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

by Rhiannon Frater

  “I'm going to go check on what’s going on, okay?” It was obvious he was reluctant to leave her side. It was comforting.

  Vanora nodded and half-heartedly let go of his hand.

  Striding to the door, Armando opened it and peered out.

  “You need to calm the fuck down,” Sheila's voice shouted somewhere down the hall.

  Vanora wiped at her face with the sleeve of her robe and rolled over to watch Armando listen to the argument raging in the hallway.

  “Alexander,” Armando called out.

  The mute vampire appeared in the doorway, an eyebrow lifting upward at the sight of Armando's wet clothes and hair.

  “Can you watch Vanora for me?”

  Alexander nodded, slipped past Armando, and walked to Vanora's side. Though a part of her was peeved that Armando felt she needed a sitter, she recognized the dire situation they were all in. When Alexander sat on the edge of the bed and rested his hand on hers, her discomfort immediately dissipated. Alexander squeezed her fingers tenderly.

  “I'm going to go see what I can do about that,” Armando said, then slipped out.

  The raised voices grew even louder even though the door shut behind Armando. Vanora rolled onto her back and stared up through her canopy. Everything was different. Everything was horribly wrong. The darkness had washed over them all. She was drowning in her tears and despair.

  Yet, she couldn't allow herself to just give into the rising tide of evil.

  But what could she do?

  Alisha stared at the gilded box resting on Roman’s desk. Next to it was the hated rosewood stake that had stolen him from her. The desire to pick it up and smash it against the desk until the hated thing was nothing more than splinters was difficult to fight. Her fingers twitched with the need for violence. It her vampire nature speaking and she forced herself to step away from the desk. She had never been an aggressive person until she’d been reborn into the dark life. It wouldn’t benefit her or Vanora if she were to give into those feral feelings now.

  Vanora.

  Struggling against tears, Alisha wondered how the hell she would be able to protect her sister. Roman had always been the strong leader while Alisha had been content to follow in his wake. Now he was gone and, as the eldest, she was the new head of the family. She hoped she had the strength to pick up his mantle. It would be a heavy weight to bear, but she was willing to take it on. She was a Socoli after all and they were survivors by nature.

  Yet, shouldn’t she have been able to do more to save Roman? She’d had been warned so many times in her paintings yet she had failed him.

  The paintings.

  The oracles were the bane of her existence. For years she’d been painting images that she tried to interpret, but not always was able to discern. Fresh anger blossomed inside her at the thought of the many paintings she had hidden away in her secret cubby. The truth was in them, yet she had difficulty understanding their meaning. Alisha’s eyes widened slightly as her mind anxiously rummaged through her memories and the images she had painted.

  “It’s my fault,” she whispered.

  Sheila raised her head. She was seated with Alexander on the other sofa. They had both been silently mourning while keeping her company.

  “No, it’s not,” Sheila answered.

  “Yes, it is. I’ve been missing all the signs. All of them! I still am! And Vanora needs me not to.”

  “Are you talking about your paintings?” Sheila scooted to the edge of the sofa and leaned forward to stare at her.

  Alisha nodded, biting on her bottom lip.

  “You yourself said they’re vague and open to interpretation. You can’t blame yourself if you missed something.”

  Alexander nodded gravely in agreement.

  “No! No! I’m not missing something. I’m missing everything!” Alisha was certain of it. Her gift was useless if she couldn’t uncover the secret meanings of the paintings.

  Standing, Sheila shook her head. “You can’t say that. You can’t blame yourself!”

  “I saw Roman’s death over and over again in my paintings and I couldn’t stop it! What’s the point of my gift if it doesn’t actually save anyone?” With an angry snarl of frustration, Alisha snatched the rosewood branch from the desk, but instead of smashing it, she stormed out of the study clutching it. “Fuck this!”

  “Alisha!” Sheila pursued her.

  Brushing Angel and Ben aside, Alisha briefly saw Tracy and Emily standing in the doorway to the family room. The vampires looked after her with concern as she fled up the stairs with Sheila and Alexander trailing close behind.

