Amongst the Fallen

by Devin Lee Carlson

  “Agreed, but never surrender the journal to Wayde. Do we have a deal?”

  The request seemed odd seeing as he worked for the man. Several scenarios of how I’d wipe the smug smile off his face delayed my answer. Instead, I bit my upper lip and simply nodded.

  10

  SABREE’S AN ASP

  O n Halloween day, I slept until noon to avoid our new guest. The rest of the day, I retreated inside my bedroom. Walls meant nothing to Sabree’s misting ability, but I hoped he’d at least have the decency to respect my privacy. This had nothing to do with the prospect of him taking a chunk out of me again. Nope, more like me not having to deal with his holier-than-thou attitude.

  I researched old notes on Chambers and Wayde until my interest waned. Dougal had scheduled my request to reconnect the internet service next week, so without it, I closed the laptop and stared at the alarm clock until the numbers blurred. Sleep came as easy as did the usual nightmares.

  Wheezing gasps woke me from a deep slumber. Baby-fine powder floated in the air until gray dust filled the entire room. With every breath I took, the dust suffocated me, squeezing my lungs tighter. Where was the dust coming from? Why am I drowning in it? My legs kicked and my arms stroked upward until I broke the surface. I spat and blinked away the grit while trying to stay afloat. My lungs burned, filled with the pungent scent of burnt sugar. I sneezed again and again; the force drove me upward.

  With a broom in hand, I rose above the mound. A freezer-strength baggy landed at my feet. I picked it up and aimlessly swept the roomful of dust into the bag. Not dust, but ashes. The more I swept, the higher the mound piled up until I sank again. Grief and guilt tore at my soul. Death itself drowned me. But whose?

  In answer, the billowing ash whispered a strange name.

  Athorsis.

  The rest blew away.

  I woke with a start and sneezed. Remnants of dry powder tickled the end of my nose. The visual of a roomful of ashes made me sit upright. The laptop fell off the bed. I looked down and saw the thin film of dust on my pajamas. My eyes scanned the bed and floor next, finding them dust free. This happened more often than not. Me bringing souvenirs back from the dreams—my personal nightmares. Odd trinkets, blood, and now a sweet-smelling dust. I sniffed again and all I could think of was Sabree.

  My gaze drifted to the phone charging on the bureau. I jabbed the home button. Five o’clock. Where’d the afternoon go? Then I focused on the Dracula outfit hanging in front of the closet. Myself pictured in this goofy costume gave me second thoughts. Made me want to hide under the covers for the rest of the night.

  At least it took my mind off the nightmare. With little to work with, I had ransacked Dougal’s closet and found a black tuxedo with long coattails and a red scarf to use as an ascot. Pop’s stuff would never fit me, three sizes too large and his height a man’s petite. I borrowed Ariane’s eyeliner for a sinister look. I smiled a toothy grin. No need to hide the fangs. Time to shower, get dressed, and fetch Ariane.

  Thirty minutes later, I knocked on her door and entered after she told me to come in. I stood behind her, leaning over to gaze into the vanity mirror. Since the guests were encouraged to arrive in costume, she settled on Cleopatra solely because of the Egyptian style gown she purchased on sale. Eighty percent off she claimed.

  “Give me a sec,” she said.

  My sister looked stunning as she applied copper-glittered lipstick to complement her kohl-lined amber eyes. A quick glance at her sandaled feet revealed gold-painted toenails to match her fingernails. A becoming Cleopatra. I helped her secure the gold crown and wedge the last bobby pin. My slight smile, baring fangs, broadened in appreciation of her beauty as she twirled on her heels to face me. For a fleeting second, I sensed her back stiffen.

  “Good evening, goddess, your escort has arisen.” I played the part of a vampire with ease. Not from experience—I had none—but from appearance alone. Genuine fangs, statuesque figure, and natural pale complexion contrasted by dark eyes.

  Ariane rose from her seat. “You can take off that tux. I don’t want to go. Wayde and Chambers will be there. They’re after the journal. After us.”

  “I won’t let you out of my sight. I promise.” I pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead. “No one will harm the Egyptian queen while Drac is around.”

