by Jen Pretty
“Hey, Lark,” she said as I entered the kitchen.
“Hey. Do you have something nice I could borrow? Vincent wants to take me out to dinner and I all I have is yoga pants and hip waders.” I laughed.
“Sure, come with me,” she said, drying her hands on a towel and leading me out of the kitchen. Her room was on the main floor. It was much smaller than the one I was staying in, but she had decorated in beautiful colours and floral prints. I had never even painted a room I stayed in. I always assumed it was temporary, but I would never be the type of person who decorated their room like this. This was the room of a happy person and seeing it reminded me I would not get my happy ending.
I borrowed a navy dress and a pair of heels to match and got changed before meeting Vincent in Vaughn’s office.
“You look amazing,” Vincent said. “You ready to go?”
His face lit up like I had never seen before. I doubt anyone from back home could tell him from his twin now. They had matching smiles. It was weird.
“Sure, let's go,” I said, plastering a smile on my face. He took my hand and led me from the house.
The bad feeling in my stomach as we drove through the city didn’t ease up. The street lights illuminated the roads, still flooded with commuters. They slowed our progress, and I felt the urge to get out and walk. Vincent seemed relaxed and at ease, but my muscles twitched and fingers tapped against my thigh.
I had been to a couple of restaurants in the city during my time here, but none compared to the one that Vincent drove me too. The valet parking was the first hint I would not be eating fast food. When we walked in, the restaurant had low lighting, with candles on the covered tables. A man in a suit spoke Russian to Vincent who replied in his mother tongue. I watched as they exchanged a few more words and the man led us to a private table in a back room. The walls were lush burgundy, matching the table clothes, but our feet clicked on the rich wood floors.
Vincent pulled out my chair, and I slid in as he pushed it in towards the table before taking his seat across from me. He smiled as the waiter spoke. I hadn’t picked up any Russian that didn't have to do with the tunnels since I had been here. Knowing the words for sewers, metro and diggers didn't help in regular conversation. I also knew the Russian word for rat thanks to one run in with the giant sewer rat. Drew still says it was a beaver, but Alex, who always believed in the giant rats, was now telling the story of our run in like it was a near death experience.
As the waiter walked away, Vincent leaned forward and reached across the table, taking my hand in his.
He inspected my hand, rolling my fingers through his like he was thinking of something far away. It was a strange feeling to be sitting across from him and not have his attention. He was always so intent, his focus like a laser.
“You want to tell me about Mahishasura?” I asked, breaking the silence when it got too heavy.
His eyes refocused on me and he gave me a crooked grin. “Sorry.” He let go of my hand and sat back in his chair, taking a deep breath.
“I wanted to talk to you about Vernon,” he smiled, and that sick feeling crept back into my stomach. It wasn’t Durga making me queasy, but she took notice when Vincent said the name.
“Ok,” I said, stretching out the word like I wasn't sure it was ok.
“Listen, I know this will sound crazy, but I think Mahishasura is controlling him.”
I gave him a doubtful look.
“Just hear me out. When you broke me out of the stasis or whatever that witch had me in, I felt like I was not myself. I was hungry, but not in control until you brought me back in the metro tunnel. The same thing might have happened to Vernon. I talked to Vaughn, and he agrees that it could be possible for you could bring Vernon back to us.”
Vincent was so excited. He believed what he was saying.
“Listen, I wish that were true, but you and he were not the same. Vernon is of his right mind; you weren’t. You were almost feral. Vernon is in control.”
“Is he? How do you know?” he asked.
“He blew up three different buildings, Vincent. He killed people. Humans. Randy. That wasn’t the work of a feral vampire. I felt his evil, Vincent, and if you are asking me to stop hunting him, I won't.” Durga flashed in my eyes, confirming my statement. “We will avenge the one who killed our own,” she said.
Vincent’s face fell. “You can't kill him if you can save him.”
“Who will save those he has already killed? I can’t bring them back, can you?” Durga insisted. She settled down inside me again, content she had said her piece.
Vincent ran his hands through his hair and down his face. He sighed and bit his lip.
The waiter came to take our orders. I let Vincent order for me, but I wasn’t hungry anymore. As the waiter walked away, Vincent's eyes bore into mine.
“Can I tell you a story?” he asked.
I nodded and took a sip of my water, wishing it was vodka.
"Before I moved to America, my brothers and I were wild. We had been vampires for so long that nothing thrilled us anymore. We hunted and..." he looked up at me. "...killed. Sometimes for no reason. Life would bore us, and so we would find trouble to stir up." He looked away like he didn’t want me to see the truth of his words. Durga already knew though. She has deemed him worthy of life, despite his past.
“One night, Vaughn and I were out drinking — alcohol, I mean — at a pub when a woman walked in. She was fair and beautiful and so young. I wanted her. I wanted her youth, her beauty and her blood. Her scent rode the air behind her as she walked past me. Vaughn and I attracted attention wherever we went, but this woman, she didn’t come talk to us as the other woman did in the city. She sat, ignoring us and spoke to a man who was old and balding before she turned and left. Her eyes swept over me, but it was like I was invisible. Her eyes never landed on my features. During this time in history, people were poor and sick. They died young, and a healthy-looking man was hard to find. It was so strange to have a woman not interested in me or my brother that I had to follow her. I had to consume her.”
