Oh, God.
Naked, but for a dress of wounds and drying blood, Aisling lay on her back. Her limbs were twisted at awkward, painful angles. It was as though she had been artfully arranged and, knowing Hunter’s flare for the dramatic, she probably was. Hayden wanted to go to her, to gather her to his chest, and sob like a baby. He wanted to run screaming from the room and never look back. He wanted to curl into a ball and die. He wanted to find Hunter and tear him apart, limb by limb.
The figure on the floor moved—just the tiniest jerk of muscles—but it drew Hayden’s attention. He crawled to Aisling’s side, brushed the hair from her face. A hand grabbed his throat and squeezed tight, choking the air from him. Her beautiful face...
What was left of Aisling’s face was an impressionist’s painting. One side was purple, the eye swollen shut. The other eye was wet, staring up at him with a look of terror so raw that it tore the heart from his body.
And sealed Hunter’s fate.
Hayden couldn’t believe that Aisling was alive. The pain had to be incredible; how she endured it was beyond him. But, if she was still alive, there was hope. He reached for his phone, to call an ambulance, only to realize that he must have left it behind at the church.
A noise came from Aisling’s throat that was something between a cough, a sob, and a moan. It didn’t sound human.
“Oh, Aisling.”
Hayden wanted to hold her—but where could he touch her that wouldn’t cause her more pain? Hunter hadn’t left an inch of her flesh untouched.
“I’m so sorry.”
He realized that he was crying. Tears flooded his face and dripped onto Aisling’s; tiny rivulets of pink ran down to splash against the table fragments.
“I-”
There was nothing he could say. Hayden cursed himself. He cursed himself for not being fast enough, for not being there when she needed him. For not killing his monster of a brother when their mother begged him to, all those years ago. For being foolish enough to think that something like him could love someone like Aisling without it ending like this.
Her body shuddered once and she was gone.
With Aisling’s death, Hayden lost the last of everything that had made him human. Eyes burning, vision red, he went in search of his brother.
Aisling awoke alone.
Her skin felt wrong, like it was stretched too tight across her bones. It sort of itched, too, the way a wound does when it starts to heal. Every muscle in her body screamed as she pushed herself off the ground. She screamed too when a sharp shard of wood went straight through her palm.
She lifted her hand, staring in horror at the object protruding from it. The floor was littered with similar pieces of broken wood. It took Aisling several moments to realize that she was sitting in a pile of what used to be a table. Hayden’s table; she remembered sitting across from him at that very table many times during their late-night study sessions.
What happened to it?
The sofa that Hayden loved so much—the one he said used to belong in his father’s study—was in shreds, its guts spewed from enormous tears in the old leather. Aisling’s heart broke to see something so beloved to Hayden in such a state.
Hayden.
She was in his apartment—but where was he? And what had happened to wreak such devastation? Robbery? A fight? Her gaze was wild, trying to take in as much of the room as she could. It stopped on a slip of navy fabric. After a moment, Aisling realized that she was looking at part of a hoodie with her school’s logo on it. She remembered putting on one just like it when she left the dorm that morning.
That was when Aisling realized that she was naked.
A move to cover herself reminded her that she had several inches of jagged wood jammed through her hand. Grabbing the biggest end, she pulled, screaming as it came loose. Through the hole in her palm, she could see bone and tissue. Her stomach rolled.
The rest of her clothes were scattered around the living room, in varying states of ruin. Had Hayden done something to her? No, Aisling couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe that. And, aside from the hole in her hand, she looked unharmed. Aisling braced herself to look at the wound again and was surprised to see that there was no wound, only a slightly reddened patch of skin where it should have been.
That couldn’t be right...
She wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing but, no, there was the piece of wood, lying on the floor, covered in fresh blood. She could smell it from where she stood. A gasp from the hallway told Aisling that she was no longer alone. A young woman, about her age, stood in the hallway outside the apartment. The look she wore was something between scandal and fear.
“Are you okay?”
The girl shifted uneasily. It was obvious that she would rather have been anywhere else in the world right then.
Was Aisling okay? She wasn’t sure. But she didn’t want some stranger staring at her naked body any longer than necessary so she nodded. The woman went on her way.
Aisling hurried to shut the door. It was obvious very quickly that shutting it wasn’t going to be an option. The door hung by its top hinge; the bottom one had been ripped right off the wall. She couldn’t imagine what kind of force it would have taken to do that.
Things were getting too weird, too fast. She wanted out.
Aisling moved through the apartment, calling Hayden’s name. He wasn’t there. She slipped on a pair of his sweatpants and a tee-shirt. They were much too big for her but comforting at the same time. It felt like being wrapped in Hayden’s hug. His shoes, though, would never fit her. She was glad she was close enough to campus that anyone who saw her wandering the streets without shoes on would just write it off as a weird student thing.
The walk back to her dorm room was torturous. Aisling was keenly aware of every stare that was leveled her way, of every whisper traded between friends. Worse than that, though, was the way the fabric of Hayden’s clothes rubbed against her intimate areas when she moved. The brush of cotton between her legs. The slide of his shirt against her breasts. Aisling found herself being unexpectedly and irrationally aroused by the simple action of walking in borrowed clothes.
