Bete Noire

by Christina Moore

  This was the first time since her death that Ash had even spoken Haruka’s name. Tristan frowned, resting his cheek across his arms where they held his knees to his chest. He was thinking, what a nightmare, for them both.

  She gave a tiny laugh. “Yes. It was all a nightmare. Then, there was you, Tristan.”

  He sat up, tense. This was the Ash he knew again, not that woman earlier who threatened to kill him for making too much noise. Not that woman earlier who wanted nothing to do with him, who told him to go home. This was the Ash that cared for him. He was surer now than before, but all that weirdness earlier had just been an act. She really was trying to push him away. To protect him. She knew all this was going to happen and she didn’t know of any other way to make him turn away, to save him. Too bad it didn’t work.

  No.

  No, he was glad he stayed because if he hadn’t Ash would have to endure all of this again alone. Even if they both died here, he was glad to die with her. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Ash wished she could see Tristan, just one last time, to tell him face to face everything she’d been holding back. “You, you are my true salvation.”

  “Ash.” He shook his head. “Haruka, she… she wouldn’t have died if it wasn’t for me. Malik was only after me.”

  “You are wrong. It was all a game, between Master and I. I would hunt him, try to kill him, inevitably fail… rinse and repeat. Master wanted me under his thumb again but was willing to wait as long as it took, until he was bored of the game. I think—no, I know, he would have eventually killed Haruka to spite me. He only moved his schedule up when you appeared. He knew immediately you were a threat.”

  “Because of Lilith?” he whispered.

  Ash looked down to her lap, wishing she hadn’t kept the secret from him for so long. “Do you remember when we killed him?”

  Did he remember? “I’ll never forget it.”

  “And you remember that I told you I saw your mother’s death…?”

  Tristan snapped upright, almost hitting his head on the wall behind him. “Ash?” he whispered nervously. “What else did you see?”

  “So many things… things I should have told you before. I am sorry for the way I am. I should have told you before.”

  “Ash…?”

  “I think I understand now.”

  He was starting to feel desperate. “Understand what?”

  Ash gasped, doubling over as the sun outside of their underground prison broke the horizon. “My… role.”

  Tristan turned around and touched the wall separating them. The cold burn in his middle was starting to fade. He was losing her. “Role? What role? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “…all… fore… told.”

  Her presence was almost gone. “Ash! Foretold what? The pythia? What’d Lilith see?”

  “Sorry,” she hissed. A moan followed, almost a whimper, and she let out a long breath as her body went completely limp.

  Then there was nothing. The sun had taken her.

  Tristan was left alone in his cold, damp cell with nothing to keep him company except for the sound of water making its way through the foundation and his conversation with Ash as it played over and over in his head. The weariness he fought so hard to banish was gone in a rush of adrenaline. What had Ash been trying to tell him? What secrets had she been keeping from him all this time? He couldn’t believe he was so oblivious to not have thought of it before.

  A rat the size of a Maine Coon somehow squeezed its way through a set of bricks barely an inch apart and stopped, fixing its beady eyes on Tristan. He stiffened, scowling at it, wondering what sort of diseases the thing had. At least he had someone to talk to during the long day light hours.

  22: Prison Sex

  TRISTAN spent the rest of his morning touching every single, nasty ass brick in his cell. Twice. He pushed. He pulled. He kicked and fell over. He paced until he couldn’t stand anymore. He beat on the walls, the bars, the door until his hands ached. He screamed and cursed out his frustrations despite the pounding in his head.

  And the whole time he spent exploring his tiny space the conversation he had with Ash played over and over again until he was too tired to even think. He really needed to figure a way out but all he could think of was that Ash had lied to him again. And that this time, the lie was just too big. In the end, it would cost them their lives. Maybe he was being a bit dramatic, but with his body aching and mind worn mentally thin, it was all he could come up with.

