Falling Dark

by Christine Pope

  “Why hasn’t he? I mean,” I hastened to add, since I knew the question sounded terrible, “it seems as if that’s what vampires do when they need willing slaves.”

  “Because the semivives lose their sense of self. They exist only to follow the will of their master. Subjecting your sister to Lucius’ power would make her unable to perform her design work, and then it would clearly be obvious to everyone involved that she was not herself.”

  “And yet Lucius wants to control my brother Jackson? How is that any different?”

  “Because being a politician is not the same as being an artist. Lucius possesses the intelligence and the cunning to convincingly manipulate your brother from behind the scenes, but he is not creative, at least not in the way that your sister is. There’s no way he could take over her mind and still have her create at the level the world expects from her.”

  Was that supposed to be reassuring? All right, yes, I was glad to hear my sister was safe from being turned into Lucius’ mindless minion, but at the same time, I couldn’t help feeling somewhat offended that Silas considered my brother much easier prey. Jackson was absolutely brilliant, and charismatic and intuitive to boot. All those qualities couldn’t be terribly easy to fake, could they?

  But then I thought of how Silas didn’t even know exactly how old Lucius was. Three centuries at least, maybe more. That was a hell of a lot of time to learn how to play politics, or anything else, for that matter. Maybe Silas had a point.

  “Anyway,” he went on, “we still don’t know for sure that Jackson is the target. Lucius has made it clear that he wants you, and Jackson may only be leverage.”

  “So my sister isn’t enough?”

  “‘Enough’ is not a concept that Lucius Montfort understands very well.”

  I could well believe that. “Should I talk to her?”

  “Do you think it will help?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But I guess I’d better try.”

  Chapter Ten

  Silas left not too long afterward, saying that he thought it better if I had some privacy when I talked to my sister. At the same time, though, he reminded me to call if I should have another vision, or if I needed him for anything else.

  As I said goodbye and watched him walk down toward the stairs that led to ground level, I thought I definitely did need him for a lot of other things. Number one, to pull me close and hold me and let me know that I’d somehow get through all of this.

  Since I didn’t see that happening anytime soon, I shut the door and went back to the kitchen, where my cell phone still sat on the little table by the window. I picked up the phone and held it in my hand for a long moment, staring down at it, wondering what in the world I could say to my sister.

  Not the truth, that was for sure.

  Well, not all of it, anyway. Maybe a distorted version of it. I’d been so focused on Lucius during our conversation that I hadn’t been paying much attention to what was going on with the rest of the people at the reception, my sister included. It was possible that she’d seen me talking with him, however. So what if I told her he’d picked up on me first, then moved on when I made it clear I wasn’t interested?

  I hated to play those kinds of mind games, but that sort of gambit might just work. All three of us Quinn offspring were good-looking people, but my parents had always thought of me as the beauty of the family — probably because I didn’t have any other outstanding skills or talents to distinguish me. And while Vanessa had always shrugged off that sort of thing, I could tell it bothered her. Somewhere deep down, it bothered her that she wasn’t the “pretty one,” even though she was an enormously talented designer.

  So if I made it sound as though Lucius had been more interested in me, then moved on to her after I gave him the cold shoulder, there was a possibility, however slight, that she’d be offended by her second-place status and would kick him to the curb. Of course, if I’d misread the situation, and it turned out that nothing physical had happened between her and Lucius, I’d sound like a complete idiot. Well, I’d gotten sort of used to my family thinking I had more than a few screws loose, so it wasn’t as if I had much to lose.

  And also, I knew that my plan was a long shot, but it was all I had right then. After all, I couldn’t come right out and say Vanessa’s new business partner was a centuries-old creature of the night.

  I hefted the phone in my hand, then went to the living room and sat down in the armchair. A delaying tactic, but I hoped being in my favorite spot in the house would give me some much-needed courage. And it was probably just my mind playing tricks on me, but I fancied I could still feel some residual warmth in the seat cushion, left behind from when Silas had been sitting there.

