Sketched

by David Alan Jones

  Rose avoided mentioning her recent fight with a vampire coven. No reason to upset her dad or, worse, excite his conspiratorial mind.

  “That’s good,” Graylen said. “Not the paperwork part, but the hiding your identity. You don’t want some crazies tracking you down, especially folks from Society. They’ve got to be pissed at you for breaking up that fear factory. They’ll be gunning for you sooner or later. You know that, right?”

  “So, how have you been, Dad?” Rose asked. She considered drawing charm to woo her father away from his favorite subject but nixed the idea. He was no slouch when it came to that particular trick and would probably notice. “How are the Timberwolves doing this year?”

  “Anna—sorry—Rose, I am not insane.” Graylen stared into her eyes, his own intent.

  “I didn’t say you’re insane.”

  “I get confused sometimes since the factory. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s happening all around us, okay? I know.”

  What would her father think if he knew Rose had traveled to Washington solely to network with members of Society? He would probably run, just light out and get the hell away from her as fast as possible. From messages she traded with Troy several times a week, Rose knew their father often spoke of leaving. He yearned for his old slinker ways but refused to leave their mother alone in her shocked and damaged state.

  “Dad, I don’t think you’re crazy. Something I never told you—all those lessons you taught us as kids—they’re the only reason I’m free right now. If it wasn’t for sparring in the backyard, learning about burner phones, and—” here Rose smiled, “—always wearing sensible shoes, the Indrawn Breath would have thrown me in that fear factory with you. We’d be there right now.”

  “I wouldn’t.” Graylen’s brows drooped. “I’d be dead, honey.”

  Rose couldn’t argue.

  “You guys want dinner?” Troy asked as he and Matt descended the stairs.

  Her brother looked wan, his skin too pale, his eyes still sunken all these months after his time in the fear factory. Rose didn’t have to guess what he had experienced there. Members of the Indrawn Breath, one of them her own sister Melody, had socked her away in the place for several days before Matt launched an effort to save her. Serving as an unwilling votary bound to gluttonous succubi by chains of pure horror and fear had been more than a nightmare. How Troy endured nearly a year of such treatment and come out a functional human being defied all logic. Not that he bore zero scars from the experience.

  Growing up, Troy had been outgoing, gregarious. Despite his lack of powers in a family of succubi, he had always been the heart of the family, the boy who made everyone laugh, even through the hard times. Now he suffered panic attacks whenever he left the house. He couldn’t hold down a job; the stress of dealing with other people sent him into spasms of fear. He should have been out in the world, living his life. At twenty-seven, he ought to be dating, or even married. Instead, Troy lived with his broken parents in a house paid for by his younger sister.

  Rose put on a smile she couldn’t feel. “Dinner would be great.”

  They ate in the impeccably clean dining room under a cheap chandelier the home builder had probably bought at Lowe’s. The house wasn’t expensive, but Troy kept it tidy. Rose doubted either of her parents helped out in that regard. Neither of them had been clean freaks when their kids were young. Why bother cleaning up a house or apartment, or a car for that matter, when you might abandon it at a moment’s notice?

  “This is delicious,” Matt said as he heaped a second portion of Troy’s pot roast onto his plate with a generous scoop of mashed potatoes and gravy.

  “You know, I never cooked as a bachelor.” Troy looked delighted at the compliment and Matt’s healthy appetite. “It was all takeout back then. But I’m finding I really like putting together a meal.”

  “It’s an art,” Graylen said as he refilled his own plate. “Troy’s become a first-rate cook. Your mother and I would be starving without him.”

  Sarah lifted her gaze when Graylen referenced her but didn’t smile. Her intense blue eyes, eyes Rose remembered as far more animated in the past, bore into her husband. Rose worried she might be on the verge of a manic tirade. She had seen her mother scream and claw at her own skin for half an hour while Troy, Graylen, and she struggled to calm her. It wasn’t pretty. But the moment passed, and she returned her gaze to her plate. Her graying blond hair fell across her face, some of it cascading into her gravy, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “Mom, is something wrong with the food?” Troy asked.

