The Vampire Gift 4: Darkness Rising

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The Vampire Gift 4: Darkness Rising Page 27

by E. M. Knight

“Still abandoned,” I whisper, mostly to myself. It’s astonishing what’s happened to my former coven.

  “James,” Victoria says. “Wait. I don’t think I can go—”

  I turn on her, scowling, “What?”

  “—without giving you this,” she finishes.

  She reaches into her pocket and takes out a ring.

  I recognize it immediately. It’s the one Raul made Eleira wear—the one that supposedly lessens the effects of the vampire inside.

  “Where did you get that?” I ask.

  “I found it in the wreckage of the castle,” she says. “I have no need of it. But it might be of use to her.”

  She nods at April.

  I consider the offer, and then stretch out my hand. “Give it here.”

  She places it into my upturned palm.

  As soon as I have it in my grip, I sling my arm back and chuck it as far as I can over the tops of the trees.

  “What the hell!” Victoria exclaims. “What did you do that for?”

  “None of the vampires of the Nocturna Animalia will have their powers lessened,” I say, by way of decree. “If they cannot handle what they have become, they are not fit to bear the name. Simple as that.”

  I reached that decision in the cavern. If April does not recover, she’ll have to be put down. I cannot have half-lame vampires running around claiming to be of my coven.

  Victoria makes a sound of disgust. “You really are impossible, you know that?”

  Then, without waiting on my reply, she scales the fence and drops to the other side.

  I know April is in no state for such acrobatics, so I tear a hole in the meshing, instead, and beckon her through. She follows, still unseeing.

  It’s uncanny.

  We get into the plane that I selected. I start the engine quickly, checking all the instruments to make sure they’re functioning properly.

  They are. When that’s done, I taxi us to the runway.

  As I wait for the familiar purr of the engine to kick in, letting me know she’s properly warmed up and ready for flight, I look over at April one more time.

  Her eyes are completely vacant. They have that red, tell-tale vampire ring around the irises… but they are blank—empty. Devoid of life.

  I turn uncomfortably to the front. How much of that is Victoria’s spell… and how much of that is from the nature of her first feeding?

  I don’t know. But damn if I’m not going to try everything I can tonight to make her recover.

  Because if another full night passes, and she’s still in that state?

  The decision I already made will have to be implemented.

  ***

  An hour or two later, we begin our decent into a long-since abandoned vineyard.

  This is where Raul and I had set up a little refueling station long ago. To think, at that point we could actually collaborate on something.

  The gulf that’s sprung up between us since is almost impassable.

  We land. I take April by the hand and lead her out.

  Victoria follows us, bleary-eyed. She still hasn’t recovered from casting that spell. I wonder how long her weakness will last.

  “Where are we?” she asks.

  I point at the glowing lights over the horizon. “Twenty miles that way is a town of six thousand people. We’re going to feed.”

  Victoria’s eyes immediately light up. Every vampire craves more blood.

  So I take a certain kind of perverse delight in informing her of my next decision.

  “You’ll stay here with April while I go find the proper victims to take. We can’t afford to let her run wild in a modern town full of people should the bloodlust take hold.”

  Which, I dearly hope it does.

  “What?” Victoria exclaims. “No, you can’t do that! You can’t leave me here to—to babysit!” She folds her arms. “April is your responsibility. Not mine.”

  But the way her eyes flicker to the girl even as she says the words betrays her true feelings.

  She’s growing protective of her.

  “I can and I will,” I reply. “You don’t want me to exert my influence, do you? That will not be pleasant.”

  She glares at me. “Do your worst,” she challenges.

  I exhale and rub my eyes. Did Father ever have such problems when he established his coven?

  Then again, I doubt Father did it under circumstances which in any way mirror mine.

  “You also swore an oath,” I remind her.

  “That doesn’t involve this!” she says. “Look, James. I helped you. I gave April time. But Lord knows I need to feed. Almost as much as her, I need it...”

