by J. K. Beck
“She doesn’t know you’re with me. I don’t think she’d approve.”
“Because you went all grrr on us the other day?”
His smile came uninvited, and some of the tightness in his chest melted. “Something like that, yeah.”
“Is that why you’re here? To make sure I don’t go all wonky, too?”
“Wonky? You mean your daemon? I think Sara and Luke are capable of helping you through that.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head, her expression telling him clearly and concisely that he was an idiot and she wasn’t buying any of his crap. “I mean like you. It’s not normal, right? What you do? Turning the vamps into mummies.”
A frisson of anxiety shot up his back. “Who says I do that?” She couldn’t have seen him kill Mitre. She’d been yards away on the sand, and unconscious, too.
She shrugged. “I’m not stupid. I can piece things together.”
He got it, then. Of course Luke must be looking into the desiccated corpses, and naturally he’d discuss the case at home. With Sara for sure, and maybe even with Nick.
“You didn’t answer me,” she said. “That’s not normal, right?”
“No,” he agreed. “It’s not normal.”
She met and held his eyes for a moment, then pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. Suddenly she didn’t seem so well adjusted. Suddenly she seemed vulnerable as hell.
“So that’s why you’re here, right? You’re afraid I’m going to lose it and suck the life out of your vamp friends.”
The harshness of her tone made him recoil as much as the words themselves. “What? CeeCee, no.”
“Yeah? Then tell me. Why are you here? Why did you leave me with them and then come back? Why aren’t you gone?”
He closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists. The questions were so simple. Words requiring words in response. But how to find the right ones? How indeed, except to dig for the deepest, most basic truth.
And what is that, Serge?
Did he even recognize truth anymore?
She didn’t press, but she didn’t stop looking at him. He stared blankly across the street at the glowing lights inside Luke and Sara’s house. Beyond, he could hear the ocean crashing against the shore. He couldn’t see it—the house blocked his view—but he could picture it clearly in his mind. The moonlight on the froth, the water and sand painted in black and white and gray.
“I just wanted to see you,” he finally said, because it didn’t get more basic than that. “And I want … to help you.”
She seemed to take that in. After a moment, she nodded. “Sara’s worried. Because my daemon hasn’t come out. I guess that’s pretty unusual.”
“It is,” Serge said. “But I wasn’t really a vampire when I turned you. I was—I don’t know, I guess I was masquerading as one.”
“So what does that make me?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I was transformed by a curse. You, from my blood. What that means to you, though, I don’t entirely know. Maybe it means you’re the first daemon-free vampire. But maybe it means the beast is inside you, too, but it’s going to take a while to show up.”
He watched her face, looking for signs of anger or disgust. But all he saw was calm acceptance, and it felt as though the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders.
“I guess I can handle it. Whatever it is. I mean, you’re handling it, right?”
“Yes,” he said firmly, because that’s what she needed to hear. And because it was true, especially when he kept Alexis in his mind. “Yeah, I’m handling it.”
“Okay, then. So how does it work? How do you turn vamps into dried-out mummy things?”
“Something else I don’t really know.”
She cocked her head to one side. “What’s that mean? You aim your super-secret mummifying laser at them and they just dry up?”
He had to laugh. “Not exactly.” And then, because she was right and one day she might need to know, he told her. “I have to touch them. And then I just have to concentrate. It’s a bit like drawing liquid through a straw, but very fast. One minute they’re right there. The next, they’re nothing but a shell.”
She snorted. “Considering what that asshole did to me, I have to say I think that’s pretty cool.” He grinned without thinking. Honestly, he liked her attitude.
They both looked up as they heard the back door click. And though neither of them could see Sara, her voice soon rang out, calling out to CeeCee, urging her to come back inside.
“I should go.” CeeCee stood and wiped the rear of her jeans. “I like her, and I think she’d worry.”
Serge nodded.
“Will you—will you come back? To see me more, I mean.”
“You don’t want me as a mentor,” he said. “Luke, Sara … they’re the ones who can help you.”
Her chin lifted a bit and he saw hard determination on her face. “Who said shit about you being a mentor? Maybe I just think you’re cool.”
He stood as well. “Maybe you bumped your head against a rock on that beach.”
“Ha ha,” she said. She looked like there was more she wanted to say, but then Sara called again, and CeeCee only waved and scurried through the brush to the dark road.
Serge watched her go, knowing that he’d be back. He told himself it was because he had to keep an eye on her. Had to see how she changed as the hunger grew. If it developed into a ravenous need that couldn’t be satisfied by blood. If her eyes became reptilian. If—
He shook his head, because that wasn’t the real reason at all. No, he’d return because CeeCee was his. Even if Luke and Sara kept her in their family until the end of time, she always would be. The responsibility of that awed him, even as he found himself smiling and looking forward to seeing her again.
And that, he thought, was a small slice of amazing.
As soon as CeeCee was gone, Serge felt at loose ends. Inside him, the beast curled, its hunger taunting him. He pushed it down, holding on to the pleasure he’d felt during his talk with the teen. But it wasn’t enough. The beast had seen a chink in Serge’s armor, and it was cunning enough to push and prod and fight for release.
