In the Dark

by Melody Taylor

  He let her go when her eyes showed a trace of panic. Specter would have crushed her throat to remind her this was no game. A strict teacher with little patience; Sebastian had seen students die at his master’s hand. Only his own ability to learn quickly had kept him alive. Ian, he felt, would learn nothing from such harsh treatment. Specter would have said that if she could not survive it, she did not deserve to. Once, Sebastian would have agreed . . . once.

  “Not a bad beginning, certainly,” he said to Ian. “But you must forget what you already know. You cannot defend against a vampire with moves intended to protect you against a human.”

  She nodded, taking in shallow, agitated breaths. Another habit she would do well to rid herself of. He decided to save that lesson for later.

  “Come at me,” he instructed, taking up a stance. He did not need the stance. He took it so she would feel he was prepared.

  She came at him again, seriously, but easily avoided. He used the block he had just shown her, turning it into a grab that used her own weight and force to take her to the floor. She flipped herself over, the muscles of her jaw tense.

  “Did you see what I did?” he asked.

  She nodded once, shortly. He helped her up, then showed her the block again.

  “Again,” Sebastian instructed. Ian nodded, balanced herself – and he rushed her. She missed the block, but ducked out of his reach as she realized she had. He sidestepped simply, changing his swing from her face to her middle. She gave him a frightened look when he stopped, his fist gently resting against her abdomen.

  “Good,” he told her. “You missed the move you wanted, but tried again quickly. Let’s do it again.”

  Words that would never have come from his master’s mouth. If you lived through a night, you would go through another. You received no other reward.

  Her eyes glinted, determined. Good. She straightened, stretched, and he went for her again.

  It was a game. Despite her grace, she attacked and defended like a child. But he hadn’t offered her training out of need for a sparring partner – if he wanted that, he would have to search long and hard.

  He did this because of what he felt – that small spark of sympathy for her, for her father. He didn’t like the idea of seeing her dead.

  It didn’t disturb him to distraction, but it was unpleasant, the idea that this girl who “wanted to get to know” him might be taken. He couldn’t save her from all trouble or enemies that might arise. But he would do this. He would show her how to save herself, that he wouldn’t have to scatter her dust to the wind as he had Kent’s.

  “Again,” he told her, and attacked.

  IAN

  I wasn’t sweating or even really tired when Sebastian held up a hand. I was frustrated enough to tear something apart, quivering and tense, but ready to go all night.

  “Enough for tonight,” he said over his hand. “Think on what you have learned, return tomorrow.”

  I snapped a nod, then started pacing.

  He raised a delicate eyebrow. “Is something wrong with that?”

  “I’m just frustrated.” I half-shrugged. “I can’t keep up with you. Not even close.”

  “It is how I was taught. Necessity will help your body develop its strength and speed. As you called to me the night before last.” He tapped the side of his head. “It became necessary for you to call me, and so you did.”

  I winced at the thought of that night. So I really did call him. Josephine was right. With a distracting snap, things started falling into place in my head: the need to turn and look for Kent just in time to see him, watching Josephine through Emily’s eyes for a moment in my dream, the sudden feeling of unease when I first touched Emily-the-shape-changer. It didn’t matter. Nifty psychic power or not, I wanted to forget all of that, not dwell on it.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I kicked the wall. “I guess. I just – I just feel . . .” I shrugged. Kept pacing.

  “Just what?”

  He couldn’t let it hang. He had to ask. Damn, I wanted to shred something.

  “Everything. Emily’s gone, Kent’s gone, and I’ve had a killer chasing me around the city – I’m tired. And sad. And angry. And I have to go home and deal with Amanda tonight.”

  He crossed his arms. “Why must you deal with someone you don’t wish to deal with?”

  I lifted my lip a half-inch. I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to be done. I wanted to eat nails. “I want to see her,” I snapped, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. “It’s just . . . I mean . . .” I sighed. “Maybe I don’t want her to stay.”

