Dark Miracle

Rhys never got another word out, because Szeren bent down and stole his breath with a scorching kiss, his hand wrapping around Rhys's straining, dripping erection. With a strangled cry against Szeren's mouth, Rhys came in a gush, shooting up onto his chest with the strength of his climax. As Rhys's breath sobbed in and out of his lungs, his orgasm continuing to explode across his body and through his mind like fireworks, Szeren joined him, shouting his rapture as he painted Rhys inside with his release.

Slowly, excruciatingly carefully, Szeren's fangs punctured Rhys's throat and he sucked, drawing the sweet nectar of his lifemate's blood into his mouth, one swallow at a time. Rhys shivered, throwing his arms around Szeren as he drank. Licking the wounds closed, he laid his head down and tilted his chin up. Rhys was so, so gentle as he licked over Szeren's pulse once, then sank his fangs in. He moaned at the taste of his mate as Szeren's blood splashed onto his tongue. When he'd taken enough for a true blood exchange, Rhys licked the pinpricks closed and kissed the wound. The incredible intimacy of the exchange humbled Szeren, and he thanked any god or goddess who cared to listen for the amazing gift of his lifemate.

Shuddering, locked together, their pleasure immeasurably heightened by the mind merge, Szeren collapsed onto Rhys, wrapping him in his arms and rolling onto his side to hold him close. Their bond was complete now, they were truly mated, one soul, whole, together for eternity. Szeren kissed the top of Rhys's head and murmured to him in the Carpathian language, words of love and devotion. Rhys held him tightly, his cheek pressed to Szeren's chest.

"I love you, Szeren Kizevicius."

"As I love you, Rhys Rasmus."

After lying together for a while and simply enjoying the feel of each other's bodies, Rhys sighed and propped his head up on his arm.

"Are you ready to find your family's sword?"

"Are you ready to search for it?"

"It's why you hired me, isn't it?"

Szeren looked at him, startled, but Rhys had a cheeky grin on his face.

"So I'm still paying you?" Szeren asked.

"Of course," Rhys said, snuggling back under the sheet next to his mate. "This isn't a proper honeymoon. I expect to be taken someplace fabulous. After," he emphasized, one eyebrow raised, "you meet my mother."

"Oh god," Szeren said, closing his eyes. For some reason, the idea of meeting Rhys's mother made him extremely nervous.

Rhys laughed. "Yeah, she's going to love this! I never even told her about The Dream, and now I'm going to come home, announce I'm gay, I went to Europe, met the other half of my soul, and married him." Rhys shook his head. "She's gonna be royally pissed that she never got to buy a mother of the groom dress."

Szeren couldn't help it; he laughed. He didn't just laugh; he laughed until tears ran down his face. Rhys smiled at him indulgently, then climbed out of bed and held out his hand. "Come on, big guy. Let's get a shower. I'm a mess and you're rather fragrant."

Szeren rose, taking Rhys's hand and following his mate to the master bath. They didn't have to do this; they were capable of cleansing themselves with a mere thought, though Szeren hadn't told Rhys about that particular ability yet. The truth was that Szeren enjoyed showering with Rhys, and he wasn't about to discourage his playful mate from lavishing attention on him in the shower, including washing him, which Rhys seemed to enjoy almost as much as Szeren.

After they were clean and dressed, Szeren led Rhys out into the cool night air, instructing him on how to regulate his temperature. Szeren was very pleased at how well Rhys picked information right out of his mind, and was amazed at Rhys's level of genius. His mind was a little frightening at times. He picked shapeshifting up as though he'd been born to it, and the two were soon winging across the night sky in the form of two owls.

At the small cave where the Kizevicius clan sword had been hidden for over five centuries, Rhys spent a good deal of time walking around touching things. He spent most of his time with the wooden rack where the sword had rested, requesting that Szeren remove it from the cave wall and allow him to hold it. Szeren did as he asked, and Rhys spent a good hour just sitting on the floor of the cave holding the rack with his eyes closed. Finally, Rhys stood.

"How long until sunrise?" he asked.

"A little more than four hours," Szeren said. He returned the wooden rack to the wall. He'd begun to feel uneasy and was scanning for the undead. Aidan had killed a very young vampire two nights before, and while it was probably completely unrelated, Szeren couldn't help feeling wary with his new lifemate out in the open.

"All right. Do you want to get your sword tonight, or would you rather wait until tomorrow night?"

Szeren goggled at him. "You know where it is?"

