The Veiled Series Collection

by Stacey Rourke

  “Oh my God, you have to stop!” Tears zigzagged over her cheeks, raining down on the plush, newly installed carpet. “You made your point, you’re a heartless ghoul! Believe it or not, I cared about these people! They were good to me when my own family treated me like dog shit. Stop rehashing the details of their deaths like a fucking crime scene investigator!”

  “You don’t think I’d cry if I could? My soul is screaming to mourn for them, but I can’t even muster the emotions.”

  Two blocks over, a train whistle blew.

  An audible reminder of the moment of my death.

  External silence preempted the monsoon of stopped up emotion crashing in from all sides. All the grief, the hate, and the loathing flooded in. The spigot tapped and gushing.

  Venturing farther into the renovated oasis, I located the spot forever stained by my stolen essence. Red-tinged tears blurred my vision, my voice choked from my anguish-constricted throat. “This is where the boy I thought I loved attacked me. He leaned over my crumpled body to lick my blood off another vampire’s face. I invited him into my life, and he destroyed it.” Flames of rage ignited in my core, threatening to consume me. Dropping fang, my gaze swiveled to Micah. “You want me to be your weapon? Fine. But only if I get to find and kill each and every one of the monsters responsible for killing my family.”

  Free hand closing around the grip of the tranquilizer gun, Micah brought her sliced palm to her mouth, and tore the bandage off with her teeth. “Seems to me if that’s your goal you need to eat.”

  I was on her in a blink, cracking open her wound with the tip of my fang before closing my mouth over it and drinking deep.

  That exuberance lasted a fraction of a second.

  Gagging, I pulled back. It took three hard swallows to force down the rusty taste in my mouth. “That’s …”

  How do you tell someone they taste terrible without offending them?

  “… an acquired taste. Can we try literally anything else?”

  Clicking off the safety, Micah pressed the tranquilizer gun to my temple. “Vampires drink blood, and we need you to be convincing. We will find you something more appealing when your strength is up. But for now … try again.”

  “This dynamic shifted quickly.” Lip curling in disgust, I did as directed and bowed my head.

  Chapter Seven

  Experiment Day 383: Effect

  Placebo – A substance or treatment with no active therapeutic effect.

  How exactly do we have access to a private jet?” Running my hands over the armrests of my seat, I wriggled my butt farther into the supple white leather cushion.

  “Our benefactors have deep pockets,” Micah muttered, not looking up from the tablet she was toiling over.

  “My chair is squishy. Is your chair squishy?” I asked Carter, a jolly lilt of excitement bubbling through my tone.

  Before he could answer, Micah let her tablet fall to her lap and glared up at me with a potent dose of judgmental side-eye. “Vincenza, we have a job to do. Could you try to focus please?”

  “You have a job to do,” I corrected. “I am dead. Funny how that shifted my priorities. Did you know I was valedictorian? Was on the dean’s list all four semesters of college I survived. I was driven. Really going places. Now? Now, I’m doing this.” Pushing off the wall, I spun my chair in a circle. “Wheeeeeee!”

  Snorting with laughter, Carter hid his smirk behind his hand. Micah’s scowl snapped his way. “Don’t encourage her.”

  “I’m pretty sure she needs no encouragement,” he chuckled.

  I tossed him a wink, then treated myself to a second twirl.

  Unbuckling her seatbelt, Micah closed the distance between us and caught my chair before I could go for the triple-rotation. “We are about to step into a den of vipers. Can you at least pretend to take this seriously?”

  Dropping fang, I tipped my chin to snarl up at her from under my brow. “The captain hasn’t turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. You should take your seat.”

  We held each other’s stare for a beat, waiting for the other to break.

  Micah was the first to crack, a smile curling up the corners of her mouth.

  “You’re an asshole.” Laughing, she patted my cheek and returned to her chair. “But, God help me, I love ya.”

  “We’re headed to vamp territory.” I gazed out the window, watching the Washington DC skyline swell beneath us. “I believe prayers like that should be offered up to Vlad.”

