Chaos and Moonlight (Order of the Nines Book 1)

by Marrow, A. D.

  “Holy Mother!” It came out of her mouth before she knew it. She hoped it had stayed in the internal monologue box, but judging by the look on his face, it had jumped out of her cerebral cortex and ran out of her mouth. Instinctively, she leaned over to him and grabbed his arm by the wrist, jerking it toward her.

  “What happened to you?” Her voice was a whisper as she ran her index finger over every raised, white rope.

  Taris looked at Kalin, who was staring absently around the room, then back at Sarah, who was still studying the raised horizontal lines that ran the length of his forearm.

  “This is why we need you to help us.”

  She lifted her head. “But I can’t help you with this. You need a plastic surgeon to fix these, and even then it mi—”

  “No,” he jerked his arm away and stood up. “Not my arm. I could give a shit about the scars. I want them there. I put them there.” Sarah cocked her head. “I meant, shit, how can I tell you this? You’ll think it’s a joke or a game.”

  “Taris.” Kalin walked over to the side of the bed and sat on the spot he had previously occupied. “Maybe it’s best to show her. Maybe then she will understand.”

  “What am I supposed to understand?”

  The sudden outburst caused both Taris and Kalin to whip their heads around to face Sarah, who was now raised up on her knees on the bed, arms firmly planted on her hips. Her chest was heaving, and her lips were drawn into tight lines.

  “Sarah, sit down for a minute. I will expla—”

  “No offense, Kalin, you’ve been really nice to me, but fuck you on this one. I want him,” she jutted a finger toward Taris, “to tell me what is going on. It’s only fair since he did drag me out of bed.” She made her way off the bed and stood beside it, resuming her hands-on-the-hips stance. “Well, Taris, fess up, or I won’t help.”

  “If you don’t help, we’ll die.” His voice was a bare whisper.

  “I could give a rat’s ass right now. Just tell me!”

  He sucked in a breath that seemed to take all of the air out of the room. His back was to her, and she saw another tattoo, this one a maroon-colored point outlined in black peeking out from underneath the top of his muscle shirt. Slowly, he turned around to face her, and when he did, there was something different in his eyes, something that made her catch her breath. It was primal, instinctive. Something deep within him was coming to the surface, and whatever that was, it scared the hell out of her.

  “I told you on the way here. You just didn’t want to listen. But then again, why would you? My people are imaginary, folktales. We’re a novelty Halloween costume that comes with a cape and a bad accent.”

  Kalin started to speak, but Taris raised his hand, and she instantly clammed up again.

  “You’re a smart woman, a logical woman, and one who explores the unknown to solve mysteries for which there is no answer, so surely you will appreciate the gravity of our situation. We are dying out, and we need you to help us stop it. We need you to use that miracle cure you have invented to keep our race of people from blinking off the face of the earth. We deserve to live, just like you do.”

  Sarah fought against the knot in her throat. Her hands fell down by her side. All she could do was stare at him. Remembering the brief moment of conversation between them the night before, she shivered. Vampires. He said that he was a vampire. Maybe she heard him wrong, maybe he was delusional. It couldn’t be happening. Everything she had ever learned about physics and genetics and the evolutionary process gave the concept a swift kick in the trash bin. But the look in his eyes, the painful grimace of his face, made her wonder.

  “And,” she struggled to make her tongue work, “what exactly…what are you?”

  “You know what we are. What I am and what she is,” he nodded toward Kalin. “I told you.”

  “Vampires,” she whispered.

  “Vampires,” Taris repeated. “But this is no Bela Lugosi, Bram Stoker shit. This,” he motioned around the room, “and us… We are real, and we are coming to you for help.”

  Sarah plopped down onto the bed, her heart racing a million miles a minute. Vampires. Lord help her. These people thought they were vampires. That explained the teeth, sure, but now she was panicked. If both of them believed they were vampires, then she was in more trouble than she thought. There was no way she was getting out of this situation unscathed. Best to handle it with kid gloves and roll with it.