  “I’m not feeling sorry for myself, so back off!” Alisha said sharply to Sheila.

  “Then what are you doing? Because you look crazed right now!”

  “What am I doing?” Alisha spun about to face her friend. “I’m trying to do something to save us!”

  Sheila’s narrow face was flushed and her eyes flamed. “Okay. Fine. Then why are you holding that?”

  “Because...because...” Alisha wasn’t actually certain why she had grabbed it. “I don’t know. I just know that my paintings are hiding something. Something important and I’m missing it.”

  “Roman died because some stupid old bitch decided to kill him. That’s not on you!” Sheila stepped forward, her thin frame surprisingly intimidating.

  “It’s all on me because I’m the fuckin’ witch who can’t figure out her own shit!” Alisha shouted back.

  Alexander pointed to a door and Alisha realized it was Vanora’s bedroom.

  “Fuck!” Alisha spun about and headed toward her studio. She didn’t want to upset her sister further, but with their world in shambles, Alisha knew she had to do something before she went crazy. Exactly what she needed to do eluded her. She was going on sheer instinct.

  “You need to calm the fuck down,” Sheila called after her.

  Once in her art studio, Alisha tossed the rosewood stake onto her work table before she stormed over to the secret panel and opened it. She didn’t care who saw her secret stash anymore. Yanking out the canvases, she started to fling them into a heap in the center of the studio.

  Sheila stood in the doorway, her bony arms folded over her chest. Dressed in her usual black, she was a somber looking creature of the night. “Could you wait until later to have your freak out? Because some of us would like to have a fuckin’ cry over the death of your brother.”

  Alisha kept tossing the stashed paintings onto the growing stack. Cold tears streamed down her cheeks. She was possessed by her gift again. It writhed inside her, coercing her like it always did do its bidding. She wanted to scream into the overwhelming swell of its power.

  Throwing the last of the paintings onto the stack, Alisha whipped about to face Sheila. Instead, she found herself staring into the golden gaze of Armando. He was sopping wet and stood just before her best friend.

  “What are you doing?” he asked simply.

  “Finding answers,” she answered.

  “She’s losing her fuckin’ mind, Armando.”

  “You’re upsetting Vanora,” Armando stated.

  His words took some of the edge off her compulsion. Staring down at her paintings, Alisha said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Care to tell me what you’re doing exactly?”

  “I paint oracles. I paint the hidden truths. I’m trying to find what I’m missing.” Alisha fell to her knees and started to sort through the pile. “I couldn’t save Roman, but I have to save Vanora.”

  Squatting at her side, Armando surveyed the artwork. “Vanora?”

  Alisha nodded. The tears in her eyes were making it hard to see. “Yes. Vanora. Because the bitch that killed my brother is coming back and she specifically said something about Vanora. Remember?”

  Armando rubbed his brow as he gave her a slight nod. “Yes.”

  “So, somehow this isn’t just about Roman and some old vampires wanting to take him out. It also has something to do with my sister.”


  “Listen to me, Alisha. If you’re right, she’s in danger. You need to leave with her tomorrow.”

  Staring at Armando, she said, “And will that really save her?”

  The look on Armando’s face was not at all reassuring. He looked afraid. “You have to try.”

  “I’m not going to fuckin’ try. I’m going to find a way to protect her!” Alisha sounded more like herself now. The caring mother/older sister.

  “The vampire that killed Roman was very powerful! You can’t protect her against her. You’re younger and weaker. She drinks human blood. You’re half-starved on animal blood.”

  “Then I’ll drink human blood.” The thought both repulsed and excited her. “I have to be strong for her.”

  “You can’t fight them, Alisha!”

  “Why did they kill Roman? Why? It doesn’t make any sense!” Alisha’s mind was trying to grasp at the truth. “Why did Carlotta mention Vanora?”

  “I have known many vampires, Alisha. They don’t like change.” Armando’s voice was urgent, forceful, and perhaps desperate. “Roman was change. Change they feared. That’s why they came for him and why they will come for the rest of you. Including Vanora.”

