Haven

by Celia Breslin

  He hitched a breath. “That’s definitely not okay.”

  “You’ve no idea what’s going on here, do you?”

  “What’s going on?” he echoed me, voice edged with panic.

  I addressed Dr. O. “Why doesn’t he know?”

  “Drugs and magic, Princess.”

  “Oliver,” Brigid warned.

  “She has the right to know.”

  Brigid stiffened. “She has no rights here.”

  “I remember a sharp pain in my neck,” Tony interjected. “Then Paolo and Greg—” he glanced at the corpse on the floor. “They said they’d take me to your place. I thought this was your place.”

  “Illusion. Smoke and mirrors.” I jerked my head at Brigid. “Wicked witch.”

  Said witch scowled, fingers stroking the dagger sheathed at her waist. I tracked her movement, fingers twitching. If I could get my hands on her lethal toy...

  “Brigid cast the illusion, but I sent his mind away,” Dixon added, watching me with hungry eyes. “I can do it, again. If you ask nicely.”

  I scoffed. “Why would I do that?”

  “I am offering to numb the pain. For a price.”

  My brother sidled close, slipped his hand in mine.

  “What pain?” I asked.

  Brigid hissed a word in Gaelic and swept out her arm. My brother and I toppled to the floor, suffocating under her magic. She faced the two vampires. “Do not offer what you cannot provide, vampire.”

  Dixon shrugged. “The possession does not require their suffering to work.”

  Unease stabbed my gut. Possession?

  Brigid clenched her fists. “You no longer wish them to suffer? What of your vengeance?”

  Dixon waved a dismissive hand. “The boy is nothing to me. It is the girl the Warden treasures above all others.”

  “Maurizio treasures them all.”

  “That is your battle, witch. My war is with Thomas.”

  The witch’s chest heaved. “And I say they both suffer.”

  “Neither of them will suffer if you continue to suffocate them with your magic,” Dr. O interjected, his tone bland.

  Brigid flicked her hand in our direction allowing us to move, sit up, gasp for air. “Bitch,” I choked. Tony elbowed my arm to shush me. The bitch ignored me.

  “This is my show, Dixon. Remember your place in it. Or perhaps you would like to return to cold storage?”

  Dixon’s power fell on the room like a huge wall of ice. Tony and I huddled together, once again gasping for air.

  Sadly, the witch remained unaffected. “Do not push me, vampire.”

  Oh, push, please push, you nasty vampire. Do me a favor and take each other out.

  But he backed off, his power dissipating. “I will ignore your empty threat, for in truth, I do not care how much they suffer. As long as she lives through the process relatively unblemished and is given to me afterward, as agreed.”

  “Then we are in agreement.”

  He inclined his head. “We are, but do not attempt to tell me what I can and cannot do. Or we will share more than mere words and paltry slaps of power.”

  “Fair enough.” She smoothed her palm over the dagger at her waist. “My apologies. Long have I awaited this day. It proves difficult not to rush ahead now that we are so close.”

  “Yes, witch, it has been a long wait for us both.”

  “Then let us proceed, vampire.”

  They turned to us. My brother and I scrambled to our feet, backing toward that long white wall I now knew was a door. I caught Dr. O’s gaze, and called in my head. Help us. Please.

  “No aide there, Tranquilli spawn,” Brigid spat. “He has sworn to heal and not to interfere. The old ones honor their vows.”

  “That’s good, I guess.” I spoke to delay the inevitable, to give us a chance at the door. “What about you? Seems like your word means nothing.”

  She arched a brow, visage haughty. “Meaning?”

  I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “Meaning, I bet you swore to protect and serve my family, yet here you are, breaking your word. And doing great harm. Isn’t that against your witch code? Some pesky rule of three?”

  “You know nothing of the Law of Return,” she snapped.

  “I know what comes around, goes around. In your religion that means it will bite you in the ass three times as hard.”

  “That, mongrel, is precisely why we are here.” The air around her shimmered with the heat of her magic. Her pupils expanded, swallowing the blue and white until there was nothing but an angry, pulsating darkness so thick with evil I jumped when she spoke. “I am the cruel hand of retribution and you, Tranquilli spawn, you are the payment.”

