Vermilion Lies

by L. D. Rose

  His brother’s deep laughter hit the line. “Is that all you’ve got? Damn, princess, you’re getting soft.”

  You have no idea. “Hey, what can I say, I’m running out of steam.”

  Dax must’ve slipped something into the words, because Blaze picked up on it like a K-9 in a meth lab. “You sure you’re okay?” The concern in his brother’s voice only made him feel worse.

  “Yeah, B, I’m fine.” He sounded defeated, even to his own ears. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  “All right.” Blaze stretched out the words, hesitant, worried. And Dax loved him for it. “You holler if you need me, got it? I’ll drive right up there, day or night.”

  Dax swallowed hard, heart squeezing painfully. “Yeah, I will. I’ll call you later.”

  “Hey, Dax?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Take care of yourself. Please.”

  Shit. “I promise, B. You too.”

  He hung up, chucked the phone across the table, and dragged his hands down his face. You’re a lying son-of-a-bitch. The clock on the microwave flashed at him incessantly and he stabbed the buttons with his finger, cursing under his breath as he fixed the time.

  Through the din of his self-loathing, soft footfalls shifted upstairs, steps no normal human could hear. Cindy was exploring the second floor.

  After punching in the correct time, 8:13 PM, Dax stomped up the stairs, making no attempt to hide his approach. Everything fell silent as he entered the corridor and headed straight for the master bedroom. Cindy was gone, but she’d left the walk-in closet open, revealing a wealth of women’s clothing. His T-shirt lay on the carpet in a crumpled heap. Nothing else appeared touched, particularly his bags.

  Grabbing a clean white tee and pulling it on, he strode back into the hallway, checking the bathroom. Empty. His eyes settled on the pink sign of ‘Maddy’s Room’ and his anger flared hotter at the thought of any vampire in a kid’s room, harmless or not. She had no business being in there, and the fact he had to go inside only pissed him off even more.

  Twisting the knob, he pushed the door open, and his heart practically fell out of his chest.

  Nothing could’ve prepared him for the horrifying visage before him.

  A twin bed with a Cinderella bedspread and a gauzy pink canopy thrust into the center of the room. The curtains stripped from the windows, leaving only a bare ornamental rod and exposing the full-dark night. The smallest skeleton he’d ever seen, wearing a sullied frilly white dress, tied to the bedposts with Dyneema rope by its bony wrists and ankles. The bindings could never hold an adult vampire, especially a Temhota solider.

  A child, on the other hand, was a different story.

  Cindy sat beside the corpse, a hand clamped over her mouth as she wept. Stains marred the bed wherever the bones laid, the marks of long decayed flesh and blood. The skull faced him, baring its tiny fangs in an eternal rictus, jaw slack as if she’d died kicking and screaming.

  She because these bones must’ve belonged to the blond girl in the pictures he’d concealed. The photos he couldn’t bear to look at, because somewhere deep in the caverns of his soul, he’d envied them.

  Cindy didn’t acknowledge him at first, reaching out to touch the tiny bones of the girl’s hand. Dax’s stomach turned and he looked away, at anywhere but the bed. Toys were strewn all over the place—Barbie dolls, stuffed animals, and Disney paraphernalia. The walls were pastel pink and plastered in crayon drawings of barely discernable stick figures. Children’s books rested on shelves and little outfits hung in the open closet.

  By the time his gaze landed back on the bed, the twinge in his belly had intensified into a full-blown knot of anguish, regret.

  Fury.

  Cindy stared right at him now, her hand dropping away from her quivering lips. “Did you do this?”

  The accusation stabbed him square in the chest, stoking the fire in his blood. “Fuck no. I had no idea she—this—was here.”

  Goddamn it, he should’ve trusted his intuition and checked this room before. He would’ve never stayed here, not with this nightmare sleeping next to him.

  But he was a fucking coward, afraid of confronting something like this alone.

