Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One (4 page)

“Maybe we should discuss this elsewhere,” Scott said, glancing at the cameras again.

“It’s too late to be coy, Scotty.”

Scott chuckled. “Jeremy, in your kid’s game, what was the purpose of Sentinels? What did they do?”

Jeremy frowned. “They killed vampires.” He shrugged. “I know—it’s stupid.”

Nick smiled wider, revealing his fangs.

C
HAPTER 3

Jeremy stumbled back in surprise. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” He stared at Nick. “You can’t be serious!”

“I didn’t say a word, Jeremy.” Nick stopped smiling, and his fangs retracted. His voice grew serious. “If you choose to live your life as a Sentinel, you’re going to have to catch up on current events. The rules have changed.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will,” said Scott. “But I need your consent.”

“Fine.” Jeremy stood up straight. “Do whatever you need to do.”

Stepping forward, Scott laid the tip of his right index finger on the center of Jeremy’s forehead. Jeremy’s eyes widened as he stared straight ahead into a brilliant white light only he could see.

“Jeremy Kenneth Harkness, by your true name I bind you. I call your Gift to my hand, and I command you—remember.”

A cascade of images funneled through Jeremy’s mind, shattering his awareness into fragments of thought and memory. Immediately, the spell stitched together the torn pages of his personality, as if rebinding a book.

Scott lifted his finger away from Jeremy’s skin, and the younger man collapsed to the floor, shivering.

“How do you feel, brother?” Scott offered Jeremy his hand.

“Awake,” Jeremy said, dazed. “Like I’ve been asleep my whole life.” He let Scott help him to his feet. Then he turned to look at Nick. Eyes bulging, he stepped backward in shock.
Jesus.

“Jeremy,” Nick said, hurriedly raising his hands. “Wait a minute.”

Jeremy snapped his right arm forward with his palm facing Nick and his fingers splayed. The knowledge of how to strike had automatically risen out of his subconscious, as if he had always known.

Nick staggered back and screamed. Falling to his knees, he clutched his head in his hands.

“Jeremy, wait!” Scott grabbed Jeremy’s wrist.

“He’s one of
them
,” said Jeremy, his voice brimming with hatred.

“Listen to me, Jeremy. There are things you don’t know, things you don’t understand. Let him go.” Scott squeezed the younger man’s wrist, and Jeremy winced in pain. “Trust me. Please, just let him go and I’ll explain everything.”

Still looking at Nick, Jeremy slowly closed his fingers into a fist, disengaging his attack. “Only because he saved my life. For that, I’ll let you explain.”

Nick shuddered and then leapt to his feet, fangs and talons extended. “That fucking hurt!” he yelled, his voice deepening.

Scott let go of Jeremy’s arm. “Nick, you’re Third Order. Weren’t you shielding?”

Nick growled, his eyes blazing red. “Of course I was shielding!” Then he paused and his fangs and claws retracted. “I
am
shielding.” He looked at Scott and his eyes faded back to blue again. “All of my mental defenses are intact. He didn’t go through them; he went over. That was a Fourth Order attack.”

“There hasn’t been a Fourth Order telepath in sixteen hundred years,” Scott scoffed, turning to look at Jeremy.

“Jacob of Glastonbury—he took out half of House Daviroquir all by himself before they finally killed him.”

“Well,” said Scott, showing doubt for the first time. “That’s disturbing.”

“No kidding. His Gift must be immense to have channeled that much energy into psychic power.” Nick whistled. “He may be physically human, but psychically, he could probably wipe the floor with both of us put together.”

“If the two of you are done talking about me like I’m not even here,” Jeremy said impatiently, “could one of you explain why you’re acting so chummy? You
are
enemies, after all.”

“That’s part of those current events I wanted to tell you about,” said Scott. “Anywhere else and you’d be right, but in North America there’s a peace treaty.”

Jeremy laughed. “Sure, a treaty with vampires. That’s rich.”

“It’s true,” said Scott. “The truce has held for almost twenty years. They don’t kill us, and we don’t kill them. Armistice Security maintains the terms of the treaty, and all major disputes are settled by the Triumvirate, composed of one representative from each of the three races: Sentinel, Nightwalker, and Daywalker.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “What’s a Daywalker?”

“A Daywalker is what you get when a Nightwalker takes back his soul and is cleansed of the Red Wind through a power from the higher planes called the ‘Grace’,” Nick said.

