Vermilion Lies

by L. D. Rose

  A world she would have no place in if not for him.

  “. . . del,” a contralto called from an ocean away. “Cindel!” Slender fingers snapped in front of her nose, jolting her from her trance and yanking her back to reality.

  Lawan heaved a sigh as Cindel blinked, focusing her eyes while the car’s interior built back up around her. “Welcome back. Christ, I thought you were going to faint on me.”

  “Alek will kill him,” Cindel murmured, gritting her teeth to stop her chin from quivering, fighting the tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “He’ll do anything to hurt me.”

  “Not if there’s a chance he could gain Dax’s power,” Lawan countered as the car roared onto exit seventeen to New Rochelle, almost fishtailing around the sharp curve. “Like you did.”

  The revelation dawned on her, slowly at first, then intensified into a blinding glare of comprehension. “My God.” Cindel slapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t know what was worse, death or being at the mercy of the Devil of New York. “You’re right.”

  “Who knows if he will, though? We can’t assume anything at this point, we just have to find Dax, stat.”

  “Do you think you can find him?” Cindel sounded frenetic, even to her own ears, scared and uncertain.

  “Rome might be able to.” Lawan spared her a glance, hiding thousands of secrets within the shadows of her eyes. “But I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  The Charger pitched into darkness as they zipped through an underpass. The car’s high beams flicked on and Lawan picked up speed, as if she couldn’t wait to get out of there. Twilight opened up ahead, beckoning them forward, and she gunned the engine, accelerating faster.

  They both spotted them at the last minute.

  A figure stood in the street, male and dressed in an all too familiar battle uniform. He remained in a defensive stance but craned his neck as the headlights fell on him, exposing his pale skin, full mouth, and black eyes. Temhota. Cindel only had time for that single thought before a huge beast pounced from the side of the road, saber-like white fangs flashing from a ferocious maw as the feline mauled the vampire in front of them.

  “Fuck!” Lawan cried out and slammed on the brakes, cutting the wheel hard. Cindel yelped as the Charger spun, her seatbelt locking and securing her in place as the car whipped around violently. A snapshot of her accident with Dax popped before her eyes—the awful visage of his bloodied face and slumped form over the steering wheel—and her mind reeled as the car squealed to a halt without striking anything.

  Thank God.

  With her hand still clutching the grab handle, Cindel struggled to right herself, vertigo tilting her center of gravity. She gasped harshly, blinked rapidly, desperately trying to focus on anything past the tilt-a-whirl of her vision. Finally converging on the headlights, her gaze centered on two fallen figures in the brush, limbs flailing in what looked like a scuffle.

  The scene developed like a Polaroid before her eyes—the longer she stared, the more she discerned—and horror crawled over her skin like roaches as her mind finally made sense of what she was seeing.

  The vampire now lay motionless on the ground, his life soaking into the soil beneath him. The beast—a giant, dark blond feline—had the soldier’s throat between its jaws, chomping and crushing the male’s spine while blood spurted all over its pale fur. As if that weren’t enough, the creature’s massive claws raked into the vampire’s belly, eviscerating him for good measure.

  Cindel gaped at the gory scene beyond the car’s hood as the mountain lion raised its graceful head and roared, a feral, terrifying bellow of triumph. Then it leveled its chartreuse eyes at her, staring with its pinpoint pupils as it licked its bloody chops.

  Lawan muttered another curse, reminding Cindel of her presence, and the hybrid unlatched her seatbelt and kicked open the driver’s side door. Pulling a gun from her hip, she shouted, “Kaj, behind you!”

  The cat didn’t even move—it just vanished in a flurry of russet feathers before a raptor rocketed into the sky toward the full moon, narrowly missing a leaded assault. Bullets pelted into a nearby tree, chips of bark spraying everywhere and in all directions.

  What on earth—

  Lawan fired at a vampire crouched inside the tunnel, out of sight of the headlights. Cindel finally absorbed her surroundings, the Charger half-twisted off the road and facing the underpass. They were surrounded by bare forest, the tall, skeletal trees lifting their bud-lined bony limbs toward the starry sky.

