Fatal Allure Collection

by Woods, Martha

  “I can tell,” I say. My head is throbbing. I need to get out of here. I look at Vincent and try to send him a mental message, but I don’t know if it will work. I’ll get you out of here.

  It’s so faint – I can barely feel his mind touch mine. It makes my spine shiver, but I keep as still as possible so maybe Olivia won’t notice.

  Vincent speaks two words inside my head. Please don’t.

  Chapter 7

  I nearly run up the stairs to get out of the basement, and I don’t look back to see if Olivia is following me. I know that she isn’t hurting Vincent at the moment, but that doesn’t stop him from hurting. No one follows me when I go outside, and Mabel isn’t there at the door, but I can feel eyes on me. I stop when I’m near my car and take in a long, deep breath, trying to center myself with the world around me like Faye has been teaching me. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to talk Faye out of sending a hunting party to find me. Somehow, I don’t think Tristian or Damon is a match for Olivia, who feels much older than any other vampire I’ve been around. I also get the feeling that losing Vincent might do something atrocious to me, and Olivia’s death means his death. If she can be trusted. No way to actually find that out, and I’m not one for testing theories when my life is at stake.

  I’m slow to get my knife from the backseat, but when I touch it, I suddenly feel more in control over the things I’ve been feeling. I can block out Vincent, and most importantly, the pain and thirst. If I focus, I now know where Charlie is in the house; I can sense Cara with the cobwebs over her brain. I think about removing them, but having no plan afterward causes me to hesitate. Olivia really has me in a trap right now, and all I can do is go along with her. Hopefully, I can get everyone out alive.

  I walk reluctantly back to the house, where Mabel is standing, as still as a vampire, except she’s breathing. She can’t stop that natural human need. I wonder what would happen if I removed her cobwebs, but I don’t think she would run out of the house screaming. No, Mabel definitely has an attraction to Olivia that is more than just vampire mind games.

  “Your room is ready,” she hisses at me.

  “Uh, thanks,” I say, standing at the door. “Where is it?”

  “I’ll lead you to it,” she says, her voice full of disdain. Removing the cobwebs might mean Mabel killing me. I unconsciously hold my knife just a little tighter.

  I follow Mabel up the steps of the old mansion that creak under my feet. She leads me to a dusty old room with a freshly made bed in the center. It’s a four-poster bed, the bedding an old floral pattern better fit for a grandmother’s room than a vampire horror story.

  “I hope you’ll find it comfortable,” Mabel says.

  “I’m sure it will be just fine,” I respond. I look at the center of the bed and there are pajamas laid out for me. Well, silky white lingerie that I would be more comfortable wearing for Damon to take off than to sleep in. Oh God, what is Olivia going to dress me in tomorrow?

  “Good. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon with a change of clothes. There is a bathroom connected to the room. There is a cell phone beside the bed, but don’t call for help. Your hunter friends are being watched, and your human lover,” she says that like it’s an insult, “will be killed if you let them know anything about your whereabouts. Granted, Olivia is keeping them busy, possibly immobile.”

  “What has she done to Damon?” I feel a bit of panic in my voice.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she sing-songs, standing straighter because now she has something over me.

  “Yes, I would,” I say, trying to keep the urge to strangle her out of my tone.

  “If I’m feeling nice, and you behave, I’ll tell you tomorrow,” Mabel says as she proceeds to close the door in my face.

  Almost a slam.

  * * *

  Almost. I guess she caught herself at the last moment.

  * * *

  Great, how am I supposed to sleep now wondering if Damon is ever going to make it home to kiss me? I always know there is a possibility that he won’t come back to me. But this time, if he doesn’t come back in one piece, it’s my fault. There are way too many people getting hurt because of what I am. I swallow back the tears because I can’t let myself be taken over by depression right now. There is too much to do.

