In Darkness We Must Abide: The Complete Second Season: Episodes 6-10

by Rhiannon Frater

  The room erupted with shouts of joy. The music began again and the dance continued.

  Carlotta and Vanora sank to the floor beside Roman's body. Bloody tears stained Carlotta's face as she held his hand against her cheek.

  Weeping, Vanora cradled Roman's head in her lap. “Why?” Vanora whispered. “Why kill him?”

  “It's his way,” Carlotta answered, misery in her voice. “You can’t stop him.”

  Vanora knew she was dreaming, yet there was a warning within her nightmare. Clenching her eyes shut, she struggled to awaken. She didn’t want to see her brother dead, or the albino vampire gloating upon his throne.

  “Vanora,” a familiar and sorely missed voice whispered.

  She opened her eyes to see Armando kneeling next to her.

  “You must save, Roman. Time is very short,” Armando urged her. “Come back to Houston before it’s too late.”

  Vanora woke up screaming.

  The bedroom door banged open a few seconds later, Rhonda tumbling into the room clutching a baseball bat. “What's happening?”

  Waking fully, Vanora fumbled for the knob on the lamp on the bed stand, then turned it on. Her heart was beating so harshly in her chest, it actually hurt. “I'm sorry. I had a nightmare.”

  “I don't have to bash anyone's head in?” Rhonda was still in her work clothes though she was barefoot. Sagging with relief, she set the bat against the wall. “Thank God, I'm so damn tired, I don't think I could actually do it.”

  Vanora rubbed her face, trying to dispel her slumber completely. Her head felt heavy in her hands. “I dreamed Roman was dead.”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, Rhonda patted her knee lightly. “Vanora, he is dead.”

  The words sliced through her like a rapier, then Vanora realized the truth behind Rhonda's comment. Roman had long been dead to the world of humans. Wiping away the tears that had started as she slept, Vanora nodded. “I just dreamed that it was happening again.”

  Rhonda grimaced. “It was such a horrible way to die, too. He didn’t deserve it, that’s for sure. He was so damn handsome and nice. I always had such a bad crush on your brother.”

  “I miss him,” Vanora whispered, and meant it. All at once, she wanted nothing more than to feel her brother holding her and his calm, deep voice telling her that everything was going to be fine. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. It hurt to think of all she had lost when she'd fled Houston, yet she was doing much better now with her new life in Austin.

  “Of course you do. He was awesome. But I'm sure he's still looking out for you,” Rhonda curled up across the end of Vanora's bed, her head propped on one hand. “He treated you like you were more than his little sister. Kinda like you were his kid. I sometimes felt a little jealous since my brother is such a major moron.”

  Vanora giggled. “True.”

  “He even still asks about you. Can you believe it? I told him you have a new boyfriend, so he needs to let it go!”

  “Dan isn't my boyfriend,” Vanora said softly.

  “Gawd, you two are as slow as turtles!”

  Talking about something other than her nightmare was a good thing. Vanora latched onto the change of topic, even though she was tired of Rhonda's lectures. She didn't want to think about the albino vampire or the possibility of losing Roman again. Outside her window, the cold front was howling through the canyon of apartment buildings and rustling the trees. It made her think of home. She needed a distraction.

  “Well, Dan is religious, you know,” Vanora said, shrugging.

  “Uh huh. I get laid by religious guys all the time.”

  “Well, he's very cautious. And so am I! C'mon, there is nothing wrong with taking it slow.”

  “Are you even an official couple yet? You've been dating for how long?” Rhonda gave her friend a skeptical look.

  Vanora stuck out her tongue. “Slow is good.”

  “Slow is boring. Gawd, he hasn't even spent the night. And you haven't even done the walk of shame.” Rhonda frowned, then yawned. She worked very long hours at the store she managed, yet she always partied hard on weekends. Vanora wasn't sure how she did it.

  “Life isn't just about getting laid, Rhonda!” Vanora liked teasing her friend. She envied Rhonda's ability to grab onto life and do what she pleased. Actually, she envied the fact that Rhonda knew what she wanted out of life. Vanora didn't doubt her own personal strength, but she just didn't know where to focus it. That was why she was seeing Dan. Dating him felt like a solid place to start building a future. He was kind, funny, considerate, and respectful. Whenever they hung out, she always had a good time. Dan was also a good listener, but she often found herself censoring what she told him. There was so much of her life he would never understand. It sometimes made dating difficult.

