Amongst the Fallen
Page 6
A guttural groan escaped Sabree’s throat. “Each of the Fallen is born with a special gift or ability. Mine is misting—a means of quick travel by dispersing my molecules into the wind. Because of my ability, my clan usually assigns me the task of messenger or spy. Others too. However, I find automobiles intriguing and rather enjoy watching the scenery fly by.” He glanced back and forth from the windshield to the passenger door. “Misting gets you around but without the scenic view. Quite advantageous, although it does have its limitations.”
Cool the hoity-toity attitude, dude. “Like?” I asked, the moment opportune to dig up as much information as possible while he spoke freely.
“I have to be careful where I mist once I reach my destination. My footing and unexpected obstacles can be troublesome. Worse yet, I cannot mist with too large an object in tow. My clothes mist with me because they’re evenly distributed over my body.” Sabree chuckled. “The French powdered wigs used to be a problem. I remember an embarrassing moment when I appeared outside the Grand Duke’s mansion in all my finery without the white powdered wig. An expensive piece indeed, guaranteed to have over a hundred curls.”
The visual made me chuckle until I caught a sideways glimpse of the passenger’s scowl. In a way, I envied this immortal’s lifelong experiences—over five thousand years’ worth. How did he keep track of all those years? The tires crunched over gravel.
My father refused to pave the mile-long private drive, because the gravel looked more natural in the wooded area. I downshifted as I pulled into the driveway. The ignition died. The lights were on inside and I saw Ariane’s silhouette inside the great room. “Sis, doesn’t know anything about you.” Another fat lie, but I lost count lies ago. Of course, she remembered Mr. Eye Candy. Who could forget his angelic yet sinister allure? For her sake, I hoed she would play along with the ruse. I glanced at Sabree. “She says I’m daft every time I mention the ghostly visits. So, maybe I’ll introduce you as a friend from the university.” He looked to be the same age as me. “Do you have a last name?”
“Sabree is my only name.”
3 3 3
Ready to lash out, Ariane pulled the door open, coming face-to-face with Brian and his guest. She studied the newcomer with awe, finding him quite attractive. I know you. Her eyes darted to Brian, to the guest, and then back to Brian. Seeing them side by side triggered a suspicion that had plagued her since the night they met Wayde in Phoenix. Brian wasn’t crazy, at least not entirely.
The more she compared them, the more her stomach twisted into a knot. Each one looked unearthly in his own way. Her gaze fell upon the blond, whose soft wispy hair fluttered with a life of its own. His translucent lavender eyes and flawless ivory complexion captivated her feminine wiles. These features made him strangely angelic. Then realization seized her when burnt caramel wafted in her direction.
Oh my God, it’s Mr. Eye Candy from the bar and the maze. Her heart thumped against her breastbone. Stay calm. “I see you brought a ghos—guest.” Ariane brushed her clammy hands down the sides of her jeans, pretending she didn’t recognize him. She focused on Brian instead.
His skin mirrored the same paleness, especially against his black sweater. Unlike the guest’s flaxen locks, her brother’s dark hair and eyes glistened with brilliant amber highlights. His five o’clock shadow added to his dark appearance. Together, the two men came from opposite sides of the spectrum—contrasting bookends. She understood why she and Brian appeared this way, and now she wondered if the albino was like them. If so, they were in more trouble than she had foreseen. Their father had either forgotten to tell them about a race of vampire-like creatures existed today, or he lied on purpose.
“This is Sabree,” Brian said in his usual mischievous tone. “An old friend from the university.” He looked to his guest. “My sister, Ariane.”
Aside from the obvious looks, Mr. Eye Candy had more in common with them than he did with the enemy. Why else would he retrieve Duncan’s letter after Wayde cast it aside, leaving it for Brian to find. Should she let her brother believe she accepted his lame story? Sabree now? What happened to Zanyael? Student instead of ghost? Why not? She’d set him straight later on. Ariane batted her lashes and extended her hand.
Sabree’s hand gently wrapped around hers. His lips brushed the top of her knuckles. “Bonsoir, Ariane Rose,” he murmured in a guttural tone.
