Her Dark Destiny (Hunters of the Dark #1)

by Dave Ferraro

  Chapter Eighteen

   

  “Ah. A light sleeper. Of course,” Damien mused, gazing through the window of Shanna’s darkened room, where her roommate had left her vulnerable to prying eyes. He watched with interest as she tossed and murmured an incoherent plea. “So fragile, with demons haunting every waking moment and penetrating even the comfort of slumber.” He shook his head at such tragic circumstances.

  Brushing the screen of the window, he imagined his fingertips brushing Shanna’a face, tracing her lips. So beautiful, so tender, yet so unsuspecting. “My beautiful Diana, have you come back to us?”

  Shanna sighed, as if in reply, stretching her neck invitingly, teasingly. Or perhaps, it was something within her that tempted him deliberately.

  “Come to me, my pet,” Damien whispered softly. “Throw open these dastardly windows that separate us and offer me your lips.”

  Slim legs slid over the bedspread easily and supported Shanna’s body, leading her toward the voice that wooed her. Her arms, comically splayed out in classic sleepwalker fashion, fumbled at the screen of the window. She was so close, just beyond his reach, that he could smell the apple blossom glycerin soap she’d used on her ivory skin. He could hear the night air brush her hair out behind her, envious of even that intimacy of which he had yet to experience.

  In his desperation to touch her, he rubbed the screen at her fingertips with his own, reveling in the warmth he felt emanating from her skin. Then they touched, fingers upon clumsy fingers, as he had unwittingly forced the screen open with nails and scratches. The immediate rush he felt upon touching her was worth all of his frustration. However, such contact was destined to break his spell over her and force him to retreat into the shadows as her eyes took on a spark of intelligence and coherence.

  He lingered, savoring her confusion at being at the window, loving her as she inspected the hole in the screen with fleeting impressions on her mind.

  And then he left her there, a slave to his nature, for the sun demanded it.

  ***

  If there was a way to close her eyes and will the sort of life she lived nonexistent, Shanna wondered if she would. Glinting blades, monsters, shadows - these sorts of things formed her days. It wasn’t a pretty life. It was a poison that would slowly consume her body until she was eaten from within. She would live in blood and die in it as well. But if not her - someone who had nothing to lose - it would have to be another. Shanna could understand the others’ motivations for hunting because they were presumably similar to her own ideals for why she did. Something must have thrust them into this lonely lifestyle, something horrible and life-changing. But deep down, beyond this vague sense that she had to hunt for others, that she was protecting people and that such comprised her destiny, she felt something sinister lurking. A longing, a desire to destroy, to rip these creatures apart. She felt a rage that worried her, even scared her. She wondered if the others felt it too, beneath their supposedly selfless motives. For as much as she tried to bury it, she felt it while hunting, felt it even when she wasn’t. She had an unquenchable desire to seek out creatures, for no other reason beyond the simple fact that she enjoyed killing them. It must have stemmed from her parents’ demise. After their death, she’d trained to carry out a blood vendetta against their murderers. But upon those deaths, her goal achieved, the rage lived on, propelling her. However noble she professed to be, it was more a mantra to keep killing. She’d had a drive to kill all of the monsters at Styx, almost to a compulsive degree. But was it because it had been the right thing to do? She may have said so, may have even convinced herself of such, but…a deep, dark coil was building in her stomach when she was in hunting mode. It refused to provide a clear vision for her motives. It merely propelled her into action, into bloodlust, head first. She would have died destroying those creatures had Felicia not intervened. And that would have been alright with her. But not because it was chivalrous or noble to fight for others, but because it was what she felt like doing, whether her life had been in peril or not.

  With a sigh, Shanna looked about her, disturbed by the thoughts the night had gathered for her, wanting nothing more than to disperse them once again into nonexistence. Following a brief stint in the city, amid long sessions of Rachel insulting the other girls’ coloring while shopping for gowns, the hunters had all tracked down outfits to wear to The Crimson Rope’s gala. Even Becca had gone out with the girls to pick out a little black number, just in case she would need to back them up, though Valor hoped such a precaution would prove unnecessary. Becca’s presence had done little to tame Rachel’s temperament in the sphere of shopping, but seemed to actually enflame some vicious qualities, as Rachel heartily alluded to Becca’s streetwalking days unabashedly and more frequently when the men were present. To Becca’s credit, the new hunter to join their fold did not retaliate, but remained remarkably complacent, as if she were used to such treatment, if not deserving of it.

  Hours later found the hunters all dressed like dolls in their new formal wear, beneath which were concealed weapons upon sheaths and buried deep in hidden pockets. It brought a smile to her lips, that for all intents and purposes, they appeared to be attending a party, while they were truly armed heavily enough to bring a small village to its knees. It was strange, yet tantalizing to see the men appear as gentlemen, the women as ladies, as if the opera awaited them. Rachel was easily the most stunning in a red dress, her hair swept up off of her shoulders seductively, yet this was her field of expertise, so Shanna wasn’t surprised. Natalia wasn’t present, thus Shanna wasn’t sure how the hunter would look; She’d thought it best to arrive separately, so their debuts wouldn’t seem too coincidental to an outsider. Shanna wished her there, however. She would have felt safer with her hawk eyes, her panther instincts. And she was looking for someone to share her dream with, Natalia being the only one she was comfortable enough with, since she was the sole individual whom Shanna felt had complete confidence in this world of monsters, having grown up immersed in it.

