Crimson Midnight (A New Adult Dark Urban Fantasy Series) (The Crimson Series Book 1) (13 page)

13.

COCKTAILS

Rose’s feet were killing her. She
glanced over at Faye who was standing to the far right of her and to one side
of the bar with Harold.  Her eyes travelled down to Faye’s three-inch platforms
then back up to Faye’s face.  The woman looked perfectly at ease, not a wince
of pain in sight. As she watched, Faye tilted her head offering her lips to
Harold for a lingering lip lock.  Rose had to admit they looked good together–
Faye so petite and so fragile in appearance and Harold with his Conanian
proportions folding himself around his prize protectively. 

Rose experienced a pang of jealousy
towards her friend– for what she had found with Harold.  She felt a yearning
for that feeling, the feeling that you get when someone you want wants you back
just as much.  That ultimate connection and everything that comes with it– the butterflies
and loss of appetite, that dreamy state where you feel like you’re walking on a
cloud.  Shit, who was she kidding? She was just sexually frustrated and the
only part of a relationship she missed at the moment was the regular supply of
sex.  If only she was someone who could do the one-night stand thing she’d be
on to a winner, but she couldn’t quite placate her conscience enough to take
the leap.  Sex, to her, was too much of an intimate thing to just throw about.
But fair play for those who could, because it was obvious they were getting
more action than she was.

“Earth to Rose.”

“Huh?”  Rose snapped out of her
reverie to find Thistle regarding her with an amused expression.

“What were you thinking of?” 
Thistle asked. “Whatever it is it must be tasty because you looked like you
were about to drool.”  Her gaze drifted along Rose’s line of vision and her
eyebrows shot up when she clocked Harold.  “Oh dear, please tell me you have a
lazy eye.”

Rose snorted. “I was just watching
those two, they seem happy.”  She took a sip of her drink. “And then I got to
thinking about sex”

“Mmmm,” Thistle said
appreciatively, “my favourite topic.” 

Rose laughed. “Well at least one of
us is getting some. I’ll have to resign myself to basking in your afterglow.”

“Oh, honey, you can join me anytime
if you like, I’m all for sharing.”

“As much as I appreciate your
offer, babe, I really don’t think I’m ready to be that close to you, or any
other woman for that matter.” She added just in case Thistle got offended.

Thistle merely shrugged. “If you
change your mind…”

“You’ll be the first to know.”  

They watched the dance floor, which
was heaving, for a few moments both content in each other’s company.

Rose couldn’t admit that she
understood Thistle’s attitude to sex and relationships in general but she was
intrigued.  How could you love someone and share them?  It went against
everything she knew about human nature.  And then it hit her. Maybe Thistle
could share because what she was sharing wasn’t really that important to her.
Thistle had never been in love!

“You’ve never been in love have
you?” Rose decided to forego the whole chitchat stage, which should lead up to
the pretty personal question.

Thistle looked momentarily startled
but quickly regained her composure. She shrugged, her lips turning down
slightly at the corners. “Love is not for everyone and not everyone is made for
love.”

“O-kay.” Rose decided to drop the
subject.  “You seen bitch face anywhere?  I’m still itching to slap her in the
gob.”

“Nope, I think she got the message
though.”  Thistle grinned.

Catherine had been strangely
subdued after Rose’s threat and hadn’t uttered a word to either Rose or Thistle
for the rest of the evening.  Upon reaching The Whisper she had dissolved into
the crowd.

“Stupid bitch, I really need to
speak to Faye about her. I need assurance that she isn’t going to be a
permanent fixture.”  Rose tapped her glass with her index finger as she
schemed.  She knew she had no right to dictate what friends Faye had, but she
would make it clear that she did not want to spend any more time in Catherine’s
company.  That, at least, was fair.

“You want to dance?” Thistle asked.

“Heck, why not? That’s what we’re
here for!” 

They made a beeline for the dance
floor, plucking Faye from Harold’s arms en-route.

After she didn’t know how long,
Rose started to curse herself for not inserting gel pads into her shoes.  Her
feet were killing her even more, but she was damned if she was going to admit
defeat.

“I’m going to the loo!” she shouted
over the music.

“You want us to come?” Faye asked
continuing to grind to the beat. 

Thistle was swaying, her head
thrown back, her eyes closed.

“Nah, I’ll be back in a mo.”

She quickly slipped away before
Faye changed her mind or Thistle came out of her dance-induced trance.

