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

by Krystle Jones

  Part of me was still in shock; they had already dragged me out of the mess hall and across most of the main lobby before I could collect my thoughts. “Where are we going?” I demanded through gritted teeth, but neither responded. My question only made them quicken their already blistering pace.

  Cacophony filled the air, the terrified screams of the crowd mingling with the sirens. In a way, it surprised me how out-of-control the civilians were. I supposed I expected them to be calmer somehow, seeing as they lived on a military base. Back home, my mother had a detailed plan for everything, which was to be followed in strict accordance. Anyone who acted out of line during an evacuation (as in “going completely crazy”) would have been shot by the Scarlet Guard without warning. It gave scary new meaning to the whole “no tolerance” policy.

  Through the noise, a gunshot rang out. The guards threw me to the ground as everyone ducked, covering their heads while more shots fired, chipping away at the walls.

  “Hold your fire!” Aden screamed through the guards’ headsets, and the gunfire died away. The soldiers jerked me to my feet and we resumed our breakneck pace through the throng, pushing people aside if they didn’t move quickly enough.

  In no time, we had cleared the main area and entered an elevator. They shoved me inside, taking up positions alongside me, and we began to move, though I couldn’t tell if it was up or down.

  “Where are you taking me?” I snapped, but they refused to answer. It took every ounce of strength I had left to form a coherent sentence, the pain was so intense.

  The door chimed a few seconds later, and we stepped into a more secluded part of the base. I say “secluded” because there was no one in sight, and the corridor looked akin to a dungeon, with stone walls and a chill in the air that suggested few visitors. About fifty feet ahead was a single black door with a name plate I couldn’t read, and the closer we drew upon the door, the more cameras I counted. Wherever we were going must have been either top secret, or placed under additional security for a reason.

  The diagram of the base – the one by the stairwell – came to mind. This has to be the top floor, the only part that wasn’t labeled.

  We paused while one of the guards punched in a security code. A door swung open and they ushered me inside. I felt like I’d stepped back into the 1800’s. Old Victorian furniture dotted the room, which had no windows. Rather, it was dimly lit by several gas lamps with stained glass shades. Red and gold striped wallpaper clung to the walls, and an old-fashioned record player – a phonograph, I think – sat in the corner, freshly polished as if it was still frequently used.

  “Is the perimeter secure?” inquired a cold voice. The shadows were so thick in the room I couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from, only that it sounded female. While the voice sounded frail with age, it also had an underlying strength to it. Something told me this woman wasn’t one to be trifled with.

  “Yes, General Frost,” a guard replied.

  “Good. Set her down, there.”

  The two guards nudged me forward, and I sat on a generously cushioned loveseat that smelled faintly of dust. They uncuffed my wrists and I tasted sweet relief right before they brought out two long lengths of Scarlet Steel chains.

  As it was, my wrists were bleeding and charred like burned paper. I braced myself as they rolled my sleeves up, baring my forearms, and laid the crimson chains across my tender flesh. I bit down on my tongue hard, tasting blood, as I swallowed another agonized scream while they bound me to the chair. The soldiers remained impassive, almost satisfied in their brutality. Once convinced I wasn’t going anywhere, they positioned themselves on either side of me, faces turned forward but with their hands at their sides, ready to spring into action if necessary.

  “If she screams or resists in any way, tighten her binds,” the frigid voice said.

  I chanced a glance at my wrists and nearly threw up. My skin was bubbling and bright red, already being eaten away by the acidic red steel. To hear Leo talk about it, Scarlet Steel was a new thing, and super-secret. How had the vampires managed to acquire so much of it?

  I felt a probing of my mind as someone forced their glamour on me. “Surprised, hunter?” Frost asked. “Yes, even vampires can find uses for Scarlet Steel. A most advantageous weapon, if I do say so myself.”

  “How did you get it?” I asked, grinding my teeth together.

  “We have our methods.” She didn’t elaborate, but I heard the smug smile in her tone.

  I concentrated on anything but the scorching pain, and the smell of my burnt flesh. My vision blurred with tears, making my surroundings fuzzy. I guessed on the objects in the room based on their shape; a large mahogany desk sat before me, illuminated by a single tiny desk lamp. Papers were tucked in neat folders, and a mug of what smelled like coffee sat on a coaster, still steaming as if we’d interrupted someone from drinking it.

  Behind the desk was utter darkness. A woman stepped into the light. She had bright silver hair that gleamed, and a shrewd, wrinkled face. She was tall, wearing the same military jacket and skirt I had seen on all the other women, only hers appeared to be made from dark golden silk. A diamond forget-me-not pendant was pinned to her lapel, and her eyes were the opaque color of ice. She looked me up and down, pursing her lips.

  “It’s not every day we’re graced by royalty,” she drawled. “You’re the McAllister girl, daughter of that damned Pittsburgh Sovereign.”

