Of A Darker Nature

by Clay, Michelle

  “Maybe your Spidey senses are wrong.”

  Damn, she was working his last nerve. “Has anyone been here today?”

  “No, not today,” Emily stopped in her tracks. “Wait a minute. There was a blue sedan here a few days ago, and it was here again today. Someone parked across from my drive.”

  His lack of concern won him a troubled look. He hadn’t wanted to tell her about Ravenna, but it would probably be best to explain. “I have someone watching the place during the day. You might have noticed a raven hanging around?”

  Emily shook her head, and red hair fluttered around her face. “Besides pecking out someone’s eyes, what can a bird do to protect me?”

  “You’d be surprised. She can change back in a blink of an eye and has weapons stashed all over the property.” They were at the RV now. There was too much stink to be the squirrel’s carcass. Things would be so much easier if he could just sway Emily with the power of suggestion. “Go back to the house and wait. If he’s here, I’ll let you know.”

  “I want to talk to him about the property.” Emily swung the light around, searching for anything that might be hiding in the darkness.

  “You’re pretty stubborn, you know that?” He pushed her aside. “Let me go first. I don’t want you to surprise anyone.”

  “Eww, what is that? It smells like—oh crap, tell me that isn’t what I think it is.” Emily darted past to jerk the door open. She stopped abruptly, and he nearly ran into her. “Oh my god.”

  Marcus picked her up at the waist and moved her out of the way. “Wait here.”

  The old man’s trash and treasures littered the floor of the camper. Whoever had been here had dumped every drawer and container. Clothes and linens lay in a crumpled heap. Spoiled food littered the counters and a plate full of rot sat on the table. Bugs crawled through a buffet of waste and what looked like dried blood.

  How the hell did I miss this?

  Vampires did this. One, in particular. He could smell Trent beneath the putrefaction filling the enclosure. This stench had to be what had drifted down the hill to him earlier in the evening.

  Emily pummeled him the moment he stepped out of the cramped, disgusting space. Her fists smacked against his chest as tears rolled down her face. “How could you? You fed on him, didn’t you? Where is he?”

  “I didn’t do this. It’s several days old.”

  She stumbled away from him and slipped on the wet grass. Her feet went out from under her, and she went down hard on her rump.

  He did his best not to laugh at her as he squatted next to her. If he was going to protect her and possibly find out anything from her, she had to trust him. “Trent did this. He probably attacked the old man the same night he and Pete showed up at your house. I checked the area, but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. I guess the rain hid the odor.”

  Emily clambered up to her hands and knees. “I’m gonna be sick.”

  Humans had to be one of the most disgusting things roaming this earth. Marcus held her hair out of her face. It was bad enough she was heaving all over the ground. He certainly didn’t want to see vomit swinging in that long mop of hair too.

  She used the back of a hand to wipe at her mouth. “Look under there. What is that?” She pointed at the RV with a trembling finger.

  Marcus bent to scan the darkness. A jean clad leg hung down from the undercarriage. Taking the edge between thumb and forefinger, he gave it a gentle tug. The old man’s body fell from its hiding place with a dull thump and a splatter of mud.

  He turned the body over, and Emily gagged. The man’s bloodless face had frozen in a silent scream. His eyes were open and cloudy white. Maggots teamed in the ragged wound in his neck. More of the fleshy larva squirmed on the countless punctures and in his mouth. He turned his back on the mess and sighed.

  He dragged his cell from his pocket and dialed Corey. “I need you to come out here and clean up a mess. Bring a couple people to help.”

  “I want to read him.” She probably didn’t even realize it, but her fingers were turning the heart charm over and over. If she wasn’t careful, she might snap it right off the chain.

  Marcus wiped his hands on the legs of his jeans. “You can’t be serious. Not after all that.”

  She met his gaze with obstinate resolution. “If you didn’t do it, I want to find out who did. Reading him is the quickest and most reliable way.”

  “I’ve already told you who did it.” He glanced at the body then back to her.