  “For what?” Tony’s voice oozed defiance. He clenched his fists, ready to fight. He might be a party boy, but under that carefree exterior he was all Tranquilli. And we fight.

  Brigid gave him a stony stare.

  I told him what I knew. “She’s mad at my dad. He killed someone she loved. Some vampire called l’uomo nero.”

  Tony stilled. “L’uomo nero?”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  His brows shot up. “The boogeyman. The boogeyman is real?”

  “Correct.”

  “And he’s a vampire.”

  “Was, but yeah.”

  He sucked in a breath. “The boogeyman is real and he’s a vampire. A vampire uncle Maurizio killed.”

  “You got it.” Our conversation gave me a serious case of déjà vu.

  He jerked his head at the witch. “She’s his girlfriend.”

  “Unfortunately. His pissed off girlfriend.”

  Tony snorted. “Doesn’t make sense. She works for the family. Why would uncle keep her around if she was his enemy’s girlfriend?”

  I shrugged.

  “They were not always enemies,” Dr. O offered.

  “That’s enough, Oliver.” Brigid commanded, tone glacial.

  “No,” Dr. O replied. “It is not enough. You know he loved the Dark One as a brother. You know what it cost him to slay him. You of all left alive know it was not done lightly, nor has it ever been forgotten.”

  “Or forgiven.”

  “You must stop this foolishness. Before it is too late.”

  “It is already too late. Centuries too late.”

  “It is a tragic tale, my princess,” Dr. O continued, as if she hadn’t interrupted. “Of friendship and love gained and lost. Of power, politics, and dark magic. And a young witch bound into the service of a ruthless master vampire.”

  Brigid made a strangled sound, her face reddening, body shaking with fury. “No, Oliver! You will not share my story with her. I forbid it!”

  She launched herself at the doctor but Dixon intervened, grabbing her arm. She whirled and struck out with the other but Dixon caught it, too, holding her with ease while she struggled and screeched. Energy seeped out of her, skittering across my skin like biting spiders. Tony felt it, too. We rubbed our arms and backed to the door. Close now, a few steps away from potential freedom.

  “Wake up, witch,” Dixon growled. “They seek to distract you, to further delay these proceedings. Remember who you are. Remember why we are here. Act now, or I will take the girl this instant and be gone from this place.”

  I stiffened, not liking the sound of that at all.

  Brigid froze. He gave her a hard stare and whatever her face revealed must have satisfied him because he released her and swept out his hands. Alarm bells triggered inside me. Tony and I exchanged a look and bolted for the door. There was no discernible handle but I knew it slid left so I pushed with all my might. Tony joined me but it wouldn’t budge.

  “The door is locked pet,” Dixon called. “There is no escaping the main event. It will be much less painful if you relax and open to it.”

  “Screw you.” I smacked the door in frustration and faced Team Evil. Tony followed suit, minus the smacking.

  Brigid stalked toward us. “Back off, bitch,” I warned, scanning the ro
om for a weapon not attached to her hip.

  She continued forward, muttering in Gaelic. Her words made the hairs on my arms stand at attention. Beside me, Tony stiffened, sensing the magic, too.

  Smoke wafted out of her, engulfing her like a second skin, thick, dark, and odorless.

  “No.” I hitched a breath, mouth dry. Not smoke. It was every child’s nightmare, the shadows under the bed, the rustling in the closet, the movement seen out of the corner of one’s eye. It was the stuff of nightmares, of my nightmare not so long ago, and it wanted to devour us, well, me.

  It wanted me.

  “L’uomo nero,” I whispered.

  The black form grew taller, wider and stepped forward, separating itself from the witch. Every part of its body undulated and curled, like smoke contained in a glass sculpture shaped like a man. Beautiful and terrifying.

  Tony pulled my arm. “Andiamo.”

  I resisted. Nowhere to run.

  “Tranquilli,” the witch growled in a voice that wasn’t hers, deeper, richer, three voices made one. The voice of L’Uomo Nero.

  He raised his undulating smoke hand, reaching for me. “Come, dhampyre. Show yourself.”

