Vampire in the Night: In Darkness We Must Abide, #1

by Rhiannon Frater

  “I agree,” she said boldly. “There is no justice, Roman when it comes to these sort of men. No one will miss them. Only other slimy bastards like them.”

  “We must be reasonable!” Roman interjected. He was trembling as he fought against the need to feed. Looking at his sister, he saw that her eyes were dilated and her teeth elongated. The pounding heartbeat of the cowering mortals was clearly affecting her as well as the other vampires. “We don’t have the right to judge these men and kill them!”

  “Kill me?” Larry shrieked in disbelief.

  “They’re not human!” Will screamed. “They’re going to kill us.”

  Alisha stepped toward her brother, her beauty intensified by the deadly fire in her eyes. “What if these bastards had touched Snow Pea? What if those photos were of her when she was a little girl! Look at them and tell me they don’t deserve to die! You know they do!”

  The bald man attempted to break through the gathered vampires once more. This time Angel caught his arm.

  “You’re not going anywhere!” Angel said in a low voice, his eyes flashing red.

  “Oh, shit!” the man gasped in horror, staggering away from him.

  * * *

  Armando felt the black energy in the room enveloping him the moment he stepped through the open doors. It took only a few seconds for him to ascertain what was going on. The humans dressed as clowns were stirring the vampire hunger with their wails, sharp movements, and terror. The smell of blood and fear was intoxicating. Armando felt his fangs descend as the hunger howled within him. He took several sharp steps back, trying to regain his control.

  “If we kill them, then we have lost ourselves!” Roman argued.

  “If we don’t kill them, we’ve lost ourselves!” Alisha snapped. “We can’t let them go, Roman! They’ll go to the police! We can’t have the police investigating us!”

  One of the clowns made an attempt to barrel through the crowd. A vampire backhanded him, the spray from the man’s broken nose splattering the faces of the vampires closest to him. The crowd surged forward.

  “Stop!” Armando shouted.

  Sheila’s gaze snapped in his direction. “This is justice!”

  “It’s an excuse to kill!” Armando retorted.

  The fear in the men was leaking into the psychic energy in the room. The necessity to feed was close to boiling over.

  Alisha let out a shriek unlike any Armando had ever heard before. Surging forward, she dug her fingers into the man’s face. “You’ve taken children’s lives! It’s in your mind! I can see it! A small twisted body lying under a house covered by heavy, splintered boards!”

  Screaming, the man thrashed beneath her, forcing her fingernails deeper into his flesh. Blood spilled down his face.

  “Murderer!” Alisha’s cry was a banshee wail.

  Rage swelled within Armando as did the desire to rip the man to shreds. The hunger of the other vampires assailed him, and he clutched his head. “Stop this!”

  “He is condemned by his own thoughts!” Angel declared.

  “We can’t!” Roman protested. “This isn’t right!”

  The dark hunger ripping through his mind, Armando crumpled against the doorway. The vampires had fallen completely silent. There were no more protests. The decision had been made. Purposefully, they advanced on the terrified men. The one on the floor was shaking so hard his teeth chattered. The clown still standing, surged forward, striking out at the vampires with his fists.

  “I have rights! I know my rights!”

  Several vampires growled low in their throats, baring their lengthening fangs. It finally sank into the man’s mind that he was truly in the presence of vampires. He screamed in horror.

  “They’re not human! They’re going to kill us,” the other man keened.

  Raising his hands to his face, Armando fought the desire to tear into the flesh of the men and feed. The sweet scent of Vanora’s hair and skin still lingered on his fingers and palms, and the thought of her grounded Armando. He had to protect her.

  “Roman, stop them!” Armando shouted.

  It was too late.

  Alisha wrapped an arm around the neck of the man standing and jerked his head to the side. Opening her mouth wide, she bit savagely, blood spurting onto those vampires closest to her. Then Angel was on the man, ripping open one of his wrists and feeding off the hot blood. The bloodlust ran wild in the room. The vampires lifted the screaming man into their midst, ripping at him with razor-sharp teeth and nails.

