IM03 - Pandora's Box (5 page)

I tried to reach out for him, but he moved too fast. His body jerked from side to side, and I couldn’t get a grip on him. He twisted violently as if locked in a tug-of-war. It was as if the thing holding him was trying to tear his arm off. He grunted and arched his free arm, swiping at the air while digging his heels into the ground. The struggle had Lysander knocking into the walls, the futon, and the desk as he tried to remove himself from the invisible grip.

Fallon shot out of her chair and plastered herself against the wall to avoid being caught in the middle of the scuffle. “Somebody do something!”

Nicholas bolted to Lysander’s side. He frantically tugged at his arm, trying to wrench it from the invisible grip. They looked like a very odd pantomime, and neither appeared to be making any headway. Lysander’s shirt ripped at the shoulder and Nicholas fell backward, taking the scrap of clothing with him as he toppled over the futon. With a growl he jumped back to his feet and shoved the furniture out of his way so hard it crashed to the wall near Fallon. She screeched and cringed as it narrowly missed her.

I ran to her side to get out of the fray and pushed the futon away.

The invisible force lifted Lysander higher into the air. He hung by his arm like a puppet pulled on a string, legs kicking wildly as he dangled, his free arm swatting at the air above him. A large gash appeared down his forearm. His eyes squeezed closed and he grunted in pain. Blood trickled from the new wound and then vanished as if being licked away.

“It’s drinking his blood,” I shrieked. I wanted to help, but I had no clue how to fight back. How can you fight something you can’t see?

Rozaline jumped into the fray without a second thought. She grasped Lysander around the waist and pulled with all her might. Nicholas still had hold of Lysander’s arm and looked as if he too would rise up into the air.

For a brief moment, I saw something. The figure materialized. It was the same man who had swarmed me moments before. Blood coated his pale, almost transparent face. He looked down at Rozaline and smiled, revealing a row of razor-sharp teeth. A blast of air whooshed through the room. Rozaline shrieked. The three of them tumbled and collapsed in a heap on the floor, as if the spirit had given up on them.

 I rushed to Lysander’s side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. Are you okay?”

Nicholas and Rozaline untangled themselves from the pile on the floor. When Rozaline stood, I saw four evenly spaced deep scratches marring her pale face. Blood oozed from the wounds and dripped down her chin.

“Are you okay?” Nicholas asked, a mixture of horror and rage flashing in his eyes. Rozaline was old and could certainly take care of herself, but that didn’t stop Nicholas from being protective of her. He still made it a point to remind me of how I had accidentally burned her with a flamethrower when we first fought with the Acta Sanctorum.

“Yes, just a scratch. I think—”

Before she could finish the sentence, her body jerked upward, her head cocked to the side, and she let out a guttural moaning gasp.

The man again appeared before us, slowly taking physical form, becoming a pale, frightful hulk. His head was bent into the crook of Rozaline’s neck. He held her in a crushing grip, and together they rose into the air. A rivulet of blood rounded her neck and disappeared into the collar of her shirt. Though I couldn’t see the ghostly man’s face, I heard a sickening slurp as he siphoned away her blood.

Terror held me frozen to the spot, watching helplessly as this thing devoured her.

Rozaline struggled under his cage-like grip, but made no progress to free herself. Just as a human was powerless against our kind, so was Rozaline in the grasp of this thing.

Nicholas and Lysander sprang to action, flinging themselves at the rising pair, trying to grasp on to some part of its body before it lifted out of reach. They were too late, and couldn’t take hold.

I looked to the ground for anything that might be used as a weapon. A broken bar from the damaged futon lay at my feet. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. I picked it up and swatted at the floating figures. When I couldn’t reach them with it, I chucked the bar, hoping to at least annoy the creature enough to make him drop her. Nothing was working. It bounced off him and landed with a clang on the floor.

Rozaline, still struggling, screamed as the figure pushed her against the vaulted ceiling, laying her across it as if she were on the floor.  Blood dripped down on us like rain. Having finally taken on full physical form, he pinned Rozaline’s body and straddled her. He threw his head back and let out a feral roar.

