by Amanda Jones
“Torture,” Katia replied quietly. “Sergei was tortured?” She turned back to B. “What happened to him?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” B asked equally quietly.
“Yes. He’s involved in all of this because of me. I need to know.” B nodded and replied, “His throat had been ripped out, his legs and an arm were broken in multiple places, there wasn’t an inch of him that hadn’t been cut or burned, and he was eviscerated.”
Katia made a gagging noise before she choked out, “Oh god. Oh my god. This is all my fault. I should never have allowed him to get involved in all of this. Is he…is he…dead? I mean, how could he survive that?”
“He managed to contact me before he bled out. I brought him here. Katia, I don’t want you to be angry with me. We didn’t have time to contact you to ask you what he would want. I had to make a decision…”
“What do you mean?” Katia asked.
“There are always vampires here, Katia. It is a demon bar after all. I asked one of them to turn him. He’s in the basement right now. We’re not sure if this is going to work because he’d already lost so much blood, but if it does, he’ll wake up at nightfall. I just hope I made the right call.” B looked at her hopefully.
Katia let out a shaky breath and launched herself across the table to hug B hard. “Yes, you made the right call.” She gave him a hard squeeze and let go. “Can I see him? I just need to see him with my own eyes.”
B looked up at Luc and shrugged. “I see no reason why not. He’s just kinda…dead right now, so don’t freak out when you see him.”
“Yeah, go ahead and see him. Besides, the four of us need to make some plans. We won’t be able to stay here long though,” Luc said, looking down at Katia.
She stood and turned towards Luc. “Fair enough. How do I get to the basement?”
Pointing to the stone doorway, Luc replied, “Through the door and down the stairs. Whatever you do, stay away from the portal. You’ll know it when you see it.”
Nodding her thanks, Katia made her way towards the doorway. The bartender tossed out a quick hello as she passed the bar. Stopping, Katia turned towards him. A true sign that she was getting used to this world, the man standing before her with his nondescript blue eyes, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, sandy hair swept over his forehead disguising a small pair of horns didn’t seem the least bit strange to her.
“Get a lot of day drinkers among the demon crowd?” Katia asked.
The bartender laughed and smiled at her. “Depends on what kind of drinking you’re referring to,” he said with a wink. “I’m guessing this is your first time here. This is a safe haven for demons in the area, so we’re always open.”
“Oh, I see.”
The bartender waved towards the doorway. “I’m guessing you’re looking for our unexpected overnight guest. He’s in the basement with Mara.”
“Thanks.” Katia replied.
“Anytime. The name’s Theo by the way…in case we meet again.” He gave her another smile and a wink and headed towards Luc’s group that were now huddled together at their table, arguing back and forth.
Shaking her head, Katia continued on her path towards the basement. Men — it didn’t matter if they were human or demon, they all had a one-track mind. Katia passed through the stone doorway and headed down the well-worn steps to the basement. As Katia descended, she could see the soft flickering light being cast off by the candles that were illuminating the room, and the strange light emanating from what must have been the Sheolic portal. Katia glanced around the large open space and noticed a young woman sitting on the floor, leaning back against a wall. In one hand she held a book she was reading, in the other she held a hospital blood bag. As Katia watched, the young woman brought the bag up to her mouth and sucked some of the viscous red fluid into her mouth through a straw. Taken aback by the sight, Katia stumbled, the noise alerted the young woman to her presence. Her head shot up and her eyes locked on Katia’s. She placed her book down on the ground and sprang up to her feet almost faster than Katia could track. A split second later the woman was standing directly in front of her with a smile on her face and her hand held out in greeting. On a surprised cry, Katia took a stumbling step backwards.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The young woman said with an apologetic look. “I guess you haven’t spent much time with my kind. When I’m at The Advocate I don’t have to dial down the vampire speed.”
Katia let out a little nervous laugh and placed her hand over her racing heart. “I’ve never met a vampire before. At least, I don’t think so.” She smiled wryly.