  She shook her head, bottom lip quivering. “I have to do this, okay? I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Be my guest.” He motioned her toward the body with a half bow and a sweep of the arm. “Even if I live to be one hundred and twenty-one, I’ll never understand the female species.”

  “I have to do this. I have to,” Emily whispered. Just who was she trying to convince?

  “He’s been steeping in the rain and heat like a teabag for the better part of a week. You don’t want to touch that.”

  “Thanks for the mental image.” Emily stared at him for a few seconds, probably judging whether he was attempting to cover his ass. Finally, she dropped her gaze and moved toward the body with cautious steps. “Besides, you forced me to read Pete. What do you care?”

  She had him there. He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to stroke a hand through her hair. “I apologize for that. Isabella put me on the spot, and I couldn’t think of a better way to get the info we needed or to keep her from harming you.”

  She pulled her tank top up to cover her nose. A strip of skin showed between the sagging pajama bottoms and the hem of her tank. He focused on it, studying the curve of her spine. An intense urge to lick that exposed flesh made him look away.

  “You don’t have to do that, Emily. Judging by the mess inside and where the old man was, I can accurately describe what happened.”

  She laid a tentative hand on the corpse’s upper arm. A maggot wriggled out of the corpse’s torn shirt sleeve and squirmed toward her fingers.

  Marcus crouched next to her. “Do I need to do anything?”

  Her free hand clasped his fingers in her own. Even though he wanted to, he didn’t pull away for fear of disrupting her concentration. He hated to admit it, but the prospect of seeing her use the gift again intrigued him.

  Emily’s hand clenched his, and she gasped. “Trent surprised him and he didn’t have a chance to fight back. He tried to run, but Trent caught him. After draining Bill, he stuffed him beneath the RV and hoped he wouldn’t get discovered. Starr gave him a charm, it’s in his left front pocket, to hide the smell.”

  “I guess the rain weakened it,” Marcus said more to himself than to her.

  She made a choking sound, and he feared she might be sick again.

  He wished she’d let go of his hand. “Can you go further back? Do you see anything about the ley line?”

  The maggot wriggled across the back of Emily’s hand. She didn’t seem to notice, and he didn’t point it out. The sooner she learned about the ley line, the faster he could go home.

  “I see him talking to—Holy crap, it’s Starr.” Her grip tightened. “Bill was a member of her coven.”

  “Ley line?” he urged in hopes of wrapping this up.

  Her back rested against his thigh now. Marcus was unsure which one of them had moved. He didn’t mind supporting her weight, little as it was. Her seeing-touch fascinated him though it was a bit odd to watch. She squished her eyes shut, wrinkled her nose and cocked her head. Perhaps by sheer willpower she could make the old man tell her exactly what she wanted to know. Part of him questioned just how much of this was genuine.

  Emily shuddered and nearly toppled over. “Bill's walking around the property. He’s muttering something. I can’t hear. It sounds like a poem. No, it’s a spell.”

  “What kind of spell?” If the old man had been a part of the witch’s coven, why hadn’t he given the property over to Starr?

  “He’s back in
the RV now, looking at the deed. He’s thinking of signing it over to Brenda, but he doesn't trust her.”

  Marcus placed a calming hand on her back. “Do you see anything else?”

  Emily’s body stiffened, forcing him to lean over to get a better look at her face. Her eyes were half open now, only the whites showing. Her voice took on a soft monotone, and she said, “Sine facio nullus.”

  Marcus’s eyes widened. Yeah right, she isn’t a witch. “Emily?”

  “Without consent this spell cannot be undone. Protection depends upon only one. With these words let it be done. Sine facio nullus.” Emily muttered something else, but her words had slurred together so badly he could no longer understand.

  She released his hand and jerked away, almost falling over the corpse in the process. Her eyes snapped open. Shrieking, she flung her hands around and got to her feet. Down the hill she went in a crazed run. He found her on her hands and knees, vomiting in the mud.

