Mistwalker

by Fraser, Naomi

  She quietly flipped the cupboard onto its back and shoved the pillow and sheets inside, creating a soft layer to sleep on. Now she was truly amazed at her strength. What else would being a vampire have in store for her, other than this terrible hunger?

  Work intruded on her thoughts. She’d only asked for a few days holiday from the dojo. Her regular ladies would not be happy if she never returned; neither would the boys training for the state competition in six months. She’d have to explain the events to her boss. Well, the need to know version anyway.

  Her credit cards were off limits until Juliun and his men stopped hunting her. Vinnie wouldn’t always be there to help her out. She would have to make an appearance to save her job, and she needed to figure out how to save Tammy. Simone would do anything to protect her friend from the sharing the same fate as her mother.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Pain could be a dagger. With it, Carlo killed, wreaked vengeance and changed worlds.

  A gnarled hot fist gripped his heart and clenched, tighter, tighter.

  His cell phone warbled with some annoying ringtone from the latest pop charts. He’d chosen it at the time because it reminded him of his latest mission. The melody played on the radio before he’d slaughtered twenty humans in thirty minutes—blood slaves to another regime—not his personal best, but still, something to be proud of. He remembered making love to Lorena, and being in awe of the sweet smile that graced her dramatic face and the glitter in her eyes.

  He lay in her blood on their bed. The musky scent fogged the room and intertwined with her lingerie over the headboard, inside the unstoppered bottle of Gucci on the dresser, and the clean clothes folded on the chair. Her scent wouldn’t wash away in a hundred years. Her essence dissolved into the cloth itself, holding an intoxicating power to produce memories from just one sniff. The scents of fresh cut daisies by the mirror and her cookie-scented shampoo in her pillow wove with her blood. Silently, he cried. Empty. That’s how he felt. Numbness leached into his fingers and toes, building up to his knees and torso, until he became nothing.

  His cell rang again.

  “Go away,” he told the world. “Go away, go away, go away.” He curled up in a foetal position. Play it by numbers. That’s what his father always told him when Carlo would fuck up. Play it by numbers, son.

  Dad.

  Silence. Silence. The cell rang.

  GO AWAY!

  Pain leaked its web into his heart, spreading throbbing poison into every cell in his chest, then pulsing down his arms. What was the use in life? Why did he need to get up and move? What the fuck use was anything, anymore? The only person he’d loved had died. He’d close that door, and then he’d be safe. Wouldn’t have to let anyone in. He could be himself, here. No more people meant no more pain.

  But that wasn’t him, was it? The Drachyn knew him as a tough go-getter. His reputation for easy-going cruelty was highly regarded. What would they think of him now? He couldn’t let them know. He had to fight this, struggle against the darkness.

  But there was no use to anything.

  The humans lay on the floor, barked skin on their wrists and ankles from the thick rope. Their raw flesh lay in pieces on the carpet. In his anger, he’d forgotten the routine of clean up and dispose. The only thing that felt real was his thumping heart. He wanted to leave this body, this time, this world.

  Again, the cell rang. He growled and ripped the sheets, crushed the phone. When he stood to clean himself up, he unfolded stiffly, like he’d been sick for centuries. Lovesick. Now, she was gone. He perched at the edge of the bed and rocked back and forth.

  “Lorena.”

  A whisper of thought pushed into his mind, and he eyed the stake in the middle of the bed, tangled in ribbons of shredded cotton. The rough edges of the wood were browned with her blood. His hair fell in front of his eyes. A thousand thoughts and images of their life together clouded his mind. No longer did he wonder when the tears would stop. He just cried. Constant. More than breathing.

  “Lorena,’ he whispered.

  He reached across for the stake and gripped it tightly with his bloody, dusty hand. He could end it all now. That would be brave.

  The land line rang. And rang and rang. Echoing down the hall, into their bedroom. But it wasn’t. Not theirs. His now. He didn’t want to get up or let go. Then he heard the screech of tyres. The slam of a car door.