The vampire smiled and laughed, her jade green eyes alight with good humour. “You’re new to this world, hunh? You’re figuring it out though; not everything is as it seems. You’ve probably come into contact with us before and just didn’t know it. Most of us live and work topside because it’s so easy for us to pass for human. I’m Mara, by the way.” She extended her hand once again.
Katia reached forward and took Mara’s hand. Her skin was baby soft, but so cold that Katia couldn’t help a small shiver from racing through her body. Looking her new acquaintance in the eye, she introduced herself, “I’m Katia. I’m just down here to check on my friend Sergei. I’m guessing you’re the one that helped him. If you are, I owe you a huge debt of gratitude.”
Mara tossed her wild mane of corkscrew-curled fire-engine red hair over her shoulder. She glanced over at a table set up against a far wall. Twisting her hands nervously, Mara shifted her eyes back to Katia. “Yes, that was me. It’s actually the first time I’ve turned someone. It’s something I never thought I’d do and he was already so far gone…I just hope this works.”
Katia nodded. “No matter what happens, I appreciate that you tried. I don’t imagine that any of this was in your plans when you came here last night.”
Mara shook her head, red hair bouncing around her. “No, absolutely not. I’d never met Bataryal before. He came tearing in here with your friend in his arms. I was the only vampire in the bar at the time. He told me that the dying man had to be turned, that it meant a lot to someone close to him.” She gave Katia a sad smile. “I wasn’t sure what to do to be honest. I never thought I’d ever turn anyone, especially when that person wasn’t able to make the choice…” She trailed off, her eyes looking far off as though she were remembering something from the distant past. Shaking herself back to the present, Mara looked Katia directly in the eye. “I didn’t get a choice, so I hope if he makes it, he doesn’t wake up hating me for what I’ve done.”
Reaching out, Katia took Mara’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Thank you. It must not have been an easy thing for you to do. Can I see him?”
With an appreciative smile, Mara nodded and motioned for Katia to follow her. As they approached the table, Katia sucked in a sharp breath. Sergei was laid out like a sacrifice. The skin that was revealed looked like a roadmap of pain. Black and blue bruising, gaping red slashes, and burn marks stood out in sharp contrast to his deathly pallor. His typically pale skin had taken on a greyish cast, his chest was still, his lips blue. Tears began to leak out of Katia’s eyes as she realized that she was looking at her best friend’s corpse. A cry escaped her lips as she reached out to touch her fingers lightly to the exposed skin on his arm. He was cold — cold and dead. And it was because of her. The tears came in earnest now, streaming down her face as she sobbed and dropped her head down to rest on the stillness of his chest.
As she cried, Katia felt a light comforting hand rubbing her back. She cried until she felt as though her tear ducts had run dry and sobs died out. Speaking quietly, Mara tried to comfort her. “He looks better than he did when Bataryal brought him in. I know that may be hard to believe, but his injuries were much more severe. They’re healing which is a good sign. We cleaned him up too. We put him in a clean pair of scrubs we got from the hospital where I work. I’m a surgeon. I thought it would be easier for him to wake up clean, not co
vered in his own blood. It can be disorienting at first.”
Katia raised her head sharply and looked at Mara with reddened eyes. “A vampire surgeon?” She shook her head dazedly. “Never mind, that’s hardly the strangest thing I’ve heard recently.” Katia paused and looked back down at Sergei’s prone form. “I can’t even imagine what he went through,” she said with a hitch in her voice. “What will he be like when he wakes up?” She asked, reaching out to smooth back a lock of hair off his forehead.
“He’ll be the same person you knew before. The turn doesn’t change who you are at heart,” Mara replied. “It’s a different world now than it was when I was turned. With blood banks and synthetic plasma, all he’ll really have to worry about is a change in diet. He’ll also need to get really friendly with sunblock if he plans on going out during the day.”
“You can go out during the day?” Katia asked, shocked. “I thought vampires burned in the sun.”
