Temple of The Heart: Dark Empire #1

By Tori Minard

In ancient Atlantis, magic is the foundation that helped to raise the greatest civilization in the world. Yet it is feared and tightly controlled.

As a vampire, Niko is part of a despised minority and must wear a visible mask to identify his nature. Many places in the city are forbidden to him.

Temple dancer Laila lives within a sheltered world of women. She and her fellow priestesses haven’t seen a male or ventured outside the temple walls since infancy.

Even a glimpse of a man through an attic vent is reason for punishment. And when that man happens to be a vampire, the consequences of Laila’s action may be dire indeed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Enchanted Lyre Books
• Release date: Feb 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458189196

Tori Minard

Tori Minard writes paranormal romance and urban fantasy. When she isn’t writing fiction, she enjoys dancing, gardening, reading about folklore and mythology, surfing the web, and most of all immersing herself in other people’s fiction. Tori has had a lifelong fascination with magic and ritual techniques, and has had years of self-study in these areas. She was born in Alaska and now lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, son, and micro-dog.

Book preview

TEMPLE OF THE HEART

By Tori Minard

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © by Tori Minard 2011

Cover image by Tori Minard

Dedicated to H. – thank you for everything you've given me.

Copyright/licensing Statement

This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are invented by the author or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

In Atlantis, vampire Niko is despised. When he pulls priestess Laila from a fire, he breaks so many taboos they must flee those who won’t tolerate contact between his kind & hers. Laila can’t resist Niko’s dark charisma and will risk any danger to be with him. But there is more to the Atlantean pursuit than fear of blood drinkers. A powerful enemy wants Laila dead & will destroy any who aid her.

Chapter 1

The most sacred rule in the Temple of Desou was this: no priestess should look upon the world outside or be seen by any man. She belonged to the god, reserved for his pleasure alone. Laila planned to break that rule.

The dormitory was quiet, although many of the priestesses were still awake. Evening offerings were being made in the outer court, where the public came to honor the god. When all the offerings had been laid on the altar and the people had gone home to their families, the night priestesses would emerge to collect what had been left.

In the room Laila shared with her childhood friend Malina and several other women, the only sound was the call of a nightingale in the courtyard, and the shushing of Malina’s fingers as she undid the braids in Laila’s ankle-length hair. They were relaxing alone after the evening dance ritual they had performed.

I want to do something exciting tonight, Laila said.

We have the dark moon ritual tomorrow. Isn’t that excitement enough?

She scoffed. Dark moon comes every month.

Malina unwrapped the tie on the next braid. What is it you want, then?

To see the people. Let’s sneak up to the attic and watch them make the offerings.

Her hand stilled. You can’t do that.

Why not? No-one will know.

It’s forbidden, that’s why not. Malina resumed unbraiding with so much vigor that she pulled Laila’s hair. Do you have any idea what they would do to you if you were discovered?

Don’t you think it would be worth a whipping to see that just once?

No.

Laila reached up to catch her friend by the wrist. You used to sneak to the outside windows with me all the time. You were the one who showed me how to climb the tree in the courtyard. What’s happened to you?

I’m not a little girl anymore, and neither are you.

Well, I want to go. Will you come with me? She twisted around to look at Malina.

I won’t report you, but I won’t go with you either. Malina looked afraid. When they were children, Laila had never seen that expression on her face. She sighed. Adventures were always more fun with a friend along, but she wasn’t going to let Malina’s timidity stop her.

Alright, I’ll go by myself.

She stood and arranged her skirts. The way to the outside windows overlooking the outer court involved sneaking through a servants’ passage and a dusty attic. She ought to remove her dancing clothes before she left, but that would take too long and might cause her to miss the show.

Laila padded to a door in the back of their bedchamber, which led to a small prayer room. At the door, she paused and looked at her friend.

Are you sure?

Malina nodded silently. Laila opened the door, crossed the prayer room to a second door which opened on a service passage. If all went well, no-one would be here at this hour. She couldn’t be caught or they would punish her, and in spite of her brave words to Malina, Laila didn’t want to be whipped.

There were no lights in the servants’ corridor. The air was hot and still. She entered and turned left, toward the back stairs.

