by Brooklyn Ann
Heat rose up through her body, setting her cheeks on fire as the words he’d said danced through her mind. I won’t take you unless you ask me to.
Xochitl’s honey brown eyes widened. “Oh my God, he is!”
Akasha looked away and changed the subject. “How are you getting on with your foster parents…and everything else?”
Her friend immediately slumped like a kicked puppy. “They’re horrible, ‘Kash. All ‘your soul better belong to Jesus, ‘cuz your ass belongs to me’ kinda thing.”
Guilt suffused Akasha down to the marrow of her bones. Guilt, and a fierce protective worry for her friend. “You be careful, Xoch’. Zealots can be dangerous. If they hurt you, I won’t be averse to running away with you.”
“I can’t leave the band. Besides, I have less than a year before I’m eighteen.” Xochitl shook her head. “So how do you know about zealots?”
Akasha sucked in a breath. It had been years since she’d told anyone about the horrific Mrs. Steele. “I lived under the dubious care of one once. She used to beat me and the others and half-starved us in the name of ‘fasting.’ The others were like dead-eyed drones. I took off before that could happen to me.”
Xochitl gasped and placed a warm hand on hers. “Where’d you live after that?”
“A lot of places. Most not so great.” Waving off her friend’s curious look, she glanced at the clock. “Anyway, you better go before he gets back.”
“Okay.” As they plodded back downstairs, every vestige of Xochitl’s hunched form screamed reluctance to return to her foster home. “You coming to the funeral tomorrow?”
“Fuck! I completely forgot.” Another wave of wretched remorse choked her. “I’m sorry, Xoch’ but yeah, I’ll be there, I promise.”
“It’s okay. In the face of all this,” she swept a gesture at the opulence around them, “one could forget anything.”
Akasha stiffened as Xochitl hugged her goodbye, still unused to affection. As the sound of the Datsun’s worn out engine and the stereo’s wailing guitars faded, she made her way to the liquor cabinet.
“No beer,” she grumbled, eyeing the bottles of expensive wine and scotch. “I so don’t belong here.”
Another twinge of guilt niggled in her heart. So far it seemed Xochitl had far more cause to complain. Her friend didn’t belong with a pair of bible-thumping assholes either.
Chapter Five
Silas breathed a sigh of relief as he detected Akasha’s Mark still in the house. Despite her hostility and suspicion, she’d remained under his roof. Every cell of his being longed to see her at once, but the blood thirst reigned supreme. He left his secret lair under the basement to hunt. A lad vandalizing the freeway overpass made a speedy meal.
As he walked up his driveway, an acrid smell broke through the perfume of autumn leaves. A small puddle of motor oil stained the concrete in front of the garage. Someone had been here. A low growl rumbled in his throat at the thought of an interloper.
His predatory instincts rose when he entered the house and detected a strange, alien scent. Whatever had been here had not been human. It reeked with power. The odor of gun oil further added to his worry.
Again, Silas reached out for Akasha’s Mark. She was in the library, displaying no sign of distress. Fangs bared, he left her there to search the house for more signs of the intruder. The scent of it permeated every room, but it lay thickest in his office. The creature had spent some time on his computer. Though nothing was there of concern, he resented the invasion. What had it been looking for?
More interesting was Akasha’s heavy scent all over his file cabinet. Silas’s lips curved in a wry smile. Her mistrust had driven her to snoop, and the mysterious visitor appeared to have aided Akasha in the endeavor. Thankfully, one sense of the Mark upon Akasha implied that they failed to find his lair. Calmness radiated from her presence.
On his way downstairs, Silas pondered the evidence the visitor had left behind. Oil stains from an old car, fingerprints on his keyboard, and— he picked up a cigarette butt and a Red Bull can off the coffee table.
If not for the scent of inhuman power, he’d assume it had been one of her friends. Silas stopped in his tracks, remembering Delgarias’s words. It was one of her friends.
“The daughter of Mephistopheles,” he whispered in awe, quickening his pace to the library.