Laughing, Mara replied. “Pop culture has really done a lot to keep us hidden from the world. We don’t turn to dust in the sun, we’re just very sensitive to UV and sunburn very easily. Silver doesn’t bother us, nor do religious icons or garlic. We have a reflection in the mirror, and we most certainly don’t sparkle like some books and movies would suggest.”
“I’m guessing the whole turning into a bat thing is bullshit too, right?” Katia said jokingly.
“Afraid so. We’re not a particularly showy species really. I mean, aside from the fangs and the liquid diet, the only bonus prizes are increased strength and speed.”
“You said that the world is a very different place from when you were turned,” Katia said thoughtfully. “Do you mind me asking how old you are, or is that question kind of taboo?”
“Let’s just say that I’m officially an antique. Age isn’t something that comes up often in our circles. Given that most demons and fae creatures have exceptionally long lifespans, it isn’t really a primary concern. Then there are immortals like myself and the angels. There are others as well…” Mara looked over at Katia, narrowing her eyes as she took her in. “You’re something different from the norm. I’m thinking immortal based on the energy coming off you.”
Katia nodded and replied quietly. “Yeah, I’m something different all right. So you know, I just found out about what I am. I didn’t get a choice about it either.”
Mara sighed and took Katia’s hand. “I’m sorry about that. I know what it’s like to have the life you know ripped away from you without warning. If you ever need a friend, I’d like to be one.”
“I’d really like that,” Katia said with a smile. “And we have someone in common now too.” She motioned towards Sergei’s body. “I meant to ask you, why are you sitting down here on the floor? Why didn’t you hang out upstairs with B?”
“Honestly, I didn’t want your friend to go through this alone. Logically, I know he’s out cold right now, literally. But he should have someone with him. Bataryal told me you might not be able to get here, so I stayed.”
Overwhelmed by the actions of this virtual stranger, Katia leaned in and hugged her, amazed that, in this crazy new world she’d been tossed into, she’d experienced more kindness and selflessness from demons than most humans exhibited in a lifetime. “You’re amazing. Thank you for taking such good care of him for me.”
The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stone steps made both women turn towards the entrance as B appeared before them. Katia had only been in his company a couple of times, but in both instances he’d been a cocky smartass with confidence to spare. The man standing before her looked shy. Turning her head to look at Mara, she saw a matching look of shyness and insecurity on the lovely vampire’s face. She’d begun twisting her hands together again, which was clearly a nervous habit. Smiling inwardly, Katia decided that if she and Luc came out of this whole debacle in one piece, she’d do her best to figure out if there was any potential there. Both Mara and B had gone out of their way to help her and her friend. Maybe she could do something to help them find happiness together.
Clearing his throat, B finally spoke up. “Katia, Luc sent me down here to get you. The two of you need to head out right away. The Advocate is a safe haven, but we’re not sure if it’s the best place for you guys to hole up. Too many demons coming in and out, so a much larger chance that word will leak out to the Dark Dickhead. Sorry you can’t wait around to see Sergei wake up, but we’ll find a way to get word to you when he does.”
Nodding, Katia turned back to Mara and gave her another quick hug. She joined B and they headed back towards the doorway together, though it didn’t escape her notice that he glanced back one last time at Mara before they moved out of sight.
Chapter Nineteen
Keir
The small white cloud puffed out in front of him as his breath crystallized in the cold. He stood silent as always gazing out the one window of his cell, the glass and wrought iron bars covered with frost and the oily black ooze bleeding from the vines criss-crossing the opening and blocked almost any view. What he could see of the frozen wasteland beyond his window matched the state of his soul to a tee. The constant snow was falling softly on the blood-red lake that appeared as though it had an endless expanse. He was similarly frozen. His soul was as empty as the landscape, his heart frozen, the blood congealed within.
He had no idea how long he’d been here; it was the only life he’d ever known. In his younger years, he’d spent hours spinning tales of where he’d come from and dreaming of the day that he would finally leave this place and experience…something. As time wore on, he had become more and more desolate. He was desperate for a taste of the world he read about in his many books, for contact with another living being, for a name. What creature alive didn’t even have a name?