  “Very true.” Planting his heels in the lush eggshell carpet, Carter leaned over me to marvel at the landscape ... and, most likely, try to sneak a peek down my blouse. “The second the wheels of this plane hit the ground, we need to be all Team Vamp all the time. Their mission is our mission.”

  My shoulders sagged, and I slapped him with an exasperated glance. “Three hundred and eighty-three days, that’s how long I’ve had every detail of the vampire agenda drilled into my head. If I don’t have it by now, I’m not going to get it.”

  Filling her lungs to capacity, Micah exhaled through flared nostrils. “There had to be a more uplifting way to word that.”

  “Breathe, Mics,” I lobbed back with a carefree shrug. “We got this.”

  Oh, how wrong I was …

  Lips curling from my teeth, I let myself be jostled through the stifling crowd. Shoulder to shoulder, smelling the farts and funk of strangers, I moved with the masses toward the raised platform which marked the first official stop of the rally.

  Holding on to my elbow so she didn’t lose me in the crowd, Micah yelled to be heard over the buzz of the excited horde, “The event kicks off with a speech by Rau Mihnea. Then, we start the march up Constitution Avenue to the Supreme Court and Capitol Building. Along the way there will be historic exhibits and speakers.”

  Face white-washed of emotion, I blinked in her direction. “But is there cotton candy? Because that’s really the only reason I’m here.”

  “Did someone mention cotton candy?” Carter asked, randomly clapping at whatever the announcer leaving the platform had said. “I could totally go for some spun sugary goodness right now.”

  Eyebrows raising to my hairline, I stared Micah’s way, waiting for her to validate our unified craving. Instead, she groaned and rolled her eyes skyward. “I shouldn’t have to say this to two grown-ass people, but … if you’re good, and we see a vendor, I will get you some.”

  “Score!” I crowed. Following suit with the crowd, I applauded a smoldering silver-fox that took the stage. He wore blue jeans, but in an ironic way that made me think the fabric had never touched his skin before. The top two buttons of his shirt hung open, a thin smattering of black and silver chest hair visible beneath. The look was topped off by a navy-blue blazer with the collar popped. Combine that with his come and get me smirk, and it didn’t matter what age you were—if you enjoyed the male form, you were digging his vibe.

  “Look at all of these beautiful faces,” the speaker drawled into his microphone; the hint of an accent I couldn’t place added a bit of flavor to his timbre. “So many of you pouring out to support our cause. And it is ours, isn’t it? All vampires can trace our lineage back to Vlad Draculesti, of House Dracule, can’t we? We pay reverence to him as the first of our kind.” Pacing the stage with casual ease, he made eye contact with as many of his listeners as he could. “I am the sole being to wander this planet that would ever know him as Papa.”

  A shocked gasp rippled through the crowd as it registered who the man speaking truly was.

  “Vlad had only one child. Mihnea cel Rau …” The speaker dragged his hand over his chin, offering us a beguiling grin. “Flipping my first and last name was a convenience to all those who were brutalized attempting that pronunciation.”

  “That’s Rau Mihnea?” I asked, leaning in to Micah as the crowd tittered with polite laughter.

 
“Sure is.” Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Micah scanned the twenty-something age girls beside us as they fanned themselves and practically swooned. “I don’t know how politically charged they are, but he’s got a large portion of this crowd itching to be liberated from their drawers.”

  Nodding his appreciation to the audience, Rau continued. “My father was a good man, no matter what others may claim. He sacrificed everything to keep his family and his kingdom safe. What he became because of it …” swallowing hard, he wet his lips, “he loathed to the depths of his soul. I loved and admired my father, and longed to stay by his side for the rest of eternity. Even so, Papa wouldn’t hear of turning me. That is how deeply he despised the monster within him. He sent me away to a monastery run by Father Van Helsing, that I may be raised far from his curse.”

  If I had to guess, there had to be close to a million bodies crammed into the Capitol. All fell silent while Rau unburdened his soul.