  I hate the ugly desperation in her voice.

  “No.” I say. “I’ve made my decision, and I won’t change my mind. You stay here. Protect her. One of us needs to. Who knows what will happen if she’s left alone.”

  “What, you think someone will find her?” Victoria rolls her eyes. “Please.”

  “Not all vampires stick to a coven, Victoria. There are more wanderers in North America than you’d suspect. I’m not risking one of them chancing upon April. If any are close by, they would have felt our arrival.”

  She opens he mouth to speak, but I continue straight over her.

  “Don’t argue this, Victoria. You’ll have blood soon enough—isn’t that what you want?”

  She grumbles something incomprehensible.

  I push out with my mind, just the tiniest bit, to remind her that I am still the dominant one here.

  She shuffles back.

  “Fine,” she mutters. “But don’t think I’ll forget this, James.” She takes April by the arm. The girl is like a cow—not a single spark of intelligence remains in her eyes. “Come on, sweetie, let’s go back on the plane.”

  I watch them go. Just before Victoria closes the cabin door, I call out:

  “Victoria? Should your spell backfire, and April remains this way… I will hold you accountable for the deaths of two Nocturna Animalia. Not one.”

  She makes a disgusted sound in her throat and flips me the bird.

  But I did not miss the flicker of fear that came over her face.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  JAMES

  A SMALL COLLEGE TOWN IN CALIFORNIA

  I stroll under the bright lights of the small college campus, enjoying the looks I get from all the people.

  The students are fascinated by me. They are drawn to me like moths to flame. I don’t even have to do anything to garner their attention.

  It’s just the natural gift that comes from being a vampire.

  Ah, how I’ve missed this. How I’ve missed having all these dozens of eyes on me. I’ve missed hearing whispers about the striking stranger from the lips of pretty girls and shining young men.

  I’ve missed the attention, I’ve missed feeling like a spectacle.

  But I am, I truly, really am. I am a sight to be admired, a vision to be witnessed. I am like the tiger with his gleaming fur coat, fascinating the tourists who drive by, oblivious to the true danger of being so close to a wild and hungry beast. Let them feel safe in their little safari Jeeps! The barrier is but an illusion, because nothing can truly hold me back when I wish to strike.

  But first, and for a time, I only wish to partake in the simpler pleasures.

  I stroll through the evening crowds, wondering how any of these students would react if they knew just who I am.

  Eventually, my feet lead me to the mouth of an open alley. I’ve left the lights of the main walkway far behind.

  I take a deep breath and embrace the night. I can feel the hundreds of warm, human bodies, slumbering in their beds beyond the mortar walls of the closest dorm.

  I look up the side of the building. Who to kill, who to kill…

  Only a few windows are lit. Makes sense, for an ordinary Wednesday night. These children are going to have class early tomorrow morning.

  Unfortunately for their peers, one of them won’t make it.
<
br />   I pick a window at random and leap up to it. My strong fingers catch the groove above the frame. I hold myself there, camouflaged against the side of the apartment by the night, and listen.

  Silence. Only the sound of peaceful slumbering from inside.

  Ah, how long it’s been since I’ve done this!

  I use what little abilities I have with the Mind Gift to flick open the latch on the other side. With my free hand I slide the window sideways just enough to slip through.

  I land softly on a small, woolen throw. It’s been tossed aside from the futon.

  A naked, deliciously petite girl lies sleeping there.

  I glide over the hardwood floor until I’m right upon her. The girl is young, so young. No older than Eleira had been when I gave her the infusion of the serum.

  No older than Eleira is now.

  I crouch down beside her. A fan opposite us blows a slight breeze through the room. It lends a normalcy to the situation that I would otherwise not feel.

  I trace a finger along the curve of her spine, drawing it up from her hips, slowly, to her neck. She is sleeping face-down. Her back rises and falls with soft, easy breaths of an untroubled rest.

