by Kiki Howell
Never again would he hear her voice, listen to her sing, or admire the beauty of her face. She was so enchanting, so vibrant, but now, everything on God's green earth was void without her.
Tristan dropped to his knees as he looked over the blood covered mother of his son.
"Vidonia..."
Even as she cradled his lifeless body in her arms, she remained to the very end, a wonderful, protective mother. She gripped their young, precocious son tight, trying to shield him from the horrors they faced in the end.
"William," She whispered.
Tristan slammed his hands down on the marble floor, breaking his fingers. The pain of it was quickly absorbed into the mental anguish he felt at the loss of his family. Opening his hands delicately, he saw his them covered in not only his blood, but the blood of his wife and son that spilled on the floor.
He had promised Vidonia on the eve of battle he would come for them. But he had failed. In the end, they all were betrayed. He balled his hands again and wept.
Hatred threatened to turn his tears to rage, wanting swift retribution. A penance was needed for those who sinned against him and his beautiful wife and son. It would be paid in blood.
A deep voice in the darkness broke the silence with a tempting question.
"What would you be willing to give if I could grant you the vengeance you desire?"
Tristan's eyes flew open with a gasp as he snapped out of his dream that was more of a near forgotten memory than a mix of random imagery. Too bad, he simply wasn't that lucky. If he closed his eyes right then, he would still see Vidonia and William's faces as clear as if they were standing right in front of him.
His eyes focused on the old, wooden boards above him. The slivers of artificial light creeping through along with the sifts of dirt falling on his face told him where he was. He smelled the mildew and musty odor of his old, abandoned hiding place.
Tristan couldn't remember the last time he had technically went to ground down there. Part of him was tempted that if he ever made it a habit, he would convince himself to finally go under. The way things were shaping up lately, it didn't seem like a bad idea.
He sat up and looked around. The Black Blood Demon wasn't in there with him. He patted down his body.
And neither were his weapons.
Shit!
Tristan quickly leapt up and ran up the ladder, punching through the trapdoor until he found himself staring down not one, but two gun barrels. The clicking sound of his Desert Eagle pistols locked and loaded in his face made him halt dead in his tracks.
As he focused, Tristan saw the stark, green eyes of Zoë the Black Blood Demon and a very arrogant smirk on her ethereal face.
"Good evening, sleeping beauty. I trust you rested well."
Tristan slowly put his hands up and away from his body, not taking his eyes off of her. He could've kicked himself for allowing this to happen. No one ever got the better of him this way, because he never allowed himself to be vulnerable.
This was why he should've put a bullet in her as soon as he saw those wings on her back. I just get what I deserve, for being an asshole.
"Do whatever you have to do, demon. I haven't got all night."
Zoë sat cross-legged on the floor with both guns trained on Tristan. She arched an eyebrow at his ballsy but expected response.
"No you don't, do you? In fact, it's why I've been waiting here patiently for you to finally heal and wake up." She stood up and backed away, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "You can come out of there... slowly please."
Tristan stepped out of the hole with deliberate, controlled movements and stood to his feet. He stood silent and dared not move. He had no idea how long he'd slept, but by looking at her it was long enough for her to get cleaned up and find some clothes.
He barely recognized his black shirt covering her ample curves. It took him a moment longer to break focus on the third dress button that struggled against the tension of being fastened against her cleavage.
"Made yourself at home, I take it?"
"I did, thank you. I will say that I was surprised not to find any corpses of women you've lured here and eaten. I could've acquired some more fitting clothes. Was I fortunate enough to be tied to the only grotesque blood-sucker that lost the gall to kill innocent humans?"
Tristan grew a soft, devious smile. "Apparently, you didn't check the wine cellar in the back. Besides, I don't know which is more disturbing: believing that I keep corpses in my home or you wishing I did so you could take their clothes."
Zoë grounded her teeth. "I know very well what you creatures are capable of."
"No matter. Didn't take you too long to go rummaging through my stuff, I see."
Zoë would've preferred a pair of pants that fit, but at least the shirt was long enough. This was New Orleans, after all. She shrugged. "A girl does what she can. I couldn't very well go around in my skivvies trying to get to the bottom of this. Who would take me seriously?"
"If you think my dress shirt is going to do that for you, then you're dumber than I thought."
Zoë's smirk deepened. "Someone's a little grouchy when they first wake up."
"Only when I'm greeted with a Black Blood Demon aiming my own weapons in my face. Otherwise, I'm a fucking peach."
Tristan shook his head. He stared deep into her eyes, ready to accept the eternal sleep he had denied himself for so long.
Life's a bitch when surviving is down to muscle memory. Tristan could remember several times he had been ready to die, ready to meet Mr. Darkness and had been denied either by providence or his horrible habit of surviving.
"So if you're going to shoot me, then shoot me."
Zoë sighed at his puzzled stare as she lowered one of the guns. "If I wanted to kill you, trust me, I had plenty of time to do it. Staying up to guard over me took quite a toll on you. I know you hate the sound of this, but I saved you today. You would've been roast if I hadn't intervened."
