Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

  Zoë crossed her arms over her stomach as the details Tristan shared sank in. "The Green Girl," she added, "did you kill her?"

  Tristan turned to her, feeling a pull to be closer to where she stood. Her guarded stance loomed in the darkest part of the red room, only a gentle glow on her profile, but he could hear the concern in her voice over the human life.

  Cognizant of the pull of her presence, he grabbed the edge of the desk next to Jay and leaned against it. "No. I spared her so she could live another day. Unfortunately that's only how much longer she lived."

  Zoë quietly nodded, finding herself both relieved and surprised at the vampire's answer. She was almost sure he, like the others, would have simply killed because they could.

  "I see."

  "But there's more," Tristan continued. "Only a handful of contacts knew the route we were taking. Me and two other guards were on her detail. Before the fray, I lost contact with one. No one's seen him since."

  "Perhaps that's the vampire the witches are looking for?" Jay asked.

  Tristan shook his head. "I don't know, but I have to find him. It didn't make sense, but when I addressed it to The Three, they dismissed it as if I saw some fucking illusion."

  "That doesn't make any sense. Why would the vampires kill one of their own? I hear you guys have a strict rule about that." Jay asked.

  "That's what I've been trying to figure out. Ivana wasn't trying to start any shit. She believed she could come to terms with the other Supes and bring them together. She foolishly, but genuinely believed in peace."

  Jay scoffed. "Guess we see where that lands you if you're a tree-hugging vamper."

  Tristan turned to Jay, his eyes dark and fangs bared. "Tread carefully, Preacher," he snarled. "I don't like you much either."

  "Both of you calm down shut up before I eat you both." Zoë droned as she attempted to move toward the symbol, now that Tristan had moved farther away. "Ivana's name sounds familiar to me. I think I remember Remelia mentioning her once or twice in our conversations."

  Remelia had wanted peace as well, but her suspicions of the vampires hadn’t gone away. It was why she had wanted Zoë to protect her. It all made sense to her with the vampire's details added.

  "Sooo. Doesn't anyone find it odd that we have two important people from opposite factions either dead or missing at the height of negotiations? Ivana may have wanted peace, but someone close to her apparently didn't. Remelia wanted the same thing, she often talked of peace, but then she disappeared."

  Tristan nodded. "Vampires involved in a vampire assassination. I bet my life that Javen has told the vampires that witches and the Were-shifters were involved in Ivana's death, but we know that's bullshit."

  Jay scratched his head. "So, this may be a dense question, but who stands to gain the most out of a missing or dead Supreme, and a dead vampire leader made to look like witches and Were-shifters did it?"

  Zoë and Tristan pretty much responded in unison, mirroring angered scowls. "The Three."

  .

  Chapter Eleven: Witching Hour

  IT MADE SENSE to Tristan. He knew that The Three were up to something, he just had no idea they were up to something so heinous.

  Ivana's death was a set-up, and he wasn't crazy. The vampires wanted to set-up the other Supes for her assassination. If that wasn't enough, there still was a missing Supreme witch out somewhere with an anxious group of Green Girls itching for retaliation. Chaos was growing, and all things pointed to the The Three being at the center of it.

  "We have to find Remelia, or this will continue to swell, and The Three will continue to manipulate the masses into an all out war." Tristan pulled out his phone.

  "Who are you calling?" Jay asked.

  Tristan began sifting through his contacts. "I need to reach out to Dashiell about all this. He's one of the few people I trust."

  Jay shook his head. "Well, you can trust him outside of my humble abode. If he's a fellow neck-biter, forget it!" He looked over to Zoë, then back to Tristan. "I'm not entertaining any other vampires here. You should be lucky I tolerated you!"

  Tristan frowned. "Relax, I'm not bringing him here, but I do need to talk to him." Jay took a couple steps to him. "Trying to stop me would be unwise."

  Jay stepped closer to Tristan. He was growing tired of turning the other cheek. "Are you threatening me, blood boy?!"

  Their pissing contest reaching a zenith, Zoë yelled. "Enough!"