  What does it cost for me to take the life of one so young, so nubile?

  Nothing.

  Nothing, and for that, I feel no remorse. This girl will be as beautiful in death as she had been in life. When her body is found in the morning, or the next day, or the day after, the autopsies will all say she died of heart failure. A tragedy for someone so young.

  By then, all marks of my bite will have vanished.

  Her breathe hitches. I freeze.

  She opens her eyes and turns her head to me. She cannot fully make me out in the dark.

  “Jeremy?” she asks. “Is that you?”

  Pity blooms in my heart. “No, my dear,” I say faintly. “It is not.”

  And just as her groggy mind registers the unfamiliarity of my voice, my head snaps forward, and I sink my fangs into her neck.

  She tries to scream but the kiss paralyzes her. The Vampire’s Kiss. The deadly embrace.

  Hot, fresh, florid blood flows into me. Oh, this one is pure, I think. Oh, this one has never been touched.

  Flickering memories of important moments in her life come to me with the blood. Usually, I pay them no attention. But tonight, they are unusually vivid.

  I see the tiny house where she grew up as a little girl. I see the shoreline of the nearby ocean, where she’d spent many-a-night dreaming. I see faces of boys, former crushes and famous actors, all those men she’d secretly been infatuated with.

  I see her mother, waving the girl farewell as she went off on her first day of kindergarten. I see the cheerful, red-brick school where she’d spent so many days. I see the faces of her teachers, of her friends, of covers of her favorite movies and books…

  I see it all, and I see it as clearly as if I am there, witnessing it first-hand.

  I cannot kill her.

  The thought rockets up from the depths of my mind and splinters through the ecstasy of the feeding. I sputter; I choke; I cough.

  With a quick, rough jerk, I pull away.

  Two holes show on her neck, and they’re dribbling blood. Her eyes are open, and she stares at me, not in horror or in fear, but in fascination.

  For a moment I just stare back.

  “I know what you are,” she whispers to me. Her voice is rational and calm. Not even the slightest hint of terror!

  My hands very nearly shake as I help her sit upright. Her naked body looks exquisite in the pale, soft glow of the moon. Her breasts are small but firm, her limbs are slender, and her cheeks are flushed the slightest bit of red.

  “Yes,” I say. I look into her eyes. “Tell me what I am.”

  “You’re an angel,” she says, “come to deliver me from this life.”

  A sad smile plays on my lips. “Oh, child,” I say. “How I wish you didn’t believe that.”

  And then I grab her head once more and sink my fangs into her flesh.

  This time, the torrent of images comes in a flood. This time they are fragmented; bits and pieces from episodes here and there in her life. They flicker though my mind without meaning, and as her life force ebbs away, all begin to fade.

  “Wait,” the young girl gasps.

  I let her go, startled that she could still speak.

  “Kiss me, first,” she says. “Before you take my life. I’ve never been kissed… by a handsome stranger… ever, before.”

  Now she is clearly delirious.

  But in this, I can grant her request. I hold her face gently in my hands. My thumbs brush over her cheeks, so vital, so soft. Her beauty is astounding; her blood, even more. When I look at her, I see the reflection of my own perfection in those eyes.

  I bring my head softly forward, tilt it to the side, and place my cold lips upon hers, in the gentlest kiss.

  She holds on to that kiss as if it will grant her life. And when I pull away, her eyes have shuttered closed, and no more breath is left in her body.

  I rise. A great sadness comes over me. And I think, for a moment: Why her?

  I’d broken into this girl’s room… this pure, sweet, innocent girl… And I’d stolen her life.

  Of course, I’d killed before. Many times. But this occurrence feels… different.

  Was it the absence of fear that made it less satisfying? There is no denying the potency of her blood. Already I feel it invigorating my body.

  But why wasn’t she afraid? Why had she welcomed death?

