Rip out his throat.
With a pointed fingernail, Sunaria stabbed Felipe’s neck, striking an artery. He flinched as the warmth snaked its way down and he stared aghast at his shirt, which was fast turning red. He slumped to his knees, pressing against the hemorrhage, though blood seeped beneath his trembling hand.
Sunaria dipped a finger into the flow and sucked on the tip, causing Felipe to whimper.
She stepped back and gestured for me to approach. Ready for the truth, I leaned in and followed the scarlet trail to its source, biting hard, cringing at Felipe’s wails. He thrashed, but I held him still.
Raping his mind, I trespassed into his streaming thoughts, and a dreamy haze unfolded back over time. With the coursing of his life source came the images of faces, conversations, and decisions, an argument: Roelle and Felipe discussing my brother, silent words flowed and delivered a torrent of truths. Felipe had decided Ricardo’s fate, and then he’d persuaded the others to join him.
For my brother, I kill you, for Annabelle, Eduardo, for Miguel, for what you did to Salvador. My sister’s pain . . . for desecrating my life.
Felipe’s jaw went slack.
Sunaria tugged at my shirt, but I ignored her and continued to drink. For every life you’ve destroyed.
Again she yanked at my sleeve.
I pulled away. “What?”
Sunaria shoved me aside and bit into her wrist, and then thrust it firmly against Felipe’s mouth.
“No!” I shouted in disbelief.
She crushed his lips with her wrist and Felipe’s mouth gaped as he tried to catch his breath and find air, and in a daze his tongue lapped at the bloody slash on her arm.
Sunaria tilted her head and smiled at me.
Felipe sucked, enjoying the drink, seemingly aware that salvation came with this very act. Pulling on his restraints, he thirsted for more, mouth wide open, gorging on her.
Filled with jealousy, I wanted to rip out his heart.
What are you doing?
Felipe convulsed, fighting the impossible, a violent transformation as his age softened and he writhed in ecstasy. I wondered if the expression on his face had been similar to mine, upon my turning.
Fear tore a yell from him so primal that I backed away. Hating this moment, I tried to find the words to tell Sunaria that she’d made a mistake.
She neared me and whispered, “Then you admit that this gift is only for the worthy?”
I held her stare for the longest time as that dark gaze of hers reached deep within me, until she got the answer she wanted.
Felipe was studying us with a mad expression. “I feel strange,” he murmured.
Sunaria assisted him to his feet. “It’ll pass,” she said, her tone comforting.
He glanced at her half in terror, half in awe, and Sunaria guided him toward the window.
“Look,” she pointed outside, “see how perfect the world is now.”
Felipe’s eyes bulged and his thin lips slid into a smile. Silhouetted at the window stood my lover and her new fledgling.
My jealously was so fierce that it burned me up from the inside, and, as though hearing my inner screams, Sunaria’s attention turned to me, her stare so shocking that it silenced them. But something about the way her mouth curled and then pouted and the glint in her eye as she arched a brow, in that very gesture she gave me her permission.
A long sigh, not sure if it was mine or hers, but it elicited an inner calm.
Felipe examined his hands fascinated with their appearance. “I am immortal.”
“That’s the good news.” I bolted forward and shoved him.
Felipe tumbled out through the window.
We both leaned over the sill and peered down to see Felipe clambering to his feet, seemingly impressed with himself that he’d survived the fall. He stared back up at us with a crooked smile.
Sunaria pulled the curtain closed and we leaped back.
Silence followed, as those perfect seconds dissolved and the air stilled with nature poised ready, just moments before the arrival of daybreak.
Felipe’s wails carried.
“And that’ll be the bad news,” I said.
Chapter 31
FELIPE’S WAILS FOLLOWED us down the back stairs.
Sunaria threw her head back and laughed. “Did you see his face?”
I opened my arms to her and she softened into me. I thanked her, silently showing my gratitude that she’d delivered closure. We lay in the dark corner, snuggled up together, and for the first time since I’d been turned, sleep came easily.
Upon awaking, I strolled out into the night and glanced up at the window ledge that Felipe had tumbled from. Scooping his ashes, I let them slip between my fingers and the grey dust disbursed.
Our new life beckoned.
Sunaria’s unpredictable nature promised eternity would not be boring and, despite my desire for independence, I found comfort in her presence.
I craved excitement and Sunaria satisfied that very need. She’d enter a room and all would gaze at her. Though her demeanor reflected that of an innocent woman, she was the worst kind of hunter, easily mingling with her prey. We passed for aristocracy, wooing guests at parties or lavish functions, finding no trouble in seducing those whom we chose to satisfy our primal needs.
It seemed to be getting easier.
I wanted it all—luxury, indulgence and the most exquisite of comforts. My dark desires manifested before me as Sunaria created a home for us, ensuring fulfillment of our every craving. She found us a large villa, deep in the countryside, and made sure that we had no curious neighbors to bother us. The Ocean View Manor could be seen from our bedroom window.