Rhys nodded. "I can feel it. Sense it. Since we can fly, we can get to where it is and get home before sunrise. I just don't know how much extra time to allot for things. If you want to wait until tomorrow night, that's fine."

"Where is the sword? Can you see who took it?"

"It's in another cave. I don't know who took it, only that it's deep underground, and I get the sensation that it's somehow stuck."

Szeren frowned. "Let's wait until tomorrow night, then. I don't want to go after it and have something go wrong."

Rhys nodded, smiling. "You look so surprised. Didn't you think I could do this? It's what I do for a living, remember?"

Szeren shook his head. "I knew that. I just... I guess - I didn't realize how good you were at your job."

Rhys laughed.

The following evening, the two of them rose, made love, and fed. As soon as they cleaned up, they prepared to go after the sword, notifying Aidan and Mikhail before they set off. They took the form of owls and flew over the mountains to the area Rhys identified as being the correct spot. The forest here grew extremely thick, the trees dense and fragrant with the scent of evergreen. Evidence of animal life was clear in the tracks left in the soft, dark earth, scrapes where tree bark was worn completely away, and burrows mounded up against fallen logs, but despite all this, they could see no animals. The forest was eerily silent.

Szeren checked that his sword was loose in its scabbard, scanning the entire area for the blank spots that would indicate a vampire was present. He found nothing to betray a vampire's location, but he still felt very uneasy. Something wasn't right. The animals weren't behaving right, and that was always a dead giveaway that something was wrong. As they approached the entrance to the cavern where Rhys was certain they would find his family's sword, a deep feeling of dread suddenly washed over Szeren. One hand went instinctively to his sword; the other went just as instinctively to Rhys.

"Something wrong?" Rhys asked.

"I'm not sure," Szeren said. "I just don't feel right about this. Promise me you'll be very careful down there."

Rhys frowned at him "Of course. Let's get this done so we can go home." Rhys grinned. "I want to look at the costume book again for the party tomorrow night."

Szeren groaned. He, like many of the males, both mated and unmated, was not looking forward to the Halloween masquerade that the Carpathian women had planned. Unlike Gregori, though, Szeren was wise enough to know when to capitulate, and when he saw the gleam in Rhys's eyes at just the mention of a masquerade ball, he knew what he'd be doing tomorrow night for All Hallow's Eve.

He sighed and moved toward the entrance of the cavern first, trying his level best to protect Rhys. He still couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. As they got inside the cave mouth and their eyes adjusted to the darkness, Szeren's sense of dread did not let up. They were in a tight, narrow tunnel that led steeply down, twisting around and switchbacking several times in what Szeren knew was an attempt to disorient intruders. This was no natural tunnel.

Rhys carried two flashlights as well as an electric candle, a powerful light that would even work wet, and as they moved deeper and further underground, he broke one of the flashlights out and popped it on, keeping the beam focused at their feet so he didn't ruin their vision. They could hear water, and both the walls and the floor of the tunnel grew damp as they continued on, until finally they were edging alongside a small stream. "Be careful, sivamet," Szeren said, his voice full of caution.

Rhys smiled indulgently. "I've been caving before, Szeren. I've even gone spelunking. This is pretty mild stuff."

"Even so."

Rhys understood. He'd not felt quite right as soon as they'd come upon the stream, and when he saw that the tunnel opened up ahead of them, he got a sudden flash, a vision, and reached out, grabbing Szeren's shirt.

"Wait!" Rhys hissed, trying to will the vision back, but it had come and gone too quickly. Had he been at home, he could've gone into a quiet room, smoked some pot, tried to meditate and pull what he'd seen back into his conscious memory. Down here under the earth, with Szeren as jumpy as a cat in a clinic on neuter-your-pet-day, it was impossible.

"What is it?" Szeren asked, reaching for his lifemate.

"I- I saw something. Maybe it was nothing. Just... be careful, baby."

"Always, Beloved."

Szeren turned back to the opening, drawing his sword with a pure, ringing sound that sent delicious shivers down Rhys's spine. He reached back to Rhys with his hand outstretched, and Rhys took his hand, entwining their fingers together. The flashlight was heavy in his other hand, a good weight, almost like a club, and as they entered the larger chamber, Rhys swung the light around them in a slow circle, taking in their surroundings.

They were in an underground wonderland.

