Dark as the Grave

by Peter Dawes

  My lips quirked, mirroring Robin’s frown. “Here I am, just the same,” I said. “And now, I am no longer ignorant.”

  “No, you are not.” Holding me fast in his gaze, Robin raised an eyebrow as he sized me up. “When did the witch last contact you?”

  “Tonight, if you want the true root of my poor mood.” I sighed. “She is apt to be my conscience. I have managed to deflect most of her attempts, and even found some sadistic pleasure in using my gifts to lure prey, but tonight, she got into my head and I did not appreciate it. She will not rest until she has me completely turned around.”

  “Did she tell you why she brought out your gifts?”

  “The naïve creature thinks me capable of redemption.” I laughed, the sound humorless. “Her theory is I have some buried humanity that will unearth itself if I embrace my gifts. I confess, there have been moments I thought I might split in half from the madness of it all, but this is the first night where that thought has bared teeth. What good would I be then? A vampire who cannot kill is little more than a deathless mortal.”

  Robin’s expression turned pained. “You prick my conscience, brother. Those are words I have hurtled at you.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, I prick your conscience?”

  “Everything you’ve become is due, in part, to me. You’re not the only one who has served the Mistress to their downfall. I did it when I agreed to train you. While doing so taught me to be the mentor I should have been from the start, I gave you the tools to become what you are.”

  “You honed me, brother, but you in no way made me what I am.”

  “I taught a seer not only how to kill, but fed his passion for it.” He shook his head, and slowly came to a stand. “Our world is part of a natural order and in it, certain things shouldn’t ever come to pass. While I taught you what it means to be a vampire, I never tempered it with the knowledge of what you would become someday. And in doing so, I set you on a path that has made you more like our Mistress every day. For this, I will be judged mercilessly by the Fates.”

  As he paced away from me, I shifted in my seat to keep him in my line of sight. “Robin, I do not know much about the Fates or about this natural order you claim exists, but I hardly think you have somehow scarred me.” Rising to my feet as well, I strode to make up the difference between us. “For what it is worth, one of the things pointed out to me tonight was the fact that, despite my affinity for doing the Mistress’s will, I have yet to share the fortuitous news of my newfound talents with her.”

  Robin turned to face me. As I focused on his thoughts, hearing them first as a whisper and then, as a shout, I concentrated on the one person in the coven whom I could trust. His mind screamed of distrust, centered on Sabrina, seeing me teetering on an edge and about to plunge headfirst into her arms so she could tear me apart. He feared that I would be used first before being tossed aside and as I realized how palpable his fear had become, my tone of voice softened. “You think me wise to keep this from her,” I said.

  My brother glanced away, laughing in the same sardonic fashion I had. “Ah, yes,” he said. “And I was the one to point out I knew you could read thoughts.”

  “This is the first time I have tried to read yours. Why should I not tell her?”

  Robin sighed. “Because a century is a long time, Flynn, and I have known her for nearly the entirety of one. One thing I can tell you about the past twenty years is that this coven has never been a large, happy family.” His gaze returned to me. “When not infected with jealousy, it’s been rife with laziness and overindulgence. Her temerity in forming the coven in an established region already made her an outcast, but you were the last straw.”

  He paced away from me, sitting on the arm of the couch where he had been seated previously. I remained in place, posture straightening when he focused on me again. “In you, she has started to wage a war,” he said. “A war she had no right starting in the first place. We’ve been intruders in an area which had known peaceful co-existence before we came along.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Not to grant you your previous point, but if you felt that way, why did you agree to train me?” I asked.

  “Because I realized I would be the one voice of reason you would ever hear. Your presence here isn’t your fault and at first, you were an easy scapegoat. I felt you needed at least one ally.” Robin frowned. “She keeps you placated, brother, so you continue to serve her will. While she’s wrought chaos and dabbled in dark forces, she has turned you into a sadist. If you want to know why I think you’re wise not to tell her of your gifts, it is for that reason. She will take a tempest and finish her quest for power. And then, you will be nothing more than a tool to her, so long as she keeps finding ways of keeping you happy.”

  For some reason, the observation wounded me. “Do you think me a monster?”

  “I think you’re well on your way to becoming one and fear it for everyone’s sake, including yours. I made a grave mistake – not in befriending you, but in bending to her will and allowing my anger to blind me. You should have become a hunter and, instead, you are a killer. Instead of loathing evil, as you should, you embrace it. Continuing down this road from this point forth will fashion a monster far worse than Sabrina herself.”

  Robin and I stared at each other, with me unable to hide the pain his words had inflicted. While I felt the knife plunge deep, somehow I knew I deserved it, and I could not tell what bothered me more – that he had delivered it or that I could not fault him for it. “I do not deny the truth of what you are saying,” I managed. “I can only tell you that her presence chills me now. If this is what I am supposed to be – what you and this witch claim a seer is – then I can say this much: I sense her evil and my loyalty has become taxed because of it.”

  He allowed himself a small, subtle grin. “The witch’s gamble might have saved your life.”

