Deep IsThe Night: Haunted Souls

by Denise Agnew

  “Be careful,” Clarissa said.

  Erin managed a smile. “You, too.”

  Erin headed toward the area beyond the stage and the backrooms.

  Within seconds the twinkling orange, yellow and brown lights around the stage and in the autumn leaves arrangements around the room stopped blinking and the last few strains of Monster Mash faded. Groans and mutters of surprise filled the room.

  Before Clarissa could move the ancient one’s cruel voice filled her head. They must all die.

  Clarissa sent a confident message. They don’t have to. This isn’t necessary.

  If it was up to me, I’d consume them when I needed, one by one over the days and months ahead. But that’s not what the darkest wants. And the darkest wants you and Erin and all of Pine Forest to be shattered.

  You’ve already turned the town into a major crime center. What else could you want?

  A sinister chuckle filled her head. The darkest must have complete domination. Chaos. Ruin.

  She didn’t know if psychology would work on a creature like the ancient one, but she tried. What about what you want?

  A long pause lingered until the ancient one said, I am only the servant, not the master.

  These words, whispered with a tone filled with savory delight and resignation, formed a cold, hard pit in her stomach. She’d thought her nastiest worry would center on the vampire, but perhaps she’d been mistaken.

  She recognized that to get everyone’s attention she would have to make a scene. She moved to the steps leading to the stage with a preternatural speed and stood upon the stage. She started for the podium. Danger simmered in her blood, pulsed through her skin. She knew anyone who looked could see the glow radiating from her eyes. People started to notice before she reached the podium. They pointed, a combination of fear and annoyance holding them captive. Instinct took over as new strengths swelled in her body.

  I have your friend. This time the putrid voice was a combination of the ancient one and something more baleful. Cease your efforts or she dies.

  “Listen!” Clarissa called out above the noise. “Everyone needs to leave this building now. Something bad is about to happen.”

  Voices went up around the crowd. “What is she doing? What is going on? Who is that?”

  A commotion at the front made people part like the Red Sea as Jared and Micky pushed their way through.

  “She’s telling the truth.” Jared’s voice carried way above the crowd. “Everyone’s got to leave. It’s like we said at the meeting the other night.”

  “Who are these fruitcakes?” a man dressed like a pinecone asked. “Is this part of the party?”

  “Get down off there!” A man attired as a stereotypical vampire, white-painted face twisted with annoyance, jeered at her. “Stop scaring people!”

  Blinding emotion made her say again, “Listen to me.”

  She noticed people bunched up at the front of the building in the foyer.

  “Fire!” A male voice came from the front entrance above the restless murmurs. “Fire!”

  She glanced over and saw Jim. Jim.

  People whirled at the sound of his voice.

  Everything seemed to switch to slow motion, despite the instantaneous reaction of the people.

  Clarissa saw Ronan’s beloved face behind Jim and heard his husky Irish tone in her head. Clarissa, it’s all right. We’re here now. Leggett’s trying to get everyone to move out of the building by saying there’s a fire when there isn’t.

  Overjoyed at seeing him, she wasn’t prepared for the popping noise on stage. Screams went up as two huge hands clasped her shoulders from behind. Sharp nails and bone-hard fingers pressed into her flesh with splinter intensity pain. She saw Ronan’s eyes widen before the cruel fingers spun her around to face their towering owner.

  All previous description didn’t prepare her for the reality of seeing the gargoyle face outside of her vision. Gray and hard as stone, the face held the curves and sharp cuts associated with a gargoyle’s lines. With his bald head and somewhat pointed ears, the creature stood out. His lips drew back in a caricature of a smile, the canine teeth extraordinarily long and sharp. Cloaked neck to toe in a huge black cape, the gargoyle-like vampire fit in with a few of the other fake vampires wandering the room.

  She heard Ronan’s voice in her head. Clarissa, do not look into his eyes!

  More voices gathered inside her, their murmurs and pleas frantic for her attention.

  Look away. Jared’s voice echoed in her head.

  Then a voice came she didn’t expect, his sharp Irish tone so different from Ronan’s. Please don’t look!

