Beautiful Death (24 page)

“It’s—you’re fucking insane.”

Malik tossed his vest aside and started to remove his shirt. “Prudent. I am a business man, above all. Your death is good business. You are the one making it personal.”

Tristan’s entire body was trembling. Prudent? Business? Nothing personal?

“For one to survive, many must die. Isn’t that an old adage?”

He swiped at his tears. “You would know.” In fact, Tristan was sure the guy had that backwards but was too self-centered to care.

“Yes,” Malik answered in a dark growl. He removed his shirt and tossed it away as he stood. Tristan took another step back, fixated in horror at the man’s body. His entire torso was covered in knotted scars. Cuts, slashes, burns, there wasn’t one inch of clean skin. “The price the son of a whore has to pay to live. As a human, I made my first kill at only seven. Many more followed, men who sought to take the price of living my mother so desperately clung to out of my body. They all died. Many died so I could live. It was the way it was.”

Tristan shook his head. “What makes you more important than me?”

Malik crossed his arms and raised a white brow at him. “Honestly? I love living. But if I were to die now, so be it. However, if it were by your fucking filthy half-breed piece of shit hands…” He dropped his arms and took an angry step towards Tristan. “You are the harbinger of death. The raven. You, you
Uruwashi,
you should be extinct and now because of the oversight of a few vampires, who now are conveniently dead, your disgusting race still lives. You will wipe out
all
of my kind and that—
that,
the last of my pride as vampire cannot abide.”

“I—” The whole race? That’s what the pythia saw?

Malik lifted his chin. “She sees many things. But the annihilation of a whole race from this planet was certain. By
your
hand, Uruwashi.”

Tristan let out the breath he was holding. So there was a chance that he was doing the world a service. Besides that, he didn’t have to kill. No one could make him kill a whole race.

The vampire narrowed his pale eyes at him. “It is in your nature, Uruwashi. It is who you are and no one will ever change that.”

“I’m not a murder.” His voice sounded less sure than he liked. He wasn’t, right?

“Yes, you are. Powers or no, you are an Uruwashi. It is in your blood to kill.”

“You—I—” He was at a loss. Before today, he could have said one-hundred percent that he’d never, ever hurt another living being. That man in Ash’s kitchen, he wasn’t living by human standards, but he was alive. And Tristan killed him. And enjoyed it.

Fuck. I really am a monster.

Malik made a pleased noise and then was suddenly on him. Tristan gasped, trying to move back, but it was too late. The vampire had him in his hold, again, and wouldn’t let him go. “You should just give up now, Uruwashi.”

“I… I can’t.” His voice was week, but his conviction was true.

The vampire laughed that deep laugh that haunted Tristan for over a years’ worth of bad dreams, only this time it made him shudder and moan. Tristan was taller, bigger and by rights should have been stronger than the small, lean man holding him. But he was helpless. He couldn’t get away.

“I would much rather do this in person. Just one last taste of the last Uruwashi.”

“Wait, no—”

The arms holding Tristan tightened until he couldn’t breathe. The vampire’s lips stretched into a wide, open-mouthed smile and then his lips were pressed to Tristan’s neck. Teeth penetrated flesh and Tristan found the air to scream. Seconds later, the euphoria took him and he slumped in Malik’s arms, eyes rolling back and fluttering shut.

“Oh my god…” He could pull away, flee the vampire. But why would he ever want to give this up? This was heaven, utopia, Eden— “No!” he spit out in a hoarse cry and thrashed in the vampire’s arms.

Caught off guard, Malik let his precious prey slip from his hold, fangs tearing open flesh, severing tender nerves. Tristan jumped back, out of reach, holding a hand to his torn neck. “Fuck you pal, I’m no one’s lunch.”

The vampire burst into deep laughter. “Yes! Yes. You are indeed an Uruwashi. You are all such fighters, like your dear Mother, that Jap bitch. God, she put up such a beautiful fight—very much worthy of your namesake.” Malik’s whole body shuddered. “Ah, it seems our time is at an end. I do lament our parting. Until next time, Tristan Uruwashi.”

