The Afterliving (His Blood & Silver Series Book 1)

by Fernando Rivera

  “There’s a seaside Italian bistro in Hove that Luce just adores. I reserved a table by the window. Gorgeous view.”

  “Wow. That sounds a little intimate, no?”

  “It’s not a date,” he affirms — more to himself than to me. “It’s strictly professional.”

  “Okay.”

  “But if it were a date,” Henry tugs on the thread, causing me to wince, “I don’t see the harm in it. I love her.”

  My brow rises. “You love her how?”

  Lucy reenters the kitchen before Henry can elaborate. “Ready.” My jaw drops in amazement. She’s in heels, diamonds, and a crimson dress with a deep slit down the right thigh. “Is Manny taken care of?”

  Henry lifts my stitched hand to his mouth and cuts the bloody thread with his bare teeth. “Good as new.”

  Did he just taste my blood?

  “Shall we give you a ride back to your estate?” he asks.

  “Uhh… No. Thanks. I think I’ll walk,” I reply, still in shock by his impromptu confession and total disregard for potential blood-borne illnesses.

  “It’s no trouble,” Lucy insists.

  “I don’t mind, really.” I rinse my sutured hand under the faucet before collecting my bag. “You guys have a good night. And be safe. Don’t drink-n-drive.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Henry remarks. “You have a safe night, as well. I hope to see more of you.”

  “Me, too” — not.

  “Bye for now,” Lucy says.

  “Yup. Bye for now.”

  Ithought I’d save time cutting through the pasture, but Stockton Estate seems no closer now than it was thirty minutes ago. The evening’s also grown colder since the sun has set — and darker, of course. The last trace of light is a pink glow surrounding a patch of trees on the western horizon of Devil’s Dyke.

  A breeze picks up, and the clouds shift, illuminating the pasture with moonlight. I see the silhouette of someone running toward me — a woman. “Help me!” she yells across the field. “Help me, please!”

  The girl can’t be much younger than me. Her face is covered in dirt, and her blouse and jeans show evidence of a struggle. There’s also a blood-stained bandage around her left wrist. She collapses into my arms from fatigue, and the fear in her eyes is replaced by relief. They’re absolutely beautiful — her eyes, I mean — golden with flecks of copper.

  “Do you have a phone? A car? Something?” she begs. She’s American.

  “A phone. But it won’t work out here. What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, my God, you’re American. You’re American! Please, help me.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “No. I mean, yes.” She looks over her shoulder. “We have to go. He’s after me.” She pulls me toward the forested area.

  “Who’s after you?”

  “The va — It doesn’t matter. We have to hide.” She tugs on my arm again. “I’m not crazy. We have to hide.”

  “Come with me.” I take her hand and continue toward the estate.

  She follows for a step, then pulls back. “What are you doing? Not that way.”

  “That’s my grandfather’s house.” I indicate the Stockton property. “You can use his phone.”

  Her eyes fill with tears, and she panics once more.

  “Shh… You need to calm down.”

  The American girl continues to tremble with fear. So I cup my hands around her face and look into her eyes, conscious of the anxiety I’m also starting to feel. “Calm…down…” My voice has an instantaneous effect. The girl’s apprehension subsides, and she allows me to take her hand.

  But after a few steps, she pulls away. “No. No, no, no. You’re one of them.” She covers her ears and shakes her head. “Stay out of my mind!”

  “What?”

  “I know what you are. Stay out of my mind.” She spins around and runs toward the glowing shelter of the wood.

  “Hey. Hey, come back. I’m not gonna hurt you!”

  Her legs carry her faster.

  “I want to help you!”

  She looks over her shoulder one last time before disappearing into the cover of the trees.

  “Michelle!” a man shouts from afar. His voice grows louder as he nears. “Michelle, I’m sorry.”

  I decide to sprint for the trees, as well, away from the approaching voice. When I reach the edge of the wood, there’s a break in the clouds. It reveals a beautiful canopy of colored leaves overhead: bright pinks, deep reds, and rich yellows.

  Her pursuer is closer now. “Michelle?”

  I run deeper into the tangle of trees, moving slower as the crunch of leaves underfoot grows louder. A breeze permeates the wood and whistles through the intricate web of branches above. So I use this noise as an opportunity to call out to her. “Michelle? Where are you? I want to help.”

  Her answer drifts down from the treetops. “H-h-how?” she whimpers. Michelle’s climbed several feet up one of the maple trees nearest me. Her arms and legs are wrapped around its thick trunk, and she’s perfectly concealed, betrayed only by the white of her glossy eyes.

  I hear a crunch from far off, so I lift my finger to silence her.

  “You’re going to have to be quieter than that,” her pursuer says. It’s the other guy from the funeral, the younger one I saw with Nicholas.

  Snap! A branch cracks, and we look up to see Michelle struggle to reposition both of her feet on a single limb.

  A change overcomes the man’s face, and his pupils dilate larger than normal, reducing his brown irises to paper-thin circles. He glares at Michelle with a vacant, shark-like stare. “Why are you hiding from me?”

