Prologue

 

 

 

Scotland, 1750

 

“I’m sorry, Val.”

The sorrowful expression on Harry’s face was too painful to look at, so Val focused his attention on the unmoving bundle lying in the man’s arms. The castle was eerily quiet except that Robbie’s screams still seemed to echo throughout—at least they did in Val’s head. He had the passing notion that he would never stop hearing them. That was his cross to bear, as the humans would say. Harry was blameless.

“You did your best,” he said to reassure the doctor. “I know that and I thank you for it. I apologize for my lapse earlier.”

It needed to be said because their group was small after so many defections. They couldn’t continue to survive on this miserable planet if they splintered into more warring factions. Besides, there was only one man to blame for this hideous outcome, and it wasn’t Harry.

I did this. I killed Robbie.

The older man inclined his head, a gesture they’d picked up from the humans that conveyed a great deal. “There is no need. I understood your distress.”

Val almost smiled at the understated response. It was so like Harry to play the peacemaker and rise above the aggressive impulses of their species. But then, that’s what made him a healer rather than a warrior. That’s how the man had been able to calmly do his work, even as Robbie lay dying in agony.

Val made himself focus on the proximate cause of his beloved’s demise, the primary one being Val’s own lust and hubris. The babe had neither Val’s paleness nor Robbie’s ruddy complexion. It appeared almost blue and perfectly formed—a beauty, like the boy who’d carried him in a body not quite built for such a thing and which had no natural way to expel him.

“Did he ever draw a breath?” he found himself asking, even as he made an aborted attempt to touch the lifeless face.

“No,” came Harry’s soft reply.

Val stepped back, away from the sight of his fatal decision and a pain so great that he wondered if he could survive it. “Just as well. Would you please take him back to Robbie’s side? I must prepare a pyre out in the courtyard for them both.”

A heavy, yet reassuring, hand landed on his shoulder. “Let me help you in that.”

Val turned to Alex. He’d almost forgotten the man was there—and had been by his side from the moment Robbie’s labor had begun. It had taken Alex and two others to pull Val from the birthing room.

“Thank you, sir, but no. This is my last duty for the boy who gave me everything and lost his life for it.” His words choked him. He had to stop and gather his wits and courage. The sense of helplessness was utterly alien to him, as much as the whole miserable planet had been from the beginning.

He struggled for control as he addressed his captain, a man he would gladly follow to any destination for any intent. “I know he’d probably prefer to be buried in the ground.” The very concept sent a shudder through him. “I can’t do that.” The idea of Robbie and the babe moldering under dirt for years to come was vile. “Why can’t these humans turn to dust with death?”

He cringed at his own mewling, disgusted by how weak and pathetic he sounded. Yet, it didn’t change the fact that he needed to burn his beloved to ashes if he was going to keep what the humans would call sanity.

Alex squeezed his shoulder once before letting go. “I understand. Do what you must. No one will interfere, but know that we are here to help, should you want it.”

Val shifted his gaze to a nearby window as he nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

The sun was low in the sky. It would be full night by the time he finished, and that seemed fitting. The humans were afraid of the dark and preferred to be inside once the sun set. That meant fewer eyes in the surrounding countryside to notice what he did. The primitive creatures also thought evil came out and lurked until dawn. He’d always sneered at their superstitions, but at that moment, he had a keener insight into their beliefs. Something putrid blanketed the castle that might only be purged by the brightness of the sun.

I’ve been living among humans too long. There was nothing to fear except the actions of people, human and their own kind. And those mutinous men weren’t worthy of fear at all, only scorn and fury and vengeance.

“I will see to it now,” he added unnecessarily. When he turned to go, Alex stopped him with a touch to his arm.

“Do not blame yourself, Val. Robbie made this decision understanding the risks.”

Anger flared inside him. He jerked away from his superior in an insubordinate way that would have earned him a harsh rebuke in another time and place. “He was only a boy! I saved him from the horrors of Culloden and gave him a safe place in my bed. He would have done anything to please me.”

Val clamped his mouth shut and fought a wave of agony that threatened to double him over. He saw again, as if for the first time, those exquisite green eyes peering up at him with adoration mixed with fear. All that lovely red hair framing a face that was impossible to resist. He’d seen it in the mud of the battlefield then on the pillow where they lay together and yet once again when the human had consented to giving Val his blood then taking Val’s in return. Yes, the boy had known what he was doing—giving himself to a man who was really a vampire—to a male whose seed would change the boy’s perfect body in a way unnatural to humans.

Robbie had shown incredible courage each time, given the limitations of his human imagination and his society’s expectations. But he hadn’t known what he was choosing, not really. Did you finally realize what I’d done to you, my love, as you took your last breath?

“I know something of how you feel,” was Alex’s quiet reply to Val’s outburst.

Of course he does. Val felt bad that, in his own misery, he’d forgotten Alex’s loss from only a few decades ago. “Dracul has much to answer for.”

“Indeed.”

“Not this, though. Not really. He may have played both sides against the middle with the English and the Jacobites, but I was the one who brought Robbie to this end.”

“Val.”

With a violent shake of his head, Val made his feet move again. This introspection was useless. “I appreciate your concern for me, sir. I don’t wish to speak of this further. Never again, if you please.”

With that, he left the room and the castle to gather wood and make his pyre. He hoped the sun would burn his eyes and his skin. Physical pain was far more welcome than this emotional one. He would say goodbye to his human and their son. In his mind, he would think of the baby as Andrew, because that was what Robbie had wanted to call him. He wouldn’t think of either of them much, however. The pain was not helpful in any way except one.

If ever he found himself becoming emotionally attached to another human, he would remember this night. Never again would he allow this agony to claim him. Never again would he fall in love with a pretty boy.