Vamped Up

by Kristin Miller

  His death shade thickened, began to harden on its edges, and bubbled to an almost solid form. Savage urged the mob of death shades forward to stifle the souls of every Primus in the room. In unison. Warm fingers of death reached out at once to claim the greatest prize of all . . . vengeance.

  “WHAT DO YOU need me to do?” Dylan asked, as she leaned against her Jetta’s driver’s-side door. She fumbled through her purse for a Bloodblaster. Damn her diet all to hell. She needed chocolate on her tongue like she needed air in her lungs.

  Slade stood back, crossing his arms over his chest, the leather of his coat gleaming in the moonlight. “I won’t leave Ruan out there fighting this fight alone. If the council won’t step in, we’ll get Eve ourselves.”

  “Right.” She tossed a mini-morsel into her cheeks, then fumbled through her purse for her keys. Slade silenced her hands by cupping his over them.

  “You’re not coming—it’s not safe. I don’t want Savage within a hundred yards of you.”

  “But you said—”

  “I was just making sure you made it to your car all right. I have to stop by the khiss artillery room and check out some heavier ammo before joining Ruan.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He kissed her quick, then strode to the haven’s back door. Before Dylan could argue, Slade swung the heavy door open. Sky-opening, toe-curling screams escaped into the chilly night air.

  “The council,” Slade breathed.

  He stormed back into the haven and jetted down the hall, leaving Dylan struggling to catch up. When she weaved around the last corner and stood before the entry to the council’s chamber, she was slammed back by khiss members fighting to see into the room. It was total chaos. They looked more like salmon swimming upstream, slapping against one another to reach the doors first, rather than friendly khissmates.

  Slade weaved through the mosh-pit-like crowd, yelling at them to get back and give him some room. When he finally disappeared inside the great room and the crowd peeled back, Dylan stared into the wide open space of chamber. Slade stood in the center near the circular table reserved for Primuses, his gaze dragging along the floor . . . but no Primuses were in sight. Dylan walked hesitantly inside, not sure what would have the entire khiss struggling to catch a glimpse of the inner chamber floor. A chill settled in her bones as she descended past row after row of chairs. She gasped as she stole her first good look at the chamber’s center.

  A sea of brightly-colored robes swathed the hardwood—green, blue, smoked red, and black. They were everywhere. They flared out in odd patterns, one robe touching the next, covering the floor until barely a wood plank could be seen between the fabrics. Dylan crouched down . . .

  “Dylan, don’t,” she heard Slade say from a distance.

  But she lifted the closest robe anyway—a black cloak woven with heavy fabric—and stared right into Hiram’s blank and lifeless eyes.

  No . . .

  Hands trembling, realization setting in, Dylan jerked her hand reflexively to her mouth. She scanned the room. They were dead. They were all dead. How was it possible for every Primus and royal guard to drop dead without so much as . . .

  There was only one way. “Death shades,” Dylan gasped. “Savage.”

  Slade stepped over and between bodies. “Every Primus within a hundred-mile radius was here tonight. He’s trying to create total anarchy in the havens. Stay here and run damage control with the khissmates. Calm them down. Gather everyone in the great room. Find out who’s unaccounted for.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To track down the death shades. They’re still in the haven somewhere.” He stormed into the hall, scanning right and left, trying to decide which way to charge first.

  “But we don’t even know what stops them,” she snapped, ready to follow his every step. He couldn’t leave her alone. Not anymore.

  “I’m the only member of the Crimson Council left. Keeping our khiss running strong is now my responsibility.” He cradled her hands in his. “My responsibility, Dylan. Not yours.”

  “What about Ruan? And Eve?” The pull to keep Slade at her side had never been stronger.

  “I can only do so much. He and Dante will be on their own until I can restore order here first. Keeping our khiss safe and under control is now my top priority. Next to you, of course.”

  “Slade?” Dylan asked, suddenly feeling as sunken and hollow as the Primuses on the floor. She swallowed hard; the words couldn’t hold back any longer. “Be careful, okay? I can’t do this without you.”