  His command flipped some internal switch and my feral vampire half sprang to life, responding to the boogeyman, answering his primal call. The human half of me screamed in protest, but it was a distant voice, fading, quashed by the need to connect, to feed, to slake my thirst. With a touch of that hand. Blood and power, all there, reaching for me. I stepped forward, hand outstretched, heart pounding, eyes sliding to black.

  “Rina, what the hell are you doing?” Tony wrapped his arms around me, held me back from the boogeyman.

  Not that it mattered. He came to us, engulfed us in utter darkness. I lost track of Tony, of my body, the ground, up, down, left, right, in, out.

  “You belong to me now,” the darkness whispered. “Yield.”

  No, I thought, as hard as I could.

  “Yield to me.”

  “No!” I was relieved to hear my voice. The sound grated my throat and vibrated my chest, reconnecting me to my body. More sensation surfaced, the cold floor under my bare feet, crisp air flowing in and out of my lungs. I was alive. And still standing.

  But my brother wasn’t. Horror shredded my gut when I spotted him on the floor a few feet away, body thrashing, hands clawing the air. The shadow man rode him, hissing, “Yield.”

  My brother stilled. The smoke stretched over him and melted into his body.

  A strangled sound escaped my throat. My knees gave out and I hit the floor hard, crawling to my brother, placing my palms on his chest. His breathing was shallow, his heartbeat a weak, fluttering bird.

  Angry tears burned my eyes. “Antonio, fratello mio, è tutta colpa mia. Mi dispiace molto.”

  Dr. O spoke. “No, Princess, you are not to blame. You are both victims in a blood feud begun long before either of you walked this earth.”

  “Enough, Oliver!” That from Brigid.

  Something snapped inside me at the sound of her voice. I hurled myself at her in an impressive burst of speed and slammed her to the ground, stunning her long enough for me to snatch her knife and plunge it into her gut.

  Kill! My vampire half roared, fully in charge now. Kill the witch, kill the spell and make the Dark One go poof. Good plan. I twisted the knife, pleased by her scream.

  Strong hands snagged me by the neck and wrist, squeezing, forcing me to release the weapon and leave it behind in her body. Dixon, of course. He wrenched me to my feet.

  “Let me go, asshole!”

  “Now, is that any way to talk to your new master?” he cooed, releasing me.

  Big mistake. I took him to ground with a textbook single leg sweep, straddling him before he could recover. The scent of fresh blood—the witch’s blood—perfumed the air, fueling my rage, making me hiss and bare my teeth, making me hungry for more than revenge. I surveyed the man under me.

  Food. He’s my food.

  He pulled aside his shirt collar, baring opaque skin and rich blue veins. Though I had no fangs to slice his flesh, I struck without hesitation, ignoring the little voice inside whispering, Too easy. He’s not fighting back.

  I ended up with a bony wrist lodged between my teeth. It didn’t belong to my prey. A growl escaped my throat. I tightened my hold and jerked my head.

  “Princess you must not partake of his blood.” Dr. O urged, voice tight with pain.

  I’m biting Dr. O. Is he food?

  “Shut up, Oliver,” Dixon snapped. “And get out of our way. You swore not to interfere.”

  “I swore not to interfere with Brigid’s efforts. This is not part of her agenda.”

  No, not food. Ally.

  I released his wrist, but he remained close, eyes dark with concern.

  Dixon’s fingers curled around my hips, an unwelcome, possessive gesture. Inappropriate for food. I growled again, twisting my hips to make him let go, but that elicited sounds of pleasure from him. He was hard, happy to have me straddling him. I dug my nails into his hands until his fingers relinquished my hips. He exposed his neck again, making a small cut with the pointed nail of his index finger. Blood beaded.

  Food.

  My head lowered but Dr. O gripped my shoulders. “Hear me, my Princess. Do not partake of his blood. It is a trick. He is trying to own you. If it is blood you seek, take mine. I am your father’s loyal subject and all that I am is yours. This I swear. Take my blood and slake your thirst.”

  Trick. Trying to bind me. Own me.

