by J. N. Colon
“W-What’s happening?” Leah demanded, her cheeks washing of color and eyes growing wide.
Panic had a hold of my chest made worse when my attempt to move was shattered by Dana’s unrelenting grasp. She slipped behind me and gripped my head with unnatural strength even for a vampire, gluing me to the seat. Robert slithered across the table, picking up bloody bugs in one hand, aiming for my mouth.
I frantically twisted in my seat, my lungs harshly sucking short bursts of ragged air. “Stop!”
“Are you having a panic attack?” Kayla asked.
“Get off of me,” I wheezed.
Deep laughter rolled out of the slimy Bronson who shuffled forward and gripped my mouth, prying it open with soiled fingers. The tattoo of Celtic knots on the back of his hand winked at me, mocking me.
A pained whimper came out of me as I struggled uselessly in the chair, my mouth held ajar. Blood pounded in my ears and a cold sweat soaked my clothes while terror sent tremors through every muscle in my body. Robert outstretched his hand where a mass of writhing bugs lay, the sound of their crunchy bodies mingled with the soft flesh of worms churned my stomach.
Skin chilling laughter snaked from between his rotten teeth as a pair of fangs grew, dripping with acidic slime that ate away the table cloth beneath. “We’re six feet under, bugs crawling all over us, eating our flesh.” His scratchy voice raked painfully against my ears. “It’s only fair you get to feel the same thing.”
Terror ripped through my chest as I eyed the hand, dreading what I knew was coming. There could only be one reason Bronson was holding my mouth open.
Robert hopped closer. “They’re in our mouths too.” With vampire speed he shoved the handful of bugs in my open maw.
A muffled scream echoed through the room, drowning out the blood in my ears. My stomach heaved violently, threatening to spill everything I ingested earlier. And honestly I wouldn’t mind if it meant getting rid of the creepy crawlers.
Kayla and Leah jumped up and screamed. All they could see was me struggling against invisible binds with my mouth stretched open and a look of sheer horror on my face. They ran out, the curtain swishing behind them.
I couldn’t blame them.
Anguished, choking cries bellowed out of me as bugs crawled and wriggled on my tongue, between my teeth and scuttled down my esophagus. Laughter radiated from my three tormenters, echoing unnaturally loud against the walls. When I tried to force the bugs out with my tongue Dana reached down and scooped more, shoving them in until I gagged.
“There, there princess.” Her voice was saccharine sweet. “We wouldn’t want you to miss out on all the fun we’ve been having.” She leaned down, bringing her dark eyes level with mine, her slimy raven snarls sliding across my own cheek. “You are, after all, the reason we’re getting eaten up by bugs.”
The curtain was suddenly yanked aside as Rufus sprinted in followed closely by Daedalus. They both halted at my strange position, confusion clouding their expression. After straining until I thought my head would pop off, I made a garbled choking sound that I could barely hear over the ghosts’ laughter and words of blame. Hopefully my guards could hear it loud and clear.
Rufus’s chocolate eyes widened in realization. “Rubi!” He dashed forward and tried in vain to lift me from the chair.
Daedalus appeared on my other side, his face hidden by curtains of chin length sandy brown hair. “What is happening?” He ground out between his clenched teeth.
Whispers and hisses continued, stabbing knives of guilt into my chest.
You’re fault. You’re fault… You did this… You killed us.
You poisoned us. Murdered us. It’s all because of you…
Murderer!
I clamped my eyes closed to drown out the sickening crunch of bugs and my tormenters’ words, pretending it was only a nightmare. Abruptly the iron hands around my head and jaw were gone and I was ripped off the chair, falling into a hard chest that smelled like vanilla.
“Princess?” Rufus’s firm arms wrapped around me, keeping my buckled legs from letting me crash to the ground.
“What the hell is going on?” Daedalus growled yet his hands were gentle as they tried brushed the strands of hair stuck to my face from tears and cold sweat.