  The dream in question had disturbed Shanna. It had seemed real, more like memory than induced fantasy. And Damien had said “Diana” to her, directing the name in her direction. Could it be that she had some connection to this woman? But who was Diana? It was merely a name to her. However, it seemed to be a name that Natalia had heard before. And Shanna got the distinct feeling that Diana was a very important figure, if not a very horrible one. The woman felt tainted. Her actions certainly weren’t noble, but evil, malicious.

  Finding her focus waning, she took a calming breath and shook her head to keep the thoughts from her head. The flood of questions would have to be postponed. She needed to concentrate. It was only a dream in the end anyway.

  Shanna found herself smoothing her navy sequin dress almost compulsively, as she was more than a little uncomfortable. It was one thing for the heroines to fight in heels in the movies, but in real life? It was horrible. A nightmare. Shanna was not looking forward to it.

  All of the hunters who were not going in through the front door had been given gel-lined pills that held glamours within them. Once they pierced the pill, the bearer would be enveloped by the glamour, the glamour of a monster, so they could roam freely outside of the main floor where the party was held. It was the only way to be able to sneak disguises inside without drawing undue attention. After all, the monsters that fraternized with the humans would be wearing glamours as well, to hide their true appearances. It wouldn’t do to have them all going in as creatures to upset their members, their contributors. So, in effect, all monsters would appear human at the party, dropping such disguises upon leaving the fund-raising event. The hunters merely meant to do the exact opposite to attend the event of real interest, the monsters’ meeting.

  Shanna would be escorted into the party by Jordan. She’d had to painfully relate to Cameron beforehand her reasons for choosing someone else, which he’d understood. In fact, he’d been elated that she found him so distracting,
but such conversations would have to wait for another time, when all of the bedlam had come to an end.

  Rachel would be attended by Brett, as predicted, and would allow the others entry through the back garden as soon as was possible. They would be waiting in a nearby van, while Valor, Felicia and Becca stayed behind, advising them all through hidden ear pieces, everyone wearing microphones in bracelets or watches. Radio contact was to be kept minimal, however, as it could potentially be detected. Even though such fears were virtually unwarranted, there was always a little room for error, no matter the scenario.

  The moment came before Shanna really had much time to think about it. She was nervous, in spite of her resolve to remain completely professional, and constantly reassured herself that she looked fetching in her dress. Cameron had told her she looked stunning; Brett had leered at her for a time. But she felt awkward nonetheless, like she was playing dress-up. And she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had come over her. She deduced that it stemmed from the idea of proving herself to the team on this mission. They were venturing deep into the enemy’s territory. If she were to screw up here, she’d be really leaving the others in a bind. She wished they’d at least had a little time to train together. It would have certainly boosted her confidence if the test of their synchronized teamwork skills hadn’t been left to this dangerous mission. But they had to trudge ahead, fight the good fight, regardless of the odds against them, the potential weaknesses amongst them.

  The couples that would be going in via the front door strode together along the street, toward the unknown. The night was calm, which was inappropriate in Shanna’s mind. Lightning and thunder should run rampant at such a time; Rain should discourage them with unrelenting sheets. But, no. It was a quiet Summer evening, the wind so tranquil that it had only enthusiasm to rustle the Oaks’ leaves from time to time. Shanna could almost fancy themselves out for an evening stroll, in place of meeting evil face-to-face.

  “Anyone else nervous?” Brett asked, fingering the collar of his tuxedo.

  Rachel smirked at that. “What? Our brave Brett, the giant killer with a hundred and one stories at his disposal, getting cold feet? Come, tell us about the troll who had to count how many balls you have.”

  “What?”

  “Rachel, play nice,” Jordan warned. “We’re all working together here.”

  “I’ve got some big fucking balls,” Brett muttered.

  Scoffing, Rachel nodded, conceding to Jordan’s wish.

  Shanna looked back once in hopes of catching a glimpse of the van as they turned a corner. She missed it, however, and would have to remain content with the hope that she would see it again, every one of their party still alive.

  Jordan squeezed her hand, as if sensing her distress.

  She sent him a grateful smile.

  After a moment, Rachel sighed and looked back at her. “So, did anyone else think that it was weird how Valor was all huffy about La Faer Noir at the meeting the other day?”

  “Weird?” Jordan asked. “How?”

  “You know. She was all like, suppressed rage when Shanna brought up La Faer Noir for the third time in five minutes. You know, when Becca finally came in? Not that I want to get started on her or anything.”

  Shanna looked at Jordan sideways, then at Rachel. “She…did kind of get annoyed.”

  “What, like she wanted us to not ask about it?” Brett spoke up.

  “I think she just wanted us to stay on task, focused,” Jordan said. “That’s all.”

  “Yeah, but…” Shanna shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe she had information to relay, but it just had to wait for another time.”

  “Another time?” Rachel frowned. “La Faer Noir members are inside this big scary mansion we’re walking into right now. I would have liked to know a little more about them.”

  Jordan shrugged. “Well, it’s too late now. We’ll just have to bring it up later and hope for the best here. It’s not like we know much about The Crimson Rope’s members either.”

  “True,” Shanna agreed, catching Jordan’s eye, sharing in a look what they knew the group to be like from their first-hand experience, the terror they’d witnessed at Styx.

  A short silence fell over them as they strolled along the sidewalk, watching ordinary squirrels climb ordinary trees in spite of the evil they were soon to face. Shanna tried to concentrate on these things as they walked on, distract herself from the task ahead.

  “Showtime,” Rachel murmured all too soon as the wrought iron gate of The Crimson Rope’s mansion loomed ahead of them. Shanna came to a stop with Jordan, suddenly quite aware of how striking he looked in his suit. He looked like a millionaire playboy, his tan skin made all the more golden by the contrast of the white collar and sleeves of his suit. She certainly wouldn’t be complaining, walking into the party with him on her arm.

