Dead Girls Don't Sing

by Casey Wyatt

“You almost drove me insane. I had nightmares for years.” Until Jonathan. I hadn’t realized they were gone until Aunt Cass dug into my head.

  “You should hate him. Why don’t you despise him?” My aunt seemed baffled.

  Jonathan’s list of sins was lengthy, but I wouldn’t begrudge him this. In hindsight, my claustrophobia had always vexed him. He had tried to help me. Now I understood so much better.

  “Let me go, Aunt. Before I rip your arms from their sockets. I’ve lost enough time reliving the past. No more.”

  She cocked her head, catching a sound. “I hear a babe crying for her mother.”

  I dared not think my daughter’s name for fear my aunt would hear it. “What are you?”

  She rose from the chair, releasing my battered forearms. With a sharp tug, the satin dress ripped then crumpled to the floor. Nude, she looked down at me. “I am what the gods made me.”

  Deep, angry scars covered her body like a doll taken apart and re-sewn with rough thread. Puckers and punctures laced her belly and forearms. The only parts of her body not marked were her throat and face. Those remained perfect and untouched.

  “This is what she did to me. She unmade me. Tried to take the gods’ will from me. She coveted my gift.” Cassandra dropped to her knees then leaned forward, forehead touching the floor. “The answer you seek is inside you. Save your child. Your Family. Do a better job for her then I did for you.”

  “Can you tell me—”

  “Find the Earl of Third Street. He will help you if asked. Time will have its way.” She closed her eyes and remained silent. The last words were hers and they didn’t make any sense. As usual.

  Louis appeared behind her, cloak in hand. He tutted while helping her rise from the floor. “Leave her now. She is exhausted.”

  “Wait.” I touched his arm. “Where can I find the Earl of Third Street?”

  “You sure you want to know?” Louis looked at me with pity. “A pretty delicate miss such as yerself might be in over her head.”

  “I’m much more dangerous than I look.”

  Eyeing me skeptically, he led me to the street. “You can find the Earl in the London Underground at the Hellfire Club. You know which one I mean, right?”

  He leaned against the alley wall, the swagger nearly bowling me over. Yeah, he was so going to hear about it when I got back.

  “Of course,” I lied.

  Jonathan had forbidden members of his Family from ever stepping foot inside. A known drug den, vampires who went in were often never seen again.

  Louis nodded. “Good luck.” The tone suggesting, it’s your funeral.

  Understanding smacked me. My aunt was a zombie like Louis. The reverential way he treated her was touching if not informative. He did more than bring her clients. He was her caretaker. What happened to cause him to leave her behind to head to Mars?

  “Hey. Take care of her.” Finding Aunt Cassandra alive and cuckoo worried me. The damage to her body was horrifying. So was contemplating who’d done it to her.

  “No worries on that count. I owe her,” Louis said, sounding more like his upper-class origins.

  “Be careful, your pedigree is showing.”

  He winked, then opened the door. When it closed, it disappeared, leaving an unremarkable stone wall.

  Alone in the alley, hunger gnawed my belly. The time jump and the struggle with my aunt had cost me. I’d need to feed soon.

  But I could last a while longer. I had a job to do. And like it or not, my next destination was the infamous Hellfire Club. Not the mortal one. This one was much worse. More depraved, catering to the worst elements of the undead.

  It was the last place a hungry vampire should be. It was where I was headed next.

  I raised my arm and hailed a passing cab. Time was running out. And failure wasn’t an option.

  Was I worried about defying Jonathan?

  Hell, no. That would be part of the fun.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Un-Velvet Underground

  Gaining entrance to The Hellfire Club was easy. I flashed fang and in I went.

  Navigating the interior was a bit more vexing. The place was packed with humans comingling with every flavor of the undead. A large portion of the club was dedicated to a massive dance floor. Tables and loveseats rimmed the exterior. A sleek bar curved away from the opposite wall.

  Music thumped to a tribal beat. Strobe lights flashed over the dance floor. Cool vapor drifted and swirled at steady intervals, giving the club a trippy vibe. The fog obscured lewder acts occurring in the darkest corners.