  Feminine giggles tickled my ears. Always good to hear her laugh.

  Ariane reached for a gold-woven shawl to drape over her shoulders. “I’m more worried about the asp biting me.” She dusted off his shoulder. “Is Sabree joining us?”

  My grin twisted into a grimace at the sound of the immortal’s name. Sabree is an asp. Clever how her reference to the poisonous snake brought up his name. “He wasn’t invited. Let him fend for himself.” No telling where he had been all day, but then, the ghostly vampire could come and go as pleased. So much for keeping my frenemies closer.

  11

  DANCING WITH THE SHE-DEVIL

  A riane stepped inside first, her brother still arguing with the valet. She expected to find the decor overdone. Outside the laboratory environment, Dr. Chambers, probably a fan of HGTV, had an eccentric flair for overdressing and over-decorating. Brian opened the door behind her. A draft chilled her bare shoulders, so she wrapped the shawl around them. She glanced at the coat check host and shook her head.

  Brian hooked her arm and led her into the ballroom. A pungent scent of pumpkin and cinnamon potpourri filled their nostrils. Ariane nudged his elbow and pointed at the ceiling. Lavish spirals of black and orange streamers dangled from the chandeliers and draped in the corners. In addition, cobwebs wove intricate patterns between the railings, around the staircase, and from each chandelier. The muted candelabras and strategically located black lights set a spooky atmosphere.

  “Check out the place settings,” Brian said.

  She glanced at the nearest table and studied the set of climbing gargoyle candlesticks. A small cauldron of green bubbling gelatin sat between them. “That better not be the main course.” Her lips thinned when Dr. Chambers approached them with open arms. His Liberace costume did nothing to disguise the snake of a man, especially after he wiped the sweat dotting his forehead with a white glove.

  “Welcome, Mr. and Ms. Colton,” he said. His beady eyes ogled her skimpy costume.

  Ariane fought off the violation by imagining herself kicking him where it would hurt most. She almost laughed when the doctor stared at Brian’s getup next, only to cover his mouth to stifle a chuckle.

  Chambers waved over an usher. “Show my special guests to their table.” He addressed Ariane next. “I will be sure to visit you shortly, dear.”

  Never would be too soon, you pervert. After she adjusted her low-cut bodice, pushing up her small breasts, Ariane followed Brian and the usher. She meandered through the seated circles of costumed guests and fell behind when she bumped into someone. “Excuse me,” she said, eyeing the man who refused to budge. Dressed as an archangel, the lion of a man in scant robes and huge white wings, wielded a sword. From her brief assessment, the sword looked authentic. His long mane of gold hung well below his shoulders.

  “Quite all right, Cleopatra. No harm done.”

  Quite the contrary, the contact exhilarated her. Ariane continued to shuffle across the room in the tight gown, her eyes scanning the tables ahead for Brian. As expected, the usher headed for a table located at the back wall, away from the mainstream of guests. He pulled out a chair for her and bowed before he left.

  Brian sat next to her. “Who’s the angel dude? Too tall to be Sabree.” He laughed at his snide remark.

  “Nobody.”

  “Mr. Nobody made you blush.”

  Ariane ignored his insinuations while the ushers seated other guests. A rich variety of costumes filled the room, some risqué, a few homely, and others downright hideous. As her luck dictated, the most hideous of costumes lagged behind the usher to pause at their table.

  Not here, keep going, no, don’t stop. Crap. Ariane snub
bed her nose at him and leaned into Brian, pretending to wave at another table. Hopefully, her body language would send the right message: find another table.

  “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” The monster ignored her wrinkled brow and asked, “May I join you?”

  The man’s mask looked horribly realistic and Ariane sensed a familiar dread, slight but definite. The rubber stench reached her from across the table. She fidgeted in her seat wishing her pause would send him on his way. No such luck, so she snapped out of her daze. “Be our guest.” She glanced at Brian for his reaction, but he was busy ordering margaritas from the waiter.

  “Thank you.” The monster sat opposite them, his mask oozing with pea-green rubberized slime and fake blood. He stared at Ariane with one good eye, the other dangling from the mask’s socket.

