Blood Lines - Blood Price Part 8

"I'll handle it, if you still plan to fly back to Constanta alone. Would you rather wait where you are for an extraction team to a.s.sist you?"

He hesitated, tempted by the thought of turning over Nikia to authorities of the queen, turning his back on the situation and returning to isolation. His brow furrowed as he wondered if their hiding place was suitable for an extra day's occupation. Going with instinct, he said, "No. I don't think we're in a secure enough location to stay here very long. It's best to stick with our original plan of flying from Prague to Constanta."

"Very well. I'll have Sorin and Lucian meet you there with a security team."

"Yes, Highness."

Anca's tone warmed a bit, as she switched from matters of state to a more personal subject. "Watch yourself. This worries me, Atar. I'm frightened my sister is attempting to carry out a scheme to escape your custody. I would hate for you to be injured while doing my bidding."

The thought hadn't even occurred to him. Atar grimaced at the way his heart squeezed when the queen suggested the possibility that Nikia was in collusion with the men pursuing them. "I am always cautious. I know I can't trust Nikia. Your warning is appreciated but unnecessary."

"I'm pleased to hear you haven't dropped your guard. She can be...charismatic."

The queen didn't know the half of it, Atar mused, as he ended the call and placed the phone beside his wallet. Absently, he picked up the pa.s.sport of Nikia and examined the face staring back at him from the small photo. There wasn't a trace of warmth in her green eyes. The tilt of her lips suggested a malicious smirk more than a smile. Looking at her gave him a chill, while confounding him at the same time. How could she be so warm and responsive in his bed and still be so ruthless? It made no sense. With a deeper sigh, he dropped the doc.u.ment beside his and started to turn back to the bed, thinking he would join Nikia for a while longer. He wanted to hold her, whether or not her warmth was a front. She drew him like a moth to the flame and if he was going to burn because of her, he wanted the fire to be all consuming. He attempted to ignore the voice of conscience whispering it was wrong to make love to her without trusting her, knowing he planned to betray her. Maybe it wasn't betrayal in the strictest sense of the word but she would view it as such.

He didn't see what hit him but pain exploded through his head, eliciting a cry and breaking his chain of thought. He reached out blindly, touching Nikia's smooth skin as he fell forward. Atar was vaguely aware of the careful way she helped him land. Her fingers were soft on his forehead when she stroked it, a marked contrast to the rough carpet against his cheek. He thought he heard her whisper, "Sorry," as consciousness slipped away from him.

Nikia checked Atar's pulse, finding it steady and strong. He would have nothing more than a headache from the blow to the head. She cringed with guilt but what choice had he left her? His conversation with Anca had driven knives through her heart. After everything, he still didn't trust her. If he hadn't seen and felt her love while they made love, he never would, meaning he could never trust her.

She left him on the floor, deciding not to try to wrest him back to the bed. Her heart burned with love for Atar but she was also sizzling with anger at his betrayal. Aside from the renewed intensity of the migraine building behind her eyes limiting her ability to lift him, his comfort wasn't her primary concern right then.

The pa.s.sports and his wallet were still on the table. Nikia availed herself of his available cash, leaving the credit card and phone untouched. There should be enough Euros to fund a plane ticket to Minsk. Once there, she would need only enough to pay for a room if she couldn't find her grandmother's people right away.

She shrugged off the tattered remains of Maria's gown and slipped on the uniform she had worn before.

Hesitating, she put five Euros back on the table, atop the nightgown, hoping Atar would realize the money was to compensate the woman.

With a brief glance at Atar, whose eyes were moving rapidly under his lids, she walked to the door. A pang in her chest caused her to hesitate with hand on the k.n.o.b. She turned back to look at him, wondering if she would ever see him again and then wondering if she cared. The pang deepened, forcing her to admit she would. She opened the door and stepped through, closing it quietly behind her. There was no wrenching sense of goodbye a.s.sailing her. She knew Atar would find her. He knew just where to look and he was determined to return her to Corsova. She just needed to stay a step ahead of him until exhausting all chances of ridding her mind of Illiana's presence.

Chapter 9.

