Spinetinglers Anthology 2008

by Nolene-Patricia Dougan

  Along the way, the bacterial and animal activity precipitated some changes of viewpoint.

  For about a month, his head had hung back off his shoulders, and he had stared at a four-by-four-foot-square of low cellar ceiling. It was spectacularly uninteresting.

  Then, the loss of flesh from his abdomen and some random rat jostlings brought his skull pitching forward again, to more or less the same position as before. Well, at least it had been a change of scene.

  Gradually, the animal visits tailed off; ceased. There was nothing left to eat. Rackham knew that his brain had gone. That is to say, the organ within his skull was no more. His mind remained undimmed, a puzzle for philosophers.

  He had spent some time – some great, immeasurable amount of time, time being the one commodity he was infinitely rich in now. He hopped to detect some sign that the distillate was, if not restoring him, then at least slackening its grip. If was the case he might at least look forward to a future, no matter how distant, when he could slide at last into the blissful peace of oblivion. But, there was no such sign.

  Had he been a believer, he might have considered himself damned. But Rackham did not believe.

  More time passed.

  One morning, or afternoon, maybe a year, maybe a decade later, a new thought occurred to him. A metaphysical experiment.

  It went against everything he felt to be true, and Rackham sensed, in some terrible, final way, that it marked the beginning of an awful decline to ultimate humiliation. But, at least it was something new to think about.

  He concentrated on the mental picture of the necessary words, steeling himself.

  Two rats sat squabbling on the skeleton’s shoulders. One lunged at the other. It skittered for the high ground of Rackham’s skull, jumped on it, then squealed in alarm, scurrying back, as the skull pitched backward off the spinal column, bouncing and rolling onto the dusty cellar floor.

  For an instant this cart-wheeling view brought a lurch of remembered nausea to Rackham’s mind. His world was now inverted, his skull rocking on its crown, close by the cellar steps. He fought for focus. The words formed.

  “Okay, enough. I repent. All the murders, all the pain. All of it. Do you hear me? I... repent... it... all!”

  He screamed the words inside his skull-again. To his own surprise, he found he meant them, truly. He waited, and...

  Nothing happened.

  Dust motes danced randomly in a shaft of sunlight. The skull inverted, rocked, slowed, and was still.

  The mind within remained sane, and aware.

  And undying.

  Crimson Candles

  by Natasha Oliver

  Prologue

  It’s been seven years since I’ve been home, and still I remember it like it was yesterday. That’s the funny thing about running from the past; it’s great at keeping up.

  To make matters worse, it’s Christmas. So you know what that means, an insane amount of good tidings for all.

  Yes, Vampyres celebrate Christmas as well, just not for the same reasons. We have long since given up on believing in a prophet who would return to save us. No, we’re a more cynical lot. We prefer to believe that the higher power is a couch potato, and your life is the equivalent of Thursday night television.

  I wouldn’t be going home at all, if it wasn’t for the summons. When you receive a letter with the Queen Matriarch’s personal seal, you come crawling. Even if that Queen Matriarch is your mother and the reason you were exiled in the first place.

  Yes, that makes me a Princess and next in line for the throne, but I won’t be taking it. I enjoy my life as second in command at the Special Ops Division of the Enforcement Group. It’s my job to locate and bring in Strays, who might risk exposure to the Coven. Okay, well technically, I’ve never actually brought in a stray per se; more like just ensured that the secrecy of the Coven was upheld.

  A car breaking in front of me turns my attention back to the road. Without signalling, I switch lanes and squeeze between two cars to make the exit ramp. A driver blares his horn at me, but I know he will do little else, so I ignore him. I was still another three hours from home and all animals, regardless of the species, require a pit-stop every now and again.

  Despite the hour, it’s busy—probably with holiday well-wishers on their way to visit family and friends. It’s one of those rest stops with fast-food chains, as well as a sit-down restaurant, all in one large building. I take the first park I see. It’s a bit of a walk, but I don’t mind. After spending hours in my Honda HSC, I need to stretch my legs.

