The Veiled Series Collection

by Stacey Rourke

  Leaving her marinating in her own desire, I sauntered off set with my heels clicking against the cracked and peeling linoleum.

  Carter met me at the door. Wisps of blond hair fell across his forehead as he shook his head with a mock pout. “Did I just lose my top spot of available options when you decide to take a human luv-ah?”

  I froze the second the door clicked shut behind me. “Wait, we aren’t sleeping together?” Staring at the wall, I narrowed my eyes. “Huh. Who the hell was that guy, then?”

  “Cute. You were fantastic up there, by the way. Not that you need me to tell you that.” Resuming our stride, we headed back down the narrow hall that led us in.

  Pausing at the coatrack, I grabbed my black trench coat and tossed it over my arm. “Thank you, but I can’t take the credit. That guy was a moron, and I had a diligent coach who drilled me day and night—only not in the fun way.”

  Hiking one flaxen brow, Carter pressed his index finger to his lips. “I was trying to pay you a compliment, and now anything I say in response will end up sounding filthy. Happy to help you cram? Totally vulgar.”

  “Screw vamp strength, inappropriate innuendos are my true gift.” Dragging my fingers through the silky tresses of my chin-length bob, I battled looming exhaustion from waiting too long between feedings. And by too long, I mean it had been a whole forty-five minutes. “Remind me why facing off with that horrid little man on a public broadcast channel was beneficial to our cause? Seems to me we need a geyser of media attention, not this puny little trickle.”

  Carter cast his stare down the hallway in one direction, then the other, and stepped in close enough for me to smell the hint of copper from where he cut himself shaving that morning. “Vamp society keeps their finger to the pulse of all aspects of the media, monitoring their budding reputation without fail. What you did today was show them there’s a fresh face in vampire politics. One brilliant, beautiful, and ready to be plucked.”

  “It always comes back to plucking with you,” I mused just as my phone vibrated in the pocket of my coat.

  “That would be them.” Carter nodded at the buzzing phone with a victorious grin.

  “Or Micah. I used the coconut oil she cooks with to get a bur out of Batdog’s fur. She’s going to be pissed when she finds those little black hairs in the jar. Not going to lie, I was kind of hoping to be there to see that.” Digging the device from the confines of the fabric, I clicked it to life and pressed it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Good evening, may I speak to Vincenza Larow, please?” a commanding voice, smooth as warm maple syrup, requested.

  “This is Vincenza.”

  “Miss Larow, my name is Rau Mihnea. I am the head of the coalition striving to get the Nosferatu Presumption of Innocence Bill passed. I just watched your debate and was compelled to contact you with accolades for an exceptional performance. The vampire community is fortunate to have you on our side.”

  Tapping me on the shoulder, Carter mouthed, Who is it?

  “Why thank you, Mr. Mihnea.” I pointedly said his name to answer the question of my blatant eavesdropper. “I appreciate the show of support.”

  Carter’s eyes bulged, his jaw swinging slack as he did a little dance on the balls of his feet. Rau Mihnea? he lipped.

  Nodding in confirmation, I redirected my attention to what was happening on the other end of the line.

  “We are always on the lookout for fresh voices to further our cause.” Papers shuffled, accompanied by the click of a pen. “Tell me, have you ever been to a rally? We are marching in Washington DC next week to raise awareness for our agenda. I would be honored to have you join us.”

  Beside me, Carter leapt into an impromptu game of charades. Lips curled back from his teeth, he held up his hands like claws. When that only earned a confused scowl from me, he tried again. Shielding the lower half of his face behind his bent elbow, he wiggled his eyebrows. Scratching my head, I shrugged. In a final attempt, he mimed a pregnant belly then gestured outward with one hand in a wide wave from the region of his crotch.

  “Mr. Mihnea, can you hold for one minute? I’m about to go through a tunnel and don’t want to lose you.” Muting the phone, I blinked in Carter’s direction. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “That’s Rau Mihnea!” he gushed. “The one and only son of Vlad Draculesti. His dad is friggin’ Dracula!”