  They watched soberly as Rachel and Brett disappeared around the corner of the gate, through the mouth of the beast. The sight gave Shanna a chill.

  Shanna did her best to relieve her mind of the encroaching affair, to free her mind of fear, so she recalled that morning’s meeting, which had consisted of more than plotting and dressing in fine attire. A guest had been present in Valor and Felicia’s room at the appointed time. A woman, Leah Paole, who was from a New York cell of the larger group that The Agency stemmed from - a group called Visum et Repertum - Seen and Discovered. It seemed that this group was primarily made up of the aforementioned scholars of the supernatural, where The Agency was the group that actually acted upon the threat. It made one wonder what else about The Agency remained unspoken. Was there more than this? It seemed like Valor should have relinquished this information previously, before enlisting a platoon of soldiers. But maybe it had been seen as an unnecessary detail. After all, it wouldn’t have really influenced her decision in any way.

  The basics of vampire lore were reiterated at the meeting along with a few facts Shanna had never heard. “Garlic and wolfsbane will not ward off vampires,” Leah had revealed, perched on the edge of a bed, like a vulture over prey. “But stuffing them into a corpse’s nostrils, eyes and ears with millet will prevent the corpse from reanimating. It will remain dead.”

  “How does that work?” Jade had demanded.

  With a shrug, Leah had replied “We don’t know. Bulgarian gypsies have passed down the recipe through the generations. It works. And one other thing beyond religious significance: if you smear yourself with a vampire’s blood, you will be immune to that vampire’s mind tricks and illusions. Similia similibus curantur.”

  “Similar things are cured by similar things,” Natalia murmured.

  “Quite right. It’s a practice that comes up again and again in supernatural lore. The hair of a voodoo priestess negates her magic against you. Practices such as that. Indeed, in modern medicine, anti-venom is derived from a snake’s very own venom. Colds and disease are fought using the contagion themselves. It’s a very useful idea to keep in mind.” She paused. “And, of course, there are numerous rumored tricks, of how a vampire is obsessed with counting knots and such, but they are merely rumors.”

  “Knots?” Becca asked.

  “Yes. It was once believed that a vampire couldn’t enter a house if the door was draped with a fishing net, because it would be obliged to count all of the knots. In reality, however, they just need permission to enter.”

  “So, it is true.”

  “There is truth and there is falsehood. Knowing which is which is what will keep you alive. Never assume.”

  “Okay,” Jordan said after a few minutes had passed, shaking Shanna into the present. “I think it’s our move.” They sized each other up quickly with reassuring smiles and walked up to the gate with false enthusiasm, where two men stood patiently. Immediately upon striding up to the gate, the couples’ ticket was inspected and they were asked to step through a small canopy that was obviously meant to detect something or other. There were no hold-ups how
ever, and they were allowed to move on toward the house. As they drew closer to the door, Shanna noticed masked men in the windows on either side of the door, as if attending a masquerade. One mask was made of blue feathers, one of leather. Shanna could feel their eyes searing through her as she walked as nonchalantly as possible up the front steps. They were the detectors, searching for glamours, for magick and uninvited guests. A palpable nausea wafted from their unique abilities, as if Shanna could smell the art, and found it off-putting to the point of utter reprehension, though the poison they expelled lay only within her mind. But upon passing them, passing the trials, she had only her mission ahead of her, looming in the distance. And the mission was quite elaborate. Shanna and Jordan would gather intelligence among the party-goers until Natalia took out the creatures that detected magick, and Rachel and Brett let in the other hunters. Then, most of the hunters would explore the upper halls until they found the room with the new vampire-creature, where they would then infiltrate the meeting. Meanwhile, Jade and Cameron would search for any laptops or documents to make copies from, and Natalia would strategically plant various bugs and cameras on clothing and artifacts. They were going to be in the lion’s den for this one event and they planned to take full advantage of that fact in case they failed to cripple the organization.

  Upon entering the mansion, Shanna and Jordan walked in the opposite direction of Rachel and Brett, taking in the sprawling ballroom with its exclusively rich members. Shanna didn’t think she’d ever seen so many diamonds at once.

  Most of the crowd was middle-aged, however there were quite a few young couples, so the hunters didn’t stick out too sorely. Soft orchestra music played lazily in the background as servers walked about with trays of champagne and hors d’euvoir.

  “How do we talk to these people?” Jordan murmured, “I have no idea what to say. They all look like they walked in from Wall Street.”

  “Just strike up a conversation.”

  “You.”

  Shanna laughed, quickly sobering as she noticed the cross dangling out of Jordan’s shirt. “Your cross is showing.”

  Jordan looked down and quickly tucked it away.

  “Do you always wear that cross? I’ve seen you with it before.”

  “I’m a religious man.”

  “Really?”

  “Not really. But sort of. I grew up Catholic.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah, although honestly, I haven’t attended church in years. I guess the salvation of my immortal soul is low on my list of priorities.”

  “I vaguely remember going to church when I was young, but…no concrete memory really sticks with me. It’s just a vague impression.”

  Jordan glanced at her. “Well, don’t worry. I won’t go shoving sermons down your throat. I think that part of my life kind of came and went. Died with my parents.”

  “A lot of things died with mine,” Shanna allowed.

  “Well, well, look who decided to show up.”

