Alisha was exhausted and famished by the time she completed the work. The buzzing in her head had finally ceased and she set her brush down with trembling fingers. Covering her face with her hands, she rubbed her eyelids then her temples. A bit dazed, she sat on a stool and felt the power of her gift drain out of her.
“I don't want to see it,” she whispered.
Dread filled her. All her recent paintings tormented her. Usually they were oracles that confounded her, their true meaning swathed in symbolism and vagueness, but lately the imagery repeated the exact same scenario that was difficult not to interpret in just one way.
Raising her eyes at last, Alisha stared at painting, the light reflecting off the still moist paint. A large empty throne dominated the painting. Lying before it, staked through the heart, was Roman.
“Fuck me,” she groaned.
Alisha was tired of painting the death of her brother. Roman had dismissed them as a manifestation of her fears and unresolved emotions over his mortal death. Even when she tried to show him other paintings she was convinced had already come true, he had been his usual pragmatic self.
“You're reading into them. I could decipher all these paintings completely differently and make it work,” he'd said.
It drove her crazy how he regarded her abilities as figments of her imagination. Staring at her creation, she knew it was a warning that her brother was in danger.
In the last few years, many more vampires had arrived in Houston to follow Roman's Laws religiously, making Roman their leader. Her brother easily fit into that role. Even Alisha had to admit that he was charismatic and imposing. Though she knew he was not as perfect as many of his vampire followers believed, she also felt the pull of his magnetism. Roman was a king. Even with his great fall that horrible Halloween night, the vampires still followed him. They wanted to believe in him.
Maybe the painting meant he was going to be dethroned somehow, but she doubted it. The painting was too literal in her eyes.
Roman was in danger.
Alisha chewed on her thumbnail, staring at the one part of the painting that disturbed her most. It was the depiction of her younger sister cradling Roman's dead body, screaming.
“She's going to come home,” Alisha muttered, feeling it as truth.
And when Vanora returned, Roman was going to die.
Armando was furious. Pacing back and forth in Roman’s study, his curls fell into his face as he whipped about impatiently. Roman was on his cellphone, speaking in hushed tones to Carlotta.
That made Armando even unhappier. He was here to warn Roman of the impending danger that was threatening all Roman held dear, and all Roman seemed interested in doing was fawning over his temperamental lover.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Armando swore in Spanish. He had to be in Austin soon and Roman was wasting precious time.
At last, Roman set the phone down, and sighed with a slight shrug. “She’s in a mood.”
Armando cast a disparaging look in his friend's direction. “She’s usually in a mood, Roman.”
Roman just smiled ruefully. “That's true.” He was so smitten with Carlotta, he was blinded to her flaws. “So what do you need to speak to me about?”
Armando whirled about and slapped his hands down on Roman’s desk. Leaning forward, his amber eyes glowed brilliantly. “It’s over, Roman! All of this is over!”
“What are you talking about?” Roman asked, puzzled.
Armando's Spanish temper was getting the best of him, but he couldn't help himself. Roman had to understand what he was about to say and take his words seriously. “Remember when I once told you that there are old vampires? You thought I was talking about vampires like Sheila, Alexander, and Angel, but I wasn’t. For years, I’ve been keeping a truth from you.”
“I don't understand,” Roman said, lifting one eyebrow. He leaned his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands. “Maybe you should sit down, take moment to collect yourself.”
“Roman, listen to me. I'm trying to enlighten you! I deliberately kept you in the dark about the other vampires. The dangerous ones.” Armando found it difficult to form his thoughts. The magic of Aeron’s edict was robbing him of words.
“No, you didn't. I recall our conversations about the savage vampires.” Roman motioned to a chair. “Seriously, Armando, I think you should sit down and calm down.”
Throwing up his hands, Armando paced in a tight circle in front of Roman. “I can't be calm, Roman. I'm trying to save you.”
“From the other vampires?”
“Yes!”
“What changed? I knew about them before.”
“I've changed!” Armando shouted, surprising both of them. Shoving his fingers through his dark curls, Armando stood in silence for a long beat, then abruptly sat in the chair Roman had offered to him earlier. He did take a moment to collect himself and focus his thoughts. They were jumbled and he tried to sort them before speaking. In a much calmer voice, he said, “I’ve grown to respect you, Roman, and what you have tried to create for yourself and the others.”
“Thank you,” Roman said, his voice hesitant.
Armando knew that the anger in his voice was unsettling his friend, but he couldn't help himself. Time was short. So very, very short. “But you’re a damn fool, Roman,” he said with a weary sigh. “A damn fool.”
“This seems to be a common theme amongst those who mean the most to me tonight,” Roman said with amusement. “First Alisha, then Carlotta. Now you.”
“This isn't a joke, Roman. You believe in the best of everyone. I believe in the worst. I know you see your little movement as wonderful. I see it as foolish. You think that by gathering your vampires together, you've helped them. Well, you didn’t. You damned them all.”
