Day Reaper

by Melody Johnson

  I glanced at her over my shoulder. “You mentioned that there were other people concerned for their loved ones, too. Other humans?”

  Mackenzie crossed her arms. “Sevris said I could trust you, no one else.” She glanced pointedly at Dominic.

  Dominic’s expression softened. His forehead smoothed, his ears rounded, and when he spoke, he made a concerted effort not to growl. “I am Sevris’s Master and as concerned about his disappearance as you are. You can trust me as well.”

  “Sevris’s instructions were very clear, as clear as your stance on human memories. He said you wouldn’t allow me to keep my memory of him, that if you discovered he’d allowed me to keep my memories of the existence of vampires, you’d not only destroy my memories and our love, you’d kill him, too.” Mackenzie tilted her head. “Does that sound like a man I can trust to you?”

  I winced, unexpectedly feeling the physical cut of her doubt, and waited on Dominic’s reply. Everything Mackenzie said was true, and I felt for her. I’d fought for the same thing on Meredith’s behalf every time she came too close to discovering the truth. I’d fought for my memories, too, when I’d been vulnerable to being entranced.

  Dominic took a moment to answer, his jaw clicking and flexing as he ground his teeth in silence, but when he did speak, his voice was still carefully moderate, his anger tightly leashed. “No, that doesn’t sound like someone you could trust. Had we met last week, I would have done exactly as you have described.”

  I glanced at him sharply. “You wouldn’t have killed Sevris,” I denied.

  Dominic shrugged. “Perhaps not, but we were at war. Either he was with me or against me, and allowing a human to keep her memory of him, me, you, Jillian, and the existence of our coven was certainly not with me.” Dominic met Mackenzie’s gaze. “By keeping you as his wife, Sevris took an unnecessary risk and went against everything I stand for and everything I’d promised the Council under oath as Master. I’d assured them secrecy and silence, and most of all, after Jillian’s rebellion, I’d assured them of my coven’s obedience.” He waved a hand to encompass Mackenzie. “And yet here you are, the very proof of my coven’s defiance.”

  Mackenzie frowned. “How is this convincing me to trust you?”

  “As I said, last week, I would have wiped your memory and punished Sevris accordingly for his disloyalty, but in that time, I, too, have taken an unnecessary risk that defied the Council.” Dominic met my eyes and his fully softened, the anger not just hidden but completely extinguished. “I transformed my dear Cassidy DiRocco into a vampire, knowing that she would become a Day Reaper, knowing that her transformation was, by right, the Lord High Chancellor’s to perform.”

  I snorted. “I’d hardly call saving us from certain death unnecessary.”

  “After a lifetime of service and obedience to the Council, enforcing their laws on pain of death and willing to die myself to protect their rule, I defied them, the Day Reapers, and my own reign by transforming you,” he said, his eyes flashing sharply.

  “I wasn’t trying to diminish what you did.” I waffled my hands between the two of them. “Carry on.”

  Dominic smirked slightly, but his face was once again composed when he turned to Mackenzie. “Last week, I was not a person you could trust, but the man who stands before you now is no longer interested in blindly enforcing the Council’s laws or dying for their cause. Thanks to Cassidy, I can see the big picture now, and we have a cause far greater and more immediate than exacting punishment on you for simply loving one of my vampires. I love Sevris, too, and I vow that if you help us, we will find him.” Dominic’s eyes took on a near maniacal glow. “We will find them all.”

  Mackenzie didn’t look convinced. In fact, for the first time since we started talking to her, she hesitated. “H-how can I help?” she asked on a half laugh and glanced at me. “I came here for your help.”

  I smiled, feeling back on solid ground. “And I will help, but to do so, I need to know about the other people you mentioned. You know other humans with vampire loved ones?”

  She pursed her lips, but after a moment of pregnant silence, she finally, reluctantly nodded. “Some are like Sevris, with human families who haven’t heard from or seen them since the Leveling.”