  Shanna had barely enough time to superficially reflect on the conversation before she turned to meet Damien’s glittering eyes. She felt familiar longings rise within her again as she was drawn inexplicably to his lips, as if wanting only to kiss him and nothing else in the world mattered beyond that. She felt awful for these feelings, but that guilt didn’t make them disappear. Thoughts of the ripped screen of her hotel room came back to her and she looked at Damien anew, wondering if her feelings for him upon waking last night had indeed, been induced by his presence. But it seemed silly that he would have been stalking her, at her window all night, waiting for the right moment to take advantage of her. Damien was above such games. He wouldn’t be caught playing hard-to-get.

  “This is Cameron?” Damien suddenly asked, indicating Jordan.

  “Cam...?” Shanna murmured, momentarily confused, besieged by images of Cameron’s hand reassuring her the night before, of his concern when she’d swooned. She shook the muddiness from her mind and smiled. “No, this isn’t Cameron. This is Jordan. Jordan, this is Damien Farr.”

  “Very pleased to meet you,” Jordan said politely, giving the vampire a once-over, before looking away, a flush creeping into his face.

  Shanna frowned. He needed to play things a little cooler. If meeting one monster was going to throw him off of his game, they wouldn’t get very far. Taking her own advice, she forced her body to forget its stiffness, its formality, and treat this as a normal affair. “Yeah. So, how’s the party going?”

  “The party?” Damien teased her. “The party is going well enough. The Crimson Rope is raising quite a bit of money tonight.”

  “For charity, of course.”

  “You could call it that.”

  Shanna smiled, despite herself.

  “Now, tell me, where is this Cameron that you’re so attached to? Why is he not on your arm this evening?”

  “He’s...busy.”

  “Not busy planning an attack on the mansion, I hope.”

  Jordan sent Shanna an uncomfortable look.

  Ignoring it, Shanna forced herself to keep her eyes on Damien. “What would make you think such a silly thing?”

  “Tell me, Jordan,” Damien suddenly addressed her date, “Are you a hunter?”

  “A hunter?” Jordan played stupid. “You mean...deer and the like? I’ve never even worn camouflage. Not even when it was trendy.”

  “Well, look who’s here,” another figure materialized beside Damien. “My hunter.”

  Shanna looked the new arrival over and frowned in confusion.

  “You know Miss Hunt?” Damien asked.

  “No, no. Jordan is who I was referring to.”

  Damien smiled. “Isn’t that...interesting?”

  Shanna gazed at the man. He was obviously a vampire as well, a very attractive vampire.

  “I’m...I’m sorry,” Jordan mumbled. “Shanna, this is Noel. Noel, Shanna.”

  Shanna smiled and shook Noel’s hand in a daze before sending Jordan a questioning glance, which he ignored.

  “It’s stiflingly hot in here,” Noel announced. “Would you care to have a smoke with me?”

  Jordan glanced at Shanna hesitantly. She didn’t need to encourage him however, as Noel merely placed a hand on Jordan’s back and the hunter was easily maneuvered away from them.

  “Young love,” Damien sighed. “Isn’t it grand?”

  Baffled, Shanna wondered what in the world he was referring to. Certainly not Jordan and Noel. Right? She looked after them, wondering at Jordan’s passivity. No way. Not with what she knew of him and what she’d been told.

  “Indeed,” a woman agreed, suddenly in their midst. “Well, Damien, this must be your special guest?”

  Shanna was immediately struck by the woman’s long, flowing cranberry-red hair. It reminded her briefly of Kelly, as had Amelia initially. It was clear that Kelly’s death was still close to her, especially as, beyond the hair, there was no resemblance to Kelly in the least. The hair of blood before her presently, contrasted in a striking way with the woman’s pale complexion, all the more accentuated by her dark red lipstick and matching dress. Definitely a vampire. They were all over tonight, like bats in a belfry, appropriately enough. The red hair and the vampires mingling about sent a fresh wave of pain through Shanna as she tried to stifle any thoughts that reminded her of Styx and the horrible night it had shaped into. This was not a time for tears and remorse.

  “Yes,” Damien replied. “Scarlet, this is Shanna Hunt. Shanna, meet Scarlet Fever.”

  Shanna froze at the name, ice creeping into her veins. This was her. The woman behind the attacks on the hunters, the woman who murdered humans en masse. She was inches from a legend. A horrible, horrible legend. The suddenness of it all nearly made her choke.

  “Nice to make your acquaintance, Darling” Scarlet offered her hand to Shanna, who shook it on reflex.

  “Likewise,” Shanna mumbled, catching the woman’s beautiful, yet horrif
ic ethereal green eyes that reminded her briefly of Jade and, consequently, a jungle cat. The woman looked like she could see in the dark, a jaguar with an air about her of danger and primal cravings. One was able to tell from her eyes how she reveled in tearing apart the jugular with her bare teeth.

  “I trust you two will be joining us for the real festivities upstairs later. I’ll see you then.” She nodded to Shanna and left them alone.

  Exhaling a deep breath, Shanna turned to Damien, who was watching her intently. She smiled to throw off any suspicion, but could tell he saw past that at least.

  “You seem on edge tonight,” Damien commented. “Not thinking about anything mischievous, I hope.”

  “Not at all,” Shanna replied cooly, and nearly cried out as he brushed her hand with his. It was electric, his flesh, awakening things within her that she wanted to suppress, making her feel like weeping because she couldn’t have all of him. It was disgusting, such degrading lust. She willed it away, at least tempering its potency for the moment.

  “I have something to show you, Shanna.”

  Hesitating, Shanna nodded and allowed him to lead her through the crowd passively. She wondered vaguely of the people they passed, who was demon and who was human. The possibility of so much veiled evil seemed to steal her breath until the crowd thinned near the back of the ballroom, where there was a wide staircase of marble with handrails that ended in carved flames. The stairway was draped with a red carpet that led up to a tapestry on the wall at the first landing, before continuing its climb. As they walked toward the stairs, a woman seated on a straight-back chair near its base looked up at Shanna sharply, startling her.