  He should get up.

  “Carlo. Carlo.” The banging on the front door reverberated inside the house. “Answer the door, man.”

  Carlo lifted the stake and positioned it near his heart. The point dug into his chest.

  Finally, the sound of splintering wood, shouts and anger brought Carlo to his feet. He zombie-walked down the hallway to the foyer and opened the door. He only had to go through the motions for a little longer.

  Korpus blinked. “What the fuck man? Get some clothes on. Master needs us. Why didn’t you answer your phone? Is Lorena keeping me waiting again? You need to talk to her, man. She’s such a bitch.” His face stilled, eyebrows lowered, mouth twisted. He stepped back. “What is it?”

  Carlo pulled the door open wider, the stake hidden in his hand, and then he plunged the stake straight through Korpus’ heart.

  Korpus’ mouth slackened, and his eyes widened in an incredulous expression, and then he was dust drifting down the stairs, over the edge to the small manicured hedge that graced the front of all the townhouses. Dust picked up by the night air, twisting the specks toward the stars.

  Carlo knelt there, finding this place the scariest he’d ever been. Looking up at the heavens, he cried. “Don’t ever come to my house,” he said, through his tears. “Not this place. Not here.” There was nothing else he knew how to do.

  He rose and slammed the door shut behind him. Deep breaths on the other side of the wood as he leaned against it. The ridges pressed into his spine. The land line rang that never-ending prod into reality. He picked up the handset. “What?”

  “Meeting at headquarters,” Kristoff said. “Master’s orders. Be there.”

  Carlo dropped the phone back into the cradle. No one ever disobeyed a summons from Master. His brand of punishment made death a cake-walk.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Simone woke to complete darkness and the sound of her cry echoing all around her.

  Juliun was still there—inside her head. She breathed in deeply, trying to steady her racing heart. They’d been together, walking over fields of heather, the cold wind brushing against their faces, hands held, and she simply didn’t know how to stop dreaming about him. She hadn’t wanted to let him go.

  His smiling face beckoned in her fading recollection, and she rubbed a trembling hand over her face, trying to force the sleepiness from her body.

  Her eyesight sharpened, highlighting the wooden edges in front of her. The cupboard. Vinnie’s spare bedroom. She sighed with relief, remembering the night before when she’d turned up unexpectedly at his isolated house and called in a favour to get weapons and information. She pushed open the wooden doors and inspected the silent room. The mist took her to the window, and she lifted the corner of the thick blanket she’d cast up against the glass. A thin layer of darkness covered the world outside.

  A sudden homesickness for her old life overwhelmed her. Walking in the sun; running in the mornings; spending time lying in the sun soaking up the rays.

  But now was not the time to be wishing for the impossible. Her life would be different, yet it did have one advantage over her old one: she could get justice on her mother’s killers once she found out who they were and gain closure from a pain that had never healed. Simone ripped down the blanket then, eager to greet the night, and she lifted the closet and placed the bedclothes back on the bed. The strength in her arms still shocked her, making her wonder about vampire strength in general. The crumpled black jeans weren’t in better shape after a brush down so she headed for the shower, but the still wet blouse changed her mind. In her haste to escape Vinn
ie’s alluring scent, she’d forgotten to use his clothes dryer.

  She finished dressing and piled the weapons on the kitchen counter beside her hessian bag and the crossbow that Vinnie left. She smiled, intending to find out what happened to her mother tonight. The vampires who attacked them twenty years ago had preyed on a child, and she was no longer that vulnerable girl.

  After a quick trip to the cave to stash the rest of her weapons, she sharpened the legs of the chair into proper stakes and then faded to hide in the shelter of the alley beside the shops near Player’s Pint. She quickly bought a pair of jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket, and boots, and then flashed back to the cave to get dressed again. Funny how now as a vampire she saw it as shelter, whereas to a human under attack, the secluded spot screamed danger.

