Tormented (A Secret Salem Novel 4)

by J. N. Colon

  In response my head tilted back, a low hunger filled moan tumbling out of my lips. “Demy,” I panted his name, my heart slamming brutally into my ribcage. I’d been keeping myself numb in so many ways for so long it was intoxicating letting myself actually feel again. “Don’t stop.”

  His mouth latched onto my neck, sucking and nibbling, shooting tingles through my lower belly and more heavy, erratic breaths from my mouth.

  “Great. You’re getting lucky while I’m dead.”

  I squealed and hoped off Demy’s lap at the angry voice of Dana’s ghost, my heart hammering for another reason entirely. She was nowhere to be seen.

  Demy grabbed my shoulder, turning me toward him. I could see the reflection of my wild eyes in his. “Rubi, what’s wrong?”

  I shook my head, a mountain of guilt clogging my throat. I covered myself up with my arms, feeling cold and naked. “Can you just take me home?”

  Questions and concerns were rising in Demy’s expressive violet eyes, but he squelched them, swallowing them back. “Sure. Let’s go princess.”

  ***

  I continued to wave away Demy’s concern, but the stubborn glint to his violet eyes told me he wasn’t buying it. Fortunately he had a meeting with the shifters in the area on behalf of his father Dimitri.

  At home Miranda caught me at the door, putting her arm around my shoulders and pulling me toward the opposite side of the house from my room. “Nathan and Elijah are in Whitmore’s study. Why don’t you say hello and sit in on the meeting.” She flashed me a hopeful smile while those jade eyes so much like her son’s pleaded.

  “Of course Miranda.” How could I say no? At the same time I inwardly groaned. My head was pounding from my encounter with the tormenting ghosts and I had no desire to keep face in front of Whitmore and two council members from England who were both stuffy and boring. I could only hope falling asleep while drooling was all I did.

  “Look who’s home,” Miranda said as she whisked me into the room.

  Whitmore was behind his desk looking debonair as usual in a dark charcoal suit and silver tie that matched his eyes intense, brooding eyes. The two council members were sitting across from him in cushy leather chairs. Nathan, while he only appeared twenty two, he was actually the oldest in the room and a made vampires. His dirty blonde hair was neatly combed and parted. His crisp gray suit and glasses for show only made him look like an uptight business man, which wasn’t that far off. His light green eyes were where his true age—a couple hundred—shined through, holding a wealth of wisdom and knowledge no actual twenty two year old could have.

  Elijah looked to be in his early thirties, but as a born vampire who stopped aging a while ago he was much older. His wavy dark brown, almost black hair was cropped and hung just above his ears. Light blue eyes led down to a straight nose and pursed, rosebud lips. He was dressed in a deep navy blue suit.

  A gentle smile crossed Whitmore’s face, warming his gray eyes. “Hello Rubi.”

  Elijah shot to his feet and motioned a long, pale hand to his chair, offering it to me. “Princess Rubi.”

  I tried to hide the flush from my cheeks with my unruly hair. “Thanks,” I replied, hurrying over and dropping down.

  Nathan nodded to me. “Princess.”

  A forced smile curled my lips.

  Whitmore’s study was all leather, mahogany, dark rich colors, and masculinity. Glossy shelves with leather bound books lined one wall while the others were painted a deep, dark green. Elaborate crown molding stretched across the room, matching the dark wood floors beneath. A massive fireplace was the focal point, the royal crest—an elaborate jeweled crown slashed down the center by an ancient dagger—gleaming above the mantle.

  A corner of the room was relegated to Whit’s fine collection of liquors, half of which I never heard of. Right next to it was a mini fridge full of blood. A faint scent of cigar smoke and brandy permeated the air.

  “Miranda, care to join us?” Whitmore asked, the corners of his lips twitching as he held back a knowing smile.

  “Oh, maybe next time.” She quickly waved and disappeared through the door, her auburn hair flashing in her wake.

  Lucky.

  Whitmore flicked his eyes backed to me. “Rubi, we were just discussing the donation centers in London and their security.”

