Ironic Sacrifice

by Brooklyn Ann

  The preacher swept the crowd with another odd look and opened his bible. Before the sermon began, the roar of motorcycles echoed through the cemetery. Thirteen men on Harley Davidson motorcycles drove slowly down the plowed drive and lined up along the graveside as close as they could go. In unison they nodded at the preacher to begin. It was more like a ZZ Top music video than a funeral, Jayden thought wildly as she fought to keep her mental shields in place.

  The preacher began and either the standard sermon was not like in the movies, or Silas had twisted some arms to make it extra meaningful and poignant. Jayden struggled to breath past the lump in her throat while simultaneously keeping her shields in place. The only tear-free face was Razvan’s, but even he looked overcome with grief.

  When the bible closed, the bikers revved their Harleys like a twenty-one gun salute. Cigarettes were lit, ghostly embers in the darkness. Akasha was surrounded by people offering condolences. She shook like a captive rabbit, and Jayden knew it wasn’t just because of the cold. She remembered her friend saying she didn’t like crowds. The shivering group dispersed quickly with promises to meet at the bar.

  The oldest biker, a tall slim man with a white beard and an aura of command stepped off of a bike that probably cost as much as a sports car. “Which one of you is Akasha Hope and which one is Razvan Nicolae?” His voice was deep and booming.

  Akasha approached them and lifted the hood of her heavy coat. Razvan followed behind, lighting his pipe.

  The biker laughed, a rich bass sound. “You’re exactly how Max described you, girl.” Without warning, he wrapped Akasha in a bear hug and lifted her from the ground.

  When he set her down, he turned her to face the other twelve bikers. “This is Akasha, the adopted daughter and business partner Max was always rambling about.”

  They greeted Akasha like long-lost relatives, embracing her and kissing her on the cheek. Jayden watched with a smile, touched by their warmth. From her practice sessions with Max, she recognized nearly half the bikers from his memories. She also knew that he’d vowed never to ride again after his wife had been killed in a motorcycle accident. The leather jacket Akasha wore in the fall had belonged to Max’s love.

  The leader cleared his throat and turned to Razvan as if noticing him for the first time. “And you’re the man Max deemed worthy of his Harley?” His voice was laced with skepticism as he took in the vampire’s urbane looks.

  Razvan drew deep on his pipe, blew out a cloud of smoke and regarded the aging biker with a sinister gaze. “It would appear to be so.” His accent was thicker than normal.

  Jayden realized that he was nervous. Silas watched the drama with an amused smile.

  The biker held out a leather gloved hand. “I’m Rusty. Max didn’t tell me much about you.”

  Razvan shook his hand. “Razvan Nicolae. I am a friend of Akasha’s husband.” He nodded in Silas’s direction. “I am quite surprised at Max’s gift to me, though I am honored.”

  Rusty smiled. “Max said you didn’t know how to drive. Why is that? Too accustomed to having a chauffeur?” he asked, though not unkindly.

  The vampire chuckled. “Something like that.”

  “Can we go now?” Akasha said through chattering teeth. “I’m freezing my ass off and I need a beer.” She turned to Rusty. “You guys are invited to the wake, of course.”

  “Sounds good to us,” Rusty said. “We just gotta load up our bikes. The roads were too damn icy. We can show Razvan his new ride as well.”

  Two RVs with trailers were parked in front of the cemetery gates. Silas introduced himself while the bikes were loaded up. Then Razvan’s motorcycle was revealed. It was beautiful, sleek and black with flames carefully airbrushed on the gas tank.

  “There she is,” Rusty said. “1976 Harley Davidson Ironhead XLH. You’d better take good care of her, Nicolae.”

  “She is beautiful,” Razvan said reverently.

  The Powder River was packed with mourners and Akasha was offered more beer than even she could drink. The pool table was covered with a cloth and food was served. Everyone’s love for Max was displayed with the telling of countless stories while his favorite songs were played on the jukebox. A dart tournament was played in his honor with the proceeds going to the college’s motorcycle repair program.

