With the Dawn (Faith of the Fallen)

by Cassandra Sky West

  “I tried to kill you the night we met, and you took me in, no questions asked. You share your life with me. I’m pretty sure that’s all I ever need to know about you.”

  She tried to sort out her complicated feelings for him, but she couldn’t. The fear that kept her up at night, the thing that made her try to take a sunbath on the roof, hadn’t changed. Yes, she could feed off Victor when she felt hungry or hurt. But one day he would be gone, and she would still need to feed. The monster in her would eventually win, and she knew it.

  “Tell me you’ll think about it?”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. Just not very hard. She needed this argument over, and she needed to feel like a normal woman, even if she knew it was a lie.

  “Kiss me, please. I need to feel something. I need to feel normal,” she pleaded.

  ***

  “Okay, let me try to wrap my mind around this. Holy symbols work . . . but not on me?” Alexi cradled the phone between her head and her shoulder as she ripped open a package of hot cocoa and dumped it into her cup.

  “Right,” Connor’s voice came over the line. “Anything holy, blessed by a priest, will hurt a vampire—not to mention anything raised by warlocks. And demons, apparently.”

  “Warlocks?” asked Alexi with a sigh.

  Savanna laughed from where she sat on the couch. Three days had passed since she used Connor’s blood to fight the demon, but she still looked very pale and weak. Alexi needed a crash course in how to act around vampires. Savanna didn’t really know many, just a few she had dealt with while on the run. Victor only knew them from the times they had clashed with his former pack. Apparently vampires were antisocial with other supernaturals.

  Big surprise there.

  “Yeah. Warlocks have to do with necromancy,” Connor said. “It’s a big, weird world out there.”

  “No kidding,” Alexi agreed, stirring her cocoa. “What is it about holy symbols that make them effective?”

  “To be honest, we don’t know. You take two pieces of wood, and you form a cross, nothing. You take a man or woman of the cloth—any denomination, really—have them say a prayer and bam”—he clapped his hands together—“instant vampire repellent. Vampires have a hard time even looking at it. The Star of David works just as well, but it needs to be blessed by a rabbi.”

  Interesting. Other vampires would never suspect her of carrying something like that, and the element of surprise would definitely be handy if there was trouble.

  Alexi sipped her cocoa thoughtfully. “So . . . does that mean there’s a god? Heaven, angels, all that?”

  “Well . . . if there are demons, it stands to reason they have their opposites. But I’m Catholic, so it’s easy for me to believe these sorts of things,” he said. There was a pause, and Alexi heard a woman’s voice on the other end. “Sorry, Alexi. I’ve got to let you go. The office is hopping and I’m still on light duty!”

  The woman said something else unintelligible, and Connor grunted grumpily. “If you go in there, stay frosty.”

  Click.

  Victor sat on one end of the overstuffed couch. Alexi set her cocoa on the coffee table in front of Savanna and fell between him and Savanna, maneuvering her head into his lap. He absently ran his fingers through her hair.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Savanna as she sipped from her fresh cocoa.

  Alexi bit her lip. What was she thinking? She wanted answers. Why they killed her, for starters. Why had they turned her into a vampire? And heck, just as an added bonus, how about why had they turned her and then wanted to chop her head off? All of that could be answered if she went into the club. . . of course she could also be delivering her head up for them.

  “I need to go. Even if I don’t find what I’m looking for, I need to try,” she said.

  “I’d rather you didn’t go alone,” Victor said.

  Alexi nodded. “You can come with me and . . . be my bodyguard. That’s a thing, right?”

  Victor shrugged. “A little unusual, maybe, but not unheard of.”

  “Okay. We go in. I’ll ask to see the master, pay homage”—she rolled her eyes—“and see what I can see. Other than having no idea what I’m doing, I’m sure it will be fine.”

  Savanna frowned. “It’s not like they’re going to keep a map labeled ‘secret plan’ around. What are you going to achieve by just going inside?”

  Alexi eyed Savanna. There was something in her tone . . . “What’s the problem?”