  My brow arched questioningly. The donation centers were places that posed as just that—blood donation centers. Humans are compelled to forget the specifics, only that they’re donating blood for a worthy cause. Whitmore does donate money to the actual cure for cancer and other diseases.

  “We want to insure the blood isn’t poisoned by the hunters.” Nathan’s voice sounded dry and raspy, probably due to his age. Or his boringness. “It would be a major catastrophe.”

  Elijah nodded as he stood stick straight, hands behind his back. “I’m surprised they haven’t tried yet.”

  “They could very well be in the process of formulating a plan.” Whitmore took a sip of the brandy laced with blood next to him. “It would be a lengthy process because if we were tipped off, their plan would be pointless. We simply wouldn’t drink or distribute the supply.”

  “Or maybe it would take all the fun out of killing us,” I blurted, my cheeks immediately staining red when I realized I spoke out loud. “Oh well, I mean…” Gulp.

  “Hmm. Interesting take Princess Rubi.” Nathan leaned forward, grabbing a glass of blood, taking a small sip and licking his lips.

  Elijah nodded stiffly. “Yes. All their years of disciplined training would be all for nothing. They seem like the type that prefers violence at heart.”

  Pride radiated through Whitmore at my blundering comment. “Nice thinking. You know, Rubi does have a lot of experience up close and person with the hunters.”

  My star shaped scar heated against my chest. My very first encounter with a psycho hunter I was only five years old.

  Motion in the corner of my eye caught my attention. My gaze flicked over, widening at the crimson blood oozing out the dark green walls.

  Oh shit. Not again.

  I blinked trying to clear my vision. Was I hallucinating or were the ghosts doing this to me? Were they that strong?

  “Rubi?”

  My head snapped back to Nathan who was surveying me expectantly. “I’m sorry, what?”

  He blinked. “How do you think the hunters would respond to extra security around the donation center?”

  I chewed my bottom lip nervously. It was weird having them ask for my opinion on something so serious. Usually I was only involved in things that centered around me or my life being threatened. Not the entire vampire population.

  I’d better get used to it.

  I fought the urge to fidget under Nathan and Elijah’s intense gazes. “I think it might provoke them. They might see it as a challenge and simply do it for show.”

  Whitmore nodded. “That’s quite possible.” He jotted down notes on a pad with an old fashioned ink pen. “We should have any new security low-key, undercover even.”

  Nathan and Elijah nodded in unison.

  My gaze went again to the bleeding walls, a gasp clogging in my throat. Now among the blood were bugs skittering up and down, left and right until the walls appeared to be moving or breathing on their own. The noise echoed loudly in my ear, muffling the conversation. I followed a trail of centipedes and other six legged bugs to the vaulted ceiling, crawling directly above me. Blood pooled and dripped onto Whitmore’s desk, his attention unflinching.

  As if he could sense my wide, fearful eyes he looked up, blinking at me. “Rubi, are you all right?”

  I silently nodded, afraid my voice would quake.

  “We should have Oscar Dozen and Janie Cedar as possible candidates.” Nathan’s slender finger was moving down a list of names.

  A droplet of blood fell onto my shoulder, splattering my face. I wiped it away.

  “What about Daimon Briggs?” Elijah asked.

  “Ah yes. We’ll consider him.�
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  Bugs began to rain down with thick splats and crunches. My stomach convulsed and I had to swallow several times to keep from gaging. I clutched my hands in my lap to hide their trembling.

  “These are the bugs eating away our flesh.” The dead girl Dana’s hissing voice floated into my ears, burning through my brain. “And our blood.”

  Red rain fell onto my hands. I tried wiping it away, but it only smeared on my jeans. My breathing was erratic now and pulse racing. I was certain the three other vampires in the room noticed the change. I just couldn’t move my eyes from the blood in my lap to see.

  Suddenly crunchy bugs fell on my head, tangling in my hair. I could feel their sticky legs crawling over my scalp, pulling at each hair follicle. A whole heap fell into my lap and I couldn’t stop the scream from slipping out my mouth. I jumped up and frantically ran my hands over my body to brush the nonexistent bugs away.