But Serge was a fighter, too. Too bad for him his best defense against the monsters inside him was a woman who didn’t want him. He could still see her, though. Could reach out through the blood connection and hold a tiny bit of her close to his heart.
It wasn’t perfect, but right then he needed it. Needed to keep the beast down. Needed Alexis.
He stood there, eyes closed, reaching out to her, blood to blood, searching for some hint of her inside him. Something warm. Something perfect and strong and beautiful.
Something determined. Something angry. Something on the hunt.
His eyes flew open as a cloying fear cloaked him. Goddammit all, she was after a rogue.
He knew he shouldn’t be worried. She was well trained, after all. And she’d killed many a rogue. But that was before Derrick had caught on to her. Before he’d sent Bella in to assassinate her. This could be a trap. She was smart enough to know that, and yet foolhardy enough to go anyway. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
No way was he letting her go alone. Yet he was all the way in Malibu, and from the images and thoughts he was pulling from the blood connection, she was in West Hollywood, wandering down dark alleys, searching for her prey. A long distance to cover, and if he went by car he would never make it.
Without even consciously making the choice, he transformed into sentient mist, rising up and whipping over the darkened California coastline before going inland to the West side, his mind locked on her, using her essence to pull him closer, closer, until he transformed back into himself on the roof of a darkened convenience store.
She was below him in the alley, moving with long, purposeful strides. She wore the familiar leather jacket, which was undoubtedly loaded with stakes and her dart pistol. Her face was hard, and she held a small orb in one hand and a stake in
the other, most of it hidden from view by the way she had it palmed.
When she’d gone another few yards, a scream ripped the air, and Alexis broke into a full-on run. Serge dropped all pretense of staying out of sight and raced forward, only to come to a halt when he saw Alexis neatly stake a rogue, even as she urged his shaken victim—an elderly homeless man—to get the hell out of there.
As dust from the rogue collected at her feet, she slid her palms together, as if telling herself that was that. She was still grinning in smug satisfaction when the howl rang out—“Biiiiiiittttttcccccchhhhh”—and a new vampire leaped from a rooftop across the alleyway, knocking her to the ground and sending the stake she still held in her hand skittering across the asphalt.
Serge was already racing into the fray when another vampire landed next to the first. “Kill the bitch,” the new one said, before flying across the alley to land hard against the brick wall of one of the local businesses.
“Shit!” The one crouching over Alexis looked up to see Serge—and when he did, Alexis thrust up, nailing him through the heart and causing a storm of dust to rain down on her.
His friend pushed away from the wall and started to follow. But that wasn’t happening. Fear for Alexis and the brutal pull of his rising hunger fueled his actions, and before he could talk himself out of it—before he even really realized he was doing it—he grabbed the bastard, held him down, and pulled every bit of life from his worthless shell.
The desiccated remains fell to the ground, and he backed away, calmer now, but realizing that he’d probably just made a terrible mistake.
Slowly, he turned to look at Alexis, who was on the ground gaping at him. “That’s not … normal, is it?”
He couldn’t help his ironic smile. “No. It’s not normal at all.”
Alexis sprawled on the ground, astounded by what she’d just witnessed. The vampire who’d been about to attack her was now a dried-out shell. The man she’d recently made love to—the man she’d thought didn’t want her—was standing above her, his hand reaching out for her, his face a warrior’s countenance.
She hesitated a second, acknowledging how desperately she wanted his touch, then let him tug her to her feet. There were things to talk about. Lots of things. But first she wanted to know what had just happened. She opened her mouth, planning to ask just that, and found herself saying instead, “Why are you here? You left me without even looking back.”
He winced, and though it was petty, she was glad. She didn’t want to be the only one suffering.
“I made a mistake,” he said. He held her hand tightly, and she had the feeling that if she tried to tug free he wouldn’t let her go. She didn’t try. “Not even vampires are infallible.”
She glanced at the desiccated body. “But you’re not, are you? Not a vampire, I mean.”
His expression hardened, and he looked away. “No. Not exactly.”
“Is that why you left? You were afraid I couldn’t handle the truth?”
“Can you?”
“Serge.” She stepped closer to him, gratified when his arms encircled her. “I already know that you suck blood to live. And that you saved me and CeeCee. The fact that you live off … whatever it is you live off isn’t going to substantially change the equation.”
He shifted, refusing to meet her gaze. “We should go.”
Immediately, she was on alert. “Are there other vampires around?”
As she watched, he tilted his head back, tested the air.
“No.”
“Then we’re staying. And you’re not avoiding this conversation.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, but didn’t quite end up in a smile. After a moment, though, he did look at her, and she considered that a victory. “You talk about how I saved the two of you, but I’m no hero. There are things I’ve done, Alexis. Things I can never tell you.”
“I believe you, and I don’t want to know. But it was this man,” she said, pressing a hand to his chest. “This man who I invited into my bed. This man who gave me the best night of my life. Believe me when I say that the only awful thing you’ve done to me is walk out.”
