Normalcy, however fleeting it may be, had been accomplished.
For an instant, at least, life seemed blissfully mundane.
Like those hideous sweaters grandma used to make at Christmas: itchy, ill-fitting, and yet somehow comforting to the soul.
“Oh, good. You’re already here.” Micah’s clipped tone was all business as she strode straight for the flat screen, disc in hand. Clad in her usual attire of drab scrubs, she could have been coming home from work or getting ready for bed. To her, scrubs were all purpose.
Practically giggling with delight, I hugged my mug to my chest and prepared for the opening credits. None came. Instead, the screen flickered to life on a fuzzy, black and white image. Bodies milled on a dance floor: people sipping drinks and writhing to silent music. There was no sound. The footage was seemingly shot from one camera angle. Chewing on my lower lip, I tilted my head and tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
“Is this supposed to look like a small budget film? Like Blair Witch?” I ventured, hunting for plot amongst the popping and locking forms.
“No.” Micah pulled her chin to her neck, seemingly taken aback by the question. “It’s a security tape from a club.”
Only then did she notice the stage I set. Pressing pause on the remote, her posture straightened, arms falling slack to her sides. My face would’ve burned with a hot blush if my sluggish pulse allowed such a thing. The whole thing reeked of the kind of painfully awkward moment when a girl realizes a guy she friend-zoned arranged an elaborate date.
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Mics wet her lips and laced her fingers in front of her. “What … did you think we were doing tonight?”
“Movie night?” Shoulders sagging, my lingering hope deflated.
Blinking my way, Micah’s mouth fell open. “I, uh … lined up an informant. He’s a reporter hired by the vampire coalition to, basically, make them look as beneficial to mankind as Habitat for Humanity. I got this disc from him today. It’s linked to a missing persons case.”
“But … I made snacks,” I countered, my rebuttal landing closer to a plaintive whine. “Regular popcorn for you, and kernels dipped in pig’s blood for me.”
“First of all … ew.” Micah halted further culinary description with one raised finger. “Secondly, this isn’t Sigma Ki on a Friday night. We’re staging a political uprising, remember?”
Staring down at my pajama pants, I threw out the only card left in my hand. “But, I dug out my Gnomes Just Wanna Have Fun jammies.”
Pushing one wayward braid behind her ear, Mics did her best not to openly laugh at my expense. “This isn’t a girls’ night, Vinx. We’re training you to be a weapon.”
Resting the base of the mug against my crossed feet, I dragged one finger around its rim. “The last moment of fun I had was a dinner with my family. We laughed. We joked. Then, I watched them die and got my throat ripped out. If fun of any kind perished that same day, what the hell are we fighting for? What’s the point of any of this?”
Head falling back, she groaned her exasperation at the ceiling. “I thought vampires were supposed to be broody, not melodramatic.”
“I surpass all labels.” I shrugged.
“Fine.” Micah’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline, as if she was trying to reason with an obstinate child—which she was. “Let me tell you about the missing girl, and then we’ll watch Sixteen Candles.”
Chin lifting with interest, I narrowed my gaze to kick off negotiations. “Make it The Breakfast Club, and you have a deal.”
Without a word, Micah offered me her hand to shake on the terms.
Our palms met and the deal was struck.
“So …” I grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl and settled back into the cushions. Dipping one kernel in my mug of blood, I popped it in my mouth. When I discovered it to be every bit as gross as it sounds, I spit it right back out and pressed on like nothing happened. “Tell me about the girl.”
Turning her face to the screen, Micah hit play once more. Her features, pinched tight with concentration, were illuminated by the television’s soft glow. “You’ll understand more if you watch.”
In the video footage, a sinewy blonde sauntered on to the dance floor. Hands thrown over her head, she gyrated her hips in tempting invitation. Swaying to a beat denied to our ears, one strap of her slip dress fell off her shoulder. So much exposed flesh, the monster within me could feel the ominous swell of danger closing in around her. A moment later, the crowd around the girl was forced aside by a swarm of vamps rancid with bad intention.
