Surface Below: Dark Secrets (The Surface Below Book 1)

by Leeah Taylor

  If the stones could talk though, Viktor would be quick to silence them because they would give a very different story of the day the Royal Vampyr lineage had come to a bloody end.

  The memory played out in his mind as it did every day. It haunted him. Times had been different then. People were more trusting and open. Unlike now, when most Nations kept to themselves. Interacting with species of their own kind.

  Viktor had been a servant back then. A servant to Abel, the last Heir. He had been assigned to him when Abel was just a boy. To teach him and look over him as he grew up. Ensuring he would be primed for the day he took over the Bottom world.

  Abel grew up to be a loved and favorited Heir. As did his Heiress, Ruth. The pair ruled over the Bottom with loving, gracious and light hands. Showing the inhabitants that they could accept all Nation species. They spearheaded the stigma of mingling amongst the Nations. Allowing any and all to enter into a relationship together. It was the only time in Bottom history that saw peace and union.

  Viktor, though, couldn’t support their approach. He felt mingling was a crime that should carry a penalty of death. It pushed him to seek out the advice of a growing activist group that went by the name The Council. The group was determined to set into motion a plan that would not only return the Bottom to old ways but rid the world of any living Royal Vampyr. And Viktor became their perfect in.

  Over a period of three years Viktor covertly murdered Royal Vampyr. With each kill his heart and soul blackened, helping to create the monster he would become. After he had successfully extinguished the bloodline, he set his sights on his final two targets.

  Security in the castle had been tripled, even quadrupled, over the years. Fear had been instilled in the castle and it lingered day and night.

  Viktor, like every evening, entered their bedroom to get any last-minute decrees from the Heir. On that night though he brought with him a golden handled dagger. He could remember the anticipation that swirled inside of him.

  Abel sat at the same desk that Viktor kept in his bedroom, going over the day’s events. Viktor would cross the room to meet him, his hand gripped tightly around the dagger’s handle. Abel talked to him without looking up, not paying mind to what he held.

  He plunged that golden-handled, serpent-shaped dagger deep into the chest of the Heir, the tip just piercing his heart. He watched as the life drained from his eyes. The slightest bit of remorse crept into him. But his already dark heart buried the feeling.

  And the Heiress, yes he had tasted her forbidden life force and didn’t hesitate sinking the same blade deep within her own belly. Letting it meld into her skin and touch her soul.

  “My liege.” A maid acknowledged him as she passed, pulling him back to reality. He gave her a nod.

  As he grew closer to the massive archway, the doors slightly ajar, he smiled wildly. It had been so easy to blame the murders on Tobias and Merrick. They had been at the right place, at the right time.

  And The Council swooped in and took their place at the head of the world. With Viktor as their representative. The High Chair.

  Pushing the doors open he walked in, taking a moment to meet with each set of eyes staring back at him. But his most intent stare came to Constance Manning. A fiercely vindictive woman, whom no man had crossed a second time. Her status within the Magic’s Nation reached further than Viktor liked. And he knew she would always be his biggest adversary.

  She sat back in the leather chair and crossed her arms, bringing her leg up and over her other. Her long blonde hair swept off to one side. She wore a snug-fitting black skirt and crème colored blouse. Her lips pursed together and Viktor imagined his hand around her throat, squeezing until her pretty little lips turned blue.

  “Viktor.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth at the end, in a way that suggested she was not pleased.

  “Lady and gentlemen, always a pleasure,” he lied, taking his place at the head of the table. “Constance, an even bigger pleasure.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him and seethed. Her distaste for him ran deep.

  “Please, Viktor, explain the rumors that you have found Tobias Lorde’s daughter.” Her tone was calm but a hint of disapproval was there. “And then let her escape.”

  “It’s under control, Constance. I assure you.” Again he lied. Once they had walked through that portal everything was surely not under control.

