In the Dark

by PG Forte

  Definitely there’d been vampires here, at some point. But who or when—that was still a mystery. His senses were too salt-strained and overwhelmed to make sense of any of it.

  “I don’t like this,” Julie whimpered. “I really, really don’t.”

  “No more talking,” Damian warned. “Stay close.”

  For what felt like several minutes the cavern continued, solid rock on either side, nothing but an inky stench ahead. A sudden gust of somewhat fresher air wafting across their faces was the first sign they were getting close to something. Then the rock wall on their right opened suddenly to reveal a shallow chamber lit by the dim, green, fluorescent glow. Marc’s nostrils flared. The rank smell of burned and rotting flesh was stronger here. A low growling caught at his ears. He turned toward the sound.

  Near the center of the room, a lone figure crouched, huddled over something lying crumpled on the ground. As he stood, rising cautiously into a defensive stance, Marc recognized the once-handsome young vampire from Elise’s painting. “Vincent.”

  “How do you know me?” Vincent snarled. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “Th-that’s him,” Julie said, pointing a shaky finger. “That’s the guy who grabbed me.”

  At the sound of her voice, Vincent swung around to face her, focusing with his one good eye. “You again,” he growled, ignoring the others now to stare at her, his face twisted in hatred. “Why aren’t you dead? You’re supposed to be dead. He said so.” For an instant longer he glared at her, then he charged.

  “Watch out!” Marc reached for Julie’s hand, intending to pull her behind him, to drag her out of the way. But he moved too slow and missed. Julie fell back a step, her eyes widening with fear, her fangs descending, but not quickly enough, coming abruptly to a halt as the weathered rock wall at her back put an end to her flight.

  Vincent leaped toward Julie and Marc lunged to intercept him; again he missed as his feet lost their purchase on the rocky ground. Vincent slithered across, his jaws wide, his fangs aimed at Julie’s neck. For a split second too long, Marc hesitated, frozen in place by panic and dread. He roared with fury, but before he could stir, Damian flashed past him. With a move too quick for Marc to see, he pulled Vincent away from Julie and snapped his neck.

  Just like that, it was over. The vampire fell to the floor in a heap.

  “Wh-why did you do that?” Julie gasped, her expression one of horrified dismay. “Damian—no. No, are you crazy?”

  “Are you crazy?” Marc turned on his sister, furious with her on Damian’s behalf, even more furious with himself for freezing, for not being quicker, for the confusion of feelings that was slowing down his every thought, his every reflex. “Jules, he just saved your freakin’ life. What the hell are you complaining for?”

  Julie waved an impatient hand at Vincent’s still form. “Look at him, Marc. How’s he ever gonna lead us to Conrad now? Wasn’t that the point of coming here?”

  She’s right. Marc’s mouth went dry. “Damian?”

  “Let me think for a minute,” Damian muttered, looking flustered. Frowning, he pushed back his hair with a somewhat shaky hand. He looked like a man trying to piece together a dream after being too suddenly awakened.

  “Think?” Julie glared at him. “What is there to think about? You guys and your macho crap, we didn’t come here to kill Vincent, we came to find Conrad. Remember? Now, we’re right back where we were three days ago. We’re nowhere.”

  Marc shook his head. “No, it’s worse than that. We’re here.” Here, in this godforsaken place where their senses were useless and rational thought was rapidly becoming impossible. Instinct…can be a pretty terrible thing, Elise had told him. He was beginning to understand what she meant. Maybe this was a trap, after all. “Damian, what do we do now?”

  “Quiet.” Damian commanded sharply, his face still tense, his eyes glowing in the green fluorescence. “I said, let me think.”

  They all fell still. In the sudden silence a low moan could be heard. “Who is it? Who’s there?”

  The hair rose on Marc’s neck. His fangs were, all at once, dripping with venom and it was all he could do to keep from snarling in response. “Conrad,” he rasped in a voice that would not keep steady. “That’s Conrad.”

  “Quickly,” Damian said as he pushed past them, heading deeper into the caverns, the twins still trailing behind. “This way.”