Climbing up the stairs made sweat pool under her arms and drip from her forehead. As she emerged in the attic, she wiped moisture from her temples and tried to catch her breath. She ought to have changed her clothes after all – her costume was drenched with perspiration.

But at least no-one had seen her.

Enough lamplight from the streets filtered through the vents to illumine the crowded space. The high priestess’ library lay directly under her, so she must be exquisitely careful to make no sound.

Laila wended her way on silent feet around piles of old votive figures, broken furniture, and trunks filled with the ceremonial garb of priestesses long dead. The things up here had always given her an odd feeling, as if the previous owners of the objects might be watching her.

She bumped into a carved and painted screen with figures of the god and his many wives. The piece fell on its side with a crash that echoed off the bare walls and sent up a cloud of dust. Laila froze with a gasp, heart pounding. Surely someone downstairs had heard that.

But no-one came to investigate, and after a few minutes of waiting, she pressed forward again. The excitement combined with the punishing heat to make her lightheaded, even dizzy, and she had to support herself with a hand against the wall.

She had almost reached the vent that overlooked the outer court. Outside, people chanted. Some of the voices were high, female and familiar, yet some were deep and strange. Masculine.

The last time she’d looked out that vent, no-one had been in the outer court. It had been mid-morning; she’d been ten years old, with a nurse to guard her and the other young girls at night. She and Malina had never been able to get away from their sharp-eyed guard after dark when the people came to the temple.

Bring the offerings forth! a deep voice shouted over the chanting. It must be a male voice. The sound came from a vent to her left. That direction must be the front of the temple, where a portico separated the outer court from the street.

Laila dropped to her knees in front of the vent. Her heart raced again. She was about to view at least one man. Would she be able to distinguish them from the women at this distance? She wasn’t sure what men looked like.

She leaned forward, hands on the wall on either side of the vent. Something delicate and faintly sticky brushed across her face. It stuck to her hands when she pulled them away. Spiderweb.

With a muffled shriek, Laila batted at her hair. Ugh! Please don’t let there be a spider on me. She brushed her hands on her skirt, shuddering. Disgusting things. Spiders hadn’t been on her mind when she’d decided to come up here.

What if they’re poisonous? There could be more around here. They could be crawling up my dress and I wouldn’t know it.

She ought to forget her plan, go downstairs and remove every stitch of clothing. Ask Malina to brush her hair and make sure there weren’t any nasty creatures hiding in it. But then she’d lose her opportunity to see the offering. Another might not come along for years.

I’m not giving up just because of a spider.

Gritting her teeth, she leaned forward again and peered through the lattice-work that covered the vent. At least five lamps on stands as tall as she was cast golden light across the street and the people who waited for access to the temple. Many of those people wore trousers and were taller than most of the women she knew.

She’d never actually seen a man until now, and the vent cover was blocking her view. There might never again come a chance to see the outside world, and the line of people was already moving into the outer court. Laila pressed her nose to the vent, ignoring the spiderwebs that coated it.

With a creak, the poorly maintained lattice-work tipped out toward the street. Oh, no. If someone were to look up and notice the cock-eyed vent cover, they might come up to the attic to fix it. And if they did, they would find her tracks in the thick dust that lay all over the floor. Laila reached out to pull in the cover and knocked it out of the opening completely.

She stared with wide eyes and open mouth at the hole in the wall. The latticework hit some hibiscus bushes with a rustle she could hear even though they were four stories below her. Surely everyone in the street had seen what she had done.

Laila peeked out, trying to keep herself behind the solid part of the wall. Outsiders must not see her face. All the people stared ahead toward the place of offering, as if they were oblivious to her. She moved closer to the opening.

Wait. Someone was looking right at the hole in the wall. The person was tall with longish black hair and a shadow along the jawline that might be the beginnings of a beard. A man? He stared intently up toward the open vent. He could see her and yet she didn’t move. She couldn’t move.

His brows were as black as his hair. He had high, strong cheekbones, a sharp jaw and a straight nose. His lips were as beautifully shaped as those of the prettiest woman in the temple, yet he did not have a woman’s face. He looked… different. Rougher, somehow.

