Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles)

by Tamela Quijas

  Too hungry to care, Amado grabbed at the container, his eyes flashing with the need clawing at him. He’d gone too long without sustenance, and felt weak, every limb quivering. The urge to feed tore viciously at him, and he feared the damage he’d inflict, if he succumbed to the darkest portion of his mind.

  He’d spent the last few hours speaking to the police, struggling every moment to keep his composure, though restricted to a building exuding more evil than Declan could summon. Low voiced, and purposely staring at the floor in his attempt to ignore the wickedness surrounding him and his ever-growing hunger, he intentionally delivered vague statements to a detective that ruthlessly plied him with questions. All the while, the scent of blood, the pounding of heartbeats, and the shouts of the guilty taunted him to unleash the demon.

  Miraculously, the Chief of Police had decided to take her turn interrogating him regarding the break-in and his relationship with the social worker. Valentina Daskova, a fifteen-year veteran of the force, succeeded in directing the attention of the intrepid detective elsewhere, while her vivid blue eyes scanned him with an impatience bordering on annoyance.

  Amado sympathized with her lack of civility.

  Only she understood what he was behind his calm demeanor, and look beyond the strange eyes staring at her with merciless intent. She was aware of the bizarre denizens haunting her streets, merging into society with a grace and skill defying reason, as what they truly were.

  Happily married to a man formerly one of their own, she’d insight into the supernatural underworld in Bentham. Daskova was familiar with what lingered in the darkest alleyways and behind the powerful doors of the city’s most esteemed individuals, and delivered her own form of justice when the need arose.

  Most of all, she wasn’t a fool.

  Captain Valentina Kureyev-Daskova was wiser than any regarding the inner workings of the realm existing in the shadows of her city. She knew that too many of the immigrants of Bentham weren’t only from distant shores, but also from unbelievable backgrounds.

  She didn’t ask many questions, accepting Amado’s explanation of the break-in with unenthusiastic ease. Moodily, she scribbled notes pertaining to Meghan’s suspicions, before filing them away in an unmarked folder.

  As he left the police station, he sensed she’d keep a watchful eye, and notify him of any possible suspects. In particular, she assured the case would be handled discretely, which meant his involvement wouldn't be leaked.

  “What can I help you with, Gianni?” Jared asked in a voice oozing with the charm of the undead, educated jargon replacing his formally garbled speech.

  Amado took a long swig from the bottle he held, the lukewarm taste flooding his system. Closing his yes, he savored the cloying flavor of the liquid, and felt vitality flow back into his limbs. Temporarily sated, he lowered the flask before responding.

  “You’re a regular at this park, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t require a response. The strange assemblage of The Brotherhood subsisted in all lifestyles and countless were easily recognizable in public circles, mingling among mortals with ease. Many, though, seemed to be nothing more than a horde of the forgotten. Under the guise of vagrants, commonly overlooked by both human and vampire alike, their presence was a necessity. They had eyes throughout the city, and were acquainted with what often went unnoticed by others.

  More established vampires avoided them, but didn’t overlook their innate skills.

  Familiar with the raggedly attired creature, the fellow vampire had once been a respected figure in society, several centuries ago. In this era, he preferred the security of his anonymity. Linked by their common background and hearing of his need for information, Jared volunteered without question.

  He leaned against his cart, bottle held firmly in his hand. His hooded assessment raked over the suavely dressed vampire, while questions sprang to his tongue.

  “Why didn’t you call a convention of The Bloods?” He inquired abruptly.

  Innocently begging among humans, they performing the tasks necessary to keep their numbers informed of the mythical world in which they lived, The Brotherhood often went by the less popular moniker of The Bloods. Amado longed to laugh aloud at the sinister acronym, blatantly realizing their group sounded more like a gang from the poverty-stricken South side, but held his reaction in check.

  “We both comprehend how the elders feel with regard to intervention in human affairs.” He supplied easily, sated on the warm liquid filling his ravenous stomach. “It’s against their code.”

  Jared smirked, remembering identical words falling from the vampire’s lips roughly a decade ago. At that time, his declaration had been chastising and low, almost whispered among the fluttering of dead leaves scattering the ground.

  Now, they held the same pain that had echoed in Dominic Delano’s anguished plea to save the woman.

  “We both are aware of the code.” The vagrant took a long swig from the innocuous bottle. “So, if our meeting is not only for us to dine together, why am I here?”

  Amado frowned, the inky darkness of his brows drawing heavily over his sultry orbs. “I hadn’t supped in nearly twenty-four hours and was…”

  “Getting a trifle lax in your observational skills?” Jared finished the sentence with intentional ease as he squinted.

  Amado shrugged offhandedly, not willing to admit the assumption was correct.

  “I saw that abomination arrive shortly after you did this morning.” Jared continued harshly, using a ragged handkerchief to wipe a stray drop of precious fluid from the corner of his mouth. Scowling at the cloth, his eyes glowed with a solemn flame and Amado couldn’t discern if his response was due to the waste of prized blood or the thought of Sebastien DeClerq. “You didn’t do anything to stop him, and she allowed him to enter her home.”

