I’m being cautious, of course. I figure nothing bad can happen with Elle there, and maybe we can just stay for a few minutes before I convince her to do some day drinking down on the Embarcadero. White wine and oysters are already calling my name.
It takes me a bit with my makeup, really going overboard with the bronzer to combat my skin tone, which seems to be growing more pale by the day, then I put on leggings and another long-sleeved tunic and denim jacket, making sure my lack of tattoos are fully covered again. I hope she doesn’t notice I’m hiding them.
I glance at the ruby necklace on the desk, leaving it where it is.
I haven’t worn it since I took it off. I’m almost afraid to put it back on, in case it never grows warm again.
With time running out, I decide the quickest, though certainly not the best, way to get to my apartment is to head through the Black Sunshine again. I need some extra time anyway to open the windows and make my place look lived in.
I take in a deep breath and concentrate on the space in front of me until the air starts to warp and shimmer. Flames appear out of nowhere, marking the outline of a door. Through the door, the green-blue of San Francisco Bay turns to grey.
I step right through.
Still in the room, only there’s no air, no color, no life.
“Hello?” I say, and I’m surprised to hear my voice, albeit dull. It’s not that there’s no sound in this place, it’s that there’s no echo.
I stare out the window, at the city that had stopped in time, and then I turn around and go out the door.
I remember there’s no need to hurry in here, so though I’m quick by nature now, I don’t panic as I make my way out of the hotel. Or at least, I try not to.
It’s so fucking eerie here. The place is usually bustling with people; now, there’s not a soul to be found. No smell, except a faint burning, perhaps the updraft from Hell. It reminds me of an old movie I saw once on TV late one night, The Langoliers, based on the story by Stephen King. Yup, this definitely feels like a Stephen King novel.
I walk through the empty lobby, the lack of echoes unnerving me, then head out on to the street. I don’t have to run today, but even so the longer I spend in here, the more out of sorts I feel, like my sanity is slowly unspooling. I don’t know how the hell the first vampires spent six months in here, it must have felt like an eternity to them. They probably all went mad.
So I start to run through the black and white world.
Running through the nighttime was one thing, but now that I’m heading down Powell Street, past all the empty cable cars, all the vacant stores, it feels like I’m in the actual apocalypse. It’s so painfully empty.
Of course, I see shadows. Lurking in the spaces between the buildings, along the streetcar lines on Market Street. Spirit-hijackers. They make me run faster.
Finally I get to my apartment, creating a portal right inside my kitchen until I see the blue linoleum tiles on the floor. I step right through. The flames dissolve.
I’m back inside.
I take in a deep breath and look around. It’s stuffy as hell, so I open all the windows to get in some fresh air, then I go to the front door, checking that it’s locked. It is. I was able to open it when I was in the Black Sunshine, so it’s good to know it remains locked in the real world.
I putter about the place, trying to make it look a little more lived in, otherwise Elle’s going to really think something is off. Then I go into the kitchen and pull out an Anchor Steam that’s been sitting in the fridge for ages.
I close the fridge door when suddenly I hear the front door close behind me.
I whirl around, and gasp, the beer slipping out of my fingers and shattering to the floor.
Atlas Poe just unlocked the door, no key needed.
I open my mouth to scream but the sound dies in my lungs.
Atlas walks toward me, his dark coat flowing behind him, and with a flick of his fingers, my arms slam to my sides, my legs doing the same, cementing me to the ground.
I can’t move. It feels like I’ve been wrapped in electric metal chains, squeezing me tight, making my hair stand on end.
Atlas slowly approaches, his finger still pointed my way, blue sparks in his eyes. Like before, he’s wearing all black, and in the daylight of the kitchen, he looks like an ink blot, a horrible stain.
“There you are, Lenore,” he says to me, a sinister edge to his voice. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I try to move again, try to focus on breaking the chains, but my mind is going wild, competing for speed with my racing heart. I can’t think, can barely breathe.
