Crimson Groves (35 page)

“Conrad was right about you,” Brian mumbled, voice soft.

Unsure of what that meant, but having a hunch it was about my powers, I flashed down the hallway. There wasn’t any soot or smoke out here in the living room, so I set Brian and Lily on the sofa and went back to the bedroom to find Bronx. Brian was still mumbling something about Conrad being right about something. Goody for Conrad.

The bedroom still rained ashes, the smoke still thick and fumy. Led by my advanced senses, I walked over to where Bronx had been ablaze. I dropped to the ground, sobbing and wailing. When I grazed my fingers across a pile of ashes, shockwaves shot through my entire body. It was Bronx—or at least all that was left of him.

27

Open Mind

WHEN I WAS HUMAN and faced grueling circumstances, my life and everything going on in it would flash before my eyes. The day my father walked out on me. Then later when my mother disowned me. Those memories played over and over like a bad home video. Oh, and let’s not forget that special day when I walked in on John, the love of my life (yeah right!), sleeping with Mandy, the closest girlfriend I’d ever had. The pain from that moment was still sharp, stabbing, intense. Why do we think about crap like this after a life-or-death situation? Tough times are like magnets. They attract each other when they’re present. Why don’t good times do that?

Now Bronx was dead—and so were all of his well-kept secrets. Tyler knew more than he was telling me, but he was probably long gone by now. Unless he really did go for help—no, I doubt it. He took off. I’d be lucky if I ever saw him again.

I stood up and brushed my hands across my jeans, dusting off any piece of Bronx that got on them. The thought of it grossed me out. I crossed my arms over my chest and held myself, squeezing tight. I felt dirty, empty, and numb. No matter what horrible things happened in my past, nothing compared to murdering some one, nothing at all. Even though Bronx deserved it, and I had no other choice, it still felt wrong, strange, repulsive. It was self-defense. He would’ve killed me. Him or me? I chose me!

“Abby. Abby!” Lily called, voice loud and scared.

I turned and went to the doorway. “I’m coming!” I glanced back at Bronx’s little mountain of ashes—actually more like a hill.
You got what you deserved, you bastard!

I left the room, heavy in thought, but certain I did the right thing. With every slow step, it felt like cinderblocks held down my feet. My advanced senses were working, but not at full power. I needed blood—very, very soon. Using my pyrokinesis always left me ravenous, like a bear waking up from its hibernation. I didn’t think Lily could handle losing any more blood yet, so I was going to have to wait.

Lily stood up, but quickly fell back onto the sofa. “You’re too weak, sweetie,” I said. I went to her, gently placed my hand on her back, and massaged it in comforting small circles.

Brian was a short distance away, on the same sofa. He stared at me—big eyes and smiling—a broad glistening expanse of teeth and fangs. “Is he dead?” he asked.

I nodded, didn’t speak.

“Bronx is dead?” Lily asked, voice small and weak.

I looked down at her, finding her eyes peering up at me, and nodded again. Her eyes filled with tears. Then mine did too, like a contagious yawn. You see someone else doing it, and then you do too.

I looked back over at Brian, still draped in chains. I walked over to him, grabbed the chains in both of my hands, and yanked back. They came off with ease, no strength needed. Bronx’s death must have undone the dark magic used on them. I tossed them on the floor, clattering and clunking.

Brian stood up and hugged me. “Thank you. Thank you,” he whispered in my ear.

“Are you going to be okay? I’ve got to get Lily out of here.” I slowly pulled out of his embrace and looked back at Lily.

“No, I’m fine. I promise!” Lily argued. She tried to get up again. It didn’t work. I gave her one of those “I told you so” looks and then turned back to Brian.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine,” he told me, “better than fine. Thanks to you. Where will you go?”

“Don’t worry, I have a place to go.”

He didn’t press me to find out where that was. Thank God.

“Can you tell me anything else about my father? Do you know where he is?”

He shook his head. “I’m sure Conrad will find you when he’s ready.” A huge, warm smile stretched across his face and then he bowed down like I was his queen. In a swish of bloody cloth, he was gone. I had no doubt he was rushing back to 7. I made a mental note that if I ever wanted to see my father again, that would definitely be the place to start. It was time for me to get the hell out of here.

I went to Lily, knelt down to pick her up. I hesitated. An eerie wave of energy crept through the air like an invisible fog hovering over a pond. I cocked my head sideways, licked the air. There was a strong flavor, intense odor, but it wasn’t familiar to me. My stomach turned. My nose twitched. I looked down at Lily. She smiled, completely clueless. My guard shot up—defensive, protective, and cautious. Suddenly a loud boom shook the house. It sounded like the front door was blown off its hinges. I stepped in front of Lily, putting my body between her and the awful sound.

“What’s wrong?” Lily asked.

“Shhh.”

“Abby?”

“Lily, be quiet!”

There were four vampires standing in the room, about six feet away from me and Lily. I hadn’t seen them come in. They were just there. And they were very powerful. They all wore perfectly tailored black suits, each with their own unique undershirt and shoes. I’d seen them before. They were the ancient vampires in Tyler’s vision. I wasn’t sure where the fifth one was, but these four were definitely members of the Head Council.

Tyler really did go straight to them for help! But now where was he?

The oldest of the Head Council stepped forward and extended his hand. “What we heard about you is true,” he said, voice calm and soothing. His medium-length hair draped to the sides like milky-white silk. His eyes were deep dark pools; I couldn’t tell what color they were. A black undershirt and a pair of black boots completed his look. “I am Elliott, and it truly is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook his hand. It was strong, hard, and powerful. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. I smiled at him and then at the other vampires in the room. They nodded, faint smiles tugging up their lips.

