by Ines Johnson
“You don’t know what they get up to in that club. They get deliveries from a bloodmobile. The Serranos go there. I saw them.”
That catches my attention. Arneis is not a club-goer. As a kid, he preferred dress pants to jeans, and a tie to any sport’s jersey.
“Arneis, you’re not making any sense. The doctor’s said you suffered a concussion from the accident—”
“It wasn’t a concussion. It was the white-haired woman.” His gaze is far away, but it’s not hazy. He looks clear-eyed, like he’s watching a scene play out in his mind. “She had sharp teeth. She bit me. She took Cari.”
My throat is too raw to speak. My eyes sting with unshed tears. I’m used to taking care of my sick siblings. But no chicken noodle soup, or aspirin, or kissing of booboos, is going to fix this.
Arneis rubs at his neck. There are two raised bumps there, right over the jugular. But those could easily be bug bites.
“When I came to, Hadrian was pressing his wrist to my mouth. He was feeding me his blood.”
“Arneis, that’s enough.” I tug at his arm to pull him up. But he won’t budge.
“And then Gaius stared into my eyes. He told me to forget, and I did.”
Arneis’s gaze focuses on me. His dark eyes are clear, as clear as when he’s doing a math problem in his head and arrives at the answer without the aid of a calculator.
“He was trying to do it again just now. I could feel him in my mind, Marechal.”
His voice is desperate now. He grips my shoulders with both his hands. His hold on me is painful, but nowhere near as bad as the pain I feel as I watch my little brother lose his mind.
“It wasn’t an accident,” says Arneis. “I went to get Cari. We were driving. And then this woman came out of nowhere. She had fangs. She bit me. Then she took Cari.”
“Cari is fine,” I say as calmly as I can. “I’ll call her so you can talk to her yourself.”
But after I dial her number, the phone just rings and rings. I pull up Hadrian’s number and get the same result. They’re newlyweds and it’s the middle of the night. What should I expect? But I need Arneis to see that there is no truth to what he’s made up in his mind.
White-haired women falling from the sky and biting him. Hadrian feeding him blood. Gaius wiping his mind. It’s all a result of his head injury. I’d rather convince my brother myself than have him see a doctor, as that would certainly ruin his career as a public servant.
The next number I dial is Gaius’s. It hasn’t been long enough for him to get from my place to his. Maybe he can turn around and come back.
I shouldn’t have sent him away in the first place. This isn’t a problem I know how to handle. And I don’t want to handle it on my own.
Gaius’s phone rings in the ear I have pressed to the phone. Then it rings again, loud and clear in my other ear. I pull my phone away and the ringing continues. I spy Gaius’s phone on the floor where he left his ruined shirt.
I bend down to pick up the phone. There are two alerts on the screen. One is a missed call from me. The other is a text from Hadrian.
Cari and I are playing in the cellar. Don’t come knocking.
The cellar? The one with the sex toys hanging on the wall and spanking apparatus in the center? The one sitting out back of the Serrano main house?
“Arneis, get up. We’re going to pay a visit to our new in-laws.”
28
Gaius
Contrary to popular belief, vampires do get headaches. There’s nothing wrong with our nerve endings. All of our senses are simply enhanced. We can feel the same pain as humans, especially if doled out by a weapon of mass destruction, or another supernatural creature.
There are claw marks next to the bump at the base of my skull. They’re both healing rapidly, but sting as my body regenerates the torn flesh. I’m healing a little slower than usual since I skipped yesterday’s meal and barely ate the day before that. So the throb at the base of my skull feels like a freight train is ramming into it, shifting into reverse, backing up, and ramming it again.
Were I not so thirsty, it wouldn’t be so bad. During my time with Domitia, this would’ve been considered foreplay. She would’ve made sure I was well fed, all so that she could make the pain last longer.
My only care is for Marechal. I can still smell her on me. But I don’t smell her in here. The fact that she is safe eases my worries. Which takes my mind back to the pain.
