Keeping His Siren Part 2

by Kiersten Fay

  “Calm yourself,” Lex muttered, placing a palm on her shoulder.

  “What, can you read minds too?”

  “Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly. If I didn’t think you’d run off and get yourself killed, I would have left you in the lobby.”

  Okay, maybe they weren’t going to kill her. Why reassure your murder victim when there was already nowhere to run?

  A ding sounded and the elevator doors slid open. The entire floor was darker than dark. The word pitch could be applied.

  “I’ll be happy to head back up to the lobby now,” she said, edging to the back of the brilliantly lit elevator.

  “We got you, girl.” Ryder disappeared into the darkness. He must have found a switch, because the place was suddenly as bright as the floor above had been; same golden-brown hues and similar motif, only the place was deserted. Ominously silent.

  Lex put his palm on the small of her back, stepping with her out of the elevator. She followed behind Ryder who took a right down a corridor lined with identical brown doors that broke up the jasmine colored walls. She tallied off the room numbers in her head as they passed. Three-oh-four...three-oh-six...three-oh—

  Ryder slowed. “You smell that?”

  “Blood,” Lex replied. His hands clamped on her shoulders, swiveling her so her back was against the wall. “Stay here.”

  Her pulse went into hyper-drive. When a vampire looked worried it was damn-well time to worry.

  Ryder didn’t bother knocking on room three-oh-eight. He swiped the keycard and rushed the room like he was busting in on an armed brigade. She waited, her heart blasting painfully against her ribs.

  “Jesus Christ.” The solemn curse shot back at them through the opened door.

  Lex joined him inside and then huffed a curse of his own.

  With no gunfire and no sound of a struggle, the compelling force of curiosity commanded her through the entryway.

  Blood was everywhere, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, the lamps. It was a gruesome artist’s delight.

  Her gaze was drawn to the bed, and she let out a choking sob. The body was so mutilated it was nearly unrecognizable…but those boots. She knew those boots. Goldie never let anyone borrow those boots. Not even her.

  Mindless, Naia rushed toward her friend, shaking her and crying for her to wake up.

  In the next instant, she blinked at her hands, covered in blood. The red stuff was down the front of her shirt as well. One of the vampires was pulling her off of Goldie’s lifeless body. It was Ryder, telling her to calm down, that he still sensed a heartbeat. Naia’s gasps were little slices of pain in her chest. Her lungs were a furnace of pain.

  Suddenly Cortez was there. He swiftly assessed the situation and then took her from Ryder.

  Sobbing, she curled into his chest and tried to catch her breath.

  “It’s okay,” he cooed, holding her to his chest. “Shhh.” Even as agonized sounds erupted from her that she couldn’t seem to control, she was grateful for this small offer of comfort, even though he’d wanted nothing more to do with her.

  Someone called from the bathroom to their right. “There’s another one in here!” The voice belonged to Dane. When had he arrived? Oh, God. Did he say there was another one?

  She blinked slowly, the world swimming.

  Cortez was holding her steady by the shoulders now, mouthing that everything was going to be all right. Or maybe he was saying it out loud. Her ears were a rush of white rapids and a harsh rhythmic banging that could only be her heartbeat. Her vision blurred. My hands are covered in blood.

  “I know,” he replied like she had spoken. Had she?

  “Goldie’s blood.” She heard her voice crack. “They killed her.”

  “Lex is helping her,” Cortez said. “She might survive.”

  She glanced toward the horrifically bloody lump in boots. Lex was hunched over it. Feeding her his blood? As panic stormed her, Cortez seemed to be checking her for injury.

  “This one’s gone,” Dane called again from the bathroom.

  Fresh terror stabbed her brain. “Cole?”

  “It’s another female,” Dane replied.

  Relief weakened her knees.

  Cortez propped her against the wall. “I need to go investigate. Will you be alright if I leave you?”

  Woodenly, she nodded and forced her stark eyes to blink.

