Happily Ever Afterlife Page 3

  "Truly?"

  "You should be free, not stuck in this dingy, old castle with me." He didn't voice his concerns about his people's happiness. He didn't want her to feel any guilt.

  She came forward and hugged him, her hair and his clothing were the only barriers between them. He hesitated, and then embraced her, holding her tightly, not wanting to let go. Finally, he did, and she stepped back and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  "You are not an evil vampire, and you truly wish to help your people. I will give you a gift to assist you." She dropped the cloak and turned back into a bird. Zoya flapped up to the windowsill and spread her wing, preening. She jerked, and then stretched her neck forward, holding one downy, golden feather in her beak.

  Pyotr hesitantly took the feather from her and almost dropped it in shock when his hand tingled.

  She trilled happily, singing a short song, and then she launched herself out of the window. In a flash of light, she was gone from his life.

  He clutched the feather to his chest and felt alive, though his heart was heavy from his loss.

  * * *

  New York, 2013

  Peter stood in the line outside the box office and tried not to fidget. He was nervous, though he didn't know why. There was no way his Zoya was singing on Broadway, but still, there was a chance. The Firebird was supposed to be an immortal being, just like a vampire, and her legend had been retold just often enough through history to make him believe she was still alive. The line moved, and he showed his ID and got his ticket. He followed the crowd inside, pausing only to present his ticket to the usher at the door.

  He'd been able to buy good seats, even last minute, and was pleased with his view of the stage. The wait, while everyone seated themselves and the announcer introduced the play, had him rolling and unrolling his program to suppress the urge to burst onto the stage and tear away the curtains. Peter studied each actress as she came out on stage. With his vampire powers, it was almost as if he stood next to them, and yet, he didn't see her. Finally, the stars made their entrance. The woman from the poster walked onto the stage, her long, fiery golden hair trailed down her back to her knees. Her elegant silver dress seemed to reflect the light from her hair, and her eyes were gold, but it had been so long since he'd seen her that he simply wasn't sure.

  The actors spoke a few words of dialog, and then she sang, the sound of silver bells filling the theater. It was her! Her voice rang pure and beautiful, filling the theater with its magic. The musical was a love story. The audience wept and laughed with joy. He was so moved by her voice that, even though Peter was immune to her magic, he wept and laughed along with them, for he was not immune to the pure beauty of her song.

  The play was over far too soon, and Peter slipped out quickly. He didn't know how to approach Zoya and had no idea if she'd even want to see him. It was enough to know she was still alive, and perhaps, for a time, he could watch her perform.

  He lingered in the shadows, watching the crowds filter out of the building, and wondered if he'd catch another glimpse of her. Undoubtedly, the actors and actresses had their own exit, and when the last person had left without his Firebird appearing, he slipped out of the shadows and headed toward his hotel. Perhaps he could buy a place in the city and stay for a while.

  Plans occupied his thoughts as he casually made his way through the streets, pondering where he might want to live. He'd always been more comfortable in the wilds, but it was easier to hide amongst the masses. He, like many others of his kind, had found the cities a refuge from notice.

  A quiet, evil laugh and the sense of several other vampires broke through his musings. A human wouldn't have heard it over the noise of the city, but part of him was always on alert for danger. Peter glanced into the nearby alley and stopped, furious. Somehow, several vampires had cornered Zoya, his Firebird. Peter doubted they knew what they'd found. He suspected they were unconsciously attracted to the magic in her blood and her beauty. Surely they thought they had another unsuspecting human to play with. Zoya looked alarmed and had her back to one of the dirty walls.

  Peter stepped into the alley and cleared his throat, getting their attention. "Perhaps you should leave."

  Two of the five vampires turned to face him. They were young. Alone, they'd never challenge someone like him, but in a group they might have a chance. One vampire darted forward and grabbed Zoya, grinning and showing his fangs.

  She gasped and tried to jerk her arm free.

  Peter approached slowly, but confidently.