  “More like condemned it. Sabrina will not tolerate me being insubordinate, especially if her goal is to use me to stake her final claim against the area covens.” Angrily, I ran both hands through my hair and rested them atop my head. “My conscience has been free of remorse for over four years and suddenly, I am compromised. It all started with having Anthony find that bloody necklace. Then the witch came into my life and ever since, I have not been myself. Maybe I do have some dormant humanity. Who knows? All I know is that I am ill-prepared to handle any of this.”

  “Forgive me for being daft, but what necklace?”

  Reaching under my shirt, I brought the pendant out to where Robin could see it. When he leaned forward, I strode closer to the couch, permitting him a better look. “I had given it to my mortal girlfriend and snatched it from her when she died,” I said. “Anthony found it for me before he died. I had sold it right before assuming my duties as an assassin.”

  He nodded, studying it in silence until his gaze lifted to meet mine again. “I think it might be enchanted,” he said. “Was your mortal girlfriend a witch, too?”

  I shrugged, tucking the necklace away again. “Possibly. If you believe Monica, then yes, she was. She had always been given over to superstition, but I never realized that came from firsthand knowledge.”

  “Monica?” Robin raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, the witch has a name. Do not give me grief for using it.”

  “Very well.” When Robin relaxed, I took a step back, placing adequate distance between us again. He took a deep breath, shifting back to our previous point. “Whether your abilities or this necklace are to blame, you’d be mindful to keep wearing it. In case its enchantment is helping you somehow. I can only offer you a small piece of advice, whether what I am about to say shocks you or not.”

  Remaining silent, I waited for him to continue. “Leave,” he finally said. “Take your things and let the witch bring you to where you should have been taken the moment your gifts came to light. Only, be merciful to me if we ever meet with you as the slayer.”

  I laughed. “No, I refuse to be someone
else’s puppet,” I said. “I only want things to return to normal.”

  “None of us have that option now, especially not you. You were born with these gifts, Flynn. If your mortal conscience is coming to life again, then fulfill your destiny and stop tempting the Fates. They will find a way of dragging you into your calling even if you fight it.” His gaze turned plaintive. “Get away from Sabrina before she gets to you.”

  “Robin, I have nowhere else to go. Nothing else to do with my life. I do not want to assume some mortal calling and I have no desire to leave.”

  “And what alternative do you have? How long will you continue to play along and kill the innocent while Sabrina claims foothold after foothold over this city. Do you really want to subdue her enemies and further her rise to power? What will you do when you see how extensive her list of enemies truly is?”

  The way he issued his final question resonated within me, calling to mind the only other thought I had read from my brother, weeks ago, when I first realized my gifts. The echo of his words – of talk of conspiring – played again until I found myself walking over to the chair where I had been sitting, leaning against its back to weigh my brother from this vantage point. “You are in league with the other covens,” I said. “That is why she caught you talking to Demetrius.”

  “My involvement with Demetrius was more complicated than that, but essentially, you are right.” He squared his shoulders. “The other covens have been trying to solve the problem of you and have determined that it’s best they cut the head of the serpent off, so to speak. They’re devising a plan to end Sabrina. Even I have reached a point in which I can’t condone her actions any longer. I’ve lived with other vampires and reveled in my nature with them. We are wicked beings. I won’t pretend otherwise. But Sabrina’s quest for power has her blind and drunk, and others are suffering because of it.”

  We continued staring at each other, not speaking for what felt like interminable seconds afterward. I neither read his thoughts, nor offered mine, but instead, considered his statement until I looked away. “Robin, if this is to happen, I cannot leave,” I said.

  “Please, Flynn. Stop protecting that which your conscience is warning you against,” Robin said, his tone nearly begging, prompting me to look at him again.

  I sighed and shook my head. “Sabrina is not the reason why I cannot leave.”

  Robin furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

  Lifting my hands from the chair, I paced around it. “I will continue playing the part of assassin and conceal my eyes from Sabrina until your deed is done and my service ends. I am still reluctant to have anything to do with some human calling, but I will not stand in your way if you have determined she has become an insufferable evil.” I paused both my steps and my words, feeling my stomach sink. “You are right,” I said, tasting bitterness in the admission. “She would use me for very nefarious purposes. I do not know why I see that so clearly now, but I cannot deny its truth.”

  My brother opened his mouth to respond, but I held up a hand to stop him. “I only ask that you do this quickly,” I said. “We can only keep up this charade for so long before she becomes wise to us.”

  He nodded. “As you wish, brother,” he said.

  “Good.” Reaching to rub at my face, I settled into the chair again, weighed down to the point of slouching. “You truly have been the one person whom I could trust beyond the shadow of a doubt. Which is better than I can say for anyone else involved in this nonsense. I promise to return the favor.”

  “I appreciate this beyond words.” Robin glanced first toward the door, then peered back at me. “I should leave now, and let you rest.”