  Armando recoiled, struggling against the bloodlust with all his might. He tried not to look at the feeding orgy before him, but his eyes strayed inexorably toward the pandemonium. These vampires who had sworn to not feed off of mortals and only feed on animal blood were gleefully ripping at the flesh of the dying man.

  The second man shrieked in pain as the vampires descended on him. The sounds of rending flesh, breaking bones, and the squelch of flesh giving way beneath teeth and claws filled the room.

  “Stop!” Armando shouted. “Stop!”

  Plunging into the frenzy, Armando attempted to wrench the vampires from their victims, but they turned on him, slashing with sharp nails, hissing with bloodstained mouths. Zachary shoved Armando violently away from their prey.

  “Roman!” Armando shouted, seeking him out among the wild fray. Blood sprayed into the air as one of the men’s arms was ripped from his body. “Roman!

  Then Armando saw Roman struggling to drag one of the men out of the bloodbath. The man was barely alive, covered in blood, and whimpering in agony.

  Standing apart from the fray was Carlotta, a smirk upon her lips. “Take him, Roman!”

  Roman managed to tug the man from the other vampires and attempted to hoist him away from their reaching hands. Armando saw the moment Roman lost his struggle against the hunger. His beloved friend’s eyes flamed to red, and he tore into the already ruined throat of the mortal.

  As long as Roman’s vampires had been dedicated to a lifestyle free of violence and death, it had given Armando some measure of satisfaction that his Master did not control all. Tonight, they had been just as savage as his Master and his vampires. Even Roman had given in to the hunger.

  45

  Armando knew he had to get away. He had to return to Vanora and take her from this place. The doors to the hallway were open and he focused on the light pouring in from the hall. Stumbling forward, he found himself trembling as he fought the craving to turn back and drink. The passion of the hunger vibrated through the ballroom. The barbaric feast taking place behind him was far from over. It would only end when the last drop of blood was consumed.

  With a shout of rage, he surged through the doorway and banged the ballroom doors shut behind him. Shaking, he struggled against the powerful desire for blood. Weeping, he collapsed against the door. He had to regain his composure. Vanora was alone and afraid. He had to get her out of the mansion and the city. Somewhere in the world, he would find them a safe haven away from all the madness.

  Yet, his body yearned to return to the ballroom and feast.

  Gradually he became aware of another presence. Raising his gaze, his attention settled on the forlorn figure cowering against the wall. It was Vanora in her beautiful dress, her long white-blond hair falling over her quivering shoulders to her waist.

  “Vanora-” He hoped she was still blind, that she hadn’t witnessed the bloodbath.

  “I saw,” she responded, so faintly only a vampire would have heard her.

  Armando felt sickened at the thought of what she had seen and struggled for words. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry.”

  Tears filled her eyes, obscuring their striking lavender color.

  “Vanora,” he said in a hoarse, frantic voice.

  “There’s blood on you,” she wailed.

  “I tried to stop them!”

  “It’s all been lies!” Vanora declared, her voice growing shrill. “All of it! You’re still killers! All of you!”

  “V
anora, we’re not perfect. We make mistakes!” He surged toward her, wanting to take her in his arms and soothe her.

  Vanora stumbled backward. “Stop right there! Stop!”

  Armando obeyed and lifted his hands toward her pleadingly. “Vanora, I would never hurt you!”

  “I can smell it! All that blood. I could feel...them…dying!” Backing away from him, she clutched the cross dangling over the bodice of her dress with one hand. “Roman and Alisha…” Dry heaving, Vanora fell back against the wall, seeming close to fainting.

  Armando took a hesitant step toward her. “Those men were the molesters that have been hunting children in Houston. I’m not sure of the whole story as of yet, but I beg of you to wait and find out the details of what just transpired before you pass judgment on those that love you.”

  “I thought that somehow y’all were not really the vampires of legends. That you weren’t killers. That you weren’t evil. But you are!”

  Armando lost his temper and with vampire swiftness descended on her, taking hold of her arms. “No, they got carried away by their anger and the hunger. The hunger makes you mad, insane! They made a mistake, Vanora,” Armando insisted fervently.