Akasha looked so content and cozy curled up by the fireplace that at first he was loath to disturb her. A light, whimsical smile played across her lips as she turned the pages of her book.
“Good evening,” he said gently.
Still, she flinched. Her delicate features molded back to the usual cautious mask. Silas suppressed a sigh. She was like a feral cat. It would take endless patience and care to tame her.
Slowly, she closed her book and met his gaze. “Um, hi.”
“You had a visitor today,” he said carefully.
Those amethyst eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”
He held up the cigarette butt. “You don’t smoke this brand. Also, my car doesn’t leak oil, the last time I checked.”
“Yeah, I had a friend over. Even poor little orphans like me have social lives. You got a problem with that?” Despite her attempt to sound glib, he could see her hands trembling.
“Not in the slightest, I assure you.” Silas assured her. “I would not want you to be lonely when I am away.”
Akasha eyed him quizzically, as if such consideration was alien to her. At first she seemed at a loss for words, then her lips curved in a sardonic smile. “We were checking to see if you were hiding dead bodies in the basement.”
Ah, so that explains the smell of the gun. Silas couldn’t help but grin. It seemed she was a practical lass. Raising his hand to cover his fangs, he laughed in delight that she at least had a sense of humor as well as the courage to tease him. “I certainly hope you didn’t find any. My cleaning service would be quite upset.”
For the longest time she gaped at him. Obviously she’d expected him to be vexed at her remark.
He laughed again. “Well, now that you know I’m not a serial killer, shall we go shopping?”
As she followed him into the garage, he once more observed the blatant admiration in her eyes as she looked at his car. Would that she’d look at me like that. A self deprecating smile curved his lips. Jealous of a car? Perhaps I am mad after all.
Akasha remained silent the entire drive despite his attempts to lure her into conversation. At the mall, he could see Akasha’s skin prickling from the stares she received. Silas could well imagine what people were thinking as they ogled the bedraggled girl with the well-dressed man. Yes, a new wardrobe would be just the thing.
She picked out a few pairs of jeans, and with crimson cheeks, bras and underwear. Nothing pretty and feminine seemed to appeal to her. T-shirts depicting classic rock bands seemed to please her mightily, however, so Silas also bought her a music player and a gift card to load it up.
When he purchased a phone and handed it to her, she stared at it as if it was an artifact from another world. A pang of sympathy struck him. Most people her age were tethered to those things like a lifeline. She appeared to never have touched one.
Sparing her from admitting her ignorance, he asked if she were ready to depart.
Her voice shook as she looked up at him. “I need to get something formal. I’m supposed to go to a funeral tomorrow.”
Silas raised a brow. What was this? “Who died?”
“My friend’s mom.” Akasha held her breath, as if awaiting his protest.
The daughter of Mephistopheles, it has to be. Delgarias said her mother died recently. “Your friend…was this the one who visited?”
Akasha nodded solemnly. “Her name’s Xochitl. We’re both in the dual enrollment program at the college.”
“Xochitl,” Silas repeated. “A strange name… She had no other family? Poor girl.” He was surprised to feel genuine pity for the creature. “Well, I daresay she’ll need a lot of c
omfort. Will your other friends be there?” The ones I am commanded to guard?
Her eyes narrowed once more. “Yeah.”
Silas opened his mouth, but shut it before his questions made her suspicious. “Very well then. You better wear your new coat tomorrow to the funeral. It’s going to rain. Now, shall we go to dinner?”
Akasha let out an audible sigh of relief.
At dinner, she devoured her meal with unladylike haste. Rather than disgust, Silas once more felt sympathy. She had known starvation. He longed to offer her his plate as well. After all, he couldn’t eat much of it, but he sensed the offer would offend her.
On the way home, he bought her beer, joy infusing him at her pleasure with the offering. Once settled in the living room, Akasha almost warmed up to him as she opened her fourth can. Alas, he ruined it.
“Where did you live before the group home, Akasha?” And who hurt you so badly? He added silently.
