Loftus had kept Tristan locked up and starved for days in an empty back room of the house with no windows and only one door. Once he was sufficiently weakened, Loftus took him into the bathroom and sat him down on the edge of the tub. Then he reached into the vanity drawer for a wood-tipped knife he kept there for just this purpose.
Tristan’s eyes had followed the silver gleam of the blade as Loftus moved it toward his wrist. He didn’t want to watch, but he barely blinked as Loftus pierced the skin. Blood flowed down his palms, dripping off his fingertips and sliding down the bathtub drain.
There was nothing he could have done to defend himself. This humiliating treatment was his punishment.
“This wouldn’t be necessary if you only listened to me,” Loftus remarked, already working to clean up the wounds and bandage them so they would heal cleanly, though not without scarring. There were ample supplies beneath the sink. He enjoyed seeing Tristan so weak and debased. He loved the power he held over him in that moment. “You must learn to obey me, Tristan. I know what is best for you. You know nothing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tristan had replied mildly, trying not to let Loftus see his fury.
Horrible as the experience had been, it had felt … just, somehow. Loftus had acted within his rights as a father. It was similar to sending a child to bed without dinner for mouthing off at his parents.
It had taken Tristan years to realize Loftus had never expected or even wanted him to change the girl. The whole thing had just been an excuse to hurt him. To show him who was in charge.
“When have you not been rebellious?” Branek said carelessly.
“But he never did that to any of us,” Augusta said. She shared looks with Branek and Jared, who both shook their heads.
Tristan smirked darkly. “I was special, I guess.”
“Well,” said Branek, “what do we do now? We’re homeless.”
“I’ll get us a room.”
“I have an important errand,” Jared announced.
“Gee, I wonder what that could be.” Augusta rolled her eyes.
“Gus, you look after Fallon,” Tristan ordered. “Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”
“What, you want me to babysit him in the hotel room?”
“Yes, I do. It’s easier than you’d think. And much more enjoyable.”
Augusta giggled. “You perv.”
Tristan shrugged good-naturedly. “It’s the perfect time to jumpstart that relationship you’ve been wanting.”
Annoyed, Fallon turned his gaze upward and did his best attempt to ignore them.
They dispersed. Augusta and Fallon came with Tristan to get the room, and then he left them there to go hunting.
Love or hate, it didn’t matter. It was shared experience connecting Tristan to his brothers and sister. They understood each other even in their differences, and they were not monstrous by their own measure. His capacity for forgiving them was boundless, and it was the same for them in return. A part of him felt Loftus’s betrayal had bonded them more fully.
Tristan had always thought it must be hard to leave your family, no matter how horrible they were. It must be hard to go against them, to say no when you’ve been conditioned to tell them yes. It must be hard, because he’d never been able to stay away. And he knew he never would.
~
It was amazing how little it took for Dawn to forget, or at least how easily she could fool herself into thinking she had. She relied on willful ignorance and a lot of denial. She sang in the shower. She cleared out the mailbox, which was practically overflowing with junk. She watched funny movies and lost herself in laughter.
She had dinner with her family. It had been a semi-regular tradition since she’d moved away from home, though the dinners grew further apart each year. This one served to remind her she was actually a resident of planet Earth, where she lived among humans who didn’t know vampires existed.
“That haircut is interesting,” her stepmother, Kathy, said across the table. A scooped-out dish of one of the random casseroles her dad liked to concoct sat in the center.
“Thank you. I like to think of it as”—Dawn flourished a hand—“gamine.”
“So you think of yourself as, like, a boy?” her eighteen-year-old sister, Annaca, quipped.
“Mischievously charming.”
“Well, your ears are huge.”
“They’re my ears,” her dad said mildly.
“What have you been up to?” Kathy asked solicitously, lifting her glass of boxed wine. “We hardly ever get to see you.”