  “Okay,” she said. “I will help you.”

  She got two different reactions. Kalin smiled and squeezed her hand. Taris snorted.

  “You don’t believe.”

  “What?” Both she and Kalin jerked their heads to look at him. Now he was the one with his hands on his hips.

  “I said, you don’t believe us. You think we’re just some wacked nutcases who have caps and a blood fetish, don’t you?”

  “I never said that,” Sarah shook her head.

  “You didn’t have to. I can see it written clearly across your face.” He began to pace the room, his face toward the ceiling. “This is not a joke, Dr. Bridgeman.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  “Like I said, didn’t have to.” He lowered his head and walked to the vanity across the room. Slowly, he picked up a stray fingernail file. “You ever heard the saying ‘seeing is believing’?”

  “Taris, what are you doing?” Kalin muttered.

  He completely ignored her question as he walked back toward the bed. He was twisting the metal nail file into his palm. “I have always found that saying to be very strange. I mean, millions of people believe in God but have never opened their eyes enough to see Him. Doesn’t really make much sense, does it?”

  Without knowing it, Sarah squeezed Kalin’s hand as he drew closer and closer, until he was standing directly in front of them.

  “Are you one of those people, Doctor? Are you one of the millions who believe without seeing, or do you require proof?”

  Before she could answer, Taris thrust the nail file through his right hand, burying it up to the pink plastic hilt. Simultaneous screams rang out of both Kalin and Sarah. Taris let the metal sit in his hand for a few minutes before he pulled it out. He held his hand up to Sarah’s face. The blood that flowed from him was burgundy, and he held his other hand underneath it to keep the drops from hitting the floor.

  “Watch me,” he said. Sarah turned her head away, trying not to look at the open wound on his hand.

  “I said watch me!”

  She had no choice. Her head whipped around and met his deep amber gaze. She watched with blurry vision as he brought his hand to his mouth. His lips parted and peeled back from his teeth, revealing two pointed canines. They caught the light in the room and seemed to glow as his pink tongue jutted out from behind them and made a long, slow lap at the top of his hand, then once again in the palm. He held it out to her to examine.

  “Seeing is believing, Doctor.”

  She looked down at his hand where he had impaled it with the nail file. There was nothing there. No mark, no scar, no blood. All of it was gone, as if it had never happened. Her heart slammed against her chest once again. She panicked and let go of the death grip she had on Kalin’s hand. She scrambled across the bed to the other side.

  “You’re crazy. Both of you! I don’t know what the hell you did or how you did it, but I want out of here—now! I swear I won’t tell anyone, and I will find someone else to help you, but you have to let me out of here. You aren’t vampires, you’re just crazy. That wasn’t proof. That was a mental disorder coming out to play!”

  Taris’ chest heaved, his breath raging from him like a bull’s. Kalin raised a hand to his arm, taking the nail file from him.

  “You have to believe, Sarah,” Kalin whispered. “Please, search your reason. You have to believe.”

  “I don’t have to believe shit! This is just nuts, plain and simple. There is no such thing as vampires.”

  “I wouldn’t say that shit if I were you,” Taris hiss
ed from behind his teeth. He was throwing off heat and anger in waves that were smacking her square in the face. It didn’t matter. She had crossed the line with these people, and she knew it. She accepted it. The fact that they were trying to pull one over on her spun her into a dimension of pissed that had rarely been visited. With the exception of the events that had gotten her suspended from work, it had been years since she had lost her temper, but this? The rage she felt during the TV showdown was a moon-cast shadow to how she felt now.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t, huh?” She sucked in a deep breath and straightened her stance. She crossed her arms, and her eyes locked with his.

  “There is no. Such. Thing. As. Vampires!”

  The moment those last word left her lips, a low growl ripped through the air, tearing the fabric of everything that was normal.