Belarus in general and Minsk in particular, surprised Nikia. She had expected a primitive country existing in obscurity. Instead, she found a bustling capitol city with a population of nearly two million. In other circ.u.mstances, she would have been charmed by the curious mix of modern and ancient architecture, culture and technology, old ways and new. But in her current predicament, she had no time to focus on such things. The large population was a frustrating deterrent to finding her family. Three fruitless hours of searching had contributed to the migraine feeling as though it had expanded to encompa.s.s her entirebody. It had also led her to this tavern on the edge of town. Nikia eyed it doubtfully as she picked her way through the soggy street, where tenacious reeds shot up in places. Unlike most of the munic.i.p.ality, no one had made an effort to beautify this area of the city. Perhaps it was out of official jurisdiction.

A series of rough planks led to the opening of the tavern. The door was open, allowing the cool breeze of the crisp summer night to blow in. A cloud of smoke emitted from the top of the doorway and Nikia took a deep breath of fresh air before entering.

Every eye focused on her, and she got the sense her new outfit of jeans and a rough wool sweater the shade of oatmeal did nothing to help her blend in as a local. The tavern was a mix of men and women but all had a similar look of despair.

She held her head high and walked to the bar, taking a stool after eyeing the wooden surface for stains.

It wasn't pristine but she sat anyway, needing a chance to rest. Like the rest of the room, the bar was shabby, made of rough wood losing its smooth sheen and complete with a surly bartender eyeing her with unfriendly eyes. She nodded to the woman and asked for a beer in English, hoping she would be understood. Within seconds, a draft beer in a clean mug appeared before her.

Nikia took a sip, hiding a grimace at the bitter taste and leaned forward to speak with the bartender.

"I'm looking for a Kosmistan who might work here." The owner of an antique shop had directed her to this place after she followed an old address from the public records' office to his business, only to learn the Kosmistans had moved out long ago.

The woman frowned and her distrustful expression turned suspicious. She said something harsh in Russian and crossed herself. Before Nikia could blink, the woman whisked away the beer and made a shooing motion with her hand.

She didn't budge. "Please, I need your help. I must find the Kosmistan family."

"??????." She made the sign of the cross again, much to Nikia's consternation. As she repeated, "??????," in a louder tone, the bar fell silent, with every eye blatantly focused on the drama playing out at the bar.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose and Nikia whirled away from the bartender to examine the room.

Several patrons were crossing themselves and all watched her with a combination of fear and loathing.

She heard someone murmur, "Witch," in English. Apparently, her family wasn't well-regarded in this area.

The tense silence held, with the seconds ticking past audibly from a crudely carved wooden clock on the wall. Slowly, Nikia slipped from the barstool, knowing she would find no help here. All eyes followed her slow movement to the door. She tried to hurry without appearing to hurry and her heart sped up as she neared the open door. She could taste freedom and took a larger step. An arm blocked her way and she came to an abrupt halt.

An old man stood there. His slight build and hunched posture indicated he was no threat to Nikia. She could have shoved past him and been on her way but his expression gave her pause. He didn't look at her with fear. Curiosity filled his eyes and he inclined his head, saying in broken English, "I Yuri Kosmistan."

She sagged with relief and barely kept the story from pouring from her in a tidal wave of words.

Weakness swept through her, prompted by a surge of relief and she had to restrain the urge to throwherself into the old man's arms. "Please, can you help me?"

He hesitated for a long second before nodding. "Come, ???????."

Although she had no idea what he'd said, Nikia had no qualms following the man from the tavern to a rusted out Chevy truck at least forty years old. His intentions seemed pure and she placed her trust in him by climbing into the truck. He joined her in the cab, got behind the wheel and started the engine after half a minute of the starter grinding. The gears.h.i.+ft crunched gears when he s.h.i.+fted but he seemed unconcerned.

They left the tavern via the muddy road, traveling almost a mile before Nikia spoke. "Do you know of an Elsa Kosmistan?" She watched the old man's face, not missing the flicker of surprise in his eyes. He shrugged and said something but it was Russian and beyond her comprehension.

She tried a different question. "Where are we going?"

"Temhoe. Kosmistans."

She sighed and gave up conversation with the man. He didn't speak enough English to answer her questions and she spoke no Russian. Once they reached the village-Temhoe, was it?-she hoped there would be someone in residence who spoke better English.

It was good she hadn't expected a warm welcome. Her first sight of Temhoe was depressing. Vast marshland surrounded the entire small area that had been cleared for crude wooden dwellings with hand-cut wooden s.h.i.+ngles. A general state of disrepair affected everything, lending an even gloomier cast to the already sad atmosphere. At first appearance, Temhoe was unwelcoming.