  Back in town, she stalked in the shadows around the clustered houses and apartments until a cab pulled alongside her.

  The driver leaned across the passenger seat. “Need a cab, love? Jump on in.” He sat back and punched a few numbers into a computer screen above the wheel.

  She opened the passenger door and settled into the seat. “Thanks. You know the club over on Plymouth?”

  “There’s a few that way, love. Which one are you after?”

  She wanted to smack herself on the head. Vinnie hadn’t said. She shrugged. “I don’t know the name. Drop me off at the most popular, and I’ll go from there.”

  “Sure.” The cabbie swung away from the side of the road and joined in the stream of traffic. “How’s your day been?”

  “So far, so good. Hope it shapes up to be an even better night.”

  “That’s the way.”

  “You get many fares in this direction?”

  A car ran a red light, and the cabbie clucked his tongue. “Bleeding lunatics. Weekends are non-stop around here.”

  “Any cute fellas come out this way on a Friday night?”

  He shot her a smiling glance. “A girl with your looks should have no problem at all. That hair ain’t dyed, is it?”

  “No.” She fluffed the strands a little, shooting him a sideways glance.

  “I’m partial to redheads myself. You’ll knock ‘em dead, mark my words,” he said. “Although, you can never be too careful.”

  She looked out the window. “How so?”

  “Ah, you know. Lots of fellas and the crowds.” The car slowed down as it turned a corner. “You best find someone to go with. You’ll be safer.”

  “Oh, I’m meeting friends. They told me to go to the most popular,” she repeated.

  He smacked his lips together. “That’d be The Python, then. Yep, that’s it.”

  Simone smiled. “Thank you.”

  The driver changed lanes and turned left. “If you ask me the owner of that place must be in quids.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Not everyone gets in you know. Hundreds are turned away. A few celebrities caused a ruckus a while ago. Doesn’t bother me much, a bunch of toffee-nosed movie stars who never had to do a day’s real work in their life.”

  “A select clientele?” She pretended to think over that.

  “Sure, but if your friend’s a regular, then you’ll have a good time.”

  “Is it close?”

  “Around the corner,” he said.

  “Drop me off here, please. They said they’d meet me outside farther away from the club.”

  The cabbie didn’t take the hint and pulled up in line with all the other taxis. She wanted to slam her foot on the brakes. How to hide her face from all the passers-by on the sidewalk? “Back there would have been fine.”

  “Dropping you off at the front means you’ll get in safely.”

  She couldn’t fault his logic; he was only doing his job. Did she look so vulnerable that he felt the need to protect her? She paid her fare and left a tip. Then she sunk into the shadows, away from the curious glances and hurried around to the back of The Python, one hand curled around the stake beneath her jacket.

  *You don’t have to call anybody. You’re coming home with us.*

  She halted at the soft words entering her mind, thinking she’d gone mad. Her fingers slipped from the blunt end of the wooden stake and inched to the handle of the .44. She wasn’t going anywhere with anybody.

  A man and woman in city casual dress closed in on a red telephone booth. The female guarded the side with her hands splayed against the glass. The male blocked the exit. The woman inside the booth had her back to them.

  She was mortal and safe for the time being, but the receiver slipped from her hand and crashed against the glass. The woman spun around with a blank face and wide, empty eyes.

  Simone recalled Tammy with the same expression.

  The male opened the door. *Come out, and take my hand. You want to come home with us.* His lips didn’t move.

  Unbelievably, they could apply force without even speaking. Simone caught a direct spear of communication between the male and female vampire outside the booth. How they smiled, and their telepathy formed a picture of them drinking.

  *I cannot wait to drink her. She looks lush.*

  The female vampire laughed, her gaze stuck on the victim. *This should be fun.*

  No doubt. Simone’s heart thudded as she slipped into the shadows cast by the alleyway between the nightclub and a small shop. Was this the same kind of control Juliun and Lars had used on her? Did every vampire want to hurt humans, and would she eventually feel the same way?