  Shanna stared at the woman for a moment, then thought herself rude, as the woman’s frosted irises informed Shanna of her blindness. Instead, she gazed at the two scrappy little dogs lying on either side of the chair, panting happily.

  “Who is it?” the woman asked in a curt voice, eyes staring forward, demanding a mixture of intimidation and respect.

  Shanna’s eyes snapped back to the woman’s lined face, the tight white bun her hair was caught in.

  “It’s Damien Farr,” Shanna’s vampire companion spoke up. “Would you like an autograph, Maggie?”

  The woman pursed her lips as they walked on, then mumbled to herself “I thought I felt…”

  But they were already out of earshot, having started climbing the staircase and quickly turning past the tapestry on the wall.

  “It’s up the next flight,” Damien announced as she looked distractedly back at the blind woman.

  Shanna nodded, unable to find her voice as her thoughts stayed with Maggie. Was that harmless-seeming old woman a monster? It seemed too surreal to imagine her as such. Maybe she was an old witch or shaman…

  “Even though it’s a rented mansion, The Crimson Rope pays homage to its roots…as well as La Faer Noir’s and their monster brethren in general,” Damien told her as they came to a halt halfway up to the next landing. Shanna looked around in confusion for a moment before her eyes landed upon the painting on the wall beside them. The blood left her cheeks.

  It was her. It was Shanna Hunt, feature for feature, in exquisite detail. But, of course, it couldn’t be. Shanna had never sat for a painting. And what reason would the painting have of being there had that been the case? No, this had to be someone else entirely. But then, why did she look exactly like her?

  Shanna seemed to stumble for a moment, leaning into Damien, who held her firmly. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It had to be a trick. Maybe it was a glamour. But it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

  “Diana,” a voice whispered in her ear.

  Shanna glanced to her left and was startled to find herself in the past once again. She was crouched in dirt and filth. She was in a fireplace, behind the grate, where soot and ash were staining her gown. But she found that she didn’t care about this. What she cared about was that she stay hidden.

  A hand grasped hers in the dark and she looked over to see a flicker of a young boy’s face in the shadows, from the moonlight cast down upon them from above. His hand was shaking with fright. She realized that she should be terrified as well, but wasn’t.

  The child let out a small whimper and she started. A creak. Someone was out in the parlor. In the shadows. She squinted in the darkness, imagining that she could make out a figure moving beyond the closest chair.

  The boy was breathing too loudly. He had to relax or he would give them away. He had to relax now.

  “I know you are here, Girl,” a voice called out from the darkness.

  She swallowed hard and shifted in the ashes, trying to get a better look through the grate.

  “I smell your fear,” the voice added. “I smell your power. Pray tell, Girl, where did you ever happen upon such power? If you tell me now, I will let you live.”

  The figure sat down in the chair facing the fireplace. He folded his hands over his chest, as if meditating. He seemed to be staring right at them.

  Come out, come out, wherever you are.

  “What?”

  “What?” Shanna echoed the question, looking up at Damien.

  Damien frowned and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you feeling alright?”

  “I’m fine. I just...I felt dizzy for a second is all. What do you have to eat around here?”

  Laughing, Damien led her back down the stairs. “I like a girl with an appetite.”

  Shanna looked back over her shoulder as they walked away from the portrait. She held the eyes of the woman with her face. Diana. The portrait seemed to watch her, as if alive. It was beyond Shanna how she related to the woman, but Shanna now shared her image. Was that the extent of their connection or did it burrow deeper? Was there some sort of bond between them? Was there shared blood among them? Shanna couldn’t sort it out. It was too confusing, too staggering once she thought about it. She wasn’t that girl, that was for certain. But then, who was she? And why was she haunting her?

  The flashes were occurring for a reason. Were they being sent to her via a psychic rapport? Were they being induced upon her? Or maybe, Shanna reasoned, a sickening feeling settling in her stomach, they were a warning.

 

  Chapter Nineteen

   

  Noel lit a cigarette as one would burn an incriminating document, with exaggerated carefulness, taking a drag and exhaling the smoke slowly into the cool night air, using only the side of his mouth to expunge said poison. Leaning against the railing of a cedar porch, he looked out over the sprawling, tall-ledged garden, regarding the climbing vines and chrysanthemums as if worthy opponents he would study to take apart. It looked like a maze of green shrubbery and flora, trimmed and controlled immaculately, flowing as a sea up to the wide porch and the steps that descended into its grassy wilderness. After a moment of silent contemplation, he sighed and glanced back at Jordan, holding out his pack of cigarettes, tempting his companion with civil offering.

  Jordan opened his mouth to break the palpable silence, but found himself unable to speak. He was taken away once more by the vampire’s cool beauty. He reminisced of the previous night, the feeling of his lips upon his, his chest pressed against him, the sweat gathering between them. “No...I don’t...”

  Noel nodded, then shook his head, jaw set. He spun away from the railing gracefully, in seeming disregard for the anger that contorted his features. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Jordan’s eyes widened as Noel shoved him up against a wall viciously, demanding and desperate as a mugger. “I...”

  “Just because I let you go once, doesn’t mean I’ll do it again,” Noel threatened. “I don’t take hunters lightly. I’ve killed plenty of you without a second thought.” As if to accentuate this point, Noel grabbed Jordan by the arm, squeezing with jungle snake tightness until Jordan grew a little frightened that he would actually pull it from its socket in his rage. But the pressure subsided as quickly as it had begun and Noel fou
nd himself caressing the hunter’s arm, utterly baffled by his body’s willing betrayal. When he recognized the tenderness of his touch, he dropped his hand and looked at Jordan, accusingly. “What did you do to me?”