  “Do what?”

  She took his hand and placed it on the flat span of her stomach. “Raise this baby.”

  “Wha . . . a baby?” His coal-black eyes shot to his hand, to their young growing there, then back up to her face. “You’re pregnant?” His voice kicked up an octave. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Turns out my stomach bug wasn’t a bug at all.”

  With a gasp he roped his arms around her and squeezed, lifting her off the floor. Then with a jolt, he put her back down as if he thought he’d hurt the young nestled in her womb. “I love you,” he said on a sigh. Then he leaned down and gently kissed her stomach. “And I love you.”

  Dylan’s heart danced in her chest. “Now go,” she said, stroking her hands across the dark stubble on his head. “But be safe. Come back to me . . . to us.”

  “I promise you that.” He kissed her square on the mouth. “Always.” Then he spun on his heels and disappeared around the corner.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “If a sailor wishes a better glimpse of the bright, hopeful stars, he must first submerge himself in darkness.”

  Promises of Night, a book of vampire inspirationals

  RUAN TOOK THE weathered stairs two at a time, hoping against hope that the secret passage to the underground facility of Fort Point was still where he remembered. Otherwise this entire drive across the Golden Gate to the Sausalito side of the bay was a colossal waste of time. As he lumbered down each slat, coming closer to the secluded beach below the Sausalito vista point, the wind picked up, cracking his lips and squeezing the moisture from his eyes.

  He’d texted Dante on the drive over and received no response back. Either the sucker had his hands full with the newly transitional elder he’d kidnapped, or he was blowing Ruan off. Lucky for Dante, Ruan didn’t have much time to think about his no-show and how much it would’ve pissed him off under normal circumstances. He was too focused on getting in and getting out alive, with Eve in tow. He had to remain focused on the task at hand. For both their sakes.

  Lilith struggled to keep up with his grueling pace from the first salt-stained stair. It might’ve had something to do with her ridiculous attire—stiletto heels and a flowing corseted gown didn’t exactly scream “practical” when breaking into a military stronghold like Fort Point. On the other hand, though, Ruan was carrying a duffel full of ammo that wouldn’t theoretically work on the shadowed enemy he was engaging, so who was he to talk?

  “I still don’t see why we had to come way out here,” Lilith said, her voice cracking from the extreme wind chill. “If we stayed on the same side of the bay as the fort, we could get in faster with less risk of being detected. But from way over here . . .” She spread her arms to the fort across the wide span of the bay, which was barely visible through the thick, soupy fog blanketed over the water. “It’s going to take forever to get across and by that time he’ll know we’re coming.”

  “Not if you know the tunnels like the back of your hand.” He wasn’t called the Ghost of the vampire race for nothing, Ruan mused, stepping one foot onto the sand, before hightailing it around a big-ass rock to his right. He spotted the rickety wooden door right where he remembered it was—tucked into a huge stone, designed as a back-up escape route for Civil War soldiers in the case of a massive Fort Point attack by the South via
the bay. “There’s only one road that leads down to that fort from the San Francisco side. Savage will know the second we drop down off the freeway. But from down here, there are a few routes that branch off the main one. I know these tunnels like the back of my hand, remember? You’re the one who charged me to memorize them in 1912. We’re going to use the secondary escape route I mapped for you.” He squatted near the door, unzipped his duffel, and removed handmade explosive devices with putty secured to the back. He mashed the device to the rusted hinges, then attached a few to the cross-slats in the wood.

  “I never would’ve escaped this way . . . like a rat, running back to my haven with my tail between my legs.” Lilith stood back, looking on in disapproval, her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think Savage will hear that? Or that he knows about these tunnels? He was stationed here before as well, or don’t you remember?”