  “Leave me alone, Anthony,” she yells. Her remaining foothold snaps, and Michelle slides down to the next set of limbs.

  Anthony tilts his head down to meet my gaze, and his eyes change once more. This time, his pupils shrink to the size of pinpricks, and his irises grow. “Stay here.” His voice echoes all around me, binding my legs with an invisible cast. Then he springs forward like a cat and latches onto one of the nearest trees.

  “Stay away,” the girl demands.

  He kicks his heel against the trunk and bounces back and forth between that tree and another, ricocheting higher and higher until reaching the same height as Michelle. “I said stay away,” she persists, but Anthony doesn’t listen.

  “Leave her alone,” I shout.

  “Please, Michelle. You know me. I would never hurt you.”

  “Liar,” she fires back. Her feet slip, and she clings to the tree even tighter. “Please, God, save me. Somebody save me.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do,” he exclaims.

  I make another attempt to move my feet, but it’s useless. My body is under Anthony’s spell.

  “If you’ll let me explain,” Anthony begs.

  “No! You’re a monster. You’re all monsters.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, I do. I’d rather die than be with you.” Michelle’s grip falters, and she slides down the trunk, whining in pain as her bare skin scrapes against the rough bark. Then she lets go.

  Anthony reappears on the forest floor in a shadowy blur and catches her. He cradles Michelle like a child. “I’ve got you.”

  “No,” she cries. “Let me go.”

  “Don’t be afraid. I’m trying to help you.” He presses his cheek against hers and whispers something into her ear. Michelle’s body falls limp.

  “What did you do to her?”

  Anthony rests Michelle against a tree trunk and begins walking toward me.

  “Stay back!”

  “Silence.” His voice takes root in my body, and I fall silent. “You know, I thought it was a shame Isidore wasn’t alive to see you. Though now I suspect it’s for the best. You’re far from the son he was ex
pecting,” he laughs. “Which makes what I’m about to do so very easy.” Anthony’s irises expand once more. “You will not speak of me or what you’ve just seen to anyone.”

  I nod in agreement.

  He continues, “In fact, you want nothing to do with this family, and you are going to turn around and leave Devil’s — ”

  A tree branch shoots through Anthony’s stomach, and he’s lifted several feet into the air. He howls, and two of his teeth descend into fangs. Then his facial features become more angular, almost predatory, as he kicks and claws to break free from his captor. It reminds me of how my father fought his attacker in last night’s dream.

  It’s James who stands behind him. “Oh, Anthony, don’t tell me you were trying to impel my nephew to leave,” he taunts, lifting him higher.

  Anthony cries in pain. “Brother, please.”

  “Because if that were true, there would be very grave consequences for not only you but for this entire Fellowship. Not to mention, it’s very rude of you.”

  “I wasn’t thinking,” Anthony whimpers, clutching the wooden limb protruding from his body. “I’m sorry.”

  “I want to believe you, Anthony, really, I do. But” — James turns to me — “Manny, do you believe him?”

  I try to answer, but my throat is still constricted.

  “You’ve fallen mute? I wonder why that is?” James jerks the limb impaling Anthony. “Undo it.”

  Anthony shoots me a quick look with his brown eyes, and my vocal chords expand. I cough. “What the hell? He’s a vampire?”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. We do not use that word,” James chastises. “Now tell me, do you believe Anthony’s apology?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even — Holy shit!”

  “Mind your language,” he teases. “A simple yes or no will do.”

  Anthony’s cries grow sharper.

  “Yes, fine, yes. I believe him.”

  “Well, then. That settles it. Apology accepted.” James lowers Anthony’s body.

  “Hold on. I still can’t move.”

  “Is that so?” James raises the stake again, abruptly stopping at the top. The wound travels farther up Anthony’s stomach.

  “Mercy, brother. My heart,” Anthony spits through clenched teeth.

  “Release him. From all of it,” James demands.

  With another look, the cast binding my legs dissolves, and my knees buckle, sending me to the ground. I try to run, but thousands of tiny needles stab into my feet and legs, like my lower body’s awakening from a deep sleep.

  James releases Anthony. His fangs retract, and his facial features return to normal. Anthony clutches the gaping hole in his stomach. “You nearly pierced my heart.”

  “Like you haven’t died before.”

  “You’re an arsehole, James.”

  “And you’re a disrespectful child, Anthony. I daresay the Fellowship would be less than pleased to hear of your unwarranted attempts to influence his mind with Impulsion.”

  “I said I was sorry.” He turns to me. “I truly am, Emmanuel. It won’t happen again.”

  “Just stay away from me.”

  Influence my mind with Impulsion? Is that what Anthony did — the mind control? Is that what I did to my mom and the flight crew before getting off the plane?

  “Go. Now. She needs food and rest,” James says, referring to Michelle. “And I trust you’ll be civil with my nephew the next time you two cross paths.”

  “Of course.” Anthony scoops Michelle into his arms and leaves the wood in a blur of shadows.

  “You’re letting him get away with her?”

  “Yes. Contrary to what you saw, she will be safe with him.” James steps closer. “Are you hurt?” He reaches for my injured thumb. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I said I’m fine.” I swat his arm away, but I might as well be slapping a brick wall. “Ah.” I hunch over and cram my throbbing hand between my thighs.