Tristan sneered. His broken memory did manage to hold the image of her face—light above her, but all around them was darkness. That angelic face of hers had held a confusing expression that he could remember. That look... he couldn't read if she had wanted to fight him or fuck him. With such a fine line, he didn't know if he was truly fortunate or not that she chose neither at his weakest.
"Then why didn't you?"
"Ahh, the smartest question yet, vampire." Zoë circled him slowly, akin to a panther stalking. She had more questions than answers herself as she toiled while he slept.
She'd hoped her memory would come back to piece together what had happened before she was taken. She hoped someone would miss her and look for her. Tanzi, Margo, and the others surely would've realized she was gone and not on some mission.
Or, was this the mission?, she asked herself. It couldn't be. Why would they send her down on a silver platter to an enemy? Shut out from getting back? At a time where nothing made any sense, everything was a possibility.
She watched the vampire in her sights, who could very well be her demise or salvation. Everything was a possibility, indeed.
"There you were, in my arms, barely conscious and already bleeding. I could've twisted that handsome head off your body and drained you dry before a fairy could bat its wings. I would've been freed from this bind and off to figure out who put me here in the first place."
She stopped moving but kept her gun aimed at him. "But like I told you. I need your help. Whether you believe me or not depends on what happens next, but it's clear neither of us expected to be here. Someone put us here. Now, we can either be puppets and do what I think they want us to do, or we can be smart and work together."
Zoë must've thought about what to say to him a hundred times while she was upstairs. She could see the turmoil in his eyes. He was smart to be cautious. They were, by nature, enemies. Would a rabbit trust a wolf? But he had to be wondering why she kept him alive—at least she hoped so. She needed him to think about it just as she did.
>
Her mind had trailed to the possibility of killing him more times than she could count while she showered. It was just easier. Even now, staring at him, she wanted to taste him again. Her body craved to claim him. But in order to heal her mind, she needed his help and his trust. It was a tall order that probably neither of them was ready to fill, but she had to take a chance.
I am more than just what I was built to do. Hopefully so is he, or else, I'm dead.
Zoë walked up to him and lowered the gun. She flipped the other pistol that was in her other hand and presented it to him, handle first.
"There's a reason we haven't killed each other. I take that as a sign."
Tristan looked at the gun in her hands, and then at her. There was no arrogance, no fear. Just her searching him for the right response. He scoffed. She was either incredibly stupid or incredibly confident he wasn't going to light her up with an opportunity like that staring him in the face.
He had no doubt she was right in that she could've ended him. He wouldn't have even known what hit him. Instead, she not only spared his life, but allowed him to fully heal and strengthen.
He didn't pretend to know about everything there was to know about the dangerous Black Bloods, but he did know warfare, and you would never take that sort of risk to spare your enemy—unless they weren't an enemy.
"How do you know I won't plug a bullet in the back of that head, princess, as soon as I get the chance?"
She gave a small, but alluring smile. "The same way that you know I wouldn't have bothered leaving your pretty little head in tact if I haven't even considered that a possibility. We're both taking risks, vampire." Zoë nodded and glanced at the gun she offered him. "Now, what's your choice?"
Tristan swallowed and glanced at the window. The answers to what really happened to Ivana were somewhere out there. Christophe was probably still missing, and he needed to find him. The Three were up to something, and it really was up to him to figure it out before it was too late.
"What would you be willing to give if I could grant you the vengeance you desire?"
If this was the only way to get those answers, so be it.
He took the gun from her hand, popped out the clip to see it was full and loaded it back. He looked up at her and sighed while putting the pistol in his holster.
"Alright, demon. I'll bite, no pun intended. We're partners on this, for now. But if I get one inkling—shred of an inkling—something's screwed, and you plan to fuck me over, I can't guarantee I won't ruin that face of yours. Do we understand each other?"
Her green eyes sparkled beneath the overhead lights. "Perfectly. Though I could do without the warning. I know I'm the stuff of nightmares to pretty little vampires such as yourself." Zoë put her hand out to shake. "Do you have a name, vampire?"
Tristan looked at her hand as if it was a foreign object. Then he cut his eyes back at her. "Let's not get too comfortable, princess. We're business partners at best, and I don't plan on being tethered to you for too long."
Zoë quickly retracted her hand and rested it on her hip. Fuming, she chewed her lip to bite back the frustration. "Fine. We need to leave and head to a church in order to get my memory back. One with a fountain or baptistry."
Tristan grabbed his coat from the floor and shook the dust off of it before slipping it on. He rolled his neck, stretching his body for the hunt.
"There's a church four blocks away. If that doesn't have what you need, we’ll just have to keep walking. We're in the bible belt, after all."
He watched as Zoë took the belt holster from the rack and fashioned it around her. She lifted the shirt so it rested against her hip, giving him an unabashed view of her thighs up to those lacy panties he couldn't forget if he tried. She pulled the black shirt down and broke the spell.
Zoë felt his eyes on her, sensing his brief thrill of arousal. It was then she realized what easy prey he really could be if he let his guard down. But as she transferred her gaze to him, meeting his now steely eyes, she also knew that this vampire would never let his guard down with her ever again.
And here I thought I had every vamper pegged, she thought to herself.