  I glared at her, not masking my defiance.

  “Tell me,” she said, looming behind her desk. “How did you infiltrate our base?”

  I didn’t blink under her accusing stare. “I didn’t,” I said, matching the strength of my words with hers. My throat was so tight from pain that my voice sounded choked. “I was brought here.”

  I remembered waking up right after I had nearly escaped from the hospital ward. Aden’s words rang loud in my head: “Frost can’t be trusted.” Why would Aden not trust his own general?

  Her mouth twitched. “Of course you were. A poor, misunderstood prisoner, just like the others.”

  I stared at her. “Others?”

  Frost’s icy gaze sent chills over my skin, despite the fire burning my blood. “Are you not a member of the Black Cross Guild?”

  My heart skipped a beat at the mention of my hunters’ clan. “I don’t… follow you.” My entire body had begun to shake with the effort of holding in my pain.

  In a flash, Frost was around her desk, pinning me against the back of the chair. Age had carved canyons into her skin, making her appear haggard but tough. “Don’t play coy with me, girl.” I could feel her rising anger, her need to see me bleed, and my stomach flipped as I wondered if she was planning to kill me. Even if I did cooperate, would it really matter?

  Her nails flashed from the corner of my vision. She wore tight, black gloves, the fingers of which had been fitted with Scarlet Steel nails. She tapped those nails across my wrist, digging one so hard into my tattoo that it broke through the skin. I ground my teeth together, fighting the urge to flinch away from her. “This is their mark, is it not?” she asked quietly, daring me to say otherwise.

  I swallowed. “Yes.”

  “If it’s branded on your skin, then it must mean you’re one of them.” She searched my eyes, giving me a cruel smile. “And here I thought your lot had learned their lesson the first time.”

  My brows furrowed. What did she mean by “the first time?” Had my guild fought them before? If they had, McGuiness – our stone-cold, makeshift leader – had never mentioned it.

  If McGuiness knew this type of vampire existed, then why hadn’t he told us? Why didn’t my mother know?

  Withholding that kind of information was definitely considered treason. So why would McGuiness be compelled to take that risk?

  Unless he didn’t know.

  But then another troubled thought occurred to me. If he didn’t know, someone obviously had. One thing was clear – I wasn’t the only hunter to have ever been brought down her
e. Maybe the hunters tried doing what I was attempting, to garner the vampire’s trust in order to claim their freedom.

  Which means things will be twice as hard for me, thanks to them.

  Bitter anger rose in me, along with a waft of frustration and despair. Could I really pull this off? Would it matter, seeing as I would probably die any moment now?

  Frost’s eyes sharpened. “You never answered my question. And I don’t have much patience for hunters. How did you get here?”

  A door opened behind us. “She’s here because of me,” Aden said, strolling into the room. A cluster of soldiers hung behind him; I sensed their unease and disgust at seeing me.

  Frost’s head snapped up. “You’re telling me you brought her here – not just a hunter, but Sloane McAllister – and you did not tell me?”

  “Forgive me, General,” Aden said politely. “I should have informed you.”

  “That you should have,” Frost said. She surveyed him, distaste clear on her face. “For a man of your accomplishment, I expected more from you, Captain Knight.”

  Aden said nothing, and Frost returned behind her desk, raising her voice. “You are to deliver a full report, and then you are suspended from duty for three days,” she told Aden. “As for your prisoner” – she looked at me, eyes flashing red – “she is too great a liability. She is to be put to death as soon as possible.”

  Fear gripped me as my mouth gaped open. I was about to shout in protest when Aden said, “General, if I may be permitted to speak?”

  Frost pursed her lips, mulling it over, before giving a curt nod of her head. “Make it quick.”

  Aden stepped forward, his voice close behind my back. “Ms. McAllister has expressed interest in joining our ranks. We’re low on trained soldiers, and she’s a talented fighter. We could use someone of her skill.”

  Frost sat down, propping her elbows on her desk. “You know we don’t allow hunters into our base, even as trainees. Not after what happened.”

  So the previous hunters had been turned…

  I listened intently, absorbing every word. From the sound of it, things had turned south for my hunter brethren.

  “She’s no ordinary hunter,” Aden said quickly. “She’s an incredible asset.”

  Frost sounded unconvinced. “How?”

  “She wears the Mark of the Creator.”

  Frost’s eyes widened for a split second. “Are you sure of this?”

  “Look for yourself.”

  Frost looked from him to me and slowly stood, walking over. She reached toward my chest with a pointed red fingernail and pushed aside my jacket collar, exposing the birthmark. She took a sharp breath and straightened, looking at Aden. “I’m reluctant to train her further, as she seems deadly enough as is. It seems Sergeant Black was found a few minutes ago, glamoured to sleep in her cell.”

  Aden feigned surprise. “Seems a bit remarkable of a feat for a newly turned vampire.”