  “Let go of me!”

  The defiance in her voice and the searing anger lurking in her eyes both shocked and shamed Armando. Yet, even more terrible was the terror he saw bloom in her lovely lavender eyes when he had laid a hand on her. Dismally, he released her.

  “Don’t ever touch me again!” Vanora said fiercely.

  Armando saw her terror, but at the same time, he saw her resolve not to cower before him.

  “I love you,” he said, at last, vulnerable, and afraid that she was lost to him.

  “Stay away from me,” she said, holding out her cross. Gathering up her massive skirt, she hastily retreated from him.

  “Vanora, please, let me explain. Let your brother and sister explain.”

  “I saw,” Vanora said in a tremulous voice. “I saw what you are!”

  Armando again tried to step toward her, but she flinched. Her visage blurred as tears filled his eyes. “Vanora, don’t do this.”

  “I didn’t do anything but see the truth. It’s all been lies. What you are.” Finally reaching the end of the hallway, she fled into the foyer and then he heard her ascending the stairs.

  “Vanora!” Clenching his hands, Armando followed, stalking up the hallway, determined to somehow convince her that she should not fear him. Just as he reached the foyer, he heard the door to Vanora’s room slam shut and lock.

  “So they have lost sight of their dreams,” a mocking voice whispered from above him.

  Armando gazed up into the shadows caressing the foyer ceiling.

  “Tonight they truly know what it is to be a vampire. To take what you want, to rule over mortals, to be a god! The smell of human blood fills the house. I can almost taste it.”

  Armando’s eyes adjusted to the gloom. He saw Carlotta lying on the ceiling, her hair and skirts flared out around her by the power that held her aloft.

  “You bitch!” Armando exploded harshly. “I never should have brought you here!”

  Carlotta’s fingertips pushed off the ceiling and she gracefully descended. She floated downward and hung in the air above him, eyeing him with a smirk on her blood-red lips. “I did nothing.”

  “You encouraged Roman to break the vows he had made to himself not to drink human blood! Not to kill!”

  “Face reality, Armando. I didn’t have to force him. We are vampires! We need blood! Human blood makes us strong! We need blood to survive! You are weakening yourself on the blood of animals!” Carlotta’s eyes flicked upward. “You need human blood, Armando. She’s all alone up there.”

  “Shut up, Carlotta!” Armando was consumed with anger. He wanted to seize Carlotta around her slim throat and tear her head off.

  “You need human blood, Armando,” Carlotta insisted. “You’re weak from animal blood. Can’t you feel it? How weak you truly are?”

  “Stop it!”

  “You do feel it! Your weakness, your hunger! The hunger calls to you. You are a killer! Smell the blood that has been spilled in this house! It can liberate!”

  “I said to shut up!”

  “Yes! Feel the desire! Take the girl! Take the girl now!”

  “Never!” Armando flung himself upward and tackled Carlotta in midair. He crushed her against him, his eyes capturing her with their golden intensity. “I would rather kill you than ever harm her!”

  Carlotta was stunned but quickly recovered, her jaw setting, her countenance fierce. “You’re being a fool.”

  “Then so be it, Carlotta!”

  “You’re a pathetic, little fool! You’re a traitor to the Master and what we are!”

  “If you ever touch Vanora, I’ll rip your head off your shoulders and let your body burn in the sunrise. Do you understand?”

  Carlotta lifted her chin, her eyes haughty. “I do as I please.”

  “You won’t hurt the girl. She is more important than you know. More important than your life. Our Master would destroy you if you even dared to touch Vanora.”

  “I don’t understand the Master’s interest in the girl. She’s very unremarkable. Just like her dear brother who is feasting on that horrible little man right now.”

  Armando refused to take her bait. “What happened tonight is of no consequence in the end,” Armando said dismally.

  “You’ve bought into all of this ridiculous philosophy of being mortal. You’re pathetic in your desperation to be something other than what you are. You resist the hunger. You won’t even try to take the girl.”