She flung her tawny hair and let it cascade down her back as she put on Tristan's leather jacket.
"Good. The sooner you take me to church, vampire, the sooner we get a piece of the puzzle."
.
Chapter Nine: Take Me to Church
THE NIGHT CALLED to them both as Zoë and Tristan made their way toward the neighborhood Catholic church several blocks away. The chilly air was a bit uncharacteristic of the typical, humid nights Tristan was used to, but there were a lot of things odd about tonight.
His eyes glanced to the fiery-haired demon at his side. She walked with purpose and it seemed her heels clicked louder than anyone else's as they shared the sidewalk with people embracing the November night.
It was hard to ignore the determined sway of her hips as she moved through the crowd. Hard to ignore the heads of wishful, aroused men that nearly turned, Exorcist-style, to get another glimpse of her,as if checking that she wasn't a figment of their dark, sordid imaginations.
Tristan tried to forget the taste of her when they'd kissed the previous night. He remembered the dark, heady flavor of ecstasy that seemed to be bathed on her smooth skin. He wanted another taste of her, as if his body wouldn't let him forget how she felt against him.
Tristan continued to watch the pedestrian men stare and noticed that, though they gawked, even the human men had the sense not to approach her. Pretty smart.
They would do well to push her out of their minds—just like I've been trying to do for the past half-hour.
As they kept to the shadows, they stopped at the large brick church. The weathered structure had the old, red bricks of a younger New Orleans. There wasn't a soul around except for the passers by on the sidewalk.
Tristan looked up at the sign of St. Benedict's Church and shrugged. "I've never been in this one, but it's the closest one."
Zoë started to walk up the steps. "This will do."
Suddenly, she halted as her eyes caught a small structure about two blocks away.
"Wait!"
Tristan quickly surveyed the area. "What is it?"
Zoë kept staring at the quaint and almost picturesque church a bit further away. Complete with a steeple and vented belfry, to her, it was awfully hard to ignore.
"There's something about that one." She motioned to the little white church and Tristan reviewed the building.
"Well, it's Protestant, and probably likely to have water," he added.
They both raced down the steps and onto the sidewalk as they headed to the location. Tristan moved through the small packs of clueless people walking, talking, and snapping photos with their phones. As he moved through with Zoë not too far from his side, he watched as humans and creatures of the night roamed the city together.
He slid to the side as an inebriated blonde woman stumbled past them with her hipster vampire companion corralling her through the crowd. Tristan shook his head with a smirk, but as his eyes followed them he met the furious eyes of Zoë who obviously saw the vampire with his future prey.
Stopping in her tracks, she turned to follow until she felt the tight grip on her arm as Tristan gave her a chiding stare. "Let it alone," he warned with his velvet-edged voice.
Zoë stiffened against him, pulling against his grip. "This is bullshit."
"We have work to do, and you can't save everyone." Tristan tightened his grasp around her bicep.
Zoë's hardened face conveyed the fury in her as she stared Tristan down. The packs of people moved passed them as Zoë yanked her arm free. Had this been any other night, she'd be hunting. Then she'd be on that predator vampire like stink on shit, ready to let him meet the edge of her sword.
With eyes still locked, she exhaled a hard breath through her flared nostrils. Then she walked on towards the church, because this sadly wasn't one of those nights. She kept her eyes
focused on the little, white church, afraid she would see more tragedies waiting to unfold at the hands of vampires, demons, and other nasty Supes who couldn't keep their filthy hands to themselves. Her focus was so steadfast, she ran into pedestrians more often than not.
The little, white church looked a bit bigger when they walked in through the old wooden doors. The gentle hum of the air conditioning units in the windows was all that was heard besides the clunking of their feet onto the creaking floor of the chapel. The glossy, oak pews seemed to be the only new item in the dated building.
Tristan followed in behind her as Zoë let her fingertips brush against the smooth, warm finish of the wood as she continued toward the shimmering pool of water near the pulpit. The lights under the pool illuminated the area and gave it an otherworldly glow, reminding Zoë of the portal to her home.
Zoë stepped up to the baptistry and nodded. "This feels... familiar."
Tristan watched her as the reflection of the water danced on her face. "You've been here before?"
She scanned the church looking for anything to trigger a memory. "I don't know. It's possible."
Though the church was in his neighborhood, there wasn't much research he'd done on it. His eyes scanned around, ready for anything to give way to surprise. After all, she was still his enemy, and for all he knew could have some scheme up her sleeve.
He walked closer to the baptistry and frowned. "So why are we here? Why do you need water?"
Zoë shook her head. "It only seems to work in water. Blessed water is best." Her hand dipped in the clear water. "Holy water triggers the healing, like rebooting a computer. It's been a very long time since I've done this, but from what I remember, it could piece together the missing memories I have."
"And this works like a charm? You take a baptism and you're square?"
"No, it doesn't work that way. It's difficult to explain, but at the end of the day, I'm a demon—I'm not going to want to stay in there. It's gonna be painful as shit, and without force, I won't stay in long enough to get some memories back. So this is where you come in, vampire." Her green eyes cut upward to him. "You're going to drown me."