Deep inside of her body, she began to ache. Her belly filled with the most peculiar sensation of tingling and warmth as she looked at him. She must be getting sick. The intelligent thing to do would be to leave the attic and go to bed, but Laila wanted to stay. She wanted to continue gazing at him.

You there! shouted the guard.

The black-haired man turned his head toward him with arrogant carelessness.

Your kind isn’t allowed in the temple. You’ll have to leave.

My money isn’t good enough for you? Black-hair said. His voice had a mocking quality, as if he’d expected a cold reception.

The guard put his hand on his sword hilt. Atlantean law states that vampires are not allowed on sacred ground. Sir.

Vampire? Laila stuck her face as far out the opening as she dared. If only she were at ground level and could get a better look at him. Seeing a vampire was even better than seeing an ordinary man.

The vampire shrugged. Have it your way, then. He turned and shouldered his way through the remaining crowd of devotees. At the edge of the crush, he stopped and looked up at her. She wanted to touch him. Just once. But he was too far away, and they would never meet in truth.

Laila left the attic and crept downstairs to her room. Her eyes were heavy, her whole body aching from the effort of her earlier dance performance. She sat down on her mattress.

Malina snored in her bed. Laila needed to remove her costume and wash the paint from her face before she went to sleep. But she was exhausted. She stretched out and stared at the painted beams of the ceiling. Just a few minutes of rest – then she’d get up and change her clothes.

Just a few minutes of rest. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

When Laila regained consciousness, she couldn’t breathe. She was caught in the attic, and there were spiderwebs over her mouth, smothering her. The spider hung on a glittering thread above her, screaming at her to wake up, yet no matter how she tried she couldn’t fight her way to the surface.

Finally she wrenched her eyes open. There were no spiderwebs. But the air reeked of smoke, and was even hotter than it had been in the attic. It hurt to breathe.

The Temple must be on fire.

Malina screamed again. It had been Malina all along, yet her dream had turned her roommate into a spider. She sat straight up on her bed, shrieking.

Laila still wore her costume. She’d fallen asleep before she could wash up or take off her dancing clothes. Well, at least when she got outside she’d be dressed.

Although she’d never experienced a fire, she could see this one was catastrophic. Her roommate’s panic was going to make things more difficult, but one way or another they had to leave the Temple. Otherwise, they would die.

Rolling out of bed, she grabbed Malina’s arm and tried to drag her from their bedchamber. Malina stared up at her, eyes white against the soot smudged across her cheeks. She made no attempt to get up, and she was far too heavy for Laila to carry.

Come along, Laila said. We must leave here. I know a safe route.

Wait! I remembered. Malina reached under the mattress of her bed and pulled out a small, dark vial of liquid. I have some laudanum I saved from when I had that earache. There’s enough for both of us.

Laila shook her head. No.

Malina pulled the stopper off the vial and tipped the contents into her mouth. She grimaced as she swallowed. May it work quickly.

Let’s go. Laila pointed toward the door of the prayer room.

No! No, we can’t leave.

We have to try. She tugged on her friend’s arm.

Are you mad? We can’t go outside.

Who will stop us? Laila gestured around the already smoky room. All the silly chickens waiting for their turn to be roasted? We haven’t got much time.

She pulled on Malina’s arm.

Malina shook her head so hard that her hair covered her face like a screen. I won’t leave. It’s sacrilege. I’m dedicated to the god and I will die here as he has bidden me.

You’ll burn! Please, Malina, I beg you to get up. I don’t want to leave you here.

You must stay as well. Desou demands it of you. You brought the fire on us with your disobedience.

Laila’s mouth opened in protest. She hadn’t caused this mess. She would never endanger the priestesshood. All she’d wanted was a glimpse of the outside world.

The roar of the flames was loud in Laila’s ears, louder than it had been moments before. She glanced at the closed door. Black smoke boiled under the gap between the door and the floorboards. The temperature in the room went from the usual steamy Atlantean summer heat to blast-furnace intensity.

I’m leaving. Will you come with me?

Malina only shook her head, her lips pinched into a thin white line. A popping noise came from the door, like the sound of wood in a fireplace. Laila ran for the prayer room. Malina might be willing to die. Laila wasn’t.

