With the Dawn (Faith of the Fallen)

by Cassandra Sky West

  “Yes. Thank you.” She still couldn’t move her head. Her limbs still throbbed in pain. The demon’s essence was gone—a deep relief—but she still wasn’t healing. Whatever energy she had taken from Victor not twelve hours ago—it was all gone, as though the demon’s essence had wiped her clean.

  “You have to feed, Alexi,” Savanna said, holding out her wrist. “I know you don’t like this, but Victor is an hour away.”

  “Savanna—”

  “Alexi, don’t argue with me,” Savanna said with surprising firmness. “You know this is the only way.”

  Where had this confidence come from? All of Savanna’s usual timidity and uncertainty were gone. Savanna pressed the skin of her wrist against Alexi’s mouth, and on instinct, Alexi fed. A sigh rippled through her body as energy poured into her. A new fang grew where one had broken, and Alexi felt her bones knit together. The crack of ribs made her grunt. There was a sweetness to Savanna’s essence that Victor lacked, though he sustained her better than the witch.

  Alexi could not take too much. She would not do that to Savanna again. She licked the wound as she pulled away, and it closed. She struggled upright and threw her arms around Savanna. “Thank you.”

  Connor was propped against a nearby car. His left arm was a mess, and he looked very pale, as though he had lost a lot of blood. His cell phone chirped as he pulled it out with his good hand. “Five-seven to base, we need evac, papa-hotel.”

  A distant voice echoed his words and ended with “Roger.”

  “Where’s Sing and the—” Alexi looked around. “Oh, no. Deirdre was in the SUV.” She leaped to her feet, fighting off a moment of vertigo, and ran in the direction she had seen the demon throw the vehicle. The truck had landed half a block away upside down. Stress fractures in the cement radiated out from the point of impact.

  “Deirdre?” Alexi took hold of the door and pulled with all her strength. Metal squealed as she tore the door from its hinges.

  “What the hell?” Dillon screamed at her, pushing her out of the way as he wiggled free of the wreck. “I come to, and we’re flying through the air! There’s a demon. I want to go home! What the bloody hell?”

  Sing jogged up to them. “Cops are on the way. You and Savanna should take off. We’ll handle the cleanup.”

  “What the hell, cleanup? Where the hell am I?” Dillon was still screaming. “I’m gonna punish her for this, bloody hell! Did she switch me into this shit? Let’s see how much she likes six days’ worth of tequila shots!”

  Alexi returned to where Savanna was standing and gazing up at the night sky.

  “Savanna?” She had to repeat the girl’s name twice before Savanna seemed to notice. “Are you okay?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Savanna turned her gaze back to the sky. Alexi couldn’t make out what Savanna was seeing, but her eyes were bright and violent, burning with power.

  “Savanna, what’s going on?”

  She looked at Alexi, her lips spread in a small smile. “I know where Illyana is, Alexi. Let’s go get her.”

  ***

  Alexi followed Savanna as she guided them through the downtown side streets. Something was off about her.

  “Savanna, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing . . . I just . . .” Savanna tossed her hair back, pausing to work it into a quick braid. “I almost completely drained him. Connor. I didn’t even need all of it to get rid of the Alatum—but the rest stayed with me.” She looked at Alexi and giggled.

  It was almost as if she were . . . drunk. Drunk on power. Everything clicked into place. She felt that way when she fed deeply—like the power was bubbling up in her, giddy and tingling.

  She’s going to be upset when this wears off.

  “Savanna, you said you know where Illyana is?”

  The witch smiled. “Sure, it’s easy. Just a little location spell. I think these tracks are about a week old, but we’ll find her. This way.”

  She turned to stumble down the street. The last thing Alexi needed was for them to be picked up as drunks—or worse. She slipped her arm through Savanna’s and did her best to support her.

  An hour later, and they were still following a trail that only Savanna could sense. Alexi began to worry about what would happen if they were caught outdoors for too long. She would need to find shelter before sunrise—shelter that no one would try to kick her out of before sunset. Hotels were abundant in the downtown area, but they were spendy, and she didn’t have much cash on her.

