Drawn

by David Alan Jones

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have as deep a draw on charm as the twins portray in Drawn?”

  Rose shrugged.

  “She has nearly the strongest draw on charm I’ve ever seen,” Matt said.

  “Good. Good!” said the vampire. This was the most animated Rose had seen him. “That may come in handy.”

  “Why?” Rose asked.

  “One of my people caught a Society operative prowling our gardens not an hour before you arrived. We’ve tried everything to make her talk, but so far, it’s been useless. Maybe you can get something out of her.”

  A horrible feeling crept over Rose—a sick intuition that made her stomach roil. “Did she tell you her name?”

  “Si, she did. It’s your sister, Melody Carver.”

  20

  Thorn

  A slim, rakish vampire led Rose to a private room. It was large enough to swallow two of her old apartments back in Columbus. A four-poster bed the size of a Cadillac dominated the stucco and wood space. Cool night air rustled the windows, carrying with it the scent of lilacs.

  “You like it?” The vampire moved only his lips when he spoke.

  Rose nodded.

  “If you need anything, let one of us know. You are Clemente’s special guest.” With that, the vampire slipped down the hall like a shadow, gone in silence.

  Matt, who had his room a few doors down, had come with Rose. She hadn’t released his hand since they’d left Clemente’s vault.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No.” Rose pulled him inside and shut the heavy oaken door.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “About Leslie. And your sister.”

  Rose kicked off her boots, turned back the covers, and lay in the bed, pulling Matt with her. She pressed her face to his chest. He smelled of sweat and gun smoke. She didn’t care. He held her while she shuddered with silent sobs.

  “I think my sister killed Leslie,” Rose said when she could trust her voice again.

  “It isn’t her fault if she’s under Lord’s charm,” Matt said. “She isn’t responsible.”

  Rose nodded, but knowing that and believing it were two separate things.

  “Clemente wants you to interview her so he can listen in,” Matt said. “You shouldn’t do it.”

  “I want to know she’s safe.” Rose didn’t add that she wanted to hear Melody’s version of what had transpired in that bell tower.

  A sudden, horrible realization struck Rose. “Do you think they’ve bitten her? Would they change her into one of them?”

  From what Rose had learned at Camp Den, vampire venom altered a victim’s mind, rendering them pliant, a willing thrall.

  “They wouldn’t turn her,” Matt said. “Fledgling vampires tend to lose memories. They forget most, if not all, of their previous lives. Clemente doesn’t strike me as the sort who would risk losing an advantage.”

  “But you think they’ve bitten her?”

  “I’m certain they have.”

  Rose stiffened at the image of fat Clemente nipping at her sister’s throat. Disgusting. She burrowed closer to Matt, hugging him tight, eager for the comfort of his presence. Drawing insight and intelligence, she pushed herself to separate her emotions from the cold facts.

  “Maybe the venom will make her more susceptible to my charm,” she said. “That’s a reason to interrogate her now. I might be able to break Lord’s hold on her if her defenses are down.”

  “Maybe,” Matt whispered, “but we don’t know that. And we don’t know what the vampires want either. We need their help, but that doesn’t mean I trust them.”

  Rose nodded. “All right, but I want to see her at least. She’s my sister, Matt.”

  “I know.”

  After waiting the entire day, the vampires made her wait most of the next night as well before they brought Rose to Melody’s basement holding cell two hours before dawn. The little room, only four doors down from Clemente’s comic book archive, stank of sweat, blood, and mildew. A single line of spotlights illuminated the place, their beams focused on Melody, who sat in a dentist’s chair, her limbs strapped down with leather bonds.

  Rubio smiled when he saw the look of pain and worry flash across Rose’s face. “Your hermana,” he said in a smooth steely voice. “She’s tough. You want we should take out the gag?”

  Rose clenched her jaw and nodded.

  Rubio motioned toward Melody with his chin, and a couple of his flunky vamps hurried to remove the rubber ball gag from her mouth. Blood speckled its white surface.

  Several bite marks, lurid red and purple, marred Melody’s neck.

  Rose turned to Rubio. “Will you let us talk alone?”

  “Claro, Senorita,” he said with an insincere little half bow. “Just do not release the straps, no?”

  Rose nodded. She remained silent until the steel door vacuum sealed behind her.

  “They wouldn’t leave us alone if they weren’t listening,” Melody said.

  Rose frowned. Her sister sounded muzzy, perhaps a bit confused. The dark circles under her eyes spoke of too little sleep; the burst capillaries around her mouth and neck said other things.

  None of that mattered now.

  “There was a girl in the tower,” Rose said through a jaw so tight it felt bound in copper. “Did you kill her?”

  Melody furrowed her brow. “What girl?”

  “The tower sniper: red hair, beautiful, young.” Rose’s voice broke on the last word.

  Melody shook her head. She looked concerned, almost empathetic. “I didn’t kill any girl in a tower.”

  “You had that sword. You slaughtered our people.”

  “Only because they attacked me.” Sudden tears glistened in Melody’s eyes. “Do you think I like what I’ve been doing? You do. You think I’m one of them.”

  “You’re not?”

