by J. L. McCoy
“Jameson,” I whispered his name, shocked at his state. I got up and rushed over to him. I put my arm around his waist and lead him over to a nearby chair. I knelt down in front of him and put both of my hands on his knees. “Tell me Jameson. What happened? What’s behind that curtain?” Jameson just shook his head as he stared off blankly at nothing.
“Trey!” I called out as I turned my head toward the railing. “Bring me some whiskey and some cold water, please, honey?”
Quinn flashed up the stairs followed by the rest of the vampire crew. They stepped around Jameson and me to get a look behind the curtain, too. Trey flashed up next with a glass of whiskey and a cold bottle of water. I handed Jameson the whiskey and told him gently that I’d be right back. I had Trey stay with him and I returned to the janitor. I couldn’t leave him passed out. I was worried about a concussion. I kneeled down beside him, took the water bottle, and put my thumb over the opening. I turned the bottle upside down and sprinkled his face with water. After a few cheek smacks and some more cold water, he finally came to.
“His head,” the janitor whispered softly to me. His eyes were wide and I knew he was probably going into shock.
“Archer!” I called out, placing my hand under the janitor’s neck and sitting him up some. “I need your help.”
He flashed over to me, took one look at the janitor and called Quinn before flashing to his private stairwell and disappearing behind the door. Quinn walked up to us and kneeled down on the floor beside me. “Turn away, Skye,” he said, his eyes focused on the janitor’s. I did as he asked and heard Quinn speaking quietly to our janitor.
“There,” Quinn said. “He won’t remember finding the body.”
“Body?” I whispered, suddenly terrified. “What body? What did you do to him?”
“Calm down, Skye,” Quinn sighed, standing up. “I just mesmerized him into forgetting the last five minutes of his shift. No harm, no foul. He’ll be fine in a minute, but we need to get him down those stairs before he becomes lucid again. I can’t make him forget twice in one night. It’ll fry his brain.”
“What’s going on up there?” the second janitor asked as he came out of the bathrooms.
“Uh. Nothing. Everything’s fine,” I said quickly and Quinn kicked me gently with his foot. “Um, the janitor passed out and I need to find him a ride home. Can you leave early and take him?”
The janitor looked reluctant and Quinn spoke up. “I’ll throw in a hundred dollars if you take him now.”
The janitor smiled. “Done.” Quinn lifted the woozy janitor, helped him down the stairs, and gave him over to the other janitor. I watched as the janitor struggled to make it down the hall and out to his car without dropping him.
Quinn slowly walked back up the stairs and I turned to look at Jameson. Jameson hadn’t moved since I handed him the glass of whiskey and I was starting to really worry about him.
“Oh, Tiarna! No!” Trey cried as he turned around from the PVIP table, took two steps, and fell to the floor. Huge wailing sobs wracked his body and I crawled over to him and put my arms around him.
“Everything is going to be okay, Trey” I said, holding him tight and hugging him. I didn’t know what else to do to comfort him, so I gently rocked him for a few moments in silence.
I kept glancing at the curtain and finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Trey…do you know who’s behind the curtain?” I hated to ask him, but curiosity was getting the better of me.
Trey only cried harder as the other vampires quietly walked past us and sat down in random lounges. I told Trey that I’d be right back and stood up. I had to see who was behind that curtain. I slowly walked up to it and trepidatiously pulled it aside. What I saw immediately overloaded my brain and I didn’t quite know what I was looking at. It took a few moments for the grisly scene to sink in and I screamed bloody murder.
Greyson Mead, or what was left of him, was lying on the table and he had been completely gutted; his entrails haphazardly scattered about. His head had been ripped from his body and it lay horribly between his splayed legs. His eyes had been removed and placed in his right, upturned palm. His once expensive, crisp tailored shirt was ripped open and a message had been brutally carved into his upper torso. It said “THE BLOOD OF THE SON SHALL PAY FOR THE SINS OF THE FATHER.” There was a blob hanging out of his mouth and it took me a few moments to realize that it was Greyson’s heart. Bile rose up in my throat, immediately cutting off my scream.
Strong arms wrapped themselves around me and quickly pulled me away from the table. I closed my eyes, buried my head in the person’s chest and wept.
“Sssshhh,” Jameson said, trying to calm me. “It’s okay, Skye. It’s okay.”
I shook my head and cried harder into his chest. I fought hard to keep my stomach contents down, but was pretty sure it was a losing battle. I couldn’t get the image of Greyson’s dismembered body out of my mind. Greyson Mead is dead. I just spoke to him only a little while ago and now he’s dead. Not just dead, but in pieces. “Who did that?” I cried. “Oh, God, why would someone do that, Jameson?”
“Aye, Athair,” I heard Lochlan say. “Who or what could ‘ave done dis to our Greyson?”
I lifted my head from Jameson’s chest and saw Archer slowly emerge from the doorway of his private stairwell. His face was drawn and his eyes haunted. He walked a few more feet, sat down at the table that Aoife was occupying, and buried his face in his hands. Aoife, fighting back tears, reached over and lightly stroked Archer’s hair with one manicured hand.
The room was silent for a moment as everyone absorbed what they had just seen. I shivered at another memory of Greyson’s decapitated head and Jameson held me tighter in his arms.
“There was no blood,” Hunter whispered. “Whoever killed him completely drained him first. I have never heard of something draining a vampire before, Athair.”
“Aye,” Archer said, looking around the room for the first time since he had come back from his office. His eyes lingered on Jameson and me before moving to rest on Quinn.
“We need to get Greyson’s body out of here,” Archer said, standing up and walking over to Quinn. “There are some sheets in my apartment upstairs. Wrap him up and transport him to my house using your truck. We will prepare him for the pyre later.” Archer then turned to Seamus. “Seamus, you and Hunter clean this place up, on the double. We’ve got An Dílis coming.”
Jameson’s breath hitched as everyone looked at Archer in shock. I glanced around the room hoping someone would clue me in as to what that meant, but everyone’s attention was on Archer.
“What’s An Dílis mean, Jameson?” I asked him in a whisper. Jameson just gripped my body tighter to his.
“An Dílis, máistir?” Lochlan asked softly. “But…”
Quinn, Seamus, and Hunter slowly made their way over to Greyson’s body. They looked like they were in a deep state of shock and my heart went out to them.
Archer sighed and swallowed hard. “There’s something that I’ve been keeping from you all. I think it’s time you knew.”
Everyone in the room froze and turned to Archer.
Don’t miss book #2 in the Skye Morrison Series, ‘Sins of the Father’, available in late summer 2012.
About the Author
J. L. McCoy resides in the beautifully weird city of Austin, Texas with her opinionated Pekiweenie Isabel and handsome husband Kenny. She has always been a passionate reader and enjoys watching movies, traveling, listening to heavy metal/classic rock/80s music, getting mani/pedis with her girls, and singing karaoke. She loves body art and is hopelessly addicted to Sonic’s ice and Route 44 un-sweet raspberry iced tea.
If you’d like more information about her or her upcoming books, please visit her Facebook page at: http:/www.facebook.com/AuthorJLMcCoy
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