Darkness Rises

by Michele Ryan

“Feel free to call me Emmitt,” he stated as he stepped from the dark shadows by the door. “Do you know the type of book you hold?”

  She glanced down at the ornate, gold laden book. “I believe it is the Book of the Dead.”

  “You are correct, but it’s not the only one. Most royalty or the elite of Egypt had scribes write one for their tombs. It was said the book was to be used as a manual on how to achieve and maintain a full afterlife. This one,” he lifted the book from her hands, “this book is rumored to have been done for Ramesses II.”

  “I had not realized his tomb had been located yet,” she replied while he placed the book back on the table with reverence.

  “Officially it has not.” He reached into his waistcoat and removed a handkerchief, which he then handed to her. “But we have a very good source who knew where to look.”

  Unsure why he offered his handkerchief, she took it and wiped at the dust on her hands.

  “It was for the blood on your lip and chin.” He motioned to her mouth. “Although, I suspect at this point it has dried and that will not be of any assistance.” He gave her a knowing look. “I suspect Jonah left it there for his own reasoning.”

  Slightly embarrassed to have him see evidence of the intimate moment between Jonah and herself on her lips. Annabelle pressed the white linen to her mouth. Licking at her lips, she tasted a hint of salty, metallic copper and Jonah. She couldn’t be the first woman Jonah brought home or made a blood oath with.

  “To my knowledge, Jonah has never brought another woman to this place,” Emmitt murmured.

  How had he known what she had been thinking?

  “You have a very expressive face.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps I am more adept at reading you than others.”

  She took a step away from the intimidating but soft-spoken man.

  “You have nothing to fear from me or any of us for that matter.” He walked around the table to the shelf located on the back wall. “Jonah feels your knowledge in vampires is lacking.” He reached up, pulling out a thin book from between two others.

  When had Jonah had time to speak with Emmitt? Had he not gone straight to rest after leaving her to explore?

  “He asked me to help with your education,” Emmitt proclaimed, when he stood in front of her. “This should help. Please be careful. It is our only copy now.” He held out his hand. A small, leather-bound book rested in his palm.

  “What is it?” she inquired as she took it.

  “Information on Vampires,” he answered. He leaned back on the desk, observing her.

  Schooling her features, she refused to allow him to see how surprised she was that he or Jonah would want to give her a book with knowledge on vampires.

  “Jonah penned it. Compiling folklore and then debunking it. He also believes the world needed a record of how to handle his kind.”

  At this distance, in this light, she could see the scars from where his head had been re-attached to his neck.

  “I am a hunter, capable of finding beings like Jonah and ridding the world of them. You understand this, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Then why give me a book which would only help me kill more of his kind?”

  “Jonah asked. He felt, perhaps, your knowledge was lacking,” he countered, smirking at her.

  “It is not lacking. I am well educated in how to kill monsters of any kind,” she snapped.

  “We are not monsters,” he corrected her. “You might get further with us if you stopped referring to us as such.”

  She snorted. “What would you call yourselves than?”

  “Not monsters. Monsters have no feelings, no thought or care to protect those of the world we live in.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “You consider yourself humans,” she whispered.

  “Monsters have no humanity. We have, thankfully, retained some of ours.

  She snorted. “You are aware Jonah murdered a female other night.”

  “I am. It was an accident, and you realize, humans are also capable of taking another person’s life. It was never his intent to take her life. The spell, which brought back those creatures and activated the ley lines, it affected him since he is, well…undead too.”

  “He is dangerous,” she stated the obvious.

  “We all are. Even you, Miss. Craig.”

  “People are not moving to the other side of the street to avoid me,” she hissed.

  “True. But given the correct circumstances, you are just as capable of taking a life as any one of us. I can assure you Jonah does not make a habit of going out to kill females. It is just not his way. It is none of our way.”

  Unsure what to say, she kept silent. Last week if she had run into Jonah on the street she wouldn’t have hesitated to remove him from this earth. Several hours ago, she allowed him to kiss her, to taste her blood. To say she was confused was an understatement.

