Atonement (Immortal Soulless Book 3)

by Tanith Frost

  Blood. Poison. Magic. Scars that strengthen, and stolen life with the power to kill.

  And the future. Helena is dead. The Blood Defenders will scatter, and whether we hunt them will be up to the elders. Our remaining enemies are likely useless without their leader, but every one of them is a seed that could grow into a new threat. Not all of them are as incompetent as the unfortunate Krystina Koffin.

  And if Helena was telling the truth, every one of them has a reason to hate us and hunt us.

  I wonder, briefly, what Helena’s story was, and decide it doesn’t matter. What matters is sitting beside me.

  My beautiful monster leans his head back against the mattress. The dark circles remain under his eyes, and his wrists are bruised where the chain pressed into his skin.

  “You look terrible,” he says.

  “Likewise. Is that poison still working on you?”

  “It’s still there, but it’s weakening. I suspect if I’d had a full feed, I’d be finished by now.” His lips tighten. “She seemed surprised we weren’t weaker.”

  “She thought we’d gorge ourselves on her sentries and do the hard work for her. Guess she’s never met a vampire with self-control. Or never paid enough attention.”

  Daniel looks as uncomfortable as I feel. It’s easy to brush it aside now, but Helena wasn’t wrong about us. It’s only my strange circumstances that have left me able to go so long without feeding, and even with that I was tempted by her poisoned crew. We can make all the rules and vows we want about not killing and not feeding on unwilling humans, but our hunger can only be denied for so long.

  “Did you feel it?” he asks. “You looked sick.”

  “A little. I guess I got a taste of it earlier, but I fought it off.”

  He doesn’t apologize for the kiss that let me sample Helena’s poison. I’m glad. Maybe it’s just proof of how right he is about the destructive nature of our attraction, which goes far deeper than a deadly kiss. If I’d really and truly died tonight, though, I’d have been glad it was with the taste of him on my lips.

  I clear my throat and push the thought away. There’s a lot to consider, but now’s not the time. “Do you think the others—”

  I don’t finish the question. Voices are coming up the stairs. I stand, and Daniel rises beside me. Our fight isn’t over yet.

  The door hits the dresser as someone tries to force their way into the room. A dark eye appears in the crack, and Edwin lets out a loud whoop.

  “Open up,” he demands. “These people had some kind of grudge against curtains, I swear. We’re going to fry out here.”

  We hurry to move the heavy furniture, struggling together to perform a task Daniel accomplished on his own earlier in spite of his illness. He may be recovering, but not quickly enough.

  Edwin pushes his way in and limps toward the bed, then collapses face-first onto the mattress. He looks like he’s been through a war. So do the others when they appear in the doorway. They’re soaked in more blood than I am, and their clothes show evidence of bullet holes that must have pierced organs they’re lucky to no longer need. One of Trent’s arms hangs limp at his side, and he’s got his other hand pressed to his face. Genevieve’s left leg drags as she helps Hannabelle to the bed and eases her down.

  Hannabelle winces as Edwin pulls her closer to make room for Genevieve.

  “Accept the pain,” he tells Hannabelle as Genevieve tightens the makeshift bandage holding her wound closed. “Denying it isn’t going to do you any good with a hurt this big. You’re dead. It can’t kill you. If you let it—”

  “Oh, sod off,” Trent grumbles as he leans against the wall and sinks to the floor. “Let us suffer in our own ways.” When his hand falls away from his face, it reveals a gaping, bloody hole where his left eye should be.

  But they’re here. Every one of them. And that, in spite of the blood and the pain and injuries that may be irreversible even for vampires, feels like a miracle.

  “Did you find her?” Hannabelle asks through gritted teeth.

  “Aviva did,” Daniel says, and gives me a tired smile. “And killed her. Stake through the heart.”

  Genevieve sucks a sharp breath between her teeth. “Very poetic, darling. Well done.”

  “Think there are more of them?” Trent asks. “We barely got rid of that swarm that we were holding back before, and then we couldn’t find you.” He squeezes his eyes closed and pulls a sheaf of papers out of his jacket. “We found this in the office, though.” The papers fall from his hand and land on the floor. He glares at them. “What is this? I haven’t felt this way since I was alive and half dead from fever.”

