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

by Rhiannon Frater

Armando, meanwhile, seemed to be relishing driving the sports car. Vanora admired the wicked look that crossed Armando’s face. “Why that grin?”

  “Just memories of the car I had like this one.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I crashed it spectacularly,” Armando continued.

  “And you’re proud of that fact?”

  The grin on his face diminished just a tad. “Well, I was racing an old friend. He thought he could beat me. I proved him wrong.”

  “By crashing the car.”

  “I crashed the car after I beat him,” Armando said proudly.

  Vanora sensed there was much more to the story. “So where is this old friend now?”

  Sobering, Armando shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. We grew apart.”

  It was a reminder of just how long Armando had lived. He was speaking of events that predated not only her birth, but her mother’s. “I guess time does that, huh?”

  “It can,” Armando admitted.

  “It’s not always been good, has it? Living so long?” Vanora couldn’t imagine living so long. It was almost beyond the realm of comprehension.

  “Some eras were very good. There are other times that are best forgotten.” The look he bestowed on her made her heart flutter. “I have hopes that the best has yet to come.”

  Sheila’s motorcycle swerved onto a dimly lit street lined with rundown bars. The black Mercedes followed, then slowly turned into the parking lot of the Go Girls Klub. A neon dancer flashed at passersby, inviting them into the smoky atmosphere of the small strip club. Vanora slipped out of the car and ran her hand over the Celtic cross tucked beneath her scarf. The atmosphere of the place was sleazy, but she supposed it suited an incubus.

  “Well, let’s find out what this guy has to say,” Armando said, and took her by the arm.

  Sheila and Alexander strode toward them in all their sleek leather glory. Alexander’s dark hair feathered back from his face as he gently took Sheila’s slim hand. He appeared concerned and alert.

  “Is something wrong?” Vanora asked.

  Alexander handed over his cellphone and pointed to the message.

  “Are Angela and Becky vampires?” Vanora asked after reading a short text announcing that the two women were missing.

  Alexander nodded.

  “They’re newer vampires. They weren’t at Roman’s party. I tried to call around and warn everyone last night after Roman...” Sheila hesitated, her emotions getting the best of her. “I tried to warn as many people as possible.”

  “There are a lot more vampires in the city than I know about, isn’t there?” Vanora handed back Alexander’s phone and gave the vampires a questioning look.

  “Roman drew them here. Since we’ve eschew human blood, it’s easy for us to exist here,” Sheila answered.

  “Vampire populations in cities are usually much lower when they’re feeding off of humans. It’s a territorial thing,” Armando explained.

  “So Roman drew in...what...hundreds of vampires to this city?” Vanora felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it. How many had come here to die during the coming purge?

  “Over a thousand. Close to two thousand,” Sheila replied. “They didn’t all go to the mansion. Roman was much more mobile over the last few years. He would meet with individual groups. Not even we know who all of them are.”

  “So if this purge theory is correct...” Vanora faltered. It was overwhelming to think of so many dying because they followed Roman.

  Scrolling through the messages on his phone, Alexander sighed. The stainless steel rings on his fingers caught the street lamp as he reviewed the information pouring in. Tilting her head, Sheila read from the screen.

  “More missing?” Armando asked.

  With a somber expression, Sheila nodded. “Armando, I think Alexander and I should get back to the mansion after we get you inside. Next to you, we’re the strongest.”

  “You drank from humans,” Armando stated in a somber tone.

  Alexander and Sheila nodded in unison.

  “We need to protect Alisha,” Sheila said to Vanora. “You understand, right?”

  Dread filling her, Vanora bowed her head. Her throat felt tight with fear. “Yes, I do.”

  Instead of entering the club through the front door, they walked into the dank alley and knocked on the battered red door that read Employees Only. Armando’s eyes kept flickering about the alley, his body tensed. Vanora clenched her hands at her side, attempting not to let fear get the best of her.

  The door swung open an inch or two and a topless blonde regarded them coolly. “Who are you?”

  “We’re here to see Greg,” Sheila answered.