  “Do to you?” Jordan asked, willing the absent hand to return, whether it be to seize or to fondle. “I don’t understand what you mean. I don’t understand you.”

  Noel shifted his gaze and suddenly honed in on Jordan’s chest. He reached out hesitantly before opening the buttons of his suit, then ripped the dress shirt open underneath with undiluted ferocity, discarding both articles to the side, gristle from a carcass. In being so careless, he tore the newly-sewn buttons from the black shirt the hunter wore beneath it all, the shirt that had been left behind by Noel the previous night. Noel stared at the trophy, dumbfounded, as the shirt dangled over Jordan’s naked chest along with a cross. He seemed mute for a moment, but quickly recovered. “I knew I smelled…are you wearing my shirt?”

  Jordan swallowed hard in humiliation, as if he’d been caught in a particularly intricate lie before a parade of loved ones. “I...uh, yeah. I’m wearing your shirt.” He could feel the blood rush to his face and imagined himself as a cartoon thermometer about to burst mercury to alleviate the pressure.

  “Why?”

  “My other shirt was kind of...slashed to ribbons.”

  “That was yesterday.”

  Jordan looked away, acutely aware of the guilt such an action insinuated, his breaths coming in short gasps despite his futile attempts at control. He felt himself sweating, like he’d been placed under a police lamp to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, so help him God. But the back door opened at that moment and a couple sauntered out, saving him from himself, as he scrambled to come up with the words to relay, but in vain. Fate’s intervention had been for naught, Jordan thought bitterly as he watched the couple make their way across the porch and down the steps to descend upon the garden, not paying them any mind at all. At the last moment, he recognized Rachel as she and Brett, salvation and condemnation, disappeared behind a series of trellises, leaving him to the destiny his words procured.

  “Okay, what’s the deal?” Noel demanded, his voice shaping into a snarl. “Why are you following me? Are you hunting me? Sparing you wasn’t enough to get you off my back? Is that it?”

  “No, no,” Jordan protested like he hadn’t the spirit for such and wanted nothing more than blame and punishment. “I...I’m not...I...”

  “Let’s just get this over with,” Noel muttered. He grabbed Jordan by the arm again, confident in his flesh once more, and threw the hunter into the wall beside the door, nearly knocking over one of the half-dozen tables set up with umbrellas.

  Jordan slid to the ground, slightly dazed. He hadn’t been expecting a fight. He picked himself up and was met with a punch to the face. Throwing his hands up to defend himself, he got a subsequent punch to the stomach for his effort. Noel slammed his fist down into his back after he’d doubled over, forcing him to the ground again to kiss the polished wood.

  “Don’t get up,” Noel told him.

  Jordan took in several shaky breaths and forced himself to his feet. He wouldn’t be defeated so easily. When Noel came in for another hit, Jordan easily pivoted out of range and kicked the vampire in the side, sending him reeling into a railing. The railing groaned in protest, but didn’t collapse under his weight.

  Noel cursed away his civility as he jumped to his feet and rushed Jordan, shoving the hunter back into the wall, grasping his arms so the hunter couldn’t defend himself.

  Kicking Noel’s feet out from under him, Jordan revealed that his plans were counter to ones established in the previous battle with the vampire. When he was unceremoniously sprawled across the ground, Jordan didn’t hesitate for a second before pinning Noel in place.

  Noel opened his mouth for a moment, but closed it and swallowed hard in concession. “Okay. That was a fair fight. You’ve earned your right to kill me, hunter.”

  Jordan stared, disbelieving, down at the vampire for a moment, a tenderness rising within him. Did he actually believe he would kill him? He looked so helpless, so...breathtaking.

  “I’m not going to kill you,” Jordan informed him, making no peaceful move to validate his claim.

  Noel looked up at Jordan, as if he couldn’t take the words at face value, but would believe him solely upon the expression of his mouth. “Why not? You’re a hunter.”

  “And you’re a vampire. You could have killed me the other night, but didn’t.”

  “Only because...because I found you beautiful. If you had been anything less than you are, I would have ripped your throat out. I swear I would have.”

  Jordan tasted the thick blood in his mouth from when he’d been punched in the face. He couldn’t have found the taste appealing for anything. But Noel...Noel loved its nauseating sweetness, its copper tinge. Before he could stop himself, Jordan sat up and wiped the syrup from his mouth with his index finger and pressed it against Noel’s lips.

  Noel stared up at him in wonder, but opened his mouth and took the finger in his mouth, sucking the blood clean from the limb.

  Straightening as he withdrew his finger from Noel’s mouth, Jordan couldn’t hold himself back from pressing up against the vampire, covering his mouth with his own, starving after a lengthy fast. But this time, it wasn’t just Jordan’s hands fumbling over the vampire’s body like a virgin teenager. Noel returned the desperate groping.

  “I had...I had to wear your shirt,” Jordan whispered between kisses. “I wanted to feel you...feel you...against my chest...smell you....touch you.”

  “Yes,” Noel said in his ear. “I want...to feel you too.”

  The door opened again, announcing the inappropriateness of the location for their behavior, as another couple, all middle-aged elegance, walked out onto the porch, commenting on the nice night.