  I shimmy out of my clothes and into the sexy lingerie I’m supposed to sleep in, which is surprisingly comfortable despite the sheerness of it. I sit on the edge of the bed and open the traditional flip phone that they have left me. I’m glad I actually memorize numbers instead of just inserting them into my phone. I want to call Damon, I want to hear his voice, but I know I can’t. Hopefully, he is okay and can worry about things other than me. Hopefully, his concern for me won’t cause harm. I set an alarm for 11 a.m., so I can get up and make all the necessary phone calls in the morning. It’s too late at night to do it now.

  I turn the covers down on the bed and run my hand over it, checking for any sharp objects Mabel might have left for me to curl up into. Satisfied there are none, I crawl in and the bed creaks loudly enough in my mind to wake the dead. I giggle at the thought because I know all the dead are still quite awake, even though sunrise is about an hour away.

  Before my mind can drift to one particular dead person, I grab my knife and steel myself to think of nothing but the way the cold steel feels in my hand. I lay on my side, putting the knife under my pillow where it is near enough for me to protect myself – both mentally and physically. I wrap myself up in that protection, and it doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep.

  The alarm on the phone startles me awake from my thankfully dreamless sleep. I jump up with the knife in hand, swinging it at the dust bunnies that are floating through the room. I sneeze, and my mind slowly focuses on where I am. Fuck, I could use coffee. I really hope there is coffee somewhere in this mansion, or else I’m definitely going to fail at whatever task Olivia has for me. I grope to find the phone and turn the alarm off.

  The room is still pitch black despite the sun I know must be glaring outside. I fumble around to find the thick curtains that hold in the darkness. It takes strength to push them open they’re so heavy, and I am coughing from the amount of dust that has taken up residency in their folds. The sun almost blinds me as it forces itself into this old room. I can see out to the back of the house, which is an old field that I imagine farmers used to grow some sort of crop on. Now it just looks like a yard that needs to be mowed, maybe with a chainsaw. There’s a small path made by feet – possibly human, maybe vampire – that leads out to what looks like an old slave quarter with one of those torture boxes slave owners use to put disobedient slaves in. That sounds like it would still be in use. In fact, I think it is something Olivia would put me in without clothes on. I swallow, remembering Vincent’s thirst. I reach out my mind to his, but he isn’t responding. There is no Vincent right now, even though we are in the same house.

  The door to the bathroom creaks open as I step inside and fumble for a light switch. In the mirror, I see a me I don’t recognize, with bags under eyes that are rimmed red, in white lace lingerie I would never buy. My hair is a tangled mess, and I see no brush to tame the beast that has grown on top of my head. The sink is an old one with brass handles and faucet. It groans in protest as I turn what I hope is the hot water and sputters a couple of times before complying with my wishes. At first, the water comes out a murky yellow, but after running it for a few seconds, it goes clear. I tentatively put my finger in it, it’s warm, so I begin to splash some water on my face. It doesn’t work as well as coffee, but it’s all I’ve got right now.

  Once my face is drenched enough to work out what I have to do, I walk back into the creepy bedroom made more cheerful with sunlight. I pick up the phone and wrack my brain for an excuse not to go in to work for a period of time. I’m not sure how long Olivia is going to hold me, hostage, here. I take a deep breath, then call Rick’s office phone.

  “LAPD, Rick Gordon speaking.” Rick has a v
ery gruff voice that I imagine anyone would eventually get after catching criminals and murderers for as long as he has.

  “Hi, Rick, it’s Amy,” I say.

  There’s a long pause as I wait for him to respond. Uncomfortably long, because like a good boss, he knows I’m probably calling in because I can’t get to work.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  “So, I, well, I’m not going to be able to make it into work for a couple of days. I’ve got a family emergency on my hands,” I say.

  “Your folks okay?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like he really cares. It is just an obligatory response. That hurts. Rick and I used to be close. I used to consider him a mentor. But his trust in me disappeared when James Roberts did, and I don’t know if I’ll ever gain it back.

  “Yeah, they’ll be alright. I just have to go help them out for a couple of days. I’m really sorry.”