“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped, rising to her feet. “If you ask me again, I swear I’ll leave.”
He blinked slowly and frowned. This threat would not do. “And go where? You’re considered a minor under the state for the next four months. And I would have to report you missing or risk people thinking I did something nefarious.” Fighting back dread at the prospect of losing her, he continued with bland logic. “Even if I did let you leave, wouldn’t you end up in the same situation you were in when I found you? Or perhaps worse?”
Her eyes sparked in unmistakable fury. “So I’m fucking trapped then.” Her fists clenched, doubtless with the urge to punch him.
Silas nodded and remained firm. “I’m afraid you are for now. But surely you can consider me the lesser of evils?”
She crushed her beer can with the flat of her hand. “That doesn’t mean you have the right to interrogate me.”
Before he could respond, Akasha fled to her room, tripping on the stairs. Silas sighed at the hostile retreat. She was nothing like he’d imagined her to be. It was bad enough that she seemed to loathe him, no matter how he tried to be kind to her, but the mystery surrounding her drove him mad.
Her file implied she held some tragic secrets, and Silas had been prepared to coax them from her, but in the face of such unnatural hostility, he suspected Akasha’s story went much deeper than his worst imaginings.
***
Pisa, Italy
Selena, Lord Vampire of Pisa, lifted languid eyelids and rolled her head about her shoulders in a display of prophetic zeal. Her worshipers sighed in rapt devotion. She leaped to her feet, arms outspread, to address her audience.
“I have had a vision!” she shrieked, red tresses billowing. “The King has died in the world with twin moons as foretold. Rejoice! For soon the sun shall vanish and our promised land will be made ready for us!”
With deafening cheers, her subordinate vampires crowded forward, kneeling to kiss her feet. Selena basked in the adulation like a reptile upon a sunny rock.
She motioned for silence with a languid sweep of her hand. “Now let us pray.” Raising her arms to the vaulted stone ceiling of her lair, she continued. “Oh, Mephistopheles, revered creator of us all, please feel our devotion and forgive us for the transgressions of our ancestors so we may be welcomed back into your almighty presence.”
The Order of Eternal Night repeated the words solemnly, bowing their heads. Selena let them remain on their knees a while longer before bidding them to rise.
“Bring in the sacrificial vessels. We will now feast.” Her command rang throughout the chamber.
The doors opened and ten terrified humans were led into the chamber. Selena licked her lips, reveling in the taste of their fear. She strutted around them with the discerning eye of a connoisseur. Her gaze fixed on a sultry Italian girl, jealousy burned through her skull at the human’s youthful beauty. It would be a pleasure to destroy that one.
Selena took the quivering adolescent in her arms and gestured for her followers to commence feeding before sinking her fangs in the girl’s throat. She swallowed the blood in greedy gulps, visualizing the youth and beauty of her victim rushing into her. When the blood ceased to flow she thrust her hand into the body’s ribcage and tore out its glistening heart. As she sucked the organ dry she recalled the vampire who had taught her the trick.
Oh, my beautiful Silas, she thought with a pang. Why did you leave me?
Selena had encountered the handsome Scot back in 1520. Her spies informed her that the vampire, Razvan Nicolae, had Changed another psychic in attempt to find his brother. Selena made a habit of examining these fledglings when Razvan was finished with them in hope of finding a link to an ancient text she’d acquired. It depicted a prophecy of another world.
Silas’s powers had proved to be even more formidable than she’d anticipated. She’d wasted no time in seducing him and convincing him to join her in Italy. Unfortunately, the honeymoon ended shortly.
Selena’s followers mocked the Scot’s thick accent and she could tell Silas disapproved of them. He was disgusted with her human sacrifices as well. She couldn’t comprehend why. Didn’t he see that this was their divine right? She read to him the scrolls she’d stolen from the oldest vampire in the land. They spoke of a world with two moons in which the sun would die. This would be a world in which vampires would thrive! Silas didn’t see it that way.
