Chapter 13: Cicley
The cold wind hits me like a slap the second I step out the door. And I deserve it—oh, do I deserve it! I can’t believe I let myself make out with Luke. And I can’t believe we lost the umbrella, the one that sat enshrined in a mahogany sword case above Michael and Danny’s bed, the one that brought them together, the one that saved my life. I remember Ander, half way between human and wolf, dutifully racing towards me with the umbrella clutched in his teeth. The thought of telling him it’s gone now—gone, like Michael and Danny and home and so many other things—makes me feel like I’m going to be sick. Ander can never know we lost it.
And he can never know I made out with Luke, either. As angry as I am at Ander, I would never want to hurt him like that. How would I ever explain why I kissed Luke? I can’t even understand it myself! Yes, Luke is stunningly attractive, and yes, he’s stood by me lately when others have not, but I never intended to make out with him. It must be my newbie vampire emotions getting the best of me, letting me get carried away.
Shit, shit, shit! The wind whips across the beach, sending sprays of wet sand skittering across my boots. In the rain, I can barely see. “What if it blew out to sea?” I shout.
“The wind is coming off the water. It would have blown inland, not out.”
Shielding my eyes with my hand, I scan the jagged rocks, but I can’t see the umbrella anywhere. I shut my eyes and try to catch its scent—the smell of spicy potions and incense, the smell of Ander’s home—but all I smell is the salt spray on the wind. The rain has long since washed everything else away.
Luke is looking worriedly out at the frothing waves. “The storm is getting worse! We need to get back to the house. I’m sorry, querida, but—”
“No! We have to find it!” I trot the length of the shoreline, the mud sucking at my boots. I try to picture the umbrella cartwheeling across the sand. Where would it go? An outcropping of rocks juts out onto the beach a few yards ahead. I run towards it, hoping if I climb it I can get a better view.
“I don’t see it anywhere!” Luke calls up to me.
“Me neither!” I scale the slick surface of the rocks. “But let me just—no! Wait! I think I see it!”
I half jump, half slide down the other side of the rocks and race down the beach, Luke following close behind me. At first I can’t be sure, but as I get closer I can see it, plastered to the rocks ahead. It looks like a bat with two broken wings. Bent metal spokes poke through the slick black fabric at odd angles, jagged as fragile bones. I reach down and grab hold of the carved wooden handle, releasing it from the rocks. Immediately the wind threatens to rip it from my grasp, but I hold the umbrella tight, smoothing its broken spokes with my hand as I press it shut. It bulges in odd places, but stays closed. I smile with relief as I hug it to my chest. “Thank God we found it!”
But Luke isn’t smiling. He’s staring at the beach beyond me. “That isn’t all we found.”
I turn and gasp.
A little further down the beach, there is someone lying on the sand. I can’t see him clearly, but I don’t have to see him to know he is dead. He is face down, his dark hair plastered to his head by the pouring rain, his sneakered feet part way in the water. The frothy waves lick his soles.
“Oh, God!” I grab Luke’s hand.
He squeezes my hand, then lets it go. “You stay here,” he says and heads for the body.
I follow him. “What are you going to do?”
“Check for bite marks.”
I shift nervously from foot to foot as Luke kneels on the wet sand, turning the boy’s head to stretch his neck. I catch a glimpse of the boy’s face. His eyes are still open, the lashes crusted with sand, his nostrils clogged with mud. Luke turns over one stiff wrist and lets the rain wash away the mud. Two feelings war in my gut: total revulsion and a sort of sick excitement I never would have felt as a human.
I look away.
“Vampire bites.” Luke says. “There are marks on his neck and wrists.” He stands and brushes the mud efficiently from his hands. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” I say, “shouldn’t we call the police?”
Luke gives me a look that borders on pity. “We can’t be involved with this, querida. What if they bring us in for questioning? Where will that lead?”
He has a point. My fingerprints are on a death record in Minnesota, the record of a girl whose body was supposedly stolen from its grave. No way the police are going to overlook that.