  The thick British accent sounded familiar. With good intent, she cleared her throat to initiate the conversation. “Sorry, sir, but I didn't catch your name.”

  “I did not throw it, my dear” the man answered dryly, his wit over staged. “May I buy you a drink or do you prefer blood over alcohol?”

  Blood? Ariane coughed while her mind raced for a comeback.

  Brian answered for her, playing his role exceedingly well. “Preferably type A. But no thanks, I already ordered our drinks. Feel free to order yours at the bar.” He pointed at the far end of the dance floor.

  Her brother’s eyes darted to her, to the monster, and then back to her. Ariane understood his concern and collected her composure. The man’s comment had to be a wisecrack about her brother’s costume. But who would bother with them? One answer flashed an alarm. Her back went rigid. She knew the man behind the mask. “Okay, Wayde, what do you want?”

  “The journal.” Wayde’s one eye sprang like a slinky as he rose from the table and stared her down. “There will be consequences if you refuse to surrender it. Besides the serum, it’s rumored to include instructions for reversing the side effects.” He turned to leave.

  A surge of optimism ignited her nerves and electrified her skin. The revelation offered hope of getting her normal life back. Brian’s too. Wayde’s admission had caught her attention. Ariane hollered over the music. “Wait!”

  Wayde ignored her calls as he mixed into the crowd. The waiter delivering their drinks prevented her from leaping out of her seat. She bumped shoulders with Brian instead.

  “Hey, where’s the fire?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Wayde is what’s wrong. Let’s go.” She sat in her seat and kept an eye on the monster until he disappeared behind a fat pumpkin.

  “Go where? We just got here.” Brian thanked the waiter.

  “We’re not safe.”

  “We’re surrounded by people. What can happen?”

  Her brother was right. She doubted Wayde or Chambers would try anything with Brian around. “My bad. Go on, drink up.” She scanned the dance floor and tables for Wayde or Chambers until her gaze fell upon a young Asian woman in a red devil costume at the next table. Ariane noticed how she kept glancing their way. Naturally, her brother failed to recognize the signs: batting eyelashes, the flipping of hair, and the upturned Mona Lisa smile.

  Brian followed his sister’s gaze to the raven-haired devil. “What now?”

  “Are you blind? The she-devil’s flirting with you. Go introduce yourself.”

  “What?” He twisted in his seat to face the other table.

  “You’re such a nerd. Go ask her to dance.”

  “Thought you wanted me to stay with you.” His eyes grew wide when the devil smiled at him. He guzzled the rest of his drink and shrugged. “Guess it can’t hurt, but I’ll keep an eye on you too. Watch out for Chambers.”

  Ariane cheered him on as he gathered the nerve to approach the tableful of what looked like tourists from the East, wondering how they knew Chambers. Exchange students? She crossed her fingers when Brian stood a few feet behind the woman and paused. “Care to dance with the humblest of vampires?” he asked, his voice barely audible. He waited until her friends pointed him out.

  “Why? Do you know where I can find one?” the she-devil replied in perfect English. Her dark eyes twinkled as they reflected the soft candlelight. Ariane concluded she was from Japan because of the red sun on the white flag displayed at the devil’s table. Her girlfriends giggled and nudged her, urging her to dance with Dracula. Dance with my brother, you idiot.

  “Count Colton, at your service.” Brian bowed, grasping her hand and gently leading her to the dance floor.

  Out of habit, Ariane kept a close eye on her brother. He pulled the she-devil up close and together, they swayed in a dream-like mood. People danced around them as though the couple was the central focus. Ariane waved her hand at him every time he glanced her way. She smiled, never recalling when either of them had learned to dance. Then she spied the archangel.

  After she downed half her drink, Ariane rose and approached the angel’s table. No one else sat at the table except for the gorgeous man dressed as Adonis. The two were holding hands. She stopped short. Just my luck. She meandered toward the bar to order another margarita, this time frozen strawberry. Someone grabbed her upper arm, squeezing the wire bracelet resembling a snake. The jewelry pinched her skin.

  “You aim too high by messing with an angel.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled at the sound of Chambers’s voice. She quickly scanned the dance floor to snag Brian’s attention with eye contact.