It was a relief to reach the sanctuary of her dorm room. Even better to find a note on the whiteboard outside their door to say that her roommate had gone home for the weekend.
Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!
Aisling hurried to her room to take off Hayden’s clothes and change into her own. She left the garments on the floor, by the foot of her bed, unable to even look at them without blushing. The chair by her desk creaked as she eased into it and drew her knees up to her chin. She needed to figure out what the hell was going on.
Her mind was a hazy mess. Thoughts formed and scattered quicker than she could catch them. She kept seeing flashes of Hayden’s face that quickly transformed into something else. Something monstrous. Aisling dashed those images away. Hayden wasn’t a monster; he was the kindest, most thoughtful person she had ever met and she loved him.
I love you. Go.
His words, loaded with fear, sounded in her mind. Aisling grabbed at the end of the memory and rode it—straight through to Hell. She buried her face in the cocoon of her body as a wail of misery escaped her throat.
She remembered. Oh, God. If only she could forget again. Take my memories, she begged. Take them all—just don’t let me have to remember that again.
“Aisling?”
The door to her bedroom swung open and Nikki walked in, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
“Hey! Your door was opened so I-”
She stopped short as Aisling looked up, her eyes streaming with tears.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
The bag fell to the floor. Nikki rushed to her sister’s side, pulling her into a tight hug.
“What happened?” she asked. “Was it Hayden? Did he hurt you? I’ll kill him.”
Aisling buried her face in her sister’s shoulder and let herself cry for the terror
that had been committed to her. Nikki smelled like home; of the lavender satchels their mother handmade for them every year, of the heavy cigars their father snuck in his den when he thought no one was around, of the peanut butter cookies they baked for the weekly visit to their grandmother’s care home—and of something else, something Aisling couldn’t quite place.
It was intoxicating. Aisling followed the smell with her nose, traced it along Nikki’s shoulder, and up the smooth line of her throat. The smell was strongest there. She pressed her nose to her sister’s flesh and breathed deep.
“Uh, Aisling?”
Her sister sounded worried but for some reason that didn’t bother Aisling. All that mattered was that scent; it was making her crazy. An ache started in her gums, like the time she had her wisdom teeth removed but a hundred times worse. Aisling opened her mouth with a groan as her canines grew, elongated.
Nikki gasped.
“Holy shit, Aisling! What the hell!”
Aisling’s vision went red. She no longer saw her sister, frozen in terror; all she saw were pulsing veins of liquid heaven hiding behind layers of muscle and flesh. That didn’t bother Aisling—she had these nifty new fangs to rip all that unnecessary stuff out of the way. She could get at those veins in no time if she wanted to. And she wanted to, needed to.
“Aisling!”
The sound of someone shouting her name was the first thing that brought Aisling back to the present. The second was the strong pair of hands that firmly but gently pulled her away from the thing that she cradled. A sound of protest slid from her lips but she allowed herself to be moved. As her vision started to clear, she realized that she was looking at Hayden’s face.
He looked broken. Like his world had fallen apart and he hadn’t had time to prop it back up. Aisling didn’t know why he looked so sad but seeing him made her feel happy for the first time in weeks.
“I’m so sorry,” Hayden said, nearly choking on a sob. “I should have realized. I should have been there.”
He saw the confusion in her eyes. How he wished he didn’t have to be the one to take it away from her! Hayden tried to pull her to her feet, to get her out of that damned room before she really came back to herself, but Aisling was having none of it. She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him like a child. All he could do was return her embrace, clinging to her desperately as he rocked her back and forth.
There was no way of knowing how much time passed as they clung to each other that way. Years could have come and gone; it made no difference to Hayden. The only thing in the world that mattered was the woman in his arms.
“Hayden?”
Aisling blinked up at him, her expression confused and more than a little afraid. He knew then that it was time to do what he should have done two weeks ago—six months ago. He knew it was too late but that it still had to be done. Had to be said.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Aisling’s. He gave himself just one moment of her touch, of her nearness, and then he pulled away—but only slightly. Hayden gently moved her hands and eased back until they sat knee-to-knee. She might not want to ever touch him again when she heard what he had to say. He wouldn’t blame her.
“I was born in Colorado,” he began without preamble. Get it over with as quickly as possible, like tearing a bandage off a wound. “In 1933.”
Aisling’s eyes clouded with confusion.
“I—”
Hayden held up a hand to stall her questions.
“Please,” he said. “Just listen.”
She bit her lip but said nothing as he continued.
“I was a sophomore at Washington State University when my brother showed up unexpectedly at my dorm one night.”
Aisling went rigid at the mention of his brother.
“Hunter never cared much for school. Our father used to say that fast cars and loose women were the only things that interested Hunter—but he was wrong. Hunter also loved pain.”
She went pale. Hayden knew she must be remembering the pain his brother had inflicted upon her and he hated having to mention it. But, she needed to know, to understand.
