This Blackened Night

by L. K. Below

  The scar. Clutching his face. The vision had been about him, all along. He had been the trigger, not Terrence.

  Terrence made a choking sound, bringing Lori’s attention back to him. He was closer, too, but still out of arm’s reach. He’d frozen in place, a panicked expression contorting his face.

  Something pricked Lori’s exposed neck. Blood whooshed in her ears.

  Pierre said, “Move, cousin, and I’ll drain her while you watch.”

  Chapter 10

  Lori shifted, cautiously searching for her stake with the tip of her boot. Not that she knew what she would do with it once she found it. Unless she’d suddenly become a professional foot juggler, it was far out of reach.

  She was at Pierre’s mercy.

  “Let her go,” Terrence said. His voice was strained, though he’d schooled his expression into a facsimile of calm. The wild look in his eyes gave him away.

  “What will you give me in return?” Pierre’s voice was bored. Smug. He knew he had Terrence firmly in his grasp.

  Terrence didn’t answer. The tips of his fangs poked through the rigid line of his lips.

  “Seems I have you at a disadvantage,” Pierre taunted, “Do you have nothing to offer me worth the life of your ladylove?”

  “No,” Terrence gritted out. His eyes darkened as he clenched his fists. He looked about to lose his mind.

  Please don’t do anything stupid, Lori prayed. Bleeding was not among her favorite pastimes.

  Pierre laughed. “Then she must be mine, to do with as I will.”

  Try it, buddy, and I’ll carve my name into your balls with the heel of my boot.

  The vampire yanked her hair, forcing her head at an acutely uncomfortable angle to stare at the murky sky. She shifted on the balls of her feet, wincing. Would she be able to get in a good kick without needing to resort to a wig afterward?

  “Harm her, and I won’t stop until I’ve ripped you apart. Piece by piece.”

  Terrence’s voice stilled her efforts. Could that tone really have come from his throat? She’d seen him fierce in her defense before, but never as savage as this. His voice–if not the sentiment behind it–was almost inhuman. Would his expression be as feral? Maybe it was for the best that she couldn’t see.

  Pierre’s voice, when he answered, was mocking. “You would kill your own cousin? Really, Terrence, who are you kidding? You couldn’t control me years ago and you still can’t.” Pierre trailed his smooth, sweaty fingertips over Lori’s exposed throat. She shuddered in disgust and fought the urge to retch. “I can do anything I want to her.”

  Terrence didn’t answer. Pierre’s grip on her hair slackened as he bent over her neck.

  Lori snuck a glance at Terrence. He would save her, right? He would stop this. But Terrence stood frozen, hand in mid-air as if he wanted to reach out to her. Defeat clouded his eyes. He’d given up.

  She trembled. She couldn’t move without the vampire behind her stopping and killing her. Every other time she’d been in danger, Terrence had come to her rescue. Why not now? Didn’t he love her? Didn’t he want to fight for her? In seconds, she would be dead. If Pierre didn’t subject her to worse things first.

  She stomped on his foot. A feeble effort. He didn’t even twinge. Instead, he tightened his grip as if to punish her. She stared at Terrence, silently begging him to help. He fisted his hand, bringing it back to his side.

  Tendrils of black wafted from his form, growing with every passing second. Black with tinges of red. Her aura sight? She tried to banish it, but it only grew stronger.

  Something sharp grazed her skin, opening a shallow scratch. She choked on a cry. Begging wouldn’t help. Nothing would stop Pierre. She was helpless.

  Searing red assaulted her eyes, but it didn’t come from Terrence. Panic. Fear. Could it be hers? She tried to focus, to breathe. The tips of her fingers tingled. Every breath made the colors stronger. They bulged and bubbled before her eyes. A warm tongue licked a dribblet of blood from her neck. Hot, rank breath skimmed over her skin.

  Get away! She thrashed. Nothing but red and orange filled her eyes. Brightening, pulsing when she was unable to break free. Then, like too much static building up, it broke free.