“I … well …” Dawn struggled to remember the last interesting thing she’d done that didn’t involve vampires. “I’ve just been working. And reading books.” She turned to her dad. “I finally learned to use that sewing machine Grandma bought me so I could alter clothes for Leila to use in her photo shoots.”
“Oh. Good. I thought that thing was going to collect dust around here forever.”
“I took it like, six months ago.”
“Oh. I didn’t notice.”
“Have you lost weight?” Kathy asked.
Dawn sighed and shoveled a forkful of casserole into her mouth. “Nope.”
“Are you on a diet?” her dad asked, tilting his glass of vodka and coke at her. “Because if you are, you should stop.”
These comments were not unusual to Dawn. Someone somewhere was always commenting on her body, though Dawn had no idea why people, even strangers, felt the need to make their opinions about her known. She was on the curvy side, sure, but slim enough for her own satisfaction. She was healthy. Her self-esteem fluctuated a lot, but most of the time she could look at her naked body in the mirror without feeling too upset, and if she was upset about some perceived flaw, it was her own business.
“I don’t believe in diets!” she shouted, perhaps too forcefully. To make up for her outburst, she smiled with all her teeth. “How many surrealists does it take to change a light bulb?”
The dinner wasn’t a disaster, but it had been kind of exhausting. Dawn had a history of not liking Kathy, though as far as she knew her stepmother had stopped complaining about what ungrateful children her husband had. Dawn wondered how Annaca could keep living there without going nuts. She probably had an active social life.
Dawn returned home, feeling agitated. Her steps slowed as she neared the front door.
Not again.
It wasn’t Branek this time, but Jared. He stood outside the door with Leila, who’d probably just returned from school, both of them bathed in the porch light directly over their heads. “I don’t want to go with you!” Leila cried. Jared’s hand clamped on her wrist.
“That doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’ll like it soon enough.”
“Let me go!”
Jared pressed his hand over her mouth as she tried to scream. “Leila,” he said desperately. “Haven’t you realized how much you need me? Don’t you know you’ll learn to love me?”
Instead of fear, Dawn filled with pure, hot anger. Hatred, even. Images of gruesome scenarios flashed through her mind: Jared dead, mangled, mutilated. His blood staining the concrete in copious puddles, blood matted thickly in his hair, blood smeared on his face and sealing his eyelids shut. His body beaten, burned, beheaded. How many ways could a vampire die? She imagined them all in an instant, her feelings becoming more violent with each passing second.
The truth was she and Leila would never be free, not while any of these vampires lived. So they had to die. Jared seemed like the best one to start with.
Without a word, Dawn rushed at him and knocked his hand off Leila’s wrist. She wouldn’t have been able to break his hold if he hadn’t already been planning to let go and smack her in the face. She sucked in a sharp breath, reeling to one side. Dizzy from the blow, she found her feet after a few seconds and started toward him again.
“You are not taking her,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Just leave us alone!”
He was a vampire, and s
he knew it was stupid to attack him. But she did anyway, flinging herself at him with all her strength. Acting largely on instinct, she attempted the self-defense moves all girls were taught in P.E. class, though clumsily. She kicked at his shin and stomped on his instep. When he turned her around to crush her back against him, she grabbed hold of his pinky and yanked it to the side. He howled, and she bashed her head back into his nose. She stuck a hand between them to reach for his balls, but couldn’t grab them effectively because his jeans were too stiff.
“You dumb bitch,” he growled. “You dumb fucking bitch. You have no idea how you’re gonna pay for that.”
But Dawn paid for it exactly the way she’d expected. The only thing that surprised her was how much more savage Jared’s mouth felt than Branek’s had. She’d failed Leila, and failed herself, but it was hard to regret having tried.
She thought she’d passed out, because the next thing she knew there were arms holding her gently but unyieldingly about the waist, and they were the only things keeping her upright. A chin rested on her shoulder as if it belonged there. Black blooms danced before Dawn’s blinking eyes. She felt sick and braced herself for another bite.