  Jayden stayed as long as she could, but eventually the smoke and noise gave her a splitting headache. She tapped Razvan on the shoulder to ask if they could leave. Before he could reply, Akasha yelled, “Turn the jukebox down!”

  The bartender complied with a confused frown and the bar noise died down to a hush. Everyone looked at Akasha as if she’d lost her mind. Akasha didn’t notice. She watched the TV with a look of horror growing on her face.

  “The famous heavy metal band, Rage of Angels has disappeared,” a news reporter said as photos of the band were shown on the screen.

  Akasha gasped and Silas’s gaze jerked towards her, his green eyes filled with obvious terror that his wife would go into another rage. Akasha guzzled her beer and slammed the empty glass on the bar before grabbing Silas’s beer and doing the same.

  The screen returned back to the news anchor. “They were set to perform a charity concert at the Seattle Center Coliseum last night as a sort of preview to their upcoming tour of their new album, The Roses are Bleeding. The group was last seen together in their home in Bellevue on the third. Their agent, Todd Williams, was the first to notify police when drummer Aurora Lee failed to appear for a commercial shoot for Sketchers Shoe Co.”

  Jayden glanced worriedly at Akasha, who had just seized her wineglass and sucked it down as if it were water.

  The report continued. “Investigations of their home show no signs of forced entry. Anyone with information leading to locating any of the four are encouraged to call our tip line. Alan Winters is on the scene speaking with Dominic Slade, owner of Seattle’s famous club, The Mortuary, and longtime friend to the group.”

  The screen changed to show a posh bar with a prominent Goth theme. Another reporter sat awkwardly at a crimson table as far away as he could be from the man he was interviewing. Jayden couldn’t blame him. The owner of The Mortuary was an imposing figure. His tall lanky form stretched out at the table. His ears and face were covered in piercings, and his dark purple, well it wasn’t quite a Mohawk…was at least six inches tall. There was something familiar about his dark grey eyes.

  “When did you last see any of the members of Rage of Angels,” the reporter asked, nearly hyper extending his arm to reach the club owner with the microphone.

  Dominic’s voice was stiff and formal despite the lines of worry in the corners of his eyes. “It was the Friday after Thanksgiving. They played a show. They were supposed to do another one a week and a half from now, on the twenty-first.”

  “Did any of them give a sign that anything was out of the ordinary?” the reporter demanded eagerly. “Did they mention they had a trip planned?”

  For a moment Dominic looked like he was about to say something but then he shook his head. The reporter’s face fell and he visibly struggled to focus on his next question.

  Silas cursed under his breath. “I better call him.”

  Jayden realized what was “familiar” about Dominic. He was a vampire. She choked on a hysterical giggle. Perfectly fitting for the owner of a Goth club, albeit a little redundant.

  The screen flicked back to the station anchor and she flashed their tip line phone number once more before launching into the next story without taking a breath. Everyone in the bar began speaking at once. Everyone except for Akasha. Her face was as white as the falling snow outside and she had a look about her indicating that she didn’t quite know where she was.

  Jayden’s heart clenched in sympathy. It wasn’t fair. After what just happened, now Akasha had to deal with this? Silas seemed to notice his wife’s condition and picked her up off her barstool as he fielded questions. Akasha went without a protest.

  “We don’t know what happened,” Sila
s said firmly to the crowd. “All I know is that I must get my wife home.”

  Razvan took Jayden’s arm and they followed Silas out the door. Rusty and his biker gang trailed behind. Jayden had forgotten about them and Razvan’s bike.

  When Silas had Akasha settled in the car, he gave Rusty directions to his home and offered to let them stay the night. The bikers declined, having already reserved an RV park for the night.

  Akasha didn’t say a word the whole way home. When they arrived, she shambled into the house like a zombie and headed straight to the kitchen to get another beer.

  Silas looked like he longed to stop her. Jayden was helpless to do anything to help either. Razvan was outside helping Rusty and his gang with unloading his new Harley.

  When Akasha settled on the couch and reached for the TV remote, Silas found his voice. “They’re not dead, Akasha.”