The stream led to a large pool of an indeterminate depth, but it was deep enough that they couldn't see the bottom. Iridescent fungi, plants, and flowers of all kinds sprouted from the walls and ground. Vines draped down from the ceiling, heavy and thick, and throughout the chamber, immense tree trunks speared down through the ceiling to burst into fountains of chunky, round root masses approximately two feet from the floor. The twists and tangles of the roots looked like crazy, M.C. Escher style living sculpture, alien yet beautiful. Though Rhys still had the sense that he was being watched - that feeling had never left him - he felt so incredibly at home here in this chamber that he let go of Szeren's hand. Wandering around the cavern, he examined the flowers and plants, gently running his hands over the trees and their roots with an expression on his face that Szeren would have described as loving. It was while he was watching his mate, when his guard dropped for that split second, that it happened.

Szeren never saw the vampire, but he felt the hot, searing fire as his claws ripped the flesh over his wrist open, and it took every bit of his strength and willpower not to drop his sword.

"Rhys!" Szeren shouted.

Rhys spun around in time to see the blood fountain up from Szeren's slashed wrist, and then Szeren had switched his sword into his other hand, and he was facing off against... a man. Rhys ran to his side, tearing his shirt over his head to wrap it around Szeren's wrist, but Szeren was staring blankly at the man on the other side of the chamber, who was laughing softly at him as he licked Szeren's blood from his fingers.

"So, brother dear... it is true," the man said, his voice a raspy grating noise like bees buzzing against a window screen. "You have found your lifemate. Your blood tastes... content." He spat the last word as though it were a great insult.

"Mirek," Szeren said, his voice empty, devoid of emotion. He held his arm out and allowed Rhys to hold the shirt to it, though he gave him mental instructions to gather earth, mix it with his saliva, and pack the wound, as this would do far more to aid the healing than human first aid measures. "We thought you dead, killed by vampires prior to the Daylight Massacres."

"You were... misinformed," the vampire said, a cruel parody of a smile playing about his mouth. Rhys grimaced when he saw the broken teeth, stained brown from years of feeding off stolen blood.

"I see," Szeren replied. He noticed their clan sword belted at his older brother's right hip, as well as another, inferior blade on his opposite hip. "You stole the sword?"

"I did not," he said, offended. "One cannot steal what is mine by right. I am the eldest, and the sword belongs to me."

Szeren nodded slowly, flexing his hand as Rhys finished packing the saliva-moistened soil into his sliced wrist. "Thank you, sivamet," he said, and caressed his mate mentally. "Then draw the sword, Mirek. If it is yours by right, as you say, draw it."

"Where is your mate, Brother? I had so hoped to meet her. Extend my welcome to our... happy family." The vampire tried to smile again, but his attempt just came across as a foul grimace.

"My mate is no concern of yours, Mirek. You have come for the sword of our fathers, for justice, and I have no choice but to give you what you seek." He brandished his weapon in a gesture to encourage the vampire to attack.

Rhys knew it was stupid - after all, the thing was a vampire - but for just a second, he was hurt that Szeren didn't acknowledge him as his mate. For a spilt second he wondered if Szeren was really trying to protect him, or if Szeren hadn't told the creature who used to be his brother that Rhys was his lifemate because he was ashamed to have a male as a lifemate. The creature smirked.

"Your squire looks like a beaten dog. Do you not allow him to carry a weapon? What a cruel master you are, Szeren. I would be kinder to you, boy. Perhaps you'd prefer to try service under someone with more... experience? Maybe I should taste you first."

Quicker than he could move or even think, Mirek attacked, engaging Szeren in a clash of swords that sent Rhys stumbling back, cringing. Szeren was the larger of the two, though not by much, but Mirek seemed to be far more ferocious in his attacks, and it was obvious that Szeren was not fighting as well as he might have had he been using his dominant sword arm. Again and again Mirek slashed at him, relentlessly beating at him with vicious overhand blows and hard, slamming strikes, chasing Szeren back and forth across the chamber until Rhys was dizzy watching them and absolutely terrified just staying out of their way.

Szeren got in a good, full body slash, opening the vampire up clear across his torso and sending the creature to his knees of the ground. Szeren stalked closer, intent on finishing it, and Rhys saw the vampire do it. He saw the cunning look on Mirek's face, saw his hand claw at the ground, bunch in the loose earth, and knew just before he flung the powdery dirt up into Szeren's face what was going to happen. Szeren went stumbling back, clawing at his eyes as he tried to get the dirt out, his sword automatically dipping low. Rhys screamed, grabbing the long, heavy flashlight and throwing himself in between the two swordsmen. He swung the flashlight right at Mirek's head, cracking his skull with a satisfying crunch. Rhys was rewarded by Mirek's roar, but then he felt the incredible agony, the hot, searing that went straight through him, and he looked down.