  Because I knew I’d lose my nerve if I didn’t go ahead and get it over with, I went to the contacts screen on my iPhone and touched the entry for my sister. Her phone began to ring, and I tensed, even as I hoped, as was often the case, that she’d be busy elsewhere and the call would just go to voicemail.

  But of course I couldn’t be that lucky. She picked up almost immediately, saying, “What is it, Serena?”

  Clearly, she was still annoyed by the way I’d slipped out of the reception the night before. While I could see why she’d be irritated, I knew this whole conversation would be that much harder, just because she was already predisposed to be ticked off at me.

  I cleared my throat. “Look, I’m sorry I bailed, but it seemed like you were busy, so I didn’t want to bother you. I’ll try to get the dress back to you somehow — ”

  “I don’t care about the dress. It was one that just went into production. I have hundreds more.”

  Well, that figured. I should have known she wouldn’t waste one of her precious couture gowns on me, but instead got me something that could have been bought in a local boutique for a couple hundred bucks. Bickering about it would only be counterproductive, however, and so I told myself to push the slight aside. I had much bigger things to worry about. “Okay, then,” I said. “Anyway, like I was saying, it seemed as if you were otherwise occupied. And my friend showed up earlier than I’d planned, so I didn’t have a lot of choice. I didn’t want to make him stand around and wait when he’d done me a favor by coming all the way out to Santa Monica to get me.”

  “Your friend,” Vanessa said then, her tone flat. “This Sam person.”

  News sure got around quickly. But then I supposed that my mother had called Vanessa to give her more details. Yes, my parents were supposed to be on their way to Santa Barbara, but my mother would always find the time to pass on some intel. “Yes, Sam,” I replied, trying not to sound impatient. “Anyway, I heard the good news about your new investor….”

  My sister didn’t even bother to ask where I’d picked up that particular piece of information. She probably figured that our mother had passed it along, and I wasn’t going to disabuse Vanessa of that notion. “What about him?”

  I hesitated. “Lucius Montfort, right? The man with the light-colored hair in a ponytail?”

  “Yes,” she replied, a cautious note entering her voice. I could tell she wasn’t happy I’d mentioned him.

  “Had you been courting him previously?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know what I mean. You’re always looking for more backing. So I was just wondering whether he’d crossed your radar before, or whether that was the first time you’d heard of him.”

  A pause. Then Vanessa said, “It was the first time I’d heard of him…or seen him. I would have remembered running into him before that.”

  Of course she would. As I’d told Silas, my sister was a connoisseur of man-candy. But my heart sank. Because if she was speaking of Lucius in such an approving way, that meant there was probably a good chance the two of them really had already been intimate. No doubt the vampire would consider that to be a nice little bonus fuck-you. The mere thought made the bile rose in my throat, and I had to choke it back, try to take in a breath so I wouldn’
t be sick right there.

  Since I didn’t reply right away, she inquired, tone even sharper than before, “Why do you ask?”

  Oh, boy. I’d embarked on this crazy plan, so there wasn’t much I could do except continue with it. “Nothing. It’s just — well, he approached me earlier, paid me all sorts of compliments, asked why he hadn’t seen me at one of these functions before. I told him I was your sister, not really a model at all, and that was why. He kept pressing me for more information, and it was kind of creepy. I sort of had to tell him point-blank that I wasn’t interested before he finally took the hint and left me alone.”

  An even longer silence this time. I could practically feel pulses of rage coming through the phone, and I held my breath. All I could do was wait and see who she was angrier with — Lucius Montfort, or me.

  At last she said, “I don’t think he’s creepy. He seems like a perfect gentleman…one with very deep pockets. So I think you need to stay out of it, Serena.”

  Great. She might as well have told me point-blank that she’d slept with him. If this had been a normal case of her just being with a guy I didn’t much like, I would have let it go. Vanessa never hung with any man long enough for any real damage to be done. In this case, though, I couldn’t be quite that blasé. “I wasn’t aware I was in it,” I retorted. “I just thought you should know that he seemed like kind of a player.”