  "Maybe you should leave. She's ours."

  "No. She's not." Peter added power to his voice and said it with such certainty that two of the vampires moved as if to leave. "No one can possess her. Leave, and I'll let you live."

  The lead vampire laughed. "Hear that, boys? He'll let us live. It looks to me like you're outnumbered." He lunged forward.

  Peter dodged as the vampire rushed him, a blur to mortal eyes, but moving at normal speed to him. Peter caught the vampire's arm as he overshot his target and twisted him around, slashing at his throat with clawed fingers. The vampire screamed a gurgling cry that cut off as he fell to ash. Two of the other vampires plowed into Peter, trying to knock him to the ground. He held firm, tossing one into a wall and barely avoiding the claws of the other, though his good jacket ripped. He growled in anger, and the other vampire not holding his Firebird joined the fray. The three of them closed in, but the one holding Zoya shouted in surprise. They looked, which was enough for Peter. He slashed at one, clawed fingers digging into flesh. A flash of light blinded him and sent him staggering backward.

  The other vampires screamed in pain, and when his vision cleared, they clawed at their faces as their flesh disintegrated into piles of ash.

  "Pyotr!"

  He only had seconds to brace himself before Zoya threw herself into his arms.

  "Pyotr! I thought you were dead. I wept for days." She babbled happily in Russian, clinging to him.

  Peter could barely comprehend what she said because she talked so quickly. She'd thought he was dead? Why would she think that?

  "Zoya, dearest. Please, slow down."

  She laughed and kissed him on the cheek before stepping back.

  He was almost sorry he'd told her to slow down because the light seemed to fade from his life when she let go of him. He looked around, shocked at the piles of ash on the ground. "How?"

  "Pyotr, most vampires are deathly allergic to sunlight."

  "Yes, I know." He still didn't understand.

  "My magic comes from the sun. It is a simple thing for me to cause a burst of sunlight, even in the depths of night."

  "I suppose you didn't need to be rescued then."

  Peter didn't even want to think about what she could have done to him once she found out he was a vampire all those years ago. She hadn't, and that's what mattered.

  "No, but you didn't know." Her smile widened for a moment, and then fell slightly. "Perhaps you should go."

  Peter frowned and turned, following where her beautiful golden eyes glanced. A tall man in a long trench coat and a concealing hat came quickly around the corner. He moved with a grace that reminded Peter of a stalking wolf. He dipped his hand into a pocket when he saw them.

  "Are you okay?" His voice was low and confident.

  "Of course, Zach." Her voice seemed oddly flat, devoid of the music that normally filled it.

  The man relaxed slightly, though he kept his hand in his pocket. "Who's your friend?"

  "Zach, this is Pyotr, an old friend of mine."

  Peter arched an eyebrow at her, wondering who Zach was. She refused to meet his eyes.

  "Ahh, from the old country, then. Zoya speaks of Russia often. I have a mind to take her there someday on vacation." He went to Zoya's side and put a possessive arm around her waist.

  Only centuries of controlling his emotions kept the surprise off of Peter's face. Of course she had a suitor. Perhaps they were even married, though he didn't see a ring on
either of their fingers.

  "Yes, and Peter is fine, though your accent is quite good."

  "As is your American one." Zach glanced at the piles of ash then studied Peter more closely. "You are uninjured?"

  "Yes. Thank you." Obviously he knew about vampires. He didn't seem surprised. "I heard a commotion and came to investigate. Zoya, however, didn't need my assistance. She had things well in hand."

  "Yes, she's quite able to take care of herself. Well, it's been a long and exciting night, and she has several more performances here before the show moves on. It was nice to meet you, Peter."

  "Likewise."

  Zach ushered Zoya out of the alleyway. She shot one last look over her shoulder. Peter thought he saw a silver tear slide down her cheek, but he wasn't sure through the bloody tears that blurred his vision. Then she was gone.