“She looks so much like her,” said the brunet with the fresh spiky haircut (Jeffrey, I think). He looked to be in his late twenties, early thirties when he came over. He wore an aqua tee under his suit jacket and black Sketchers sneakers.

“Yes! Yes she does.” The younger-looking vampire with dirty blond hair (I think his name was Trace) inched closer. He wore a white tee with a picture of Cap’n Crunch, open jacket, and white Converse All Stars sneakers. He had been wearing an orange Tasmanian Devil shirt in Tyler’s vision.

“But how is that possible?” the last vampire asked—I didn’t recall overhearing his name. He looked forty-something (in human years), with a rugged face, deep voice, dark hair streaked with gray and slicked back with gel—very
Miami Vice.
His undershirt was a baby blue button-up dress shirt. It matched his shiny black dress shoes.

I stepped back, nervous and wary. “What are you talking about? Who do I look like?

Elliott said in a near whisper, “Madelaine DuMonde.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Who is that?”

“That is your mother.” In a flash, Trace was there, inches away, a half-foot taller than me, I guessed. He looked to be in his twenties when he was brought over. Smooth, perfect face, very beautiful. His dirty blond hair wasn’t short, but it wasn’t long either. It was a little wavy, thick, and hung over his ears. He gazed down into my eyes, curious.

I shook my head. “That’s not my mother’s name. Evelyn! Evelyn was my mother’s name!”

“No,” Trace said. “Evelyn was your father’s blood supplier.”

“What? What are you talking about?” I demanded, voice thin, my patience running out.

“Trace,” Elliott said. “I do not think she knows anything about this. I can sense her discomfort and lack of understanding.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Jeffrey agreed, voice soft.

“Abby.” Trace shrugged and tilted his head to the side. “May I please take your hand?”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“I won’t hurt you. I promise. We are on your side.” Trace reached for me. I didn’t move. He took my hand inside his. Instantly, everything around me was calm, tranquil. I relaxed, slumped my shoulders, eased closer toward Trace, like I was in a spell. “Do you feel that?” he asked.

“Yes. What is it?”

“It is the feeling of truth. I want you to know that what I’m telling you is true. I have the gift of discerning. And I am able to share it with others.”

I nodded. He was telling the truth. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You are the daughter of the most powerful sorceress ever to live. She gave us the ability to use magic and loyally worked with us to maintain order and conduct among the vampires. Everyone loved her, but not everyone could have her. She chose to be with Conrad Tate over all other vampires.”

“What? My father is a vampire?”

Trace nodded, eyes still focused on mine. “This caused jealously and hatred among a small group of Enforcers. They formed an alliance and attempted to assassinate him. Except their plan didn’t go as expected and Madelaine was murdered instead. We were outraged and stricken with grief at the news of her passing. We ordered the death of all the Enforcers responsible. The loss of our sorceress was a huge blow to the vampire community. To this day, we still mourn her death.”

“But—” I couldn’t finish my thought. Swirling tranquil emotions rested on my tongue, numbing it like Novocain at a dentist’s office. Trace’s truth serum was still in full effect, making me eager to listen to him.

“Recently we discovered the impossible. Somehow Conrad impregnated Madelaine. It is inconceivable for vampires to reproduce. The only way that could’ve happened was through Madelaine’s powers. By giving birth to you, she passed along her powerful bloodline. Somehow she was able to prevent Conrad’s vampire strain from crossing into you at birth. Madelaine wanted you to have a normal life. To be just a normal human girl. Her powers would’ve stayed dormant in your blood forever—unless, of course, you were transformed into a vampire. Bronx took it upon himself to bring you over, giving you all the advanced strength and senses of a vampire and awakening the powerful sorceress blood inside you. A hybrid, if you will. That is why Bronx wanted you. I do not know how he found this out. But he wants to gain control of your mind and use you against us. We are here to stop him—permanently.”

Trace squeezed my hand a little tighter. Ethereal vibrations trailed up my arm. He wasn’t lying. I knew it, could sense it.

A couple more moments passed and then he released my hand. I was myself again, normal, aware, and restless. The weight of the truth he’d told me was almost too heavy to bear. I wished he were still holding my hand. “How do you know this?”

“Because Madelaine appeared to Elliott and told him.”

“But you said she was dead!” I looked at the other vampires. They stood still, motionless as statues.

“She is,” Trace replied. “Elliott’s gift is talking to the dead.”

“O-o-o-kay.” I guess they didn’t realize how handy that gift was going to be. I looked back at Lily, smiled, nervously, and returned my attention to the group of vampires.

“Abigail,” Elliott said, voice soothing and dreamlike.

“Call me Abby. Please.”

Elliott gave a graceful shrug. “Abby, where is Bronx? We have followed his scent all over Florida. It has been quite challenging to locate him.”

That was why Bronx left earlier. He was trying to hide from the Head Council until he gained control over my powers. When he realized how close they were, he fled from the house, hoping to throw them off and create a false trail as to where he was. “He, um, he’s…” Do I tell them the truth? It sounded like they wanted him dead anyway. But what if it pissed them off? Maybe they wanted to punish Bronx. Fear stuck in my throat like a dislodged cough drop. You know it’s there, but you can’t swallow it down no matter how hard you try.

Lily stood up and marched beside me—brave, defiant, maybe stupid. She was either feeling better or acting on pure adrenaline. “He’s dead! Bronx is dead!” she exclaimed. “He was going to kill us. He was going to use Abby to kill us all. It was self-defense! She didn’t mean to do it. She was protecting all of us!” Her rich brown hair was a mess. Sticky clumps of it framed her face. She stared at the Head Council, eyes wide, fearless. She placed her hands on her hips. Tiny streams of tears fell down her puffy pink cheeks.

Miami Vice spoke up. “Is this true?” His empty eyes locked on me as if they could read my mind.

“Yes,” I said. “Everything Lily said is true.”