  Damn you.

  He scoffs. “Well, ‘damn you’ seems wildly inappropriate, considering the circumstance.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No. But you thought it.” He taps his temple with his index finger. “Your echoes have been making your mind vulnerable these last few days, especially when you’re angry. But your passion also feeds your conviction, which is a powerful gift. It’s important you never forget that.”

  “My echoes? What the hell are you talking about?”

  He shakes his head. “So much to work on. It shouldn’t be a surprise. You’ve heard my echoes on numerous occasions.”

  My brain revisits those strange interactions with James, the moments he’s “spoken” to me without speaking to me, as well as the times I’ve heard my thoughts projected louder than my own voice.

  “Is the wheel finally turning? Because the sooner you accept our predicament, the sooner we can address more pressing matters.”

  “Our predicament?”

  “I told you, Manny, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. We have more in common than you care to believe.”

  “You’re crazy. I’m nothing like you. Any of you. What are you?”

  “That’s the question you should be asking yourself.”

  I feel my legs have recovered from Anthony’s Impulsion, so I break into a run toward the edge of the wood. I exit the trees and see James waiting for me in the clearing. “Are you done?” he asks.

  I turn back around, but he’s there again in a flash.

  “Manny, time is of the essence. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

  “Help!”

  He rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Manny…”

  “Somebody, help!

  “Have it your way.” In another flash, James appears inches from my face. His pupils shrink to the size of pinpricks, and the brown in his hazel eyes gets thicker. Then his voice overwhelms my senses: “Sleep.”

  Ifollow “Amazing Grace” down the spiral staircase and enter my father’s study.

  “Dad?”

  He stands and smiles, setting the paintbrush down with his ink-stained fingers. The number 919 is freshly drawn on his left wrist. “You’ve finally opened your eyes,” he says. “You’re seeing your choices.”

  “What choices?”

  My father doesn’t answer. He simply smiles.

  “You haven’t given me any choices.” I charge forward, frustrated, and my hand shoots out — armed with a wooden stake. I thrust the rod into his rib cage, knocking him back into the desk.

  The record player jolts, replaying the last verse: “But now I see — But now I see — ”

  With fantastical strength, I lift his impaled body into the air. Blood gushes from his puncture wound, followed by a cold blue mist. The haze crawls down the wooden stake and envelopes my arm, chilling my skin to the bone.

  My father kicks and claws, digging his nails into my skin. His face transforms, revealing fangs and bottomless black eyes.

  I want to put him down, but I can’t — not until he’s dead. After one final kick, the last wisps of blue vapor seep out of my father’s chest, and his body ceases to struggle. The mist disappears, evaporating with a quiet sizzle.

  My arm relaxes, and I lower him to the floor. When his feet touch the cement, his body crumbles into gray ash.

  The music continues to skip: “But now I see — But now I see — But now I see — ”

  My eyes shoot open. Am I still dreaming? I’m still inside my father’s study, but instead of seeing Isidore — or his remains — I see Lucy.

  “How do you feel?” she asks.

  “Where am I? What is this place?”

  “It’s somewhere safe.”

  “Where’s James?”

  “Hello.” James is behind me, leaning against a closed door — which leads to the winding stairca
se, I assume.

  “Tell me what’s going on right now, or so help me, God…”

  “So help you, God?” he scoffs. “I was told you didn’t believe in God.”

  “Why am I here?” The tiny room fills with my booming voice.

  James shushes me. “You’re here because you need my help.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He taps the side of his left temple. “Are you sure about that? Because your echo and voice are syncing. That’s going to be problematic if you don’t learn how to control it.”

  I take a breath and wait for my nerves to settle. “I’m fine.”

  “Regardless, without my guidance, there’s no way you can survive the next three days in one piece. Especially if you’re drinking moonshine and fraternizing with the likes of Wolfgang Schmitt.”

  “He’s right,” Lucy adds.

  “Why? What’s in three days?”

  “The New Moon,” James replies. “That’s a very important time for us, which means it’s equally important for them.”

  “Who are us and them? And what’s wrong with Wolfgang Schmitt? And why am I here?”

  James grows annoyed. “Must you ask so many questions?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Patience,” Lucy chimes in, “both of you.”

  I take another calming breath. “Just tell me how my father’s death ties in to all of this. He was murdered, right?”

  “Yes,” James admits, “but finding Isidore’s killer is not our first priority. Our first priority is keeping you alive and out of harm’s way.”

  “And how do I know you didn’t kill him?”

  Lucy gasps. “Manny.”

  “Because I’m not a fan of fratricide. Although” — James lowers a set of fangs identical to Anthony’s — “for nepoticide, I can make an exception.”

  I jump back. “What the hell?”

  “James, quit,” Lucy admonishes.

  He smiles, retracting the canines. “I’m only ribbing.”

  “There’s no time for jokes.” Lucy motions to the chair. “Manny, have a seat.”

  “I’m fine where I am.”

  “If you want to learn what all the fuss about your father is, have a seat,” she demands.