  They turned a corner to a more crowded street. Music spilled out of a building ahead. A small crowd of thirty people waited in a long line roped off from the normal sidewalk.

  “It’s here,” Savanna said. “She was here . . . a few days ago, I think. Want to go in?”

  Alexi looked down to her ruined attire. No way would they let her in looking the way she did.

  Savanna seemed to sense her hesitation. “Here, let me help you with your outfit,” she said, giggling. Winking at Alexi, Savanna waved her hand and murmured a few words. Pressure built in the back of Alexi’s head as magic washed over her. The pressure faded along with her torn and dirty clothes, and suddenly Alexi was wearing a tight, gold-sequined dress. Savanna repeated the process on herself, giving herself a strapless, satin club dress.

  Neat trick. Alexi sent the thought to Savanna.

  A glamour takes a lot of power—it’s just an illusion. It’s not something I would do normally, but if I don’t use this power soon, it will be gone. It doesn’t keep. Not like chicken, you know? Savanna laughed out loud. Oops, forgot the shoes. Another wave of Savanna’s hand and they were both wearing strappy stilettos. Chicken shoes. She giggled again.

  Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, Alexi thought at Savanna.

  It’s a fabulous idea, Savanna replied as she sauntered up to the line. I’ll never have this much juice to face her with. It has to be now.

  Alexi followed hesitantly, her concern over both Illyana and Savanna pushed aside by a sudden wave of familiarity. Something about this place . . . She took a few steps back to the street and looked up at the sign. Large, blue neon proclaimed, “The Den.”

  Savanna . . . I’ve been here.

  When?

  Stairs led to the main entrance. Two bouncers stood watch at the door with black shirts labeled “Security” on the front in white.

  Everything clicked into place.

  This is where I woke up.

  SEVENTEEN

  “The truth is, Alexi, I could be in big trouble,” Connor said over the phone. His voice sounded sluggish from the painkillers.

  It wasn’t what Alexi wanted to hear. After she and Savanna had stumbled across the Den, Alexi had made the call to return home—to Savanna’s great protest. They couldn’t walk in there blind. Not after what Alexi had seen when she woke up. There was blood magic happening in the basement of that club—or at least there had been, she was sure of it. Regardless, if the vampires were somehow linked to Illyana, there was no way they could go in without knowing more.

  That’s where Connor came in. If there was supernatural stuff going on there, the Arcanum was bound to know about it—who owned it, what was going on, and how Alexi could find out more. It took a few calls to find him in Seattle General, recovering in a private wing.

  “We banished a demon. They should be giving you a damned medal.”

  Connor sighed. “It was too public. Public is bad. We’ve had to scramble to cover up all the gaps. It’s messy, and my boss hates messy.”

  “If she hates messy, I wonder what she would have thought of . . . oh, hey, how about a demon rampaging through Seattle?” She didn’t want to play the “you owe me” card, but—honestly. They owed her. Mostly Savanna, but her, too. That thing would have torn them to shreds. All she needed was a little bit of info.

  “I’m sorry, Alexi. I can’t help you. We’re not supposed to work with the other side, you know. We don’t have agents who are vampires, because up until I met you, we be
lieved they were all evil. The Arcanum still does.”

  There was a long pause as Connor struggled to breathe. She could hear the beeping of the heart and oxygen monitors through the line.

  “I’m sorry, Alexi. I know you’re not evil, but my bosses have a thousand years of records that say otherwise. Until I can make a case for you—and that could be months—you’re persona non grata.”

  It stung to hear it. After all the blood she had spilled to stop that thing and after what Savanna had gone through, she thought that would mean something to them.

  Say you owe me, she willed him furiously. Say it!

  “For what it’s worth, Alexi, you and Savanna saved the day. That’s what I think, it’s what Sing thinks, and it’s what I’m putting in my report. Despite Deirdre’s emphatic swearing otherwise, this is a win for the good guys, and we owe you.” He paused to cough. His lungs wheezed as he sucked in fresh air. Alexi needed to let him off the phone.