  “So then the Royal line survived. This is most disturbing.” The head of the vampire nation voiced his opinion. His deep British tongue like nails on a chalkboard. Reuben was just another agitation for Viktor. He acted like a know-it-all and as if he was better than most.

  Viktor pinched the space between his eyes.

  “It’s going to be taken care of,” he insisted, meeting Reuben’s disapproving stare.

  “Let’s hope so, Viktor. You only sit in that chair because you assured us of its demise nearly 30 years ago.”

  Yet another warning from another nation. Viktor gave the man a sideways glance, feeling himself lose a grip on his temper. Preston Dickson raised a brow to him and laced his fingers together in front of him.

  “How was I supposed to know that Tobias Lorde and Merrick Marks were Royal Vampyr? Weren’t you the ones that specifically told me the names of people that needed to be taken care of? Hmmm?” Viktor let his voice rise towards them. “Funny how you left out the ones that you set up for their murder.”

  “Keep your voice down, Viktor,” Constance demanded of him, already eyeing the door for any eavesdroppers. “You always have to be so damn dramatic.”

  “Don’t you have anything to add, Jackson? You’re awful quiet down there.” Viktor motioned to the other end of the table. A tall, broad black man sat silent. He just watched and listened to their pointless bantering.

  His deep voice filled the room. “I have no opinion. I’m only here out of circumstance.”

  Jackson Hiram, the leader of the Beast Nation, had no intentions of getting involved with an organization so corrupt. Their very tactics in taking over the Bottom hierarchy had been barbaric. And the laws they enforced even more fierce. It was his father, Braxton Hiram, that had been on the Council. Upon his death though that right passed on to Jackson, along with the leadership of the Beast Nation. He took it to protect his nation. He did not share in their ideals.

  “Oh come on, Jackson you must have some kind of opinion on what is happening.” Preston turned to face him, an amused smile on his face.

  “You wouldn’t appreciate nor share my feelings on the matter,” he said, glaring down the long table at Viktor.

  “Oh for goodness’ sake.” Constance rolled her eyes and threw her hands up on the table. “Enough with the big macho man stuff okay, good lord it’s like dealing with a bunch of children. Were Tobias’ and Merrick’s children born before or after the Fall?”

  That was the important question. If the children were born before the Fall then the bloodline would have been finished. With no next born to transfer to, the Heir and Heiress spirits would have died along with their physical deaths. Born after the Fall though, like they were and they paved the path for the Heir and Heiress to live on.

  “After the Fall,” Viktor said, leaning back but keeping his eye on Jackson.

  “Okay, then they need to be found and taken care of.” She threw her hands up. “What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is William Marks has a twin brother, Markus Marks. I’d venture to say that wasn’t a mistake.” Again Viktor pinched the space between his eyes.

  “Ha, are you trying to say that there are now two Heirs and two Heiresses?” Reuben laughed at the idea.

  “I’ll have some of my people look into it,” Preston assured him. “Becca Lorde, right?”

  “Yeah and William Marks,” Viktor replied.

  “You’d best hope this gets resolved quickly, Viktor.” Reuben was gathering his belongings. “The last thing we need is people believing the Heir and Heiress are returning. Could start a revolution.”<
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  Chapter 19

  A rare October rain had hit the Surface. Caleb looked up and down the busy street before running across towards the rhythmic club beat. The sign lit up the street but as he neared the building the surroundings were dimly lit. People crammed inside a roped off line close to the building, all of them waiting to enter the club.

  He pulled up the collar of his brown leather jacket as a cold wind swept through the street. The bouncer nodded as Caleb walked up and he unhooked the rope, giving him entrance to the club. Several disgruntled people yelled expletives as he passed and gave them a smug smile.

  Inside the techno club music made his body pulse, and lights danced across the walls and floor. Bodies crashed together in rhythm with the music on the dance floor. Caleb pushed his way through the people and towards the bar. His eyes scanned the length of it, looking for suitable prey. He thirsted for anything that could satiate his growing hunger.