The ghosts were gone as were the bugs and blood. But I could still feel them, phantom legs crawling around in my mouth. I could never forget it.
A strangled sob slipped out and my fingers clutched Rufus’s jacket. His arms tightened and I felt Daedalus press closer, incasing me in the warmth, safety, and comfort of my royal guards—a feeling I had very little of these days.
I kept my head buried against Rufus’s chest as he carried me inside the house, my fingers clutching his shirt. I was too afraid to peek my head up, to even open my eyes for fear my three tormenters would appear.
“What happened?” I recognized Whitmore’s worry laced, baritone voice.
“Is she hurt?” Miranda’s sweet lavender scent floated over me, her soft fingers gliding against my arm.
“I don’t think physically,” Rufus said.
“What’s wrong with her?” Nathan’s dry cadence echoed through the room.
I staunched the urge to groan. The last time he saw me I freaked out in Whitmore’s study, hallucinating blood and bugs dripping from the walls and ceilings. He probably thought I was an unstable nitwit now.
“She looks terrified.” Normally Mac would have jumped up and immediately taken me from Rufus. But this was the un-Mac. What else could I suspect but cool indifference?
“You’re not wrong.”
UGH! Anton.
Whitmore’s firm hand touched my shoulder as he tried to turn me, but I wouldn’t budge, clinging to Rufus. “What happened?”
“I think it was ghosts sir,” he said.
“We found her in the store paralyzed on a chair, nearly choking.” Daedalus stood next to Rufus, the anger in his tone trembling through his rough voice. “She won’t tell us anything.”
“Ghosts?” A new, unexpected presence interrupted.
“Yes Damarius. Rubi can communicate with spirits.” Miranda’s fingers stroked my tangled hair while Whitmore patted my shoulder before releasing it.
Damarius Braxton was another member of Whitmore’s council, specifically one of his advisors. He was about two hundred years old and stuck in the past as much as his usual attire of custom suits, top hats, and canes were. The first time I met him I was unfortunately wearing my purple Lone Star Burger Shack hoodie with a mouth full of ribs and face covered in sauce. Trust me, it wasn’t a pretty sight. Neither was the shock and distaste his expression held when he realized the messy meat monster was, in fact, the princess.
A flurry of violent Russian exploded through the room. “What the hell is wrong with her!” Loud, angry footsteps echoed while earthly amber and fire shifted scented the air.
“It was some kind of ghost attack,” Daedalus supplied. “She won’t talk.”
Demy’s hand rested on my back. “Princess? Tell me what happened.” His lips brushed against my ear as his gentle whisper blew warmth across my back.
I shook my head stubbornly.
He sighed and slid his arms under me. “I’ll take her.”
Rufus easily released me, my body curling instantly into the familiarity and my face burying in the crook of his neck. Safe. I was safe with my Russian shifter.
“Tell me Princess,” he pleaded gently.
“Just a ghost,” I mumbled. “Scary.” I shivered simply remembering it. “Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Is she always like this when she communicates with ghosts?” Damarius asked.
“No,” Whitmore answered coolly, almost defensively.
Tension thickened the air, turning it palpable. It was obvious Darmarius didn’t approve of me anymore than he had when we first met and this was a much more plausible reason than my atrocious table manners. Just like Anton and Veronica, he was probably thinking I wasn’t fit to be prince
ss. I just hoped no one else agreed.
Chapter 14
Cool water pooled around me feet, topped with white foam before retreating back into the tide. Salty moisture flavored the air and coated my skin until it was sticky. A full moon hung high in the pitch sky spotted with twinkling stars all reflected in the ocean like a second, undulating and silvery liquid heaven.
My eyes stared longingly at the water, missing the beach. I hadn’t been since Mac’s death. I couldn’t bring myself to go anywhere near it for fear it would bring those agonizing memories and crush my heart into dust. Even when I was at home at my parents’ beach house, I avoided the salty, sandy oasis like the plague. I wouldn’t allow my eyes to even wonder out the windows to catch the water glittering in the morning sun.