  “You’re lucky you’re such a good forensics officer, Amy. These last couple of months you have really changed.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I won’t try to force you to come in. Just know that I’m worried about you,” he says. I really don’t want to lose my job. I value my work and the sense of fulfilment that comes along with helping to solve crimes.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll get back into the old swing of things,” I say.

  “Okay. Please make sure to take care of yourself.”

  Ouch. I feel the concern in Rick’s voice. I wince and look around this old prison I’m in. I can’t really help it.

  “If I’m not back in a week, I’ll be dead,” I say it jokingly, but I’m totally serious, and I don’t think anyone will be able to find the body.

  “Sounds good. See you soon. Give your folks my best,” Rick says.

  “I will. Thank you,” I say, then hang up the phone. I just hope that Rick doesn’t get too suspicious, he’s the best investigator in the LAPD, and while he might not find out about vampires, he can surely tell when I’m lying. Lying about where I am, for example.

  So now I have a deadline for getting this assignment finished for Olivia. Hopefully, I do it just well enough to keep everyone I care about alive, but poorly enough that she doesn’t expect me to use my powers at her every call. I have a life outside the undead, and she sure as hell isn’t paying me for anything.

  Not that it sounds like fun to be on a vampire’s payroll.

  The next call I know is going to be harder. Faye also doesn’t like vampires very much and likes me messing around with them even less. Apparently, somewhere in my future, she saw me helping them. I guess that future is my current present. I dial up her cell phone number, and it rings for a while. I hope I get to leave a message, but at the last moment she picks up.

  “Amy, if you do not leave that house right now, I won’t be able to see your future much longer,” she says.

  Creepy. She knows why I’m calling, she knows where I am, and she’s pretty much written me off as dead. All the confidence I got from that face bath is slowly drying up.

  Chapter 8

  “I can’t leave,” I tell her after holding my breath for a few seconds.

  “Why? Because they’ll kill the vampire?” she asks.

  “Partially. They also have my friend captive,” I say.

  “It’s daytime. You can get her out of there and into a safe house. There is no reason for you to stay,” Faye says. Always practical. Except in that scenario, I might have to actually kill Mabel.

  “You can even kill that nest,” she says, trying to drive her point home. I haven’t really killed that many vampires, I’m not expert at it, and actually don’t particularly like it. All these qualities are what make me not part of the hunter club.

  “I don’t know what will happen to me if Vincent dies,” I say.

  I hear Faye take in a hissing sort of breath. I’m about to be lectured.

  “You drank the vampire’s blood.” A short lecture, massive disapproval. I don’t like disappointing Faye. She’s my punkish witch mentor who has actually done a lot more for me than I have for her.

  “Yes,” I say sharply. “I drank Vincent’s blood after he saved me from being raped.” I had broken bones by the time Vincent had taken Mr. Roberts down. I look around for James’s ghost, and I am pleased to see he is absent. I don’t think that will last long, considering he is so close to getting his vengeance. That’s one way to make him disappear.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Faye says.

  “Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Look, I wasn’t at my best then. I didn’t know drinking his blood would do this. I can feel his pain; I can feel his thirst. It’s like I’m him at times and I can’t find myself in all of it.”

  “I can break the bond.”

  “I don’t want you to,” I say before I can stop myself. Faye could make it so I could think clearer without feeling what Vincent does, but I don’t want that. I don’t want to give up on him like everyone wants me to. I should actually sit here and try to figure out why, but that’s thinking too deeply.

  “Look, if I try anything, the head vampire will kill me, and I don’t think the hunters will be willing to save me,” I say.

  “You can kill her,” Faye insists.

  “No. I can’t. I just have to do this task for her, and we all go free,” I argue.

  “You start working with the vampires, and I can’t help you” Faye’s voice has a finality to it that scares me, but it makes me angry also.

  “Can’t or won’t?” I snap, then shake my head. She’s saying all of this for my own benefit. She’s giving me the plan to get out of this mess and live another day. Somehow, I don’t think I will live another day, or that I could even kill Olivia, even if I thought it was the best course of action. I could try to strike while she’s sleeping, but it’s risky. Hunters don’t really know how alert vampires are throughout the day. It is another theory I am not willing to work out.