  Her second sight collapsed as electrical light surged in the square. Arcing from streetlamp to streetlamp. Crackling. Then reaching the one above her head. Sparks bulleted down, stinging as they touched her skin.

  Pierre roared. He loosened her hair.

  She didn’t wait. She lunged forward, into Terrence’s waiting arms. He lifted her and raced down the street. Faster than she could comprehend. The rapid beat of a heart filled her ears. Did vampires have heartbeats? Or was it hers? Buildings blurred into a long stream as the seconds ticked by. Then Terrence ducked into the first building with lights on.

  The bar. Her head still spun as he lowered her to the ground. His hands roved over her shoulders and back. His thumb wiped away a bead of blood from her neck.

  She blinked against the light, waiting for the last few seconds to catch up with her. What had happened? Would Pierre find them here? She turned to Terrence. His expression was grim.

  “Are we safe here?” Her voice, little more than a whisper, should have been washed away by the rumble of patrons in the bar. Patrons who were now eying them curiously.

  Terrence shut his eyes as if in pain. Either they weren’t safe, or he didn’t know. Would a crowd of people stop Pierre if he happened to find them?

  Lori thrust aside the flutters of fear in her stomach and said, “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

  Let’s get off this damned island. But their work here wasn’t done. Pierre still had the Spenta Michos…didn’t he?

  “Give me a minute,” Terrence said in a curt voice. Now that she noticed, she realized he breathed hard. Maybe moving so fast was a challenge to him. They had covered half this decrepit town in little under a minute.

  She nodded.

  Come to think of it, a shot wouldn’t be amiss right now.

  She wobbled over to the bar. Her heart stopped trying to claw out of her chest, but she still jumped at every quick movement. Shakily, she lowered herself onto a chipped stool. “Scotch. Shot.”

  “Two,” Terrence said from behind. Lori’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced over her shoulder, just to make sure it was him and not Pierre. Terrence’s worried gaze met hers. He eased his hand onto her shoulder and she calmed somewhat.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before? About Pierre.”

  His fingers tightened. Releasing her, he reached for the shot glass. In one smooth motion, he gulped its contents. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Wrenching her gaze away, Lori did the same.

  The liquor burned down her throat, a welcome sensation. As she slapped the shot glass onto the counter, Terrence spoke.

  “You may deny it, but I know you think badly of me because of…what I am.” His voice was soft, barely distinguishable from the chatter filling the bar. “Pierre is everything that’s bad about vampires. I thought I could handle him without you ever finding out.”

  Lori studied him. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. She toyed with the empty shot glass, rolling it between her fingers. “You should have told me.”

  He glanced up. “Would you have believed me?”

  No.

  Terrence didn’t wait for an answer, but emptied his pockets of cash. He steered her out of the chair.

  “Come on.”

  He was right. She would feel safer when she could barricade herself behind a locked door.

  Terrence’s shoulders blocked the door leading outside as he peeked through. Lori tensed. Would Pierre be lying in wait for them? This time, she didn’t even have her stake–she’d left it behind in the square.

  Terrence exited first, pulling Lori along after him. She stumbled along the darkened streets, trusting his judgment as they weaved through alleys. They entered the motel hallway from the back and swiftly made their way to their rented room. Terrence yanked her inside and tw
isted the lock. He stood, breathing slowly, with his forehead resting against the wood.

  Lori reached out to touch his shoulder. Before her fingers made contact, he turned. The blues of his eyes shone like beacons as he looked her over.

  “Terrence, what–” are we going to do?

  The rest of her sentence was cut off when he pulled her roughly into his arms.

  She spat out the leather of his jacket.

  “God, Lori, I was so worried.” His cool fingers slid under her chin, urging it up to meet his mouth. His kisses were fervent and raw–not at all like the quick pecks he tended to steal from her. He opened his mouth, devouring her where she stood. He tasted like the scotch they’d shared earlier. His hands bracketed her face. With any other man, she’d be uncomfortable with such a blatant sign of possession. She reached up to cover one hand with hers.

  He broke the kiss. Tears shimmered in his eyes. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  Lori swallowed the clot in her throat. “I thought so too,” she said in a rasp.

