by Diana Graves
“I wouldn’t say Alistair’s the one suffering. But, what exactly is it? Damon said it’s some kind of madness.”
Tristan bent down to my window. “Well, this is how Seth explained it to me. He said that vampires are bombarded with a large amount of sensory information from the moment they’re infected. That’s where they get their powers, like pyrokinesis and levitation. Most vampires naturally learn to control it, like a—reflex. But, the amount of sensory information steadily increases over time, and eventually all vampires go crazy, like Alistair has. It’s rare for a younger vamp to suffer from it but not unheard of. Seth says that it can be brought on by a traumatic event.”
“You mean like tearing a live goat into iddy-biddy bits?” I asked sarcastically.
Tristan shrugged and stood up. “So, you’re moving out of Mom’s place this weekend?”
“Mom told you?” The thought of it made me sick to my stomach.
“She said you want to move in with Aunt Fauna until you find a job and place of your own, because you’re tired of her hovering over you.” He reached in and patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it little sis. I’m sure you’ll find a job soon. You have a degree, and that’s more than I had when I was your age.”
“Yeah, sure…I should really get going. I have class tonight.”
“Actually, your class has been cancelled.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been worried about Michael for the past couple days. His personality has changed dramatically since his turn, so I asked Damon to meet me at Darkness tonight.”
“How has Michael changed?”
“He’s happy but he’s—I don’t know how to describe it. He’s not himself.”
“Well, at least he’s happy.”
“Yes, but I want Damon’s professional opinion.”
“Did you tell Mom about class being cancelled?”
“No.”
“Then I’m going to pretend you didn’t tell me either,” I smiled up at him.
He gave me a long look. “You better behave yourself, little sis.”
“Never,” I joked.
“Okay, I’ll see you later,” he laughed, and began to walk away.
“Wait!” I shouted after him. “Can you give something to Mato? It will be dark by the time you get there so he should be up.”
“Yeah, sure.” I pulled the folder Greg gave me from my book bag, and handed it to him through the window. Mato would know better what to do with it than me.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“They’re documents given to me by a man who was working with Mark Press.”
Tristan’s eye brows rose at that. “Why don’t you come with me, and give it to him yourself. I know Michael would love to see you…and Mato.” I raised an eye brow at that last comment. Who has he been talking to?
“I think I just want to be alone tonight. Maybe I’ll do some moon bathing or something.” Taking a nude stroll in the woods on a warm night always lifted my spirits.
He shook his head and smiled. “Whatever. See you.”
“Love you,” I called after him.
“Ditto!” he called back before he jumped into his car and drove away.
When Tristan’s car disappeared around the corner I moved to roll my window back up, but suddenly there was a hand on the glass. I looked up, and found a man dressed in black standing by my driver side door. The guy had a big smile, and brown hair combed back to reveal huge gages in his ears.
“Hello,” he said. He was holding a long cherry wood wand in his other hand. I smelled blood and burnt wood; the smell of a true warlock. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, but I could feel them travel up and down me intently. His posture was hostile, and his mind was full of violence. He wanted to harm me because he was the sort of demented person who got his jollies from hearing screams and seeing blood.
“Come out of the car,” he demanded.
“I don’t think so.”
“Get the fuck out of the car,” he said quietly through gritted teeth.
I backed away from the window, and he grabbed at me. I screamed as loud as I could for help, and hoped that Seth and Mom, or anyone would hear it. Though, it was a bad neighborhood, so my best bet was Mom or Seth.
“Shut your mouth, bitch!” he shouted, and with a quick flick of his wand a blue light hit me square in the face. My mind went fuzzy, my body went limp.
“Get her in the van, and let’s go!” I heard him say to someone else.
I was going in and out of consciousness. One moment I was watching impossibly large hands working to unbuckle my seat belt, and I couldn’t bat them away. I couldn’t move at all. Then I saw hands picking me up by my waist. Mom’s shocked face, lightning flashed. Seth yelled something inaudible from the front door.
