Authors: Carla Susan Smith
A Vampire's Honor (16 page)
“Ah yes, the priest.” He made no attempt to hide his disdain for the cleric.
Aleksei couldn't even begin to imagine what the church would do if they knew a vampire had been responsible for preparing his family for burial. A hand rested on his shoulder, and he found the weight strangely comforting. “What did your holy man tell you?” the vampire asked.
“He said that a demon would let no one approach.” Aleksei paused and then blurted out, “Is that true? ” An odd light shone in the depths of the other's brilliant blue eyes, and for a moment Aleksei could have sworn a circle of gold rimmed each pupil.
“We'll never know, Aleksei, because no one in your village was brave enough to defy your liege lord.” The hand was dropped with a sigh.
Although confused by the vampire's words, Aleksei was certain he grasped their meaning. He also noticed the vampire called him by name. “You know my name?” he queried.
“I know the name of everyone in the village.”
“Ah . . . truthfully?”
“Truthfully.”
Aleksei absorbed this information. To his mind it would be a terrible burden carrying all those names in his head. “When you said liege lord, you meant . . .”
“Nikolayev Vasily Petrov. He gave orders that any who set foot on your land would forfeit their own. The exception being your holy man.”
“So he came to help you?” It would also explain how the priest had seen him.
“No, he did not. Even though I did nothing to him, I knew he would not return. I told him to send you.”
A sudden anger flared in Aleksei at the priest's cowardice. The hand now returned to his shoulder, its companion grasping his opposite arm, and Aleksei found himself staring into the vampire's eyes. The blue was quite hypnotic and made him think there were worse ways for a man to die. “Do not be afraid of me, Aleksei, for I mean you no harm.”
What had the witch told him? “. . . it is no demon that waits for you. Do not fear him, Aleksei. Take what he offers . . . or not. The choice is yours . . .”
“You can ask me anythingâanything at allâand I promise to be truthful.”
Aleksei blurted out the only thing he could think of, “What is your name?”
Chapter 16
G
abriel smiled. Of all the things Aleksei could have asked him, he'd requested a simple courtesy. What is your name?
abriel smiled. Of all the things Aleksei could have asked him, he'd requested a simple courtesy. What is your name?
“I've been called many things in my time, including demon,” he chuckled, “but you may call me Gabriel.” Aleksei's gasp made Gabriel silently curse the priest. No doubt the peasant was wondering how he dared call himself by such an angelic name without bursting into a pillar of flame. “It is the name I was given,” he told Aleksei, easily reading the unspoken question on his face.
He could also see another question that the peasant farmer was struggling not to ask. Named by whom? Who would dare to call him thus? Gabriel waited, but when Aleksei turned his head, he realized he would not ask. There were some things it was better not to know. Besides, Gabriel thought to himself, would Aleksei have believed him if he had told him?
“I need to bury my family,” he said. The weariness lining his face was also carried in his voice.
“I do not think your priest will allow them in your churchyard,” Gabriel told him solemnly.
“Because of you?”
“Partly,” Gabriel admitted, “although I think perhaps his fear of Count Petrov is far greater than his fear of me, which is foolish. But if it is important to you, then we will take them there.”
Aleksei shook his head. “No. The villagers will only dig them up and put them somewhere else.”
Gabriel sighed, acknowledging the truth and absurdity of such action. “The body is merely a shell,” he said, offering what comfort he could. “It reminds those left behind of what once was. This rite of burial is, I think, more to console the living than the dead.”
Aleksei didn't disagree. “But what about their souls?” he asked. “What happens to them if the body is not laid to rest in consecrated ground?”
“What do you think happens to a man slain in battle? Is his soul doomed if he falls on foreign soil?” Gabriel could tell from the other man's expression that he had never thought about this. Was he never curious about the world beyond his village? “I promise you the souls of your family are in a better place,” he told Aleksei.
“How can you be so sure?” he challenged in a hoarse whisper.
Unexpectedly disconcerted by Aleksei's distress, Gabriel softened his tone. “I was not always the being you see before you. I know when a soul has departed and where it has gone. Trust me when I tell you that your family does not walk the paths of darkness.” This time he put both hands on Aleksei's shoulders. “Lay them to rest in the ground, and you will feel better for it.”
“And what then?”
“Then I will help you with Count Petrov.”
“Help me how?”
Apparently Aleksei had forgotten to whom he was talking.
