The Brimstone Betrayal

by Terence West

  Still, in his weakened condition, he had been able to sneak up on me. “You look like hell,” I offered.

  "Thanks,” Toby replied with a half-hearted smile.

  Even though he was exhausted, he still kept a wary eye on me. He didn't trust me completely, and I'm not sure he ever would. I was a soulless, evil Vampire in his eyes, even though I wasn't evil, or particularly soulless. For some reason long ago, Vampires and Werewolves had fought a bloody war against each other. No one was sure exactly what caused it, as no records remain from that era, but both species were nearly decimated. Some of that hostility remained today, especially in Werewolves. Most hated Vampires. It was that simple. But Toby was different.

  I crossed my legs and placed my hands firmly on the arms of my chair. “Thank you,” I said softly.

  His eyes searched mine for a moment. “For?"

  "Helping me."

  Toby modestly brushed away my gratitude with his hand as if it were nothing. “I was just lucky enough to be there. Plus, it was nice to smack around a couple of Vamps,” he added with a smirk.

  There was a distinct possibility that I would be dead ... um, deader if he hadn't shown up. Even if he didn't think so, I owed Toby.

  We fell into a comfortable silence. I had been partially responsible for training Toby for his promotion to Seeker. It must have been a joke from the Powers That Be to pair a Vampire and Werewolf, or just another test. If Toby had snapped and killed me it probably would have sealed his fate, and mine, come to think of it. There had been many long nights of surveillance when neither of us spoke a word. But during that time Toby had become my friend. I trusted Toby with my life.

  "Whose collar did we steal?” Toby asked finally, a bit of his color returning to his cheeks.

  He was healing quickly. Most thought the Werewolf's heightened healing ability was one of their gifts. I, on the other hand, realized it was the only thing keeping them alive. Transforming put a tremendous amount of stress on the body. Think about it. Anything that causes bones to break and regrow in different configurations, and organs to shift completely was probably pretty lethal. Which also explained why new Werewolves usually didn't make it to their second full moon. Their bodies couldn't handle the stress.

  I turned and looked back at my monitor. Running my finger down the screen, I smiled and turned back to Toby. “Ramirez."

  Toby laughed. “That old Witch is going to be pissed."

  Elena Ramirez was Brimstone's top Seeker. Transferring from office to office, she went where the powers felt she was most needed. She had been a member of the Syndicate before Vampires, Werewolves, and other Inhumans had been admitted. There were rumors she was one of the very first Seekers, but no one had been able to substantiate the claim. I was under the impression she had created that rumor herself and was helping to perpetuate it. She had been very vocal about her distaste over allowing Inhumans into Brimstone, and time had not eased her position. She was a bigot, plain and simple. She always felt her job was to control and destroy the creatures of the night, not work with them. So most of the Inhumans took great pleasure in screwing with her. It probably wasn't helping our cause, but it was fun nevertheless.

  "I wonder how long she was tracking Garrett?” I asked.

  Toby shrugged. “Knowing Elena, probably months. She doesn't do anything quickly.” He paused, his smile fading from his face. “Think she'll curse us like she did Jacobs?"

  I hadn't thought of that. She was getting rather vindictive lately. She couldn't outright kill another Seeker without losing her Brimstone status, but there were ways of making someone else miserable. No one was sure what she did to Jacobs, if anything at all, but he had retired shortly after accidentally capturing a swarm of mischievous Sprites that were part of Elena's docket. He had been a very promising Seeker, but he just gave it all up almost overnight. No one could ever prove that Elena did anything, but we all had our suspicions.

  Toby shrugged. “I'll just tell the truth in my report. I was backup. You were the one who made the collar.” He stood up and walked around the desk. Sliding into the chair, he leaned his elbows on the desk and laced his fingers. He was looking much better.

  "You're a lot of help.” I snorted. It wasn't that big of a deal. I would just stop by Witchcraft on the third floor on my way out and pick up a couple of anti-hex charms. That should do the trick.

  I ran my hand through my messy hair. The rain had done a real number on it. “So, what are your plans tonight?"

