by J. A. Saare
My eyes flittered open, and I stared across the cold, dark concrete. The light overhead reflected clearly, creating a shining path across the room, and I rotated my head.
Paul’s spirit was standing over his body, and Kibwe was holding his now severed heart aloft. The large, silky-red organ was still beating. The necromancer’s back was facing me, but I could see his uneven breathing as he chanted.
I raised my pounding head inches from the ground, shaking the cobwebs loose. My right knee was throbbing, and my wrists stung, but I didn’t have time to think about it. I managed to sit up, finding myself weak and unsteady.
“I am here, Rhiannon,” Disco’s voice washed over me, through me, “And my strength is now yours.”
The lethargy, weakness, and headache vanished—replaced by strength, power, confidence, and purpose. The change was unbelievable.
I felt indestructible.
Suffused with Disco’s strength and fortitude, I made it to steady feet without a sound. He had finally opened that special connection we shared, unlocking my mark. I searched for a weapon, spying my Ruger and clip beside it on the table. I retrieved both, slipping the pistol into my hand.
Kibwe was lost in a chant, and I watched Paul’s spirit dissipate before my eyes. He was banishing his soul. I didn’t know how I knew that for certain. I simply did. That’s why we couldn’t communicate with victims, they were trapped in limbo. It wasn’t enough to take their lives. He was stealing their rest as well.
I called on my anger and it answered readily, the flame of fury licked under my sternum, spreading outward. I stepped toward the circle, my right leg pain free but lagging behind. Disco was there. I felt him like a shadow in my mind, present, but silent.
Paul’s form was nothing more than a haze. The time to act was now. I steadied the gun, angling the pistol to left side of Kibwe’s back, aiming for his heart. The clip slid quietly into place and I braced my left hand, trigger finger twitchy as I cocked the gun.
Kibwe tried to move with that impressive vampire speed but I started unloading the rounds the instant one slid into the chamber. The clip only held six shots and the small caliber bullets would ricochet all along his insides like a ping-pong table, but it still wouldn’t do the job.
I watched him sag forward when the fourth shell entered his torso, Paul’s heart flopping from his hand into the empty chest cavity it had once inhabited. I dropped the pistol and snatched the shining weapon to his right. The blade was blessed silver, which meant the wound wouldn’t close immediately. I grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. His wide green eyes stared up at me in bewilderment.
“This is for Cash, you son of a bitch.” I flipped the knife to a backward angle, gripped the hilt, and slid the sharp blade into his throat.
The edge was true and sunk deep, gliding through the path of my choosing. Blood spurted and poured down his chest in a thick, steady flow of exquisite red, pooling on the floor below. Flailing hands attempted to staunch his river of life, but it was too late. I continued to push the knife deeper, until I met the resistance of solid bone and scored through it.
He lurched forward and my hand instinctively reached out to stop him, fingers wrapping around the leather string tied to the amulet around his neck. It tore free, dangling from my fingers.
The man before me shrank, reverting to the form of a child. The wound was much worse like this, the head nearly severed but for a splice of bone and flesh. The delicate body flopped on the floor, bubbles of air mixing with blood around the wound, spreading over the floor in a crimson stain.
“We are coming,” Disco spoke in my mind and the energy abruptly drained from my body.
I crumpled to the ground, ears ringing as the knife bounced off the concrete in several decisive chinks before coming to a rest beside me. My right knee burned and pulsated. The injury was so severe that my jeans were stretched as far as the material would allow. I opened my fingers and stared at the amulet nestled inside my palm. It glowed like amber, with a tiny black teardrop glistening inside.
Timothy thrust aside the door and barreled into the room. His eyes widened when he located his Master’s fallen body. His scream was one of hate and rage.
His body slammed into mine, smashing the back of my skull against the concrete floor with a crack. I was defenseless, too exhausted to put up much of a fight. I lifted my hands in a feeble attempt to ward off the blow from the blessed knife he now gripped. He slammed the blade into my chest, and I sucked in a painful wail of air. He tried to pull the weapon free, but I grasped his hand, holding the blade in place.
