by Ada Adams
I scoffed. “Even the possibility that your brother could be dead?”
“Like I said, I know that he’s going to be okay. I didn’t come all this way for him to give up on me now.” He shot me a sideways glance when I didn’t answer. “You really care about him, huh?”
“I care about all my friends.”
He arched a brow. “Even me?”
“I’m not sure if I’d consider you a friend.”
“Then perhaps a handsome stranger?” he teased, poking me in the ribs. “Do you often make a habit of getting into strangers’ cars?”
“Only those I know I could take in a fight.”
That quieted him for the next hour as I focused my attention on the scenery outside, silently willing the car to move faster.
“You’re fighting sleep,” Razor observed halfway into our trip.
I blinked back the tiredness. I was going on a full week without any shut-eye, and though vampires didn’t need much rest, such an extreme amount of wakefulness would push anyone’s limits. The mild swaying motion of the car and the gentle hum of the engine had been lulling me into a sluggish daze, but every time my eyelids started to close, I snapped them open in fear of surrendering to the slumber.
“Why don’t you rest?” he suggested. “I’ll wake you when we’re near.”
Because, if I rest, I may dream of her, I wanted to say.
Aurora. My father’s first daughter. The girl Sebastian had loved and died for. The girl who made him. The girl who, for all intents and purposes, made me.
I had been fighting off sleep for a reason. Ever since my first dream about Aurora—or rather, my first vision of her past life—I had been unable to shake the alarming feeling that I had somehow awoken something that had been dormant since my birth. Lately, I could feel her within me, veiled behind the walls of my consciousness, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip out. In my sleep, when I was least aware, she could take over. With each passing day, especially when my mind was unguarded, I felt her power increase.
I know where you are. And I’m coming to get you, she had whispered in my ear the night after the attack on the Scarlet House. That was the last time I had allowed my eyes to shut.
“Did you ever meet the girl who made Sebastian?” I suddenly asked Razor. “The girl he was in love with?” It was a touchy subject, but talking about Aurora would definitely ensure that I stayed awake.
He looked over at me sheepishly. “I didn’t know that a girl was involved.”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“If he had, I probably wouldn’t have paid much attention to it. I passed off everything he said during that time at the hospital as the ramblings of a madman.”
“How very brotherly of you.”
“Hey, you try living in the eighteen hundreds and having your presumed-dead brother appear on your doorstep, thirsting for blood and muttering about being attacked by vampires,” he snapped. “I wasn’t really up for discussing his love life at that particular point in time.”
As nonchalant as Razor was about most things, when it came to his family, his guard went up. It was the only time I could ever detect any sincerity in his voice. Everything in life may have been one big joke to him, but they mattered. They mattered very much.
“You’re right. It probably wouldn’t have been my first question, either,” I admitted.
Razor turned his dark gaze to me. “So how exactly was Sebastian turned? And why?”
I closed my eyes, swallowing the heavy lump in my throat. I knew exactly how and why. I had seen the entire scene play out in my mind.
“Mostly because of the stupidity and selfishness of a vampire named Viktor, but also because of a girl he was involved with. Aurora.” Just saying her name sent a chill down my spine. “Did he ever tell you about her?”
“No, but my mother spoke of her sometimes,” Razor said. “‘It is as if your little brother has been struck by lightning,’ she wrote in her letters. ‘One day, just like that, he fell madly in love.’” He searched my face for a reaction as he recounted his mother’s words.
Madly in love. Is that how it was with them?
I tried to seem indifferent, but my insides twisted into a million tiny knots.
Razor saw through my act. “Does hearing that upset you?”
How could it? I wondered.
Aurora had been tragically killed at eighteen, having lived an unhappy, unfulfilled life under our uncle’s tyranny. Even if she had shared happiness with Sebastian, it had been fleeting. When I first learned the truth about my birth, I had been envious. Aurora was my father’s first daughter—his everything. But, more than anything, I was scared of what it all meant. I didn’t want to be Aurora—didn’t want to wake up one day and no longer be Dawn. I’ve slowly come to realize that, while we may have exactly the same DNA, Aurora and I had nothing else in common. I would never be her. Unless, of course, she somehow broke through that protective layer in my mind. Then all bets were off.
