by J. A. London
With a deep sigh, Michael sits on one of the cots. “I think I’m safe here. You could get to Denver faster without me.”
“You are turning me into an echo. I’m not leaving you. Now get some sleep and I’ll keep watch.”
“But—”
Before he can finish, the beads are clicking again. Amy sets a large bowl on a small table. “Brung you some water and clothes.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll help him put on the shirt I found for him.” She gives Michael another shy smile as she walks toward him. “Don’t want to undo Dr. Jameson’s handiwork.”
While she’s tending to Michael, blocking his view of me, I quickly remove my shirt. I wash my hands, face, neck, and chest. The gray T-shirt she brought for me is soft and faded with age, somehow comforting.
The beads smack again. Dr. Jameson is holding two mugs. “Decided you should have a little soup before you sleep.”
She hands me one, then takes the other to Michael before leaving, ushering Amy out of the room as well.
I ease onto the bed across from Michael. I take a sip of the thick, creamy, tomatoey soup. “It’s good.”
“Yeah.” He barely opens his mouth to take a long swallow.
“Are you in much pain?” Stupid question. I know he is.
“I’ll be all right.”
If he were dying, he’d say the same thing. Not only because stoicism is part of his training as a Night Watchman, but because it’s in his nature to downplay his own suffering. Even when we broke up after going together for several months, he contained his anger and pain as much as possible.
I’m just grateful that we were able to become friends again after we separated.
Once we finish off the soup, I set both mugs on the table and return to the cot. “You try to get some sleep.”
Reaching across, he touches my leg. “Are you okay? Sin and that old vampire in the cave laid some heavy stuff on you. Just so you know, I don’t believe any of it.”
I don’t either. It’s just not possible. “Thanks. I’m fine.”
“I mean, your dad would have told you if you were . . . you know, a vampire.”
If I was a vampire. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly against the obscene thought. I shoved back everything I was told. I wasn’t ready to deal with it—not while Michael was bleeding, not until we were safe. Octavian, the ancient vampire in the mountain, claimed to be the last full-blooded vampire of the Montgomery clan. He claimed I was one of his descendants.
“Sin said I was a dhampir. Not exactly a vampire. More like some half-breed freak. But Sin has done nothing but lie to us. Why believe him now?” Especially when the truth could be so painful.
Michael pulls back his hand, rubs it on his jeans. He probably doesn’t even realize what he’s doing—wiping me off his skin. He still hates vampires as much as I used to. He lies down. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired.”
“Me either.” I hear him snoring before I’m fully stretched out on the mattress, my eyes on the beaded doorway. I can’t sleep, not for a while yet. I want to trust these people, but Sin has destroyed my ability to trust. He let us go so easily. What if he knew about this place? What if he has already made its citizens his disciples?
But if they answer to him, then why not just admit it? Take us captive?
Beyond the walls that surround us, I can hear the movement of people as they work: hammering, scraping, shuffling feet over the ground. It all sounds normal, safe. I fight to keep my eyes open, to remain on guard, but the past few days and the horror of last night have taken their toll.
If I give in and sleep, I could also reach out to Victor. Victor, the Old Family vampire who changed my life and worked his way into my heart. After being terribly wounded during a fight, Victor was forced to drink my blood in order to survive. Now we have a connection where we can visit each other’s dreams. I shy away from the thought that this bond may be proof of my vampire heritage. What’s important now is finding Victor.
I relax and succumb to sleep.
I feel like I’ve been floating forever. Then I find myself at a place that starts my heart racing.
The mountain.
I’m inside the cavern where Sin brought us, where I met the Old Family vampire who claimed to be my ancestor. The area is awash in blues as the moonlight spills in from a hole in the top. I see the throne where the ancient vampire sat. Now there is nothing except a pile of ash. The sun poured through earlier and destroyed his body.
A forlorn figure is kneeling before the throne, his fists clenched, his head bent.
“Victor!”
He turns toward me, and without a second’s hesitation we embrace each other. Although I’m in his dream, I can feel him. He’s solid, comforting.
“Dawn, you’re alive. I was so afraid.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “But how are you here?”
Releasing me, Victor paces before the throne, combing his fingers through the ash of the vampire who once sat there.
“Jeff and I were here,” he says. Jeff served as my bodyguard at the Agency. “After you came to me in the dream and told me Sin had taken you, I left Denver with him as soon as I could. But we were too late.”
He throws a handful of ash onto the ground in frustration.
“We were so close . . . ,” he whispers.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Our blood kiss has brought us together again. In this place.”
Victor nods, still investigating the throne and its ashen king. “What happened here, Dawn?”
I rush toward him and grab his shoulders, forcing him to stare into my eyes with his deep blue ones.
“I’ll tell you everything when you find us.” There’s no time to discuss it now. Our dreams are so fragile that either of us might wake at any moment. We’ll lose our connection and the ability to communicate. “Michael and I are in a town, not too far from here. To the southeast. You’ll see a windmill. Come for us.”
“What about Sin? Does he know where you are?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
I touch his face. The bristle along his jaw scratches my fingers. I’ve never understood how I can experience all these sensations when we’re together like this. “I need you, Victor. Please, get to us as soon as you can.”