Harold joined Faye on the dance
floor just as Rose was leaving and Thistle decided it was time to get another
drink.  Leaving the two lovebirds to it she headed to the bar.  She had just
taken a long swing of her red wine when she sensed Roman’s presence.  She
turned to greet him, giving him a peck on the lips.  “Aren’t you supposed to be
on patrol?”

“Just a quick pit-stop. Thought I’d
pop in and say hi and give you this.’ He planted a lingering kiss on her lips.

“Mmmm, nice.”

“How’s Vanessa?”

Thistle shrugged. “In mourning, she
hasn’t left her flat.”  If that was what love did to a person, Thistle was
happy to steer clear.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Sorry that you had to be the one
to end it.”

Once again she shrugged. “That’s my
job. I’m the executioner. I execute.” She sipped her wine seemingly
unconcerned.

Roman’s eyes narrowed slightly as
he regarded her. He hadn’t seen this aspect of her personality before, had
always thought of her as quite soft and flighty. Oh, he knew that she was a
vampire, that she was a predator just like him. But he had never seen that
side.  The small glimpse he had caught of it just now was disturbing.  It was
as if the mask she wore had slipped fractionally, allowing him to see the icy
calculation beneath.  He decided to change the subject.  “So why are you all
alone? Where’s Rose?”

Thistle smiled knowingly. “She went
to the loo. You should see the outfit she’s wearing, it’s red hot, no, white
hot.” She sensed the tiny flare of arousal, which was the unmistakable rise in
his body temperature, and the musky scent that accompanied it, and bit back a
smile.  He definitely had a hard-on for Rose.

Roman schooled his features to
affect disinterest.  They had an understanding and it had worked well until now–
because now there was Rose. He wasn’t into analysing his feelings, he was more
into his instincts, and his instincts told him to fuck her senseless.  The
chemistry between them would be explosive. He could feel it every time she was
near.  Her scent filled him with an almost unbearable need.  Now Rose was
friends with Thistle and that just made him uncomfortable.

Thistle watched the subtle play of
emotions on his face.

“So you and Rose are getting pretty
chummy, eh?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You think that’s a good idea?”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide
and innocent. “Why? You worried I’ll get hungry and be tempted to take a bite?”

“No, no. Of course not…” He shook
his head not knowing what else to say.  Shit.

There was a moment of silence
between them in which the funky music filled the void.

Thistle refused to help him further
in his dilemma.  Roman knew the score– he could fuck who he wanted. She didn’t
care if he felt weird about trying it with Rose. That was his problem. There
was no way she was going to allow his dick to dictate her friendships.

Rose found a shadowy corner to
recuperate. She found that even though her body was no longer in motion her
head was still spinning.  She frowned, she hadn’t drunk that much had she? She
squinted down at her wristwatch trying to make out the time. The watch face
swam in and out of focus and she had to blink rapidly to clear her vision
enough to make out that it read almost half past one.  Maybe she had drunk too
much. They’d been in the place since half past ten! Maybe it was time to call
it a night.

“Hi.”

Rose jumped, startled by the male
American voice coming from behind her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare
you.” 

It was the man from the Rainbow
Rave…what was his name?  Oh, yes, Brandon…something. “It’s okay, just
daydreaming.”  She replied.

Brandon nodded understandingly and
Rose, recalling his proactive lip-lock with Raven, thought, that he probably
did a lot of daydreaming too.

They stood this way for a few
moments, the music vibrating around them and Rose noticed his eyes wandering
over the crowd, almost as if he was combing it, searching for something or
someone.  Rose bit her lip as she realised just who Brandon was searching for.
She tugged at his sleeve to get his attention. “He’s not here.”

“WH-what?”  Brandon turned to look
at her, dazed.

“Raven, he’s not coming tonight.  I
think he’s out of town.”

“Oh.” Brandon looked suddenly
deflated.

Rose had enquired with Flo whether
Roman or Raven would be coming and Flo had told her that Roman was working late
and Raven may be out of town.  So far neither man had turned up.  She would
have known. 

“I’m pathetic aren’t I?” Brandon hung his head fiddling with the bottle of mineral water in his hands. 

“Nah…yeah...” She nodded her head
sadly. He needed someone to light a rocket up his arse. It was time to be
blunt. “You hang around on the side-lines long enough you just might see him
head off into the sunset with some other man. What you waiting for?”  

Brandon looked aghast at the
thought. 

“Sorry, hun, but it’s the truth. If
you want something that bad you’ve got to put yourself out there and take a
chance. And if it works out then great and if it goes tits up then at least you
tried.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, you’re
right.” Tipping back his head he drained the last of the water in the bottle. 
“Thanks.” He disappeared into the crowd, his stride sure and purposeful.

