Another customer left the lot, and Vito lit another cigarette. The overgrown weeds blew in the wind and litter tumbled along the curb of the small, broken highway. There weren’t many cars driving at this time of night on a Tuesday, but there were always those getting on and off the turnpike and the never-ending string of trucks delivering goods. A rig drove by, the hum of it downshifting filling the air. A train whistled from the tracks located behind the strip of warehouses bordering the opposite side of the median.
Vito looked at his watch. One fifteen, almost time to go. There were only two more cars in the lot.
Suddenly a collision of honking and skidding tires rent the air. Vito turned toward the overhanging bridge and tried to see the intersection a quarter mile down. Most likely some drunk, either that or a sleeper coming off a night shift, he thought. It was a dangerous intersection with the tractor-trailers getting on an off the turnpike.
The barreling of a loud engine echoed as it passed under the bridge. An old Ford truck whistled and pinged as it slowed and pulled into the lot.
“What the fuck?” Vito tossed his butt and watched the truck. Smoke bellowed out from under the hood. No headlights were on. Stalks of corn were tangled in the grill and some kind of rope dangled from the fender. Whatever was attached to that rope was long gone now.
The engine sputtered and hissed. Vito took a step to check on the driver, but the big truck lurched forward and he figured he’d better keep his distance. It slammed to a stop, the red break lights illuminating the dark lot. After too long of a pause, the driver finally seemed to put the vehicle in park. Vito wondered if he should go get the boss or call the cops. Whoever was driving this thing didn’t seem to be too with it.
The engine continued to run, but no one got out. Vito squinted at the cab of the truck. Someone was moving around inside. After deciding he should get some balls and go investigate, he heard the heavy squeak of the door open. “It’s called WD40, dude,” he mumbled as he took a careful step closer.
The truck was still running. The door slammed closed, but whoever was driving was short. He couldn’t see them over the hood. He took a few more steps and stilled. The driver was not short but a woman. She was actually tall for a female and beautiful.
The woman had long, toned legs. She wore a white skirt that reached her slender knees. She seemed to be fussing with the garment. Her thin waist was covered in a pale-yellow tank top and—hello—no bra. Her breasts filled out the top perfectly, two lush globes swelling under the soft fabric and pulling the thin straps over her creamy shoulders tight.
Vito took a moment to hike up his pants and readjust his belt. Why did he have to wear his STAFF shirt that was too snug? He wasn’t overweight, but this summer he’d had a bit more beer than he should have, and his gut was paying the price.
Her head was tilted and shrouded in long black hair, which fell in silky waves and shined silver at parts under the moon. She pulled her top, swung her head up and brushed the remaining strands of black from her face.
Dear God, she was stunning. Her long oval face seemed the perfect shade of ivory accented with the perfect features, long lashes, and a straight, petite nose. He took a halting step forward, and she spotted him.
“Oh, hello.” She smiled showing off her perfectly straight teeth as white as pearls, but it was her eyes he found most arresting. Her eyes, too white to be blue, the irises an unreal shade of gray, almost silver. She appeared to be staring back at him with two coins under those long sweeping lashes. “Hello,” he rasped.
“My name is Larissa. I’m from out of town.”
“What’s up, Larissa?” He could not think of anything else to say.
She frowned and briefly looked toward the sky. Shrugging, she turned back to him. “What place is this?” she asked, still smiling as she looked around the lot. Vito felt a shaming sense of humility that this beautiful creature was standing in such a filthy place. That was when he noticed her feet. They were bare.
“This is Bristol Pike. You’re at Silhouettes.”
“Silhouettes,” she repeated, testing the word. “Like shadows?”
“Sort of. It’s a club.”
“For games?”
“Not really. For drinks and dancing.”
“You have music?” she asked with visible excitement.
“How else would the girls dance?”
“Dancing,” she said as if just realizing something exceptional. “May I dance?”
“Uh, you’d have to talk to Steve about that. He usually has the girls fill out an application first. Then, if he thinks they’re decent, he lets them try out on a slow night.”
“Decent? Do you think my clothes are indecent?”
“No, I think your clothes are just fine. Maybe a bit too conservative.”
“Really?”
He didn’t mean to offend her, however she didn’t seem insulted. She seemed overly happy. Still he said, “Don’t get me wrong, I think you look real nice.”
“Why thank you…”
“Vito.”
“Thank you, Vito. I think we will be good friends.”
“Well, that would be just great, sweetheart. If you want to shut off your truck I’ll take you in to see Steve.”
She looked back at the truck and frowned. “I don’t know how.”
He frowned. “Wha…is the key stuck?”
“I guess.”
He walked passed her and opened the truck door. The engine was definitely running hot. He found the keys and gave them a quick twist and tug. The engine shut off with a hiss. As he stepped out, he saw a pile of blue fabric and what looked like a baby bonnet. He was about to ask her about the items but all thoughts flew out of his head when she placed her small hand on his arm and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Vito. God has blessed me with your friendship, and I am grateful.”