“Relax,” Branek said soothingly. “I’m not going to bite you. Won’t you invite me inside?”
Blood pounded in her skull. “No.”
His arms tightened and he moved his mouth closer to her skin. She could feel his lips moving as he spoke with quiet menace. “Dawn. I’m telling you to invite me inside.” He repeated her name in a warning growl when she hesitated.
She swooned. Branek’s body pressed against her back as he rocked her back and forth. Anyone looking at them now would only see a loving couple. Silky strands of his black hair tickled her neck.
“You’re not going to scream,” he said soothingly. “You’re going to invite me inside your apartment, unless you’d rather stay out here and die of blood loss.”
Dawn took a long, shuddering breath, and closed her eyes. She wanted to sleep. “Come in.”
“I was sure you’d come around.”
He deposited her on the couch and wandered around the room for a moment, touching everything. He straightened one of Leila’s framed movie posters.
“I’m going to give you something,” he said, sitting down beside her. He grabbed her arm so she couldn’t get away. “You won’t want it, but you need it. Look at you. You can barely keep yourself conscious.”
She twisted in his grasp, angry and swooning so much she felt belligerently drunk. “What do you care?”
“As it happens, I don’t care. But I’m giving you my blood anyway.”
“I’m not taking that from you.”
“You are, actually.”
He pressed her back against the couch, pinning her with his weight, and bit the large vein in his wrist. Before Dawn knew what was happening, he’d shoved it up against her mouth and blood was seeping past her teeth. She pressed her lips shut but he forced the fingers of his other hand between them. She coughed and swallowed. Spilled blood sluiced along her jaw. Her eyes watered and her throat stung.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, the pressure left her lips and she could breathe again. Sitting up, she wanted to tell Branek just what she thought of him and his stupid blood, but it hurt to speak. Anyway, he probably knew what she wanted to say from the daggers in her eyes. Not that he cared.
“There,” he said brightly. “That should be enough.”
“Enough for what?” she coughed out.
“To heal you. Jared’s attack, while sloppy, took a lot from you. Vampire blood gives strength.”
“Tristan didn’t give me blood when you attacked me.”
“He just let you recover the old-fashioned way, then? Well, my bite was much cleaner than Jared’s. And I didn’t take too much. Just enough to make you faint.” He smiled at her, and she didn’t like it. “I thought you might be lonely, Dawn. I thought I could comfort you now that you no longer have Tristan in your life.”
“No. Get out of my apartment.”
“You’re not strong enough to stop me from doing what I want, you know.”
“If you hurt me—”
“Why would I hurt you? I just rescued you.”
The wind had picked up and was making alarming, alien sounds. It whistled and roared, gusting like crazy. Mulberry branches whacked the outer walls. Dawn sat stiffly on the couch while Branek idly paced the room again. Her eyes followed him warily. He appeared to be paying absolutely no attention to her, but she knew better.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
He looked over at her, mildly surprised. “I told you. Tristan’s done with you, and I’ve come to pick up the pieces. He told me exactly where to find you.”
“I don’t believe he’d do that,” she said bravely. “You’re lying.”
“Must be nice to be so naïve.” He raised his dark eyebrows in a caricature of innocence. “He did have his fun, didn’t he?”
“You’re a bastard,” she seethed.
“I’ve been called worse. Don’t hate yourself because you fell for him. You’re not the first. Tristan, especially, can be very persuasive. He’s got a talent.”
Dawn narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t respond. It was the only way she could remain calm while Branek stood there in her living room, plotting some horrible thing to do to her, and telling her Tristan had only been using her. She’d known that all along, of course, and it was fine, because she’d been doing the same to him. But still it hurt to hear, which was surely what Branek had intended.
With a long-suffering sigh, he crossed the room and stopped before her. “Don’t look so upset. So what if he used you? We’ve all done it. Tristan had some things to sort out, and you were a convenient comfort for him, but now he’s back where he belongs.”