  Jesus, she even knew about the Leveling, I thought grimly.

  “Others are friends and family of night bloods,” she continued, “who haven’t seen their brother or mother or cousin since the Leveling. It’s as if they’ve all just vanished into thin air.”

  Dominic’s lips compressed into a thin, unyielding line. “They certainly haven’t vanished.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  Maybe she doesn’t know everything. I winced. Of everything she did know, it figured the one thing we’d have to break to her was the worst news of all.

  “We’re going to find Sevris,” I said, “but I need you to tell everyone who’s missing a loved one to come here and file a missing-persons report.”

  Dominic raised his eyebrows incredulously.

  Mackenzie scowled. “You want them to fill out paperwork? People are dying out there!”

  The door opened behind me, and Greta strode in, paperwork and pen in hand, beaming. I hadn’t seen her this delighted in ages, maybe ever, and it occurred to me how the years of solving crime and catching murderers had hardened her soft features. “Brilliant, DiRocco. Really, fucking brilliant,” she murmured.

  Mackenzie glanced at Greta and then her gaze hardened back on me. “Seriously?” Her frustration was abrasive, like sandpaper against my eyeballs. “Sevris was wrong about you. I thought you’d do something.” She pushed back from the table and stood. “Paperwork,” she scoffed.

  I fought to not rub my eyelids or scream—or both—and react like a normal person to her frustration. She had a right to her emotions, I reminded myself, and my eyes were not being rubbed raw. They only felt like they were.

  “This isn’t about the paperwork,” I said carefully. “There’s something you don’t understand, something you don’t want to hear, but I’m about to tell you anyway because it’s the truth. And if there’s one thing I think you came here for besides help for Sevris, it’s the truth.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m listening.”

  “You might want to sit down.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m three seconds away from ditching you, so I’ll stand if I please, thank you.”

  I could physically stop her from leaving, but I knew I wouldn’t have to. “The missing night bloods didn’t just vanish into thin air. Jillian transformed them, but because she wasn’t a Master vampire, the transformation didn’t work; they became Damned.” I waited a moment for that to sink in. “The Damned vampires are our missing night bloods.”

  She sat back down, hard.

  “Oh my God,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “Positive. My brother was one of them.”

  She blinked. “Was?”

  “I transformed him back.”

  Greta snorted under her breath. “Kind of.”

  I frowned. “He’s not a rampaging, mindless, murdering zombie-vampire anymore. I count that as a win.”

  “He still eats raw meat for breakfast,” Greta pointed out.

  “But he doesn’t murder people to obtain said meat,” I argued. “Again, win.”

  “Stop. Just stop!” Mackenzie said, breathlessly. “Your brother was a night blood that Jillian turned into one of her Damned? And you transformed him back into a night blood?”

  “Yes,” I said. I glanced at Greta and added reluctantly, “kind of.”

  “How?” she asked. Suddenly, and for the first time since arriving, Mackenzie looked hopeful.

  “It’s complicated,” I hedged.

  “But if you transformed your brother back from being Damned, then there�
�s a chance you can transform back all the rest?”

  Dominic’s lips thinned into an unyielding, grim line, and I feared I knew exactly what he was thinking—the same thing I was thinking. I could remember the horror of saving Nathan last month like it was yesterday. I could still smell the putrid stink of his breath as he’d dismembered Jeremy’s uncle limb from limb. I could still see Dominic’s cheek, split to the bone, the skin loose and dangling by threads as he and Bex and Rene had fought to within an inch of their lives to subdue my brother. Myself and Jillian included, we’d been five against one, and we’d nearly died attempting to retransform Nathan. Saving one Damned had been nearly impossible; now that we were outnumbered, how could we possibly confront dozens upon dozens of them and ensure that everyone survived?

  But the alternative was just as unthinkable: if we couldn’t find a way to save them, we’d need to form a plan to eradicate them.