  “Can’t. My magic works on the living, not the dead,” she says coldly. Yep, I’ve struck a nerve with her.

  “Look, Faye, I’m sorry. I wish I wasn’t in this mess,” I say.

  “It was only a matter of time; you’re too wrapped up in that vampire. I was hoping he would be dead by now.”

  “I’m not here to advocate for vampire rights, but you knew when he vanished from my life he wouldn’t actually disappear.”

  “I was hoping that your love for Damon and being around him long enough would help you see otherwise.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t love Damon enough,” I mutter into the phone without thinking. Saying that out loud makes something inside me a break. Now I want to cry. Pull yourself together, Amy.

  “He’s in danger right now,” Faye tells me.

  “I figured. I’m really beginning to see why no one in this world wants to make connections.”

  “Don’t blame yourself for the path he has taken.” Faye’s voice has warmed slightly. She does not have a naturally warm sound, there is always an edge of chill to it, but she tries to be compassionate. I would like to consider us friends, but it is hard to tell with her. She is always stuck in three different places at once in her mind; I’m not sure how she hasn’t gone mad.

  “Look, I’ve got to go. I’m hoping this will all wrap up quickly and that everyone will come out alive,” I say. I want to finish this conversation. I’m tired of debating the ethics or wisdom of my choice.

  “What do they want you to do?” Faye asks.

  “I’m not sure. I’m supposed to be briefed sometime today,” I say. “Can’t you tell me?”

  “My powers work on the living; you’re surrounded by the dead or those wrapped up with them. It’s like you’re in a black box. I can give you enchantments that work around them like when I made you invisible, but that doesn’t mean I can see what is going to happen to you when you walk into their nest. I’m sorry, my only words of wisdom are to get out,” Faye says.

  “Trust me, I would if I could. Thanks, Faye. I’ll see you when I’
m done with these nasty vampires.”

  “They’ve abused witches over the centuries. Plus, your blood will taste extra sweet to them. Don’t let the fangs too close, don’t let your purity become compromised any further,” Faye warns.

  “I’ll do my best,” I tell her, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. We hang up after that, and I wonder what she means about purity. I would never have considered myself pure. I’ve lied, I’ve hurt people who care about me, I swear all the time.

  I wonder what Faye would say if I told her I am going to have to find a human for Vincent to feed on in order for him to live. Or, survive, that is. I have been severely considering my options and putting a plan together on how to do it. There are a bunch of human beings who deserve to die, right? Like Mr. Roberts. He was going to shatter my brain in an alley after raping me. Yet how can I be a judge of who is going to die and who is going to live?

  And Vincent wants me to let him die. Does he know what would happen to me if I did that? What exactly do I mean to him? There is a tangled web being spun here all around me, linked with emotions I’m not able to sort out. I am a go with the flow kind of person, but it feels like, with vampires, I need to be one step ahead of the game. If that’s the case, it looks like I am failing behind.

  I am not left long with my thoughts. Long enough to search the room for something to wear, and right when I am going to just put on my own clothes from yesterday, I hear a knock on the door. Then the turn of a key as if to remind me that I’m not exactly the most trusted guest in the house. I turn to face Mabel, who looks about as happy to see me as I feel. She holds a dress for me to wear, black, Bella, something I would never pick up from the store. I note that it is impractical to wear if there is going to be any fighting, so hopefully, this is going to be a calm, easy task I need to do for the vampires. I just have to look a little slutty doing it.

  Mabel is dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that exposes the bite marks on her neck like they are an expensive piece of jewelry that needs to be shown off. She tosses the dress beside me on the bed as if she is afraid to get too close to me. Slightly understandable, I do have my knife, but that is lying under my pillow. I keep calling it a knife but I suppose it is really a dagger. It isn’t long enough to be a sword, but I defiantly wouldn’t use it in the kitchen.