  She shook her head.

  “I made chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Want some?”

  “Melody’s coming to visit,” Sarah spoke to her plate, her voice hardly more than a whisper, but everyone heard.

  Hearing her sister’s name sent a jolt of anger wending its way up and down Rose’s spine. She bit down on a curse and reminded herself that her mother wasn’t in her right mind, nor had she witnessed the things Melody had done. She remembered her little girl, not the monster Melody became.

  “Honey, Melody’s not coming here.” Graylen put a hand on his wife’s arm. “Not ever.”

  Sarah nodded vigorously, but Rose couldn’t tell if she was agreeing or arguing.

  “I hope we’re not keeping you up when you’d rather be sleeping,” Matt said.

  Rose favored him with a grateful smile for his valiant attempt at a subject change. She was on the verge of suggesting they would take care of the dishes while everyone else went to bed when her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Rose,” Myra, who generally served as Tanner’s second on the security team, sounded concerned. “Somebody’s headed for the house.”

  Rose felt her eyes widen. “Who?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t seen anyone out here, but my head’s buzzing.” A gifted succubus, Myra’s most potent draw originated from borrowing discernment from her votaries. Her ability to prognosticate the future was scarily accurate.

  “Any idea where they are? When they’ll get here?”

  Matt lifted his eyebrows, a frank expression of worry on his face.

  “We’ve got movement. A person just came around the side of the house. Fast. I’m guessing it’s a woman by the silhouette.”

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  Troy’s brows knit. “Who could that be at three in the morning?”

  “No one good.” Graylen, his face drained of color, seized a steak knife from the table and stood, gaze locked on the door

  Rose placed a hand on his wrist, gentle but firm. “Dad, there’s no reason—”

  Sarah shot upright on votary drawn speed, beaming with sudden delight. Her chair flew across the dining room to crash against the wall, one of its legs broken. “Melody!”

  “Mom, don’t!” Troy reached for Sarah’s wrist to forestall her, but without powers of his own, he stood no chance of catching a determined succubus. Sarah danced past him like a professional basketball player and opened the door before her son could even turn to find her.

  Melody Carver, the youngest of the Carver children—twenty years old as of April—stood on the threshold dressed in boots, jeans, and a button-down shirt of checkered blue and white. Her auburn hair, turned raven by the night, hung loose down one shoulder.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said as if she was a college student come home for a holiday weekend, and not a murderer responsible for the death of Rose’s closest friend.

  “Melody.” Sarah threw her arms about her daughter, crying and shaking. “I missed you! I missed you so much.”

  Rose couldn’t move. For an instant, she feared Melody had somehow charmed her into inaction, but no, this was pure, natural shock. She stared at the sister who had become her worst enemy in a state of utter disbelief. How could Melody come here? Why would she? Did she think her family would forget how she betrayed them?

  Perhaps Sarah had, considering her state of mind, but Rose would
never forgive Melody the evil she had perpetrated on them and, judging by the looks on Troy’s and Graylen’s faces, neither would they.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Seeming to find himself, Troy surged to his feet, knocking over his chair though not with the force Sarah had managed.

  Melody, who had made no move to hug Sarah, pushed her away, albeit gently, but with intent. She pointed at Rose and Matt. “I came for them.”

  Whatever stupor of thought had been holding Rose vanished under Melody’s pointing finger. Drawing speed, strength, and agility, she came around the table to face her sister, Matt instantly at her side.

  “I don’t know what you were thinking, coming here like this, but I’ll be damned if you’re leaving.” Energy surged through Rose like gasoline exploding in an engine. A small part of her worried about what fighting her sister would do to her already fragile parents, especially her mother, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her.

  Melody sauntered into the living room as if Rose hadn’t spoken. She glanced around, taking in the tidy American decor. She appeared wholly unimpressed. “You couldn’t buy them something larger? And for God’s sake, why didn’t you at least spring for a gated community? We rolled in here like it was nothing.”

