by Caris Roane
He sighed, holding her gaze. “This is good between, us right?”
“It’s wonderful.”
He rose to get dressed. “The shower’s all yours. But when you’re done, we should talk.” He looked so serious.
“I won’t take long.”
As she gathered her things, then moved into the bathroom, she wondered how many times Connor had come close to death in his line of work. Was it possible he’d chosen to work the border, one of the most difficult jobs in their world, because he had a death wish?
Earlier, she’d wanted to address what she perceived as the darkness in his soul, but the moment had been too wonderful. Maybe he was thinking the same thing and the time had come.
If they were to be married, she needed to know what was going on.
When she was done cleaning up, she returned to her bedroom, but Connor wasn’t there. She heard what sounded like the TV. Maybe he was checking the news.
She dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and another short-sleeved t-shirt, this one in red. Brushing out her hair, she bound it once more in a ponytail.
Making her way to the living room, she saw Connor standing near the kitchen, but he looked shocked-out again. “Iris, I’m sorry—”
“What do you mean?”
As she moved into the dining area, she saw that the TV wasn’t on after all. Then she felt a terrible presence; a dark witch was in her home.
She walked slowly, her heart beating hard in her chest. Her protective spell had been disrupted after all. Reaching the point of the hall where she could see into her living room, Evan and one of the most infamous witches of Elegance came into view. Seraphina.
“Don’t be alarmed, my dear,” Seraphina said. “We’re only here to make sure you knew about Connor.”
She was dressed in a floor length, black velvet gown, had long, curly auburn hair and a pure white complexion. Her eyes were black as well. They might have been a different color when she first became a witch, but the kind of craft she practiced, sometimes darkened the eyes. She was tall with a straight nose, perhaps a beauty in her day. Now her features looked hard and vicious.
The witch continued, “I mean that Evan and I can tell you’ve developed a fondness for the vampire, as I have for my most beloved Evan. But you should know the truth about Connor before you get too involved.” She turned to the man whose arm she held. “Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”
Evan smiled as he met her gaze. “Absolutely.” He shifted his attention to Iris. “We felt it imperative you knew everything.” He gestured to Connor. “Though I think he should tell you. My guess is he’s been trying to, but couldn’t find exactly the right time to share what he did to your sister.”
Connor scowled at Evan. “What do you mean, Iris’s sister?”
“Oh, yes. She was there. Isn’t this somehow poetic?” He gestured to the table. “She’s the one with you in the top photograph. That’s Violet. She and Iris went through the alter together.”
Iris’s heart beat hard in her chest, hammering away. She knew instinctively that what Connor would say next had to do with the very thing she was most concerned about, the blackness in his soul. “Connor? Is he talking about the massacre in the Graveyard, where Violet died?”
“My memory of that night is sketchy at best. But Evan has showed me the photos.” He waved a hand to the table. “Please tell me that’s not Violet.”
She moved with leaden feet in the direction of a pile of eight-by-ten photographs. She recognized her sister, the life gone from her eyes. Connor was near her, naked, the red flames on his throat indicating he was high, and his fangs dripping. He’d been at the massacre, the one where Violet had been tortured, raped and killed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Connor stood in a state of shock. He hadn’t moved since Evan and Seraphina had pushed through Iris’s spell and strolled casually into her living room. They’d been smiling. Evan had even lifted both hands as if in surrender. “We come in peace.”
But Seraphina had carried the folder tucked beneath her arm and set it on the dining table. And after flipping it open for him, she spread the photos out.
He’d recognized the location at once, the cement walls and floor of a partially blasted out building. A dozen women had died that night and he’d been part of it. Though to this day, he didn’t know all that he’d done.
Now Iris knew about his worst crime. Only it was far worse than he could have ever imagined, because her sister, Violet, had been among the slain witches. Guilt over the massacre swamped him all over again.
He’d been foolish as hell to think his life could be different. But at least Iris now saw him for the monster he was. He felt the waves of her shock and her hatred for his kind boiling in the space between them.
Seraphina addressed Iris. “Don’t take it too hard. Connor is after all a vampire first, then a man. He couldn’t resist taking out his true nature on something as lovely as your sister. You must forgive him, you know.” Then she laughed, a loud trill that set his nerves on fire.
Evan caressed the hand still holding his arm. “I think our work here is done, my love.”
“I believe it is. And we should definitely give these two some time to talk things out.”
With that, a black cloud filled the room and like something from a cheap movie, the pair disappeared, the cloud with them.
Iris’s gaze was still fixed on the sight of her sister in the top photo. Violet’s eyes were blank and empty, her skin a pure white, her body covered in blood. Connor forced himself to move forward, then gathered up the photos and shoved them back into the folder, closing it.
“Iris—” he began, but nothing followed. The horror of his existence in Five Bridges fell on him like a heavy weight, pressing him down, closing his throat.
“You did this to Violet? To my own sister?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I was there. I know I was there, but my memories of the event aren’t complete. I’ve hated myself for this, for my part in hurting these women.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I didn’t choose to do this. I was abducted by one of the Rotten Row death squads and shot up with a high dose of blood flame. I don’t remember anything after that, just random images of chaos and violence.” He could recall the screams of the women, the hard laughter of the men. At some point he’d passed out, and when he’d woken up at home, he had no idea how he’d gotten there. He’d been beaten almost to the point of death.