  She didn't realize her voice had dramatically changed until she noticed both Jay and Tristan froze staring at her. She stopped moving, nearly clutching her chest. Biting the dark pieces of her nature down, she tried to move past their reaction. "We'll leave after the vampire makes his call, alright?"

  Jay took a step back as her symptoms were growing more apparent. "Uh oh. Someone's getting hangry."

  Tristan also stepped back, his eyes locked on Zoë as she stood in the shadows. She possessed the same, dark tone in her voice that she had at the church. His hand on his pistol, Jay stood in front of him to block.

  "Don't you ever draw on her in my presence, you understand? You want to live, then let me handle this!"

  He looked back to Zoë, moving towards her with urgency. This was lunacy. He didn't know why it was so important to keep the vampire alive, especially seeing as it tortured the Black Blood to fight it.

  "Z, it's just gonna get worse as you stay near him. If you don't feed, you'll kill him, and even if I wanted to stop you, I wouldn't be able to. We need to break this bond between you two. Can't you call the portal open?"

  She shook her head. "No. It doesn't work. Probably because I'm bound to him." Another pang hit her, and she cried out. "Don't let me kill him, alright?" she whispered to him. "It's important he remains alive so we can get to the bottom of this."

  "Z, listen—"

  "Promise me, Jay."

  Jay swallowed and rolled his eyes. "I promise, Z."

  She nodded as she cut her eyes to Tristan, then to Jay. "Good. Get the bag, Jay. Now." She slinked to the floor as Jay ran out into the other room.

  Instinct urged Tristan to move towards her, but after taking two steps, she hissed at him, holding her hand up.

  "Stay away from me!" Her voice deepened again to a demonic resonance as she clutched her stomach. "I need to feed, and if you don't want it to be you, stay the hell away from me!"

  Tristan stood quiet, but she could feel herself slipping. She waited far too long, and now with food and relief so close to her, resolve was being thrown out the window.

  A shiver running through her body, she backed up against the wall as Jay slid down to the floor. He held a foggy, plastic bag filled with red fluid in his hand before putting it to Zoë's mouth.

  Nearly growling, she snatched the bag and ripped into it with her fangs, moaning as the thick, red fluid gushed into her mouth.

  Tristan watched the Black Blood Demon suck in the blood as Jay stood vigil. "You keep vampire blood?"

  Jay didn't look at him, worry in his eyes. "Yeah. For her." Instead, he watched Zoë drink nearly every drop of chilled vampire blood from the bag and gently close her eyes as her body relaxed. He finally looked over to him. "It's usually what happens to the vampires we interrogate. It helps when she's worn down or been on this plane for a long time."

  Tristan's eyes caught something familiar and shiny in his field of view wrapped around Jay's wrist. "Is that a... sully chain?"

  Jay followed Tristan's eyes to his wrist and frowned. "Yeah. I didn't know if I'd have to restrain her, and this is the only thing I can think of that could do that. I figured if it got bad, she would've asked me to—for you."

  He eyed Tristan with conviction. “For some weird reason, she's trying like hell to keep you alive, so I guess it's my job too." His eyes went back to the resting but blood-stained Zoë and smoothed her hair back. "Looks like she's calming down...somewhat."

  He looked at the chain, then at Tristan. "The Black Bloods use these to subdue other Black Bloods. They
are created specifically for the offender and are unbreakable to them. I, on the other hand, just need some bolt cutters." Jay sneered at him suspiciously. "How the hell you know about sully chains?"

  "Those same type of chains were on her when I found her half-naked in my bed."

  Jay scoffed. "Well, sadly, I'm not surprised. Zoë has had some run-ins with her superiors in the past."

  He walked over and pulled open a cabinet in the far corner and took out a vial of black liquid. "She doesn't get along with them too well, you see. She's a crusader, and you know what happens to crusaders."

  Tristan instantly thought of Ivana, her bloody body lifeless. "Yeah, I know exactly what happens."

  "Anyway, last time she came through the portal here, only her hands were shackled, not her feet, like they were in the middle of it or something when she got zapped here.

