Darkness Descending

by Devyn Quinn

  Sam Chen eyed their captive. “If that’s the case, we definitely can’t let him get away now.”

  Jesse’s nerves coiled a notch tighter. “I thought about that,” she said in a deadly quiet tone, her eyes riveted on Lucien. “He’s got to go.”

  Reyen watched her closely, zeroing in on her face. The look he gave her was one of hostility mixed with suspicion. “Well, well. Looks like our little demon-girl has some secrets.”

  Jesse felt her muscles bunch with tension. “It’s nothing I was trying to hide. But now that I know Amanda’s out there, I have to find her.”

  “And then what?” Reyen demanded.

  Jesse notched her chin toward him, giving back as good as she got. “I’m going to give her the freedom she deserves from these beasts,” she said evenly. “The gift of death.”

  The Indian scratched the top of his head and glanced at his partners. “I can respect that.” He stepped up and offered her his blade. “He’s all yours, little girl.”

  Forcing her hands not to shake, Jesse slid off her new jacket and laid it across the hood of the car. There was no reason to ruin it. She hesitated a moment before her fingers curled around the warm ivory hilt. Reyen’s intricately wrought blade sparkled with a life all its own in the glare of the headlights, a glitter she knew was reflected in her own eyes. Armed with the weapon Reyen had killed with so many times before, she stalked toward their captive.

  A seminasty chuckle rolled past Reyen’s lips. “Let’s see what you’re really made of.”

  At that point, Jesse couldn’t hear anything outside her own mind. The demon writhed inside her body. Ravenous screeches reverberated through her skull, drowning out everything around her. It was rebelling against the murder of one of its own, fighting tooth and nail to stop her.

  Jesse tightened her grip. I have to do this, she told herself. Though the idea of someday finding and killing Amanda twisted her insides, she knew there would come a time when they again stood face-to-face, not as sisters or as twins, but as enemies. She wanted the fatal blow she intended to strike to be as precise and painless as possible. She wanted Amanda’s second death to be a merciful gift, delivered with love.

  Her mouth twisted down in a frown. If that makes any sense whatsoever.

  Right now nothing about her life or the situation she presently found herself in was sane or sensible. She could only hope she’d chosen the right side—the winning side.

  From his place on his knees, Lucien watched her approach. His pale eyes brewed brimstone and fire. “You had me fooled, youngling,” he sneered. “I would never have suspected such treachery lurked behind your innocent face.”

  Reaching the vampire, Jesse grabbed him by the high neck of his white shirt. She twisted the material in her left hand and pulled him close, pressing the tip of the blade deeply into the soft skin of his neck. The blood leaking from his boiling wounds reeked of decay. Though they might have looked untouched on the outside, on the inside the undead were a rotting mess, requiring a constant supply of fresh blood to keep their stolen corpses fresh. “You bastards stole my life,” she grated. “You bastards stole my sister’s life.”

  Lucien hastily replied, “We choose carefully, preserving those we find worthy to receive our dark kisses. Your twin did not die. Instead, she walks, and lives. Her beauty will never falter or fade under the ravages of time.”

  Adrenaline cut a path through her gut. “I don’t remember having any choice in the matter,” she said coldly.

  A slow, malicious grin spread across Lucien’s mouth. “You were both such pretty girls.” A chuckle escaped him. “I was one of the ones who feasted on your sister that night. I tasted her fear as I sank my fangs into her soft white flesh.” His voice had changed to a snarl.

  Jesse wrestled back the fury building inside her. The beast was mocking her. Still, she hesitated. The trouble was, she wasn’t sure she could do anything effective with the knife in her hand.

  Doubt pinged off the walls of her skull as she thought through the logistics. Not only did you have to be close enough to make the death strike, but you also had to be strong enough to drive the blade to the hilt. The head and heart of the beasts were most vulnerable.

  She wasn’t sure she had what it took.

  But she had to find out.