The poor man, she thought. Now that
was something she never wanted to experience– unrequited love. On that note she
allowed herself to admit that she was pooped.  Time to say her goodbyes because
from the looks of things the only person Faye would be leaving with tonight
would be Harold.  Ah, young lust.

Roman caught Rose’s scent and
turned abruptly, his eyes scanning the crowd until he found her.  She was
standing on the edge of the dance floor leaning into Faye as she shouted into
her ear.

“I think she’s leaving.” Thistle
had spotted her too.  “Babe, I’m gonna head off too.” She smiled up at Roman.
“I’ll keep Rose company at the bus stop.”

“Yeah, I need to get back on patrol
anyway, although it’s dead out there. The recent activity seems like a
particularly bad dream.” He glanced in Harold’s direction. “Jammy bastard came
back into the fold after pissing off the alpha and managed to get the evening off.”

Rose was already at the door.

Thistle stood on tiptoe offering
her lips for a kiss.  “See you soon, babe,” she soothed before heading to catch
up with Rose.

Rose turned at the sound of her
name being called to see Thistle walking toward her.

“You want company at the bus stop?”
she asked.

“Great.” Rose smiled.  Thistle
caught up with her and threaded her arm through hers.  Rose wasn’t really an
arm in arm kind of girl, but she found that with Thistle she really didn’t
mind.  Plus it was chilly.

“The bus stop is just up ahead.”
Thistle pointed with her free arm.

They picked up the pace.

“Shit!” Rose stumbled at the mouth
of a dark alleyway. “These are my favourite shoes!” Her heel had got caught in
a gap in the paving stones and come clean off.

Thistle looked appropriately upset
on her behalf. “I know a good shoe smith not too far from here. I can give you
the address-”

A sharp shriek cut off her words
causing their heads to whip up in alarm.

“It came from there.” Thistle
stared into the inky blackness.

A whimper reached their ears.

“Someone’s in trouble!” Rose was
off and swallowed by the darkness before Thistle could react further. 

Her gut clenched in primal fear.
“ROSE! NO! WAIT!” She followed.

14.

LIGHT

Rose was suddenly surrounded by a
thick, all-consuming blanket of darkness.  It was almost viscous in its
consistency, pressing against her, suffocating her.  She found herself
breathing heavily, the sound alarmingly loud in the eerily quiet alley.
Dragging air in and out of her lungs suddenly required more effort than ever
before.  She clamped her lips together, breathing solely through her nose as
she collected her thoughts.  Okay, the lights must have blown…simultaneously.
And what the hell was she doing down here anyway? She watched horror movies,
she should know better.

“Rose, wait.” Thistle called behind
her.

She couldn’t see the streets on
either side of the alley. There was nothing but a black void. Her heart seemed
to skip a beat as her brain recognised what her body had been trying to tell
her– this was no ordinary darkness. This was an absence of light so complete
that Rose struggled to make out the hand in front of her face, let alone Thistle
whose outline was barely visible. The moon, which had been out when they had
left The Whisper, seemed to have been extinguished. She was sobering up
quickly, her unease making her more alert.

“Let’s turn around and leave,”
Thistle said, taking her by the arm.

“But someone’s down here,” Rose
protested. “You heard it.”

“Maybe it was a cat.”

“That was not a cat.”

“I don’t like this.” Thistle’s grip
tightened on Rose.

Rose’s nostrils flared, picking up
a smell, the back of her neck tingled, her gut danced in loops. An acrid,
sickly sweet stench laced with the tones of rotten fish and something she
couldn’t quite place. Rose gagged. “That smell…someone needs to empty their
bins.”

Thistle decided to take charge.
“We’re going.”  Her usual breathy voice was cold as iron.

“But…”

Thistle tugged her hard, dragging
her backwards. And then they stopped. There was a sound, a strange shuffling
and a
click, click,
noise.

“What was that?” Rose whispered.

Thistle said nothing, just resumed
her tugging on Rose.

“Wait.” Rose tugged back. “Just
wait.” She tried to shake off Thistle’s grasp, mildly surprised at the woman’s
strength. “I just want to listen.”

“No.” Thistle said.

“Why? What if someone’s hurt or
something?”

“No one’s hurt. We have to leave.”

“Just listen…” She took a step
forward. Glass crunched under her feet and she almost fell, her balance uneven
from her broken heel. Thistle’s hand whipped out, holding her steady. “Shit!”

Something hissed in response. The
stench thickened.

