Chaos and Moonlight (Order of the Nines Book 1)

by Marrow, A. D.

  “Why didn’t you cut her heart out while she slept if you hate her so much?”

  Bane’s eyes glossed over, and his fingers stopped frantically grabbing at the boot that Taris had buried in his neck.

  “It wasn’t my place to do it. For all the scars she’s physically put on me, she cut you worse, brother. Go save your woman. My death is coming, and you’re not the one to deliver it.”

  A pang of momentary guilt hit Taris in the gut. The years of wishing he’d handled things better all culminated into that one moment. He literally had Banan’s life under his foot. A hope that he would eventually shake her loose and right his wrongs seemed to have finally surfaced, but he didn’t know if he could trust it.

  “Taris,” Bane gasped. “Sarah…she’s…”

  “What did you do to her?” he leveled his pistol directly between Bane’s eyes. “Where is she?”

  “You’re wasting your time with me. She’s upstairs, and if you don’t move fast, she will die. It was either me or Morrigan, and for once in my miserable shit life, I did the right thing.”

  Bane was right. The longer he sat there seething, the greater danger Sarah was in.

  Taris holstered his pistol and leaned down to offer Bane a hand but quickly pulled it back. Instead, he gave Bane a hard, thudding kick to his ribs.

  “That’s for biting my woman.”

  He grabbed his arm and helped pull him up. Once Bane was steady on his feet, he reared back and drove his fist into his gut with all his might. Bane hunched over, grunting in pain.

  “That is for the last two hundred and fifty years of being a bitch.”

  Taris lifted the ceramic blade out of the loop at his back and sliced his palm. With his free hand, he pulled Bane in close to him and wrapped his arms around him tight. He pressed the open cut on his hand to the gash on Bane’s back.

  “This is so I know how to find you.”

  It only lasted for a moment, but the embrace was like a heavy-duty power washer that stripped away years of dirt and grime and awfulness between them. Bane wrapped his thick arms around Taris, and he hugged him back.

  “Now get out of here. And I don’t ever want you coming to the house again, you got it? Leave Kalin alone.”

  Bane pulled away and nodded. Their features were so similar, yet time and life had driven them so far apart that not even the blood they shared could bridge the gap. The sound of gunfire in the club’s main room killed the moment, and without another word, Bane turned toward the exit.

  The sound of the chaos ensuing downstairs slowly faded into the distance. Every step he took toward the ratty staircase thundered in his ears. Every sense he had was on high alert, and he felt that ancient, familiar tingle that used to govern his every move, only now it was amplified to the nth degree.

  Taris kept his eyes carefully fixed on the dark corners as he took the metal steps two at a time. His pistol was aimed, fixed in front of him with steady hands. The light in the hallway swung back and forth, flickering like it was straight out of some low-budget horror flick. Dingy, peeling wallpaper lined the walls of the narrow corridor. He carefully made his way down the hallway, keeping on high alert and formulating a plan as he walked.

  He pushed the first door open with a heavy boot, scanning the inside. Save for a nearly collapsed folding table, there was nothing in the room. The second was lined with makeshift vanities and lockers. It seemed only fitting for a low-rate stripper farm. Once he was confident that the room was secure, he moved farther down the hallway.

  “I’m not playing hide-and-seek with you, bitch. You have something that belongs to me, and I want it back.”

  A light flickered on in the last room. Taris’ heart pounded. He steadied his breath. A soft humming sound came from the interior of the third room.

  “Do you remember our wedding night?”

  Morrigan’s sickeningly sultry voice came echoing out into the hallway, and he couldn’t stop the instinctive shudder that it brought forth. He stepped closer and closer until he was finally in the doorway of the room.

  Her stiletto heels were propped up on the desk. The lackadaisical lean against the leather chair made his stomach turn. His eyes darted from one side of the room to the other, but there was no sign of Sarah. The sight of the blood pool in the center of the floor made his stomach lurch again.

  “Where is she?”

