He hadn’t expected Piper to actually find a willing redhead to replace her cousin so quickly. He liked having a variety on hand and natural redheads were the hardest to find. Hopefully Jennifer would prove more loyal than Amber Lynn, whose body had been safely deposited in three separate Dumpsters around town. Steam cleaning the stains out of the carpet had taken longer than depositing the bitch’s body.
“So, Jennifer,” he cut into the girls’ conversation, earning a startled look from the new bunny. “Piper tells me you’re looking for work.”
Jennifer glanced at Piper, who nodded encouragingly just as he’d taught her. “Yeah, I got laid off from my job and my rent’s already late. If I don’t pay my landlord soon, he’s going to kick me out.”
He nodded sympathetically. “This economy is tough on everyone. What kind of work do you do?”
She shrugged and sipped her chai tea latte. “Whatever I can find. What about you?”
“I’m in the entertainment business.” Kirk leaned back in the booth and slipped an arm around Piper’s shoulders. “I supply goods and services to a select clientele.”
“Sounds fascinating.”
“Oh, it is.”
“Do you ever meet anyone famous?”
“It’s been known to happen.”
“Like when the vampire band Primal Dark was playing in Jackson,” Piper said in a rush. “Kirk set them up with—”
He squeezed her shoulder, a silent warning to shut her mouth.
Jennifer sat forward. “Primal Dark? I love them!” She closed her eyes and began swaying in her seat, singing off-key. “She was my lover, my bloody lover, my dancer.…” She giggled and when she looked at Kirk, her eyes sparkled with visions and dreams of fame. “Do you really know them?”
He nodded and sipped his cappuccino. “Wow. I’d give anything to meet them. I’m, like, their biggest fan.” Kirk smiled, showing his fangs, and knew he had her.
“Vita in nex,” Peter intoned and poured a few drops of blood on the first sigil. “Life in death.”
Stripped of his clothing, he knelt within the circle he’d carved into the attic’s wooden floor. His latest acquisition lay to the left of the center, on the side of death. The newly completed Alexandra replica was to the right, on the side of life. The ritual was a delicate process and if performed incorrectly could result in his own soul becoming splintered and trapped within the doll.
He moved clockwise around the circle to the second sigil and dribbled more of the girl’s blood. “Pectus pectoris nutritor nex—the heart feeds death.”
The girl moaned softly. He’d drained as much of her blood as he dared, bringing her near death. She needed to be hovering on the edge of the abyss in order for the ritual to work. Shattering a soul required precision timing and over the years he’d become adept at making it quick. However, there was no way to make it painless.
He followed the outline of the circle to the third sigil. Three liquid rubies fell in its center and were greedily absorbed by the dry flooring. “Nex nutritor obscurum—death feeds the darkness.”
Power hummed within the circle. It crackled in the air and made the tiny hairs on his neck and arms stand erect.
“Totus animus servo obscurum,” he droned and added the last of the blood to the final sigil. “All souls serve the darkness.”
The circle snapped closed, sending a charge through his body. His breath hissed over his teeth as he sucked in the electrified air.
The initial rush of power was always the sweetest and the hardest to control. Peter forced himself to relax and open his mind to the energies now swirling within the confines of his circle. Gradually, with each measured breath, a balance was achieved both within him and within the circle.
Now the ritual could truly begin.
He paced to the center of the circle and knelt between the girl and the doll. Picking up the ceremonial dagger, he held it over the girl, blade directed toward her heart.
“Ut quod est recipio, quod novus visum est instituo in obscurum,” he recited as he had done countless times prior. “That which is, recedes, and new vision is found in darkness.”
He positioned the dagger over the doll. “Memento vivere,” he said. “A reminder of life.”
The girl moaned as he laid his free hand on her bare chest, over her heart. “Viva enim mortuorum in memoria vivorum est posita.” He placed the dagger against her throat. “The life of the dead is retained in the memory of the living.”
The dagger sliced through her flesh. Bright red arterial blood sprayed upward, coating his arms and chest.
Power surged around the circle’s perimeter, flowed through him, and into the girl. She convulsed beneath his hold as her life drained away, pushed into the abyss by the energies now coursing through her—the same energies that caused his back to bow and his penis to stand erect, energies he had to control and direct into the doll.
Peter gasped and groaned as another surge of power hit him. “Vita mutatur … life is changed.…”
The girl stilled and the power receded, but he knew it was only a momentary pause—the eye of the storm. The girl’s mouth fell slack and a pulsing blue-white stream of mist rose before him.
He speared the mist with the dagger. Coldness spread over the blade, up the hilt, and into his arm. “… non tollitur … not taken away,” he completed the incantation as the energies ripped the girl’s soul from her body.
A piercing shriek filled the circle and he answered it with his own howl of pain. The mist quivered and writhed on the dagger’s blade. Power rushed into him.
The girl’s soul shattered like glass, leaving a small piece clinging to the dagger’s blade.
Peter positioned the blade over the doll, reciting the words he’d used to seal the circle in reverse order. “Totus animus servo obscurum. Nex nutritor obscurum. Pectus pectoris nutritor nex. Vita in nex.”
