by Brooklyn Ann
Ironic Sacrifice
IRONIC SACRIFICE
BRIDES OF PROPHECY
Book 2
By Brooklyn Ann
Copyright © 2014 by Brooklyn Ann
Cover art by Brooklyn Ann and Kent Butler
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems— except in the form of limited quotations or reviews— without permission in writing from the author.
The characters, except for the cars and cat, and events are fictitious and are used fictitiously. Any similarities to any real persons, living or dead, are coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Broken Angels, an imprint by Brooklyn Smith
http://brooklynann.blogspot.com
[email protected]
Dedicated to Karen Ann
6~11~62 – 2~14 ~09
You were the best mom that I could ever wish for.
I’ll never stop missing you.
Thanks for believing in me.
And in memory of Bill Kieffer.
I’ll always miss our fun conversations about
books, horror movies, and heavy metal.
You were a great friend.
Chapter One
Spokane, Washington
“Oh God please, make them stop!” Jayden dug her fingertips into her temples as if she could tear the horrid visions out of her skull.
Long after the police officer left, the imprint of him invading his daughter’s room every night and the sound of her terrified whimpers was irrevocably burned in her memory. For the rest of her life, along with her worst visions, it would flash behind her eyes like a bad commercial, leaving behind a chill in her soul and a bitter taste in her mouth.
Again temptation beckoned to end it all, to climb over the Division Street barrier to the dam churning the waters of the Spokane River and jump, drowning the visions permanently.
Oblivious to curious onlookers, Jayden sank to her knees on the cracked sidewalk.
The visions were getting stronger. The cop’s hand barely grazed hers when she handed him her driver’s license after he checked her ID. Immediately she’d been pelted with vile images. It had been agony for her to keep a straight face as he interrogated her. She wanted to hit him— no. She wanted to tear his balls off and make him suffer a thousand-fold for what he did to that innocent child.
But there was nothing she could do. He was a man of the law while she was just a crazy homeless twenty-three year old woman. Once he confirmed her age and finished harassing her, the policeman left, free to rape and molest again while Jayden Leigh was trapped with terrible revelations of suffering that she could do nothing to prevent or free herself from.
“Are you all right, dear?” A gentle hand touched her shoulder and for once Jayden didn’t get a vision. Although for a moment it seemed she could smell fresh baked bread.
Jayden looked up into the compassionate blue eyes of an elderly woman.
“Yeah,” she croaked, licking dry lips. “It’s just a …migraine.” She fell back on the usual excuse for these situations though she was tempted to shriek the horrible transgressions she witnessed.
The woman nodded, brushing a snowy lock from her forehead. “Don’t you fret, dearie. I’ve just the thing for that!” she declared, reaching into her gargantuan red leather purse.
Jayden began to protest but the matron cackled, “Ah-ha! Here you are, dear. Keep the bottle. My doctor gives me plenty of pills as it is.”
Jayden smiled at the Excedrin. If only a little pill would cure her problem. Or perhaps it could, if she took the whole bottle.
“And take this too. It looks like you’ve fallen on hard times.” The kindness in the woman’s voice was enough to make Jayden’s throat tighten with humble gratitude and the barely suppressed desire to cry on the stranger’s shoulders and pour out her sorrow.
“Oh no, Ma’am, I couldn’t.” She tried to return the twenty-dollar bill but the woman had already walked off and was getting into her Buick.
Her eyes brimmed with tears at the generosity. She pocketed the pills and money, picked up her bottle of cheap Chardonnay and resumed walking to her car, where she lived. She could always jump into the dam tomorrow. After all, it wouldn’t do to waste the wine.
***
Sleep came hard that night. It wasn’t the wailing of police sirens, or the rumble of semi-trucks on the freeway, or even the sounds of a couple screaming at each other a block away. Something else drowned those incessant city noises. A voice in her head sobbed despairingly, “Why? Why? Why!”
That voice had grown so loud that she could barely hear anything else. And still the keening cry rose higher… “Why? Why? Why!”
A real headache was dangerously close.
“Why indeed?” she murmured as she uncapped the wine bottle and took a deep drink. She knew perfectly well what the voice was asking.
Why have I been reduced to this pathetic state?
Jayden still did not have an answer.
Only three months ago things had been normal. Or had they? She’d had a decent job that fit with her college schedule, taking care of people with developmental disabilities. It fulfilled her hungered spirit and was a step closer to becoming a counselor, a secret dream she’d nursed since childhood. Jayden had been working in the group homes for almost a year when she began having the visions. They were quick and faint at first, making her blame her imagination even though her instinct argued furiously. Just too much work, she would tell herself. All I need is a break. Things will get better when the semester ends.
But the next day the visions would come back stronger and soon the breaks did little to hold them off. Jayden became convinced that she was losing her mind. It was beginning to look as if she was going to end up like her mother after all. Stark raving mad in a psychiatric ward, heavily medicated in a padded room until, unable to take it any longer, she died a slow painful death of a broken heart and shattered mind.
Shortly after summer break began, Jayden’s supervisor fired her for being unproductive and upsetting the clients.