  At the end of the bar sat a twenty something redhead, with legs to die for. Her black, skin tight dress hugged her slim frame and stopped just mid-thigh. He took in the air around him and picked her scent out of the mixture of perfumes, sweat, liquor and sex aromas that crowded the room. She was nothing like Becca but she would have to do. He pushed more aggressively through hordes of people. She was already inebriated, which worked in his favor.

  As he approached her, she caught sight of him and smiled seductively. He noted the too dark lipstick she wore and the heavy eyeliner. She was a far cry from Becca’s natural beauty.

  “Hi,” he said, walking up close to her. She said something back and he was sure it was “Hi, I’m Samantha.” He really didn’t care but it would be his in. Leaning closer into her, his fangs so close to what he wanted. “What was that?”

  The people around them were none the wiser. Hardly noticing when his fangs protruded past his lips or how he dipped down into the crook of her neck. To anyone else it looked like he was nuzzling her. He gave her a swift bite, just enough to poison her with his numbing toxin. Her

  eyes twisted weirdly in her skull and she slumped into his arms.

  “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you out of here.”

  The bartender eyed him and gave a nod. Caleb nodded back and led the barely conscious girl to the back of the bar and down a secluded hallway into a doorway, just out of sight. Pushing her up against the wall, he again inhaled her scent. It did nothing for him but the crimson red substance below the surface of her skin did.

  “Nothing personal, doll. But a man’s gotta eat,” he whispered against her ear before biting into her tender flesh. She let out a gurgled whimper.

  It didn’t taste anything like he had hoped. Bitter almost compared to the small sample he’d had just a day before. It made his anger build and he jerked the girl’s body up hard. He sank his fangs again into her skin, and her head fell backwards.

  He drank angrily and greedily from her and when her once healthy, vibrant body had nothing left to give him, he let it drop from his arms. It hit the ground with a loud thud. His fist punched the wall and he took in quick breaths. His hunger still lingered too strong.

  Caleb walked back down the darkened hallway and back into the lively atmosphere. He leaned against the bar with his elbows, and the man behind it walked up and leaned forward. Caleb pulled two one hundred dollar bills from his pocket and handed them to him.

  “The usual clean up.” The man examined the bills before shoving them into his back pocket.

  “Yeah,” Caleb said, searching the crowd.

  “She was a looker. Hopefully she tasted as good as she looked.”

  “No, she didn’t.” Caleb pushed away from the bar.

  He walked back out and into the street, another bitter cold wind whippingd around him. He breathed in, and then his breath came out against the cold. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he started down the sidewalk and towards an open portal. If he stayed too long, Viktor would grow suspicious.

  Caleb became lost in thought, though, as he absently followed his earlier path.

  The taste of Becca’s blood still lingered on his palate and tongue. Sweet and spicy but most of all it was powerful. He could feel the smallest amount of untapped, raw and carnal power that her blood held. The way she smelled; strawberries and vanilla mixed with a flower filled meadow. It still lingered in his nostrils. He had to have more of her.

  Her big, bouncing curls and the way they hung around her face, the few freckles that spotted her cheeks. He had watched her when she left the bar the other night with William’s protective arm around her. She seemed to glide across the blacktop. The way she smiled up at his enemy. It sent a jealousy through Caleb. He hadn’t noticed but he had balled his fists up in his pockets.

  His father’s words rang clear in his head. He demanded him to be objective and not to lose sight of the bigger picture.

  “He just wants her for himself,” his voice echoed throughout the alleyway near the portal.

  Passing a dumpster, he turned and kicked it violently over and over. The sound of his foot making contact with it echoed between the two buildings. “Well he can’t fucking have her,” he said through gritted teeth as his hands gripped the top of the open dumpster, still kicking it until finally the rust weakened metal gave and his foot went through it.

  “She’s mine.” He breathed hard.