“The thought of Sebastian being with someone else upsets you, doesn’t it?” Razor asked when I failed to speak. “You’re angry.”
“No,” I said truthfully. “A little envious, maybe, but not angry.”
“It seems like I’ve underestimated you,” he said, clearly surprised by my candid answer. He was silent for a while, then added, “You know that there is no such thing as being madly in love, right? People only delude themselves into thinking there is as an excuse to do stupid things.” His eyes bore through the windshield. “Like risk the lives of their family members.”
“He didn’t—” I began, unsure of how to end that sentence. “Sebastian…”
“Are you going to tell me that Aurora chick had nothing to do with my family’s slaying?”
I don’t know what came over me, but in an attempt to defend Sebastian, I told his brother everything. About Aurora. About Viktor. About my father. And even about me. Like water gushing through a broken dam, my thoughts spilled out, forming words I had no control over. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t hold them back.
When I concluded my story, I was out of breath. Razor didn’t say anything. An eerie hush crept into the car, and I began to think that he would never talk again. White-knuckled, he gripped the wheel so firmly it began to bend in the middle. I bit down on my bottom lip, waiting for it to crack in half. Razor kept his gaze on the road, his foot crushing down on the gas pedal. The car sped up, the acceleration forcing me back against the seat.
Unable to take the painful silence any longer, I touched his arm. “Are you upset?”
I watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallowed. He took a deep breath and looked over. “No.” His eyes were bottomless pools of wet tar; a dark, dark gray with swirls of light. There was no anger reflected in them, just quiet stillness and a glint of sorrow.
I blinked back surprise, and his face lost some of its tension.
“There’s no point in being angry,” he said. “Anger isn’t going to change what happened.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling the need to apologize for my family’s transgressions—my uncle’s heartlessness, my father’s cowardice, and Aurora’s selfishness.
“Don’t be.” He smiled and was immediately back to his old self. Or, at least, to the Razor that I’d known for the past few hours. I figured that the brief glimpse into his serious side was a rare occurrence, only brought on by talking about his family.
When I failed to perk up, he prodded my arm with his index finger. “Oh, come on, D. Don’t look so glum.” He kept jabbing until I turned to look at him. “I get that you feel bad about all the crap that Sebastian and I went through and that you haven’t had an easy time either, but you really shouldn’t be so serious all the time.”
“And how should I be?” This back-and-forth was exhausting. But at least it was keeping my mind from wandering into worst-case scenarios with Sebastian.
“Well, for starters, I advise that you take a page from my book on life.”
I bit back a snort. “You have a book on life?”
“Well, it’s more like a sentence on life,” he said, grinning. “I live by three rules: Don’t dwell on the past, present, or future, party hard, and never fall in love. Easy.”
“Sage advice,” I said, my words drenched in sarcasm. But a little part of me—a tiny part deep down inside—wondered if perhaps there was some merit to Razor’s seemingly lunatic counsel.
“For you, D, I’d add one more very important rule.”
“What’s that?”
“Relax.”
“Duly noted.” The suggestion was surprisingly sensible. If anything, it was definitely less outlandish than anything I’d imagined he’d say.
But, of course, he had to go and ruin that. “If you wish, I have an entire chapter of suggestions for interesting ways to unwind,” he said. Another impish smirk followed. “Do you want to hear some?”
I buried my face in my hands. “Every ounce of common sense tells me that I don’t.”
Razor laughed. “You’re right. The only non-X-rated activity on that list is sleep.” His voice took on a serious tone as he looked down at me. “Which I strongly suggest you do.”
I was backed into a corner. Or, rather, trapped in a car with one very annoying vampire. I had the choice of sitting through hours of Razor’s teasing torture as I worried about Sebastian, or trying to sleep and risking Aurora’s wrath. I decided to take my chances with the demon in my mind, rather than the one in the seat next to me.