I was thrown, and I landed on my back on a grooved metal floor. The cloudiness began to lift from my mind, but my body was still limp and useless. I looked up from my paralyzed body to find that I was lying on the floor of a moving van. The interior of the van was completely black, and it smelled heavily of bleach. There were two seats up front and none in the back where I was. An awfully big guy took off his sunglasses and looked down at me. He had thick blond eye brows that hung over his eyes, casting them in shadow. They didn’t match the flat black color of his hair.
“Did you get the stuff he wanted?” the big guy asked the smaller man, who was driving.
“No, the little shit said he gave it to her, but I didn’t find it in her car or the house.”
“Anax’s going to be pissed!”
I began hyperventilating. “Stop—,” I said, but the smaller man interrupted me.
“Shut her up, Randy!”
Randy didn’t hesitate a second. He punched me in the face, and I was out.
DAMSELS AND DEMONS
I WOKE UP lying face down on another cold surface. I could hear the quiet buzzing of electricity. The world seemed bleached out; too bright to look at, so I kept my eyes closed tightly. My head was still throbbing from Randy’s punch, and the light wasn’t helping, nor was the rancid smell. It offended the nose whatever it was. Breathing through the mouth proved to be no better an alternative. I could taste the sweet choking smell of rotting flesh on my tongue. Having heightened sense was not always a blessing, but eventually my senses grew accustomed to pain, smell and light. Damsels
I blinked out at the small room. Everything was stainless steel and cement, cold, cramped and very grey. I was lying on top of a metal bed that hung from the wall by two thick cords. I sat up slowly.
The bright light and buzzing sounds were coming from a round light fixture high on the wall opposite me. It gave off a pale blue light that left the curious bruises that decorated my body an odd color. I looked down, and found that I was in nothing but my underwear and bra. No wonder I was so cold. I ran my fingers through my hair as I looked up at what was obviously a camera. My fingers came away with blood made purple by the blue light.
“They beat you while you were unconscious,” said a small voice.
I didn’t react quickly, but eventually I was able to turn my head in the direction of the voice. There was a small woman in a white lacy dress sitting in the corner between the bed and the wall. She had long dark curly hair that was mostly gathered on top her head with orange blossoms. Gold braided metal wrapped around her thick dark locks. She stared up at me from the floor where she huddled. Her face was lovely. Heart shaped with large almond shaped hazel eyes that stood out brightly from her olive skin. A Greek Goddess came to mind.
“That’s what it feels like,” I said weakly.
I bit my lip as I stretched aching muscles. The woman looked in no better shape than me. Large green-blue bruises covered much of her skin.
“How long have you been here?” I asked her.
She shrugged, wincing for the pain it brought, “Longer than you.” Her accent sounded Mediterranean. “Come here. Let me see your head injury.”
I half fell, hal
f crawled off the bed to the hard cement floor and over to the other woman. She offered me her hand when I stumbled, but before I could take it the most horrible voice I’ve ever heard stopped me.
“Touch her and die, witch!”
My whole body reacted to the voice. It was both high and low, both female and male. The voice echoed in me, throughout me, and I curled up like a spider that had been poked.
“Raphael!” the woman yelled.
Black smoke crept in through the high corner near the door. Only two things creep through corners, the devils and their demons. The smoke grew into a tremendous beautiful shape. It looked something like a great bat or dragon. It had a thickness and a smell; dark ash and brimstone. It was the smell I had smelled earlier but stronger, more choking a presence. Red burning shadows played on the grey metal walls, and the demon, Raphael, appeared to us; ashen skin, tight black leather clothing and hair the color of the setting sun. His eyes had a light in them; the brightest royal blue. It made the walls purple with both red and blue mingling lights.
“No one will touch you again!” he screamed at her.
His anger made his face unnaturally distorted. I cried in terror, and hid my face in my hands.
