In the Dark

by Jen Colly

  She was all brimstone and fire, but his only concern was for Faith and the betrayal in her eyes.

  “Glass?” she asked Elin, and stepped out of his arms so quickly she stumbled. “You mean he wasn’t dying?”

  “Death by broken glass? Are you kidding me?” Elin let out a strange half snort, half laugh as the tray hit the table with the clatter of metal on metal. “Only if we’re talking about slicing his head off.”

  “I didn’t need to...to...”

  “I tried to stop you,” Soren said, though he hadn’t. Not really.

  Faith stared past him, unfocused, already blocking him out. She turned to Elin, a comrade of sorts now that they were on the same page. Mad at him. “Don’t give him anything for the pain when you take out that glass.”

  A conspiratorial smile crossed Elin’s face, and she wiggled the small scalpel between her fingers. “Hadn’t planned on it.”

  “Good.” Faith spun on her heel and rushed out the door.

  “Faith, wait,” he called, but she refused to turn around, and she didn’t stop.

  He gripped the edge of the table, intent on following her, but at the first sure touch of the scalpel, froze. And howled, twisting and glaring at his tormentor.

  “Hold still,” she snapped, not intimidated by his bellowing. She carried on, leaving a stinging trail of short, lightning quick incisions from left to right.

  “What do you expect, woman? You’re carving me up. You couldn’t wait until I was ready?”

  “You didn’t wait for me. Serves you right,” she said as she added more glass to the growing, sticky pile. “I’ll have to slice you open at least half a dozen more times to get all this out. You’re bleeding, again. And you have one seriously angry female waiting at home. I hope that was worth it, Soren.”

  “She’s worth it,” he amended.

  “Good. Then hang on, because we’re having another go at this.” Elin sliced through his skin once more, quick and sharp. Soren groaned through the next handful of cuts. He caught his breath only to have his stomach turn as the sticky glass was plunked onto the metal tray.

  The door popped open, and he straightened. Had she come back? No. Navarre entered, followed by Julian, who caught sight of his back and didn’t bother hiding a grimace.

  “Soren, you look...” Navarre’s words dropped off as he encountered the bloody mess.

  “Well,” Julian supplied with a false smile. “You look well.”

  “He’s sitting in a puddle of blood, boys.” Elin’s mousy voice softened her berating words. “Get over it.”

  “I don’t want to hear one word,” Soren mumbled through clenched teeth. “I told you Titus was impressive.”

  “I won’t say anything,” Julian said, lifting both hands in the air.

  Neither spoke as they waited patiently for Elin to finish pulling the last pieces from his back. She wiped the blood off the table, washed the open wounds, and double-checked the largest gash.

  The silence continued until she let out an overdramatic sigh. “It’s one thing after another today. Don’t bother saying it. I know better than to stick around when you two walk into a room.” She smacked Soren on the shoulder and ignored his grunt. “You’re on your own, big guy.”

  She dumped the blood-coated glass in the garbage, the instruments and tray into the sink, then disappeared out the door. The stillness continued.

  Preparing to get the ball rolling, he stretched the kink in his neck. “I take it you’re not here to check on me.”

  “Gustav’s here,” Navarre said, going straight to the point.

  “What?” Not good. Balinese might hold the reputation for being a peaceful city, but even so, no one would accept Gustav’s type. “Has anyone seen him?”

  “Only Steffen. He claims he has a message for me. The council meets in ten minutes,” Navarre said. “Do you know what this is about?”

  He shook his head. “Gustav hates people. I don’t know why he would be here. We haven’t spoken since I left Paris.”

  “He might be better behaved with you beside him,” Navarre said.

  “Let me change, and I’ll be right there.” Soren slid off the table, reaching for his duffel bag as Navarre left the room with Julian on his heels.

  A short while later, freshly patched and wearing his spare clothes, Soren walked into an uneasy council room. Every member watched Gustav like a hawk.