  Morrigan didn’t answer. She simply smiled and examined her fingernails. Taris pulled the ceramic blade out again and flicked it toward her, burying it just centimeters from where her thigh rested against the wooden desk.

  “Give her to me now, or so help me, I will rip that Medusa head straight off your body and piss down your open throat,” he gritted through his teeth.

  “So forceful. And to think I always took you for a Nancy. If you’d have talked to me like that when we were together, I might have stayed with you,” she smiled, sitting upright. “Although, I do not think that you, of all people, should be issuing ultimatums. After all, I have what you want. Besides, are you sure she’s what you really want? She has no curves. She’s about as plain as plain can be. And she’s really not that bright. I, on the other hand,” Morrigan stood behind the desk and casually ran her hands over the swell of her hips, “have all the things I know you love.”

  Taris leveled his pistol in her face and was about to pull the trigger when he heard a thud and a flop come from the closet behind her. A sly smile spread across her lips.

  “Oops. Guess she’s not very good at playing hide-and-seek, either.”

  With a flying leap, Taris crossed over the table, pulling his blade out before making it to the closet door. With a quick flip, he slashed the blade across Morrigan’s throat and buried the ceramic knife deep in her shoulder. The gurgling scream that came from her was deafened by his own cry as he opened the door and found Sarah, lying in a thick pool of her own blood, two large puncture holes directly in the meat of her neck.

  “Oh dear God, NO!”

  Taris went into panic mode. His entire body chilled to the marrow. He hit his knees on the floor in front of her and thrust his arms through the growing blood pool beneath her body. She was freezing. Her pulse was almost nonexistent. Taris forced back a scream. In a quick jerk, he pulled her close to him, sloshing the blood that covered her back onto the walls that surrounded them. Frantically, his hands went to the open holes in her throat.

  “You’ve got to fight this,” he gritted through his teeth. He stopped one gushing wound with his thumb and covered the other with his mouth, doing his best to seal it before it did any more damage. He didn’t swallow her blood but let it run out of his mouth as he quickly tried to repair the damage that had been done. He did the same with the other wound. In quick passes, he ran his tongue over the puncture wound, watching as it closed and knit itself back together.

  “Sarah, come on, baby. Open your eyes for me.” He brushed blood-matted strands of hair away from her pale face, scanning it for any signs of life. “Open up those big brown eyes and look at me. God, please!” He couldn’t fight the sobs anymore. “Please, I’m begging you.”

  Nothing. All that remained of her life force was barely visible in the occasional thread of a pulse.

  “Damn it,” he muttered. He lifted a hand to wipe the tears from his face, but all he did was smear more blood onto himself. There was only one way she would survive. One way she would be able to make it through the blood loss she’d endured. With a deep, hard breath, Taris sank his teeth under the edge of the cuff on his forearm and ripped it clean off. It had worked on Nick. It had to work on Sarah. It simply had to.

  With his back toward the wall, he repositioned himself. He rested her head on his thigh and held her mouth open with his fingers.

  His stomach flipped as he jabbed the tip of a fang into the thick blue vein in his wrist. It sprang open, beading up a dark crimson at the juncture where his hand and his wrist met. Before he wasted too much of it, he turned it over and placed it directly over Sarah’s mouth
. He could do nothing but watch and wait.

  None of it came back out. The way he held her left her throat wide open for it to make its way straight into her gut. She would either have a belly full of blood that would drive the final nail into her coffin or she would have a belly full of blood that would spring her back in a violent fashion. He’d poured so much into her that something had to start happening. Taris pulled his arm away and sealed the wound. He couldn’t tell if the drops of blood on her face were from where he had lifted his wrist away, or if she was beginning to come back.

  The locomotive sound of blood rushing through veins rang in his ears. She was still motionless in front of him. His heart sank down into the recesses of his belly. This was his fate, to accept yet another death at his hands, all in an effort to preserve life. Only this time, it was more palpable, more wrenching. He pulled her up into his arms and cradled her listless form against his chest.