Her first introduction with another Kosmistan proved to be equally unwelcoming. Nikia hung back near the doorway of the cramped kitchen as Yuri conversed with a woman even older than he was, with broad hips, stark white hair sc.r.a.ped into a bun, leathery skin, and cold, black eyes that never deviated from Nikia, even as she appeared to berate the man.

Yuri nodded his head to the woman, turned to Nikia and bowed at the waist. "Mother will speak." Then he slipped through the doorway leading into the rest of the small cottage, leaving her on her own with the woman eyeing her so disdainfully.

She cleared her throat as she forced her feet to take a step forward. "Do you speak English, ma'am?"

"Enough." Her voice was as sharp as her eyes and as glacial as the ice on the poles of the Earth. "Who are you?"

"My name is Nikia..." She trailed off when the woman's expression closed.

"Get out. We not need your kind here."

She held out a hand. "Please, won't you listen?"

The woman crossed her arms, pursed her lips and stared at her. She didn't repeat her directive to leave, so Nikia continued. "My grandmother came from this village, I guess. Her name was Elsa and she married a-"

"??????," interjected the old woman. "Bloodsuckers."

She nodded, not about to quibble over terminology while the woman was somewhat listening. "She had a daughter named Illiana. I am Illiana's daughter."

"Pure evil," the woman whispered. Her eyes focused more sharply on Nikia. "You are pure evil. Yuri should not have brought you. Leave this place."

A tear spilled from her eye and she brushed it away. "You're my last hope. My mother has controlled my body for thirty-three years of my life. Only after awakening from a coma was I able to take over but she's fighting me." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "She's winning." The migraine flared in intensity, as if Illiana was reveling in her triumph.

The woman kept up her icy facade. Nikia stared at her for a moment, hoping she would change her mind but the woman held fast. With dropped shoulders, she turned to leave the kitchen, not knowing what else she could do. She had exhausted her last option. Atar would be coming for her, so all she could do was take a room somewhere near the airport and wait for him. She wouldn't try to escape her fate again, she vowed. It was too important to stop Illiana, even if it meant dying.

Lost in thought, with her feet methodically leading her to the crude mud road Yuri had driven her down, Nikia didn't see someone approach. It wasn't until a hand fell on her arm that she jerked and looked up to see a woman close to her age standing slightly behind her. She had long hair the shade of maple, with large green eyes. Her features were familiar, although Nikia had never met her before.

"I am Oksana...your cousin."

Nikia's eyes widened at the revelation. "How did you-"

"I heard your discussion with Gran." She shrugged. "She is old and set in her ways. Elsa betrayed the family when she left our village and ways to marry one of the vampires. Gran curses whenever she hears her name. She is even more angry now that a woman tricked her into learning a binding spell last year under the claim of trying to control Elsa's evil ways." She shook her head. "The truth was revealed, but not until this Sian already had the knowledge.

"Gran does not forgive." Oksana's lips curved into an indulgent smile. "But she forgets a child shouldn't be held responsible for the sins of its parents. I will help you."

Her cousin's rapid speech in English thick with an accent, especially the mention of Sian, made Nikia's head spin. She latched onto her last words. "How? What can be done?"

"Illiana must be banished. There is a spell I can perform that will allow you to confront her in your mind."

She paused, scanning the area. "We cannot do it now."

Disappointment burned through her chest. "Why not?"

"You need support, someone to keep you linked to this realm. If you defeat her, Illiana's essence will depart from this world but your spirit might follow, unable to give up the fight." Nikia shook her head. "I won't. Please, I need you to do this."

"No, we will wait."

"For what?"

Oksana nodded her head in the direction of the road, where a motorcycle was approaching. "We wait for him."

Nikia turned, gasping when she saw Atar. How had he caught up with her so quickly? She turned back to Oksana, taking the woman's hand without thought. "Don't tell him I'm here. He wants to take me back. He doesn't believe me. He'll never let me go through with this." She swore Illiana's cold laughter echoed through her brain, although the migraine hadn't attained the severity of the last time she had spoken with her mother.

"Shush." She patted Nikia's hand. "Have some faith in him, Nikia. You need a link strong enough to draw you back and who better than the one you love?"

