The Den of Shadows Quartet

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  But why had the witch made this offer? Why had Jazlyn accepted? Everything was so faint in her mind. Monica had been afraid to even speak to Jazlyn. Why had she given back the life that Jazlyn had willingly tossed away?

  Jazlyn’s mind drifted back to the night she had died.

  She had known for years the black-haired, green-eyed creature who called himself Siete, and she had been offered immortality often. She had refused every time. After all, she was twenty-five, she had a husband, and life was perfect.

  Siete had twice changed humans against their wills, and both times the result had been disastrous, so he accepted Jazlyn’s refusals with good grace.

  Then everything had changed. Carl, the love of her life, her husband for three years, was hit by a drunk driver. He died in a hospital bed while she wept in the waiting room.

  Her parents had both passed away several years before, and her friends were few and far between. There was no shoulder she could cry on. The only one who was there for her was the immortal Siete.

  She still said no. Immortality was not what she wanted. Immortality without Carl was meaningless. She wanted only to be left alone and given time to grieve. Even this was denied her —

  A knock on the door woke Jessica.

  She lifted her head from the desktop and rubbed her eyes as she heard Anne call her name. According to Jessica’s computer, it was now just past ten in the morning.

  Sleeping at her desk for five hours had left her with some kinks in her neck. She stood and stretched, then shut down her computer and opened the door to answer Anne.

  Anne, wearing her Sunday best, had been about to knock on Jessica’s door again.

  Are you running early or is my clock wrong?” Jessica asked, confused as to why Anne was all dressed up for church when she didn’t need to leave for another hour.

  “I told Hasana Rashida I’d meet up with her for a coffee before the service,” Anne explained. “Hasana is your friend Caryn’s mother. Have you met her?”

  Jessica nodded once and managed not to add anything that might offend Anne.

  “Caryn will be with us, if you’d like to come,” Anne added hopefully. She offered the invitation every week, though Jessica never accepted.

  Part of Jessica’s dream gnawed at her: Monica Smoke. If anyone would know about Jazlyn, Monica’s relatives would.

  However, she had no desire to make small talk with Caryn and Hasana, so she declined the offer, deciding instead to speak with one of them outside the church. She took a shower and dressed slowly while Anne gathered her belongings and left the house.

  Walking, Jessica reached the church about fifteen minutes before the service was scheduled to start. She waited at the corner of the building as Hasana, Caryn, and Anne approached, laughing. She didn’t try to get their attention, and vaguely realized that she reminded herself of one of her characters, stalking prey.

  As Hasana and Anne became lost in the crowd near the church doors, Jessica caught Caryn’s arm.

  “Caryn, I need to talk to you,” she said in a hushed tone.

  The girl jumped a bit but seemed to relax when she saw who had grabbed her. They slipped out of the group and into a less crowded area of the churchyard.

  About?” Caryn asked.

  But before Jessica could answer, Caryn gasped. Her face froze in a look of horror as she pointed toward the side wall of the church.

  It took Jessica a few moments to register what Caryn was seeing. The second she did, she bounded across the yard — toward Anne and the vampire who had her in his grasp.

  Jessica didn’t recognize the vampire, which she supposed was a good sign; if she hadn’t written about him, he probably wasn’t very strong. She was counting on that fact.

  Tearing the vampire away from Anne, she slammed her fist into his jaw before he could even figure out what was happening. Anne stumbled back against the wall, and Caryn and Hasana, from opposite ends of the churchyard, hurried to her side. The rest of the churchgoers, clearly under the mind control of the vampire, continued to chat and make their way cheerfully into the building.

  Before Jessica had a chance to check on Anne, the vampire turned and hit her hard enough that she found herself on the ground, her head spinning.

  The vampire looked nervously from the witches and Anne to the group of people near the doors of the church, and Jessica could all but see his thoughts. If Caryn and Hasana interfered, he wouldn’t be able to keep his control over the crowd, and this confrontation would get even messier.