  I don’t worry about safety—I’ve got the Queen’s blood running through my veins. Now, don’t get carried away, I’m not invincible. Another Fang could kill me, but in my defence, he’d find it damn hard, given my training. A Lypus could do the job, but our two species haven’t warred for over a hundred years. Actually, we’re starting to operate pretty closely, as we keep a wrap on our existence, so as not to unnerve the delicate sensibilities of Homo sapiens.

  Of course, if the Apes collectively knew of our existence, there would be an all- out species war, and the only way we Fangs would stand a chance, would be with the help of the Lypus. Our weakness, as I’m sure you’re aware, is sunlight. And, the Lypus? Let’s just say they aren’t winning any intellectual awards. It’s the inbreeding.

  “Hey.”

  I hear someone calling from behind. I turn around, and there is a six-foot-two Ape approaching. He’s dressed as most of his kind would be: blue jeans, white T-shirt with some sickening logo, covered up by a red-and-blue chequered jacket. His arms are solid bricks and his head is bald, giving his look an edge.

  “You almost ran me off the road back there,” he says, grabbing my arm.

  I can hear his heart beating. Our near-accident scared him—good.

  I look down at his hand, and after a few tense seconds, he let go. I give him one of my more unimpressed looks. Unfortunately, I have to look up, so it loses most of its effect. I’m not short, mind you, I’m five-foot-six and a half and built like a runner, but he’s much taller.

  He snorts at my bravado and crosses his arms over his massive chest, stretching his jacket to the max and invading my personal space.

  Now, I have two options. I can bare my fangs, reach over and rip out his tree-trunk-like throat, or I can apologize, admit that I was wrong, and walk away like a good little Princess.

  I went for option three: “Step off,” I said, poking him in the chest and regaining some of my space.

  It’s not that I’m in the mood for a fight; it’s just that I have been driving for hours. Sure I could’ve flown, but cramped spaces with so many Apes, that’s just asking for disaster. First lesson in interspecies relations: Apes, Fangs, and Lypus don’t do enclosed spaces well.

  No, I just need to stretch my muscles—that’s all—I swear.

  “You silly bi—” he says, as he bats away my hand.

  Now, there’s the beginning of a word that just gets under my skin. Sure, I might have unintentionally cut him off in my haste, but let’s not resort to name-calling. That’s just juvenile.

  Without a second thought for those who could be watching, I step back, and in one fluid motion, connect my fist with his blockhead. I can tell by the blank look forming in his eyes that he wasn’t sure what happened. He blinks once, before his brain sends the message for a complete system shutdown, and I watch as his legs buckle, and gravity becomes the stronger force.

  For a tense second, I hold my breath, as he crumbles to the ground. Luckily, he misses my car by inches, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Don’t worry, he’s not dead. I can still hear him breathing as I walk off.

  A collective gasp draws my attention back to my surroundings. A handful of bystanders witnessed the encounter. I ignore them, and continue to my highway oasis. If I’m lucky, I have just over four hours before sunrise, so I don’t have time for diversions.

  The wind picks up, and I can smell snow in the air as I step onto the curb. A woman takes a cau
tious step back. I can sense her fear and confusion. It stinks.

  I give her my nicest smile (fangs and all) and shrug my shoulders. “Merry Christmas,” I say, as I walk by.

  Chapter 1

  My drive took an hour longer than expected because of the snow. It covered the roads, practically bringing everything to a halt. I was forced to drive on the shoulder to avoid most of the traffic, if I was going to make it home before sunrise. By the time I arrived at Black Raven, my muscles were taut and my nerves were on edge. I spent the entire drive running through the possible reasons why I had been summoned home.

  As I approached, an electronic image-reader identified my plates, and the gates swung open. I stared down the dark, narrow lane that led to the main house and slowly pressed my foot on the break.