How the h.e.l.l had he gotten himself into this? Atar shook his head at the situation, wondering why he was in the middle of it. The woman, Oksana, had been too persuasive and he hadn't been able to turn away from the pleading in Nikia's eyes. She really believed her mother had controlled her, meaning she was probably mentally ill. Dissociative Ident.i.ty Disorder, wasn't it called? If that was the case, how could the archaic spell the cousin was casting do anything to help her? She needed medication and counseling, not magic and ceremonies.

He intended to make sure she got the help she needed when he took her back to her sister. In the meantime, it would do no harm to let her have the ceremony. It might help her stay focused long enough to reach Corsova, without taking off on him again.

"Atar?"

He looked down at her when she clutched his hand and spoke his name. "Yes?"

"How did you get here so quickly?"

"Anca chartered a jet. It's at my disposal from this point." He forced a lighthearted wink. "It's more convenient for chasing after you."

Her expression remained serious, almost grim. "I won't run again. I promise you that. If this doesn't work, there's only one way to banish Illiana." She flinched but her resolve didn't waver. "I'll have to die."

He couldn't draw in a breath for a long moment at her pragmatic words. Grasping her hand, Atar said, "That's crazy. You just need help. I'll make sure Anca takes care of you."

Her eyes were sad but she must have decided not to argue. Instead, she brought his hand to her face and rubbed her cheek against it. "I'd rather have you taking care of me."

He swallowed, not sure what to say. To delay a response, he s.h.i.+fted from a kneeling position to sittingIndian-style on the hand-woven rug beside the pallet where Nikia lay. He blinked when fragrant smoke from the incense entered his eyes. What could he tell her? He wanted to be there for her but if she was mentally ill, she needed a lot more help than Atar could give her. Finally, he said, "I'll be there if you need me."As much as I can without interfering , he added silently.

Oksana's return interrupted their conversation. She wore a simple outfit of cloth trousers and a white s.h.i.+rt. Their ceremonies must not call for any special garb. Atar had never partic.i.p.ated in a vampire or werewolf ritual but he had heard the vampires liked robes and the werewolves preferred nudity.

He looked down when Nikia squeezed his hand again but her eyes weren't on him. They were focused on a plain wooden cup Oksana held and wide with fear. "What is that?" he asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

"A dram." She didn't elaborate, except to say, "It will put Nikia in a deep trance, so that she can find her mother in her mind and banish her."

"How do I do it?"

Oksana shrugged. "The manifestation is different for each person. Just remember what you're experiencing is real and it isn't."

He scowled. "What's that mean?" The words to halt this nonsense hovered on the tip of his tongue.

"Whatever happens inside her mind will be very real to her, even though it's not real for us. If she's injured during the confrontation, physical marks will appear on her body. What happens to her mind happens to her body but she is in control, as long as she remembers that." Oksana knelt on her knees to hand the cup to Nikia. "You are in control of the scenario. If you need to alter something, you can do it, as long as you don't get caught up too deeply in the world created in your mind. Most importantly, you have to keep Illiana from defeating you because then she is in command."

Nikia nodded but didn't speak. Her manner was meek when she took the wooden cup and drained the contents. Her complexion turned ashen and she blinked repeatedly, as if trying to keep open her eyes.

"Don't fight it," Oksana said in a soothing tone. "Let the dram work. The sleep state is necessary."

Atar brushed the hair from Nikia's face, biting his tongue to keep from protesting. Her hand in his grew slack and her eyelids closed. While her eyes twitched rapidly under the lids, her breathing was faint and she looked close to death. He leaned toward the cousin, wis.h.i.+ng Nikia hadn't put so much faith in her upon such short acquaintance. "What have you done to her?"

Oksana's mild reply indicated she wasn't angry about his suspicion. "I'm helping her. This is her only chance to rid herself of Illiana."

He scoffed. "You don't really believe that, do you? It's something she's created in her mind, to escape the knowledge of what she's done."

Her brow quirked. "You are ent.i.tled to your skepticism. All I ask is you remain emotionally available to her if she needs you, despite your disbelief."

"I'll be right here until she wakes up. " No way was he leaving Nikia alone with this woman in such a vulnerable state. Because she claimed to be a family member who wanted to help didn't mean she was.

Who knew what her intentions were? * * * * *