After Darkness Falls: After Darkness Falls Book One

by Sage, May

  Never mind Charles. She had to call the police. What number should she dial on this side of the world? She was pretty sure it wasn't 911. Shit, she definitely should know this. Maybe she'd tell Blair to include it in her survival manual…if she actually made it to the Institute. The murderer of those three people might still be here, looking at her right now with a smile on his lips, glad to have another prey. Perhaps the families of her father’s victims would be happy to hear the news.

  She forced that thought away, concentrating instead on the closest corpse, not a foot away from her toes.

  The body in the hallway, right in front of the door, belonged to a broad, bald man with tattoos at the back of his skull. Chloe leaned forward.

  "You don't want to touch that door."

  She turned toward the low, suave voice, and found a man standing behind her.

  He wore a sharp black suit with a pristine white shirt and gold cufflinks. She was used to attractive people of all sexes—sups had a tendency to look better than your average Joe, probably thanks to some kind of magic. But he wasn't attractive. He was ridiculous.

  The concept of a man who looked like him should have been entirely absurd. The stranger would have made anyone drool—man or woman, young or old, whether they were into gruff lumberjacks or clean businessmen.

  He had a strange complexion, not quite olive, definitely not entirely white either. She would have guessed he tanned well in the sun, unlike her. His eyes were dark and dangerous, but not as dangerous as his mouth. The things she could do to that mouth! And she'd just seen dead bodies. A new development for her, but she was pretty certain that dead bodies did nothing for her libido. She should not have been in a state to appreciate beauty. His hair was long and brushed back neatly, his facial hair carefully trimmed. Wildness and control, merged into one perfect man.

  No, not man. No man strode quite so confidently. No man made her want to run the other way and leap into his arms all at once. Chloe was a rather simple person at the core: she liked to be friendly and enjoyed the company of people. She’d never met anyone she wished to harm. And yet…something inside her whispered the strangest things. What did his blood look like, feel like, taste like?

  What was wrong with her?

  Then, she realized it had nothing to do with her at all. He was doing something, making her feel a certain way.

  What was he?

  “Not without gloves,” the thing added. “We don't want your prints at the scene.”

  The conversation was too real, too casual. Chloe would have liked to pretend that she’d passed out and was just dreaming the whole thing, but his matter-of-fact tone robbed her of that illusion. She wouldn’t have imagined a man who looked like him and then made him talk about fingerprints.

  He pulled an unexpected object out of his pocket: a phone. His hands would have been better suited to holding a dagger, or at least a gun.

  "It's me,” he said into the receiver. “Rose's Coven, on the hill. Send a clean-up team and call the humans on your leash. It doesn't look good, but I can't stay to investigate." After a beat, the stranger added, "Keep me updated," and hung up.

  Chloe’s eyes were locked on him during the whole exchange, because it beat looking at corpses. Now she glanced back toward the house.

  Oh God. Until now, she’d held her breath, but now she’d made the mistake of inhaling.

  She was going to throw up. That smell. What was that smell? Again, she wanted to simultaneously step forward and run away as fast as her feet could carry her.

  "It's lucky you weren't here."

  The stranger's smooth voice pulled her out of her funk. Chloe suddenly realized that she could have been here. Should have been. Had she not decided to take a couple of days in London, she really would have.

  What was she supposed to do now? She felt incredibly selfish for thinking about herself while towering over three corpses, but there didn’t seem to be anyone left alive here, and those witches were supposed to take her to the Institute. She didn't know its location; her letter hadn't provided it. Chloe knew the school was well hidden—one of the reasons why it was the perfect place for her.

  She crouched down and hugged her knees, keeping her head low, and breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. Although it was still incredibly freezing outside, cold sweat gathered on her forehead. The last thing she needed right now was a panic attack. She wasn’t the one in trouble. She could just call Chelle or Charles. They'd tell her where to go.

  "Are you all right?"

  No.

  "Yes," she said. She had all her limbs, and her blood wasn't marring the marble, so, yes, compared to some, she was just peachy.

