The Reign of Darkness

by Britney Jackson

  Benedict crossed his arms, a bit subdued, now—perhaps after seeing the prevailing opinion on Rose’s power. “There are no humans fighting for us. There are no humans giving us the benefit of the doubt. So, why are we expected to do it for them?” he asked, directing that question at Rose. “When it could just make us more vulnerable?” His tone changed a little, softening into one that was slightly less condescending. “If you’re going to call yourself one of us, you have to protect our species, not theirs. Your morals are getting in the way of your responsibility.”

  “If I have to be irresponsible to be kind, I’ll be irresponsible. If I have to disappoint people to be kind, I’ll disappoint people,” Rose said, sadness bleeding into her tone. She shrugged. “If I ever lose my compassion, I’ve lost everything.”

  Benedict rolled his eyes. “This is why wo—,” his voice cut off, suddenly.

  Talulah lifted an eyebrow. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” Benedict said, rolling his eyes again.

  Several other people rolled their eyes, too—but at Benedict, not at Rose.

  “I’m just going to assume you were about to make some ignorant remark about wind—or some other w-word that doesn’t describe an entire gender,” Rose said, “you know, so my brain doesn’t explode, as I try to process the stupidity.”

  Benedict’s gray eyes narrowed at her. “Assume whatever you want.”

  “For someone who talks so much about what it means to be a vampire,” Talulah told Benedict, “your mind is…less evolved than the rest of our species.”

  Rose smiled. “I didn’t know Talulah could do snarky! I’m impressed.”

  Talulah looked away, her always-so-serious countenance slipping a little.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Benedict grumbled. He waved his hand at Rose. “I’m just trying to talk some sense into this bleeding-heart baby vampire over here, who cares more about another species than her own.” He curled his lip in disgust.

  “Actually, my heart’s not bleeding anymore. It healed like…forever ago,” Rose said sassily, confusing everyone in the room—except Aaron, Kara, and Erik. “And believe it or not, it is possible to care about all people. It’s not either-or.”

  “They made it either-or,” said another vampire. Rose turned to face this other vampire—a tall vampire with short, purple hair and androgynous, all-black clothing. Their style wasn’t exactly…goth, per se, but it definitely reminded Rose of it. Rose didn’t remember anyone introducing her to any purple-haired, almost-goth vampires, so in the absence of a name, her mind tagged this one the Cool One.

  “When they decided that we’re not allowed to exist,” the Cool One said, “they made it either-or. I sympathized with them, too. I fell in love with some of them, even. I grieved for them when they died. But now, they’ve gone too far.”

  Rose sighed. “Okay, well, the Assassins of Light obviously aren’t the best representatives of humanity, and neither are some of the government leaders, for that matter,” she said, spreading out her hands, “but that doesn’t mean all humans feel this way. It’s hard, sometimes, to find the good because evil is so loud and so obnoxious, but the good is still there, usually being overwhelmed by the same evil that overwhelms you. The humans you loved—do you think they would’ve done something like this? Do you think they were as bigoted as the Assassins of Light?”

  “No,” the Cool One said. Their brows furrowed. “They were different.”

  “Exactly,” Rose explained, “and a lot of other humans are different, too.”

  “If they’re so different from the Assassins of Light,” Hector, the Earless One, interjected, “why did they let the Assassins of Light take control?” His gaze shifted around the room. “Did you all know that? That many of the Assassins of Light were elected into government offices? Humans wanted these people to lead.”

  Rose winced, as she noticed the sudden hostility in the room. Apparently, this was a surprise to some of them. “Okay, so, there are a lot of things that come into play in elections that would be hard to explain to a bunch of vampires, who are all way, way older than me,” she sighed, “but three things. First, there are many people who should be able to vote, who don’t get to, because the people in power like to stay in power. Second, it’s weird, but in some countries, the weight of one vote is different from the weight of another because, again, people in power like to stay in power. Third, a lot of humans are stupid, cruel, and easily-manipulated.”

  She managed to get a lot of nods with that last sentence.