  They found him in the very next chamber, bathed in the flood of moonbeams that poured in through a hole in the rock ceiling directly over his head. He’d been locked behind iron bars and suspended from chains. His exposed skin was blistered and burned, his eyes were fogged, likely the result of several weeks’ exposure to sunlight, Marc thought, his gut churning at the sight. Conrad. Something raw and unreasoning struggled to break free inside Marc’s mind—as though his entire consciousness was in danger of flying apart. There was something he wanted, something he wanted badly. What it was, he didn’t know. But it’s here. Whatever it is, I know it’s here. It’s right here. It’s so close. It was so close he could almost taste it.

  Beside him, Julie mewled softly, “No.”

  “Marc, Julie, I want you both to go back out to the car now and get the supplies from the trunk.” Damian’s voice sounded eerily quiet, horrifyingly controlled. His gaze—dark, intent, unblinking—seemed locked on Conrad. “You can leave the blankets in the car, we won’t be needing them yet. Or the chains.”

  “Damian?” Marc shook his head, hoping to clear it. His mind was almost too primitive to make sense of the words he was hearing. As for what he was thinking—no, he didn’t even want to try and make sense of that. He stared at Damian, appalled, terrified, conflicted—this is wrong, it’s all wrong—but, all he could think about was the horror of the past five minutes, the way Vincent had slipped past him on his way to kill Julie. She’d be dead by now, if it weren’t for Damian. I owe him. We both do. But, Conrad…

  “Go to the car?” Julie’s confusion was evident as well. It was on her face. It was in her voice. “What are you talking about? We don’t have time to go to the car. We need to get Conrad out of that cage. Now!”

  Damian shook his head. “Listen to me, chica. You need to do as I say. You worry about the supplies. I’ll take care of things here. Just get out of the cave. Get back to the car and everything will be okay. Off with you, now—go!”

  With an effort, Marc forced himself to take control. There was nothing more he could do here. He was useless in this place. He shot one last anguished glance at Conrad then he grabbed Julie’s arm and dragged her back toward the tunnel. “C’mon,” he growled, his jaw so tightly clenched he could barely get the words out. “You heard him. Let’s move it.”

  As Marc hustled Julie out of the chamber, Damian closed his eyes and sighed in relief. It had been touch and go for a moment there. He was grateful the twins hadn’t decided to stay and argue, that they hadn’t made things any more difficult for him.

  A shudder ran through him as he contemplated the task still before him. The next few minutes were likely to be difficult enough as it was Already, his mouth was filled with the bitter taste of dread, repugnance, regret.

  “Damian?” Conrad’s voice reached his ears. Faint. Too faint. “Is that you?”

  “Patience, mi querido,” Damian soothed. “I’m here now. This will all be over soon.”

  Returning to the previous chamber, Damian grabbed Vincent by the front of his shirt and hauled him up. Holding him one-handed, he searched through his pockets until he found the keys. “You’re lucky I’m in a hurry, you disgusting piece of shit,” he snarled as he dumped him back on the floor. “If there had been time…I would have enjoyed watching you bleed.”

  “Don’t come any closer,” Conrad rasped, as Damian fitted a key to the lock in the iron door. “Do you hear me? Stay away from me, Damian. That’s an order.”

  Damian nodded. “Si, mi amor, I hear you. But I have no choice.” The door swung open. Damian pocketed the keys.<
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  Conrad’s jaws worked as he twisted in his chains, fangs gleaming in the pale moonlight, venom dripping off their points. “Leave. Now.”

  “I can’t,” Damian answered calmly, wincing a little at the hollow whistling that came from Conrad’s lungs as his strength gave out and his struggles ceased, leaving him to hang limply. “You should know I can’t do that, even if I wanted to.”

  Taking his scarf from his pocket as he slowly crossed the cell, Damian pulled his hair together and secured it at the back of his neck, still speaking as quietly and soothingly as he could. “We both know what would happen if I left you here now, don’t we? All the fighting that would ensue, the upheaval, the months of uncertainty. It would likely tear the nest apart. Neither of us wants that. Trust me, it’s better this way.”

  “No.” Conrad’s eyes, still clouded, seemed to fill with dread and anguish as they tried to focus on Damian’s face. He shook his head. “Not you, Damian, please. I couldn’t bear it.”