That was probably one of the reasons it was so easy to move to Salem with the Davenports. My parents weren’t exactly happy about it, but I was eighteen. They also knew my future was still with the vampires.
I guess there was no real reason to avoid the beach any longer. Mac was alive even if he wasn’t the same or no longer felt like he belonged to me. At least he was living and breathing, not six feet under rotting.
With a sigh my feet carried me further into the water until it hit just below my knees, cool blanketing my skin. The soft sand below caressed my feet, massaging them and tickling my toes. My head tilted back, enjoying the feeling as the wind blew my long hair off my shoulders, tangling the strands.
“Rubi!”
My gaze shifted back to the ocean to see a head full of black hair bobbing in the water a ways out. As much as I wished they were green I knew a pair of violet eyes were staring back at me. I waved from Demy to come closer.
In response he shook his head and motioned me closer.
I trudge further out until the water hit my chest, but he still waved me on, refusing to be the one to come. With a roll of my eyes I kicked and swam until my feet no longer touched the bottom and I was treading water. Demy disappeared under the surface to swim toward me.
I knew what he was up to before I even felt his fingers tickle my leg. He was trying to scare me. So typical.
I shook my head and with a laugh I dove under the water instead of letting him pull me under. With my vampire eyes I searched the darkness for the Russian shifter.
Confusion hit my chest when I didn’t find him. Maybe he swam away really fast.
A tickling sensation suddenly curled over my back. I spun around expecting to see Demy.
It wasn’t Demy.
I was face to face with a snarling, grotesque ghostly William.
I screamed, letting out a myriad of bubbles reaching toward the surface. William was the hunter that murdered my great, great grandmother Sara and had led the original plan to exterminate a whole mess of shifters with a poison—much like the vampires in the present. He haunted me my semester at Mossgrove Academy last year and attempted to prevent me from stopping the current hunters from killing the shifters. He failed. And he was pissed.
William’s skin was a sickly shade of ashen gray. His green eyes were yellowed and lined with red veins. A hole was deteriorating the left side of his cheek, his yellowed, decaying teeth visible. Red hair swam around him like strands of blood. Lips curled back, revealing a cruel, hideous smile.
With vampire speed I kicked away and headed toward the surface, breaking through the water with a gasp. I looked around, Demy nowhere in sight. I swam for the beach, never looking back, afraid to see William following. I didn’t stop until I was standing on the sand, breathing heavily and heart pounding.
My eyes finally looked back at the water, no trace of the horrifying ghost beneath its peacefulness.
A chill trickled down my back, spreading goose bumps and trepidation. Oh no. I could feel eyes glued to the back of me. Slowly I turned and let out a scream. Williams was standing behind me, his hellish face inches from mine.
A twisted laugh cascaded out his mouth, sounding wet. “You can’t hide from me Rubi.” His Scottish accent grated against my ears.
“Leave me alone William,” I hissed, my voice trembling with fear. “You’re dead.” My fingers itched to touch my neck where he’d strangled me the last time we met.
“You should be dead—an arrow sticking out your little heart.” He pointed to my chest.
I glanced down to see my scar split wide open, spilling crimson down my body. With a gasp I covered it, blood still seeping through my fingers regardless.
“You can’t hide from your affliction princess.” He came closer, swiping a finger through my blood and sticking it in his mouth. “You are poison. Tainted blood.” A skin crawling laugh tumbled out his mouth, his tongue sticking through the hole in his cheek. “You are their end.”
I clamped my hands over my ears to drown out his words, but they still kept coming, repeating the same thing. Tears prickled my eyes and I turned away, only to have William’s cold, slimy hands grab my shoulders, whirling me around. His rotten teeth came at me, snapping his jaws around my neck in a painful, vicious bite.
“Rubi! Rubi wake up!” Strong hands gripped me, shaking me back and forth.
I fought my attacker, determined to keep William away. My arms reached out, smacking at whatever flesh they could find until they were suddenly pinned to my side.
