself to ask.

He gave her a long, hard look that made her blood run cold.

“Way too long.”

Silenced washed over them then, as gentle as the waves lapping against the icy shore.  Miriam could sense him staring; watching her with an unreadable expression.

“I won’t chase you,” he said, after so much time had passed that her lips had gone numb.  “I you decide to leave—to run away.  I won’t stop you.”

She shook her head, forcing herself to meet his gaze.   “I’m not going to.”

His eyes flashed; he almost looked angry.  Suddenly, he reached over and grabbed her by both shoulders.  His touch was like ice over her skin.

“Miriam, I just told you that I ran a slave ring for a few centuries that operated basically out of your back yard.  And you’re telling me that you’re not afraid?”

“I-I'm terrified,” she admitted.  Even now, the look in his eye made her chest tighten and a small part of her flared up like it had with Carl, urging her to run.

“But...a real monster wouldn’t be wearing a pink shoe string about his neck,” she pointed out.

Eyes wide, he glanced down at the irregular lump shaping the front of his sweater.  Then, before he could react, she kissed him.

His mouth was soft.  Those ice cold lips felt as gentle as silk as she tilted her head, deepening it before he even knew what was happening.

Screw witches or special power, Miriam thought, dazed.

This was magic.  Just kissing him under the moonlight while the water of the lake lapped at their feet.

It didn’t last long.  Not even a minute later, he pulled away, still keeping a firm grip on her shoulders.

“There’s more,” he admitted.  That familiar, pained look returned to his gaze and Miriam knew in her heart that whatever he was about to say…

She didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s about the Danva bloodline, Miriam.  When Alazzdria got her revenge, she convinced the coven leaders to make their own deal with Vaddrian in order to save their territory from his threat.  Something that no witch should ever do.”  Almost without him realizing it, his hand returned to the side of her face.  “She convinced them to mix their blood with his—cursing them.  Damning them.  Miriam…it’s why—”

“Stop,” she whispered pulling back.  In a way, she could already guess what he would say.  Something she’d known all along, deep down in the pit of her stomach since the day her whole world changed.

I really am broken.

“I’m fine,” she said—only this time she really meant it.

She was fine with not knowing the whole truth.

Eliot looked confused.  Horribly, wondrously confused.  “You know what this means,” he said, almost in a whisper.

And she did.  Suddenly it all became clear; the reason why her seizures were getting worse.

The reason he’d seemed so tortured these past few days.  Even though she marveled at the fact that he had cared about her enough to feel anything at all.

The thought sunk through her chest like a stone, comforting and agonizing at the same time.

“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted, climbing to her feet.  She felt her lips twitch up into a tired smile—a real one.  “It doesn’t.”

He stood up too, expression unreadable as his fingers reached out to trail along her wrist.

“I’ll walk you back."

She followed him back through the woods and trees that led to the grove around her house.

Near the back porch, he hesitated, face turned away from her.  “If you had another way out…would you take it?”

Another way…

She glanced at him, mouth dropping open.  “You mean, become a—”

“Would you?”  His voice cut over her, almost as low as a growl.

It didn’t take long to come up with an answer.

“I don’t know.  I’ve never considered myself much of a predator,” she admitted.

“Not at all,” he agreed.

“But…I threatened to kill someone tonight,” she murmured thoughtfully even as her heart sped up as she remembered it; that firm grip on her hair as she stared down the bleachers at the floor twelve feet below.

Her fear.

“But the funny thing, is that…I meant it—for the briefest moment I wanted to hurt him.  I really did.”  The horror of it shocked her, but a tiny part of her tingled with the thrill.  “I liked being in control for once.  I loved it.”  She looked at him, watching the broad line of his shoulders flex beneath his sweater.  “If I was as strong as you, or as fast as you, or as brave…what would stop me from leaping over the edge?”

She swallowed as she remembered his words about Lizzie; she used to be just like you.

“What...what would keep me from becoming a monster?”

He didn’t answer.   Together they just stood near the bottom step of her porch, watching the moon, until finally Eliot turned to face her.

“I need to take care of something,” he said.  “I don’t know how long it will take, but—”

“You’ll be back?”  She hated how hopeful she sounded, but she couldn't keep herself from reaching out...  Only this time, he didn't take her hand.

“You’re leaving.”  It wasn’t a question.

He wouldn’t look at her.

"Eliot, you'll be back right?"

“Goodbye Miriam.”

She reached for him again, fingers snatching at thin air...

But he was gone.