  Toby shrugged. “I'm off the clock in fifteen minutes. I was just planning to go home and sleep. You?"

  I glanced up at the boring, white clock on the wall and realized it was a quarter to three. I had wasted my whole night at the office. I started to feel the pang of hunger in my stomach. “I'm hungry."

  Toby jerked straight up.

  I almost laughed, but I remembered how much my vampirism still unnerved him. I shook my head. “Sorry, Toby."

  The Werewolf's posture eased slightly. “Please don't do that, Rose,” he asked softly. “Usually when a Vampire says they're hungry, someone dies."

  I laughed to try and ease the situation. “I haven't had human blood in nearly ten years. You know that."

  Toby nodded. “I know, I know. But you're still a Vampire."

  "The synthetic stuff they produce upstairs is actually pretty good,” I offered. I was hoping to convince him that I actually enjoyed being on the fake blood, even though I hated it. It made my stomach turn. I hated to admit it, but I missed human blood. I even craved it from time to time.

  I looked at Toby. Werewolves tasted unique, powerful, intoxicating.

  "Rose."

  Toby's voice was low and stern. I snapped straight up embarrassed, realizing I must've been eyeing him like a Happy Meal.

  "Sorry.” I must be hungrier than I thought.

  He stood out of his chair and started quickly for the elevator. “I'm calling it a night,” he said, jabbing the call button. He waited a moment then nervously hit the button again.

  I thought about stopping him to apologize, but he needed time to cool off. He knew in his condition he wouldn't be much of a match for a hungry Vampire. I lifted my hand and waved goodbye as he slipped into the elevator before the doors could even fully open.

  It was probably best that he left. We both needed to rest, but I had to finish my paperwork. Turning back to the computer, I glanced one more time at the clock on the wall. I had about an hour and a half before I had to be home in order to miss the sun rise. I had no intention of spending the night here at Brimstone Central. There's nothing worse than spending all night and all day at your place of employment.

  I thought of Toby again. I would have to do something nice to properly apologize. Maybe I could get him football tickets, or something of the sort. That wouldn't be too difficult since Brimstone monitored multiple players in the league. The fans had no idea that their favorite player was an Inhuman. I'm sure I could pull some strings.

  I ran my hand over my face to wipe away the sleepiness. It wasn't working. Saving my progress, I shut down the computer and headed for the elevator. The paperwork could wait. I was hungry and tired.

  And it was my night off after all.

  Chapter 3

  Twisting the steering wheel, I guided my blue coupe down into the parking structure. The smell of gasoline, oil, and car fumes was thick in this concrete cave. Dug out beneath my apartment building, the garage was generally well maintained and allowed me to get to my car without dealing with any pesky sunlight. Pulling into my usual spot, I kicked the car into park and turned off the ignition. Pulling the keys free, I leaned back in the plush, dark gray fabric.

  Staring out the window, I looked over a row of high-powered sports cars and expensive sedans that seemed to populate the garage. Sometimes I wished I could lose myself in the rich leather interiors of those vehicles, to feel the night wind whip through my hair as I drove with the top down, or the raw adrenaline of gunning the engine to one hundred and t
hirty miles per hour. I looked down at my coupe's speedometer that terminated just above ninety and smiled. This wasn't the fastest or prettiest ride, but it was reliable and it got me where I wanted to go. I guess that would have to be enough. Running my hand lovingly over the steering wheel, I popped the door and stepped out. Thumbing the remote, I watched the headlights flash to signal the car was locked.

  Turning toward the elevators on the far side of the garage, I felt the tiny hairs on my neck stand up. I could feel someone staring holes into my back. There was no need to panic, but my mind snapped into defensive mode. Moving across the concrete, I scanned the garage without trying to look like I was. Could it be one of Vlad's Vampires seeking retribution?

  As I walked, I slid my hand into my jacket and unhooked the safety strap on my holster. Carefully wrapping my fingers around the grip, I pulled the pistol free and laid my finger across the trigger guard. We were instructed during Seeker training to never place our finger on the trigger unless we intended to fire. I slid my finger into the guard and clicked off the safety with my thumb.