  He backed her up, hands never leaving the sides of her face.

  She swallowed, seeing the intent in his eyes, the undeniable need. Her innards fluttered.

  Terrence urged her onto the bed, pausing to remove her boots. After shedding his jacket and shoes, he lowered his strong, six-foot-four frame onto hers.

  Their first, long-ago night together, only alcohol had lowered her inhibitions enough for her to realize what she wanted. Never before had she indulged a relationship longer than a one-night stand. If she did now, everything would change.

  She reached up to pull him close for a kiss.

  For the first time in her life, she craved that change.

  Chapter 11

  Lori softly closed the bathroom door behind her. After all the delightful things she and Terrence had just engaged in, she should feel relaxed. Satisfied. Instead, her stomach writhed like a pit of venomous snakes. Not because of what she’d done.

  It was a warning.

  Their battle with Pierre was far from over. Would she lose Terrence just after she’d finally let him in? Tears sprung to her eyes, but she blinked them away. These past six months had torn away almost everyone she cared for. She didn’t want to lose Terrence, too.

  She peered into the mirror. Her eyes were red, but hopefully not too noticeable. Knowing Terrence, he would mention it anyway. Should she confess about the warning her body sent her? Even the thought ratcheted the sensation higher. She gripped the cold, ceramic sink and fought the instinct to hurl. Something wasn’t right. It would happen soon. Was Terrence safe even now?

  The shower curtain rustled behind her. She turned.

  In a flash, Pierre stood toe-to-toe with her. His snarl pulled tight the gruesome, puckered scar on his face.

  Her gaze darted around the bathroom. How had he gotten in? The bathroom had no windows.

  She stumbled back, but the vanity blocked her path. “Terr–”

  Pierre closed his rough fingers around her neck, cutting off her scream. She gasped, trying to suck in air, but nothing came. Her lungs burned. Her vision grayed around the edges.

  She flailed, trying to kick him where it hurt. But clad in nothing but her underwear and Terrence’s t-shirt, her jab didn’t hold much punch. Her toes sent spirals of agony through her foot when they collided with Pierre’s shin. He didn’t even grunt. She kicked again, this time thumping her heel into the vanity. The pain was dull, like her eyesight.

  Don’t give up.

  Terrence knocked on the closed door. “Lori, are you all right in there?”

  No! Help! But she couldn’t get a sound out. She thrashed her foot against the vanity again, hoping the sound would alert him to her plight.

  Terrence slammed open the door, then froze in the opening.

  “You’d best let me pass, cousin. Any minute, she’ll die from lack of air.”

  The process had already begun. Her vision swam. Twin Terrences wavered in front of her eyes. She clawed at the hand at her throat, to no avail. Her throat and lungs were on fire. She was dying. Don’t give up.

  Terrence hesitated.

  Don’t do it, Terrence!

  He stepped aside.

  No!

  Her vision shrank. Blackened to a pinpoint, and then winked out.

  * * * *

  Lori’s throat throbbed like the dickens. She tried to swallow and nearly cried out from the resulting agony. What had happened?

  She pried her eyes open. Night shrouded the scenery, the only light given off by a lone streetlamp twenty feet away. Shadows elongated off her form to brush the figure of someone else. She was cold. Goosebumps rose over her bare legs and feet. Gritty pavement scraped against her skin as she shifted.

  The figure moved. Light sliced across his face, enough for her to recognize him. She gasped. The Spenta Michos! Gaunt and unshaven, with hollow cheeks and sunken, defeated eyes, but he was alive. With his dark skin and the dim light, she couldn’t tell if he was bruised, but he’d certainly been abused. He would need her help to escape.

  She tried to stand, but was yanked back to the ground. Something abrasive tightened around her wrists. She twisted to peer over her shoulder. Her wrists were tied with coarse rope, secured to a tall metal pole that looked to have been sawed off well above her head. Yoga and contortionism had never been her strong suit. She wouldn’t be able to slide the rope off.

  “Michael,” she rasped. Even that one word scraped her raw throat.