The next month, her landlord evicted her from her apartment. By then Jayden was half-insane from the severity of the visions, so she didn’t really care.
Mechanically, she’d packed what little belongings that would fit in her little Toyota and left the apartment. She then withdrew the rest of her money from the bank and closed the account. Going back to school in the fall was not an option.
Besides the hassle of showering, going to the bathroom and having to move to a different location every night, living in her car was kind of liberating. She didn’t have to pay bills or work or answer to anyone. The self-delusion only lasted a week when Jayden saw how quickly she was running out of money. She tried a few times to get a job, but every place she walked into and every person she encountered gave her such a cacophony of visions that she soon gave up, realizing that she would probably never be able to exist with the rest of humanity ever again.
Now it was early October and she almost froze to death every night.
“Why? Why? Why?” the voice cried again, despite all the wine she drank to muffle it.
“I told you already, I don’t know!” Jayden growled. “Besides, why doesn’t matter anymore. What I need to figure out is what the hell am I going to do?”
She put on her headphones and turned the volume up on her MP3 player, seeking solace in the music of her favorite band. For a blissful half hour, Rage of Angels’ latest album blocked out the voices until she turned it off, mindful to conserve her batteries.
Her heavy eyelids drifted closed.
Glowing eyes… Blood-dripping fangs… A dark shadow closes o
ver the figure of a woman, about to drain away her life. Jayden’s voice screams, “No! Take me instead! I want to die, I need to die.” Mocking laughter rings in her ears, “An ironic sacrifice I do say. Very well, a life for a life.”
The shadow gently engulfs her and she begins to drown in thick velvet blackness. The sinister voice echoes, “A life for a life… A life for a life…a life for a life.”
The piercing trill of a car alarm shunted Jayden from the dream.
“Damn it,” she groaned and pulled the blankets over her head. Even nightmares were preferable to her miserable consciousness.
As she shifted in vain attempt to seek comfort, Jayden realized that she had to pee. Cursing again under her breath, she sat up and pulled her shoes on. It was freezing cold outside. She shivered and her breath came out in big puffs of steam. She hurried into the alley to find a safe spot to relieve herself. When the street was out of view she crouched and unzipped her pants.
Just when she finished, a scream of terror tore the air close by, making her jump. Jayden yanked her pants up, zipper forgotten, skin prickling with acute alertness.
“No. Don’t you dare touch me!” a woman demanded haughtily. She had to be only twenty feet away.
Jayden knew she should get the hell out of there and drive as far as her near empty gas tank would take her, but her legs propelled her relentlessly forward. Her heart pounded with a heady mixture of terror and anticipation as she came upon a scene that had only before existed in her dreams.
The woman was a tall leggy blonde in designer clothes. Jayden fleetingly wondered what such a classy lady was doing in a dark seedy alley. But then a vision assailed her. This woman had been so spoiled all her life that it was sickening. Her love for herself and utter scorn for all others rose up more noxiously than the scent of her expensive perfume. Scenes of her temper tantrums flitted through Jayden’s mind. She didn’t really start to hate the woman until she saw her kick a bum on the street.
“H-how did I get here?” the woman demanded shrilly, trying to hide her fear. “I don’t belong in this filth!”
“As a matter of fact, this is exactly where you belong,” another voice replied. His voice was deep, smooth as velvet and faintly accented.
Jayden’s eyes shifted to the dark form looming before the woman. It looked like a man, but it wasn’t a man. This thing was far older and far more terrifying than a mere mugger. She started to take another step closer but then it spoke again. His voice was so rich and enchanting that it held her motionless.
“I have brought you here, Charise, because it is time for judgment to be passed upon you.”
Charise’s eyes widened in terror. She gasped and put a dainty hand to her throat as if she were rehearsing for Broadway.
The creature nodded. “Yes. I know of your crimes. I know everything. And it is I who will decide your fate. In fact, I already have.”
“What is it then?” she whispered.
“Death.”
Slowly, he cupped her face in his hands. She shrieked and tried to scratch out his eyes with her long manicured nails but the man easily restrained her, seizing her anorexic-thin wrists with one hand and tilting her neck to the side. His eyes began to glow with an unholy light, reflecting on his bared fangs.
Jayden saw the monster for what he was immediately and at the moment she didn’t take the time to examine the impossibility of it all. She just flat out accepted it. Vampire.
“Wait!” she cried out, surprising herself.
Those glowing eyes now turned upon her, freezing her heart. Jayden stumbled back with an icy intake of breath.
“Yes?” The whisper was silky, invoking tendrils of fire in her belly despite the chill of the night and its events.
“D-don’t k-kill her,” she found herself stammering. “T-take me in-instead. I want to die.”
The vampire laughed. Its mocking tone struck a sharp chord within her soul. This laughter had haunted her dreams many times before.
“You know what I am, don’t you?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice like spun sugar.
Jayden nodded.
“And you know this woman for the foul selfish creature she is too, don’t you …Jayden?”
She had felt his mind whispering against hers since their eyes met, but the shock of his learning her name almost stole her breath… or perhaps it was the intimate way in which he spoke it.