“I will,” he says, and I feel him move sharply.
It’s like his body is being pulled from me by some invisible string, jerking him across vast distances. My hand passes through the empty air where he stood just a moment ago.
He’s woken up, breaking our connection. He’ll find me. I know it.
I walk over to the throne and stare at what remains of the ancient vampire.
What if I am a descendant of the lost vampire family—the Montgomerys—as Octavian claimed? It changes everything if I’m no longer human. What world do I fit in? The humans won’t want me, and since the Old Families signed a death warrant to eradicate the Montgomerys, I’m pretty sure the vampires won’t want me either.
Like him, I may be cast out, forced into hiding, and left to live my life alone.
Chapter 2
Slowly my consciousness returns to my body from what feels like a journey of a thousand miles. Every time I fall into Victor’s dream, upon waking I’m never quite sure I was truly there. The memories of that place, of holding Victor, of talking to him, gently re-form in my mind. I add details: the scent of his cologne, the softness of his hair tickling my nose, which I would have laughed at if matters weren’t so urgent. I carry these sensations into the real world. His fragrance lingers; the press of his body against mine still warms me. Hopefully it was all real, and he heard my pleas. If so, he’ll be here soon.
I sit up on my cot. The light in the room outside is entering slowly, hovering just at the edges. I hear the scratch of a pen from the next room. I don’t want to think about how vampires have such keen hearing. My senses seem more attuned to my surroundings. Is it just my imagination? Or is it vampiric blood beginning to stir?<
br />
I rub my face, washing away the final cobwebs of sleep. Michael is still snoozing. I’m grateful he’s able to escape the pain for a while.
I stand up, stretch, and walk toward the beads. As silently as possible, I slip between them, not wanting to disturb Michael.
The front room is as simple as I remember. The sparse furniture—a sofa, table, and chairs—was salvaged from somewhere. Everything is mismatched; the colors, shapes, and heights all from different styles, different eras. Holding a mug that seems to be handmade from clay, Dr. Jameson sits at a table, busily jotting down something.
I glance over at the window, nothing but a hole in the wall with a few metal slats making a crude cross.
“It’s night?” I ask. How long did I dream? It seemed only minutes, but time has no bearing in that other world.
“Yes,” Dr. Jameson says, making a few final flourishes before looking up. “You were out cold. Probably for the best, as you certainly needed the rest.”
“Has anyone else arrived in town?” I ask, suddenly realizing Victor may already be here if enough time has passed.
“No,” she says flatly. “Were you expecting someone?”
“Maybe,” I say. “He isn’t trouble,” I quickly add. “A friend. A very good friend.”
“Well, let’s hope he arrives safely.”
I nod, picturing him on the road, driving in his black Mustang, looking for the windmill.
My heart jumps when I think of the Thirst, a madness vampires acquire when they begin taking blood from each other instead of humans. The blood of an Old Family vampire would be considered a treat to those Infected. What if he’s ambushed? What if that’s what Sin wanted all along?
No. No, that’s impossible. Sin doesn’t know about our dreams, about our ability to communicate. He couldn’t know, could he?
“Help yourself to some food,” Dr. Jameson says. “I imagine you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” I admit as I take a chair near the desk and reach for a sandwich. It’s filled with avocado, tomato, onion, lettuce. My mouth waters with the variety of flavors. “You must have a greenhouse.”
“We do. It’s relatively small, nothing like your city’s massive ones, but it meets our needs. With plenty of sun and adequate water, all we had to do was gather up soil. It doesn’t provide everything, and we still scavenge for old supplies in abandoned or half-destroyed ration factories. But we’re working on becoming more self-sufficient. We’ve even managed to round up some dairy cows. Animals seem to be growing in number again.”
Their blood is of no use to vampires and with no humans out here to hunt them down—
Maybe our ecosystem will finally right itself.
“What city did you live in?” I ask. “Before you came here.”
She seems uncomfortable, tucking her hair behind her ear, studying the notes she was making when I came in. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“Depends on what you know and what you’ve seen.”
She laughs. “That’s the delegate talking.”
I give her a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Settling back in her chair, she studies me intently. “You’re a little young to be a delegate.”
At seventeen, I’m the youngest ever. Victor’s father, overlord at the time, personally requested me. The Agency, charged with protecting the citizens, had no say in the decision. The vampire hold over humans is that strong. What vampires demand, they get.
“My parents were delegates,” I explain. “They were killed one night on their way back from Valentine Manor.” I didn’t know at the time that Sin killed them on Lord Valentine’s orders. Valentine wanted me as delegate so he could keep a closer watch on me. He knew what I was. He wanted to use me, just like Sin wants to now. But I’m only going to share with Dr. Jameson the surface of my life, because I still have a hard time swimming through its depths.
“Valentine,” she mutters. “The most ruthless of all the vampires from what I understand.”
“He’s dead now. His—”
I cut myself short as the door opens and the guard who first welcomed us strolls in. With his wide-brimmed hat and bandolier of stakes, George looks like a cowboy gunslinger stepping out of the pages of a bizarre western story that foresaw the rise of vampires.