  “Thanks, that means something. Listen, before I let you go, I need to ask you something.”

  “Wait.” He coughed some more, and she waited for it to pass. “Is Savanna okay?”

  Alexi turned to catch a glimpse of Savanna through the open bathroom door. The poor girl knelt in front of the toilet, retching into it for the fifth time that morning. “She will be.”

  “Good. If there’s nothing else, I’ve got a nurse giving me the evil eye.” He chuckled. She could hear the weariness in his voice. He would be in the hospital for a few days at least.

  “Connor,” Alexi asked carefully, “how much reach does the Arcanum have?” She wasn’t sure she wanted an answer. After waking up and not knowing who she was, and then everything that had happened after that, there was no time to figure anything out. But now . . .

  “We’re basically as connected as the CIA. Why?”

  “I didn’t tell you this before. Well, I didn’t trust you . . . but now . . .” She sighed.

  Out with it.

  She told him how she had woken up and how she couldn’t remember anything—who she was, where she was from, anything.

  “Do you have something for me to go on?”

  She recited her dog tags to him.

  “Well, army databases should be easy to query. I’ll put Sing on it. I think I’m going to take a day off.” He paused for a second. “Thank you for trusting me with this. I’ll let you know what we find.”

  Click.

  Alexi put the phone down. The beginnings of a headache throbbed behind her eyes. Rubbing them didn’t help. She ran her hand through her blonde hair to pull it into a ponytail. Little strands dangled free around her face. If he could find out who she was . . . what could she do about it? She probably had a family. Parents. Maybe she’d had a boyfriend or even a husband. How could she waltz back into their lives? Psych! I’m alive! Except not really, and now I stay up all night and suck blood.

  “Any luck?” Victor grumbled. Traces of frustration played at his voice. He had been supremely unhappy at being kept out of the loop the night before, especially once he discovered the hell they’d been through.

  “No, they’ve yet to officially rule on anything, and because their agents were injured, it could take a while before we can go to them for help.” Alexi sighed. “Damned bureaucracy. It’s the same everywhere.”

  “Vampires have their own hierarchy,” Victor offered. “Each city usually has a master of some kind, even if it’s in name only.”

  Savanna leaned against the bathroom doorframe, a travel-size bottle of mouthwash in one hand. “He’s right. You could go in under the guise of visiting—say you’re from LA or something—and ask to see the city’s master. It’s a normal thing to do. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I’ve only known a few vampires.”

  Alexi tilted her head at her friend. “You okay?”

  Savanna gargled another mouthful of rinse and spit it into the sink. “Let’s never talk about it again, okay?”

  After Savanna dragged herself to the couch with her unicorn blanket and a little trash can in case of puking, Alexi went to her room. She paused as she passed the bathroom, looking at her own reflection. How strange, to see all this smooth, unbroken skin. She remembered the way the demon’s claws felt as they sank into her, tearing her flesh, snapping bone. She winced at the memory. Too soon. Was she really this healthy and whole, though? Or was it an illusion—like the dresses Savanna had made for them or the bag of bones Alexi had fought at the bar?

  Would the illusion eventually fade and disappear altogether, leaving her a sagging heap of bones and skin? Was that her true self under this facade? The mirror offered no solace. She focused her mind and tried to see past any illusions. Nothing happened.

  The night that vampire had walked past her in the bar—and, now that she thought about it, whenever Savanna used magic—she felt a pressure in the back of her head. Almost a gentle push. She’d pushed back at the sensation there at the bar. Then his smooth, elegant illusion had shattered, and she could see the reality of what he was.

  Now, she felt no such pressure. Did that mean she really was the woman she saw in the mirror . . . or only that she couldn’t see through her own illusion?

  Alexi tore her eyes away from the mirror and leaned out into the living room. “Yell if you need me, okay?” she told Savanna.

  The witch gave her a weak nod, her eyes barely open.

  She hadn’t been in her room for longer than fifteen seconds when Victor rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “We need to talk.”

