Sun Cursed (Shades of Blood Book 1)

by Megan Blackwood

  "The crypt is still here, is it not? I assume the others went to sleep as well, or they would have done something by now."

  "Where your coterie sleeps? Yes, of course. We keep it close and safe."

  "Then why in the ever-loving-light did I wake up alone, in the dark, in a sewer?"

  Adelia flinched. "I... Have no idea. Seamus, check the camera feed."

  His eyes widened, and he spun around, tapping on something flat and long on the desk. The screen he'd been staring at changed, revealing an image of my coterie's crypt. While the coffins could not be seen, the seals to their vaults remained in place. Including my own.

  "Everything looks... fine," he said, puzzled.

  "I'll see for myself," I said, and nudged Adelia aside as I returned to the hall. I knew the way. Probably better than these mortals did, judging by their ability to keep the guard in order.

  Five: Crests Unbroken

  I sprinted down smooth marble steps, taking them two at a time and not caring that the mortals behind me scrambled to keep up. They had already proven just how useful they really were.

  It is a strange thing, to become immortal. I do not remember my family, though I'm sure I had one. Vague memories of a sister follow me, persisting after all these years. She must have been a firebrand of a woman, for her presence to burn through my undeath. But while my mortal bonds are lost to me, the time I spent with my coterie is galvanized in my bones. My coterie, and my Lucien—the mortal man I'd chanced to love, long since gone into natural death. Every fleeting moment of these memories is a precious crystal.

  I have been told that it is the other way for the nightwalkers. That they cling to memories of mortality that they will never hold again, and that all things that happen to them afterward become an irrelevant blur. I do not know if this is true. I've never asked one. But it would make sense to me, in a tragic way. That their mortal memories are so sharp that they learn to resent the source of their eternal agony. Easier, then, to destroy the thing which festers in their hearts. Easier, too, to betray one another as quickly as they do.

  A steel door ended the hallway, a brick-sized pad of metal set into the wall beside it. No keyhole marred the face of the door, just smooth metal from top to bottom. I pressed my hands against it and shoved. The thing didn't even shiver.

  "I'm coming." Adelia's heels clicked as she rushed to my side, a few strands of silver hair escaping her perfect bun.

  "What is this?"

  "An added security feature. Palm print recognition is required to open the door." She caught my look and spoke faster. "Not from the inside. Your kind can get out with no trouble. It's to keep undesirables out. There are a lot more mortals around the house than there used to be, and students get curious about off-limits places."

  She pressed her palm against the brick. A light emitted from the surface beneath her hand, then something clicked and the door cracked open. I flung it the rest of the way.

  Our crypt was circular, the vaults which held our sleeping bodies at shoulder height. Torchlight burned from wrought-iron fixtures against the wall. My vault, the one in the center, seemed intact. My chosen family's crest, a fess of gold with three whelk shells, was unbroken. As were Roisin Quinn's pegasus crest, and Sebastian Aria's lion. But I knew, from my own rough awakening, that the signs of them being undisturbed were a lie.

  "Open them," I ordered.

  Seamus and Talia hesitated, glancing to Adelia, who inclined her head. "Do it. We keep pry bars in a cabinet hidden by the wainscoting. Here, let me show you."

  Though sweat dampened her collarbone, Adelia hurried to a low panel and slid it open. Lengths of iron resided within, as well as a table held on its side by straps. With Seamus and Talia's help, she released the tools and set up beneath Roisin's vault.

  I paced, stretching my fingers into fists and out again, imagining ripping the throats from whoever may have disturbed my friends' rest. I wanted to help, but their tools appeared specialized, and so I held back, dreading getting in their way. Seamus and Talia fell to the work. A tinge of guilt needled at me for being so disgusted by their ignorance earlier. I was as clueless as they were. And they were, above all else, willing to help, though I had treated them rudely.

  "Thank you," I said, as they peeled the crest off of Roisin's vault and let it crash to the floor in a puff of powdered clay.

  "What did you say?" Seamus asked, wiping sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his shirt.

  "Thank you."

  Seamus and Talia shared a look. Adelia cleared her throat.