The same chill she experienced this afternoon swept over her. How did he know her middle name? Ariane yanked her hand from his grasp, not too quickly she hoped.
“He’s staying with us.” Brian threaded around her to the bottom of the stairway. “It’s late. I’ll take you to your room.”
“What, no butler?” Sabree winked at Ariane before he followed her brother up the staircase.
Ariane had paced the entire time during Brian’s absence, worried about the mysterious rendezvous. Now, her concerns turned to the guest, suspicious of this creature’s reason for stalking them. Why did her brother invite him to stay with them? University student indeed, because along with their bogus guest, Ariane doubted that she and Brian had ever attended Edinburgh University.
More fabricated lies to go along with their phony diplomas. Between them, they both had the education yet lacked the memories of ever attending the university. When she questioned the Registrar’s Office, the clerk found a few letters from Duncan Colton, but no records of either twins’ attendance. She needed help and thought of one person who would ground her—Eric Tripper.
Alone for now, she called Eric and gritted her teeth. The International call would add to her bill. After two rings, Eric answered, his picture appearing on her display. His flirtatious smile brightened her mood.
“Hey, gorgeous, everything all right?” he said with concern in his voice.
Her business, COLT, used the latest smartphones for business and personal use. In love with the larger screen, she had asked the lab techs and Brian to text a picture of their smiling faces and assign a specific ringtone on their phones. Her ringtone was “Love Runs Out” by OneRepublic. Predictably, Brian picked “Demons” from Imagine Dragons. Trivial perhaps, but she always knew who was calling, which is probably why Eric answered on the second ring. He asked if everything was all right.
“Besides Brian and our new guest driving me crazy, not so bad.”
“Guest?” he asked.
“Yeah, the blond weirdo who was with Wayde the night he gave us Dad’s letter. His name is Mr. Sabree.” She took the long silence as Eric’s way of declaring Brian’s antics as old news. His heavy sigh confirmed her suspicion. “You knew more of these creatures like us existed, didn’t you?” Silence on the other end incited her anger. “Why keep me out of the loop? Are there more?”
“There are others, Originals unlike you and Brian,” Eric said. His tone held a level calm. “Duncan worked with one, but I never met her. Rumor has it they were exiled, but no idea from where. You’re up late. Look, I’ll fill you in when you get back. Don’t worry.”
Condescending bastard. Why did the men in her life always undermine her intelligence? “Fine, we’ll talk then,” she snapped.
“Don’t be upset, hon. When are you coming home? Jesse and I have been swamped.”
Poor babies. “Soon, I hope. I’ll call you later when I find out more.” Ariane hit the screen without saying goodbye and shoved the phone in her pocket. The call for help bombed; in fact, it far from bolstered her confidence. Her insecurities returned tenfold. She followed each step leading to the hallway of bedrooms, to Sabree’s room. Ariane shuddered. How did her brilliant brother expect her to get any sleep with the ghost in the house?
9
BLOOD OF A SCOTSMAN
I n the hall outside the guest bedroom, I hesitated at the door, my mind at a loss. “Wait a minute, do you sleep? Do you need a coffin?”
“Of course, we sleep but never in a coffin.” Sabree swore under his breath in words I didn’t understand. “I find your attempt at humor rather annoying.”
“Merci beaucoup, mon ami.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “Save the uppity French act for Ariane. She may believe otherwise, but I’m betting you still work for Wayde.”
“Believe what you wish. I work for no human.”
The immortal lied through his fangs. I tried a bolder approach. “It was you. The sneaky bastard in the bar with Wayde. The angelic-looking freak. You fit the bill.”
“Oui, I’m an angel.” Sabree glanced around the room. “Wayde believed I was there to assist him. Contrary to his belief, I am on your side.”
The additional tidbit slashed my confidence in half. More lies. “Angels don’t knock women out. But if you must fantasize about being some sort of vampire mentor, can you teach me to mist or change into a bat?”
