The Slayer (26 page)

Read The Slayer Online

Authors: Theresa Meyers

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Fantasy, #Romance, #Paranormal

BOOK: The Slayer
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Winchester's gaze connected with hers, and Alexa gave him the barest of nods.
You know you are. Tell him,
she told him with her thoughts.
What if it's not enough?
We'll deal with that once we get there.
He gave her a nod in return and turned back to meet the knight's sightless gaze. “I am eldest of the Chosen.”
“What do you wear upon your chest?”
Winchester's brow furrowed in confusion. He glanced down at himself for a second, then at her.
Alexa thought about the first time she'd seen Winchester and the gleam of sunlight upon his sheriff's badge.
A star. Tell him you wear a star.
Alexa didn't know why it seemed right to her but it did.
Winchester turned to the skeleton once more. “I wear a star.”
“Welcome home, Chosen of the Legion.” The skeleton released his grip and returned his skeletal fingers to his sword.
Alexa held her tongue while Winchester lifted the package from the chest of the skeleton. What if it wasn't the piece of the Book? What if this had been an elaborate ruse to lock them away and allow Rathe to open the Gates unchallenged?
Winchester's hands shook as he tried to untie the string that held the oilcloth closed. Alexa couldn't help herself; she reached in and helped him. The instant their fingers touched, a zing of energy arced between them, zipping throughout her body to each and every cell.
“Here goes everything,” he murmured. Winchester peeled back the edge of the oilcloth.
The familiar sight of the glass case edged in gold and locked with an elaborate raven lock sent a rush of relief coursing through her. Within the case lay a thick chunk of illuminated pages on old vellum.
“These are Haydn's pages. He got the middle of the Book,” Winchester murmured, his eyes wide with wonder.
Alexa had seen it several times over the centuries when she'd gone to see Kostick, but the power of the Book never seemed to diminish, nor fail to astound her. The fine lettering and brilliant colors and gold detailed illustrations of the illuminated manuscript glowed in the lamp's light.
“You've done it!”
Winchester locked gazes with her, serious and sensual at the same time. “
We've
done it, Tessa.”
“Now all we have to do is find a way to get out of here.”
“Didn't you say we were likely beneath a church?”
“
Da, Saint-Germain-des-Prés
.”
“Then there has to be a way out of this crypt.”
“You mean a stone head marker in the floor of the church?”
 
