Frater, Rhiannon - As the World Dies 04

by Beautiful Bitch

  Something slick was pressed up against her face and she was compressed into a small space. She tried to move and realized her hands were taped together and against her chest. Panic began to grip her, but she fought it back and tried to think straight. Managing to squeeze the plastic between her fingers, she began to try to push her nails through the slick material.

  “Damn,” she whispered, and tried not to completely lose her mind.

  She was terrified, but she had to remember she didn't have to breathe, therefore, she couldn't smother to death.

  Her nail poked through the plastic and she wedged her fingers through it. Desperately, she began to tear at the black plastic. Filthy garbage began to leak around her fingers and she cursed loudly.

  Losing all patience and losing her battle against panic, she began to throw her body back and forth as hard as she could.

  There was a loud cracking noise and then she fell sideways onto her side. She was still bound and her legs were trapped in something that was pinching them hard, but now she was laying on the ground.

  Instead of more black plastic and garbage being outside the hole she had torn, now she could see the cement roof of a building. With renewed vigor, she tore at the plastic until she could push her head through and looked around frantically.

  She appeared to be in a multi-level parking garage. No cars were around and looking down the sloped floor she saw the area she was in was roped off. Heavy blue tarps were hanging from the ceiling to keep anyone from entering. A sign nearby read “Danger” and she realized the area must be under some sort of renovations.

  Sitting with her head poking out of the plastic, she could see her body was tightly restrained in two trash bags with duct tape wound around it. Pissed, she began to tug at the tape around her legs.

  “If he wanted me gone, he could have just said so,” she mumbled.

  It took awhile, but she finally got the tape off her legs and kicked the bottom bag off her. Taking advantage of her hunger, she used her sharp teeth to gnaw through the tape on her wrists. At last, she stood up, threw the bags away from her and looked around. She had busted her way out of a large plastic trash bin and her duffel bag was still inside under a bag of garbage.

  Disgusted beyond belief, she grabbed her stuff and noticed a note pinned to it.

  “Fucker,” she hissed. He could have just told her to leave.

  She tore the note off, crumbled it up and tossed it in with the other garbage. Feeling like shit, she moved toward the plastic curtains cutting her off from the rest of the parking garage. She pulled back an edge and realized she was in the parking lot for the Riverwalk Mall in San Antonio.

  “Man, when you ditch a girl, you ditch a girl, ” she bitched.

  Holding her bag in front of her to cover her bloody shirt, she walked along until she found an entrance and slipped inside. Luckily, no one was looking her way as she rushed down a side hall to the women's bathroom. She was sure she looked like shit and she was still caked with blood.

  Ignoring the empty mirror, she used the soap dispenser and a wad of paper towels to clean herself off. She worked as fast as she could before anyone could enter. Once clean, she ducked into a stall and switched out her clothes. To her dismay, she realized she was down to just a few clean things now.

  Dammit, she had to do laundry. Were vampires supposed to even do laundry?

  The door to the bathroom opened and she heard a woman's voice speaking in Spanish. Peeking out, she saw a beautiful young woman standing in front of the mirror checking her makeup as she talked away into a bright pink phone.

  The need inside of her drew black and wanting. She needed to feed.

  Slipping out of the stall as quietly as possible, she moved toward the woman. As she knew it would, the mirror remained devoid of her reflection and she crept up behind the girl on silent bare feet.

  With one last laugh and a kiss into the phone, the girl clicked it shut and leaned forward to touch up her lipstick.

  Amaliya moved in to strike, her lips hovering just over the girl's shoulder. By the widening of the girl's eyes, she knew her victim could see her out of her peripheral vision. The fact that her prey could not spot Amaliya in the mirror froze the mortal in fear. It was ridiculously easy for the vampire to spin her around and sink her teeth into her neck. She took four great gulps and then licked the wounds closed. It took all her willpower, but she did not drain the girl dry. She stepped back as the deeply tanned woman raised her hand to her neck, the terror in her eyes keeping her still.

  “Forget,” Amaliya whispered once, and pushed her power hard and deep into the young woman.

  Her victim staggered backward, then caught herself on the edge of the sink. Slowly, she opened her eyes and put a hand to her forehead.

  Amaliya retreated back into the bathroom stall as the pink phone began to ring. She smiled with satisfaction when the girl said, “Babe, I need to eat. I almost fainted. Meet you at Tony Roma's.”

  ***

  Cian awoke knowing that something was wrong. At first, he could not fathom what it was, but as he sat up, he realized he was alone.

  “Amaliya,” he said softly, though he knew she would not answer.

  She was gone from the chamber.

  A flash of hot anger filled him and he hit the controls to open one wall. It rose and he leaped out into his loft to find it strangely empty.

  Outside, the sky was nearly completely indigo with just one brush stroke of lavender and pink on the horizon over the hills to the west.

  With preternatural speed, he moved through the apartment, searching it in vain.

  She was gone.

  He was alone.

  Even Roberto was missing.

  Rubbing his bottom lip, he stood in the center of his living room and felt his anger growing even more violent. Either The Summoner had found a way to violate his haven in the daylight hours or he was betrayed. Only Samantha and Roberto could have taken Amaliya without activating his survival instinct to awaken.