  “Your brother is otherwise engaged. I insist you come quietly.”

  Ariane tried to wriggle free of his grip as he dragged her toward a set of elaborate double doors. His private office she bet. He stopped abruptly. She bumped into his backside and peered around him. Seconds ago, the entryway had been empty. Now, a guest dressed in full musketeer regalia blocked the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. The costume looked authentic—museum quality. The large hat lifted and with it, the feather danced from the forceful yet graceful movement.

  Sabree. How confident, how menacing he looked with eyes a dark shade of teal. Ariane could have sworn they were a different color the other night. The grip on her arm relaxed when Chambers tensed. If Sabree worked for Wayde, why did Chambers seem on edge?

  “Zanyael, you weren’t invited,” he said, the surprise in his voice evident. “Is there a problem?”

  “Oui, the problem is I never received an invitation. Stand aside while I dance with the Queen of the Nile.”

  Before Ariane could object, Sabree whisked her away from the creep and onto the dance floor. Had she escaped the asp only to land in the lion’s den?

  The band switched to an eerie waltz as her dance partner took the lead. He moved with such eloquence and grace, she felt as if they were ice-skating. The strength he possessed in his arms made her feel as if she floated on air, leaving her troubles on the dance floor below. She lost herself in his—Wait, focus.

  Ariane pushed away from him. This had to be a conspiracy. The man who worked for Wayde, the enemy, toyed with her emotions. And where did Brian go? Her brother’s promise repeated inside her mind: I won’t let you out of my sight. I promise. Her voice overtook his. Some promise, dear brother.

  Sabree pulled her close when the music slowed even more. “Relax, Ariane Rose. See, over there. The spawn of Satan is dancing with the she-devil.”

  Seeing Brian nearby eased her mind. Her steps became lighter and she relaxed enough to enjoy herself. Sabree danced like a pro after all.

  3 3 3

  After a few songs, my detached mood drove the clingy she-devil away from my arms.

  “Does my costume bring out the devil in you?” she asked, shaking her silky black hair out of her face.

  I blinked, never expecting the forward question. I bit my lower lip as I admired her costume. Her feminine curves beneath the red halter dress warmed me in places that were frozen solid, frozen forever. The low-cut bodice that uplifted her small breasts and the red high heels caught my utmost attention. Her eyelas
hes fluttered like hummingbird wings.

  Glancing at my feet, I chickened out and commented on the lesser details of her costume. “Cute horns and I love the tail.” Immediately, I sensed her disappointment. “Bugger, I’m no angel.” My hoarse chuckles made her giggle. Then I caught sight of Ariane and the musketeer dancing. To convince myself as well as the she-devil in my arms, I pressed closer, breathing in the floral scent of her hair. The ice melted away.

  She leaned back and gazed into my eyes without blinking. “My name is Azumi Tsukino. I’m working on my Masters—cello.” The single word brightened her eyes. “My parents disagree with my choice and refuse to pay my tuition.” She lowered her gaze. “I’m here looking for colleges that offer scholarships in my field. Aside from prostitution, I’m desperately trying to fund my own way. Music’s my passion. Sorry, enough about my silly problems.” She nodded toward the veranda. “Let’s go outside.”

  Strangely enough, I did care about her interest in music. For a moment, I could’ve sworn her eyes had teared up. “I love the cello. Yo Yo Ma’s my favorite. Too bad your parents don’t appreciate the magnitude of the arts.” Magnitude, dude? I slapped my palm against my forehead for responding with such a clumsy remark.

  She ignored my silliness and stared at the dance floor instead.

  “Guess a bit of fresh air might be nice,” I said to drop the touchy subject. “After you.” I raised my brows as she wove a path through the crowd. In her wake, I eyed her bum jiggling with every step, becoming well aware of the devil stirring inside my pants. A bit hesitant at first, I followed her beyond the lighted veranda. “Wait, where are you going?” No way I could keep an eye on Ariane outside the dancehall.

  “We can still hear the music. Let’s dance by ourselves.” A breeze whipped through her hair. Azumi stopped and leaned against the railing. As I approached, she shook the wispy bangs from her eyes and puckered her ruby lips.