  I hadn’t wanted to come back. My mother’s invitation hadn’t given any clues as to why I needed to return. The last time we spoke, she made it quite clear how disappointed she was and had kept our goodbye brief; there were no promises to keep in touch.

  I wasn’t sure if it was my gut or my fear telling me to turn around, but I had a feeling that once I stepped into Black Raven, the safe cocoon-like life I had built for myself would be over.

  When I last left this place I was filled with hatred and pain and vowed never to come back. For seven years, I kept my word, but sitting here at the gate was forcing me to relive those moments. And, despite the years that had gone by, I realized that all my wounds had not healed.

  A gust of wind shook the trees overheard, raining down heavy clumps of snow on the windshield, bringing me back to the present. I jumped and then laughed at myself. Well, I was here now, so it made no sense to turn around. I released the breaks, put the gear in first, and started up the windy road. I decided to let go of my trepidation, as memories of speeding up to the main house flooded my mind. I smiled and pressed more firmly on the gas, as I let nostalgia guide me.

  Everything would be okay. I wasn’t the same woman who left, and I was much more capable of taking care of myself.

  A few minutes later, when the house came into view, I slammed on the brakes. The wheels locked and the back of the car fishtailed to the right, but I didn’t notice. I felt my throat tighten, as the reason for my mother’s summons became clear.

  Black Raven estate was just over an hour northwest of New York City. It was our largest American property and sat on two hundred acres. The last time I saw its lawn covered in crimson candles was twenty years ago, when we were holding a Condolence Ceremony, and it was the first time I noticed the change in my mother.

  I squeezed my eyes shut to chase back the images, but the memories surrounding my departure were playing too loudly in my head to be silenced. It was the Queen’s recommendation that I join the Special Ops Division. Her brother, Bishop, was the Overseer, and would train me. In other words, he’d keep me out of any more trouble.

  There was a soft tap on my window, and I jumped at the interruption. My fangs grew to full length, and a deep hiss escaped my throat. A Lesser had walked across the lawn and was standing by the side of the car, while he waited for me to make a move. I could see the sympathy on his face, and that made my heart beat even faster.

  I heard the release of the latch and felt the blast of air, as my door opened. I turned off the ignition and slowly climbed out. I was mesmerized by the flickering flames that reflected off the snow, as I walked numbly between the rows of red candles.

  The scent of fear was drowning out all my other senses, and I stumbled up the first step. I pushed past another Lesser, who opened the door for me, and made my way inside. I knew I should have gone to my room to shower and change before I joined the Ceremony. I was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and thick black sweater—definitely inappropriate attire—but my legs led me down the hall toward the grand ballroom.

  Old sights and smells filled my senses, as I sniffed the air. At first, the scent of burning wax filled my nostrils, but when I inhaled next, I caught a whiff of my mother’s perfume. Instinctively, I closed my eyes and let my nose tell me what I was too afraid to see.

  Blood. It was ceremonial blood, fresh because someone had fallen. There were Brethren here. That realization hit me and brought my legs to a standstill. My eyes flew open, and I could taste my own fear as it permeated around me, filling the hallway.

  I heard my name called from somewhere behind me, but it sounded too far away to break into my consciousness. A hand touched my shoulder, and I flinched.

  “Princess Keira,” Jarvus said to me. “Shall I prepare a shower for you, before you grace the Ceremony?”

  I was about to reply when the faint scent of the one I was looking for caught my attention. I stumbled, as my body responded. It had been years since I last tasted his blood, and yet...

  Jarvus reached out to steady me. “Princess—”

  “Keira, we’ve been waiting for you. What took you so long?” my younger sister, Lynette, asked, as she ran up and squeezed my hand. I searched her face for an answer, before I realized that I didn’t know her well enough to read her expressions. I had been gone too long.

  I watched as she wrinkled her nose at me. “You need to shower,” she said, and gave instructions to Jarvus for my bath.