She gestured to the now closed folder. “There was blood on your fangs and my sister was dead. I think it’s clear what happened.”
“I know.” He sat down in the nearest chair, his mind fixed on that night, trying to remember. But it was blurred like hearing and seeing the whole thing underwater between empty stretches of nothing.
He felt himself falling into a familiar pit, only this time, he wouldn’t be able to crawl back out. He’d fallen in love with Iris, but it looked like he’d raped and killed her sister. There was nothing for him here, not now, not ever. He’d been a fool to begin to hope. This was Five Bridges where everyone’s soul came to die.
“Get out,” Iris said quietly. He felt her killing power rising, but he wasn’t going to let her suffer later remorse for taking his life. Because of what they’d shared, she’d have guilt if she killed him.
He rose, numb to his feet, and slowly levitated into the garden. If Evan and his witch were waiting for him, so much the better. They could have him. He was dead now, a hollowed out vampire waiting for the mortal blow.
He levitated swiftly toward the sissoo. Behind him, he heard Iris scream her rage and as he began to rise in the air, a terrible wind of power beat at him. Her killing drive had risen to its highest point. If she’d been close to him, she would have taken his life.
He rose swiftly, then hovered well above her garden. Grief slammed into him over and over at what he’d done, at his life, at all that he’d lost.
“Just as I’d hoped. Iris kic
ked you out for good.” Connor glanced around. He could hear Evan, but he couldn’t see him. He realized then that Seraphina’s dark cloud hung heavy in the air once more.
He moved in a slow circle midair. “What do you want now? You’ve already killed me.”
The cloud parted enough for Evan to show himself. He was ten feet away, his green eyes glittering. “Not quite, my friend, but we’re getting close. I just want you to know that I think you’re involvement with Iris, that you’d become lovers, is incredibly poetic and perfect. When I hired the death squad to arrange the massacre and to include Violet, I had them take you along as well for the fun of it. By then, I knew you were the one who shot my wife. I also knew you thought of yourself as a moral Border Patrol cop, and I decided you needed a reality check. I think the massacre had just the right effect.
“But it never once crossed my mind you might actually fall for Iris. In a way, I think it’s beautiful.”
So, Evan had arranged the massacre to take Violet’s life and to mess with Connor’s mind. “You were punishing Iris even back then?”
“And you as well, of course.”
“You are fucking out of your mind.”
Evan lifted both hands and several rough looking vampires suddenly filled the space between him and Evan.
“Don’t worry, they’re not here for you.” Evan signaled to them and they began their descent. “They’ll give Iris a few minutes to cool down, then we’ll take her as well.”
Glancing into the garden, Connor saw that Seraphina was below, working her magic to keep Iris’s spell disabled.
In the weight of his guilt and remorse, he’d left Iris alone and unprotected.
Instinctively, he reached for his sword, but it wasn’t there. He hadn’t taken it with him or his Glock.
Evan laughed softly.
Connor saw movement from the corner of his eye and suddenly Evan was next to him as well as two more vampires who grabbed his arms. He tried to fight them, but the dark cloud suddenly descended, confusing his mind. A split-second later, he felt a sharp prick in his neck.
A fiery chemical entered his body.
Once more, nothing.
~ ~ ~
Iris sat at the dining table. She’d opened the folder and wept at the sight of her sister.
She felt ill. She’d made love with the man who’d killed Violet. He’d probably raped her as well.
Rage rose once more, swirling through her. She wanted revenge on Connor and on Evan as well, on anyone involved in her sister’s murder.
Iris, you must listen.
The female voice was strident, not gentle like before. Iris grew very still. Violet?
Yes, but you don’t have much time. Look at the pictures again. You’ve missed something critical.
Iris opened the folder once more, to the photo of Connor and Violet in the same picture. Connor’s fangs dripped with blood. To the right of him was a severe bite on a thigh, the flesh ripped out, leaving a gaping, bleeding hole.
But it wasn’t Violet’s thigh!
She stared at it for a long moment. The skin of the victim was very white, but not as though the body had been drained of blood. This was the pale skin of drug-induced emaciation, the kind involving the use of blood flame.
She kept staring at the wound, knowing she needed to figure something out. Then she understood. She wasn’t looking at a woman’s thigh, but a man’s, a vampire’s.
“Oh, my God.” Connor had been trying to protect Violet, maybe the others as well. In this case, he’d used his fangs as a weapon to tear at the rapist’s leg.
She flipped through several of the other photos and found one of Connor lying on his back though only his side, arm and shoulder were visible. In fact, she wouldn’t have recognized the man as being Connor if she hadn’t known his tattoos as well as she did. The upper right shoulder bore a large spiked vine and she knew every point and angle of the intricate design, as well as where it rested on his body.
But his skin showed severe bruising, a lot of it.
Save Connor. Violet’s voice once more moved through her mind. Don’t you see? He tried to help us and they almost killed him for it. Save him, Iris.
