Chapter 12
Jordan held the cup to his mouth and gagged. Eris’s potions always smelled as if she’d mixed feces with decomposing body parts, but the blood of the original vampyre must have made this one worse.
“This won’t change me, will it?” he asked her. “I don’t want to be a vampyre.”
The idea of actually becoming a blood-sucker—the vilest creatures of them all—disgusted him.
Eris blew out an exasperated breath. “As I’ve said countless times, no. There are just a few drops from Zardok. And the blood and venom of the Weres and some of my blood and my magick. Mixed with your own nature, you will have the best qualities of all of us but be none of us.”
“Perfect. Just what I need and exactly what Zardok wants.”
“Which is the only reason he gave his blood in the first place. He wasn’t happy at first about what you tried to pull on him. At least, not until he saw the devastation you caused for your sister.”
“He likes his new child.”
“Yes, he does. That was very risky, Jordan.”
“Risky, yes. But also clever because it obviously worked,” he said with a grin. “Will I have that mind connection vampyres have with their victims?”
“He didn’t drink your blood and I just said, he’s not siring you. You might see brief glimpses of his mind, but it shouldn’t last.”
Jordan shuddered with that thought. “I should hope not. I wouldn’t want to know what goes on in that demon’s head. Then again … ” He tapped his finger against the cup’s rim. “ … knowing what he’s thinking could be a valuable gift. I suppose it is time to find out.”
He lifted the cup in a one-sided toast, brought it to his lips, closed his eyes tightly and drank.
The hot liquid burned down his throat and into his stomach. He choked it all down and the bubbling potion immediately cooled and froze his insides. An icy river surged through his veins and shivers became convulsions. He collapsed, his whole body numbed and his vision blacked out.
His consciousness remained, but he was no longer in his home with Eris and Deimos, but somehow in the Ancients’ cavern. His viewpoint was different than usual, however, and he realized he looked out at the room from one of the thrones. He felt Zardok’s delight as if it were his own, filling his frozen chest with pride and excitement. Wonderful, the vampyre’s voice came in his mind. Fleeting images of Zardok’s memories flashed before Jordan’s eyes then faded to nothing.
He didn’t know how long he left his mind for Zardok’s, but when he came back to himself, he no longer felt frozen and numb. Rather, he now felt air stirring against his skin and wondered why Eris and Deimos would have carried him outside. He opened his eyes. He still lay on the floor in their house, staring at the ceiling. The air he’d felt moving was only from Eris and Deimos’s breathing. His senses had heightened even more. Eris’s face came into view, hovering over him, and he almost screamed with fright. What happened to her? She looked even older and uglier than before.
Her mouth pulled into a sad smile, her skin wrinkling more. “It drained me. But I think it worked, Jordan.”
He slowly sat up, knowing from previous experiments with the potions that the heightened senses could be overwhelming if he moved too quickly. This time felt different, though. Natural. He thought she was right. It had worked.
“Dagger,” he said. Deimos handed him his favorite blade and he pulled the edge across his arm. He growled, a feral, hair-raising sound, even to himself. Although he felt everything else, he felt no pain. But the knife still cut his skin. He threw the dagger across the room and the point stuck into the stone wall, the metal blade twanging with vibration. “I can still be injured. It didn’t work!”
The roar made both Deimos and Eris jump several paces backwards.
“Give it time,” Eris said. “It takes a new vampyre three days to fully transform. It takes a Were until the full moon. Be patient, Jordan. I know it will work. It has to.”
Jordan stared at the place where he’d just cut himself. His skin looked perfect, not even a pink line revealing what he’d just done. He had to admit this was progress. And he knew Eris was right. New vampyres could rise the same night of being turned, but they didn’t completely change over for three days and it took years for them to master their powers. He’d waited this long. He could wait a little longer. At least he didn’t have the uncontrollable urge to drink blood. Another good sign.
“What about you?” he demanded. “You look like a were-boar.”
Her eyes flashed with anger, a spark in their cloudiness. “My father can draw energy from the world. He can replace mine … that I sacrificed for you.”
“He better,” Jordan muttered.
Everything took longer than desired. Days turned into weeks, weeks became months and he saw gradual improvements in both him and Eris. He forced himself to have patience, knowing if he gained true immortality, time no longer meant anything. He could even deal with Eris for her short time left in this world. Besides, he still needed her. He wasn’t through using her yet. He had more plans.
“Someone is coming,” Eris said.
She sat in the grass, watching Jordan teach Deimos how to fight as he prepared their son to become his second-in-command. Jordan followed her gaze into the valley behind their home and paid for the distraction: his son’s sword came down on his bare shoulder. He sucked in a breath, but when he looked at where the blade should have sliced through, he saw nothing. No blood. Not so much as a scratch. He grinned at Deimos. Finally.
And the next thing he knew, an icy hand clamped around his throat. “You’re a monster! Just as you’ve made me!”
Jordan grabbed the assailant’s wrist and twisted his arm, making him release his grasp and cry out in pain. He grinned again. He’d just overpowered a vampyre.
“I didn’t make you a monster,” he said, holding the vampyre at arm’s length. “Zardok did.”
“You may as well have.” He spit in Jordan’s face. “You found me. You ordered it. And now I can’t go back to my wife and daughter because all I can think about is the taste of their blood!”
Jordan shoved him to the ground and wiped the vampyre saliva from his cheek. “Pity you haven’t killed them yet.”
He didn’t mean it. He had plans for this vampyre’s family. The bloodsucker came at him again in a blur, but Jordan’s keen eyesight could track him and he stopped the attack with a flick of his hand.
“You don’t want to do that,” Jordan said. “You don’t want to kill me. I’m the only family you have left. Except for the others like you.”
“Family?” the man barked.
“We are brothers-in-law, no?”
Niko hissed the way only a vampyre could. Jordan chuckled.
“I have no family, thanks to you. Not those monsters and definitely not you. I’ll have nothing to do with any of you!” And with that, Niko disappeared.
Jordan shook his head. As commander of the Daemoni, he should probably track down the vampyre, but he didn’t worry about him. How much harm could he cause by himself, especially when he still had a conscience? One of the downfalls of forcing the turns was that the newly changed held onto their humanity, sometimes for years, unlike those given the choice to exchange their souls for immortality. But when on the battlefields, they didn’t have time or patience—or desire—to offer that choice. Such as with Niko, who had to be turned for the greater good of everyone. And, of course, for the greater good of Jordan. He would give Niko more time to accept what he’d become before bringing him into his army.
“So,” Jordan said, looking at Eris and then at Deimos and back at the witch. “The potion worked. Now we move onto the next step.”
“Next step?” Eris asked with bewilderment. He hadn’t shared this part of his plan with her yet.
“We still have potion left, yes?”