  Tristan thought about that for a minute. Something didn't make sense. "Wait, what's the purpose of chaining her for punishment, when she can just escape to this plane?"

  Jay shook his head. "She didn't escape. She couldn't when she's chained. Z said she had help."

  "Who?"

  "A witch," Zoë replied in her normal voice, forcing them to turn to see her standing against the wall. Her statuesque frame stood confident, healthy, as she started to walk toward Jay.

  Her vibrant eyes flashed like amethysts. "A very, very strong witch brought me here." Slowly, she walked further in, calculating her moves around the vampire whose blood made her crave the hunt with unfathomable need. "I can't think of many times I've been amazed at the power of some humans, but when Remelia opened the portal to bring me back here, I was truly lost for words. No one should be able to do that."

  Tristan followed her movements until she settled before him. "Remelia, the Supreme witch, has the power to pull you out of your plane down here?"

  Zoë nodded, her memories working to paint the past images and conversations she had with Remelia.

  "She said she called me down to protect the grimoire, a red book that was the strength of her powers and gifts." Zoë looked off into the symbol on the floor. The witches had thrown in all of their hopes on a Black Blood Demon who couldn't fulfill her promise. "Of course, I was taken back by my people before I could guard it from thieves." She looked at Jay. "That's why I never returned. I was pulled back home for punishment."

  No wonder the witches hated her too. She left them out to dry. If it was in her control, it never would've happened, but it wasn't.

  Her superiors wanted her to stay out of it, and she didn't listen. Now, a witch—a human—could be dead because she failed to keep her promise.

  "But Remelia is the answer of how I got here. It has to be. But this time, I don't know why unless it was a last ditch effort to save her." Running her fingers through her hair, she sighed looking into Tristan's eyes. "And it still doesn't explain why I was delivered and bound to you, of all things."

  Tristan shifted his gaze and walked away from her. The grimoire being taken was his doing. The Three wanted it, which made it even more damning that they had something to do with Remelia's disappearance.

  Without Remelia and the grimoire, the witches had no real protection. They were as good as dead, as the vampires could claim them coven by coven.

  His eyes followed Zoë. If she found out he was involved with the grimoire being taken, their truce would certainly be over. He needed someone else he could trust to back him before all of this got too volatile to handle. Tristan picked up his phone and walked out of Zoë's sanctuary.

  DASHIELL WALKED DOWN the corridor past the morgue when his phone rang. A swear escaped his lips until he saw whose name popped up. He quickly accepted the call.

  "Tristan? Where the fuck have you been, man?" He leaned against the glass that separated the dead from the undead. "Half the damn world is out looking for you!"

  Tristan, back at Jay's safe house, nodded as his friend chided him. "Yeah, I sorta figured as much."

  "Why weren't you at Ivana's memorial? The Three were livid."

  Tristan scoffed. "You mean The Three's address?"

  "Whatever. I had to cover for you, and I don't even know what the hell for, man! What's going on? Where are you?"

  He turned toward Zoë's room to find her bracing herself against the frame, watching him. The curves of her hips were prominent from the black jeans that hugged her.

  Ignoring her, or at least trying to, Tristan turned his back to her. "It's a long story. Listen, I need tell you some things, but not over the phone. We need to meet somewhere. I'm in a pretty sensitive situation, and I've got witches gunning for me."

  Dashiell frowned. "They are gunning for anything that moves. Especially vampires. Those bitches are getting violent. First the attack, now this. Look, why don't we meet at Patsey's off Decatur? It's vamp only, so at least you can lay low until we straighten some shit out."

  Tristan nodded. "Sounds good. We'll meet you there in twenty."

  Dashiell frowned at the phone. "Huh? Who's we?" he asked. But all that answered was silence. Tristan had already hung up.

  Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he continued on down the corridor until he reached another set of doors with a keypad. Humming a tune to kill the silence, he punched in his code and waited for the door to slide open to reveal an elevator that only went up.

  The Three put precautions in, but Dashiell couldn't help but wonder if it was enough. Guess we'll find out.