“You won’t be able to break these binds,” he says to me, coming closer, stopping just a foot away. He reaches down into his trench coat and pulls out a glowing knife, the blade of the mordernes. I stare at it in horror, intense fear prickling my skin from head to toe.
I manage to tear my eyes off the blade, the blue electricity wrapping around it, matching the blue sparks in Atlas’ eyes as I stare at him, trying to talk, my mouth moving but nothing coming out.
“Ah,” he says. “Perhaps I should allow you to speak a little. Don’t bother screaming, it won’t work.”
I feel a jolt through my throat. “The fuck are you doing?” I manage to say, but the words come out in a low whisper. I’m unable to raise my voice even if I tried.
I should still try, though.
I close my eyes and scream, except nothing comes out but a hoarse whisper.
“I told you,” he says, slowly walking around me. His eyes burn, and he feels more predator than witch. He stands behind me and reaches out in front of me with the blade, pointing it at my heart, pressing the tip against my skin. I inhale sharply, trying to move the metal away from my breastplate, the blue energy already singing the fabric of my top.
“What do you want?” I whisper, trying not to lose my nerve. Kind of hard when one of the few things that can kill me is poised to stab my heart at any moment. “You’re not a slayer.”
“How do you know what I am and what I’m not?” His breath is hot on my neck, setting the rest of me on edge. “You know nothing about me.”
“And you know nothing about me.”
He lets out a bitter laugh that ruffles my hair. “I know more than you do, more than your parents do. Why else do you think I’m here?”
“I don’t know why you’re here,” I tell him. “If you want my parents, they’re at work.”
Atlas places a hand at my throat, his palm burning my skin.
What the fuck is this guy?
“You know I’m not here for your parents,” he grumbles into my ear. “I’m here for you. Your parents are of little consequence to me. The guild will discover what they did and punish them soon enough.”
“If you hurt them…,” I say, breaking off as rage takes hold of me.
“As I said, they are of little matter to me. I won’t hurt them. The guild will.”
“What will they do to them?”
“Does it matter? They aren’t your real parents. I’m surprised that you even care.” His palm presses harder into my throat, the heat continuing. I can smell my flesh burn.
I gasp out in pain. “I’m not like you, then. They’re the ones who love me, the ones who raised me, the ones who kept me safe.”
“Must be fucking nice,” he says coldly. “Do you know what my parents did for me? My father abused me, my mother looked the other way. Until one day, she decided to kill him. Cut him up into a million pieces, displayed on the kitchen table like an offering to the gods. See, she was a witch, and it turns out, not a very nice one. Black magic runs in my veins, the same black magic that runs in yours.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Black magic?”
His grip tightens and I cry out from the pain.
“Black magic can keep you going through eternity,” he goes on. “She’s dead now, but that doesn’t really mean anything. I’ve seen you go into the Veil. Did Absolon tell you not to go
to the other levels? If you do, you might just run into her.”
“Do you know who my father is?” I ask him. “Is it…is it…”
Suddenly I don’t remember the name anymore, like it’s been wiped clean from my head.
He presses the blade into me, harder now, enough to break skin.
I scream silently, shuddering from the pain.
“You can’t even say his name,” he muses, his voice like acid. “That’s interesting.”
“Please,” I manage to say, trying to focus, to stay strong, but I feel like my life force is being sucked up into the blade. “What do you want with me? If you’re going to kill me, just kill me then and get it over with. You want to kidnap me? Well, I’ve already been kidnapped. You want me for yourself?” I pause. “I already belong to someone else.”
At that, the air fills with the smell of roses and cigars, with a touch of snuffed out flames, which I now associate with the doorway into the Black Sunshine. My heart does a summersault.
“Want you?” Atlas scoffs. “I’m already destined for someone.”
“Then I pity that girl,” I tell him, buying time since I know that Absolon is somewhere in the apartment. Only a matter of time before Atlas notices.