* * * *
Cain screamed at the ceiling until his lungs burned as if they were bleeding. He kicked the wall and bits of plaster chipped off and fell to the dusty floor. His skin crawled with a need to be free and get to Annalise. He could not explain the sudden need to go to her. It was stronger than any thought or instinct he had ever possessed. She needed him.
“God damn you, King!” he roared, hoping that if he yelled enough the bishop would return and he could somehow convince him to let him out. Bishop King had always been a scary elder. He was quiet, dark, and had a way of always knowing what you were thinking. He was the oldest vampyre Cain had ever met. And when he had done that thing with his hand, Cain had never known such excruciating pain. His body still tingled with the occasional spasm from the trick. He screamed again.
He needed to get out of there. His body puffed with frustration. His strength was building. His fangs had been out for the past hour and he could not retract them. Only God knew what his eyes looked like.
He tugged at his clothing and the fabric tore under his claws. He needed to get to Anna and Adam. Something was wrong! He slammed his palms against the bars and caused a sprinkle of plaster to flutter to the floor. He looked up at the place where the bars were cemented into the ceiling.
He struck them again and watched as more soot and dust fell. He shook the heavy steel bars and studied the way the metal rod moved slightly within the foundation. There was space in between the shaft and the mortar. The house was over three hundred years old. Of course there had been modifications, but it was not often that the cells were used.
He shook the bars. A little give came with each pull. Stepping up on the horizontal cross bar, Cain shimmied close to the ceiling and reached for the hold. He brushed his fingers over the hole, and a chunk of plaster fell to the floor and shattered into airy pieces of dust.
He gave the bar a firm yank and there was a substantial release in the fortress. He focused on bending the bar and loosening it enough to pry the bars away and slip through. After several attempts, he was finally making some headway. The bar had become loose enough to rattle in its hole. A few more—
&n
bsp; Cain fell to the floor as horrible pain scrambled up his spine and seized his heart. His fingers curled as he pulled himself into a tight ball. His flesh burned as if an invisible demon was raking claws over his body. He screamed, “Annalise!”
* * * *
Adam paced as Anna lay on their bed, dead. Her pulse had stopped over three hours ago and she made no sign of resurrecting any time soon. He knew the change took various amounts of time for different people, but his patience was running out. Something was wrong.
He watched for the tiniest show of life returning to her. The slightest flutter behind her eyelids, but there was nothing. He brushed his hand over her hair and gently touched her belly. The healer had promised him that babies had survived the change before and that his blood was pure enough to support both his mate and the child growing in her womb, but he was beginning to doubt.
He walked to the window and saw that only three carriages remained. His father had come to his room some time ago to ask if he had seen Larissa, but that had been the only interruption. Adam wished someone else would knock so that he could tell him or her to get the healer. He would not leave Anna’s side, but he wanted to speak to the healer so the man could reassure him that everything was normal and there was nothing to worry about. He considered calling for the healer, but hesitated. Perhaps he was overreacting. He was most likely anxious for Anna to wake. He would give her some more time before he called for anyone.
The air shifted, and the hair on the back of his neck rose. His spine began to prickle. Something was happening. His eyes went to Anna still lying motionless on the bed. A rumble of thunder built in the distance and rolled toward the house, ending in a deafening crash. The lantern flickered, and Adam’s heart began to pound erratically. What was happening?
Fear swamped him, a fear like nothing he had ever felt or known could exist. Lightning, accompanied by an explosion of noise, struck close to the house, igniting a small patch of earth and filling the room with a blaze of white light. The fear turned to a pain so precise Adam nearly doubled over.
His mind filled with images that made no sense to him. He saw his hands reaching for bars, pulling and toiling. The images were so real to him his muscles began tensing in exertion, yet there was nothing there.
He fell to his knees as the fear took on a suffocating presence in the room. He gripped the bedding as he tried to pull himself up. His limbs shook, and his fangs punched through his gums. He tried to scream for help, but no sound escaped. It was as if some invisible creature had clamped a hand over his mouth.
And then a pain so great took hold of him no words would ever be able to describe it. It was as if his soul was cracking. Anna was slipping away from him. His panic rocketed to new levels of terror, and suddenly there was another presence in his mind, a familiar presence that had always been there, but as of late had been missing. He reached for the presence in his mind, knowing the bond was necessary in this moment. The more fear he experienced the more tangible the bond became. He was so close but could not make the connection.
He needed the fear. He imagined losing Annalise, the baby, himself. He thought of the grief of his mother and father and sisters. He thought of his brother and the sacrifice his life had become. He thought of losing Annalise and all of his family’s pain being for naught. He was losing her now, but Cain had lost her from the start. Tears filled his eyes, and he crumpled to the ground as his fear took on a life of its own.
And that was when the connection was made. His brother. Cain. He reached deep into his mind and sensed his brother reaching back. Cain was in pain. He was trying to get to them, get to Anna. She needed him. The clarity of the situation struck him as fast as the lightning was striking the earth outside. He knew what he needed to do.
He screamed through the haze of fear and pain, “Father!”
Jonas was there in a matter of seconds. One look at his son and he understood something was desperately wrong. Anna lay on the bed, pale and motionless. Adam was crouched on the floor clutching his chest and shaking with pain. “What is it?”