  Like I said, the club was meant for immortal pleasures. Vampires, eyes glazed, skin gaunt and yellowed, writhed in a pile of naked flesh doing things I’d rather not see. The saps were high on Mist, an addictive drug rumored to have originated with certain unsavory revenants. The rumors couldn’t touch the glimpses of what I’d seen so far. Jonathan was right to keep us away.

  Averting my gaze, I skirted the dance floor as best I could, avoiding the side with the couches. At least by the bar, no hard-core live porno was underway. It also gave a view past the dance floor of a curtained VIP area.

  I’d bet that was where the Earl would be hanging out. I pictured a slick-haired Mafioso type wearing a shiny suit surrounded by ass-kissing lackeys. I’d seen too many gangster movies.

  “Mmm. Aren’t you pretty?” cooed the first male dumb enough to get in my way. “Love the hair. Does the carpet match the drapes?”

  Was this guy for real?

  “Piss off,” I growled, flinging a dash of compulsion his way.

  Obeying, he meandered off into the sweaty throng of humans and undead gyrating against each other. He could go check out someone else’s carpet.

  I couldn’t afford to waste time dealing with dummies. Relentless hunger beat at me and had from the moment I’d stepped across the threshold. I doubted it was a coincidence. My guess was that the constant stream of vapor was the culprit.

  And I also bet the longer I stayed in the club the more likely I was to find myself on the dark side of the room. But not yet.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” A man stepped in my path. “I can give you what you want.”

  He bared his throat. Fresh punctures. Great. Like I wanted sloppy seconds. I had to find another blue-blooded vamp to feed from. A human wasn’t going to cut it.

  I shoved him away and moved on. Lucky for him, control was my new middle name. “Go find someone else to bother.”

  “Stupid ginger bitch!” he called from behind me.

  I stiffened my spine and kept walking. I was not a ginger. Asshat.

  The VIP area was in sight. Burly bodyguards stood at the entrance. Energy rippled around them. My footsteps faltered when they both turned to face me. Even behind the dark sunglasses—indoors, no less—I could feel their hungry gaze.

  Revenants. The biggest I’d ever seen. And I’d forgotten that on Earth the undead weren’t one big happy family. Maybe marching up to them and demanding access was not the best idea. I’d hoped the club was vampire run given all the bite marks I’d witnessed. But no such luck.

  I veered toward the bar for some liquid courage. And to rethink my plan. Up until this point, luck had pushed me along, throwing the occasional barrier my way. So far, I’d survived some pretty huge revelations. Like my father was a thrall and my aunt was the zombie bride of Frankenstein.

  Confident that I could handle whatever came next, I leaned against the bar and caught the vampire bartender’s attention. She nodded and headed my way. After taking my drink order, she inclined her head toward the VIP area.

  “No one gets past the goon squad.”

  “That obvious?” I shrugged.

  “No. I’m really good at reading—” she gave me the once over, “—people.”

  I admired her tact. We both knew I was a vampire. Like recognized like. “Is the Earl in?”

  “First one’s on the house.” She slid over a layered cocktail, garnished with an umbrella.

  I
tasted the drink and smiled in appreciation. Cool, tangy, and it made me slightly homesick for Martian fruit slushies.

  “The Earl of Third Street. That’s an interesting name.” If not a bit cartoonish and tacky. I sipped the tasty drink.

  “Don’t mistake the name for weakness.” She flashed her fangs in a light smile. “He’s ruthless to his enemies, yet rewards loyalty.”

  “And is this you being loyal?” Danger raised my hackles. Not an innocent bartender but a watchdog.

  “The Earl will decide if, and when, he wants to speak to you,” she said.

  “I’m not here to start trouble. Just to ask a question.”

  Drink in hand, I casually slid off the barstool, leaving some bills on the bar’s glossy surface. I blended into the crowd before she could say another word. I hated to wait, but if this was what I had to do, I’d play along for my Family’s sake.

  I stuck to the club’s perimeter. I didn’t trust myself to be so close to so many beating, tempting hearts. Or veins flowing with hot, liquid blood.

  Yeah, control was no longer my middle name. Except, the humans were so tempting.