  The blonde chewed on her gum for a second with a sly grin on her face. “Everyone is always looking for his hotness. Wait here.”

  The door squeaked shut.

  “The incubus is named Greg?” Vanora said with surprise.

  “Assumed name. His real name is hard to pronounce and comes with the smell of brimstone,” Sheila answered.

  When the door opened again a chubby, short, rather regular-looking guy stood in the doorway. His black t-shirt said SECURITY and his dark red hair was slicked back from a face adorned with a bushy handlebar mustache.

  “Hey, Sheila, hot as always in your skinny Goth way,” he said with a very bland voice. “Still with the poster boy for bad poetry, I see.”

  Alexander casually gave him the bird.

  “Greg, these are my friends, Vanora and Armando. They’d like to talk to you about Carlotta.” Sheila’s thin face looked even gaunter in the red light flowing out from behind the demonic bouncer.

  “Armando, huh?” Greg regarded Armando thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

  “It’s important that we speak to you,” Vanora said, hoping to get inside the building and not linger in the open.

  “You have no idea how important it is that you do speak to me, sweetie.”

  “This is the incubus?” Armando asked incredulously.

  Sheila nodded, gesturing toward the man with an annoyed look upon her face. “The one and only...Greg.”

  “Greg Brady at your service” the incubus said, winking.

  “Greg Brady?” Vanora lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

  The demon whipped out his wallet and flashed his I.D. “Well, in this incarnation I am. This name has got me a whole lot of action over the years. It’s a great opener,” He grinned before adding, “of thighs.”

  “Greg, could you behave? Your mojo doesn’t work on vamps or witches, remember?” Sheila shook her head with aggravation.

  “Too bad,” Greg lamented. “I haven’t had me some white albino meat in a long time.”

  Armando took a threatening step forward, but Vanora scooted in front of him. “Let’s cut the bullshit, Greg. You want to talk to me. I want to talk to you. Let’s do this.”

  Pointing a pudgy finger at Vanora, Greg said, “I like her. I can see why she’s the main course of this disaster.”

  Vanora suspected that the cold chills that washed over her at his words were exactly the response the incubus hoped to inspire. With a cocky grin, he summoned them inside.

  “We’ll see you later,” Sheila said as she and Alexander began to walk back to their bike.

  “We’ll keep in touch,” Armando answered while Vanora waved.

  “Not sticking around?” Greg pretended to be wounded. “Can’t contain yourself if you stick around, can you, Sheila?”

  Flipping him off, Sheila strutted away.

  “She wants me,” Greg said confidently to Vanora.

  “I doubt it,” Vanora answered.

  Greg grinned, and motioned them to follow him. “C’mon.”

  The incubus escorted them along a dingy, murky hallway. The smoke machines in the club were pumping vanilla-scented vapor into the air that mingled with the scent of sweaty bodies. The loud music, chatter, and bar noises wafted through the thick atmosphere. Female laughter issued out of a few open doorways, but G
reg guided them past the dressing rooms to a small office.

  “Greg, I thought we were going to take our break together,” a very leggy and beautiful young woman with thick dark hair called out from a doorway they had passed. Fingers lightly stroking under her bare nipple, she gave the unattractive man a smoldering look.

  “Later, sweetness. Gotta work.”

  Another woman stuck her head out of the dressing room, her bright red hair tumbling around her face. “But you promised…”

  “Later, dolls. Later.” Greg waved Vanora and Armando into the office.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Vanora whispered to the vampire.

  “He is an incubus…” Armando answered with distaste.

  The office door shut behind them.

  One wall held a bank of black and white monitors revealing different parts of the club, while another held a rack of costumes in dry cleaning bags. Waving them to a pair of battered folding metal chairs, Greg slumped onto the cracked vinyl office chair in front of the security desk and swiveled toward them.

  Vanora gingerly sat at the end of the metal chair and started to shrug off her leather coat. It was abnormally warm in the small room and there was a faint whiff of sulfur. Armando helped her remove her coat and slung it over the back of her chair before pulling his closer and sitting next to her.