  Frost didn’t say anything, and Aden stepped closer. “But if it’s true, then think of her potential. Imagine what you could do with a soldier of that power.”

  Frost’s face grew distant, power hungry. Her frigid eyes met mine and I locked gazes with her, determined not to look away.

  She will not see my weakness. I. Am. Not. Weak.

  I was painfully aware of every second that passed as the very value of my life hung in question. Aden waited by my side, his tension and hope flowing through me. My mind was too focused on the pain to care much that my mental block had crumbled.

  “If she is to stay,” Frost said at last, “she must swear fealty to the Syndicate and forsake all her human ties.”

  Forsake all my human ties.

  Could I betray my race? My thoughts turned to Leo, and I knew deep in my heart I could never truly turn my back on my best friend. But if it meant the difference between life and death, then I would do whatever it took to make it back to him.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  I felt Aden and Frost’s eyes on me. “What was that?” Frost snapped.

  “Yes,” I repeated, louder. “Yes, I swear allegiance to you.” I drew a shaky breath. “From this day forward, I am your servant.”

  I bowed my head in subservience.

  My father’s words came back to me. “Don’t let anyone tell you who you are or what you’re worth.”

  I won’t, Papa. Ever.

  Frost slowly smiled, looking quite pleased with herself. “Release her.”

  The guards removed my chains and I slumped, dizzy from fighting the pain. Aden rushed forward and caught me before I could fall. For a few seconds, I sagged against him.

  “I’m all right,” I said, gently shoving away from him and standing, though I had to keep one hand on his shoulder to remain balanced. I sucked in a tight breath and faced Frost, whose greedy stare found mine, eyeing me like a shiny, new trophy.

  “Thank you, General,” I said, bowing.

  “Not so fast,” she said, and I looked up. “You will be placed under probation until your innocence and true loyalties can be determined.” Her eyes snapped to Aden. “For your negligence in telling me about her, you will become her guardian. She is bound to you and your household until further notice. If this goes bad, let the deaths of your comrades be on your head.”

  Aden swallowed. “Understood.”

  Frost nodded, satisfied. “I expect your report by morning. Now leave me. I have other matters to attend.”

  Aden bowed and I followed suit, limping after him out of the office.

  “Sergeant Sloane,” Frost called, and I turned around.

  She smiled. “Try anything, and you’ll be shot on sight.”

  I nodded, considering a retort but thinking better of it, and left her office as the doors were slammed behind me, leaving me in the corridor with Aden and a handful of soldiers.

  Aden nodded to them, and they reluctantly walked ahead of us.

  He looked over my wounds, wincing. “We should treat those as soon as we can,” he said, raising his eyes to mine. They were filled with pity and… guilt.

  I knew because I could feel it, not as strong as the weight I bore over my brother’s death, but there all the same.

  “Other hunters have been here,” I said, looking away.

  Aden clucked his tongue, his voice tight. “About six months ago, a skirmish broke out in one of the Red Sectors between a small clan of Black Cross Guild members and a pack of Rogues. Of the ten hunters, only three survived. We turned them, trying to save them, and brought them here. We thought they would be an asset. Turns out, they only wanted revenge. They executed a counter-strike against the base about two months ago, killing ten vampire civilians. The base has been shaky ever since.”

  I listened, barely able to focus because I was hurting so bad. While part of me – the hunter – wanted to smile and say the vampires got what they deserved, a greater part was saddened. It seemed so stupid, all the mindless bloodshed and fighting.

  Would it ever cease? Had the world truly ended three years ago, condemning all of us to this “hell on earth,” doomed to fight until the bitter bloody finish when only one race was left standing?

  I couldn’t muster up a reply. I staggered as another wave of pain rolled over me, and Aden rushed forward to help. “We should get those wounds seen to,” he repeated.

  I didn’t reply. Instead, I brushed his hand away and limped ahead of him, each step more painful than the first.

  In the back of my mind, Frost’s warning loomed like a storm cloud. If I didn’t watch my step, I could end up dead any minute.

  Suddenly, this underground haven seemed every bit as dangerous as the Red Sector.

  Chapter 8

  Paris took one look at my skin and hissed. “What the hell happened?”

  It was hard to make out what she said; her accent seemed to thicken when she was angry. She shot Aden a glare as she led me to a padded table. “I thought you were supposed to be keeping her safe.”

  Aden closed th
e door behind him, leaving just the three of us in the room. He rounded on Paris, an angry edge to his voice. “I am keeping her safe! If I hadn’t intervened, Frost would have killed her right there.”

  I half-expected some snarky remark from Paris, but she looked pale and frightened. “Frost,” she said, shivering. “I should have known this was some of her handiwork.”

  “What’s her… problem… anyway?” I asked between grunts.

  “She hates hunters,” Paris said matter-of-factly, shooting me a glare. “For good reason.”