Dark Angel

by Bridget Essex

  I needed the truth now, more than ever.

  I stared up at her, I screwed up my courage, and I licked my lips, feeling butterflies crash against the insides of my ribs. I took a deep breath, and I asked her.

  “Why did you come back, Elle?” I whispered.

  Elle sighed for a long moment. She gazed into my face, her own carefully controlled, but something moving just beneath the surface, trying to break through.

  It finally did. Regret and pain were now visible as she shook her head slowly, as she sighed out again, working her jaw, a pained glint to her eyes.

  “We need to get out of here,” she said then in a husky voice, taking my elbow with gentle fingers, but I stayed where I was. I stared up into her face, and I waited. In the wan half-light from the closest streetlamp, Elle’s skin took on a ghostly hue, as if this moment was about to shatter around us. I gripped her other hand, lacing my fingers through hers tightly, and I watched her, waiting.

  “Look,” said Elle carefully, gazing at me with hooded eyes, “what I said…” She thought about her next words for a long moment, biting a little at her lower lip. “I was wrong.”

  “What?” I whispered.

  “I was wrong,” she said simply, gazing deeply into my eyes. “But we can’t talk about that now, Cassandra. If you don’t get out of here, you’re going to die. Everything’s escalated. Magdalena knows where I am, and she’s coming for me. You have to go.”

  “What? No!” I told her, tugging out of her grasp and standing my ground. “What are you talking about? They’re coming for you? But you’re powerful, aren’t you?” I searched her face as my heartbeat roared inside of me. My words came out high, fear-filled. “You’re powerful—isn’t that why Magdalena exiled you?”

  Elle searched my face. For the first time, I was beginning to realize that she didn’t really look like herself. Her skin was paler than before, and she looked practically gaunt, with dark circles around her eyes, dark shadows in the hollows of her cheekbones. Elle was lithe, muscular, but she was starting to take on a wan cast, the bones in her face much too pronounced.

  “Cassandra, I have not had blood in twelve hours,” she whispered, dipping her head closer to me. Her lips practically mumbled the words. “I was powerful once, yes—but I assure you, I am not powerful now.”

  “Oh, my God, no,” I told her then. Anger rose in me, and I stepped closer, wrapping my arms around her waist. “You can drink me. I know you want to. You have to drink me. You’ll get blood, get better—”

  When I said the words, almost immediately, Elle shuddered against me. She moaned a little, her low voice even huskier as I watched her incisors lengthen, her eyes becoming darker. “Please, Elle,” I whispered, shaking a little as I tilted my head to the side. I didn’t really know what I was asking, but I knew that she needed to drink now if she was going to survive. “Please just take it. I want you to take it. Just drink,” I told her softly, tilting my head back, showing her my throat.

  Elle shuddered against me again, letting out a low growl. “I’m so sorry, Cassandra,” she whispered, her cold lips against my ear. “It’s too late. You were such lovely bait, yes. But this was the trap.”

  “Very good,” came a velvet voice, echoing softly from the street. I stiffened and turned, Elle still in my arms.

  Sauntering toward us, her high heels clicking quietly against the pavement, was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Her long, silken blonde hair ran in waves down her back, framing a model-perfect face. Full, ruby-red lips were turned up at the corners into the most sumptuous smile, and she was wearing the hell out of a blood-red dress that plunged dangerously low at the neck, and encased her curving hips like it was a second skin. She was petite, a little shorter than me, and as she walked toward us—prowling toward us, I realized—though I knew in a logical sort of way that she was beautiful beyond compare, I shivered when I looked at her.

  The hair on the back of my neck rose to attention as her smile deepened, and a wicked flash of light flared in her eyes.

  “Magdalena,” said Elle, her voice a dangerous, low growl. “It’s been a while.”

  I stared in shock at the beautiful blonde woman. There was a hard, wicked glint to her eyes now, her mouth curled up dangerously at the corners.

  This was Magdalena.