  “Life isn't just school and a boyfriend whose idea of a making out is holding your hand.”

  “We kiss!” Vanora protested, giggling. “We do!”

  “Are there at least tongues involved? Oh, my gawd, please tell me there are tongues involved.” Rhonda dramatically pressed the back of her hand to her forehead.

  Vanora stuck her tongue out, then sniffed. “Not telling. Besides, we’re having a romantic date this weekend, and I think we may finally make this dating thing official. You know, exclusive.”

  “It's not like you've been dating anyone else. How much more exclusive can you get?”

  Vanora shrugged.

  For months, she'd been letting Dan guide her through the dating waters. They attended his non-denominational church, hung out with his friends, and attended the sort of events he enjoyed. Though she truly didn't want to admit it, she had let Dan absorb her into his life because she didn't possess one she felt she could share with him. Though he had met her uncle and aunt once, she was almost paranoid about introducing him into parts of her life that hid the darkness she was trying to escape. Aunt Crystal had been happy to see that Vanora was dating, but Uncle Nicolau had been his usual over-protective self. In many ways, he and Roman were very much alike.

  Rhonda appeared close to falling asleep, her eyelids closing. Her makeup was smudged and there were dark circles under her eyes. Shifting around so she could lay parallel to her friend, Vanora wrapped her fingers around Rhonda's. “I know you care, but I'm not you.”

  “I know. I just don't want you to be sad,” Rhonda confessed. “Sometimes you have such a heartbroken look on your face it makes me want to cry. And I don't cry!”

  In spite of all her internal vows to herself not to think of Armando, her mind automatically shifted to him. The mere thought of him was pain and desire rolled into one.

  “That look, Vanora. That one right there.” Rhonda clutched Vanora's hand under her chin. “What's it for? What hurts that bad?”

  “My parents, my brother, my sister...” Vanora answered.

  The gloom filling the spaces beyond the lamplight in her room made her uneasy. She and Rhonda were captured in a small pool of light with the darkness surrounding them. She thought of the albino vampire and shivered. They had moved and she had warded the apartment with crosses, vervain, and holy water. Whoever he was, she wasn't going to let him back into her life. He would not take her away from the light.

  “Armando, too?” Rhonda dared to ask.

  Closing her eyes, Vanora slightly nodded.

  “There's more to all that than you're telling me, isn't there?”

  Though her pale eyelashes, Vanora could see the deep concern on her friend's sweet face. The words that slipped from her lips were the truth she couldn’t deny. “I can't seem to fall out of love with him.”

  Instead of a glib answer, or a sarcastic comment, Rhonda just sighed. “Maybe Dan is good for you then. He's not pushing you and maybe that's what you need. Time to get over Armando.”

  “Is it wrong to use Dan to move on?” Vanora wondered.

  “Do you like him?”

  Vanora nodded. “Yeah, I do. He's really a good guy.” />
  Rhonda grinned. “Then it's totally cool.”

  With a sigh, Vanora felt a little relief at her friend’s reassurance. She needed to banish Armando from not only her thoughts, but from her heart.

  Her roommate let out another dramatic yawn. “God, I'm beat.”

  “Another long day, huh?”

  “I had to fire someone. It wasn't pleasant. I think he went off his meds or something. He's been having odd moments all week and today he had this really bad outburst. Started screaming at a customer.” Rhonda rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “You don't want to hear this. You have so much on your mind already.”

  “Nah, I actually do. You're my friend. Share.” Vanora tucked a hand under her head, focusing on her friend.

  “Well, I tried to calm him down, but he got into my personal space and started screaming. So I fired him and had him escorted out of the store. The district manager came by in the evening to talk to me about it. We're going to have extra security for the next few weeks just to make sure he doesn't come back.”

  “Rhonda, did he hurt you?” Vanora sat up with alarm.