  I go to the window. I look back at the girl. I came to kill, but then I couldn’t do it, but then I did, I think.

  What does that say about me?

  I turn away, torn between despair and disgust. Am I growing weak? I felt nothing but anger a day ago…

  But then, just before I drop out into the night, my preternatural ears pick up a single heartbeat.

  One. Just one. Yet it’s enough to know the girl is still alive.

  Without thinking I rush to her. I bite a gnash on my wrist. I press it to her mouth. I tilt her head back and make her drink.

  As soon as the life-giving nectar trickles down her throat, she opens her eyes. She grabs my arm, demanding more…

  I give her all I can. Then I rip away, and with a savage scowl, bury my face into her neck.

  I drink her blood. Then I break off, and make her drink mine. Again and again the process repeats, and the girl grows stronger, bolder below me.

  May you forever have your beauty, I think. May you forever preserve your glorious form!

  And in the end, when it’s finally done… when my latent fledgling is staring back at me with eyes full of lust and awe and hunger, I look at her, and I say, “And now we truly feed. And you, my princess of the night, will not be weakened like April.”

  The girl looks at me, mouth full of blood… and she smiles.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  SMITHSON

  THE ORDER’S SECRET FACILITY

  “Sir?”

  I look up from my desk. The reports I’ve been neglecting finally have got my attention.

  So far, all is quiet on the home front with the sleeping witch. And so long as I’m close by, all I can do is wait.

  “They’re asking for you in the East Wing.”

  I surge straight up. “Is it urgent?”

  The officer at my door shakes his head. “I don’t believe so.” He allows himself a small smile. “Otherwise, they wouldn’t have sent me.”

  I clap him on the shoulder as I walk by. “Good man. I like a soldier with a sense of humor.”

  He gives the appropriate salute and marches off.

  I walk through the middle of the laboratory floor. The space hums with activity. Everybody is going about their assigned tasks with just the proper amount of precision. Nobody is loafing, nobody is wasting time.

  I love that about The Order. I love that we have such driven, self-motivated people here. It makes not one
iota of difference whether I am present or not. In either case, all these humans would be working just as hard.

  In fact, amongst all the white lab coats and professional garbs, I probably stand out the most in my florid cloak and trustworthy sword.

  But that bit of eccentricity lets me stand out. Just enough for me to command a little more of these people’s respect.

  Respect, for a being in my position, is never a bad thing. Especially when it is earned and not forced.

  It would take only the tiniest whip of my vampiric power to coerce all these humans to comply. Thankfully, it has never come to that. And with the way we run things, it never will.

  I walk over the walkway leading to the enormous vault door. My small band of witches is inside.

  As is Sylvia. Ah, Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia.

  What to do with her, I wonder? She is the only one here who has enough knowledge to piece together what I’m truly after. She trusts me, though, and I trust her. It saddens me that in this, my most important venture, I’ve had no choice but to deceive her.

  And still. Still, she might figure it out. She’s a smart one, and chock-full of brash confidence. I wouldn’t mind having her on my side. Would I?

  I stop midway on the hanging bridge. I take hold of the railing with both hands and look down into the abyss below.

  Would I?

  There’s only one way of doing that. I would have to turn her. Yet she would never agree, would she? She hates vampires just as much as I do.

  But if I turn her, and together, we transcend…

  Images flash in my mind. Visions of a glorious future. I would be a Blood Lord. Beside me, my beautiful queen. We could rule the earth, eliminate the horrid spawns of darkness, and revel in our creation together!

  Because… when I do transcend… who else will I have?

  Beatrice? No, she showed her true colors when she abandoned me. I cannot take her back, I will not take her back…

  And yet, a small voice reminds me, hasn’t everything you’ve done been aimed at capturing her heart again?

  My grip on the railing tightens. The metal groans and bends.

  I realize what I’m doing and quickly let go. Looking around to make sure nobody’s watching, I straighten it back into shape.

 

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