  "Good. Come on, Chloe."

  Her head snapped to the beautiful creature. How did he know her name?

  Her heart, already thundering, beat even faster.

  "Fuck! You're here to kill me,” she gleaned, wondering why her instincts hadn’t screamed at her, demanded her to run. “Did you kill these people to get to me?"

  The beautiful man laughed low.

  "Darling, by now I could have destroyed you a thousand times, in so many different ways, if I'd wanted to."

  Oh.

  He had a point. She didn't doubt it. There was something so very dangerous about him.

  "What are you?" she asked him.

  The man tilted his head. "You've seen my kind before, if I'm not mistaken."

  His kind…

  Chloe watched him closely again, focusing on his dark eyes in detail. They had a strange glint, and seemed almost blue in a certain light. And there was his skin, which glowed, too clear and perfect. Airbrushed like he'd stepped out of a magazine. And his…

  Teeth. His teeth, poking out under his lip. Elongated canines that hadn’t been there a minute ago caught her attention.

  He was a vampire.

  Chloe understood why she hadn’t thought so at first. She hadn’t seen many vampires, even though she was employed by one. Most of them kept to themselves, even in NOLA.

  The stranger wasn't at all like Charles, who looked like a very strong man, not a…thing. A Greek god. A predator.

  She blushed. "You're not a normal vampire."

  Chloe felt silly the moment the words left her mouth, but they earned her a thin, fleeting smile. "Observant. You'll do well at the Institute."

  The Institute.

  "You know where I'm going?"

  The vampire looked around and sighed. "Yes, I do. And we can't stand here. Come with me, or make your own way. Your call."

  She only had one choice.

  A Hidden World

  Chloe had done her best to ignore the man—or vampire—whose secretive smile seemed to mock her. He was trying to get under her skin, she could tell, but she was determined to not let him spoil this experience for her.

  This week was full of firsts. Her first plane ride, and then her second one from London to Edinburgh. Now, to crown the lot, she was in a train. Not just any train—the Belmond Royal Scotsman, westbound. Better yet, the vampire had paid for it.

  Only she should probably stop calling him “the vampire.” She knew his name now: Levi, owner of the Institute. As soon as she'd regained her sense, she'd asked him to identify himself, and checked in with Charles.

  “Rose's was attacked?” he’d said in shock. “Chloe, where are you? You need to get off the road, right now. I'll send…”

  "I'm with someone, actually. He says his name is Levi De Villier."

  Charles had immediately exhaled in relief. "All right. You're perfectly safe. Good. Is he around?"

  "Riding in the cab next to me, and probably hearing every word."

  The vampire flashed his teeth. "Hello, Charles. Long time."

  "Sir. I apologize for the trouble."

  Holy fuck. Who was this guy? Certainly not just the owner of a college. She'd never heard Charles sound quite so deferential. Her boss ruled all of NOLA and answered to no one. That she knew of.

  "No matter. Your protégée is
in good hands, and we'll get to the bottom of the issue."

  "Of course. I'll contact you when I hear any news."

  "Likewise, Charles."

  Now, to her, her boss said, "Listen, I have to tell Chelle. She won't be happy. She had several friends and family members at Rose's. Dammit!"

  Shit. "I'm so sorry, it's my fault."

  "Highly doubtful, Chlo,” he said. "So far, only regular humans have moved against you, and regular humans couldn't have taken the witches of Rose’s. I gotta go."

  And on that note, he’d hung up, leaving her certain of what she'd somehow instinctively known despite Levi’s dangerous edge: she was going to be okay with him.

  And she had been, so far. Levi flew them to Scotland, and she was now enjoying the Highland countryside in style.

  The elegant dining room seemed to belong to the ’20s, with the cushioned velvet seats, thick patterned curtains, and so many damn spoons.

  Chloe was acting like a puppy, and she didn't care. Her eyes were fixed on the window. If they'd been open, she might even have popped her head out.

