Kristie Cook - Genesis

With this reassurance, she sat with determination, feeding her love’s soul and wondering how on earth she would feed his body when he awoke. She understood he needed blood for energy, but Father had said the vampyres must overcome their thirst for human blood. But how?

As the afternoon sun passed overhead, exhaustion overcame Cassandra. She’d been pushing all her force into Niko until she felt like she had none left. She slumped over on the ground, his head still in her lap, and fell asleep. His stirring awoke her at dark and she bolted upright, feeling renewed and refreshed and glad she didn’t dream about all that happened this morning. She didn’t want to think about it yet. She just wanted her husband to be well. To be hers again.

Niko opened his eyes and looked up at her. They no longer glowed red, but weren’t their beautiful olive-green either. Not quite. But she could see the green there, underneath, like the sun behind a gauzy strip of red clouds. He gave her a weak smile and opened his mouth to talk. She shook her head, already knowing his first thought.

I love you, too, Niko, she told him with her mind.

His eyes widened slightly. “Thirsty. So thirsty.”

Her heart squeezed, feeling the burn in his throat. As his pain grew into agony and she felt his energy weaken, she could think of only one solution. She held her wrist to his mouth.

“Drink, Niko.”

He jerked his head away with more strength than she thought he had. “No. Not from you. I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt anyone again.”

“You must, Niko.”

“I would rather die than … than to bite you.”

“Please, don’t say that. You don’t know what I’ve gone through since I thought you were dead. I can help you with this, we’ll get you through this, but right now, I don’t know what else to do. You must drink.”

He pursed his lips tightly shut and shook his head in her lap. His eyes fluttered closed and she felt him weakening even more. Her brave, strong Niko, so weak and powerless. She blew out a sigh of exasperation. Had he always been so stubborn, too? She pressed her fingernail against the skin over the blue lines on her wrist and dug in, trying to open a wound. But her fingernail couldn’t break the skin. It wouldn’t even scratch it. Was this another gift? Impenetrable skin? She might have found it a nice gift from the Angels if it didn’t mean she was losing the love of her life. Again.

She glanced around and the moonlight glinted off something shining several paces away. Her breath caught. Father’s dagger that she’d dropped upon entering the physical realm. Although it was out of reach, she lifted her hand toward it, willing it to her. She gasped as the dagger lifted off the ground, flew through the air and landed right into her palm. If the silver blade could harm vampyres, surely it could cut her skin. She ran the edge over her wrist and blood flowed freely.

She held her arm over Niko’s mouth, forcing him to take her blood. He shook his head, fighting it, and she held him still with her free hand.

“Stop, Niko. You’re just making a mess.”

He tried to push her arm away but she kept it tight against his mouth. Then, something changed in him and he grabbed onto her arm, pulling it to him instead of pushing. He sucked heartily and with each swallow, she felt his energy strengthen. Eventually, instead of forcing him to drink, she had to force him to stop.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his mouth. “But you taste delightful.”

Cassandra didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Before she could do anything, he pulled her head down to his and delivered her a kiss that was so deep, so sensuous, so loving, it could almost make up for all the kisses they’d missed since he’d left. She didn’t remember his lips feeling so soft but firm, his mouth tasting so deliciously sweet, his touch delivering such heat. He’d always excited her easily, but now the feelings were multiplied a thousand times. Tears streamed down her face as they continued kissing.

“I can’t believe you’re truly here,” she said when they finally broke apart for a breath. “Alive. In my arms again.”

His lips turned into a sad smile. “Not exactly alive. Definitely not the same.”

She nodded and returned his smile. “I know. Father has told me everything.”

His brow furrowed for a moment and then the smile deepened, reaching his eyes. “You were right about God. I was wrong, about Zeus and the others. I learned the hard way, seeing real demons with my own eyes.” Then he frowned and sadness filled his face again. “But there is another … they called him their lord … they say my soul is his. I am damned to Hades … I mean, to Hell.”

Cassandra shook her head. “No, Niko. Father has told me everything. You can still be good. You can still go to Heaven. You just have to choose.”

She told him the whole story, from Jordan and Eris’s potion to her visit with Father the Angel to leading him back to goodness. Sharing it with him helped her own mind to accept it all, although her heart and soul had affirmed it the moment she saw her husband again and wanted nothing but to save him. She had become something more than human, but it was good. And she had a purpose to fulfill.

“There are others like me—changed against their will,” Niko said. “If what you say is true … you can help them?”

“Just as I have with you. I suppose that is what I am meant to do. Why I am on this Earth.”

She let out a sigh mixed with resignation and frustration. Although she had accepted it completely, she still didn’t know how she would accomplish this task she’d been given.

Jordan leaned his elbows on the thick slab of stone they used as a table and pressed his forehead against his hands. His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply, trying to control his temper.

“She didn’t give either of you the spell?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Neither Deimos nor Inga answered him at first.

His son had avoided him for weeks, blaming him for the death of Eris. Jordan vaguely remembered what it was like to lose a mother, but he thought his son was beyond those weak emotions. Because he wasn’t, Jordan wanted little do with him right now. He’d been sickened and frustrated with his own grief for Eris; he didn’t need another reminder staring him in the face.

Inga had come back just this morning, responding immediately to his summons.

“I hadn’t talked to her for years,” she finally said. “You both kept me out of this, remember? You said my magick wasn’t good enough for you.”

Jordan responded with a snarl. “I thought you at least knew something. Had some kind of value.”

Inga’s only answer was a pout.

“She refused to tell me everything,” Deimos said. “I know all but one ingredient and I don’t know the incantation. But Father, you really do need to go. You’ve ignored the Ancients’ summons long enough.”

“I know!” Jordan growled. He slammed his fist onto the table, cracking the stone in half and making Inga yelp.

He’d avoided answering the Ancients for two days, which was two days too long. The pain in his gut from the magickal pull had become relentless. When he answered their summons, though, he wanted to be able to request more blood from Zardok. But if the old vampyre knew they couldn’t recreate the potion, he’d never give it. He was running out of time. If he waited much longer, the agony would overcome even him.

Jordan felt a small hand on his shoulder. He looked over at Inga who looked back at him with wide blue eyes.

“What?” he demanded.

“Let me take care of you before you go,” she said. With a snort of disgust, or perhaps jealousy, Deimos left the house.