  Whitmore shot to his feet. “Rubi, what’s wrong?”

  No words would come out of my mouth to explain my insane, erratic behavior. I could feel Nathan and Elijah’s eyes on me, wide and scrutinizing.

  “S-Sorry,” I finally managed, tears of mortification burning in my eyes as I scurried from the room. A chorus of cruel laughter echoed in my ears.

  Miranda found me crying on my bed. A soft knock echoed on the door and she walked in, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “Sweetheart.” She rubbed my back. “Whit told me what happened.”

  Oh god she probably thought I was nuts too.

  “Why don’t you tell me?” her gentle voice prodded.

  “I-It was just a ghost bothering me,” I lied. I couldn’t tell her about the murder victims terrorizing me. She was already concerned enough about me. And whether she’d admit it or not she was worried about me appearing weak in the eyes of the vampires.

  Way to go Rubi. You look weak and crazy.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded into my pillow before looking up into her jade eyes, her curtain of auburn hair contrasting against them. “How embarrassed is Whitmore?”

  Miranda clucked her teeth. “He’s not embarrassed. He’s worried.”

  I shot her an incredulous expression. “I looked like a head case. Nathan and Elijah probably think I could use a dose of electroshock therapy and straight jacket.”

  A chuckle slipped out of her. “Very imaginative.” She brushed the hair from my face, gently tucking it behind my ear. “Don’t worry about those two.”

  “But they’re on the council. They could tell other people the princess is out of her mind.”

  “No. Whitmore will explain about the ghosts. It’ll be fine.” A warm smile stretched over her delicate face, highlighting her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the uncertainty in her voice. It echoed between us, shooting waves of trepidation through my already churning stomach.

  I got the feeling Miranda wasn’t as confident as she wanted me to think.

  Chapter 11

  Darkness surrounded me, suffocating me on all sides. I floated in an abyss with no ending or beginning. The stench of death and soil clogged my nose and choked me, filling my lungs with rotting air. Things slithered over my tender skin, attempting to find a way into my flesh.

  Memories eluded me and time was not a concept as I wasted away in a hole of nothing… until the thirst began.

  A burning crawled up my throat and tore through my body—hot liquid lava driving my muscles to twitch. My fingers ripped through softness and spindly cords. Instead of the nothingness that clouded my mind, this urge was now the driving force behind my body.

  I fought and wriggled through thickness until cold wind sailed upon my head and air filled my lungs. My eyes were blurry as they took in a nightscape before me. Twisted shapes swayed in the darkness, a dry, rustling sound echoing. Shapes of gray surrounded me, one standing tall with objects like wings protruding from its back.

  Ignoring my hazy vision I didn’t think. Just moved. I knew what I needed, what I wanted. And I knew just who had it.

  My eyes snapped open to my darkened room at the Davenport house. Demy was curled beside me, his arm stretched protectively over my torso. His steady breathing echoed through the room as he soundlessly slept.

  I brushed the snarled hair out of my face, contemplating the total weirdness of my dream. The last time I had a dream about being in darkness with wriggling things and thirst exploding through me was right before those undead creature came to Highland Academy.

  An unsettling feeling stole through my insides, cooling my blood. This dream coupled with the one where Mac was undead didn’t bode well with me. What if I was having prophetic dreams again? Those creatures created by the hunters on accident hadn’t been seen in months. They found the killing formula and had no reason to test any others. There shouldn’t be any more walking failures.

  Even so, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me something bad was on the horizon.

  ***

  The bell jingled over the door as I walked into Madame Josephine’s. A complete mess littered the counter and MJ was nowhere to be found.

  Typical, I thought striding over and stashing my stuff under the counter. She probably got distracted by a customer—or remembered that Neptune was in its lowest grade of ascension and she needed to meditate. Receipts were scattered all over the chipped wood and the antique cash register was just hanging open.

  Gees MJ. Were you trying to get robbed?

  I stuffed the bills back in, hoping no one had taken advantage of the scatterbrained owner. Light footsteps echoed and I glanced over my shoulder, nearly doing a double take. Sasha was coming from around the corner, carrying a basket of merchandise.