Roman sat back in his chair, the leather and springs creaking. “How? By helping them live better lives?” A flash of temper was in his eyes and laced his voice. The Corvinus bloodline was evident in that moment. Armando could see the royal and the warrior in Roman. He also knew it was dangerous. Leaders often trusted their own instincts more than the counsel of their advisors. Aeron had the same flaw.
In an even tone, Armando said, “There are other vampires that will see you and your people as traitors to the vampire creed and will kill you all. The old ones, Roman, are unforgiving.”
“The ones who live like savages?” Roman was obviously uncertain of what Armando was saying.
Struggling to overcome Aeron's edict and free his tongue, Armando shook his head adamantly.
“There are other vampires then? These old ones?”
Armando managed to nod.
“Explain it to me.”
Aeron's edict was cold fire in Armando's veins. It slithered through him, choking his voice, muddling his thoughts, and keeping him from the words he had to say. Under no circumstances was he to speak of Aeron in any capacity to Roman and his Master's power crippled him.
“I can talk to them,” Roman decided. “Explain to them-”
“Dammit, Roman! They won’t listen!” Armando grasped for words, trying to find ones vague enough that he could speak. Then he realized he could speak of Althea's assassins. “A vampire, old and fierce, has sent people after your family!”
Roman looked shocked, confused, and a bit incredulous. “Why?”
Armando once again found himself unable to speak. He couldn't divulge the reason for Althea sending the assassins without speaking about Aeron. Cursing the dark magic of Aeron's edict, Armando fumbled about in his mind, trying to grasp onto anything he could use as an argument. The truth was stolen from him. “They don't like change, Roman.”
“I see.” Roman pondered this. “So you're talking about Roman's Law?”
Again, Armando struggled. He was skirting far too close to the truth and it was crippling him. It had been foolish to believe he could somehow circumvent the power of the edict. “Roman, they are a danger to you. You should leave immediately. Go into hiding. Take Alisha and collect Va
nora and run now before it’s too late.”
“Because these old vampires don't like the way we live, they'll kill us?”
Armando managed to nod his head once.
“Armando, you’re my dearest friend, but you have to see I have an obligation to my people. I have to stay here. I realize that you have lived much longer than me, but I really think you’re overreacting to the situation.” Roman’s stubborn nature and loyalty were combining to make it nearly impossible to sway him.
“I promise you, I'm not.”
“I assume you've spoken to these vampires?”
“I had...a warning from someone in the know.”
“So several old vampires are coming to Houston?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Armando found himself unable to answer. Aeron's edict was strangling him.
“Are they here already?”
Armando’s eyebrows drew tightly together over his intense eyes then he explosively sighed.
“Then you are assuming I’m in danger.”
“I know you’re in danger.”
Roman leaned forward, his hands clasped on his desk. “Armando, I’m not leaving. My life is here. I’m not about to leave it because a few old vampires might be coming to the city.”
“You’re being a damned fool,” Armando growled.
“Tell me how? Give me more information. Enlighten me.” Roman stared pointedly at Armando. “You can't, can you? Because you're making wild assumptions.”
Rocking in his chair, Armando silently cursed Aeron.
Roman shrugged. “Armando, maybe the old vampires are coming to join us. Maybe they'll be able to shed more light on who we are and where we came from.”
Armando shook his head despairingly. “No, they won't.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Roman asked softly.
Armando glared at Roman, frustrated with the edict and Roman's obstinacy. “I told you what I can. If you don’t run, then it’s your decision to die.”
Roman picked up his pen and tapped on the desktop, his eyes intently watching his friend. “I won’t leave, Armando, just because you’re paranoid.”
Sharply rising to his feet, Armando gave Roman a curt nod. “Then you'll die.”
“Give me more information then!” Roman came around the desk in a blur of movement. “Do you know who the vampires are? Do you know for sure they're a threat? Have you spoken to them?”
Miserable, Armando stood in silence.
Tucking his hands into his pockets, Roman finally said, “Is this about Carlotta and our decision to be together? I know you two were involved at one point.”
Armando chuckled with disbelief. He was trying to warn his friend only to be seen as a jealous ex-lover. “No, no. I have no romantic feelings for Carlotta.”
“Are you sure?” Roman asked, his brows slightly drawing together.
“Yes, I'm sure. I love someone else.” The moment the words left his lips, the tension between the two men took on much more weight and power.
“Vanora,” Roman said, his tone cold.
The topic of Roman's youngest sister was one they’d never discussed since that terrible Halloween night. Though Roman sometimes hinted around, trying to discern the truth, he had never spoken to Armando about it in a forthright manner. Armando's own admission had now opened that door.
Armando arched his eyebrows, then shrugged slightly. “What does it matter? She is no longer a part of our world.”
“Yet, you want me to retrieve her and take her with me when I hide away from this perceived threat. Let me guess. You were going to go with us?”
“This isn't about me and Vanora.”
“Really?” Roman sounded doubtful.
“No, I'm trying to-”
“Trying to do what?” Carlotta asked from the doorway of Roman's office. She was dressed in black jeans, a red sweater, and red suede boots that came over her knees. As always, she was breathtakingly beautiful.
Fear filled Armando, and he was startled to see that Roman recognized it. His friend studied him for a moment, then said, “Armando is trying to get me to take a vacation.”
