Nightfall (Pact Arcanum Integrated Serial Edition) (11 page)

“Yes.”

“What if I don’t ask it for anything either?”

“Then the ritual will be complete. Your soul will be freed from Jiao-long’s spell, the flames will consume your body, and you will die.”

Rory started to sigh in relief then caught himself. “Wait. What happens after that?”

“When your soul is released from your body, you will ascend to face judgment for your actions in the first and second lives.”

“So if I die now, I’ll be judged for killing Take and Ana?”

“Yes.”

Rory let himself feel a faint hope for salvation. “Can I ask to turn back the clock—so that I don’t become a vampire or kill the others?”

“Yes. However, the price for that service would be the knowledge of the future you are attempting to avoid, and no person may invoke the Pact Arcanum on his own behalf more than once. Events would unfold similarly, but the second time, the flames would consume your body without pause and you would join your friends in death.”

Anger began to replace terror. “So much for no limitations.”

“Every bargain has a price, Sean Magister Jiao-long. Magic requires sacrifice.”

“All I want is to undo what I did. I want to give them back their lives!” Rory was shouting now, practically screaming in frustration and guilt. “Can you give me that? Can you let me raise the dead?”

The voice was silent for a long moment. Then it returned louder and stronger than before, along with a music that Rory could almost, but not quite, make out.
“YES.”

He was driven to his knees by the power and triumph of that single word. The silent music flowed through him, making his soul vibrate in harmony with notes he could almost hear but immediately forgot.

“We have waited long for you, Sean Magister Jiao-long, waited for the one who would ask the right question, the question that would remake the world.”

The music faded, and Rory tasted his tears, falling in response to the indescribable beauty that his mind had touched but could not hold. His tears were salt water, not blood—his traveling soul uncorrupted by his new physical nature. He couldn’t speak.

The voice continued. “The human sorceress who created the Sentinel Gift asked for the means to fight the vampire threat. That was the wrong question. You have asked the right question—the question that will allow you to drive the Red Wind from your world.”

Rory forced the words from his lips. “I don’t understand.”

“You have asked to raise the dead. We can give you the power to call the soul back to the body and instill a new spirit.”

“What does that have to do with fighting vampires?”

“When used on a lifeless mortal body, this power will restore the soul and replace the lost breath of life with the spirit of the White Wind. When used on the immortal body of a vampire, the power will return the soul to the body. If the soul is welcomed back, the White Wind will displace the Red.”

“A cure.” Rory finally understood. “A cure for vampirism.”

“Yes.”

“Will this power make a vampire human again?”

“No. The physical changes generated by the Red Wind will remain. But the bloodlust, the need to kill, the desire for destruction, will be partially sated. The soul will be restored, returning the ability of free choice between good and evil. You will be able to give the Children of Darkness a new beginning, an opportunity to reclaim their own destinies and walk in the Light, if they so choose.”

Rory paused. “What if the soul isn’t welcomed back?”

“If the soul’s return is resisted, the White Wind will lack the strength to defeat the Red. The two spiritual principles will war with each other until both are destroyed. The body will die, and the soul will be free to ascend and face judgment.”

“So any vampire touched by this power will either be saved or die.”

“Yes.”

Rory took a deep breath while he ordered his thoughts. “Will it work on me? Can I be saved?”

“You have retained your soul, Sean Magister Jiao-long. Your salvation remains in your hands alone.”

“You said magic requires sacrifice. What is the price for this power?”

“Service.”

“What kind of service?”

“For you to wield this power, the strength of the White Wind instilled by the Sentinel Gift must be increased. This will bind your soul more tightly to your body in response to the power of the Red Wind, for which your body has been made a vessel. As a result, while you will be vulnerable to the same weaknesses as a common vampire, you will always regenerate from such damage. Your body will survive any injury inflicted upon you until we withdraw the power or your soul is severed from your body. Your work will be to redeem the Children of Darkness. When the last vampire has either been killed or purged of the Red Wind, only then will you be released from the power and be able to die.”

“How long will that take? Decades? Centuries?”

