Lost Secret

by Emily Reed

  I swallowed down bile. Dimitri then held up the head with its animated features. "The brain," he said. "You must pierce the brain." I stared at the head. "Darling," Dimitri said, his voice low. "Kill it." I looked up at him. He smiled at me encouragingly. "You can do it," he said with a nod. I didn't move. Dimitri frowned.

  "With what?" I asked.

  "There is a knife in the glove box."

  I put the violin down at my feet and reached back into the car. A hunting knife sat where you'd expect to find registration papers. Its blade was curved, the handle black and indented with finger grips. I turned back to Dimitri, holding the knife, my fingers relaxed, the way my father taught me.

  "You don't need to worry about me," I told Dimitri.

  "Let's see you kill this thing, then."

  The head in his hand clapped its teeth together. Sirens wailed in the distance. I turned toward the sound but saw only smoke billowing from behind us. "Darling," Dimitri said, and I felt his will upon me, like a warm blanket wrapping around me. "Kill it," he said, his voice harsher than before, his fangs distending slightly. “It’s not a person anymore. Whatever was human about it is gone.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, knowing he told the truth but uncomfortable driving a knife into an animated head. Call me crazy, but that just seemed wrong.

  Dimitri stepped closer, dropping the rotting heart onto the ground and holding the decapitated head up in front of me. Its lips, at least what remained of them, pulled back from its teeth as it tried to reach me. "This thing will kill you."

  "Take me home." I put a note of pleading into my voice. "I need to think. I'm confused by what is happening; I'm sorry." I could feel him trying to enter me, his mind probing and hungry for control.

  Dimitri smiled. "You don't control me, girl," he said, dropping the head and crushing it under his foot, without taking his pale blue eyes off of mine.

  He pulled a packet of wet wipes from inside his jacket pocket and cleaned his hands. This man is prepared for the zombie apocalypse. Who knew wet wipes would be so useful? “What are you?” he asked, hands cleaned, wipe dropped carelessly onto the ground. Littering was the least of the world’s problems.

  He growled. And suddenly his hands held either side of my face, my back pressed up against the car. His fangs descended. "What are you doing to me? I must kiss you." His eyes narrowed. "I have not felt for so long…what are you?" he hissed, his pupils large and black.

  A scream tore through the air. It was coming from a three-story brick building, its balconies filled with blooming flowers that didn't seem to know the world was ending. "Help!" a woman sobbed.

  "We have to help her," I said to Dimitri. His gaze did not shift, just continued to stare at me. Almost like he was mesmerized. "Please.” The scream grew louder, more desperate. I brought my hand up and wrapped it around his wrist.

  He grunted, bent down, and picked up my violin, then gripped me roughly around the waist, crouching before launching us up onto the balcony. We landed lightly on the far side of the plants. I slid down his body, slowly, like he was taking his time letting me go.

  Long white curtains shrouded the interior, but another scream urged me forward. Dimitri held me back. "Wait here." He placed my violin on the ground.

  "I'm trained in first aid," I answered.

  "Stay.” His voice rooted me to the floor. Dimitri blurred through the curtains, leaving them lifted in his wake. Before they fell back into place I saw a young boy, maybe seven or eight, curled behind a couch, his hands over his ears, eyes squeezed shut, tears running down his face.

  I fought to take a step but my feet would not budge from the balcony's wood floor. Dimitri’s influence grounded me to the spot. Another scream—short and desperate.

  I closed my eyes and found the tendrils of power Dimitri used to hold me in place. Taking a deep breath, I plucked at them with my mind. My feet came loose and I stumbled forward, reaching out for the curtains to catch myself.

  I grabbed at the cloth but instead of stopping my fall, the whole fixture ripped out of the wall, bringing the bar and both curtains down on top of me as I fell into the apartment. Here I come to save the day!

  I hit the floor wrapped up in the cloth. Strong hands lifted me, all the spots where I'd fallen no longer hurting. The curtain disappeared, and Dimitri stood over me. "You are okay," he told me. I nodded, agreeing. "Sorry that you fell. That shouldn’t have been possible.”