“Wait—”

Malik was gone. Poof, as if by magic. Tristan collapsed to his knees, clutching at his throbbing neck. The landscape started to fade at the edges and he almost felt cloth that wasn’t part of the dream against his skin, like the soft sateen of the bed sheets at Ash’s. He looked at his hand. It was red with blood. There was so much of it.

Cold and achy. Tired. He doubled over, pressing his cheek to the gritty asphalt and sighed deeply, tasting tar and blood. “I guess my time’s up…,” he sighed. “Okay, I’m ready.”

21:
S
oul
R
escuer

TRISTAN’S consciousness snapped to attention. He sucked in a gasp and opened his eyes. He laid perfectly still for a moment, gathering his senses. Bed. He was in bed at Ash’s.
Oh thank God
. Malik really was just a dream. Tristan wasn’t dead and in hell.

He hoped.

Each new second of wakefulness brought a new surge of conscious feeling. He was out longer than he realized. While he ached, he wasn’t near dead with pain. At least he could breathe now. His neck had a large bandage that pinched his skin and his torso was wrapped in something thick and tight. Two fingers on his left hand throbbed faintly with his heartbeat under the splinted bandage. Damn, that dream with Malik, the things the vampire did to him… they were real. Did that mean he was—

The bed shifted next to him and he froze, realizing he felt the presence of a vampire very near him. It had been there all along. But when he caught a whiff of orangey vanilla, Ash’s delicate scent, he knew it was the good kind of vampire.

“Mmm, Ash…” The bed moved behind him again. “Ash?” Tristan looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened. “What the…”

“Morning, lova.”

“Desmond!” Tristan sat up too fast and doubled over when his stomach pinched. “Ow, fuck, fuck, fuck… Desmond, what the—get out.”

“Yew sure, mate?”

“The fu—yes, I’m sure.”

The vampire flashed his little fangs and flung the sheets back. Tristan groaned when he got a big eyeful of naked Scotsman.

“What-the-hell. Why are you naked?”

Desmond turned to face him, slipping into a pair of pants. He wiggled his hips like the pants were too tight, but Tristan suspected that it was more to show off his boy parts.

“
Man
,” Desmond corrected and grabbed those parts through his pants. “Man bits, mate.”

“God. I don’t care about your parts! What the fuck were you doing in bed with me naked—Wait.” Tristan lifted the sheets to confirm what he just realized. He muttered, “Oh my god.” When he looked up again, the big guy was grinning wider. Tristan hoped his smug ass face would just split open. “Why am
I
naked?”

“We was enjoying us some right cuddle time, lova.”

“Stop—” Tristan groaned, having put too much effort into the word. “Stop fucking around. Where’s Ash?”

Desmond’s smile softened, looked forced almost. “Yew an’ Asta, then?”

“Me and her then, what? Speak English.”

White eyebrows rose. “Yew two es together then?”

He’d like to know that himself. Tristan ground his teeth and then regretted the movement as his neck protested. “None of your fucking business.”

The big vamp smiled for real again. “Thought so.” He came around to the other side of the bed towards the door.

“What is it with you anyway? You in love with her or something?”

Desmond stopped and turned to give him a look.

“Hit the mark, huh?”

“We was right. Yew dinnae ken a bloody thing. No’ aboot us. No’ aboot Asta.”

The bastard was probably right, but Tristan didn’t want to hear it from him. Seconds before the door opened, Desmond stepped back, avoiding taking the doorknob to his hip.

“What is all of the nois—Tristan.” Ash stopped inside the door, looking uncomfortable as she stared at him wide-eyed. “You are awake.”

He frowned. “Am I not supposed to be?”

“No, I—”

“Whut the lassie es tae say es that we were no’ sure yew was tae wake at aw.”

“Desmond,” she snapped and grabbed him, shoving him from the room. It was almost comical watching such a small person manhandle such a big person like that. “You are not helping. Get out.”