  “Besides,” Rose said, her voice a bit brighter, “some of our leaders aren’t the best representatives of our species, either.” She waved a hand at one of them.

  Several of the vampire leaders and their seconds nodded in agreement.

  Benedict, on the other hand, glared at her. “You’re really pushing it.”

  Rose shrugged innocently. “What makes you think I meant you?”

  “You pointed at me!” Benedict exclaimed, his eyes wide.

  “No. I waved vaguely,” Rose said, as she waved her hand at him—again.

  Benedict was even less amused than before. “Keep it up, and I don’t care what our rules say,” he growled, so quietly she barely heard him, “you’ll regret it.”

  Kara, who had been laughing, up until that point, suddenly glared at him.

  The stark contrast in Kara’s countenance startled Rose—who, honestly, wasn’t that concerned about the threat. She’d come to expect threats from people like him, and she wasn’t going to let it stop her from doing what she came to do.

  “Regardless of how they got there,” another vampire spoke up, “the ones in charge are still hostile toward us. Do you really think they’ll hear us out, when they know they’re our food? Prey animals don’t make peace with their predators.”

  “But they don’t have to be our food!” Rose said—before she could stop herself. That, admittedly, wasn’t the best thing to say. She could’ve rambled about exceptions, made a snarky remark about the accuracy of that statement, anything.

  Anything but say the one thing that Kara had warned her not to say.

  But the statement had slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

  The shift in mood was immediate. Every gaze suddenly felt angry. Every sigh suddenly sounded bitter. Every movement suddenly looked hostile. The only people whose expressions held any neutrality at all, now, were Talulah, Kara, Erik, and the vampire leader Kara had introduced her to before the meeting: Hidiza.

  Kara, for her part, didn’t seem angry that Rose had ignored her warning. She actually didn’t even seem surprised. She’d clearly expected this—because she knew, better than anyone, that Rose always spoke from her heart. Even when she shouldn’t. Sensing Rose’s guilt, Kara met her gaze and offered her a gentle smile.

  “I just mean,” Rose tried to backtrack, “we can also feed from vampires.”

  “Yeah,” Benedict scoffed, “if we want to make ourselves vulnerable.”

  Rose shrugged weakly. “Compromise requires sacrifices on both sides.”

  Benedict tilted his head, a cruel smile curving at the corners of his mouth. “Are you suggesting we weaken ourselves because another species demands it?”

  Everything about him seemed sharper, all of the sudden—even his teeth, as his smile widened. He’d smelled the blood in the water and was ready to attack.

  Rose swallowed, insecurity closing around her throat. “No, that’s not…”

  “Let’s take a break,” Talulah said, suddenly. “I have some…unfortunate announcements to make, and I’d prefer everyone be together when I make them.”

  The attention left Rose so suddenly that she almost collapsed in relief.

  “Are you hiding something from us, Talulah?” Hector said suspiciously.

  “We’ll talk about it in the communal room,” Talulah said firmly, “soon.”

  Several people tried to argue, but Talulah had already made up her mind.

  “This
is my colony,” Talulah told them. “If you have a problem with the way I do things, you’re welcome to brave the cold. If not—this meeting is over.”

  —

  Rose was the first one out, when the meeting ended. She rushed into the hall and fell back against the wall. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the cold air, as she tried to ease the anxiety that burned in her chest and buzzed beneath her skin.

  Rose tugged at the collar of her hoodie, trying to free her throat from the constricting pressure of her anxiety. She heard the door open, and without even looking, Rose knew that it was Kara. The scent of violets and leather enticed her senses, igniting her desire and comforting her, all at once. That pleasant awareness tingled beneath her skin, warning her of Kara’s closeness and rousing her hunger.

  Kara’s soft, lilting voice sounded smooth and pleasant in the empty hall. “I know you think that went terribly,” Kara said, “but you actually did quite well.”

  Rose tilted her head back against the wall, letting the coolness of the wall seep into her skull. She squeezed her eyes shut, as her head pounded in time with her pulse. “Funny,” she said, “because I don’t think it could’ve gone any worse.”

  Kara stepped closer. “If you don’t accept defeat, you can’t be defeated.”