  Savanna fidgeted. “It’s not a problem . . . at least I don’t know it is. Yet.”

  “What is it?”

  “I . . .” Savanna twisted the corner of her unicorn blanket. “I saw something . . . a while back. I had a vision.”

  Victor’s eyes narrowed. “About what?”

  “I’m not sure. There were vampires, and the sun was blotted out. Everything was strangely surreal . . . it wasn’t like any vision I’ve ever had. Even the one with you. That one felt like a vision. Almost like when you know you’re dreaming. This . . . it was so real.”

  “And that’s unusual?” asked Victor. His hand stopped its small circles on Alexi’s scalp. She growled when he stopped. He glanced down at her with a smile and started rubbing her head again.

  Savanna nodded. “Very. Visions are usually more images and feelings than clear, high-def visuals. It was terrifying.”

  “All the more reason to check this place out. I don’t know much about magic, but they were doing something down there in that basement. Blood magic.”

  Savanna shook her head. “It couldn’t have been blood magic. Vampires can’t use it, either. It must have been something else.”

  “Well, that’s something then.” Alexi checked the clock on the wall. “It’s almost dawn. Let’s call it a day, and we’ll leave at sunset. Savanna, you going to be okay here by yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s like a really bad hangover. A few hours of sleep, some soup, and I’ll be right as rain.”

  EIGHTEEN

  Alexi’s breath came in gulps as the two of them walked past security. The bouncers waved the pretty girls through first, men with dates second, and men alone third. With Savanna’s help, Alexi looked fashionable and available. When the bouncer pointed to her, she and Victor both moved to the door.

  “Just you,” he said, his hand up to stop Victor from entering.

  “He’s my bodyguard, not my boyfriend. I’m available,” she said with a wink. Savanna had dressed her in a low-cut emerald-green dress that was just long enough to cover all the strictly necessary parts, but not an inch longer. Black thigh-highs connected to garter straps stretched down her legs. Her four-inch heels were Jimmy Choos, and Alexi loved them. Savanna had layered smoky black makeup around Alexi’s eyes, making them look impossibly blue.

  They deemed the entire effect successful when Victor let out a low growl upon seeing her. Alexi had tried not to shoot him a glare.

  She looked like a high-priced call girl, which apparently, her boyfriend thought attractive. Wonderful.

  “He’s not armed?” the bouncer asked.

  Alexi raised an eyebrow. “Does he look like he needs a weapon?”

  The two bouncers at the front door, along with the two inside, were about six feet tall, which put them only slightly taller than Alexi in her stocking feet. With these heels on, she hovered a good inch above them.

  Victor towered at six-foot-five while barefoot, which was made all the more impressive by three hundred pounds of muscle. Tonight he was wearing army boots, black jeans, and a white T-shirt. He made the bouncers look positively small.

  “Right, no trouble,” the bouncer said, waving them in.

  “You heard the man, no trouble. Let’s go,” she said over her shoulder as she entered. She couldn’t help but sashay her hips for Victor’s benefit.

  The club entrance curved just as she remembered it. Thirty feet past the door, a series of steps brought them into the club proper. The beat of the music vibrated the building. H
er skin hummed with power. At the moment a live DJ performed onstage, complete with laser effects and floodlights, as well as smoke machines. The design maneuvered guests to keep them trapped on the dance floor and the bar.

  “Where to?” Victor yelled into her ear. Even with his voice raised, she could barely make out what he was saying. The lounge seemed like the best bet.

  Instead of answering, she headed that way, confident he would follow. She could feel eyes following the sway of her hips. It brought a blush to her cheeks.

  I hate this.

  She should have argued with Savanna more about a bra.

  “You don’t understand this culture, Alexi,” Savanna had said. “If you walk in there dressed like a prude—no, I’m not saying you are. You’re very stylish. I’m just saying they’d consider you prudish, next to the way they do things. Vampires don’t need bras and have no use for modesty. They use their sexuality to attract prey. You can’t go in there and not look the part.”

  Savanna was right, of course. When she had first woken up, she’d run through this place with barely more than a stitch of clothes on without drawing undue attention. Her usual leather jacket and boots would have been terribly out of place.