“She’s a witch,” he informs me darkly. “And you should pity her. She doesn’t even know it yet.”
Suddenly Atlas snaps his head up, keeping the blade pressed against me.
“Come any closer and she dies,” Atlas warns, his hand shaking a little.
Solon steps into the bedroom doorway and I nearly cry at the sight of him. But he doesn’t move any further.
Though he’s not exhibiting the same kind of mad rage I saw in his eyes last time I was with him, he’s staring at Atlas with all the cold, calculating hate in the world, his nose flaring, vein bulging on his forehead. It’s a look that would make anyone run, and I can tell Atlas is feeling it.
Stay calm, Solon says in my head, though his eyes never leave Atlas. He might be trying to compel him, but I don’t think it’s going to work.
“You can’t glamor me,” Atlas tells him, picking up on it. “And you can’t break this.”
“I know I can’t,” Solon says evenly. “Only a witch could break through this magic. And I’m not a witch.”
But you are, my dear, Solon says inside my head. Close your eyes and concentrate.
I can’t, I tell him. I can’t concentrate, I can’t think. The pain…
Solon’s eyes spark with rage and he roars, trying to come forward.
An invisible wall pins him in place.
“Why do you even bother?” Atlas says. “You know, I really didn’t think you’d come here, vampire. Meddling in our affairs isn’t really your thing.”
“She’s my affair now,” he grinds out, fangs flashing. “She always will be.”
“I’m not used to you caring about others,” Atlas says. “It doesn’t look good on you.”
Do it, Lenore, Solon’s words appear in my head again. Free yourself.
I can’t.
You can. I know you can. You caused a fucking earthquake in this fair city.
I blink at him, his eyes meeting mine for a moment, giving me strength. You knew about that?
His lips twitch in a fleeting smile before he looks back to Atlas, gaze hardening. It had your markings all over it, moonshine. The air filled with the scent of your blood. Do you know what your blood smells like to me? Bergamot, cardamom, frozen snow. The charged air before a lightning storm. Sweet, beautiful, powerful things.
Atlas lets out a sound of impatience, adjusting his grip on the blade. His hand is shaking more now, and I can definitely smell his adrenaline.
“If the two of you could stop having private conversations in your heads, that would be great,” Atlas sneers.
“Jealous?” Solon asks.
Atlas tenses, about to fire back some retort, when suddenly I hear the front door open, the smell of baby powder filling my nose.
My heart cries out.
No!
It all happens in slow motion.
Atlas panics, takes the blade off of me and automatically whips it toward the door. It goes flying through the air in a straight line, hitting the target straight in the chest.
Elle.
Elle just walked in my apartment.
Atlas stabbed Elle right in the heart.
He lets go of me, realizing what he’s done, and I fall to my knees, drained of everything but filling up with horror.
Elle stares at us with large eyes, trying to understand, then looks down at the knife lodged in her heart, no longer glowing blue, now disintegrating into thin air.
Then she falls to the floor, dead.
I scream, my voice ripping out of me, the binds broken, and Atlas runs to the door, stepping over Elle’s body and disappearing outside.
There’s just a flash of Absolon as he moves at warp speed, leaving me alone on my knees, trying to crawl toward my dead friend, a pool of blood spilling out around her like red satin sheets.
Seconds later Solon is back, crouched down by Elle, his fingers at her throat, trying to feel for a pulse. “He disappeared, I couldn’t trace him.” He swallows hard, leans in to smell her. “She’s barely alive.”
“We have to call an ambulance,” I cry, crawling to her, grabbing a hold of her hand. “We have to save her, we can save her.”
“No,” Solon says quietly. “We can’t.”
“We can!” I scream at him, tears spilling down my face. “She’s still alive, you said she’s still alive!” I put my hand at her face. “Elle, Elle wake up. It’s Lenore. Elle, please. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” I glance up at Solon who is watching me with a pained expression. “Why aren’t you doing anything?” I cry out. “Get out your phone, call for help!”