  The Spenta Michos glanced up, startled. She felt irreverent calling him by name, but what else could she do? He didn’t know about the Order dedicated to protecting him. He didn’t know his importance to them.

  She licked cracked lips and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here.”

  Wherever “here” was. From the intense fishy smell and the roar of the ocean, she seemed to be on a pier of some sort.

  “And how do you intend to do that?”

  Lori jumped at Pierre’s cold, amused voice. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. With the Spenta Michos in her sights, nothing could stop her from escaping. Pierre was just one more obstacle, she told herself.

  But maybe an insurmountable one.

  Keep him talking. She needed time to break free of her bindings.

  “I’m going to kill you, of course.” Never mind that she had no knife or stake.

  Discreetly, she felt along the rope for the knot. She hadn’t been particularly adept at freeing herself the last two times she’d been in this position, but now she was spurred on by the thought of saving the Spenta Michos. Somehow, that motivated her much more than only saving her own life.

  Plus, she knew what not to do now. Don’t tug on the rope and tighten the knot. Don’t rush or panic. Just continue talking while she worked herself free.

  The vampire smiled. In a sickening way, he reminded her of Terrence. The amused grin Terrence wore when he didn’t believe a word she said.

  Terrence. She would see him again, wouldn’t she? Her stomach lurched. Or had Pierre already done away with him?

  Pierre said, “And how do you plan to kill me?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. Her fingers found the knot. She slowly and painstakingly started searching for a groove to loosen.

  To distract him, she took a guess. She’d only seen bits and pieces of the past, but she had a hunch. “I’ll scar up the other side of your face with holy water.”

  He snarled. The light glinted off his long, sharp canine teeth. “Try it,” he threatened. He reached out to grip her chin.

  The burst of tender pain receded beneath the onslaught of a vision.

  * * * *

  Farmer-Lori, clad in a kerchief and long, shapeless woolen dress, exited from a barn. The metal latch shut behind her with a click. In her hands, she clutched a small vial.

  Holy water. Given Pierre’s violent reaction, it could be nothing else.

  Pierre stepped forward from the shadows near the barn wall. His eyes glinted in the
meager light.

  Farmer-Lori tensed, though she couldn’t possibly see his sinister expression. Deadly intent. Her mouth curled in distaste, while her thumb idly caressed the stopper of the bottle.

  “I said leave me be, Devil. I’ll have no part of your deceit.”

  Pierre loomed closer. As if sensing his approach, farmer-Lori turned.

  “I know you for the devil you are.”

  A cruel smile displayed the tips of Pierre’s fangs. A vampire, even then. “If you know me for what I am, then you must know you haven’t got a prayer.”

  “I am a God-fearing woman!”

  Pierre roughly grabbed farmer-Lori’s arms. “You must face the truth, my dear. You belong to me.” He smashed his mouth onto hers.

  Farmer-Lori gasped. Her eyes widened, filming over with white. Is that what I look like when I have a vision? Lori thought in disgust.

  Seconds later, farmer-Lori battled a few inches of distance between their bodies. The seal on the vial had disappeared. She tossed it into his face.

  Pierre howled. He stumbled back, clawing at his cheek. Lori couldn’t smell during the vision, only see and hear, but given the blackening flesh peeking through Pierre’s outspread fingers, she imagined it couldn’t smell pretty. His skin curled as if kissed by fire.

  Farmer-Lori didn’t budge. Her expression was as stony as pavement. “You will leave me and my family in peace. If you don’t, Devil, you will meet your end at the hands of my descendant.”

  * * * *

  Lori refocused on the present as Pierre thrust her to the ground. The gravel scratched her cheek, but she pushed away the pain. Her ancestor had had a vision. Could Lori be the descendent she’d spoken of?

  She glanced at the Spenta Michos. Bound and gagged, he couldn’t speak, but his eyes had turned wild.

  Lori glanced over her shoulder.

  Terrence approached with a silver stake in hand.

  Chapter 12

  “Cousin,” Pierre greeted. “Are you here to kill me like your pretty girlfriend threatens to?”