  A breeze blew through the hall, flickering the flames as it carried his scent to me. I didn’t realize that I was running until it was too late. Lynette called out, but I could barely hear her above the sounds of my heart racing. I reached the ballroom doors and pushed them open. I stood at the threshold and watched, as a row of silence made its way across the room.

  My body was shaking, as I used all my senses to search the crowd. I quickly dismissed the women dressed in crimson-coloured silk evening gowns and the men with their matching suits. I could not hear what they were whispering about me, but the murmurs soon died, and the crowd parted to let a woman through.

  It was his mother and she was dressed in white. Her eyes were red and her face was unnaturally pale. She smiled at me, as a tear ran down her cheek, and my stomach clenched.

  I felt my sister’s hand, as the crowd began to whisper again, and I could hear my mother ask what was going on. I searched for him one last time, and that’s when I finally exhaled. He was making his way toward me. I quickly inhaled to confirm what my eyes showed me.

  My sister gave my arm a slight tug, but I couldn’t look away from him. His scent was growing stronger as he approached, and my lips were just turning into a smile, when a woman stepped out from the crowd to stop his advance.

  Everything in the room froze, as I watched the woman take his hand and pull him to her side. Lynette’s hand tightened around mine. “Keira, I’m sorry, but Connor’s brother Jayson has fallen.”

  My mind struggled to process what my younger sister said, as I watched the silence in the room stretch, while everyone waited to see my reaction.

  “How?” I finally asked.

  “He was murdered,” Connor answered. Those were the first words he had spoken to me in seven years. I could see the pain on his face, and it was Lynette’s firm grip that stopped me from going to him.

  It’s funny that at that moment, I remembered the man from the rest stop. He hadn’t seen it coming, and neither had I. Connor and I never thought about the repercussions of our relationship. We both knew that it was forbidden for Vampyres and Brethren to have intimate associations, but we believed that our love would make everything all right.

  They had come for me in the middle of the day and pumped me full of chemicals that left me incapacitated. I was certain that if the drugs they were forcing into me weren’t going to kill me, the regular beatings would have.

  “We’ve vowed to find those responsible,” a familiar voice called out, and I felt the first sense of peace settle inside me since receiving my mother’s summons.

  It was Thierry, my older brother, and seeing him had eased some of the fear. He was dressed in a white suit, signalling his role in the ceremony, and his loss. Jayson was his Brethren.
r />   For thousands of centuries, they have been with us, at first protecting us in the day, then becoming one of us, despite our genetic differences. They were the humans who sided with us during the first species war. We had wanted peace, but the Lypus were ruled by their instincts to fight, and the Apes and the Warlochs wanted total domination. In the end, the Apes outnumbered all of us, so we were forced to scatter and go underground. The only ones who were any real threat to the humans were the Warlochs, but it’s been long said that their race had become extinct.

  I cleared my throat. “Count me in.”

  Thierry held my gaze for a moment, and we were both remembering the state I was in, when he broke me out of the Enforcement Camp seven years ago. It took him three days to nurse me back to coherency. Now, he was silently asking me if I was okay.

  I raised an eyebrow in response, and a slow grin spread across his face. From the time I was able to walk, Thierry and I were always getting in some sort of trouble together.

  I heard my mother making her way toward me and when our eyes met, for a second, I thought I caught a glimpse of sympathy, but it was quickly replaced by the usual look of embarrassment and disappointment.

  “Princess, your quarters are ready,” Jarvus whispered from behind me. I nodded in response and bowed to my mother before she could reach me. As I left the ballroom, I could feel my heart beat slowing to normal, and the anger that guided me through the past seven years was returning.

  I blocked out my mother’s voice, as I followed Jarvus and Lynette to my room. Connor was alive, and that’s all that mattered. The fear that consumed me when I first arrived was gone. He looked different I thought, as an image of him formed in my mind. His eyes looked older and selfishly, I hoped it was because of me. After Thierry nursed me back to health, he told me that Connor had also been given two options. He could join the Enforcement Group in northern Russia, or he could marry a member of another Brethren royal family.