The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1)

by Krystle Jones

  Eclipse or not, this area was pretty much deserted this time of night. A forest of security cameras watched me, their wiring like vines as they choked the light poles that shone down on me. The lights flickered, yellowed and weak, as I cleared the lot and raced down a blackened alley between two stores, my boots slapping through sludge and knocking over trash bags. The putrid smell of garbage clung to my nostrils, and I gagged as I emerged on the other side.

  There, narrowly more than ten feet away, was the fifty-foot tall steel fence that wrapped around the entire sector, cutting it off from the outside threat. A large sign hung near the electronic gate:

  WARNING: RED SECTOR. TRESSPASING STRICTLY PROHIBITED AND PUNISHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW.

  Situated next to the gate was a tiny box, blinking innocently at me with its eyes of little green lights. I stared at it, my heart pounding harder and harder inside my chest.

  This was it. The moment I had been waiting three whole years for. If the code I’d stolen from Leo’s father worked, I could be on the other side within a minute or two.

  In my mind, Leo’s warning screamed at me while I tried to convince myself to move forward, like I was going on a picnic and not a suicide mission. I swallowed hard against the knot forming in the base of my throat.

  There was a high-pitched hum and then a brief patch of pure darkness as the power failed and struggled to come back to life. If I didn’t make my move now – if the electricity went out altogether – I could lose my chance. There’s no way I could scale the wall. Sirens wailed in the distance, and that was all the prodding I needed.

  Racing to the box, I holstered the pistol and grabbed my cell phone, pulling up the code. I was so nervous that my fingers shook, and I punched in the seventeen-digit access code as quickly as I could. My body practically buzzed with adrenaline as I waited for the entry light to change from red to green. At last, I let out a huge sigh as a series of thick bolts slid back into the wall, unlatching the door.

  The sirens were so close now that their high-pitched frequency hurt my ears. Come on. Come on, I thought as the heavy metal door slowly swung open with a groan. It felt like an eternity passed before it opened wide enough for me to go through; the gap looked to be little over a foot across, or so I estimated. My foot tapped impatiently, and I whirled around as car doors slammed shut just outside the alley. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed hold of the door and pulled as hard as I could, but my petite frame was far too weak against its crushing weight.

  Without warning, the power died and my sight suddenly vanished. My breath was ragged as I flipped open my cell phone, using it as a makeshift flashlight, and I eyed the pitch black gap between the now ajar door and the fence.

  Shouts echoed off the alley walls behind me as the Scarlet Guard closed in.

  It’s now or never.

  Pulling my coat on and tossing my phone back inside a pocket, I grabbed the pistol and aimed it toward the hole. Then I edged myself through the chasm, into the darkness of the Red Sector.

  Chapter 2

  I clung to the fence, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark while keeping one palm pressed flat against the cool metal, as if to ground myself to the world I was about to leave behind.

  You can do this, Sloane. You have to, for your brother.

  “For Orion,” I whispered.

  Heavy footsteps along the other side of the fence told me I didn’t have time to linger. I ran without looking back.

  My pupils had dilated enough for me to see clearly, and the pale moonlight bathed everything in a ghastly red light. I knew where I was – the neighborhood I grew up in. The same place I had once called home, where pedestrians were mercilessly killed in drive-by shootings at night and where gang members once reigned supreme. A little more than three blocks to the north was my old house, the only home my father could afford on his meager wages from the textile factory. Life here was sometimes brutal, but as long as he and Orion were in my life, it didn’t matter because I knew they would never let anything happen to me.

  Now they’re both gone, one because of you.

  No matter how hard I tried to suppress it, my guilt always remained buried just beneath the surface, threatening to overtake my confidence and pride at any time. Some days I was willing to let it, but I knew I had to hang on long enough to find my brother, if he was still alive. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – give up without knowing I had done everything I could to try to bring Orion back home.

  Though I tried my best to watch my footing and move as stealthily as I could, there was so much debris – empty aluminum cans, shards of glass, broken furniture… all dropped by people in their haste to evacuate – littered along the ground that I couldn’t help but tap or stomp on something as I went. I chanced a glance behind me, sure I’d see the blood red uniforms of the Scarlet Guard closing in, but there were nothing but abandoned, run-down houses, many with bars on the windows, and the windshields of rusty, unused cars staring back at me.

  Staring at the ruin around me, it was like reliving the Eclipse again. The worst part was, nobody ever saw it coming. Sure, the government was prepared for terrorists’ attacks, natural disasters, and even nuclear war, but no one quite knew what to do when vampires descended upon our cities like ants, viciously killing and eating anything that moved.

  There were signs along the way, leading up to that horrible night. Missing posters of children, adults, and animals alike started springing up, becoming more and more frequent until entire blocks were plastered in the faces of missing loved ones. Reports of red-eyed, shadowy creatures dominated the news and magazines. Everybody was convinced it was an elaborate hoax, something dreamt up by a group of teenagers somewhere who wanted to get a good scare out of people around Halloween.