The soul shard slipped from the blade and melded with the doll.
He covered the doll’s chest with his hand, feeling the final surge of power building within him. “Ego sum obscurum quod vestri nex sustineo mihi.”
The dagger fell from his hand. The last of the circle’s energy coursed through him. His hips bucked violently as he climaxed and then collapsed to the floor between the doll and the girl’s corpse.
Panting from his exertion, he gazed at Alexandra’s replica, glowing brightly with life. He stroked the doll’s fine red hair and a spike of power jolted his fingertips.
He smiled and whispered to the doll. “I am the darkness and your death sustains me.”
eleven
ALEX PERCHED ON THE END OF A GURNEY AND CURSED the darkness that her own stupidity had thrust upon her. The rapid transition through the Veil had been too much for her psyche to handle. As a result, her brain had blocked all visual input as a defensive measure. Even though it was a natural reaction, she still berated herself for following the possessing entity into the Shadowlands. She did it to save Varik, but now Morgan, and therefore the Tribunal, would know about her abilities as well as the blood-bond.
Blood-bonds were rare and a bond shared by two Enforcers even more so. The FBPI had no policy against its agents fraternizing, dating, or even marrying so long as their work performance didn’t suffer. However, having two Enforcers bound by blood increased the danger to both, especially if they worked in the field together. The attack in the salvage yard proved she and Varik were vulnerable, and with her temporary blindness, the Tribunal was sure to use it as an excuse to widen the scope of their inquiry.
“Well, Ms. Sabian, there doesn’t appear to be anything physically wrong with your eyes,” an unseen doctor said. “However, I’d really like you to have a CT scan.”
“No.” Alex rubbed her eyes and sighed when the darkness remained unchanged. She slipped on her sunglasses, not because she needed them, but because she felt weird staring into nothing.
“We need to be certain there isn’t an underlying cause that—”
“The underlying
cause is psychic trauma.” She heard the emergency room treatment door open and the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon announced Varik’s return. “Your scans and tests aren’t going to find diddly shit.”
The doctor huffed loudly and seemed to be preparing his next argument when Varik cut him off. “Save your breath, Doc. You’re not going to win with her. Believe me.”
Alex flipped him off, earning a laugh from Varik and another huff from the doctor.
“When can we expect her eyesight to return?” Varik asked.
“Could be anywhere from hours to days. In the meanwhile, if you should develop any headaches or eye pain, come back to the ER right away.”
“Understood,” Alex said.
“How’s your pain now?”
“Better after that nurse shot me in the ass.” Ever since she’d returned from the Shadowlands, she’d felt as though she’d fallen from a great height and her body was a giant bruise. Whatever drug the nurse had given her dulled the hurt to a tolerable ache. Too bad it wouldn’t last more than an hour or two due to Alex’s high vampire metabolism.
“It’s probably best if you aren’t left alone for the next few hours, at least until the medication wears off. Will someone be around to help you?”
Varik answered before Alex could respond. “Don’t worry. She’ll be well supervised. I’ll see to it personally.”
Alex frowned in the direction of his voice. Vampires were fiercely independent, even in childhood, and a blind vampire was often viewed as a burden both on their family and on the community. Long ago, any disabled vampires, whether caused by the rare birth defect or through artificial means, were killed in order to preserve the community’s hidden status from humans.
Alex was already facing a potential death sentence because she’d turned rogue. Damian’s reinstatement didn’t change the fact that she still must face the Tribunal, nor did her blindness. In fact, her current self-made predicament would be viewed as further evidence of her recklessness and would undoubtedly weigh heavily against her.
The room’s door scraped open, startling her. She heard retreating footsteps and the hiss of hydraulics as the door closed. The soft scuff of shoes on linoleum and the intensified smell of sandalwood and cinnamon told her Varik remained and had moved closer. She reached for him and was surprised when he pressed a warm cylinder into her hand. “What’s this?”
“Fresh blood. It’ll help the healing process.”
“Where did you get it?”
He chuckled. “We’re in a hospital and you have to ask that question? What kind of drugs did they give you? I think they’re affecting your brain.”
“What I meant was—”
“I know what you meant, and no, I didn’t steal it or bite anyone. I found a registered donor who volunteered to have some drawn by one of the nurses.” He nudged her hands toward her mouth. “Now be a good girl and make the superyummy treat disappear.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ve never done it on a bed with wheels. Could be fun.”
Alex let his attempt at humor slide and drank the cooling blood. The thick liquid reminded her of licking a salt-encrusted spoon—brackish with a metallic edge—as it coated her tongue and slid down her throat. Flashes of memory from the donor’s life sparked in her mind: the rush of freedom that came from riding a bicycle for the first time without training wheels, a profound sense of loss as a hearse passed on its way into a small cemetery, the soaring joy of seeing a newly born son lying at his mother’s breast.
The memories faded as quickly as they appeared, leaving lingering warmth that spread throughout her body and made her fingertips tingle.
Varik removed the cylinder from her hand. “Feel better now?”
She nodded. “What about you? How are you feeling?”
“Fine. You want to tell me about your little adventure with the Dollmaker?”