The immortal’s eyes darkened. “Forget your obsession with such Hollywood trash. Eventually, I will clarify everything you and Ariane need to know.” He glared at me with a twisted smile. “If you insult me again, I will stake your heart myself.”
“Bite me,” I hissed without looking his way. The door clicking shut made me flinch. Why lock me in here with him? To justify my hunch, I spun around.
“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of a Scotsman.”
I had no idea what to say at this point. No bold comeback came to mind, my own dulled by apprehension. While Sabree guarded the door, my vision blurred as I focused on the man’s verbal threat. How I wished Ariane had come along. Maybe he would behave more the gentleman.
“Et je vidangerai votre sang sec.”
A rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins, enough to confront him. “Sorry, but my French is a wee bit rusty, lad.” My Scott’s brogue spilled out, confirming I was no longer the alpha. “Mind translating?”
“With pleasure. It means I shall bite your neck and drain you dry. Exsanguinate.”
“What the—” The ghost had just threatened to drink my blood after denying he was a vampire. The night turned from bizarre to nightmarish. I took a step back. “Aye, right. What a jokester.” My sister and I knew nothing about ourselves except for the information our father leaked out, let alone details about the Fallen. Discretion urged me to learn more about this race since we shared similar traits. “We seem to be getting off to a bad start. After all, we might be related in some way.”
“Like blood brothers,” Sabree hissed.
Blood again. The dude was obsessed with it. I cringed when he arched like a wildcat, ready to pounce and rip the throat of his prey. Teal eyes, not lavender, possessed a reddish-orange rim as they locked on me. I was the prey. Should I run or fight?
“I’m going to mark you so no other can take you.”
“Mark me? You mean like a dog marks its territory?” The visual of him taking a chunk out of my neck made me scoot around to the opposite side of the bed. Place some distance between us. Like before, during the hike, another bout of dizziness almost knocked me off my feet. A huge wave splashed me with a mega déjà vu. I squeezed my skull to embrace the spins until they eased. Vertigo stopped me from escaping the immortal’s wrath.
Sabree lashed out, grabbed my arm, and twisted me bodily across the bed. “I'm no dog,” he snarled, impervious to the intimate contact. “I am the master and you are the ghoul. You will survive only as long as I see reason for your existence.” He squeezed one of my shoulders, pinching the meaty part of the trapezoid muscle.
I cried out, my shoulder burning. I trembled all over from the physical contact when his grip tightened, jamming his thumb deeper into my nerve. With his free hand, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head aside to expose my neck. This wasn’t happening. Why couldn’t I wake up? Unable to wrestle free of his grip, my body slumped. Nausea rippled in my gut and spread everywhere. Another violent wave paralyzed me.
“Vampire indeed,” he snarled. “Never belittle me. I have not endured thousands of years to suddenly tolerate a wretched ghoul—a mutation that should be vanquished.”
Between gasps for air, I growled, “You sure act like a focking vamp.” I screamed this time when he sank his fangs into my jugular. My arms and legs twitched with violent spasms. My eyes squeezed shut. His lips formed a vacuum, compressing tighter. The vein burned as if the fangs were white-hot drills burrowing deeper with every swallow. Then an eerie emptiness replaced the pressure that had me twisted into knots. I ceased to struggle, accepted my fate, the side effects of blood loss and shock all consuming. A peaceful bliss numbed my entire being. Lids lowered, heavy with sleep, I floated amongst the clouds.
A snapping finger broke me from the spell. I gasped. My hand shot up to grope my neck for bite marks. The tender area didn’t feel sticky or bloody. Did Sabree attack me? Or had I imagined it? How long had I been out? After gathering enough courage, I stared at the immortal. Our eyes locked. According to him the blood-tie between us had begun. I didn’t feel any wrenching link that bound us together. Barely able to speak, my throat husky, I asked, “Why didn’t you drain me?”
“What would be the point? I need information. Dead men walk, they don’t talk. Where’s the journal?”
The pull for the truth tugged on my will and unable to lie, I spoke as if he asked about the weather. “No idea. Pop scanned the data into his computer and burned the journal. He separated it into three copies divided into thirds—a total nine flash drives altogether.”