Thistle yanked her hard. “We’re
done here.”

As they began to back away,
Thistle’s grip tight on her arm, her breath caught in her throat. There was
something here with them, she knew it just as if it had shaken her hand and
introduced itself. She knew it like she knew the sky was blue. The realization
was instant and something she wished had come to her beforehand. Thistle was right,
they shouldn’t be here. Her senses were sparking, roaring at her. That smell
was awful, and there was something else that was in the mix, a sickening scent
of…evil. If evil had a smell that was what it was, the embodiment of badness
and terror.

Thistle stopped.

“What?” Rose asked, panic poised in
her chest, ready to strike.

“I can’t go any further.”

“What?”

“There’s no way out.”

Rose felt her control snapping.
“WHAT?”

“We’re trapped.”

“How can we be trapped? We’re in an
alley. We got in, we get out the same way.”

Rose move forward and stopped. She
didn’t control the halt, her body made that decision of its own resolve. She
reached out a hand and felt…nothing. Not even air. Not even empty space. It was
as if the world beyond had simply vanished. She pulled back her hand horrified.
Her body was shaking, her mind trying to categorise what she was feeling. There
was nothing to categorise.  Her mind screamed in confusion and fear.  Her voice
shook when she spoke. “Thistle…”

Thistle took her arm and pulled her
away.

“Th-th-there was…”

“I know,” Thistle said.

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck!”

“Yes,” Thistle agreed.

“Something’s here,” said Rose. “I
know something’s here, I can feel it…”

The foul smell that was on the air
suddenly assaulted her nostrils in a thick stream, aggravating her gag reflex.
She bent over as it overpowered her, clutching her stomach as she dry heaved
and coughed. “And…I can smell it…” she choked.

Thistle was silent.

Click, click…

The noise again…

Click, click…

Rose strained her eyes, scanning
the darkness around them, unable to pinpoint the origin of the strange noise.
She knew with horrible instinct that whatever lurked in the darkness that was
making the noise was something that she should only ever encounter in her
nightmares

Click, click…

Every hair was standing on end.
Every nerve was twitching and dancing in preparation.

Click, click…

“Rose,” Thistle said. “Stay close.”
She took Rose’s arm again. “Don’t leave my side.”

Click, click…

A small light in the alley suddenly
flickered to life weakly, granting reprieve from the darkness. They were
standing by a large bin, the tiny light above that. It almost seemed to twitch
with anxiety.

Click, click…

A white glow fell from above,
stronger than the little light.

On the dirty brickwork of the wall
before them something sat, stuck to the wall like a spider. It looked like a
person. But it wasn’t, it was a creature born of nightmare. Two white lights
shone from two crudely cut eye sockets that sat in a gaunt face, an almost
hollow skull covered in pallid grey skin. It was bald, save for a tuft of
dirty, white hair. The creature wore black robes that were shredded and torn.
More of that grey, pallid skin hung over harsh, jutting bone. The thing that
looked like a corpse was tapping deadly sharp talons that erupted out of its
fingers and toes against the wall.

Click, click, click, click,
click…

Then the creature moved down the
wall, its body contorting unnaturally as it descended and landed on the large
bin.

Rose and Thistle leapt back.

It got to its feet, its back
hunched, and it looked directly at Rose.

Those two white lights bore into
her and she resisted the urge to gag, her heart in her throat. She grabbed onto
Thistle, her nails digging into flesh.

The thing opened its mouth,
exposing rotting black teeth and black gums that oozed a thick black slime.

Rose heaved again as a fresh wave
of acrid aroma, of pure rot, poured from its decaying mouth. But she kept her
eyes on the creature, not daring to look away. It took a silent breath. The
motions of breathing inwards were performed by its body but there was
absolutely no sound at all. The tiny light that had come on to aid them in the
dark died out. The creature’s two white lights grew brighter. Those two white
lights were now the only source of illumination. They cast their eerie glow
within a short range, the darkness clinging to the edges, longing to consume
everything again.

Rose did the first thing she could
think of, the only thing her brain wanted her to do as she looked at this thing
that must have crawled from the pits of some kind of Hell. She screamed louder
than she thought she ever could. It exploded from her body.

The creature raised it arms
defensively, stumbled backward slightly before jumping from the bin. Its white
lights blazed with fury and it swung its arm out, talons glinting in the glow
of the lights.

Rose stumbled backwards as the
talons scraped across her chest. She quickly checked herself in panic. Her
dress had a large slice in it, but her skin was untouched. 