  Afterward, she stood and hitched up her soggy pajama shorts. She took a shaky step and stumbled. Had he not grabbed her, she would have fallen.

  Fully convinced Emily was more trouble than she was worth, he hoisted her up and carried her back to the house. Surprisingly, she didn’t fight it and rested her head against his shoulder. Despite the lingering aroma of death and vomit, a hunger pang twisted his gut.

  Her fear must be triggering it, he reasoned. Eager to be rid of her, he hurried his step.

  He left her in the bathroom after she swore herself capable of running a bath. By then Corey had shown up with one of the new enforcers. Marcus had little time to worry about his hunger. He had to decide what to do with Bill Duncan’s body and the stinking RV.

  Since she had nothing else to do—and the house practically begged for a makeover—Emily decided to pick up a few gallons of paint from the home improvement store. She’d finally decided on bitter briar for the living room. It was a purplish-brown color that seemed to reflect her mood. Sure Marcus had blocked her car with his, but she suspected with a little maneuvering she could get the Bug out. She had to work tonight so she’d have to move the car sooner or later.

  She checked the fridge. Marcus had gone through the container of blood in a matter of days. Only a small amount remained, and she doubted it would sate his appetite.

  On her way out of the house, Emily found Evan and the giant crow on the porch. The bird sat on his forearm like a trained hawk and clicked its beak for attention. Was this the bird Marcus had enlisted to watch her while he slept the day away?

  Evan looked up from stroking its glossy black head and smiled at her confused expression. “Hi. I guess Marcus forgot to mention I was coming by?”

  “After all the excitement last night, it probably skipped his mind.”

  The bird flapped its wings and landed on the opposite side of the porch, picking at the toe of Marcus’s black motorcycle boot. Evan retrieved a suitcase and several dry cleaning bags he’d hung over the porch railing then smiled.

  Emily stepped aside to allow him entrance. He wore a steel gray dress shirt and navy blue pants. He had polished his shoes and managed to control the wayward, white-blond curls atop his head. He would have looked well put together had it not been for the crescent bruise beneath his right eye and a split bottom lip. Two punctures that looked like someone had tried to bite him were just below his collar.

  “What happened? Are you okay?”

  Evan fingered the bruise beneath his eye. “Some people might think I’m asking for it, living in a house full of vampires. It’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal?” On further inspection, Emily decided he looked a bit peaked. “Can I get you anything?” How about a stake or a wreath of garlic to wear around your neck?

  “I’ll just hang these up if that’s okay.” He followed Emily down the hallway to Brenda’s old room.

  Emily sat on the bed and watched him hang Marcus’s clothing in the closet. She felt a little under-dressed in cut off shorts, flip-flops and faded tank top. “You look nice today, despite the black eye and fang hickey.”

  Evan grinned and raised his brows. “You look cute too. I think you’d look great in just about anything.”

  Now she was embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry to run in on you like this. I had hoped to come a little later, but Isabella has a meeting tonight and I have to be there. And I wasn’t sure if you had to work this evening.”

  “I do.”

  Evan cast a curious glance around the room. Emily was glad she’d had Scott haul the broken dresser away. He’d even brought an extra mattress over to replace the one Brenda was attacked on.

  Evan glanced around again. “Where’s Marcus sleeping? I’d like to see him.”

  Emily shrugged. “I don’t know. He comes in after dark all covered in dirt.”

  His jaw dropped, and eyes widened. “He’s sleeping underground? Don’t tell me the heathen’s been tracking mud into the house.” Hands on hips, Evan frowned. “I obviously need to have a discussion with him about common courtesy.”

  Emily’s cheeks flamed with the memory of catching a glimpse of him nude in the hallway. “He leaves his dirty clothes on the porch.”

  Evan turned away to hide a pinched expression.

  “I have no idea where he keeps his coffin.”

  Evan finished stowing Marcus’s things away. He laid a computer case atop the bed. “Seriously, Emily, who sleeps in a coffin these days? That’s so eighteenth century.”

