Satisfied that she could put him down if given a reason, she continued her original unhurried inspection. The verdict was in within seconds: this man was definitely fuck-able. Of all the things that he had going for him, without a doubt, the most alluring was his willingness to sit through her inspection. This was a man disinterested in playing twenty questions to get her into bed. He simply waited in silence with a self-assured smile on his lips as she studied him. This tight-bodied stranger offered her the perfect no-strings-attached distraction – and she could really use one to go with the vodka.
Unfortunately, emotions were swirling up inside of her as she had not felt in years. In a fraction of a second, a barrier had fallen... only to be replaced just as quickly. If things were different, if she had not been through it all, if she could go back and choose not to fight, maybe then she could live her life. But fought she had, and there was nothing that would change it. There was no way to take it back or earn a second chance. Her eyes began to give away the twinges of sadness that were creeping in on her. There was rarely ever time for a man in her life, even for a one-night stand. Besides, the terrible truth of the matter was, on most days, the mere thought of letting a man touch her turned her stomach, no matter how badly her body craved it. She did not intend to allow anyone close enough to hurt her again. By the time she had drawn her next breath, she was scolding herself. Sadness? Regret? Lust? They were all weakness that she could not afford. Life is hard. Painful. Brutal. She knew this, yet here this man sat, smiling as if he did not have a care in the world. Her rage, ever ready to be used for defense, was struggling to break free from its cage now. She set her jaw against her hatred for what she had become, for the feelings this stranger was stirring up inside of her after all of her hard work to keep them locked away.
“Move on, fuck-mook. One asshole in my pants is enough,” she finally declared with a dismissive wave and returned her attention to the tinted glass above them.
“Oh shit! Ouch!” Miko cried with an astonished laugh and clutched his chest dramatically. “Here, I believe this is yours,” he said as he mimed pulling a knife from his heart.
With a dangerous glint in her eyes, Skye slowly turned back to face him. Why was he here? Why was he bothering her? Why couldn’t people just leave her alone? He was not a vamp, she could always tell that much, and she did not get the urge to kill him as she always did with lickers. The problem was, he seemed entirely too street-wise not to know there was something dangerous about the pale-skinned patrons of the club. She took a long drag off her cigarette, letting the smoke roll from her lips slowly. Despite the disturbing lack of emotion in her features, a war was raging inside her head. The tiny voice of reason – all that remained of her former self – was pleading his case. It pointed out that this man had not done a thing to her and yet she was ready to hand him his head. He had not used any clichéd pick-up lines, had not given a single indication of his interest in her beyond body language. In fact, for a place like this, his behavior had been downright gentlemanly. Grudgingly, she rolled her eyes and conceded that the nagging voice had a point.
“Listen,” she began, taking a deep breath and trying to sound less threatening than usual.
Social skills, however, were not her strong suit.
“Ordinarily, I’d break your jaw,” she stated bluntly.
His eyes widened in surprise.
She winced at her own words and his reaction, mentally cursing her inability to drop her confrontational nature for the span of a few sentences. Fighting to maintain a calm tone, she continued.
“But... you seem like your intentions are benign enough... so instead of a beating, I’ll just give you some advice. If you’re in here trolling for a piece of ass, you’d be safer doing it elsewhere. As in anywhere besides this club, ya got me?” She asked with a meaningful look, hoping he would catch the severity of the intended warning.
Though he knew the truth of her words, Miko kept his mouth shut. He was too busy trying to figure out just what the hell he had gotten himself into this time to attempt a response. He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as he studied her strange eyes. They were mesmerizing – a cruel, ice blue with storms of yellow swirling at their centers. Even with all of the freaky shit that he had seen in his life, he had never seen eyes like hers. They were unsettling. Having her gaze fall on him when her temper flared gave him the sense that he was handling a live grenade.
Her face was strikingly beautiful, yet it bore evidence of a hard life. She looked positively exhausted, as if even the concept of ‘rest’ was foreign to her. Beneath each of her hypnotic eyes were dark bags that could not be attributed to the liner she wore. A thin scar marred her otherwise perfect lips, running upward from her chin to just below her right eye. Another scar, though far thicker, split her left brow. War wounds, the both of them – worn with pride and confirming the air of danger that surrounded her.
She growled in response to his silence, turning away from him and returning her attention to the club’s security room. Miko took the opportunity to inspect a vicious looking scar on the side of her neck – right where the brand of a coven would have been placed. The faintest traces of tattooed ink remained in the mangled flesh, having mended haphazardly around the wound. It was obvious that she had not cared for it when it happened. He knew there was significance to that, another piece of the puzzle. This girl had left a brutal injury to heal as it wished. Had she been prevented from tending to it, he wondered? Or, worse yet for his view of her mental state, had she intentionally ignored it?
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his lieutenant, Aiyana moving in with several members of their team. They were all doing as he was, trying to get the innocents out before the killing started. It was strikingly apparent at this point, though, that the girl before him was anything but ‘innocent’.