  Sorley?

  Two light fixtures in the high ceiling exploded. Screams went up and someone shouted again, “Fire! Get out now!”

  More voices entered her head. Shadow people.

  Resisthimresisthimresisthim.

  Useyourpoweruseyourpoweruseyourpower.

  Two more fixtures in the ceiling burst, plunging the room into semi-darkness. Glass and sparks rained down from the ceiling. People ducked and panic erupted as they poured toward the exits.

  “Clarissa!” A guttural shout, filled with sharp anguish, belonged to Ronan.

  Her heart pounded in her chest like a jackhammer, her breath short and punchy.

  Shouting, pushing and trampling, the partygoers reacted like all typical crowds. Before she could react to the shadow people’s direction for her to use her power, the ancient one’s pitiless fingers clamped on her face. He jerked her head toward him and she inadvertently looked into his eyes.

  Hot and fierce, the ancient one’s eyes burned solid crimson. No lens, no iris. Just fiery depths of hell. Nausea swept into her stomach and her knees weakened. Her muscles felt like gelatin, her body under the monster’s command.

  You are mine. You will do as I bid.

  No! No! She writhed in the strong hold.

  Weakness threatened and she feared this might be the last chance for life.

  Pushawaynowpushawaynowpushawaynow. The shadow people whispered to her.

  Wewillhelpyouwewillhelpyouwewillhelpyou.

  Dramatically the energies surrounding her built. Blood pumped furiously through her veins as her heart raced and her muscles cried out for action. A weird sensation, like that of a gathering storm, pierced her midsection. Instead of hurting, the feeling galvanized her into action.

  With a grunt she shoved against the ancient one’s chest. The creature loosened his grip and she stumbled backward. She slipped and landed on her ass on the hard, cold stage with a painful thump. Renewal of energy surged into her system and she leapt to her feet to confront the old vampire.

  Fire crackled behind the stage. Smoke started to fill the room as the remaining people scrambled to leave the building. As smoke attacked her lungs she coughed and shoved aside dizziness. Fire climbed onto curtains arranged behind the makeshift stage. A blur of movement caught her attention and then Ronan stood between her and the creature.

  She sensed something, an instant when time stagnated and peril held the advantage. She reached out for him with one hand as terror rocketed through her. “Ronan! No!”

  “Worthless scum!” The ancient one took a swing and landed a punch to Ronan’s face.

  Ronan sailed backwards past her and fell from the stage. The ancient one laughed.

  Her heart felt like it might stop. More anger exploded and she took action. She reached for the podium without thinking. Grabbing the top with both hands, she yanked. The podium came away from the stage floor. Spitting angry, she lifted and swung the podium just high enough to send it sailing across the floor toward the old vampire’s shins. It connected, sending the ancient one flying. Triumph burst inside her, but the vampire was hardly fazed. He jumped to his feet and came toward her. With certainty she shouldn’t have, Clarissa knew she could fight the ancient one.

  What choice did she have?

  Instinctively, she put up both hands and concentrated all her energy outward. A shimm
ering transparent wall formed. The ancient one slammed into it and fell back with an indignant cry.

  “Take that, asshole!” She punched one fist in the air.

  A hand grabbed her shoulder and she swung around, an elbow aimed to land in the person’s stomach. Ronan dodged her swing. “It’s me. We’ve got to go now!”

  Relief filled her as he clasped her hand and they ran toward the south exit. Several steps later she was snatched off her feet, dangling as she kicked out in reflex.

  Her scream came more as a defiant, heated shout. “No!”

  Before she could scream again, lacerating pain gripped the right side of her neck. A strange crunching noise and excruciating pain told her one thing.

  Stunned by the pain, her vision went white, then black and started to fade at the edges.

  The ancient one had bitten her.

  Unlike Jim’s bite, this one would kill her.

  No. Must fight.

  Putting all her strength into escaping, she wriggled, twisted and writhed against the hold tightening around her waist. A revelation came a second later. Combating him like this worked like quicksand to suck her down deeper into his tangled web, exhausting her resources as he drained her blood with deep, lapping suction.