  "You're welcome," they said in rapid-fire unison. I sighed. It would take a while to get used to mortals again.

  They slid the table to Roisin's opened vault. Seamus eyed the opening, and the handles attached to the foot-end of Roisin's coffin, then rolled up his sleeves and braced himself.

  "I have it." I moved Seamus aside. Though prayer gave me no comfort, I murmured an old favorite of Roisin's and lifted, dragging the casket against the rough bottom of the vault. My muscles burned, resenting further abuse, but I gritted my teeth and pulled. Stone hissed against stone as I worked it free and set it down upon the table.

  Elaborate carvings decorated the lid, Celtic knot work entwined with delicate creeping vines. Steeling myself for the worst—a pile of ashes in place of my best friend—I braced my legs and lifted the lid high, shifting it carefully to the side so it wouldn't shatter.

  Empty. Not even a hint of ash marred the clean stone, no scrap of cloth where her clothing may have decayed over the years.

  "When was she set to awaken?" I asked the empty grave. I could look nowhere else. Adelia's warm hand alighted upon my shoulder.

  "She lay down in 2010. She was the last of your kind to seek voluntary rest. The sunstriders are all at rest, Magdalene, save yourself."

  "Are they?" My voice rasped. "How can you be sure? Because they're not fucking here!"

  I flung the lid, beauty and all, against the wall that marked the place of my rest. It burst into pieces, and though the sound was loud enough to make me wince, it brought me no sense of satisfaction. Seamus grabbed Talia's arm and yanked her back, toward the stairs, but did not leave.

  "Why?" I demanded, rounding upon Adelia. "Why did they all lie down? They could not have all committed crimes to warrant the oubliette."

  "They went voluntarily, they should remember everything—"

  "They. Are. Not. Here!"

  "Sebastian's vault—"

  "Do you expect me to believe you've kept Sebastian as carefully as you've kept myself and Roisin? I woke in a sewer, waning in my power and yet compelled by the presence of nightwalker ghouls to fulfill my oath. Where might the others be awakening? Pits? The bottom of the ocean? The guard had one duty. One!"

  She staggered back, the whites of her eyes shining in the firelight, and I saw in her how I must look. The ancient damned—for as much as we call ourselves warriors of light, we are that—covered in blood and tatters of cloth. Barefoot, wild, and powerful. Her fear scented the air with heavy spice and I withdrew a step, reining my anger tight.

  "We will do everything we can to find out what's happened," Adelia said, trying to hide the tremble in her voice and failing. "Seamus, can you please review the tapes? All of them—everything we have. And Talia, the records, the written records from the time of Roisin's interment. She was the last to go in, there must be some evidence."

  "Yes," they chorused.

  "And I will begin my hunt." I strode forward, intending to mount the steps and disappear into the fading night, following the scent of ghoul and, if I were very lucky, sunstrider, until I could find one of my kind. Adelia blocked my path.

  "Forgive me, Miss Shelley, but you must rest, and allow Seamus to teach you some of what has changed since your time. And... ah. Bathe."

  I looked down at myself and almost laughed. How quickly I forget the presence of blood.

  "Talia." Adelia stepped clear. "Take Miss Shelley to the residences. Give her our best."


  Talia opened her mouth to reply, but was drowned out by the heavy pounding of fists on the Sun Guard's exterior door. The mortals flinched. The knocks grew louder.

  "Adelia! You better open this door right now, since you're too damned good to pick up your phone when I call!" A man's gruff voice echoed down the steps. I bristled. One should not speak to Lady Adelia Durfort-Civrac like that.

  "I shall deal with this man," I ground out the words.

  "No—ah—Miss Shelley!"

  Her heels clacked on the stone behind me, but I reached the top of the steps before she'd even finished her protest. I had had enough. Whoever was on the other side of that door thought it was acceptable to yell at the head of my order, and that person would have to deal with me first.

  I yanked the door open and stood tall, shoving the hair from my eyes so that their predatory gleam would soak up the bastard moon's light and shine with hunger. A man with skin of midnight stood on the other side, his stubbled jaw dropping open at the sight of me. Good. He wore a black suit, sloppy compared to Adelia's, and had a shiny piece of metal pinned to his chest. His shock only lasted a moment.