“Y-yes. I saw,” she admitted, unwilling to show her fear of him.
“She deserves to die. Surely you cannot argue with that.”
“I am not one to pass judgment,” Jayden stated plainly. “Nor, do I think are you…Razvan.” The ancient, foreign-sounding name came to her like a curveball.
The woman stared at them both dumbly. Her gaping lips opened and closed like those of a dying fish. She didn’t even bother struggling in her captor’s grip.
Razvan chuckled and twirled his short black goatee with one long finger, regarding Jayden like she was an amusing new toy. “And you offer yourself in her place, you say?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Again, the rich mocking laughter rippled across her body, touching her in places that should never be touched.
“A very powerful psychic I have come across,” he said musingly and crooked a finger, gesturing her to come forward.
Unbidden, her feet carried her forward. It was a powerful mind trick. Jayden realized with trepidation that the vampire could probably make her do anything he wanted against her will, as if she were a puppet. When she was inches away from him he raised a hand and lifted a lock of her dirty hair, then let it drop.
“A poor girl for a rich one, a vagabond for a socialite, a truth for a lie,” he murmured in a voice that brought goosebumps all over her flesh. “An ironic sacrifice, I do say. Very well, then. A life for a life.”
Those familiar words made her heart jump in her throat.
The vampire turned his attention to the other woman, whose wrists he still held. “You know that this woman is sacrificing herself for your worthless hide, right?” he asked her.
The blonde nodded rapidly, her relief apparent as the vampire released his grip.
“And you are grateful, yes?” Razvan prodded. His tone oozed with false sincerity as he circled around her like a stalking wolf.
She nodded again. Her facial muscles twitched strangely. Jayden realized he must be now immobilizing her with his preternatural power.
“Then say it!” he ordered harshly.
Charise flinched but obeyed. “I-I’m grateful!” she half-shouted.
“No, you stupid bitch, I don’t want or need your gratitude, but she does.” He inclined his head to Jayden. “Now thank her.”
The woman slowly approached Jayden, eyes full of awe. “Th-thank you.”
Jayden nodded.
“Now kiss her hand.” The icy command was irrefutable.
Charise took Jayden’s hand, face screwed up in disgust at the dirt and grime that covered the flesh, and quickly brushed her lips across it. Jayden was confused about Razvan’s motives for such a pointless demand. Maybe he just wanted to be cruel. One glance at the wicked glee in his eyes confirmed her suspicion.
“Very good, Charise,” he said in a way a teacher congratulates a pupil.
Then, quick as lightning he pinned her against the brick wall. Jayden thought he had changed his mind about letting Charise go, but it appeared she was wrong.
“Now you are going to redeem yourself, yes?” he whispered. “I am certain you will, Charise. I am certain you will treat every person you encounter from this day forward with respect and dignity. Do you know how I know this?”
“H-how?” she stammered.
“Because, my dear, if you don’t… if you remain the same self-centered trollop that I summoned into this alley, I will know and I will bring you here again. And trust me, you will not be so lucky as to survive the encounter. Now go!”
She didn’t move, only stared dumbly.
“Quickly!”
he growled, “before I change my mind. I am getting very hungry.”
Charise ran. The sound of her clacking high heels echoed down the alley long after she was out of sight.
“Now, Jayden, where were we?” Razvan turned to her.
Oh God, she was going to die now. Jayden gazed up at the vampire, desperate to study the last thing she would ever see.
Razvan was taller than she, about six feet. His hair was long and dark and fell in rich waves to his shoulders. His eyes were like perfectly carved onyxes and when she met them it was like looking into eternity and slowly slipping over the edge. She shook herself, unwilling to fall under his spell, which he was surely trying to exert upon her, and turned her attention to the rest of his face. It was all harsh masculine planes and angles, with a firm jaw under a goatee and high, almost hollow cheekbones. The brows were thick and arched in such a way that he would always look malevolent. It was the same with his lips; they were so sharply sculpted and tinged with cynicism under a rakish mustache, it was doubtful that they could ever portray a smile of joy or honesty.
“What is the matter, Jayden?” Razvan asked suddenly. “Don’t tell me I’ve now frightened you speechless. Not after you so boldly confronted me.”
“No. Nothing’s wrong,” she said too quickly. “Well, besides the fact that I’m about to die. It’s kind of a large thing to grasp, if you don’t mind.”
His smile faded, eyes turned serious. “Don’t worry. I will give you time.” He held out a hand. “Come.”
She frowned in confusion. Was he toying with her? Unease trickled down her spine like rivulets of ice water. “What do you mean? Aren’t you going to kill me now?”
Razvan shook his head. “No, I think not. You amuse me too much right now. And I would at least prefer to have you fed and bathed first.”
Her cheeks grew hot in embarrassment. She didn’t think about how badly she must smell to him, having not bathed in a week.
“Well?” He raised a brow.
Shivering in apprehension with a touch of excitement, she placed her hand in his. It was cool to the touch, but not as cold as she had expected of an undead creature. His other hand clamped about her waist as he pulled her body against his. The shocking intimacy made her tremble.