  She must looked freaked out, because he didn’t look convinced. “Do you want to wait in the hallway?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll be okay here.” She wanted to stay nearby in case Goldie woke up. She didn’t know how fast vampire blood healed, but Goldie shouldn’t awaken to strange faces after…whatever horror she’d been through.

  Cortez nodded and then went into the bathroom where he, Dane, and a couple others all talked in hushed tones. Naia leaned her back against the wall, working on evening her breath. Lex was talking to Goldie, encouraging her to fight. Had he started CPR?

  Shakily, Naia wiped her forehead with her sleeve, managing to smear more of Goldie’s blood on her skin.

  The room rolled. Bile churned.

  She blinked a long blink, then dragged her heavy lids back open.

  Everything became like a dream. Warped in a way that said she might just pass out from shock. She fought against the temptation. Lex rhythmically pumped Goldie’s red-stained chest. Blood dripped down the headboard.

  From the corner of her eye, Naia noticed a door to the adjoining room was cracked open.

  “Three-oh-nine.” She whispered absently, dizzy.

  She blinked. Lex was working Goldie’s chest. The others were still in the bathroom. No one had heard her. Maybe she hadn’t spoken aloud.

  An uneasy feeling skittered over her spine. Her subconscious suspected what her waking mind wasn’t quite comprehending. That darkness beckoned.

  Abandoning CPR, Lex’s wrist was back at Goldie’s mouth. Were his efforts working? Naia couldn’t tell.

  She blinked. Her legs took control. She swayed on her way across the room.

  Planting her palms on the adjoining door, she pushed it open—

  She blinked.

  And lost her ever-loving mind.

  Chapter 32

  “Who’s that mommy?” Naia inched closer to the bassinet. A tiny thing lay within, squirming and making annoying sounds.

  “That’s your baby brother. You’re a big sister now. Do you know what that means?”

  She shook her head. The child caught the movement and then smiled up at her. That smile was a force of nature. It instantly captured her heart.

  “It means you need to help him get big and strong like you. You need to protect him and keep him safe.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Cole. Do you like it?”

  She nodded. “I’m going to be the best big sister.”

  * * *

  “You leave him alone!” Naia punched the little girl bullying Cole square in the face.

  The hit knocked the girl back, and she fell on her ass. “Ow! I was going to give it back.”

  Cole looked on, now smug where before his face had been wet with tears. His big sister had come to his defense. The little girl, taller than him by a foot, had been holding his favorite action figure out of his reach.

  Naia snatched the action figure out of the girl’s grasp and handed it to Cole. “Come on, Cole. Let’s go play somewhere else.”

  * * *

  “A witch used to live there,” Davie said, pointing to the condemned four-square home as they all loitered behind a large shrub. With its chipped paint, busted windows shimmering in the moonlight, and overgrown yard, Naia could almost believe it. Almost. She wasn’t that gullible. But in lieu of a witch, there could be squatters. Worse, it could be a drug den filled with crack heads.

  Flanked by his minions Jamie and Warren, Davie turned to Cole. “You want to be in our club, you got to stay the whole night in there.”

  The only indication that Cole was scared s
hitless was the tightness in his jaw. Only Naia knew his tell.

  To Naia, Davie’s club was nothing more than a bunch of teenage boys pretending to be tough. She would have told them to screw off, but Cole was younger than they were, and he desperately wanted to be their friend. He’d asked for this initiation.

  “Come on, Cole,” she said. “We’ll do it together.”

  “We don’t allow girls in our club,” Davie reminded her.

  “Who cares,” she shot back. “I just want to see the witch. Maybe I can learn a thing or two.”

  With Cole now looking a little less intimidated, he shrugged to his potential friends as if to say, “Girls, what can you do?” but she knew he was grateful for the company. Then, side by side, they marched for the witches den.

  “What if it’s haunted in there?” Cole asked her when they were far enough away not to be heard. “Malory said it’s haunted.”

