Crimson Night (Night Series Book 1) Page 6

  What it does mean is that eight out of ten times light will choose good over wrong. Helping over hurting. We are not to harm light; she isn’t ours for the taking. The shadows knew that.

  She cocked her head, staring out into the darkness as if searching for that mysterious presence. I doubted she had a clue how close the shadows were. They’d stopped moving and were crouched low, hidden to all but those who knew where to look.

  She shook her head and laughed with one of those don’t-be-ridiculous-there’s-nothing-out-there sounds.

  Don’t move. I wanted to scream it at her, but it was too late. She stepped away from the group, and the shadows snapped her up. No one noticed, or if they did, they thought it was some crazy prank. The shadows loped off into the veil of darkness beyond.

  I had one of two choices. Follow or stay.

  I growled. “Stupid conscience.” There was no choice.

  I ran at a somewhat-fast pace, enough to keep the shadowed shapes in view but slow enough to not draw attention to myself. Expecting to bump into Billy at some point tonight, I was a veritable weapons cache. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he was through with me. Priests are like bloodhounds; once they’ve got your scent, the pursuit is relentless.

  His behavior was unusual, not only leaving me the way he did, but not showing up tonight, all of which made him unpredictable and more dangerous. I’d have to keep alert. Last night Billy had gotten the jump on me, but I was no damsel in distress. I wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.

  Why then was I running after a pack of baddies, alone and in the middle of the night? Didn’t that scream TSTL? Have you ever lived to be five thousand years old? Do you have any clue how long that actually is? I’m not saying I wanted to die, but I didn’t fear death either. If it happened, it happened. I wasn’t gonna stop living because a death priest thought I should. Screw him and anybody else who felt that way. I was created; therefore I was entitled to live. That’s all I have to say about that.

  I passed the Tilt-a-Whirl, glancing at the ride, hoping to spot Vyxyn, but she wasn’t there.

  The shadows were getting away from me. Separating, one moving straight, the other to the left, the last to the right. I had no idea who had the girl.

  I really hated when killers got smart. So annoying.

  It was a one-in-three chance; I followed door number three and veered to my right, keeping tucked within the safety of the trees.

  The shadow was passing furtive glances over its shoulder. I still couldn’t make out what type of parasite this was. It was clothed in a long midnight-blue robe-cowl combo. If I had to make a guess: vamp. Seemed like the type of thing the stylistic pompous idiots would get a kick out of.

  And if it was a vamp, then this was worrying. Why were they getting so bold?

  I didn’t dematerialize to follow. The sulfuric smell would have been a dead giveaway, and stealth was key. I hugged the trees, moving only when he did, slipping between branches with the swift grace of a wraith on the hunt.

  The night was still, cold, as if the world held its collective breath.

  Shadow paused, glanced around, and then began a nonsensical path of distraction. Going left, right, in circles, turning around and backtracking, doing it so many times even I began to feel disoriented. This same pattern followed for at least a mile or two.

  What in the world?

  I knew what it was doing. Creating a false trail. That way, if anyone came to investigate they’d see a bunch of shambling, aimless prints and nothing more. Since when had the vamps gotten this organized?

  Believe it or not, they’re generally loners. You don’t typically find one with another. To see them moving as one, working and hunting together, was troubling.

  I narrowed my eyes; two other shapes joined my shadow, presumably the same ones from before. I didn’t see the girl.

  That couldn’t be good.

  They walked a bit farther, then stepped into a clearing with a large bonfire. Orange and yellow flames licked at the night. The wood crackled, spitting out glowing pieces of cinder.

  I kept myself tucked in the gloom and silhouette of the trees, studying the layout, gathering Intel the best I could.

  I scanned the field, the trees, and saw no one else. Whatever this was, it only involved the three before me.

  One of the bodies pulled back the cowl. It was a woman, a springy mass of red curls bobbing around her head in the strong breeze that had suddenly kicked up out of nowhere. White eyes with cat irises studied the other two figures before her.