  As the elevator dinged, Dashiell whistled as he turned the corner to the giant circle in the floor. "Ah, there you are." He walked closer. There was a woman in the giant circle of salt, yet all Dashiell could see was her head. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, black bun. Her tired, angry face was surrounded by a pond of white salt.

  He continued to walk closer, sensing she was rousing. Her jade eyes were a soft contrast to the gaunt cheekbones and thin lips. Pity, her skin used to be so pretty, like porcelain. The witch's cell didn't seem to do her any favors. The suspension in that much salt without food and water had to be suffering close to biblical proportions.

  She's a lot stronger than she looks. But wonder if she's smarter, too?

  Dashiell leaned against the rail in front of the salt tank and began to rap against it with his nails. "Wake up."

  The witch slowly lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes as he stood across from her. Above her. Like a superior.

  The gag in her mouth was tight. Too tight. She felt it cutting into her mouth, leaving the other side numb. The vampires were smart to gag her, otherwise she would've showed them the true meaning of pain. All of them, including the smug bastard standing before her like he'd won.

  A muffled grunt was all she could offer with her controlled breaths. The salt not only prevented her from casting, but the weight of it constricted her abdomen, making it hard to breathe. Sleeping helped, but her slumber filled with nightmares. Dreams of fallen witches, vampires, and even Were-shifters terrified her. Warned her. This was only the beginning.

  Dashiell smiled. "Well, the legend finally awakens. I'm honored." His fingers tapped the metal rails in rhythm to the tune in his head. "You know, I must say. I didn't expect you to be so easily captured. I mean, you knew that you were in danger, right? I mean, when are you not?"

  He began to pace. "And yet, you got lured out and snatched up. Your witches are not very resourceful after all. Losing you means they are leaderless. Lost."

  He picked up her dress that draped over the rail. The same dress she wore when he found her waiting for Ivana, who would never show. "Now, I know by now you've must've learned that your friend, Ivana, met her untimely death at the hands your witches."

  "Lies!" she muffled out.

  Dashiell shrugged. "Well, they may as well have. You and the Were-shifters can't seem to play nice with anyone anyway. Besides, if it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, chances are it's a witch planning an assassination."

  He walked around the tank, his feet stepping into the salt, packe
d so tight it was like a floor. "Let's face it. If there was a totem pole for supernatural beings, Green Girls would be pretty fucking close to the bottom. Your girls can barely get out of their own way."

  That's why they needed Remelia. She was not only their leader, but their source of power. Without her or the grimoire, they were dog food. It was above his pay grade why The Three chose to keep her alive, but he personally found it foolish. If the Green Girls knew she was dead, it would break them all. Easily.

  Instead, they're all riled up and looking to slaughter a vampire. Tristan was gonna give them good exercise at least. He walked back around to face the sullen Supreme witch. "I was told that witches had a sixth sense about bad omens. If that's true, then you must have a plan B somewhere. Am I right?"

  Dashiell walked over to a lever and as soon as he grabbed it, the witch yelled through her gag. He froze. "Does that mean you're going to tell me your plan?"

  A muffled "Fuck you" belted out through her gag.

  Dashiell shrugged. "Guess that's a no."

  He pulled the lever and salt poured down into the tank. He watched as the salt mounted up higher and higher past her chin, then to her mouth. Her muffled screams were drowned out as the salt covered her face and most of her head. She shook off what she could, only to find more pile over her, smothering her.

  Finally, he turned the lever back and waited as the terrified but muffled cries continued. Coughing and gagging prompted him to walk over to the tank and push away the salt from her nose so she could breathe. He lifted up her chin, forcing her to look at him. Her nose was bloody from the inhaled salt, and her jade eyes were red.

  "I wish I could do this all night until you finally break, but I have another engagement."

  He turned to see Takeshi and Constance enter the room. Dashiell stood up and faced them, noticing a funnel and tube in Takeshi's hands along with a jug of some fluid he was afraid to ask about. Clearly, the Supreme had it lucky with him. He shuddered to think what Constance was enlisting her cleaner to do for her in order to make the witch talk.