He shakes his head, his jaw tight. “She won’t make it. She’s lost too much blood.”
“Blood,” I repeat, my hands sinking into the red stain around her. “We can save her still. I can save her.”
“No, Lenore,” he says adamantly. “You can’t. I told you why.”
“I can save her,” I say to myself, hope rising in my chest. “I can save her!” I hold out my wrist and with a savage tear, sink my teeth into my veins, ripping open the skin. Pain shoots through me, but I’m half numb to it already.
The blood flows freely from the wound, dripping onto the floor, and I raise my hand to bring it to her mouth, wanting her to drink, to be reborn.
But Solon is quick.
Suddenly he’s behind me, hauling me to my feet, arms wrapping around me as he holds me back. “You’re not doing this,” he says gruffly into my ear.
“Let go of me!” I scream, trying to kick out. “Please let go, let go!”
I can save her, I know I can.
She’ll become a vampire like us, she’ll live forever, I’ll never have to lose my best and only friend.
Tears keep flowing, savage growls torn from my throat as I keep trying to fight Absolon with everything I’ve got, but he’s too strong, too unyielding. He holds me tighter, his mouth pressed at my ear.
“You can’t save her,” he says roughly. “Okay? You can’t. I can’t either. We would condemn her to a life of hell. She’d hate you for it, if she even knew who you were. This wouldn’t be your friend you’d bring back to life, it would be someone else, just a shadow of the person she used to be. She’d be a monster.”
“Please,” I sob, my voice drowning in my tears. I stare at her lifeless body, my vision still sharp despite the tears that never stop flowing.
“Lenore,” he says fiercely, shaking me. “No. I can’t let you do this. You would regret it for the rest of your very long life.”
I try and fight him some more, but the energy is running out of me, tempered by the grief that is building and building in waves.
“I can’t lose her,” I cry out pitifully. “I can’t lose her.” I gasp for air, my lungs choking from the sobs ripping through me. “This is my fault.
It’s my fault she’s dead.”
“Lenore,” Solon says, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Then he turns me around so I’m facing him and I bury my head into his chest. One arm wraps around me, fastening me to him tightly, the other palm cupping my head.
My fingers grip his shirt like I’ll never be able to let go, holding onto him as he holds onto me. I cry and I cry, for the loss of my friend, for the loss of everything. The tears never seem to stop flowing.
But Solon never stops holding onto me, cradling my head against his chest, his heartbeat slow and steady, the rock-solid feel of his body giving me the stability I lack.
He presses his lips against the top of my head. “I’ve got you, you can let go. I’ve got you.”
His words only make me cry more.
“Don’t leave me,” I whimper, my real, true fear.
“I’m never leaving you,” he says, his lips brushing against my hair.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, standing in my kitchen, holding onto each other, gripped in turmoil, and tsunamis of grief, waves of horror.
It could be an eternity for all I know.
Eventually though, we break apart.
Because Elle is dead.
And in the real world, this could be a big problem.
“What do we do?” I whisper to him, pulling back from his chest. It’s soaked in my snot and tears.
He places his hand at my cheek, peering down at me, determination on his low brow. “You leave that to me.”
He lets go of me and walks over to her body, creating a door of flames in the air with just a snap of his fingers.
“What are you doing?” I whisper harshly.
“What we normally do with the dead,” he says, reaching down and grabbing Elle under her arms.
“You can’t do that!” I walk over to him, my heart breaking at the sight of her pale and bloodied in his hands.
“It’s what’s done, Lenore,” he says, trying to be patient with me. “We put them in the Black Sunshine.”
“But that’s the way to Hell!”
“Only if you’re going there. She’s not. Don’t worry.”
“I worry!” I yell. “This is…she needs to be buried. She needs a funeral.”
Black Sunshine Page 23
