Rest in Pieces

by Lucinda Dark

  “Just tell me where he’d be,” I said.

  "You wouldn't—ow! ow! Oh my God. Carrie, get this bitch off of me!" I frowned. What a drama queen. I twisted the girl's arm behind her back and used my hold to march her out of the way of incoming traffic. It was just pressure. It’s not like it actually hurt the girl. "He's probably out by the pool," she shrieked, eyes widening in panic. "He and his friends always sit out there until people stop showing up."

  I released her immediately and stepped back. “Thanks.”

  "Crazy bitch," she sneered, storming back towards her friend, Carrie—the same one who apparently hadn’t heard her cries for help, too busy flirting with one of the guys by the fireplace.

  I headed for the backdoor, dodging sleazy jocks bumping chests and girls in skimpy clothing, stumbling along while sloshing their drinks over the rims of their cups. Multicolored lights lit up the pool, throwing shadows of all the people across the tiles surrounding it as they danced to the DJ’s music thumping through unseen speakers. Girls in bikinis danced together on a makeshift dance floor while more played in the pool. I bypassed them all, scanning the crowd. Searching for a hint, a sign of Torin or his mysterious sister.

  A firm hand gripped my elbow and jerked me around. My shoulders tensed, my fist clenched. As soon as I made the full turn, I popped the man latched onto my arm in the face and stood back when he stumbled, barely hanging onto me as his free hand cupped his now bleeding nose.

  “What the fuck?” Maverick’s sharp inhalation was muffled as he glared at me.

  “Maybe you should learn to ask permission before you touch a girl,” I said with a scowl as I quickly extracted my arm from his grip. “What do you want?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked instead, steering me with the sheer size of his body towards a more sequestered alcove between two potted palms. A woman’s high-pitched scream assaulted my ears and seconds later, one of the football team guys ran by with a dark haired brunette thrown over his shoulder as he leapt with her into the pool.

  I ignored them in lieu of staring up into Maverick’s honey brown gaze. “It’s a party,” I said. “I’m allowed to be here.”

  Maverick pulled his hand away and I was satisfied to see that though his nose wasn’t broken, blood still seeped from each nostril. He scoffed and reached down, lifting the hem of his dark t-shirt to his upper lip, wiping away the red there. My breath caught. Holy shit.

  Saliva saturated my mouth as I could do nothing more than stare, open-mouthed, at the fucking rock hard lines of his abdomen. It wasn’t fucking fair. Maverick was an asshole. A hot one. Built like he was smuggling paint rollers under his fucking skin. I could feel the heat under my skin rising as I forced my eyes to avert.

  “Fuck!” he hissed.

  I sighed. “Tilt your head down,” I said, turning back to him. He, thankfully, dropped the hem of his shirt and did as I commanded. “Do you taste blood in your mouth?” I asked, recalling all of the times I’d done this same thing to Brandon in training.

  “No,” he said, keeping his head bent.

  “That’s good,” I said. “Means it’s not going to your stomach. Just wait like that until you stop bleeding and then you can ask your damn questions.”

  “I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t punched me. What the hell was that for?”

  I shrugged, realizing a bit belatedly that he couldn’t see it with the way his head was canted forward. “You grabbed me,” I answered aloud.

  “And that gave you a reason to punch me?”

  “You’re an asshole.” When he didn’t respond, I assumed he wouldn’t deny it and that was reason enough.

  After another minute or so, he slowly lifted his head and looked down at me. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

  I rolled my eyes. “I already told you.”

  Above his reddened nose—which would likely bruise later—he narrowed his eyes. “What are you up to, Barbie?”

  “Your trust in me is inspiring,” I deadpanned. “What makes you think I’m up to anything?”

  “You’re new. You don’t have any friends. What could you possibly be doing here other than scheming?” he replied.

  “Maybe I’m trying to make friends,” I argued.

  “Yeah, you’re real friendly,” he said, gesturing to his nose.