“Right way tae thank us, Asta.”

“Out!” Ash slammed the door in Desmond’s laughing face. She let out a long sigh and slumped back against the door. “That man.”

“Why is he even here?”

Ash stood off the door and started towards him. “He was helping me care for you.”

He lifted the sheet, flashing her. “Naked?”

Ash cleared her throat and made herself look at his face. “It was easier to regulate your temperature that way.”

“My temperature?”

“You got hot. Very hot… then dangerously cold.” What she wouldn’t—
couldn’t
say aloud was that Tristan was as cold as the dead. As a vampire. Along with the wound on his neck, Ash feared the worse.

He frowned, wondering what it meant as he tried to not think about how the big guy warmed him…
naked
. “Thanks,” he said, completely serious. He really meant it.

“What?” she asked, surprised.

“For taking care of me. Sorry if I was a burden.” Again.

She smiled and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. She ran her fingertips lightly over the white wrappings around his stomach. “It was no trouble at all.”

Tristan took her hand into his. “But you were worried.” Her jaw tightened. “Mhm. Thought so. You know, I’ve almost died so many times in a week, I’m kinda over it.”

“I’m over it.”

Ash chuckled softly. “I am happy you are okay.”

Me too
. “How bad was it?”

Ash cringed and looked away, taking her hand back. “Bad enough. You may have some permanent nerve damage to the area once it heals fully. It is too early to tell. However, you should be able to move around freely with little damage to the wound.”

He put a hand to his stomach and pressed lightly. It ached like hell, but he felt like he could walk.

“Yes,” Ash interjected. “You may very well be able to. You…” She looked back at him, meeting his eyes. “You heal remarkably fast.”

Now it was Tristan’s turn to cringe. “You make that sound bad.”

She shook her head. “I do not know what to think of it.”

“Fair enough.” He sighed and risked trying to lay down. When the strain of lowering himself pulled at his stomach too much he just let himself go and flopped back onto the pillows. He never realized how much the smallest of movements relied on those muscles until now. He also got a big whiff of floral scent when he’d fallen back and realized the scent was on his pillows. Ash had been here at some point after all. Too bad he didn’t wake with her naked in bed next to him. Just his shit luck lately.

“I’m sorry. About Haruka.”

“Me too.” Ash answered in a tiny voice.

He met her eyes. They were such a beautiful paleness that always seemed to glow in the dark. He was sure they really didn’t, but he liked the fantasy nonetheless. “Are you okay?”

“Physically, very much so. Emotionally,” She shrugged. “I have lived with much worse.”

That made him frown. He wondered what kind of life she lived for the past three-hundred and forty years. After meeting Malik, he knew that having him as a Master wasn’t all ponies and rainbows. Rough didn’t even begin to cover it. But despite her personal turmoil and his understanding of it, there was something he needed. A decision he’d come to in the twilight of his recovery as he felt the presence of vampires around him, touching him. At first he felt fear. Immobilizing fear—as if he wasn’t already helpless. He was sure Malik’s lackeys had come again and he was going to die, unable to even open his eyes. Lying prone, vulnerable, hopeless, he realized that there was only one solution. Only one way to live.

It was shit luck.

“Tristan…?” Ash sounded worried and she should have been. Her own mind was wandering, but she heard some of what he was thinking and didn’t like it one bit.

“Listen, Ash—”

She stood in a flurry, backing away. “Don’t.”

The use of the conjunction wasn’t lost on Tristan. Was she really that afraid?

“Ash,” he sighed and sat up again. He ached a little more this time and knew he was still pretty hurt. He let out a puff of air and pushed the hair from of his eyes. “I’ve almost died three times if you count that jikininki. I mean, Aaron was only a fledgling and he about tore all the flesh off my bones. That vampire I killed, the Ruskie with the bad breath, the vanilla or whatever Desmond called him, I only killed him by luck.” And he still didn’t feel bad about it.