  “Of course not,” Melody said. “It was Lord. He charmed me. He charms everybody. Do you really think I would do those kinds of things?”

  “You swear you didn’t kill her? You swear it?”

  “I didn’t kill her. I’m not a monster, Anna. Not like your new friends.” Melody jerked her chin at the door.

  “The vampires aren’t my friends,” Rose said.

  “Not the vampires.”

  “The Order?”

  “You don’t even realize what’s happened to you?” Melody asked, incredulous.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Anna, wake the hell up. I’m not the only one who’s been manipulated.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Let’s see,” Melody said, “when did you ever dream of shooting a submachine gun? How many times when we were kids did you ever say, ‘I’m going to be an assassin for Society when I grow up?’ Anna, you’ve been charmed off your ass, and you don’t even realize it. This isn’t you, just like it isn’t me. Dad didn’t raise us to be robots for our succubus betters. Did he?”

  Rose rocked back on her heels, heart hammering, brows knit. Despite drawing discernment, she felt no lie from her sister. The girl was telling the truth, at least a truth she believed.

  “They used charm on us in the beginning, sure,” Rose said. “But that was to get us over our initial fears. If I was being charmed right now, I would know it.”

  Melody grinned slowly. “Would you, Sis? I mean, you know, boil a frog slowly and all. Maybe you’ve just gotten used to it. And who told you that you weren’t being charmed? Matt Snow? His mother? Don’t you think—”

  “His mother?”

  Melody tilted her head. “You didn’t know Robin Ambrose is Matt Snow’s mother?”

  Rose said nothing, could say nothing. Her face burned.

  “Guess that means you didn’t know his father is Jason Kraft?” Melody’s look of triumph was too much.

  “You’re lying,” Rose said, though discernment told her otherwise.

  “Do you know what I was doing the night Lord came for us? Chemistry homework. Stupi
d, fourth period chem lab shit. And then suddenly I was so weak I couldn’t move. I threw up on my bed. My insides hurt like I had run three marathons. And that’s when Lord blew in the front of our house, Anna. Me, Dad, Mom, Troy, we were weak as kittens when he came, all because you drew first. I guess if Lord had come a little sooner, you might have been the one lying on the floor unable to move or even talk. But that wasn’t how things played out.”

  “I didn’t know.” Rose had come in here so full of indignation, so bent on discovering the truth. But not this truth.

  “Yeah, I know,” Melody said. The grin had slid from her face, just as much of the energy and animation had steamed from her speech.

  “Where are they?”

  Melody shrugged. “In a fear factory somewhere, I guess.”

  “There’s more than one?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you’ve got to know where they are,” Rose said. “Haven’t you kept your eyes open?”

  “My eyes are clouded when I’m around Lord. And I’m always around him. I haven’t thought about Mom and Dad in months.”

  “Christ, I thought you would know.”

  “No. But I can find out.”

  Rose stared at her sister for a long, silent moment. “How?”

  “I know people inside the Indrawn Breath. You and me, we can get to them together, find out where the factories are hidden.”

  “We can’t do it alone,” Rose said.

  “Who says? The people who have been lying to you from the start? Did they politely ask you to join their rebellion, or did some wrangler kidnap you?”

  “It was Matt.”

  Melody nodded. “Makes sense. He’s the best next to Lord.”

  “At kidnapping?”

  “It’s called wrangle-mangle. Means if you can’t force someone to come along the easy way, you mess ‘em up. Matt’s call sign, Snow, he got that because everyone says he comes on like a blizzard. A total whiteout. Somebody resisted, got physical with him, he put ‘em down quick.”

  “You mean he killed them?”

  Melody shrugged. “Sometimes. But that’s not the real goal. I mean what good is a corpse in a fear factory?”

  Where before Rose’s face had flushed, infused with heat, now the blood drained from it, from her whole body, leaving her cold. Was this why Matt had tried to dissuade her from interrogating Melody?

  “He put people in the fear factory?” Rose asked.

  “It was his job, Anna. He was Lord’s top wrangler.”

  “How long?”

  “How should I know? Years, I guess.”

  Rose’s vision swam. She drew wakefulness, strength, and calm, but nothing could smooth away the hurt and anger welling inside her. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  “I’m not joining the rebels,” Melody said. “No more of this brainwashing bullshit. If you get me out, I’m leaving on my own.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “How do you figure that?” Melody asked.

  “Because I’m going with you.”

  21

  Breaking Trust

  Rubio and two of his human cronies escorted a fuming Rose back to her room. She wanted to walk alone, but they wouldn’t hear of it.

  Muffled gunfire like distant thunder echoed in the east.

  “What was that?” Rose asked.

  “Your Americano army moved last night. The fighting’s close. A few miles from here.”

  “Is Clemente worried?”

  “No.” Rubio was doing that vampire stillness thing again: walking without swinging his arms, barely moving his lips when he spoke. It made Rose’s skin crawl.

  “Speaking of Clemente,” she said, “is he available? I need to talk with him.”

  “No.”

  They had reached her door.

  “Is there a good time to reach him?” Rose asked.

  “No.” The vampire turned as if on bearings and sped away, his pets in tow.

