“And I don’t have a choice? I’m not really much of a BBQ person…”
Bishop shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Riah’s fate is a lesson for all děti z krve, and you will watch.”
Great.
* * *
The sky was just beginning to lighten as the cars pulled down JFK’s main runway, and the airport looked deserted.
I don’t know what kind of strings Bishop pulled to get us access, but the men who had pulled the gates aside and waved us through hadn’t seemed surprised to see us.
Three black limousines crept down the tarmac. Riah was in the car ahead. Meridian in the car behind. Bishop’s limo brought up the rear, there was no way to avoid what was about to happen. It seemed like an unspoken thing that if Meridian’s car peeled away, the fate of everyone in it was sealed. No matter how thick their Laudan blood was.
I’d never been in the back of a limousine before, but it wasn’t as comfortable as I’d been led to believe. But it might have been the company. Bishop had two new goons to act as his protection. One was in the driver’s seat, the other sat across from me. He’d been staring at me intently since we left Spiral, and it was starting to piss me off.
“Don’t mind Argent,” Bishop said conversationally. “He doesn’t trust děti,” he smiled thinly, “or musicians.”
“Lucky me.”
The car ahead of us slowed to a stop. Meridian emerged from the back seat, the wind whipped his long pale hair out behind him as he squinted at the red sky.
“Appropriate,” Bishop murmured, his eyes on the clouds.
Argent pushed me out of the car with a grunt just as Riah was thrown to the tarmac. Bishop was standing at the edge of the tarmac, supervising Meridian as he tied ropes to the metal rings that had been sunk into the asphalt.
What the fuck were those doing there?
“You can’t believe that this is the first time we’ve had to stamp out a děti rebellion.” Bishop’s voice echoed in my head and I looked up in alarm. He was focused on Meridian, and didn’t look at me. I guess that was my cue to pretend nothing was happening.
Riah was forced to her knees between the metal rings, and her wrists secured with ropes that she could have broken… but from the look of her, she wasn’t going anywhere.
The brazen beauty who had draped herself over Meridian and stalked in front of the Blood Outlaws like some kind of undead queen was defeated. Though the wounds had healed, her face and hair were crusted with dried blood and her clothing was stiff with it. The wind that blew through Meridian’s hair tugged at hers too, and I wondered if he was saying anything to her while their heads were close. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate, but if anything was said, the wind pulled it away before I could hear it.
I hope he fucking apologized.
Bishop turned to look at me suddenly. Shit. Not again.
I looked up at the clouds, trying to fill my mind with their image. The sky was lighter now, the sun almost rising.
“Riah, dati na sunce is not a punishment granted lightly. It is the will of the Caedyr.” Meridian’s expression was unreadable, but I heard Riah moan softly as he turned and walked away.
“Into the car, Mr. Maddern. The sun is rising.” Bishop strode past me and ducked into the waiting limousine. The new goon who didn’t like musicians shoved me in the direction of the car. Meridian glanced at me as he got into the back seat of his own limousine and slammed the door shut.
Was he smiling? That piece of shit.
“Maddern, get in the car,” Church barked at me from across the tarmac before he got into the lead car.
“But the sun…” Sunlight comes through car windows… we were all—
I was yanked unceremoniously into the backseat of the limousine and Argent slammed the door shut behind me.
“Tinted windows, Mr. Maddern. We aren’t stupid.” A smile flickered over Bishop’s lips as he slid on a pair of dark sunglasses and looked out the window. “Watch,” he commanded.
I squinted my eyes against the rising sun and did as I was instructed. The boiling red sun rose above the horizon and spilled over the grass and tarmac until it reached Riah.
I could hear her screams before the light hit her.
I should have looked away, or closed my eyes, but Bishop would have known. So I had to watch as the sunlight crept up her bare legs, scorching her skin, burning it down to the bone. I’d only been out in the waning daylight for a few seconds, but Riah was held in place, and though she could have broken her bonds and run for shelter, she never would have escaped in time.
The flesh on her thighs crisped, and I could see the whiteness of the bone beneath as her flesh melted away. Her screams grew louder and more desperate as she strained against the ropes that held her in place. As the sun rose higher in the sky and I began to feel the heat of it through the limousine’s tinted windows, Riah’s scream of pain became almost unbearable as her skin crisped and tore away to reveal the tendons and bone beneath.
I watched, almost unblinking, as Riah’s flesh blackened and peeled away from her bones and blew away on the early morning wind. Bishop was watching almost as intently as I was, and I found myself wondering if Meridian was paying as much attention.
“Time to go, boss?” The goon in the front seat was restless. Maybe he’d never seen an execution before.
I heard the faintest snarl before Bishop cleared his throat. “Yes, thank you Knight, our work here is finished.”
8
Epilogue
Six Months Later
M.A.D.’s second studio album had been released, including some re-mastered tracks that had been recorded live at Spiral in 1979, including my impromptu Buzzcocks cover. The album was magic, and it shot up the charts.