  Then he looked at Jessica, staring fiercely at her for one long moment. She tried to stand but couldn’t find her balance; he had probably given her a concussion with that little love tap. She braced herself for his next strike. But he was gone.

  Why had he left when he could have killed her in an instant? Suddenly last night’s conversation popped back into her head.

  There are actually very few of my kind who would dare to kill you.

  I suppose you’re one of the few.

  I’m one of the reasons they wouldn’t dare.

  “Thank you, Aubrey,” she said softly.

  Caryn moved from Anne’s side to Jessica’s. Her face was pale, and she said nothing for a moment.

  Jessica tried again to stand, and a wave of blackness passed over her vision. Caryn put a hand on her arm to help her up, then gently touched the side of Jessica’s head where the vampire had hit her.

  Jessica jerked back when she felt the warm wave of energy that flowed out of Caryn.

  “Jessica —”

  “I’m fine,” she snapped, infuriated by her own weakness. She refused to accept help from Caryn.

  But as she pulled away, she forced herself to add, “Thank you.” The dizziness was gone completely.

  As her thoughts focused, Jessica asked, “What about Anne?”

  Caryn looked at her mother, who just shook her head.

  Jessica’s legs went out from under her.

  “Jessica, I’m sorry …” Hasana was speaking, but Jessica hardly heard the words.

  Caryn tried to take her hand, but she shook it off and went to Anne’s side.

  Anne was pale, but Jessica could tell that it wasn’t blood loss that had killed her. The vampire hadn’t had the time, so instead he had broken her neck.

  She balled her hands into fists, so tightly that her nails drew blood from her palms. Why had he killed her? He had done so intentionally not just to feed.

  As she took the dead woman’s hand, Jessica saw a piece of paper tucked into Anne’s grip. Pulling it out, she needed to read no more than the first line before she recognized it as a page from the Dark Flame manuscript. It was a page on which Fala was described.

  Scrawled on the back, in sharp black ink, were four words: Stay in your place.

  Jessica found herself shaking with anger — at the nameless vampire who had killed Anne, and especially at Fala, who must have put him up to it.

  Fala would never have been able to convince one of her kind to go directly against Aubrey, even if for some reason she hadn’t wanted to kill Jessica with her own hands. But Anne was free and defenseless prey.

  Hasana put a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “Come, Jessica. There are other people to deal with this. You don’t need to stay here.”

  Jessica shrugged out of Hasana’s grip, still looking at the only human who had ever bothered to care for her.

  CHAPTER 21

  AUBREY PACED IN HIS ROOM, as he’d done shortly after he’d first met Jessica Allodola, trying to reason out his emotions. It was nearly noon, and he was still awake; that alone was enough to make him irritable. Coupled with his confusion about last night’s confrontation, he was very much in the mood to pick a fight.

  She had stared him down. He couldn’t help respecting her for it. Not to mention her all-but-suicidal challenge —

  Not so suicidal, he reminded himself, interrupting his own thought. She won, after all.

  Jessica was like a sand viper: beautiful, not apparentl
y formidable, but fearless and deadly poisonous.

  “Damn you, Fala,” he whispered as the vampire’s taunt echoed in his head: If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were attracted to her. “Why aren’t you ever wrong?”

  Of course, there was more than the physical attraction Fala had speculated about. The actuality was far more dangerous both to his own position — as was any emotional attachment to a human — and to Jessica if any of his many enemies guessed the truth.

  Furious with himself for letting this girl get under his skin, he went into Las Noches, where he was immediately intercepted by Fala herself. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep this morning.

  “You didn’t kill her,” Fala accused as soon as she saw him. “She was strutting around our land as if she owned it, practically begging for death, and you didn’t kill her.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he answered in a growl.

  “Aubrey —”

  “What is your obsession with killing this one human?” he snapped.

  “She’s a threat,” Fala answered calmly, obviously pleased by how close he was to losing his control. She looked almost amused, which made him wary Fala was clever; she was the one most likely to figure out his feelings toward Jessica.

