Vermilion Lies

by L. D. Rose

  Fear gripped him as his motor function returned, agony bellowing from every corner of his body. Struggling to prop himself up again, he tried to focus his bleary eyes in the tenebrous dark, ineffectually searching for a way out.

  Studded metal pillars lined the grimy tracks, both railways empty except for the skeletons of the vampires who’d been trapped down here during the demolitions. Arched wooden doorways stood along the tracks, an aluminum ladder ascending to a fuse box, but no matter what potential escape routes Dax noted, he couldn’t run, could he?

  Because his body was no longer his own, a horrifying nightmare come alive.

  Now he understood how Blaze must’ve felt. The sheer terror, the utter helplessness, the knowledge that he was going to be hauled to the brink of suffering and back without mercy or restraint.

  He was going to die down here in this steel and concrete tomb under the city he loved.

  And he would never see Cindy or his family again.

  Low, wicked laughter resounded against the walls, echoing around him, through him, shaking his broken bones.

  “Oh, Dax. What your wretched brother endured is nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you.”

  Then something heavy and metallic struck the back of Dax’s head.

  And the world went pitch black.

  ~ ~ ~

  Cindel was already halfway through A Game of Thrones when a loud knock rapped on the basement door.

  She frowned, pained to be taken away from such an epic story. These modern books were highly addictive and she hadn’t felt this enthralled in a very long time.

  Not to mention the pure villainy in this one.

  Slipping her fingers between the pages to save her spot, she rolled off the bed and padded toward the door. She’d chosen Dax’s gray sweatshirt and leggings to lounge around in for the rest of the evening since she wasn’t going anywhere.

  And she planned to work out again later—with hand wraps this time.

  Approaching the aged red door, she hesitated to grasp the shiny, silver knob. Was it real silver? Would it harm her?

  Thankfully, the knob turned instead as the door disengaged. Cindel stepped back, allowing it to swing open as Lawan peeked inside.

  The hybrid’s floral tattoo undulated as she lifted her brows in surprise. Her black hair was damp and swept back in a long, sleek curtain. “Hi. I didn’t realize you were standing there.”

  “That’s all right.” Cindel smiled, eyeing the concrete stairwell into the forbidden basement. Old, musty, and chock-full of ominous energy. “Thanks for knocking.”

  She didn’t mean it in an ill-intentioned way, but Lawan choked out a laugh. “Yeah, sorry about earlier.” The hybrid entered, shutting the door behind her, but not before her cat dashed by in a shadowy blur. “We’re not used to having guests and Oscar has a way of getting into places he doesn’t belong.”

  “It’s no bother.” Cindel subconsciously cowered in Lawan’s presence and she forced herself to straighten her shoulders and steel her brittle spine. “I’m not ashamed. Although I can’t speak for Dax.”

  The hybrid chuckled again, this time with a pleasant, deep feminine sound. “Dax is the definition of unashamed.”

  Cindel shifted her feet, tucking the thick book against her ribs as she folded her arms beneath her breasts. “He certainly blushed when you arrived.” Her words bore no spite or jealousy, just a stated fact.

  “That’s because he was embarrassed for you.” Lawan shook her head, a faint crinkle appearing between her dark eyes. “You know he’s my half-brother, right?”

  The admission struck Cindel out of nowhere, but she kept it off her face. That’s right. The Senary were all half-siblings, related only by the ‘monsters’ inside them.

  Shrugging ineloquently, she lifted the book. “Well, he likes A Game of Thrones. And incest seems perfectly acceptable in this story—”

  “Whoa, whoa.” The hybrid held up her hands, her every feature bright with humor. “We don’t do incest here, trust me.” Her gaze rested on the offending book. “It’s a great story, though, isn’t it?”

  Cindel glanced at the tome, brushing her thumb over the worn cover. “It is. They all are. I really enjoy modern literature.”

  Lawan considered her for a beat, her expression carefully neutral, slender hand gripping her cocked hip. She wore similar clothing, a navy long-sleeved tunic and tights. Cindel didn’t miss the dagger strapped to her waist, a menacing silver blade from a darker age. “You look like a Poe kind of girl.”