  They were outside the Senary compound.

  Figures scattered in the thickets, phantoms whirring between trunks, all of them garbed in black, all appearing the same.

  All Temhota.

  Was this her fault? Had Rome been right? Did she bring their enemies home?

  “Get down, Cindy!” Lawan hollered, hanging out of the car door and continuing her firefight as more Temhota soldiers attacked them. Feeling helpless, Cindel started to comply when an enormous eagle swooped over the car, diving for the vampires. The raptor hurtled into the first, promptly gouging his eyes out as the male unleashed a blood-curdling shriek. The soldier dropped to his knees, his sockets all but crimson holes before he face-planted into a ditch.

  The second vampire suffered a similar fate, screaming with his arms thrashing as the bird’s knife-blade talons shredded his face. Once finished, the raptor hit the ground, transforming into the feline once again in an almost painful transition—its fine bones growing and snapping as fur flowed over feather. The beast’s momentum never faltered, however, darting into the woods for more blood.

  Lawan had called him Kaj.

  Kaj, the hybrid. Kaj, the shapeshifter.

  Lawan plopped back into the driver’s seat and reloaded her gun, removing the empty magazine and inserting a new one from her utility belt. Cindel inhaled sharply as slugs punched the windshield, stamping fist-sized welts into the glass, but it held true. Lawan didn’t even wince, as if she’d expected it, and she answered the question on Cindel’s shell-shocked face.

  “It’s bulletproof.” She racked the gun’s slide, handing Cindel the weapon. Cindel gawked at her, baffled and petrified.

  “Take it,” she urged, grabbing Cindel’s trembling hand and pushing the gun into her palm. “I’ve got to help them. They’re outnumbered.”

  Cindel tightened her grip on the weapon and nodded, swallowing nervously. The only time she’d held a gun was when she’d pointed it at Dax’s head not so long ago.

  Oh, how things have changed.

  “Just aim and pull the trigger. Lock the doors behind me and do not leave this car. I’ll be right back, promise.”

  Cindel hoped the hybrid spoke the truth, but she didn’t have time to express it before Lawan fled the car, slamming the door behind her. A muted, metallic shing rang in the night as she drew her kris sword from the sheath at her back, bolting past the trees and disappearing from sight. Several shadows chased her, loping after her like wild dogs.

  “Okay,” Cindel said out loud, her grip white-knuckled on the pistol. “You can do this. Just lock the doors and sit tight.”

  She looked at both doors, seeking the keypad that would seal the car shut. Opting for the driver’s side, she reached for the button with the printed lock on it, careful not to point the gun at herself. But before her finger brushed its smooth, raised surface, the back door wrenched open, sending in a gust of frigid air.

  And a muzzle hit the back of her skull, freezing her in place.

  “Ah, ah, cherie. Let it go.”

  His voice turned her blood into slush, her finger wavering over the lock. He climbed in the car, sitting behind her and leaving the backseat door open. She didn’t move an inch, her mind frantically skimming her options and every potential scenario, from ducking and training the gun on him to attempting a mad dash out o
f the Charger. But her marrow remained chilled, her muscles paralyzed as he shifted to the middle of the backseat.

  This wasn’t going to end well.

  “Sit up. Give me the gun.”

  She balled her outstretched hand into a fist, clutching the gun even tighter as she gnashed her teeth. “What have you done with Dax?”

  “Oh, your boy toy? Alek has him. And you and I both know he’s as good as fucking dead.”

  Her eyes burned because he was right. “Why are you doing this, Jacques?”

  “Sit up, Cindy.” He spat the nickname like it was repulsive, pushing the barrel harder against her scalp. “Give. Me. The gun. Slow,” he growled as she straightened in her seat, lifting her free hand.

  She hesitated a moment, just a few seconds, and he suddenly aimed the gun at the windshield and fired.

  She shrieked as the glass spidered, the sound tremendous within the confines of the car, her ears pealing like church bells. She could hardly hear him as he bellowed a muffled, “Now!” seemingly immune to the deafening tinnitus. Cindel placed Lawan’s gun on the armrest over the center console, raising both of her shaking hands in surrender, the garrote of defeat tying around her throat.