She closed the door of the tiny chamber behind her. There were no windows and it was utterly black. Somehow she had to find the door into the servants’ hallway. Laila shuffled forward, hand held in front of her, until she came up against the far wall. The door to the service hall that she’d used just this night was here somewhere in the dark.

Please, O Desou, Lord of my fate, spare me and my temple-sister Malina. Let someone rescue her. Let someone stop the fire before it reaches her. She prayed under her breath as she ran her hands along the plaster of the wall, searching for the door frame.

Wood under her fingers. There. Cool wood, untouched by fire. Safe. Laila groped for the handle as tears rolled down her face. Where was it? Where was it? She pressed both palms to the carved surface, fumbling across it until she bumped into a curve of metal.

Thank you. O, Desou, thank you.

She opened the door and stared into more darkness. The passageway on the other side was unlit, by windows or lamps. But she knew where it led – down to the kitchens and the basements, areas which had windows that opened onto the street.

In the bedchamber, Malina coughed and groaned. Laila looked over her shoulder, even though she could see nothing. Could she really leave her best friend to burn? No, it was impossible.

Her eyes stung from smoke and tears as she fumbled her way back to the bedroom door. Oh, Desou. If she opened it, she might let the fire into her little sanctuary. But she couldn’t give up on Malina.

Laila took a deep breath and opened the door a crack. The heat was worse than standing in front of the sacrificial fires. In the time she’d been gone, thick smoke had filled the room, obscuring nearly everything above the level of her knees. Above her, through the smoke, embers glowed in the ceiling beams.

Malina! she yelled. Come!

No. The raspy voice of her friend came from the floor in front of her feet.

She leaned down to grab the uncooperative woman when a chunk of burning wood fell just feet away from them. Laila clamped her hands, hampered by her long ceremonial fingernails, around Malina’s arms and dragged her back toward the prayer room.

More wood fell, charred and glowing. Malina scrabbled on the floor, trying to pull herself farther into the room by her heels. She’d always been plump, and her extra weight combined with her resistance made it impossible for Laila to get her out of danger.

There was a loud whistling noise in the ceiling, like a demon’s scream. Then a bang. A huge beam crashed down, bringing with it a mound of coals and embers from the room above. The carpets and bedding kindled as the flames raced along the floor toward Malina. Laila heaved, her back giving a howl of protest.

Her hands slipped off Malina’s arms. Everything around her burned. The flames licked Malina’s skirt. Laila sobbed. She grabbed for her friend, but the fire already had her. Another beam fell. And then Malina was gone, disappeared in flames and burning wood.

Laila staggered into the prayer room, shutting the door behind her. Smoke had invaded. She ran into the narrow service passage and shut that door as well. Maybe the two doors would buy her a few extra minutes.

With a hand on the wall, she ran blind. The floor was uneven beneath her feet. Laila stumbled, slamming into the opposite wall. She straightened herself and kept going.

How far was it? Years had passed since she’d been in this end of the corridor. The walls felt warm, but not hot. Not yet. Soon the flames would eat through the door into the prayer room and then into the passage. She had to get out before then.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the fire catch in Malina’s skirt. Why wouldn’t she come? Malina had always been one of the mischievous girls, the ones who tried to climb the garden walls and sneak into the kitchens for a peek out the window at the forbidden public street.

Now she was dead because of a stupid rule that priestesses should never be seen by outsiders. I hope she’s dead. Let her be dead. Don’t let her suffer.

Her foot plunged downward. She snatched at the walls with a shriek and managed to catch herself before she lost her balance to the stairs. Her breath came in rough gasps, her throat raw from breathing smoke.

The stairs led to the kitchens. She felt her way to the first step. A breeze drifted up to her, sweet and cool with evening air. Laila thumped down the staircase, one hand still on the wall for guidance.

At the bottom, she found another door. It was cool to the touch. Laila yanked it open and slammed it behind her. The kitchens were another place forbidden to the priestesses, especially the young ones, because the staff came from the world outside. They were a corrupting influence.

A single oil lamp burned on the work table in the center of the room. The kitchen workers must have already fled, leaving the dinner dishes dirty in the sink.