  I wished so badly it had been a prank. But on All Hallow’s Eve, my life became something out of a horror film. That night was still fresh on my mind, even three years later:

  I rushed home from the Miller Mansion, drenched in Orion’s blood and hysterical. I threw the black Camaro into park before I’d even fully stopped, nearly tripping as I raced toward our front door. That’s when the sirens went off. Confused, I whirled around, seeing people fleeing their homes. Those with cars tossed as many possessions as they could carry into the trunk and sped off as fast as they could. Others ran in all directions, their faces panicked and afraid. A door slammed behind me and my father sprang from the front porch. He glanced at the Camaro, confused, before grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me hard.

  “Where is your brother, princess? Where is Orion?” he asked, a wild, desperate look in his eyes.

  I stupidly sputtered something about a monster, too choked up on my own tears to make much sense. Somewhere down the block, people began screaming, followed by snarls that made me ice cold with fear.

  “Get in my car, Sloane! Now!” my father ordered, and I ran in a daze to his beat-up Toyota Camry, which was parallel-parked along the curb in front of the Camaro. We locked ourselves inside, and my father started the engine, switching gears and slamming his foot on the gas. I was thrown back against the seat as we rocketed down the street.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  My father’s face was pale, his eyes glued to the road.

  “The end of the world,” he whispered.

  I furrowed my brows, too scared to ask any questions. Movement caught the corner of my eye, in the side mirror.

  A group of people scattered and shrieked as dark creatures with glowing red eyes and sets of flashing fangs ripped them apart, wildly lapping up the growing pool of blood on the street. All I could do was watch as we turned a corner and sped toward downtown Pittsburgh (where a heavily guarded shelter was being set up), my neighbors’ desperate pleas for help giving way to growls and eerie silence.

  I blinked hard, pulling myself back to the present. A sickly yellow school bus sat in the middle of an intersection, limping on two deflated tires. As I crept alongside it, keeping to its shadow, I caught the outline of a black
form moving above me, its hunkered shape slinking along the top of the bus like a cat hunting a mouse.

  Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I wheeled around, cocking the pistol, only to find nothing, no nightmarish creature waiting to pounce.

  My breath grew more ragged as my heart rate sped up, throbbing painfully inside my ears until it was the only sound I heard. In the windows of the bus, my reflection was still aiming the pistol at the roof of the vehicle. Shadows were at my back, save for a flash of crimson eyes.

  I drew a sharp breath and dropped to the ground, spinning around on the balls of my feet as the vampire lunged out of the darkness, a rabid snarl erupting from its oversized throat. The gunshot was silent as death, and time seemed to slow as the vampire changed direction at the last second before the bullet hit, tearing a bright red gash into its bared rib cage. The vampire sailed over me, and I followed its path with the pistol, firing again as the creature shrieked and hit the ground. Quick as a shadow, it scuttled out of the way before the bullet hit home, missing its head and blowing a hole in its side, spraying the ground with black blood. The vampire latched itself on the side of the bus, crawling over the roof like a spider before disappearing from view.

  I cursed and went after it, the Scarlet Dagger shining brilliant crimson in the moonlight as I unsheathed and raised it into a defensive position, gripping the pistol in my other hand. My forefinger jittered against the trigger as I paused at the end of the bus, using the dagger as a mirror to see the other side. Only dirt and a scattering of MISSING CHILD posters lay next to the bus.

  Each breath I took made my whole body shake, and I willed my heartbeat to slow as sweat dripped from my forehead onto my chest. Something rapidly clucked its tongue a few feet from me, making a low guttural noise, and I pointed the pistol at the darkness, not seeing anything. A bead of sweat dropped into my eye, and I swiped at it as my vision blurred. I glanced at my hand and did a double take, rubbing the sweat drop between my thumb and forefinger. It was warm, and much thicker than it should be.

  It was also deep red.

  Later, I would be grateful I saw that drop of blood, because it was the only warning I had before the vampire tackled me from the top of the bus, catching me off guard and throwing me to the ground. I landed hard on my back, giving my lungs a jolt as the breath was knocked from me. While I lost hold of the pistol, I managed to bring the dagger up swift enough to block the vampire’s gaping jaws. The creature wasn’t very heavy – little more than sagging, purplish skin and fragile bone – but its speed was nearly too quick for my seemingly sluggish human reflexes, and it was all I could do to keep it at bay as it scratched at my arms and snapped its razor sharp teeth at my neck.

  I grunted, struggling against the vampire.

  Think about what Leo taught you. Look for the opportunity to strike to present itself.

  I waited, conserving my energy for what I hoped against hope would be a fatal blow to the monster on top of me. Gazing at its narrow, sunken face – a face that might have very well once been human – churned up memories of my brother, of his happy, jester-like smile, intermingled with his screams of terror as a vampire very much like this one sank its teeth into his flesh.

