The Veiled Series Collection

by Stacey Rourke

  Combat-ready pose faltering, I shivered at that gruesome mental picture.

  “Still think he’s public enemy number one?” Pulling a pen from the pocket of her lab coat, Mics scribbled a note into the file. “730 and I are going to step outside to give you two a little time to get acquainted. This room will be monitored. I suggest you kids play nice.”

  Keeping her warning glare fixed on me, she mind-melded the importance of achieving a passable level of decorum. Right up until the door clapped shut behind her.

  For her, the tortured Scarlett Star, I would try. At least for a minute ...

  “A scavenger, huh?” I muttered, in place of a standard greeting. My chin jerked in the smelly vamp’s direction. “That’s gotta be slim-pickings as of late. I’m guessing you’re not a fan of the NPI Bill?”

  Finishing the blood bag with a noisy slurp, Vesbon tossed it aside and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. His discarded trash flopped to the floor, a few remaining ruby droplets slopping out onto the otherwise spotless linoleum.

  Only then did his heavy-lidded gaze sweep my way, attempting to focus as he swayed on unsteady feet. If I had to guess, I would say the only thing he had to drink for a few months prior to that had been from a bottle in a brown paper bag.

  “Hey, I know you,” he slurred, jabbing a bobbing hand in my direction … sort of.

  Dragging my hands through my short-sheered hair, I tried to breathe through my mouth to avoid his stench. A pointless task with heightened senses. “I highly doubt we have ever traveled in the same social circles.”

  “No, no,” he argued, wagging his grimy finger. “The hair is shorter and darker. Oh, and you’re a vamp now. Still, I remember your smell. Even now, living in the darkness, the scent of sunshine lingers on your skin. I tasted you once, girl. You were as sweet as sugar-covered strawberries on a hot summer day.”

  Jaw set on edge, I rolled my shoulders to shrug off the shivers from his repellent existence. “I wasn’t a fang slut. Two vamps bit me. That’s it. Neither of which were you.”

  “You wouldn’t remember me.” Staggering a wide circle around the perimeter of the lab, Vesbon’s vacant stare wandered up the walls to the glass dome that crowned it. “You had one foot through the pearly gates when I sniffed you out. Mmmm, the smell of all that carnage—that gushing pool of temptation—lured me to the house. I must have been a good boy, because it was my most mouth-watering fantasy come to life.”

  “Stop talking.” I forced the words through clenched teeth. Whether he had actually stumbled upon the massacre that claimed my family or not, I had no way to know. Mentally, I tried to assure myself it didn’t matter. If he had, he was nothing more than the crow picking at the corpse of the squirrel after the semi-truck ran it over. Unfortunately, that did nothing to suppress my growing urge to rip his head from his shoulders and fling it across the room like a shot put.

  If he heard me, he didn’t let on, but continued his stroll down memory lane. “I can’t tell you where I holed up to escape the sun yesterday, or when I had eaten last before that bag your friend treated me to. What I do remember, in wonderful detail, is that bloody utopia I stumbled into, as if Vlad himself gifted it to me. Three bodies downstairs, one up. Two already dead, the others on their way. I got little more than a taste out of you. Whoever enjoyed your feast was the greedy type.”

  “Shut … up.” The words snuck from my lips in a barely audible hiss. Back rounding, my shoulders rose to my ears.

  “On my hands and knees, I lapped blood off the floor. There was enough to keep me full for weeks.”

  “You need to stop,” I warned, the last of my resolve slipping away like granules of sand through my fingers.

  In the hall outside, a swipe card buzzed, being denied access to open the door.

  “What the hell? Get it open! Now!” Micah yelled from the other side. “Vinx! Vincenza, I didn’t know. I’m sorry! Stay with me, don’t listen to him. We can get you through this.”

  “I couldn’t let myself get filled up there, though.” Finally turning my way, a malicious smile twined at the corners of Vesbon’s thin lips. “Not with the boy laying there, whimpering for mercy.”

  Jeremy.

  The vamp bitch snapped his neck. Had she not killed him? Was he laying there paralyzed, powerless to do anything while this twitchy parasite fed on him?