  Cindel’s heart stuttered. She loved Poe. “So do you.”

  “Nah.” The hybrid waved the notion away. “Too gothic. More like Sylvia Plath for me.”

  “I can see that.” Cindel couldn’t help but smile, glad to have uncovered this common ground between them.

  “Do you want me to start a fire for you?” Lawan motioned to the hearth. “It’s supposed to get pretty cold tonight. Not that it would bother you much, I guess.”

  Cindel nodded, a bit eagerly even. She didn’t know why, but she wanted the hybrid’s company, a female’s company. A friend. “I’d like that.”

  “Great.” Lawan spun on her heel and strode toward the fireplace.

  Cindel followed her, wrestling down a sudden wave of apprehension as she took a seat on the edge of the sofa. She could only guess as to why Lawan showed her any kindness at all, but she didn’t want to screw it up by saying or doing something wrong. Being around these dhampirs felt like walking on eggshells, their interactions so fragile she could easily break them by just being who—and what—she was.

  Opening the book, Cindel moved to dog-ear the page when a bookmark popped in front of her eyes. Looking up, she hadn’t even heard Lawan approach, holding the mark in her outstretched hand.

  The hybrid’s glossy lips twitched. “That’s a sin, you know.”

  Cindel accepted the bookmark, eyes a little wide, swallowing hard. “Sorry, I—”

  “It’s okay.” A casual shrug from the Knight. “You can keep it. I have a bunch I stole from the local library. Abandoned library, mind you.”

  Cindel examined the bookmark while Lawan went back to her fire building, loading split wood from a pile by the hearth. The mark read, “When I Think About Books, I Touch My Shelf,” with a heap of cartoon paperbacks on a shelf at the bottom. Laughter bubbled up inside her, escaping her lips before she could clap a hand over her mouth.

  Lawan tossed a grin over her shoulder, stuffing thin slivers of wood and paper between the logs. “Good one, huh?”

  “It’s true.” Cindel placed the bookmark between the pages and set the tome on the cushion beside her. Curling up near the arm of the loveseat, she watched the flames flare to life as Lawan lit the fire, the hearth blazing in no time.

  Pushing to her feet, Lawan raised her palms toward the heat, warming them. When she turned and plopped onto the nearby recliner, a cloud of dust billowed in the air. Scowling, she fanned the motes away and gathered her legs under her on the seat.

  “I need to clean this place up again.”

  “I’m more than happy to do it,” Cindel offered. “It’s the least I can do since you’re letting me stay.”

  Lawan eyed her briefly, tugging her sleeves down over her presumably cold hands. What was that saying again? Cold hands, warm heart. Firelight danced over her exotic features, a ballet of shadows pirouetting across her face. “Can I ask you a question?”

  Cindel nodded, bracing herself for the worst. Oscar leapt on the cushion beside her and she almost yelped. He sat up straight, peering at her with his gilded eyes, as if he too would be participating in this interrogation.

  “How did you know Jon belonged to Taylon?”

  A long-buried pain flashed like a knife blade in the hybrid’s eyes. Cindel tilted her head s
lightly. “Why do you ask?”

  “All connection between them had been erased, yet you knew Taylon was his sire. How?” She didn’t look away, the barrels of those eyes trained on Cindel.

  Cindel didn’t shy away either. “I knew him. Taylon. And Regin. Too well, I suppose. You don’t recover from men like that. They leave stains on everything, everyone they touch, like a taste or a scent. I can sense it in others because I recognize it. And Jon is very much tainted by Taylon.”

  Lawan’s throat worked and her look went distant, staring into a past Cindel couldn’t see. But it was an all too familiar path, a dark and treacherous route into memory, and Cindel imagined she looked the same when she thought of Alek.

  “So are you,” she murmured after a moment, when the hybrid’s aura dimmed to a deep plum. “You also wear his stigma.”