  Rose’s lips curved upward. “I think a lot of dead people would disagree.”

  The air around Rose seemed to heat up drastically, and she heard the soft press of a hand against wood, beside her head. Rose didn’t have to open her eyes to know that Kara was standing in front of her, leaning into her, so much so that her breath was beginning to dance across Rose’s lips. Rose’s heart continued to pound—but for different reasons, now. She sucked in a sharp breath, as Kara’s soft, warm fingers curled beneath Rose’s chin and lifted Rose’s face toward hers.

  “Open your eyes,” Kara murmured, her breath warm against Rose’s lips.

  Rose immediately opened her eyes, meeting Kara’s stunning, blue gaze.

  Kara traced the gentle slope of Rose’s jaw with her fingertips, raising chill bumps on Rose’s skin. “Do you know why I’m good at seduction and espionage?”

  Rose’s gaze drifted downward, admiring Kara’s smooth skin, her angular cheekbones, the soft curves of her mouth. “Because you’re gorgeous and clever?”

  Those soft curves deepened. “No,” Kara said with a laugh, “but that does make it a bit easier, doesn’t it?” She tilted her head a little, delight sparkling in her light blue eyes. “The reason I’m so good at both is that they’re both quite similar.”

  “Kara,” Rose said with a playful smile, “I hate to break it to you, but your habit of sleeping with women on the job isn’t the same as it being part of the job.”

  The laugh Kara gave in response to that was so low and lovely that Rose’s chest fluttered at the sound. When she finished laughing, she pressed more of her weight onto her hand, leaning closer. “The reason I’m so extraordinary at both,” she said, her smile growing, in tangent with her ego, “is that they both require a certain skill—the same skill.” She swept her gaze down Rose’s curvy form, noting the way Rose’s lower body curved toward hers, the way Rose’s fingertips caressed the bottom corner of Kara’s jacket. She doubted Rose even realized she was doing it. The pressure was so light that Kara didn’t feel any tug or extra weight. If she’d been any less aware of Rose’s movements, she probably wouldn’t have noticed it.

  But she did notice it. She always noticed it—especially when it was Rose.

  “What skill is that?” Rose said breathlessly. “Charisma? Gracefulness?”

  When Kara made eye-contact with Rose again, the color of her eyes had changed—just a little. Nothing that would’ve been obvious, at a distance. But for Rose, who stood so close to her, the difference was striking. The shine in her eyes looked less icy than usual, and more…fiery. Her pupils were dilated, darkening the blue hue of her eyes just slightly. “I notice everything,” Kara growled. “I’m overly-observant in every sense. I notice what is said—and what is not said. I recognize subtle cues—when someone is comfortable or when they’re uncomfortable.” She paused, just long enough to curl her fingers around Rose’s hip. She pulled Rose’s lower body against her own, causing Rose to gasp. “I notice when they want me.”

  Rose kept her back against the wall, even as Kara pulled her lower body forward. “Sounds a bit,” she said, as she tried to hide her reaction, “like empathy.”

  Kara leaned closer, her fangs nearly grazing Rose’s lips. “Empathy is soft and sweet, love, like you,” she said with a sensual lilt. “What I do is more…sinful.”

  Rose squeaked a little in surprise, as that word—formed so sensually in Kara’s mouth—unleashed some complicated sensations in Rose’s body. Kara was good at that—giving Rose complicated relationships with words. Like apologize, for instance. That word would never mean the same thing again. “Ah. Look at the Viking,” Rose managed to say—breathlessly, “bringing out the Christian words.”

  Kara chuckled. “Do you know what I noticed during that meeting?”

  Rose blinked. “Listen,” she mumbled, “if you want me to remember stuff that happens before, you know, this, you really need to rethink your delivery style.”

  A surprised laugh spilled from Kara’s mouth, only a moment before her entire body curved forward. That one laugh quickly dissolved into a whole fit of laughter—warm, breathy laughter that tickled Rose’s chest with the gentleness of flower petals. Rose smiled, as she enjoyed the sight of Kara’s soft, gleeful laughter.