Carlotta's eyes widened slightly. “You mean a honeymoon?”
Roman kissed her cheek affectionately as she slipped her arms around him in greeting. “Something like that.”
“Where would we go? Somewhere romantic?” Carlotta's dark eyes flicked toward Armando. It was difficult to read her, which made Armando uneasy.
“I need to go,” Armando said, a bit more briskly than he liked.
“So soon? But we hardly talk anymore. We should catch up,” Carlotta said, her red lips spreading into a bright smile.
“A deadline looms,” Armando said, his tone significant.
Carlotta's smile faded just a tad. “Well, we don't want to keep you.”
Under Roman's intense gaze, Armando swiftly departed. With a heavy heart, he realized he was most likely doomed to fail.
“Sorry about that,” Vanora said to Dan, tucking away her cellphone.
Standing in the walkway illuminated by white Christmas lights that permanently adorned it, she blushed under her date's adoring gaze and sweet smile.
“Rhonda?” he asked.
They had just arrived at Chez Zee when Vanora had heard the Beyoncé ringtone that indicated a call from Rhonda emanating from her cellphone tucked in her small clutch. Vanora had quickly taken the call, casting an apologetic look at Dan. After Rhonda's harrowing experience with her former employee, Vanora was worried about her best friend. Happily, Rhonda had just called to wish her luck.
“She's fine. I don't think she remembered we were already on our date. She's working late at the store again.” Vanora tucked her hand into the crook of Dan's arm and leaned against him.
“That crazy guy hasn't come around the store, right?” Dan's voice was edged with worry.
The soft glow of the lights decorating the trellis created a dreamy romantic atmosphere. It seemed a shame to talk about such dreary things as unstable ex-employees and death threats. Yet, in a weird way, it was the norm of her life. The beautiful mixed with the terrible.
“No, no. He hasn't. Thank goodness! Security has his photograph and Rhonda is being very careful.”
Dan laid his hand over her fingers and squeezed it tenderly. “I'm glad. I'm sure it will blow over. People say nasty things when angry.”
“I hope so. It's already so stressful with the store inventory coming up. She's been working a lot of late hours.”
A few other couples and small groups were waiting to be seated. Some were sitting at small patio tables, while others stood huddled by the outside heaters along the trellised walkway. Vanora felt a little overly dressed in her long-sleeved, wine-colored dress, high heels, and black heavy wool coat with fake fur cuffs. Her long white-blond hair was coiled into a fancy chignon with several coils of braids and fancy rhinestone clips. Yet from the admiring looks she was garnering not just from her date, but from others as well, she knew she had accomplished her goal of looking her best. Over the last few years, she had developed her own sense of style and had settled on a dramatic look that enhanced her albinism. Using black liner and mascara, she made her lavender eyes the focus of her face. A shimmer of pink or coral lipstick made her lips seem fuller. Because of her white pallor, she just barely brushed pink onto her cheeks. To emphasis her very white skin and hair, her wardrobe was mostly black with flashes of bright jewel colors.
“You look so pretty tonight,” Dan said, almost as if he was reading her thoughts. Or maybe he was noticing all the attention directed at her.
“For you,” she said, her face flushing.
“I love it when you blush. Like a rose. Which reminds me, I need to call the flower shop and complain about you not getting your full dozen red roses. You'd think they could count out twelve.”
“It was a beautiful surprise to come home from school and find the roses on my doorstep. Even if there were just eleven.” She smiled at him,
her gloved hand gently smoothing his hair back from his face.
“You deserve a full dozen though,” he answered, catching her hand and kissing it.
When they were finally seated inside the warm restaurant at a small corner table covered in white linen, Vanora tried not to let her nervousness show. The deep gold walls, artwork, Christmas lights, and greenery made the bistro very homey and inviting. Though she had eaten at the restaurant with her family on a few occasions, it had a very different ambiance at night. It was obvious Dan was trying to make the night memorable. He was dressed very nicely in black trousers and a sapphire blue shirt. It was a big departure from his usual casual and sporty attire.
Dan ordered a glass of wine, then nervously studied his menu while Vanora ordered hot tea. They chitchatted about the various items until they both settled on the pecan chicken. It wasn't until they were both munching on the fresh, hot loaf of bread dipped in olive oil and spices that Dan moved the conversation toward a much more serious topic.
“This feels like a real date, huh? Not like just hanging out, but a real date.”
Vanora grinned at him. “It definitely qualifies as a real date.”
“Which was on purpose,” Dan assured her, his nerves showing in the way he tore at his bread. “Totally. I mean, I want this to be special.”
“And it is. I promise. It's very nice.”
“I know you come from money and I'm just a poor grad student, but things will change once I graduate. I've got that job lined up and things are going very well.”
Nodding, Vanora tucked a bit of the bread into her mouth and chewed. It was delicious.
“So, anyway, I've been thinking about a lot of things in my life very seriously. When we started seeing each other, I know we both agreed to just see where it went. Nothing serious.”
In Darkness We Must Abide: The Complete Second Season: Episodes 6-10 Page 9