Gabriel dropped his hands from the other man's shoulders, took a step back, and said, “Why, to kill him, of course. Is that not what you wish for?”
There was a strange whistling sound as Aleksei sucked in a breath. Thinking of taking the count's life was one thing, but hearing it said aloud was another.
Aleksei nodded in reply, and Gabriel couldn't decide if it was shock or elation that silenced his tongue.
“Are you going to make me the same as you?” The words came out in an almost unintelligible rush, as if Aleksei was worried he'd lose the courage to ask if he spoke at a normal rate.
Though disappointed by his request, Gabriel was not surprised. “Is that what you wish for?”
“How else would you help me?”
Gabriel sighed. “The count is not a vampire, and to make you one for this purpose would give you an unfair advantage.”
“Not from where I'm standing,” Aleksei muttered under his breath.
Choosing to overlook the comment, Gabriel continued. “If that is what you want, then you could ask me to act on your behalf. I could return before light with the count's head.”
He could feel Aleksei eyeing him speculatively, seriously considering the possibility of having the vampire kill Nikolayev for him. “No,” Aleksei said finally. “I want him to know who is taking his life and why.”
Gabriel gave his own nod, this one of approval. “Very well, then I will teach you how to defeat him as a man.”
“And after that will you make me a vampire?”
Now it was Gabriel's turn to look questioningly at the Russian farmer. “Only with good reason.”
“Is not my asking reason enough?” He sounded surprised that Gabriel would refuse him.
“It is not something to be undertaken lightly. You know nothing about what will be expected of you or what you will be asked to give up.”
“Everything that I love has already been taken from me,” Aleksei said bitterly. “What more can I possibly lose?”
“All that you have left,” Gabriel whispered.
* * *
Aleksei decided that the field behind the burned ruins of the barn was where he would lay his family to rest. Even though it was Gabriel who did the digging, the hard ground did not yield easily, and it was almost dawn before four graves had been dug. His brothers, inseparable in life, were buried together. Aleksei couldn't imagine separating them now. He also noted Gabriel had made each grave deeper than was usual. Hunger, he knew, could motivate an animal to desperate measures, and his family would be laid in the bare earth with no coffins to shield their remains.
Aleksei insisted on placing each body in its grave himself, taxing what was left of his waning strength. Gabriel did not offer to help him, understanding why it was important for Aleksei to do this alone. When it was over, he sank to the ground, chest heaving and muscles trembling, as he watched Gabriel cover them with a blanket of earth. Sunrise was painting the sky when they were finally done.
“They will have no markers,” Aleksei mumbled more to himself than Gabriel.
“You know where they lie. You will always know.”
“What happens now?” he asked, looking at the vampire, who seemed not in the least fatigued by the night's exertions.
“Now we must leave this place.”
For the second time that night, Gabriel helped Aleksei to his feet, leading him back toward the path he had recently struggled to walk. It was hard to believe that only a few hours had passed since then. To Aleksei it felt like years. Gesturing with his arm, Gabriel pointed to where a carriage now waited in the place where Konstantine's cart had left him. The horses, black as midnight, snorted and pawed impatiently at the ground.
“Where will we go?” Aleksei asked, sounding neither excited nor alarmed by the prospect.
“St. Petersburg.” The name was not unknown to Aleksei. He recalled hearing the priest discussing the naming of the city for the tsar with the village elders.
“What is in St. Petersburg?”
“Count Nikolayev Vasily Petrov.”
“He has left here?” Aleksei sounded surprised.
Gabriel nodded. “Three days ago.”
“Three days?” Aleksei repeated, coming to a sudden halt. “The count has been gone for three days?” He couldn't believe that not a single person in the village had come to tend to the slain bodies of his family.
“They fear the count more than they love you. You have no place here anymore, Aleksei. You are an outcast.”
Grasping hold of the other man's elbow, Gabriel steered him firmly down the path, tightening his grip to make sure Aleksei didn't fall as they continued through the snow. Before Aleksei realized it, he was seated inside the carriage with a large fur wrapped around him.
“There is nothing left for you here,” Gabriel told him as he leaned inside the door. “My man Tomas will take you straight on to St. Petersburg.” He indicated the driver, a solid, compact figure dressed to withstand the elements who looked at Aleksei with compassion. The vampire nodded at a basket set on the opposite seat. “There's food and drink in there. Use the extra furs if you are cold.”
