Darkness Reigns (Darkness Trilogy)

by L. M. Justus

  Classical music flowed up the stairs from the basement level and I followed it to its source. Down the end of the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, I discovered a large room furnished with leather couches, book-lined shelves, a couple of coffee tables, and an area rug spread over a dark hardwood floor. The room was windowless and the décor a mix of rich colors, perfect for a vampire hangout.

  The King sat with his back to the door and he moved his arms as if he were conducting an orchestra in time to the music. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I watched and waited.

  The song hadn’t finished, but the King leaned over and picked up a remote control, pressed a button, and the music stopped. He turned to face me with a smile.

  “Please, come in and join me,” he said, waving me over to one of the couches next to him.

  I walked across the room and sank down into the soft leather cushions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said.

  “Nonsense,” the King said. “What did you think?”

  I blinked. “Uh . . . about what?”

  He laughed. “About the music.”

  “Oh. It was . . . good?” What was with these vampires and their classical music? I had a feeling Nathaniel was going to get along great with this guy.

  The King’s gray eyes sparkled with amusement. “I understand. You are too young to appreciate a fine piece of music from my era. There are so many distractions these days; electronic devices and whatnot fighting to attract your attention. This piece–” he paused as he used the remote to restart the music, but at a lower volume, “is called Arrival of the Queen of Sheba by Handel. The fast pace is invigorating–I love it.”

  “Right,” I said. How the hell was I going to change the subject to rogue vampires?

  “You look lost, my friend,” the King said, leaning toward me. “Such a handsome one. Très mignon.” He reached up to touch my face and I jerked back into the couch.

  I had no idea what he’d said, but it made me think of steak.

  He withdrew, shaking his head. “I make you uncomfortable. I am sorry. I’m not suggesting anything. I can see you are in a relationship with the fair Sarah, and Gabriel and I have been inseparable for over a century. I was merely making an observation. You should be flattered; it was a compliment.”

  I blew out a breath and tried to relax, but I still felt wired as if I might need to escape any second. “I’ve met a lot of crazy people lately. No offense, but I’m kinda nervous, and overly suspicious and . . .”

  “Completely understandable. Perhaps I can teach you something as a show of good faith. Do you know any French?”

  I thought for a moment. “Uh . . . does déjà vu count? Hors d’oeuvres?”

  The King burst out laughing. “Oh, dear,” he choked out, wiping at his eyes. My face heated.

  When he calmed down, the King said, “Let me introduce you to the language of love. You may live for centuries, so why not learn another language? Try this on Sarah: Je t’aime. Whisper this in her ear and she will melt. Now, you try it.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  His eyebrows lifted. “What do you think it means?”

  “Um . . . ‘you’re beautiful?’”

  “Ooh, good guess! I will have to teach you that as well. But no, it means ‘I love you.’ Doesn’t it sound more romantic in French? Je t’aime.” The words rolled out of his mouth like velvet.

  “Yeah, actually. It does sound sexier.”

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  Oh, boy. How could we get off the subject of love and onto the important stuff? “I’m not sure,” I replied cautiously. Was there a wrong answer to his question?

  “I knew Gabriel and I would be together for the rest of our lives from the moment I laid eyes upon him,” the King said. “When we first saw each other, I felt a spark jump between us, joining us. It is as though an elastic band connects us; when we are apart it stretches thin, but it keeps us tethered and pulls us back together when we are reunited. Was it like that for you when you met Sarah?”

  “Well . . .” I remembered our disastrous introduction. “I thought she was pretty hot, but way out of my league when I first saw her. Then I tried to bug her apartment and when that didn’t work out, I was going to kidnap her, but she shot me. So . . . no, I don’t think it was love at first sight.”

  He stared at me open-mouthed. I grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

  “I believe I shall have to teach you more than a sentence or two in my mother tongue,” he said. He twirled a strand of his long hair around his finger and looked deep in thought.

  “Your majesty–” I began.

  “Marcel, please,” he corrected.