  “No, but he threatened to.” Rhonda lightly shrugged. “I was careful coming home. I took a roundabout way and the security guard escorted me to the car. It was just...Scary. And to make matters worse, inventory is scheduled to happen in two weeks’ time, so I really need to hire someone new right away. Plus, working every single day for twelve plus hours is going to kill me. I’m so taking a vacation when it’s over.”

  “That really sucks,” Vanora said sympathetically.

  “Yeah, but in the grand scheme of things, I guess that's just how life works, huh? Good stuff happens. Bad stuff happens. Just gotta roll with it.” Rhonda slid off the bed. “I just don't want you worrying about it. Though if you see anyone weird hanging around, call the police.”

  “I will. I promise.” Guilt ate at her. Rhonda was considerate enough to warn her roommate about potential danger, yet Vanora couldn't tell Rhonda about the vampires. Again, she was made to face the fact that she was being immensely selfish staying with Rhonda even if she was taking every precaution she could think of to keep her friend safe. She'd even given Rhonda a small cross necklace as a gift.

  Rhonda reclaimed the bat. “It'll all be okay. I just need to survive the next two weeks. I hate inventory. See ya in the morning.”

  “Night,” Vanora called out as her bedroom door closed.

  Sliding back under the covers, Vanora checked the time on her phone. A message from her sister had come in while she was asleep telling her that she loved her. Vanora typed back the same sentiment, then took a deep breath. She pulled up Roman's phone number that was disguised as Uncle Matthias.

  I miss you and love you, she typed out.

  It wasn't even a minute later when a message dinged.

  I miss you, Vanora. I love you. With all my heart.

  She read the words in Roman’s voice in her mind and fresh tears flooded her eyes.

  Laying the phone on the bed stand, Vanora turned off the light and snuggled into her pillows. Tears on her cheeks, but a smile on her lips, she finally fell asleep again.

  The werewolf stank of fear, immediately putting Armando on edge. He hadn’t seen Hank in nearly a decade, but he looked virtually the same. A receding hairline of a nondescript color, big open face, a crooked smile that revealed far too many teeth, and a penchant for wearing clothes two decades out of fashion and two sizes too small. The werewolf paced in front of the bar at the indicated distance set by the smoking ban. He resembled a cartoon choo-choo train, puffs of white smoke drifting behind him as he stalked back and forth.

  “Hank,” Armando called out, approaching the werewolf cautiously. The guy was jittery by nature, but had sounded even more on edge than usual when he had called earlier asking to meet with the vampire.

  “Armando, thank God you’re here!” Hank surged toward him, smoke trailing from his lips. Waving his iPhone in one hand, Hank pointed to it with the other. “I was about to call you! I'm heading underground, but I wanted to give you heads up.”

  “Underground?” Armando lifted both his eyebrows.

  “Not literally. The pack lying low, hiding out. Going to our safe haven.”

  “What's happening?” Armando hoped this wasn’t some sort of false alarm. Hank tended toward paranoia and was a conspiracy junky when it came to both human and supernatural news. It was that paranoia that also made Hank a very good resource for the latest information, so Armando always listened to him.

  “Serious shit went down in Greece last night. Serious shit. The last of the Seven was killed by you-know-who. Did you know that?”

  Armando shook his head, tugging the collar of his jacket up around his ears. It was a very damp, cold evening in Houston. “Are you certain?” Armando wanted to rip the cigarette out of Hank’s mouth. He hated how it wiggled all around while the man spoke.

  “He didn’t tell you, huh? Well, I’m not surprised. It's all over the secret boards, man. Parthenia's dead, which means all hell is about to break lose.”

  Wincing, Armando plunged his hands into his coat pockets. “Parthenia is dead and we're still here.”

  “Guess you're not all connected to the Seven Sisters after all. I wonder if that means the werewolves will survive Leto dying?” Hank furrowed his brow, giving this thought serious consideration. “As if anyone is strong enough to kill her now since she made a pact with Aeron. He might have been able to, but now...”

  “The She-Wolf has sided with Aeron?” Armando was unnerved by that fact. The two had been staunch enemies for centuries.