  Emmitt was insightful and she suspected both his words and the offer of the book had an underlying message. She had to figure it out is all.

  “And what about you? Who are you, Emmitt?” she pondered out loud.

  “I am seven different people, Miss. Craig. I do not remember any of them; they make up me, but they are not me,” he responded, in truth.

  “Are you not curious?” She’d be if she were in his predicament.

  “Omer does not believe it would be ideal for me to remember. It is better that I make my own memories, become my own man.”

  “Good for Omer. How do you feel about it?” She dug a little deeper.

  “I agree with Omer. I don’t need to know. It doesn’t affect me either way.” His gaze flickered over her shoulder.

  He was lying. His entire body language changed. He crossed his arms over his chest and refused to meet her gaze. His open quietness disappeared.

  “Sometimes what we want and what happens are two different things. Understanding your past can only help your future.”

  He nodded, but she wondered if he only agreed because he did not want to continue the direction of their conversation.

  “Jonah informed us, going forward, you will be working with us to find those responsible for activating the lines and forming the zombie horde. Is there anything I can do to assist you while Jonah continues to rest?” he inquired, changing the subject.

  “I am well. When will he wake?” She rubbed her thumb over the leather spine of the book in her hand. She wavered back and forth between reading it or burning it, so no other person could ever have the information contained within.

  “Immediately after sunset. You are more than welcome to stay. He’ll seek you out when he rises.”

  She inclined her chin.

  “If you require anything to eat, simply head to the kitchen and one of the staff will prepare whatever you need.” He turned, heading to the door.

  “Emmitt,” she called out.

  He yielded and pivoted to face her. “Yes, Miss?”

  “I enjoyed our conversation. You provided me with some excellent insight to contemplate on.”

  He smiled. His features softened, making him appear friendlier, and less like a monster.

  “You are welcome, Miss. Craig,” he responded.

  “Annabelle,” she corrected with a smile.

  Aware she had plenty of time before seeing Jonah, she began to read through the book Emmitt had given her. She skimmed through the first few pages then stopped. Her thoughts continuously returned to the vampire who slept somewhere within the house. Though she tried several times to concentrate on his smooth penmanship, she read the same paragraph at least three times. Bloody hell, pay attention, girl. You’re acting like you don’t already know these things. What would Elijah think? That she’d lost her mind.

  Vampires were cold-hearted killers. They murdered humans without discrimination. And, like Emmitt said, humans had the same capacity of being just as evil and uncaring. She saw proof of it in black and white when she read the newspapers.

  Emmitt, unlike other super
natural beings, had been mild mannered, soft spoken and highly intelligent. Yet, if warranted, the gentle giant would defend himself and his team.

  To the death, if need be.

  The same could be said for Jonah. He was confident, powerful and determined. And if she was willing to be honest with herself, she desired him in a way she never experienced before. It conflicted her on many levels. Him being a vampire was the biggest obstacle in her mind.

  After being with him multiple times, he had yet to bite her, other than the nip on her lip. He could easily force himself on her. Compel her to comply or use her while in a haze of bloodlust.

  It confused her and taxed her already exhausted mind.

  Perhaps with some sleep, everything would become clearer and she’d gain some additional insight.

  I hope.

  Yawning, she rubbed at her eyes, which ached from lack of sleep. If she remained awake till Jonah rose, it would be more than twenty-four hours she’d foregone rest. It would make her a weak link and worthless, putting them all in danger if they hunted the horde.

  No, it was better she slept and recharged for the coming evening. First, she’d grab a snack from the kitchen, then she’d nap. In a few hours, Jonah would wake, and then the real work would begin.

  Chapter Eight

  Jonah arose with the setting sun. Somewhere within his home, Annabelle roamed. Already he could feel the barest whisper of her subconscious mind brushing against his. His cock swelled. He drew in a deep breath, hoping to catch a hint of her delectable scent—rosewater and lilies.

  “Evening, Mr. McRae,” Miss Jemmy murmured, approaching his bed. “I have word for you.”