“That will depend on how you choose to apply this power. If you accept the bargain, you will serve until the Red Wind is defeated or until the Sun expands to consume the Earth. That is the price of this power. Say ‘yes,’ and you will become our instrument in your world. Say ‘no,’ and you may bargain with the lower planes or allow yourself to die.”

Rory closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. “I need to know something before I make my decision.”

“Ask.”

“You said the Sentinel Gift awakens in response to being confronted by a vampire agent of the Red Wind. Will the Gift be awakened by a vampire who has been saved?”

“No.”

“So, if I succeed in this task, then the Gift will remain dormant in every successive generation.”

“Yes.”

“Swear it!” Rory shouted. “On the Light! Swear that if I do this, if I win, that none of us will be forced to fight in your war again. That our descendants will not inherit the duty to die protecting the world, as we did. The legacy of the Gift will end,
forever!
”

“I swear it on the Light.”

Rory took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Yes.”

CHAPTER 13

“The pact is made.”
The light flared, and Rory was drowning in music again, the echo of the voice thundering in his ears.

Time moved forward again, though he remained a phantom in the room. From his astral viewpoint, Rory saw the underground chamber explode in pure white light—a power exceeding anything he understood of magic. He felt the psychic shockwave that smashed the stone walls to rubble and blew the roof of the underground chamber all the way up to the surface, the fragments of the ceiling raining down upon the mesa above them. A column of argent fire burst upward from the detonation into the starry sky and burned away the overhanging clouds. Through his soul’s connection to the vampire senses of his new body, he shuddered at the sensation of the sunrise in the middle of the night.

Anaba stood gingerly and assessed her injuries, finding herself to be completely healed.

Rory saw himself kneeling in the center of the room with his hands clasped in the same position as before—the flames extinguished as if they had never been. His skin and clothing were whole and unmarked, his eyes closed in a silent fugue.

By the time Take had crawled to his hands and knees, Ana had already walked forward to stand in front of Rory, retrieving her staff as she went. She knelt in front of the vampire and touched his shoulder. “Rory? Can you hear me?”

“Ana,” said Take, his voice strained as he grabbed his swords. “Get back. You don’t know how dangerous he is.”

“How’s your neck, Take?” Ana asked, not turning around.

Silence.

Ana gently pried Rory’s hands apart.

Take gasped at the blazing white cross branded into each of Rory’s palms.

Ana held her free hand over the harsh radiance, trying to understand the magic she could feel locked within them. Then she let her hand fall to her side and stared at Rory in wonder. “It’s consecrated silver, tattooed through all the tissue layers of his palms and embedded in the bones of his hands, charged with a Pure Draw of holy power. But it’s remaining contained, and it’s not burning him like an activated holy object should.”

Take whispered, “Is he still a vampire?”

Anaba murmured the words to a spell, her strength having returned with her life. Immediately, each of them was surrounded by a colored aura. Ana’s and Take’s were white, and Rory’s glowed red. “He’s still a vampire,” Ana said. “The red light marks the Red Wind that keeps the vampires alive.” She looked at Take and then stopped, staring at the white light that gleamed from the other Sentinel and from herself. “That shouldn’t happen.” She banished the spell. “I don’t get it. Living creatures are supposed to be blue. There are only two spirit principles.”

Take touched his triad sister’s shoulder. “Did you see what happened, Ana?”

She nodded, passing on the memories of what she had seen while she lay paralyzed. “From the residue of power all around us, I’d say the entire room has been bathed in a Pure Draw, raw magic from beyond the Gates. It was an extra-planar incursion, Takeshi.” Noticing his blank look, she tried to explain. “Something intervened. Something so powerful that it shouldn’t even be able to exist in our universe. I could still feel echoes of the shockwave when I woke up, the intrusion of another level of reality into this dimension.”

Take knelt beside her in front Rory. “From above or below?” he asked.

Ana shrugged. “No idea. But I’m betting Rory will have the answers when he wakes up.” She climbed to her feet and walked away, sitting next to the altar to wait.

Rory looked up into the light that still surrounded the room. “Thank you,” he said.

“Your fealty has been accepted, Sean Magister Jiao-long. You are our instrument on Earth. Go now in peace, the way you came.”