  God. I was a doofus. I set aside the drink. Stupid me. It was laced with something to loosen my control.

  Since I couldn’t leave the club yet, distance from others might clear the ravenous thoughts. I found a spot against the wall then floated toward the upper-level walkway. Perhaps I’d get a glimpse into the VIP area and ascertain if the Earl was, in fact, in the house.

  I walked across the narrow gangway strung over the middle of the dance floor. The walkway’s constant swaying discouraged lingering. I hoofed it to the other side and jumped over a metal railing, landing on the solid concrete overlook. Using the railing for balance, I peered over the edge.

  “Damn.” The ledge was designed to block anyone from viewing the VIP lounge below.

  “Oh well. It was worth a shot.” Talking to myself, I realized, was becoming a habit I couldn’t afford to indulge.

  Despair’s icy fingers tightened around me. The weight of the emotional baggage heaped on me was almost overwhelming. So much for being able to handle anything.

  I hugged myself, the edges of my control, ragged and fraying. No. Crying wasn’t an option and neither was a one-woman pity party. And yet, I couldn’t fight the huge hole in my heart caused by the distance between my baby and husband. “I need you, Ian.”

  Footsteps shuffled behind me. The tantalizing aroma of sunshine and pine trees enveloped me.

  “I’ve missed you too, luv.”

  I dared not turn around. If I did, and he wasn’t there, hopelessness would crush me.

  “Wishing for something doesn’t make it real.”

  A palm landed gently on my shoulder, while a strong arm wrapped around my waist. I squeezed my eyes shut and counted backward slowly from ten.

  “Cherry. You can believe just this once.”

  “You got my message through the cuff. How did you get here?” I croaked through dry lips. My body stiffened so hard, I might snap from the tension.

  “Jay found a way. Some mumbo jumbo about cuffs, time streams and such.” Fingers swept away the hair at the base of my neck. Soft tender kisses landed on my hyperaware skin. “He intercepted this time period’s version of me, and I slipped inside my past self. Bloody unnatural if you ask me? But I’d pay any price to keep you and our daughter safe.”

  I gasped when he snugged me against his cool and familiar body.

  Ian wound his fingers through my hair and gently tugged my head back. “Let go, luv. I don’t know how long I can remain. My older self is fighting the intrusion.”

  Trembling, I ached to trust my senses and do as he asked me. “And Vala?”

  “Safe.” The for now didn’t need to be said aloud. We both knew what was at risk.

  “I missed you at Belmont.” I knew I was stalling.

  “No worries, luv.” Ian released my hair. The faint pop of teeth biting into skin, the delicious aroma of his blood made my mouth water.

  “Drink from me.” His wrist moved into my field of vision.

  I latched on without hesitation. Ian groaned, his hand dipping between my legs finding my center. Heat and desire put me on my toes.

  “I want you,” he breathed against my neck. When I leaned forward and grabbed the railing, he ripped my underwear, tearing it away.

  I opened my mouth, hunger satisfied. I had an appetite for something else now. I reached around, the angle awkward, searching for his zipper.

  Ian growled and hoisted me against the rough stone wall, my legs wrapping around his hips. He was so skilled at sensing my need, I trusted his strength to hold me firm. I nearly wept at the sight of his handsome face and gorgeous blue gaze that penetrated my soul.

  He ran his thumb along my lips. “My beautiful wife.”

  Desire and hunger spiraled between us. The hardness of his erection rubbed against me. Need drove me senseless. I throbbed for him, my body aching.

  “Do it.” I angled my neck, knowing he’d get the signal. Spreading wide, I jerked my hips toward him, invitation clear.

  “With pleasure.” He bit down, pulling my body upright to meet him. A moment later, he slid inside of me, hot and rough.

  The dance music covered my enthusiasm. Given the orgy below, I doubted anyone cared about my frantic moans of pleasure.

  Ian thrust and rubbed my core until my thighs quivered and my limbs turned to water. His fangs slid from my throat. I immediately missed the contact. The bond between us hummed with shared pleasure and bitter sweetness.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said with a groan. “So bloody much.”

  “Me too.” I wriggled closer. Arms around his neck, I buried my face against his skin, relishing the scent of him. “So close. I’m close.”