  “Maybe,” I said, finally answering Mackenzie’s question, “but that’s where the missing-persons reports come in. I was only able to transform my brother back into a night blood using my own blood. If we hope to have any chance of saving the Damned, we’re going to need every loved one out there willing to bleed to get them back.”

  Greta nodded, adding, “If people come in person to file missing-persons reports, I can interview and organize their cases, and hopefully, determine who are missing vampires, who are Damned night bloods, and who are just”—Greta hesitated with a quick glance at Mackenzie—“missing.”

  I glanced up at Dominic, and I could read his wary, hopeless expression well enough that I didn’t need mind-reading abilities to know his thoughts: if Sevris was part of the rebellion against him, maybe he’d deliberately gone missing. Maybe he was right where he wanted to be.

  “I’ll encourage everyone to come here and file missing-persons reports,” Mackenzie said softly, “but I can’t guarantee that they’ll listen. Not everyone knows you, and the few who know of you think that you’re Lysander’s right hand. I came here alone today and not by choice: Everyone else is terrified that he will entrance them and erase the memories of their loved ones from their minds.”

  Dominic cursed under his breath.

  “What if you had proof of Dominic’s intentions and of our plan to transform the Damned back into night bloods?” I asked. “Would that help convince them?”

  “Well, yeah, that would obviously help,” Mackenzie said, “but your reputation precedes you. I don’t know how you could possibly change that.”

  “How many Damned vampires do you think read the newspaper?” I asked.

  “None. They can’t read,” Dominic said drily. “But Jillian might be tuned into the media.”

  Greta shook her head. “A paper hasn’t been released in Brooklyn for eight days, not since the Damned attacked and the entire city went on lockdown. If she’s plugged into the news, I doubt she’s worried about local coverage.”

  “And what’s the national conversation?” I asked. From what Rowens had already confided, however, I had my suspicions.

  “Doom and gloom,” Greta confirmed. “If the next wave of military are slaughtered like the last, I can’t imagine what the government might do to prevent the Damned from expanding their hunting grounds.”

  I could imagine exactly what the government would do: the only thing they’d have left to do if ground troops failed again: with the bridges and tunnels already blocked, an air attack would be the next weapon they pulled from their arsenal. Little did they know that bombing New York City was the one, surefire way to kill everyone except the Damned. Like Night of the Living Dead, the Damned would rise from the rubble—and without us, unstoppable—and spread their hunting ground, like locusts, outward from New York City in search of a new food source.

  Unless we could give the government a reason to reconsider their options and the people of New York City a reason to hold onto hope.

  “I think it’s time we tell our side of the story,” I said. I couldn’t help but grin even while facing the grim inevitability of our reality. It was time. It was finally time.

  “Cassidy—” Dominic began, shaking his head.

  “Who will stop us now, Dominic, the Damned? Who do we have left to fear, the Day Reapers and Lord High Henry’s retribution?”

  Dominic winced.

  “The public knows about the monsters who rule the night, slaughter indiscriminately, and hunt human hearts,” I argued, “but they don’t know anything about the creatures fighting against them. We might live in darkness, but it’s time we shed light on the truth of our existence and where we stand. Past time.”

  “And where is that?” Dominic asked, raising an eyebrow. “Where do we stand?”

  I crossed my arms. “I know exactly where I stand, where I’ve always stood: protecting New York City and her people. Where the hell do you stand?”

  Dominic’s loyalties had never been a mystery: his life, his entire existence, was dedicated to his coven and the Council. But the Day Reapers were no longer in a position to enforce Council law, and Dominic was no longer in power. We needed to make a stand, now, while we still had the chance to save the scraps of New York City and piece her back together, before the Damned could completely tear her apart or the government, in a last-ditch effort to save us, destroyed us.

  “Where do you stand, Dominic?” I whispered again when it was clear he didn’t have a ready answer.

  Mackenzie and Greta’s eyes had settled on Dominic after watching the volley of our exchange, and I could feel the burn of many gazes, literally. I couldn’t see Walker, Rowens, Bex, Meredith, or Dr. Chunn watching us through the one-way mirror, but the heat of their focused eyes was scorching.