  He shrugged again, not about to be questioned relating to his brief involvement with DeClerq. Still, in spite of his deliberate nonchalance, his uneasiness was apparent.

  “He’s her friend and she trusts him.”

  Jared snorted inelegantly then smirked, realizing he’d unsettled an esteemed affiliate of his circle.

  “You don’t have any idea what he is, do you?”

  “Sebastien?” Amado grimaced as he casually mentioned the man’s name.

  Placing the bottle aside, the vampire brushed his hands across his coat front, his expression enigmatic.

  “Sebastien, you say?” He scowled. “Do you know him well?”

  “I can’t say I do.” Amado divulged grudgingly, wondering at the secretive meaning in the other’s tone. “I’ve asked, but everything I’ve been told points back to a human. What I’ve seen is a different matter, though.”

  “He deals with magic, and is more powerful than you could ever image.”

  “Sebastien DeClerq is a wizard of sorts?”

  “Wizard is an understatement. Honestly, to us, he’s the harbinger of death,” Jared responded cryptically, staring directly into Amado’s blemished eyes. “Whether you’re part of The Sanctum or The Bloods, it doesn’t matter. He’s our Reaper, and a danger to any vampire.”

  “He’s not posed a menace to me.” Amado stated soberly.

  Jared laughed outright, his golden-hued eyes glittering strangely in the night.

  “Of course he won’t.” He managed roughly, as he leaned against the sturdy weight of his cart with elegant ease. “His type thrives on wrapping a calming enchantment around difficult prey, right before they suck the very essence of their being out.”

  Amado grimaced, recalling the compelling enchantment Sebastien had cast on Meghan. If what Jared said were true, the storeowner was a foreboding force, which explained his previous unease.

  “What is he?”

  “He’s an old sorcerer that would love to erase our breed

  He couldn’t disregard Jared’s statement, since the undead vagrants sleeping on the streets of the city were more familiar with the inner workings of the dark side of Bentham. Those
denizens recognized of the multitude of mythical creatures inhabiting the mortal world far better than those in the public eye did.

  “Is he a threat to me?” Amado asked suspiciously.

  Jared shrugged.

  “When I have to consider what his type look for in ours, I can’t supply you with a yes or no. I recall the accounts where his sort had a debilitating effect on the affiliates of The Sanctum.” He shuddered slightly as he thought of the horrific tales woven around the ancient sorcerer.

  Noting Jared’s reaction, Amado’s curiosity overwhelmed him.

  “What have you heard?”

  “Do you recall that he tends to wear his sleeves long, with heavy leather bands about his wrists?”

  Amado nodded.

  “They say the faces of the accursed are eternally etched on his arms and body, his entire torso bears a striking resemblance to the distorted renderings from the pages of Dante’s Inferno.”

  “He openly hunts the members of The Sanctum?” Amado posed, uneasily recalling Sebastien’s mentioned encounter with Declan during the gala at the hotel. As Amado understood, his nemesis continued to wander the streets, not having incurred the wrath of the ageless magician.

  “He certainly does, hence the belief he’s the Reaper of the Damned,” Jared affirmed. “I’ve heard tales of the powerful DeClerq as far back as the beginning of time immemorial. The pronunciation of his name was enough to make the Dark Ones seek sanctuary in hidden crypts and valleys, away from his wary eye.”

  Amado ran a hand over the back of his neck, rubbing at the suddenly tense muscles.

  “Are those of The Brotherhood at risk?”

  Jared lifted his shoulders in an inscrutable shrug.

  “I don’t know.” He disclosed with great reluctance. “Despite the rumors, I can’t ever remember hearing a tale of one of ours meeting The Mage and suffering from the consequences. But, then, we don’t intentionally go out seeking his sort.”

  The Mage.

  Amado wanted to chuckle at the irony of the reference. By design, Sebastien appeared to advertise his profession in the most blatant manner possible, the name of the proclaiming his title. Short of affixing neon signage to the shop, every creature existing in Bentham’s underworld was aware of his location!

  Jared leaned in close, and warily stared into Amado’s eyes.

  “He didn’t zap you into the netherworld today,” he ground out. “In fact, he tolerated your presence.”

  “We had a common goal.” Amado declared.

  “He talked to you for quite a while,” Jared continued hoarsely. “He stuck around even after the police showed up, and offered to take the mortal woman back to his place.”

  “She chose not to go with him.”

  “Good for you, Amado.” The vampire mused. “Are you aware that he has a spell on the site?”

  “What spell?”

  “There’s one that draws humans in like flies, making them excited to view the place, buy stuff, chat with the owners.” He took a mouthful from his bottle, and then growled deeply. “There’s another though, that only we can sense. The enchantment he’s placed on the store prevents any of our kind from coming within twenty feet.”

  “If Meghan would have gone…”

  “Your human would’ve been untouchable to any of us.”