  It took all of his willpower to leave the alley and head for his hotel. He wanted to race after them, to fling Zach's offending arm from his beautiful Firebird's waist, to tear his throat out, and claim what was his. Except, as he'd told the vampires they'd killed, no one could possess Zoya. It wasn't his right to try or to say who she should be with. She'd thought he was dead, though he wasn't sure why. Of course she should have a suitor. She was beautiful, she was talented and she probably didn't even like him anyway after he held her captive. Who was he trying to fool?

  Peter put his hand to his neck to pull away the feather and his constant reminder of his Firebird, but in the end practicality won, and he let his hand fall away. If he couldn't have her, at least he'd have this memory and his ability to go out into the sunlight. Perhaps he'd watch the show until it left and took her away from him. The pain of his loss blinded him to his surroundings, and he was surprised when he found himself in his small hotel room. Before he could change his mind, he pulled up the website and bought tickets for each performance, ones further back so he could hide in the crowd. She didn't need to know he watched her sing.

  Abandoning his thoughts of moving to New York, he started plotting where he would go next. Maybe he would return to Russia. It had changed over the years, but it was still home. He could find solace in the familiar forests and the snowy depths of winter. Perhaps the cold would freeze his heart, and he'd never feel the pain of loss again. Peter went to the small safe and, after opening it, removed a small silver box and tucked it into his coat pocket. He'd make sure she received it before she left his life forever. She deserved at least that much from him, though he'd wait until the night of the last performance to give it to her.

  * * *

  Peter almost didn't go to the last show, but he knew no other way to find Zoya and make sure she received the silver box. He would never trust a treasure like this to a courier or the post, and she deserved to have this ancient bit of home. He suffered through the play. Her beautiful voice carried him away from his pain, as it always had, but the pain was worse, knowing he'd likely never see her again. If he did see her, it would likely be centuries down the road and she'd have some other suitor. He wiped tears from his eyes and rose with the rest of the crowd, the applause almost deafening him. Peter slipped out, using some of his vampire powers to go backstage unseen. It wasn't hard to find her dressing room. It was the one with her name on it, after all, and he found a shadow to hide in.

  Before long, Zach hurried down the hallway to her dressing room carrying a beautiful bouquet of red roses. Using a key, he opened the door and slipped inside. They were alone, and it was one of the hardest things Peter had ever done to stay in the shadows and not confront Zach. He refrained though. Peter didn't want to make his Firebird sad or give her any further reason to hate him, and he thought killing her suitor might upset her.

  It didn't take long before the actors were filing down the hallway toward them. Zoya; beautiful, laughing, musical, magical Zoya, leading the crowd. She held flowers, and her smile brightened when she saw Zach leave her dressing room, holding his arms out for a hug. She melted into his embrace, and Peter felt his heart break completely.

  "A beautiful show, dearest."

  "Thank you."

  The other actors all went to their respective places to change out of their costumes, clean off stage makeup, and decompress after the show. Their babble and laughter filled the hallway for a moment longer, and then faded, as if it had never been. Peter waited a moment longer and was about to leave the shadows when he heard Zoya and Zach talking.

  "So, who is he?"

  "Who?"

  "Zoya, you've been avoiding the question all week, yet he must mean something to you. I believe he's come to every show."

  That surprised Peter. He hadn't noticed Zach watching. Maybe he'd looked at the guest list?

  "Zachariah, he is an old, dear friend. We went to school together in Russia. He even took me on a lovely date. I thought he'd perished in a fire shortly before I left for America. Of course he's coming to my performances. I wish I'd found out where he was staying, so we could get coffee and catch up. There is nothing more to tell."

  Peter frowned. Perhaps this Zachariah had no idea he was courting the Firebird? He obviously knew she was special, but the story she'd told was obviously untrue.

  "Zoya, he is strange. There is something ancient about him. Are you sure he's not a vampire?"

  She laughed, though Peter could hear the strain in the musical sound. "Heavens no, we were children together, Zach. He could hardly be an ancient monster if we grew up together, now could he?"

