Bittersweet Magic (The Order #2)

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Oh yeah. Let’s do that again sometime.”

“Whenever you’re ready.” She could hear the grin in his voice, but she ignored it, too sated to be bothered to answer back.

Piers stroked her shoulders and back, drawing lazy circles on her skin, soothing her, and she drifted off into sleep.

…

“Tell me everything,” Roz said.

He rolled onto his front, rested his chin on one hand, and smiled. “Everything?”

“How you became a vampire? Why Andarta wants you so badly…?”

“Well, obviously because I’m irresistible.”

“Obviously,” she said dryly.

Actually, he was pretty irresistible, but she wasn’t going to agree with him; he was already big-headed enough. “Tell,” she urged.

After studying her for a minute longer, he shrugged his agreement. He pushed himself up and bunched the pillows behind him, then sat back and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his side.

“A long time ago, in a faraway place…”

“Where and how long?”

“Actually not that far away. Northern France, and just over two thousand years.”

“Wow—you’re old. And French. Double wow.”

“I was a priest, a druid—”

“A priest?” She sounded incredulous. “You were a priest?”

“Yes, I was a priest, and the most powerful druid of the time. I worshipped the Goddess Andarta, and she answered my prayers and came to me in human form.”

“Ha. I’m betting Andarta was never human.”

“In ‘human form’. I never believed she was anything other than a goddess. You could say I worshipped her. And she came to care for me.”

“Aw—that must have been sweet.”

He grinned. “Sweet it was not. But she loved me, and I…”

“You?”

“I loved her, as much as I was capable of loving. Anyway, she loved me, and she hated the idea of me growing old and leaving her. Do you know anything of druid beliefs?”

“A little.”

“I believed that I would be reborn, and if I lived by the proper ways, I would be reborn stronger and more powerful, until my powers would rival the gods themselves. Andarta didn’t want me to die. She sought to give me eternal life.”

“How?”

He cast her an amused glance. “How do you think?”

“She wanted you to become a vampire? But how could she do that? I thought you had to be bitten by another vampire; or is that just myth?”

“No, it’s true. And that’s where Jack comes in. Jack was indebted to her, I’m not sure how or why. But he also loved her, still does…well did, probably right up to the moment I pulled his head off.”

“Aw, poor Jack.”

“When I refused her offer of eternal life—I had no wish to become a drinker of blood—she trapped me, and Jack changed me by force.”

“I guess you weren’t too happy about that.”

“I wasn’t. But I got my own back. I couldn’t destroy Andarta, but I made sure she was out of action for a long, long time.”

“And Jack?”

“Yes, I gave them a nice cozy space together.”

“And they’ve been there since. So I’m guessing she’s not too fond of you anymore.”

He gave her a look she couldn’t quite identify. “She wants me back.”

Shock hit her in the gut and her gaze flew to his face. “She what?”

“She sent Jack with a message, telling me there was a place by her side.”

“And were you tempted?” She gave him her best evil-eyed stare. “Think carefully what you say here.”

“Tempted? Hmm, what was the offer? Consort to a goddess, rule at her side for eternity. What do you think?”

She thought Andarta had better keep out of her way. “She’s not really a goddess, any more than I’m a witch.”

“But you are a witch—you just didn’t know what one was before. In truth—I feel nothing for Andarta now. Except maybe a little grateful. I’d be dead long ago if it wasn’t for her machinations. And all-in-all, I’ve enjoyed what I am.” He turned to her and appeared serious for once. “I was never a good person.”

“Not even when you were alive?”

“Maybe less so then. If you’ve read about druids you must know something of what we were like, what we did.”

“There is very little substantiated evidence for what they actually did—maybe you could write a book on the subject.”

“Perhaps. Anyway, we believed human life was sacred, so what better way to honor the gods than to take that life?”

“Ugh. You performed human sacrifices—like the wicker man?”

“Just like. They were usually criminals, people who had been sentenced to death, but I wasn’t too fussy.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think less of me for it?”

“Probably. But I’ve done things myself that I’ve known were wrong.”

“But you did them for survival.”

“That’s really no excuse. Since when is my survival more important than anyone else’s?”