  The .44 would bring too much attention and defeat the purpose of coming here tonight. What did it take to use their quieter methods? If all she needed was intent and skill, then she was more than ready to try.

  The woman appeared zoned out as she stepped out the booth and grasped the male vampire’s hand. She fell into step beside them on the sidewalk. The trio slinked past Simone, their heads close together.

  Simone released the gun, fluffed her hair, came up behind them and tapped the male on the shoulder. “Hey, buddy.”

  He spun around and stared at her insolently. “Go away.”

  Life force swamped her mind with so much strength she swayed. *You don’t want her.*

  Oh Lord, that was her power. Where had it come from? She let the energy push through her boundaries. Either that or she’d break. The male’s eyes glazed over, and a smile settled on his face. The expression looked permanent—toothy and goofy. She might have waltzed a thousand humans under his nose and achieved the same effect.

  “Larry, get over here,” the female vampire snapped. She hurried back with the transfixed woman in tow. “What are you doing?”

  *Look at me,* Simone said with her mind. That sweet darkness rolled forth, roiling against the shore of all she believed possible. Her mind expanded. *You can’t see anything else.*

  Her gaze caught both vampires, and she smiled sweetly. *Tell me about the vampire named Juliun. The one who can turn into black mist.*

  *He is the prince of vampires. Sole heir to the mist. He can kill you with a single thought if he has you in his sights.*

  She scanned their faces and didn’t feel a twinge of remorse for what she was about to do. *Take your control from the woman, and go swim in the river.*

  Both vampires turned to the woman, then crossed the street and headed for the river that split the town into east and west. It would take them directly into the North Sea.

  Simone reached out and gripped the woman’s shoulder, then gave her a gentle shake. “Where do you live?”

  The woman blinked. “What? Sixty-four, St. Paul Road.” Her gaze darted around. “Oh! What happened? I feel like…I…I blacked out!” Her face slackened. “I...I live next to the bakery. Opposite the park. What happened?”

  “Nothing.” Simone walked out into the road and hailed a cab. “This time. Here’s some cash for the trip.” She pushed notes into the woman’s shaking hand and guided her into the open door of a taxi. “Do yourself a favour and stay away from this part of town at night.”

  “But…but what about you?
”

  I’m one of them. “I won’t be staying long. Don’t worry about me.” Simone gave her one last mental push. *Forget you ever saw me, but remember the warning.* Then she strode down the alley behind The Python, scouting for windows or another entry.

  She would have used the mist to take her directly inside the club without seeing the interior, but she realised she couldn’t do that. That was obvious when she’d thought of Tammy and disappeared, but then she landed back in her original room at the hospital. Simone figured she could only reappear in places she’d seen or visited herself. Otherwise, she would have appeared beside her friend.

  Overflowing rubbish bins tumbled in the narrow passage, and dripping overhead gutters fed into puddles on the dark cement. Stray newspaper sheets stuck to the ground. Discarded barrels and beer kegs lined the alley, and through a window, a faint green light pulsed in a narrow passageway inside the nightclub. The colour faded and then glowed, plunging the corridor into darkness every two minutes.

  Her skin burned at the first thought to be in the shadows. However, the sight from the corner of the passageway into the nightclub left her flabbergasted. She smoothed her hands down her jacket to her gun and snuck a second look.

  Whitby had officially gone crazy with vampire mania. She thought it a bit of a lark to be in fancy dress for New Year’s Eve, but obviously it was a regular thing around here. And why not? The place was overrun.

  People dressed in Goth costumes hovered at the bar. Simone pulled back into the darkness to get her bearings. A disco ball flashed multi-coloured squares of light across the dance floor and rap music thumped out from massive speakers. She held her hands over her ears to ease her sense of disorientation, afraid she’d go deaf. With her back against the wall, she positioned the gun and the stake so she could grab them both at a moment’s notice. But her real weapon was the mist—she could disappear with a single thought.

  Hiding in the shadows wouldn’t accomplish anything. She needed information.