 
Winchester nodded and held the oil lamp up higher, searching for seams in the ceiling overhead. Finding the Book was fantastic, but it was only the first step. They had to get out of here, and more important he had to get this piece back to the United States and join it together with sections found by his brothers.
If
they had found them.
For a moment he contemplated that Colt and Remington might be going through the same trials and tribulations, perhaps worse than he'd endured, and his joy at finding the Book crumpled a bit. He didn't want either of those boys to experience the pangs of loss and pain he had, and yet stuck down in this pit, there was nothing he could do to protect them from it. Each of them had a mission to complete, and the stakes were too high for them to fail.
Despite an exhaustive search of the stone ceiling of the crypt they failed to locate the seams of a head marker. Winchester lowered the oil lamp. The room seemed—literally—like a dead end.
He did one last search of the chamber. On one wall, carved into the stone, loomed the same image from Haydn's shield. Winchester had thought it just decorative, but perhaps it wasn't. He glanced at the contessa. “Here, hold this.” He handed her the piece of the Book carefully rewrapped in the oilcloth.
She stared at him for a moment. “Are you sure?”
He grunted. “Of course I'm sure.” Winchester moved closer to the raven carved into the wall. The bird itself seemed solid as he ran his fingers over it. It wasn't until he reached the round edge of the shield-like image that his sensitive fingers found what his eyes couldn't. “This whole thing is a trigger,” he said. He glanced back at her.
“For what?”
Winn shrugged. In their current predicament did it matter? He put his palms flat against the surface of the raven and tried to twist the emblem to the right. Nothing happened. He tried turning it to the left. Winn shouted with frustration. “There's something here, but I can't figure it out. You'd think with all the lore my pa fed me he might have mentioned some specific instructions for these kinds of situations.”
“What did he tell you?”
Winn grunted. “It don't really apply.”
“Humor me and tell me anyway.”
“If you can't go over, under, or around it, go
through
it.” His face brightened. He leaned his shoulder against the emblem and pushed hard, growling at the effort. A series of clicks echoed behind the seal.
“Push it!” Alexa said.
Winn put his shoulder against the raven and pushed hard with all his might. The entire emblem shifted in by several inches, then began to roll away within the wall.
Chapter 20
“A secret tunnel.” A snap and fizz of excitement sparked along her nerves. Perhaps they had a way out of the crypt holding the remains of the Hunter Haydn after all.
“Never underestimate a Hunter,” Winchester said. He grasped her about the waist, making her all too aware of how his hands felt upon her. His muscles stretched the fabric of his coat taut as he swung her up to perch on the edge of the round tunnel that had been revealed by the shifting stone shield. Alexa handed him back the precious piece of the Book he'd taken from Hadyn's sarcophagus. She was surprised she had no sense of hesitation. The Book was important to them both, and she knew it belonged in Winn's capable hands. “Wish me luck,” she said.
He cupped her cheek, drawing her face down to his. His kiss was strong and potent, leaving her tingling from head to toe. But more than that, it left Alexa breathless, because in that kiss she tasted acceptance and faith. Two things that were worth more than vaults of gold or any ruby ring or fancy title. Without realizing it, he'd just given her the most precious gift she'd ever received, and it left her speechless.
He broke their kiss and tenderly swept back the curls that framed her face. “Be careful, Tessa.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose. Still in a daze, Alexa twisted herself to her knees and began crawling through the tunnel.
The curved walls of it had been carved from the limestone, and her movements stirred up the fine dust that seemed to coat everything. He grunted, and she heard him scrabble into the tunnel. She glanced back behind her and saw Winchester close on her heels.
“Can you see anything yet?” he asked, a tremor in his voice. The tunnel was far smaller for him than for her, his broad shoulders brushing either wall as he moved. It must seem tight and confining to him.
She turned again and peered into the darkness. The opening of the tunnel appeared, a circle of light ahead the size of a small coin. “Just keep moving. There's an opening ahead.”
He muttered curses in four different languages, and Alexa stifled the urge to comment. Winchester was far more educated than many of the European Hunters. He was also kinder, more concerned with the outcome than with following orders to curry favor. The sound of his strong, even breaths and the echo of his pulse in her ears made her heart twist just a bit more. Now that they had the Book in hand, what would become of them?
Did she even want to go back to the court? She knew without a doubt if she married Vlad it would only be to satisfy the expectations of others, not for any happiness of her own. Even struggling on her hands and knees in the catacombs, her dress torn and dirty, her hair a disaster, a warm glow infused her. And deep down Alexa knew it had to do with Winchester.
The warmth of his body blotted out the scents of earth and mildew with those of leather and male, tinted still with evergreens from the woods. Alexa inhaled deeply. Even though she didn't need the oxygen, she wanted to inhale the scent of him and imprint him on her memory. Every bit of him, so she would never forget how extraordinary he was. The thought of being without him triggered an acute pain that started in her throat, then grew and swelled until it filled her chest. She gasped as the realization hit her.
She was in love with Winchester Jackson.
Somehow her dream of escaping the social rules that had bound her so tightly all these years had transformed into something more. Now being free from the rigid society of noble vampires wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted to breathe in the fresh air and marvel at the wide, limitless blue skies of his home. She wanted him.
“Are we there yet?” he rumbled. The timbre of his voice rolled over her, eliciting a shiver of longing. Of wanting. Gods help her, of love.
She slowed. “Nearly.” Perhaps it wasn't the best time to ask, but when would be? “Winchester?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you want in life?”
“You mean other than to keep breathing another day?”
“Surely you want more than that. What will you do once you've closed the Gates?”
“You mean
if
I close the Gates?”
“
When
.”
He chuckled. “See, that's what I like about you, Tessa. Always focused. I don't know. I guess I'll just keep being the sheriff of Bodie.”
“And that fulfills you?”
“Never had a chance to think about that.” His voice echoed in the close confines of the dark tunnel. The light up ahead was becoming large. He'd be glad of that, she knew. She loved the sound of his deep-pitched voice, loved his confidence. There were many things she loved about Winchester Jackson. Here was a man who knew who he was and his place in the world. “Always been tied to duty and family in one way or another,” he told her quietly. “Pa taught us those come first. Don't really matter what I want.”
Want me
, she thought, the ache in her chest unfamiliar. “Why not? Don't you deserve happiness?”
The long pause before he spoke again told her more than his words ever could. “Are we close to getting out of this hole?”
“Yes! I can see steps!”
“Don't stop now!”
Alexa crawled the last few feet of the tunnel with renewed purpose. Winchester was right on her heels. The tunnel opened into a small stairwell carved from the rocks. She straightened and waited for Winn to do the same. The stairs ahead were steep and narrow.
She stood, bracing her hands against the small of her back and stretching. It certainly wasn't the ladylike thing to do, but with Winn she didn't care. She knew he accepted her just as she was, fangs and all.
He straightened beside her, dusting off his hands.
“Where did you put the Book?”
He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Strapped it to my back using the holster leathers for my rifle.”
Not only was he handsome and rugged, strong and honorable, he was smart as well. Alexa smiled at him.
“So that Book is truly more precious to you than even your own life?”
He looked her in the eye, his gaze serious and unflinching. “You're damn right it is. I've got a whole world counting on me to make sure they don't end up enslaved to a sadistic archdemon lord.”
Alexa tapped her finger against her lips. “You have a point.”
“Let me go first in case it's booby-trapped.”
“I have a better chance of surviving a tra—”
“Wait here.” His tone was adamant. He eased past her in the narrow confines of the stairwell.
“You don't command me, Winchester Jackson. I shall
follow
.” Very closely. Should anything happen to him, Alexa knew she would not survive it.
“Stay close and walk where I walk.”
“
Da
.” She fell into step behind him.
The steep stairs led to an old wooden door, dark with age and bound with thick, black iron bands. It rattled as Winn tugged on it. Locked. Alexa huffed an exasperated sigh.
“You didn't expect them to leave the entrance to the crypt open to just anyone, did you?” he chided.
“Just once, can't something about this entire endeavor be simple?”
“Then it wouldn't be an adventure, would it?”
She gently pushed him aside. “Give me a moment and let me see what I can do.” She shimmered into a cloud of smoky particles, and the door rattled on the other side, then creaked open.
“That didn't take too lo—” Winn drew back abruptly when the face he saw was not Alexa's but one wizened with age. After everything he'd seen and done, he didn't hesitate. He grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt, pulled the bowie from his boot, and held the tip of the knife right beneath the man's chin. “Where is she?”
The elderly man stammered. “Th-the lady is right here.” The door swung open wider.
“Let go of the father,” Alexa said calmly. Winn relaxed his hold on the man's shirt, which he belatedly realized wasn't a shirt at all but the long flowing robes of a priest. “Forgive him, Father. We have been pursued by the worst of Englishmen.”
The old man nodded, never questioning her, his eyes glassy.
“You glamoured him?”
Alexa gave him a slow smile. “Better than holding a knife to his throat. Besides, once we've escaped he'll have no memory of either of us. It's better this way.”
Winn nodded. He was learning when one worked with a vampire there were no hard-and-fast rules. The priest locked the door behind them, and they followed him through a warren of passages beneath the church to the sanctuary above.
Alexa grasped the man's weathered hand in her own, looking deeply into his eyes. “You have found there are rats down in the cellar and need to tell them to wall off the door.”
“Rats ... wall off the door,” he repeated.
 