  Rose stared after him, lips twisted in irritation. She was beginning to despise vampires.

  Steeling herself, trying in vain to slake the anger broiling inside, Rose pulled open her door. Discernment told her she would find Matt there.

  He sat at a small desk watching a news report on a tablet computer. When he saw her, he stood, a look of concern tugging down the corners of his mouth. “What is it?”

  “You were a wrangler for the Indrawn Breath. You put innocent people in the fear factory.”

  Matt stiffened. “She told you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Rose shut the door behind her.

  Matt started her way, his hand out. “Rose, I—”

  “Don’t touch me.” She pulled away from him to press her back against the oaken door.

  He dropped his hand. “You feel betrayed.”

  “You’re damned right I feel betrayed. How could you keep this from me? Why would you?” Her words echoed around the empty room, seeming to bellow back at her from its shadowy corners.

  Matt’s face dropped. He stared at her boots. “What was I supposed to say? Let’s have dinner, and oh, I used to do horrible things for the organization we’re fighting against?”

  “Do you know where the fear factory is?”

  “Of course not. What are you trying to say? Why would I hide something like that?”

  “If you put people in there, then you must know how to find it.” Rose searched Matt’s face. He looked like a man whose lifeline has snapped, spilling him over a precipice.

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  Rose folded her arms. “How was it? Did you kidnap strangers and hand them off to David Lord?”

  “I didn’t know what was happening. The people I took—”

  “Wrangled or mangled, right?”

  Matt blinked once slowly. “I was told they were dissidents, traitors. It was my job to see they couldn’t harm anyone or expose our kind to the world.”

  “You never questioned them?”

  “Not in the beginning.” Matt put a hand on the table as if to steady himself. “I followed orders.”

  “Lord’s orders.”

  “Yes. Lord’s orders.”

  “Where did you take them, Matt?”

  “FBI field offices, mostly. None of them was the fear factory. You must believe me. If I had known then what was happening, I—”

  “How long before you questioned? How many people did you hand over to Society before you bothered to think what might be happening to them?” Gunfire sounded in the distance as if to punctuate Rose’s words, sharp and accusing.

  “Rose, you’ve got to—”

  “I don’t have to do anything. How long?”

  “Eight years.”

  Rose shook her head. “You weren’t going to tell me any of this.”

  “Don’t you think I’m ashamed of what I did?” Self-derision filled Matt’s voice, though Rose doubted its sincerity. She doubted a good many things now. “I can’t take it back. All I can do is go forward, try somehow to make amends.”

  “But you aren’t making amends, Matt. You’re lying. You weren’t going to tell me any of this because you didn’t have to, not while you had me charm-blasted.”

  “What are you talking about?” He took his hand from the table to stand straight, his back erect.

  “What the hell am I doing here with you, with the Dog Ears? I’m no soldier. You coaxed me into all this. It’s not me.”

  “Nobody’s charming you,” Matt said.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Not for months. You’re the one who put a stop to it. You would feel it if it was still going on.”

  “Would I? I learned a lot of things I never knew at Camp Den. Maybe secret charm is something you held back from us slinkers.”

  Matt’s face flushed, and his nostrils flared. “If I’m charming you, I’m doing a shitty job of it.”

  “I’m leaving,” Rose said. “And I’m taking Melody with me.”

  “Wait, please. Let
’s talk about this.”

  “So you can charm me into seeing things your way? I don’t think so.”

  “Think about what you’re doing,” Matt said. “We’re in the middle of a godforsaken war zone in a house full of vampires. Do you think for one second you can just traipse out of here with your sister in tow? Clemente isn’t going to let that happen, and you know it.”

  A concussive thrum much louder than the preceding gunfire shook the room.

  “Stay out of my way, Matt,” Rose said, pulling the door open. “I don’t want to hurt you the way you’ve hurt me.”

  Matt winced as if she had socked him in the gut.

  She slammed the door on her way out.

  Clemente’s hacienda was laid out in three above-ground floors, one directly atop the other. His suite took up most of the third. What else? Vampires loved their things. That included houses, cars, and minions. Especially minions. Rose had learned in the last two days that Rubio was Clemente’s only true child, his blood son. The others serving here were just sycophants, hangers-on from various clans of the coven kingdoms who had attached themselves to a powerful lord.

  Rose ascended a set of parquet steps, real hand-tooled hardwood carved into a series of interlocking chevrons, not the cheap laminate stuff she had experienced all her life. She expected to find armed guards at the top, but the hallway stood empty. Did that have something to do with American forces swinging this direction? Perhaps Clemente had ordered his guards to the roof or outer perimeter to keep an eye on the battlefront. Did Clemente plan to fight or run? Probably the latter. He took his orders from older vamps, and they seemed reluctant to reveal themselves, thank goodness.

  A set of solid steel doors stood at the top of the stairs. They were locked. Rose banged on them with the flat of one hand.

  “Clemente,” she called, “I need to speak with you.”

  No answer.

  Rose drew hearing and discernment. She thought she could make out a muffled voice, but it was hard to hear over the now constant gunfire outside, which sounded closer than before.