Frequent visits enabled me to steal precious time with Jacob, and evenings in his presence ensured my somewhat shaky grasp on my humanity. Watching him flourish gave me such pleasure. A precious reminder of another life, now fast faded, though the memories still selfishly guarded.
His strength gave me mine.
Chapter 32
SEASONS CAME AND WENT, unfolding irrevocably before me.
My sophisticated style revealed itself. During the days that followed, my true nature arose. No longer hindered by my former life, I felt free to self-examine, still calculating, though now with an intuitive streak that gave me the ability to predict a victim’s weakness, a striking intensity that for the most part I was unaware of. This gift, I know no other way to describe it, had provided me with the ability to seduce anyone, a supernatural capacity to entrance. It refined my abilities, enabling me to possess anything that I coveted, and control anyone.
But I craved normality too, and found it at the Ocean View Manor. Evenings were uneventful. Here I could feel like my old self, that is until Miranda would search me out and kindly point out that I lived a lie.
Like she did now.
With Alicia and the boys asleep upstairs, Miranda had cornered me yet again.
“What more is there for me to know?” Miranda stood before me with her arms folded.
I peered up from my book, Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, pressing a finger against the page so as not to lose my place. Miranda had brought the book back from London years ago. I’d found it in the lounge.
“Don’t ignore me.” Miranda curled her fingers into fists.
Over the last seven years, I’d always managed to placate her, but not today. Her expression conveyed she wasn’t going to let me change the subject this time.
I stared back down at my book.
“I’ve thought about it.” She sighed. “Changed my mind and changed it back again.”
“Doubt is your heart telling you no.”
“You haven’t aged.”
I gestured exasperation. “I don’t want this life for you.”
“Who are you to decide what is right for me?”
“Your friend.”
“You can’t hide it from Alicia anymore.” She sat in the chair next to mine. “In a week, I turn forty.”
�
�We’ll throw a party.”
“Funny.”
I glanced up briefly. “Face it, this is never going to happen.”
Her hand rested on my knee. “But you promised—”
“Please don’t ask this of me.” I glanced at her hand moving up my thigh.
“I’ve done everything you have ever asked.”
I lifted her hand off. “For that, I’m grateful.”
“Why are you being difficult?”
“You have no idea what it is that you’re asking.”
“You promised.”
“To talk about it, in hope of talking you out of it.” I looked away.
“Why won’t you tell us what happened to Felipe?”
“Please don’t go there.”
“He escaped from prison and yet you were unaffected by such news.”
“Just know this. You are safe.”
“Did you kill him?”
I turned a page.
Miranda sighed. “Take me with you when you go out tonight.”
“Out of the question.”
I will tell your sister. Miranda’s thoughts carried.
“Another night.”
Miranda headed for the door. I jumped up and grasped her arm.
A long silence ensued.
“Change your dress,” I snapped. “Wear something dark.”
She smiled.
I tightened my hold. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing.”
She kissed my cheek. “You won’t regret this.”
“I already do.”
* * * *
In the lavish courtyard, the party thrived.
The sparsely lit enclosure ensured a good view of the starlit sky and the thumbnail moon. The stone fountain spewed out water from its center and more from within that. Our hosts were Venetians and they’d decorated accordingly. Fifty or so guests chatted. Wine flowed.
Miranda and I lingered in a corner. She’d dressed in her finest blue gown and looked exquisite. Dreaming of this moment, she’d prepared for this very night, down to the finest details.
But her expression was vexed. “You want me to choose?”
“Yes.” I gestured with a nod to the mingling guests.
A waiter passed by carrying a tray of wine glasses. Miranda waved him away and then changed her mind and grabbed one. The remaining glasses clinked. The startled waiter moved on.
“That’s how it works,” I said dryly. “You find the ones you like, and then you seduce them.”
Her hands trembled. “You know nothing of who they are?”
“It’s easier that way,” I lied.
Miranda looked conflicted.
“Take your time.” I watched her.
A nervous rash spread down her neck, disappearing beneath the line of her black lace bustier.
I rested my hand in the arch of her back. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”
“No, I can do this.” Miranda pressed her hand against her chest.
I blew a puff of cold air onto her throat.
“That’s not actually helping,” she said.
I stroked her arm. “You come to terms with the fact that they love and are loved.”
“Don’t.”
“Or the fact that when you do take them, their fear is overwhelming.”
“I know what you’re doing.” She was breathless.
“And of course, disposing of their . . . corpses.” I perused the courtyard. “During the act, their thoughts feel as though they’re yours. If they’ve made plans for tomorrow, you’ll know them.”
Miranda’s eyes watered.
“And you’ll also know,” I stared at her, “that they’ll never realize those plans.”
“You choose.” She looked away. “Make it quick.”
“Very well.” I strolled into the crowd and smoothly interjected conversation with a small gathering. I discreetly pointed to a pretty young man.
Miranda shook head no.