  She wasn’t sure if Jacques would kill her. Once upon a time, he wouldn’t have laid a hand on her. Now he was so unstable, nothing was certain.

  “Get out of the car,” he hissed in her ringing ear.

  “Jacques, no—”

  “Get the fuck out!”

  Her heart drummed on her ribcage, her breath shallow as the garrote constricted. The gun drew back slightly from her head, but still hovered in her hair, spreading goosebumps along her skin. She tugged on the door handle, noticing an identical lock button on the armrest, regretting she hadn’t pressed that one instead.

  Idiot. Maybe she would’ve had a fighting chance.

  The door disengaged, swinging open silently. The sounds of battle echoed in the night, gunfire, screams, and roars ricocheting all over the forest.

  Slowly, she clambered out of the car, and every move drained what little faith she had left of ever seeing Dax again.

  Jacques followed suit and she dared a look at him over her shoulder, her hands still lifted in renunciation. His face was a white mask of anger, his eyes smoldering like coals, and he snarled, leveling the gun at her again.

  “Turn around.”

  She tensed, pivoting forward as a whimper escaped her taut throat.

  And she hated herself for it.

  “Get on your knees.” He bent toward her, his blood-tinged breath rustling her hair. “You should be used to that by now.”

  She dropped to the cold earth, but the soil was soft, muddy, yielding to her weight. A sob swelled in her chest and she gulped it down, loathe to release it, refusing to let him hear her misery.

  Warm metal cinched around her wrist as he swung her arm behind her, grabbing both hands and cuffing her.

  “Cindy,” Lawan’s contralto shouted in the distance, bouncing off the trees, too far away, too late. “Run!”

  “Not this time, cherie.” Jacques’ boots shifted behind her as she sensed him raise an arm.

  Cindel braced herself, her eyes fluttering closed, her bloody tears striking the dirt as she exhaled a final, uneven breath.

  Freedom is nothing but an illusion.

  And the butt of the gun hit the back of her head, knocking her out in a brilliant flash of color as she tipped forward over the edge of oblivion.

  ~ ~ ~

  The pain was unbelievable.

  Dax nearly submerged beneath the murky seas of unconsciousness after a wave of agony crashed over him. Nausea pushed bile up his throat and he retched, his empty stomach churning with acid. The visceral motion sent more pain searing through him, the source of it at his upper back and shoulders, and he gradually became aware of his hands and feet dangling below him.

  He was suspended.

  His groggy eyes focused on the filthy concrete floor, measuring its distance from his boots in the dark—maybe a few feet away, maybe a few hundred. His chest had been stripped bare, smeared with dirt and blood, fresh streams of crimson trickling down his abs. Heavy gloves were strapped around his hands, locked tight like handcuffs, probably lined with tungsten to prevent him from using his trait. His head weighed like an engine block, and as he slowly lifted it, he absorbed the rusted metal beam above him, taking in the equally decrepit sliding wheel along the track. He didn’t see the hooks dangling from its base because they were buried in the sinews of his back, hanging him like pork in a slaughterhouse.

  Horror bloomed inside him, baleful and insidious, poisoning what little sense of reason he had left. Along the track, more hooks swung from their rickety wheels on the beam, shiny silver instruments of torture amid the decay. A few bodies hung in the distance; sagging, long-dead corpses, grimy bones revealed under withered rags. The stench inside the cavernous room was rank, burning in Dax’s nostrils and roiling his guts. Spoiled meat, rancid blood, an overwhelming aroma of rot and death he would never forget as long as he lived.

  If he lived to see the end of this.

  “They say the streets ran red with blood here years ago.” A low, nearby chuckle, the Russian lilt raising every hair on Dax’s body. “Humans butchering cattle, pigs, almost every livestock you can think of. Now look at them. They’re the animals, begging for their pathetic existence like the squealing hogs they’d slain.”