The woman had no such fear in her. She crawled forward, toward me. A soft hand patted my back, and I couldn’t help but flinch under her hand.
“She is no beast to be feared,” she said softly as she stroked my hair. “She’s an elf child.”
Raphael scuffed, and walked toward us with heavy feet. I backed into the bed. “Her eyes are red. She’s a witch,” he spat with a sneer. His face was no longer a beast but as human as a demon could look. He looked at me longer than what was comfortable, and the weight of his gaze panicked me. My heart was pounding frantically, like some small mouse in the presence of a very hungry cat. “But, she is little of both.” His head was tilted to one side, as though he were trying to figure me out. “And an older creature?” he questioned.
A heavy metal door slammed open, and a Greek priest of Apollo stomped in holding a book, and babbling some guff, Latin I would guess.
“No!” cried the woman. “Stop this, please!”
Raphael huddled to the floor next to me, nearly using me as a shield from the old man. The priest waved the old book high above his head, and the demon cried in his same male-female-high-low voice that both sounded silly and terrifying. The priest threw the book at him, and Raphael turned to smoke once again, and escaped through the corner from whence it came.
The priest said nothing as he grabbed his book and walked back out of the door, slamming it behind him. I heard the sound of locks sliding into place, but only barely, because the woman was crying loudly for the demon.
“What’s going on?” I shouted over her cries.
“That damned priest won’t let us have a moment’s peace!” She took three deep breaths to calm herself before she continued. “Every time my love comes that priest comes barging in. I don’t want to die alone again,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Raphael’s my husband. I was dead, and he found me. He cared for me, and bargained for my life so that we could live together.” She shook her head, and her face broke with anger and sadness. “This is our wedding night!” she screamed at the door. She fell in on herself, sobbing.
“Why are you here? Why are we here?” I asked.
She looked up at me. She was not wearing makeup. If she had been her tears would have been black with it. “I don’t know why you’re here. Admetus’ thugs and his priest broke up our wedding this evening.”
“Why?” I asked.
She ignored my question, and asked one of her own, “Why did he take you?”
I shrugged, and it hurt like hell, “I had information on him.”
“That is an unforgivable crime in his world,” she said. “I’m here because with my death Admetus can live on forever again,” she sighed. I must have looked as confused as I felt, because she rubbed the tears from her eyes and explained further. “I am Alcestis—“
“Admetus’ wife,” I interrupted her.
“Yes, Apollo told Admetus that he could live for always if he could find someone willing to take his place in death.” She shook her head, “No one would do it, no one but me. He was my husband, and I gave him my life for his immortality. I was a fool.”
“And, he was immortal until now,” I said, piecing it together, “Until Raphael saved you. With you no longer dead, he became mortal again.” Alcestis nodded. “So, that’s what Greg meant when he said that Admetus was dying. Dying, as in aging like any other mortal.”
“Gregory!” she wept. Her sobs broke anew.
“What?” I asked.
“He killed our entire family! All my great children are dead!” she screamed.
“Greg said that Admetus would retaliate, but kill everyone—that’s madness,” I said.
“We had two sons before I gave my life for Admetus. And, over a thousand years our lineage has grown, and Admetus’ hold on them, and their accumulative wealth grew with it. They did his bidding, supported him, and he killed them all for keeping my secret. He killed them for not telling him I was alive when I contacted them!” she cried. Alcestis looked at me, and her eyes were soft and distant. “He gathered them all in the ballroom and had them slaughtered. He’s a mad man, afraid to die, afraid to grow old and die, and go to Hades as he should! He has but to slay me at the coming of dawn, just as before, and the word of Apollo will once again be upheld.” She closed her eyes.
“God damn it!”
“Precisely.”
“Why hasn’t he just killed me already?” I asked.