  Rage, hot and bitter, flooded my body, consuming me like a wild fire laying siege to a forest. Loathing filled my eyes, which had morphed into dangerous slits. At last, the vampire swiped, losing its balance for a splinter of a second and creating a narrow path from the tip of my blade to its sternum. With a bloodthirsty roar, I plunged the blade deep into the creature’s chest, feeling the steel tear and snap its way through bones, muscles, and tendons until only the hilt showed, my hands gripping it so tightly my knuckles had turned white.

  Almost immediately, the vampire stopped moving, its wild eyes frantic with growing pain and confusion as it stared at the blade in its chest. Subconsciously, my lips twisted into a carnivorous smile.

  Gotcha.

  I raised my knees, digging the heels of my boots into the vampire’s stomach, and pushed with my legs, pulling back on the dagger. It at last freed itself of the creature and I fell back, rolling along my shoulder blade as I sprang up into a defensive position, my knees bent and the dagger poised over my head, dripping blood.

  The vampire shuddered and grew still as winter before it began screaming madly. The wound, which ran clear from one side to the other, was starting to smoke as the vampire’s dead skin eroded away, dripping to the ground in smoldering black gobs as it clawed at its chest, literally tearing itself to shreds.

  I stared at it, part in awe, part in grim satisfaction, as its muscles and bones glowed orange-red like embers before what was left of the vampire disintegrated into a pile of ash.

  My knees shook so hard I nearly collapsed. Clutching my stomach, I doubled over and vomited, catching a few shaky breaths before standing and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, which still trembled from the tidal wave of adrenaline flowing through my body. I took a deep breath and tasted the bitter, charred smell of the vampire, nearly gagging all over again.

  I blinked hard, trying to clear my erratic thoughts so I could focus. The Scarlet Guard no doubt heard the vampire’s ear-piercing screams – hell, the capital probably heard that – and if I still wanted a shot at finding any clues to my brother’s whereabouts, I was going to have to keep moving, and fast.

  I jogged the few feet to where my pistol rested and retrieved it. Then I scraped the rest of the vampire’s blood from the dagger, making sure the edge was clear of any obstructions, before sheathing it and taking off at a shaky but steady sprint.

  ***

  My breath caught in my throat when I spotted my house, its once cheerful yellow paint now cracked and ridden with holes from insects. The lawn was overgrown and an ugly, dead brown, and the narrow sidewalk leading up to the front porch had more crevices than I remembered.

  One tentative step at a time, I approached my house, my footsteps falling in the same spots they had when I’d come home every day from school; or when Orion and I had snuck back in after a night of carefree recklessness (mostly harmless practical jokes on our friends); the same sidewalk that had listened to the sometimes hysterical conversations between Leo and me.

  The night was quiet. A single streetlamp, its shade broken, threw sketchy patches of faded yellowed light on the porch, making the shadows dance as I slowly wrapped my fingers around the handle. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously pushed the front door open.

  A triangle of orange light fell on the dust-coated wood floor in front of me, my shadow frozen as it peered at the remnants of a forgotten time.

  So many memories lay wrapped up in that house, the one my father had vowed to raise my brother and me in so we wouldn’t have to constantly move around with our Marine Corps mother. There was the old pink couch, faded and worn, where I had curled up with a good murder mystery on so many cold winter days. My dad’s favorite recliner sat in the corner, his hot-spot for watching football or Penguins’ hockey on our tiny, used flat screen TV. Orion’s hockey gear still laid in the pile he’d always thrown it in after practice, right by the door (to the disgruntlement of our father).

  I swallowed hard and took a step inside. The floorboards gave a comforting squeak as my eyes fell on the old rocker in the living room, where my father would entertain my brother and me with stories of the South. The fireplace looked lonely without its cheerful flames. I walked over to it, as I had so many times when I was very young, and ran my finger along the dust on the mantle, eyeing the photographs of my parents. My father, with his beautiful ebony skin, stood next to my mother, with a head of blond curls and skin as white as milk, their arms linked around Orion and me. We looked like a normal American family. I’d dare say we even looked happy.

  Directly ahead of me was the dining room, where my father, brother, and I had spent many evenings dining without my mother, and just past that was the kitchen and then the stairs. At its base, I saw toddler-me in my mind’s eye, clutching the blanket I’d had s
ince I was an infant to my chest as I listened to my parents argue, the same argument they had nearly every night after they thought my brother and I were asleep downstairs in our room. Memories of their voices ran through my head, shouting at each other over money (or our lack thereof).

  The floorboards behind me creaked ever so slightly, and I drew my pistol, scanning the patches of darkness within the living room. A set of small windows casted squares of red moonlight on the dusty planks. There, so light it was nearly unnoticeable, was a footprint in the dust, much too large to be my own.

  Fear, icy and tangible, tapped its claws along my spine and up the base of my neck. I froze for a long second before rushing to the front door, my head screaming, Get out! Get out now!

  I was literally inside the door frame, one foot in the house, one foot out, when a hand reached out of the shadows and grabbed me by the throat, slamming me into the wall so hard I lost my breath.