  “Sasha?” My voice squeaked embarrassingly.

  She jumped, jostling her basket while her light blue eyes widened to saucers. “Oh Rubi. You scared me.” A delicate hand pressed against her chest as if to calm her heart. Her sleek flaxen locks were pinned halfway up, showing heart shaped face while the remainder flowed down her back like a sheet of silk. The black uniform sweater contrasted drastically with her alabaster skin and the gray tartan skirt showed her annoyingly toned legs. I doubted there was an ounce of fat on her.

  Ugh.

  She blinked. “You work here?”

  I absentmindedly nodded as I glanced at the antique clock on the wall, noting it was just after 1 pm. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  A gentle smile crossed her face. “Free period.”

  “You snuck off campus?” Maybe she wasn’t so sweet and innocent after all.

  Her cheeks flushed red and with her complexion it was highly noticeable. “Oh, no. Headmaster Norrington gave me permission.” She held out her basket. “We’re having a secret party Friday beneath the school.” A myriad of candles and incense were filled to the rim.

  “Oh.” Of course she didn’t sneak out. She was too perfect. “Are you ready to check out?”

  She nodded and I took her basket, pushing aside the mess MJ left on the counter. I could feel her eyes on me, studying my every move like I was some science experiment. Hell, I could be. I was a psychic vampire princess who talked to ghosts daily. Let’s not forget my pre full vampire blood became a poison. I certainly couldn’t forget with dead vampires tormenting me about it.

  “You can come, if you want?”

  My head jerked up, snapping back to reality. “What?”

  She swallowed loudly and nervously twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “To the party this Friday. It might be fun.”

  “Oh.” I blinked and looked back down at the items I was bagging. “Um…” The thought of being around a bunch of people dancing, eating, drinking, and being merry didn’t set too well with me. In fact it made me nauseous. “I’m not really in the partying kind of mood,” I drawled slowly.

  Sasha shook her head and averted her eyes as if embarrassed she even asked. “Of course. Maybe another time.”

  I shrugged noncommittally. “Sure.” I slid the bags over to her. “
Thirty five fifty.”

  Sasha handed over a black credit card. I skimmed it through the machine before handing it back. “Um… come again?”

  “Okay.” She waved and turned, lithely walking out the store and disappearing down the street.

  Sasha was a little weird and seemingly nothing like her parents Veronica and Anton. Maybe their auras sucked all the arrogant snide genes right out of her—like psychic vampires.

  Footsteps echoed and MJ shuffled around the corner, her face pale and blue eyes exceptionally glossy and dazed. “Oh, Rubi. Is it closing time already?”

  My brows drew together. “Um no. It’s only after one. I just got here.”

  “Why are you here so late? By one in the morning you should be in bed.” MJ shuffled down another aisle. “Have you seen the new jar of hematite dust? Jupiter’s moon is in Mar’s orbit.”

  I stared after her retreating form. What in the hell was she doing downstairs? Smoking pot?

  I sniffed the air, unable to detect anything odd—well odder than the usual for Madame Josephine’s. Maybe she was drinking her special herbal tea, which had magic mushrooms. If that was the case I’d probably find her near the rack of silk scarves, rolling around in them.

  Dust motes drifted around me and tickled my nose while I wiped the shelves in the back of the store clean. This was where MJ kept some of the more eccentric items most people didn’t purchase unless they were seriously into Wicca. Celestia would definitely shop in this part.

  My fingers brushed the layer of grime away from the label on a little glass vile that read, Dried Frog Eyes. Reconstitute with hot water.

  Eeew!

  I also spotted a bottle of frog tongues, rat whiskers, and fish scales. My lip curled imaging Celestia making some kind of tea out of these ingredients, bringing them to a boil in a black cauldron.

  I was glad I never tasted one of her weird shakes. No wonder they were a sickly shade of green.

  I sneezed as I wiped a particularly thick layer of dust of a shelf. And here I thought vampires didn’t have allergies. Go figure I would.