Bishop only let a few media outlets in to the inner circle at that tender time. We didn’t have a drummer, but no one asked about where Lux was, or when we’d be performing live again, they just wanted to talk to Meridian and me, and that was it. Shade did what he did best, he rode the wave of popularity and scored more girls, more drugs. He faded into the background, a great bass player keeping the beat.
When all of the photoshoots and interviews were done, Meridian disappeared, and I had nothing. No one to lean on, no one to teach me, just an eternity of... wandering. When I wasn’t performing, I was... walking.
Needless to say, most nights, I was wandering New York.
Tonight, I was haunting the paths that crisscrossed through Prospect Park. I’d been meaning to visit the Botanic Gardens since I’d started being a midnight garden nerd, and Prospect Park had an unexpectedly interesting set-up that I enjoyed... at least, I should have enjoyed it.
But in reality, I should have been enjoying Mutually Assured Destruction’s album release. I should have been knee deep in groupies. I should have been feeding on all of them. I should have been high on whatever Spiral’s dealers were selling... but instead, I was just marking time. My room in Meridian’s loft was covered in scratches, counting the days. Until what? I didn’t have any fucking idea.
The park was sparsely populated after dark, but like anywhere in New York, you were never really alone, there was always someone going somewhere, no matter what time of day it was. On the path in front of me was a tall, slender young woman. She was wearing a hooded sweatshirt with a leather jacket overtop, red plaid leggings and a pair of black Doc Martens that looked like they’d been on her feet since the day they’d rolled off the assembly line. The summer of 1984 had been hotter than usual, and even though autumn was approaching, it was definitely not cool enough for the way she was dressed.
She looked like the kind of girl I could find on Spiral’s dance floor. And eager groupie. Maybe she was a fan. I’d gotten used to fan squealing, and knew how to deal with it in a detached, yet flattering manner. They’d squeal and coo, and then they’d let me get away with murder.
The warm summer wind blew through the girl’s long red hair, sweeping it over her shoulder. She was just my type. I inhaled
deeply, lengthening my stride so that I could catch up with her. A smell hit my nostrils, making me pause. Cinnamon. It felt like I hadn’t smelled anything that good in years. I caught up with her in three quick steps.
“Hey,” I said, putting on my most charming smile, the one I used for photoshoots when I wasn’t wearing my signature sneer. The girl didn’t look at me, she just put on speed. As she did, a little furry face poked out of her sweatshirt. A black kitten with large ears and emerald green eyes blinked at me sleepily before yawning and disappearing back inside the girl’s jacket.
She didn’t even look at me. And now she was getting away.
“Hey! Can you tell me how to get to the botanic gardens? I think I’m a little lost...”
Without slowing down, the girl pointed at a sign just ahead of us, a large green arrow lit with a single light.
Botanic Gardens Entrance
Figures.
“Right.”
The girl turned away, heading down the opposite path. I jogged to catch up with her again. The kitten had emerged from her jacket and was peeping over her shoulder at me, its tiny claws digging into the girl’s jacket.
I caught up with her again and reached out to grab her elbow. I had to talk to her.
Before I could grab her, she whirled around to face me, her eyes flashing in the orange glow of the streetlights scattered along the path. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’d better back the fuck off before you do something you’re going to regret.”
She was fierce. Just my type.
“Don’t you know who I am?” I rarely played the ‘I’m famous’ card, but it just slipped out. The girl’s lip curled as she stared me up and down.
“Seriously? I could not give less of a fuck,” she snapped, turning to walk away again. The kitten stared at me over her shoulder, its green eyes unblinking.
Fiery. I had to have her.
The path was deserted, the only sound was her boots crunching on the gravel. It was time to stop playing cat and mouse.
With a low growl I closed the distance between us faster than she could walk away, and in an instant I was beside her, my hand sliding up the back of her neck to grip her hair as I bent her neck to expose the vein I so desperately wanted to sink my teeth into.
I opened my mouth wide, overpowered by the smell of cinnamon, the sound of her blood rushing through her veins and the furious beating of her heart. But there was something else, something—
My teeth sank into her flesh and I closed my eyes, waiting for the hot blood to spill over my tongue.
But it didn’t happen that way.
There was a flash of purple light, and I was lifted into the air and propelled backwards. It felt like I’d been kicked in the chest by a giant. I slammed through a cinderblock wall and lay in a patch of rhododendrons, groaning and trying to figure out what the fuck had happened. My ears were ringing and my vision was blurred.
“What the fuck...”
“I guess that’ll fucking teach you,” a voice said from far away. I shook my head, trying to regain some kind of control over my body. What the shit was that.
I blinked, rubbing at my eyes. There was stone dust in my mouth and dirt in my nose. I rubbed at my face and tried to stand up.
The impact with the wall had shattered my ribcage, and I could feel my bones mending themselves as I got to my knees.
“Are you seriously getting up right now? What the fuck is going on? You should be dead!” I looked up at the girl, her expression was shocked, but she wasn’t running away. The kitten was perched on her shoulder now, its tail curled around her neck.
“Did you come back to gloat over my dead body? That’s cute,” I said, getting unsteadily to my feet.
“Well, you deserved it,” she snapped. “What the fuck were you trying to do, bite me?”
“Maybe something like that... but that’s obviously a bad idea.”