  “Taris! No!” Kalin screamed. But it was too late. Before she knew what was happening, Taris literally flew over the expanse of the bed, jerking her up off her feet and planting the two of them firmly against the wall. He gripped her entire body against his, his iron-corded arms holding her tight against him as he pushed her head aside with his own. He held her so tight that she couldn’t talk.

  She couldn’t scream. All she could do was stare at him with her wide, brown eyes. That growl, dear God, it was coming from him. He ripped the fabric away from her shoulder with his teeth, and she felt his hair brush against her skin, and then the pain tore through her.

  Those canines were digging down into her flesh. She felt his mouth close over her collarbone, felt his tongue flicking back and forth, sending searing jolts through her body. She lost all reason and sense. She shut out Kalin’s cries for him to stop, focusing solely on the hum rattling in his chest and radiating through to her back. The pain subsided, leaving only the feeling of exquisite sting. Without letting her go, he threaded his arms underneath hers, his large hand gently palming the back of her head as he lapped at her skin. The initial growl in his chest turned into a moan.

  She felt him pull away, the retreat of his teeth painfully evident. Her vision was becoming hazy, her head swimming in a cloud of impossibility. She was sleepy, but not so tired that she didn’t realize he was running his tongue over her collarbone. With a groan, he carried her over to the bed and laid her down, never breaking their tight embrace. It wasn’t until she was completely stretched out that she realized she had pulled his hair loose and buried her fingers deep into it. As he pulled away, he smoothed a curl from her face.

  “Sleep now.”

  She smiled up at him faintly before she rolled over and snuggled herself underneath the covers.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 9

  Between the thick smoke that filled the air, the loud bass lines that were traveling up the back of his leg and happily finding their home in the crotch of his pants, and the thong-clad skinny blonde who was gyrating in front of his lap at the moment, Bane would have been perfectly content to push the remainder of his race off the highest cliff and be done with them.

  He threw back a shot and set the empty glass on the edge of the ratty leather recliner that the VIP section had put in place for men in the strip bar who were more than willing to pay for the company of saline-infused, collagen-injected princesses. The blonde in front of him spun around on her thick plastic platforms and bent over.

  “You like what you see, daddy?” She peeked behind her and gave him a little smile as she wiggled her all-too-skinny ass in his face.

  “Listen, I’ll give you another hundred if you just keep shakin’ and shut the hell up,” he said as he motioned for the cocktail waitress to bring him another drink. The stripper stood upright and turned to look at him.

  “Make that two, and I’ll take you in the back and be really nice to you.” She lifted an acrylic-decorated finger to her lips and put it into her mouth to the bottom knuckle, slowly withdrawing it as she began to sway her hips again. She was so thin he could see her ribs and hipbones, but her breasts were huge, so full of salt water that they didn’t move, not even with the most violent of jerks. Her brown eyes were heavily encased with thick black liner and bloodshot around the rims. She smelled like old tobacco and cheap booze, and he was willing to hazard a guess that if he licked her skin, he would be able to taste the cocaine oozing from her pores.

  In the harsh lights that beamed out of the track on the ceiling, he could see mousy brown roots through her platinum hair. She didn’t do this job for the money. She did it for the attention and the chemical highs that came with it. Bane couldn’t help but feel a twinge of kindred spirit with this girl, who couldn’t have been over twenty-one. He knew exactly how she felt, because he did the same thing, in a manner of speaking. He killed, enjoyed every minute of it, but it wasn’t for the survival of his race, far from it. The carnage for him was like this Saline Princess’ chemical high.

  Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have carte blanche with the bloodletting. He had to answer to someone, someone who really was concerned about the vampire race’s prosperity, if only for the purpose of domination. She was expecting him to deliver the goods, and he didn’t have them. Bane wasn’t worried about telling Morrigan he didn’t have the girl. That wasn’t what kept him from going to see her. What kept his ass planted in this chair was the fact that he would have to tell her who did have her.

  He would rather drink gasoline and piss on a bonfire than tell her Taris was not only still alive, but now the one guarding the girl.

  Even worse: with Taris guarding the girl, others would be protecting her as well—others with whom he and Morrigan had history.