It takes a long moment for the blackness to recede. It takes my eyes a few seconds more before my surroundings become clear. Overhead, there is an open shaft that lets in the moonlight. But there isn’t much to see.
I smell rich earth, but with an underlying mustiness of mold. The walls are cold. Hard. Rock.
I’m in a cave. One that’s deep underground. If I inhale deeply enough, I can smell berries. Not the tart berries of the Durand vineyard. I smell the unmistakable sweet reds of the Serrano grapes.
I’m back on my land. But I’m not in my home. I’m somewhere deep underneath it, in the caves my brothers and I explored when we first came here. When we came here months ago, we caught no whiff of shifters. Now the place reeks of cat.
Just great. When the others learn I was taken down by a pack of felines, I will never hear the end of it.
A movement to the side instantly clears my head of any residual pain. It looks like the big kitties have come out to play. Eyes flash at me in the darkness of the cave.
There is an open alcove. Three males stand in the doorway. They are large, with black hair and brown skin. I don’t see any of the female shifters from the vineyard, but I can smell them nearby.
The women had appeared docile in the vineyard. I should’ve known better. As a vampire, I am higher up on the food chain than their species, but they are natural predators. Their four-legged ancestors roamed these lands long before humans stood to walk on two feet.
“You know you are breaking the peace treaty,” I say, aiming for diplomacy. “Lucius Frangelico has signed an accord with the shifters of this territory.”
“We are not under Frangelico’s thumb. Or that dog, Garrett Green.”
I should’ve guessed that. The vineyard is just out of Frangelico’s territory. And I should have known that wolf shifters and cat shifters wouldn’t mix. But it was worth a try. “What do you want?”
“This land is ours,” says the larger one. He wears his hair in two long braids that trail over his shoulders. His features are so fine that he might be mistaken for a girl if it weren’t for his bare chest and bulging biceps.
“I have a deed that says otherwise.”
“Words on paper mean nothing to us.” Mr. Pippi Longstocking takes a step into the cave. “Our forefathers lived on this land long before your blood was poisoned by your maker.”
I take my time coming to my feet, making certain not to make any sudden moves. There still might be a way to get out of this without bloodshed.
Shifters are strong. So are vampires. My ability to trace would even my odds despite the unfair number of males before me. But I don’t know these caves, and I have a feeling they’re hiding their numbers. I can smell more bodies outside the door. More testosterone that’s eager for a fight.
“Sounds like something you fellas are going to have to take up with the government.”
Longstocking snorts at that. The other two give me a hard stare. I can’t blame them. The US government gave Native Americans a raw deal at every turn. The Spanish regents and church ordered the Inquisition. In all my centuries, I’ve never met a governing body that actually had what was best for the people in mind.
The government won’t help in this matter. Neither will documents or deeds. This is a supernatural problem.
“You’re the reason my grapes aren’t growing,” I say.
Longstocking shakes his head. “No, that’s the prophecy.”
This night just keeps getting better. The reason I like the wine business so much is because it doesn’t deal with any magic
al bullshit. It’s science. Filled with predictable variables that I can control. Unlike foretelling and soothsaying.
I’d rather deal with the church. At least then I know any evildoing could always be linked back to the desires of wicked men out to grab power or money. Prophecies? Those are beyond this realm, and rarely bring anything good.
“What prophecy?”
He doesn’t answer. He steps back. There is a loud, cranking groan as the door of the alcove is shut. Then a clank as a lock slams into place.
Great. I’m locked in an underground cave surrounded by a bunch of jaguar shifters. A perfect ending to a perfect night. Except the night isn’t over, and it will be soon.
Up above, I can see the moon in the shaft of the cave’s opening. The white orb is slowly sinking down the horizon. In just a couple of hours, it will descend. And the sun will rise.
“Uh oh, did the big bad vampire forget his sunshades?”