  Jordan and Noel composed themselves briskly, Jordan casually rebuttoning his clothing and touching up his hair with his fingers. As he buttoned his dress shirt, Jordan’s fingers brushed up against the cross. He could have easily warded off Noel if he’d had a mind to - he still could. He felt the vampire’s kiss upon his lips and closed his eyes against his savage lust. What was he doing? Vampires were dead. It was a twisted evil shell. It was a thing. If God forgave his sodomy, he certainly wouldn’t overlook something so blatantly vile.

  Jordan need only look at Noel to feel such conflicting feelings melt away. He was so beautiful. How could something that felt so right be so wrong? How could God make him feel...this...and expect him to deny it? He shook his head. He hadn’t been to church in years - why should this bother him now? He hardly followed the teachings as it was. But perhaps…he’d felt that the hunting he’d been doing was some sort of calling. That it was a holy quest. He shook his head. Well, he certainly couldn’t claim such now, even if he had believed such a haughty lie somewhere deep down. God hadn’t been there for him when his parents had been strewn about by foul beasts. Why did he expect to be something special to him now, after barely giving religion a passing thought for years? He was okay with Jade being gay, why was it so different for him? Shouldn’t he have been concerned for her immortal soul when she came out to him? But it hadn’t seemed like a big deal until it was his turn. This whole religious torture was silly and stupid and he knew in the end that he would give in to his lust anyway, so there was hardly any point in feeling guilty about it at all. Jordan smiled at Noel as the vampire gazed out across the garden. So statuesque. So charming. Why did the Devil tempt him so? Why did beauty hold him in such captivity? “You look...nice,” Jordan murmured to Noel, feeling his heart beat furiously with the confession.

  Noel smiled. “Yeah? You don’t look so bad yourself, hunter.”

  Jordan nodded, glancing over at the other couple quickly to see if they were staring at them. Jordan felt quite paranoid that people were judging him, watching him, whispering on his account. He was afraid pe
ople could guess at his feelings. He smiled at the thought. He’d been so caught up with what was expected of him, slept with women without really thinking about it, emotionally distant. Why had he been so casual about it before? He felt that when he looked at Noel that he felt desire stir in him for the first time. Everything that had come before was merely a passing shadow.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” Noel whispered.

  Jordan realized Noel was staring at him with such…tenderness in his gaze. He blushed scarlet.

  Closing the space between them again, Noel touched the hunter’s hand, causing him to draw in a quick breath, like it was too much to take.

  Jordan dropped the hand unexpectedly, as if it had singed his flesh. He looked away for one moment, then gazed up into Noel’s handsome face the next. “I’m not sure about this.”

  “What? Your Buffy complex isn’t holding up?”

  Jordan chuckled. “Well, there is that. But...this is all so new. How do I know this feeling won’t pass like...like the other times? I’m just so confused.”

  Noel regarded him for a moment. “You’ve never been with a man before?”

  Hearing it said out loud shocked Jordan. “No. And I’m...I’m not sure about it. I mean even saying the word feels strange to me. I’ve never thought of myself when I‘ve thought of…that.”

  Noel cocked his head. “You’re curious?”

  “No, I just...I’m normal! I’ve been with girls. Dozens of girls. I have to believe that there’s...there’s something I’m missing. I always thought I just hadn’t met the right person.”

  “Well, maybe you hadn’t,” Noel said quietly, cupping his chin. “Look, Jordan. You were stalking me last night. You’re wearing my shirt. Something’s going on with you. If you feel something that you haven’t felt before, why think so hard about it? Why not go with what feels right?”

  “Because it’s…” Jordan threw up his hands in exasperation. “I can’t be gay.” He turned to Noel suspiciously. “Are you hypnotizing me? Is that what this is? Are you using your powers to overwhelm me with this…this feeling?”

  Noel blinked, then sighed. “You’re kidding yourself. You’re just fucking scared. Get over it.”

  Jordan took a deep breath. He felt confused. He wanted nothing more than to give in to the embrace of…of the vampire. The vampire! Was he delusional? This was an undead creature that fed off of human blood! A murderer! He couldn’t love such a creature, whether it was man or woman. And woman he certainly wasn’t.

  Jordan caught his eyes traveling over Noel’s body, over the hands that could be caressing him, the strong arms that could embrace him…he yearned for nothing else. If he could just be with him, he…he wouldn’t mind being damned.

  Leaning in, Jordan kissed Noel before he knew what he was doing. He pulled back shyly, wishing he hadn’t made such a spectacle of himself. “I know. I...you’re right. It’s silly. I just...I never knew that about myself. I never imagined. And…I mean, I was raised Catholic. I was raised to believe that being gay was a major sin. The work of the devil. A temptation to keep you from entering Heaven.”

  “You’re serious?” Noel sighed. “Jordan...religion is shit. Forget it.”

  Jordan shook his head sadly and put his cross up to Noel’s chest, causing the vampire to jump back quickly. “Then why does he hurt you, Noel? What are you afraid of?”

 

  Chapter Twenty

   

  Natalia let out a deep breath. A pregnant woman was winding her way up the stairs, escorted by two vampires, a prisoner on death row. She could tell they were vampires by the way they walked, the predatory confidence. They were well-trained, probably near a century old. Nothing to worry about, really. The woman was weak, leaning on one of the two vampires for support. That constituted three possibilities: one, she was drugged, or two, more likely, she was still reeling from a swap of fluids, about to die and change, or three, she’d just risen and was about to go mad with hunger. “We are going to get answers tonight,” Natalia murmured into her bracelet so that Valor could pick up her voice. “A pregnant woman, five o’clock.”

  “Lovely,” Valor hissed into her ear piece, sounding more machine than human. “Do you see Shanna or Jordan? Anyone to follow her?”

  “They are both occupied.”