Nicholas was frantic. He jumped on top of the desk and attempted to climb the walls, scratching gashes into the plaster. “Release my mate,” he screamed. When that didn’t work he flung himself off the furniture, leaping as high as he could. It was no use—he was too short and the ceiling too high to reach. “I’ll kill you!”

Above us, Rozaline’s eyes rolled back into her head. Her eyelids closed. Soft whimpering moans replaced her frantic screams. She’d lost too much blood. Vampires may be immortal and strong, but no matter how old and powerful we may be, we can’t function without blood. Paralysis eventually takes hold, leaving us in a comatose-like state until rejuvenated by liquid life.

“She has my blood,” the ghostly man said. His voice was the deepest bass I’d ever heard. He licked his lips as if savoring a sumptuous meal. “I want it back.” With a sharp, talon-like nail, he swiped across Rozaline’s neck, severing her head from her body.

I let out a disbelieving gasp. It all happened so quickly.

Her head fell to the ground at my feet. The beautiful silver chains she wore came down next, pooling into her matted and bloody hair.

My heart ground to a screeching halt. It was as if all time stopped at that very moment. I stared dumbfounded at her head, lying a few feet away from me. Her long and beautiful brown hair covered most of her face like a bloody cobweb, but it didn’t cloak her eyes. They’d faded from their vampire blue-gray to a cold, milky white.

Rozaline was dead.

Just like that, her immortal life had been snuffed out. It had only taken a single stroke of this thing’s hand.

Nicholas let out a cry—the sound of pain itself.

I stood frozen in place, unable to process the overwhelming emotions hitting me all at once: rage, fear, sadness, anger, remorse, hatred, guilt.

The man, Aniketos, the poltergeist, whatever the hell it was, bent his head and lapped at the remaining blood trickling out like a tiny waterfall from the empty stump of Rozaline’s neck.

Nicholas upended the futon, sending it straight up into the air. It struck the man but he didn’t flinch—too focused on his meal, probably. The futon landed with a loud crash.  Nicholas roared in fury.

I too felt his pain, but we were helpless to do anything, no matter how desperately we wanted to. I wished for a gun or weapon of some kind to use against this thing, but I wondered if it would do any good.
Being mostly spirit, how could we hurt it?

I looked over to Fallon, still plastered against the wall. She appeared just as frightened and confused as I felt. I made a small waving motion, telling her to get out of here while that thing was distracted. If we couldn’t protect our own, there was no way we’d be able to protect her.

She nodded at my sign and slowly edged along the wall to the door.

Aniketos pulled back from his meal with a satisfied rumbling moan. He turned to us one by one and inhaled as if taking inventory and noting our scents. “You all have my blood.” His ugly blood-red eyes flitted to each of our faces. “I want it back.”

Without another word, the creature vanished, and Rozaline’s lifeless body came crashing down to the floor at our feet.

Nicholas collapsed. His knees made a sickening
sploosh
in the blood-soaked rug. He crumpled next to the body of his mate, making an odd sort of hiccupping sound as if fighting back his tears.

I couldn’t fight mine. They flowed unchecked down my face as I watched Nicholas scoop Rozaline’s severed head into his lap.

I couldn’t believe she was gone.

Nicholas cradled her head in his arms and gently wiped the hair from her face. He looked completely destroyed, rocking back and forth, trembling and sobbing.

I couldn’t imagine losing someone so close. My heart broke for him. They’d been mates for hundreds of years. Nicholas’s pain was beyond my comprehension, but I shared it on some smaller level.

My eyes burned with tears as I looked on Rozaline’s lifeless body. I bent down and picked up one of her silver chains. She’d always worn them and believed in their protective magic. My hands trembled as I clutched the lavender stone spotted with her blood. With my other hand I gripped the amber stone around my neck, the last gift Rozaline had ever given me. She was more than just an ancient vampire. She had been like an older sister. Rozaline had been there, after my transformation. She’d made me feel okay about becoming a vampire. She’d helped me and taught me to live and accept what I was. And now she was gone.