“Rubi it’s me. It’s Demy!”
A metaphorical bucket of cold water had been splashed over me, waking me from the nightmare. My eyes flashed opened to see his worried face over mine, inky hair sticking up all over the place and violet eye wide with panic.
With a gasp my body relaxed, losing the fight. “I’m sorry Demy,” I whispered, my voice still hoarse from sleep. “Did I hurt you?”
A wry laugh tumbled out his mouth as he released me, helping me sit. “Hurt me? I thought you were going dislocated your own shoulder.” His expression sobered. “What happened? Was it a prophetic dream?”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.” I pulled my knees up against my chest, shivering as the images flooded my mind. “William was the star of the show.”
Demy’s body stiffened while a growl rumbled through his chest. “Bastard.” He pulled me closer, brushing the hair off my face. “Tell me Rubi,” he urged, his voice low and soothing in my ear.
“He was going on about how I should be dead and my blood is tainted. I am the end of them.” I sighed and snuggled closer. “Nothing we didn’t already know.” How could I forget my blood created the poison when I had three ghosts tormenting me, a daily reminder of my guilt in theirs and countless others deaths.
His arms tightened around me. “It’s not your fault Rubi. You didn’t create this poison. You were a victim used by the hunters. Don’t let that dead asshole make you feel guilty for this.”
He wasn’t the only one, I thought glibly.
I knew he was right, but I couldn’t stop the dark remorse from penetrating my heart. If it wasn’t for me the hunters wouldn’t have the upper hand and Mac wouldn’t be acting like a stranger. “I know,” I lied.
As if they could sense my lie, a line of deep, scarlet blood seeped down the wall across from the bed, pooling on the floor. My throat turned dry and cheeks paled. Thankfully the loss of color was masked from Demy in the darkness.
“Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asked, rubbing my back.
I shook my head. “No. I just want to go back to sleep,” I whispered weakly. “Will you hold me?”
“Of course princess.” Demy settled us back down on the bed, his strong arms enfolding me against him. “I’ll be right here as long as you need me.”
A dark, chilling and familiar feminine laugh sliced through the air. “He can’t protect you princess.”
I shivered and buried myself deeper in his embrace.
***
Loud, brash electronic blares echoed down one of the long hallways in the Davenport house, a stretch of burgundy walls and dark wood floor covered by a Persian rug beneath my feet. With furrowed brows I fo
llowed the garish sounds, finding them coming from Mac’s room, his door ajar. Against my better judgment—he’d probably kick me out—I leaned on the doorjamb and peered in.
The walls were a deep blue with dark wood crown molding and nearly matching glossy floors. A tray ceiling held a masculine iron chandelier in the center, casting soft light throughout. A black rot iron bed was pushed against one wall with covers in gray and blue and I knew from experience it was as soft and comfortable as it looked. A knot fisted in my chest thinking of the many times we shared the bed together. Now I was banned from even going near it. Mac didn’t say, but the coldness in his eyes every time he looked at me told me everything I needed to know. Look don’t touch—and even look was regulated to a few seconds before a sneering reprimand would occur.
With an audible sigh I sought out his figure, perched on the edge of a black leather couch, his gaze fixed on the massive flat screen where an obnoxious video game was playing. His avatar was running around, cutting zombie head’s off, blood splattering everywhere like a horror movie.
My lips formed into a grimace not only from the gore, but from Mac’s odd behavior. He never played video games unless Brant or some other guy friend was over. He wore a new pair of dark designer jeans and a black sweater, his midnight hair combed neatly away from his face like Whitmore’s. The moon shone through the window, casting his pale complexion in silvery light, making him appear even more unattainable than he already was.
“What do you want?” he said without taking his gaze off the game or halting the inexplicable movements of his fingers on the controller.
I pushed back the pain rising at his dismissive tone. “Nothing. Just heard the video game.”
He blinked. “Uh, it’s a one person game… so…” His gaze slanted over, checking to see if I was still there. His brows rose as if to say ‘you’re still here’.
