“We typically try to form a power base wherever the Sanguinarians have one,” Tamara continued, “but over the years, it’s stretched us too thin. They have more power than we do now, and they get ‘recruits’ faster and easier. We’ve always failed to get a strong foothold against Clarion, and, as a result, now they own most of the Southeast.” She looked down, as if more than physically tired. “And Birmingham is one of their powerful strongholds. That’s why you don’t see many wizards or anything in the area. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
My eyes lit up with realization. “So that’s why you’re here!” I exclaimed. “Your family sent you here to watch them.”
Tamara grunted with amusement that turned into an extended bout of dry laughter. “No, that’s why they sent my older sister Liandra here. They sent me here as punishment.”
“Oh.” I tried to extract my foot from my mouth. “Why punishment? Were you a bad Tamara?” That didn’t help.
She smirked; at least I’d brightened her dour mood a little. “You could say that.” She shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t any big deal. “It’s mostly to do with my sisters,” she finally continued. “Mother doesn't really…engage with any of us except the eldest and most powerful, not really. Not unless we royally fuck up.”
She seemed sad, and I didn’t know what I could possibly say. I just wished I did.
Tamara stretched, settling back against the rough stone—no bed for a princess, that’s for certain. “There’s a lot of demands, a lot of expectations, a lot of power games, and we…let’s just say we don’t see eye to eye, and leave it at that.” I nodded, stifling my curiosity as best I could. The last thing I wanted was to press her for answers she didn’t want to give. “Okay, Ashes. Your turn. Who is Ashley Currigan and how did she come to be a vampire squatting in a church, fighting the good fight?”
I snorted. “Your guess is as good as mine.” I paused, sorting thoughts, the time of day draining away at my strength and focus. How did one best sum themselves up into a few sentences? Especially when they didn’t have a few sentences worth of interesting life? I ended up falling back on the same spiel I’d given Lori years ago.
“I grew up with just me and my dad and sometimes my uncle. My mom had complications from my birth, and she… She didn’t live too long past it. Not long enough for me to remember her.” Tamara frowned, and I joined her. It had always felt strange to miss, to grieve for someone I never consciously knew. “So Dad had to raise me by himself. He did really well, I think, at least as well as he could. But he couldn’t cope… He started drinking. And it got worse.”
I saw the face Tamara was making and headed off her train of thought. “Nothing like that. He didn’t hurt me or anything. Never that. But he lost job after job, each one getting shittier and shittier. It became a downward spiral.” I shrugged sluggishly. They weren’t bad memories, per se.
Just sad ones.
“As we both got older, he got worse,” I continued, and Tamara nodded. “And we started getting in a lot of arguments. Finally, I convinced him to go to rehab, but things didn’t get much better.” I puffed out a breath. “I ended up living with my Uncle Jeremiah full-time, and for a while it was great. But he was older than my dad: an old, injured war vet. And taking care of a kid wasn’t easy, not twenty-four seven like that.”
Memories washed over me; I didn’t think about this stuff much these days. Somehow, it seemed fitting to reflect on my life now, after it was kinda over. Kinda like giving myself a wake, I supposed. Tamara said nothing, just listened to me talk in dark, comfortable silence. “He always said he ‘couldn’t do kids justice.’ I disagreed, but it was pretty clear how uncomfortable it was, how difficult I was making things by being around. I was a burden. So one weekend after a big blowout with my Dad...I just left. I raided my college fund and just started going cross country. I was seventeen and stupid.” I grinned. “At least I’m not seventeen any more.”
Tamara burst out laughing.
“Anyway, I traveled around, and the money dwindled quick. I don’t know why I decided to go South, but I did. A couple of other unfortunate, unlucky incidents later and here I was, stranded. No money, no prospects, and no plans to turn it around.” I shrugged again as the will seemed to drain out of me, memories dragging me down like anchors. They shouldn't have been so heavy, not these, but they were. “Then I met Lori while working some dead-end bullshit job, and none of it seemed to matter anymore. My life started getting better, bit by bit…” I looked up, helplessly. “We had such plans, you know? We were gonna get out of here. Things were going to be great. We just needed more time.”