  And he sobbed. Hard.

  She was gone. The greatest thing that had ever or would ever happen to him was gone. An instantaneous fire lit within him. Morrigan. Morrigan took her from him, just like she’d always taken anything that had even a modicum of meaning from him. And that evil harpy bitch was still waiting around somewhere. He knew it. She was never one to walk away from any situation in which she could cause him pain, and the fact that the one woman he actually did love was now dead because of her would be a knife that Morrigan wouldn’t wait to twist in his heart.

  “I’ll come back for you,” he whispered and placed a loving kiss on top of Sarah’s motionless head. He started to lift her off his lap, but he could have sworn he felt a twitch. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

  There it was again. From where her hand was flopped over against his leg, he felt a finger move.

  “Oh shit. Sarah, come on. Fight.”

  As if an electric shock was coursing through her, the muscles in Sarah’s body began to jerk. One by one, they lit up, contracting and convulsing. Taris braced his legs against the doorjamb and held onto her for dear life. If her changeover was anything like Nick’s, it was about to get violent in that closet.

  Suddenly, a blood-chilling scream blasted out of her chest. Her hand shook and contracted so hard that Taris felt the alternating jabs of her nails in his back and the hard thud of her fists hitting the meat of his shoulders. Her feet shook and smacked against the floor. Taris gently tried to keep her head tilted to the side. The last thing he wanted her to do was make it through a complete internal shift in her physical makeup only to choke on her own tongue.

  As quickly as it started, the violent episode stopped. She went limp against him, but this time he could feel the new heat that radiated off her body and could see the blood racing in her veins. He held his breath, waiting for her to stir or make some motion of lucidity.

  “Sarah,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “Can you open your eyes?”

  There was a soft flutter of lashes against her skin. She seemed to give up twice before she actually managed to lift her lids enough for him to see into those deep chocolate pools.

  “Hey you,” he smiled down at her. His shaking fingers pulled the matted strands of hair away from her face. His eyes misted over, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to hide it. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes and trickled down his cheek.

  “That hurt,” she whispered before closing her eyes again.

  “It’s over now, baby.” He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her. “I thought… I was afraid I’d lost you.”

  With Sarah tucked into him as close as he could manage, Taris braced himself against the wall with one hand and lifted them together. He carefully maneuvered his way out of the tiny closet. Momentary panic hit him when he noticed that Morrigan was nowhere to be found. Her ability to breathe was something he needed to put the kibosh on, quick.

  The sound of heavy boots down the hallway made him stop in his tracks. Gripping onto Sarah with one arm, he reached down to his hip and pulled the 45-mm pistol from its holster, aiming it at the opening of the doorway.

  “Take one step closer and your midsection gets turned into a fucking canoe,” he growled.

  “Chill, T,” Achan carefully stepped into view. “It’s me. Whoa!” Achan ran into the room, looking around at the large smears and pools of blood. He glanced over at Taris and Sarah and saw that the two of them were caked and covered in the stuff as well.

  “You guys okay?” he asked.

  “We will be,” Taris spat out as he walked toward Achan. “Take care of her.” He handed her over to him, placing her gently into Achan’s open arms. “She’s one of us now.”

  “How the hell did that happen?” Achan asked, his spine stiffening.

  Taris nodded. “Compliments of that harpy.” He popped his neck and pulled the other pistol from its holster. With a quick flick of his thumb, he pulled the hammer back. “I know she’s still here. She’s too rotten to die easily. Make sure everyone gets out safely. Morrigan has run roughshod on everyone for far too fucking long, and it’s high time someone put that bitch’s head on a spike.”

  Taris bent down and kissed Sarah on the top of her head. She didn’t respond. The blood loss and the trauma of what her body had been through had knocked her out completely. It was best that she sleep anyway. He had a little more work to do before he got them all safely home, and it involved violent things he’d rather not have her see. Namely, the ritualistic decapitation of his former wife. He promised her he’d piss down her throat, and after what she’d done to Sarah, he damned well meant to keep his promise. Maybe not literally, but he aimed to make sure that after tonight, Morrigan never drew another breath.