If he pulled it free, I was as good as dead.
We struggled for a minute, until my grip ebbed, my bloody hands slipping against his, covering us in sprays of crimson. We thrashed back and forth, his strength unwavering, mine faltering. I had nothing left to give. I could taste the metallic bitterness of blood as it seeped from my mouth. I was suffocating, unable to draw in vital air.
I closed my eyes and let go, imagining my parents waiting for me, envisioning us walking to our beach and staring into the setting sun together. Timothy tried to tug at the blade, but it was slick and hard to grip. Each attempt brought gurgles from my lips, warm wetness poured from my mouth and nose, trickling past my ear into my hair.
His body disappeared, and I stared up at the dark, grey ceiling. The florescent light bulb in the center of the fixture flickered on and off. The pain was less now. It wouldn’t be long.
Timothy returned, standing with one leg on either side of my body. He stared down at me, holding my Ruger in hand. Aiming the gun at my face, he roared, “I’ll have your heart, you fucking bitch.”
The mechanism clicked, but nothing happened.
I laughed weakly, the sound more of a cackling mew than anything else. Leave it to Timothy not to check the clip or the chamber, ignorant bastard. It didn’t matter, I didn’t have long left anyway, it was getting dark fast. He scowled, lifting his arm, ready to gain some use from the weapon even if he had to throw it.
My words came out bubbly, barely understandable as I spoke through bloody lips, “Fake it until you make it, you sorry sack of shit.”
I struggled for air, my lungs screaming for essential oxygen. My body fought itself, demanding what it needed but was unable to provide. I choked on my blood, gagging instead of breathing. The pain inside my chest was dull and immense. I seized on the concrete, limbs contorting in a death rattle. I felt my body relax as I slipped free of the pain. A peace settled over me, and my dimming eyes saw the finality of my death through Timothy’s elated face.
My soul detached from my body, leaving the empty casing behind. I didn’t have to look around the room. I could see and hear everything. I knew that Timothy was rushing for the door, but he was out of luck. People were down the corridor. I also knew three bodies were on the floor, bunched together, drenched in blood.
And one of them used to belong to me.
“Thank you,” Paul said quietly.
“You’re welcome.” My voice wasn’t a voice. There was no sound, yet he heard me clearly. I looked at him, and he was whole once more. I glanced down at my body—so was I.
“Are you going to go?”
“Go where?”
He smiled and pointed behind me. “We can go together.”
I turned my head, then circled around. The entire wall was gone, replaced by a glorious white light, brighter than the first blanket of fresh winter snow. It thrived, alive with welcoming tendrils, casting swirling rainbows that lengthened and stretched toward us.
It was difficult to turn away, but I did, my gaze resting on the lifeless body I was leaving behind. The knife was still embedded in my left breast, the hilt smeared, the silver tinted red. Blood stained the grey sweater in a large circle. More of it had dribbled free of my bluish lips, welling on the floor.
Paul drifted past, stepping closer to the light. The rays seemed to reach for him, making contact with his body until he shone in its brilliance. The shimmering molten white surround
ed him, and he stepped past, becoming one with the glorious radiance.
I followed Paul, intent of basking in those mysterious beams that sang of all the wonderful things I’d always wished for—serenity, peace, safety.
Disco, Goose, Sonja, Joseph, and Paine burst into the room. I heard Goose’s horrified cry, Paine’s confused babbling, and Disco’s heartbroken roar. But I couldn’t rip my eyes away from the light. It was so beautiful, so breathtaking, and it sang. The most glorious, divine, and pure music chimed inside my unworthy ears.
A jolt pierced through me, a painful tug on my soul. I stopped my trek, confusion overcoming my desire to cross the room.
“You will remain here, Rhiannon.” Goose’s voice accompanied the next jolt that seared through me. I was being pulled back, forced to remain as the light in front of me started to move into the distance.
“Look at us!” Goose demanded, and I turned to that undeniable voice, unable to disobey the order. Goose and Sonja were holding hands, eyes focused directly on me.