Oblivious to the sharks circling her, the girl danced on. Tossing her hair, she wriggled her ass as the cloud of death closed in. A bald vamp, who had to be nearly seven feet tall, with a swastika tattooed on the back of his neck, was the first to strike. Stepping in at an intimate proximity, he gripped the girl by the hips and ground his arousal against her. Her attempts to push him away landed with all the power of a fly on the back of horse. Hooting and jeering, the rest of his hive swarmed. Breaking free, because the disgusting supremacist allowed her to, the blonde spun in search of escape. Caught in a huddle of groping hands and exposed fang, freedom taunted her from only an arm’s distance away.
Horrified spectators, stepping in and out of frame, tried to intercede on the terrified girl’s behalf. Their own fear of finding themselves thrust into her place prevented them from being of any real use. Shrinking his quaking victim with his glare, the bald vamp wove a hand into her hair, wrenching her head back hard enough to rip a scream from her lungs. Lips peeling back to reveal viciously curved fangs, he bowed his ravenous maw to her pounding pulse.
I gripped my mug in a tight two-handed hold, and my gaze swept to Mics who stood still as stone. “How can you watch this? It has to hit a sour note of similarity.”
“Keep watching,” Micah murmured, her attention transfixed.
Just as the towering vamp’s fangs brushed exposed flesh, a male form darted into view. Flinging the hungry vampire off his potential prey with one hand, the newcomer positioned himself between the two. It seemed a hive that size could’ve taken down one would-be hero with ease. Instead, they immediately put their hands up in defeat and backed away. Wrapping a protective arm around the sobbing girl, the man ushered her toward the nearest exit. A second before they disappeared from frame, the knight in shining armor glanced directly at the camera. Micah pressed paused on the remote to hold him there.
Mug thumping down on the coffee table, I inched to the edge of the sofa to squint at the screen. “Is that … another vampire?”
Dressed in a dashing three-piece suit, the chivalrous gent’s lip twitched just enough to hint at a pair of menacing incisors beneath.
Micah clicked off the TV and turned to face me with her lips pinched tight. “That’s not just any vampire. That’s Rau Mihnea, head of the vampire coalition. No Nosferatu makes a move anywhere within his domain without approval from him.”
“Hence them backing off with their tails tucked.” Resting my elbows on my knees, I drummed one finger against my chin. “If he wields that kind of power, he may know where Finn and his hive are.”
“Possibly. I’m guessing Mr. Mihnea’s fountain of knowledge is an untapped geyser of secrets.” Pulling a manila folder out from behind the TV, she tossed it on the table in front of me. Cut-up scraps of newspaper spilled out in a scattering of data snippets. “He became quite the hero after that little show. Every local news station and paper wanted his firsthand account of what happened.”
“If he’s so wise and powerful, why would vamps in his region risk such a public display of douche baggery? It doesn’t make sense,” I pointed out, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
“It does if the whole thing was staged.” Leaning over the table, glasses drifting down the bridge of her nose, Micah shuffled through the news clippings until she found what
she was looking for. She pushed it toward me and tapped it with her index finger. The picture that accompanied the article was of Rau and that same pretty blonde arm in arm, adorned in formal attire and beaming smiles. “This was taken just two months after the alleged attack. This lovely lady—whose name is Joselyn by the way—publicly paired with Rau. For nearly two years every ribbon cutting he attended, every yacht christening that demanded his presence, she was on his arm batting her lashes in adoration. As someone who has suffered an actual vampire attack, I can tell you I have no desire to take High Tea with a blood sucker. I stay as far away from them as possible. No offense.”
Retrieving my mug, my mouth twisted into a grimace as I brought it to my lips. “A little taken.”