  Before I could respond, a tall, voluptuous woman appeared at our sides, peeking through the leaves into our hideaway. “Maverick? Is that you?” She reached inside, latching onto his arm and pulling him out. “What are you doing hiding over here?” she asked playfully as she lifted an elegant hand and draped herself over his chest. “I haven’t seen you in so long. You never come over anymore.” Full pink lips pouted up at him.

  “El,” Maverick was stiff as he greeted her, “you haven’t changed at all.”

  The woman—El—sniffed delicately and perhaps it was my focused attention, but she appeared to pause for a moment, her eyes darting to the hem of his shirt before lifting to his lips. I squinted at her. Though her eyes didn’t flash red, her mouth opened and her tongue darted out to lick over her lips before she moved in closer. “I know you and Torin don’t talk much anymore, but you really should visit. If not for him”—She paused, stroking a lone finger down the center of his chest between his pecs. For some reason, that made something inside me tighten in revolt.—“then for me.”

  “Maverick,” I barked before I could stop myself.

  Maverick’s head turned my way, one dark brow lifting slightly. El, however, fixed her gaze on Maverick for a moment more, looking specifically at his throat before she, too, slowly tilted her head my way.

  “Who’s this, Mav?” she inquired lightly. “She can’t be your girlfriend. Have you moved on from Maryanne? So soon?”

  Maverick jolted as though he’d been electrocuted, his arms coming up and pushing El away. “Maryanne’s gone.”

  “Is she?” El’s lips curled, but there was no surprise on her face. She’d already known that.

  “Maverick.”

  “Fucking bloodhounds,” I muttered as Torin strode up between the three of us. Everyone was just popping up tonight. Torin’s expression was thunderous as he moved between Maverick and El, cutting an arm between them and pressing the other woman back. El’s gaze snapped to me at my comment, and her eyes dilated briefly before she turned back to Torin.

  “Torin, darling—”

  “Not now, El,” Torin said, cutting her off. “Why don’t you go find a boy toy to play with?” Though phrased as one, it wasn’t a suggestion.

  El’s lips curled upward once more as she fixated on Maverick. “I already have.”

  A deep rumble of irritation erupted from Torin’s chest. “Go,” he ordered.

  Maverick glanced at me. “You should go as well,” he said.

  I shrugged and stepped away. That was fine by me. With Torin distracted by Maverick, I knew I’d have time to search the house on my own without worry.

  Keeping my gaze fixed on them, I melted back into the crowd and retraced my steps until the cool wash of air conditioning filtered over my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps rising along my bare arms. Time to get to work.

  Fourteen

  Barbie

  If wealth and opulent waste had a stench, it was the combination of alcohol and expensive perfume. I passed by the third crystal chandelier dangling from the arched ceilings of the second floor and made my way to the end of the hallway through the sparse crowd that had been allowed up here. The farther up I went, the less people there were. As I went, I examined my surroundings.

  The house itself was a lot older than I had originally thought, the internal structure unusual and somewhat confusing. I could see areas where the old pieces of the house met the new. The floorplan I expected didn’t match what I found. Some rooms were far smaller than any architect would normally create, more the size of closets than actual rooms. When I peeked in a few of the bathrooms, I noticed that some of those, too, were awkward looking. A
clawfoot tub … who even had those anymore?

  I took out my phone and snapped a few photos of the rooms. A backup plan was always smart. It would be best to get familiar with the layout of the place, nonetheless, and photos would help me plan if I needed to return to finish the job. Regardless of who these people were, or where they came from, if they were vampires then they might know why my family had to die. There was no doubt in my mind we were targeted. The entire night ran through my head on repeat whenever I thought about it. Travis had known who I was when he had first met me. He’d known who my parents were. He’d come there to torture and kill us all.

  Unfortunately for him, he failed—with the killing me part. But at least he solidified what my parents had tried and failed to teach me. Vampires couldn’t be trusted and it wouldn’t do to leave any of them alive.

