“I was in hiding when you killed my brother and sister. I was coming to kill you when my mother returned,” Francisco replied, his belligerence evident in his manner. “And she stopped me.”
“I wasn’t going to lose you, too,” Carlotta said, her dark eyes filled with tears. She needed to feed so she could heal, but there wasn’t enough time to find human blood for her. They had to reach a safe haven before sunrise.
“I’m sorry, Carlotta. I didn’t realize…” Armando faltered in the dark flames of her despair and Francisco’s rage. “You didn’t attack me and Vanora because you were giving Francisco time to escape by keeping us talking, weren’t you?”
“Sometimes you’re not so stupid,” Carlotta answered in a ragged voice.
“But I don’t run from my enemies!” Francisco declared. “I hid and waited to see when I could strike.”
The boy’s voice, behavior and looks were very familiar. Armando glanced at the teenage vampire and studied his face in the dim light cast by the console. It took only one long look to wrap his heart in rose thorns. The past and present collided in a violent fury.
“How many secrets have you kept from me?” Armando growled at Carlotta. “Is he my son?”
“He’s not yours!” Her gaunt appearance only added to the ferocity of her gaze.
“He’s a DeLeon.” Armando knew this to be true without a doubt.
“But not yours.”
Francisco didn’t appear surprised by this conversation. He tenderly held the woman who had given birth to him and eternal life. Armando guessed the teenager had died and been transformed around the age of fifteen. He looked almost identical to Armando’s brother Jose when he’d been in his mid-teens. Though it was impossible that Francisco was the result of his affair with Carlotta as vampires, Armando couldn’t help but wonder if he was the product of their trysts before his mortal marriage. Armando’s involvement with the sultry dancer and singer had started when he was a young man of twenty. Carlotta had many lovers and was well-known for her scandalous lifestyle, but he’d found her irresistible. Though she’d come to their town as a young girl from an impoverished gypsy family, by the time she was eighteen, she’d been secure in a modest home with a small staff of servants. There had always been speculation about who her secret benefactor was, but Armando had never dreamed it was one of his own family members. When Armando departed with Aeron after the death of his beloved wife, Carlotta had been barely twenty years old. Over a decade passed before Armando returned and found her destitute after losing the support of her lover. She’d been even more beautiful and alluring in her thirties and he’d fallen into a mad love affair with her that had resulted in her becoming a vampire.
“Is he Jose’s?”
Carlotta shook her head. “He’s not your brother’s son either.”
Francisco regarded Armando with his heavily fringed amber eyes and a sly smile.
“My father’s then.” It made cruel sense. When Armando had returned, his father had been dead for several years and his brother had control of the family holdings. Removing financial support from Carlotta would be exactly something his brother would have done out of spite.
“The two younger ones?” Armando asked, his throat tight with dread.
“They were the children of other lovers.” Carlotta sounded weary, not scornful. This was the sort of dramatic news she usually loved to play out in an emotional storm. The events of the night had stolen that fire from her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why should she? You didn’t help us. You went away.” Francisco gave him a dismissive look. “We had to go live in the orphanage when your brother cast us out of my mother’s home when your father died.”
“What does it matter?” Carlotta’s head was tucked against the neck of her son. “They were mine. Mine alone. Why should I share them with anyone else?”
What would he have done upon discovering he had a half-brother? The man he used to be would have seen it as a disgrace. He never would have made Carlotta a vampire out of spite and vengeance. Also, he wouldn’t have tolerated a half-brother living in an orphanage, and would have insisted on him being returned to the DeLeon home. Armando would’ve forced his brother to raise Francisco. Carlotta would have lost her children forever.
“You’re right,” Armando admitted. “Telling me would have been the wrong thing to do.”
Francisco appeared surprised by this confession, but instead of responding, he asked, “Where are you taking us? I need to take care of my mother.”
“My apartment. It’s nearly dawn. Lorelei will return to Aeron’s haven. As soon as the sun sets tonight, you’ll take your mother, the funds I provide, and flee the city.”
