Graves of Wrath

by Lina Gardiner

  After Britt had either fallen asleep or passed out again, she paced around Regent’s small apartment. Even though Britt might lose his feet, or worse, his life, they couldn’t take him to the hospital. His wounds were paranormal, and no doctor’s traditional medicine would have any efficacy on them.

  “What do we do now, brother?” she asked. The pull of sunrise drained her energy and made her feel lethargic. She’d have to leave Britt and go back to her apartment soon. That would be agony in itself.

  “We wait. I read something in one of the texts I’m studying about people dying like this during the French Revolution. Could it be the same thing? Could that dark time have had something like this going, as well as the plague?”

  “How’d they fight it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. But I believe a lot of people in the city died both before and just after the revolution. History put it down to the plague. But maybe, it was something much, much worse.” Regent glanced at Britt, then looked away again in worry. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to let anything like that happen to Britt. We’ll figure this out.”

  Jess glanced at Britt’s flushed cheeks and paused to make sure he was still breathing.

  She pulled Regent into the kitchen and set him on a chair. “Do you think Britt is just asleep, or is his condition worsening? Could the poison have put him into a coma?”

  “I don’t know, dear,” he said. “We could always wake him to find out.”

  “As much as I hate to do that, I think we should,” she said, yanking her long hair back over her shoulders. “I’m not leaving here if he’s dying. I don’t care what the repercussions might be to myself.”

  “Well, I do,” Regent said. He approached Britt and knelt down next to the sofa. The second he touched his shoulder, Britt’s eyes flashed open. “You okay, son?”

  Britt nodded but didn’t speak, his face instantly contorted in pain.

  “Britt, do you want us to take you to the hospital?” Jess asked, knowing it would be an exercise in futility. Not that it mattered. She would stop at nothing to save him. “Are you feeling worse?” Worry was evident in her voice, but she didn’t give a damn.

  He looked at her and forced a pained smile. “No, I think it’s working. I’m just tired, that’s all, my love.” He closed his eyes again.

  Jess and Regent went back to the kitchen, where they could talk without bothering him. When Regent made himself a cup of tea, Jess noted her brother’s hands were shaking. No wonder.

  Regent took a long drink of his tea and looked at Jess. “How did this happen?”

  Jess told him everything about the incident. “What do you think those things are?”

  She knew her brother well enough to read his expression. He was keeping something from her.

  “My question would be . . . why didn’t they injure the man who walked through them, while Britt was attacked? And why do the two of you see them, when other people don’t?” He took a long drink of his tea. “Tomorrow, when there’s time, you and I need to talk. But not now. You’d better leave soon, before sunrise catches you by surprise.”

  She nodded, but she still had a bit more time. “We need to find out what these entities are,” Jess said.

  Regent leaned forward with a serious expression on his face. “There are volumes of old texts, written in languages and codes I don’t understand, in the libraries here in France. But, as I mentioned, I have seen some texts in Latin that mention injuries like Britt’s during the French Revolution. One particular script called it the work of the devil. Of course, back then, anything they didn’t understand was the work of the devil. It might have been a reference to the plague. Since I can only read things in English or Latin, I’m limited. Most of the documents are written in French.”

  “We need to find someone who can speak French, someone we trust,” she said, racking her brain for anyone she might know that could help. She jumped upright in her seat. “Sampson! He speaks French and Romanian, and he’s got a degree in ancient dialects.”

  “I had no idea he was fluent in other languages,” Regent said.

  “I’m going to phone him tomorrow and get him over here.” Jess leaned back on her heels. “When he comes, will the church allow him to help you?”

  “As I said, we need to talk. But it’s too late to start tonight, because you have to get home to safety, Jess.”

  “Wait. What is it?” Jess asked.

  Regent sighed. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but I do know something about the shadows. I had no idea they were able to harm anyone, though. At any rate, I’ll tell you what I know tomorrow.”

  Britt mumbled in his sleep, then groaned. Jess checked on him, but his eyes were still closed. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

  Regent reached over and touched her hand. “Honey, right now, the best things Britt has going for him are his angelic DNA, and the fact that he’s still alive.”

  “And, he has you, Regent,” she said. Regent might not think he had any special abilities, but he’d certainly proven he was special when he’d partially saved her soul.

  Her watch vibrated on her arm. “Damn. It’s nearly dawn. As much as I hate to leave, it’s time I go back to the apartment.”

  “Go, dear. I’ll keep an eye on him. Try not to worry.”

  “I’m sorry I have to leave you alone like this,” she said, still looking at Britt on the sofa. “And worse, I hate to leave Britt when he needs me most.”

  Unfortunately, it was her penance to pay. She was a creature of the night, and had to abide by the rules of her life sentence or disappear along with the many vampires she’d killed.

  Sometimes the thought of disappearing was almost sweet, but not tonight. She needed to be here to help Britt and Regent, and she’d damned well do her best.

  She left Regent’s place reluctantly. Who knew that being a vampire wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to her? That her life could continually get worse. . . . It seemed something always happened to remind her to be grateful for what she had, living as a vampire and hunting vamps side-by-side with Britt.