  Captain Savard was the exception. Though the captain positioned himself at Lord Navarre’s side, he wore the same bored expression as at the last meeting. Gustav, on the other hand, was eating this up. He seemed to like creating restlessness among these vampires.

  “Gustav.” Soren reached out to his friend as he sat beside him.

  He grasped Soren’s forearm.

  “We’re all present, so let’s begin,” Navarre said. “I assume this message is from your lord?”

  “It is, and I don’t want to stay here long, so pay attention. I don’t repeat myself,” Gustav replied. “Demons have popped up all over the city. Our guess is over fifty, but they’re hard to track. They haven’t done much pack hunting, and we’ve rarely caught them feeding, but they’re very comfortable roaming the city. Those not feeding appear to be searching for something in Paris.” He slouched into his chair and rested his head against the back. “That’s it. That’s the message.”

  “I told you she’d bring them here,” Vidor said, pointing a slender finger at Soren.

  “She? Wait a minute.” Gustav held his hands up, laughing. “Demons are hunting for something other than people in Paris, and you think they want...what’s her name? Faye. Fanny. Oh, for God’s sake, Soren, what’s the girl’s name?”

  “Faith.”

  “Yeah, her. You think they want her? You people just make this stuff up, don’t you?” Gustav slapped his knee as he continued to roar with laughter.

  “Soren took the human from them,” Vidor said, voice raised.

  The humor fizzled out of Gustav, and he leaned forward in his chair, his attention fixed on Vidor. “Let me educate you. No demon, alone or in a pack, would hunt down an escaped meal. Another bite to eat is always around the next corner. Trust me, they do not want Faith.”

  Soren released the breath he’d held as he’d listened intently to Gustav. She was safe. They weren’t after Faith.

  “You don’t know what they’re looking for, do you?” Navarre asked, studying Gustav.

  “No. And since their searches are random, we don’t even have a guess,” Gustav said.

  “They must be looking for our cities,” Julian offered.

  Gustav rolled his eyes at the suggestion. “We’ve seen nothing to suggest they have an interest in our cities.”

  “What else can they be looking for?” Bareth wondered, shrugging his hefty shoulders.

  “Have you warned any of the other cities?” Navarre asked.

  Gustav took a deep breath, clearly annoyed with the questions. “No. My lord claims he is not the world’s keeper. If you want them warned, that’s your call. He won’t get involved because no one is actually in danger. He’s only warning Balinese because they seem to have come from this direction.”

  “Demon migration?” Bareth chuckled.

  “Should we warn the other cities?” Julian asked, and everyone waited in silence to hear the lord’s answer.

  Navarre shook his head slowly. “I don’t believe we have a problem at this point.”

  “But, my lord, what of Talvane?” Soren asked, and mumbles of agreements rippled through those gathered. “The Guardians of Talvane have always been high in number for the sole reason that the city is within Paris, but it could be found.”

  “Talvane is a true concern. Gustav?” Navarre prompted.

  Gustav shrugged. “They haven’t gone near it yet.”

  “Then my decision remains the sa
me. We will not warn the cities. It’s possible those creatures could’ve been chased from their homes. Our history is riddled with such instances, and theirs would be as well. I will not panic entire cities needlessly. Especially as we’ve had minimal communication between cities these past decades. We will step up the guard on our gates. Gustav, will you send us word of any change in the demon searches?”

  “I doubt I’ll have a choice,” he huffed.

  Chapter 13

  Faith walked down the hall, her boots hitting the stone floor in a solid rhythm. She had a purpose. She’d never been as emotionally unhinged as she was today, and she regretted being rude to Elin. She deserved an apology.

  Cracking open the door, she peered in. Elin stood at a sink and tossed a handful of bloodied tools into water.

  Faith might be clinging to her grudge against Soren, but she hoped that wasn’t his blood. She gave the door a couple raps. “Excuse me, Doctor?”

  “Doctor? I’m not even a nurse,” Elin said, flashing her an amused smile.