The voice comes from the other side of the cave. There is a woman sitting on a small mattress on the floor. She’s dressed in a thin shift that leaves nothing to the imagination. She lies back with her arms crossed behind her head, her painted toes hanging off the bedding.
Exactly what kind of prophecy is going on here?
29
Marechal
I pull up to the Serrano vineyard less than ten minutes after leaving home. The drive should’ve taken over twenty, but my foot never left the gas.
I will always go full speed ahead with anything to do with my family, be they in need, or lying through their teeth.
I can’t believe Cari lied to me. She’s kept things from me before. But never a bold-faced, I’m out of the country on my honeymoon, not hiding out in my husband’s sex cellar lie.
When I get hold of my little sister, I’ll… what? Berate her for wanting to have a little private fun with her new husband?
No, I won’t do that. I’m not angry anymore. I’m filled with worry and uncertainty. Cari likely has her reasons for keeping me in the dark about her whereabouts. But I can’t grasp what’s going on with my brother.
In the passenger seat, Arneis is white-knuckling the seat belt. I should have thought about his nerves. He’s just survived an accident. And our father died in one last year.
But I can’t think of everyone else right now. I need him to see Cari for himself. To see that she is healthy and whole and without fangs.
Vampires? Where could he have gotten such an idea? Arneis was never one for fantasy novels. I can’t remember him reading fiction outside of schoolwork. He prefers historical biographies, social treatises, and political speeches throughout the ages with annotated commentary. Vampires are not in his wheelhouse.
I can’t have this getting out. If he begins spouting stories about vampires out in polite society, he will be booted out of public office at sunrise. But Arneis is a logical man. Once I show him Cari, once he sits down and talks with Hadrian and Gaius, everything will click back into place in his head. He’ll see the error of his muddled thoughts. He has to. The alternative would be to turn to doctors, and that would likely get leaked to the media.
All is quiet when we pull through the gates of the Serrano vineyard. I see Gaius’s car in the driveway. Good, he’s here. I grab his phone. His shirt is still back at my place, now tucked in my top dresser drawer. It’s not likely he’ll wear it again, but I have designs on making it my new nightie. Though I would prefer to sleep in his arms.
I eye the wine cellar off to the side of the house. If my sister is in there, she is likely naked and in the throes of passion. Not necessarily something I want to see. Definitely not something that will help her older brother’s psyche. So, I turn to the house.
I raise my fist to knock. A niggling at the nape of my neck urges me to try the knob. Unballing my fist, I wrap my fingers around the cool metal, and it gives.
I expect the hinges to creak. They don’t. The door whispers open, allowing us entry.
“Wait.” Arneis grabs my forearm. “Don’t we have to be invited inside?”
“That’s a rule for vampires; they have to be invited into a human’s home. We’re not—” I clamp my mouth shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m so tired that I nearly bought into this nonsense. After letting out a gush of a sigh, I proceed inside.
“Gaius?” I call into the dark hall.
Feeling along the wall, I don’t find any switches for light fixtures. I can navigate my own home in the dark, having lived there all my life. But I am instantly lost in this maze of halls and rooms that not even the moonlight penetrates.
I take another step forward and bump into a hard wall. The wall reaches out and grabs my arm. I scream.
Light floods the room, and the wall of flesh comes into view. Virius has a hand under my armpit. He’s holding me up. In front of me are a set of stairs that lead outside. One more step, and I would’ve fallen down them and broken my neck.
From behind me, Arneis lets loose a battle cry. He charges Virius. Arneis is a big man, but Virius is broad. My brother collides into the wall that is Virius and falls back on his ass. His head thuds against the floor, likely causing another concussion.
I jerk free of Virius’s hold to join my brother on the floor. Arneis groans as he rubs his head.
Virius gazes down at the two of us, his head cocked to the side as he studies us. “Gaius isn’t here. I thought he was with you.”
“He left my place nearly an hour ago,” I say as I help Arneis to sit up. “His car is out front.”