  Could that vile evil eating into Britt kill him, or would his angelic DNA be able to heal his injuries as Regent hoped? He had survived death once before, but he’d had help that time.

  On her way home, she passed the Arc de Triomphe. Usually, she kept going, but tonight, she walked toward it, almost as if she’d been lured there. She reached out and touched the stone, instantly feeling a vibration inside the arch. A feeling of power surged beneath the cold stone surface and along with it, a dark essence that nearly rocked her to the core. She pulled her hand away and rubbed it while she stared at the names of the fallen etched into the stone all around her.

  Is that why this city resonated a sense of dread for her? Is that why those shadows crawled out from the brick? There’d been so many deaths in France over the centuries—from conquest, to plagues, and through more than a hundred years of war. Old cities held a sense of ageless trauma. Tonight, it seemed that evil leaked from the very pores of the walls of the arch. Had it always been this way? Or was this something new?

  When strains of yellow filtered into the night sky, she forced herself away to continue on her way home. But for the first time, she checked all the rooms in her apartment before she locked herself into her newly made bunker.

  She stayed in her clothes tonight, and figured she’d forgo a shower when she woke. She intended to head out directly to Regent’s place, to find out if Britt had healed. Or . . . no, she couldn’t think like that.

  Before her body turned to stone and the world disappeared, she prayed that Britt would be okay.

  Chapter Four

  THE SUN HAD BARELY set when Jess left her room the next evening. She quickly drank her sustenance and made for Regent’s apartment a few streets away.


  As usual, at this time of night in Paris, the streets were bustling with tourists and citizens alike. It was agony to move at a regular pace instead of her vampiric speed.

  She opened the still-broken security door and zoomed up the old, creaky steps, then barged into Regent’s place.

  She instantly cringed at the scent of onions and beef cooking, until she saw Britt seated at the table with Regent, having dinner. They were chatting over thick steaks and baked potatoes, and they each had a glass of red wine. Britt’s feet were bare, and they were nearly healed. Pink scars marked the places where he’d been so badly damaged. Even his tissue had filled back in.

  “It worked,” she shouted, and both men jumped. She’d forgotten she could enter a room without anyone knowing she was there.

  “Jess!” Regent grasped his chest. “You scared the living daylights out of me.”

  “Sorry.” But she wasn’t. She was overcome at seeing her beloved’s current state of health. “Britt, how do you feel?”

  He put down his fork and stood to offer his chair before he grabbed another one in the living room for himself. “I’m fine, Jess. Totally fine.”

  Normally she’d balk at being treated like a lady, but she’d take anything Britt wanted to dish out today. He was alive! “Was it the herbs and oils that worked?” she asked.

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “Very minimally, if at all,” Regent added. “After you left, Britt’s blue light floated over him while he slept, hovering over his injuries for quite a while. I watched from the other room so I wouldn’t interfere. It was quite something to see.”

  “Really?” Britt said. “I didn’t realize.”

  Regent tipped his head. “I thought you were healing yourself consciously?”

  “No.” Britt scowled and looked a little frustrated. “I still have very little control over that part of my Fallen side. When my power is unleashed, it’s as if it has a mind of its own and it does what needs to be done. Maybe my subconscious is aware of my abilities, but my conscious mind certainly isn’t. If I have uber-DNA, there must be someone, somewhere, who can help me gain better control of it.”

  “There are passages in the Bible that talk about the children of the Fallen. Angels came to Earth and mated with human women,” Regent said.

  “According to my mother, my father was a construction worker. I seriously doubt there was much angelic DNA in him.” Britt frowned.

  “Your mother is still alive?” Jess asked, leaning forward and staring into Britt’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her bones felt like rubber. “She wasn’t even at your funeral.”

  “I only met her once. I was raised in an orphanage. Maybe I understand why she shipped me off now.”

  “I notice you never say angel. You always say Fallen,” Jess said in an attempt to change the subject. She’d find out more about his mother when they returned to New York, whether Britt agreed to it or not.

  “Probably because I’m far from an angel, babe.” He winked at her.

  Regent laughed. He got up and poured himself a second glass of wine, then offered Britt another. “If you’re both feeling up to it tonight, we’re still meeting the woman who looks like you, Jess. She said she’d catch up with us at the café near Notre Dame, and I told her you’d both be there. But that was before Britt was injured.”

  “Yes, I think we should meet her,” Britt said.

  “Sure you’re up to it?” Jess asked, hating that she sounded as if she could shatter at any moment. Having Britt’s life hanging in the balance definitely showed her weaknesses to the world.

  “I’m fine. It’s as if nothing happened,” he said, looking at his feet. “I might have a few scars, but the pain is gone and my strength has returned. Those things are not getting the better of me today.”

  Wary of sounding like a panicked girlfriend, she held her tongue. Was he truly healed? Either way, he’d never shy away from danger, any more than she would. It was part of who they were.

  “What’s this woman’s name?” Jess asked.