  “Vincenza, focus on me! I’m right here.” Micah banged on the door, the sound of her voice drowned out by the sirens of rage blaring in my mind.

  My gaze dragged to Vesbon in slow motion.

  “Did you touch him?” I asked, tone hauntingly vacant of emotion.

  Vesbon’s gray, lump of a tongue flicked out to wet his lips. Eyes closing, he plunged headlong into the blissful recollection.

  “I did so much more than that. There was enough fight left in him to cry for help. Not that anyone came. They never do.” Adopting a sing-song cadence, he chirped, “Not until ole’ Vesbon’s through!”

  While his mouth was still moving, I couldn’t make out the words over the roar inside of my skull. Black tendrils of hate curled around the edges of my vision; coaxing … prodding … begging me to act on my darkest delight.

  Micah’s fists hammered harder still, rattling the door on its track. “Remember why we are doing this, Vinx! You’re going to be faced with far worse. Don’t give in to his taunting.”

  Vampires can’t tolerate silver. But I was no vampire. Shortly after I moved back into the house, Micah gave me a few boxes of my belongings she had pulled from storage. At the bottom of a tote full of toiletries, I found a sterling silver nail file that once belonged to my grandmother. A rose-gold orchid vined up the handle. Beautiful as it was, it was deadly in the right hands. My hands. Since that moment, I kept it with me at all times, nestled somewhere on my person. As Vesbon rambled on, the cold chill of it warmed my hip, where I stowed it in the waistband of my stretchy workout pants. Fingers twitching, my hand itched to close around the file and introduce it to chatty Vesbon in a flurry of violent slashes.

  “Ah! I still have my souvenir!” Vesbon boasted. Digging into the pocket of his soiled trousers, he held up his treasure for me to see. A small chunk of rotting, putrefied earlobe, decorated with a thin gold hoop, dangled between his pinched fingers.

  Ice seeped through my veins, seizing my heart in an unforgiving fist of sorrow. The last time I stared directly at that same earring, I was flicking it with my forefinger just to annoy Jeremy because he ate the last bag of microwave popcorn. There it hung, a hunk of decomposing flesh that was all that was left of my brother.

  In the silence of that moment, the last thread of my reservation … snapped.

  The file shushed free from my waistband, eager to greet my palm. One slash, straight across the throat, sliced a gaping smile that belched a cape of tar-like blood down Vesbon’s front. Flipping the file into an overhand grip, I swung wide. The second strike sunk into the worthless lump of his heart. Tissue squished beneath my thrust, the file stabbing in, handle deep. Pulling back for a third blow, Vesbon denied me the pleasure —miserable beast that he was—by exploding into a flurry of fiery ash.

  While I covered my mouth with the crook of my elbow to avoid inhaling the toxic vamp, the door finally stuttered open. Sprinting into the room, Micah and 730 pulled up short at the settling cloud of vamp dust. Blinking my way, shock and horror jockeyed for primary emotion etched into Micah’s aghast features.

  “On the upside,” I offered, one shoulder rising and falling in a tight shrug, “he totally believed I was a real vampire. That’s good, right?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Experiment Day 400: Effect

  Peer review – Evaluation by one or more people of similar competence.

  Welcome to the historic Lockwood-Mathews Mansion!” Dressed in a white suit, paired with a plum button-down, Duncan—the colossal triplet—threw
the doors to the grand estate open wide. Stepping back, he welcomed the waiting masses in with a formal wave of his arm. The crowd around me moved in a steady surge, excitement swirling in a titter of anxious whispers.

  Hand on my elbow so he didn’t lose me in the crush, Carter sucked air through his teeth. “These Washington bureaucrats came here to see Bela Lugosi, and Ricardo Montalbán opened the door.” Hitching one eye-brow he attempted Montalbán’s well-known accent, “Ah, yes, Tattoo, the humans expect the malevolence of a Dark Shadows episode. We will confuse and enchant them with bright colors, clever lighting, and an excess of alcohol.”