“I thought you wanted me to.”
She looked at him with astonishment.
“There was the scent of regret all over you.”
A small laugh escaped her. “I’m not surprised. I was full of it. I should never have let Edgar do something so foolish. I was swimming in grief, but you were like a buoy. And then you left.”
“I’m so sorry. And I’m also relieved.”
She lifted up onto her tiptoes and brushed a soft kiss over his lips.
“Best night of your life?”
“I mean it, you know. Not a figure of speech, not placating. Best night ever.”
“Would you believe me if I said I felt the same? That never in two thousand years have I felt the way I do in your arms? That when I’m with you all I want to do is look at you and touch you? That I hate the bad things I’ve done even more when I’m around you? That just knowing you’re beside me soothes me and helps keep the daemon down, the beast at bay? Makes me a little more human?”
She swallowed. “I really make you feel that way?”
“From the moment I saw you. Honestly, I don’t know that I would have tried to save CeeCee if it hadn’t been for you. She meant something to you, and so she meant something to me.” He shrugged. “Now she really does mean something to me, but that night on the beach I was only interested in feeding.”
“You said something about a daemon. Is that what you are? Instead of a vampire, I mean.”
“No,” he said. “The daemon’s inside me. And what I am now … well, that’s a more complicated question.”
“I’d like to understand.”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “It’s not a pretty story.”
“I’ve come to realize that very little in your world is.”
“All right. I already told you some of this. How I went looking to be made into a vampire?”
“You called it the dark kiss.”
“I did. Of course I didn’t know what it was called. Not then. Luke and I had heard rumors about immortality.”
“The vampire who’s taking care of CeeCee? Along with the woman. Um, Sara?”
“That’s him. He’s closer to me than a brother. Even back then we were almost inseparable. And one day, I heard a rumor about a dark lady whose kiss granted eternal life. We both wanted it, and we both paid a heavy price.” She saw the pain of memory flash across his face. “Luke lost his family in the grab for immortality. He had the sweetest little girl …”
“I’m so sorry. And you?”
“Me? I didn’t lose much. Just my sanity.”
She licked her lips, certain she didn’t want to hear, but at the same time knowing that she did. “What do you mean?”
“That’s the daemon,” he explained. “It’s impossible to explain the horror of it without actually experiencing it. But I’ll try. It’s like, well, it’s evil, pure and simple. A deep, pain-loving malevolence that lives deep within every human.”
“Every human?”
He nodded. “For the most part it’s buried, though if you look at some of your more vile sociopaths, I think it’s safe to say their daemons have wiggled their way free. There’s something about the mortal coil that traps it.”
“But vampires aren’t mortal.”
He gave her the kind of smile a teacher bestows on a prize pupil. “Exactly. And the daemon rises up. It takes control. It pushes you to do things you wouldn’t do, and yet it’s still you. It thrives on pain. On degradation.” He shut his eyes, and she saw a tremor run through his body. She reached for him and clutched his hand.
“It was bad for you.”
“Worse than bad. There’s a ritual—it’s called the Holding. Vampires use it to control the daemon. To push it back down when it first emerges. Some are successful. They walk the earth feeling almost human. Sara’s like that. With others, the daem
on is battled down, but it still fights to get free. It’s a constant battle, but with enough willpower, the vampire can stay in control. Luke is like that, and every year that passes it’s become easier for him. Sara’s helped a lot. She soothes the daemon in him as you do for me.”
The words were like warm cotton inside her, and she squeezed his fingers. “I’m glad. So, you can control it? Like Luke?”
His jaw twitched, and he shook his head. “Not like Luke. Sometimes I could control it. But most of the time, no. For most of the last two millennia it’s been the daemon running the show, not me. Although to be honest, after a while it was hard sometimes to tell where I stopped and the daemon began.” He looked at her, as if gauging her reaction. She nodded, hoping she looked encouraging. In truth, she was trying very hard not to be scared. “Vampires like that—the ones that can’t control the daemon—they’re rogues. When the daemon’s out, that’s when humans get killed. It’s rogues you’ve been hunting, Alexis.”
She nodded her understanding, and thought about what Leena had said about all vampires being evil. Now she understood better. They all had the potential to be evil, but some fought it like the devil. Like Serge, and damned if she didn’t admire and respect his determination. “So that makes you a rogue?”
“I was a rogue,” he said. “I have been.” He stepped away from her, then walked back, and she could see the tension in his body. “Some just give in to it, but I’ve been fighting it for thousands of years. It’s exhausted me, ripped me up from the inside. In some ways, I’ve won. In some ways, it’s better. But it’s also so much worse.”
“I don’t understand.”
He ran a hand through his short hair. “There came a point at which I couldn’t take it anymore. Where I was having moments of lucidity mixed up with the horror of the daemon taking over. It was hell. No, it was worse than hell. Then I was cursed.”
“Cursed?”
“There was a time when my friends were in trouble. I thought that by taking on this curse, I could save them. I thought I could fight against the power of the monster that would rise within me.”