  His eyes stayed flat. “That is for you to decide.”

  That’s right, you think she’s a pet. Just get rid of her if she’s being difficult. Put her to sleep.

  A growl rose in the back of my throat that had nothing human about it. If I hadn’t felt so angry, the sound would have shocked me. “Damn, think you can be any colder?” I snapped. “What did you do with your family when you had them, eat them for dinner?” Sebastian’s eyes flashed a brilliant pale blue of fury, the same color they’d been when he cut the shape-changer down. His entire body tightened. My stomach flipped.

  Fuck – !

  His lips raised in a growl, like the one I’d just uttered, but deeper. Meaner. Tiger to my housecat. I remembered I was talking to a killer. I stepped back a pace. He glared at me for what seemed like minutes, then whirled away from me.

  “Leave,” he barked.

  “Sebastian –” My voice shook in my throat.

  “Do not try my patience, Ian.”

  I froze. His voice was icy serious, but . . . had I heard a tremble? His hands clenched at his sides, his shoulders tight. I couldn’t see his eyes. I couldn’t tell how he felt.

  “Sebastian,” I said again, and watched his shoulders tense. Maybe I didn’t need to see his eyes.

  I backed up, slowly, one, two, three. My back hit the door. “Okay,” I said. “I’m going.”

  He didn’t watch me leave.

  I waited until I reached the living room before I shoved my feet into my boots. Didn’t bother to tie them until I got on the elevator.

  There couldn’t be more than one reason why he would act that way after what I said. I turned it over in my head the whole way down and came up with the same conclusion. He killed someone he didn’t want to. Ate them for dinner, just like I said.

  Damn. Kent had always told me to keep fed, don’t let myself get hungry or stay that way for long. I had wondered why. Frequently, actually. Was that it? That if we got hungry enough . . . ? I shuddered, feeling sick again.

  Who had it been? A family member, obviously. A sibling maybe? Like Amanda? Could I maybe get hungry enough –

  I shook my head. I wouldn’t let that happen to me. Or Amanda. I wouldn’t end up with nothing but a souvenir of her, a handful of photos and a book of lyrics –

  Or that sad fabric.

  I shivered, suddenly sad.

  I should say I’m sorry. I opened up my yap when I was upset and I hurt him.

  Yeah, I should. I thought about stopping the elevator, taking it back up. Reached out to hit the button – except it wouldn’t work without the key. Only down worked.

  The elevator let me off in the garage and I stalked to my car, hands stuffed in my jeans pockets, head down.

  Well, I’ll just show up at his house, same time tomorrow, and see what he does. We have a date. Unless he says otherwise.

  I started the car and pulled out into traffic. Amanda was waiting at home for me. I’d already been gone for hours. She was going to have a lot of questions.

  I planned on answering them.

  STREETS

  The rain started when he had gone a few blocks from his car. He had seen the clouds rolling in over the sound, gathering until the night sky could host no more of them and the water came down. Sebastian turned up the collar of his coat and kept walking.

  This area of town had long since quieted for the night. Only the occasional passer through made an exc
eption of that – like himself. Rain washed a lock of loose hair down into his eyes. He brushed it away with irritation. He was wet, angry and hungry, stalking the dark and silent streets in search of a victim. And all the while, his thoughts returned to Ian. What she had said, and how he had longed for her blood in retribution.

  Damn her.

  Damn her, or damn yourself?

  He let out a tense and growling sigh, but had to admit the truth, at least to himself. Not really. Not all of him wished to feed from her, take from her until she vanished. Only the anger. The hunger. The part he wanted to learn to control. The part that roared to be let loose now.

  He had tried to practice once Ian had gone, tried to let his aggression out in the exercises. Exercises meant to strengthen his body, quicken his pace, take down an opponent before the opponent could blink.

  He had shattered one of his mirrors before he decided to let himself out of the penthouse. Practice was all well and good, but it released so little. He hungered.