  Stopping in front of the elevator, I spotted a shadow move behind a parked car. He had allowed me to see him. “Might as well come out, Jared."

  Holding my weapon defensively, I watched a dark figure materialize out of the shadows. Jared was gorgeous, even for a Vampire. His pale skin was offset by the sheen of the hip-length black leather jacket he always wore. Dark slacks, a maroon v-neck sweater, and a pair of black combat boots completed his attire. His short, messy hair was dark brown, but with the gel he used, it looked black. He exuded darkness and power. It eddied, swirled, and seemed to roll off him in waves threatening to pull me under in the riptide. But by far, Jared's most attractive feature was the steel blue eyes that seemed to slice through me like lasers. In the right conditions, they could appear almost white, while at other times were a rich shade of azure.

  "Rosy,” Jared greeted me.

  I didn't like him calling me that. He never earned that privilege. I kept a safe distance between the two of us. “Stalking me?"

  Jared's expression remained unchanged. “Just making sure you got home safely.” His voice was smooth and powerful.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Why?"

  "I heard about your catch tonight,” Jared answered. “Master Vampire."

  I nodded. “That's right."

  "They tend to have powerful allies,” he noted ominously. His blue eyes flashed beautifully in the low light.

  Eyeing him, I shifted my weight from foot to foot. His posture was a little more rigid than usual. He was hiding something. “Why are you really here?"

  Jared was silent.

  I turned and tapped the elevator call button. The down arrow above the door illuminated red. “You have until the elevator arrives,” I pressed.

  The Vampire glanced up to the arrow then back to me. “I'll go.” He turned away.

  "Wait.” I regretted saying it as soon as it left my lips. I didn't like to show vulnerability.

  Jared turned back to me. A mischievous glimmer in his eyes appeared then vanished just as quickly.

  I bit my lip.

  "I just wanted to make sure you got home safely,” Jared reiterated

  I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms. “That's it? Just pop by to spy on me, then vanish again?"

  His lips warped into a frown. “I'm sorry.” He took a step back. “This was a bad idea. I should go. The sun will be up soon. Rosy,” Jared breathed my name as if it were a prayer, “please be careful.” A dark shadow fell over his face. “A storm is brewing."

  I cocked an eyebrow curiously. “What does that mean?"

  "It's not too late.” He paused uncomfortably. This wasn't like him at all. Jared was many things, but uncertain wasn't one of them.

  "Not too late for what?” I asked.

  "To accept my offer,” Jared replied. “I can take you away from all of this before it's too late."

  His words seemed to settle over me like rain clouds. “Too late for what? What does that mean?"

  His stare fell away from me. “Be careful,” Jared repeated.

  The ding of the elevator caught my attention. Turning back, I watched Jared vanish into the shadows.

  I slowly stepped inside and jabbed the button for my floor with my knuckle. Watching the doors close, I stared at my missing reflection in the silver surface. I leaned my head against the cool metal and finally slipped my pistol back into its holster. That wasn't like Jared, at least not the Vampire I knew. Something wasn't right.

  As the elevator stopped and the doors opened, I wandered out into the hallway. Without an upward glance, I navigated to my apartment door and opened it. Dropping my keys on the table next to the front door, I scanned over my apartment with a sigh. It was a disaster. Piles of dirty clothes seemed to live in every corner while half-finished stacks of reports littered the kitchen counter. I should at least buy some dishes to appear human. But when was the last time someone was actually in my apartment?

  Most humans don't like the company of Vampires. There's something inherently creepy about my species that seems to drive them—the normal ones anyway—away. Perhaps it's our pale white skin, or our unnaturally fierce eyes. Maybe our movements seem too fluid, too perfect. Or was it our razor-sharp fangs never quite hidden by our lips? Most likely it was that we were dead. That seemed like the most logical answer. Every animal on Earth can, in some form or another, sense death, and are repelled by it. This act of self-preservation seems to be programmed in on the genetic level.