Rory found himself suddenly cast back into his body. With a silent breath, he opened his eyes, taking his time adjusting to his new senses. It seemed like it had been hours, but only a minute or two must have passed in this world. Anaba sat back against the altar and hummed to herself while Take paced in the open space next to Jiao-long’s body. Rory looked around tiredly and watched as the other two realized he was awake.

Ana stopped humming and stood again.

Take moved in front of Rory, both swords drawn. “Don’t try anything, Rory.”

Rory stood and glanced at each of them in turn. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that supposed to matter?” snarled Ana. She visibly seethed to Rory’s new senses. “You tried to kill us!”

“And I pulled it off, too,” Rory said sadly.

Ana frowned. “Are you saying we were dead? For real?”

“Yes.” Rory sighed. “If I could have stopped myself, I would have. But it was too late. All I could do was fix it.”

“Fix it, how?” asked Take, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“I'll tell you how,” Anaba said, still furious. “He cut a deal.”

Rory’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know?”

Ana pointed to the chalice on the altar, still a third full of Jiao-long’s blood. “I know what that is for, though it shouldn’t exist, and I don’t know the spell to use it.” She shook her head. “Pact Arcanum. Christ, Rory, what have you done?”

“What’s Pact Arcanum?” asked Take.

“Remember the vision we all had when the Gift kindled? It’s a ritual that allows a magician to send an enslaved soul to bargain for favors with beings from other planes. That’s how vampires and Sentinels were first created.” Anaba’s voice was tight with disgust. “The knowledge of the ritual and the tools to perform it were systematically destroyed in the early stages of the war, after those who invoked it became so powerful that they wiped out their entire civilization fighting among themselves. The Sentinel Gift and the Nightwalker Firstborn were the only relics of their society that survived anywhere in recorded history.”

“You said it yourself, Ana,” said Rory. “I cut a deal.”

Anaba stalked toward him, stopping just inches away. “With what?”

“It said it was an angel.”

She threw up her hands. “Are you
insane
? You can’t make bargains with either side like that! They don’t see us as people, only pawns. As far as they’re concerned, we’re just instruments.”

Rory chuckled. “That’s the same word it used.”

“So you made a bargain with an angel. What did you ask for?”

“Power.”

Take frowned. “What kind of power? To do what?”

“To raise the dead.” Rory folded his arms in front of him.

The other two stared at him, aghast.

“Rory…” Ana started to say, then faltered, trying to find words to express her thoughts. “I’m truly happy to be walking around again, but you shouldn’t have done that.”

Rory’s gaze dropped. “I had to make it right.”

Take sheathed his swords and put a hand on Rory’s shoulder. “Rory, what did you have to pay?”

“I have to serve.”

“For how long?” asked Anaba, still hostile.

Rory gazed into the distance, his eyes unfocused. “Until the end of the war or the end of the world, whichever comes first.”

Anaba stared at him. “You’re crazy.”

“Those were the terms.”

Take took a deep breath. “What kind of service?”

Rory looked up at the stars glimmering through the rent in the cloud cover. “Maybe we should discuss this elsewhere? There’s no telling who saw the light or felt the shockwave.” He knew Take and Ana recognized his evasion, but over the link he could feel their need to get away from this place, steeped in Nightwalker power. He watched as their Sentinel instincts warred with their discipline, demanding they attack the vampire before them and stretching their control to the limits.

Finally, Take nodded curtly. “Fine. We’ll figure this out when we get home.”

“First things first,” said Anaba, stepping up to the altar and closing her eyes.

“Ana,” said Take, “what are you doing?”

She didn’t answer, just lifted her staff to draw a sigil in the air in a trail of orange fire.

The others recognized the symbol just before it was complete. Rory threw Take to the floor, shielding the Sentinel with his body as the room erupted in multicolored fire. When the storm cleared, Rory stood. The burns on his skin faded almost immediately, and he reached down to Take, who hesitated before taking his hand. Rory tried not to take it personally. After helping Take to his feet, he confronted Anaba. She was standing, unharmed, next to a six-foot circle of molten glass where the altar once stood.