She pushed the heavy table across the floor to the window and climbed on top of it. A carved wooden screen, simpler than the ones in the priestess’ chambers, covered this window to hide the occupants from people in the street. Laila wrapped her fingers through the piercework and heaved.

The screen wouldn’t budge. She was trapped.

Chapter 2

Niko saw the fire from a mile away, where he sat by the river eating fried fish and pickled onions wrapped in a thin piece of griddle bread. It wasn’t any of his business if buildings burned in Atlantiri. He was an outsider here, and the Atlanteans never lost an opportunity to remind him of it.

Flames speared up into the night sky over Temple Hill, and smoke rose to hide the stars from his view. That was a tremendous fire. It must have been burning for some time, but he hadn’t noticed it in his rush to get some food.

He’d gone too long without blood. Soon he’d have to drink, whether he wanted to or not. In the meantime, he had a ravenous appetite that overrode most other interests and made it difficult to focus his mind unless he’d just eaten.

He finished his meal and handed the tin plate back to the vendor. An acrid, smoky odor drifted on the evening breeze, blotting out the usual stench of the streets. His stomach churned, slightly queasy in spite of the food.

One of the temples must be on fire. They’d kicked him out of the Temple of Desou earlier in the night, when he’d gone to make offerings. His piercing had given him away, and Atlanteans did not tolerate vampires in their sacred enclosures.

Which temple was burning? There were a great many in Atlantiri, more scattered across the countryside. Maybe it was the one he’d visited. In his mind’s eye, he could still see the girl in the window, her painted face half hidden by long unbound hair. He would be willing to bet that she wasn’t supposed to be peering out of attic windows at the public street, since the priestesses of Desou were completely sequestered.

There had been something about her, about the way she had looked at him, that had made it difficult for him to leave. Even after the guard had ordered him to go. Had she gotten out of the attic? Niko pictured her with her hair on fire and clenched his hands.

He grabbed the arm of an old man passing by. Which temple is burning?

The fellow quirked his brows. Temple of Desou, I believe.

They’d probably gotten all the priestesses out already. She was safe. She had to be. The priestesses of Desou were among the most holy people in Atlantis.

Then he heard a thin, faraway scream from the Temple, so faint it was probably inaudible to human ears. He couldn’t ignore that.

Niko released the man and broke into a run, keeping to the shadows to avoid drawing attention to himself. Street lamps were sparse except in the best neighborhoods, which this was emphatically not, but he’d rather no-one notice how fast he could move.

He rounded a corner. Flames roared out of the windows of the Temple of Desou, consuming the roof and half the walls. Lines of citizens passed buckets of water to douse the blaze, each bucket like a thimbleful tossed on a bonfire.

Ridiculous. They’d never put it out that way.

Are there any more buckets? he said to the last man in one of the lines.

The fellow glanced at him, then did a double-take with wide eyes. You’re a vampire.

Niko sighed. Yes, I’m a vampire. Are there any more buckets?

We don’t want help from your kind.

Have you rescued the priestesses?

The man glared at him. They’re none of your concern. Get out, vampire.

He turned without another word. If the Atlanteans didn’t want his help, then it wasn’t his problem. Their precious temple could burn to the ground, for all he cared. As long as the girl is safe. Although why he gave a shit about her was more than he could explain.

A shrill scream rose above the growling of the fire. The hair on Niko’s body stood straight up. More shrieks followed. The thimbles of water continued, passing up and down the lines without a pause. There were people trapped inside, and no-one on the bucket brigades seemed to notice.

Niko grabbed a woman’s arm. There’s someone trapped in there.

The priestesses.

How many got out?

She stared at him blankly. None.

What do you mean, none? he said, his voice rising.

You’re a vampire. She shrank away from him.

He wanted to shake her. Why hasn’t anyone gotten the priestesses out?

They’re not allowed out of the temple.

Niko’s mouth dropped open. They were allowing the women to burn to death inside that temple because of some prissy social custom? He looked up at the conflagration. The acrid stench of burning hair floated to his nostrils, along with bits of ash.

He remembered that smell. His heart went bang-bang-bang in his chest. Sweat broke out all over him, and a thin trail of ice slithered down inside his belly. It was happening again, and people were dying. Because of him.

How could it be your fault? You were never inside the place.

He had to get