All Vincent knew was that it started with Dracula. Or at least he’d been the eldest vampire Vincent had ever come across. Once he was brazen enough to ask the Count where vampires originated. The question earned him a look of pure venom and Vincent was smart enough to never bring up the subject again. He had seen what happened to vampires who fell into disfavor with the master. They never lasted for long.
“You're different from the others,” Maria said.
“I used to be just like them.”
“But not anymore.”
“I met someone who helped me remember who I once was.”
For a brief moment, Vincent touched the locket around his neck. Maria pondered this for a moment before saying, “We're not going to make it out of here alive, are we? You’ll try to protect us, but it's not going to make a difference.”
Vincent was chilled by her clinical observation because deep down he knew she was right. Maria lowered her face again, resigned to her fate.
Vincent felt Sebastian's eyes digging into him. “She’s a smart girl.”
For a moment, Vincent hated Sebastian. Hated the clan. And most of all, he hated himself. Whatever the next few hours held in store for them, the vampires had it coming. And then some. The sins of the past were about to catch with them all.
***
Back in the library, Coraline and Julian were still combing the stacks. The former priest wasn’t having any luck in his search for the castle’s architectural plans, and he was growing frustrated. Even worse, he caught himself stealing way too many glances at the tall blonde, taking note of her perfectly shaped legs, the sleek curves outlined beneath her tight crimson dress, and the way her hair spilled down her neck. How could he be thinking about sex at a time like this? They were being targeted by a killer who had managed to destroy Dracula, and Julian was wondering what it would be like to get to know Coraline… a little better.
From what Julian had heard through the grapevine (and his personal observations had done little to dissuade him), Coraline was a sexually liberated woman. Meaning that she bedded men the way men liked to bed women - frequently, enthusiastically and with little sentimentality or regrets. Julian found his nerves tingling with the possibilities and various images of Coraline in a state of undress cycled through his mind. He tried to stave off the flow but the harder he tried, the worse it got. Coraline had put a hex on him and Julian couldn’t get her out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried. The hairs on Julian’s neck stood up as she brushed past him again. She must be doing it on purpose. Oh, how she enjoyed teasing men.
Julian was a virgin when Dracula took him under his wing, the product of a repressed Victorian Age, and was never comfortable with his body even knowing he could be attractive to the right woman. Not in a raw, animalistic, alpha-male way, but in a more refined, intellectual manner. A well-aged cognac, not an ice-cold beer.
After he became a vampire, much had changed. He clung to his faith even though the teachings of the Church more times than not rang hollow in the face of what he had become. He saw good men succumb to age and disease while soulless killers continued to roam the earth, decade after decade, century after century. Saints turned to dust while demons flourished. And as the memory of the priest Julian had once been began to recede with the continued passage of time, he started to grow more open to new experiences.
For a fleeting moment, he realized Coraline could be one of those experiences. The thought filled him with excitement but also a strange, undefined fear. Her flirtation could transform into mockery. If she got a whiff of his inexperience, she could turn on him, and Julian didn’t think he could face the shame of such a moment. Better to leave it be, to ignore the thoughts, to let them pass and concentrate on the important task at hand…
WHAMM!
The sharp sound jolted Julian and interrupted the flow of his thoughts. Coraline had dropped a heavy tome on a nearby reading table. Dust burst from the book's pages in a thick cloud, which would have induced a coughing fit if the former starlet had still been human. She flipped the pages, searching. Suddenly, her eyes lit up with delight. “Voila!”
Julian approached, curious in more ways than one. From the looks of it, Coraline had found what she was looking for. Yellowed, medieval architectural plans stuck between the dust-caked pages. She held them out to Julian with a triumphant smile that brightened her face. But as soon as she tried to make sense of the plans, her impatience became noticeable. “Hmm, this is going to take a while to decipher.”
Julian could feel Coraline’s enthusiasm deflating as she grasped the enormity of the task at hand. Julian saw a perfect opportunity to inch a little closer to her. “Why don’t you let me take a look?” As Julian eased toward her, he noticed a strange pattern on the wall right behind Coraline. The change in his expression didn’t go unnoticed to a social butterfly like Coraline.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I'm not sure...”
Coraline turned and followed Julian’s gaze. Across the wall, mounted about six feet above the floor, were a series of crucifixes. They had been arranged to form letters and spell out a cryptic message: FIAT LUX.
Coraline shook her head, perplexed. “Fiat Lux? Do you have any idea what it means?”
Julian knew the answer but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he moved a little closer to get a better look, never losing sight of his proximity to Coraline. Julian inhaled her intoxicating fragrance: a sweet perfume mixed with her own scent and a coppery hint of blood from her last feeding session with the human prisoners. Julian could feel the excitement building inside him. He just had to reach out and…
But instead, he answered in his characteristic dry and clipped manner. “It's Latin. A passage from the book of Genesis. It means-”
Julian spotted the infrared beam the instant he stepped into its path.
TSWACKT! The sound came from behind him.