  Alexi eyed the room. It was doubtful that the person she was pretending to be would wait at the bar for a table. Most of the guests were in their twenties or early thirties. The oldest one she could spot nearby, a dark-skinned man who could have been from anywhere in the Middle East, groped his server as she dropped off his drink. The woman’s body language made it clear this was not a service he’d paid for.

  Alexi bumped into the server as she made her way back to the bar. “That guy’s a piece of work,” she said conversationally.

  The woman smirked. “He’s some VIP, so we have to smile and nod. God, I wish he would leave—he gives me the creeps.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Alexi said with a grin. She pulled a twenty out and dropped it on the server’s tray. This night was going to blow through all their money, but she couldn’t be in a place like this and hand out fives. It would be just as obvious as not dressing the part.

  The oily man leered at Alexi as she approached. He may have been handsome once, but a lifetime of hard living showed in the lines on his face. His clothes spoke of tasteless wealth—all flash, no style. It was as though he’d just ordered one of whatever was most expensive, regardless of how it all fit together.

  “Hey gorgeous, want to have breakfast on my yacht?” he said as she approached.

  She felt that odd pressure in her skull build as she leaned over the table toward him.

  “I’m your guest tonight,” she whispered into his ear. “Tell the bartender to put everything I want on your tab, leave all your cash, then go home, and never come back here.”

  The release felt like a slingshot. All at once, the pressure vanished. The man’s pupils dilated, and the beginnings of an objection died on his lips, his will breaking like a wave on the beach. Lurching out of his chair, he spilled his drink as he fumbled in his pocket for a roll of hundreds. He dropped it on the table and walked to the bar. She watched as he spoke to the bartender and pointed to her. She gave a little wave. The bartender nodded. The rich man weaved through the crowd and disappeared through the entrance.

  Victor looked nonplussed as he moved to stand against the wall not far from Alexi’s new table. Alexi casually slid into the now-vacated seat. Her hand brushed the man’s abandoned cell phone, and without missing a beat, she slid it into her gold clutch.

  The server she had spoken to before appeared with two drinks and a rag to clean up the mess. The drinks were cold to the touch, clear on the bottom, and blood red on top.

  “I don’t know what you said, but thanks,” the woman said. “These are on the house.”

  “I appreciate it,” Alexi said with a smile. “Give yourself a big tip, okay? How about a thousand?”

  A grin blossomed on the woman’s face. “Anything you need, you let me know.”

  Alexi nodded. She slipped her hand around the drink. Food and drink didn’t taste good anymore—it all sat like ash in her mouth, triggering her gag reflex all the way down. But she had a part to play. Alexi took a sip. Slightly ash-like—that must be from the tomato or whatever gave the drink its red color—but the actual alcohol burned very pleasantly down the back of her throat.

  “You okay?” Victor said. He’d moved to stand next to her as she drank.

  “I can taste this,” Alexi marveled, downing the rest in a single gulp. She started in on the second one, luxuriating in the sensation.

  “Will the alcohol affect you?” asked Victor.

  “I don’t know, but damn it’s good to taste something other than ash and blood.” She grinned as she spoke, waving the half-empty second glass at the bar. It was a risk she was willing to take.

  Victor returned to his watchful place against the wall. The server dropped off another a moment later. After her third glass, she gave the waitress another huge tip, courtesy of her benefactor. That kept the drinks coming for the next hour. Whenever Alexi put down an empty glass, another would appear. She sent a club soda Victor’s way, which he sipped slowly, ever the diligent bodyguard.

  Alexi’s drinking eventually began to draw some attention. Someone noticed the growing line of empty glasses on her table. A few men wandered over to take advantage of the drunk girl, and a couple of attractive women introduced themselves, making very small conversation. Victor leaned forward when the strangers started to sit down, but Alexi waved him off, and he gave a sharp nod. Everything was okay. They’d prearranged a signal if anything went wrong.