Apprehensively, I closed my eyes and attempted to still my thoughts. The quicker I went under, the sooner I would be by Sebastian’s side.
Moments later, I was submerged in a deep, but restless slumber.
I may not have been a fan of most things Razor said or did, but at the moment, I enjoyed that he drove like a maniac. Before I knew it, we found ourselves in front of a large, gritty, red-brick building. Its exterior was aged and crumbling; the once-proud Mercy Hope Psychiatric Hospital sign now barely legible. A wiry construction fence enveloped the structure. Numerous red and yellow “No Trespassing” warnings were plastered all around.
“You’d think bad guys would get a little creative,” Razor whispered as we crawled under the fence. “Old abandoned buildings are such a cliché.”
Once safely on the other side, we examined our surroundings. The sky was starless, the moon tucked away behind stormy clouds. Not wanting to draw attention with flashlights, we squinted through the darkness, hugging the side of the building as we made our way around. The front door and all street-level windows were boarded up, but one of the side doors was slightly ajar. I carefully peered inside. Chairs—an entire waiting room full of chairs—had been stacked up by the door. I tried to widen the gap further, but even leaning my shoulder into the heavy metal didn’t budge it.
“We’ll have to squeeze through and climb over the chairs to the stairwell,” I said, moving aside to show him the wobbly path I had mapped out. “I’ll go first.”
Before he could protest, I slid through the tiny opening. I found my footing on one of the seats, then slowly scaled over the rest. The chair mountain teetered with every move, threatening to give way at the slightest misstep. Finally, my boot touched stone, and my feet reached the safety of steady ground. I held my breath as Razor followed. He was much taller and heavier, and if the chairs crumbled underneath him, we’d certainly draw attention to ourselves. To my surprise, in three long strides, he was over the barricade, and grinning next to me.
“We should split up,” I said, looking down the dark hallway of the ground floor. “I’ll take this level, you check the one above.” For a brief second, he hesitated, but when I pulled out my dagger, he smiled and headed up the steps.
I relied on my sharp vision to get me through the first part of the hallway, but when hanging curtains began to resemble mummified bodies, I turned to my flashlight for help. The hallway flooded with soft yellow light. Old, broken tiles, cut electrical wires, and piles of plaster crunched underneath my feet as I shuffled through the debris on the floor. The patient room walls were covered with countless wallpaper murals. Faded pictures of teddy bears, sailboats, puppies, and other bright elements that once used to bring cheer now peeled off the walls, clinging on for dear life.
The closer I got to the end of the empty hallway, the further my optimism plummeted. The hope and conviction I had that Sebastian would be here was evaporating with each decaying room.
A wild howl pierced the silence, and I shuddered, trying not to think of the few short stories I had read earlier. My mind swirled with the fictional tales of torture that took place in this setting in the early 1900s; tales of pain and vengeful spirits returning to claim the living—or perhaps even the undead…
Another bone-chilling shriek echoed throughout the hall. I nearly jumped out of my skin when Razor appeared in front of me.
“Did you hear that? It’s coming from the basement!” he whispered.
We flew down two stairs at a time, the sharp smell of mold piercing my lungs as my feet made contact with the concrete landing. I stifled a cough, tasting the intensity of the decay in the back of my throat.
The howl returned—a high-pitched, feminine sound. A girl in deep distress. We followed it to the morgue. My skin began to crawl as I grasped the cool, metal handles of the wide double doors. I shut my eyes, pushing forward.
Bile rose in my throat at the sight and smell around me.
Blood.
So much blood.
Everywhere.
Operating tables, bolted vertically to the walls, lined the perimeter of the room. Chained to the cold, sterile metal of each were bodies of vampires. Drained, lifeless bodies, most in states of advanced decomposition. Small young bodies. Bodies of child vampires, two of whom I recognized from the Scarlet House training program.
No. No. No! I wanted to scream, but the sound wouldn’t come.
My vision blurred as the room began to spin.
Next to me, Razor gasped. “Sebastian!” I felt a cold whoosh of air as he left my side.