Julian spun around but it was too late. An object exploded from the ceiling and rippled toward Julian. The stake burst through his chest cavity and punctured his heart. The momentum of the projectile hurled Julian’s slight frame through one of the library’s polarized windows in a furious hail of glass. As soon as the glass shattered around Julian, the sun began to lash his skin, fiery kisses that made his flesh hiss. He became a man of fire as he plunged into the gardens below.
His bestial shriek rebounded through the library and beyond. At the same time, sunlight surged through the broken window, singeing Coraline’s hands, and she started screaming. Her shocked voice joined Julian’s death cry in a dark chorus of pain.
Above her, the crucifix message seemed to look down upon Coraline, mocking her predicament as she did her best to avoid the destructive glare of the sun. For when translated from Latin, Fiat Lux meant: Let there be light.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CORALINE WAS STILL staring at the jagged maw of glass now haloed with daylight when Angelique and Zane arrived in the library.
“What happened?” Zane asked.
“Julian must’ve set off a booby trap,” Coraline explained in a shaky voice and pointed at the crucifixes on the wall. Angelique knew enough Latin to translate the message, and she could feel the anger rise inside her. Scanning the ceiling, she quickly spotted a high-powered crossbow connected to a windlass.
Clever.
Angelique approached the broken window.
“Be careful!” Coraline said.
She would be careful, alright.
Angelique eyed the shattered window, realizing Julian was beyond their help at this point. We’re down to five now, Angelique thought.
And with each new death, the pool of suspects was growing smaller. With Julian gone, only three suspects remained - Sebastian, Zane and Vincent. Zane she ruled out immediately. For one, he was obsessed with her but more importantly, the biker lacked both the imagination and intelligence to pull this off. Sebastian seemed like an odd choice (what would be his motivation?) but she couldn’t scratch him off the list, either. C
oraline’s shock seemed genuine. She had been an actress before she joined the clan but, according to those who had seen her movies, she was a pretty lousy one.
And that finally only left Vincent.
Angelique understood why the others would be tempted to direct their suspicion at her former lover and think he might be connected to these killings. On the surface, he fit the profile but Angelique had scratched that surface and gotten to know the man inside the armor. And because Angelique knew Vincent so well, she had initially dismissed him from the pool of suspects. This just wasn’t Vincent’s style.
If Vincent wanted them dead, he would face them head-on. No elaborate games, no cheap parlor tricks – he’d go for the direct approach. But could she be wrong? Was she letting her feelings cloud her judgment? People changed, and so did vampires. Angelique told herself to at least consider the possibility and promised to keep a watchful eye on Vincent once they returned to the dining hall. Part of why she was starting to be more open to the possibility of Vincent’s involvement could be traced back to what Zane said earlier.
Maybe Vincent knew.
The idea had naturally crossed her mind, but it wasn’t until Zane verbalized what was subconsciously nagging at her that the thought gained some traction.
Maybe Vincent knew.
But how would he have found out?
Angelique couldn’t answer the last question. But she was convinced of one fact: if Vincent knew the truth, all bets were off, and they should all be alarmed. Angelique felt a chill dance down her spine. To Zane’s eyes, Vincent was practically human. He refused to hunt and embrace his true nature. But Angelique had known Vincent at another time and in a different place.
That Vincent would’ve never protected the meat. That Vincent was a creature to be feared. A creature she had loved.
And how Angelique had loved him, loved him so hard and so deep, like no one before or since. And perhaps she still felt the same way. But Angelique hadn’t survived all these centuries because of her pretty smile alone. She too was a highly evolved killing machine, imbued with finely tuned survival instincts. If Vincent turned out to be the killer, it would be painful but in the end she would do what was necessary. Someone would pay for these crimes. She was going to make sure of it.
***
Vincent heard approaching footsteps and tensed. The door opened and Angelique, Zane and Coraline returned. The lost member in their party didn’t go unnoticed.
“What the hell happened?” Sebastian asked, already knowing the answer.
“Father Bain met his maker,” Angelique explained.
Coraline advanced toward Paul. The near-catatonic man didn’t react to her approach. Coraline held up her burned hands. “What's wrong with your sweetie?”
Her tone was mocking, and Vincent could feel the anger rising inside of him. Paul had retreated from reality, but reality wasn’t going to return the favor.
“Leave him alone!” Maria said, love conquering fear. It earned her a long, measured look for Coraline.
“Or what?”
For a tense moment, Vincent feared Coraline would rip out Maria’s throat. But she merely pushed Maria aside, a nuisance not worthy of her wrath, and advanced toward Paul, wineglass in hand. After the scare Coraline had experienced in the library, it looked like she needed to put some color back in her face. And from the way she now studied Paul and ignored Maria, it was clear she preferred to feed on the male member of the species. The need could have a sexual component and, according once again to Angelique, Coraline didn’t have a bisexual bone in her body.
Maria’s husband was slumped forward in his chair, his wrist dangling, almost touching the floor. Coraline was about to draw her fanglike nails across the soft flesh and fill her cup when Vincent decided the time had come to intervene. With quick steps he surged toward Coraline, hoping to stop her, when Zane decided to join the fun. The biker grabbed Vincent from behind in a wrestler’s chokehold. Vincent gasped and strained against Zane's iron grip but was unable to shake him off.