  Pulse pounding a hundred beats a minute, Jesse thrust the blade at an upward angle. A painful electric shock raced up the length of her arm as the vampire screamed aloud with the impact of fear and agony. It was a terrible shriek, the kind that came only from dying lips. Its body bucking upward and arching, a gush of steaming liquid spouted in a black fountain.

  Trembling and streaming with sweat, Jesse forced herself to hold on to its shirt. Struggling against the impulse to let it go, she tightened her grip and gave the blade another hard shove.

  The undead thing screeched louder. Wide eyes glared at her, and a mouth of needlelike fangs snapped.

  Stark terror clawed at Jesse’s psyche. Then, pulling a deep breath, she realized what she had to do. Focusing on all her rage and hatred of the evil thing, she drew the blade back and swung blindly. The blade whistled as it cut through the air. The arc was clean, her aim perfect.

  Lucien’s head rolled, the headless body quivering before collapsing onto the ground. A glimmering of light and shadows immediately swirled around the prone figure. Though this was the second time she’d seen the demon within in the throes of death, Jesse wasn’t prepared for the ferocity driving its appearance. It radiated malevolence, and the look on its twisted visage was one of pure, unrelenting hate. The sight of it snatched the air from her lungs.

  Can’t back out now! she warned herself. She had to see it through to the bloody, bitter end.

  Dropping to her knees, she clutched the blade in both hands. She was moving on instinct now, not coherent thought. She forced herself to grip the hilt tighter, refusing to let it go.

  “Do it now,” Maddox urged from behind. “Take the beast down.”

  Raising her hands above her head, she plunged Reyen’s weapon straight into the chest of the dying entity. The strange glimmering mist swirled again, veiling the demon’s face. Now only glowing eyes and a fierce grin stared down at her.

  Somewhere in the back of Jesse’s mind her own demon whispered, This is a battle you cannot win. For each you kill, ten more shall be birthed . . .

  Without pausing to think, she lifted the blade a second time. She clamped her teeth against the cold nausea of dread. For an instant nothing existed except her own will. Hands scorching and seared with Lucien’s acidic blood, she delivered a second deep stab.

  An earsplitting screech tore through the air. The body it had been forced to vacate burst into flames, spitting and crackling with sparks. Darkness flowed around her like a thick, boiling cloud.

  Jesse struggled inside the great roiling darkness. Agony lanced through her, and an icy pain squeezed her insides. A glare of orange-red fire sprang up wildly around her.

  “Get away from me!” she screeched, though her mouth never opened. Unwilling to go without a fight, the beast was trying to worm its way inside her. Her flesh crawled with the energy threatening to consume every last inch of her body. The demon was malevolent and determined not to go without a fight.

  She tensed, knowing now she must fight harder for her sanity, her soul, her very life . . .

  “Get her away from it!” a man’s voice shouted from behind.

  Jesse was dimly aware of strong hands grabbing her and dragging her away from the danger that threatened to consume her. Maddox caught her in his arms as she fell heavily against him. He was solid and real and warm. She held him hard, feeling her entire body shake even as a deep sob broke from her throat. “Oh, Maddox, I—” She couldn’t manage to say anything more.

  Maddox pressed his lips to her sweating forehead. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “You did it. It’s gone.”

  Abruptly the sounds died, and the night was again still and silent. The seconds crawled by. No
body moved.

  Jesse gasped painfully. With a brief, tingling shock, she realized she’d succeeded. The burned and blackened remains of the undead lay scorched and stinking of sulfur and leather. It bore only the faintest resemblance to a human, or to anything else that had ever been alive.

  “I did it,” she mumbled, before collapsing into unconsciousness.

  Maddox barely had time to catch Jesse before she crumpled.

  Slipping an arm under her knees, he swung her up into his arms. Everyone was still a bit dazed by what they’d witnessed. Even though daylight was beginning to peek over the horizon, nobody seemed able to move.

  Wide-eyed and pale, Sam Chen looked from face to face. “Have you guys ever seen anything like that?”

  Reyen brought one heavily booted foot down on the blackened remains of the creature’s skull. It crumbled into a pile of bone shards and ashes. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen a demon fight back and try to take on another body.”