  I hit the third floor and froze at the top of the stairs when voices drifted out of one of the open doorways farther down the hallway. The sound of footsteps drew nearer, causing a small amount of panic to rise within me. I knew I couldn’t make it back down the stairwell and out of sight before whoever it was entered the hallway. So, instead, I darted into the nearest bedroom and scrambled across the carpet as the voices behind me—female, I recognized a split second later—grew closer. I ducked behind the blackout curtains and cupped a hand over my mouth to keep the sound of my breathing muffled. Even behind the thick fabric of the curtains, it felt like I was practically screaming rather than quietly drawing sparse breaths in and out.

  “It’s beautiful,” a woman said. My brows lowered as I tried to decipher where I’d heard that high-pitched feminine voice before. “It’s just gorgeous, really.”

  “You like it?”

  I pressed my lips together and tried to breathe through my nose. I didn’t recognize the second voice.

  “Oh yes, it’s the prettiest necklace I’ve ever seen. I’ll have to ask my father to get me one just like it.”

  “Would you like to keep it?” the second woman asked.

  “W-what? Oh my gosh, I c-couldn’t possibly—”

  “Here,” the second woman interrupted. There was the sound of an audible gasp.

  “It’s so heavy,” the first said in wonder.

  Sidling to the side, I peeked between the curtains and nearly cursed my horrible luck. The two women stopped just outside the room. The light from the hallway spilling into the opened doorway of my hideaway room. I had been right. I did recognize the first voice. Rachel. I scowled into my palm before my brain caught up with my feelings.

  What the hell is she doing on the third floor? It was practically deserted, while the first two floors and the grounds of the estate were crowded with people. What reason could she have for being up here? And who was the second woman?

  I craned my neck, trying to see further without alerting them to my presence. The second woman was taller than Rachel, her hair dark and curled on the ends. Her face was turned half away, so I could only catch a glimpse of her profile, but from what I saw she was a beautiful woman. A sharp looking nose, petite chin, and slender neck. It was clear, though, that she was several years older than Rachel. In her twenties, at least.

  The woman’s hands lifted to the jeweled necklace dangling in Rachel’s grip as the younger girl stared in awe at the glittering emerald. On anyone else, the small curve of the unknown woman’s lips might have looked innocent, but to me—for some reason—it felt … wrong.

  “I can’t keep this,” Rachel was saying, though her words held no heat. It was clear she wanted the necklace. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from it. It was as if she were entranced.

  I rolled my eyes. It was just damn jewelry.

  “Please, I insist,” the woman said. “Think of it as a gift from me.”

  “Oh Delia, thank you!” Rachel finally gave in, quickly clasping the necklace to her chest before she yanked it up and undid the clasp as she fastened it around her own throat. “I’ll wear it always.”

  Delia. Where had I heard that name before? I searched my memory. It was in there somewhere. Delia. Delia. Del—I dropped my hand away from my mouth as realization struck. This was one of the women Olivia had talked about. I narrowed my eyes and leaned further to the side so that I could see more. What was she doing giving jewelry to Rachel Harris?

  “You should totally wear it always,” Delia agreed. Her hand came up to Rachel’s shoulder, her nails stroking the silky fabric of Rachel’s loose fitted top. “In fact, you should never take it off.”

  My breath caught in my chest as Rachel’s whole body grew lax and she bobbed her head up and down. “Never take it off,” she repeated, the syllables slurring slightly.

  Anxiety settled in my gut. I reached back, my hand sliding beneath my t-shirt to the dagger anchored at my back. I’d doused it in holy water before I’d left and I had never felt so relieved to be prepared in my life. I knew what Delia was doing. It was the same trick Travis and Kent had used on me and Brandon to get us to invite them into our home. Mind control.

  I slid the dagger out from beneath my t-shirt and held it at my side.

  “Now, why don’t you go downstairs and join your friends?”

  Rachel bobbed her head once more, turned on her heel, and left—disappearing from my view as I assumed she headed for the stairs. In a few short minutes, Delia’s mind control would fade, but by then she’d be swept away by the party. It was hard to realize you were being controlled, even harder when you didn’t even know such a thing was possible. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my blade.