“My point is,” Micah pushed on as if she hadn’t just insulted my dietary restrictions, “whatever kept her locked to Rau’s side, it landed her here last week.”
Plucking one last article from the file, she placed it in my outstretched palm.
“Body pulled from Candlewood Lake,” I read aloud, glancing up to gauge if Micah expected me to keep going.
“Spoiler alert, it was Joselyn.” Turning on her heel, Micah paced the length of the living room. With determined strides, she marched from the couch, to the French doors, and back again. “They found her floating in the river, wearing nothing but a masquerade mask. She had been drained of blood by two deep punctures in her jugular. The media claimed that the thugs from the video came back for a little revenge. There were even reports that Rau handled their egregious offense by driving a silver stake through the heart of all those involved.”
Sensing her heavy pause, I prompted her with a, “But …”
“The informant I mentioned? He said no such punishment was doled out. At least not in the public execution style you would expect for killing the boss man’s arm candy.” Micah rounded the table, flopping down on the couch beside me.
Staring at the Modge Podge collection of articles, I tried to make sense of the splayed out puzzle it presented. “What does all of this mean to that mega-brain of yours? How does this give us anything to go on?”
She rocked forward and treated herself to a handful of popcorn. “It gives us her to go on. She dove into the vampire world, Vinx. And whatever she saw got her killed. If we follow the trip she took down the rabbit hole, we might just be able to expose why.”
“All right!” I chirped, practically bouncing in my seat. “That actually gives us a place to start, above lab time and extensive reading.”
“It gives us something to investigate,” Mics corrected, talking around her mouthful. “We haven’t even tested your disguise up against a true Nosferatu yet. We’re at the threshold of the truly dangerous shit, but were not quite ready to cross that line.”
Sinking back into the cushions, I folded my arms over my chest. “You tell me—oh, Wise One—what am I ready for?”
Snatching a DVD case from the table, she waved it between us, her face brightening with a rarely seen smile. “Hanging with The Breakfast Club. That rare little treat you are beyond ready for.”
Chapter Eleven
Experiment Day 384: Effect
Uncertainty – a situation which involves imperfect and/or unknown information.
Eighteen hours. That’s how long Carter and I waited to learn if our friend had lived or died. Rotating from our spot hunkered shoulder to shoulder on the curb, to alternating naps in the backseat of the rental car, we maintained our constant vigil. Trips to the restroom, or for a much-needed caffeine fix, were done in shifts. When those doors creaked open with an update, we damned sure weren’t going to miss it. Every second that ticked by seemed to drive another nail of finality into Micah’s looming coffin.
Dragging a hand over the rough stubble of his jawline, Carter stretched his legs out into the street in front of him. His gaze, puffy and bloodshot, shifted from the heavy clouds overhead, to my face. He dug into the pocket of the coat he reluctantly shrugged back into, and pulled out a pair of aviator sunglasses. “The sun staying hidden behind the clouds is allowing you to keep up pretenses, but you should still put these on.” At my hesitation he added, “Micah would want you to.”
Leaning into him, I tipped my chin his way, allowing him to slide the frames up the bridge of my nose.
“How much longer do we give her?” he asked, voice raspy from exhaustion.
I wanted to answer, to explain that while I had been out for days, vampire awakenings typically take between twelve to twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, I lacked the capabilities to form words. My attention was locked on the throbbing pulse of Carter’s neck. Mouth suddenly parched, my veins burned with the demanding reminder that it had been nearly twenty-four hours since I last fed.
“No way of knowing,” I managed. Breathing in the scent of his blood, an audible sigh escaped my trembling lips.
Tensing, Carter’s upper body pivoted to get a better look at me. “Are you okay? You sound … weird.”
When I felt my incisors swelling from my gums, I shoved myself off the curb to grant him the safety of distance. “I haven’t eaten,” I explained, turning my face from him to hide the shame of my predatory longing. “I didn’t expect this to be an overnighter, so I left all my blood bags on the plane.”