  Lawan’s gaze dropped to the floor, as if Cindel had slighted her, and regret constricted her chest. She didn’t want to conjure up either one of their memories, since their traumas were clearly still too great.

  Maybe they should talk about books again.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry—”

  “How did you get away from him?” Lawan asked, eyes still burning holes into the hardwood. “Alek?”

  Cindel’s chest squeezed even tighter. “Taylon. Taylon helped me run away.”

  Time to break the ties that bind.

  “How?” The word was harsh, maybe harsher than she’d intended, but the hybrid didn’t move an inch, rigid as a statue on the recliner.

  “He severed my bond with Alek. I’m not sure why or how, but when I awoke in an alley, stripped of my sire’s psychic chains, I knew I was free of him. Alek would never be able to find me again. Taylon had liberated me of that. I didn’t ask for it, but he had a way of doing what he wanted, taking what he needed, even if he defied Alek.”

  “Only a born vampire has that kind of power.” Lawan’s voice amplified, a gradual crescendo, a rising accusation.

  “Yes, but the Gemini were different. You know it. I know it. Alek knew it. They didn’t belong to him, but another far more powerful strigoi. He never acknowledged it, but it showed. The Ramsdens were a real threat, but instead of banishing them, Alek embraced them. Keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say, and he abided by that. Alek let them wreak havoc in exchange for their loyalty, and it worked, at least for a while. Until you tore them apart.”

  Lawan didn’t balk. “And you’re grateful for it?” Her eyes slid back to Cindel, flames igniting in their depths. “For them?”

  “Taylon? Yes.” She wouldn’t lie anymore. Sure, she traded one hell in for another, but she found Dax in the process, an avenging angel in a world full of demons. “He and Regin were identical twins, but they were very different monsters. Don’t mistake me, I’m glad they’re dead. Although the stigma Taylon inflicted on me is both a blessing and a curse, I’ll bear it knowing he no longer walks this earth.” Cindel shuddered at the mere thought of either Ramsden alive. “I wish I could say the same for Alek.”

  “You and me both,” Lawan replied, studying her with a new kind of fascination. As if she’d impressed the hybrid somehow. “Why did you leave him? Alek?”

  The expression on her face must’ve revealed enough, because Lawan backtracked and added, “Never mind. I think I get the picture.”

  “Picture the worst and you’ll be close enough.”

  “I’m sure.” Lawan leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together. “I’m surprised you’ve lived this long.”

  “If a rabbit knows how to hide in plain sight, then it’ll survive, won’t it? Just stay still, don’t blink, keep quiet so no one notices. The real question lies in whether it’s worth the risk of forsaking what’s comfortable, what’s familiar. And frankly, it hadn’t been until I ended up on that yacht.” She managed a smile, remembering when Dax strode onto the top deck, bloodied and savage and absolutely gorgeous. “Now I have hope. And I haven’t felt her touch in many, many years.”

  Lawan let out a strangled laugh. “Hope is a ruthless bitch who loves to torture us all.”

  “But she’s the only thing stronger than fear.” Cindel glanced at her lap, realized her hands were wringing each other, and forced them to stop. “And I choose to feel something rather than nothing at all.”

  Silence descended over them, expanding until it was cosmic, and when Cindel looked up, Lawan was still staring at her, the delicate muscles in the hybrid’s jaw ticking away. Cindel hoped she hadn’t hit a nerve or upset her somehow, but it was the truth.

  From now on, it would be nothing but the truth.

  “You should dye your hair back,” Lawan said suddenly, the suggestion coming out of the blue. “Black doesn’t suit you. Nor does hiding.”

  Cindel’s lips parted and she blinked once, twice. Her voice deserted her, words lodging like glass in her throat. She self-consciously pushed a hand through her hair, pulling the raven strands far enough to see. She missed her red mane dearly and would do almost anything to have it back.

  To be herself again. Or at least find herself again. Her old self, her human self.

  Lawan stood, wiping her hands on her tights as if her palms had been sweating. “I tried the whole hiding thing.” She moved to stoke the fire. “It doesn’t work. And this inevitably short, chaotic life is much better without it.”