“You know what? You’re right, this place isn’t safe,” Miko began distractedly, watching as the others signaled to him that their sections were clear. The vamps were starting to grow restless and this girl’s obvious disinterest in him was throwing him for a loop. “How about I call you a cab? It looks like you’ve had enough to drink anyway...”
Her cold laughter shook him from his thoughts. He turned to find her covering her mouth as she struggled to stop.
“I’m sorry, but are you insane?” She finally managed.
Instantly, her expression shifted from amusement to a look of such menace that it caught him completely off guard. She was on her feet in a heartbeat with fists clenched, feet spread, and nostrils flaring.
“Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me when I’ve had enough? Step off.” She commanded.
After wincing at the wholly unexpected volume and undeniable force of her voice, Miko’s jaw dropped open. That had not been an insinuation of a threat, not a hint, it was as clear as possible. Leave or have his ass kicked somewhere up around his ears, there was no third option. Sufficed to say, this was not the reaction that he had expected. Hell, when he first sat down, he had figured on meeting up with her later that night for a little fun. There had been a mutual interest between them; he had an eye for that sort of thing. Now, she looked like she was contemplating the fastest way to rip out his still-beating heart. He swallowed hard, suddenly wishing he could start fighting the vamps – anything less dangerous than his current predicament.
“I’d listen to her if I were you,” a familiar voice advised from behind the bar.
Skye turned and found herself glaring up into the eyes of her brother for the first time in three years.
“Adrian,” she hissed venomously.
Miko took an instinctive step away as her body went rigid. He knew that pose. He had been on the receiving end of (in his opinion, more than) his fair share of beatings. This girl was preparing to strike and he did not intend to get in her way. He realized suddenly that the club around him was silent. Even the music had stopped. Turning, he found that everyone, Asher and vamp alike, was staring directly at the r
eunion unfolding beside him.
“Skye, my dear, sweet little sister, how long has it been?” Adrian asked casually.
With a mix of abhorrence and amusement, he lifted her nearly empty bottle of vodka and studied it. She watched the way he held it, as if touching something so human was tainting his existence. The only beverage his kind got tipsy from was pumped fresh from the jugular. He set the bottle back on the bar and frowned as he wiped his hands on the bartender’s back.
“Too long,” she snarled.
As she slowly removed her vest and set it on the bar, Miko noted that the blue of her eyes was now almost completely engulfed by the yellow swirling in them.
“I should have taken care of this years ago,” she declared.
At her words, whispers echoed throughout the club. Miko caught snippets of the vampire gossip.
“Adrian is fearful, do you smell it?”
“Should we leave him to his fate?”
“They say she killed Gavin and his entire coven.”
“Marcus, too, I hear.”
“This does not concern us.”
“And here I thought you just missed me, dear one,” Adrian laughed cruelly. “What a pity. I so would have enjoyed reminiscing with you.”
He smiled, leaning closer to her as all color left his eyes. Even the whites became blotted out by the blackness of the evil within him. He lowered his voice, more for dramatic effect than privacy.
“But are you sure you won’t stay a while?” He asked hopefully. “I would love to show you my new collection of blades. I know how you always enjoyed them.”
It was all Miko and those around him could do to get clear as Skye completely lost her mind.
She leapt over the bar onto her brother, slamming his body back against the shelves. Bottles rained down on them, shattering at their feet.
Her screams filled the air like a battle cry, sending chills across Miko’s flesh.
The vampires screeched as they covered their ears. Her vocalizations and their enhanced hearing were a painful combination.
She was attacking Adrian with a violence that even Miko was shocked by – using every ounce of pain her brother had given her to fuel the inferno of her rage.
Blood poured down her hands as she landed blow after blow. Adrian’s face grew steadily less recognizable. Even as his body mended itself, it was clear that she was inflicting damage at a faster rate than it could counter.
With a blood-curdling scream, she forced him backward, sending him tumbling over the bar despite his efforts to catch himself. His decision to be so effeminate in his undead existence was costing him dearly. He had never drawn on this side of his powers. Instead, he had focused on mastering glamours and indulging himself in all the twisted pleasures to be had. Now the girl that he had been linked to in his mortal life was here to extract her vengeance. She had spent night and day training for this moment for years. No amount of glamouring was going to save him.
Skye hopped over the bar and tackled him to the ground. She was tearing into him, screaming incoherently... and something suddenly occurred to Miko.
She didn’t grab any weapons, he noted with wide eyes. She’s literally going to tear her brother apart with her bare hands!
Aiyana had apparently just been hit with the same realization.
Miko held up a hand when she took a step forward, imploring her not to come to the girl’s aid. Whatever was going on here was personal. No matter how much they wanted to intervene, it was not their place.
Adrian struggled to laugh, to downplay the threat as the entire club stood witness to Skye’s wrath. His attempt was cut short when she grabbed his throat and tore it out in a swift motion. His ink black eyes stared up at her in blind terror. Understanding passed over his features. He was about to die his final death. His attempts to speak, to beg and plead came as little more than gurgles.