  “Why not me?” Damian gazed back at him, smiling sadly. “Who better to do this?”

  “Stop it!” Conrad’s teeth spasmed as he tried to force his slavering jaws together, but the effort failed. He ran his tongue ran feverishly over his lips. “You don’t know what you’re doing, damn it. You can’t!”

  “Ah, but I can.” Pulling aside his shirt, until his scars were visible, Damian grimaced. “I assure you, I know very well what it is I’m doing and, considering everything we’ve been through over the years, I think you owe it to me to allow this.”

  But it was as though the sight of the gnarled flesh sent Conrad crazy. He snarled again, venom glistening, exhausting himself in the struggle. “No! Get out of here. I won’t let you do it. I won’t.”

  “You will,” Damian snapped, losing his patience as Conrad’s efforts once again ended in collapse. “Stop fighting me, damn it. You know you won’t win. You’re too weak.”

  “Weak?” A harsh laugh broke from Conrad’s mouth, his lips lifted in another snarl. “Is that what you think? Is that what you’re hoping for? You’re a fool!”

  “Very likely,” Damian sighed. “All the same, I’m sure things will go much easier for both of us if you’d just give in to me.”

  “No,” Conrad protested again, still struggling. His eyes snapped and seethed with fury and with something that looked very much like hatred. “Never.”

  Damian clenched his teeth. Closing his eyes he remembered other times, other places—like the night Conrad turned him. The two of them had lain together in his quarters within the royal palace, their limbs entwined, while the light cast by the fireplace threw flickering shadows on the walls and the scent of lemon blossoms, wafting in from the gardens, perfumed the air. Every detail of that night stood out clearly in his mind, as though it were yesterday rather than five hundred long years ago. He could still recall exactly how he’d felt back then—so young, so eager to please, so hopelessly in love. He was older now, to be sure, but other than that, how much else had really changed?

  “Be reasonable about this, querido,” he begged. “Please don’t make it any harder than it has to be. It’s for the best. You know it’s for the best.”

  “No,” Conrad repeated, his voice even more ragged than before, his jaws working noisily. “I’ll kill you.”

  So be it. Damian opened his eyes and glared at him. “The hard way it is then.” Snarling, he shot out a hand and grabbed hold of the hair at the back of Conrad’s head. Conrad’s eyes went gold as he struggled to free himself but, tonight, Damian was the stronger. With Conrad’s head held firmly in his grasp, Damian angled his own chin to the side as he slowly forced the other man’s head forward. Until Conrad’s face was exactly where he wanted it: pressed to his throat. “Now, drink, damn you,” he ordered, biting back a scream as Conrad’s will broke and poison-tipped fangs sliced open his vein. The pain, this time, was even worse than Damian had recalled—like red-hot pokers being driven into his flesh.

  Oh, you bastard. Damian gasped for breath as Conrad bit down again, releasing yet another flood of burning venom. You murderous son of a bitch. Why, damn you? Why could you not have listened to me? It didn’t have to be this way. It didn’t, it didn’t…

  But, maybe it did. Maybe Conrad was right and he had been too far gone, too close to death, too crazed from starvation, for this to be anything less than sheer agony.

  The nausea made Damian’s head spin. His knees were so weak he had to cling to Conrad to keep from collapsing and it was all he could do to stay conscious. The pain of the repeated bites was excruciating. The steady, increasingly forceful pull of Conrad’s lips against his throat was even worse. Damian felt like the life was being sucked right out of him, which, upon reflection, he supposed it was.

  He just hoped he could retain enough of a grasp on his reason to sense when he’d reached his limit. If he was strong enough to pull away, once Conrad had taken what he needed from him, maybe he wouldn’t die after all. Maybe they could both survive this night, assuming he’d even want to go on living, by that point.

  In the end, however, it was Conrad who brought things to a halt. “No more,” he gasped, his voice savage as he tore his head from Damian’s grasp. “¡Ya basta! Enough.”

  Bleary-eyed, Damian looked at him hopefully. Was it? Already Conrad’s skin was markedly improved, his eyes less clouded than before. His body had begun to regenerate. That was good. But was it really enough?