Sabree stared at me with vacant eyes. “He did what?”
Obviously, the immortal from the past didn’t have the time to catch up with modern technology. Light-headed, I massaged my scalp. “It’s a storage device used to save electronic data. Pop—Duncan had nine people hide one flash drive each. I have no idea where. Makes it nearly impossible for anyone to find a complete set.” I laughed, recalling how Sabree had tossed me the letter salvaged from Wayde, oblivious to the anagram encoded within the text. The clues described the first drive’s location and with it, the next clue.
“No man is that cautious. Do you have a complete copy hidden somewhere?”
“C'est la vie,” I said smiling, “can’t make it too easy. Duncan had a cryptic mind.” I slid off the bed and hobbled over to the window. The room orbited me as I leaned against the sill. The window had been nailed shut, so no fresh air.
“Then you will die.”
The empty threat didn’t faze me. I needed more air. My body had already healed from the attack, the compulsion of the blood-tie gone forever. Eager to learn about the Fallen, I asked, “What exactly does it mean to mark someone?”
“Easy. I bit you. I control you. Other immortals may try to drink your blood, but they cannot compel you to do their bidding while you belong to me.”
“Liar. Sounds like more vampire bullshit to me. My free will was never yours to own, so I must be like you, maybe superior.”
The lamp on the nightstand smashed all over the floor; glass shattered into tiny pieces. “How dare you lead me on. Make me believe I had control.” Sabree’s brow furrowed as his eyes searched the room for answers. After a pause, he said, “Along with the fangs, perhaps you’re similar to the Fallen because you tolerate sunlight and heal quickly. However, I doubt you could survive trauma to your heart. Unlike ghouls, the Fallen have two. When you pierce a ghoul’s heart, you kill him, so be forewarned.” His lips curled upward. “Another difference is the Fallen have abilities forsaken to ghouls; for instance, misting as I do.”
Apparently, the Hollywood hype of staking a vampire through the heart rang true. The fangs were troublesome, so I smirked with my mouth closed, a Mona Lisa smile of sorts. The ability to heal quickly proved advantageous. Shades blocked the sunlight. Would I develop an ability if I went off the anti-vamp pills? Consider it done. “Aye, wonder what my special gift will be?”
Sabree hissed a curse. “I doubt you have one.”
&nb
sp; So, the words special and ghoul didn’t mix well with him. I chuckled. How much time would it take this immortal to lose patience with my defiance? “What if I do have a gift? Maybe more than one.”
“It’s possible you inherited the same ability as the parent DNA Duncan infected you with. Usually, the offspring inherits his or her father’s gift, though unlikely in your case since Duncan contaminated you and Ariane—freaks of nature.” Sabree glanced at the ceiling and heaved a sigh. “God forbid either of you inherit Turian’s gifts.”
The name sounded familiar. I mouthed the name that made my tongue burn as if on hot, hot coffee.
“A powerful leader and rebel, one of the original Malakhim banished on Earth,” he said, his voice weighted with compassion. “Eight of the Fallen had rallied to destroy Turian in an attempt to sever his connection with the alternate universes. However, only one succeeded in extinguishing his life force.” Sabree stared beyond me with a faraway look. “Yes, there is a way to kill our kind, but now is not the time to reveal how. Enough questions, you know more than your small mind can comprehend.”
Scratching my scalp, I tried to grasp the differences between the original Malakhim and the Fallen. Too much information given too freely made me suspicious of the immortal. A surplus of generosity usually meant trouble. Like Wayde, perhaps Sabree intended to kill us in the end.
“I’d know more about you and your sister if I had the journal,” he said with a wink.
“Abso-bloody-lutely. You and everyone else.” The danger this immortal posed to Ariane set off an alarm. Time to display a wee bit of my own intimidation. I let my fangs extend to full length. A quick glance in the mirror almost made me wet my pants. My eyes burned, the pressure behind them immense. I stood over him by a few inches to enforce a warning of my own. “Keep your fangs off my sister.”