  Maintaining slightly exasperated eye contact with my giddy side-kick, I unmuted Rau. “Mr. Mihnea, I would love to join you. Would it be possible for me to bring a friend?”

  “Bring a friend?” Carter hissed in an urgent whisper. “What is this? A ten-year old’s pajama party? Why would you ask that?”

  “Bring as many as you would like,” Rau chuckled. “The more bodies moving on Washington, the better. I’ll get with you later in the week with the details.”

  “Fantastic! The invitation is very kind of you.”

  “Did he say yes?” Carter pried, practically bouncing where he stood. “Micah’s stupid. Take me!”

  Slapping in his general direction, I turned my back to him in attempt to keep an iota of my professionalism intact. “Do you need my email or contact information?”

  Rau guffawed, the boom of his laughter causing me to pull the phone away from my ear. “I do so enjoy interacting with young ones such as yourself who have yet to learn the extent of vampirism. Have no fear, infans, we can always find our own.”

  Statement looming with the threat of a shark’s dorsal fin breaking the surface of still waters, the line went dead.

  Pocketing my phone, I turned to Carter with my folded hands pressed to my lips. “It seems the vampires are going to Washington.”

  He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled through pursed lips. “I have never been more terrified of being right in my entire life.

  Chapter Six

  Experiment Day 33: Cause

  Hindsight Bias – The inclination after an event to see the outcome as being predictable despite objective basis.

  The two police officers sent to teach me basic self-defense moves stood in the corner of the lab, whispering to Micah. All three of their concerned gazes shifted my way. After forty-five minutes of prodding, they still hadn’t lured me from the floor. Sitting with my legs tucked tight to my chest, I pressed my forehead to my knees and let everything around me meld into monotone white-noise. How long I sat like that, I couldn’t say. Time became irrelevant when I woke up, lost in a world I no longer fit into.

  “Vincenza?” Micah’s voice was muddled, as if I had truly sunk to the depths of despair with its weight crushing in from all sides. “Can you look at me?”

  My head rose like a leaden anchor. Blinking Micah’s way, I tried to focus on her blurring silhouette as she knelt beside me.

  “Our boys in blue say your training didn’t go well today. Why do you think that is?”

  “Not a vampire,” I murmured, my tongue thick and swollen.

  “That’s right. You’re not. But you are a being with strength, reflexes … and needs.”

  Sensing where this conversation was headed, I placed one palm on the floor and scooted in a half circle to turn my back on her.

  “You haven’t eaten anything in days.”

  “I can’t stomach regular food.”

  “We talked about this. There are alternatives we can try. You just have to be open to it.”

  Deficient of the strength to argue, my only response came in the form of my head dropping back to my knees.

  “Vinx.” Micah edged in closer. The fact that she smelled as enticing as Thanksgiving dinner made my empty stomach roll with revulsion. “We can work on this. Let’s find a solution.”

  “No.” My voice came muffled within the cocoon of my arms. “I’m not an experiment.”

  Silly little pseudo-vamp. That’s exactly what you are.

  Micah fe
ll silent, seemingly choosing her next words with careful deliberation. When she opened her mouth to speak, her tongue clucked against the roof of her mouth. “I didn’t want it to come to this. I really didn’t. But I’m afraid you’ve left me with no choice.”

  Pulling a pair of surgical scissors from the pocket of her lab coat, she dragged their point across her palm. Flesh split in a shallow crevice bubbled with drops of ruby.

  I watched her blood drip on the linoleum with mild interest. “The palm is a stupid place to cut yourself. That’s going to crack back open every time you move your fingers.”

  Without a word, she extended her hand to me in offering.

  She expected … what? A sudden loss of control and building frenzy?

  “I am not a vampire,” I clarified yet again, and folded in on myself.

  “No, you’re not.” Disappointment sagging her tone, Micah pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped it around her hand. “You’re a college girl who has been trapped in a lab for a month, sleeping on a cot in the breakroom. It’s time we changed that, get you back among the living.”