  “Okay, Marcel. The reason I came to see you is to ask you about a vampire who might be someone from around here. I don’t know what your rules are about killing humans, but I get the feeling that’s something vampires don’t allow in general. Anything that risks exposing vampires is a bad thing, right?”

  “Indeed, that is a crime punishable by death,” he said, sitting up straighter and looking me in the eye. “Tell me what you have heard.”

  “Apparently, a few months ago, a vampire murdered a human at that club we went to.”

  “Le Cachot Noir?”

  “Yeah. And the brother and best friend of the victim are pretty pissed off. They want revenge.”

  Marcel frowned. “How do you know of these people?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. He gave me a look that said he was perfectly willing to hear a detailed explanation. “Look, I don’t know if you have a policy for humans that find out about you, and I don’t want to get them in trouble. They live here, in Montreal, and we ran into them when we were exploring the city. They gave us a description of the vampire they’re looking for, so I thought I could ask you about it. I mean, if their story is true, and I’m sure it is, then we should do something, right?”

  “Very well. What did this vampire look like?”

  “They said he had messy, dark hair,” I said and paused. “No wait, long hair, and . . . shit, I can’t remember.” I threw my head back and glared at the ceiling.

  Then more detail came back to me and I sat up. “Black eyes,” I added. “Not like punched-in-the-face black eyes, I mean like a dark brown color. I think. Argh!”

  Marcel’s eyes narrowed. “You are a touch antsy.”

  “Antsy?”

  “Never mind. Your description is somewhat vague, but the only male vampire with long, dark hair in this contingent besides me is Kyle. But I can hardly accuse him of a crime with so little evidence.”

  “Maybe you could ask him if he knows anything about it and see how he reacts,” I suggested.

  “Perhaps,” he said. “Kyle is a relatively new addition to our group; he came to us approximately a year and a half ago. He has fit in well and never caused any trouble. I will speak with him later, but for now, I would love to continue our earlier conversation. There are so many questions I wish to ask you, if you are willing to humor me.”

  I hoped the King wasn’t shrugging me off. “Sure, I guess.”

  “Excellent!” He sat back, clasping his hands in his lap. “Have you fed recently?”

  I blushed. “I had a couple of small . . . meals.”

  “Very good.”

  Either he didn’t notice I was embarrassed or he decided not to make a big deal out of it.

  “I couldn’t help but notice,” he continued, “the limbs on your left side are regenerations. May I ask what happened?”

  “Oh, that,” I said. I flexed my arm to see if the muscles had grown any larger. “It’s a long story.”

  “You certainly have a lot of ‘long stories.’” He was quiet for a moment. Then he caught me by surprise by indicating a pool table in the corner with a jerk of his head. “Do you play?”

  “Sure, but I totally suck.”

  “Perfect.” He grinned. “I hate losing.”

  He stood and walked over to the table
. He flipped a switch on the wall and the light hanging over the table flickered to life. I took the pool cue he offered me and then he arranged the balls in the rack to set up a game.

  “Would you like to break?” he asked.

  “Okay,” I said, feeling more uneasy by the minute with his getting-to-know-you routine. Half the time when I tried to break in pool, I missed the balls completely, so I took careful aim and struck as hard as I could.

  The white ball flew up and over the table, embedding itself in the far wall. I swore loudly.

  Marcel laid his cue down and rested his hands against the side of the table. His shoulders shook and I realized he was laughing. He strolled over and plucked the ball out of the drywall. “Allow me,” he said, positioning the ball back on the table. Before he took his shot, he turned to look at me. “I like you.”

  I scratched my head. “Sorry about the wall,” I said.

  He waved off my worries and flicked his cue, breaking the balls like a pro. Resting his cue on the ground, he leaned on it and waited for me to take a turn. I looked over the table to figure out my best chance of sinking something.

  “Have you ever thought about Sarah growing old while you remain forever young?” Marcel said.

  A flare of suspicion sparked inside my chest. “Not really. We haven’t been together very long. I think we can worry about that later.”