  “And how is that?” he argued. “Just because she writes about things that almost every vampire in the world already knows and most mortals disregard as fiction?”

  “Most is the key word there, Aubrey,” Fala chided. “Have you forgotten those not-quite-insignificant mortals called vampire hunters? Kala is dead, Aubrey. Your blood sister, Ather’s second fledgling. And she was run through by a witch practically on the front steps of Las Noches. That witch wouldn’t even have known this place existed if it hadn’t been for Ash Night.”

  “Jessica had nothing to do with Dominique Vidas finding Las Noches,” Aubrey argued. “And since when are you afraid of vampire hunters?”

  Fala let out a half-curse, half-scream as she began to lose her temper. “What is she going to write next, Aubrey? The only reason she’s gotten this far is because you’re protecting her. Fine, you’ve established your power. Now why don’t you just kill her?”

  He turned away from her, refusing to answer.

  Behind him Fala snickered. “It’s true, isn’t it? You’re attracted to her. I was right all along.”

  Aubrey reeled back around as her words hit him.

  “She’s a good-looking young woman, I’ll admit,” Fala continued. “But that isn’t the issue, is it? You’ve —”

  “Fala,” he warned, his voice dangerous.

  “It isn’t that unusual, you know,” she continued, sounding even more amused. “It’s our line’s curse, you could say. Love.” She spat the word as if it was some kind of insect.

  Finally Aubrey’s voice returned. “No truer than in your case. Isn’t that curse, as you put it, why you’re here? Isn’t that why Jager changed you in the first place?” Jager and Fala had met while she’d been awaiting death in one of the sandy cells of ancient Egypt. He had changed her the same day. It was still obvious to any idiot how fond they were of each other.

  Fala started to retaliate, but he continued. “Not to mention Moira. It seems that the awful, infectious disease has hit you several times.” Fala’s eyes narrowed at the mention of her beloved Moira.

  Then she sighed. “Look what she’s done to you, Aubrey,” she said, her voice soft, almost sympathetic. “Kill her … or change her. If you’re really so fond of her, give her your blood. Do whatever you want with her, but stop her.” She paused, suddenly unnerved. “You know, Silver once gave Jager this same advice — about Kaei.”

  Aubrey remembered the argument, which had occurred shortly after Kaei had sliced open Silver’s arm and shortly before she had set fire to most of Mayhem.

  “I hardly think that’s relevant,” Aubrey answered. “Jessica certainly isn’t going to —”

  “I think it’s very relevant,” Fala interrupted. “Jager refused to kill her.”

  CHAPTER 22

  HASANA HAD INSISTED that Jessica go home with them, instead of staying with the police and the medical units. No matter what her personal feelings toward Jessica, Hasana was still a mother, and Jessica could see the motherly care in everything she did.

  Jessica refused at first to go anywhere with the Smoke family but she gave in when Hasana had Caryn go fetch her belongings — including her computer. At least they understood that she wouldn’t go anywhere without a way to write.

  Her anger over Anne’s death had been replaced by a dismal apathy so overpowering that when she was confronted, the moment she stepped through the Rashidas’ door, by Dominique Vida, she didn’t even bother to make a biting response.

  Dominique, despite her classic beauty, had all the social skills and warmth of an icicle. The air near her hummed with strictly controlled energy. Perhaps the apathy was helpful; otherwise, Jessica might have been tempted to kill Dominique on the spot.

  Unlike the Smoke line, Jessica knew Dominique and her kin well. Dominique had murdered so many of the vampires that Jessica had known and cared for that the girl had developed a deep hatred for the witch before she had even met her.

  Only when Caryn put a hand on her shoulder did Jessica realize that she was glaring death in Dominique’s direction. The vampire hunter was fully returning the glare.

  “What is she doing here?” Dominique demanded.

  Caryn took the initiative to lead Jessica away and into a guest room while Hasana dealt with Dominique’s questions.

  “You should get some rest,” Caryn suggested, trying to pull Jessica out of her inner world of death and pain and hatred.