“Maybe he wants to question you. See who else knows about him. He doesn’t like that people know of him as an immortal. Our ancient story is told with an alternate ending. In truth, he kills me at dawn and lives forever, but the lie he spun speaks of Hercules coming to my rescue, and saving me from Tartarus and eternal damnation. But, if that had happened Apollo’s promise would be useless, and Admetus would have died a long time ago.”
I remembered then that I gave Greg’s folder to Tristan to give to Mato. “Others do know,” I assured her. “The information Greg gave me was thorough. He mentioned locations, houses and buildings owned by the family. I bet this place is mentioned. There’s still hope.”
She didn’t react to what I said. She just kept her eyes closed, and I let her be. I sat back down on the metal bed, and put my head in my hands.
The door slammed open again, and two men barged into the room. Both men were large, dark haired, and clean shaven. Alcestis stood, and began yelling at the men in a foreign language, but one of the men smacked her hard, and she collapsed at his feet.
“What are you doing?” I screamed at them, and ran to help her. But, the other man grabbed me around the waist, and shoved a sweet smelling piece of cloth in my face. I fought only for moments before my body began to feel strange, my vision blurred, and finally my eyes closed.
The last thing I heard was a raspy voice chuckle, “See, you don’t need fancy magic to make the bitch go out.”
TH
E MAN BEHIND IT ALL
I OPENED MY eyes just barely. Again, they were sensitive to light. I found myself on a huge bed with grey silk blankets and pillows. I was lying on my side, staring at a white door. A small sofa with a gold floral pattern sat beside the door, and a divider screen of white roses and blue silk separated the sofa from a tall wardrobe of white wood and etched glass. The walls were made of huge horizontal logs of a deep brown color. I was in a log cabin? The room smelled heavily of cologne.
“I have plans for her,” said a very masculine voice from behind me. A man walked into my line of vision. He had long black curly hair. His skin was a dark olive, his eyes were a deep brown that matched the dress shirt he had tucked into black slacks. He bent down to look at me, and it was a look a child would give a new puppy or a cute kitten.
“I know you know a great deal about
me, Raina. But, did Gregory ever tell you how a pagan like myself, survived the Dark Ages, the many Inquisitions?” Greg didn’t have to tell me, I read it.
He looked down at the grey bed spread, and then back up at me. He was expecting an answer, but I stayed silent. He shrugged, and sat down beside me.
“I became the very thing that would have hunted me down. I became a Christian, a man of God, and I did horrible, unspeakable things to women just like you.”
He bent down to me, until his face was only a few inches from mine. “Do you know what the most common form of torture was for witches? The Saw, it was a crowd pleaser,” he laughed at himself.
He moved away, and made himself more comfortable; crossing his legs and clasping his hands together in his lap. “You see,” he began fondly. “We would hang the witch from her feet in the nude. Her legs would be spread wide, and two men would saw her in half.” He patted my back. “I assure you, it’s a very slow and painful death. However, we can forgo all this if you give me the names of everyone you may have mentioned me to.” I said nothing. “My men saw you talking to a young gentleman before they picked you up.” Tristan!
“I didn’t tell anyone anything about you!”
He shook his head. I could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t believe me. “Really? Too bad.” He stood abruptly. “I want her cleaned, and brought to the ballroom,” the man ordered someone I couldn’t see as he looked into my face. “You may be more helpful in the presence of your collaborators,” he smiled. What did he mean by my collaborators?
“Sir, there’s a van approaching the main gate,” announced someone I couldn’t see. “It’s not one of ours. There’s a marijuana leaf pained on its hood.”
“We aren’t expecting anyone. Let’s take precautions then. Have her brought to me when she’s clean,” he demanded before storming out of the room.
I finally managed to muster the strength to try and sit up, but an old friend shot me in the face with his wand again.
♦
Strong hands were rubbing me, gliding all over me. They were lathering up my naked body as I sat in a warm bath, while another pair of hands held my head above the water. I tried to move, but my body felt like heavy rubber. Bewitched, beaten, drugged and bewitched again. Can a girl catch a break around here?