“Wait,” said Jeremy. “There’s a
cure
for vampirism?”

“There is.” Nick stood straight. “We are the Children of the Dawn, the soldiers of darkness redeemed, and we are not your enemy.”

“But you’re still one of them,” Jeremy said, his thoughts circling the citadel of Nick’s mind, which bristled with power. “I can feel it. You’re not human—and not Sentinel.”

Nick shook his head. “The physical changes wrought by the Red Wind are irreversible. That’s what you’re feeling—the altered architecture of my mind. But I am not Red. You’d be able to feel the difference if you had full command of your Gift.”

“But I don’t, so why should I accept any of this?” Jeremy said defiantly. “Show me some proof.”

After a long pause, Nick said, “Do you have any particular religious beliefs, Jeremy?”

“What?” asked Jeremy, surprised at the change in tack. “My mom raised me Irish Catholic, but I haven’t been to church in years. Why?”

Nick looked at Scott. “Give him a cross.”

Scott hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Nick nodded.

Reaching into an inner pocket of his vest, Scott pulled out a long silver cross and handed it to Jeremy.

Jeremy looked at the cross in his hand, confused. “What am I supposed to do with this? I don’t have the magic to activate it.”

“You have a faith-matched holy symbol to use as a focus,” said Nick. “Do you remember how to invoke a Faith Ward?”

“Sure, I know the spell, but that won’t do me any good. I have no power.”

“A Faith Ward is borrowed power,” explained Scott. “It exists outside the parameters of the Gift. Frame your intent, invoke the spell, and if your purpose is judged pure, the Light will answer.”

Jeremy swallowed, looking down at the cross. He glanced at the bomb and at the bodies of his fallen comrades before turning to Nick. “I’m not exactly a pure person.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Nick. “You’re a Sentinel. You swore your allegiance to the White Wind with your very first breath and will serve until the day you die. Once the ward is established, it will negate any dark magic that touches it. If I am a Child of Darkness, I will be reduced to dust when I try to cross your circle.”

Jeremy stared at him for several seconds. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Lord, I know we haven’t been on speaking terms lately, but I ask that You lend me the smallest part of Your strength so that I can see the truth for myself.
His lips moved silently as he invoked the spell.

The world exploded in light. Jeremy’s eyes snapped open, focusing on Nick. The entire scene was lit by a bright blue glow, and he could see the light of the vampire’s soul shining from his chest. A halo composed of countless lights spun around his head. It was beautiful—beautiful beyond anything Jeremy had ever witnessed. That was enough to make him pause.
I have to be sure. I have to know.

He lifted the cross in his hand and held it up toward Nick. It burst into searing blue light, encircling him with azure flames.

Stepping forward, Nick casually crossed the circle of flames unharmed. “Now do you believe me?” he asked.

“Take it.” Jeremy’s voice resonated with power. “Take the focus from my hand, and I will believe it all.”

Nick crossed the remaining distance between them and reached out to grasp the cross. For a moment, they both gripped it, and then the color of the light changed to a bright, actinic white as Jeremy let his hand fall. Nick was left clutching the radiant white cross, his eyes filled with light as the circle of flames died away.

“No!” yelled Scott. Sprinting forward, he pushed Jeremy out of the way and grasped Nick’s shoulders. “Nick, listen to me! You have to let go. You’re trying to channel a Pure Draw. You have to stop. It’ll kill you!”

“It’s so beautiful,” said Nick, lost in a dream, his eyes staring straight ahead. He began to sing softly in a language no one in the room could understand.

“I know. God, I know. But you can’t stay there! You have to stop!” He shook Nick roughly. “Nicholas! Come back!”

Nick slumped and slid from Scott’s grasp. Falling to his knees on the floor, still holding the glowing cross in both hands, he continued to sing.

Scott spun around and glared at Jeremy. “Damn you! What have you done?” Then he closed his eyes and yelled, “Ana, I need you! Come to me now!”

* * *

With a white flash of light, Anaba appeared on stage. Dressed as Scott was and holding a six-foot staff of crystal inscribed with runes, the Native American woman looked critically at the harsh white light streaming from the Daywalker’s eyes and from the cross he clenched in his hands. She turned back to the other Sentinel, her anger palpable. “You idiots shouldn’t have kept me away.” She glared at Scott, and her bronze skin flushed with rage. “What the hell do you expect me to do now?”