  “Not long enough, dearest,” said the woman softly, so softly, in fact, that the words seemed to drift over us, making me shiver. Magdalena took small, graceful steps forward, her heels clicking with a rhythm that went along with the race of my heartbeat. She stopped about an arm’s length away from us, her arms elegantly crossed in front of her, her wide-eyed gaze regarding us like we were long-lost acquaintances, and we’d just met again at a lovely dinner party.

  But it was in the middle of the night at the mouth of a very dark alleyway, where four men had tried to catch me to kill me.

  This was no dinner party I’d want to be invited to.

  “Elle,” said Magdalena softly, shaking her head as a sympathetic expression painted her features into a genteel frown. “Why didn’t you stay away?”

  “Because,” said Elle in a soft, deadly growl, “I wanted to make you pay.”

  “And that’s why you’ll never be great,” said Magdalena softly, her voice dropping. “I keep my eye on the prize. And I let nothing get in my way. Nothing,” she said, her eyes glittering dangerously, “and no one.”

  Elle laughed at that, shaking her head. “Do you really think that Alexander Grayson doesn’t see you coming? That he’d be stupid enough to let you take the Council over from him right under his nose? How do you think he’s held that position of power for so long?” said Elle, leaning forward with a sneer. “He knows your plans, Magdalena. You’re too old—your years have made you foolish.”

  “No, dear. Your years have made you foolish. Your first mistake…” Magdalena crooked her finger over her shoulder and curled it toward her, beckoning someone—or something forward, “was having feelings for a mortal.” Her eyes glittered with a hard light as she flicked her gaze. “Bad form, Elle, dear. You know how dreadfully fragile they can be.”

  I was ripped out of Elle’s grasp from behind, hands as strong as steel curling around my upper arms so tightly, folding my arms back so quickly, that I let out a scream. Intense, hot pain shot through my body as they ripped my arms back, practically folding my arms at a terrible angle from my shoulders, every muscle in me crying out in strained protest.

  The vampire men had come up behind us. Magdalena’s goons. I hadn’t even seen them coming.

  And, apparently, neither had Elle.

  The leader of the men with his greasy hair and malevolent grin and another one of the men were holding Elle’s arms now, too, just as the other two were behind me, holding me up, twisting my arms. Elle turned, as I watched, moving lightning fast, but then I felt a sharp sensation at my neck. There was a cold, open mouth against my skin, there.

  Elle paused, eyes wide as she took in the vampire about to bite into my neck.

  “Elle, if you move, she dies,” said Magdalena simply.

  Elle panted against her restraints, against the immovable hands that held her. She stared at Magdalena with such fierce hatred rising in her that my mouth went dry. I’d never seen anyone look like that before.

  With her dangerous, glittering eyes, her snarling mouth, the waves of radiating power emanating from her…she looked…monstrous.

  Elle’s incisors were lengthened, but Magdalena’s shining, white teeth remained perfectly normal looking as she sighed and shook her head, tapping a blood-red nail against her full lips as she considered the restrained Elle.

  “I never believed that I would have so much fun with you twice, my dear,” hissed Magdalena, her smile unhinging unnaturally wide. “You’ve made my day, really you have—”

  “What. Do. You. Want,” Elle hissed.

  “Now, see, here’s where we bargain. Classic, really. You do realize, of course, that I have the upper hand. That I
have all of the bargaining…chips, as it were,” said Magdalena, taking long strides over to me. She placed her cold hand against my cheek and held it there, tracing another long nail down my chin and tapping my neck between the two small wounds. She tapped very hard, her sharp nail pricking into my skin as she glanced back at Elle with a triumphant chuckle. “Really, can you possibly guess what I want?”

  Elle remained silent. She stared at me, her eyes dark and unreadable, and she said not a word.

  My heart pounded so quickly through me that I saw spots along the edges of my vision. But I continued to stare Magdalena down. I was afraid of her—I think anyone would have been afraid of her in that moment. She was beautiful, but I think that’s what made her even more menacing. Her eyes were so wrong—something dark and dreadful lurked behind them. But somehow, still, I stood my ground.