  And Levi's mocking grin was firmly in place.

  "Look," she said, finally unable to ignore him any longer, "I've never traveled outside of the States. It’s my first time in a train. Let me enjoy this."

  "By all means." He gestured for her to carry on.

  "Preferably without your condescending smirk. Being a tourist is no crime."

  He lifted the menu to his eyes. "I'll endeavor not to ruin your fun. But for your information, I'm not amused by your novel enthusiasm—if anything, the fact that you've seen nothing beyond your corner of the world at your age is quite depressing. I'm just intrigued by your resilience."

  She lifted a brow. "Resilience?"

  "Just so. This morning, you were looming over a corpse, and looking quite shaken, if I might say. Now you're effectively distracted. Would you say it's typical of your kind these days? I've not dealt with mortals in some time."

  Chloe's good humor had effectively evaporated. "That's called avoidance, not resilience. Yes, it freaked me out. No, there's nothing I can do about it. So…distractions."

  "Does it work?" Levi questioned.

  He seemed genuinely interested.

  Chloe was learning something about him, something that made him feel real—not just some too-perfect, too-cold stranger who might evaporate in a cloud of smoke.

  He was curious. He liked observing, guessing, and understanding things around him. As a regular, she was an oddity, and therefore interesting to him. She certainly could relate. Chloe had never encountered a puzzle she didn’t wish to solve. So she indulged him.

  "You mean, until you mentioned this morning? Yes, it worked. This is all new to me and suitably entertaining, so I can put everything behind me. But in the middle of the night, I've no doubt I'll remember him. The bald man. The others, too, but I saw him up close. Not his face. But the smell. The blood…” She shook her head, as if willing the very memory away—ineffectively. “I doubt I'll sleep easily for a while."

  Nor should she. People shouldn’t be able to see that kind of horror and shrug it off. That was what psychopaths did.

  Levi frowned. "I'll have Alex brew you a sleeping draught."

  Thoughtfulness.

  That was also unexpected of him. Another piece of the puzzle.

  Chloe was doing her best to draw a mental picture of the vampire, knowing that he’d fade from her life before she knew it. And she didn’t want to forget a thing.

  "Now,” said Levi, “we'd better order soon. We aren't riding this train for very long, and we don't want to miss dessert."

  The food was delightful. Halfway through their main course, Chloe's mouth betrayed her again, babbling before she could question herself.

  "Wait, you're eating. Do you guys eat? I've never seen Charles eat."

  The vampire didn't roll his eyes, but she could tell he wanted to.

  "Yes, Chloe, we do eat. We have bodies quite similar to yours that need sustenance in order to function adequately."

  A billion questions popped into her head, but she closed her lips firmly and kept them that way.

  Levi grinned. "You can ask. Curiosity is no crime."

  "So, what about blood? Is that just a food supplement?"

  She wasn’t supposed to have asked this directly. She knew that. The air changed around them, becoming thicker, stranger.

  He smiled broader, flashing his extra white teeth that seemed so very sharp, and she knew the answer before he said anything.

  "No. We do need blood. Less frequently as we age, but without it—" He interrupted himself. "Let's just say it's not very pleasant."

  She really wanted to know what he meant by that. The need went beyond mere curiosity. Something inside her felt like pushing a little further, and maybe even getting a rise out of him.

  Which was insane. And potentially suicidal.

  She didn’t know much about him yet, but she was pretty certain that those who got a rise out of Levi De Villier ended up exsanguinated and dumped in a narrow grave.

  But he’d done nothing to hurt her. If she wasn’t mistaken, he actually seemed to be doing his best to avoid frightening her, too. Charles moved a little too fast—she couldn’t always catch all of his movements; one moment he was grabbing a pen, and the next he’d written five words. Her eyes couldn’t follow the transition.

  Levi’s limbs were purposefully slow; too fluid and graceful perhaps, but she was fairly certain he did that for her benefit.

  So, she pushed.

  “Tell me. What happens if you don’t get blood?”

