by R.K. Ryals
***
The three-level, grey stone Abbey looked ominous to me as I pulled up, and I cringed. Homes were supposed to look welcoming. So much for that.
“Here goes nothing,” I mumbled before yanking my keys out of the ignition and moving toward the door.
“Aunt Kyra!” I called out as I walked inside, keeping my voice level and confident. She didn’t answer.
I moved deeper into the Abbey. Most of the lights were off to save on power. The philosophy was, "If the room wasn’t in use, then the lights shouldn't be either."
“Aunt Kyra?”
A noise made me spin, and I looked toward the kitchens. What the hell?
“What’s this all supposed to mean, Damon?” I heard my aunt ask as I moved stealthily toward the door across from the refectory.
Damon? The recruiter? The one that looked like Marcas? Maybe coming home early wasn’t such a bad idea. Something told me she wasn’t discussing the weather, and I was more than ready to put an end to my questions.
“She’s been linked to him, Kyra. Now we wait,” Damon answered, and I shivered. I knew his voice now. And it scared me.
“You didn’t tell me it would change her!” my aunt insisted, her voice rising as I moved deeper into my corner.
Change? Someone moved, and a crash resounded against the wall where I crouched. I fought not to cry out.
“Do you doubt me, Kyra?” Damon asked, his voice low. My aunt gasped, as if her windpipe couldn’t take in enough air. I struggled to sit still.
“No,” she ground out, and a moment later I heard a thud before Aunt Ky began wheezing desperately, as if she was gasping in huge lung-fulls of air. Had he tried choking her? Jesus!
“I don’t doubt you!” she coughed. “I’m just trying to understand—"
“Understand this. Without your niece, we would be nowhere right now.”
“But the link? You didn’t tell me it would be so strong!” Ky argued. She sounded desperate and afraid. “It could kill her!”
The kitchen grew quiet. My heart sped up. Kill?
“It’s a chance we have to take.” Damon said flatly.
Ky let out a shuddering breath. “Then it could kill her? You admit it!”
Damon didn’t answer. Ky hiccupped. I wasn’t sure if it was from the lack of oxygen or from real emotion.
“And it’s worth it?” she asked.
Still, Damon remained silent. After a moment, I heard Aunt Ky walk across the kitchen, her shoes thudding softly against the stone floor. The door leading outside creaked.
“This is what you meant by sacrifice,” she said meekly.
“It’s worth the risk, Kyra. It could end a war,” Damon finally said as he too moved across the kitchen. His stride was longer, and the sound his shoes made quieted as he moved outside.
“Why are you really helping us?” Aunt Kyra asked as I fought not to peer around the corner.
If Damon answered, I didn’t hear it. The door closed firmly behind him, and I heard the latch slide into place. Braving a peek around the doorway, I saw Aunt Ky slide down the wood of the door wearily before hitting the floor, her head coming to rest in her hands. My mind played back the conversation, and I moved to stand in the empty entryway. The stainless steel kitchen prep table lay on its side on the floor, and I focused on it a moment in silence.
The word sacrifice played silently through my head, and I suddenly felt a wave of nausea sweep over me. It took everything I had not to puke. Swallowing the bile working its way up into my throat, I forced myself to face the defeated woman on the floor.
“What have you done?” I asked her quietly, the question making its way through the room like an arrow. It found its mark, and Kyra looked up quickly. Shadows haunted her eyes and her hair stood up haphazardly. Around her neck, bruises were forming. My eyes widened.
“Dayton,” Kyra whispered as she pushed herself off the floor.
I backed away slightly. “You said we needed to talk."
Aunt Kyra sighed and bent to pick up the table. I helped her.
“Who’s Damon?” I asked her as she reached for one of the kitchen chairs.
She looked up at me and handed me the chair.
“A Demon,” she murmured as she sat down on one side of the table.
My heart stopped. I knew without a doubt she was serious. I thought back to Amber’s room the night before my birthday. Amber had mentioned Demons. But she had talked about protecting people against Demons, not working with them. I wasn’t sure what was real anymore.
“Please sit, Dayton,” Ky begged.
I watched her a moment, her eyes staring up into mine, and I realized she was scared. This didn’t comfort me. But I sat.
“I don’t understand."
My back was rigid against the wooden chair. Relaxing just didn’t feel the right thing to do. It felt like relenting, and I was scared of what I’d be relenting to.
“He’s a Demon,” Aunt Kyra repeated.
I stared. I got that much. It suddenly made sense why Marcas had been able to walk around in the daylight. He wasn't a vampire. What I didn't get was . . .