  It occurred to Sebastian that he had gone blocks in mere minutes. He was pacing. He drew up his steps, but the irritation welled as he did that, as if his rapid steps had held it in check.

  Damn.

  His lips had pulled back in the feral snarl that meant rage, rage and hunger. They held taut there, as if forced, unable to relax.

  Damn.

  “What did you do when you had a family? Eat them for dinner?”

  Sebastian looked up, another several blocks from where he’d last noticed his quick pace. He did not know how much time had passed. His watch said several minutes.

  Blood . . .

  He raised his head. It was only a smell, something vague in the rain-scented air. His stomach screamed for it. He found the source immediately. At the end of the block stood a young man, leaned against a wall with a cigarette between his lips. Confident. Arrogant. Certain the world could not hurt him.

  “You.”

  The man looked up. He was perhaps as old as Sebastian had been when he’d died. Sebastian stalked toward him, his snarl turned to a grin.

  “What the hell –” The young man turned, belligerent at first, then backing away as Sebastian neared. His eyes widened. Sebastian leaped. His arm snapped up to take the man’s throat. One quick squeeze shut off the man’s shout, his voice shattered. His cigarette fell with a hiss on the wet pavement.

  The man struggled, punching, kicking – useless. Sebastian took him to the nearest alley, pulling him along by the throat. In the dark, hidden from sight, he pinned the struggling creature against his body with one arm and pressed his fangs into the warm human skin. The man made a strangled, barking sound. Sebastian held his prey’s mouth with his other hand and drank.

  Hot blood seared his throat, burned his stomach. Absorbing the heat in one long, drawn-out rush. Drowning his anger in sensation until all that remained was a single need. Easily understood, easily met –

  More.

  The man’s heart raced, forcing the blood to Sebastian, filling his mouth with swallow after swallow. The sharp tang of adrenaline coursed to him on the blood, a taste he had not had for decades. A taste he had once had in plenty, had once craved, had denied himself all these years –

  Yes –

  It hit his tongue, too metallic, too coppery, making his teeth ache. It was familiar, he knew that flavor like no other. It was the same one he had had so many times, the one he had often sought. It was awful.

  He drew his head back, his hunger fading. The man had ceased to struggle, merely gone stiff, his lungs and heart pumping furiously. Sebastian licked the too-coppery drops from his lips, resenting the taste. Wondering, when had it spoiled?

  He knew the why.

  “Forget me,” he said to the man, and released him. The man staggered away, hand clapped to his neck, eyes huge and focused on Sebastian.

  “Go,” Sebastian told him, suddenly hating the sight of him staring like that, hating the taste of fear still lingering in his mouth.

  The man hardly hesitated. He whirled and ran for the mouth of the alley, hand still pressed to his neck. Sebastian watched him go. He had not needed so much blood. And yet, he had only death in his mind when he took that man.

  Perhaps . . .

  He followed after the man to the mouth of the alley. Made sure he was alone before stepping out himself.

  Perhaps Ian had only been observant.

  I have said more than once that I am a killer. And I am.

  Not until his death. The man he had been had never killed. Would have shivered in revulsion at the idea of killing for pleasure. Very suddenly, Sebastian remembered. He had not been a killer.

  Though I am now, and that is what I have shown Ian.

  That was not what he wanted Ian to see.

  He shrugged his wet coat up over his neck, hiding the world from his view.

  Then perhaps I shall have to change.

  IAN

  Another car had taken my spot in my driveway. A car I didn’t recognize.

  I pulled up to the curb and parked, staring at the car, searching for some familiar detail. Dark blue Cadillac, California plates . . . Nothing. I didn’t know a soul from California, or anyone who might drive that kind of car.

  Well, whoever had taken my parking spot, we were about to meet. I straightened my shirt, checked myself over for stray drops of blood, and headed for the door. Cool, confident, and ready to grab Amanda and run.

  She had propped herself up on the couch in the living room, picking idly at her beat-up old fender guitar, purple hair slowly parading down her face. Gypsy hunkered behind the living room couch, eyes bright, fur puffed up. She didn’t care for strangers.