  He sat up then patted the bed. “Tell me everything. Did you enjoy your day with Mr. Nealy?”

  She blushed. “Aye, I did. He is…wonderful. Most gracious and a true gentleman.”

  “Outstanding.” He grabbed the bottle of elixir and poured himself a glass. “And our guest?”

  “Miss Craig?”

  He nodded before downing the glass of synthetic blood.

  “Curious,” she whispered. “Are you sure she’s human?”

  Jonah laughed. “Of course.” If she’d been anything other than human, he’d have known the minute her sweet, tantalizing blood touched his tongue. Just the thought of the auspicious woman and her addictive nectar, drove him to the brink. What he wouldn’t do for another sample.

  “Mr. Enright enjoyed her company. He called her refined and cultured. She surprised him with her knowledge and her indecision.” She flattened out the pleats in her apron. “She questions your ability.”

  “You mean will I kill someone again?” He quirked a brow while tipping her chin up.

  Her gaze fell to the floor again. “Well, sir…”

  He sighed. “I have failed you.” His heart ached for the girl sitting in front of him. “I have given you a glimpse of who I was, instead of who I am. I’ve frightened you.” He frowned. He never meant to lose her trust. “I shall endeavor to regain your confidence.”

  Miss Jemmy closed the distance between them. The scent of rosemary and fresh baked bread assailed him. She peered up at him with pale green eyes, wonderment blazing in their depths. Each inch she closed between them became a test of sorts, he realized—how close she could get, before she’d gain a reaction from him.

  Stiff as a board, Jonah sat there. Nary a breath fell from him. The rapid beat of her heart filled his ears. The smell of excitement, fear and something subtle, less stressing, wafted from her. He wouldn’t move. He gave her exactly what she needed.

  Control.

  When her lips swiped over his, shock filled him. Delicate, almost too gentle for his liking, she lingered there for one heartbeat, then a second and a third. What seemed like a lifetime passed between them. Night into day. Day into night. Then, she was gone. She scurried from his room, closing the door behind her.

  Jonah raked his fingers through his hair, unable to process what happened. “Bloody hell.” He hadn’t meant snogging. For fuck’s sake. He smacked his hand against the mattress, before shoving out of bed. He should find her, and explain things didn’t happen the way she believed—between them.

  Why haven’t the blasted maids explained womanly affections to her? He paced. When he brought her into his home, he considered her his second chance to start anew. He hadn’t meant to be her father. He supposed he stepped into those shoes without care, however now, at the age of eighteen, things had gotten muddled. He had no one to blame but himself.

  The door opened moments later and Omer appeared. His shimmery silhouette floated near the entryway. “You’ve woke to an interesting conundrum.”

  “Do not remind me,” he replied, tightening his fist in his hair. “Why are you here?”

  “I felt Miss Jemmy’s fear and confusion.”

  Of course he did. “It’s nothing.”

  “You cannot lie to me.”

  “She kissed me.” He glanced at his old friend. The man who granted him rebirth.

  Omer stared at him unflinching. If he’d surprised the ancient, he didn’t show it. “Why?”

  “Why does any girl kiss a boy?” Jonah began to pace once more.

  “Affection.” His eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “Yes. Oh.” Jonah shook his head. “I didn’t ask for her advances. I promised to make up my indiscretion with her. Then, it happened.”

  “Are you sure the girl isn’t smitten with you?”

  “No, she prefers Lawson’s attentions,” he assured the ancient one.

  “She is a young woman, Jonah. Kissing a man is a new experience for her. I didn’t have my first dalliance until I ascended. The night of my wedding my wife was brought to my room and I was expected to perform.”

  Jonah cringed. “I don’t need to hear about you losing your virginity.”

  “Well, your loss. He was spectacular.” He gave a wistful sigh. “So was my wife.”

  Jonah groaned.

  Omer chuckled. “Perhaps one of the maids should speak with her later.”

  “I thought they would have already. She is eighteen, a woman. She should be finding her husband and settling down. Not caring for our home.”