“Getting rid of us, huh?” Francisco gave Armando a scornful look.
“Saving you.” It was difficult dealing with this new crisis when his heart was shattered and his mind was adrift in a sea of hopelessness. If it was another time, maybe he would have been thrilled to find out he had a living half-brother. Maybe he would have been angry. But at the moment, he was just exhausted and lost. Every part of his being longed for Vanora.
“Out of guilt? For what you did?”
“Francisco, I’m doing it because I care about your mother. Plus, it’s the right thing to do.”
“But you-”
“Don’t argue with him,” Carlotta whispered to her son.
“I should kill him for what he did to my brother and sister!”
A broken laugh erupted from Carlotta. “Francisco, you don’t understand. We’re all as good as dead. Maybe it’s a blessing they are gone and will not experience the hell that is to come.” The unsettling laughter dissolved into tears. “Dios mio, I considered killing you all myself to spare you.”
There was silence from the teenager instead of an angry outburst. Francisco glanced at Armando, looking afraid for the first time. It was proof the boy wasn’t stupid. Carlotta was dangerous when emotional. Armando could easily see her killing her children instead of allowing Aeron and his vampires to torture them to death.
“I’m sorry,” Armando said at last.
Francisco snorted.
“It doesn’t matter,” Carlotta sobbed. “Aeron killed Roman. He’ll kill me. Armando, take Francisco and leave the city tomorrow.”
“I can’t,” Armando answered, daring to lightly touch her trembling hand where it rested on her son’s arm. “I have to find Vanora.”
“For Aeron?” Carlotta’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Do you still serve him?”
“For myself. I’ll find a way to break the edict.”
“Only death can save you from an edict,” Carlotta responded.
“I will find a way,” Armando said, but his voice lacked confidence.
“You’re a bigger fool than I,” Carlotta scoffed.
“Why?” Armando dared to ask. Maybe he just wanted to torture himself.
“Because you still love and still hope.”
“Then, yes, I am a fool.”
The convertible surged up an on-ramp and sped towards Armando’s haven.
Alisha licked the blood from her lips as she slumped against the wall of the mausoleum. The gray stones were chilly against her now feverish skin. The werewolf blood pleasantly burned in her veins. It reminded her of how a mug of hot chocolate felt against her palms on a cold winter’s morning. Dexios gently shifted her blond hair away from her face with one hand and tilted his head to study her expression.
“Good, yes?” he asked, slightly smiling.
“The very best,” she answered drunkenly.
“Werewolf blood is very potent,” he explained. “A delicacy. And we rarely share it.”
Alisha contentedly sagged against the wall. The pleasant sensation of drifting through warm waters lulled her brain into a languid haze.
Setting the flashlight down, Dexios was instantly swallowed by the darkness, but Alisha’s vampire sight promptly discerned his body moving through the murk to a bag resting by the heavy iron door
. The werewolf plucked it from the floor and returned to her side.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Nowhere right now,” he replied.
“We’re not escaping?” Wrapped in the euphoria of her feeding, it was difficult for Alisha to focus.
“They’re still putting out the fires,” Dexios answered. “And no one will come here.”
“Because they’re all dead?” Alisha gestured to the tombs.
Dexios’s lips turned up at the corners. He had a dimple on one cheek. Or was it a scar? “Because of a magic spell that will keep the humans away.”
“I’m a witch,” Alisha confided, then briefly wondered why. The golden warmth encapsulating her was wonderful. She never wanted it to go away.
“Yes, but it’s not your magic warding the mausoleum.” Dexios tucked an arm around her waist and lifted her body until she was standing, but leaning against him.
“Vanora did it?”
“Vanora isn’t here. She escaped Aeron.” The tall, lean werewolf guided Alisha deeper into the mausoleum, their footsteps barely audible against the stairs leading downward.