  As if she’d fainted, she went limp.

  Seconds later she fell, taking the ancient one off guard. She landed on her left side with a painful slap, and the pain rocketed through her head, shoulders, hips and legs. A moan of anger and hurt parted her lips. Despite the pain, she couldn’t lie here and wait for him to finish her off. She struggled upright just as Ronan again stepped between her and the ancient one.

  Ronan didn’t take his gaze away from his mortal enemy as Clarissa struggled to her feet. She stood just to Ronan’s left side, her vision fuzzy through pain, weakness and smoke.

  Fighthimfighthimfighthim

  Nownownow, echoed in her head as the shadow people encouraged her.

  “Fight him together!” Ronan’s red-hued gaze clashed and tangled with hers and she knew he heard the shadow people, too.

  In that instant she saw infinite love in his eyes and it mixed with the resolve of a man who would go down fighting.

  Fight him together. Fight him now. Now. Now. The voices came from all around her and suddenly she saw Gilda, Tom, Jared, Micky, Erin and Lachlan lining up near her and Ronan. Sorley and Jim appeared just behind the ancient one and grabbed him by the arms.

  “Push him toward the fire!” Ronan directed them with a movement of his hands.

  Sorley shouted his command. “Together!”

  With a toss the vampires propelled the ancient one toward the fire raging behind the stage and climbing ever closer to their position. The old vampire growled deep in his throat as he stopped short of the conflagration.

  Perhaps, with the force of the darkest behind him, the ancient one could resist all their powers.

  The thought terrified Clarissa. Sharp and staggering the fear threatened to undetermined her courage.

  Before she could resurrect confidence, Sorley withdrew a long blade about the length and appearance of a cutlass, a contrivance that gleamed in the fire like silver. He rushed the old one and swung in an arch as if he meant to chop off the vampire’s head. Sorley screamed like a warrior as the blade swung around.

  The ancient one put up one hand and the blade stopped midair before it could reach him. With a loud, screeching laugh the ancient one flicked his wrist, Sorley went flying backwards and the cutlass clanged to the floor.

  Ronan pulled out his weapon and started to aim for the heart, but the ancient one motioned at the gun and it came away from Ronan’s hands and went airborne. Breathing deeply and seemingly unaffected by the smoke, the ancient one threw back his head and laughed.

  “You will all burn in here with me.” He pointed to Erin. “If I can’t have her, no other man will! The darkest commands it!”

  If they left now, ran to save their own lives, Clarissa knew the town was doomed. The ancient one would come back. Tears stung her eyes, smoke and terror and sadness mixing with the abrupt knowledge of what she must do.

  Sacrifice, she projected in her mind toward her friends. We must be willing to sacrifice everything to stop him.

  Without pause her friends took up the chant. Sacrifice. Sacrifice. Sacrifice.

  The shadow people filled her head.

  Sacrificetosaveall.

  Sacrificetosaveall.

  Sacrificetosaveyourselves.

  It was then she felt it, a strange stirring in her stomach. A blast of potency came from her solar plexus and washed outward like a shock wave as her hands pushed forward in a heaving motion.

  She had maybe two seconds to register the unqualified shock spreading over the ancient one’s face as her psychic force gathered up the silver blade. She motioned with her right hand to lift the blade and swung in a wide arc. With a single slicing motion the blade severed the old vampire’s head. With a motion of her left hand she pushed his head and body until it sailed backwards the last few feet necessary.

  To her horror, a shriek came from his disembodied head as he vanished into the consuming flames.

  Clarissa didn’t have time to rejoice or warn everyone to leave the building before it burned down around her ears. As Ronan turned toward her, only a few feet away, her vision started went black at the corners and her knees gave way.

  Ronan’s anguished cry was the last thing she heard. “Clarissa!”

  * * * * *

  Ronan thought his immortality would end and in that lonely instant he knew he would gladly give up his existence if only Clarissa would live.

  Clarissa’s face had gone paper-white as she collapsed and right away he felt her distress slice with razor-sharp pain. Unadulterated terror clutched his gut as he raced with supernatural speed toward the woman he loved. No time to assess her condition in this hellhole.