  She whispered back, “Then I’ll use my voice and make those ghosts haunt Davie for the rest of his life.”

  “You can’t do that,” Cole said, but he smiled.

  Naia hid her own trepidation as she and Cole pushed open the creaky front door and faced their fears together.

  * * *

  Oh god, they’re everywhere! Men stumbled through the streets, drawn for some reason to her. Why was she in the middle of the street singing at the top of her lungs like a mad woman? Harsh wind whipped the hem of her nightgown around her legs as she gazed into the confused faces of the men closing in.

  One of them reached for her. “So pretty.”

  Naia reared back and then raced inside her home, slamming the door closed behind her. The noise woke Cole, who’d been sleeping on the top bunk they both shared in the living room.

  Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “There are men outside. I think they’re going to try to break in.” She woke her mother next, who ushered them out the back, leaving everything behind.

  As they slinked through the neighborhood, Cole kept checking over his shoulder, his expression worried.

  “Don’t worry,” she told him solemnly. “I won’t let anyone get you.”

  He’d grabbed her hand. “I won’t let anyone get you either.”

  * * *

  Someone’s in my room!

  Naia awoke to the sound of someone crawling through her window. The night was missing the moon, but she managed to spot a shadowed silhouette creeping toward her. She recognized the breadth of those shoulders.

  James wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He wanted to control her and make her do terrible things to innocent people.

  She gathered a scream in her chest, but before she could let it out, he was on her, covering her mouth with a cloth that smelled awful. Dizziness swam in her head. She scratched and clawed at him, but he wouldn’t let up. He was too strong.

  Suddenly his heavy weight was ripped off her. She coughed and wheezed for fresh air. When some of the dizziness abated she could hear wet slapping sounds coming from a darker corner of her room. She lurched for the light switch.

  Cole was crouched over James, bashing his meaty fist into the man’s face. Blood splayed across the wall. Already James was unconscious, sound-blocking headphones dangling around his neck. Still Cole didn’t stop. She’d never seen him more enraged.

  “Cole,” she said, placing a soft hand on his muscled shoulder. He was growing so strong. Mother would have been proud.

  He glanced up at her for a moment, looked back down at James, and then landed one final jaw-breaking punch.

  Her little brother was a big badass.

  Nothing could get him....

  ....Nothing could get him....

  Chapter 33

  Cole’s name was a banshee’s cry on her lips.

  Half-maddened, she lurched for Cole, tied to the same chair from those pictures, hunched forward.

  She lifted his bloodied face between her hands. His neck felt weird, like there were no bones inside. “Cole!” she choked. “Please, no, Cole. Wake up. Wake up. Please, wake up.”

  Swamped by tears, she couldn’t tell who was tugging her from the lifeless body of her sweet, tough-as-nails, broken, bleeding brother. She couldn’t understand why they were taking her away from him. He needed her! Gasping for air, she punched and kicked and fought to get back to Cole’s side, but whoever held her was too strong. Her lungs seemed to be shrinking with each panicked breath. She couldn’t think past her desperation to help her brother.

  Was Cole even breathing? She tried to pose the question, but she was sobbing so badly the words were unintelligible. Her voice was ragged and raw, her mind clutched by terror. She tried again, and again as she was drawn farther away, through the door.

  Suddenly the room was a nest of chaos. People were yelling. No, wait, Cortez was yelling for someone to take her. He handed her off and then ordered everyone else to his side. At whoever held her now, he jerked his chin toward the hall. He was banishing her?

  “No! Let me go!”

  Cortez and the others filed into three-oh-nine. The door shut behind them while she was dragged into the hallway. She flailed and screamed, killing her voice with each roar of Cole’s name, but her struggles did nothing but trigger fatigue. Cole’s face had been a reddened mass of swollen flesh.

  This is all my fault!

  When she was hauled into the elevator and the doors closed, her captor finally released her. She tipped over onto all fours and heaved up her lunch mixed with bile. Large booted feet stepped back, giving her elbowroom.