  “I’m glad my failures amuse you,” Rose teased, her eyes wide and bright.

  Kara pressed a kiss against the side of Rose’s face, before stepping back. She raised both hands. “New delivery style,” she said playfully. She dropped her hands to her sides. “Do you know what I noticed, while we were in the meeting?”

  Rose lifted her eyebrows. “That I’m really good at annoying people?”

  Kara shook her head. “I noticed,” she said, stepping closer again, “that people were responding to you. Whether they said as much or not, your sincerity, your compassion—it swayed them. They were starting to see your point-of-view.”

  “Until I screwed it up by saying what you told me not to say,” Rose said.

  Kara smiled. “It’s been months since I warned you. I didn’t even expect you to remember,” she chuckled. “I knew you’d say what you felt, even if it meant upsetting people.” She shrugged. “It’s part of who you are—part of who I love.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust your advice,” Rose sighed, guilt eating away at her stomach. “I just…don’t see any other way around it. Peace comes at a price.”

  “Rose,” Kara said with a slow, indulgent smile, “you did nothing wrong.”

  “I screwed everything up. That’s wrong,” Rose muttered. She spread out her arms in frustration. “But it’s such a small thing to ask! Just don’t eat humans!”

  Kara nodded, her brows high. “See, this passion—it’s exactly why I knew you’d say it, whether it would be well-received or not,” she told Rose. “I’m crafty. I say things at the best time, in the best way. But that’s not you. You’re smart—smart enough to recognize the best strategy. And you’re passionate—passionate enough not to keep your mouth shut about it. That makes you different from me. It doesn’t make you wrong. Even if the timing wasn’t the best, it had to be said.”

  Rose stared at her. “So, you’re not upset about me ignoring your advice?”

  “What?” Kara laughed. She shook her head, causing several blue strands to fall over her shoulder. “Of course not. You know I love your passion, sexy.”

  Rose smiled at the familiar nickname, the one she’d never felt worthy of, the one that Kara used for that exact reason—because Rose didn’t believe it yet.

  Kara closed the space between them again and curled her hands around Rose’s hips. She leaned forward, tilting her face to kiss Rose, but just as their lips touched, the door swung open, and s
everal vampires flooded out into the hallway.

  Rose buried her face in the leather of Kara’s jacket, blushing, as everyone walked past them. Kara just kept her arm around Rose’s waist, chuckling at Rose’s embarrassed reaction. Kara waved, as some of the vampires told them goodbye.

  Talulah was the last one to leave the office, and by then, Rose’s face had at least returned to a human skin-tone again—rather than a color that only suited certain fruits. Rose glanced warily at Talulah, fully expecting a scowl and a lecture.

  But Talulah just shrugged. “That went surprisingly well. Until the end.”

  “Yeah,” Rose mumbled, wincing a little. “They didn’t like that last part.”

  “Of course they didn’t,” Talulah said. She tilted her head to the side, dark braids falling over her shoulder. “You handled Benedict better than I expected.”

  “He’s not the first idiot I’ve met,” Rose said. “So, what do we do now?”

  “The vote wouldn’t have gone in our favor—not after you attacked their feeding habits,” Talulah muttered. “We’ll just have to try again tomorrow night.”

  “I wouldn’t call suggesting a compromise an attack, but okay,” Rose said.

  Erik—who’d come out only a few moments before Talulah had—asked, “What about the army that’s headed this way? When are you going to tell them?”

  Talulah pinned Rose and Kara with an expectant look. “I’m not going to tell them anything,” she told them. “You brought the bad news. You’ll deliver it.”

  “It’s not like we invited the human armies to follow us,” Rose muttered.

  “I’ll tell them,” Kara offered. “I’d love to unleash a bit of chaos tonight.”

  Talulah shot a disapproving scowl her way. “Please, try to remember that many of these vampires have lost their colonies,” she grumbled. “This is the last safe place for our kind. When they find out that they’re not safe here either, they’ll be angry, terrified, and desperate. This might be the end of hope, the end of peace talks, the end of everything they know…” She sighed, “The end of their world.”