  “Poisoned blood,” I tell him. “It’s a good thing you split one victim five ways. We might not have even made it as far as the house if you’d had more.”

  He nods slowly. “Like poisoned meat for wild dogs, except that the meat was her own family, more or less. Only a human mind could come up with that.”

  “And they call us monsters,” Hannabelle murmurs. She sounds sleepy. They all do.

  “Okay, wake up, children,” I tell them, and clap my hands. Daniel glares at the noise. “We need shelter. Is there a basement here?”

  “None,” Trent says. “We looked, believe me.”

  Of course there’s not. “Then we’ve got to get out of here.”

  “Five more minutes,” Edwin mumbles into the pillows.

  I’m tempted to lie down with them, and my tiny dose of the drug has worn off. How are they all even remotely coherent after feeding like they did?

  “We’re old, dear,” Genevieve says, yawning. “Power lingers… deeper reservoirs, you know. This bed is so nice. Can’t we just rest here today?”

  “Nope.” I rise and dig through the closet, pulling out every item of clothing I can find. “If you’re strong enough to read my thoughts, you’re strong enough to walk. Up and at ’em, team.” I slip into a navy blue trench coat and settle a hat with a big, floppy brim on my head, then turn up the jacket’s collar and pull the sleeves down over my hands. I’ve lost my sunglasses somewhere, but the dresser yields a pair with big, round lenses that make me look like a fashionable housefly. “Edwin. Keys.”

  “Pocket.”

  I frown down at him. “I like you, but I am not reaching in there.”

  He grumbles and rolls onto his back, fishes around in his pants pocket, and pulls out a key ring with a plush teddy bear keychain attached.

  “Thank you. Now, everyone up. Keep moving. Put more clothes on, maybe grab some blankets to cover the van’s windows.” I speak to them like they’re drunk. Given what I felt of the poison, it seems appropriate. “Walk it off. I’ll be right back.”

  I wish I felt as confident and in control as I sound. I’m still thinking far more clearly than I should be after so long without a meal, but my steps are dragging, my movements uncoordinated.

  My power may be changed, but I’m still a vampire. Nothing is going to free me from my need for living human blood.

  I pause in the bathroom to wash up as well as I can and grab a towel that I use to cover my face up to the bottom of the sunglasses. It’ll have to do. I check my eyes in the mirror and find them normal—normal for me, at least. Not burning. Just pale.

  Another mercy, I guess.

  I don’t acknowledge the bodies I pass on my way out. Not the one Daniel killed, not the crumpled form that never rose again after I tossed her over the bannister, not the ones I have to pick my way past as I approach the back door and dig a pair of leather gloves out of a straw basket to cover my hands.

  I can’t pity these bodies. I can’t hate them, either. Maybe later, when I’ve fed and have time to process all of this. For now, I’m still on a mission.

  When I open the door, I realize how right I was. We can’t stay here, can’t linger in Helena’s dark bedroom while we recover and wait for night to fall. Not only because we need to get back to town, but because the lawn is littered with bodies. This house is remote, but a mess like this w
on’t go unnoticed forever.

  I steel myself and dart out into the bright November daylight, stumbling slightly before my feet find the steady rhythm that’s become automatic after my years of training. The sun is less intense than it might be in midsummer, but it doesn’t matter. Even the most distant winter sun would be enough to hurt me. I’m swathed in fabric from head to foot, and still I feel it weakening me. Just its presence makes me weary on a level far deeper than the pure pain it would bring if I were exposed to it.

  The minivan is waiting where Edwin parked it. It takes me a couple of tries to get it out of the bushes, but in just a few minutes I’m piloting the surprisingly hardy vehicle over Helena’s manicured lawn, swerving like a drunk to avoid the bodies on the grass.

  The others are waiting when I pull up to the door. They look like an Invisible Man cosplay club, swathed from head to toe in their odd assortments of clothes. Two of them carry Hannabelle down the steps.