  His words cut through the blood lust. I tore my gaze from Dixon’s neck, from the blood I still wanted to take even though I now saw the trap. I scrambled off him and crawled to the wall, curling myself into a tight ball, knees to chest, shaking, battling the blood lust, the urge to rend flesh and gorge on blood, any blood, consequences be damned.

  Dixon laughed, a confident sound. Dr. O hissed at him. Neither man approached me, but it didn’t matter. I was losing my inner struggle and soon I’d be nothing but a bundle of drives and urges, my humanity crushed to bits under the need to be vampire. There was nothing I could do to save myself now, so I opened my mouth and screamed.

  It was Tony who came to me, Tony who uncurled my body, drew me into his arms and held me while I screamed into his chest. Tony who held me tighter still while I struggled not to sink my teeth into his warm, human flesh. It was Tony who guided my head to his neck, let me worry his flesh until I drew blood, let me lap it up from the uneven tear I managed to make with my oh-so-flat teeth. Tony’s arms held me while I struggled not to rip him open even more. Tony’s hand stroked my hair when I finally collapsed sobbing and spent. Tony’s voice murmured sweet soothing nothings to me in Italian, calming the savage beast that was...me.

  When at last my humanity returned and remorse overwhelmed me and I lifted my head to apologize to my brother for almost tearing him apart, I looked into his black, black eyes that should’ve been a warm, chocolate brown, and I learned the horrible truth.

  It wasn’t Tony at all.

  ~ * ~

  The man who was my brother, but wasn’t, helped me to my feet. My legs held but that was due to the power of the man holding me. The power of l’uomo nero, the Dark One, inside my brother.

  My brother. Possessed.

  I tried to speak, tried to say something like, thanks for helping out with the blood lust. Now get the hell out of my brother, but only managed, “I—”

  The Dark One pressed Tony’s finger against my lips.

  “Hush now, stellina,” he crooned with my brother’s voice. His finger moved to my cheek, wiping away a few stray tears. “How long I have awaited you, Carina of the heavenly waters, brightest star in the midnight sky, divine spark of life.” His hand curled around mine. “Come. Walk with me.”

  Because it was my brother’s hand in mine, my brother’s voice spouting strange poetry at me, because I was tired and so scared I would lose it again with no one but the chivalrous devil in my brothe
r to help me hang onto my humanity, I walked with him.

  Dixon and Dr. O parted like the Red Sea and we passed between them, approaching Brigid. She sat upright on the floor with the knife in her gut, eyes shining black, face glowing with triumph.

  The Dark One extended his free hand. “Rise, my goddess most high. You have served me well.” He drew her to her feet and kissed her hand.

  “Master,” she breathed, color flaring on her cheeks.

  He cupped her face with one hand, his other pulling the blade free from her gut in one clean jerk. She gasped and swayed, face twitching in pain. Her discomfort ended all too soon, however, and I let out a disgruntled snort.

  What was she, some kind of immortal superwoman? Maybe goddess wasn’t simply a pet name, and if so, how was I going to take her out? She gave me a look of pure hatred. I returned it with gusto.

  He tossed the knife to Dixon, who caught it and proceeded to lick the blood from the blade. I averted my eyes before my blood lust reared its head again.

  The Dark One embraced the witch. “I have been away from your rosebud lips for too long this time, my love. Does this visage please you, my sweet?”

  Her blush deepened. “You know I love you, no matter the vessel.”

  They’d done this before. Not surprising. Eternity must get tedious when spending it as something as intangible as smoke. They shouldn’t call him Dark One, they should call him King of the Body Snatchers. I coughed to stop myself from erupting in laughter, teetering on the verge of hysteria.

  The body snatcher and the witch shared a tender kiss. It might have been romantic but they were a) completely and utterly evil and b) using my gay brother’s body.

  “You can’t do that,” I blurted, voice hoarse from crying. They broke apart, heads swiveling. Identical black eyes glared at me with evil intent. Their silence stretched too long for my comfort. “Tony is gay.”

  With no reply, I tried again. “He doesn’t like girls. Please don’t—” even think of using him as your sex toy, you sick, evil shits. “Please don’t use him like that.”

  The Dark One chuckled. “Carina, stellina, your brother is not here.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

  “He sleeps.”

  “I don’t understand.”