  “Something smells delicious.” I stiffened as Delia turned towards the room I was in and strode through the doorway. She touched the light switch, letting the room glow to life as she moved silently across the floor.

  I should’ve known better, I realized. To think that she couldn’t smell me.

  Fifteen

  Barbie

  My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I was trapped, unable to move or escape. Not that I would have. A vampire was before me, and it was my sworn duty to kill it. Preferably before it killed me.

  I stepped out from behind the curtains and the creature—Delia—halted at the center of the room, just beneath the light. It illuminated her pale cheeks, her glowing blood-red eyes, and the wicked smile she sported. Two dainty looking fangs peeked out over her lower lip.

  “What happened, pet?” she asked. “Did you wander away from the party?”

  I clenched my teeth as I held the dagger against my back with one hand, out of sight. For now. “I’m sorry,” I started, feigning an awkward giggle. “I heard voices and I just … panicked. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really!”

  Delia’s head tilted, her jaw angling to the side as a thick hunk of her dark brunette hair slid over her bare shoulder. “You smell like blood,” she said, inhaling deeply.

  I looked, automatically, down to the remaining hand that still rested at my side. Wrong move. In the next instant, Delia had crossed the remainder of the space between us and reached out, her hand locking around my throat. Without thinking, I swung my blade out and sliced across her chest. The edge of my dagger cut through the front fabric of her dress easily enough and a thin line of blood rose from her bared flesh. She cried out and released me just as quickly as the edges of her wound festered and blackened.

  “What the fuck!” she shrieked. “It’s not healing. Why isn’t it healing?” Red eyes flashed at me as she lunged. “You little bitch!”

  I dodged, swinging around as she ripped through the drapes, yanking them from her nails with such strength that the bolts holding up the rungs were jerked from the wall and the whole thing came down at her back. Moonlight streamed into the darkened room, washing her back in a low blue hue.

  I didn’t wait for her to move again. I struck—my arm swinging out once more. I ducked and rolled when she easily evaded my attack. Her upper lip curled back into a snarl. “Hunter.” She spat the term as though it were a curse and I was sure, to her, it probably was. “I wonder, who
let you in?”

  I went down on one knee, reaching beneath my pants leg and withdrawing my second dagger. Having two in hand made me feel far more prepared. I didn’t answer her question. I threw my first dagger and when her arm arched out—slapping the thing away as though it were a pesky bug buzzing about her head—I rushed her, dagger up and at the ready.

  The tip slid easily between her ribs. The sound of her surprised gasp drew a smile to my lips. They were always shocked when a mere human caught them off guard. Vampires had a nasty habit of underestimating people they considered livestock. I gritted my teeth and shoved the blade in harder until I hit something and blood gushed over my palms. But it was too low, I hadn’t hit the heart.

  I cursed and jerked back, withdrawing the blade, but not quick enough, it seemed. Once again, a cold hand closed over my throat and squeezed. Another hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand that held my remaining dagger and squeezed. I could feel my bones on the verge of cracking. The second I released the dagger, Delia’s grip stopped contracting. She turned abruptly and slammed my spine into the tall windows that stretched halfway up the wall so hard that it gave an explosive cracking sound as fissures raced up along either side of me.

  “Oh shit!” I gasped as the glass fractured. Large shards fell outward, but several smaller pieces rained down over my shoulders. They stuck in my hair and fell into the low cut neckline of my shirt. I winced when I felt one of the falling shards cut me, warm blood soaking the inside of my t-shirt.

  My eyes widened when I realized that Delia didn’t seem to care about my blood. Instead, she kept going, pushing my upper body out of the window until I was half bent backwards, hanging suspended above the open air. Glancing back, I saw that one of the balconies from the second floor was directly beneath me, but it was still at least a ten foot drop.

  I kicked out, struggling to maintain some semblance of control and balance as I shoved my lower back against the windowsill. I clenched my teeth when I felt another shard of glass cut me—this time slicing right through the fabric and into my skin.