  They all pile into the back seat, save for Daniel, who takes shotgun. I only know it’s him because of his energy, which he’s either too tired or too distracted to bother masking. He feels stronger than he did even a few minutes ago. He’s got a quilt over his head and wrapped tight around his body, leaving just enough space for him to peer out from the shadows at the front.

  “I’m going to sleep for a year,” Hannabelle says from the back.

  “A century, maybe,” Edwin adds.

  Then they’re all silent. No one makes any suggestion of where they’d like to do their sleeping or how we intend to make our reappearance in town.

  Or when we’ll feed again. If their bodies are going to heal, they need all the strength they can get.

  I speed back to the highway, hoping the family we took the van from hasn’t wakened and reported the vehicle stolen. I’m a hundred percent sure there’s no way I could explain this if we got pulled over.

  “Where do we go if the Inferno is closed?” I ask Daniel. “The hospital?”

  I’m not keen on the idea of going back to the place where I spent months in what amounted to rehab, but it’s a safe place with a few humans around to feed on.

  “No,” Genevieve says. “Nowhere controlled by vampires. Not until we’ve got our stories straight and made our plan. Not with Viktor in charge.”

  “She’s right,” Trent sighs. “Hannabelle, are you—”

  “I’ll be fine,” she says, her voice as calm as ever, but I hear the pain in it. “Genevieve did quite a good job patching me up. At this point it will heal or it won’t. I just need somewhere to rest.”

  Edwin shifts in his seat to face her. “I bet you’ll get a massive scar.” He sounds envious.

  “We’ll need a hotel or something, then,” Daniel says. “Somewhere with a phone. I’ll have to contact Viktor. I’ll try Miranda, but…” He trails off and rests his shrouded head against the window. It’s a lot to consider. And though he’s fed recently, his energy is all going to healing his body. None of us are up for making grand plans.

  “Coffee first?” I ask him.

  “Absolutely.”

  The air pressure drops as we follow the highway to St. John’s—not something I’m normally attuned to, but with the sun-induced headache thundering behind my eyes, I feel the shift. Clouds roll in, blocking off the light. That’s the thing with this island. Even a horribly clear and sunny day can change in little more than an instant, bringing blessed clouds and even rain.

  It’s not enough to make me feel well. The sun is still there, and this is certainly no time for a vampire to be out. The clouds feel like a small blessing, though—a celebration of victory and an encouragement to keep going.

  If only I believed in any of that shit anymore.

  I glance into the rearview mirror at the old vampires who are all dozing and doing their best to recover in the back seats. Outcasts. Shut-ins. Every one of them wrong or broken in the ways that matter most in vampire society, but we won a great victory this morning. I broke my vow to never kill again, but I did it to save people who are worth saving. Maybe as a species we’re a blight on creation. Maybe we come from darkness and return to nothing when we fall. But I believe every one of these tired old soldiers deserves a place in this world.

  Viktor might not see a place in it for the weak, the misfits, the different. But I do. And I’m proud to have fought beside them.

  I’m about to turn into the first big-chain coffee shop we come to, but pass it by. I’ve got a craving for something better—something I haven’t really thought about since the night I first tasted it. I can’t blame my mind for that. Things kind of went to shit after I left the run-down diner with its teenaged waitress. I’d dragged myself in, half-starved and needing something to get me through until I could figure out how to get blood, expecting sludge in a cup.

  Surely I’m misremembering how good that coffee was. But didn’t I think, even at the time, that it tasted like pure magic? Until last night, I thought humans’ involvement in supernatural power extended only as far as Susannah’s openness to the energies of this island, with her home-blended herbs and oils and her fascination with stones that I’m still not convinced have any actual connection to the currents that flow through this place. But maybe there’s more.

  Maybe there is magic in a cup of coffee.

  On the off chance that there might be, I drive all the way to Paradise and turn into the winding streets of the industrial park at the edge of St. John’s. It really is a strange location for a restaurant, though I guess they must do good business at lunch.

  “Genevieve, do you still have the first aid kit in your suitcase?”