  “It’s so easy for you; nothing has changed,” Dominic whispered.

  I gaped. “Nothing has changed for me?” I spread my arms out, my lethal, silver talons elongating elegantly. “Nothing?”

  He grinned. “Your physical changes are undeniable, but your moral stance as a revealer of truth, as a beacon to shine light on the darkness, as a guiding hand and protector of this city—those facets of yourself are irrefutably constant. I, on the other hand, despite the constancy of my physical form, am the one who must truly transform.”

  “Seriously?” I asked. “You’re cranky because I’m still a reporter and you’re not Master vampire of New York City for a week?”

  “Answer the question, Lysander,” Greta said, her voice low, and for all she was a weak, insignificant human, dangerous. “Are you with us or against us?”

  Mackenzie’s eyes widened.

  My useless, non-beating heart contracted painfully in my chest.

  Dominic’s gaze locked with mine. “I’m with you, Cassidy. Wherever you stand, I stand with you.”

  The electric thrill of his words speared my heart.

  “Meaning?” Greta asked.

  I smiled, wide and uncaring of the flash of my fangs. “We’re in this together, G. All of us—vampires, humans, Day Reapers, whatever the hell my brother is, and all—we’re your team.”

  “This is touching and all,” Mackenzie interrupted, “but your unfailing declaration of loyalty to each other doesn’t change the fact that there’s a reason why a newspaper hasn’t been published in eight days. The city’s a ghost town. Everyone is either dead, dying, or hiding, and no one in their right mind would risk life and limb just to print a damn newspaper article.”

  I could hear the light burst of Meredith’s laugh even through the makeshift interrogation room wall, and damn it, despite our situation and the complete destruction of New York City, I couldn’t help but laugh too. “Let me worry about finding someone crazy enough to care about printing a post-apocalyptic newspaper article.”

  Chapter 17

  “I can’t print that article, DiRocco. Have you lost your mind along with your humanity?” Carter bellowed. His words and the underlying bass dr
umbeat of his anger pounded a double-jackhammer rhythm into my already aching head.

  Carter Bellissimo, editor in chief of the Sun Accord and my prickly boss, scowled at the pages I’d tossed on his desk, his thick eyebrows nearly merging into one, disapproving bush over his eyes as he read the headline: Vampires Bite in the Big Apple. I supposed, considering the Sun Accord no longer had a staff and the paper hadn’t gone to print in eight days, that Carter wasn’t my boss at the moment, but standing in his office defending my work, like old times, I could imagine a full bullpen behind us. Any other day at this bright morning hour, Meredith would be at her cube, craning over the dividers to gauge Carter’s reaction to our latest stunt. Other reporters and photographers would be making mad dashes from their computers and out the door to follow leads, talking on their phones to contacts and witnesses, and doing whatever needed doing to make deadline.

  Today, however, the building was a ghost town. The bullpen was deserted and Meredith was at the lab, helping Dr. Chunn with her research instead of helping me convince Carter to go to print. Meredith was still on our team, I reminded myself, even if she wasn’t my partner anymore. I tried to feel buoyed that I hadn’t lost her entirely—she was alive and healthy at least—but we hadn’t talked since my transformation, not really. She hadn’t said that she was happy to see me alive and healthy. She hadn’t embraced me, like I longed to embrace her, and I hadn’t felt anything besides caution, hesitation, and fear when she’d declined my request to come with me to confront Carter.

  Maybe her silence was more telling than anything she could say. Maybe my transformation had changed more than just my person and had irrevocably altered my relationship with Meredith.

  Maybe Meredith wasn’t my best friend anymore.

  Carter looked up, transferring his frown from my article to me. No matter my transformation or his empty bullpen, Carter obviously still considered himself my boss.

  I jabbed my finger at the article, moving it subtly closer to him. “Questions of humanity aside, I’m still me, and this article is dynamite.”