  Drinks on her benefactor flowed to the table, adding to her popularity. One of the men, a handsome fellow in his late twenties, moved closer with each drink until he was practically hugging her. When his hand brushed her thighs, it took all of Alexi’s will not to fling him across the room.

  You’re playing a part. You’re playing a part. You’re playing a part.

  Instead, she laughed at his lame joke and draped one arm over his shoulder. The remaining men realized they’d lost the battle for her affection and drifted away from the table, but the party went on. And all the while, Victor watched. She tried not to think about it. While she hated the thought of hurting his feelings or making him uncomfortable, there was one way to play this. They’d both known that coming in.

  The man leaned in to plant a sloppy kiss on her neck. Goose bumps appeared on her skin—a disgusted response that he probably mistook for excitement.

  God, anytime now. Please.

  The beat of the music paused as the rhythm changed, and for just a second, she could hear herself think. The stranger kissed her neck, and his hands roamed her thighs. The others at the table had partnered off and were amusing themselves in similar fashion.

  Alexi’s eyes caught movement. Behind the lounge, a door opened. She hadn’t realized there was a door there—perhaps it had been built to go unnoticed. Out came a tall man with broad shoulders and shoulder-length golden hair—a dead ringer for Thor, the Norse God of Thunder. He caught her eye, and she suddenly felt the distinct pressure of magic building at the back of her head. He nodded deliberately—he wanted to make sure he had her attention. She returned the nod, and he motioned for her to follow him back through the unobtrusive door.

  It’s about damn time.

  She disentangled herself from the man at her table, and his protest was lost in the thudding music. Victor leaned forward to follow her, and she raised one hand to keep him there. His forehead creased with a frown, and she shrugged. Thor’s invitation seemed very particular, and she didn’t want to offend her hosts.

  The door blended seamlessly with the bar. Alexi focused on keeping her hand steady as she pushed against it. The door glided open at her touch. One last glance at Victor, and she disappeared into the darkness beyond.

  ***

  Her heart raced. The room’s total darkness engulfed her. She blinked hard, willing her eyes to adjust.
Seconds stretched by as her pupils widened and her surroundings faded into view. Thor waited thirty feet down a dark, narrow hallway. No emergency lighting, no hint of light or sound bled through the walls.

  “This is interesting,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual as her pulse continued to race. “Keeps the wannabes out.” She smiled at her escort as she fell in step alongside him.

  “And the food in,” Thor replied, his voice as rich and deep as her little nickname for him implied. “For a moment, I thought I was wrong about you.”

  Alexi tried to mask her confusion. “Why?” Wrong about what?

  “You didn’t move when the door shut.”

  Ah. “I don’t rush headlong into the unknown,” Alexi replied with what she hoped was a casual shrug. “I leave that to the thralls.”

  He laughed and led her farther down the hallway.

  Is it that easy? See in total darkness and they accept you for one of their own? It hadn’t occurred to her there would be any litmus tests on being a vampire. As she drew closer to him, the familiar pressure grew in the back of her head. She closed her eyes for a moment and let it wash over her, as opposed to fighting it. The pressure subsided to a dull ache.

  “Do I pass?” she asked him.

  “This test, yes.” Thor gave her a thin smile. “My name is Morgan. I am majordomo to the mistress. I’m sure you’ll want to pay your respects, after which you can take a look at the services we offer.”

  Alexi replied with a slight bow of her head. Savanna had been spot on. Mistress? Oh, god. There was going to be black leather involved in this whole thing, wasn’t there? For the first time, Alexi contemplated what she would do if events took a turn she just couldn’t follow.

  Morgan led her to another door, which opened to reveal a shaft plunging straight down. Morgan jumped without hesitation, and Alexi followed his descent with her eyes. Twenty, maybe twenty-five feet. Her heart pounded. She’d never jumped that far, and all her human instincts told her not to.

  Jump. Jump now. To wait too long would arouse suspicion. Jump, damn it. She imagined herself jumping from a plane, wearing a parachute. Somehow that made it easier. She jumped. Air slid past her as she fell. The ground came toward her fast, and her knees flexed to absorb the landing.