  What a load of garbage those eyes were. Obviously contacts. Vamps loved to play up to the mythos. Truth was when you turned nothing changed. If you were fat before, you’d be fat now. If you had blue eyes, green, brown, didn’t matter. Nothing changed.

  I know I said if you asked for beauty you’d turn vamp, but just because you ask for something doesn’t mean you’re gonna get it. At least not the way you’d expect it. Demons take perverse pleasure in twisting the truth, but we always keep our word. If we tell you you’ll attract hordes of women, you will. It might not be because you’ve turned into Fabio with the long billowy hair but because you’ve grown puss ridden from head to toe. But hey... you’re attracting hordes of women, right?

  She said something, but the wind carried the words away before I could make them out. Then one of the figures nodded and walked back into the woods.

  I leaned over, pulled up the hem of my leather pants, and reached into my boot, grabbing a switchblade I had tucked inside.

  A small scurrying sound grabbed my attention. My heart thudded. I snapped the blade open, metal glinting like blue steel in the moonlight. I looked up, staring hard at the branches above me, and spotted a squirrel.

  “Stupid animal.” I turned back toward the makeshift camp.

  The other vamp had thrown his hood back. A graying man, balding, maybe in his mid to late thirties, but looks could be deceiving. The only true way to tell a vamp’s age was by the iris. Somewhere around the hundred year mark, the iris begins to turn a shade of red, the hue growing deeper and richer with age.

  He and the women were placing large flat stones before the fire, almost like an altar. What was this?

  This was occult stuff, not vamp. Vamps were more the drink-’em-and-kill-’em type.

  I didn’t have to wait long to find out what was going on.

  The third vamp returned, towing the limp body of the girl. Her head flopped and her feet dragged. It was clear she was unconscious, maybe even comatose if the smashed-in nose, distorted face, and sliced bottom lip had anything to say about it.

  The three grabbed the girl and placed her on the altar. One had her by the ankles, another by the wrists, the redhead then walked around to the side of the girl and shucked off her robe. She was nude save for a kopis she had belted at her waist—a wicked knife with at least a fifteen-inch-blade and curved at the center.

  Clearly the redhead was the leader, which meant if she went down the others would likely flee. I’d kill her first.

  I stretched my senses, trying to feel that shiver of paras. Trying to make certain what I saw in front of me was all there was. I frowned. I felt the shiver all right, but my gut told me something was off. I didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t have time to dwell on it longer. I just hoped whatever it was didn’t come back and bite me in the ass later.

  The redhead grabbed the blade and held it high, the stance dramatic and theatrical.

  The girl groaned.

  I threw the knife at the redhead, but at the final second the bald vamp shifted to the side of the altar just enough for the blade to find him instead. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground.

  “Dammit.” I reached for another knife, but it was too late. Rather than run, which is what I would have expected the pathetic excuses for life forms should have done, the redhead sank her blade into the girl’s chest.

  The unholy scream shivered down my spine. I ran. The time for stealth was over.

&nb
sp; The other robed vamp came at me, throwing its body into mine, dragging me to the ground with a strength belying the small frame. It punched me; its green eyes glowed with satisfaction. I rolled, still taking the punches to my face and chest, but I was somehow able to hook my leg around the vamp’s waist and pin it beneath me. In the scuffle, I’d lost my knife.

  Thankfully I had plenty more.

  The redhead rushed me.

  “Sick, perverted freaks,” I snarled, reaching into the leather at my cleavage and pulling out another blade.

  She screamed, her nails clawing at my face. The body beneath me bucked. Does anyone have a clue how hard it is to fight sitting down? This was ridiculous. Angry, I tightened my thighs on the vamp below me and punched Red. I didn’t have much momentum. Thank God I was strong.

  It only diverted her attention for a second though. She shook her head and then dived at me again. This time I was able to snap open the blade and bury it in her neck. Hot blood sprayed my face.

  She grabbed her neck. Sick, gurgling sounds fell from her lips.

  My eyes burned from the salt. I wiped at them, trying to clear my vision. My distraction almost cost me.

