Twilight Fulfilled

“True enough.” Nashmun was driving, but he pointed up at the sky with one hand. “Have you ever imagined that?”

Scooting lower in the leather seat of the car, Utana tipped his head to stare skyward as the odd-looking bird passed overhead, and he nodded. “Yes, the large birds who soar, but whose wings do not move. I have seen and wondered on these.”

“They’re not birds, my friend. They are airplanes. Very much like the car in which you are riding now. They are machines, made by man, to take us from place to place. But instead of traveling on the ground, as we do in the car, the airplanes fly through the air.”

Utana shot him a look, then craned his neck to see the bird again. “It is not possible.”

“Of course it is. We’re going to ride in one very soon, to take us to your new home.”

“We are … to fly?”

“Yes. You’ll love it.”

Shaking his head as the airplane-bird moved out of sight, vanishing into the clouds, Utana said, “It is a strange world.”

“I’m sure it is. Your English is coming along beautifully, however.”

With a grunt and a nod at the device on the seat beside him, Utana nodded. “The voice that speaks into my ears is … help.”

“It’s an iPod. And the word you want is helpful.”

“Helpful. Yes.” He studied the man, his stomach fluttering with excitement over what was to come, and yet his mind was occupied with matters far more important. And one beautiful woman whose kiss still lingered on his lips. “Where do we fly?”

“There’s a house awaiting you—almost a palace, really. It’s where certain foreign royals stay when they visit my nation’s leader. And I’ve procured it for our use for … well, for as long as we’re likely to need it.”

A palace. It was certainly time, Utana thought. He had been treated with far less respect than his station demanded by the people of this land so far. And yet that, too, wasn’t his highest priority. “In … the direction of north?”

“South, actually.”

Utana shook his head firmly. “I must go north. My mission lies in the north.”

Nashmun sent him a steady look. His eyes appeared honest. “I want to help you in your mission, my king. But you need a home base. A place from which to plan and launch your attack. You need to heal from that wound you have,” he said, with a nod at Utana’s midsection. “And to regain your strength, and learn more about the way this world works and how to make your way in it.”

“They will escape me. I will know not how to find them again.”

“You can feel them. Sense them. Can’t you?” Nashmun shrugged, not awaiting a reply. “Besides, I doubt it will be necessary. They’ll be sending someone after you before long, if they haven’t already.”

Utana lifted his brows. “Someone?”

“An assassin. To kill you, Utana. They know you have no choice but to wipe them out. And they will try to murder you before you get the chance.” Nashmun tightened his grip on the wheel that let him steer the car. “That’s what kind of scum we’re dealing with here. They’re not human. They don’t have human emotions, or even common decency. They would do this, take the life of the man who created them—a man who should be as a god to them, a man they should fall on their knees and worship—they would take the life of their own king, their own father, in order to protect their own putrid existence.”

Utana lowered his head. Indeed, the man was correct. His people had already sent an “assassin” to try to kill him. A fiery, powerful, sexy assassin he would rather ravage than battle.

And yet, he couldn’t really blame the vahmpeers for doing so. He had, after all, destroyed a great many of their kind.

“It will be better to let them run awhile,” Nashmun was saying. “Let them find a haven they think is secure. They’ll start to think they’ve escaped you, start to relax their defenses a bit. Meanwhile, we will be gathering information. We’ll know everything about where they are and how many of them remain. When we move in, we’ll take them by surprise.”

“Not we, Nashmun. I. I will be the one to send them to their deaths.”

Nashmun shrugged. “As you wish, my king. But either way, it will be easy. Fast. One attack, and it will be done. And then you can live out your days in peace, knowing that when you die, the gods will allow you entry into the Land of the Dead, where you will find rest at long last.”

“I will not live long past my children,” he said. “I have no wish to do so.”

Utana lowered his head, his heart bleeding in his chest at the thought of finishing the task he had already begun. Oddly, his first attack on the vahmpeers had not hurt him the way only thinking of the next one did. It had not hurt him at all. His mind had not been fully restored then, he thought. He had lashed out like a long-caged and oft-tormented lion, whose door has been left open. It had felt like release.

Now it felt like a crime. Even though he knew it was the will of the gods, it felt wrong in his soul. And he wished with all he was that there was some other way. Even though he knew there was not.

“You’re injured and weak, my king. In only a few hours you will be home. I promise, you’ll be glad you let me help you.”

Utana nodded, then let his head rest against the back of the seat. He was injured. Brigit’s white-hot power had delivered a powerful blow. He’d used every bit of energy he could raise to keep her from killing him. And there was simply nothing left.