  “If she were a vampire, you would never have to worry about it,” he said.

  “Yeah, but . . . Nathaniel said women hardly ever survive the transition.”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘hardly ever.’ A strong young woman like her might have a fifty-fifty chance. I took that gamble with Gabriel. Of course he had even better odds, being male.”

  “You turned Gabriel? What if he had died?” I forgot all about the pool game and studied Marcel’s face. What was he trying to do?

  He leaned back against the wall. “I knew, in my soul, he would be all right,” Marcel said, placing his hand over his heart.

  My voice grew louder. “Well, I don’t know if Sarah would be all right, so don’t get any crazy ideas.” I had the sudden urge to run upstairs and check on her.

  He shook his head. “I’m doing a terrible job of making you feel at home, Reed. I wished to share some advice with you because I do like you, but you’re right, my situation with Gabriel is not the same as yours and Sarah’s. My apologies. Perhaps we should start over.”

  I searched his eyes and wished I had Sarah’s ability to read minds. He seemed sincere, but–

  Someone cleared their throat and Marcel and I both turned to look. Nathaniel and Trudy stood in the doorway.

  “I hope we are not interrupting,” Nathaniel said.

  Relief washed over me and I almost gave Nathaniel a hug. Almost.

  Nathaniel

  The King of Montreal was engaged in a game of pool with Reed. Nathaniel did not think they would mind the interruption, and he saw no reason to stall in questioning the King about Trudy’s rogue vampire. If there was even a modicum of truth to Trudy’s suspicions–that a vampire in the Montreal lair was the one responsible for the murder of her fiancé–Nathaniel felt obligated to authenticate her story.

  They were so focused on their game, Nathaniel had to clear his throat to get their attention. Reed and the King both turned at once. A look of relief washed over Reed’s face and Nathaniel wondered what they had been discussing. In any case, the boy was obviously thankful for the intrusion, which made Nathaniel feel even less guilty about cutting their game short.

  “Nathaniel, Trudy, welcome. Please, join us,” the King said, sweeping his arm out to indicate the expanse of couches arranged around the room.

  Nathaniel waited for Trudy to take a seat and then chose a spot next to her. Reed slouched against the side of the same couch but didn’t sit down, while the King sat facing the three of them across a glass-topped coffee table.

  “I would love to get to know you better,” the King said, his fine French accent a balm to Nathaniel’s ears. “By the serious look on your face, I am guessing you are not here to socialize, n’est-ce pas? What can I do for you?”

  “I am afraid we have concerns about one of the vampires in your contingent, your Majesty,” Nathaniel said.

  “Marcel, please,” the King said, winking at Reed.

  “Marcel,” Trudy began, “this evening, here in your house, I saw the vampire who killed my fiancé five years ago. I know I have no right to march in here and make accusations about one of your own, but I’m positive it was Brian’s killer, and he completely got away with his murder. My fiancé never did anything to deserve a death like that. We were having dinner at a restaurant for God’s sake. And this horrible man came in and slaughtered Brian. The impact that attack had on my life was brutal. Besides losing my fiancé, I was unable to walk–my spinal injury took many months to recover. Of course no one believed me when I told them it was a vampire, so the police and my friends and family thought I was crazy.”

  Her voice wavered and she brought her fist to her mouth for a moment, composing herself. After closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, she continued. “Who knows how many other innocent people he’s killed. Surely, you agree . . . we have to stop him. It’s not only about justice, it’s about saving lives.”

  “Where did you say this event took place?” Marcel asked.

  “In my home town. Boston,” Trudy said.

  Marcel’s nostrils flared and his eyes widened. “Please, describe what he looked like.”

  Nathaniel turned to Trudy, trying to gauge whether she was strong enough to continue. She held her chin up, ready to give Marcel the details. Nathaniel felt an odd touch of pride at her courage.

  “He looked like a wild man, with long, dark hair that was in need of a good brushing. Black, beady little eyes . . .” Her lip curled and her eyes burned with hatred.