  “If you let me kill you,” said Magdalena then, turning back to Elle with a bright smile, “I will let her live.”

  “What? No!” I screamed, but the goon behind me twisted my arms even tighter, and the scream became incoherent. Again, stars swarmed on the edges of my vision, and I sagged against him, but I remained standing, panting as the waves of pain wracked my body.

  Elle, the men who held her and Magdalena stood before me in the light of the street lamp, perfectly framed by the fog that was moving in off of the harbor. It was so odd in that moment. I thought about my life. I thought about all of the things I hadn’t yet done, all of the little fears that had kept me from being really happy.

  I thought about how I loved Elle. How there was something that stretched between us, something I could never explain, but was there, as obvious as her dirty blonde hair, as her beautiful, sarcastic smile.

  It was all going to be over before it’d even started.

  “Please,” I whispered to Magdalena, pain moving through me in waves as the goon tightened his grip on me again. “Please don’t do this.”

  She acted as if she hadn’t heard me.

  “Choose, Elle.” She brandished her blood-red nails as she gestured back to me. “I can certainly kill you both. Or you can do something noble, for once in your life,” Magdalena smiled deeply. “I’ll keep my word. The woman is of no consequence to me once you’re gone. She will live. And, after all, Elle—what is there left for you here? You should have died in the pine box, my dear. But you did not,” she whispered, stepping close to Elle and wrapping her arms tightly around Elle’s neck, like they were lovers (that they had once been lovers was something I wish I’d never known). “Now,” whispered Magdalena, her head to one side as she leaned close to Elle’s face. “Make things right,” she whispered, her mouth an inch from Elle’s.

  Magdalena leaned forward and pecked Elle’s cheek with her ruby-red lips.

  But Elle wasn’t looking at Magdalena. She was staring over Magdalena’s shoulder at me. Her eyes were wide and dark and utterly unreadable, but as Magdalena stepped away, Elle drew herself up to attention. She stood strong and tall and she stared deeply into me as she took a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry,” she mouthed to me.

  “I agree,” she said out loud. “Swear that Cassandra goes free and alive, never to be harmed by you or any of your people again. And I will submit.”

  “What?” I screamed again, pulling myself against the man’s hold. It was as useless as if I was pulling against a concrete wall. I screamed again, hoping desperately that someone, somewhere would hear me, come help us. I struggled against the man behind me, I let him rip my arms backwards. I felt him tugging me backwards strongly now, and he was walking down the sidewalk away from all of this, pulling me behind him.

  Magdalena stepped forward as I was dragged around the corner, the scene going out of view. I saw her step forward and place her hands on Elle’s shoulders. Magdalena’s mouth was open and glittering in the light from the streetlamp as she opened her lips, her fangs clear and visible in the night.

  “No!” I screamed, as Magdalena bent her head and plunged her teeth into Elle’s neck.

  For a long moment I sobbed and screamed and struggled against the man behind me. And then, suddenly, he let me go. Magdalena walked back around the corner, her heels clicking loudly against the pavement as she wiped a finger across her lips and licked it. She didn’t look at me as she walked past us, the other three men falling into step behind her.

  “Boss,” growled the man who had been holding me. “You promised.” He gestured to me as I stepped away, shaking.

  “I made a bargain,” she said with a simple shrug. “You can’t have her, Aidan. Come on, now, we have things to do.” She smiled at him and patted his arm, her smile deepening to a grin as she cast a glance on me.

  Then she turned on her heel and she and the four men faded into the fog and disappeared.

  Was this it? What had just happened? No—it was too quick for them to…for them to kill her. Surely it was too quick.

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Elle,” I whispered, the rage that had moved through me when Magdalena had walked past me replaced almost instantly by deep and devastating despair. What had happened to her? I couldn’t see.

  I ran, mostly limping, around the corner of the buildings.

  In the light of the street lamp, all I could see was a crumpled body on the ground beside the Dumpster.

  It was Elle.