“Get her back here now, or she’s crossing over,” Goose yelled, voice urgent and uncompromising, attention riveted on me. “You don’t want to leave this world. You still have so much to do, Rhiannon.”
I took in the scene before me.
Disco’s bleeding wrist was held over the mouth of my former body. His lips were moving quickly as he screamed at me, angry that I would leave without a fight. Paine pulled the blade free from my chest and blood rushed out, absorbing into the sweater. He cut his wrist with the blade and held it over the gaping wound. Our blood mixed, his seeping down into the jagged hole.
An unsteady thud shifted my perception, rocking the room. The glorious music from the light started to fade and I spun around, bereft and saddened as the melody and radiance drifted away, turning into a fog.
Something inside me shifted, and I no longer stood pain free above the fray. I was on the cold ground, brutal shards of agony radiating from my chest and lungs.
“She’s back!” Disco’s voice was heavy with unshed tears, and I shifted my barely functioning gaze overhead, desperate to see his face. He kept his wrist at my mouth, rubbing his skin across my lips.
“You have to stop feeding her.” Paine’s voice was soft—so unlike him. “If you don’t, she’ll start to change. Stop, Gabriel.”
Disco pulled his wrist away, eased his hands under my body, and lifted me cautiously as Paine moved back. Strong arms surrounded me, trapping me securely against his chest, and I went limp within them. He didn’t say another word as he strode from the room, squeezing past Goose and Sonja.
Tucking my hands under my chin, I wrapped my fingers around the necklace clutched safely in my fist, the surface of the once warm amulet going strangely cool against my palm.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Four Weeks Later
I crossed the sunny street, exiting the lot of the local Super Store Family Grocery. Both of my hands sagged under the weight of black recyclable bags as my muscles flexed. The vampire blood had faded over a week ago, no longer enhancing me with abnormal strength, vision, and hearing. I was just a regular girl grocery shopping on a Saturday morning.
Okay, maybe not totally normal. But the grocery shopping part was true enough.
I smiled at Jerry—Disco’s personal driver on loan to me while my knee continued to mend—and he returned the gesture. He stepped out of the car in his crisp white shirt and dress slacks, opened my door, and took my bags. I thanked him, climbing inside and taking a load off.
Paine’s blood bound the flesh and bone in my chest, while Disco’s had done the rest from the inside out. But there was extensive damage, and by the time my lungs and chest were working properly, the remaining injuries were left to sort themselves out.
Since any more blood could trigger a change, I had to suck it up and see a doctor. He informed me that my kneecap was cracked, but was miraculously healing, so I could continue to live life like the rest of my fellow homo sapiens.
It had taken a week to find out where our mole was. Someone had been feeding information to Timothy Gilstead, inaccurate though it may have been—how in the hell he confused Sonja’s platinum rainbow dye job with my plain Jane style and dark mane was beyond me. As it happened, Lorence Smith didn’t want to help us because he was knee deep in the shit. Timothy had approached him about a new drug of choice and made him an offer. If he gave up the identities and whereabouts of certain individuals, he would be lucratively compensated, and the best part was they worked on a schedule, so they’d be leaving the area afterwards.
No fuss, no muss.
It’s a shame Timothy didn’t hire better help. All of us—Disco’s family and Joseph’s—were tracked for days. When Paul was taken, Timmy boy gave the okay to bring Sonja in. The asshole with the tazer might have gained an advantage over me, but I got the last laugh. Thank God, he seized the wrong girl. Sonja might have had the smarts, but I had the cojones.
We are all special in our own way, I suppose.
As for Lorence, he wouldn’t be peddling anything anymore. He was on an extended vacation somewhere under the ground with Sarah Gilstead. He went running to her when the ship started to sink and took her down with him. You have to love that kind of commitment.
My pocket started buzzing and I dug out my phone, smiling when the incoming number flashed. I chewed on my bottom lip as I placed it against my ear.
“Hello?”