  Natalia didn’t receive a reply, however, as her earpiece suddenly filled with static.

  She sighed and took a quick glance around, holding her head high, as the witch had done. She had to become the witch, play her overconfidence. Rocquele of the Winding Way was superior to the humans in this room, a waterfall of power that made her someone to be reckoned with, someone important. Anyone who slighted her would get theirs, three-fold.

  Smiling, she made her way over to the small back room near the porch door, where some of the creatures detecting magick were bound to be located.

  She patiently waited for an opportunity to slip quietly into the small room, an opportunity she was able to seize fairly quickly, as no eyes were upon her for long. She could become a shadow if she put her mind to it.

  Upon closing the door inaudibly behind her, two creatures turned toward her, quickly picking up her magickal presence. She smiled at them in a cruel, mocking way, just as the witch would have done in her stead. A quick flick of her wrists and Chinese stars were embedded deep within their brains, through the soft tissue of their eyes. They didn’t create even the slightest of noises as they became corpses. No surge of pleasure greeted her upon their deaths, however. No sense of accomplishment or power. It merely was.

  She slid back out the door as if nothing had occurred and determinedly made her way to the front of the mansion, where the other two creatures were located.

  “Rocquele!” a woman suddenly hugged her. “So glad you could make it, Dear. I trust you haven’t come alone?”

  Natalia pasted a pleased smile upon her face as she recalled the woman’s file out of her memory banks. Long, brown hair, very stylish dresser in a modest, yet sexy dress. She had the look of an old-fashioned Hollywood actress, big red lips and all. Very pouty demeanor. Samantha Cummings. Succubus. Head of the New York branch of La Faer Noir. An honored guest, no doubt. If Natalia played her cards right here, she could discern the location of the meeting and save the other hunters valuable time. “Of course not, Samantha, dear. My niece is around here somewhere.” A big name in the demon world, Samantha belonged to an order of demon that fed upon the life force of males while they were aroused. They usually donned wings, but could retract them into their bodies at will - just not while feeding.

  “I trust everything is going well?” Natalia inquired, in a bored, nasal voice.

  “Of course. A little tedious attending one of Scarlet’s overdone parties, but...the end result will be well worth it. You’re surely planning on attending the festivities tonight?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

  “Lovely.” Samantha turned to regard a woman standing just behind her, a blonde around twenty with shoulder-length blonde hair and eyes as blue as the Summer sky. A milky pink stone dangled between her eyebrows from a silver chain that disappeared up into her hair. She bore a very intimidating stare, as if she could see through people, like she was analyzing, calculating, everything that was going through one’s mind. Natalia reflexively shut down all aspects of herself that did not belong to the witch personality she had adopted. She was the witch, Rocquele. She was thinking about the new body she had stored for her back in the warehouse, in a devoura goblin, ready to be possessed by her spirit in just a few short days’ time. In the back of her mind, she randomly pictured Becca, as her niece who’d accompanied her to New York for the meeting of the new creature. She was a little wary of her niece and suspected the girl had plots of her own. Of course, Natalia didn’t hold these thoughts blatantly at the forefront of her mind, but systematically held them back to more vague areas, where they wouldn’t seem so obviously imposed. Suddenly, the girl’s gaze
didn’t seem so penetrating. After all, what manner of creature could be comparable to the great Rocquele?

  “This is Tessa,” Samantha announced. “Tessa, this is an old friend, Rocquele Awning.”

  Tessa’s eyes released their hold upon Natalia as she bowed slightly, respectfully.

  “Well, then,” Samantha said, “I will see you later in the evening.”

  Natalia blinked. She couldn’t apologize for forgetting where the meeting would be held. She could ask straight out, however, in a daring manner. “Where will the meeting be again, Dear?”

  Samantha turned back and met Natalia’s eyes. She smiled. “The third floor library, of course, my dear.” She looked back at Tessa and then left her.

  Natalia watched her walk away with interest, before recalling her situation. She shifted her attention to the front of the mansion once more and made her way through the crowd, hands already reaching for her Chinese stars.

  ***

  “I could use a cigarette right now,” Rachel muttered, leaning up against a shed at the back of the garden, moonlight streaming romantically through the trellises overhead. “No wonder Valor smokes so damn much. It’s all this waiting around.”

  Brett nodded, not really paying attention. He was focused on the fence that had been clipped all the way around but for a few links along the top of a massive hole. As long as they kept the area clear of guards and guests, it would be a synch getting the other hunters in. He glanced down the pathway they’d come and sighed, hoping they appeared soon. Rachel had sent a message to Valor nearly three minutes ago. How long would it take them to get to the fence? He was beginning to perspire.

  “What are you tweaking out over?” Rachel asked, crossing her arms in front of herself to ward off the night air. “I thought you loved this dangerous stuff.”

  “I do,” Brett answered, his eyes darting around the bushes. “I love the hunt, I love combat, but this undercover shit? That, I’m not so much a fan of. I like straight action.”

  “Yeah, I can see how the whole thinking angle could present a challenge to the situation.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Brett glowered. “You think I’m just some dumb hick boy, don’t you? I’m not, you know.”

  “Then prove me wrong.”

  “You know, you’re just a fucking tease. And everyone thinks you’re a dumb bitch too.”

  Rachel looked back at him cooly, an eyebrow raised. “The difference between us, Brett, is that I don’t care.” She looked back over at the fence that was beginning to curl up from the opposite side. The hunters had arrived. Jade and Cameron were struggling to keep the cut fence in the air to make room for the others to get through.

  She walked over to help with the fence, leaving Brett be.

 

  Chapter Twenty-One