  “I told you-”

  “That she’s important.” Carlotta glared at him for a long moment, then began to laugh. “You pathetic little, lost vampire. Your childish attempt at redemption is dead! Vampires kill! Including Roman Socoli! Or are you weeping over your pale, ugly little white witch?”

  Armando was too furious to respond. He struck Carlotta. A drop of blood slid down her cheek from where his ring had torn her flesh. The droplet slid purposefully toward her red mouth, and her pink tongue snaked out, capturing the bit of blood. Her dark eyes fastened on him with malevolent rage. Armando gruffly released her and descended to the floor.

  “You will regret that.” With great flourish, Carlotta lifted her hands. The front door of the house banged open behind her. With one last triumphant smirk, she slid through the air and out into the night, the door shutting behind her.

  In agonized silence, Armando glanced in the direction of the ballroom. He could hear and feel the feast continuing. Utterly devastated, he moved toward the staircase.

  46

  “It leaves at eleven-thirty and sets down after one,” Vanora said while shoving clothes into her luggage. She cradled her cell phone with her shoulder as she packed. On her desk, the laptop Roman had given her for her birthday displayed her flight information.

  “Okay, we’ll be there to pick you up,” her aunt’s voice said, her concern obvious. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  Rubbing her hand over her face to wipe away her tears, Vanora took a deep breath. “Not right now.”

  “But everyone is okay? Alive?”

  “Yes. I just…can’t talk about it.”

  “Is it that man? Armando?”

  “Aunt Crystal, please…” Vanora broke down again, collapsing onto the edge of her bed.

  “Okay, baby. Okay. We’ll pick you up at the airport. Be careful. I’m scared for you.”

  “I’ll be fine. See you soon,” Vanora replied, then hit END.

  The beautiful dress she had so carefully selected for the Halloween party was tossed aside, looking very much like a wilted flower. She never wanted to see it again.

  Vanora slid to her feet and finished zipping up her faded blue jeans. Dragging a pale pink tank top over her head, she winced when the fabric caught on her sensitive nipples. Her body was still tingling from earlier, much to her dismay. She didn’t w
ant to think about Armando making love to her, or his beautiful cold body hiding the monster inside.

  Her vision had yet to fully return, so she stumbled a few times as she rushed to pack only those things that had true meaning to her. She shoved a photo of her parents into her overnight bag but hesitated when she saw the one of her with her siblings in better times. Realizing the photo had been taken when they were still mortal, she slid it into her bag. Picking up her old sketchbook, she hesitated, then dumped it into the trash bin under her desk. It was filled with sketches of Armando. Fresh tears flowed at the thought of him.

  A soft knock on the door sent her scrambling for the far side of the room, her mother’s cross clutched in one hand.

  “Vanora, open the door.”

  Armando’s voice, gentle and seductive.

  “Go away!” Collecting her keys, purse, and laptop off her desk, she hurried to her bed to finish packing.

  “We need to talk.”

  “No, we don’t. Go away!” She shoved her laptop into her suitcase between her clothes and zipped it up.

  “Yes, we do.” Armando’s voice said beside her.

  Twisting about, she cried out in fright. He stood calmly inside the room, not two feet from her. The door behind him was still closed.

  “Stay away from me!”

  He flinched as if she had struck him.

  Armando had taken the time to wipe the blood from his face and neck, but he couldn’t remove her memory of his feral appearance in the doorway of the ballroom. She had never dreamed his exquisite face could look so monstrous.

  “Vanora, I didn’t kill those men!”

  “But you have killed others!”

  “Yes, but you knew that!”

  Vanora licked her lips, realizing he was right. She had seen the gruesome vampire that had created her brother and sister, yet had lived in perpetual denial that her brother and sister were anything like him. She had deluded herself into believing that they were somehow unaltered by their new natures. After witnessing Roman sinking his teeth into the mortal and Alisha covered in blood, she knew she had been horribly wrong. Seeing Armando with glowing red eyes, smeared with blood, and looking like a rabid beast had drilled that truth home. All she had felt when she had seen his face was utter terror.