  Lifting my knees higher beneath the shimmering ivory fabric of my silk sheath dress, I tugged the heels of my designer shoes out of the grassy terrain. Extra outdoor lighting had been positioned around the immaculately landscaped grounds, brightening twilight’s subtle cloak to the glow of late afternoon. “Skip the alcohol, my rapid healing makes it damned near impossible to maintain a buzz for longer than a minute. I would be far more enchanted by patio pavers to save my Louboutin’s.”

  Not that the rolling grounds of the estate weren’t magnificent; every inch of it exuded regal elegance. A massive porch ran the length of the mansion. Roofline peaks jutted toward the sky like fingers reaching for the angels. It was old school elegance thrust into the modern day bore.

  Beside the etched glass doors of the main entrance, a reporter in a sharp red pants suit with black piping stepped in front of a middle-aged pretty boy with a chin dimple.

  “Representative Alfonso Markus,” the reporter rambled at top speed, shoving a microphone in his face as her camera-man jogged to keep up. “What brought you to the Lockwood-Mathews Mansion today? Can we expect an endorsement from you for the NPI Bill?”

  “It’s a little early for me to make an endorsement,” he said without breaking stride, a practiced smile sliding across his nipped and tucked face. “But I will say that the NPI Bill affects us all, and we should educate ourselves before casting our votes in either direction.”

  With gentle insistence, he pushed the microphone aside and excused himself into the threshold of the vampire manor.

  Back straightening, Carter craned his neck to scan the throng being herded in like cattle. “Your boy Rau has friends in high places. It’s a who’s who of the political elite here. That’s Supreme Court Justice Nathaniel Dean.” He jerked his head in the direction of a man with a basset hound face and puffy gray hair. “He fought tooth and nail to prevent gay marriage from becoming legal … despite his own inklings toward those possessing the Y chromosome. And the hobbit looking guy with the wide-rimmed glasses? That’s Lawrence Rawling, the county commissioner. He was placed in that job after the previously seated commissioner was fired following Micah’s unfortunate incident which earned her the title as the Scarlett Star.”

  Bristling at the mention of Micah’s name, I said a silent prayer that she would stay home and inside as promised, and not slaughter 842 and 657 who were stationed at the house as guards. “Two of many,” I mumbled, jaw locked tight with the tension of the topic. “Think this bill has a better chance than we thought?”

  With the wide maw of the mansion’s opulent entrance looming before us, Carter’s gaze traveled the length of me with appreciation. “I think … we’re at a stately manor, swarming with the flawless beauty of immortals, and still you manage to be the most stunning creature in the room. I am one lucky son of a bitch to get to walk in with you on my arm.”

  If my blood pumped normally, I may have blushed. As it was, I gifted him a playful grin while lifting the hem of my dress enough to grant me the motion to step up onto the stoop. “Put him in a suit and instantly he’s gifted with the 007 charm.”

  There were roughly a hundred of us being corralled into the foyer, decorated with rich mahogany and precious antiques. Dressed in a fitted silver suit complemented by a pale pink shirt, triplet Thomas closed the doors behind the last of the stragglers and nodded to Elodie at the base of the grand stairs. At the march, she had been dressed in all black, her expression fixed and stern. Now, the rough edges of her style had been smoothed over for the sake of the skittish humans. Black hair piled on top of her head, a white chiffon dress with tiny pink roses whispered over her curves.

  Hands folded demurely in front of her, she addressed the crowd with an easy smile. “Welcome, friends. All of us at the Vampire Coalition are delighted to have you join us. Now, it is my great honor to introduce your host for the evening, activist and political pioneer, Rau Mihnea.”

  Pivoting her upper body, she tipped her face to the top of the stairs and led the room in a polite round of applause. The silhouette of Rau’s frame appeared down the hall. Building anticipation with his measured stride, his presence swelled before us.

  At the summit of the stairs, he paused to let the room drink him in. This was no cloaked creature of the night. This was a charismatic business man in a tan sport coat and robin’s egg blue shirt. Shaking my head, I marveled at their impressive staging. They took rebranding to a whole new level.