“I’m picturing how you looked beneath me this morning—flushed, excited, and out of breath,” Disco purred into my ear. “When will you be home?”
“I just finished here. I need to unload everything at the apartment and change,” I rasped, picturing him above me, his powerful body moving in and out of my own, and a wisp of heat ran from my head to my toes.
The car shifted as Jerry climbed inside and buckled up.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat but it didn’t alleviate the burn.
“Wear the present I got you,” he whispered in a husky timbre. “Give me something to look forward to.”
“The last time I did that, you shredded them.” I giggled, trying to keep my voice down. The creamy lace bustier with the intricate black threading didn’t last long. He’d ripped it from me within seconds, too eager to access the body underneath.
“I’ll buy more.” He chuckled, then lowered his voice seductively. “Wear the red one for me.”
“I’ll surprise you.”
“Then I’ll be waiting… hurry.”
The phone clicked and I lowered my hands to my lap, smiling at the screen. The sneaky bastard had crept into my heart when I wasn’t looking, and now he had a key to it. Letting go was terrifying, but Disco had done as he promised. I just had to believe he would be waiting to catch me before I hit the ground each time I fell.
Jerry helped me with the bags and walked me to my apartment before returning to the car to wait. I checked the machine. Deena had called again. She’d managed to talk Hector into giving me a much deserved vacation—one that ended in exactly one more week.
She wanted to make sure I was coming back, but I was still undecided.
It took longer than usual to put away the food. I’d bought mostly non-perishable things. Fruit and vegetables didn’t last. I stayed at Disco’s—Gabriel’s—too much for that.
I snickered and shook my head. Gabriel didn’t particularly care for his nickname. He’d gotten it one Christmas after Nala adorned his room with a spinning mirror ball, and as a joke, he’d kept the damned thing up for a year. The name pretty much stuck after that, an ongoing joke that spanned a decade.
After hanging the black bags in my laundry closet, I walked into the living room. The amber pendant was where Goose had left it. He refused to take it with him, and seemed spooked as hell when he touched it. Since he refused my pleas to research the damned thing, I was going to take it with me when I returned to Disco.
I twisted the amulet between my fingers, studying the stone. I could feel the faint hum it g
ave off. The slightest surge of power tickled my fingertips. Spun from Lucifer’s very own familiar—whatever that meant.
I shoved the amber chunk into my pocket and went into the bedroom, pushing the door across the carpet while looking down to monitor the movement of my right leg. The limp was less pronounced now, more of an achy reminder.
Reaching out blindly, I prepared to push aside the door to my mirrored closet when I got glimpse at the reflection.
My mouth opened and I gasped, eyes going wide. Glowing orange irises with golden-yellow iridescent centers flashed back at me. It had human features—feminine yet boyish—with high delicate cheekbones, a thick sloping nose, and full lips. The ivory colored skin was marred at the temples and neck with protruding stains of black. Bronze colored hair flared out in every direction. The clothing was unisex. A button down shirt rolled up at the cuffs, russet-brown slacks and matching loafers completing the outfit.
I stepped away from the mirror and the reflection of the fire-eyed creature. The sky behind it was red. Strange animals crawled over what appeared to be desert sand. The wind whipped around them, manipulating the dust into miniature tornados.
The creature stepped forward, its leg wobbling, distorting the parameter of the mirror. The glass swayed and rippled, giving way as a foot slid from the glossy surface. The overwhelming smell of burnt sulfur permeated the room and stung my nose, causing my eyes to water. The thing stepped free of the mirror, standing just inside my bedroom.
“I am Zagan. Do you know why I have come?” Its irises glistened like oil on water, a sheen radiating and glowing at the same time.
“Oh shit.”
“You do know. Excellent.” It smiled at me, displaying perfect rows of white teeth. “I have come to collect my due.”
My heart hammered miserably in my chest. Running wouldn’t help, my leg wasn’t up to par, and the thing came through a thin piece of glass, which meant it could travel in ways I couldn’t conceive of.
I gulped, waiting quietly. I thought nothing could scare me anymore.