  But I’m not living. I’d fit in better in a graveyard.

  “The Yale labs acquired facilities we’re going to use as our own little dormitory,” Micah explained. “Part of it was designed with you in mind. While construction isn’t quite done, it would do you good to get out of here for a while. What do you say? You up for a field trip?”

  Head lolling to the side, I peered her way in between heavy blinks. “At this new place … do I have to sleep in a coffin?”

  The corner of her mouth twitched in an almost smile. “No, but you do have to ride in a car with UV tempered glass to keep up appearances.” Grabbing my arm, Micah helped me up on unsteady legs. Hit by a heady whiff of my pungent funk, her nose crinkled. “Whoa, how about a shower first? I think bathing is the only thing you’ve held out on longer than food. You smell like sour milk poured on a shitty diaper.”

  Of all the vampire lore I wished were true, there was none more so than the absence of a reflection. Fresh from the shower, which offered temporary relief from the constant chill of my flesh, I stared at the stranger in the mirror with unbridled loathing.

  The blonde girl with an easy smile that met me at every reflective surface had vanished. In her place stood a black swan of threatening elegance. Any trace of who I had been was wiped away like steam from the mirror.

  The scar above my lip from when I fell off my bike as a kid.

  The shamrock tattoo on my hip I hid from my parents.

  The evidence from where my throat had been ripped open by vicious beasts.

  All … gone.

  Something in the transition stained my hair a deep, inky black. Unable to get all the matted blood out of it, Micah resorted to cutting my tresses into a blunt, chin-length bob. Turning my head one way then the other, I sucked in my cheeks. Maybe starvation was to blame for my gaunt appearance, but my features seemed sharpened to a deadly edge. The look in my eye more feral. Every inch of me was an enigma, even to me.

  When it came down to it, there was only one thing I knew for certain about the new girl staring back at me: she was born into this world under a shroud of blood and chaos.

  Moonlight reflected off the thin layer of snow and ice covering the ground. Tree branches, naked of their leaves, slashed at the night sky like wrathful demonic claws. Street lights changed from red to green, guiding forth the quests of the living. Televisions flickered inside homes, spewing images of a happy, safe, cotton candy world. Diner workers slopped greasy comfort food onto heaping plates for hungry patrons that figured the health of their hearts to be tomorrow’s problem. With every image that blurred past the car window, I became more aware of how life pressed on, while I remained locked in the purgatory of my own displaced uncertainty.

  The click of a gun chamber being loaded and locked, pulled my attention from the window to where Micah sat beside me. One of her seemingly endless supply of minions acted as our chauffer in this mad charade.

  “I don’t want you to be alarmed,” Micah explained, her hand curling around the grip. “No. You know what? Fuck that. Be alarmed. I have loaded this tranquilizer gun with enough juice to neutralize an entire herd of elephants. So, if you start feeling froggy, know that I can and will shoot you.”

  Dragging my gaze from the gleaming metal to her face, I blinked my detached confusion. “Why would I feel froggy?”

  Micah dropped the gun into her lap, mouth swinging open like a loose screen door in her search for the proper words. “Vinx, do you not recognize where we are? This street should look familiar to you.”

  Glancing back out the tinted window, I watched the row of houses parade by. “Looks like about a million streets just like it across the country. Cookie cutter homes filled with toys and trinkets to distract us from a world slowly imploding in on itself.”

  “When this is over, you should look into becoming a motivational speaker,” Micah jabbed. Dragging her tongue over her lower lip, she added, “At the risk of being the catalyst that sets you off …”

  “You want to use the gun,” I interrupted. “I can smell your rush of endorphins and estrogen when you grasp it. It borders on a sexual high.”

  “That’s … invasive.” Clearing her throat, Micah sought to reclaim an ounce of her floundering professionalism. “As I was saying, you may want to take another look. This is the street you grew up on. Your parents’ house is on the next block.”