  He gasped and I came, hard and fast. He joined me a moment later.

  “I wish we could stay like this a while longer.”

  “I know. Me too,” I said, unwinding myself from him. “But I’ll take whatever time we have.”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay me.” Ian used my wrecked underwear to clean me, then himself. I arched an eyebrow when he pocketed the panties.

  “I’m sure I’ll wonder about these later. Not that I have a habit of keeping lady’s drawers.”

  “I wish I could be there to see that.” I rearranged my dress, smoothing it back into place. It was depressing to think that at any moment he might revert to the 1969 version of himself.

  A wistful smile touched his lips. “Perhaps you will. Day’s not over yet, eh luv?”

  “No, it’s not.” I tiptoed, kissing him.

  Ian tensed, then positioned his body in front of mine. “Be ready to run.”

  Ghostly apparitions unfurled from the mist, surrounding us.

  Revenants. And these weren’t the starving disorganized rabble that prowled the streets looking for their next meal.

  “Remind you of anyone?” I whispered to Ian.

  Ian nodded while adjusting his stance, assessing the threat level. “What do you want?”

  “The Earl requests your presence.”

  A lone revenant stepped forward, solidifying in front of us. He wore a predictable yet sleek, designer suit. His dark hair was cropped in a short military style. His physique, stocky and well built, broadcast a don’t-fuck-with-me vibe.

  “And if we say no?” Well, I had to ask.

  A predatory smile curled his lips. “Nothing would please me more. To taste your fine blood.” He breathed in deeply, scenting the air. “Pity. The Earl has ordered you brought to him unharmed.”

  Ian spun around to face me. “You came to see the Earl. Are you insane?”

  I hadn’t expected that reaction from my husband. I furrowed my brows. “Did you think I came here to dance? He has answers that we need.”

  “No.” Ian turned to face them. “She stays. I go.”

  The head goon gave a sigh akin to an adult dealing with unruly children. He motioned
to his henchmen. “Take them both.”

  White vapor rose rapidly enveloping us in a cold, heavy blanket.

  “Don’t let the mist touch you!” Ian gripped my waist ready to bolt when my knees gave out.

  Paralysis stiffened my limbs. He fell to the concrete next to me, his weight dragging me the rest of the way down.

  “Ian!” I felt our connection wobble as the mist permeated my nose and mouth.

  “I can’t hang on, luv.” Rising like a balloon, an Ian-shaped specter was tethered to his wrist. Connected to the same spot where Future Ian wore the king’s cuff.

  “No! I need you!” Thinking about what King Edward had said about using my will, I sent my strength through our bond. I don’t know if it helped but Ian rallied. The spectral form writhed. A second later it snapped downward, the two selves reunited.

  “Interesting,” muttered the head goon. Solid footsteps shuffled forward.

  Rough hands gripped me under the arms. My head lolled downward hard enough to strain my neck.

  My mind screamed for me to move, but it wasn’t happening.

  Ian’s eyes closed in a slow blink. A moment later my eyelids followed.

  We were caught. What had I done?

  HEAVINESS ANCHORED my limbs. My body floated in that in-between state. Awake but not wanting to move.

  Velvet tickled the undersides of my palms and wrists. Relishing the sensation, I spanned my fingers across the fabric. Cord dug into my flesh, trapping me.

  My eyelids snapped open. Ugh. I was a prisoner.

  The mother of all headaches throbbed behind my eye sockets. Revenant funk, bitter and pungent, coated my throat. I hoped breathing in their mist hadn’t caused serious damage. So far, these revenants’ mist had befuddled my senses and rendered me unconscious. I didn’t want to think about what else it could do. Weakness dulled my senses as my body used precious energy to heal.

  “Ah, I see the beauty has awakened,” the head goon said.

  “And I see a kidnapping douche canoe. You could have asked instead of ambushing us.”

  My prison was a wing-backed armchair. The velvet I’d been appreciating earlier was deep crimson, the perfect shade to hide blood. A massive, ornate fireplace was to my right. Another empty armchair was across from me. Oak bookcases lined the walls, the tomes in perfect order.