  Chapter 11: Final Sacrifice

  I ran across the pavement between us and collapsed to my knees beside her broken body. And it looked terribly broken. Her limbs were askew, like she was a rag doll who had been hurled to the ground. She was facedown on the pavement, and I was sobbing when I put my hands on her shoulders and gently turned her as slowly as I was able.

  She fell onto her back, her eyes closed, her lips closed, blood caked and drying on her neck.

  Elle wasn’t breathing.

  “Oh, my God, oh, my God,” I whispered over and over. Inside of me, all I could feel was my heart breaking. And it was breaking, shattering, falling apart into sharp, splintering shards that stabbed at me from the inside out. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t see. All I could see was that beautiful, broken body at my side, the woman I knew I loved reduced to nothingness.

  The woman who was dead.

  From somewhere far away, I was aware of a vibrating sound. With shaking hands, I dug into Elle’s coat pocket, sobbing and taking deep breaths as I tried to clear the tears out of my eyes enough to see. It was a cell phone.

  Its screen said one word: “Alec.”

  I fumbled with the phone, and with a bloody hand, pressed the green “call” button.

  “Alec?” I sobbed into it. “Alec, she’s dead. Magdalena got her, Alec.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone for a long moment. “Where are you?” he said then, his voice tense.

  I glanced around. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t think, but then I drummed up the name of my street, told him the apartment building’s number. “But in the back, in the alley in the back.”

  “I’m a street down. Give me one moment.”

  The line went dead.

  I dropped the phone on the pavement and the screen cracked, but I shoved it away, staring down at Elle. I didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t breathing, but was there a possibility that vampires didn’t need to breathe? I didn’t know anything about vampires, I realized in that moment. They weren’t really dead—that much was obvious. What could I do? What did she need?

  I couldn’t believe she was truly dead. There was no part in me that would acknowledge that. It wasn’t possible.

  Suddenly Alec was beside me. He was kneeling down beside me, his leather jacket open in front and his shirtless chest clearly visible. I stared at him with wide eyes, holding out my bloody hands to him and shaking my head adamantly.

  “What do we do?” I moaned. “Alec, please—she can’t be dead.”

  He stared down at Elle grimly, his pale cheeks growing even paler as he slowly began to shake his head, too. He didn’t even check for a pu
lse, just leaned backwards on his heels, his face growing stony.

  “Casey,” he murmured quietly.

  “No. No,” I growled to him, then, and I stared back down at Elle’s broken body on the pavement.

  It couldn’t end like this.

  I wouldn’t let it.

  “How did this happen?” said Alec quietly.

  “Magdalena said she’d kill me,” I said, my voice numb as rage began to pour through me, my bloody hands curling into fists. “So Elle let Magdalena kill her.”

  “Oh, God,” said Alec, taking a deep breath. He gazed at me in wonder. “She did that for you…?” He shook his head, running his long fingers through his hair causing it to stick up in all directions. “Casey, I never thought she would do something selfless in her whole life,” was what he said quietly then. “And now it’s over.”

  “No,” I snarled again. I tried to straighten her body as best as I could, pressing her back flush with the ground. From what I could see she’d stopped breathing and she’d lost a lot of blood. Could these things be fixed? I tilted back her head like I remembered (barely) from my college CPR classes. I pinched her nose and leaned down. I took a deep breath, pressed my mouth to hers, and breathed into her.

  Her chest rose, but the moment I took away my mouth, the air went gradually right back out. I tried this over and over. Nothing happened.

  “What’s happened to her?” I moaned to Alec who was sitting back on his heels, shaking his head, a single tear streaming down his cheek.

  “Magdalena drained all of her blood. CPR isn’t going to do anything, Casey. She’s dead.”

  “That’s not possible,” I muttered to him.

  “She didn’t have much blood left to begin with,” he said, his voice strained. “It didn’t take long to take all of what was left. She’s empty, Casey.”

  “Then she can take mine,” I muttered, leaning over her. I traced my fingers down the skin of my neck, feeling for the wounds, even as—behind me—Alec muttered worriedly: “it’s not going to work, Cassandra. She’s gone…”