  Okay, back to not liking this woman. “Then how did you get this position?”

  “I can sew.” Honest pride filled her voice.

  “That’s the extent of your qualifications? Sewing?”

  “To be honest, I don’t want this for my life.” Elin laughed, but after Faith’s combative glare, threw her hands up in defeat. “Listen, take it easy. My father is the doctor and the surgeon. It’s a family thing I’ve sort of been chin-deep in since I was a child. I handle the day to day normal, and Dad gets the surgical stuff. It’s not like our kind die often, anyway. Soren was perfectly safe.”

  A reasonable explanation. She hadn’t actually considered what kind of medical attention a vampire would require. Luckily, it was minimal. “I thought I was helping him. I didn’t know I would make it worse. I’m sorry.” With a short smile, she turned to leave.

  “Why don’t you sleep with him and get it over with?” Elin asked.

  Faith stopped, sputtered, then finally spit out a distorted, “What?”

  “You want him. He wants you. It’s a simple equation.”

  It didn’t get much more blunt than that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’ve waited my whole life for a man look at me the way Soren looks at you. He’s a good man,” Elin said as she rinsed off the bloody tweezers.

  “He’s not exactly a man.” She couldn’t stop staring at the pinkish-red water falling from Elin’s fingers.

  “He didn’t choose to become vampire, he was born to it. He can’t help what he is any more than you can help being human.” Elin turned, pointed a soapy, accusatory finger at her. “And you didn’t seem to mind him being vampire when he had his teeth sunk into your neck, did you?”

  Unable to answer her question, Faith turned and left, closing the door loudly behind her. The truth was, she hadn’t minded at all. She’d enjoyed his bite, and that unnerved her more than anything.

  She’d imagined the worst, a brutal puncture and severed veins, but it had been nothing more than a sweet sting. Not frightening in the least. And then with his talented lips he’d tugged gently, taking what he needed, building her desire with each little pull. If she’d had any strength left, she would have turned her head and offered the other side. Chilled hands pressed to her face, she cooled her cheeks.

  After Julian had announced he needed blood, she’d been shaken, and ignored Soren’s protests. That, or deep down she didn’t want to hear them. Maybe part of her needed to experience exactly what she might be getting into with him.

  She’d practically demanded he bite her. Though she’d been fully aware of him at her neck, she only remembered a hazy bliss.

  Once inside Soren’s home, she made a beeline to the bathroom mirror. The large mirror caught her image from mid-thigh on up. A muted blush covered her cheeks, and a tiny smile turned up the corners of her lips. The bite had mostly healed, leaving behind a couple reddish marks on her skin.

  A twinge of guilt hit her. She’d been holding back, terrified he would hurt her with something more devastating than his bite. She should let go and let it happen, like Elin suggested.

  A cool draft crossed her shoulders and goose bumps spread over her arms. Faith looked around. Where had it come from? The city had been built completely underground. Windows didn’t exist here.

  In the the dresser, she dug through the clothes until she found her favorite blue sweatshirt. While zipping it, the cold air hit her again. She shot over to the thermostat. Seventy degrees. Plenty warm.

  Through the perfectly still air, that chilling breeze brushed across her skin, almost like a gust in the wake of someone passing by. How could that happen? She was alone.

  She shivered, darting glances here and there. The cool air seemed to follow her around the room, and she couldn’t shake the uneasiness building in her gut. Her skin positively crawled, and not because of the cold. She had a creepy feeling that the walls watched her.

  The door opened and Soren walked through. The cool air suddenly dissipated, which did nothing to soothe her ramped-up fears. She ran to him.

  “Faith?”

  When she launched herself into his arms, he dropped his bag and held her. “What’s this, now?” he crooned gently.

  “Where were you?” she asked, clinging to him.

  “Meeting with the council. Why?” He tried to pull them apart and look at her face, but she couldn’t let go.

  “Something’s in here,” she whispered.