  "Hmm. Perhaps a newer monster then."

  "Zach, if he were a vampire, he would have died when I killed the others. No vampire is immune to my light spell. Now, are we going to celebrate, or are we going to argue?"

  "I'm sorry, Zoya. It's just strange. Of course we will celebrate."

  She giggled, and the chime of perfect silver bells made Peter's heart ache. He heard cloth rustle and could imagine this Zach, this Hunter, hugging his Firebird. He growled and slipped away. She was truly lost to him. If she hunted vampires, she'd never want anything to do with him. He supposed it was the best he could hope for that she protected him from Zach, and if Hunters were in the area, he should leave. He had no qualm with their kind, except that they probably didn't feel the same about him. Most vampires did deserve death. He couldn't say if he did or not, but he wasn't ready to give up life, not just yet anyway.

  Peter slipped out of the theater and went directly to his hotel. He needed to pack his things and leave. He'd rent a car and drive for a few days, and then, perhaps, he'd take a plane back home. He missed Russia more and more over the week, and it was time to go. He'd find some other way to give Zoya the silver box.

  * * *

  After throwing the last piece of clothing into his suitcase, Peter looked around the small room one last time, making sure he had everything. Satisfied that he wasn't leaving anything behind, he went to the phone to have the front desk bring his rental car around. A soft knock on the door startled him, and he put the phone down without making the call. He hadn't checked out yet and perhaps it was housekeeping, though the hour was late. He wasn't expecting anyone. Because of the Hunter, Peter kept all of his senses reined in tightly so that he could remain undetected, and he wasn't prepared when he opened the door.

  "Let's have a talk, shall we," Zach said as he squeezed the trigger on a crossbow.

  Peter's eyes went wide, but he didn't have time to dodge, caught off guard as he was. The bolt plunged into his chest, and his world went black.

  * * *

  "You are a lot heavier than you look."

  Peter snapped his eyes open sometime later at those words and glanced around. He was tied to a heavy chair with chains. Given enough time to recover from being staked, he could probably break them, but he had a feeling he didn't have that kind of time.

  Zach sat on the edge of a table not too far away, pointing the crossbow at him. "She said you weren't a vampire, but somehow you must have fooled her. Although I thought you seemed older than Zoya said, perhaps it is simply your
bloodline that makes you seem old."

  Peter glanced around. Bare walls of chipped plaster and brick gave the room a sinister look. A layer of dust coated everything except Zach's recent footsteps and the table where the Hunter sat. The glass in the windows was broken and Peter didn't have to look outside to know they were on the east side of the building. The sun would be up soon.

  Normally, that wouldn't have been a problem, but when he didn't burst into flames with the first touch of the sun's light Zach would wonder why. If he figured out it was the feather that protected Peter, Zach would have no trouble stealing it and killing Peter. The way the feather glowed, it wouldn't be hard for the Hunter to figure it out either. Peter tugged at his bonds, not ready to give up.

  "Nothing to say?"

  "Not really." He tugged against the chain. It was a sturdy chair, probably specially made to be difficult for a vampire to break, and he didn't have any luck as he tried to escape.

  "I must admit, I'm curious. Did you and Zoya truly grow up together?"

  Peter stopped tugging at the chains and looked at the Hunter. "Are you telling me you don't trust her?"

  "I trust her in everything but this. Sometimes, women do strange things, like protecting a long lost friend even when they shouldn't." He shrugged. "I suppose it doesn't matter. It'll all be over soon anyway." He glanced out the window.

  Black sky faded to gray, and soon the first rays of the sun would climb above the horizon. Peter sighed and went back to tugging on his bonds while he surveyed the room, looking for inspiration. He could feel his strength returning, but he suspected that Zach would simply stake him again if it seemed like he might escape.

  Zach's smile widened as the sun rose higher in the sky. He looked positively gleeful as the first rays touched Peter's feet, but his smile faltered as the light reached to Peter's knees and then came to chest height and still Peter was unharmed.