  “Her parents,” Cindy whispered, her shimmering black eyes settling back on the skull. “Her parents must’ve killed her.”

  Dax wasn’t about to stand here and conjure up all the awful ways this shit could’ve gone down. God only knew how the girl turned in the first place, who she could’ve slaughtered in the interim, and who ultimately ended her life. The notion that her parents had to tie their own daughter down, vampire or not, and watch her burn in the sun only made it more tragic.

  God, he felt sick just thinking about it.

  Bile rose in the back of his throat, his grip tightening on the doorknob. “Let’s go. We’re leaving.”

  Wiping at her bloody tears, Cindy shook her head. “We can’t leave her like this.”

  Dax bit back his nausea, the acrid taste of a child’s death on his tongue. At least the window had remained open. “Yes, we can.”

  Cindy’s expression turned hard, her jaw clenching as she glowered at him from a bloodstained face. “And what if she were human? Would you leave her then?”

  Christ, she had to twist the knife in his heart now, didn’t she? “What do you want to do?”

  “Bury her.” She looked back at the body, the empathy and pain in her midnight eyes only sliding the blade in deeper. “I’ll do it, if you’ll let me.”

  Oh, hell no.

  Dax pushed off the jamb, entering the room, certain it would be the first and last time he ever set foot in this special slice of hell. He pulled his switchblade from his pocket, springing it open, and the fear that flickered across Cindy’s face made him feel like a monster. She tensed when he approached the bed, getting up close and personal with the tiny remains, his guts roiling as if they’d been tossed in a blender. His hand shook while he cut the rope around the kid’s wrist in a clean swipe, the bones flopping on the mattress with a soft thump.

  He freed her limbs, gathering determination with each step, while Cindy watched him closely. Grabbing the edge of the duvet, he folded it over the body, releasing the pent-up breath he’d been holding when that shrieking skull disappeared from sight. Cindy rose to her feet as he bundled the remains in a fluffy pink caricature of reality, bones rattling and rubbing in his arms to the point where he had to stop and shut his eyes for a moment.

  When Cindy brushed his shoulder with an apprehensive hand, as if unsure of how to comfort him, matchsticks lit up behind his lids in a slow burn.

  Carrying the skeleton of a dead girl—a child who’d suffered a fate every human, every vampire, every hybrid feared—Dax descended the stairs with a pile of bones he would never forget for as long as he lived.

  EIGHT

  She wasn’t about to let him bury the girl’s body alone.

  Cindel followed Dax outside while he carried the corpse to a neighboring property. The wind had eased and the ocean now murmured soothingly as they strode onto the front lawn of an abandoned gift shop. He set the remains down on the dead grass, the clatter of bones reverberating against her own before he disappeared around the back of the rundown building.

  It wasn’t long before he returned with a shovel, as if he knew where humans kept such things, and sank the blunted blade into the cold earth beside the body.

  He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at her, demons warring on his face as he dug into the ground with steady purpose. He didn’t tire, never slowed, burrowing at least four feet into silt and soil. She would’ve offered to help, but she was afraid she’d set him off somehow, knowing all too well that angry men were volatile and unpredictable.

  The grave was oval, the perfect size for a young child, and she wondered
how many bodies he’d buried in the past. When he climbed out of the trench, sweaty and smeared with dirt, he gently placed the remains in the grave with a tenderness that hitched her breath and squeezed her heart.

  Cindel hugged herself, watching him fill the hole with the same unrelenting pace as when he’d created it. Tears streamed down her face, her vision blurring then clearing, blurring, clearing, mourning a child she never knew. A child. A little girl who’d been robbed of her life far too soon, who’d been given a second chance only to die another horrible death. She could’ve learned to live among them with the right nurture and guidance.

  But it didn’t matter now, did it? Now, the only purpose in life was to survive, to kill or be killed, no matter what species you were.

  No one was innocent anymore.