  “Thank you, Robin,” was all I could say in return. With that, he bid me good night, walking to the door and stepping outside once he had opened it. I shut my eyes at the sound of it clicking shut, sinking deeper into the chair while silence filled the room, something I relished even if it did not fully settle my nerves. Tempted to sleep, I reached for the pendant instead and stroked it with my thumb. ‘Damn necklace,’ I thought. ‘Lydia, I have no idea why you chose this to be my anchor amid a storm, but for the first time since this whole debacle started, I must thank you for it.’

  I did not add anything further to my estranged, late lover. My mind went blank and when the compulsion to rest became too much for me to ignore, I trudged into the bedroom and slid under the sheets. Both Robin and Monica had left me in a dangerous position. I needed to play the role of dutiful servant, but in doing so, could not allow my Mistress to become privy to my secrets. Thoughts of the consequences swirled around my head again, fuel to the nightmares I had no doubt would plague me again.

  At least, until Sabrina was no more.

  .

  Chapter 18

  Lydia’s face had brightened when she opened the box and pulled out the gold chain inside. “Peter, it’s gorgeous,” I remembered her saying, her smile wide enough to cover the distance from one ear to the other as she looked up at me.

  “I knew you’d like it,” I had said, matching her grin. For what felt like the hundredth time, I peered into her green eyes, lost beyond my inhibitions when I gazed at her. My expression turned placid, reflecting the serenity overtaking my soul. “There was something about it that seemed perfect for such a macabre, hopeless romantic. Must be why I was drawn to it.”

  She laughed and curled closer to me on the couch in her living room, the radio playing softly in the background. As she turned the pendant around in her fingers, I saw her consider the engraving, nodding once she had a chance to assess it. “I can see what you mean. A rose with thorns is a little melancholy, isn’t it?”

  For as quickly as she smiled at times, Lydia frowned that much faster and the sight of her smile faltering spurred me into action. Gently, I coaxed the necklace from her fingers and prompted her to sit up, so I could clasp it around her neck. As I affixed the jewelry into place, I heard her sigh. “You’re not going to tell me,” I said, “but I’ll ask anyway. What’s the matter?”

  “It’s nothing, really,” she said, turning to face me. As she did, she shut her eyes, leaning forward to touch noses with me. Her hands found mine, our fingers intertwining as she took hold of them. “You know I love you, right?”

  “Of course, I do. I love you, too.” Softly, I chuckled. “What brought that on?”

  “The necklace is perfect. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m so glad I have you.”

  I attempted to smile, but could not find the wherewithal to do so. In honesty, I felt put off by her brooding, recalling my conversation with the jeweler. It reminded me that I had hesitated in buying her an engagement ring, and in that moment, I knew why. Regardless of how close I had come to the end of my residency, it seemed like the years had only made Lydia more reclusive. And as my excuses for postponing our marriage dwindled beyond a lack of money – I still had an ample-sized trust fund – I had to face the fact that something was broken. Perhaps we were afraid to be happy.

  Or perhaps, we sensed ours would not be a happily-ever-after.

  Either way, I struggled to make sense of the current shift in her mood, even with her so close, obviously seeking solace in me. “I made you sad,” I said after a long pause. “Why?”

  She pulled away enough to shake her head. “It’s not you, Peter, it’s me. I…” Trailing off, she bent her head.

  I reached to tilt her chin up, pointing her face toward mine again. “You what?”

  A sigh preempted her response. “It’s my twenty-fifth birthday, and I haven’t been looking forward to it.”

  Whatever response I had been expecting, the one she provided confused me. Her expression remained dour, but I could not help the slight chuckle I produced. “Lydia,” I said, “I’m twenty-eight, and I can promise you nothing special happens. You just get another year older.”

  “Another year older and closer to death.” Tears formed in her eyes, her gaze shifting away from mine. “What if this is the last one?�
��

  My fledgling smile faltered. I squinted in some effort to unravel her strange behavior, not needing to be reminded that I had begun dating the most superstitious girl I had ever known. “Did something give you that impression?”

  “Maybe.” When she looked at me again, she attempted a smile and failed in the mission. “You don’t believe in the supernatural, though, so it’s hard for me to explain to you.”

  “Try me?”

  “Maybe later.” Lydia kissed my cheek and came to a stand, padding away from me. As she headed toward the small kitchenette her apartment boasted, I rose from the couch, following her. “One of these days, it’s going to come crashing into you,” she said, in defiance even of herself. “It might make more sense then. In the meantime, though, I can’t figure out how to explain it in a way that doesn’t make me sound crazy.”

  “Even if it sounds crazy, I wish you would try,” I said, pausing in the arch which marked the division between her living area and the kitchen. Lydia strode toward the coffeemaker, plucking the glass carafe from its warmer while I leaned against the frame. “I know I don’t believe the same way you do, but you keep it all inside and then you have moments like this and I don’t know what to do to help you.”

  “Believe me, I wish you knew how.” Lydia turned on the faucet, filling the carafe full of water. As she walked it back to the coffeemaker, she paused, glancing back at me in a way which almost looked forgiving. “The world has a whole other side to it, Peter, and sometimes, the news it has for you isn’t always positive. It’s just suggested to me that something bad is about to happen and I don’t know why, but I’m fearing the worst.”