  “I’m fine.” I tried to disentangle myself from him, not wanting to admit what I’d done. He let go of me reluctantly and I stepped around him to where the boy rocked back and forth, his eyes still squeezed shut, hands over his ears. I crouched down in front of him and placed a hand gently on his forearm. He flinched and turned away without opening his eyes.

  Dimitri came up behind me, and I could see his cloud of influence envelop the child. He dropped his hands looking up at Dimitri with red-rimmed eyes. "Boy, are you bitten?" Dimitri asked him. He shook his head. "Good," Dimitri said. "You will live for now then."

  "What about my mom and dad?" he asked, his voice high but calm.

  "Your father is dead."

  "My mother?"

  Dimitri turned back into the room and asked. "Are you bit?"

  I looked over the top of the couch. A woman leaned against the wall, her jeans and T-shirt spattered in blood, her hair half in a ponytail and half out. Next to her lay the headless body of a man. She looked up at Dimitri. "Yes," she answered, her voice vibrating with shock.

  Dimitri turned back to the boy. "If I do not kill her now, she will become a zombie, just like your father did."

  "No!" The boy said, standing up, reaching his hands out, pleading with the vampire. "I want her to live."

  "Not possible."

  "Dimitri," I said. "Can't something be done? Shouldn't we take her to the hospital?"

  "They would shoot her. The army is there. Crescent City is under martial law. They are trying to save the world, Darling. This woman's life means nothing to them." He looked down at me. It meant nothing to him, too.

  “Can you turn her into a vampire?” I asked.

  He stepped back as if I’d slapped him. “No.” His voice came out flat—past anger to something else.

  “Why not?” I pushed.

  “You do not know what you ask.”

  "There is nothing we can do?"

  “We can offer her mercy, Darling. Killing her before she becomes a zombie is mercy." Dimitri cocked his head and listened. "We must go."

  In a flash he was across the room, his hands on the woman's head, and then a crack. He dropped her, and she slumped on the ground. Then he was back at my side. "Come," he said.

  "What about him?" I asked, my voice high with panic.

  Dimitri leaned down to the boy. "Men in uniforms are coming," he said. “Tell them that you have not been bitten. They will care for you." He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Your parents loved you. They want you to live. Be brave, boy.”

  Dimitri's arm wrapped around my waist, and he pressed me against his body. “Wait,” I said, everything moving too fast. “We can’t just leave him!” Dimitri stepped out onto the balcony and looked down.

  I followed his gaze. Dark green trucks with white stenciled writing drove down the block, heading toward the blockade of cars that had stopped us. Behind them smoke continued to grow thicker, the smell a horrible mix of building materials, chemicals, plastic, and something…almost like barbecue. Dear God, that smell was people. I was smelling people burning.

  Dimitri tightened his grip, snatched up my violin then jumped, landing us on the roof. He hooked his arm under my knees so that he held me like a child.

  Dimitri took off in the direction of my house. He ran so fast that I had to turn my face into his chest to keep the wind from blinding me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dimitri glanced over the edge of the roof and I followed his gaze seeing my balcony below. There were no cars in the streets, no green trucks. "They are doing
door-to-door searches," he said. "They have cleared your building already. You will be relatively safe here as long as you don't let anyone in."

  He leaped down onto my balcony, landing in a crouch. "Do you have food and fresh water?" he asked as he let me down.

  I took my violin from him, nodding. "Thanks for bringing me home," I said, opening my door.

  "Will you invite me in?" he asked.

  "Do you need an invitation?" I leaned against the door jamb, watching him. Was it true vampires could not enter your house unless they were invited?

  "It is considered polite to wait for one." His voice was soft, the white mist of his influence swirling around us both, brushing up against me, feathering over my hair and skin, soothing away any anxieties.

  "I need to think without you controlling me,” I sighed.

  "I understand.” He stepped closer to me. “But, Darling, I don’t need an invitation to influence you. I could do it from across the world." He closed the distance between us, the fog of his aura pushing into my apartment as his fangs began to descend.