  Sam rubbed his eyes. “Usually they just disappear within a few seconds.”

  Maddox tightened his hold on Jesse. Having witnessed the entire episode, he couldn’t imagine actually going through it. To have one demon alive inside her and another attacking from the outside must have been horrifying for her. Still, she’d never wavered, fighting to deliver the death strike that would take the beast down.

  He had to admire her bravery. He’d seen more than a few men crumple when trying to face down a vampire.

  “We should get out of here,” he said, nodding toward the eastern sky. “It’s been a long night.”

  Reyen bent, retrieving his knife from the tarry pile of ashes. He cursed when he saw the damage to the custom ivory hilt. “Goddamn thing’s ruined.” He kicked at the charred remnants of the leather coat the vampire had worn. “I coulda used that,” he muttered.

  “He had a nice wolf’s head cane,” Sam volunteered. “Bet there’s a sword inside.”

  Reyen shot the shorter man a look. “As if I’m going to carry a cane.” He sighed, then sheathed the blade. “I’ve carried this blade for a hundred and fifty years. This ain’t the first time I’ve replaced that hilt. It won’t be the last.”

  Sam Chen regarded the remains. “I have to admit I didn’t think she’d get through it.” A visible shiver moved him. “Using a knife the first time. Shit, that takes guts.” He made a cutting motion at his neck with his hand. “I prefer a nice quick ninja chop. Takes the head off clean.”

  Suddenly feeling every day of his centuries, Maddox sighed. “I’d prefer not to do it at all,” he said quietly. “Things like that shouldn’t exist in this world.”

  Reyen gave him a hard look. “Well, they do, damn it. And whether or not you’re a spiritual man, you have to take a side.” He pointed two fingers toward his eyes before turning his hand and pointing toward Maddox. “I’ve always got my eyes on you, man.”

  Their gazes briefly locked with hostility. “Screw you, too.” He cradled Jesse’s unconscious form closer. He was so sensitized to her at the moment that holding her in his arms caused an immediate stir of sensual awareness and response deep inside. “Let’s just go. We could all use the rest.”

  Sam checked his watch. “Don’t know about you guys, but the rest of the world has to go to work in a few hours.”

  Reyen cursed under his breath. “Damn it. This no pay for slay really sucks.”

  Forcibly calming his irrational surge of desire, Maddox sighed. “I don’t think I’ll make it today.” He carried Jesse toward Sam’s car, laying her out across the backseat before covering her with her jacket. She was so damn proud of the hideous thing. He didn’t think much of Goth-style clothing, but if it made her happy, he was willing to tolerate it.

  Sam Chen slid behind the wheel. Reyen headed for his motorcycle. The Harley’s engine roared, cutting through the abandoned amusement park. Putting the big machine into gear, he headed toward the exit.

  Maddox slid into the front passenger seat. “I’m ready.”

  Sam quickly guided the big car out onto the highway. Engine humming smoothly, the Pontiac glided over the highway. “She’s pretty brave,” he said, glancing toward the rearview mirror.

  Rubbing his hands across his numb face, Maddox nodded. “Yeah, she is.”

  “What are you going to do with her?”

  He shot his friend a look. “What do you mean?”

  Sam shrugged. “Are you going to let her stay with you?”

  Maddox considered a moment. “I guess so. My place isn’t the best, but it’s pretty safe.”

  Sam nodded. “You do know that hunting fledglings is one thing. But going after the Consanguines is a whole other ball game. The Monarchs get offended when you start thinning their court.”

  Maddox nodded. He knew each Monarch had an established region and was rooted in deep. Strife between the ruling sovereigns wasn’t unknown as each jockeyed to expand his territory and bloodlines.

  The New Orleans clan was ruled by the shadowy figure known only as Amonate. As creatures that had existed before the Enlightened One created mankind, Xaphan’s fallen angels, chameleons one step ahead of the rest of the world, moved through the centuries with ease. Amonate changed her identities the way one might change clothes, shedding one skin for another. She existed on the fringes of society, surrounded by a collective of her own creation. The cults were impenetrable, and spreading. With each fledgling birthed, another unholy beast with an unholier hunger was unleashed upon the world. Humans were little more than cattle, to be sorted through and then harvested.