“There’s no time. I need you to anchor me while I go after him.”

Ana pointed into the heart of the light. “You can’t follow him into that! You’ll
both
die. Even if you don’t burn yourself out trying to reach him, he won’t come back willingly, and you won’t have enough strength left to compel him.”

“With both of us working together, we might have a chance of forcing him to return,” insisted Scott. “I have to try.”

“There’s no chance. None at all. You do this, and you’ll die. My soul alone won’t be enough to serve as an anchor. You’ll be swept away.”

“Are you going to help me or not?” Scott screamed.

Ana snarled in frustration. “If you’re dead set on suicide, we have to move fast—while he’s still close enough to reach. That’s the only chance you have.”

Turning around, Scott got down on both knees in front of Nick. Ana knelt beside him and cast the spell under her breath. Her staff flared with a crimson light, which filtered over her body and enshrouded her in a scarlet haze. Reaching out, she placed her hand on Scott’s shoulders, and the red glow spread out over Scott, too. Scott wrapped both hands around Nick’s, which were still locked on the glowing cross. Immediately, Scott gasped, and his eyes shone with bright light. The Sentinel hunched over in pain and cried out weakly. Ana felt the psychic anchor stretch to the breaking point.
Please, God. Don’t do this to me.
The anchor shivered, on the verge of shattering.

At that moment, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Shocked, Ana felt the presence of another Sentinel soul, and the anchor spell found extra purchase. The glow around the two kneeling Sentinels turned to scarlet flames. Scott’s head snapped up, and the light faded from his eyes. He drew a shallow breath.

“Now, Scott!” yelled Ana. “While there’s still time!”

Scott leaned forward, his eyes focused ahead of him, and shouted,
“STOP!”

Nick raised his head, breaking off his song. “Scotty?”

“Forgive me, brother.” Scott clutched Nick’s hands tightly. Then the red flames washed over their interlocked grip and surrounded Nick as well.

A shriek of denial split the air as Nick tried to pull his hands out of Scott’s grasp.

“Nicholas Lawrence Jameson, by your true name I bind you.” Scott’s voice was perfectly synchronized by Ana’s as they simultaneously worked the binding spell. “I call your soul to my hand, and I command you—return!”

Nick wailed as the light faded from his eyes. The white fire of the cross faded to silver, and Scott wrenched it out of Nick’s hands and cast it aside. He wrapped his arms around his friend, ignoring the tears of blood that wet his shoulder as Nick sobbed.

As the red flames died away, Jeremy removed his hand from Ana’s shoulder and stepped back.

Ana turned to look at him. He was young, in his mid-twenties perhaps, and dressed in casual, non-descript clothes.
Apparently, terrorists and stagehands make similar fashion choices.
“Thanks for the assist. Without another soul to draw upon, the anchor would have failed. I would have lost them both if you hadn’t been here.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Ana walked over to Scott. “Scott, how could you let this happen?”

Scott carefully pulled away from Nick, leaving the Daywalker rocking slowly back and forth. Then he turned to face Jeremy.

C
HAPTER 4

Scott shifted form. His bones and muscles flowed like liquid as he forced his hands into the shape he knew could inflict the most damage, growing red scales and long, curved claws.

“Sentinel Harkness,” Scott said through clenched teeth, “seeing as you all but tried to
murder
my dyad brother, I am completely within my rights to rip your head off in revenge, Lost Brother or not. Can you give me any reason why I shouldn’t?”

Jeremy took a step backward. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?” demanded Ana.

“It was what he needed,” Jeremy said unapologetically.

“What the hell do you know about what he needs?”

“Everything,” Jeremy replied with absolute confidence.

Scott scowled at him. “You have sixty seconds to explain that statement, Sentinel.”

“I invoked power to see the truth. When he touched the focus at the same time as I did, something happened. Time slowed down, and I could see everything around me.”

“An akashic event,” said Ana, her eyes narrowing. “The Light granted you a vision.”

“That’s right. It let me see him.” Jeremy stepped to the side, bringing Nick back into his direct view. “All of him. His entire life stretched out before me, and I saw everything. Every thought, every emotion, all his secrets, all the things he’s kept even from you both.” He turned back to Scott. “He was losing it. You may have thought your intervention helped before, but he was in a death spiral, slipping deeper and deeper into despair, wallowing in the darkness of what Luscian did to him. You were closest to him. You must have seen the signs.”