She sat back in her chair, stunned. She thought back to seeing the horrified look on Connor’s face and feeling the depth of his despair. He believed he’d participated in the massacre as well and hated himself for it.
This was the darkness that lived in his soul, what she’d been sensing from the moment she’d stood beside him on Sentinel Bridge. He actually believed he’d done these terrible things, that he’d hurt and killed some of these women.
He’d tried to tell her. In fact, she was sure he meant to, then Evan and Seraphina showed up.
Now suddenly, everything had changed and the photos had enough information to prove not only had Connor been a victim of a crime, but he’d tried to help the women until he’d been beaten almost to death.
Even high on blood flame, he’d proven his character and his worth. He was innocent after all, but he was also completely in despair. What had been shown to him just now would confirm his long-held belief of his unworthiness. He couldn’t live with himself if he’d thought he’d killed her sister. And that part of him with a death wish would look for a way to end things.
She had to go to him, to show him the truth, to help him see he’d been lied to.
“You need to work on your spellcasting, Iris. Your protective shield was far too easy to penetrate. But then, I am the most powerful witch in Elegance.”
Iris rose to her feet and whirled to face the witch. Seraphina had returned to the living room. Only this time, she’d brought four vampires with her. “Get out of my house.”
“Sorry. Can’t do that. Not in the plans. But I have to say, I’m a little peeved with you, witch. You’ve been holding out on your kind. We’re always looking for new talent for our coven, and you’ve got a boatload.”
“I’d die first before joining your sick-ass circle.”
Seraphina shrugged. “Your choice and as for dying, well, that’s a promise.” She lifted her hand and snapped her fingers.
When the vampires moved forward, Iris pivoted and raced for the front door.
But as she shifted to turn the knob, one of the vampires caught her from behind, pinning both her arms so she couldn’t move.
A prick on her neck followed, as well as the rush of a hot chemical into her skin. Seraphina intended to make good on her promise.
Held tight in the vampire’s grip, she was carried outside. She felt the cool night air on her face, then she was airborne.
A moment later, blackness engulfed her.
~ ~ ~
Connor woke up on his side, dizzy as hell. He lay on concrete and felt bruised all over. Maybe he’d fought Evan’s men or maybe they’d beaten him up for the hell of it. He didn’t know.
Opening his eyes, he squinted. The light, made up of torches, hurt his brain. His mouth was dry and his thirst was off the charts. He had no idea how long he’d been here, wherever the hell ‘here’ was, since he couldn’t see. His vision was blurred.
To his surprise, his hands weren’t bound, so he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. He narrowed his eyes as he looked around, trying to get them to focus. He saw a large shape not far away, but it took him a good minute before he realized he was looking at Iris. She was lying immobile next to a cement wall, her back to him.
He rose unsteadily to his feet and crossed to kneel beside her.
He stroked her hair, then sent words into her mind. Iris, are you okay? Are you conscious?
No response. He checked her pulse. She was alive.
They must have drugged her as well.
He took in his surroundings once more, blinking several times. At last his vision cleared fully, but that’s when he realized where he was. His stomach turned over as the memories rushed at him, of the women and their screams.
It took him a moment to regain his calm.
Looking up, h
e checked the sky. There were no stars, just the deep smoke of another spell, undoubtedly Seraphina’s.
So, Evan and his witch had brought them here, back to the scene of Violet’s death and his crime. He supposed it was fitting, but like hell he would let Iris die here tonight as well.
Though he remained beside her, he extended himself to his environs, feeling the space in a way he knew mirrored Iris’s witch abilities. What returned was purposeful and deadly. No more games tonight. The intention was death and of course as much emotional and physical pain as could be inflicted.
His own goal became very simple. He had to protect Iris. Despite that she would hate him now, he had to make sure she lived. He owed that to her as well as to her sister who lost her life at his violent vampire hands.
He drew Iris carefully into his arms. She was completely limp, but breathing.
His heart felt crushed all over again. How much he despised what he’d become. Learning he’d killed Iris’s sister had finished him off.
He’d experienced something so rare with Iris that he’d allowed himself a moment to breathe, to feel, to believe maybe he could capture what he’d once had with his wife in the human part of Phoenix.
But he’d been wrong. There was nothing good he could bring to his life in Five Bridges, only heartache and disgust.
He felt deeply resolved to do one thing, and one thing only. And he didn’t care if he died in the process. In fact, he welcomed it.
He held Iris close to his chest. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’ve been in love with you for at least seven months. I told you I saw you at the Trib and that was true, but I didn’t tell you what made me desire you as much as I did, as I do.
“You looked so serious as you spoke with that woman. I still don’t know who she was or what issue had brought her to your office. But she wept and you suddenly dropped down beside her chair and hugged her with both arms.
“That’s when I fell in love with you, Iris. You had so much compassion for a witch, for any of our kind in Five Bridges. Seeing you comfort that woman gave me hope.
“And whatever Evan thinks, you don’t deserve this. I know you tried to find his wife and I know how much it hurt you to give up the search. Of all the women I know, have ever known, you deserve to live.”