  “It was the finest sliver of a margin of vampires that were willing to go against the whims of Vlad, I can tell you that.” Looping one thumb in the front pocket of his jeans, Rau sauntered from one corner of the platform to the other. “I searched far and wide for most of my human life, getting rejected time and time again. My luck changed when I found one of father’s cast-offs in an alley, practically starving. Her conscience weighed so heavy on her that she couldn’t bring herself to feed. Unfortunately, it had been so long since she’d eaten she appeared more monster than eternal beauty that comes to mind when we think of the Nosferatu. I have no doubt that others viewed her as a beast. To me, she was an angel of mercy who bestowed me with the gift my tortured soul yearned for. The night I awoke, my transformation complete, I rushed to Papa’s side to regale him with the news.” Lifting his chin to the crowd, blood-tinged tears filled the vampire lord’s eyes. “My father … wept. So broken was he that his only son had become the same type of immortal anomaly as he, that Vlad stopped eating. Since that day, he has slept in stone back home in Romania, watched and protected by his Magi. He is my inspiration for the Nosferatu Presumption of Innocence Bill. For him, I want to remove the stigma accompanying the vampire title. I want to create a new reality, one in which we can prosper and be proud of what we are. Then, I will wake my father and welcome him to the new world we have created for him.”

  Thunderous applause and a chorus of catcalls seconded that proclamation.

  “That said,” Rau queried the throng, “how do we do that? Well, brothers and sisters, our demands are simple ones. Today, we march for equal rights! To be able to protect our country by our service in the military. To vote for our elected officials, or be able to hold office ourselves. To be protected from discrimination by government backed legislation. To be safe from violent oppression. And, to enjoy the same equal housing opportunities that so many citizens take for granted. Ours are not lofty demands, my friends. They are morsels of humanity that we shouldn’t be denied simply because of our cultural differences.”

  A second round of hoots and applause.

  “With each step of this march,” Rau bellowed over the smothering noise, “we must steel our spines with pride and conviction, acknowledging that we are not inflicted, but atoned from a society that chooses to paint us as frenzied monsters. For too long we have been held back by the misconceptions of the masses. Today, we scream for the world to truly see us.” Throwing his free arm out wide, Rau’s head fell back. His deep tremor boomed to the heavens, “Forget your stereotypes and constricting labels! This is me! Take me as I am, for I will accept you just the same.” His hands fell to his sides with a slap, and he slowly raised the mic to his lips, giving the audience a chance to simmer in the potency of his message. “My brothers and sisters, we march today for a better tomorrow. Now, without further ado, I invite you all to take a walk with me that will resonate through history.”

  Wrapping her scarf in a second loop around her neck, Micah crossed her arms over her chest and ran her hands up and down the arms of her wool coat to fight off the evening chill. “The orchestration of this entire endeavor is really quite impressive. Even down to planning this during the Winter Solstice—the shortest day of the year. The sun setting at five pm allows the vamps to be out at a prime marching time to effect the flow of end-of-the-day traffic. Brilliant strategizing, really.”

  “Shut the hell up!” Carter yelped, clapping a hand over his mouth.

  Pursing her lips, Micah gave him a fraction of a second to take that back before she checked him.

  “Not you,” Carter clarified. “Rau! He’s coming over here. He sees us, and he is definitely walking in this direction. Oh … my … God. I may vomit.” Raising both hands in front of him, he turned them over as if hoping an answer was written somewhere on his skin. “What do I normally do with my hands? Do they just hang at my sides? That doesn’t seem right. I can’t remember proper hand protocol. There’s a chance I’m freaking out.”

  “A chance?” Micah countered with a snort.

  “I had no idea he was a Rau groupie. Did you?” I asked, bumping Micah’s elbow with mine.

  “Not a clue.” Mics shook her head, braids swaying beneath her knit cap. “Had I, I wouldn’t have done anything different. This may be one of my favorite things ever.”

  Rau woven through the crowd, shaking hands and greeting attendees until he landed directly in front of me with his hand extended in welcome. “Miss Larow. I am so happy you made it. Your debate last week was truly inspired.”

  He was flanked by a trio of bodies that stood shoulder to shoulder in an impenetrable wall behind him. Their gazes remained on a constant swivel for any and all potential threats.