I squeezed my eyes shut. If I don’t look, then it won’t be true…
“D! Help!” Razor called out. The terror in his voice froze my heart.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced in his direction. Chained to one of the beds on the wall, was Sebastian. Or rather, a weak, hollow shell, barely resembling Sebastian. His pale skin was completely translucent, as if every last drop of blood had been drained from his body. Dark red circles lined his eyes, so big they reached midway down his cheek. Deep, jagged cuts were carved into most of his major arteries and veins. Small droplets of blood seeped out of the wounds, trickling down his bare body to a large vat beneath his feet. The worst was his neck. His jugular had been sliced open; a thin, hollow tube protruded from the wound. It connected to the bloody tub, selfishly sucking him dry.
I had stopped breathing the moment I saw him, but suddenly, my lungs couldn’t get enough air.
“Is he…?” I began, then stopped. If I don’t say it, then it won’t be true…
Razor shook his head. “Not yet. But it’s just a matter of time. We need to—”
He was interrupted by the now-familiar howl. It came from Sebastian’s right. From Lena. Her eyes flickered open as she looked at us pleadingly. I caught the sickening yellow of her pupils before her head lulled forward and she fell silent again. I rushed over to her, while Razor tended to Sebastian. Looking at Lena’s wounds was somehow easier than seeing Sebastian’s pain. She had similar incisions across her body and an identical blood-collection vat under her feet.
“These cuts were made with a scalpel,” Razor said, picking up some medical equipment from a nearby operating table.
“And recently,” I realized. “Or else they would’ve closed up.”
“Which means that whoever did them is close by,” Razor added.
My stomach churned. It also meant that the monster had sliced into Sebastian and Lena’s skin over and over
again. The moment one wound began to close, another one would emerge.
“We have to get them down!” I yelled to Razor as Lena began to stir. “Hurry!”
We worked together to unhook Lena’s chains, then slowly lowered her to the ground. Razor wrapped her shivering body with his jacket, then turned to Sebastian. I followed his lead, but it took all of my willpower to move my legs. Unable to look directly at Sebastian’s face, I kept my eyes trained on his shackles. As his chains broke apart and he fell against me, collapsing to the floor, a sickening feeling bubbled up inside me. Hours before, I was imagining burying my face in his shirt, thinking of the scent that had become so familiar to me. But now, as I fought to hold him up, his torso pressed tightly against my cheek, all I could smell was blood. The overpowering metallic scent found its way into my nose, my mouth, my every pore.
I was drowning in Sebastian’s blood.
My shaky palms hit the cold floor as I bent over to catch my breath.
“Uhh, D…” Razor nudged my side. “We have company.”
Rogue vampires. A horde of rogue vamps, advancing on us with a unified thought behind their crazed expressions: kill.
Devoid of all emotion, our assailants’ only apparent desire was for utter destruction. I jumped in front of Sebastian in a feeble attempt to hide him from their view, then stepped forward to face the rogues. Razor stood by my side as they began to strike. The vamps attacked as if they didn’t care whether they lived or died—as long they inflicted damage upon us.
Razor and I became a shield for Sebastian and Lena. I fought with my dagger until I managed to pry a large metal pipe from the wall. The length of the makeshift weapon kept the assailants at bay as Razor utilized scalpels and other sharp medical equipment to pick them off one by one. When he ran out of operating tools, he pulled out his set of knives, slicing away at the vamps’ necks with trained precision.
As we were making headway with the last wave of rogues, one of them managed to slip through. He was suddenly on top of Lena, like a rabid dog, clawing and biting at the wounds on her neck. Leaving Razor to fend with the others, I threw myself at Lena’s attacker, prying his foaming mouth away from her drained body. The feral vampire snarled and turned on me, sinking his fangs into the soft flesh of my arm. I gritted my teeth, swallowing the pain as I struck him over the head with the metal pipe. He stumbled backwards, and as he did, I turned the weapon and drove it through his chest, plunging it straight into his heart. Immediately, he dropped to the ground, a guttural growl bubbling up from his throat.