  “We?” Matt, already tensed for a fight, stiffened and craned his neck to peer out the front door.

  A petite woman, shorter than Melody, entered. Slim yet curvaceous in all the right ways, Rose knew her for a succubus the instant she appeared, not merely by her striking beauty, but by the wash of charm that flowed from her like water from a fresh spring. This wasn’t an attack. It was an aura of succubus charm the small woman created by the simple fact of her existence, like the scent of a flower.

  For a moment, Rose didn’t recognize the newcomer, then it clicked. She was the woman Barbara Griffith had hurried over to at the fundraiser after growing uncomfortable around Olivia—a delegate from the Irish contingent.

  Three incubi, one large and the other two gargantuan, strolled into the house behind the blond. Each bore scars and a smattering of lurid tattoos on their necks, faces, and hands. Dressed in casual sport coats, they looked like either undercover cops or the sort of meat shields crime bosses kept around for protection.

  “My name’s Alice McAleese,” said the woman, who smiled prettily at Rose, her voice sultry and lilting. “I represent the Irish. I’ve come to talk business.”

  4

  Conditions and Coalitions

  Rose?” Myra’s voice sounded clear on the phone Rose held limp at her side. “We’ve been compromised. There’s too many of them. The entire neighborhood’s surrounded. Olivia got a call in to Piper, but—”

  “—but your vampire friend isn’t here,” said Alice in an Irish brogue. She shut the door behind her. “Me and the lads have you all to ourselves for now. Ain’t that grand?”

  Rose switched the phone off and delicately placed it on the table so as not to trigger one of Alice’s guards. The oversized men watched her every move with scrupulous attention. The one on the right, who was easily six-and-a-half feet tall and bore a star-shaped scar on his chin, nodded his approval.

  “Melody? Who’s your friend?” Sarah appeared to have only now noticed the strangers in the house. She peered at Alice, her head on one side. “I’ve never seen her before.”

  Alice ignored the older succubus to focus on Rose. “I won’t insult you by asking if you’ve heard of our coalition.”

  “Yes.” Rose figured keeping her answers short might buy her some time. She had no idea how many people Alice had outside, but if they were enough to neutralize Tanner’s perimeter team, they had to be formidable. With any luck, Piper could take them unawares. Between her daughters and Rose’s people, they could handle nearly anything.

  Graylen’s gaze darted from Alice to Rose. “What’s this about? Melody, why are you with this woman? Who is she?”

  Melody said nothing. She heard Graylen just fine, Rose could tell that much, but she appeared unfazed by either his voice or his question.

  “If you wanted to speak with us, you could have arranged it anytime,” Matt said. His eyes roamed to the men who had taken up strategic positions around the room. Any one of them made three of Matt, but you would never know it by his calm, determined expression.

  “That’s not the point,” Rose said. “She’s showing us she knows where my parents live, and her people can sneak up on us any time they like.”

  “I’d heard you had a fair amount of discernment.” Alice’s smile never wavered in the slightest. “And you’ve a good head on your shoulders, too, I see. Makes sense. You wouldn’t have overthrown the breathers otherwise.”

  “If you’re here to talk shop, let’s go outside,” Rose said, keeping her voice deliberately cool. “My parents have nothing to do with this.”

  “No, we’ll talk here, girl.”

  Sarah, rocking back and forth on her heels, put a hand to her mouth. Her dry hair waved with her movements, and she angrily brushed it aside. “You’re not Melody’s friend.”

  “Shut up, Mom,” Melody said without rancor.

  More than anything, her sister’s offhanded, peevish reprimand sent paroxysms of anger through Rose’s chest. She wanted to fling herself across the room and punch Melody in the mouth. She longed to do worse than that.

  She did nothing.

  “Like I said, you’re a smart one, Rose Carver.” Alice moved to stand within arm's reach of Rose, her perfect skin and hair glowing in the light thrown by the dining room chandelier.