  “And not you?” Sheila asked.

  Armando raised his eyes, a dangerous look upon his face. “I’m on your side.”

  With shaking fingers, Alisha continued to move her paintings around, blindly searching for something she’d missed. The ones of Roman as a dead king filled her with pain and sorrow. She flung those away. With mounting horror, she began to realize what was consistent in nearly every painting. “It is Vanora.”

  “What do you mean?” Sheila asked, stepping forward warily.

  “Look at the paintings! She’s in nearly every one in some way. And in every single one darkness is surrounding Vanora.” Alisha sat back on her heels. “Roman died because of Vanora.”

  Sheila’s eyes slightly widened as she studied the canvases. “You’re right.”

  Armando flipped through the paintings, muttering in Spanish. His mouth set into a fine line as one in particular clearly upset him. “Alisha, get Vanora out of here!”

  To Alisha’s surprise, Vanora stepped through the open doorway dressed in her bathrobe. Alexander followed in her wake.

  “Vanora...” Alisha said, her heartbreaking at the sight of her younger sister. She had to save her somehow.

  “I’m not leaving, Armando.”

  “You are,” Armando responded shortly.

  “I won’t!” Vanora lifted her chin in defiance.

  “If your sister’s paintings are true, you’re in terrible danger,” Sheila said coming about to face Vanora. “Can’t you see that? Maybe this isn’t just about some old vampires wanting to off your brother. Maybe it has something to do with what you are.”

  “What I am?” The comment obviously struck at some deep seeded fear because Alisha could see it burgeon in her sister’s eyes.

  “Yeah. A witch.” Sheila glanced worriedly at Alisha. “She knows she’s a witch, right?”

  “I know what I am. And if these paintings are true, then I have to stay and fight!”

  Armando grabbed a painting from the stack. It was the one that had upset him. “Against this?”

  “Don’t let her see that!” Alisha cried out.

  But it was too late. Vanora stared at the canvas in horror. In the painting only her face could be seen in the dark swirling mist that engulfed her painted image. A hand was formed out of the mist, caressing her face, the hint of a shadowy profile pressed against her throat. Her eyes were closed and her face was as pale as the moon. She looked dead.

  Vanora visibly shuddered, her eyes darting between Armando and the painting. “What does it mean?” Her attention shifted to Alisha.

  “I’m not sure,” Alisha admitted.

  “Does it mean a vampire kills her?” Sheila asked. “Who is the guy?”

  “I don’t know!” Alisha covered her face with her hands. “I’m not sure what it means.”

  “Enough of this. You’re leaving, Vanora,” Armando declared.

  Alisha raised her eyes to her sister. “Maybe we should go...”

  Vanora did not even blink. Her concentration was riveted to the painting.

  Armando wasn’t about to relent. “Any way you interpret this painting, it doesn’t bode well for your sister, Alisha. We need to leave here tomorrow night. I will make arrangements tonight.”

  “No.” Vanora stepped toward Alisha, her lavender eyes bright with tears. “I’m not leaving because it’s just going to follow us. All of us. Death isn’t going to leave us alone because we run. I tried that. It followed me.” She pointed at trembling finger at the painting of her possible death. “I’ve dreamed that. I know it means I can’t escape.”

  Alisha stared at the image that now seemed to reveal her sister’s inevitable death. “No, we can try to escape. We can run.”

  “We can all go together. We can start drinking human blood. When they do find us, we can fight back,” Sheila suggested.

  Alexander nodded his head.

  “No.” Vanora sounded just like Roman. Unyielding and sure. “I’m not running because it won’t matter. The darkness is coming and if we run, it will still catch us. I say we stand and fight.”

  Alisha glanced at Armando for support, but the Spanish vampire only stared at the painting with a stricken expression.

  “How can we fight right now? We’re so weak.” Sheila sounded sincere.

  Vanora took a step toward Alisha and Armando. “Carlotta said her Master is coming. She said he is the one coming to kill us all. Did you catch that?”