“I told you all there was to tell on the way here.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Somehow I ended up in what I’m assuming was his house. There were dolls everywhere. My dad showed up. They fought.”
“Then you and Bernard jumped through a window and you woke up in the salvage yard.”
“Blind as a fucking bat.”
“You got a good look at the Dollmaker?”
“Tall, blond, and creepy.”
“But you could identify him?”
“As soon as I can see again, yeah, I can do that.”
“Good, because I really want to nail this son of a bitch.”
Silence crept into the room as they both became lost in their own thoughts. The memory of the screams emanating from the dolls rose unbidden from her subconscious, making her shiver.
She reached for Varik, eager to feel his touch, to have him banish the screams, and was rewarded with his fingers interlacing with hers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“I fucked up in front of Morgan. I was stupid.”
“No, you weren’t,” Varik said softly, his body pressing against her knees. “We were both attacked. If you hadn’t followed the possessing entity into the Shadowlands, I might still be there. I don’t have the ability to part the Veil like you.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you could access the Hall of Records?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I’m sure there are plenty of others who can do it.”
“No, there aren’t. It’s a rare ability, even rarer than parting the Veil.”
“Dad could do it.”
“I know, that’s why he was—” Varik abruptly stopped speaking and pulled away from her.
“Why he was what?” Alex reached for him and found only dead air. “For that matter, how did you know my father? He was just a history professor.” She felt pressure on her legs as he returned and laid his hands on her thighs.
“You know how close-knit the vampire community is in Louisville,” he said and she could hear the smile in his voice. He traced lazy patterns on top of her jeans, sending small electric pulses through her body. “The same was true back then. Bernard had a reputation for being a great professor. It was my job to know certain things about prominent members of the community.”
She stopped the motion of his hands, and his fingers entwined with hers. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” he echoed and then chuckled. “Would I lie to you?”
“In a fucking heartbeat.”
“Only if it was in your best interests.”
“Or yours.”
“Remember our conversation in the Shadowlands about trust?”
“I remember it, but I know you, Varik. You keep secrets like some people keep houseplants. Your brain is a greenhouse for lies and half-truths.”
“At least I’m honest about it.”
Alex sighed and leaned forward, striking her nose against his shoulder. Hissing in pain, she pulled back and fought to restrain the tears that threatened to spill over. “Damn it! How the hell am I supposed to do anything when I can’t fucking see?”
Varik removed her sunglasses and his gentle hands cupped her face. The blood-bond pulsated and warmed as Varik’s voice slipped into her thoughts. You let me help you.
A clear image formed in her mind. She saw herself—hair tangled, face streaked with dust, and clothes rumpled—sitting on a gurney. Seen through Varik’s point of view, it was disorienting at first when he looked around the room. Bandages, gauze, and tape littered a rolling tray near the door. Gray cabinets hung on pale blue cinder-block walls. Then he focused on her once more.
Alex smirked and saw the action mirrored by the image in her head. “This is like watching yourself on live television. It’s freaking me out.”
“I can help with that, too.” The image faded as Varik closed the bond’s connection. “You just need to relax.”
Excitement pulsed through her body as his lips found hers. Her hands slipped around his neck and her fingers curled in his shortened hair w
hile his arms encircled her waist. She parted her legs to allow him to step forward, pressing close.
His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom and pulled her even closer. Their natural scents of jasmine and vanilla, sandalwood and cinnamon swirled around them and enticed them to explore their desire.
A new vision, one born of fantasy, pushed its way into her mind. Muscles in her lower abdomen contracted in anticipation and she gasped.
Varik chuckled and kissed the scar on her neck. See what you’ve been missing by ignoring me all day?
I haven’t been ignoring you. We were working.
You’ve avoided me, avoided this. He nibbled her earlobe, teasing it with his fangs.
Coherent thought faltered and fled before his pleasurable onslaught. She wrapped her legs around him and shivered as his fangs grazed her neck.
I want you. His hand edged under her shirt, tracing her jean’s waistband and prickling her flesh.
Alex giggled. You do realize we’re still technically on duty.
He leaned forward, gently pushing her onto the bed. One hand remained at the small of her back while the other left a trail of tingling fire over her ribs and cupped her breast. His lips reclaimed hers. Fuck duty.
Raised voices in the hallway made them pause, and a knock on the door forced them apart. One voice outside rose above the others and Varik groaned. “Your brother’s here.”
Alex sat up, smoothing her clothing. She sensed Varik moving to her side as the door opened and an intoxicating mix of new scents mingled with hers and Varik’s. Her nostrils flared as she replaced her sunglasses, and she recognized the fragrance of musk and cloves Stephen possessed, her mother’s natural perfume of lilac and lavender, and the spicy ginger and sage combination that was Damian.
The air vibrated with the intensity of their emotions. Fear, sadness, and concern washed over her followed by anger. Alex shrank from them, seeking to find a refuge from the emotional storm that assaulted her.
Varik’s weight on the bed beside her and the protective arm that snaked around her waist reassured her. She leaned into him, letting the aura of calm he projected encompass her.
Alexandra Sabian 2 - Blood Secrets Page 13