  He pivoted to his back foot, brought his hand around and drew up a gun, pointing it directly at my chest.

  "Get on the ground and put your hands behind your head!"

  I tilted my head, perplexed. What mortal thought they could give me orders?

  "DeShawn! Inspector Culver!" Adelia sprinted up the last few steps and stumbled toward me. I put out a hand to steady her and she nodded, thankful, as she leaned against the doorframe and panted. "Put the gun away, inspector. This is one of ours. She will not harm you. I'm not even sure she's capable."

  Inspector Culver pursed his lips as if he hadn't heard a dafter story in all his life. I had to agree, I was perfectly capable of ripping his head from his shoulders. Even the pain of breaking my oath would not be enough to stop me.

  Despite his reticence, he lowered his gun and clipped it into a sheath on his belt. He never took his eyes off me. "Is she injured? Does she need an ambulance?"

  "I'm perfectly well," I said. "You will apologize to the Lady for yelling at her now."

  "No way—"

  I stepped forward, straightening to my full height so that my presence loomed over him, clawed fingers curled at my sides. Warning. He cleared his throat and averted his gaze in shame.

  "I'm sorry, Lady Adelia. But we've got to talk."

  "I agree." She adjusted her blazer. "Please, come in."

  I paused, challenging him with my body in the doorway a second before stepping aside to let him pass. I had my pride.

  As he moved to the stairs, Adelia pressed my arm with her hand and lowered her voice into a whisper so soft only my ears could have picked it up. "I'm sorry for his behavior, dear, but we must make allowances. He was raised in America."

  Six: Mortal Law

  Adelia fetched me a robe so I could cover myself, but I suspected she was more concerned with keeping the blood off the furniture. She led us into a small sitting room. Talia poured us each a dram of port, and though the alcohol did nothing for me, it pleased me to be included in such an intimate human ritual as sharing a drink. The flavors were not entirely unlike the vittle which was my preference.

  Talia attempted to direct me to a seat by the fire, citing my long night and how I must be cold. I waved her off and sat by the shuttered window instead. Sweet girl, but she had a lot to learn about my kind. The cold was nothing to me, and so I let the humans huddle by the warmth. I didn't know if the old Greek myths were true, but I liked to believe that Prometheus had stolen the fire from the gods for mortals alone.

  Inspector Culver would not sit. He paced, hands clasped behind his back, and though I sat in silence sipping my drink with slow, deliberate care he kept one eye on me always, as if I were prone to leap at him at any moment.

  "Inspector," Adelia said as she settled into a seat by the fire. "What brings you here tonight?"

  "What do you think?" Seeing me tense at his outburst, he tipped his head back and sighed. "Club Garnet went up in flames tonight. At least half a dozen bodies have been pulled out so far, including Brian Garnet. His sister claims a woman came in and tore the place up. The rest of the witnesses say a blood-sucking vampire had a little party on the dance floor that got out of hand. People start saying words like vampire, Adelia, and I just can't help but think of you."

  "I did not set a fire." I didn't mind the mortals calling me a vampire—I'd been called worse over the centuries—but I wouldn't be held accountable for actions I didn't take.

  "Oh. Well. That's a relief. Anything else you didn't do, young lady?"

  I let my gaze flash—a sudden brilliance of gold spilling across my irises. He sucked in a hissing breath and stepped back.

  "I am neither young, nor a Lady."

  "Thought so." He turned back to Adelia. "Seriously? What the fuck is going on? Aren't you supposed to have a handle on this shit? Because my boss is breathing down my neck, wanting to know what in Dante's hells is going on, and if I have to bring her to your doorstep and let you explain it, so help me, I will."

  She held up a palm. "That won't be necessary. Miss Shelley has come back to help us control the ghoul problem. A problem, I'm sure, you'll be happy to have solved."

  "Gee whiz, Adelia, how nice of you to get off your ass and start cracking down on the bloodsuckers that have been overrunning the nightlife. But, seriously? I'm reminded of the phrase: fighting fire with fire. Your girl tore up a whole club, in one of the hottest districts in town. I've got the news reporting it as a mass hallucination, but that won't last if this happens again. What happened to your precious veil?"