  He hauled Clarissa up in his arms and sped toward the nearest exit. As he burst through the door, everyone followed close on his heels.

  The wail of sirens filled his ears and the throng of noise and smoke, screams and shouts went across his hypersensitive nerves like a sharp object nailed into his head.

  Without waiting for medical assistance to find him, he ran into the surrounding woods with Clarissa in his arms. When he reached an area where no one could see, he realized his friends weren’t far behind.

  He sank to the ground with Clarissa wrapped in his arms and tears soaked his cheeks.

  “Clarissa, speak to me.” He leaned toward her and detected instantly something horribly wrong. “She’s barely breathing.”

  Few seconds went by but in those increments he suffered a thousand deaths. His woman had done everything she could to kill the ancient one and succeeded.

  She sacrificed her life for everyone else’s.

  Sorrow belted him and he gasped with the pain. He’d thought Fenella’s death had lacerated him to the quick, but nothing in his life mortal or immortal reached the purgatory he felt this minute. He cupped her soot-streaked face and saw the blood drying on her neck. No sign of life, her skin cold as the grave.

  Jared dropped down beside him. “I’ve got a little medical training. Let me see her.” He tested the pulse in her neck. “Extremely faint pulse.”

  A sob slipped from Micky’s throat. “The ancient one took too much blood. He’s killed her.”

  Lachlan reached them and put both his hands on either side of her head. He closed his eyes. “Ronan, concentrate with me and see if we can heal her.”

  Shocked out of his misery, Ronan closed his eyes and complied.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he heard Sorley gasp. “Help her.”

  “It’s not working,” Lachlan said a few moments later.

  Lachlan looked into Ronan’s eyes and there Ronan saw a question form in his old friend’s gaze. “You have to do it.”

  Silence passed, steady and growing. Ronan froze up. “No.”

  “You must,” Lachlan said, his ey
es blazing, his face stern. “We can’t get her to a doctor in time. She’s fading too fast. You have no choice.”

  “What?” Erin asked as tears streamed down her face. “What does he have to do?”

  “Ah hell,” Sorley said with a broken voice. “Bring her across. He has to bring her across.”

  Gilda groaned and put her hands over her eyes. Her voice came out hoarse and pained. “Make her a vampire?”

  Ronan hung his head. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

  “No, but do you want her with you?” Lachlan asked, his deep voice full of sympathy.

  “Of course I feckin’ want her with me,” he said through his teeth, tears flowing harder down his face as a sob left his throat. “I love her. I love her more than my own life.”

  Without another word he stood with her in his arms and looked at his devastated friends. “I’ll take her to a holy place where it will be pure.”

  He popped into invisibility and transported the woman in his arms to St. Bartholomew’s. It didn’t matter what type of holy place he went to, nor did religious affiliation. Vampires were made in many faiths and he had once been Catholic. It seemed only right to give her the light in his undead soul and the small cathedral’s cleansing power.

  He made sure no one lurked in the building before he proceeded with what he must do. He strode to an alcove which featured a large stained glass figure of Mary. A single bench stood in front of the window. Ronan sat down with Clarissa in his arms, and as her head flopped back on his cradling arm, he winced in mental pain. What he did next would break his heart, but if it succeeded it would also mend his torn soul.

  Without further hesitation he bit into the left side of her neck and drank. As her remaining blood came into his mouth he felt the last of her life drain away.

  Immediate and blinding ecstasy filled his head and temporarily obliterated his anguish. He’d forgotten the untainted bliss that came from draining a mortal of their life’s blood.

  As the pleasure mounted it flowed from his mind to his body, reaching his cock and making it fully engorged within seconds.

  Oh, feckin’ hell. Yes!

  As his cock grew tighter and harder he felt her go lax in his arms and knew she would now cross over. As he removed his teeth from her neck, he lapped at the wound and it closed. Ronan bent his head and nuzzled the very neck he’d ravaged. Then he allowed the sobs to come and the horror of what he’d done enfold him.