  Desire spiraled up from the hot red center of me.

  His eyes lit, and he growled, "Invite me in."

  "Please come in.”

  Dimitri stepped through the open door, pushing me into the apartment and closed it behind him. He took my violin from me, placing it on the floor then wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips against mine. Lifting me, he carried me to the couch.

  “I will drink from you.” He kissed down my chin. I leaned back, and he nipped gently where Megan had bitten me. A shiver ran through my body.

  "I don't think so," I said, my voice sounding unsure and confused. My breath was shallow, body vibrating. "You shouldn’t use your influence to convince me to give you my blood,” I said.

  “I’m not,” he said against my skin, his hands roaming over my body. "I think you are influencing me." He grew still.

  "What?" I asked.

  He raised his head, looking at me. "That is impossible," he said. "It...you. Are you a witch?"

  I laughed. The look on his face was priceless—Dimitri, strong, ancient, cocky, predator Dimitri, all confused and adorable. “A witch? No.” I shook my head. “I’m just a fiddle player."

  His eyes narrowed, sparking hot blue. “No, you are much more than that." He stood and walked away from me. "I don't understand." He glanced back, as if he didn’t have a choice, as if the red rock of heat at my center drew him. “How is this possible?"

  "What?" I sat up, wanting the weight of him back on me. He bit his lip. "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "You cannot stay here." He shook his head. "It is far too dangerous. Brad was wrong to let you return.”

  "Unless he wants me to die," I said.

  Dimitri shook his head. "No, you are of his blood. He wants you to turn."

  "Why?"

  "The more of your blood that is turned, the more powerful you are."

  "So why don't they just use their influence and turn me without my consent?"

  "You would not be a very good vampire then. Those who do not want to turn often die in the process. You must want eternal life, be willing to give things up for it." Dimitri looked up then. He sniffed the air. "Emmanuel," he said, his voice strange. There was an emotion in his tone I could not discern.

  "What? How do you know Emmanuel?”

  "He is coming,” Dimitri said, ignoring my question. Right, because he was following me—that’s how he knows my bassist.

  Dimitri blurred out onto the balcony, and I followed him. Emmanuel's rusted red truck pulled over in front of my building. I ran back toward the front door. Dimitri followed, and as I reached for the knob, my body froze in place. "He is bitten," Dimitri said. "You cannot let him in."

  "Let go of me!" I struggled against the force that held me—thick, white cords of power wrapped around my arms and legs, tethering me to Dimitri.

  "Stop fighting me," he said.

  "I want—" I began but Dimitri sucked my will from me. I saw it leave like a cloud of dust punched from a long abandoned pillow. I slumped against the binds that held me, the white tentacles wrapping around me like vines. If he releases me now, I'll crumple to the floor.

  That lack of will, the complete loss of all I'd wanted the moment ago, brought tears to my eyes. A deep hopelessness seeped into my bones.

  "Darling!" Emmanuel knocked at my door, his voice strained. Dimitri moved my body forward, placing my eye so that I could see out the peephole. See, I heard Dimitri's voice inside my head. He is gone. Emmanuel, his curls damp with sweat, brown eyes strained with pain, his neck…his beautiful neck, badly mauled.

  He coughed violently, and blood hit the eye of my peephole, leaving it dark. If you let him in, he'll kill you.

  "Darling, please. We need to talk.”

  "I can't," I heard myself say. "You've been bitten."

  Emmanuel banged on the door. "Please trust me," he said. He coughed again, and I heard him lean his weight against the door. "I'll come back," he wheezed. "Don't leave. Stay here. I'll come back for you."

  His footsteps stumbled away. Dimitri released me, the slick white vines of his mind uncurling. My will vacuumed back into me. I ran to my balcony, watching the empty street below.

  Dimitri came to stand next to me. He laid his hand on my back, a warm, calming balm. Emmanuel fell out the door, stumbled off the sidewalk and landed in the street, his whole body violently shaking. "He's seizing," I said.