  When he finished, Dax speared the shovel into the ground, bracing on it while he caught his breath. His eyes finally met hers in the dark, blazing their brilliant blue, glowing with so much emotion they were almost painful to look at. His aura seethed around him, dropping the temperature in a halo of bitter frost. Tension hummed through his body like a high voltage wire, his face drawn and his muscles tight, needing an exit somewhere, anywhere.

  Cindel shivered from more than just the cold, swallowing hard as she mustered up the strength to speak.

  “I’d like to learn now.” Her words barely reached across the infinite space between them. “To fight. Will you show me?”

  He picked up the shovel and tossed it aside, his disarming eyes never leaving hers. Then he advanced on her in long, almost predatory strides, grabbing her hand without slowing down.

  Her stomach flipped as he dragged her toward the beach and muttered, “Let’s go.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “Spread your legs, shoulder-width apart, knees bent. Now angle toward me . . . good. You need to be in a defensive stance at all times when you face an attacker.”

  Cindel fell into position, sneakers dipping in the sand. They were the most comfortable shoes she’d ever worn. Along with a tank top, leggings, and a hoodie, she could wear this outfit forever.

  A soiled little white dress flashed across her retinas and she yanked the visual out of her mind before it could take root.

  Again.

  “Look here.” He gestured to his eyes with two fingers. Standing in front of her, his demeanor had calmed, like the ocean beside them, a virtual one-eighty compared to before. “Never take your focus off the enemy. The moment you do, it’ll be your last.”

  She locked her eyes with his, glimpsing the smoldering remnants of sorrow and angst. He’d felt something for that child. Had he known her? Her family? Vampire or not, the girl had affected him and Cindel was glad to see it.

  Maybe the hybrid wasn’t so black and white after all.

  “When you move, don’t cross your feet, or you’ll lose balance. Hunch your shoulders and tuck your head down. Keep your hands up to eye level so you can protect your head and neck.”

  She nodded, gathering her hair up into a short ponytail to keep the strands from blinding her.

  Without warning, he threw a hand out, a blur of skin heading straight for her face. She flinched, blocking his fist and whipping her head back from the strike. Letting out a gasp, she retreated a few steps, her hand stinging from the slap.

  He lowered his arm, lips curving. “Instinct. Make it conscious. Block me with your forearm and deflect my hand up or down. It’ll hurt less and you can gain the advantage.”

  He approached her slowly now, giving her enough time to react, simulating the attack with her. She redirected his strikes, blocking the blows with her forearms, deflecting up and repelling down.

  He nodded his approval. “Good. Keep your movements minimal, quick, forceful, no big flashy maneuvers.”

  She cocked a brow at him. “That’s not what you do.”

  He grinned and her pulse fluttered. “When you’re as good as I am, then you can dance, but right now you need to survive. Keep the blows away from the center of your body, protect it always. Divert the strikes to the big muscle groups so you’ll tolerate them better. If you’re going to get hit, make it somewhere that isn’t vital. Understand?”

  She nodded and he mirrored her stance, slipping into it smoothly. Her heart drummed as she faced off with him, staring right into his shining blue eyes. The corner of his mouth lifted, a hint of amusement before he abruptly lashed out at her.

  God, he was merciless, and she only managed to block a few of his blows, all fists and blurs. She had to fall back a couple of times, but when a strike landed, he simply tapped her skin gently. Totally in control, he touched her face twice and her chest three times, death blows surely.

  “Not bad,” he said as he withdrew.

  What? Who was he kidding?

  “Let’s try an offense. Remember, block, throw, and fall back into stance. Get inside the hit.” He raised his hands, calling her on. “Throw a punch at me. Properly, like I showed you before.”

  She lunged, and he deflected it with his forearm before launching a fist into her solar plexus. Of course, he stopped before making contact, but it still tore a yelp from her throat.

  He settled back into a defensive position, expression serious. “See that?”

  She nodded, adrenaline singing in her veins and tightening her skin. Wow, she was terrible at this.