  “Only if there’s a way to make sure no one kills me in my sleep,” Jessica answered, looking out the door as if Dominique might walk down the hall any moment.

  Caryn looked horrified. “She wouldn’t …” She trailed off. “Why would she want to hurt you?”

  Jessica shrugged. That question had an easy answer at least. “Because I can’t help hating her,” she answered truthfully. “And because she knows I would rather be a vampire than risk being their prey” Jessica thought back to poor Anne, who was just as dead no matter how many vampires Dominique and her kin had killed.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” answered Dominique, who had just entered the room, with Hasana behind her. Caryn paled.

  “No one is going to hurt anyone in my household,” Hasana said firmly. “Jessica, you don’t know what you’re saying right now —”

  “She knows,” Dominique interrupted. Turning to Jessica, she said bluntly, “If you’d rather be with them, then go. I won’t stop you. But if you choose their side, then I won’t protect you, either.”

  “I don’t need your protection,” Jessica growled in answer.

  “Jessica, please, get some rest,” Hasana coaxed. “Dominique, leave the poor girl alone. Her mother was just murdered.” She ushered Dominique out of the room. The hunter went willingly; she had said all she needed to say.

  Jessica had no desire to sleep, and she told Caryn as much.

  “You should try,” Caryn answered. “It will help clear your mind.”

  Instead, Jessica began to pace.

  Caryn caught her arm, and only a few seconds later, sleep enveloped her. Later the thought occurred to her that despite Caryn’s usual passivity she was still a strong witch. She had easily induced sleep in Jessica’s strained mind.

  Jazlyn said no. Immortality was not what she wanted. She wanted to be left alone and given time to grieve. Even this was denied her.

  A week after Carl’s death, Jazlyn learned that she was pregnant. Looking at her, no one would have been able to tell, but the tests had returned positive. Why would the universe not leave her alone? She was only twenty-five, and she was a widow. How could she raise a child by herself? Carl’s child deserved better than what she, who was still in mourning, could provide.

  A cruel God gave her this life.

  The next
time Siete visited, Jazlyn did not say no. She knew that whatever life she woke up in would not be the life she was leaving.

  But any decision made out of desperation is later regretted. The world of eternal night and lawlessness was no better than the human world she had fled, yet Jazlyn had no more choices.

  The years passed and faded, meaningless and empty. Often Jazlyn found herself remembering things like the beach on which Carl had proposed. She remembered being married outdoors and honeymooning in France.

  Tears came frequently. This was not what she had wanted at all.

  Just past Valentine’s Day 1983, Jazlyn visited Carl’s grave for the first time since his funeral. She brushed off the thin layer of snow and read the stone for the first time: “Carl Raisa, 1932– 1960. ‘I shall smile from Heaven upon those I love. My death is not my end, and in Heaven shall I meet my beloved again.

  But he wouldn’t, because she was never going to reach Heaven. Her kind was evil; she had killed so many times to sate the bloodlust that she would never be forgiven.

  Jazlyn lay weeping in the snowy graveyard that Valentine’s night, wondering why the world had chosen her to torment.

  That was where the witch who called herself Monica Smoke had found her — weeping there for the one she loved. Monica was the first one in more than twenty years who offered her a shoulder to cry on. Then she heard the story and gave Jazlyn the one thing she had thought could never be returned: her life.

  CHAPTER 23

  AS SOON AS SHE WOKE, Jessica sought out her hostesses. Avoiding Dominique Vida, she quickly found Caryn in her room.

  “Do you know of anyone in your line called Monica?” she demanded, closing the door behind her.

  “Yes,” Caryn said after a moment of hesitation. “She was my aunt, my mother’s sister.”

  “Was?”

  “She died. Mother never told me how.” Caryn frowned. “Why, Jessica. What’s wrong?”

  Jessica didn’t answer, her mind focused on her own questions. “Have you ever heard of someone called Jazlyn Raisa?” Jessica was determined to understand her own birth, even if that was the only part of her life she did understand.