  There was no way to get close to the queen of the hive. To this day, her current identity—if she even had one—was unknown. Those who had actually laid eyes on her and survived only half remembered her features: the fall of long silken black hair, eyes as black as the deepest pit of hell, and red lips stained an even darker, richer crimson by the blood that sustained her race.

  Like countless other men and women, Maddox had been seduced by the press of her body against his, by the feel of sharp teeth puncturing vulnerable skin to feast upon his life’s blood. The scars still lingered on his flesh to this very day, marking him as one of the very few who’d been taken but had escaped the soul-sucking damnation of so many other victims.

  “Maybe it’s time to step up the battle,” he said quietly. “We’ve been pussyfooting around, doing our best to stay off their radar because we’re outnumbered and outgunned. For every fledgling we take out, ten more are created because they know we can’t get them all.”

  Sam shot him a glance. “So you’re saying it’s time to get more aggressive?”

  Rubbing tired eyes, Maddox shook his head to clear it of the phantoms of past failure. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He’d chosen his side, damn it, and he was too damn old to make a switch now. Like an addict quitting heroin, he’d have to go cold turkey. It was time to stop feeding his addiction.

  Sam kept his gaze fixed on the highway straight ahead. “We were wondering when you were going to decide to stop bullshitting around and get serious,” he finally said.

  Deeply disquieted, he raised his brows. There was no way Sam could have been privy to his personal and innermost thoughts. “Oh?”

  Casting a nervous glance his way, Sam licked his lips. “Look, man. I’ll be straight with you, simply because I don’t think it’s good for us to have secrets. So far we’re the only three sentinels working the NOLA hell beat, and if we don’t hang together, then we’ll all fall separately, if you know what I mean.”

  Maddox nodded. He clearly heard the conflict in Sam’s voice. “I get that you’re saying there’s strength in numbers.”

  “Yeah, well, just so you know, Reyen’s been hinting around that he’d like to cut the number from three to two.”

  Sam’s words hit him like an openhanded slap. I knew that bastard would stab me in the back, Maddox thought with icy rationality.

  Anger immediately lanced through him, squeezing his skull in a viselike grip.
“Like how?” Not that he had to ask. He already knew how Reyen Akansea dealt with people who got in the way of his single-minded mission to destroy the Telave. Although he and Sam kept their slaying confined to those with direct contact with the cult, Reyen took his zeal one step farther. On more than one occasion the Indian had taken out a human simply because he happened to worship the vampiric mystique.

  One less of them to be birthed, Reyen would say as he drew another hash mark on his inner forearm with the tip of his blade. He’d later have the mark permanently tattooed on, part of the way he kept a running count of his kills.

  Maddox refused to let his pulse race ahead of his thoughts. “Was he planning to tell me to my face, or was it going to be something I was never meant to see coming?”

  The hum of the big car’s engine temporarily filled the lull of silence between them. Normally Sam had one of his electronic hip-hop fusion dance groups blasting; it was a form of music Maddox personally couldn’t stand because it all sounded like one long whine to his ears. Tonight there was nothing playing in the background. At first he thought it might be out of consideration for Jesse, who still lay blissfully unconscious in the backseat. But no. Silence was the requirement for serious conversation. No distractions.

  Sam hesitated, reluctant to reveal more. “You know how Reyen works,” he said after an uncomfortable pause. His lips flicked in a mirthless grin.

  Maddox released a short laugh. He felt uncomfortable under Sam’s knowing gaze. “No shit.” Rationally, he knew Reyen would make sure Maddox never knew what hit him.

  He glanced at the man behind the wheel. Had Sam been wired a different way, they would probably never have met in this lifetime. Like Reyen, Sam had no love of the Telave. He wanted them gone—for good.

  Sensing his friend’s dissatisfaction, Maddox sighed. “Thanks for the heads-up, man. But it’s something I’ve always known about Reyen.”