He looked away again embarrassed.
I took another sip of my water and waited for him to continue. He told me he was not a good man or vampire before he left for America and that he left to change his ways, he hadn't given me details before.
“I followed her. The woman. Girl, really. She was young. Maybe 17.” He shook his head. “She walked down the street and out of the village. I tracked her through the woods and across the meadows to a small cabin. It was just a one-room shack with smoke curling up into the night sky from a short chimney. I peeked in the window, hoping she would be alone, but she wasn’t. Inside was a man, crippled with the plague. His cough rattled the cupboards. He was not long for the world. I figured I could speed the process if I took away the girl. She would die anyway since she was in proximity to the sick man. He was coughing up blood. That was the last phase before death.
I was about to open the door and have my dinner when a firm hand on my shoulder stopped me. It was Vernon. I asked him what he was doing, and he told me to look at the girl again. He begged me, so I looked closer. I saw nothing, but then her head turned, and I saw a flash of red. It was her, Elianna. About a year before she met my brother, and he helped her become a killing machine. I had heard the fable of the Durga, but had never seen her in life and thought myself invincible until that moment.
If I had gone in that cabin, she would have killed me before I even knew what she was. I would have been dead.”
His hand reached out and took mine again. “I would never have met you.”
Our waiter returned, and Vincent let go of my hand. He sat back, and the waiter set a plate of food in front of each of us.
When the waiter stepped away again, Vincent leaned in. “I’m just asking you to give him a chance. Heal my brother, the way you healed me and let my family be whole again.”
I bit my lip. After hearing the story, I wanted his brother to be a good person.
I wanted it so bad at that moment, but I knew, and Durga knew Vernon would never be a good person again. He was too far gone. No matter what Mahishasura did, the Vernon that Vincent knew no longer existed.
He was a ghost.
I nodded my head and picked up my fork. How do you tell someone you will kill their brother, no matter what good they have done in the past? Maybe it was for the best, at least this way Vincent would hate me and Durga would have her wish. No Lark and Vincent sitting in a tree.
We ate dinner in silence. Well, Vincent ate, I moved the food around on my plate. How could I eat?
After all the years of chasing his brother, Vincent chose now to have a change of heart. Figures.
When Vincent finished, we left the restaurant. I watched the city go by as we drove home. The street lights were blinding in contrast to the dark alleys of the city. I wondered how many people were in the sewers. I would have to go back there to find Mahishasura and Vernon. Sooner was better than later. Once I killed Vernon, I would have to leave. There was no way I could stay now.
My phone beeped as we walked back toward the front door of Vaughn's mansion. I pulled it out and checked the message. It was Frankie.
“I’m just going to make a call,” I said, turning back towards the street.
“Ok,” he said and continued into the house.
When I heard the house door close, I dialled Frankie's number, and he picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, sunshine,” he said.
“Hey, I am in deep shit, Frankie.”
“What's going on?" His tone changed from light and flirty to concerned in an instant.
“Vincent thinks I can save Vernon. He thinks if I use Durga’s magic on him, I can bring him back and make him a good person, and I won't have to kill him.”
“Why would he think that?” I called Frankie when we got Vincent back, but hadn't told him all the details, so I filled him in about Vincent throwing the steel spikes at me and then him drinking from the vampire in the metro and Durga giving me the power to bring Vincent back.
“So, he thinks Vernon is just under a spell?”
“Yes. I tried to tell him it wasn’t a spell, but he couldn’t hear me. He thinks I can make their family whole again. Durga won't let me leave Vernon alive. He may be under a spell, but he is fallen too. He would kill everyone in this city if I turned him loose.”
“That isn’t true, Lark.” I startled and dropped the phone as I spun towards the voice behind me. Vincent stood there a scowl on his face.
“I’m sorry, Vincent. It is true,” I said to him.
“Who are you talking to?” he asked.
“Frankie.”
He laughed unkindly. “You conspire with the warlocks when their magic controlled my brother and me? I should have known. You stay away from my brother, Lark. I will find a witch to help him.”
Durga rose so fast that Vincent was on his back, my knife to his throat before I even had a chance to digest his words.
“You do not tell me what to do. I keep the balance. I decide who lives and dies!” she roared.
The front door swung open, and Vaughn stood there.
“Durga, please. He didn’t mean it. He’s been through so much,” Vaughn begged for his twin brother.
“This vampire dares to raise his voice and command Lark, as though she is a servant! You think she lives for your will? You have become too familiar with her. I will remind you only this once. Do not to trifle with her. You will mind yourself, or I will end you despite her interest in seeing you live.”
Durga leapt to her feet and kicked open the gate at the end of the driveway, striding off down the street like we had somewhere else we could go. A light grumble behind us alerted me to Singh's presence. He walked behind but followed as Durga led us to a hotel several blocks away. Singh pulled out a credit card and got us a room, and we curled up on the large, soft bed. He snored as I cried myself to sleep.