“I don’t want to go into the ground,” Alisha protested. “What if I can’t come out?”
“Don’t fear the darkness.”
“But there are things in it.”
“A werewolf and a vampire are in it. And we’re the most fearsome creatures here.”
“Oh.”
Upon arriving at the bottom level of the mausoleum, Alisha shuddered. The large round room was completely enshrouded in darkness, yet she could clearly see the tombs ringing it, the names of long dead Socolis etched into stone. The scent of decayed flowers and old wax filled her nostrils.
Dexios dropped the bag on the floor and the sound echoed through the room. Lowering her to a stone bench set before an altar of the Virgin Mary inset in one wall, Dexios quickly moved to cover the statue with his coat.
“I love her, you know.” Alisha sobbed, but was relieved when he covered the relic.
“The Virgin Mary?” Dexios said, arching a thick, finely arched eyebrow.
“No. Vanora. She’s everything to me. I have to go find her.”
“Right now you need to recover. Morgan gave you poison to weaken you and now my blood is healing the damage.” Dexios unzipped the bag and drew out two plastic rolls. With a flick of his hands, he unfurled air mattresses with built in air pumps. He turned both on and left them to inflate while unpacking the rest of the bag.
“Why?” Alisha asked.
“Why did she poison you?”
“Yes.”
“Morgan had to weaken you to get you out of the mansion without you causing a fuss before Aeron arrived.”
“That woman killed her,” Alisha whispered, pressing her very warm hands to her flushed face. “Why?”
Dexios turned off the pumps and started to cover the inflated beds with sheets and blankets. “Morgan gave her life so that you could live. It had to appear that you killed her escaping.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Aeron can’t suspect Leto. He would have noticed that Morgan was a werewolf and that would have cast doubt on Leto.”
“But why save me?” Alisha was completely bewildered.
“To impress your sister.”
“Why?”
Nodding, Dexios finished his task. Still crouched, he rested his elbows on his knees and viewed her through the darkness. “Your sister is the most important person in this world.”
Maybe the werewolf’s blood wasn't working. Alisha started to not be so muddled. “Because of our bloodline? Because of what we are?”
“You’re a strong witch, but your sister is pure power. Unrecognized power, but it’s there waiting to be born.”
“I’m confused,” Alisha wailed, feeling close to tears all at once.
“Your sister is the fulfillment of prophecy. Thousands of years ago, the spells were cast to create her.”
“She’s just my little Snow Pea,” Alisha protested.
“No, she’s not.” Dexios joined her on the bench, stretching out his long legs and folding his arms. “Your sister was created for Aeron the White and Terrible, the vampire who is now purging the world of all the creatures he considers undesirable in preparation for his reign.”
“The albino warrior…” Alisha whispered, remembering the painting that had disturbed her so much.
“He murdered your mother to prevent her from intruding on his plans to take Vanora when the time was right.”
Vision blurring from tears, Alisha nodded. “He killed her with a dagger. I painted it. But why does he want my sister?”
“Long, long ago, an oracle foretold your sister’s birth and her role in Aeron’s destiny. He believes that she is the future mother of a new race of vampires.” Dexios' words sounded preposterous, yet his expression was dour.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Perhaps, but that is what he believes.”
“So why is your mother-”
“Leto,” Dexios interjected.
“Why is Leto helping me?”
“Because she needs Vanora just as much as Aeron. She believes that saving you will soften your sister’s anger and heart in regards to Leto.”
“I’m a pawn.” The thought was almost insulting, but she could see the logic behind it. “So Leto saves me and Vanora does what? Side with her against Aeron?”
“Then Vanora helps Leto realize her destiny while fulfilling her own.”
“By becoming the mother of a new vampire race?” Alisha twisted about on the bench to stare at Dexios in horror.
Shaking his head, Dexios said, “No, in destroying Aeron. None can kill him. Not even Leto. She suspects that Vanora is the only one who actually can.”