  Emily hid her embarrassment by asking another question. “The two of you are pretty close?”

  “Yes. He’s my best friend. When Isabella came looking for me— I’m her great grandson times some number—she was disappointed to find I’m of the gay persuasion.”

  Emily led him out of the room and back to the kitchen. “Why would that make any difference?”

  A furtive smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “To her it does. You see, she wants to continue our line. I’m the last of our family, and she hoped I’d make lots and lots of babies. I think she had aspirations that I’d be master of the city one day and my children would follow.”

  Emily nodded in understanding. His story sounded well-rehearsed like he’d told it many times. Or perhaps it had been planted there.

  “Isabella was angry with me and told me she would never bring me over. She said she would never allow anyone else to do it either.” He pulled out one of the spindly kitchen chairs and sank into it.

  “Bring you over? You mean make you into one of them?”

  “Yes.” He stared at his hands clasped atop the table. “I told her I didn’t care. I never wanted that in the first place. As punishment, she ordered me flogged.”

  Emily’s hand flew to the charm hanging from her throat. “But you’re her grandson.”

  “Something you’d do well to learn about Isabella is that it doesn’t matter who or what you are to her. If she deems it necessary to punish you, she will.”

  Emily poured them both a glass of iced tea. “So did you get flogged?”

  He took a sip of the sweet tea and made a happy sound. “No, Marcus stepped in. He took my beating even though I begged him not to. We’ve been friends ever since. I love the man. He has a hard time showing how he feels. He knows I have a crush on him, but he pretends not to notice. He treats me like a friend, but he tends to shrink away from close, personal contact.”

  Emily made a face, not quite understanding.

  “He doesn’t have a problem with physical contact. I’m talking about his lack of emotional contact. I mean, he tries. He has a real camaraderie with everyone, but you can tell it’s just on the surface. I can only imagine it has everything to do with his life with Isabella. He’s been with her a long, long time.”

  “How old is he, anyway?”

  “One hundred and twenty. At least that’s what he thinks.” Evan shrugged. “He kind of lost track.”

  Emily belatedly understood that Evan really meant it when he said he loved Marcus. The
re was a sad expression in his eyes and his chin quivered. She couldn’t imagine how it must feel to go through life loving someone or something you just couldn’t have.

  “He doesn’t strike me as the type who would take a beating for someone if he didn’t care.”

  If she wasn’t mistaken, there were tears at the corners of Evan’s eyes. He cleared his throat. “I guess if you and I had endured as much as he has, we’d be the same way. It’s nothing I blame him for in any case. He takes a lot of flak from Isabella, and he has the thankless job of keeping things in order.” He took a deep breath and blew it out in a slow, steady stream. “I think my grandmother is losing her mind. Right now, Marcus is the only one who can control her. I can’t help but wonder if the day will come when he can’t.”

  Emily stared at him. Why did he admit all of this to her? “Why doesn’t he take over and run the city himself?”

  “Who said he doesn’t?” Evan looked away, and a slight flush rose in his cheeks. He stared at the contents of his glass and nibbled his bottom lip.

  Emily knew the look. He thought he’d shared more than he should have.

  Finally, he glanced at his watch and stood. “I ought to get going. I want to get back to ensure things go smoothly with the meeting tonight. Besides, I have to look my best. The Master's ward is coming, and he’s very cute.”

  ***

  A loud clatter in the kitchen woke Emily some time later. She swung her legs off the couch. Another noise drew her to the kitchen doorway.

  Marcus stood in front of the sink, his bare back to her. He was fresh from the shower and clad in only a pair of black boxer-briefs. Sinewy muscles stood out against pale skin. Emily smoothed her fingers across the heart charm.

  She studied the elaborate pattern of interwoven feathers on his back. The bluish-black ink covered the expanse of his shoulders, leaving only his spine with virgin skin. The bulk of the wings began to taper about mid back and ended just above the waistline. She’d never been a huge fan of skin art, but this was different. It was beautiful, in a fallen angel or tortured soul sort of way.