  “Which is really, really bad.” Shaking his head, beads of sweat trailed down the sides of his face. “Leto is ancient magic, Armando. When she sided with Aeron that really sealed the deal on the Seven Sisters. Leto and Aeron are unbeatable.” Hank exhaled long and slow. “It's bad enough that Aeron is going to set this world on fire and it’s all going to start here.”

  “Why do you think that?” The vampire disliked the idea of Aeron's plans being so well known.

  “The only reason I know is because Althea put a hit out on some human girl that Aeron is after that’s from Houston. I guess the new flavor of the month bride, or something.”

  “Althea survived?” Armando was trying to wrap his mind about what he was hearing, but having some difficulty. Parthenia and Althea had been lovers for thousands of years. They were inseparable. He couldn’t imagine one dying without the other following immediately by self-sacrifice.

  Hank wagged his head, his cigarette shedding ash all over the front of his blue button down shirt. “No, no. Althea put out the hit before they died. My connection thinks she did it just in case they did die. One last swipe at Aeron.”

  “To kill a human girl. You’re certain?”

  Hank nodded. “Oh, yeah. She’s albino just like Aeron. I don’t know how Althea found out about her, but she sent people to kill her. They’re probably on their way, or already here. I figure if this girl is something Aeron wants, he’s going to be coming here, too.”

  Armando clenched his hands at his sides, trying to contain his anger and dread. “Why are you warning me?”

  “You’ve been hanging with Roman, dude. We both know Aeron is going to eliminate him and all the rest of those rogues. I don’t know why you’ve been slumming it, but I figured I could give you some warning so you can either suck up to your Master, or get the hell out of town.” Hank shrugged. “I wouldn’t really care except for the fact that you helped me back when that coyote pack was threatening my territory.”

  Armando rubbed his brow, the tension already building behind his eyes. “When Aeron arrives, he’ll be bringing Leto and her pack along with his vampires.”

  “I’m taking my pack and hiding out. I'm not taking chances.”

  “Aeron is going to purge the world. No one is safe anywhere, Hank.”

  Hank shrugged. “He’ll concentrate on your kind first, then move on to us. I’m
not bowing to that She-Wolf. My pack will die before allowing her to enslave us to Aeron.”

  “You sound as if you believe no one can stop him.”

  With a chuckle, Hank patted Armando’s shoulder. “Armando, no one can. You know that. He was born to rule this world. He’s the stuff of legends and myths. This is Ragnarok, Doomsday, the Second Coming, and Armageddon all wrapped up into one nice, psycho albino package.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.” Armando raked his hands through his hair nervously. He had much to do in a short amount of time. He had to be in Austin by morning. Althea’s assassins would determine that Vanora was not in Houston and track her to Austin.

  “What will you do?”

  Armando floundered for an answer. At last he said, “I’m not sure.”

  “Good luck with whatever you do. When Aeron arrives, this city is going to burn.” Hank tossed the butt of his cigarette away. “A part of me wants to see it happen, another part wishes there was somewhere safe to run to. Oh, well. This always was a shitty town.”

  Alisha hated it when she felt compelled to paint. It only meant that her brush would reveal bad news. Since Vanora had fled from the mansion, Alisha only entered her art studio when forced to by the power she had inherited from their ancestors. The compulsion, if ignored, was almost crippling in its intensity. All her senses dulled until all she could see and hear was the image pulsing in her mind.

  As paint dripped from the brush clutched in her hand, Alisha stared at the white canvas with dread.

  After Vanora had left, Alisha had given up on her mortal life, her ambitions, her art, and her belief in herself. Though she abstained from human blood, she was more vampire than mortal in the absence of her sister. So was Roman. When they had failed Vanora, they had failed themselves. Their new life was one of darkness, surrounded by vampires like them, and far removed from the one they had created around their younger sibling. But the one thing she couldn't leave behind were the premonitions that spoke through her talent.

  The cacophony of sound and the blinding pressure behind her eyes caused her to whimper. Her hand began to fly across the canvas, swift strokes releasing the pent up vision trapped in her mind. As always, she wasn't even certain what image would be unleashed beneath the sweeps of her brush. It was as if an invisible hand gripped hers and guided it across the blank space, dabbing and brushing paint to form the final image. Time became meaningless and all that existed was the canvas on the easel as she swept the first bit of paint onto the surface before her.