I wanted to fall to pieces too, but a rush of cool wind threw my red hair into my face and reminded me we weren’t safe yet. Death might still be our fate. The spirit had paused for the moment, but that didn’t mean it was gone. The question of who it would go after next sent my anxiety skyrocketing. I couldn’t bear it if another friend died.

I felt Lysander’s hand on my shoulder and nuzzled against it with my cheek. It could have just as easily been me or him. Any one of us could be lying there in pieces, our blood soaking into the white rug.

The chilling rush of air blew past again. This thing, whatever he was, was toying with us. “We need to get the hell out of here,” I rasped.

Nicholas growled and jumped to his feet. “Show yourself you bastard.” His tear-glazed eyes almost bulged from their sockets. Veins in his temples throbbed and red streaks lined his face, the traces of his recently shed bloody tears. “Coward!” he screamed. Twisting and turning, he searched all around the room, teeth bared, ready for a fight. “Come on. Challenge me like a man. Or are you afraid of a fair fight?”

A small drop of blood fell from his tightly balled fist. His arms trembled with rage. “You’ll pay for this, if I have to become a spirit myself to end you.” 

Disembodied laughter filled the air all around us, echoing off the bare walls, a wordless answer to Nicholas’s challenge.

Fear rooted me to my spot, while every other instinct screamed at me to flee. I wanted to run. We needed to leave while we still could—if we could. Would it let us leave? If that thing could take out Rozaline, a vampire of over six hundred years, I knew we didn’t stand much chance, even with ancients like Lysander and Nicholas ready to fight.

Cold air swirled around the room again. I felt as if that thing was taking its time, hand selecting one of us for its next victim.

I might have been frozen with fear, but Nicholas wasn’t. Blind rage seemed to be fueling him. He lunged wildly at the swirling air and put his fist through a wall.

Lysander let go of my shoulder and bent to grab the small box from the floor. After a moment of quiet inspection, he handed it to me and said, “Hold this, and get ready to run.”

I nodded and took a deep, cleansing breath to try and master my fear. The box, though light as air, weighed down my soul. Like a dam bursting, fresh tears poured from my eyes.

Rozaline should still be alive. None of this would have happened if Fallon and I hadn’t found the stupid box.

Nicholas still raged around us, decimating the room in his fury. Lysander reached out and tried to take hold of him, but couldn’t get a firm grip. “We need to leave now. Nicholas, get a hold of yourself. We will take care of this,” he shouted.

“Vengeance!” Nicholas yelled, still futilely attempting to attack the spirit.

“Listen to me, Nicholas,” Lysander said in his most commanding voice. But Nicholas still refused to acknowledge him. “We will have vengeance. When we know how. We must learn the spirit’s weaknesses.”

The cold wind enveloped me like a dirt devil. I felt a strange tugging at the box in my hand. I held it tighter. Air encased me in my own personal tornado.

My hair whipped wildly around my face, blurring my vision. I tried to back away and escape, but it was no use. The mini-cyclone followed my steps until I butted up against the wall. The swirling wind blocked out all other sounds in the room, surrounding me with a high-pitched whistling that pierced my sensitive ears.

“Someone, help me!” I shrieked as the wall of air tightened around me. I wasn’t claustrophobic, but at that moment I sure felt it. Everything was closing in on me.

Invisible hands clenched around my throat. As a vampire, I didn’t need to breathe, it was more reflex than anything else, but without air I couldn’t choke out the word “Help” to alert the others.

I rasped and coughed as the grip tightened. I felt myself being slowly lifted into the air.

In a flash, Nicholas and Lysander grabbed my legs and held on tight. Stretched from both ends, it felt like I’d be ripped in two. Nicholas and Lysander tugged, pulling me back toward the ground, while the invisible hands clenched tight around my neck, yanking me toward the ceiling.