“He didn’t drive to your place. He walked there.”
My gaze swings from my brother up to Virius. “He walked? I live over ten miles away.”
Virius shrugs. I note the man is wearing cowboy chaps and a t-shirt with a Native American in a headdress on it. The mismatch of cultural appropriation gives me pause… until I see what he has in his hand.
“I told you.” Arneis raises a shaky finger, pointing at the object in Virius’s hand. “Vampires.”
Virius looks down, then he curses. “Great, now Cari will be pissed at me. She didn’t want you two to know.”
I stare, stunned, as Virius lifts the bag of blood to his mouth. His sharp teeth gleam in the moonlight. He punctures a hole at the top of the bag and then takes a pull like he’s a kid sipping from a Capri Sun juice pouch.
I can’t decide if I should scream out of fear, or gag out of disgust. My mind is so scrambled that I can’t make a move. I can only stare as Virius drains the bag dry and then swipes the back of his hand over his mouth.
“You’ll have to wait for Gaius to get home, or for Hadrian to come out of the dungeon with Cari. I’m shite at mind wiping. I might take everything, and then Cari will be really pissed. Luckily, she’s not the type to bind my balls. At least, she hasn’t tried yet.”
That’s all I need to hear. I don’t know exactly what it is that I just saw. What I do know is that I need to get my brother up and away from this man. Then I need to find my sister, and get her out of this nuthouse.
I manage to get Arneis to his feet. Virius doesn’t make a move towards us. He simply watches as we snake around him to the stairs that lead outside. Once the cool night air hits my face, I tell Arneis to run. But my foot hits the ground wrong and I go down.
I reach out to brace my fall. I’m able to protect my face, but my hands bear the brunt. The sharp edge of a rock slices into the flesh of my palm. The pain shoots through me and my knee goes down, catching another rock.
I roll over to find Virius looking down at me. The man’s nose twitches as he looks at the blood. His white fangs flash in the dark night.
“Don’t worry; I already ate.” Virius holds up the empty pouch as evidence, but something else moves in the night.
I hear the crash of a door being swung open, then a high-pitched scream, followed by a low growl. From the cellar at the back of the house, I catch a blur of hair and limbs.
Cari.
The pain in my hands and knee are forgotten as my siste
r comes into view. I lift my arms, wanting to reach out her, to hold her in my arms. But there’s something chasing her; something big and fast.
It’s nearly on her. It grabs hold of her ankle, and they both go down. As they roll on the ground, I see Cari’s pursuer is Hadrian.
They roll in the grass. Not with the passion of lovers, but with the aggression of two individuals at odds.
Cari slips free of Hadrian’s hold and she is up, running towards me again. Her lips pull back from her teeth, revealing sharp white fangs.
“Cari, no.”
My sister’s fangs flash at me. There is no recognition in her eyes. Her gaze is fixed on the blood dripping from my outstretched hand.
30
Gaius
The woman steps into the moonlight. By all accounts, she is breathtaking, with striking features. Her skin is a few shades darker than Marechal’s. Her hair is a curtain of ebony. Her eyes are hazel, not the dark plum of a Sémillion grape. They flash at me, revealing her shifter nature.
A few days ago, I would’ve been curious to know what color her nipples were, what shade of red her cunt was, how long she would last at the edge of my cat o’nine tail whip.
I’m not interested in the answer to any of those queries. All I can think about is how to get out of the hell I am in. My gaze turns skyward.
“You’re not going to make that climb,” she says, coming to stand next to me.
She’s small. But the way she holds herself makes me feel as though she’s looking down her nose at me. I get the sense that she is a leader. So why is she the one trapped in here with me?
“My name is Gaius Serrano.”
“I know who you are.”
“Might I know the pleasure of your name?”
“Ixazaluoh.”
She cocks her head to the side. It’s a clear challenge. Even with my slick tongue, I can’t repeat that grouping of consonants and vowels.