  My response actually made her laugh out loud. “Well, of course he is. A guy with those looks and that kind of money? I wouldn’t expect anything else. But right now it seems like we both have something the other person needs, which means that once again I’m going to tell you to stay the hell out of it.”

  I’d definitely hit a nerve, because normally Vanessa wasn’t anything close to that rude. Brisk and businesslike, which might be construed as brusque by someone who was overly sensitive about that kind of thing, but she was my sister. I was used to the way she dealt with the world. So I thought she wasn’t too thrilled about the story of Lucius Montfort hitting on me first, but she also wasn’t going to do anything about it. I doubted there was anything I could say that would make her back off from her arrangement with him.

  Except that whole bit about him being a vampire, but again, I wasn’t quite ready for an express ticket on the Thorazine train. I’d have to try to figure out some other way to disentangle her from his clutches. What that might be, I really had no idea. Possibly Silas could help me out there, but I wasn’t too sanguine about those prospects. Direct intervention wouldn’t work, and he didn’t know my sister at all. If I couldn’t win this particular round of psychological warfare, how could I expect him to do any better?

  “Okay, fine,” I said, hoping I sounded appropriately hurt. “I just thought you should know what kind of person he is. Might be, I mean.”

  “I’m a big girl,” Vanessa replied. “I can handle it. And the last thing I need is my little sister interfering in matters she knows nothing about. So I think we’re done here. I need to go — I have a meeting at one.”

  She hung up then, leaving me to stare down at the phone in my hand and mutter a curse under my breath. What I was supposed to do next, I had no idea.

  * * *

  The one thing I resolved firmly not to do was phone Silas. Even though he’d told me to call whenever something came up, I really didn’t feel like talking to him just so I could let him know that yes, my sister apparently was boinking an undead creature of the night. And taking his money as well. For investments in her business, of course, but even so, the whole thing made me feel downright squicky. The only comfort I could take from the whole situation was that Lucius probably wouldn’t do anything to hurt my sister. Killing her or turning her into a semivive would only ensure that I’d be his enemy forever. Right now she was just…leverage. An insurance policy that would probably never be cashed in.

  Also, while Silas wanted to offer whatever protection he could, I knew I needed to sort out exactly how I felt about him. It wasn’t like me to get all moony and swoony about a guy, like some thirteen-year-old sending texts about her latest crush to her BFF. On the other hand, I couldn’t deny my physical reactions to him. Something about the guy definitely made my heart go pitter-pat.

  It’s just that tall, dark, and mysterious thing, I told myself as I went into the kitchen to pour myself an iced tea. Sure, you’re grateful for the help he’s giving you, but if he looked like Truman Capote, I doubt you’d be quite so interested.

  True enough. But also…even on our short acquaintance, Silas had proven to me that he would be there when I needed him. I couldn’t say as much for the other men in my life. My father was like an absentee landlord; he might check in every once in a while to make sure the ceiling hadn’t caved in or the toilets hadn’t backed up, but that was about all I could expect from him. Certainly not a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. Ditto for my brother Jackson. He definitely had far more important things to worry about than his little sister’s neuroses.

  And in the wasteland that was my love life, there sure wasn’t anyone else around.

  So…handsome and dependable and understanding. No wonder I was having such a hard time keeping my feelings for Silas Drake purely platonic. It had been a long while since such a paragon had crossed my path.

  It sounded like a good time to get in touch with Candace and see if she was available for drinks tonight so we could have a girl-to-girl talk, but the problem with that scenario was that I’d have to call Silas to drive me. And then I’d have to explain to him why I had such a sudden raging urge to have drinks with a friend…and then I’d have to introduce him to Candace….

  Never mind. She’d sent me an email the day before, just checking to make sure that I was okay. Which I was, mostly. At least I hadn’t been attacked by any random strangers lately. One day at a time.