  Without warning, a rock song blared, resonating from her phone on the recliner’s armrest. Holding a tong in her hand, Lawan grabbed the device, grinning as if she knew the caller by the sound.

  “Hey, love,” she answered, her mood noticeably elevated.

  Cindel smiled.

  Jon.

  But as he spoke into the hybrid’s ear, her happiness disappeared, veering straight into the jagged terrain of panic. Lawan’s brows knitted and her jaw went loose, her aura pulsing with bright violet plumes of anger and fear, so intense it drove Cindel to her feet.

  Something was wrong.

  “Okay, okay,” Lawan fought to respond, her contralto wavering, “we’ll be there ASAP.”

  Leave now! Jon roared over the line, but Cindel heard enough, every last painful word punching like a fist to her gut.

  And when Lawan drew the phone away, Cindel gaped at her, horrified, the blade of terror sinking between her ribs and separating her spine. She crumpled to her hands and knees on the dusty hardwood floor, no longer able to hold herself up.

  Dax was in trouble. In grave danger.

  He’s going to kill him.

  Lawan gripped her by the arm, hauling her upright, unwilling to let her break down. Cindel gasped desperately, unable to breathe, the oxygen sucked from her lungs as she clung to the hybrid like a lifeline, struggling to keep from hurdling off the cliff of hysteria.

  With a hard shake, Lawan leveled those sable eyes with hers, her beautiful face carved with rage and determination, masking the fear in her tremoring hands.

  “We’ll save him. I promise you, Cindy. We’ll save him and destroy them all.”

  TWENTY

  Lawan drove back to the Senary compound like a bat out of hell.

  After stalling and stopping a few times, the hybrid finally seemed to get a grip on the workings of the Charger as they raced away from the church. Now Cindel wondered if Lawan had ever driven before as she held on for dear life, the car blasting past intersections, swerving onto side streets, and screeching its way through Brooklyn.

  Lawan’s anxiety was palpable, droning in the tense air between them, fueling Cindel’s fears like gasoline on a fire. As soon as the hybrid received that dire phone call from Jon, she’d practically thrown Cindel in the car, leaving everything behind.

  At first, Cindel didn’t ask any questions, just doing as told. But as Lawan’s panic heightened, she couldn’t
repress her worry any longer, ultimately breaking their strained silence.

  “Alek has Dax, doesn’t he? He found them.”

  The hybrid floored it to I-678 N, the car bucking as she shifted the center lever. Cursing vehemently, she smacked her hand on the steering wheel, blaring the horn, but she somehow regained control of the car. “Fuck, I hate stick shifts!”

  “Lawan,” Cindel said, her voice quavering. “Please.”

  The hybrid kept her eyes fixed on the road, her jaw clenching and her floral tattoo undulating. “Yes. He’s gone.”

  “Gone?” Dread weighed in Cindel’s stomach like a cold brick. “What do you mean gone?”

  “Both he and Jon were overrun during their sweep of the Bowery. Jon got knocked out, and when he woke up, Dax was gone.” Now Lawan’s voice shook, unable to quell her own fear for her brother. “It was Alek. We haven’t seen him in years, but Jon’s positive it was him. No one could’ve pulled off what he did.”

  The hybrid’s throat worked, the engine revving under her foot, as if just the thought of what happened urged her to speed faster. “I don’t know the details, but Rome, Jon, and Blaze are searching for him now. Jon told me to leave and take you with me, since he thinks you’re next.”

  Cindel’s vision tunneled as the world folded away, terror squeezing her heart so hard it threatened to smash it to pieces. Right before he’d left, Dax had cradled her face in his hands, smiling down at her, his beautiful eyes so warm, so blue as he kissed her tenderly.

  When I get back you’ll have me all to yourself for the next few days. Promise.

  What would she do without him? She couldn’t survive, wouldn’t survive. In just the narrow space of a few weeks, he’d become her savior, her hope, her only light in this cruel, dark world of gods and monsters.