  Where was Samantha? He looked over at his answer machine to see there were no messages waiting to be heard. Of course, he had treated her rather badly the night before, so she could be somewhere sulking.

  It felt odd not to have her waiting for him, ready to fling her arms around his neck, and shower him with kisses.

  Sadly, he realized he was not as concerned about Samantha as he was about Amaliya's whereabouts.

  Behind him the door opened and he moved to see down the hall.

  Roberto entered carrying a Foley's bag and gave him a small smile.

  “Good evening, Master.”

  “What did you do with her?”

  Roberto didn't even hesitate in his steps as he made his way to the kitchen. “Nothing terrible. I just removed her from your presence to bring her influence to an end.”

  “You had no right!” Cian's voice was harsh.

  Roberto's eyes barely flicked toward him in recognition of his anger.

  He turned with a stiffed back to place a new set of wine glasses on the counter.

  “Roberto, you had no right to defy me.”

  “My role in your life is to protect you,” Roberto said after a beat. “To keep you from harm. To be your guardian by day and your servant by night. I would hope that somewhere in the midst of those duties, I am also your friend.”

  “You are my friend,” Cian admitted, but his emotions were choking him. “You had no right to go against my wishes! What did you do with her? Did you kill her?”

  “Of course not. But I would have if I felt that had been necessary.

  After careful consideration I decided that her influence merely needed to be removed. She would have left anyway. I just moved her along more quickly.”

  Cian hissed through his teeth and flung out one hand. “And why would you do that? Why?”

  “Because she is making you weak! She has already brought The Summoner to your city! Do you understand that you are endangering everything we fought for? Everything we creat
ed? I can endure Samantha because she is annoying and not a threat, but Amaliya is much more than that. It is not who she is, but what she is. The Summoner's pawn. And despite yourself, my Master, you are already deeply in love with her and what she brings out in you.”

  Cian took in his words, understanding them as truth, but not ready to admit it. “Where is she?”

  Roberto's hands gripped the edge of the cement counter top and said in a low voice, “Let her be. Let her go. Return to the way your life was.”

  “I can't,” Cian said in a low voice. “I can't because it wasn't real. I can see that now. I created this illusion to make myself comfortable. I lied to myself that I could recapture what was lost when The Summoner created me and I slaughtered everyone who ever meant anything to me. I've been lying to myself and worst of all, Samantha.”

  “Then let them both go and be who you truly are,” Roberto said in a soft voice.

  Cian drew closer to Roberto and his eyes flashed red. “Roberto, you have been at my side nearly one hundred years. If there is anything you should know about me is that I do what I please and what I believe is right.”

  “And sometimes you are wrong.”

  “Where is she?” Cian smashed his fist down on the counter near Roberto's hands and the counter cracked and the edge crumbled.

  Slowly, Roberto drew his hands back and pulled himself up even straighter. “You cannot set right what is already wrong. Let her go.

  Remember that you have won your own battle with The Summoner and let her do the same.”

  “Roberto, I will not ask you again. Where is she?” Cian looked at his old friend with despair and frustration. He could not believe that his own servant would defy him, but yet again, for years, it had only been him and Roberto, struggling to carve out a life for themselves. They had been complimentary partners in crime for almost a century, but it was now obvious that they were at a crossroads.

  “San Antonio,” Roberto said finally.

  “You dumped her in Santos' territory?” Cian was shocked. “Do you realize what he will do to her?”

  “If she's smart, she'll move on before he finds her.”

  “This is Amaliya we are talking about,” Cian snapped, and headed toward his phone.

  “Let her go,” Roberto said once more. “Let her go. Or she will ruin you.”

  Cian snatched up the phone and dialed. Pushing his shoulder length hair out of his face, he frowned deeply. His beard and hair were now the same length as when he had died. It never took more than a few days for his appearance to revert.

  Santos, the Master Vampire of San Antonio, did not answer his private cellphone. Instead a feisty Mariachi piece played and ended with a loud whoop, then the beep sounded.

  “Santos, this is Cian. One of my cabal may be in your city. She's a fledgling and not very clever. I will retrieve her if this is approved by you. Please call me back so we can discuss terms.”

  He hung up and stared at the phone. Resisting the urge to throw it or crush it, he set it down on his desk.

  “She'll be the end of you,” Roberto predicted.

  “Then so be it,” Cian said.

  He turned and walked toward the stairs. He would get ready and wait for Santos to respond. If she was lucky, Amaliya would not be found by Santos' people. But if she was unlucky, he had to be fully fed and ready to heal her.

  “Cian,” Roberto's voice said from behind him.

  Cian turned as he reached the first step and saw Roberto lingering near the dining room table.

  “I did it because I love you.”

  “I know,” Cian said softly, and he walked upstairs feeling the heavy, sad weight of Roberto's bitter gaze.

  ***

  Amaliya slowly strode along the crowded walk that wound around the entire Riverwalk area below street level in downtown San Antonio.