 
They walked out of the front doors of the church into the brilliant morning sunshine. The puffy clouds dotting the cerulean sky seemed surreal after the depths and darkness of the catacombs, but the fresh air felt divine on Alexa's skin.
“We need to get out of the open and find an airship to get us out of here and back to the States,” Winn said, as he pulled his hat down tighter on his brow.
“That should be easy enough. We'll just pop down to the market the next street over and pick one out,” she said mildly.
He looked at her, quirking a brow. “You really think it's that easy?”
Alexa rolled her eyes. Sometimes men were dense as stone. “No! Of course not. We don't have the resources or the connections to buy an airship that can carry us that distance.”
“What about His Imperial Royal Majestic Highness? Doesn't he have an extra airship he could send?” he said sarcastically.
Alexa stared at him and folded her arms. She had had just about enough of his misplaced jealousy of Vlad. There was only one man she wanted—him.
“The one that went down in the forest was the only one he had,” he answered himself glumly.
She gave one curt nod.
“Damn.” He pulled at the end of his mustache. Mud and powder-fine rock dust clung to his hat and black duster, making him look almost ghost-like. Once they found an airship, the next things they needed were a change of clothing and some sustenance. The taste of his blood on her tongue had nearly sent her into a frenzy, but she'd hidden it from him well. Overhead a light breeze rustled the leaves of the chestnut trees that lined the street. It could have been pleasant if they weren't being chased and Winchester hadn't been muttering like a madman to himself.
 
 
Winn ran his hand over the back of his neck while he scanned the city streets looking for any hint of Frobisher's men.
Think. Think,
Winn told himself. If he were a lawman in these parts, where would he go to find something you couldn't normally get? He stopped in his tracks, his face hardening with determination. “We need to find a saloon.”
“I hardly think now is the time for a drink.”
He flicked his gaze to hers. “If what I've crawled through in the last few days isn't enough to make a man drink, I don't know what would be, but liquor ain't what I'm after. I want a bandit.”
“Bandit?”
“Somebody on the wrong side of the law.”
Understanding made the golden flecks in her eyes pulsate with excitement. “A pirate.”
Winn shrugged. “Whatever gets us there.”
“There should be pirates in the absinthe houses of
Montmartre
.”
 
 
An hour later they had entered the most disreputable part of the city. Winn looked at the dingy sign that read King's Men in French. It hung from a rusted chain on one side. The other side's chain had rusted through, and the placard had been shot a time or two, leaving gaping, splintered holes in the forehead of the king's image on the sign.
“A remnant of the Revolution,” Alexa said under her breath.
If they'd been back home, Winn would have expected raucous laughter and perhaps the tinkling sound of the piano that sat in the corner of the Golden Goose. But this place was far different. It had an eerie stillness to it.
He opened the door to find a low-ceilinged room, barely lit by the fire in the massive stone fireplace against one wall and the windows created from multiple panes of small bits of diamond-shaped glass so grimy they looked like they hadn't been cleaned in a century, perhaps two. The ancient beams overhead were blackened with smoke and age, and the air smelled of sour, cheap wine, dark hops, tobacco, and the fire.
A few men sat at old, scarred tables, cradling pewter tankards. All eyes turned to stare at the contessa. Frenchmen were appreciative of a beautiful woman, despite her dirty and slightly disheveled appearance. Winn cursed silently under his breath. He should have known better than to bring a lady into a place like this. It was like waving a gold nugget beneath the nose of a hardscrabble miner.

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