Moving as close as she dared, Aiyana dropped a blade on the floor. Despite Miko’s silent request that she stay out of it, she had to do something. She understood that this girl was getting closure for some unspeakable pain that her brother had inflicted upon her after being changed, but the image of what Skye was going to do was sickening. With her boot, Aiyana kicked the blade and watched as it skidded across the floor.
Catching it reflexively in her most primal state, Skye looked up at the dark haired stranger that had provided it in confusion. Aiyana knew the sight would stay with her for many years to come. Skye was soaked in blood; her chest, her stomach, her arms all the way to her elbows... her face... her braid was dripping with it. She looked like a beast; a caged beast set free to hunt after nearly starving to death. And then there were those eyes. There was no reason behind the swirling yellow of them. No thought, no remorse. All that remained now was madness, hatred, intent, and pure, unadulterated violence.
Skye leaned down to her brother’s ear, whispering to him that she would see him in hell. Without hesitation, she took a handful of his hair and swiftly sliced his head clean from his shoulders. As with the final deaths of all vampires, Adrian’s was marked by a blinding flash of white light abandoning his body and a bloodcurdling shriek with no visible source.
There were many theories as to what caused this phenomenon. Some said it was the demon that had possessed them being sucked back to whatever hell it came from. Others said the white light signified something pure. They said it was the soul finally breaking free – that when a person was turned, their soul became trapped inside of their body and so long as the vampire remained in control, it was prevented from passing to the next realm. Whatever their source, the shrieks never failed to send a shiver up Skye’s spine.
The silence in the club was deafening as his body rapidly decomposed beneath her, leaving behind little more than ash. It made it easier, she supposed; not having any remains to mourn over.
Upon death, a bloodsucker’s body instantly decayed to the point it would have reached without supernatural intervention. Staking one that had been turned for 10 or more years meant no cleanup would be necessary. Staking one that had recently been turned, however, required swift incineration. If a cop found you with a body that looked as if it had been decomposing for a year, you were going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
But Skye did not have anything to explain, did she? No brother’s body to make an exception for and bury properly. No way to lay him to rest now that the darkness had been driven from him.
Her breathing was ragged as she stared down at the emptiness beneath her and fought to keep her emotions in check. The last of her brothers was gone. It was finally over.
Her brows drew together in confusion.
So why am I still raging for more?
She had prayed that once Adrian died it would end, but the violence was still coursing through her. It demanded blood to sate its hunger.
With no choice in the matter, she lied to herself now. She forced herself to swallow the belief that if she could just kill those loyal to Adrian, she would finally be at peace – she would not crave this anymore.
The instant her maddened gaze flicked up to the other vampires of the club, chaos took over. Just as quickly, the Ashers had sprung into action. Skye launched into the crowd, punching, kicking, and screaming. She was in her element, noting the positions of the strangers that seemed just as bent on the vampires’ demise as she did. Through her rage, she somehow knew not to attack them. As the old saying goes, the enemy of your enemy is your friend. She noted with interest that these strangers were no band of vigilantes. They were well trained and sporting some rather impressive weaponry.
The vampires let out horrid, hair-raising screeches as they fought back against the assault. Regardless of their efforts to put down their attackers, they were being overcome. They swarmed Skye, desperate to take her out. They hoped their numbers would be enough to even the odds.
They were wrong.
As they approached, she backed herself against a wall. Once they were close enough, she sprang off of
it and leapt toward them. She slammed her boot down on the first vampire’s shoulder, using the footing to pull herself upright. Now elevated to the appropriate height, she used their shoulders and heads like a walkway. While they screeched in outrage, she ran across the crowd of them. When she reached the last vampire in the swarm, she sprang off of its shoulders. Tucking her knees up tightly against her chest, she threw all of her weight into a forward somersault, sailing over their heads and landing several feet behind them.
They quickly turned to face her, all baring fangs and rushing toward her. Apparently hoping for better results, they surrounded her this time. Before they could get their hands on her, she had ducked, spun, and abruptly changed course. Those who had sought to attack her from behind instead found themselves staring into her furious yellow eyes.
She gripped one by the back of its neck, yanking down on its head while bringing her knee upward into its nose. As it crumpled to the floor, she spun and brought her elbow across another’s face, shattering its fangs. Without missing a beat, she leapt onto another; wrapping her legs around its head and twisting hard enough feel its neck snapping between her thighs. As the vampire went down, she jumped off of it, landing on the bar and racing for a better position to stand her ground. The wounds she was inflicting only earned her time to regroup. They would not be enough to keep the vampires incapacitated for long. She needed a weapon. All of hers were on the bar in her vest.
Getting there was not going to be easy, though. Vampires were reaching for her from both sides of the bar as she ran down the length of it. She leapt over most of them, planted boots on the top of other’s heads and used them like stepping-stones. When she reached the place where she had been sitting, she rolled her eyes finding a blood-drinker holding her vest up beside him.
Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel Page 5