  Bane looked at the princess, still standing in front of him, still swaying her hips, still sucking on her finger like she was getting something out of it. The waitress brought his shot of whisky, and he grabbed it, throwing it back before standing up with a creak of leather.

  “I appreciate the offer, darling, really I do, but I’m about to be royally fucked in the ass, so I’m going to pass on that.” He shrugged his shoulders, adjusting his leather duster before making his way past the stripper.

  “I like kink. I could be nice to both of you, you and your boyfriend.”

  Bane laughed as he stood at the threshold of a ratty-looking metal door. She was still staring at him, but with that come-hither look that was supposed to rake in all the bucks, as far as these girls were concerned. If he was smart, he would just take her somewhere, bend her over a table, and make her regret the offer. If he was smart, he would leave, forget about the “cause,” forget about everything, and move somewhere to start over.

  But Bane thrived on blood. He lived for carnage, and he couldn’t exist without sex, and the only person who offered all three at the same time, in copious amounts, was Morrigan. She was his chemical high, his drug of choice.

  “It’s not my boyfriend, lamb. It’s my wife. And, trust me, you don’t want in on a three-way.”

  * * *

  The office was a piece of wax paper-covered, incense-smelling, gritty-floored shit. The lights popped every few minutes, the desk was no better than a ratty old pop-up table, the computer was overloaded with porn instead of business files, and there were empty tissue boxes everywhere. Morrigan had a good idea of where the tissues had gone and what they had been used for.

  “At least he didn’t leave them on the floor.”

  She stood in the center of the room, her trademark stiletto pumps sticking to the floor, arms crossed at her chest. How did the business get that—well, for lack of a better word—shitty? She funneled dollar after dollar into its upkeep. Something told her to buy the place when she’d seen it for sale online. She hired someone she thought would be competent enough to run the operation, but apparently she had missed the mark when she hired Leo.

  She walked over to the corner of the room, crouched down, and touched the body that was propped up against the wall.

  “How did you let this place get so trashy?” She grabbed the man’s
chin and shook his head, his wide eyes not blinking. As always, her voice was even, pleasant, almost comforting. “We are supposed to be having company, you know. How can I present myself as a successful businesswoman when you have spunk and chewing gum all over the floor?” She made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Very disappointed, Leo. Very disappointed.”

  From behind her, the door burst open, and along with a flood of light from the hallway, Bane stepped in. Morrigan instantly rose to her feet, whirling around to face him, a smile spreading across her creamy face.

  “Hello, darling.”

  Bane pointed to the body in the corner. “Leo, eh? Figured he would have been a little more professional with the place, myself. We’ve got to do something about those girls downstairs, all coke and cock.”

  “That’s what they do, my dear. That’s what brings in the money.” She walked over to him, placing her hands on his chest and sliding them up around his neck. She pulled him down closer, her lips brushing his face. As she dipped her head down again, the tip of her nose touched the crook of his neck, and she slowly inhaled.

  “Two in one night. Must have been hungry.” Her voice was a whisper against his skin. From his scent, she could tell he had fed. “A man and a woman? You kinky beast.” She flicked her tongue over the skin of his neck and let out a small groan as his arms wrapped around her. “It wasn’t the doctor, was it?”

  Beneath her arms, his body went rigid, and she instantly pulled away from him. Her cobalt blue eyes flashed to black as she stared at him.

  “The girl, Bane. Where is she?”

  “I didn’t get her.” His voice was low, soft, almost a whisper. Inside, he was steeling himself for what he would tell her next. Whatever reaction she had to his failure, it would be tenfold when he told her who had managed to get to the doctor first.

  Morrigan removed her arms from around his neck and pushed herself back to lean on the table. She crossed her legs at the ankles, her tight black jeans swishing as the fabric locked together above her feet. Her arms followed suit, crossing in front of her chest. Her breasts were pushed together and threatening to spill out of her low-cut cashmere sweater. Their imminent exposure was compounded by her deep breaths.