Pushing off the ground, Carter brushed off his hands on the back of his slacks. He peered up at me from under his lashes, shoved his sleeve up his forearm, and offered me his wrist.
Mouth aching with hunger, I shook my head with an adamant twitch, averting my stare to the cracked concrete beneath my feet. “No, thank you. I don’t really have the taste for human blood, I just get a bit … peckish when I go too long between feedings.”
Carter’s extended arm wavered, but didn’t retract. “Weren’t you the one who explained to the officer, with the 70s porn mustache, that there is always a chance that a vamp could come back wrong? What if she does and you’re too weak to stop her? You can think I’m being noble and chivalrous if you want. To me, it’s loading the only weapon I have. Go ahead, Vincenza. It’s okay.”
Tentatively, I peered his way, only to be met by his ironclad resolve. Mouth watering, I risked a step closer. “I’ve only ever fed from Micah, and that was under controlled circumstances.”
“Controlled how?”
“She had a gun to my head.”
“So, the severe level of control then.” He laughed. Tilting his head, he added, “I trust you. No heavy weaponry required.”
“I’m glad one of us trusts me.” Wetting my lips, I focused on the forking blue veins pulsing beneath the surface of his skin. So faint. So inviting. “I’m not sure I’ll know when to stop.”
Closing the distance between us, Carter brushed his hand down the side of my face, his wrist coming to rest mere millimeters from my mouth. “We’ll learn together,” he murmured.
My lips curled from my teeth, and my swollen gums felt the snap of the day’s chill. As one fanged grazed his pulse point, I pulled back the fraction of an inch my willpower would allow. “I can numb it. You don’t have to feel any pain.”
“No,” Carter refuted with surprising conviction. “I … want this.”
Stares locked, we silently dared each other to back down. Neither did.
Focused on the welcoming pools of his cerulean gaze, I bowed my head. Gently as I could, I applied the needed pressure. My fangs broke through in a gush of coppery warmth.
Mouth falling open, a husky moan rumbled from his chest.
I sealed my lips around the wound, drinking in one deep pull, then another.
Sucking air through his teeth, Carter’s breath caught.
Hard as it was, I pulled back. “Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” he rumbled. Weaving his hand in my hair, he guided my head back to his dripping wrist. “Take what you need.”
While the taste didn’t appea
l to me, his passionate consent lit a fire in my core that radiated through me in tingling fingers of longing. Gifting him my mouth, I drank deep, swallowing his metallic essence in urgent gulps.
Sexually speaking, I never considered myself worldly. I had lovers, but this was something altogether different. What passed between us ran deeper than naked, writhing flesh.
It was real.
Primitive.
Full of a heady intoxication compelling enough to distract me from our watch … until a bloodcurdling scream sliced from the morgue. Pulling back, my tongue darted out to seal the puncture wounds.
“Micah!” I barked. In a blink I was at the door, yanking it open on reluctant hinges to bolt inside.
A blazing ruby glare greeted me into nightmarish gore. Micah hunched over Gordy’s lifeless body, blood pooling at her feet. The scene was bumped to a new level of weird by Gordy’s pants being around his ankles, his shriveled manhood sagging to the side like a dead slug.
“What’s happ— Whoa!” Carter jogged up behind me, where I halted him with one extended arm.
Micah moved in a blur of speed and fangs. Darting around me, she seized Carter by the front of his rumpled shirt and shoved him against the wall, knocking the air from his lungs. Lips curling in a vicious hiss, she arched back to strike.
I hooked my forearm around her throat and heaved her off him, flinging her to the floor in a splay of limbs. Bounding to her feet, she hit a low crouch. Her wild, feral glower flicked around the room, seeking retribution … or escape. The moment our eyes met, an animalistic growl bubbled from her chest. Losing myself to instinct, I flashed fang in a challenging sneer.
The Veiled Series Collection Page 9