Somewhere up above, the sun crowned the horizon in its full glory. I knew, because I was suddenly heavy and stiff, like a corpse. Unconsciousness unfurled like a void and beckoned to me, inviting. And still I couldn’t get my mind off of my Lori. But there was nothing to be done about it, not now. I wanted nothing more than to wake up tomorrow, find her, and find a way to make things right. But I couldn’t do that. The rest of the kidnap victims needed me; Tamara needed me. Hell, even Charles needed me. What would I be if I turned my back on the rest of this now, even to try and go reconcile things with my lover? A monster, that’s what.
“It’s okay, you know. You haven’t lost her yet.” Tamara’s hand, cool, comforting, and light, came to rest on my arm, cutting off my train of thought and pulling me from the beginnings of panic. “If she loves you half as much as you love her, you guys will be just fine.” She smiled at me, her sapphire eyes dazzling and deep. As I fell into them, I could hear her speaking, lulling, consoling, reassuring. “It’ll be okay, Ashes. I’m here with you. Rest now.”
And then it was dark, the silent oblivion of death, and there was no one talking to me at all.
23
Vampires one, Charles zero
I came back to life where I’d died: on Lori’s shoulder.
No, on Tamara’s. That’s where I was now.
My bones creaked as I stirred, pushing myself back to awareness, remembering the church basement, the Sanguinarians, the wild ride, and the fight against the demon.
It had been one hell of a night.
“Morning, Ashes. Have a good rest? You slept like the dead.” The amusement and fondness in Tamara’s tone further blended the past and present, and I stretched and rose in an attempt to escape it. I was as stiff as ever upon waking, and for a moment I had to depend on the walls and the debris to keep me upright.
The pale Moroi regarded me with a smile from her seat in the floor, tapping busily away at her phone, her face lit ghoulishly by its blue-white light. It didn’t look like she’d moved all night, but there was no way for me to know. She probably could have hit me with a brick while I was out and I still wouldn’t have known.
“I’m surprised you’ve still got battery on that thing,” I rasped. Even my vocal cords were stiff and tight, successfully imitating sandpaper.
She smirked, wiggling a compact, high-tech, portable charger. “That’s what money will do for you.”
“I wouldn’t know.” I gave up easily on trying to stretch; the cause of my evening discomfort wasn’t anything mundane enough for it to fix.
“So, I made a few calls while you were out,” Tamara looked up at me, yawning and stretching. “As well as beating my high score in Age of Aegis, and having a series of naps. I also read a little.”
I chuckled past the gravel in my throat. “At least you weren’t bored.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t about to leave you here alone.” She smiled. “Besides, I couldn’t have moved that rock if I’d wanted to.”
“Oh.” Oops.
She waved away the start of my apology. “No big deal. But Charles has info for us as soon as we can head over to his place. I asked him what it was, but he said he’d just tell us both at once instead of having to repeat himself.” She rolled her eyes, little pools of blue in the monochrome dark. “I checked on the girls we rescued; they’re all doing fine.” Th
at implied Lori as well, and my dead heart skipped a beat. “I called some friends about helping cover up yesterday’s rampage, but it seems the Sanguinarians had already taken care of it.” She shrugged. “Whatever, less work for me. I also had my Supra towed to a repair place.” She made a sour face that was too cute on her perfect alabaster features. “There should be someone dropping off a new car for me in…” she tapped her phone, “about twenty minutes.”
“And here I thought Charles was the wizard.”
She stuck her tongue out at me.
Mentioning yesterday’s “adventures” brought the details of those adventures rushing back to mind. The very, very bloody details. Had I really done all of those things I remembered doing? Yesterday seemed so far away.
“It’s not your fault,” Tamara said, even as I turned away and headed toward our impromptu saferoom door.