  The vamp beneath me shoved me, and I had to put a hand out to steady myself. I freed it just enough that it could wrap its hand around my neck.

  I gasped for air.

  I punched at its temple, knocking the hood back and revealing the baby-smooth skin of an adolescent boy. Twelve, no older than thirteen.

  I reached into my other boot and grabbed my black razor fan, snapping it open.

  In one fluid movement I sliced the fan through the kid’s neck. He blinked twice, his hand on my throat relaxing. I took greedy gulps of sweet, fresh air, ignoring the ache I felt in doing so. My stomach heaved and I looked away. I’d done what I had to do, regardless if I liked it or not.

  I reached for the blade at my back and then shoved it like a stake through the boy’s chest. He grabbed at the knife with blood-soaked hands, fingers futilely trying to pull it out. I ground my jaw and pushed deeper until, finally, the light left his eyes.

  The redhead still twitched beside me. I yanked the knife out of her oozing throat and repeated the same process I’d done to the boy. After several seconds, she too lay still. I cleaned my knives as best I could on the fallen leaves and shoved them back where they belonged.

  I pushed away from the bodies and stood. I had an hour before they reanimated. The only true way to kill a vamp was to take out its heart. I swallowed the bile lodged in my throat. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take out the kid’s heart. But I knew someone who could.

  My legs shook as I walked toward the girl. She was still as death. I glanced at the bald vamp to see if there was any movement. There wasn’t. My aim had been true.

  I returned my attention back to the girl. Her gray sweater was no more. It was black in the light of the moon. I grabbed her by the shoulders, and she moaned. It was a small sound, whispery thin.

  I pulled her off the altar, which only made her whimper worse. I was sorry to cause her pain, but no one deserved to die this way. I would not let her die alone.

  I hugged her to my chest and sat.

  She gripped my hand, blue eyes alive and shimmering with pain. “Pl... please.”

  “Ssh.” I shook my head, rubbing her mangled cheek in a soothing gesture. Her cheek shifted like the skin covered sand instead of bone. “Don’t talk. Ssh.”

  Her chest heaved, every breath labored. Awful to hear. I rocked with her, humming under my breath, wishing I had the type of glamour to bring peace in death. But demons don’t do peace. We’re vengeance, destruction, wrath, fury; in us you’ll find no rest.

  “Pl... Mom.” She gasped. “Dad, sis...” She closed her eyes. Her grip on my hand loosened. Her breathing came slower and slower. “Lo... ve.” With that final word, she gave up the ghost.

  I hung my head. I’ve never cried—don’t know if I can’t or I won’t—but if I’d had any tears to give, I think I could have then.

  My skin prickled with static. Forced to drop the girl, I swiveled, reached for my knife, and two things happened at once.

  First, a cloaked figure stabbed both my arms—a vamp I hadn’t seen before and flippin’ should have sensed.

  And second, I heard a metallic whiz of a knife whistle through the air before it buried itself in the figure before me. The vamp crumpled to the ground. The hilt of a knife poked from its back.

  I rolled the body over and found a needle clutched in his hand, droplets of blood rolling off the tip. I frowned and looked at my arm. One had clearly been sliced by a knife, but the other hadn’t been stabbed as I’d first assumed. He’d tried to use that needle on me.

  I snatched up the needle and crushed it in the palm of my hand. Why had the vamp run the risk of death for a sample of my blood?

  I peered into the forest, trying to scout for the source of the knife. The eerie sounds of hooting owls and rustling leaves made me shiver. I dematerialized, jumping from tree to tree, searching and watching, but whoever had thrown the knife was long gone.

  Chapter 7

  Holding on to my arm, I squeezed tight to stem the blood and ported back to the carnival. My Ferris wheel sat empty. Kemen leaned against the fence, head resting on his fist with eyes half-closed.

  “Kemen,” I snapped, more from the burn of the wound than any true anger.

  He took one look at me and then was by my side, moving faster than I’d ever seen him move before. “Is that?” He pointed at my face, at the blood I was sure was a muddy brown color by now.