Nearby, Angelique smiled, her juices stirring at the thought of the two of them going at it. Vincent struggled with all his might, but to his shock he realized he no longer was a match for the biker. Angelique’s new lover at the moment was Vincent’s physical superior.
A smile twisted Angelique’s lips. “How many times have I told you, Vincent, you need to snack on something more nutritious than rodents. You said you’ve changed and you have, in more ways than you might realize. In your current state, you're no match for a vampire who feeds on human blood.”
Still struggling with Zane, Vincent watched as Coraline closed in on Paul.
“No!” Maria jumped in front of her husband, trying to shield him, but Coraline whisked her aside like a pesky insect. Maria crumpled to the floor. Vincent gasped with rage and strained against Zane’s iron hold, to no avail.
“Don’t!” Vincent said. “You’ve been draining him all night. He can’t take much more of this.”
“Do I look like I care?” Coraline asked.
“Let this be a lesson. Don’t make promises you can't keep!” Zane said.
Vincent watched with horror and - this was the worst part – growing hunger as Coraline drew one sharp fingernail across Paul's wrist. Blood oozed as Paul jolted to consciousness, reeled back to the horrors of his waking world. Coraline ran her long-nailed hands over the man’s face, tousling his hair. “Relax, baby, this isn't going to hurt.” Coraline squeezed Paul's wrist, her wineglass filling with the burgundy liquid.
Once the glass was full, she strode back to the dining table, lips wetted in anticipation. She held up her cup at Vincent in a mockery of a toast. “Cheers.”
Coraline downed the crimson contents of her glass. Almost instantly, color flooded back into her ivory features. Skin regenerated, the burns on her hands beginning to heal. As a satisfied smile ignited her features, Vincent slammed his head back, using all his weight to drive Zane into the wall. The biker cursed and let go of him. Within seconds Vincent was upon Coraline. His hand snaked out, knocking the cup of blood from her fingers. It shattered on the floor, precious blood pooling.
“I said, no one touches them!” Vincent’s words resounded in the dining hall but fell on deaf ears.
The vampires closed in. Circling.
Weary of Vincent’s antics, they were just waiting for Angelique to give the word to attack. No such order came. Vincent could tell Angelique was flush with sudden excitement. Turned on by the opportunity to see the Vincent she had once loved in action.
“Relax and stop being so dramatic,” Angelique said, her gaze remaining level with Vincent. “Coraline wasn't going to bite, just nibble a bit.”
The tension left Vincent’s body, but his eyes remained alert. Fixed to the blood he had just spilled. Its animalistic scent peppered the air, filled his nostrils and stained his thinking. There was a savage animal hunger in his eyes.
Angelique broke into a big grin, seeing her hopes realized. “You can fight your own nature, Vincent, but don't expect to win.”
Angelique came in closer, Vincent remaining riveted.
“You can't change what you are, darling.”
“Watch me.”
Vincent gave himself an internal push and found his center. Shamed by his own inhuman need, he turned away from the spilled blood. The tension eased from the room. But Zane's glare never wavered. It was just a matter of time before Zane would demand payback for the affront just perpetrated.
Angelique nodded at Coraline. “Let’s take a look at those plans. You said you discovered another way out of the chateau?”
Coraline tilted her head toward the architectural plans now splayed out across the dining room table and pointed out a complex series of interlocking tunnels and passageways.
“An underground well runs below the property,” Coraline explained. “It leads right through the vineyards. I guess it served both as a water source and escape route during the Middle Ages...”
Cor
aline broke off, a strange look edging into her features. She had to lean against the table for a moment and a disconcerting suspicion took root in Vincent. His gaze fastened on Paul and the man’s sorry condition was now filled with dark portent. The other vampires eyed Coraline impatiently, waiting for her to continue. The former starlet suddenly brought her hand up to her chest, feeling woozy.
“What's wrong?” Angelique asked.
“I'm not feeling so hot...”
Coraline’s voice was trembling now, ashen-faced. All eyes on her now. Her lips distorted into a travesty of a smile. “I can't feel my face...” Coraline’s fingers traveled down her scalp only to come up with a clump of her own hair.
Coraline’s features rippled with mortal terror. “What's happening to me?”
Vincent had a pretty good idea, but this wasn’t the time to bring it up. Before anyone else could venture a guess, Coraline took a dramatic step back and keeled over. Her body slammed into the dining room table and started to contort, wracked by violent convulsions.
Vincent watched grimly as the vampires jumped back, panic spreading at the sight of one of their own in such a ghastly state. Coraline’s tongue had turned black, her eyes webbed with bloody cataracts. She let out a bestial shriek that degraded into a guttural gurgle... and grew still.
Silence followed. Stretched. Everyone remained frozen in tableau. Vincent's gaze intensified with a dark realization. “The blood...”
The room's collective attention shifted toward Paul, still reclined in the far corner. He was a statue. Angelique crossed the room. She grasped Paul, pulled back his head and ripped off his gag. The man’s tongue was swollen purple. He let out a raspy death rattle before his head slumped forward, his body following suit. Vincent didn’t need a medical degree to know the hapless soul had either perished or now hovered so close to the edge he might as well be dead.
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