Is she in everyone’s head like this or just mine? I sighed, wrapping my arms as far around the chunk of support pillar as I could, and slowly forcing it back up the stairs with the rumbling grind of stone on stone. “Then whose fault is it?” I hadn’t meant it to sound as bitter as it came out. “I did kill a whole lot of people yesterday.” At least one military guy. I lost count of how many Sanguinarians. Perhaps worse than the acts themselves were how I’d felt while I was committing them. Maybe what Charles said yesterday was more legitimate than—
“You’ve got to stop comparing yourself to what one single-minded wizard says,” Tamara called from behind me. “I’m serious! If you keep comparing yourself to his standard, you’ll just find more reasons that he’s right.”
“If the shoe fits…” I clenched the stone and pushed it off of the stairs, back up into the main church.
“I thought we went over this.” I heard her rising from her part of the rubble nest, just as I heard notes of sympathy and exasperation in her tone. “But let me try again. Being a monster is a choice, not some inevitable destination.” Suddenly, her hand was on my shoulder, turning me to face her, leaving me staring into those liquid sapphire eyes at point blank range, close enough to touch. “Ashes, if you’re doomed, so am I. And I refuse to accept that my destiny’s set in stone.”
I frowned, but it was hard to hold onto my doubts with that passion in her voice, in her eyes.
“Remember,” she continued, still staring me down, “those guys were kinda trying to kill me. And you, for no other reason than because you were there with me. Just like they would have ended anyone else that got in their way. Trust me—I’ve seen it happen.” Tamara glanced aside for an instant, her sapphire eyes going hard, only returning to liquid as they met mine again. “So I want you to think about that, long and hard, and you tell me who the monsters there were.”
Riding along at a probably-unwise speed in Tamara’s new glistening, chrome-purple Dodge Charger Hellcat, I considered how her words had altered the doubt and self-loathing I’d awoken with. But what if the question wasn’t whether or not I was a monster; what if the question was whether or not becoming Strigoi had changed me into something I wasn’t before?
Of course, that answer was a resounding yes. Before, I wouldn’t have had the strength, fortitude, and perhaps even the courage to stand up and try to stop something like the Rawhead. I’d just have swallowed that particular ball of helpless anger and hoped someone else would and could deal with the problem. I’d have gone home, found Lori missing, and had no choice but to sit on my hands and stew in my terror, waiting for somebody to come along and fix everything and deliver her back to me.
But, given the power to change things, I’d taken events into my own hands. I’d made a difference, a very tangible—if frighteningly brutal—difference. So yes, things had changed, but not all of it was bad.
So maybe, just maybe, the question was if I’d been capable of stopping those Sanguinarians when I was human, would I have? Even at a similar cost in lives?
I didn’t have to think hard to divine the answer to that question, either.
Yes. Yes I would.
“Do you want to borrow my phone again?” Tamara startled me out of my introspection, which was probably for the best. “Call and check on Lori? I made sure to get a number so you could contact her.”
“That’s… Thanks, but…” The question caught me off guard. “Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe I should give her some space for right now.” Would it even do any good? I fell back in the soft leather seats and turned my attention to the passing city. We were making good time, what with my new late sleeping habits keeping us in past rush hour.
“Don’t give up on anything,” Tamara advised. “Remember that she’s been through a lot.”
I shook my head. “I know. And I’m not giving up on anything.” I’d be damned if I gave up on us. “I just think it might be better to talk to her in person when this is all over. I just…”
“Mmmm-hmmm?”
I stretched and breathed, trying to find some way to let out my frustration but coming up empty-handed. “I just don’t get it, why she reacted like that. I expected something, yeah, but not such an emotional one eighty.” I looked over at Tamara. “She’s always been so empathetic, so in tune with what I was feeling. So why can’t she tell that it’s still me in here?”
“If you want my opinion? She’s scared. Afraid that it’s not you.” The Moroi looked over, her smile sad. “Afraid of what all of this means. And that’s on top of being put through some genuine PTSD-level trauma for the past few days.” She turned back to the road, sighing sympathetically. “It’s not easy for anybody. This...incident changed her too. You know?”