  “Stop,” Marcel said, raising a hand. “Mon Dieu.”

  Nathaniel leaned forward. “What is it? Do you know of whom we speak?”

  “I believe so. A relatively new member of our lair, who came to us from Boston just over a year-and-a-half ago. His name is Kyle.”

  Reed slipped off the edge of the couch and stumbled into an upright position. “Wait a minute, the same Kyle we were talking about a few minutes ago?”

  Nathaniel frowned. Marcel and Reed had been discussing the same vampire moments earlier?

  Marcel’s gaze swept across them. “Kyle has been a model member of our group since his arrival. I cannot believe, in the last ten minutes, he has been accused of not one, but two murders.”

  “Why did he come to Montreal?” Reed said. “Did he get in trouble with the Boston vampires?”

  “No, it was nothing like that,” Marcel said. “The ruling King of Boston was centuries old, and chose to meet the sun as per our ritual rite of passage. It is an honor, you understand, to choose death when the time is right rather than descend into madness as is inevitable for our kind after too many years of living. The new King is a strict monarch, and Kyle was unhappy under his rule. He’d heard of my relaxed and open reputation, so he chose to come here and ask for admittance. I accepted him into our lair and have not had a single problem with him. I will question Kyle, although I’m still not convinced of his guilt.”

  “Is this a stupid question, or . . . isn’t it possible he’ll just lie his ass off?” Reed said. “I mean, he’s not going to fall at your feet and confess his guilt, is he?”

  “Good point,” Trudy agreed.

  Nathaniel thought of Sarah’s ability to read minds; she would know without a doubt whether Kyle spoke the truth. Even so, it would then be Sarah’s word against that of the accused vampire. As far as they knew, Marcel was not yet aware of Sarah’s secret, and perhaps it was best to keep it that way for the time being.

  “We will give him a chance to speak freely,” Marcel said. He pulled a phone out from under his vest and typed a series of characters, his fingers flying across the tiny keyboard. Done sendin
g his message, he slid the phone back into his breast pocket.

  “He will be here shortly,” he added, his face solemn.

  Nathaniel was extremely curious to know why Reed had been conversing with Marcel about Kyle, but he did not get a chance to ask about it. Katrina and Gabriel arrived, flanking a third vampire who fit Trudy’s description perfectly.

  The vampire was of an average build, and approximately six feet tall, give or take an inch. His unkempt hair lay in a tangle over his shoulders and his ebony gaze bore into Nathaniel and his companions. Trudy’s lips tightened as she glared daggers into the newcomer. Nathaniel placed his hand on her knee.

  “Is there a problem?” the vampire, Kyle, asked.

  Marcel stood. “I have a few questions for you–”

  “You murdered my fiancé in cold blood you bastard!” Trudy growled as she rose from her seat.

  Kyle stared at Trudy, his face darkening. Nathaniel gently pulled Trudy back down on the couch.

  “Are you aware,” Marcel said, his voice rising, “of an incident that occurred at a restaurant in Boston five years ago? A human was killed: a man this woman, Trudy, cared about deeply.”

  Searching Trudy’s face, Kyle’s brows crinkled in confusion. He turned to Marcel and then back to Trudy. “You weren’t supposed to remember that. I used mind control, the same way I always do to make witnesses forget.”

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees and everyone held their breath. Kyle admitted to the crime with no attempt at denial whatsoever.

  “Witnesses? Plural?” Trudy said.

  Kyle snorted. “Did you think your fiancé was the only one?” He said the word ‘fiancé’ as though it disgusted him.

  “What are you saying?” Marcel said, his face a mask of disbelief. “You confess to the murder of innocent humans? You know we cannot risk exposing our kind by leaving bodies in our wake. There is no need to kill them.”

  “I always cover my tracks,” Kyle argued. “So what if a single human escaped my mind control? The human authorities would never believe a far-fetched story about a vampire attack. Erase her memory and be done with it.”