  Alisha nodded. In the emotional haze after Roman’s death, a few things had slipped away in the maelstrom. Carlotta’s parting words was one of those things. “Yes. I do.”

  “So we don’t sit around waiting for him to come. We find him.” Though Vanora sounded calm, her hands were clenched at her sides. She was afraid, but steadfast in the face of death.

  “How?” Alisha asked.

  “We go to Carlotta and make her tell us where and who he is.”

  “How do we find her? I don’t know where she lives,” Alisha admitted.

  “Armando?” Vanora turned her gaze to the silent vampire.

  “Neither do I. She always kept her it a secret. Even when we were...together I never knew where her haven was located.”

  “Oh.” That revelation obviously surprised Vanora, but Alisha had always suspected that there was a past between the two vampires.

  “It was long ago,” Armando muttered.

  Alisha caught the look that passed between her sister and Armando. The truth that they were still in love was an arrow through her. Alisha had lost Sin because of the world she lived in. She had hoped Vanora could escape and find love in the mortal world. That was obviously not the case. Vanora still obviously loved Armando. Dan, her mortal boyfriend, had never stood a chance.

  Standing straight, Armando folded his arms over his chest. “Even if you find Carlotta, how will you get her to tell you the truth?”

  “She loved Roman. She said he wasn’t supposed to die. Maybe if she’s angry enough at her Master, she’ll talk.” There were slight cracks in Vanora’s voice as she spoke.

  “But there’s no way to find her,” Alisha finally said. “So what’s the point of even discussing this? We need to make other plans.”

  Sheila glanced toward Alexander who inclined his head. “Actually, we might know of someone who could help us. Back in the day, I was a stripper in Vegas. Cliché, I know, but it’s a great way to hunt. I met an incubus who worked there as a bouncer. We became friends, hung out, the whole thing. Years later - I think it was in the Nineties - I ran into him again. He was working at a cabaret and suggested I should get a gig there. I went to check it out and Carlotta was performing.”

  “What?”

  Armando sounded so shocked it drew a smirk onto Alisha’s lips. “Didn’t know everything about your ex-girlfriend, did you?
” she said, then regretted it when Vanora flinched.

  Sheila continued, ignoring the tense undercurrents in the room. “Carlotta was a very good dancer. One of the best. Very popular. She and my incubus buddy were very tight. When she didn’t want to share her hunting scene with me, Alexander and I bailed before there was trouble. I recognized her when she showed up here, but when Alexander and I never approached her about our mutual past. We didn’t want to stir up trouble. She never mentioned it, so maybe she didn’t recognize us. Coincidentally, my incubus friend is in Houston. He’s a bouncer at a strip joint. The more things change, the more they stay the same.” Sheila lifted a bony shoulder in a shrug. “I can try to get a hold of him tomorrow night. At this hour, he’s feeding.”

  “Why aren’t you saying his name?” Vanora asked.

  “You never say a demon's name unless you intend to summon him,” Sheila replied. “And if you summon him, you have to pay his price. It’s better if I talk to him first and see if he’s willing to talk.”

  “We’ll go talk to him tomorrow then,” Vanora declared, her expression daring anyone to defy her.

  “You should leave town.” Armando was starting to sound like a broken record.

  “It won’t matter if I do. What’s coming for us...for me...will still find us. I’m going to stay and fight.” Spotting the rosewood stake, Vanora’s eyes welled with tears. “We need to get Miss Robbins and Ryan out of here.”

  “I already sent them away,” Armando said.

  "You did what?" Anger flashed through Alisha.

  "You were busy. I wanted to make sure they were safe. I know how important they are to you both."

  “We need to get security for the daylight hours,” Vanora continued.

  “I already did that, too.”

  Vanora slightly smiled. “Of course. You think of everything.”

  “I try.”

  Alisha climbed to her feet and approached the stake. “How big does a stake have to be to work?”

  “For rosewood? The size of a pencil would work easily,” Sheila answered.

  “Then I’ll make some out of this and give them to everyone staying in the house,” Alisha decided.

  “So we’re staying, right?” Vanora drew close to Alisha and rested her hand on her shoulder.