  Regent suddenly looked exasperated. “You know, I didn’t even think to ask her. I guess it was partly because I was afraid I’d scare her away. She seemed pretty dubious of me, and given her undead proclivities, I didn’t want to press her.”

  “You’re sure she’s a vampire?” Jess asked.

  “Pretty sure,” Regent said.

  It was probably a wise choice not to press her, then. What time are we supposed to be there?” Britt looked at his watch.

  “In an hour, actually. I told her eleven o’clock.”

  “Perfect—that’ll give me just enough time to run out and buy a new pair of shoes,” he said.

  Jess glanced at his sneakers, where they’d been left at the front door. They were full of holes and claw marks, but all signs of the damaging soot was gone. “Sorry, I didn’t think to bring you a pair of shoes.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I needed a new pair of sneakers, anyway. I might as well buy them tonight.”

  “What will you wear to go to the store?” Jess asked.

  “Regent and I don’t have the same size feet, so I’ll have to wear those torn-up ones.” He frowned. “Any chance they’ll still burn me?”

  Jess picked one up and ran her fingers over it. “There’s no residue left, just the holes.” She put the sneaker down again. “I can’t imagine what the poor shoe salesman is going to think.”

  “I’ll tell him I’m an exterminator,” Britt said, and Regent nearly choked on the sip of wine he’d just taken.

  “At least your sense of humor is back. That’s another good sign,” Regent said, crossing himself and looking skyward. “Since we can’t be sure if all of the poison is out of your system, I’ll do up a package of my herbs to bring along. I want you to put them on your feet each night for a week.”

  “Is that really necessary?” Britt asked, grimacing.

  “It is,” Regent said.

  “How will dried herbs stay on my feet?”

  “Wear socks to bed. Stuff the herbs down your socks until they’re on the tops of your feet.” Regent grinned, as if he was thoroughly enjoying this.

  Jess shook her head because Regent had done the same to her before. Yeah, now that Britt was better, Regent was having some fun at his expense.

  “At the end of the week, I’ll check you again. Hopefully, I’ll be able to give you a clean bill of health.”

  “Great!” Britt took the last bite of his steak and washed it down with wine.

  Jess helped clean up the dishes because she knew how anxious Regent was to go. She’d never seen him quite so eager to introduce her to another person. Hopefully, the whole thing didn’t backfire, because he certainly had his hopes up. He really believed this woman might be their sister.

  By the time they met Regent at the café, it was eleven o’clock on the dot. Regent was animated, and he was talking more than usual while he searched the streets for this mystery woman.

  Jess didn’t know what to think about having a lookalike. It was hard to believe another woman could fool her brother.

  She and Regent both knew they had been adopted, and it was completely possible that they had another sibling out there. But another sibling who was also a vampire? Not likely. If this “sister” wasn’t a vampire, she’d be well up in years. But according to Regent, she looked to be Jess’s current visual age. Twenty-nine-ish.

  The whole thing had to be a setup. But if it was, what would be the purpose of it? Why would someone undergo plastic surgery to look like her?

  Regent’s spine suddenly stiffened. The lookalike had arrived. Jess turned her head and her mouth dropped open. “Unbelievable!”

  The woman stopped next to their table and appeared to be as stunned as Jess.

  “Impossible,” she said, harshly.
“What is the meaning of this?”

  Regent stood and offered her a chair. “I did try to tell you. Won’t you have a seat?”

  Jess observed the woman’s fashionable hairstyle and perfectly applied makeup with navy-blue, lacquered fingernails that matched the highlights in her hair. Her clothes were expensive and had obviously been made specifically for her. Nothing off-the-rack for this girl. So why would someone go to the effort to make a Jess Vandermire lookalike, only to give her a different hairstyle and clothes?

  Jess had to admit that, other than the superficial differences, she could be looking in a mirror. They were almost exactly alike.

  And this woman was definitely a vampire!

  “Hello,” Jess said, giving Britt a nudge with her toe. Contrary to his prior comments about her having a double, his expression practically telegraphed the fact that he didn’t like what he was seeing.

  “Well,” she replied. “I wasn’t sure I believed your brother, but now . . . ” She sat on the edge of her chair, as if she might run away at any moment.

  Jess felt like doing the same thing.

  When the waitress approached, Regent and Britt ordered coffee, but Jess and this other woman did not.

  “May I ask your name?” Britt asked.

  “Morana,” she replied.

  No last name, but it was a start. Regent made small talk, but Jess wasn’t listening, instead focused on assessing the woman, who was doing the same thing to her.

  “Is it possible you were adopted?” Regent asked, in his most hopeful voice. Regent was altogether too gullible when it came to this woman, which was surprising. He’d been around the block and, hell, he had a vampire for a sister. So gullibility wasn’t common for him. But this lookalike had found a soft spot in him, obviously.

  Jess wasn’t jealous, just worried. Very worried.

  “Yes, I was adopted,” Morana said, narrowing her gaze on Jess. “But, I’ve never been told I have siblings.”

  “We haven’t either. It’s strange we look so much alike,” Jess said, hoping Morana had some sort of explanation. “Where were you born?”