  Damian scented the air, desperately seeking proof that it was indeed the case. Instead, what he found there dashed his hopes and sent him into a tailspin of despair. “No. It isn’t. It’s not enough.” Conrad’s weakness was still all too evident. His broken-down body, clearly unable to defend itself, was practically an invitation to attack. Almost any of them could take him down now, even Marc. And, if it comes to a battle, I’m now too weak to be of any real use, he acknowledged bitterly. I could still lose him.

  Shuddering in anticipation of the torment yet to come, Damian lifted his chin. “Again,” he ordered. “Quickly.”

  “No.” Conrad’s voice was adamant.

  Damian glared at him. “Damn you, Conrad, do as I say. You’re still too weak. You need more blood.”

  “Not yours.”

  “What would you have me do? You know what will happen if I try to take you home like this. Would you waste both of our lives? I am warning you, Conrad, I will not let you put me through this much pain and have it be for nothing.”

  Conrad’s eyes flashed. “If you’re in pain, it’s your own fault. I warned you to stay away. Does it never occur to you to listen to me? You’re lucky to even be alive! Now, enough of this foolishness, I’ve taken all I’m going to from you tonight. There’s nothing you can say to induce me to touch you again. Get me out of these damn chains and take me home. Whatever I have to deal with when I get there, I’ll worry about it then. But, I will not have you sacrificing yourself for my sake.”

  Stung, Damian demanded, “Who would you prefer me to sacrifice, if not myself?” What was left of his blood ran cold at the thought of the twins, who would surely be back any minute. No. He could not permit them to suffer like this, not even for Conrad’s sake. There had to be another way. His mind worked feverishly for a moment as he tried to work out a plan. If only they weren’t so isolated, here on the coast. If only…yes. Relief washed through him as he remembered what had brought them here tonight in the first place. That would work, would it not? “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  “No.” Conrad rattled his chains and growled in frustration as Damian pushed away from him, breathing hard. “Damian! Come back here. Get me out of these chains!” But Damian paid him no mind. He relocked the cage and pocketed the keys once again. All things considered, it was a lot safer leaving Conrad where he was for the time being.

  Damian stumbled back into the other room, grateful, after all, that he’d been in too much of a hurry to spill Vincent’s blood. At least this way it would be put to good use. To weak to lift him
now, he dragged the other vampire back with him into Conrad’s cell. “Well?” he inquired angrily as he deposited Vincent’s body on the floor at Conrad’s feet. He was feeling entirely too much like a whipped dog who’d just fetched his master a bone. “Will that do for you?”

  Conrad glanced down and nodded. “Very nicely.” His eyebrows rose a little, however, as he studied Vincent with cold disinterest. “Your handiwork, I presume, my dear? He seems remarkably undamaged. How unexpectedly…restrained of you.”

  Damian shrugged. “I was in somewhat of a hurry,” he said, as he unlocked the cuffs on Conrad’s wrists, catching him when he would have fallen and easing him to the ground.

  As Conrad began to feed, Damian sagged against the wall, exhausted. He untied his hair and used the scarf to mop the blood on his neck, wincing a little as the cloth came in contact with his newly burned flesh. Another scar, he thought, almost too weary to care. Fabulous. How very déclassé I’m becoming.

  The sound of footsteps approaching brought him back to his feet in a hurry, muscles tensing as Julie and Marc appeared in the chamber’s doorway. Two sets of eyes searched out his face immediately. Marc’s were bleak, frightened but without the savage gleam they’d held earlier. Julie’s showed only concern as her gaze focused on his neck. “You’re bleeding? Damian, what happened?”

  Damian shook his head. “It’s nothing, chica. Just a scratch.”

  At the sound of Julie’s voice, Conrad glanced up. His face darkened instantly. “What are you two doing here?” he demanded in a reasonable facsimile of his usual dictatorial tone. Damian smirked—amusement warring with exasperation—as Conrad rose to his feet and took one shaky step in his direction. “Damian? You did this? You brought them here?”

  “Oh, good,” Damian drawled. “You’re feeling more like yourself.”