  Only when she pointed it out, did clarity cut through my numb fog. There was the sidewalk I learned to ride my bike. That was the massive oak tree that was always “safe” when the neighborhood kids played tag. The yellow colonial-style house on the left had belonged to Jake Thomas’ family. He was my first kiss, freshmen year after the homecoming dance. The stop sign we were idling up to had been the scene of my fender-bender when I borrowed the Buick without asking. All were memories from another life, when my heart beat with more than a sporadic, lethargic lurch.

  “Why would memory-soaked real estate agitate me?”

  Micah’s face folded with confusion. “I don’t know, Tin Man. Maybe because the grisly scene of where their family’s death occurred would gut a normal person. For someone who protests she’s not a vampire, you sure as hell aren’t acting human.”

  Was I supposed to protest? What would be the point? She was right. I was nothing.

  “Compelling counterpoint,” Micah interjected into my vacant silence. “I do feel obligated, though, to point out that you may feel different when we get inside. You being legally dead, your parents’ house was left to the Yale Science and Quantitative Reasoning Labs. We really are turning it into dormitories specifically for our secret operation—aka, you. That said, if it’s too much for you to stay there I will happily take the big-ass suite we designed with you in mind.”

  “Thank you,” I muttered. The sentiment wasn’t heartfelt, but I knew it was expected.

  Micah ground her teeth together, frustration building. “Look, I get that you’re stuck in this broody, melancholy loop. Even so, when we get inside, you may find yourself facing some bottled-up emotions. You need to embrace them, Vinx. Because if you starve, the vampires who killed your family win. Don’t give them that. When we get there … try. Try to feel something.”

  “Because you really want to shoot me?” A flick of my head tossed a rogue strand of hair from my eyes.

  Filling her lungs, Micah’s shoulders sagged with mock revelation. “God help me, I really do.”

  As the car turned into the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires, I tipped my chin to take in the craftsman-style two-story. In the dark, it looked as I remembered. But inside, true horror had forever tainted what it once was.

  Just like me.

  “I’ll try not to disappoint you,” I murmured to the night.

  Pushing open the car doors,
Micah and I ventured inside. Any similarity to the Casa de Larow I knew ended at the door. No trace of our lives there, or the hellish events that unfolded, remained. The foyer wall that divided the entryway from the dining room had been knocked out, welcoming us into an open concept kitchen and eating area. The furniture still had the tags on it. Freshly installed reclaimed pine flooring had yet to earn a scuff or footprint. Wandering inside, I dragged my fingers over the white and gray speckled granite countertops and surveyed the espresso cabinetry. “My parents were going to have the kitchen redone. White cabinets with butcher block counters.”

  “You doing okay?” Micah asked with a scientist’s interest.

  Head floating in clouds of detachment, I turned to face her, my hands falling limp to my sides. “I’m sorry, Mics. There’s nothing here for me. Not anymore.”

  Chewing on her lower lip, I could see her plugging in various figures trying to solve my perplexing equation. “Then, I guess there’s no reason you can’t stay here. Come on. I’ll show you to your room.”

  Dutifully, I fell into step behind her. Pausing over the exact spots where my family members had fallen, I waited to feel something. To have my heart shredded at the loss of them, just so I knew the infernal muscle still worked.

  Nothing.

  My prison of emptiness refused to crack.

  In attempt to spur some form of emoting, I narrated as I walked. “My father was the first to die. The largest of the Nosferatu punctured his jugular. He bled out right here. Jeremy fell there, after having his neck snapped by a black vampress. My mother retrieved the gun under the table …” My throat tightened for a split second, the feeling passing in a blink before I could name it. “She fired two shots and took down one of the vamps before she was attacked. The scrawny vampire chased me up these stairs. He grabbed my ankle here. I felt his fangs graze the back of my leg. Somehow, I kicked him off me and made it to the attic.”

  No sooner did I step into the redesigned attic space, then Micah spun on me.