“Selena,” he’d said patiently. “Dinna ye ken that a world would die with no sun? Tha crops would perish an’ the people would starve. An’ dinna ye see here where it says someone will bring back tha sun and lead our kind in a war?”
“Exactly! We must find this so-called savior and stop them! Else we will be their puppet in a horrific war rather than living in peace in a nocturnal paradise.”
To her dismay, Silas held firm in his conviction. Even worse, he did not experience any visions of their promised kingdom. Not even when she’d drugged him. Selena had watched eagerly as Silas collapsed on the chaise, thrashing and moaning. She fetched scribes with orders to document his ravings.
The scribes had written furiously as Silas convulsed and roared. “Och! Ma bonny lass of raven curls….what is this? A carriage without horses? ...Such music!....The angels are raging…”
Disappointment had threatened to crush her where she stood. He’d said nothing about the other world or the prophecy, only garbled nonsense.
The next night he was gone.
After hours of raging and destroying everything in her room, Selena was convinced that Silas saw something of the prophecy and was going to seek it without her. She summoned her spies and set them to find Silas and report his doings to her.
For centuries, her suspicions bore no fruit. It appeared that McNaught truly was on a foolish quest for redemption. He traveled all over Europe and made fortunes just to give them away to pitiful humans. He stopped killing long before it was outlawed by the Elders, only taking enough blood to survive. Silas even used his feedings as a way to help humans. These days, he fed off of drunks and gave them money for taxis so they wouldn’t endanger themselves and others by driving their automobiles. It was sickening. Still, Selena did not relax her surveillance…
“Your Holiness!” Michael, her favorite apostle, jolted her back into the present. “Your envoy has returned from America with momentous news.”
“Send him in,” she commanded.
Crushing the heart in her hand like a dried tomato, she dropped it on the stone floor.
The youngling rushed in and bowed so low his head touched the floor. “My lady, McNaught was visited by none other than Delgarias himself!”
Selena gasped. “I knew it! I knew he was involved with the prophecy all along! What else have you learned?”
“McNaught has done the strangest thing. He has Marked a mortal woman and taken her to live in his house.”
Selena was ready to dismiss the news as another pathetic attempt by Silas to be a Good Samaritan. Then a memory gave her pause. “What does the girl look like?”
“That is not what I asked.” She waved an impatient hand. “What does she look like?”
“She is quite small, with curly black hair and purple eyes. She dresses like a boy so it was hard to discern her figure.” The messenger looked at his feet. “She looks to be between seventeen and twenty.”
Selena frowned. Silas had raved about a girl with dark curls …perhaps she had something to do with the prophecy. But how was she going to find out? Tugging a lock of her hair, she willed herself to concentrate. Suddenly, a wicked smile curved her lips. The youngling cringed.
The answer was surprisingly simple. Get him in trouble with the Elders. McNaught was a relatively new Lord, only having held the status for a century. If he lost his status, then a Lord as old as she could petition for his land and property and gain it with ease. It was time to renew good relations with Marcus, the Lord of Rome. Aside from the Thirteenth, Marcus was among the most powerful of the Elders.
“Return to the States and watch Silas closely.” She commanded the spy. “As soon as he does something that could implicate him, let me know.”
The youngling bowed again and scurried away. Selena licked the blood from her hands and cackled. Finally she would have her revenge.
Chapter Six
Akasha woke late. The funeral was due to start in less than two hours and she had no idea how she was going to get there. Xochitl likely assumed Silas would take her. She could kick herself for not asking for a ride yesterday.
“Fuck!”
She changed into her new outfit and struggled with the makeup as her mind raced. She could call a cab. Silas had given her money. That decided, she fumbled with the eyeliner —and poked herself in the eye.
“Fuck,” she repeated, reaching for a wad of toilet paper to dab at her watering eyes.
A half hour later, Akasha looked dubiously at the mirror. At least after this first attempt she didn’t look like a whore or a B-movie reject. It took another half hour to find a phone book and another ten minutes to figure out how her phone worked.