  And, truth be told, I don't particularly care for the company of other Vampires either. There's something about a bunch of pale people dressed in black that just doesn't do it for me. There's nothing worse than a brood of Vampires. They just look like they're waiting for a funeral. Which, if you think about it, probably isn't too far from the truth.

  Plus, most Vampires tend to whine a lot. Ever since Anne Rice published her chronicles, all newly-turned Vampires seem to think they need to be tortured souls with the heart of poets. I just can't handle all of that “poor-poor-pitiful-me” garbage anymore. Our species is one of the few who are nearly immortal. It's true that Werewolves have enhanced life spans, if they could get past killing each other, and some Demons tend to live the span of two or three human lifetimes, but Vampires can live for centuries. Sure, there are trade offs—the whole no sunlight thing bothers me from time to time—but there's no sense wasting my afterlife whining. I just have no stomach for that.

  Hanging my leather jacket on the rack next to the door, I wandered into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator. The stark emptiness startled me. Leaning against the open door I stared at the white plastic interior in dismay. Not even a half-filled blood bag remained. I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath. I knew there was something I meant to do on my day off. I'd just have to pick up some more tomorrow at the office.

  Closing the door, I retreated past the living room into the bedroom. I called it my “master bedroom” even though it was smaller than the lady's restroom at the office. But it was mine. It was my own little corner of the world. Being nearly immortal, I had been forced over the years to move around a lot to keep up the guise of being human. I had been here for a little more than two years, but of all the apartments and rentals I've had throughout my afterlife, this was easily my favorite.

  Unbuckling my holster, I slipped the thick leather straps off my shoulders. Holding it in my hand, I kicked off the safety strap, pulled my black Beretta Cougar out, and cradled it in my right hand. I liked this weapon. It wasn't huge or intimidating, but it seemed to fit me. The flat black surface of the Italian pistol felt cool against my hand. Thumbing the release, I pulled the magazine free: one bullet short. I wondered for a moment if it was still imbedded in Vlad's head, or if it had burst free. After snapping the magazine back in with a satisfying click, I replaced the .45 in the holster.

  I had never owned a gun before working for Brimstone. For some reason they equippe
d all Seekers with a sidearm. Not that it usually did any good. Unless the Inhuman had a specific aversion to lead, it was little more than a diversionary tactic. I had only once seen a weapon bring down a raging Werewolf, and it wasn't the .45 caliber that I carried, it was one of those cannons they referred to as “elephant guns.” And it had taken both barrels.

  It was kind of like working for the FBI, I imagined. I had a gun, a cute little gold badge, ID card and everything. Now I just needed a spooky partner who believed in conspiracy theories, alien abductions, a nice basement office, and I would be set.

  Kicking off my chunky boots, I sat down on the edge of the bed and relaxed. Still a bit shaken from the incident earlier in the evening, I tried to center myself and unwind. The flavor of Vlad's flesh lingered in my mouth. Vampires tasted like ashes to me. I had never understood the attraction of feeding off another Vamp. It's true that Vampire blood tasted different from humans, but I couldn't get past the tang of ash. I would rather lick a dirty ashtray.

  Once I fell back on the bed, I unzipped my pants and pushed them off. My shirt quickly followed creating a heap on the floor. I dropped back into the sheets in my bra and panties and started making snow angels, enjoying the feel of warm cotton against my flesh. I rolled onto my side and slipped my arm beneath my head. Several heavy blankets covered the only window in my bedroom. The bottom edges of the blankets were pinned back, allowing me to enjoy my sixth floor view of Las Vegas. Through the rain streaks I could see the glittering lights of the casinos in the distance.

  Well off the Strip, I was still near enough to head down if I wanted, yet far enough away to avoid the tourists who flocked there. Las Vegas had become a haven for Inhumans ever since they broke ground in the middle of the Nevada desert. With the constant influx of humanity, Inhumans could blend in easily and get lost. Vampires especially loved Sin City. The multitudes of naive tourists provided a constant food source and usually weren't missed too quickly. It gave the Vamps a chance to cover their tracks.