“But shouldn’t we do something?” I ask. “Bury him, at least?” I’m remembering when Luke and I found the body of his servant, Marcus. (What is it with Luke and I finding dead people? Does our relationship have to have a body count?) That day, I convinced Luke to say a few words over Marcus’ body and even sing for him in Spanish. It was the first tenderness I had seen from Luke.
But there won’t be any tender scenes tonight. Luke shakes his head firmly. “We can’t touch it. We must leave it where it is.”
It, not him. The word gnaws at me the way the waves gnaw at the young man’s feet. “But the tide is coming in,” I say. “He’ll be washed out to sea. No one will find him.”
Luke nods approvingly, like I’ve finally said something practical. “Yes. That’s for the best.”
“But, his family!” I say. “Shouldn’t they be able to—”
“Cicely,” he says, “the boy is dead. There’s nothing we can do.”
Luke turns away. It’s amazing to me how quickly he can go cold. Where is the passionate, vulnerable boy I felt when we kissed?
“We have to go,” he says.
But I don’t go. I walk to where the young man lies. This close, I can smell the scent of death, even above the salt of the ocean, and I’m embarrassed that it makes my fangs flare. I’m disgusted the sight of a dead body would waken my instinct to feed. Luckily, the blood has been washed away by the rain. I push my instincts aside and concentrate on what I’m really seeing: a dead person. An “it,” Luke would say. Something to be left to the waves and the fish and the sharks, or whatever it is that hunts the dark waters at night. Because there is nothing more to be done, because his pulse has stopped beating and his blood has stopped rushing and his heart is still.
Like mine.
Carefully, I encircle the boy’s cold wrist with my fingers. His wrist is stiff and hard to turn, like a key in an old lock, but soon I can see the fang marks on the pale underside, so like my own bite marks, the ones that will never heal. My wrist is a mirror image of his. I am the same, but opposite, too, because I am still here, pulled back by a thin, red thread of magic I will never truly understand.
“Cicely?” Some of the warmth has come back to Luke’s voice. “Are you alright?” He takes a tentative step towards me. “We have to go. There’s no sign the body has been moved, so someone must have killed him here—and recently, since the tide hasn’t come in on him yet. Which means they may not be far away. Cicely?”
“Just a minute,” I need to see his face. I push his dark, wet hair aside.
The second I see his eyes, it hits me: the whole dream, every blood-soaked detail. I snatch my hand away from his face and scuttle backwards on the sand.
“What?” Luke rushes to me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, breathless. “I–I scared myself, that’s all.”
Luke lays his hand on my shoulder. “Come back to the house. It’s been a hell of a night.”
I nod numbly and let him turn me away from the body on the beach, let him guide me up the rocks, towards the dull lights of the house in the distance. All the way back to the house, Luke scans the dark woods for signs of the enemy, the umbrella clutched in his hand like a weapon. But I don’t even bother to look. I know now the enemy isn’t somewhere out there. She’s right here.
Chapter 14: Cicley
I find Emmie in her room. She’s lying on her bed, flipping through a copy of People and gnawing on the candy necklace wrapped around her wrist. When she sees me in the doo
rway she sits up, smiling. “I was hoping you’d show up! We were all real worried when you took off like that. Ander wanted to follow you, but I made him stay because I was afraid he’d make stuff worse. Did you talk to him yet?”
“I can’t deal with that right now.” The thought of Ander is a little too much to handle. I shut the door behind me. “I have to talk to you about something else. In private.”
Emmie’s smile widens. “I should have figured you’d be hungry.” She pushes up the sleeve of her pajama shirt. “Now, you prefer the wrist? Or would you rather—”
“I’m not here to feed, Em.”
She looks a little disappointed. “Well, what then? What’s so private?” Her eyes survey me, from my dripping clothes to my tense expression. “Somethin’s really wrong, isn’t it?”
“You mean besides the fact that the police were here because someone’s been killed?”
Emmie nibbles nervously at her candy. “You think Luke’s family has found us, don’t you?”