  No, it was time to be quiet and still, and be a good little hermit, here in my luxury condo. Time for that Netflix binge, or maybe some reading, although I knew I’d do better at just watching TV, something where I could disengage my brain for a while.

  So I took my iced tea into the living room, turned on the television, and started going through my “saved” list on Netflix, attempting to decide which of the series I’d bookmarked to try next. But just as I raised the remote to give the Gilmore Girls reboot a try, the world went hazy around me, the remote falling from my fingers onto the coffee table with a clatter.

  This wasn’t the vampire’s mansion in Linda Vista. I saw a shabby one-story house with faded beige stucco, tired-looking day lilies lining a cracked cement walkway. No place I knew, but its analogue could be found in half the cities in the San Gabriel Valley, including right here in the poorer parts of Pasadena.

  The scene shifted, to a room inside the house. A bedroom, I supposed, although there wasn’t a bed to be seen. Boards covered the window. A thin mattress sat on the floor. And on that mattress was a young woman, probably a few years younger than I. Her hands had been cuffed behind her back, and her feet were bound with bright yellow nylon rope. Dark hair spilled over the mattress and onto the floor. A thick gag in her mouth did a good job of distorting her features, but I could tell that her dark eyes were large, terrified.

  Another flash, of a green street sign with the words “Daines Dr” on it. And then the vision was gone.

  I’d been sitting on the couch with my feet on the cushions, but I sat bolt upright then, heart pounding, cold sweat trickling down the back of my neck. Even though I’d experienced these sorts of visions before, I still wasn’t used to them. But at least I did know exactly what I had to do.

  My phone was also sitting on the coffee table, so I didn’t have to get up to fetch it. The number I needed was already programmed in. It rang twice, then a third time.

  Please God, not voicemail, I prayed, although I knew that even if I had to leave a message, it would be returned almost immediately. But in my mind’s eye I saw that girl’s terrified face once more, and I knew that even minutes were precious
.

  A crisp voice came through the iPhone’s speaker. “Detective Ortiz.”

  “Detective Ortiz, it’s Serena Quinn.”

  Even though I couldn’t see him, I almost felt the way he straightened in his office chair. “What did you see?”

  I loved that about him. Yes, the first time he’d been skeptical, but ever since, Raoul Ortiz had taken my visions seriously. I didn’t have to waste valuable time trying to convince him of anything. “A house, on Daines Drive, according to what I saw. I don’t know where that is, though.”

  “Not in Pasadena. El Monte, I think.”

  “Can you do anything if it’s not in your jurisdiction?”

  “Sure. I’ll make a call, say I’m acting on an anonymous tip. Give me the details.”

  The vision hadn’t faded, was still clear in my mind. I described the unobtrusive beige house as best I could, the drooping day lilies on either side of the front walk. “I didn’t see a house number or anything,” I told him, my tone apologetic. “There’s a girl being held captive in one of the bedrooms. Early twenties, dark eyes and hair. I think she might be Hispanic, but the gag in her mouth was distorting her features, so I can’t say for sure.”

  “I’ll check if the description matches up with anything from missing persons. Did you see anything else?”

  I shut my eyes, hoping I might see more details that way. And although I couldn’t find anything more to say about the house, I did notice one thing — a tattoo on the back of one of her hands, intricate, tribal. I described it as best I could to Detective Ortiz, saying it seemed like something that could have been done in henna, although the pattern had looked like an actual tattoo, not something painted on.

  “That will help,” he said. “I’ll get right on it.” A pause, and he added, “Thanks, Serena.”

  “Don’t thank me,” I told him. “Just find her.”

  “We will.” He hung up then, and I set my phone back down on the coffee table.

  The adrenaline that had surged through me was now gone, and in its place had come a sort of drained sensation. This wasn’t the first time I’d suffered that kind of aftermath, but I still didn’t enjoy it much. At least I knew it would go away soon.