soldiers, make them us.”
“Excellent idea!” Zardok said, rubbing his long, bony hands together. “Do not forget, however, the strongest of the believers. Turning them from God to us is a dual win.”
Jordan bowed his head in agreement. “But what do you want of me?”
Zardok put his hands on Jordan’s shoulders and although he’d just been rubbing them together—an action that should have warmed them—their iciness crept right down into Jordan’s bones. He fought the urge to shiver. Zardok’s red eyes pierced into Jordan’s.
“I need you to lead this army.”
Jordan’s heart leapt but his brow furrowed. This was what he’d always wanted. What he had been working so hard for. But it didn’t make sense.
“I thought you would want one of your own to lead.”
Zardok let out a frozen sigh against Jordan’s face. “My children are the greatest predators. They can be strong leaders, too, but only of themselves. The others will not respect their leadership enough for something so important. We need someone who is not any of them, yet is all of them. We know of your and Eris’s potions. We see you taking on qualities of all of us.”
Jordan broke the hold of Zardok’s gaze, looking past him into a purple-flamed fire. He and Eris had tried to keep their work covert, not knowing what the Ancients’ reaction would be. They wanted to wait to show them the results until it was too late for the Ancients to order them to stop.
“We approve of it, Jordan!” Zardok said, shaking him. “We are anxious to see the final outcome. The prophecy said you would lead our army, but we didn’t see how, as weak as you were. But look at you now! You and your descendants will be the best of all of us. You are our future.”
Jordan held his stony face, even while his heart raced with excitement and even knowing Zardok could not only hear his heart rate but also sense his emotions. He tried to control the urge to celebrate because there was still one missing piece. He inhaled deeply, trying not to gag on the mix of odors in the cavern that left a nasty taste in the back of his throat, and exhaled slowly, gathering his courage.
“We’re not quite there, though,” he finally said. “And without this last ingredient, I do not believe your army will respect me. They will see me as too weak to be their leader. Especially your children.”
Zardok’s back straightened and he lifted an eyebrow. “What ingredient would that be? Surely Eris can get her hands on just about anything.”
Jordan crossed his arms over his chest and braced himself, putting forth as much power as he could against this Ancient. “Your blood.”
Zardok’s eyes widened and glowed a brighter red. Then they narrowed and he rubbed his chin as he seemed to truly consider this.
“What will my blood do for you?” he asked thoughtfully.
“Eris says it will give the final touch to invincibility and immortality. If I can’t be killed and I have all the traits of the other creatures, they will have to respect and obey me.”
Zardok paced again, but this time silently. Jordan stood his ground and waited, watching the vampyre’s shadows shift on the wall in the flicker of the various fires. Zardok finally stopped right in front of Jordan.
“I will do it,” he said, but Jordan didn’t respond, sensing the ultimatum. “But first, you will bring me someone you once cared deeply about. Prove to me one more time that you are worthy.”
Jordan’s brows pushed together again. “I care about no one. Unless you want my son?”
“No. There is too much potential for your son.”
“Eris?”
Zardok rolled his eyes in a very human way. “Her father would never allow it. But I don’t want her either. Even if you actually cared for her. I want a human. Someone I can turn.”
“I know no humans. The only other would be my sister and I would be happy to bring her to you.”
“I don’t want you to be happy about it,” he growled. “That’s part of the point. But I don’t want your sister, either. Again, she’s not human. Not fully. And she’s too weak and pathetic. Human, Jordan. Bring me a human you and yours have loved … and one that would make a great vampyre, possibly as great as me.”
“But—”
“If you want my blood, that is my order.” Zardok waved his hand, clearly dismissing him. “In the meantime, begin building our army.”
Jordan had no idea how to fulfill Zardok’s wish. Eris said she could try to create a love potion for him to fall in love with a human, which she only offered because she knew he would have to sacrifice that woman in the end, but she also said love potions never worked. Not truly. And he didn’t have time to play such games. He had an army to grow and lead.
Given small numbers of troops at a time—they couldn’t turn too many people at once without creating alarm that would sabotage their efforts—Jordan took them to the battlefields, joining in the fights until the last soldier fell and he and his men could pick through those who barely lived. He hand-selected the soldiers he wanted turned and his troops did the biting, the bleeding and the changing. But then he lost them while they took their new children back to teach them their ways and Jordan would have to wait for the next troops to arrive.
He stepped through the sea of bodies after one such battle, wanting to get this over with. He was distracted by the thought of seeing his sister, a thought he hadn’t had in years. He’d squelched his need to prove her wrong, nearly forgetting her completely. The Ancients said they had no use for her—too weak to do them any good and Jordan had almost come to believe it. But his conversation with Zardok had sparked an idea. It was time to pay her a visit, let her see what he’d become and finally convince her of the truth. Perhaps after this round left with their newborns, he could find her.
He bent down to a soldier whose chest barely rose and fell and felt for a heartbeat. He was still alive enough to be turned, but as Jordan examined his body, his nose wrinkled. Not a good specimen. Too old and weak. He stood and cast his eyes around, looking for any other signs of life, but there seemed to be none. Until he heard someone choking.
Jordan rushed over to the fallen warrior. His body looked strong and powerful, and, although shallow wrinkles spread from the corners of his closed eyes, the face was not too old for his use. But it was familiar. Jordan knelt down and the man grabbed for his hand, scrunching his eyes shut tighter and pursing his lips against a wave of pain.
“Do you believe in God?” Jordan asked him.
“Zeus,” the man gasped, blood bubbling out of his mouth and down his chin. “Unless … you can … convince me now … . My wife … ”
Jordan was sure he knew his wife. As he studied the man’s face, he became more certain of the recognition and an idea occurred to him. This man was a prime candidate for the Daemoni and his soul perfect for their lord. But he could also serve a purpose for Jordan. He cared nothing for this man, but Zardok didn’t need to know this. And hurting this man’s wife … it would be the ultimate revenge and perhaps enough of a sacrifice for Zardok.
“This one,” Jordan called out to one of the vampyres. “But not you. Take him to Zardok. Tell him he’s from me, what he asked for.”
The vampyre lifted the soldier whose eyes popped wide open with terror. And Jordan knew without a doubt this was the man he thought. He knew those eyes and for just a moment, they shared a vision of the woman they both loved. Well, Jordan once loved. A long time ago. He clapped his hand on the man’s forehead and slid the lids down, covering those haunting green eyes.
Chapter 11
Cassandra sat on a flat boulder near the edge of a cliff and gazed out at the sea, while her daughter stood behind her, braiding her hair. She stared at an island far off in the distance, near the horizon.
“I think I’d like to live out there,” she said, pointing at it. “Away from all the wars and people and on an island all our own. What do you think, Andronika?”
“Are there boys on the island?” her daughter asked.