  Since it was Friday night, people were everywhere: heading into clubs, strolling, shopping, and sitting down to dinner along the edge of the river. The atmosphere was exciting and festive.

  Children darted around her as they dashed about excitedly. Swerving around couples walking hand in hand, she almost felt human and it felt great. All she needed to do was get her bearings, figure out where she was going, and get back on the road.

  At least the bastard had added another two thousand dollars to her stash of cash. Going away money, she assumed. It should last her a bit longer.

  She was feeling better now and enjoyed the energy of the people around her. She had fed off of three different females that had come alone into the restroom. Luckily, she had been lurking in a restroom tucked away from the main walkway and did not have to worry about being interrupted.

  She was passing one of the many stairways that led up to the street level when she was snagged from behind. Two massive Mexicans grabbed her arms as another snatched away her bag.

  “Do not fuck with me boys,” she warned, and tried to wrench free.

  They didn't budge and their grip remained secure. Slowly, she realized they were not human.

  Dammit.

  “Um. Hi?”

  “Let's go,” one of them said with a grim smile.

  “Santos is going to love this one,” the smaller guy with the super short hair decided. “Yeah. This one will be fun.”

  “Look, I'm just passing through and-”

  “No vampire just passes through nowhere. You're in our territory now, puta. Better hope Santos is in a good mood.”

  The big guy took a firm hold of her as if she was his girlfriend, his huge arm slung over her shoulders.

  Amaliya tried to break free one more time, but she was held securely in place against the beefy man.

  “Oh, shit,” she whispered and was escorted away into the night.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Amaliya kicked the back of the car seat as hard as she could every few seconds and screamed at the top of her lungs. Trapped in the trunk of a small sports car, she felt claustrophobic and pissed off. The brutes had fastened her hands and feet together with plastic handcuffs.

  They had actually left her duffel bag, still smelling of garbage, in the trunk with her. The reek was getting to her.

  “Just let me go,” she screamed again, and kicked as hard as she could.

  The car veered to one side and her head slammed into the side of the trunk. This had happened several times and she was sure the driver was doing it on purpose.

  She could not believe her luck. Just when things looked like they were going to get better, Cian ditched her in San Antonio, and she got picked up by gangster vampires.

  Her body smacked into the side of the trunk again, then the car came to a hard stop, and she slammed into the rear of the backseat.

  “That fucking hurts!”

  “Not like it's gonna hurt, bitch,” a muffled voice answered her.

  The back seat of the car was pulled down to reveal a small opening and the large vampire pulled her through into the interior of the car.

  It was obvious they did it to knock her around as much as they could.

  She was yanked out of the vehicle and the big guy accidentally dropped her on her face.

  Wiggling around, she managed to flip onto her back as the biggest guy, bald and massive in a goldenrod yellow shirt, stood guard while the smaller guy got her bag.

  She reared her legs back and tried to kick him. Without even glancing her way, the large man caught her booted feet in one massive hand.

  Flipping her back onto her stomach, he leaned down and grabbed the waistband of her jeans and hoisted her up off the ground. Carrying her like she was a bag, he walked up a narrow driveway to an enormous house nestled into the side of a hill.

  We must be on the Northwest side of San Antonio, she thought.

  Latin music filled the air and an assortment of Mexican-American women of all sizes, skin and hair color, all clad in sexy outfits, stood on a patio off to the side of the house sipping drinks and laughing. They barely glanced her way as she was dragged up the fr
ont steps and into the Spanish-style house. Carried over tiled floors, Amaliya tried wrenching free, but to no avail.

  The big man carried her through the house and finally up a stairway that ended in a massive room. A fireplace dominated the room on one end, which made no sense since San Antonio never had weather that needed one. Hoisted over the back of a leather couch, she was dropped onto it.

  Several of the girls from outside wandered in to look at her. Speaking in Spanish, they leaned over and studied her. A few looked disappointed and one said, “Vampiro.” She realized they had been hoping for a nice meal. Two of the girls were quite fair and she figured they had a lot of European blood. The third looked like a pure indigenous Mexican. She was very tiny, with coal black hair, and strong features. From the way she carried herself, it was obvious she was the one in charge.

  “Look, I am just passing through, ”Amaliya said firmly. “I didn't mean to break any rules.”

  The woman leaned over her, her long black hair brushing over Amaliya's skin. It smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. “Mistakes happen. Unfortunately, Santos doesn't like excuses,” the woman said in a husky voice.

  Just then a man in black slacks and a white shirt entered the room.

  He was not very tall, but he carried himself as though he were a man of great power and influence. His hair was dark brown and curly, while his eyes were brown flecked with amber. His skin was dark, yet had a pale undertone. She wondered how old he was. It was obvious he had not been in the sun in a very long time. Waving a hand, he dismissed the women before taking a seat across from her. She assumed this was Santos.

  “Habla Espanol?”

  Struggling to sit up, she shook her head. “No. Sorry.”

  “What kind of name is Amaliya?” He tossed her driver's license onto the coffee table.

  “Russian. But my Mother messed with the spelling a little.”

  “You Mexican?”

  “Part. My grandmother.”

  “And you don't speak Spanish?”