She shoved her shaking hands beneath her thighs.
“That haircut doesn’t really suit you, by the way.”
“I wasn’t looking for your opinion.”
“Well, then, how about an explanation for why I really gave you my blood?”
“W-why did you?”
“Well,” he began slowly, lowering himself to the coffee table so that he sat facing her. He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands together lightly. “At first I only wanted to help Jared get away with Leila. He’s my brother, after all. But then I remembered my father had just tried to kill me, so I’m feeling especially vulnerable. I need something fun to put me back in the right frame of mind. Maybe that taste I had of you made me want more. But mostly,” he said, “—mostly I just like to fuck people’s shit up, and I wanted you fully conscious while I fucked up yours.”
Dawn knew what it took to fight a vampire, and she didn’t have it. She jumped up anyway, at the same time as he did, and shoved her hands into his chest. He barely moved except to grab her wrists in one swift move. He squeezed hard, grinning with evil glee. Her mouth dropped open and she winced in pain.
“Let me be clear,” he said, his dark green eyes boring into hers. “I’m not like Tristan. I won’t hesitate to hurt you when I feel like it. I love suffering, Dawn, and I came here to see you in its throes.”
“No!” Dawn struggled against him, her movements growing more and more urgent until she was thrashing violently but uselessly. “No! Noooo! Stop!”
“Jesus.” He stared down at her as if she were the one who’d done something offensive, but he didn’t let go. “You like that word, don’t you?”
“I said no. I don’t want it!”
“Haven’t you guessed?” he said without emotion. “It doesn’t matter what you want.”
Her vision blurred and swam with black spots as his hand cracked against the side of her head. His hard, dark eyes danced before her, his fangs bared savagely. He hit her again, multiple blows exploding against her cheeks. Pain radiated across her face. His evil laughter shattered against her like glass.
It’s not too late, she told herself as he flipped her f
acedown against the couch. I’m not dead yet.
He yanked down her jeans and shoved himself inside her. His thrusting weight held her down. She pressed her face into the couch cushions, waiting for it to be over.
But it wasn’t just the rape. It was a bite, too. Swift and sure, his fangs sank into her neck before she even noticed the pain. This was going to be the last thing she ever felt. He was going to kill her. He drank and drank, and plunged tirelessly into her, and her eyes drifted shut, and her body went still.
“Forgive me,” Branek whispered just as her heart stopped beating.
Thirteen
She was reborn in darkness. A draft of subterranean air stirred her to unlife. Her heart was like a stone, so heavy in contrast to the weightlessness of her body. She inhaled the imaginary scent of oleander. She could hear the creaking of her bones. She hovered in the silence between dreams and reality, or life and death.
Darkness. It was cold, the air so still and quiet. Holding her breath, Dawn listened hard. She thought she heard footsteps, or whispers, but the sounds were indistinct and fleeting.
She lay in her grave.
Who is going to save me? she asked herself, even though she already knew the answer.
The floor beneath her felt familiar. Unsticking her tongue from the roof of her mouth, she slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position and waited for the black to fizzle from her vision. Then she realized she could already see, and she wasn’t in an underground grave after all. Everything was in shades of gray, but the apartment was unmistakable. She was alone.
No, not alone. Gasping softly, Dawn noticed a man slumped against the front door a few feet in front of her. She could see his angular profile, his pale skin, his dark hair indistinguishable from the shadows. For a moment he was unfamiliar, a stranger, and then he raised his head to look at her.
“Dawn,” Tristan said.
“I … didn’t invite you in.”
“You invited me once. The invitation is good forever.” He smiled softly.
She blinked at him. She could see in the dark.
Her heart was not beating.
And … fangs. There they were, poking down on either side of her tongue, slightly indenting the flesh. The lasting proof of what Branek had done to her. She would drink blood now. She would crave it.
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