“That—”

“And Haruka, the poor girl... she died in your arms didn’t she?” Ash’s frown deepened. He slumped, sorry to bring it up, but it was necessary to get his point across. He wasn’t sure he believed Ash would kill her herself, but her reaction said there was something more to it than just finding the girl dead. “She died after they cut her, bled her, ripped her throat out… raped her. She was a mess and she was alive through it all being tortured like that. I can only imagine the pain, the anguish—”

“Enough!” If he only knew how cruel his words were, having to kill Haruka with her own hand. Ash had found Haruka lying face down next to the water garden in the back yard, bare feet hanging over the edge, the blood rolling slowly off her toes to make little soft plops into the water. She almost couldn’t believe her vampire eyes, senses. Of course they never lied to her. She could tell, even from across the lawn, that the girl was beyond help. Still, she had to try.

Ash collapsed to her knees and gently pulled the girl into her lap. Haruka was gasping for air, her throat had been torn. When those wide, terror filled eyes met Ash’s the girl actually smiled up at her. She knew Ash was there to help her. Mama would make it all better.

“I am so sorry, Haruka,” Ash said gently. “I cannot fix this.” Maybe if she’d arrived soon but it was too late now. Ash was too late.

Haruka shut her eyes, smiling. She knew she couldn’t be fixed. But Mama could take the pain away. Make it all go away.

“Yes, yes I can.”

Thank you, Kā-chan.

Ash put the gun to the underside of Haruka’s jaw and pulled the trigger. Never before could she remember a gunshot sounding so loud. Her hands were steady, but the rest of her trembled. She opened her hand and the gun tumbled to the ground. She didn’t want to touch it again.

“
Aishiteru
, Haruka.
Gomeifuku wo inorimasu
,” were the last words she spoke to her dear friend. And Ash would remember that moment for always. Until she died.

“I don’t want to die like that,” Tristan said softly. “And you can’t keep saving me. One day our luck is going to run out. I’d rather you be the one to bite me now than having to worry about being bitten by a strange vampire or worse, dying in your arms.”

“Do you even understand what you are really asking? You humans,” she hissed through clenched fangs, “you see something like immortality and think it is a novelty, a commodity... the Holy Grail. There is nothing novel or holy about it. I have lived long enough to respect the importance of death. You have
no
idea how hard this existence is. I promised myself long ago to never create another vampire and I intend to stick to such promises. I will not let feelings for you cloud my judgment. You ask far too much, Tristan.”

If they were going to argue, he wanted to see her face better. He stumbled out of bed and to the light switch. “Another?” Tristan squinted, the light hurt his eyes.

“What?”

“You said, “create another vampire.” Did you turn someone you regret making?”

“What—that is not what—Quit putting words into my mouth. And put on some blasted clothing!”

He sighed and carefully slipped into a pair of clean boxers, not bothering to find pants or a shirt. Seemed like too much effort at the moment anyway. He shuffled over to the dinette and plopped down in a chair, facing her.
Cold
.

Ash took a seat on the bench at the end of the bed and crossed her arms under her chest. She gave him a look; it may have been aiming for stern, but it came out pouting. A three-hundred and forty year old vampire could still pout, who knew?

“So tell me. What is it that I don’t understand? What is it that you won’t tell me?”

“I—there is so much—I do not know where to start.”

“How about you start by telling me what’s so horrible about being you. You seem happy enough.”

“Happy? Happy is a life where you watched your family die to the very man that took your own life and in turn gave you a new, darker life? A life where you are forced to kill others to liv, a life of pain and servitude. Hundreds of years of being used and abused. Begging to just die every day because there was such hopelessness. You call that a happy life? Of having to pull the trigger on your… on that poor child—” Anger quickly turned to pain. And tears.

Shit. Malik was telling the truth after all. Tristan went to her and dropped to his knees, wedging himself between hers as much as her nightgown would allow. He cupped her face into his hands, making her look at him. She met his eyes, but she was forcing herself to do it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He sighed heavily. “Look. I want to live. I really do. But I’m not so naïve that I think you and I can stop Malik alone. Not after I met him.”