“Not just hurting others but in being hurt himself. Nowadays, there are words for people like that, safe places for them to go, but then… well, Hunter’s obsession with pain led him to a very seedy bar in a seedier part of town, to a woman who could hurt him better than anyone had ever hurt him before.”
Hayden stopped, giving Aisling a moment to process his words. She nodded to say she understood and he continued.
“He told me all this the night he arrived, eyes wild and hair disheveled. It was April, 1953.”
“The woman—I never knew her real name, still don’t to this day—was intrigued when he told her that he had a twin brother. ‘Double the fun!’ were her words. She wanted to meet me, to see if I was as much fun as my big brother.”
Hayden swallowed. He’d never told anyone his story before. It felt odd to speak so distantly of things that had happened to him.
“As you can imagine, an almighty argument followed,” he continued. “I had no intention of meeting this woman. I wanted no part of his sick games. His lifestyle was an embarrassment to our family. But Hunter had never been one to take no for an answer.”
“The next few weeks were hell for me. People I once counted among my friends had only harsh words for me when we met on the street. The girl I had been courting refused to see me. One particularly annoyed professor ejected me the moment I entered the room, saying only that he wouldn’t allow my obscenities in his class.”
“I was confused. Hurt. It never occurred to me that my own brother might be behind it. That he might be going behind my back to ruin my life. I mean—he wasn’t just a sibling; he was my twin.”
A self-deprecating laugh exploded from him. “I was so naive.”
“Hunter got what he wanted, in the end. Once I was expelled from the university, I was too ashamed to return home. I was a failure, though I had no idea how I’d become so.”
Aisling moved, as if to place her hand on his, but stopped just short. Her hand rested uneasily on her knee.
“I couldn’t go home. So, I went to him. To her.”
“It didn’t take long for me to realize that I was in over my head. But, by then, it was too late.”
“You see,” he said, forcing himself to look at Aisling as he spoke, instead of looking away in shame. “She wasn’t just any woman, she was a monster. A vampire.”
Aisling recoiled visibly. Her mouth dropped open in a little “o” of surprise. She quickly raised a hand to cover it.
“I won’t make you endure the horrific details of what followed but,” he had to stop to take a deep breath. “She turned first Hunter, then me, into vampires as well.”
“She took our blood and replaced it with her own. We died and woke... to this. Eternal. Damned.”
He saw Aisling look down in horror at the palm of her hand. A shudder tore through her body. Hayden wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but he couldn’t. Not until he had her forgiveness. Maybe not ever.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. Sorry wasn’t a strong enough word. It sounded lame, hanging between them.
“I... I keep thinking of all of the things that I could have done to stop this from happening to you but—God, Aisling, I can’t take it back. I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know.”
He waited for her judgment.
“Oh, Hayden!”
Aisling nearly sent them both tumbling to the floor with the force that she threw herself at him. For the briefest of moments, he was too stunned to return her kiss. Had she heard him? Didn’t she understand? But then his body took over. Tangling a hand in her loose hair, he snaked one arm around her waist and met her kiss for kiss.
“I was so scared,” she gasped against his lips, refusing to break the kiss long enough to speak.
“Your brother-” her lips stilled and Hayden pulled back to look into her eyes. He hated that he could still
see terror in their chocolate depths. Would eternity be long enough to remove that terror? He wished he knew.
“Will never hurt anyone again,” he promised. He’d done what needed to be done—but that didn’t mean that she needed the gory details.
“Is he...?”
Hayden nodded. Aisling relaxed visibly.
“Good. I mean... I’m sorry. I know he was your brother but—”
Hayden shook his head. “Don’t. You’re the only one who matters to me.”
Aisling smiled, a weak, watery smile, but the first he’d had from her since the night he’d lost control. It made his chest tighten painfully. She raised her lips, as if to kiss him again, but stopped short. A look of confusion came over her.
“Did you see Nikki when you came in?” she asked. “I thought she was here but things got a little fuzzy.”
She frowned and started to turn, to look at the last place she had seen her sister standing, but Hayden caught her chin.
“Don’t,” he said. “You don’t want to see.”
Alarm bells sounded in her mind. What didn’t she want to see?
Jerking herself free from his grasp, Aisling turned—and immediately wished she hadn’t.
“Oh no...”
She tried to scramble to her feet but Hayden caught her and held fast.
“Let me go! Nikki! Nikki!”
But Nikki couldn’t answer. She was nothing but a pile of bones and skin, empty. Aisling’s vision tunneled and her world became her sister’s corpse. Nikki’s pale face, forever frozen in a moment of terror—a moment that her sister, her best friend, had created.
No! Not Nikki! Oh, God, not her. Please! Take me instead.
She only became aware that she spoke her thoughts out loud when she heard Hayden say, “I’m sorry, Aisling. It doesn’t work that way. If it did, I would happily give my life to give her back to you.”
Looking up at his tortured face, Aisling saw that he spoke the truth. The little line that appeared between his eyes when he worried was back. She reached up to trace it with her finger. Hayden closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. For a long time, neither of them spoke.
When Aisling spoke next, her words came as no surprise to Hayden. He’d known what she would say, even before she fell apart in his arms.
Protectors of the Veil Page 8