  “I don’t understand.” Sarah twisted one way and then the other like an animal caught between two panes of glass. She turned beseeching eyes on Melody, who ignored her and pulled at her own hair with both hands.

  “They’re Society, aren’t they?” Graylen asked. He shook all over, his eyes wide and shining. Despite that, he strode to his wife’s side and tried to comfort her. Sarah appeared not to notice.

  “You’re upsetting my family,” Rose said, her tone clear and calm though her heart pounded in her chest.

  “I’m sorry for that. Truly,” Alice said, and Rose believed her. She looked genuinely pained, but that could have been an act. “I’ll make this brief. I want you to join the Irish Coalition. How is that for succinct?”

  “No. Now, get the hell out of my parents’ house.”

  Alice sighed. It was a put-upon sound, one that expressed her expectation of just such an answer, her resolve to see it overturned, and no small amount of authentic disappointment. “Look, we could go around in circles like this for years. I could explain the advantages of marrying American Society with the Irish counterpart. I could offer you incentives—money, power, that sort of thing—and I could eventually make a more overt threat against you and yours than my simple appearance here tonight, but why go through all that? Rose Carver, we Irish are in the process of conquering the world. You could be a part of that. If not, then you’re a hindrance to us.”

  “Why are you talking to me about this?” Rose asked. “I don’t run American Society. I’m a slinker, not some Washington elite.”

  “You’re the slinker who destabilized the foundations of succubus rule in this nation. No one’s in power here at the moment, all because of you.”

  “And that’s why you’ve come sniffing around.” Matt had slipped an arm around Troy, who appeared faint. Her brother’s face shone with sweat, his hands shook as bad as Graylen’s, and his breathing had shortened to a pant.

  “There are plenty of outside forces, as you put it, ‘sniffing around,’ in America. Your succubi are weak right now. Leaderless. They need a regime change.”

  “They’re not leaderless,” Rose said, though the words rang false even to her ears. Rose had destabilized American Society to a dangerous level. In her heart, she knew it was true and hated herself for it. But if destroying an abomination like the fear factory led to infighting, then so be it. She couldn’t conscience such a place to exist.

  “Is that righ
t? Who do you credit for leading your Society right now? Barbara Griffith? That woman hasn’t been relevant in half a century. She’s hapless. Doesn’t know the first thing about the modern world. You really expect her to lead your people during these perilous times? The humans have eyes and ears everywhere now. They’re encroaching on our power bases around the world. How long will it be before our kind and our cousins, the vampires, are found out? No, she’s a lost cause, girl.”

  Rose was surprised to hear Alice refer to vampires as their cousins. Most succubi wouldn’t admit such a thing. “Doesn’t matter. Someone will step up. They always do.”

  “Why not you?” Alice leaned forward, head cocked to one side, and hooked a thumb at Matt. “The two of you could have seized American Society the day after his father ran for the hills. Instead, you’re playing their game, running one of your people for Senate. That’s a queer choice if ya ask me. What were ya thinking?”

  “Senate?” Graylen pushed Sarah behind him as if the invocation of government held more danger for his wife than Alice’s thugs.

  “I’m not discussing this with you now,” Rose said, her voice menacing. “Get out of my parents’ house.”

  “You see, I know what you’re thinking. You never wanted power, nor even fame, but you got those things thrust upon ya. And when flint met metal, you sparked right up. You put together a gang of slinkers and took Jason Kraft’s fear factory apart, all because they left ya no choice. That’s potential, that is. But it don’t mean you want to lead now, does it? ‘Cause deep down, you’re just a frightened girl in too deep to turn back. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  She wasn’t.

  After Rose and her team had brought the fear factory to light, dozens of politicians, most of them succubi, saw their careers ruined during the ensuing media frenzy. That included the President and most of her cabinet. That had been unfortunate, not simply because President Judy Hershel-Smith wasn’t a succubus and knew nothing about the succubi who secretly ran DC and therefore the United States, but because the subsequent chaos had left Society in turmoil.