“That’s it, my king. You relax. Try to get some sleep. It’s all going to be better in no time. You’ll have food, servants, a physician to examine your wounds. You’ll be treated the way a man of your stature deserves. And you’ll be far more equal to your task when you recover and regain your strength. I promise.”

5

Brigit followed, still on foot. She was exhausted from her battle with Utana. Fighting the oldest immortal had drained her. Predictable, but she tended to see herself as ten feet tall and bulletproof.

Only in hindsight had it hit her between the eyes like a damned mallet that he most likely could have annihilated her if he’d wanted to. But he hadn’t. She had landed a blast. He was probably hurting like hell. Unless he healed rapidly like she and her brother did. Or during the day, the way vampires did. Or if he’d used the healing power he’d taken from her brother, James, to heal himself. If he even knew how.

She wondered about that. About the extent of his powers. About the whys and wherefores of how his brand of immortality worked. She wondered if even he knew the answers to those questions. He was the only one of his kind, after all. Who the hell was he going to ask?

She knew that feeling a little too well. Yet another thing they had in common, she and the big guy. The beam of light from the eyes—the power to ‘splode things, as she’d put it when she was a toddler, just figuring it out and getting yelled at for damn near every little explosion. The immortality, or at least, for her and J.W., apparent immortality. And the lack of anyone else in the world like them.

Of course, she had J.W. But he wasn’t really like her, either. His power was a good one. He was the healer. Hers was the opposite. She was a destroyer.

Like Utana.

He must have missed her on purpose. There was no question. His aim wasn’t that bad. He certainly hadn’t missed any members of that S.W.A.T. team that had surrounded him in downtown Bangor.

She reminded herself sternly that he hadn’t missed many of the vampires he’d attacked, either. Her friends. Her family. Tortured to the point of insanity by five thousand years of living death or not, that was unforgivable. Good to keep that in mind.

At any rate, she’d had a few hours sleep—yeah, in his arms, on the forest floor, like a pair of star-crossed lovers or some shit, but even so, she’d recovered some of her energy, even though she’d been expending it rapidly by following the big guy and his mysterious rescuer on foot ever since, all the while cloaking her presence. The food had helped, and the route the stranger was taking with his oversize green SUV helped even more. It took them right back through Bangor.

Sighing in abject relief, Brigit veered off from her pursuit. She jogged left, as they headed straight through the city, then right, into the drugstore parking lot where she’d left her baby-blue 20th anniversary edition Ford Thunderbird.

God, she loved her car. She had the key ring in her hand before she reached it, hit the remote starter button and unlocked the doors. By the time she slid behind the wheel, her baby was purring and ready. Relief washed over her like a warm bath. Another thing she was missing. For just a moment she leaned back against the headrest, closed her eyes and breathed.

Yes, she had inherited superhuman strength from the vampiric side of her ancestry. She could run very fast, and very far. But it wasn’t as easy for her as it was for her Undead relatives. She had to breathe, her heart had to pump, it wasn’t the same at all. It took a lot out of her.

But her pursuit was not yet ended. And her respite had to be brief.

Without wasting any more time, she got back on their trail, pulling out of the lot, then zooming along the side street parallel to Main, until she reached the edge of town and headed toward the highway. She could still see the tail end of the green SUV up ahead. Pressing down on the gas, Brigit thrilled to the roar of the engine and the feeling of power beneath her. She didn’t even have to max out her horsepower, though, before she caught up enough to be sure she wouldn’t lose them

She eased off the accelerator, keeping a safe distance and hoping Utana wouldn’t notice her so near. If she let her focus waver, even a little, he might sense her. She certainly felt him. He was a keen, sizzling awareness that seemed to come to life in every cell of her body. Every nerve ending seemed acutely attuned to his energy. His life force. His … aura. The closer she got to him, the more her skin tingled and prickled and felt. Every part of her was uncomfortably aware. Like when her teeth became sensitive to heat and cold. That kind of overpowering feeling, of being too sensitive, too aware. Too … vulnerable. Yes, vulnerable. Damn, she didn’t like that at all.

The SUV was turning off. Okay, okay, she needed to stop getting so distracted. She frowned as she approached the exit, noting the signs for Eastern Main Airport. She assumed they meant “airport” in the loosest sense of the word, because they were, at this point, in the middle of nowhere, and because this was not a place she’d ever heard of. It clearly wasn’t a commercial airport.

Good God, they were going to fly? The Good Samaritan was going to get a surprise when he tried to put a five-thousand-year-old Sumerian on an airplane. Utana wasn’t all that stable on the ground, for God’s sake. He was probably going to freak.