  Eyes crinkling with a subtle grin, the vampire lord made eye contact with each of his guests, easing down the stairs as he spoke. “I am humbled to have you all join me tonight. When I first made the decision to host this gathering, I feared no humans would attend. That the media had so swayed public opinion, blind fear would prevent any chance of an alliance. Yet, here you all are, dressed to impress and eager to learn about a culture often misconstrued. I invite you now to follow my lovely assistant, Elodie, into the ballroom. Our exhibits and artifacts are on display there. We will begin our demonstrations shortly.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, a receiving line formed of visitors eager to shake Rau’s hand before wandering off to peruse the sights. The line moved in a steady course, shoes scuffing over the speckled marble floor, until Representative Markus reached our host. At his elbow stood a lanky bald man who looked as though he made a career sucking the tartness out of lemons.

  “Representative Markus, Mr. Rutherford, always a pleasure.” Rau shook their hands one after the other, looking each in the eye for a pointed acknowledgment. “After our previous discussions about your reservations, I’m happy to see you coming out to gain more insight into the culture of the Nosferatu.”

  “Don’t confuse this with us supporting you or your bill,” the bald man I now knew as Rutherford snipped, wiping his palm on his pant leg as if worried Rau’s touch contaminated him. “This is a fact-finding mission. Nothing else.”

  “Easy, Neil!” Representative Markus chuckled, tipping his head in apology to Rau. “It seems my friend here hasn’t quite reached the level of open-mindedness one would hope after you opened the doors of your lovely home to us. While my own hesitations and doubts are still in place, I am interested to learn more about your society of vampires and why, after all these centuries, you suddenly want so badly to integrate into our community.”

  Seeing an opportunity to educate for his cause, Rau rocked back on his heels and folded his hands in front of him. “Only through an open dialogue can we reach mutual understanding. May I ask what qualms you have with the vampire integration?”

  “For starters,” Rutherford grumbled, “more than once I have had bodies on my table with mysterious bite marks on their necks. Never are charges filed. Not once has the public been notified of a potential threat.”

  “Oh boy,” Carter sucked air through his teeth, grimacing on Rau’s behalf. From our front row seat as the very next people in line, we got the treat of catching every awkward moment of the exchange. “I thought I recognized that guy. That’s Neil Rutherford, the county coroner. Vampires and the keeper of the dead in the same space. That’s a terrifying prospect.”

  Head listing to the side, I sized the angry-looking man up as the scrappy type. “If this goes south, I hope they opt for bloodshed. Debates are a tedious torture no being should be subjected to.”

 
Carter considered me through narrowed eyes. “And if that were to happen, whose side would you be on?”

  Snagging glasses of champagne for us both from a passing tray, I gifted him with a toothy grin. “That’s easy, my own. But I would let you huddle behind me in fear.”

  “That may be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Carter tsked in over-exaggerated appreciation, accepting the elegant stemware I offered.

  “Low standards and a hot ass. You just might be my perfect man,” I teased, bringing my glass to my lips to hide a flirty smirk.

  Back straightening, which only accentuated the expert cut of his tailored suit, Carter adjusted his silver-blue tie. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to get all school-girl giddy and forget we’re here on business,” he muttered, a devilish grin stealing across his handsome features.

  As the crowd around us thinned, we seemed the only ones that hadn’t gone silent. The rest of the dawdlers hovered close by, itching to catch every word of the potentially volatile political exchange.

  Wetting his lips, ever present mask of composure firmly in place, Rau met Rutherford’s accusation head on. “On the rare occasion our coalition learns of a possible offense by one of our own, an investigation is immediately launched. If the accused party or parties are found guilty, it is dealt with internally with severe, and often fatal, repercussions. We have a zero-tolerance policy for feeding on the unwilling, Mr. Rutherford, and it’s a decree we do not bend on.”

  “With all due respect,” one corner of Markus’s mouth tugged back in a casual half-grin, “that’s part of the problem. Your kind want to join our society, yet still continue to police your own. If you don’t respect the laws, rules, and regulations as the rest of us do, how can you ever truly assimilate?”

  “Representative Markus, we already live by your laws. We choose to, just to walk among you. But yes, we do police our own because your methods of imprisonment and recourse are not Nosferatu effective. Until the time that law enforcement includes vampire police, or silver holding cells and restraints, we have no choice but to continue to supervise and regulate our own.”