  When he just couldn’t move anymore he sat in the far corner, opposite of the stinking water puddle and facing the door, knees pulled up, arms crossed across them with his head resting on forearms. He needed to sleep, to regain his sanity and strength for when the vampires awoke again, even if that left him vulnerable to Sebastian during the day still. Who knew what that bastard fae would do to him while he was out.

  He was just staring at floor, fixated on a drop of water snaking its way through the veins in the stone. It was ridiculously captivating. He took it as a sign of his eminent insanity. After a while he realized that he was no longer watching the water on the stone floor, but that he was seeing only the blackness of the inside of his eyelids. He moaned, feeling heavy and non-responsive as he tried to force his eyes open again. He knew he had open them. He had to stay awake, but the call for rest was just too much.

  Maybe just a few minutes…

  A wave of goose bumps lit up his flesh. A soft, sensual voice called to him, covering him with liquid velvet. He moaned lightly and rolled his head to one side, pressing his cheek hard into what felt like his own hand. There was another more urgent call, his name.

  “Tired,” he muttered, not really sure who he was talking to.

  “Tristan!” that voice snapped, sounding angry but laced with a hint of fear.

  Alarm shot through him and his head popped up so fast he hit the wall behind him.

  “Tristan?” Ash demanded again.

  With the help of the wall, he pulled to his feet, groaning and clutching his head. Jesus, his head was killing him. He felt a little more coherent but definitely not ready to fight.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, unable to work his mouth well, “I’m up. I’m fucking up.” He pulled himself along the side wall, dragging his shoulder against the cold stone, not feeling strong enough to stand on his own just yet. When he finally looked up again, stopping several feet from the front bars, his stomach turned.

  Lucien smiled broadly. “Bonsoir.”

  The kid vampire wasn’t wearing much of anything, only a pair of dark jeans, worn at the knees and sitting low on narrow hips, and a bronze colored leather jacket with nothing underneath. The guy was all skin and bones—didn’t mean he couldn’t break Tristan in half with one hand.

  “Fuck. Off,” Tristan mumbled half-hearted.

  Lucien laughed. “Oh, that’s not very nice, but I do like your belligerence. Gives me something to look forward to.”

  Tristan groaned, struggling to lift his arm. It was cold, stiff and his hand was tingling from having fallen asleep on it. When he finally got his hand up he flicked Lucien off so that the vampire grinned fangs at him.

  “An invite?” It wasn’t until Lucien ran his palm over his hairless chin and that Tristan noticed the vampire’s nose. Not only was it all there, but if he hadn’t watched Ash tear it off with her teeth, he’d have never known it happened.

  Wonder how many people he had to eat to fix that…

  “What—” Tristan licked his lips. Gross, they tasted like dirt. “...the shit... do you want, Lucien?” My god, he was tired. And dizzy. No, it was more than exhaustion. Sebastian must have given him a concussion. And when was the last time he even ate anything?

  Christ, what’s today?

  “Christmas,” Lucien answered with a big smile.

  The vampire strolled up to Tristan’s cage—caged like some exotic animal to be gawked at. His body ached, but the ache in his hands, the need to put them around that skinny thr
oat and squeeze the life from the vampire so much like Desmond had tried to do to him days ago…

  “Well,” Lucien corrected with a sarcastic lit, “not quite. We’re still a few hours away from tomorrow, but I get to open my presents early.”

  Tristan silently snarled at him, having a good idea of what the vampire meant as his eyes found Ash in the cell next to his.

  “Did you get to do that when you were a child? When you still had your mommy and daddy around to buy you things? Open one special Christmas present the night before?”

  Tristan only scowled, eyes filled with hate and anger. There was so much he could have spouted off at Lucien, but right then, he really didn’t have the energy.

  “Ah! Wait, where are my manners? I forgot to formally greet you, so, welcome to Chateau de Lune Ardente. It’s a lovely place, no? Though the current decorator needs to be eaten, terrible job, don’t you think?”