  Chapter 33

  She wasn’t hard to track. Smears and streaks of dark red trailed down the hall and into the elevator, creating a path straight to her. Taris descended the metal stairs with more jumps than steps. Once he was past the second floor, he glanced over at the elevator. The number above the doors hovered on 2 and then began to blink, signaling the elevator’s descent to the first floor. He didn’t waste any time. With his hands on the rails, he launched himself into the air and down onto the main floor of the club.

  The mayhem that he’d left to find Sarah had died down. All but one of the poorly hired and tragically fated henchmen were dead. And Judah was only playing with the one he was letting live. The big guy who let them in was nowhere to be found. What remained of the battle was a blood-covered floor, a momentary patch with his brother, and a vampire mate.

  “You need some help?” Achan asked. Sarah was still cradled in his arms.

  Taris glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the two of them. She was beginning to open her eyes now.

  “I got this, thanks. But just so Sarah doesn’t think I’m a total monster and change her mind about me, you might want to turn around. I don’t want her to see this.”

  Achan winked at him and backed away.

  There was a lagging silence and a pounding in the air that could only be the sound of his heart. His fingers were twitchy. A metallic whir squealed out from behind the metal doors, and the excitement was almost too much for him to bear. He popped his neck and shrugged his shoulders back, ready for the evil that was about to come out from inside the compartment. Once the elevator came to a screeching stop, he drew out his pistol and leveled it toward the door.

  The doors creaked apart, snapping on their tracks every few seconds. A dingy yellow light from inside slowly began to flood the space at Taris’ feet. He was surprised to see her standing on her feet. Her stiletto pumps were thrown to the linoleum floor, and her bare toes twitched in the streams of blood that trickled down her torso.

  “Oh, did I ruin your cashmere?” Taris ran his tongue over a fang and lifted a hand, motioning for her to step forward. “I’d like my knife back, please.”

  She tried to say something, but with every breath she drew in a fresh jet of blood spurted from the wound in her neck. The black handle of the blade jiggled in her shoulde
r with every step. In her hand, she tried to grip a large pistol. She lifted it with shaky hands, trying to take aim, but every attempt she made only resulted in her dropping her arms again.

  Taris stepped back and watched as the nightmare that used to share his bed shuffled closer. Her navy blue orbs were encircled by bloodshot rings of red, and her skin was beginning to turn an ashy gray color. He almost felt bad, letting her struggle like that, but every fiber of pity he’d had for her was overshadowed by the centuries of torment and death and heartache that she’d engineered.

  A final, shuffling step brought her completely out of the elevator, and the pure evil within her gave her just enough strength for one last stand. With a burst of energy, she launched herself at Taris, gun still firmly in her hand. He reacted quickly, stepping to the side before grabbing her by the shoulder. With a twist of his torso, he lifted her over his head and slammed her to the floor. Her back met the sticky ground with a sickening smack. The gun was stuck to her hand, her finger twisted around the trigger. His heavy boot on her abdomen pinned her body to the floor. Bending down, he wrapped his hand around the handle of his blade. It made a horrid sucking sound as it came free.

  “Everything you touch withers and dies.” Taris’ voice was an angry hiss. He knelt down beside her and lifted her slightly off the ground by the collar of her cashmere sweater. “You deserve no less than the lowest rung of hell. I would be cliché about this moment and go on about the hardship and pain you’ve caused us all until the end of time, but I really don’t care to waste my breath on you anymore.” She shook beneath him, but her silent laugh was quickly cut off.

  “Killing me doesn’t help you win,” she wheezed. “I broke you. I will always be in your head. You will never be rid of me.” Morrigan used what little strength she had to twist out from under him and rise to her feet. The pistol was leveled at Taris’ head, and a sinister laugh pushed through the blood and the torn flesh at her throat. Just as Taris rose up to face off with her, her face twisted.