  “Who’s here?” I asked, taking it from Amanda’s posture that the visitor probably wasn’t a threat.

  “Hey.” Amanda looked at me upside-down at me from her spot. “Some guy. Said he was family.”

  My middle clenched. The only family Kent could possibly have would be other vampires.

  “I figured it’d be okay to let him in,” Amanda went on, then paused, unsure. She must have seen my face. “I mean, with me here and all, just to look around. Is that cool?”

  I nodded vaguely, watching the door to Kent’s studio. A small sound came from inside. Like something being picked up. Or set down.

  “That is okay, right?” Amanda asked.

  A tall, slim body came to the door of Kent’s studio. He wore a dark suit, brown hair pulled into a yuppie-tail, with a square jaw and the kind of classically handsome features you expect to see on a star quarterback in college. I recognized the face as soon as I saw it. I had no idea who he was, but I’d seen him before. It was the handsome man from Kent’s yellow, tattered photos. Kent had quite a few shots of him.

  “You must be Ian.” His voice was smooth and deep. His eyes were shot through with red, like he hadn’t slept well recently. Or like a vampire who’d been crying.

  I bobbed my head cautiously, eyes still wide. “And you are . . . ?”

  “Alec,” he replied. “Alec DuMond.”

  That told me absolutely nothing. I had never heard the name before. A vampire. That was all I had on him.

  Amanda watched us, her face going back and forth between us. I kept my eyes on Mister DuMond. Who knew what he wanted, or why he’d come here? Hell, he might not even really be Kent’s family. But then why would Kent have so many photos of him?

  More shape-changing?

  That made me look him over again, more carefully this time. As if I could tell by looking. All I saw was a guy in an expensive suit.

  No, you’re being paranoid. Sebastian’s never heard of it, there can’t be that many. Besides, if he meant trouble, he would have tackled me and Amanda both by now.

  Comforting thought.

  He made an amused face. “You’re jumpy.”

  “Shouldn’t I be?” I asked. “Coming home to strangers in your house would make you jumpy, wouldn’t it?”

  His eyebrows twitched in surprise before his face d
arkened. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  I crossed my arms. Amanda kept watching, like this was a movie. The red in Alec’s eyes welled up, then faded away. He turned to go back into the studio. I followed after him. It seemed the best way to have a few words with him without Amanda getting a premature earload.

  “Jen?” she said after me.

  I held a finger up over my shoulder. “Wait there.”

  In the studio, I found him squatting beside Kent’s favorite guitar, studying it. That bothered me. It belonged to Kent, not him.

  “Look,” I began in a low voice, “I don’t mean to be hostile, really. I’ve had a rough week and I have no idea who you are. I assume you talked Amanda into letting you in?

  “I do have a key,” he said, as if I’d insulted him.

  “You have a key?” I repeated. “To my house?”

  “Indeed. In case of an emergency, which I would say has occurred.”

  Something in the way he said that made me shift my weight and stare at him. Irrationally, I wondered if he’d stolen it.

  He sighed. “Ian, I’m your older brother.” Like he resented having to tell me.

  “I don’t have any brothers,” I said. But what he meant had already popped into my mind. In flashing neon lights.

  He sighed again, as if nothing else in his entire life had ever annoyed him more. I frowned. I didn’t know why, but he made me want to keep an eye on the silverware.

  “Still thinking like a human,” he murmured, running his hand over Kent’s guitar strings. They thrummed. I clenched my jaw to keep from snapping at him. “Your mother and father didn’t copulate to conceive me,” he said in a pained tone. “Kent made me, the same as he made you.”

  I knew that. When he said it out loud it felt like a brick to the head, but I knew it.

  He glanced the room over, avoiding my eyes. “I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you.”

  “When?” I asked. And where have you been all this time? And why didn’t Kent say anything to me about you? And why aren’t you surprised he didn’t?