Of course, I’d chosen the youngest guest who wore an expression of wonderment and conveyed a zest for life. I worked my way around, taking my time to find the most alluring, yet innocent guests.
After ten minutes, I returned to Miranda’s side. “None of them?”
She squinted. “I need more time.”
An uncomfortable silence.
“Him.” Miranda stared off into the crowd.
She’d chosen a rotund, middle-aged aristocrat. He munched on a pastry and crumbs fell out of his mouth and sprinkled onto his shirt.
“To be your first?” I asked gently.
“Does it matter?”
“Consider this, your first kiss, your first glass of wine, your first—”
“All right, all right.”
“Or your first lover?”
Miranda stormed away from me, past the fountain, and headed out.
* * * *
A crack of the whip and our carriage rumbled over uneven ground. With Miranda’s hand in mine, I kissed it. She pulled away.
“To survive, you have to do that every night,” I said.
She wiped away a tear.
I stared out of the window. “I miss daylight.”
She kicked me.
We rocked over the dirt roads, speeding past overgrown fields. The trees hung low, their branches bashing the window.
Miranda looked puzzled. “Where are we going?”
“A detour.”
Within minutes, we’d pulled up outside a graveyard. I assisted Miranda out of the carriage and guided her along the worn trail. Out of sight of the horseman, we stopped before a tall mausoleum.
Miranda read the inscription on the tomb entrance. “Carmen Casimiro?”
“But Carmen does not lie alone,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“She has company.”
Miranda’s gaze settled on the bouquet of rotting flowers.
“Sometimes, when a person is transformed . . .”
“Yes?”
I turned to face her. “It goes wrong.”
“What?”
“I appear normal to you. Able to pass for ordinary. Or may I say extraordinary.”
“Handsome.”
“Dashing even.” I winked. “A romantic idea of what it is to be immortal.”
“And I want that.”
“I know you do, my love.” I lowered my voice. “But there are risks.”
“What kind?”
“I thought that before we take that leap into the realm of the not going back, I should show you Deloris.”
“Deloris?”
I stared at the mausoleum entrance.
“She’s in there?” Miranda asked, whispering now.
“As we speak.”
“Does she know we’re out here?”
“Of course.”
“She’s a—”
“Immortality is just too much to bear for some.”
“What?”
“I thought I’d wake her so that you could get an idea.” I leaned against the door and listened.
“Wait!”
“She’s quite harmless, just a little—” I gestured that Deloris was crazy.
“Are you saying that could happen to me?”
“That’s one of the risks, yes.”
“What’s another?”
“That it doesn’t take.”
“What does that mean?”
“That when I turn you, I take too much.”
“You’re lying. There’s no one in there.”
I wrinkled my nose. “This takes me back.”
Miranda glared.
I tried the handle. “Locked from the inside.”
“You bastard.”
“Soon after I was turned, I slept in one of these.”
“Whatever for?”
“If you stray too far from home, you can get caught unawares by the morning.”
“Then I won’t.”
“And who will you feed upon, your neighbors?”
She bit do
wn on her lower lip.
“Talk about bringing attention to yourself, Miranda.” I knocked. “Waking the undead usually pisses them off. Good thing for us I’m a good talker.”
Miranda lifted the hem of her gown and sprinted off. I followed her back to the carriage.
The horseman cracked his whip and we headed home. Deloris. Surely I could’ve come up with a better name.
Had I turned Miranda prior to our evening soiree, her natural desire to find a victim would have facilitated the act. There was no remorse on my part for ensuring that my friend would not be joining the ranks of the undead.
I kissed her forehead. “I adore you.”
She gazed at me for the longest time and then broke into a smile.
“You’re perfect the way you are,” I said, with a sense of relief that I’d done the right thing.
“I’ll always love you, you know that?” She reached for my hand and squeezed it with affection.
“When you get up tomorrow, I want you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
I stared out of the window. “Watch the sunrise for me.”
Chapter 33
“WE’VE SEARCHED EVERYWHERE.” Miranda sobbed, tears staining her cheeks.
With my heart in my throat, I stared down at thirteen-year-old Ricardo, who leaned over a warm bowl of chicken soup.
“Where is he?” I demanded. “You were with him last.”
Ricardo shrugged and dipped a piece of bread into his soup.
I half expected Jacob, barely six years old, to burst in through the kitchen door and shout about his adventures – the tree he’d climbed, the castle he’d defended, or the imaginary army he’d taken on and won.
“Ricardo, you must tell us,” Alicia said.
Something about his uneasy smile, the way his eyes reflected nothing, it was as though he tried to hide something. He was his father’s son.
He shifted in his seat. “Jacob ran away.”
I slumped next to him and drew upon my last remnants of patience. “What are you talking about?”
I caught visions from Ricardo’s wandering mind and grabbed his wrist.
“He was frightened.” Ricardo fixed his gaze on his spoon.
“Of what?”
“You.” He yanked his wrist away.
I reached for the bowl and threw it against the wall. Soup splattered.
“You scared him,” Ricardo said.
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