  “Then we shall make it so. Until you have need of me.” The ancient one evaporated, leaving him to contemplate his next move.

  He dressed quickly. He’d meant to ask Miss Jemmy where he could find Miss Craig, but with their little faux pas, he doubted she’d make herself available to him. He’d start where he believed she’d have ventured to first, then try the bedrooms. Something, call it intuition, or a sixth sense, said she wouldn’t sleep in any of them though. The spaces, while empty, were too intimate for someone like Miss Craig.

  He half thought he’d find her sprawled on his foyer floor, sleeping. The spot with the least amount of emotional attachment. However, as he came to the bottom of the staircase, she wasn’t there. He checked the parlor first, then the dining room. Nothing. She’d successfully hidden herself within his home. Jonah reached out to her, allowing the tendrils of their connection to snap into place.

  Asleep.

  A simple part of him softened. Miss Craig had been comfortable in his home. She’d found peace within his walls. Took shelter there. Pride swelled within his chest. Now, if he could find her. Or, should he let her sleep? No, if something should happen and he didn’t wake her, or allow her to assist, she’d stake him.

  Hell, she might do it in jest.

  The door to the library opened and Emmitt stepped out into the entryway of the home. His neutral expression and tight frame, worried him. He stepped to his friend who covered his mouth with a finger.

  “She is still sleeping. Foolish girl decided to read the most complex of texts.” Emmitt shook his head. “I gave her your journal expecting her to have found her treasure. Instead, she read everything about you, Omer and…me.”

  Jonah quirked a brow. “You?”

  “Aye,” he answered. “She is convinced I should have my memories. To be wh
ole I must find out who I am.”

  “Bloody hell,” he whispered. “She is a confounding thing.”

  “She is. I like her though. She has a kind soul and a good, righteous heart.” Mr. Enright patted his shoulder. “She will make a spectacular Beloved for you.”

  “Until she finds out what Miss Jemmy did,” he muttered.

  “Oh? What has the girl done?”

  They strolled over to the parlor. Jonah didn’t want to wake her just yet. A few more moments would do his Beloved well. He grabbed two glasses off the sideboard, and poured Emmitt a drink. “Miss Jemmy kissed me.” He handed the tumbler to his friend.

  “Truly?”

  He nodded, pouring himself a splash of brandy. “I haven’t a clue what the girl was thinking. Other than a test of resilience. How far could she push me before I struck? I must say, her blood does tempt a man of my ilk, but I have never wanted to endanger her in such ways, nor have I thought of her for a dalliance.”

  “Mr. Nealy is smitten with her as she, with him.”

  “I concur,” he replied. “Yet, she still took liberties.”

  “Did she say anything?” Emmitt finished his drink and placed the crystal tumbler on the table in front of him.

  “No, she ran off, completely stunned and embarrassed.”

  “A first kiss.” His friend grinned.

  “Oh shut it,” he chided. “It should have been with Lawson.”

  “I don’t have an explanation, Jonah.”

  Nor did he. “It’s neither here nor there. I promised Miss Craig we’d speak when I rose. I will keep my word.” He stood. “Will you be out tonight?”

  Emmitt nodded.

  “Then I will speak with you later.” He patted Emmitt’s shoulder while walking out of the room. Miss Craig lay within the library, no doubt resting her head on the table, surrounded by books.

  He cracked the door open as quietly as he could without waking her. She didn’t sit at the table as he suspected though. The room boasted one large bay window with a bench seat. There she lay, an open book on her chest, her hands folded over it. When he took a step closer, he noticed the leather-bound journal tucked under her shoulder.

  Before jostling her from sleep, he added kindling to the fire to warm up the space. No sense in her waking to a cold chill. He then sat down beside her. For long moments, he stared at her. Watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. He traced the contours of her features with his gaze. The swell of her breasts, pushed up by her leather corset. The striped shirt and brown trousers she wore fit her personality. He didn’t see her as a frilly dress lady. No lace or ribbons for her. She preferred functionality to propriety. He enjoyed the way her slacks allowed him to visually feast on her bum.