“Obviously.” She looked at me warily, but didn’t run. Anyone else would have run screaming for the cops, but I had a feeling this girl had seen some pretty weird shit in her time...
“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked, my dislocated shoulder popped back into place with a loud crack and she stared at me incredulously.
“You can buy me a lot of drinks,” she said. “And then you can explain what the fuck happened here, and what the fuck is going on with...” she waved a hand at me as I brushed stone dust and chips out of my hair and the wound on my cheek began to close over.
“Deal.”
As far as first meetings went, this had definitely been out of the ordinary... but that’s how I met Ophelia Turner and changed the course of my afterlife.
Also by Meredith Medina
Daughters of Hecate
Witchmark (Prequel)
Sticks & Stones - Book 1 (Ophelia’s story)
Moonlight Burns - Book 2 (Maia’s story)
Power of Three - Book 3 (Lacey’s story)
Haven - Book 4 - Coming Soon
Vampire Punk (Eli’s story)
available to newsletter subscribers only
Coming in April 2018
Keeper of the Flame ~ Twice Cursed
One minute I was minding my own business, just trying to get back to my dorm room after class, and the next minute I was waking up in the middle of a police raid with my would-be rescuer lying dead on the floor and the remnants of a strange occult ritual scattered all around me. This might sound like a typical Tuesday night, but for me, this was all kinds of crazy, and I was most definitely going to do my best to forget that it ever happened.
But what had really happened that night? I was just a student, an American overseas trying to get a year of study under my belt. A year in London would be just what I needed to propel me into the academic career of my dreams. Unfortunately, those dreams seemed to be slipping through my fingers… I didn’t ask to be kidnapped, and I certainly didn’t ask for these weird nightmares or black-outs.
Bayleigh Cameron’s year abroad was going just fine, except for the fact that she’s being stalked through the streets of London by a secret society obsessed with the rebirth of an ancient goddess who they believe will propel them towards the world domination they crave. Unfortunately for them, an interrupted ritual could turn the wrath of the goddess in the wrong direction, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.
* * *
Twice Cursed is a standalone Urban Fantasy novel featuring ancient magic, rituals, murder, intrigue and a really cranky deity.
Turn the page to read the first chapter of Twice Cursed.
SNEAK PEEK ~ Twice Cursed ~ Chapter 1
I was standing on a cliff overlooking a green valley sliced in two by a wide river. Smoke billowed around me, the carmine tendrils entwining with my hair and snaking around my bare ankles. A hot wind blew from the east, tugging at my tunic and flattening it against my body. The river far below wasn’t blue or sparkling green, it was dark and swirled dangerously, the waters were murky and full of writhing eels that coiled on the muddy banks.
The hot wind blew harder, and then my feet were in the river, sinking up to my ankles in the dark mud. Eels roiled in the muck, scraping against my skin. The river was red… red with blood. But I wasn’t afraid, I was proud, I was justified… everything was as it should be. A smile curved across my lips as I bent to dip my hand into the scarlet water. I drew my cupped palm to my lips and looked down at the murky red water. I inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of incense and ashes before tipping the river’s blood red water into my mouth, smiling wider as it dripped over my chin.
I could hear the sounds of battle all around me, hear the cries of the wounded and dying… the chanting of my worshippers… it was music to my ears.
All at once, a cold hand fell upon my shoulder, and I turned, a snarl on my crimson lips ready to lay waste to the mortal who had dared to touch me, but the verdant valley and the red river had disappeared. The sounds of battle faded, the chanting stopped. I struggled to move, to run, but I was t
rapped in the hot mud of the riverbank, unable to lift my feet.
I struggled to move as the desert rushed around me, the red cliffs and green fields disappearing to be replaced by black walls and dark stone. A tomb. It was a tomb. The air smelled sour. Thick with smoke and herbs and my mouth was dry. My throat raw as though I’d been screaming for hours. Buried alive.
I was hot and cold at the same time, my arms ached, my ears were ringing, and I couldn’t move. Furious tears streaked down my cheeks as I struggled against my bonds. I was tied, trussed up like a chicken. My arms were crossed over my chest, my legs bound together. I tried to roll, to see what was happening, but my vision was blurred, and I was disoriented. All around me I could hear the sounds of panic. People screaming and shouting, the crash of falling objects and slamming doors echoed everywhere. The thundering of booted feet pounded down hallways and up stairwells.
I rocked myself over onto my side, craning my neck to see something, anything to give me a clue as to where I was. The last thing I remembered was walking to the tube station, a bag of books and groceries in my hand… and then nothing. Just that weird dream.
A man with white hair and a pale brown tweed jacket was sprawled at an uncomfortable looking angle on the floor, but the longer I stared, the more painful the position looked. And then I realized that the man’s head was lolling at a strange angle, and I gasped sharply as my eyes met his glassy stare.
Dead. Most definitely dead.
I struggled against the linen strips that secured my arms and legs, trying to loosen them, or get them close enough to my mouth to get my teeth on them. A group of men dressed in riot gear ran through the room in a tight formation, completely ignoring me as they rushed by.
Vampire Punk Page 6