  “So, here you are!” Greg rubbed his hands together with a gleeful look on his face.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “So you’re a witch.”

  “And you’re really an incubus.”

  “I don’t have to look like your pretty boy here to get me some fine quality pussy,” Greg assured her. “My very nature draws women to me. I feed every night and never miss a drop, cupcake.”

  “You’re really disgusting,” Vanora decided.

  “I really, really am.”

  “I would appreciate it if you were more respectful in front of the lady,” Armando said, his accent heavy and his stare fierce.

  “Tsk, tsk. Your vamp boyfriend is a sensitive one.” Greg folded his arms over his wide chest and slumped further in his chair, his legs sprawled apart in a way that made Vanora feel vastly uncomfortable.

  “Sheila says you can help us locate Carlotta. It’s vital we talk to her,” Vanora said keeping her gaze squarely on his face.

  “Wondering what I got hanging, aren’t ya?”

  “Not really.”

  Armando growled.

  Greg dramatically shivered. “Oh, he’s a saucy one!”

  “Are we wasting our time here?” Vanora started to swivel about in her chair to claim her coat. She felt like she was being toyed with and did not like it one bit.

  The room flashed a deep red for a second and abruptly Greg was very close to her, his face inches from hers. “You don’t want to leave until we get a chance to talk. Trust me.”

  Armando violently shoved the incubus away from Vanora. The office chair skidded into the monitors and made them shake. “Stay back.”

  Chuckling, Greg shook his head at Armando. “None of that, vampy. You don’t want me setting your ass on fire, do you?”

  When the demon’s eyes flashed with flames, Vanora put her hand swiftly on Armando’s arm to keep him at her side. “Let him have his theatrics, Armando.”

  “See! She’s the smart one!”

  “Get to the point of the matter,” Armando ordered.

  “The point of the matter. The point of the matter. The point of the matter. See, those could all be different things. You think you’re here just to find out where Carlotta lives so you can go pump her for information on her Master. But you’re really here because I want you here. In fact, I’ve been waiting a very long time to get a certain colorless bastard back for fucking around in my business.”

  Again, his words shot icy waves of fear through Vanora.

  Beside her, Armando went scarily still.

  “You see, I’m a man of simple needs. I feed off of sex much like your boyfriend here feeds off of blood. I’m a ‘live and let live’ sort of guy. I don’t fuck with the business of other supernaturals. I expect the same from them. But when that pasty-ass, muscle-bound asshole came into my territory and killed off all my women to drive me out... Greg shook his head. “No, no, no. You don’t do that to a demon. Especially when one of those women is the only woman I’ve ever fuckin’ loved. The only one. Ever.”

  “And this is the vampire that ordered my brother to die?” Vanora was barely breathing, and didn’t move at all. She was pinned to her chair by fear and a strange excitement.

  “It’s much more than a simple purge, sweetheart. But you already sense that, don’t you?”

  Vanora reluctantly nodded her head.

  Greg grinned, flashing all his dull, yellowish teeth. “I’ve waited centuries to get him back. To fuck up his own little plans. And now I can!”

  “What are you talking about exactly?” Vanora dared to ask.

  Leaning forward, Greg stared into her eyes, pointedly ignoring Armando. “It’s about you, little girl. It’s all about you. At least, it is now. All the coming mayhem, the pain, the deaths, the blood, the flames...all of it...about you.”

  Every word the demon said felt true. Vanora couldn’t tear her gaze from his murky brown eyes.

  “What do you know, little girl? What secrets are hidden in your purse that you’re scared to show me?” Greg tilted his head, viewing her fingers clutching her bag.

  Shakily, Vanora pulled out the sketches and handed them to the demon without a word.

  “Ah, Aeron in all his fuckin’ glory.” The demon flashed the sketch at Armando. “Handsome, ain’t he?”

  “Aeron,” Vanora breathed. “His name is Aeron?”

  “Means 'slaughter' in Welsh. Nice, huh? Suits him, the bastard. Ah, and his favorite little henchie, Lorelei. Isn’t she the one who offed your brother?”