  He stilled. “Why would you think that?”

  “There can’t be drafts in here, it’s not possible, but I kept feeling cool breezes. And I could have sworn someone was watching me. I wanted you here,” she rambled, then tucked her head under his chin.

  His muscles grew rigid against her. She peeked at him from her haven and anxiousness returned as with frightening intensity, he searched the room.

  “How long ago?” he asked quietly.

  “Just now. What’s wrong?”

  “Do you see the red button on the wall there, by the thermostat?”

  “Yes.” She’d noticed the odd waist level placement of the button, but hadn’t asked, assuming it was a fire alarm.

  “If that happens again, especially being cold, push that button. It will call the Guardians to this room. You’ll be protected. When they arrive, tell them everything. Can you do that for me?”

  She nodded. If the cold air upset Soren enough to map out emergency procedures, then this was bad. “What was in here?”

  Soren continued to scan the room as he whispered, “When a vampire takes their Spirit form, they become invisible, like a living ghost. A Spirit can walk through walls and locked doors. They can go anywhere without being seen or detected, but when their body is in Spirit, it’s colder than the air around them. The person, their Spirit, is that cold air.”

  “Someone was watching me?”

  “Possibly, but I can’t think of who or why. I don’t like this. I can’t fight what I can’t see.” He growled his frustration, then focused on her and cradled her face in his hands. “I refuse to sugarcoat the situation for you. This scares the hell out of me. I don’t want you leaving my side. If you do, you’ll be guarded.”

  She nodded, in complete agreement with him.

  “We’re going to find Captain Savard. Right now.” He took her hand and, together, they left his home.

  They hadn’t gone far when they came across Navarre leaning on the railing overlooking the pond. He turned as he heard their approach.

  “Have you seen Captain Savard?” Soren asked from a distance.

  “He never lets me enjoy my pond alone,” Navarre said with a grin, then pointed to his left. “He’s right around the corner.”

  The captain stepped into view, his hand settled on his sword hilt.

  “There was a damn Spirit i
n my home,” Soren said in a growling tone.

  Captain Savard darted down the hall and disappeared into Soren’s home.

  Navarre straightened, a dark shadow crossing his face. “You’re certain?”

  “No,” Soren admitted. “I have no proof. Faith was alone, but what she described has no other explanation than a Spirit.”

  Captain Savard emerged, shaking his head slowly. “There’s nothing now. Damn, I hate chasing Spirits.”

  “Thank God few can change.” Navarre rubbed his chin.

  “You sure you didn’t see anyone?” Captain Savard asked her.

  “I’m sure. Just cold breezes and a creepy feeling,” she admitted, relieved that they took her seriously, because to her ears, she sounded like a crazy person.

  “She didn’t see anything, Soren.” Captain Savard slid his fingers through his dark hair, looking frustrated. “I can’t do a lot with only a description of cold breeze to go on.”

  “I could post Guardians at your door,” Navarre mused, “but it won’t accomplish much if this person can take Spirit.”

  “No. Balinese needs Guardians at the gate.” Soren shook his head. “Just add a man to patrol this end for a day or two.”

  Though his mind seemed otherwise occupied, the captain nodded sharply. “Done.”

  As the captain’s eyes settled on her, she leaned on Soren. Concern hadn’t left Savard’s young features from the moment he’d taken off and searched Soren’s home.

  Lord Navarre obviously recognized that look. “What is it, Captain? Can you find a Spirit?”

  “No, but walking in Spirit would weaken even a strong vampire. What I can find is a worn out bastard who needs to feed,” the captain said with a determined nod, now on a mission.

  * * * *

  Soren’s weight settled onto the mattress, and Faith rolled, threw her arm over his stomach and pressed her face against his shoulder. He lifted his arm, and she snuggled closer to his side. She needed him to hold her.

  Though she clung to his warm, bare chest, the heat of his body wasn’t enough. She shivered once, twice, then tugged the blanket over her shoulders.