He must have been someone at some point…belonged to someone. He had passed through many states during his life in this place…sadness, hope, anger, and, finally, resignation to a fate of eternal solitude and loneliness. He’d learned long ago that even death was out of his reach. His solace in youth had come from his books. The one kindness that the Master had shown had been in teaching him to read. He’d been able to transport himself into a world apart from the dark, damp coldness that surrounded him. By the light of his candelabra, he had devoured thousands of books in his search for companionship and escape. The Count of Monte Cristo had remained a favorite throughout his life.
He stepped away from the window and made his way back over to the small table in the center of the room. Seating himself, he picked up the dog-eared volume and flipped to a passage that he’d read over and over. “He had so long ceased to have any intercourse with the world that he looked upon himself as dead.” He’d often compared his strife with that of Edmond Dantes, the unjustly imprisoned young man, cut off from his loved ones for years for a crime he hadn’t committed. He’d even begun to refer to himself as Edmond in the conversations he’d had with himself in his mind. It still startled him when he spoke aloud upon the Master’s visits; the sound of his own voice terrifying him with its unfamiliarity.
He’d thought of suicide many times over the course of the years…always to be stopped by his one saving grace. The girl in his portraits. Who was she? He’d been drawing her picture from his dreams for as long as he could recall. It was always the same girl, but no notion of who she was or who she’d been to him. Passing his eyes around the room he took in the hundreds of charcoal portraits. They started with the girl in childhood and followed her through her life to adulthood. Was she just a figment of his imagination, created by a failing mind to provide him with companionship? Why else would he continue to draw someone that appeared to be aging in tandem with himself? There had to be a connection there, as in his dreams, he felt as though he knew her — that and he was experiencing what she was feeling. It was as though he were peering through the looking-glass directly into her life, into her heart and soul. The Master hadn’t been all that interested in his drawings until he’d begun pasti
ng them to his walls not long ago in a bid to feel closer to the woman who haunted his dreams. Now, he found them fascinating.
Frowning, he looked down at the newest drawing he’d produced. Shoving his tangled black hair back behind his shoulders, he raised the drawing so it was bathed in candlelight. This one was different from the others. It was the same woman, the woman with the long black hair and mismatched eyes from all his dreams, but this time she was gazing up into the eyes of a man. Closing his eyes, he thought back to this dream. The woman had always been alone before, in various settings, but always alone. Sometimes it had even appeared as though she were staring directly at him. This time she’d been distracted and upset, and suddenly the man had appeared beside her to comfort her. The man was tall and looked as though he’d been cast from marble, with light hair and gray eyes that had softened the moment they’d connected with hers. She’d looked at the man as though he could and would take away her pain and make her world right again. So much trust, so much love.
It had never been a romantic connection he’d felt for his dream woman, but a kinship, a bone-deep feeling that she was somehow a part of him. As the dream played over and over in his mind, all he could feel was a crushing sense of loss and sadness and jealousy. Though he didn’t know her, he felt as though she’d been taken away from him somehow. His one solace in his life was connected to another.
Placing the drawing back down on the table, he traced his finger lightly over the young woman’s face. Would he stop dreaming of her now? Was this man standing beside her in the picture a sign that she would disappear forever? Maybe this was his troubled mind telling him subconsciously that his time in this hellish life was coming to a close. After having lived through a life of dashed hopes, anger, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts, it was somewhat comforting to have the hope that he may finally be dying.
He glanced around his dungeon room again, taking in everything that had made up his life to this point — the bed, the books, and papers strewn throughout the room, the cold frost-covered walls, and the pictures. He wouldn’t be leaving much behind in the end; nobody would mourn him. Even the girl in his pictures didn’t know who he was. It made the prospect of his death less somber. He would be free and nobody would be left behind in pain. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, feeling some of his tension and desperation bleed out into the ether.