  “Not all mine.” I shrugged off his grip on my elbow.

  “Let me take a look at that, Pandora.” His liquid amber eyes pleaded and he licked his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He was always nervous around blood. So un-demon-like.

  “It’s fine.” I hugged my arm to my chest, not wanting to be touched and have Lust stir to life. I wanted to think, not rut like some wild animal.

  “Here.” He grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked, tearing a long strip out of the bottom, and handed me the cloth. “At least tie that around it.”

  I grabbed it, a neon-green stenciling of Ozzy standing out in bold relief as I wrapped it around my arm in a tight pressure hold. “Thanks,” I said between clenched teeth, sucking in a breath against the sharp pain. “Where’s Luc?”

  Kemen hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Last I saw him, he was walking the perimeter with a piece of tail on his arm.”

  Stupid vamp must have cut a vein. Within seconds, the swath was soaked clear through and blood was seeping down my arm. In another five minutes, the vein would mend so that the bleeding stopped, but I couldn’t walk around looking like some axe murderer’s latest victim.

  “I don’t care if he’s got his little friend hanging out. You tell him to come here or I’ll snap it off,” I said, walking toward the gears where I kept a first-aid kit stashed.

  He grabbed my shoulder and turned me to face him. “Pandora, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head.

  He cocked his brow. “This is not nothing.” There was genuine concern in his voice.

  I dabbed at the blood with a cotton swab soaked in a saline cleaning solution. The seepage was already beginning to slow. It touched me to hear him worry. I was a big girl, and this really was nothing, but it was still nice to be fretted over. Made a girl feel special.

  I pressed my hand to his chest and very gently said, “I really need to speak with Luc.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed. I could tell he wanted to say more, but finally his shoulders slumped and he gave a swift nod, then vanished.

  I hung up a sign on the fence so I wouldn’t be bothered, Ferris ride down for repairs, and finished cleaning up.

  I removed the bandage, noticing that the blood was now clotting, and grabbed a gauze dressing and then reached for the tape. All I had was two almost empty spools of green and pink tape with smiley faces on them.

 
“Ugh. You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, remembering the inordinate amount of pleasure Luc had taken when he’d bought it for me over a year ago. Each and every awful method of torture ran through my head, and I vowed to take revenge as I taped it on.

  I smelled the faint odor of sulfur. I turned. Luc’s zipper was undone, his shirt half open. Clearly Kemen had taken my words at face value. I smiled; I do so love that lazy sloth.

  His eyes were huge with worry until they settled over the bandage on my arm. Then his lips quirked.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You laugh, and I’ll cut your tongue out.”

  He licked his lips in a lazy, half-taunting way—calling my bluff. “So what was so urgent that you made Kemen haul my ass out of the tent with threat of pain to my...”

  “I followed a pack of vamps tonight...”

  He went from sexual teaser to ferocious predator between the span of a breath. “You what?” he asked, his voice nearly a scream. “Alone!”

  “Down, kitty. You’re frothing at the mouth.”

  Luc grabbed my shoulders, shaking me forcefully. “What were you thinking?” He didn’t give me time to answer. “You weren’t, that’s what.”

  I flicked his hands off me. “Spare me your lectures, Luc. We have bigger fish to fry. The vamps killed a girl.”

  He finally seemed to be hearing me. His agitated jerky movements stopped, and his lips thinned. “How many?” He’d gone frostbitten, face shuttered, and breathing those slow, deep breaths that meant he was on the verge of turning homicidal.

  I licked my lips. If he hadn’t liked what I’d said, then he was really not gonna like this. “There were four.”

  He narrowed his eyes, planted his hand on the fence over my shoulder, leaned in and sniffed me, his nose running along my hair. I really hated that nose of his. He was a walking lie detector, able to scent out a lie—or an omission—through the pheromones a body secreted. Yeah, seriously.

  “Did you kill them all?”

  Hmm, to tell the truth or not to tell the truth? That is the question.