  Her head swiveled like a rusty hinge to meet his gaze. “What?”

  “I said that they are not dead. But they are very far away from here, farther than I’ve ever sensed.”

  He turned to Jayden and explained. “Since I Marked them, I would feel it if any of them were killed, or even hurt.”

  To their relief, a little color returned to Akasha’s face.

  “That’s good,” she murmured, and began to flip through channels aimlessly.

  Silas’s eyes began to glow. He stalked towards his wife, suddenly looking terrifyingly dangerous.

  Jayden froze to the spot praying that he wasn’t about to do something terrible.

  Akasha looked up at him. “What?” she slurred.

  “I am sorry, my love, but I must do this,” he said roughly.

  In a blur of speed his arms locked around his wife and his fangs sunk into her neck.

  A scream tore from Jayden’s throat and she ran out of the room, heart pounding in her ears.

  Razvan came in just then and caught her by the waist. “What is happening?” he demanded.

  “Silas is attacking Akasha!” she gasped, unable to believe her words.

  Had the entire world gone insane?

  Razvan blinked at her panic stricken face and made for the living room. Jayden took a deep breath and followed him, even as her instincts shrieked at her to get away.

  Silas sat on the couch, holding Akasha in his arms. The savage predator seemed to have vanished, leaving in its place the usual devoted husband.

  “I thought she may have been close to alcohol poisoning,” he said grimly. “I had to take some of it from her. I am sorry I frightened you, Jayden.”

  “Um, that’s okay,” she said lamely, still shaken from his actions.

  “Would you please go get a glass of water for when she comes to?” he asked with his usual politeness.

  Jayden nodded and rushed off to the kitchen, eager to escape the vampires long enough for her pulse to return to normal.

  By the time she returned, and her heart had stopped pounding, Akasha was conscious. She reached eagerly for the water and guzzled the entire glass down in seconds. Unfortunately, it looked ready to come back up.

  When Akasha bolted to the bathroom, one hand over her mouth, Silas moved to follow her, but Jayden stopped him.

  “I’ll take care of her,” she told him firmly.

  She didn’t relish the thought of holding her friend’s hair for the next few hours, but some sights were not meant for one’s man to see. Jayden only hoped that if their positions were reversed, Akasha would do the same for her.

  ***

  Razvan looked on as Silas put his face in his hands.

  “I don’t know what to do about her,” he moaned. “She’s suffered so much. First Max dies, and now her best friends vanish. I want to comfort her, but nothing seems to work. She’s drawing further away from me every day. We haven’t made love in nearly a month.”

  The confession seemed to suck the life out of Silas and he slumped at his desk.

  Razvan patted his friend’s shoulder awkwardly. In the department of comfort, he didn’t think he’d do any better. “You are doing your best. And Jayden seems to be helping her quite a bit.”

  His heart warmed as he thought of Jayden’s concern for a woman she only met recently. It was hard to believe anyone could be so kind, and even more unfathomable given all the other things Jayden had to worry about…things that were his fault.

  He changed the subject in hopes of easing Silas’s mind.

  “Do you have any idea where Xochitl and the others went?” he asked carefully, more in hopes of detracting Silas from his pain than care for the band. Razvan adored Rage of Angels, but in the face of Jayden and Akasha’s plight, they could go to the devil.

  The vampire sighed. “I called Dominic while you were unloading your motorcycle.”

  “And?” Razvan couldn’t keep the admiration from his voice. Silas’s ability to think and act under stress never ceased to amaze him.

  “He said that Xochitl disappeared once before, on Halloween to be exact,” Silas said, irritation and worry creeping into his tone.

  Razvan blinked. “Why didn’t he report the incident to you when it happened?”

  Silas sighed in abject irritation. “He wanted to, but the Lord of Seattle dissuaded him because she returned a few days later. He didn’t want to cause an unnecessary uproar.” He leaned forward. “Here is what is interesting. The last few times she was seen, it appeared that she had a new boyfriend.”

  “What’s so interesting about that?” Razvan asked. “It is about time, in my opinion, though I cannot fathom a man that could keep up with her.”