  When he released the receptacle and pulled his foot free, food waste covered his black running shoe. “Fuck.” He threw his hands up in the air and he shook loose larger pieces of lettuce and tomatoes. But a mixture of condiments just splattered off still lingered on the surface.

  “Maybe a quick visit is in order.”

  Defeated and even angrier now, he closed the gap between him and the invisible portal and disappeared into the brick wall as if there had been an open door.

  Chapter 20

  Becca sat on the old white porch swing suspended just in front of the bank of kitchen windows. She held tightly to herself, hugging the grey sweater that hung loosely at her shoulders. It was William’s. She loved the feel of his clothes on her. The smell of floral fabric softener just tinging the fabric.

  Her foot hung down from the swing, slowly rocking it. A cup of hot coffee, steam still rising from it in her hand. She looked out over the landscape. It hadn’t changed since she was a child. Memories of all of them running and giggling through the yard filled her mind.

  The red barn just as she had remembered. A broken window in the back of the building. The boys had been trying to throw rocks at empty cans, a pastime she didn’t quite understand still. And Z, of course, threw one and it missed it completely. She giggled at the memory. Craeden had yelled at them and Danny had laughed too hard at it.

  “Becca?” Her mother’s voice brought her back from the memory and she looked up at her. “You okay?”

  “Yeah mom, I’m fine.”

  She wasn’t sure yet if that had been a lie. Sarah walked over and sat down on the other end of the swing. The sun was just beginning to set and the sky filled with oranges and pinks. Swirling together like a piece of art. She stole a look at her daughter, not sure what to say. Sarah had begged for this day for so long, and now that it was here she was lost.

  “You wanna talk about what happened?” Becca’s cheeks heated up and she kept her stare straight ahead, taking a sip of coffee to distract her. She grimaced at the temperature and taste. Her taste buds detested the taste of Hybrid. It did nothing for her growing hunger and even less for the urge to hunt.

  William though, she thirsted for him with every passing minute. The taste of him still fresh on her tongue. It had been intoxicating and extinguished the wildfire burning fierce in her chest. His blood was like fine wine, velvet against the inside of her mouth. Tangy, sweet and bold. She could drink from him all day and night and still not be satisfied.

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, honey,” Sarah assured her, letting her hand come to rest on Becca’s knee.

  The two had been so sure that n
o one had heard them. That they had been conscious enough to keep their moans and cries to an inaudible level. But they had been wrong. In their throes of passion their sound level had been quite capable of being heard. The whole family had heard the intimate tryst. Almost rendering them frozen in place at the table as the sounds filled the house.

  But that wasn’t what had either of them mortified. Their intimate moment had brought forth the Heir and Heiress. Giving way to break through and spread throughout their bodies. To be reborn again. Filling them both with their essence, knowledge and history. And the smallest taste of the power they would acquire when they ascended. It had been a groundbreaking moment and in those few moments it had quaked the ground beneath them. It had nearly made the foundation of the house crack. The long foretold, overdue Merger had shaken the earth.

  That had them hiding their faces from their parents and siblings. The looks of shock and terror in the faces of their family when they had finally emerged from the bedroom had been too much. Furniture toppled over, pictures in now broken frames on the floor and plates shaken from their resting places in the kitchen, shattered on the counters.

  Becca and William had been oblivious to anything happening around them. They had had only one concern; each other.

  “Says the mom that hasn’t been around for twenty years,” Becca snapped. Quickly though she closed her eyes. “Sorry.”

  “No, I deserve that,” Sarah admitted, sipping at her coffee. “At least you’re talking to me.”

  Miranda and Nikki had been taking it much harder than Becca. Maybe it had been the moment in the cell with her mother that had made her feel differently. Her mother’s desire to make something right for her. Granting her access to childhood memories they had taken from her.

  It was more than that though. Becca had kept her parents’ picture on her bedside for twenty years. Every day wishing she could go back in time and change it. Unlike Nikki or Miranda, Becca’s memories of her parents had been pleasant. She’d held no resentment.