I nodded, mulling it over. Leave it to the emotional vampire to give me some food for thought. By the time Bookbinder’s towered into view on the hill, Charles’ house crouching toad-like and wary beside it, I was ready to change the subject. “So, you and Charles seem to have some kind of history. What was that about, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Tamara chuckled as the car slowed. “That’s easy. Drugs.”
I blinked. “Huh.”
The Moroi rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ashes. It’s not like I’m helping him move heroin or anything. Mostly, I find him suppliers and buyers that can handle themselves. That and help him cover up the fact that he’s growing dozens of illegal plants in his basement.” She shrugged, like it was no big deal. “There are far worse things out there than weed, peyote, morning glory seeds, or any of the other stuff Charles uses. Like alcohol, for instance. Hell, weed is closer to medicine than a harmful drug, if handled correctly. And besides, something of the sort is outright necessary for magicians to do ritual magic.”
I nodded, and she parked. The Hellcat’s wheels ground shallow ruts in the dirt as Tamara swept us smoothly into Charles’ yard. We didn’t bother to try the front door. Instead, we just showed ourselves around to the patio area. Sure enough, by the time we got ourselves seated, Charles was on his way out to greet us, only pausing a moment to hold the door open for a struggling Corey, whose young arms strained under the weight of a familiar black duffle, two backpacks, and a stack of books and notebooks.
“About damn time you two showed up,” the wizard announced, striding over. “Ready for the bad news?”
Tamara and I both cringed, looking at each other. “Is there any good news to go with it?” I asked.
“Depends on your definition of good,” Charles replied reluctantly, taking a seat. “Corey and I took a ride out to check on the intersection we used last night to step Next Door and invade the Rawhead’s domain.” He held up a hand to halt Tamara’s objections. “Don’t worry, we were careful, and nothing happened.”
“You got that right,” Corey grumbled in passing.
“By which he means there was nothing to find,” Charles clarified. “Nothing at all.”
Tamara frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean someone came along behind us and scrubbed the scene. Either with magic or some serious know-how but probably both. The link to the Rawhead’s lair is broken, t
he death marks gone, the world-wound closed—not healed by any means, but the next best thing.”
“Yeah,” Corey interrupted with what I felt was undue youthful enthusiasm. “Hidden sigil? Gone. Burnt spot? Gone. “Dead body? Boom! Gone.” I winced a little inside at the mention of the body.
“Shit.” Tamara leaned back, a shadow of defeat veiling her brilliant blue eyes. “Then there’s no way to follow up. The trail’s dead. What do we do now?”
Charles grinned a mirthless grin. “We fall back on good, old fashioned research and know-how.” The magician gestured at all of the books and random objects Corey was piling up between us. “You might have slept the day away, but we were able to put the time to good use. So it all works out. I’ve got research, tools, weapons, and information.” He gestured at the table.
Tamara whistled. “Hope you got some rest in there, too.”
The wizard nodded. “I’m not stupid. I made sure we both did. Now we’re good to go burn some bastards down.”
I cringed slightly at his choice of words. “So what’d you dig up? Don’t keep us in the dark,” I glanced around at the darkness blanketing the Iron Mountain. “Figuratively speaking.”
“Well, for starters, I know what those military men are. And they’re not human—not anymore.” Charles flipped a book open, turning swiftly to a dog-eared page.
“They’re zombies!” Corey cut in excitedly.
“I told you, they’re not really zombies.” Charles rolled his eyes, sounding resigned, waving at Corey to go back to work. “They’re what is referred to as ‘Hollow Men’. Though a part of popular zombie lore is, in fact, loosely based on their existence,” he admitted grudgingly.
“Hollow Men… That’s…” Tamara paused to give me a look; I was pretty certain I was catching on to where this was going. “That’s from Strigoi lore.”
Charles nodded toward me. “As a Strigoi, human blood fuels your incredible strength, beyond that of even other vampires, and your unnatural resilience as well. But older Strigoi could also supposedly shapechange, disappear into the shadows, even dominate the minds of mortal men.”
Dead Girl's Ashes (Dying Ashes Book 1) Page 20
