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

by Rhiannon Frater

  At one point during her sprint to the gate, she had wondered if he would somehow find a way to say goodbye. He was always so adept at being mysterious. It had been part of what had drawn her to him. And now it was the monster within him that was driving her away.

  Vanora.

  Startled, she swiftly looked about to see who had called her name, automatically seeking out the flight attendant. Was there something wrong with her last minute ticket? Everyone was busy finding their seats and stowing away their luggage and didn’t seem the least bit interested in her. Vanora felt uneasy as the disquieting sensation of being watched washed over her. Sitting at the edge of her seat, she again searched the cabin, scared of what she might find.

  Here.

  Then Vanora knew. Slowly, she turned her head and gazed out the oval window toward the tarmac. As she had feared, Armando stood there dressed all in black, his overcoat flapping in the wind like wings. Though she could clearly see him, the ground crew continued to work, oblivious of the vampire among them. Of course, Armando had abilities she wasn’t even fully aware of. He’d entered her closed room earlier without any trouble.

  “Go away,” she whispered, knowing he’d hear her.

  Armando’s golden eyes felt like they were boring into her very soul.

  You don’t deserve to live in our darkness. I was wrong to try to keep you here. Run, Vanora, run! Don’t ever come back here again. Only Death exists here.

  Intense chills raced through her body. On her lap, her hands trembled.

  Do you understand, Vanora? Do you hear me?

  “Yes,” Vanora whispered.

  Armando didn’t seem satisfied, but he managed to smile faintly. Find your happiness, Vanora.

  Before she could respond, Armando’s coat flared out above him, catching the wind, lifting him off the ground. The coat wrapped around him and he dissolved into the night sky.

  Vanora felt incredibly tired and weak. Covered in gooseflesh and shivering, she curled up in her chair, resting her forehead against the window

  Never come back, she thought. I don’t ever intend to.

  * * *

  Roman shut the doors to the mausoleum and locked them. It felt like a desecration of his ancestors to once again hide the bodies of victims among their remains, but Roman had no other choice. Pocketing the heavy keys, he strolled across the vast lawn toward the mansion. On the back patio, near the pool, the heavy wrought iron and granite fire pit was filled with flames. Within the inferno, the last of the evidence of the blood feast slowly turned to ashes.

  The vampires were gone now. Their fervent apologies and reaffirmations of their faith in him still echoed in his ears. Roman wondered if they could recover from what they had done and rebuild the solidarity of their vampire family.

  Alisha’s long white dress and heavy sweater flickered shades of orange and yellow in the firelight. Her blond hair was loose about her shoulders and she looked more human tonight than at any point since her death. An aftereffect of drinking human blood was a more robust appearance. It was ironic that when vampires were at their most inhumane, they appeared the most human.

  When Roman reached her side, he slid an arm around her shoulders. She laid her head against his chest, her arm settling around his waist. They were all that remained of their family. Vanora was apart from them now.

  “I was wrong,” Roman said at last.

  “You did your best.”

  “I tried to make everything right for all of us after we were transformed. I tried to force us all into a life that was no longer ours. I should have sent Vanora away to live with Uncle Nicolau.”

  “You did what you always do. Fix things and make it better for us. After Mom and Dad died, you were there, Roman. You held us, you wiped away our tears, you were more than a brother. You were our everything. We trust you because you never fail us.”

  “But I have. I remember how determined I was that being vampires would not alter our lives any more than it had to. I rushed us to a sense of normalcy without considering the true implications of what might happen.” Roman held Alisha tighter, wanting desperately to protect her from the darkness that filled them both.

  “You made it right for all of us for a very long time. We probably shouldn’t have even done as well as we did for the last few years.” Alisha sighed, closing her eyes. “You made us feel safe.”

  Watching the flames devour the last of the tablecloths and rags used to clean up the blood, Roman embraced his new truth. “This was inevitable.”

  Alisha nodded. “Yes.”

  “So now we continue on together.”

  “Yes.”

  “She was our light, Alisha.”

  “And now,” Alisha said somberly, “We are alone in the dark.”

  Epilogue

  Sirens split the solace of the night inhabiting the sky over Paris. Somewhere, a fire burned out of control, flames, and smoke spiraling into the darkness. Armando hurried through the front doors of the tall building close to the Champs Elysee, the heavily armed werewolf guards in human form escorting him to the elevator. It was an old birdcage lift with an ornate design.

  “The Master is waiting on the top floor,” one of the guards said, sliding the gate shut.