  Great. Alexi sighed, wondering if she had the energy for the argument that was coming. “Never in the history of the word have those words meant anything good,” she said. When he didn’t move, “Fine. Close the door, okay?”

  Victor shut the door behind him and leaned against the wall beside it. Agitation rolled off of him, filling the room with a palpable thickness. They hadn’t been alone since she’d gotten back from the demon fight, and this wasn’t how she had envisioned things going.

  “Listen, I know what you’re going to say,” Alexi said. “I shouldn’t have fought the demon. I shouldn’t have gone alone. And that next time, I should take you with me.” She waved her hands in the air and paced the floor in front of her bed. “I’m a big girl, Victor, and I like you, but I don’t need a knight in furry armor to protect me. You won’t always be able to—”

  She turned, and he was standing inches away from her. The words died on her lips as his arms closed around her and pulled her tight against his chest. She tilted her head back, and his mouth found hers.

  When they finally broke apart to catch their breath, he brushed the hair out of her face. “When I heard what happened . . . I felt helpless. I don’t know what’s between us, and we haven’t exactly had time to figure it out, but I do know I want that time.”

  Alexi sighed contentedly, leaning against his wide chest. He was so warm. Her heart melted, and warm fuzzy thoughts flooded her brain as he spoke. Alexi’s temperature rose from their embrace. Victor’s body generated enormous amounts of heat, and hers lapped it up.

  “I want that time, too.” She breathed heavily, her insides squirmed, and her stomach knotted. She kissed him again, slower this time, but no less passionate. His fingers hovered above her waistband. They hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. She made it easy for him. She put her hands on his and guided them up under her shirt, luxuriating in the feeling of his fingertips.

  Wherever his fingers touched, her skin tingled. Goose bumps spread from them like a wake behind a boat. She kissed his neck, licking the line of his veins. Small moans escaped her lips as his tongue traced the outside of her ear.

  “I want you,” she panted.

  “That’s what I’m saying. Make me your thrall, and I can give you my strength even when I’m not there. I—”

  Alexi froze. She pushed him away. The air in the room became suddenly still. Her breath came in labored gasps.

  “You want me to make you my slave? You, of all people?” Part o
f her—the part she tried to keep buried, the part that longed to hunt and to kill—thrilled at the idea of owning him and having his body and soul be hers.

  Alexi realized at some point her shirt had been pushed up to expose her stomach. The passion that filled the room seconds before was no more, and it wouldn’t be returning. She pulled her shirt down to cover her exposed flesh.

  Wanting a wall to her back, she found the corner chair and cradled a pillow in her hands.

  How can he ask this? It’s bad enough that he’s my mobile lunch truck. But this?

  She didn’t want a slave or a servant. Vampires used thralls, not her.

  “It’s not slavery. It’s service,” said Victor, almost pleading with her.

  She shook her head. “I heard what the Arcanum said. If I make you a thrall—which I don’t even know how to do—you would be my slave! My god, Victor, I don’t even know what I am. What if I’m like every other vampire and in two years’ time I’m killing people to live? Using you to find them? What then?”

  Victor knelt his massive frame down on the floor. Even kneeling, the top of his head came to her shoulders.

  “I don’t consider this lightly. I know what you are . . . and what you aren’t.”

  He didn’t seem out of his mind or crazed. His voice sounded calm, rational, and contemplative.

  “Maybe you’ve considered it, but what about me?” Her fear ran deep enough that she didn’t fully acknowledge them herself.

  “I know you’re a good woman, Alexi. Being a vampire doesn’t change that. It should, but for you . . . I don’t know. You’re something special. For whatever reason, being turned only changed your body, not your soul.”

  He touched her knee, and she tried hard not to flinch away.

  “You don’t know that,” she whispered. I don’t know that. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the memory of the thrill she felt when she fed—the pleasure of holding her prey down.

  “Alexi.” His hand touched her chin, and she opened her eyes. His brown eyes engulfed her. The slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. Imperfect, and yet somehow flawless in her eyes.