“I hope you’re enjoying your stay,” he says, taking off his hat and wiping his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his blue-checkered shirt. His beard glistens with the day’s hard work.
“Your hospitality has been amazing,” I say.
He rests his rifle against the wall and sits down, exhaling heavily. I study him as he stretches out his legs and crosses them.
“A rifle and stakes?” I ask.
“We get vampires wanting our blood and bandits wanting to steal our water. Need to be prepared for both.”
“Do you suffer many attacks?”
“We did at first. But I think everyone knows to leave us alone now.”
“I didn’t realize so many humans were roaming the countryside.”
“More than you’d think. People get tired of being walled in and under the thumb of Old Family vampires.”
Dr. Jameson stands up, goes over to a small pot, and pours coffee into three mugs, bringing them back to us.
“Thank you kindly,” George says with a deep, slow drawl.
The coffee is strong and tastes rich; it provides the energy boost I need.
“Are you on guard duty tonight?” I ask.
“Every night.”
“And every morning. You were the first one to greet us.”
“That’s right,” he says. “Never was one to sleep much.”
He takes another big gulp, then looks at the mug as if trying to decode its delicious secrets. He’s probably been drinking this coffee every night, but I can tell Dr. Jameson appreciates his wonder.
“You always did make a good cup, Marjorie,” he says.
She’s about to reply when the door opens again.
“Someone coming down the road, George,” the man announces. “In a car.”
My heart jumps. Victor!
“A car?” George asks. “Must be one of those freelance vampire hunters. Not many people can afford a car these days.”
“It’s not a vampire hunter,” I assure them, my joy evident. “It’s my friends.”
The man at the door studies me, then turns to George.
“Well,” George says, “roll out the red carpet for ’em. This little lady here says they’re her friends, so we’ll treat them as such until they prove otherwise.”
The man nods and leaves.
“Thank you so much,” I say, not completely sure what I’m thanking them for. But before the door even shuts, I’m outside, George and the doctor right behind me.
In the distance, the dust is kicked up, flying into the night sky. The door behind me squeaks open one more time and Michael emerges.
“Who is it?” he asks, groggily rubbing his head.
“Victor and Jeff.”
The car fishtails to a stop in front of us, the dust catching up to it and swirling around the headlights, creating mystic shadow puppets that stretch across the town square. Jeff steps out of the passenger’s side, and Victor quickly emerges from the driver’s side.
In spite of our audience, Victor and I race toward each other. I collapse against him, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck as he brings me nearer. I’m overwhelmed with a sense of relief at being this close to him again. His warmth, his solidity offer reassurance. Even though I was just with him in my dream, being with him in the flesh is so much more satisfying. I think of where I am: in the middle of nowhere, Sin just behind us, and a deeper night still to come. Yet it doesn’t matter, because I’m with Victor.
“I was so worried about you,” he whispers, and I feel his breath ruffling my hair as he holds me tightly.
“I know, but we’re okay now.”
Loosening our embrace, Victor looks me squarely in the eyes. I coul
d stand here forever, relishing this moment. More breadth of wonder rests in his blue eyes than in the vast skies above us.
When Jeff finishes shaking Michael’s hand and giving him a pat on the shoulder, he turns to me. “Hey, sunshine. Good to see you.”
I smile, release a tiny laugh as I hug him. In addition to serving as a bodyguard for the Agency, he’s been dating my guardian and mentor, Rachel Goodwin. He’s become as special to me as she’s always been.
I introduce them to George and Dr. Jameson, give a brief accounting of all they’ve done for us.
“Thank you for taking them in,” Victor says. “I know trust is a rarity in places like this.”
“That it is. But even more rare is an Old Family vampire showing up,” George says, an eyebrow raised.
Victor gives a wry smile and looks at me. Old Family vampires are elegant, suave, sophisticated. Comfortable with what they are. Humans who are turned—Lessers—never quite achieve that beauty. Victor may be dressed in jeans, a black long-sleeve T-shirt, and a leather duster, but there is something regal in his bearing. Confidence oozes off him. And if I’m honest with myself, he is quite simply gorgeous in a way that’s impossible to hide.
“I hope that isn’t a problem,” Victor says.
“It doesn’t have to be,” George says. “So long as you understand we ain’t under your jurisdiction.”
“I’d never dream of it,” Victor says.
“Well, that’s settled, then. I can tell you’re itchin’ to have a talk with your little lady. When you’re ready, come inside and we’ll have a sit-down.”
He heads back into Dr. Jameson’s house. The doctor, Michael, and Jeff follow him.
The townsfolk have come over to examine Victor’s car. They run their hands over the smooth surface and make noises of appreciation. Since the war, cars are rare and no doubt a curiosity for them.
Putting some distance between them and us, Victor guides me over to the side of the road and cradles my face. “I was so scared, Dawn.”
Lowering his head, he kisses me tenderly.
The world falls away, and it’s just us and the stars above in this desolate place. We stand like a pair of wildflowers that somehow grew in this dry sand, and we breathe together, and move together, and entangle ourselves around each other.