  Dax tried not to move in fear of eliciting more pain, his eyes frantically searching for Alek, his heart double-dutching in and out of rhythm. Then the sire stepped into his periphery, still wearing his battle uniform, a malicious smile on his lips, a very familiar KA-BAR spinning in his pale hand. He stopped flipping the black dagger, gripping the handle, regarding it with a tilt of his head.

  “Nice knife. You wouldn’t mind if I borrow it, would you?”

  Dax swallowed down the barrage of venomous words he’d intended to spew at the sire, the heat of anger only jacking up his erratic pulse and spilling his blood faster. Flinging insults would worsen the situation, and if he wanted to see daylight again, he had to stay alive.

  Although he had no doubt as to why he still breathed at this very moment.

  “You know what else this neighborhood was popular for?” Alek stalked toward him, circled him like a shark, his eyes like pits in his skull. “Drugs. Whores. Sounds like a vampire’s dream come true, doesn’t it? But I suppose you’re not so different, hybrid.”

  Dax kept up the silent treatment, hatred rapidly devouring the last few morsels of his civility. Alek halted in front of him and patted the blade against Dax’s pec, his nipple piercing rapping on carbon steel. “Did she like these? How about the metal in your face? The tattoos? Did she get a thrill out of them?”

  He abruptly slashed the knife across Dax’s chest, a shallow slice, and Dax bit back a yelp of pain, stiffening beneath the blow.

  “You half-breed mongrel,” Alek snarled, the muscles in his regal face contracting with barely-contained rage. “Did you enjoy fucking my wife? Marking her? Was she good, Dax? Was she worth it?”

  With every nasty word, he dragged the blade over Dax’s skin, carving into his torso like a slab of meat. Still, Dax didn’t scream, flinching and rocking under the assault, agony tearing into his back every time he tensed.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  Just as the rift of a blackout split open, Alek stepped back to admire his work, branding Dax like his very own boar. A thin spritz of blood peppered the sire’s face, only adding to the fury in his Hadean eyes.

  “You know what the ironic thing about this is, Knight?” Alek tapped the bloody blade against his lips in consideration. “I don’t even care about her. Sure, I loved her once, in the beginning, when I turned her inside a derelict nightclub in this very distric
t. Even though I molded her into exactly what I wanted—where she let me take and do anything I desired—I grew tired of her. Bored, really. She was always so delicate, letting her emotions rule her, feelings she shouldn’t have retained in the first place.” He shrugged ineloquently. “My mistake, I suppose, allowing her to preserve some of her humanity. But that’s the lure about her, isn’t it, hybrid? She’s too human, yet . . . not. Kind of like you.”

  The mercury in Dax’s internal thermometer skyrocketed and he could no longer keep his mouth shut, glaring at Alek with the promise of a long and brutal demise. “Fuck you, you parasite piece of shit.”

  Alek’s free hand lashed out as he ripped off one of Dax’s nipple piercings. Dax choked out a cry, unable to stifle it, pain exploding from the sensitive wound.

  Alek held up the bloody barbell like a prize, grinning malevolently. “Cindel was a rose in my court of thorns. And I couldn’t help but pluck her petals, every pretty frond, until I ruined her. She would blossom again, and I would whittle her down, then she would mend, and I would pick and pick and pick. It became a game to see how long she would last. It’s amazing what you can do to a creature that can tolerate so much.”

  Another flash of his hand, another burst of agony from Dax’s chest as he tore out the opposite barbell.

  Tossing them both in the air and catching them in his fist, the sire kept talking and pacing as if they were having a conversational stroll in the park. “And one day, well, she stopped growing. She wilted into a lifeless doll, glassy-eyed and hollow, and I thought I’d damaged her beyond repair. But now I know that little wench had been scheming against me and she’d managed to abscond. And I’ll find out exactly where she is, all thanks to you, Dax.”

  Dax breathed raggedly through the pain, and he’d almost missed what the sire prattled on about. “What?” he croaked as Alek’s words finally seeped into his fogged brain. A whiplash of anger cracked over him, briefly clearing the haze. “Over my dead fucking body.”