  Armando shifted on his feet to keep his balance as the elevator drew him upward past marble staircases and landings populated by vampires and werewolves celebrating their Master’s latest triumph. He had arrived just as his Master had achieved yet another victory in his never-ending war.

  The ornate iron cage rattled as it rose toward the top floors. Combing his hands through his curls, he hoped he looked presentable. It was always difficult to travel overseas. This time, he had resorted to traveling in a crate. It had not been particularly pleasant.

  The lift arrived on the top floor, shuddering to a stop.

  A petite blond girl with an angelic face but deadly eyes gripped the ornate gate that barred his exit. Snapping her sharp teeth at him playfully, she waggled her fingers. “I like you in a cage.”

  “Lorelei,” he sneered.

  “One day I’m going to have you in one. When he finally sees that you’re nothing but a pathetic little man, I’ll have you at my mercy.”

  Armando mocked her with a chortle.

  Licking her fangs, her eyes regarded him with the flat expression of a Great White Shark.

  “Open the gate, Lorelei. I’m expected.”

  “He’s in a good mood. Lucky for you.” Jerking the gate open, she stepped aside, her long white lace dress swirling around her ankles.

  Armando had very little tolerance for his Master’s right-hand. The disdain was mutual. He often caught her regarding him as though she were calculating how long she would have to torture him before he would beg for mercy.

  The white marble floor was sticky with blackened blood and squished beneath his feet as he followed her into the penthouse. The blood belonged to vampires, therefore doing nothing to entice his hunger. Dozens of dying vampires were hung on butcher hooks, swaying from the ceiling. Viscera and limbs littered the floor. Lorelei lightly kicked them out of her way as she walked. As she passed one giant of a man, she reached into his chest and tore out several ribs. The vampire screamed in pain, which only brought a smile to her face.

  “Utter defeat of the biggest coterie in France. It was delicious,” she explained.

  Entering an enormous circular room with a vaulted ceiling, Armando noted that all the murals and gilding had been painted over. His Master had an aversion to color. Abstract sculptures along with more classical representations of gods and goddesses lined the walls. White modern furniture mingled with antiques. A fountain with three tiers of maidens holding urns splashed in the center. Everything gleamed white in the glow of the bright lights except for the giant man standing on the balcony shrouded in darkness.

  “Guess who’s come slithering home?” Lorelei said by way of an announcement.

  “My favorite son?” The Master’s voice was deep, dark, and resonated
with power.

  Lorelei rolled her eyes and snarled slightly. “Yes. Armando.”

  “Thank you, Lorelei. You may leave us.”

  “Yes, Master.” Lorelei turned to go.

  “And Lorelei?”

  “Yes, Master?”

  “You’re my favorite of all my children.” The Master sounded amused.

  Giving Armando a triumphant smile, she sauntered out of the room and shut the door behind her.

  “Do you know why she is my favorite, Armando?”

  “She’s a psychopath?”

  His Master laughed, the low tones rumbling through the room. Slowly swiveling about, the great vampire’s lavender eyes glinted like amethysts in the white illumination of the room.

  “Yes, there is that. But she doesn’t fail me.”

  Hanging his head, Armando clasped his hands before him. “My apologies, Master.”

  “I don’t like failure, Armando. I find it…distasteful.”

  Daring to lift his eyes, Armando saw the tall form of his vampire creator unfurl from the shadows. Well over six feet tall, the vampire resembled Michelangelo’s David, exemplifying male perfection carved into white marble. Faint scars from the battles he fought as a mortal man covered his muscled body, adding to the illusion. His white hair fell in loose curls across his brow and was cut short to the nape of his neck. When at war, he always cut his long hair to avoid it being used against him in battle. Finely-chiseled features added to the vampire’s beauty: from his sharp cheekbones to his stern brow. Clad in white leather pants, his feet were bare, but his arms were coated in thick, congealing blood from his fingertips to his elbows. It appeared he had plunged them into something, or someone.

  The sight of him made Armando uneasy.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” The low timbre of the vampire’s voice held a threatening note.

  “I brought her picture.”

  “Ah!” The albino warrior of long ago approached Armando. “Show me.”

  Armando withdrew from the pocket of his long trench coat a photo he had taken from the Socoli Mansion.

  Instantly, his Master’s expression altered from annoyance to pleasure. “She is beautiful.” His bloodied fingers hovered over the image, but he didn’t touch it. “My coloring, my eyes.”