  “Once you get that down, you can add multiple strikes and combos, depending on your timing and position. Twist from the hip and throw your whole body into it. You’ll get more power, less energy use, and a longer range.” He showed her the motion, lithe and graceful. “Use your dominant hand if you can, but you’ll eventually need good control over both. You’ll be screwed if your opponent takes out your dominant side, and trust me, they can tell the difference.” He relaxed his stance, studying her for a beat. “Intimidated yet?”

  “Very.” She let out a nervous laugh. “It’s a lot to remember.”

  His smile was reassuring. “It’s not as easy as it looks, but you’ll learn in time. Go for the eyes, nose, throat, groin. Always fight dirty and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. That doubt written all over your face? Get rid of it. There’s no room for fear here. Just fight for your life.”

  Before she absorbed the last of his words, he lunged at her again, his movements so precise, so fast she almost missed them. She started out blocking more than striking, but as they progressed along the shore, she snuck in a few hits. Of course, she didn’t have the skill he did, so her blows landed hard, thumping against his firm body. He didn’t seem bothered by them, but it made her waver, kept her distracted, an obvious mistake. Suddenly, he caught her left fist in mid-punch, then her right, holding her in place.

  “Commit to it,” he ordered, his warm hands engulfing her fists. His incandescent eyes swirled with darkness, that predator lurking behind them, swimming beneath the surface. His aura brushed against her body, like sharkskin in black water, and it snatched at the monster inside her, dragging it to the forefront. “If you’re going to throw a punch, follow through with it. Don’t hesitate, don’t stop until it’s over.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she uttered, her pulse thudding in her neck, her gums throbbing around her teeth.

  “Hurt me.” He squeezed her fists. “Take it out on me. Channel it, your anger, your hatred, your fear, whatever fuels you, let it take the wheel and drive.” He released her, stepping back, putting distance between them. His pupils were huge, something wild and wicked rapidly consuming his irises. “Hold nothing back. Let the predator out and prey.”

  Let the predator out and prey.

  Memories erupted before her eyes, assaulting her mind with a blinking reel of her history. Alek screaming at her, his hand swinging around to smack her, the impact of a wall as he slammed her into it. A big hand cuffing her throat, suffocating
her, choking the life out of her as his fist beat her into submission. Countless, faceless men clawing at her body, ripping into her like so much meat, siphoning pieces of her soul with each pound of their hips.

  Feeling helpless, worthless, defeated after every hollow encounter. The profound despair, the thoughts of suicide, of ending her wretched existence and facing whatever fate lay ahead in the afterlife. The specters of her past churned in a black mass around the hybrid, toxic clouds of pollution, a manifestation of her entire life right up until this point.

  You’re a monster.

  If he believed her a monster, then he knew nothing of evil.

  Setting her jaw, she fell into position, the world dissolving around them. Her senses sharpened, magnifying, his heartbeat thumping against her temples in time with her own. His breaths were quick, shallow, also matching hers, the tempo of their bodies syncing to one another as they prepared for battle. She’d never experienced anything like it, this exquisite connection, and she wasn’t about to let it go.

  He burst into action, running at her at full speed. They clashed, and something swept over her, some inexplicable force seizing control of her limbs, wrenching on that wheel and taking her for a spin. He assailed her with punches, kicks, no longer gentle, no longer easy on her, and she dodged many of them, the impact rattling her bones as she fueled on the pain. She knew pain, knew it all too well, and she turned it on him as she steered them toward the sea.

  Cindel saw everything with new eyes, felt the world with new skin, heard every breath he took, knew every move he made, sensed every surge of blood through his heart. Rooting her on, he blocked her, but she didn’t stop, evading more of his strikes, retaliating with her own. His bare foot hit the water and he faltered, just for a second, but it was enough for her to jab her fist right into his throat, his windpipe yielding under her knuckles. He gasped, an awful, ragged sound, before she smashed the heel of her palm into his nose.