I sigh and sink down beside her on the bed. “No, I don’t think they have.”
“Good.” She looks relieved. “What, then?”
I tug at the string around my neck, fishing the skeleton key out of my shirt, and hand it to her. “I want you to lock me in at night.”
“What?” She pushes the key back into my hand. “Night’s the only time you can be out! Listen, I know we’re all scared, but you shouldn’t have to lock yourself away to be safe!”
“It’s not my safety I’m thinking of.” I look her in the eye. “Emmie, I think I killed those people.”
Emmie stares at me, shocked. “How could you have? And what do you mean people? There’s only been one!”
“Two,” I say. “Luke and I found a second body down on the beach.”
Emmie draws in her breath. “And you’re sure—”
“There were bite marks. He was killed by a vampire.”
“But that doesn’t mean it was you! Cicely, I told you, you’ve gotta trust yourself. Just because Ander was acting like you were guilty—”
“That’s not why I think I’m the one who did it. Emmie, I recognized the guy.”
She looks at me, confused. “From where?”
“From a dream.”
Emmie puts her hand to her heart in relief. “Cissa, honey, everybody has weird dreams.”
“Not everybody. Not enluzantes. We’re not supposed to dream at all. The dead don’t dream, that’s what Luke said, but I thought maybe I was different, some sort of exception, because I keep waking up with images in my head.”
Emmie’s brow furrows with concern. “Like what?”
“That’s just it, I can never really remember. Just little bits and pieces: someone’s face, a certain place, the feeling someone is calling my name…” I shake my head. “I could never hold onto it. I thought maybe it was like a memory of dreaming, some sort of after-effect of the trauma, like feeling a phantom limb. But then when the police officer was talking about the girl they found, I had an image in my mind of the place. I knew it was in a garden with a gazebo near a church. I could see it in my head.”
“Well, you’re a witch by blood. You’ve had psychic stuff happen before. Maybe this is like that.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t had visions like that since I died. And the ones I had before were about ancient history, stuff that had to do with Luke and Deidre. They weren’t recent and they weren’t like this.”
“Your powers could be changing!”
“Emmie, I’d love to believe it. I really would. But when I saw that kid on the beach, when I looked him in the eyes…” I shudder. “It was like I could see myself killing him. I could see it all, from the killer’s point of view.”
“Oh, Cissa.” Emmie lays her hand sympathetically over mine. “Are you sure you weren’t just having… dark thoughts? I mean, you’re a new vampire. It’s only natural you might think about hunting.”
“It isn’t natural!” I pull my hand away. “It would be bad enough to fantasize about killing an innocent person, but this was way too real to be my imagination.”
“What else could it be? You had an alibi!”
“For part of last night, sure, when Luke was following me, but not for the early morning hours. I thought I was in bed, but what if I wasn’t? And tonight, it got dark so early with the storm. I could have gone out this evening. I woke up tired, feeling like I dreamed. What if I was actually out and about when I think I was asleep? What if I’m somehow blocking it out?”
“You think you’re sleep stalking?”
“Emmie, this isn’t funny!”
“I’m serious! You really think you could sneak out and hunt and then make it back to bed? You think you could block that out?”
“I’ve been through a ton lately,” I say quietly. “Just finding out werewolves and vampires exist was almost enough to send me over the edge, and then you add everything else…” I twist the little skeleton key in my hand, the polished bone cool in my hand. “Maybe I snapped.”
“No.” Emmie shakes her head so her curls tremble. “I just don’t believe the girl I know could do that.”
“But I’m not the same girl! I’ve done a ton of things she would never do!”
“I’ve known a lot of vamps, Cicely, and I’ve got a pretty good idea of who the killers are. You’ve got a lot more self-control than your average newbie. I just can’t picture it.”
“Well,” I sigh, “I can’t rule out the possibility. So…” I hold the key out to her again. “Consider yourself helping to prove my innocence.”
Emmie takes it reluctantly. “You know I don’t like this. Vampires should run free.”