  “It’s fairly close, yes.” Armando hated to concede that point. Even when he had first seen Vanora when she was a child, he had seen the similarity.

  “And she’s powerful.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a statement.

  Armando gave a short nod. “Yes, Master. Very powerful and she has yet to reach her full potential.”

  Flashing sharp fangs that never retracted, his Master carried the photo across the room to study it under direct light. “I have waited an eternity for her. I’d almost given up hope that she’d ever be born, but now she’s here. The other half of my soul. My destiny. My queen.”

  Uneasy, Armando said, “Yes, she is.”

  “And you let her slip away.”

  A sharp angry look sent tremors of fear through Armando. “She’s hardly slipped away. She’s in Austin, Texas. I have a team of private investigators watching her every move, night and day. You can be sent daily briefings on her actions if you should desire.”

  His Master looked impressed. “You anticipated my fury at your failure and took appropriate steps to pacify me. That’s worthy of Lorelei’s cleverness. See? I told you that you were the perfect one to handle this situation for me. Who else could I trust with the care of my future queen? Lorelei is difficult to control at times. But you! You love me, Armando. My favorite son, you always obey me and make me proud.”

  “Yet, I failed. I am prepared to stay at your side and do my penance.” Armando dreaded to know what he would have to do for absolution.

  The majestic vampire laughed, the menacing sound echoing throughout the room. “A minor setback. Go back to Houston. Help her brother pick up the pieces of his shattered pathetic existence. Mollify him.”

  Surprised at this edict, Armando dared to raise his head. “You want me to return?”

  His Master continued to stare at Vanora’s image, his bloodied hands careful to not stain it. “Though she is afraid right now, given time, she will do what all humans do. Rationalize the fear away and become complacent. She trusts you, doesn’t she?”

  The question hurt, but Armando slightly nodded. “To some degree.”

  “She had a schoolgirl crush on you, true?”

  Armando nodded, pressing his lips together.

  “I considered killing you because of that, but then I realized I’d rather her affections be directed at you than being sullied by a…human. Besides, I knew you would never return those affections, or touch her.” The words were laced with a threat.

  “She is yours. You are hers. It is only a matter of time before you are together.” Armando’s voice was devoid of the pain those words caused him.

  The white vampire continued to stare at the photo. “Only a matter of time. Sadly, I’m not done here.” A snarl twisted his lips. “The Seventh Sister eludes me, but I will find her. She barely escaped this time.”

  The sacrilege of his Master’s words made Armando uneasy, but he did not allow himself to reveal his discomfort. The Seven Sisters were the first vampires and his Master had been waging an unholy war against them for thousands of years. Only one remained alive.

  His Master set the photo aside before leaning over and washing away the blood coating his arms in the rushing water of the fountain. The clear water immediately turned dark red, spilling over the white marble.

  “I’m not angry with you, Armando. You have confirmed that Vanora is the one I have waited for all these long years. To know that she exists comforts me, but it is not yet time for me to claim her. I must eliminate Parthenia and take her blood before I can be certain of my future queen’s safety.” Shaking his head angrily, he stood, water dripping from his hands. “I should have slaughtered all of them by now. Their reign is at an end. Mine and Vanora’s will soon begin.”

  Lowering his eyes, Armando fought to keep his discomfort from being detected by the powerful creature before him.

  “When the time is right, Armando, you will lure her back home. And then the Purge will begin.” Slapping Armando’s arm with one large, wet hand, his Master flashed a wide grin. “Well done, son.”

  “I serve you, Master,” Armando said in a hushed tone.

  Taking hold of Armando’s shoulders, his Master gazed down at him. “Yes, you do. And unlike the rest of the sniveling morons out there, aside from Lorelei, I know you truly love me as your father. Therefore, from this time on, let it be known that you may call me by my true name. You have earned the honor.”

  “Thank you, Aeron.”

  Opening the doors to the hallway filled with blood, death, and gore, Aeron glanced back at Armando and gave him a dashing smile. “Besides, one day the whole world will tremble at the mention of my name when I ascend to my rightful position and Vanora will be at my side. And what a glorious night that will be.” Signaling for Armando to follow, Aeron said, “Come! Let us celebrate!”

  Armando glanced at the photo of Vanora Aeron had left on a table. The sight of her smile filled him with self-loathing.

  What have I done, he thought.

  “Armando?”

  “Coming, Aeron.”

  Armando turned and followed his Master.

  * * *

  The story continues in book 2, Lost in the Night

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  Also by Rhiannon Frater

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