  "The final stage before he turns," Dimitri answered.

  I can’t help in any way. My heart thudded in my chest.

  It was agonizing minutes before Emmanuel stopped shaking. He slowly climbed to his feet. His head swiveled, first looking one way then the other. He started off to the south, toward the fire, his steps no longer human, his gait the shuffling and disjointed march of the dead.

  "Have you been with him?" Dimitri asked. I didn't answer, just watched Emmanuel's stilted walk. "Answer me," Dimitri commanded.

  "We just kissed.” Melancholy weighed down my words so that I whispered.

  "You are his?" Dimitri asked, his voice soft.

  I shook my head. I am no one’s.

  Dimitri straightened, his hand leaving my back. “Brad commanded that I leave you here, and so I will. But in twenty-four hours I will be back." He turned me to him and caressed my cheek. I leaned into his touch, the warm mist of his influence petting me. Dimitri’s eyes flashed gray for a second before he turned away.

  Jumping off my balcony, he blurred from sight. With him went his influence, and for the first time since seeing Megan again, my emotions were my own.

  I felt too much. A crippling tsunami of feelings wracked through me—grief, fear, rage. Clutching at the railing of my balcony, I fell to my knees. My fingers gave out and I collapsed, rolling into the fetal position.

  Sobs tore through me. I may never breathe again. Colors flashed behind my closed lids. I bit down on my lip, trying to pull myself back—searching for that girl who fought a wolf. Searching for my father’s daughter.

  He was real and so was she.

  I could almost hear my father's voice. "What do we do when we fall down, Darling?"

  "We get back up," I ground out through the sobs, fighting the spasms, concentrating on evening my breathing. It was real, I knew that now. All my memories of him. Of the life we'd shared. All the things that for years, for years, I'd tried to forget, ignore, and deny, had been let loose.

  I remembered my father’s voice. And it urged me on.

  Using the railing, I pulled myself up and swiped at my face, wiping away the tears.

  It was all quiet below, the street usually packed with musicians, tourists and locals lay deathly still in night. Not even the stray cats prowled.

  I stood there, gaining control of myself, finding that red glowing center and listening to my heartbeat. I was alive. And I planned to stay that way.

  Walking back into the apartment, I closed and locked the balcony doors behind me.
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  A note waited on the refrigerator. Written in neat black handwriting, it read:

  Dear Darling,

  I hope that you receive this letter. Please try to call me. Phones will probably be out soon, but it's worth a try. If you cannot reach me by phone, please try me at the hospital. If the hospital has fallen, go to 67 Adam's Way. They can help you. Explain that I sent you.

  It is vitally important that you reach me, Darling. Try to find me. Use your strength.

  I have information about your father, but more importantly, I think that you can save the world.

  Dr. Issa Tor

  Save the world my ass.

  Dr. Issa Tor was as crazy as me.

  But I wasn’t so crazy.

  Leaving the note on the fridge, I went to my closet and pulled out my suitcase and a rack of shoes to get to the back panel. I banged on the upper left-hand corner, and it popped open. Inside were two bows, one child-sized and the other meant for an adult.

  They'd been in that kitchen cabinet with me along with a leather quiver for my arrows that I’d worn on my back.

  I had clutched onto the smooth wood while the social worker told me my father was just a figment of my imagination, that my life up until the moment I met her was all just a "coping mechanism.” Then she informed me the bows belonged to the dead man in the apartment where they found me and that I had to give them up.

  Megan helped me get them back. We filed paperwork and made phone calls. Eventually, they were located, and my identity confirmed as the little girl found at that horrific scene. We paid for the shipping, and when they arrived in Crescent City, I put them in my closet—hid them away just like my memories, just like that red spark at the center of me. Megan bought arrows and tried to get me to teach her but I refused.

  Dr. Issa Tor had promised me information about my father, but I didn't need it. No one knew him like I did.

  I brought out my father's bow first. Used for hunting deer, it was armed with knife-tipped arrows, the kind that could strike straight to a deer's heart, or a zombie's brain, I figured.