Thistle sprang forward in a blur of
electric blue. The airy, sultry, slightly away with the fairies look that
Thistle always wore had gone. There was something else there now, a stamp of
danger, something deadly. She was moving quickly toward the creature, delivering
a blow to its head and retreating out of range as it swiped at her with its
talons.

There was another new feature to
Thistle too. Rose was trying to process it through her fear and her immobility
as she stood frozen to the spot, not knowing what the fuck to do.

Thistle had fangs! Two white points
protruding from her mouth.

The creature leapt at Thistle,
grabbed her by the throat, hissing and spitting black ooze at her. She went for
a kick, but the creature must have anticipated it and threw her into the large
bin with a loud crash.

“Bastard!” Thistle spat, getting to
her feet.

The creature shrieked in an awful,
toxic pitch. It swung at Thistle, just missing her face as she rolled out of
the way.

“Shit!” Rose yelped.

What should she do? She didn’t know
what to do. Her body wouldn’t move. It had shut down all motor functions. She
couldn’t run and she couldn’t help. What the fuck was this thing? This couldn’t
be real. These things only existed in books, films and dreams. And Thistle was
not…did not have fangs…wasn’t a…vampire. That was crazy…

The creature was inhaling, a
constant motion of taking a breath that held Thistle where she was. Something
strange was happening to her as the thing sucked inward. Rose couldn’t
understand it completely, but it didn’t look right. It was almost as if it was
eating Thistle, taking the essence that made her something and turning it into
nothing. Its two white lights were growing brighter as it sucked. That same
horrible feeling she’d had when they had tried to leave the alley– that absence
of being, was washing over her again. That was enough. Whatever was going on,
she wouldn’t stand there and let her friend become…nothing.  As if someone had
flipped the bravado switch, Rose pulled herself up straighter, her face contorting
into a derisive snarl.

“Oi!” She growled. “You’re in
serious need of a hose down and some mouth wash!”

The thing turned on her, stopping
what it was doing.

Thistle groaned and fell to her
knees.

“Seriously,” Rose continued, “how
can you live like that?” She was terrified but held her ground. Her nerves were
being thrashed like the string on a heavy metal guitar. Yet adrenaline was
pumping through her body.

She ducked as it lashed at her,
another narrow miss. She swung a punch in retaliation and missed.

“Rose…” Thistle grunted, still on
her knees and barely visible as the creature’s light swung away from her,
leaving her shrouded in darkness.

Rose was distracted for a second,
worry for Thistle warring with the flash of fangs and the threat of talons. Her
distraction cost her as she was struck in the forehead. She fell hard cracking
the back of her head on concrete. The creature had struck her with a bony elbow
and now towered above her. She was dizzy, couldn’t move, surprised by the
strike.

A distorted smile spread across the
things face as it reached up its arm, black teeth bared, black slime dripping
from its mouth, talons ready to be driven into her chest.

“ROSE!” Thistle screamed.

Rose lay stunned, fixated on the
monster above her.

“I’m coming, Rose!”

Rose didn’t move. The fear, the
anger, the adrenaline, the frustration whirled together inside her. She was
screwed, this Hell creature was going to kill her and then Thistle, and do some
more of that weird eating/sucking thing and make them nothing. She couldn’t let
that happen, she had to stop it. Heat started to rise in her chest, pouring
through her veins into every corner of her body. It burned. The pain of it
intensified rapidly as it built up and up and up and up. Fire, fire was
coursing through her, white-hot agony ripping and biting at her.

The creature hesitated.

Through a haze of pain Rose saw
what looked like panic flicker in those two white lights that passed for eyes.
Then the agony of the heat was too much. Her body wanted it out and golden
flame exploded from her hands, from her mouth, from her eyes, as she screamed
in pure pained fury.

The creature wailed and the sheer
horror, the pure force of its dying shriek brought acid up to her mouth. The
golden flames continued to pour from her, obscuring the creature. It was
burning the nightmare away, bathing its darkness in light. The golden flame
extinguished itself in one final, painful push.

Released from the pain she blinked,
looking around her. All of the lights were on again, the nothing that had been
around them becoming something again, normality restored. The alley was an
alley again. There was no trace of the creature left behind. No charred corpse,
no pile of dust. It was just gone, taking its stench with it.

Rose was breathing heavily as she
sat up. Her head throbbed and her body ached. Her throat was sore from
screaming. Her eyes searched for Thistle and found her. She was still on her
knees, looking right at her, fangs bared. They stared at each other with a new
focus, almost warily. Things had been revealed about both of them, things that
needed the moment of silence that followed.