Everything had gone to shit.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I woke up to a scraping noise. I opened one eye and didn’t recognize where I was at first. Then I remembered the look of anger and betrayal on Vincent's face.
I rubbed my eyes and tried to locate the noise instead of thinking about Vincent.
A purr rose through the room. Antique furniture accented the high-vaulted ceiling and beautiful soft blue wallpaper, including an old leather armchair that currently had a giant lion sitting in it. He was scraping his coarse tongue over a china plate on the table in front of him, holding it still with his paws. His big bristly tongue made short work of cleaning up the remains of whatever room service he had ordered himself.
“Did you order anything for me?” I grumbled.
He purred louder but didn’t stop licking the plate. I rolled off the bed and into the bathroom to take a shower. The hotel supplied tiny shampoos and conditioners and individually wrapped soaps. I hadn't brought anything with me since Durga had stormed off without even picking up my phone off the driveway. Most likely broken now anyway, considering my track record with phones. I put back on the clothes I had slept in — the same borrowed navy dress I had worn to dinner with Vincent and had been wearing when everything went sideways but threw a plush housecoat over the top. It was white and had the logo of the hotel on it.
Back out in the room, there was a new serving cart, still covered and the smell of bacon emanated from it.
I took the top off and found one measly piece of bacon on an otherwise full plate.
“Did you eat my bacon?” I turned accusing eyes on Singh who paused in licking his paw for a moment before returning to his grooming.
Jerk.
“I picked up the fork and a plate of eggs and toast and moved to the small table. Completely lost to my thoughts about Vincent, I continued to shovel the food into my mouth until there was a knock at the door.
I froze, a fork full of eggs halfway to my mouth. Nobody knew I was here. I looked at Singh, but he tipped over on the bed and stretched like he didn't have a care in the world.
When whoever was at the door knocked a second time, I strode over and opened it up.
There, leaning against the door jamb, holding a bouquet of tulips, in his leather jacket and snug fit jeans, smelling of grease and leather, was Frankie.
“Oh my God, what are you doing here?” I squealed.
One corner of his mouth curled up.
“Are you happy to see me?” He asked, leaning forward.
Flinging my arms around his neck, I held on tight as his arms swept around me and he carried me back into the room.
“I can't believe you are here!” I said as he set my feet back on the ground and kicked the door shut behind him.
“Thought maybe you needed better company here in Russia after I heard your argument with Vinny.”
“Shit,” I said, shaking my head. Just like that, I went from joy to sadness. A sneaky tear slid out of the corner of my eye, and I bit my lip. I had been trying to stay strong, but now that Frankie was here, it was like the wall I built crumbled, and I fell apart.
“I’m sorry, Lark.” Frankie wrapped me up in his arms again and rubbed his hand up and down my back. The smell of his leather jacket was comforting. Frankie had become so much more than a friend. Missing him these last several weeks or months, since I hadn't seen him much even when we lived in the same city, had made it clear. He was important in my life, even if he didn’t say a word, his presence was important.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into my hair. The fact he could read my mind was still a bother, but it wasn’t as big a problem as it once was. I wanted him to know how I felt. I wanted him to know how much I missed him and needed him.
“You should come home,” he said.
“I wish I could, but I have to finish this. I have to take care of Vernon and Mahishasura.”
“You know he doesn’t look like what you think he does,” he chuckled.
I had watched a cartoon video about the buffalo demon on-line, and
he looked funny in my mind. I laughed, but Durga flashed an actual image of the monster on the back of my eyelids. God, he was disgusting looking. No mother could love that face.
“Thank you, Durga,” I said, wishing I could go back to thinking of him as a cartoon villain.
Frankie laughed.
“Look, I think I want to get drunk today, then maybe tomorrow I will go back into the sewers, but I need a night off from all the drama. Will you escape the drama with me?” I asked Frankie.
“I would love to escape the drama with you,” he replied. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a bottle of scotch. “I bought this at the airport, just in case.”
Singh groaned on the bed and rolled over. I laughed, and Frankie unscrewed the top of the bottle before handing it to me. The liquor burned as it slid down my throat. I took a long sip and then coughed as I gave the bottle back to Frankie. He laughed and took a sip too.
It wasn’t long before I had the TV flicked on and tuned to a romantic comedy — the only thing I could find in English. Frankie and I had shoved the sleeping lion to one side of the bed and cuddled together on the other side. Under the blankets, with the lights off watching the silly old movie, we laughed at the funny parts. When it got to the serious part, and the boy kissed the girl, Frankie tipped my head towards him and kissed me too. I was just drunk enough to enjoy it without thinking about any drama involving vampires. I was in the moment, and it was like magic.
His soft lips caressed mine as his hand traced my side making me shiver. He pulled me in close to him. Our bodies pressed together. His heart raced beneath my hand when I laid it on his chest, and our feet wiggled under the blankets until our legs entwined. I could hear my blood pumping in my ears mixed with the distant sound of the TV still blaring. Frankie's hand came up, and his fingers slid through my hair to cup the back of my neck. I came up for air, my breathing ragged and Frankie's lips traced my jaw and down my neck. My skin was on fire, and I thought my heart would explode.
“Oh, God,” I said.