  Finished heaving, she rasped, “Take me back. He needs me. I need to be there.”

  Ryder, who she now hated with all her being, knelt down next to her. “Let them do what they can for him. If there’s any way to bring him back, Cortez will do it.”

  The world stopped. She glanced up at Ryder. “What do you mean bring him...? Back from the dead!?”

  He pursed his lips, the pity in his eyes the only answer she received.

  Her mind crashed.

  Chapter 34

  She was like a zombie, doing whatever Ryder said without much thought or care. He’d taken her to Cortez’s suite, and pointed her to the shower, softly instructing her to clean up. She did, ignoring the rivulets of red flowing down her body and swirling at her feet.

  He’d given her clothes to change into. She’d put them on, not paying attention to their make or color.

  In the living area, he’d handed her a glass of whiskey and told her to drink. She did, not feeling the bite that usually accompanied hard liquor. When she finished the glass, he offered her more. She’d accepted, sucking the liquid back as silent tears trailed down her cheeks. When she’d curled up on the couch, he’d covered her with a blanket and told her to let it out.

  She did.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d cried, or how her body was even still able to produce tears, just that it felt like hours had passed. Dawn was yawning toward the horizon, but it was dark yet, the sky reluctant to let go of night. She and Ryder had been silent for a long while. They’d received no word about Cole or Goldie.

  Was that a bad sign? Or was no news good news?

  From her place on the couch, she asked in a scratchy voice, “Why did you bring me to Cortez’s room?” There had to be other rooms available for her to wait in.

  Ryder glanced up. “Because he wanted me to.”

  Burrowing deeper into the cushions, she sniffed. “Why would you think that?” Cortez hadn’t said anything of the kind. He’d merely jerked his chin for someone to remove her from the vicinity. “For all you know he could have meant for you to escort me out of the building. He might be upset to find me here.”

  Ryder opened his mouth to respond, but the door burst open, cutting him off.

  Someone stomped into the room. By the subtle change in Ryder’s posture, it had to be his leader, Cortez.

  Naia cringed, sinking deeper into her hovel of blankets, the couch hiding her from where Cortez s
eemed to have stopped. She was afraid to peek over the couch, afraid to see his expression—it would surely tell her if Cole was dead. For a few more glorious seconds, she could pretend everything would be fine, and she’d have Cole back in no time, everything set to rights.

  “The VEA will arrive shortly,” Cortez announced, pacing. “They received an anonymous tip. Dante really went all out with this one. A bludgeoning, a draining, and an overdose. It’s a tri-fucking-fecta of death.”

  A choking sound interrupted him. Naia’s hands flew to her mouth, a great sob breaking free.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “I thought you’d be in the bedroom.” He skirted the couch and then knelt in front of her. He was more disheveled than she had ever seen him, dark stains cradling his eyes, clothes wet with blood. Too much blood.

  She gasped. “Is that Cole’s blood?”

  He hesitated. “Partly. But he’s alive. I was able to save him.”

  The assurance didn’t sink in at first, her heart still trying to bounce back from its devastating fall. Then she saw the truth of it in his eyes and another sob ripped out of her, this one the product of pure happiness and joy. “He’s alive?” her voice was hoarse.

  “Yes. Everything is going to be fine.” Had his eyes darted evasively?

  Cole was alive!

  She threw her arms around his neck and cried, “Thank you. Oh, God, thank you so much.” So grateful was she that she didn’t even care about the still-wet blood from his clothes squishing between them.

  He didn’t seem to mind either. He held her like that for a moment, petting her hair until she realized he might not want her so close. Was probably just being kind in light of the seriously fucked up circumstances.

  Though it was the last thing she wanted, she pulled away, sniffing. “Can I see him?”

  He snatched her unfinished whiskey off the coffee table and swallowed the contents down in one gulp. After a moment of heavy silence, he said, “He was beaten pretty badly. I-uh had to do something extreme to save his life.”