“You will allow me to travel alone?” Twice in his life Aleksei had traveled beyond the borders of Count Petrov's land, and in each case it had been necessary to seek permission. “What if we are stopped? What am I to say?”
“It is doubtful you will be stopped, but if it should happen, Tomas will speak for you.” Gabriel's hair began to shimmer in the early-morning light. “Now I must find a place to rest until nightfall, but do not fear, we will meet again soon.”
“And what happens then?”
“Then, my friend, Nikolayev Vasily Petrov will answer for what he has done.”
* * *
Aleksei's attack on Nikolayev had been fueled by an all-consuming rageâone that obliterated anything resembling rational thought, or even the consequences such reckless action would bring. Now, with the aftermath weighing on his soul, he was ashamed to admit he had given no thought to what might happen as a result of his impulsiveness. But even if he had stopped to consider all the ways Count Petrov might retaliate, Aleksei would never have believed he would murder his family. The loss of his own life was an event Aleksei thought more probable than possible, but to slit the throats of his mother? His sisters? His brothers? Such a horror had never occurred to him.
Had he known Petrov would strike back so viciously, he would have found another way to make him pay for his deed. But he could not change the past. What was done was done, and it had brought new challenges for him to deal with. He did not doubt that Gabriel would help him find the count. When a being such as he made a promise, it was never broken. Which was why the priests always warned about conversing with demons; they were sly and could trick a human into parting with his soul with only a few words.
But Gabriel wasn't a demon. At least not the kind the church meant. And as far as Aleksei could tell, he had no interest in his soul or anything else a poor peasant farmer might possess. But he was a creature of the night, a drinker of blood, and although he had not tried to hurt Aleksei, that didn't mean he couldn 't. Or wouldn 't. Perhaps there would be a price for accepting his help. Perhaps Gabriel would slit his throat and drink his blood. But as long as Petrov was already dead, then it was a bargain Aleksei could agree to. Until then, he would pass each day following whatever directives were issued by the enigmatic Tomas.
Aleksei wasn't sure how to define the relationship between the vampire and his carriage driver. He had assumed that Tomas was a servant, but after witnessing the two men in conversation with each other, it was obvious their relationship was something more meaningful. Aleksei would not go as far as to say they were equals; Tomas deferred to Gabriel more often than not, but a definite respect existed between the two. He recalled the stories he had heard about blood drinkers, about how they sometimes would take a companion. Tomas was obviously such a companion, but the storytellers, Aleksei decided, had been wrong about the preferred gender and species of these companions. Tomas was neither female nor, Aleksei suspected, human. At least not entirely.
He couldn't say why he thought such a thing. Tomas had done nothing to suggest he was anything other than what he appeared to be, but there was an air about him, a sense of unexplainable strength and mystical power. Sometimes, when Tomas was around, Aleksei felt a prickle on the back of his neck. It was something he did not ignore even though he had no reason to believe Tomas meant him any harm. Indeed, if the vampire's companion wanted to hurt him, he had already been given the opportunity to do so.
After arriving in St. Petersburg, Aleksei spent the first few days in a fugue-like state, unable to discern dream from reality. He vaguely recalled Tomas pressing a goblet to his lips, bidding him to slake his thirst with the contents. He drank, but the cool liquid did more than ease his parched throat. It opened the doorway to oblivion. When he next awoke, he was surprised to discover he no longer felt the burning ache of Magda's handiwork on his face. The ragged edges of his cheek had now turned into a much smoother seam.
“It was too late for me to undo the witch's handiwork,” Tomas told him solemnly, “and some of the damage to your skin was beyond even my skill to repair, but when you meet the right woman she will not notice it.” Magda had said much the same thing.
“It is healed?” Aleksei asked in surprise as he ran his fingers cautiously over his cheek. There was no longer any crude stitching holding the edges of his skin together. All he could feel was a slight ridge in the contour of his face. “But . . . how long have I been here?”
“Three days,” Tomas told him with a satisfied smile.
“Three days? That is all?” It felt like much, much longer. Aleksei touched his face again and then stared at the tips of his fingers. There was no blood, and the wound was dry. He moved his jaw, stretching it experimentally, and felt the skin begin to pull.
“Enough!” Tomas snapped, losing his smile and turning irritable. “If you tear it open, I promise I will make the witch look like the finest seamstress in all of Russia after I stitch it back together.” Aleksei apologized at once. “Give it a week,” Tomas said, “and then you can make all the faces you want.”
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