  "What veil?" I asked, turning my attention to Adelia. She winced.

  "We'll have to talk about that later, dear."

  "She doesn't know?" Culver shook his head. "She's obviously one of your soldiers—what do you call them?"

  "Sunstriders," I supplied, willing to humor this ranting man so long as he got to the point.

  "That's it. You got a real sunstrider here. A goddamned tank of a woman, if the reports of what happened to Garnet are anything to be believed."

  "They are true, except for the fire."

  "That's comforting. So you got a woman who can rip a man's heart clear out of his chest running around in the dead of night, absolutely destroying popular human attractions, and she doesn't even know about the agreement?"

  "Please explain this agreement," I said, unable to keep the irritation from my voice. The sun's presence burgeoned on the horizon, but I wasn't certain I'd be able to keep my eyes open until then. Weakness spread through me, drawing me down toward restorative sleep.

  "Victoria's Veil is the agreement Queen Victoria made between jolly old England and your little order of nightmares. You don't reveal yourself to the mortal realm, and you're left alone to handle your own business. But you must handle it. Things are out of control out there. And Bloody Mary here—"

  "My name is Magdalene Shelley."

  "Fine. Bloody Mags here is running around like some sort of avenging angel for all the mortal realm to see. You have any idea how shitfucked this would have gotten if she'd been caught on camera? Everyone and their damn cat is recording every moment of their day. You want her ripping out a man's heart with her bare hands on the evening news?"

  "Of course not." Adelia gripped the lace of her shirt collar.

  "Then leash your girl." He turned to me and offered a small, tight smile. "No offense, Mags, but you're the kind of thing that regular old humans like me would riot in the streets over. No one wants that. And you..." He turned back to Adelia. She met his eye and took a slow sip of her port. "You know what will happen once their existence becomes public knowledge. You lose your freedom of operation, get it?"

  "Yes, yes, I know, the government will be forced to step in."

  "I would not allow such interference in my order," I said.

  He laughed, not an unkind sound. "You should have a real lon
g talk with your friends here about modern weaponry. The government would have you tagged and caged before you could blink if they wanted to."

  I doubted that, but kept the thought to myself in case this man was taking comfort from the thought I could be easily dealt with. Mortals were strange that way—willing to work with you as long as they felt they had the upper hand.

  "I understand Miss Shelley made your night difficult, but that was not her intention. She was only fulfilling the oath that binds her. It was my fault that things proceeded as they did. Going forward, we will be much more organized. And discreet."

  Culver nodded, but didn't do away with his wary edge. What he had seen tonight had shaken him to the core. As a member of the mortal constabulary, he must have seen many a dark thing in his day. I hoped that what I had done would not take up the bulk of his nightmares.

  "I am sorry for the trouble I caused you. When I went to my rest, it was 1830. Things have changed a great deal, and I am still adjusting."

  He gave me a side-eye, then nodded. "Apology accepted. But I want to be kept in the loop, clear? I don't want to be surprised with another call like this. You have no idea the amount of paperwork I'm going to have to fill out."

  "We will keep you informed," Adelia said, then switched her gaze to Talia, who'd been sitting quiet as a church mouse and jumped at the sudden attention. "Be certain to contact Inspector Culver whenever we engage in further operations."

  "Yes ma'am," she said quickly.

  "Good. If you've got your house in order, I'll leave you to it. Call me before things happen, not during or after."

  Talia bobbed her head. I wanted to point out that, as he was not a member of the Sun Guard, he had no right to give us orders, but I held my words. I was tired, and I had caused these people enough trouble for one evening. I would make the state of things clear with him once I had discovered more of what was going on in this new world and had developed a plan.

  "Oh, and Mags?"

  I raised my head to meet his gaze. I hadn't noticed before, when he'd been standing on my doorstep pointing a gun at my guts, but he had very grey eyes—like steel, or a deep, dark mist. I found them calming, even if his expression was currently flavored with a dash of the desire to kill me. I could understand that sentiment. The death of all immortals would probably make his job much easier.