  Vanora nodded, then withdrew her phone from her purse. Pulling up the gallery, she showed her sister’s painting to the demon.

  “Yep, that’s Aeron. So you do know about him?” Greg studied her for a long moment. “No, no, you don’t. It’s all been dreams and nightmares, hasn’t it? Visions? Maybe a visitation or two?”

  Armando’s stillness was disquieting. Vanora was afraid to even look at him. The dread of betrayal flamed inside her, cold and heavy.

  “You don’t know much at all. I can see that. Which is great! Awesome! It means I get to tell you all the deets of Aeron’s great plans and hopefully throw a big huge wrench in them.”

  “Tell me...” Her voice was hardly audible.

  Greg swiped the screen and pointed at the next painting. “There they are. It all starts there. With them.”

  “The Pleiades?”

  Armando started, then leaned forward swiftly to look at the picture on her phone. His curls fell over his brow in such a way she couldn’t see his face from the angle he was at.

  “The Seven Sisters...” The incubus shoved the phone toward Armando. “Never told her about your dear old moms, huh?”

  Hot angry tears filled Vanora’s eyes, but she didn’t speak or move. She listened.

  “Do you like mythology, Vanora? Did you enjoy it in school?”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Most mythology has little kernels of truth in them. Take Icarus for example. Flew too high to the sun, fell to earth and died. He’s actually rooted in truth, but his story got all fouled up. He was what you call an angel. A beautiful angel.”

  “Like you were before the fall?”

  “Honey, demons were never angels. We didn’t fall. We’ve always been demons.” Greg snorted as if she’d insulted him. “Anyway, this angel – and he was a hottie, trust me – fell in love with a witch. She was one hot piece of ass, too. And thus began a forbidden love affair that would severely fuck up the world.” Greg motioned to Armando. “Do you want to take over here? Tell her the rest.”

  “You’re doing such a fine job, why don’t you continue?” Armando said darkly
.

  “So! This angel and witch do the nasty and she gets knocked up. Now, angels aren’t supposed to have children. It’s forbidden, so the offspring was cursed.”

  “Cursed by who?” Vanora asked, narrowing her eyes. “God?”

  “Mother fucking nature herself, kiddo.” Greg wagged his eyebrows. “The natural order of things doesn’t like when things are no longer oh-natural. So, out of her womb comes seven cursed little baby girls. Each one holding the ankle of the one before it. They came out just like a chain. They refused to let go of each other and formed a perfect little circle when laid next to their mother on her birthing bed. But these were no ordinary little girls. Because of their lineage, they were neither angel, or witch, or even human. They were other. They could not venture into the sunlight and the only nourishment they craved was blood. Which their mother found out in a very unfortunate way.”

  “The Pleiades were the first vampires?” Vanora stared at him skeptically.

  “The Seven Sisters. It’s what we call them,” Armando answered.

  Vanora didn’t dare look at the vampire who lingered in her peripheral vision. “Why didn’t you tell us about them before?”

  “Because they’re all dead,” Greg answered for Armando. “Aeron killed them. But I’m getting ahead of myself in the story. Way ahead.”

  Armando settled back in his chair out of Vanora’s view, but she sensed his disquiet.

  “So...the angel wept over his dead lover after his seven little daughters bled her dry, but he couldn’t stand to destroy them. They were his offspring after all. His seed made fuckin’ manifest. So he continued to feed them the blood of unfortunate mortals and watched them grow into seven beautiful young women. They were probably around your age when dear old dad finally lost his mind. They looked so much like his dead lover and yet they had killed her. And they continued to kill...He had to keep moving them from place to place so the villagers wouldn’t take up their torches and burn them out. So he killed them.”

  “You said Aeron killed them,” Vanora said, struggling to follow the story.

  “Well, dear old dad killed them the first time. He put them in the ground and three days later...”

  “He made them immortal by killing them,” Armando explained. “If he hadn’t killed them, they would have grown old and died just like mortals.”