  The statement gave Amado pause. As he mulled over the words, he decided he had to return to his studio, and talk to Meghan. There had to be a way to induce her that Sebastien’s offer was valid and the safest option when considering Declan’s taunting threats. Despite his feelings, and realizing he couldn’t be with her, her safety was more important.

  “I’ll speak to DeClerq, and ask him to help me convince Meghan to stay with him.” He mused aloud.

  “If you’re keeping company with him, you fucked up.” Jared chastised.

  Amado’s brow furrowed. He waited, taking a long drink from the bottle while he composed his thoughts. He couldn’t afford to affront The Brotherhood of Blood by having a direct association with a creature that hunted vampires!

  “I’m not associated with him in any way, except through a mutual friend.”

  “If that’s true,” Jared dared darkly, “Why did he wind up at the woman’s house at the same time as you?”

  Offhandedly, Amado shrugged.

  “I’m not certain.” He admitted grudgingly, not fully understanding why Sebastien appeared when he did. “Perhaps he divined there was trouble afoot, or he’s keeping an eye on Declan.”

  The response appeared to placate Jared.

  “That dark trickster is always trailing you.” The vagrant conceded as he straightened. “I’d be careful, though. I haven’t known the magical species to be very particular regarding whom they reap and who stays behind. It’s not like we’re exclusive or anything, since we have one thing in common.”

  “Blood,” Amado supplied needlessly before handing his now empty bottle to the vagrant. “You forget we are different, Jared. We vowed to protect humanity from the dregs that tend to attack it.”

  Jared nodded. “Declan’s type is certainly making the task more difficult.”

  “He’s been a scourge for longer than I care to recall.” Amado agreed resentfully.

  “A vampire trailing a vampire is a subject that can be dealt with internally.” Jared supplied diffidently before looking away. “You could have asked for help eradicating him decades ago. Even more so, you can ask now. When a member of The Sanctum hunts a human we’ve befriended, the situation changes.”

  “That’s why I called on you.” Amado’s expression hardened as he peered at the starlit sky. “I need information far beyond the threat of a magician.”

  “It’s about the social worker, isn’t it?” Jared queried.

  “Yes,” he stared inquisitively at the vagrant. “Someone’s out to harm her, but I don't think it’s Balthazar.”

  “Why not?” Jared asked innocuously. “If I suspected anything wanted to injure a mortal, Declan would top my list.”

  “The woman’s house was vandalized.” Amado provided seriously. “Declan couldn’t cross her threshold without an invitation.”

  “I wouldn’t eliminate him entirely.”

  “Are you certain?” Amado hissed.

  “DeClerq’s heard of Declan and the evil surrounding him.” The vagrant shuddered for emphasis, though fear hadn’t coursed through his veins in more than a century. “When I tell you he’s been making it a point to watch her home, I’m not exaggerating.”

  Amado felt his fury rise and his hands clenched into fists. It appeared Declan was true to his word, and Meghan’s draw was a life force he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

  “I can tell you this much,” Jared came closer, his voice dropping an octave as he imparted an additional bit of information. “He isn’t the only one studying your little mortal, though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a homeless man that’s been watching her home for the last few weeks.”

  “What do you know of him?”

  “Not much.” He declared with great reluctance. “He’s not like the others of his kind, eager to talk for a speck of food and a warm blanket. He hangs in the distance, ignoring everyone, and keeps to himself.”

  “Have you attempted gathering information from him?” Amado asked expectantly.

  “We’ve, the other brothers and I, have tried.” He continued. “He won’t look a single one of us in the eye, though, which makes the work more complicated.”

  “What’s your take on him?”

  He exhaled a futile breath. “He’s a loner, but I don’t think he always was.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He stares at her house and I sense there’s something he’s hiding.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “It’s in his face.” Jared confessed. “His expression becomes soft, then hard, and he curses. I can’t understand what he’s saying, but there’s a distinct love/hate relationship
between the two.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m not just clean-up when you take out the scum torment the innocent. I watch.” He grimaced at the admission. “He made me curious and I followed him.”

  “Does he seem crazed?”

  “It’s far more than that.” He pointed out. “One minute, the human has a faraway look. In a matter of a second, there’s nothing but anger radiating from him!”

  “Do you feel it’s directed toward Meghan?”

  “I can’t tell you for certain,” he confessed. He remembered the strange light in the human’s eyes as he stared at the house, and regretted his vow to The Brotherhood, to leave the innocent untouched. “All I can tell you is he mutters how she was meant for him only.”

  If Jared’s assumptions were anything for him to go by, Amado had little doubt as to the man’s identity. Apparently, her ex had returned, and she occupied his mind to the extent he’d destroy everything she loved. Even he understood, remembering the words spray-painted across the once pristine walls of her living room, that MINE could mean a death sentence.

  “Keep at watch out for the human, and if he continues to stalk her.”

  “Where can I find you?”

  “I can always be found in the usual place.” He answered calmly.

  “Are you still at that old dance studio?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long have you been there?” Jared asked unexpectedly.

  Amado paused, mentally calculating the time. “Perhaps forty years.”