  Raising an eyebrow, Tristan gave him a look that said he was being crazy.

  “Really, the accommodations are subpar, I know, but you should have seen it a hundred years ago, it was so beautiful and proud… just like my Master.” Lucien’s solemn expression broke into a big grin that looked forced around the corners. “Can I show you something?”

  “Something?” Tristan grunted, eyes automatically going downward.

  The vampire laughed. “Not that… Hmm, but I will share that with you later. Right now there’s this.” Lucien cupped his hands in front of him, pantomiming the shape of a ball. The pressure built in Tristan’s head until he was sure he’d explode and then there was that tightness in his middle and he knew what was about to happen. He’d felt it enough now to recognize the first tingles of a vampire drawing on their powers—their seikonō.

  The air between Lucien’s hands started to shimmer and then that shimmer bled red. Lucien gave a grunt until there was an orb of fire between his palms. It was sloppy and kept trying to slip from his manipulation like oil. Lucien couldn’t hold it and with a pop the little ball of liquid fire evaporated into the air in a puff of black smoke.

  Tristan understood the situation clearly and was smart enough to be scared. “Don’t—”

  “Don’t, what? Don’t hurt, maim, rape... gorge myself on your delicious blood?” His voice was light with humor, the kind of dark perverse depravity the vampire seemed to thrive on. He laughed. “Please. I loved my Master. She was kind and so gentle. The gentlest woman I’ve ever known.

  “However,” he took a step forward and Tristan tensed, though they were nowhere near each other. “Master Malik taught me many... agreeable things when he took me in. While I hate him for many reasons, I appreciated and admired his way of things. He was rather brilliant in a sad, desperate, insane sort of way. Hmm, yes and when I’m done indulging in you both...” Lucien visibly shuddered, eyes fluttering as his fingers danced along his bottom lip as if he was remembering some long past flavor. “A masterpiece to be sure.”

  Tristan let out a long breath, saying, “Riiight.” He wasn’t really surprised by the little speech. Nor impressed.

  “You don’t seem worried enough, Mr. Uruwashi.”

  Tristan shrugged. “What do you want from me, I can barely stand?” His words were light but the panic in his head, the thoughts circling around the idea of finding a way out were nearly choking.

  Lucien flashed his small fangs in a stupid smile that spoke of darker things. “Nothing, I suppose. Not now anyway. Though, I am happy you’re awake. I can be a bit of a show-off you know? Like that night I came to see Ash at her house. I was so disappointed that neither of you realized that the fire in the fireplace was made by me.”

  The vampire leaned close to the bars, and whispered, “I do like an audience…”

  Malik had once said the exact same thing to Tristan. Tristan took the last few steps towards the bars, reaching out. He must have looked like a toddler trying to walk, stumbling and shuffling like that. His fingers found a bar and he fell against the cool metal, shutting his eyes, the steel rod cool against his cheek. “Whatever, dude,” he mumbled. My god, it was so hard to just keep his eyes open. Guess he didn’t feel all that much better after all.

  There was a shuffle in front of him and the pressure of a vampire using their gift tightened his middle. Tristan groaned, liking the feeling as several small pops echoed in the subterranean room. Ash whimpered in the cell next to him, sending a shiver of fear down his spine and he forced his eyes open. All of the torches lining the corridor were now lit, sending thick smoke to the ceiling as old particles burned off.

  That’s when he saw the cell across from his. The dark obscured the room before but now with it lit up like, well, like a Christmas tree, he saw the true horror of it all. Pressed up against the front bars was a long table. Heavy chains were fixed to each corner and outfitted with wide cuffs. A set of matching chains, spaced evenly for legs and arms, were fixed to the back wall. Dark brown stains splashed floor to ceiling, and he imagined even on the ceiling. Someone bled there, to death probably. A tiny part of him wondered—hoped—it had been Sebastian.