A sword was sticking out of his stomach.

He looked up into the hateful eyes of the vampire, into the burning, flickering red flames, and saw his death. Mirek yanked the sword free and Rhys saw his blood spurt out. Szeren was screaming his name, over and over, out loud and in his mind, and all Rhys could think about was how badly it hurt, and how stupid he'd been. He stumbled back and hit one of the huge, rounded trees with the crazy root tangles at the bottom, and the next thing he knew, the world disappeared.

Szeren watched his older brother turned vampire run his lifemate through and felt as though he were the one dying. As Rhys's blood exploded out of the wound, Szeren felt his entire world narrow down to one objective: saving Rhys. He knew he had to destroy Mirek first, and switching his sword into his injured hand, he ignored the inconsequential pain; it was nothing compared to what his lifemate was going through right now. He prepared to charge Mirek when Rhys stumbled back into one of the trees. Szeren hoped his beloved would simply sit down and wait until he could come over and heal him after killing this wretched vampire, but to Szeren's horror, Rhys hit the surface of the tree and vanished, as though the tree swallowed him!

Bellowing in terrible rage, Szeren spun on Mirek. "Where is my lifemate!" he roared, attacking him with a fury that momentarily stunned them both.

Mirek didn't understand, and it was all he could do to fend off the crazed strikes of his younger brother's blade. "I asked you that myself," he said, panting, spittle and acidic blood flying from his lips.

Szeren nearly severed Mirek's right leg at the thigh. "Where!" he screamed.

"You're mad," Mirek said, batting the sword away as he hobbled back several steps.

Szeren delivered a duplicate blow to Mirek's left thigh. "Where!"

Dawning realization bloomed over the vampire's face, and he cackled, acidic blood spraying over Szeren. "Oh how perfect! My little brother is a faggot! I always knew you were a bit queer, but really, Szer..."

Blind rage owned Szeren. Mirek could've said anything; it wouldn't have mattered. All Szeren wanted was Rhys back, whole and unharmed. The taunts of a creature that had chosen to give up his soul hardly mattered. He went at Mirek, a flurry of slashing blades and righteous anger. Mirek surprised him, feigning sideways and whirling back in, cutting across Szeren's unprotected back and opening another painful gash.

"That's two, faggot," Mirek taunted. "That limp wrist of yours getting in the w-"

Szeren lunged and swung, cleaving Mirek's head from his shoulders in total silence. The vampire's body toppled over and hit the dirt of the cavern floor, and Szeren took a deep, shuddering breath. As he watched, though, the body's arms reached out, groping for its head. Striding over, Szeren picked up the head by the hair and carried it some distance away, setting it out of reach. He was shaking all over when he returned to the body, which was still twitching, jerking, and blinding groping for its head. Reaching down, Szeren, kicked it over and stepped on it, then quickly unbuckled and removed both his family's sword and the belt that held it. The blade warmed his hands before he even flipped the lock on the scabbard. Pressing his thumb against the catch, he pricked it, a single drop of blood disappearing into the mechanism as though the blade itself was drinking it.

"Oma veri," Szeren whispered, old blood in the Carpathian tongue. The safeguards protecting the blade recognized Szeren as the rightful owner of the sword, the last of the Kizevicius clan, and the blade clicked free. Szeren pulled the ancient weapon, the most powerful blade ever created by his clan, free and admired it for just one moment. Then the body under his foot twitched, and Szeren glared down at it.

He moved his booted foot, but only long enough to stab the body through its shriveled, blackened heart. Holding the hilt tightly, he closed his eyes and focused.

"O kuly torodak; lejkkadak o siva salamaval!" He said the words forcefully, as he knew he must to call magic: I fight the demon; I strike his heart with a lightning bolt! Had he been outdoors, fighting under the sky, it would have been easy to call lightning to incinerate the vampire's heart and body. This far under the ground, there was no way to draw lightning here - no way except by using the magic of the Kizevicius clan sword. Blue energy boiled out from the blade, quickly devouring the heart and then exploding the body of Mirek into nothing but a pile of ash. A bolt of the blue lightning leapt to the head, catching it and turning it to dust.