  She sighs and hauls her luggage out of the trunk and pops the latches. Trent leans over and pulls out the smaller white box. “Sun block?”

  “Please.”

  It really is horrible stuff. Industrial-grade chemical UV filters, mineral additives, and I don’t even want to know what else our science-minded clanmates have put into the concoction. I’ve only used it a few times, back in training when Daniel wanted to be sure we were exposed to as many situations as possible and able to deal with them. It’s horrendously expensive, apparently, and aside from preventing burns does nothing to cut down on the absolute shittiness of being out during the day. Still, it will help me survive and maybe even blend in.

  I wrinkle my nose as I open the little jar that looks like it should hold fancy eye cream. The stuff stinks of cat piss when you apply it, though that fades.

  I glance into the back of the van. Everyone is surviving, but they look horrible—at least, what I can see of them beneath their coverings.

  Our next feed will be hours away at the very least. We need a fucking coffee.

  I exit the van after I’ve smeared the sunblock over my face, ears, and hands. I keep the hat and sunglasses on, but ditch the towel. The cloud cover provides a bit of relief, but I still feel like I’m about to fall to pieces all over the cracked asphalt parking lot as I drag myself into the diner.

  The chime of the bell over the door seems to draw me back in time, and I freeze. The last time I was here, it was early evening, not a cloudy morning. Everything else seems the same, though. I don’t think the flyers on the bulletin board have even changed.

  The waitress looks up from behind the counter. She’s reading again, but she hides the book under a newspaper before I get close enough to see what she’s studying. “How did advanced chemistry treat you?” I ask, and risk slipping off my sunglasses.

  She gives me a wary look. Surely she’s aged since my last visit, but I can’t see any difference in her. Clear skin, chestnut hair pulled back in a smooth bun, turquoise dress with Imogen printed above her right breast.

  “It was okay,” she says warily.

  I glance at the end of the counter. Her cat, a mangy, tuxedo-patterned fellow with uneven black splotches across his face, glares back at me from his spot near the window. His presence is probably a violation of a dozen health code rules, but there’s no one else in here to complain
, and I’m certainly not going to.

  “Can I get six coffees to go?” I ask. “All black.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I swear she’s got invisible eyes in the back of her head. It feels like she’s watching me even when she turns away to pour the drinks.

  She sets the first two cups on the counter. “You look like you’ve had a rough night,” she observes. “Sure you don’t want something to eat with that? Build your strength up?”

  She’s watching me warily enough that I suspect there’s a deeper question there.

  “I don’t think you have anything I’d be interested in,” I tell her, “but thanks.”

  She seems to relax a little. “That guy never came back after that night.”

  “Good.” I won’t tell her that he survived a run-in with me, but likely fled town entirely. I almost want to, though. She seems like she’d appreciate the story.

  I sip the scalding coffee and open myself to the energies of this place. Maybe Daniel is right, and my void-given gifts do have something to do with those perceptions. I might as well practice.

  Daniel said most vampires don’t feel the werewolves like I do. That I feel the specifics of vampire power more acutely than others. And I picked up that weird blue energy, whatever magic it was that Helena harnessed for her own purposes.

  Panic flashes through me as I swallow my drink and a current like electricity flows through me. For a moment I think Helena has followed us. It’s the same sort of energy, but it’s fainter. Brighter, and yet paler somehow. When I realize it’s not from an enemy, but from my drink, I relax.

  This is what I felt without understanding it last time, and it didn’t hurt me then.

  It’s too similar to Helena’s power for me to feel entirely comfortable with it, but at the same time it’s as different from hers as mine is from another vampire’s.

  Imogen is still watching me, and doesn’t look away when I make eye contact. I don’t feel the power in Imogen, but have no doubt that this magic, whatever it is, has come from her. She might not even be aware of it.

  “Is this the same brew you had last time?” I ask her, and she nods. “I’m surprised you’re not overrun with customers. This beats the four-dollar-a-cup shit other places serve by miles.” I take another sip. Now that I recognize that there’s power here, now that my own energies are working together, I can pick out the otherworldly sensations flooding my body.