  Lucien looked up from the table he was working at on the side wall in that cell, catching Tristan’s eye, and smiled. It was a coy, “I know something you don’t know” type smile. Tristan swallowed hard and looked to what he had in his hands—a foot long knife he was cleaning with a brown cloth. Behind Lucien, on a shorter, smaller table perpendicular to the other, was a whole rainbow of nasty looking, dangerous items; knives, barbs, whips and things he didn’t even know the name of, had never seen before.

  He let out a shaky, uneasy breath and asked, “What... what are you doing?”

  Lucien smiled that sly smile again and placed the knife down on the larger table. “We are going to play now, just like Malik showed me.”

  “We?”

  Lucien turned pale brown eyes, alight by torch fire, to Ash and grinned. “Yes.” The vampire practically moaned as he slipped his jacket off and pushed into motion, exchanging the leather for an item from the table and gliding out of the cell with it held behind his back.

  Tristan’s nervous pulse made it hard for him to breathe. “No,” he whispered. When he reached the corner, falling into it, he flung his arm out, reaching for Lucien and not even coming close. Finding a surge of energy, he growled, “Leave her alone.”

  Lucien laughed, not taking his gaze from Ash and fished a long key from his pocket.

  Ash started at the sound of the door opening, back pressed into the far corner of her cell. She knew what was to come and there was nothing she could do to stop it. “I am not afraid of you,” she said in a voice that didn’t quiver.

  Lucien laughed at her. “Really?”

  “You are just a boy, a mere imitation of a man you only wished you were. You could never possibly hurt me. You are nothing but a fucking child. You are lacking, transmute vampire.”

  Tristan smiled, loving everything about her in that moment. Her fire, her mouth and knowing that he affected her far more than she’d admit.

  “You think so?” The boy vampire harrumphed. “I spent a lot of time with Malik before I went to Yuki… Do you remember this?” he asked, pausing at the door before opening it as he showed off what he’d been hiding at his back.

  “By the Goddess…,” Ash whispered, words full of terror.

  “Mhm,” Lucien hummed as he waved the object around in the air before him. It didn’t look like much of anything at all, a metal eggplant on a stick with an ornate cap. “Malik told me this was a big part of your initiation and I thought it fitting to be part of your death. And it doesn’t require any skill at all to use.”

  Ash whimpered, unable to find the words to fight back as she pressed herself into the corner and cried. She was frozen with fear. Tristan wasn’t sure what the object was only that it terrified Ash and therefore him.

  “The Pear of Anguish,” Lucien said nearly salivating, eyes flicking to Tristan. “Shall I demonstrate it for you?” He twisted the end cap so that the pear leave
s opened a few centimeters.

  Tristan licked his lips, unsure of the right answer. Obviously, it was no. Fuck no. But that might have just urged Lucien even more to go through with whatever he’d had in mind. Was there really anything to say to keep the vampire from using that on either of them?

  Lucien gave Tristan one last dirty smirk and then he darted into Ash’s cell. She was still crying but her instincts to protect herself kicked in and she punched the boy vampire in the face. Despite the impact of two fast moving objects colliding, the hit didn’t even slow Lucien down as he checked her into the wall.

  She kicked and punched in desperation, growling out her frustration and fear. In the end she was too weak from not filling her belly with blood to win. Lucien was warm, human warm. He’d feed recently. And while Ash had her first nearly full feeding in months from Sebastian just nights ago, it wasn’t enough. All that precious energy went to healing her burn. The most she could accomplish right now was to piss off the other vampire. She didn’t even have enough energy to call upon any of her higher abilities. Seikonō was definitely out of the question.

  “Ash!” Tristan cried out wishing he could see, help, something.

  The sound of chains being dragged on stone and light, sure footsteps of bare feet sounded from the direction of the exit. “Mon seigneur—”

  Tristan scowled, recognizing Sebastian’s voice. And while he couldn’t see the fae, he knew the man wasn’t referring to him.