  “Dominic said that there was something very odd about him. Nothing could be read from him, and he smelled like power and unfamiliar things.” At Razvan’s perplexed look, he added, “Dominic couldn’t explain what he meant, but he sounded really unnerved by the gentleman. I wish his lord would have let him call, although I wouldn’t be surprised if he has more of an inkling as to what is going on than he cares to reveal.”

  There was a long silence as Razvan loaded his pipe and took a deep draw before regarding Silas intently. “But what do you think of the whole picture? Are they safe? Will they return?”

  Silas sighed. “They are safe and they will return. And when they do, their priorities will no longer be solely revolved around making music. Any more than that, I do not know. Although,” he rose and fetched his Scotch from the sideboard, “I believe this incident may be why Delgarias has suddenly turned up missing again.”

  Razvan raised a brow. “You think he is involved?”

  The Lord of Coeur d’Alene nodded and smiled thinly. “Up to his neck.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Selena let out another infuriated shriek as she tore through the closet. The signed Rage of Angels tee-shirt had to be in the there somewhere! What if it was the artifact with the most power, what if she couldn’t find them without it?

  Behind her, Rage of Angels memorabilia was piled on the table, surrounded by burning candles like some sort of shrine to heavy metal. She would touch each item in turn while working herself into a trance in which she hoped to see where the musicians had disappeared to. But this last tee shirt, which could hold the most of their essence being that all four had touched it, might be the key.

  In a panic she began tearing everything out of the closet. Dresses, scarves and hats flew over her shoulder as a rhythmic mewling sound escaped her lips. By the time the area was empty but for a single coat hanger, she was panting and quivering in impotent rage. Someone must have stolen it.

  She surged forward to round up her followers and discover the thief, to punish them like she’d never punished anyone before. Then she stopped and cocked her head to the side in girlish confusion, suddenly remembering what she did with the shirt. Her hand crept up to grasp and tug on a lock of hair. The pain helped clear her mind a little more.

  That shirt, as well as another had been worn by the two members of her flock she sent to the Rage of Angels concert in October. The two that had fail
ed in their mission and gotten themselves killed by Razvan. She pulled harder on her hair. A hank of hair came free and she dropped it to the floor indifferently, touching a finger to the bleeding wound on her scalp.

  Had Razvan killed them? Or had they run away? They were not the first of her followers to disappear. Selena had assumed that Silas and Razvan had been killing them off…until now. Could it be that her flock was abandoning her? Or even worse, were they now plotting against her? Her eyes darted back and forth searching for threats in every corner of the room as her fingers crept back up to her scalp to pull at her hair once more.

  ***

  The next evening, the household of Silas McNaught awoke to discover five reporters camped out on their door step. Razvan and Silas had to sneak out the back door to get their first meal of the evening while Akasha and Jayden remained hidden in the house.

  “This is bullshit,” Akasha said for the tenth time. “Why don’t they get the hint and leave us alone?”

  “It’s against the holy code of the press,” Jayden quipped half-heartedly as she stirred a pot of beef stew for their dinner.

  “Well, they need to leave soon. I’m almost out of beer,” Akasha grumbled as she lit another cigarette.

  Jayden frowned. “Don’t you think you should cut back on the drinking?”

  Purple eyes narrowed on her. “Who do you think you are, my mother?”

  Jayden sighed and ladled the stew into a bowl. “At least eat something first before you tackle the media in your quest for alcohol.”

  Akasha rolled her eyes at her, but at least she obeyed and ate two bowls of stew.

  The reporters followed them on their beer run. The stress of being tailed was so much that Jayden picked up a small bottle of wine for herself.

  They spent the evening cloistered in the living room, drinking and darting annoyed glances at the reporters’ attempts to peek in the windows. Akasha didn’t mention a word about the disappearance of her friends and Jayden left her to her silence.

  The next afternoon, disaster struck. Silas had scheduled a contractor to assess the damage to the dining room. As Jayden opened the door to let him in, the reporters, joined now by the paparazzi, forced their way in.