  When the last explosive was adhered to the door, he snatched the trigger out of his bag and ran around the massive boulder near the stairwell. Lilith followed in his sand-kicked wake. “Savage won’t hear shit over the ripping of this wind and the crash of that sea.” Ruan nodded to the roaring breakers. “Besides, the fort is way the hell over there and it’s not like I’m dropping Hiroshima on his ass.” He flipped the switch on the remote and heard the sweet Pop! Pop! Pop! Boom! of the door busting apart. “And Savage may know of the tunnels, but they’re not really considered part of the fort. They’re beneath it. I’m trying to find a loophole wherever I can. If there’s a possibility that he’s having the death shades guard Eve and the structure of the fort, we might have a chance of the corridors being free.”

  “Yeah, a chance in hell,” she sneered.

  Ruan rounded the boulder and smiled when he saw the door obliterated, leaving a gaping mouth of black in its place. “Well, let’s go find out.” Stepping into the doorway, immediately cloaked in shadows, he spread his hands into the tunnel. “Shall we?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Bravery is not for the strong, but for the weak who can no longer stare into the blank face of indifference.”

  Count VonTess, philosopher

  RUAN AND LILITH trekked through the main tunnel stretching under the bay in silence. Not because they thought they’d be heard, their location given away to the death shades, but because the pressure on Ruan’s heart increased each step closer to the fort. It was like someone clamped a vise around the aching organ and squeezed until the blood couldn’t pump through it naturally, starving his body from the energy it needed to function. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think, let alone talk. He wondered if Lilith felt the same and if that’s why her tight lips matched his.

  The tunnel was nearly black—too dark for even his highly-tuned eyes to pick up anything in particular. Good thing they’d run into nothing but a nice clean cement causeway. From the get-go, he’d relied on his other heightened senses to trudge under the length of the bay—smell and sound. Hypnotic whooshes of water, much like he’d heard that babies experience when in the womb, surrounded them.

  They were deep underwater now.

  When Ruan felt like he’d charged forever into an abyss with no visible end, when he truly began to wonder how deep under the sea the tunnel burrowed and how far it reached, he slowed his steps. An eerie feeling raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Three branches curved off the main tunnel up ahead, then led far off, out of sight. The halls were completely swallowed in an impenetrable gloom. Even lower cement ceilings with thick cobwebbed corners nearly touching his head plagued each route.

  “Which one?” Lilith whispered, her gaze peering through the dark.

  “Wait here.” Ruan roamed a few yards down the tunnel on the right, until Lilith’s overwhelming sugar-sweet scent wasn’t as distracting. He crouched low, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Dirt. Grease. Metal. Like neglected machines. He tried to remember if one of these tunnels led to the cannon chamber. If he remembered right and his sniffer was on point, this was the way to the storage facility for the cannons of a lost age.

  But it’s not where Eve would be held. She’d be in the same chamber she was when he found her before . . . back in 1912.

  Ruan turned back, walked right past Lilith into the tunnel on her left. He took another deep breath. Its smells were exactly the same as the tunnel they’d just entered from. Salt. Pungent sea. More tunnel stretching beneath the bay. It’d probably lead past the fort, around the side, deeper into the heart of the city. It probably came up somewhere near one of the piers on the Embarcadero. Although he didn’t remember seeing such a thing when he’d studied the maps, he made a mental note of the possibility.

  He turned back again, met Lilith head-on. Her irises blazed lava-red. “Come on,” he said, tightening the bag over his shoulder. “It’s gotta be this way.”

  A dozen steps down the dipping and weaving tunnel straight in front of them and Ruan knew he was on the right track. He picked up Eve’s natural fragrance—the scent he’d come to associate with the love of his life. Soft. Clean. Pure. Like rose hips and jasmine.

  “We’re close,” Ruan whispered.

  Lilith slowed her steps as ochre wall lights pierced the dark on each side of the tunnel. “If we’re close, they’re close. And it looks like someone comes down here enough to want the place lit.”

  The floor vibrated beneath their feet. Dust shook from the walls. Wall lights creaked. Was that an explosion? Thunder rattling the fort’s brick siding? The similarities between this night and the night in 1912 had Ruan blinking hard, making sure this was, in fact, reality and not another crazy dream.