A bit woozy, Alisha gripped her head with her hands. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“You’re still recovering and the sun will rise soon. Lay down. Sleep. Tomorrow night we’ll seek out Vanora.”
“But…how can I trust you?” Alisha protested as Dexios pulled her upright and guided her to the beds.
With shrug, Dexios answered, “How can you not?”
“Easily,” Alisha assured him.
“If we wanted you dead, you would be, Alisha. We need you to find Vanora so Leto can persuade her to help her defeat Aeron.”
“Vanora will not need persuading. Trust me.” Despite the touch of belligerence in her tone, Alisha allowed Dexios to help her into the bed he’d created for her. It was not very comfortable, but it was better than a coffin. Even though she was a vampire, sleeping in a mausoleum was not an experience she welcomed.
Dexios lay on top of the covers of his bed and pulled a bottle of water out of the bag at his side. “No, that’s where you are wrong. The magic that set this in motion is strong. Vanora was created for Aeron. She is meant to be his. Everything within her will want him.”
“She loves someone else. That’s not going to happen.”
“It doesn’t matter. A bit of Aeron’s very soul was used in the spell.” Dexios took a long swallow of water, then sighed. “What you don’t understand is that bonds of love, friendship, and family pale in comparison to what she will feel when she’s near Aeron. That’s what you will need to help Leto fight against.”
Alisha curled beneath the soft covers and reflected on his words. “My paintings were trying to tell me this, weren’t they? My magic was trying to warn me, and I couldn’t decipher the message.”
“Even the most powerful oracles can be confounded by their visions.”
Pressing her wet face into the pillow, misery engulfed Alisha. If only she hadn’t failed to understand what her powers had been attempting to tell her. The image of Vanora as the Queen of the Night haunted her. Her sister’s face had been so cruel. “I painted so many things that never made any sense.”
“Perhaps because you were never told the secrets of the vampire race and your own heritage.” Dexios took another swallow of water,
then started to eat chunks of jerky.
“Then tell me,” Alisha demanded. “Tell me so I do understand.”
For several minutes, Dexios was silent as he ate, then finally he finished and tossed the empty water bottle into the bag. Rolling over onto his side, his eyes glinted like a wolf’s. “Once I tell the tale, nothing in your world will ever be the same again.”
“My world is in ruins,” Alisha said bitterly. “Nothing you say can make it worse.”
Exhaling, Dexios tilted his face to gaze up at the ceiling. “Long ago, an angel loved a witch…”
Vanora impatiently watched the agonizingly slow process of her purchases being tossed into a blue cloth shopping bag by the distracted female cashier. The clear latex gloves on the woman’s hands were foggy with moisture and for a split second, Vanora saw the other world where the three women poured water on hot coals, filling the air with steam. Closing her eyes, Vanora concentrated on the reality surrounding her physical body, not her spirit.
When she lifted her eyes, the cashier was still distracted by the ongoing conversation with the overnight manager. It took a few seconds of eavesdropping for Vanora to realize they were discussing the fires raging throughout Houston.
“Terrorists are doing it,” the manager said with confidence, her dark eyes flashing with indignation. Her salt and pepper hair was scraped back from her face into a tight bun.
“I heard it was devil worshippers,” the cashier replied. Light brown hair in a short ponytail, pale face free of makeup, wearing rimless glasses, and just enough extra weight to give her a doughy appearance, she had a look that made it difficult to discern her age.
Lightly tapping her debit card against the edge of the card reader, Vanora waited. Fearing her magic might manifest again, Vanora’s hands were tucked into gloves. It had taken her nearly ten minutes of hard concentration to get them to stop glowing. Anxious to get to Sheila and the others before the sun rose, Vanora fought to contain her temper. Yet, it was difficult because she could feel the pleasure the cashier gained from making Vanora wait.
…snobby, rich bitch…
The words hissed through her mind in the cashier’s voice.
…thinks she’s so much better…
In Darkness We Must Abide Page 2