Adam groaned and through gritted teeth he directed, “Get a carriage. Bring it close to the house. It’s Cain. She needs Cain. He is her mate. She will die without his blood.”
Thunder crashed and Jonas fled the house. Adam struggled to his feet. Carefully, he scooped Anna’s body into his arms and carried her to the door, taking one staggering step at a time.
The healer assisted Adam as he carried Anna through the rain, but even he was at a loss. There had never been an occurrence in the history of their kind that two males experienced the same calling for one female.
They were in the carriage and on their way in a matter of minutes. Rain pelted the horse and the roof of the carriage as they rode at breakneck speed to get to the safe house. Anna was completely nonresponsive.
When they reached the safe house, it was dark. The bishop was likely already abed. Adam carried Anna’s lifeless form through the stinging rain and they burst into the house.
“This way!” Jonas shouted, leading then through a narrow corridor and below ground.
They reached a locked door. Amish did not typically use locks. Adam heard his brother’s screams on the other side.
“Adam!”
“Cain, we are here! We’re coming, my breder!”
Jonas kicked the door, and it splintered into pieces. Adam carried Annalise through the opening and ran down the hall to where a small light burned low. Cain was on the floor, his body shaking with agony. The bars of the cell were mangled as if he had tried to claw his way out.
“The keys?”
“Over there, on the wall,” Cain cried. His eyes met Adam’s, mirrors of his own. Their silver depths held the same fear that was torturing Adam. They could not lose her.
* * * *
She was there, the brat with the unholy name. She was speaking to a large man in a dark room. Words echoed over loud, pounding music in the distance. English music. How did he get here?
She sat on a fancy chair, upholstered in shades that were against what The Order deemed acceptable. Whose house was this? The man spoke words of money. The brat, Larissa, listened and smiled.
How dare she smile at this man? He stepped forward, but his heel did not touch the ground. He looked down and gasped as his leg began to fade into nothing. The girl and the man did not seem to notice his distress. They did not seem to see him at all.
He noticed her clothing. She was practically nude and in this other unholy man’s presence. He reached to snatch her from this place, only his hand passed through her flesh as if he was nothing more than a spirit.
Was this the end? Had he finally died? He was the bishop, a righteous man. Surely he was meant to go to heaven. He had obediently led his people under the word of the Lord, yet this place was nothing like the heaven he had dreamed of.
His surroundings began to waver, and he sensed himself fading away. Desperate, he yelled to the girl, “Larissa!” But she did not react.
A loud crash sounded, and everything went black.
Eleazar sat bolt upright and frowned. What had awakened him? He turned to the door and listened. Someone was in the house. Gathering his clothing, he quickly rushed out the door of his bedroom and down the steps. He fumbled to dress himself. By the time he reached the corridor, he had his legs in his pants. He noticed the broken door and tossed his shirt, simply throwing his suspenders over his bare shoulders and running toward the prisoner’s cell.
Panicked voices shouted over each other. The cell was open, a naked woman lay on the dusty ground. He recognized Jonas. His prisoner was still there, only so was his twin, and Eleazar could not determine which was Adam and which was Cain. He briefly read their thoughts, but the riot of emotions coming from these people was too overwhelming to make any sense of.
“What is going on?” he shouted, but no one acknowledged him. “You have broken into a sacred place and desecrated it by bringing an unclothed woman here.”
Jonas looked
up. “Eleazar, she is dying. It is Cain’s blood that will save her.”
He looked at the twins. They both seemed to have aged since he last saw them. Their mouths were tight with pain and their eyes racked with agony. “She is Adam’s wife. She is his mate. It is wrong to resurrect her with another male’s blood.”
“She is my mate, too!” one twin, most likely Cain, yelled accusingly.
Eleazar scowled at him. “I cannot allow this!”
“Please,” Jonas pleaded. “She is with child. She did not ask for this and trusted our people to get her through it safely. If she dies, it will be all of our faults.”
Everyone looked toward the bishop. The woman was already dead. “How long has she been like this?”
“Hours. Well past what it should have lasted,” Adam said.
“It may be too late.”
“Then let us at least try,” Cain ground out between his fanged teeth.
Eleazar was actually curious to see what would happen. He had never known of another mate being called to two males. Perhaps this was why God had made it so. “Very well.”
No one spared him another glance. Adam lifted his bride onto his brother’s lap. Cain held her tenderly as Adam pressed her head closer to his shoulder. “Are you ready, breder? It must be now.”
Cain nodded and bit his own wrist. He then turned the woman and sunk his fangs into her throat. Adam held her mouth open as his brother’s blood poured past her lips. She was not moving. Cain shut his eyes and drank from her hardening vein as his brother coaxed his wife’s throat, trying to manipulate her body to swallow. Jonas and he watched as the ordeal went on.
After several minutes, Cain finally sealed his bite and looked at his brother. “Her veins are getting thick. I could barely pull a drop at first. I’m afraid I may have damaged her throat, but it was all I could do. Did she drink?”
Adam’s voice shook. “I cannot be sure. I tried to make it go into her belly, but I do not know.”
Called to Order [The Order of Vampyres 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 35