  He stopped, peering down the tunnel as far as he could, to where it slanted upward, bending around a sharp turn. He continued slowly. Cautiously. No more barging down tunnels. No more explosives. At least not yet. The path continued upward, climbing steeper and steeper until Ruan knew the tunnel was emerging from the cover of the sea. The wall lights flickered as a rogue draft of air swept through the corridor, rousing Lilith’s skirt and fanning her hair. Ruan squinted into the dark. Were those shadows against the wall moving? Or were his eyes playing tricks on him?

  “Lilith,” Ruan said cautiously, watching every inch of shadow for slithery movement. “If there’s something you know about these death shades or what can stop them, now’s not the time to hold back.”

  She sighed, coming to stand beside him. “Everything rests with Eve.”

  “I had a feeling you’d say something entirely unhelpful like that.”

  Within seconds they reached the end of the tunnel. A wide cement staircase with diminutive slats for stairs and no handrail spiraled into the ceiling above.

  As they approached the first stair, the whooshing sounds quieted, replaced by the haunting sound of nothingness—the kind of too-still silence that warned the subconscious that things could never be this quiet. Either someone was waiting to ambush them, listening to hear their whereabouts, or they were busy in other parts of the fort. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Eve wouldn’t be in the same chamber. Maybe Savage had moved her.

  Ruan wasted no time hesitating on the stairs or calculating his next move, eerie silence or not. He skated up the stairs one tiny step at a time, his hands skimming the calloused wall behind him. It was now or never. He drew his gun, instinctively felt for his knife and grenades. He slid up the stairwell, Lilith following closely behind.

  He cautiously wound a second, third, then a fourth spiral, to another underground level of the fort that looked the same as the one he’d just come from. Dirt. Brick. More dirt. Except this part of the fort looked as if it’d actually been put to use once upon a time. It’d been leveled. Cleared out. Umbrella lights dangled from chains overhead, swinging to and fro with each eerie gust of wind blowing through. It must’ve been a secret room used to care for sick or injured soldiers. Ruan could almost imagine the place in its day—brimming with tables and benches, racks of supplies, and cots for wea
ry men. From up here, the steady hum of cars crossing the Golden Gate Bridge could barely be made out. They had to be a single level down.

  A second set of cement stairs spun upward against the wall to their left. Carved out cannon bunkers lined the walls to their right, providing the perfect space for death shades to linger and wait to make their move. Ruan peered into the depths of those bunkers, looking for any sign of movement. Caught nothing. But he could sense they were there. They were everywhere in this place.

  He could see all the way across the empty room, to where the dim lights drowned into nothingness through a long stretch of blacked-out hallway. On the other side of that hall was another open room, though. Ruan couldn’t be sure . . . but it looked like . . . almost like the shadows in that room weren’t stationary. They were skimming the walls, brushing past the opening of the hallway on the other side.

  “There.” Ruan pointed across the room, through the dark corridor. His skin turned cold, his hands clammed. Eve’s scent, as strong as if she was standing next to them, made his mouth water. As much as the instinctual reaction disgusted him, it had led him right to her. For once, Ruan was thankful for being so tantalized—so tortured—by her. “Eve’s through there.”

  Lilith nodded, scanning the room from one shadowed corner to another, from the stairwell on the right leading up to ground level, to the haunting bunkers on the left, as he was. Where the devil was Savage? He had to be here somewhere.

  “Ready?” Ruan asked, gearing to bolt into the shadowed hall.

  Lilith nodded and took off ahead of him. He caught her quick, brushing past her just as they entered the mouth of the hall. Once cloaked in dark, they slowed, waiting for a death shade to dart into the corridor any minute and pass right through them.

  Blood pressure climbing, Ruan ever . . . so . . . slowly inched closer and closer to the shadows buzzing by the entry. Just before he was caught in the reflections cast by wrought-iron candle holders perched around the antechamber, he stopped. And took a good, hard look at what he was up against.