Kristie Cook - Devotion

"So, what would make you so weak for Rina to give her blood to you? How can you die? Tristan and Char say it's nearly impossible to kill a vampire."

"Vampires and enchanted silver," he said. "Another vampire can greatly weaken us without killing. So can silver, and if it has been enchanted, the metal can kill us. We need blood to regain our strength. Without blood, we continue to grow weaker until we eventually dry up into corpses … until blood regenerates us."

"Only vamps and silver blades can kill you? There's no other way? A stake to the heart?"

Solomon chuckled. "Vampires started that legend, as well as allergies to garlic and the need to be invited into a home. These stories give the Normans a false sense of security, and vampires embrace it. They pretend to be frightened away, only to return later for the unsuspected attack. Vampires enjoy playing with their food."

And it was such statements, along with the wide, white grin on Solomon's face, that made him so frightening.

I swallowed, pushing down the unnecessary fear. "And the myth of not being able to come out during the day?"

"Started by the Amadis. The idea was to make Normans more fearful of being out at night, alone in the dark when vampires prefer to hunt."

"So the sun has no effect at all?"

"I would not say that. It can weaken us. And most prefer the night because it is easier to hunt. Many come out only in darkness, and the longer they live nocturnally, the more the sun affects them. Some can be weakened to the strength of a mere man at the sun's full height at noon."

I lifted an eyebrow. "That's how Bram Stoker's Dracula is."

Solomon nodded. "Yes, he had some details right. Whether they were guesses or an actual vampire gave him the information, nobody knows."

"What about beheading?"

"Only with an enchanted blade. With such a blade, you can slice a vampire into pieces, the only way you can kill one. You must burn all the pieces, however, or the vampire will put himself back together."

My stomach rolled at the thought. "And you said silver hurts?"

"It weakens us, but it does not necessarily kill. Silver affects all Daemoni to a certain degree."

"So are you affected by silver now? After becoming Amadis?"

"No. That is the strange thing about the metal. Many believe the Angels enchanted silver in the Earth's beginnings to protect people against evil. Some believe silver is an element brought to us from the Otherworld. But that may just be a story … fiction."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Fiction? There seems to be truth in much fiction."

Solomon chuckled again. "Yes, there does, doesn't there? The best stories–and the best lies–are woven around the truth. It is up to us to discover which is which."

"Well, Alexis," Charlotte said a week later, pressing her palm to her forehead as she studied her clipboard, "the discs are out, you're not bad with knives, but your swordsmanship skills are quite lacking."

I grimaced, feeling as though I'd been given a big, fat F. The coronation ceremony was only a few days away and afterward, Char would be back out in the field. She'd pretty much come as far as she could with me, and I'd disappointed her. "Sorry. I can't get comfortable with the sword. Tristan says to make it one with me, but I just don't feel it."

Char waved her hand in dismissal. "No worries. It takes years to become an excellent swordsman. Besides, swords are impractical in the Norman world anyway. They can be cloaked, of course, but they're cumbersome when you're mainstreaming." Her hand darted into her cleavage and, in a snap, she produced a long-bladed, double-edged knife. She grinned at my surprise. "Which is why I prefer daggers." She handed it to me. "Let's see what you can do with this. Tristan?"

Tristan selected his favorite weapon–himself. With all the talk he'd given me about not completely relying on my powers, and about needing to be able to fight in all kinds of situations and with whatever tools I had, he used nothing but the gifts he'd been given. Of course, he'd had centuries of training and could paralyze someone in an instant, making weapons virtually pointless, although new ones were being made for him, "to be prepared for anything" as he put it.

The only way to evade his power was to be behind him, but he was so alert and so fast, it was nearly impossible to be behind him long enough to make a difference. I was the only one who'd been able to take him on and match his power, although he'd still nearly won. In fact, it hadn't really been me who beat him that day. It had been the Amadis power boosted by a miracle.

In training, however, my Amadis power was useless, having only a positive effect on other Amadis, and I hadn't been allowed to use my electrical power except a few times when Charlotte needed to see what I could do and then see how it had strengthened over time. So practicing with the dagger with Tristan meant using only my speed and agility.

The dagger felt more natural in either of my hands than any other weapon we'd tried. I easily danced around Tristan with it, twisting and turning without tripping myself up as I had done with the sword. Right when Tristan lunged at me, I did a spin and a hop and landed on his back, the dagger at his throat.

"Perfect!" Charlotte said with a laugh. "The dagger it is. And the beauty of the dagger, Alexis, is we can have yours made to take your powers, both the electricity and the Amadis. Whatever you want to use, you can pass it through the dagger. You will have a most formidable weapon. I'll put the order in today, but you'll need to go in tomorrow so the blacksmith can be sure he has the right measurements."

I hadn't really expected an actual blacksmith, just the old-fashioned title given to whomever used more advanced technology in today's age. But when Tristan and I went to the village the next day, he took me to a space that resembled a blacksmith shop straight from the Middle Ages–rustic and smoky, with the only light coming from several hearths with blazing fires. Except, unlike a traditional blacksmith, herbs and other reagents hung from this one's ceiling or were kept in jars on shelves near the fires, I assumed to enchant the weapons and armory forged here.

At the hearth in front of us, a stooped, white-haired man tossed some kind of powder into the unnaturally green fire. The flames shot up, turning from green to silver, and he thrust a long piece of metal into the heat. His hands flickered with pink sparks as he turned the metal in his palms and whispered a spell. Finally, he pulled the staff from the flames and dropped it in a vat of water. He squinted up at us and then ducked his head.

"Ms. Alexis. Mr. Tristan. I've been expecting you," he said, his voice gravelly as if he'd been inhaling the smoke in the shop for hundreds of years. With his dark, lined skin, perhaps he had been. He gave us a nearly toothless grin and held his hands out toward me. "May I?"

I stared at him with uncertainty.

"It's okay," Tristan said. "Ferrer needs to take your measurements. Just give him your hand."

I hesitantly placed my hand into the old man's rough and calloused ones. After a few long moments, his knobby fingers released mine, and he asked for my other hand.

"Very good. I will have your dagger and your knife ready to be presented at the coronation ceremony," he said.

"That's it?" I asked with surprise. What, exactly, did he measure?

"Yes, that's it. Do not worry, Ms. Alexis, they will be splendid weapons. I told Ms. Charlotte the dagger would favor you, but she insisted on testing you, all the same. I have already the one meant for you to hold." Ferrer gave me a wink and then turned to Tristan. "I will have yours ready then, as well, Mr. Tristan."

As we stepped out of the shop into the bright daylight, an uneasy feeling overcame me. I stopped and studied the mind signatures surrounding us. Some felt familiar from the many trips we'd taken to the village, yet one, in particular, really stood out. Not because I knew it–I certainly had never felt it before–but because it was so different. Everyone's signatures were unique, but they also had similar qualities, especially among the same species. This one was nothing like any of the others. I grabbed Tristan's hand and pulled him up the road, following the signature.