“Sure,” I say, “like puppies. But think of it this way: if someone else is killed while I’m locked up, we’ll know I’m not the killer.” I don’t mention that then we’ll have a different problem: knowing an ancient vampire family has hunted us down.
Emmie loops the chain over her head and tucks the key into her cleavage. “Are you going to say anything about this to the boys?”
“No, not yet. Luke and I decided not to tell anyone about finding the second body. Luke says it doesn’t really change the situation and it would only get us more worked up. And you’re the only one I’m going to tell about my dreams, at least for now.”
I know I should tell the guys. Luke would probably cover for me, even if I was the one who did it. The thought scares me and makes me feel grateful at the same time. But Ander… How could I expect him to love me if I turned out to be the rabid vampire he feared I would be? How could I look at him and tell him he was right not to trust me, after all? All my chances with Ander ride on me staying as close as I can to the human I used to be. After he’s hated his own inner monster so much, I can hardly expect him to love mine.
And I wouldn’t ask him to. If locking me up stops the killing, I’ll assume my suspicions are right and I’ll leave. Maybe Luke will come with me, and maybe he won’t, but I won’t ask Ander to stand by me if I really have become the thing he hates.
And if someone is killed while I’m under lock and key? Well, then I’ll know the monsters are out in the woods after all. It will still mean leaving, but there’s a chance Ander will come with me.
Either way, I have to find out.
“Thanks, Emmie.” I hug her, and she hugs me back, in spite of my damp clothes. “You’re a good person.”
She blushes. “Well I gotta tell you, I don’t feel like a good person right now, because part of me’s wishin’ somebody’d get killed tonight.”
Chapter 15: Luke
A few hours later, the storm has passed, but the danger still remains. I’m standing at the living room window, watching the woods for any sign of trouble, when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn, but I don’t have to; I can tell Emmie by her scent, that mix of blood and candy. She’s wearing a short, jade-green dress and red cowboy boots. Her lips are painted bright pink. “Come on,” she says, “let’s go.”
“Go?”
I ask. “Who? You and I?”
“Yeah, me and you, who else?” She smiles. She has a very charming smile, but I suppose all thralls are like that.
“I’d rather not.” I turn to the window. “I’m waiting for Cicely to come back down. I need to speak with her.”
“Cicely went to bed,” she says.
“What?” I turn back to her. “Already? It isn’t even eleven.”
“My thoughts exactly! The night is young!” She looks me over. I’ve changed out of my rain soaked clothes and into a fresh shirt and slacks. “Are you going to wear that? You’re dressed a little formal.”
“That depends,” I say dryly. “Where are we supposedly going?”
“The Red Tide. It’s a blood bar.” She snatches her jacket from the hook by the door.
“I’m not particularly hungry.”
She laughs. “Honey, if I just thought you were hungry, we wouldn’t be going anywhere.”
“I think it’s best we don’t go anywhere.”
She looks at me with interest. “Oh, really?”
“No, I don’t mean it like that. I mean, I think it’s best we not go out, considering someone has been killed. We should stay close to home until we know what’s going on.”
“But that’s exactly why we are going out, to find out what’s going on! If there are new vamps in the area, folks at the blood bar are likely to know, and we’ve got to figure out who’s doin’ the killin’ so we know what we’re up against here.”
Perhaps the thrall is smarter than I thought. “I suppose,” I say, “when you put it like that…”
“Besides,” she bats her eyes, “you’re not going to let a lady go out alone, are you?”
I smile back at her wanly. “I wasn’t aware there was a lady in the room.”
“Hey!” She swats me, pouting her bright pink lips. “Be nice. Are you comin’ or not?”
I glance towards the kitchen. I had wanted to check on Cicely again. She was so shaken after our discovery on the beach, and I’m loath to leave her with an unknown vampire on the loose. But if Emmie is right and she has turned in for the night, I wouldn’t want to disturb her, and, much though I hate to admit it, Ander will keep her safe.
Crossfire (Book Two of the Darkride Chronicles) Page 13