  His eyes narrowed and zeroed in on hers. They were bright blue now. The warm amber-brown was completely gone.

  “Discussing blood with a vampire isn’t wise, Chloe.”

  She shrugged.

  “Nor is traveling with one. Yet here we are. You said so yourself, if you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it.”

  Chloe couldn’t tell whether he was amused or exasperated. Both, perhaps.

  "Nevertheless, I’ll not answer that. You'll study the gory details if you take Paranormal Introduction."

  Chloe blinked, her desire to bug him evaporating as she asked, "Can I? Paranormal Introduction was listed in the program the school sent me, but it's an undergrad course that doesn't have much to do with my master’s."

  "I have no role in the school administration,” he replied. “I just own the land. But unless I’m much mistaken, you may study any course taught at the Institute. As long as you don't piss off the teacher."

  His language entertained her greatly: a mixture of modern vernacular, with outdated phrases and the occasional slang. His accent was also noteworthy, not quite British, definitely sexy and distinguished.

  She had so many questions.

  "Sir, we're close to your destination," the conductor said in a low tone.

  Levi sighed. "Would you mind asking the chef to send our dessert through, Louis?" He removed a clip of bills from the inner pocket of his coat and handed the man two fifties.

  As the conductor rushed to give Levi’s order, Chloe said, "Don't get me wrong—as a waitress, I'm one to appreciate a good tipper, but a hundred pounds to rush the desserts? That’s, like, a hundred and fifty bucks."

  "You haven't had their macaroons," he stated, making her laugh.

  The hottie had a sweet tooth.

  Who would have guessed?

  A pang of sadness hit her. Their destination. They were going to reach the Institute and then part ways. She doubted she’d see him again, not like this. The owner of the land on which the school was built probably didn’t hang out with postgrad students. Chloe tried to cheer herself up. She’d meet other people. She just doubted they’d be half as fascinating as Levi De Villier.

  Twenty minutes later, after devouring all of her plate and some of his, Chloe understood the generous tip. She was just wiping her mouth, and wondering if she could order seconds, when the train came to a halt.
/>
  Looking out the window, she saw more of the delightful countryside in the darkening light. Low hills to her right and woods on her left, for miles and miles. In the distance, a body of water seemed to have caught fire as the sun set overhead.

  "Passengers are advised to remain on the train. This is not a scheduled stop. We will be on our way shortly."

  That made sense. Chloe found herself wishing they were stopping for a while. The view was quite magnificent.

  "That's us. Do you have your things?"

  She blinked. "Here?"

  It didn't feel like the sort of place that should be disrupted by…by what, exactly? People?

  "Yes, here. Let's go."

  The conductor opened the doors for them while the rest of the train remained locked.

  "Thank you, Louis."

  "Always a pleasure, Mr. De Villier."

  And on that note, the man closed the doors and the train was gone, leaving them in the Scottish wilderness. The landscape was so beautiful she almost didn’t care that she was freezing her tits off. Almost.

  Eyes in the distance, Chloe couldn't stop looking at these hills, this lake. There was something about them.

  "Interesting," said Levi.

  "What?"

  He extended a gloved hand, inviting her to take it.

  "Your eyes."

  For a wild moment, she thought he was paying her a compliment. Before she had the sense to blush, he added, "Strangers normally need to be shown the way. You seem to have a good sight."

  Oh. He was complimenting her…eyesight?

  Strangely, that made more sense than his saying she had pretty eyes. Chloe was cute, but next to him, she looked like a charming fluffy gremlin.

  "Yeah," she replied with an awkward chuckle, feeling foolish for thinking he might have been flirting. "Twenty-twenty."

  He laughed.

  "Come on through."

  Levi took one step, and she had to take two to follow him. Midway through her second, a strange sensation made her shiver, as if she'd passed through a waterfall. Chloe closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she saw a paved road and a fancy sports car parked right in front of them. Miles away, those hills were still there, but now houses were on them; large, imposing state houses that all seemed to rival Buckingham Palace.