“What the hell?” I cried as Ky looked at me with narrowed eyes.
I wasn’t apologizing for my language. What a joke!
“I know you probably find that hard to believe. Your sister did too at first."
She thought I was upset by the revelation. I almost laughed. It wasn't hard to believe. If I had thought it was, I didn’t after sharing my blood with one. At least I knew what they were now. Damon and Marcas. Demons. They looked identical except for the scar. What I found hard to believe was the Abbess cozying up to one.
“What does he want?” I asked her in a whisper.
Aunt Kyra grew pale. She reached for my hands across the table, but I leaned away and her own hands fell between us, trembling. She had never tried to soothe me before.
“Oh, Dayton."
I covered my face with my hands. Why had all of this been hidden from me until now?
“Why didn’t I know about any of this? Why didn’t I know about Amber?” I pleaded haltingly.
Ky tried moving closer. I scooted the chair back.
“I won’t apologize,” Kyra muttered, almost to herself.
She sat back in her chair, and I let my hands drop. She was staring at the wall above my shoulder.
“I met Damon after your parents passed.” Kyra paused and looked me in the eyes. “Keep in mind; we are at war, at war with all Demons. We still are. I had just taken over the Abbey. We are not your typical religious institution. We run the same way, in many ways, but we have a higher purpose. We are warriors."
She pulled her shoulders up tight, erect, stubborn.
“Your dad was a part of the Abbey, you know. Not by birth or choice, but because of your mother. He adored my sister. But your father was different. He . . . He . . .”
Kyra paused and stood up, and I followed her with my gaze as she paced for a moment before moving to the coffee pot in the corner of the kitchen. I wanted to shake the story out of her, but I kept quiet. She took down a filter and the Folgers can, and I sniffed the air as she started scooping coffee. The smell was a familiar, comfortable one. I think Aunt Ky was just looking for something to do with her hands. They still shook. The coffee started dripping and Aunt Ky moved back to the table.
“Your dad didn’t approve of my ideas. I had radical views about the war, this is true, but they were effective. We were making a lot of progress. But, like I said, your dad was different,” Kyra said distantly, her mind fully engrossed in the past as she moved from the table once again to stand next to the coffee pot.
"He was judgmental, his tall, red-haired demeanor looming over us all. He didn't understand. He—"
"He was an amazing father," I interrupted, images of my dad's strong presence and deep, melodious voice more than clear in my memory.
I wasn't going to put up with parental criticism from a woman who'
d turned her back on her own niece, who'd tried to kill her. My parents were better than that. Aunt Kyra let the subject drop. Facing me, she looked down at the floor.
“When your parents passed, I found strange notes scribbled everywhere in your dad’s study. They were mad! Talk of Demons, their hierarchies, leaders . . . it astounded me. It was stuff I should have known.” Kyra shook her head. “And one of the names he had written down several times was Damon. There were notes about him coming to see your father, discussions they’d had, things Damon had propositioned to your father. It was all there. And with the name was a number. I took it upon myself to contact him."
Aunt Kyra paused and poured a cup of coffee. She held it out to me, but I shook my head. My palms were too sweaty to hold a cup, and my stomach hurt too much at the moment to even think about drinking any.
“What did Damon want with dad?” I whispered.
Kyra’s hand began to shake so badly coffee leaked over the side of the cup and she laid it down on the bar beside her. My throat closed up.
“He didn’t want your dad. He wanted one of his children."
I froze.
“Why?” I managed, my pulse beating rapidly in my neck. It was making my head begin to throb. Kyra didn’t even try to approach the table.
“Because he said your dad’s blood held the key to redemption. And that his children would end the torment placed on his kind. He said you or Amber could be the key to preserving humankind,” Kyra finished, her face flushed now with heat. Something wasn’t right.
“What went wrong?” I asked, my head throbbing so badly, I could hear the pounding in my chest. Kyra looked up.
“You were the one. Damon said he smelled it in your blood. You were supposed to lure him to us, not be sacrificed to his kind. No one ever said anything about you becoming his."
I almost forgot to breathe.
“Marcas?” I asked.
“Marcas is his enemy. It went differently than I planned but the mission is still the same, Dayton,” Kyra said so quietly I knew the talk had left her empty. There was nothing more I’d get from her tonight. I still didn’t know what it had to do with me. I was left more confused than I had been before. Nothing felt right.
I stood up and left her there in the kitchens. She didn’t try to stop me.
Chapter 17
The Other is interesting. He is bold, but aloof. He is angry. Silent. Brooding. He has his own unspoken war with his brother.
~Bezalial~