  “The pleasure’s all mine!” I said, a few decibels louder than necessary. Taking his hand, I tugged him in close to whisper, “I don’t mean to alarm you, but you’re being followed. Blink twice if you need me to create a diversion so you can escape.”

  Rau’s head fell back in a chuckle. Clapping his other hand over the back of mine, he gave a gentle squeeze of appreciation. “You are a delight, Vincenza. May I call you by your given name?” At my nod, he pressed on. “These are the triplets, my ever-attentive security detail.”

  “How do you tell them apart?” Carter deadpanned, lips pinched tight in eager anticipation of the laugh he was certain his comment would earn.

  Clearing his throat, Rau blinked Carter’s way while wearing a mask of stoicism. “It’s quite simple really. One is a muscular Caucasian male, one a mountainous black man, and the other an Asian woman that I believe to have once been a trained assassin. But, if I forget that, I put a different color dot on each of their foreheads so I don’t mix them up.”

  The most painfully awkward silence ever followed.

  Breaking the hush with a heart-felt boom of laughter, Rau chucked Carter’s shoulder with the side of his fist. “Having a bit of fun with you, of course. This Asian beauty is Elodie, the pale fellow is Thomas, and my enormous friend here is Duncan. And, you would be Carter Westerly. It is good to see you up and around. I heard about the struggles you endured. There is no stronger man than he who prevails over adversity.”

  Adversity? Your kind locked him up and tried to sell him to the highest bidder, I thought, keeping my jaw locked tight before the accusation tumbled from my lips unchecked. Save the considerate act for someone that doesn’t know you’re a parasite.

  Glancing to Carter, I expected his outrage over that comment to trump my own. To my surprise and confusion, something closely resembling guilt flashed across his face.

  “I’m doing much better. Thank you,” he mumbled, a hot blush spreading from his neck up to his earlobes.

  Throwing his arms out wide, Rau turned on Micah as if she were the prodigal child returning.

  “And Micah Walker.” Stepping forward, he cradled her face between his palms. Eyes bulging, Mics froze. In my mind, I watched the interaction play out like an uneasy antelope bein
g licked by a lion.

  “I see you, Micah,” Rau rambled in a hushed whisper. “And I am honored to have you here after the hell you endured. The fact that you would even consider coming out in support of the NPI Bill is a true testimony to your character. You give me hope, of the kind of open-minded acceptance that mankind is capable of. Know that.”

  “Thanks.” Micah’s lips were puckered into fish lips by the heels of Rau’s hands.

  “Uh, Lord Mihnea?” Duncan injected, his hands clasped behind his billboard-sized back. “She was brutalized by ten vampires. Squeezing her face might be off-putting to the girl.”

  “Oh, of course! My apologies.” Rau released Micah as if worried his touch had scorched her. “The security detail is just a rouse. The real job of my triplets is to keep me from committing this kind of social faux pas.”

  Polite chuckles fizzled through our little huddle while the crowd around us swelled and churned with the flow of their political current.

  “Before I get the opportunity to embarrass myself further, I should join the march.” Rau turned on the ball of his foot, his inviting smile oozing charisma. “It would be my privilege to have the three of you at my side.”

  I would have filled my lungs with a calming breath, if those sluggish lumps of tissue rattling around my ribcage were capable of such an act. As it was, I took my cue from Micah, who stepped forward with her head held high. “Lord Mihnea, shadowing you is exactly why we’re here.”

  “Our fangs are not a movie prop! Exploiting vamps needs to stop!”

  “Our fangs are not a movie prop! Exploiting vamps needs to stop!”

  Over and over the crowd chanted, waving their signs that screamed Freedom for Fangs, Undead Lives Matter, Back the Vamp, and any other cute catch phrase they could think up.

  Ever the belle of the ball, Rau marched down the center of Constitution Avenue, smiling and waving to the reporters and spectators watching along the route. The first tent our horde passed was one with treasured historical artifacts encased in glass. The crowning jewel of the display was the chest plate of Vlad Draculesti, engraved with a dragon, its thick neck arced to strike. Microphone in hand, a human Barbie doll acted as tour guide for the historical sampling.