In Darkness We Must Abide: The Complete Second Season: Episodes 6-10

In Darkness We Must Abide

The Complete Second Season

Rhiannon Frater

In Darkness we Must Abide

by Rhiannon Frater

Copyright 2013. All Rights Reserved.

Kindle Edition

Cover art and design by Corey Hollins

Cover typography by Ashley Dawn

Interior formatting by Kody Boye

Copyediting Erin Guyes & Jessica Meigs

Special Thanks to:

Sky Texture 3 (kaotika /Brusheezy.com)

R0man Abstract Brushes 3 and 12  (http://r0man.de)

Night Sky Brushes by (skippytheroo/http://www.brusheezy.com/brushes/22031-night-sky-brushes)

Dead Trees Brush (RubelCreative/brusheezy.com)

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or undead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

This is a single installment of a serialized novel. At the time of purchase, not all parts may be available.

Dedicated to all the fans of the serial

Episode 6:

Dire Warnings

Prologue

“You need to eat your breakfast and drink this,” Armando insisted, tapping the orange juice in the cup holder.

The early morning Houston traffic was starting to clog the highway they traveled along. Vanora cast a worried look at the clock on the dashboard, then checked the horizon.

“Armando, are you sure there’s enough time to reach the mansion before the sun rises?”

With an amused smile, the vampire kept a watchful eye on the cars on the road. “I’ll worry about the sun. You worry about eating. We’re getting closer.”

It was hard to eat with her stomach in knots, yet she was hungry. What would she discover on her return home? How much had changed? What would it be like to see Alisha and Roman again? She loved them with all her heart, but what if the mere sight of her siblings sent her fleeing?

“
Vanora…”

She shoved the sausage biscuit in her mouth and chewed vigorously, giving Armando her best glower.

In response, he smiled.

“
Satisfied?” she asked around a mouthful of food.

“
For now.”

The words held the weight of unspoken things between them. Deliberately, she looked away from the handsome man beside her. She was starting to realize how wise it had been to put as much distance as possible between them after that terrible night. Just after a few short hours with him, the image of him covered in blood with glowing eyes was fading from her memory. In its place were the remembrances of his kisses, his touch, and the way he made her feel so safe. She was frustrated with herself for being so vulnerable, but it also gave her hope that maybe enough time had passed that she could re-enter the lives of her brother and sister without fearing them. She needed them so much now.

Swallowing the breakfast biscuit, she felt the floury dry crumbs clinging to her throat. She washed them down with the orange drink, surprised at how quickly she felt refreshed. Sipping the juice slowly, she watched the brake lights of the cars in front of them flash on and off. The sky was definitely fading from black to gray over the tops of the trees and buildings lining the highway.

Exhausted, she sighed and took another bite of breakfast. She hated to admit that the food was making her feel a little stronger. Armando gently ran his thumb lightly down over her hair, before tucking it behind her shoulder to better see her face.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she said.

“
Do what?” Armando flipped on the turn signal, edging the car over to the off ramp.

“
I came back for Roman. Not you.”

“
I know. You’re seeing someone.” The words were clipped with annoyance.

The tension between them sprang back up, much to her relief. The longer they traveled together, the more entangled they became. All the things left unspoken vibrated between them. Vanora tried to keep focused at the task at hand. She needed to save her brother, not rekindle the feelings for Armando she had strove to abolish.

“What if it’s too late?” she said, remorse filling her. Already she had failed one person she loved. She had stayed away for so long and so much had changed. “What if he won’t listen?”

“
If there is one thing about your brother that I know for certain, it’s that he loves you more than his own life. He’ll listen to you.”

“
And not Alisha?”

“
Alisha fights with Carlotta all the time. Roman tends to listen to his fiancée more than his sister.”

“
I still can’t believe he’s marrying her,” Vanora tossed the rest of her biscuit in the white bag from the fast food restaurant. She didn’t feel like eating anymore.

“
In your absence, he’s become…different. But he still loves you.”

There was a long stretch of tense silence. Armando didn’t say the words “I still love you, too
,” but somehow they filled the air, making it hard for Vanora to breathe.

“
I have no regrets about leaving,” Vanora said at last.

“
I know. It was the right thing to do. At the time. Just like it’s now time for you to return and hopefully convince your brother to do the right thing before it’s too late.”

“
Run away?”

“
Or prepare to fight a war.”

April 2008

It was her eighteenth birthday, and Vanora was spending it alone.

Though her uncle and aunt had tried to cajole her into a huge bash, she had been adamant that she wanted a low key birthday. They’d finally relented, believing the lie she told them that she was spending her birthday at a spa in the Hill Country to pamper herself. It was the best story she could think to cover the truth of what she really planned to do.

The night before her birthday, she'd checked into a Best Western on the outskirts of Austin and spent the evening watching reruns of
Law & Order.
Early in the morning of her birthday, Vanora packed the car she’d bought to replace the one given to her by her siblings and drove to Houston. The drive was long, but the early-morning spring weather made it beautiful and calming. Sipping hot coffee, Vanora tried to keep focused and not let her emotions get the best of her.

It was still early in the day when Vanora’s blue Volkswagen pulled up to the wrought
-iron gates that opened onto the long gravel driveway leading to the Socoli Mansion. Parking the car, Vanora stared at the imposing mansion standing in the midst of the lush green trees, her eyes drinking in the sight from behind her sunglasses. She took several deep breaths, attempting to follow the breathing exercises that her therapist had taught her to contain her anxiety.

“
They're asleep. They can't hurt you,” she whispered. “Stay calm.”

Gently, she eased up on the brake pedal and the car cruised through the gates toward the house. The gravel crunched beneath the wheels, an old familiar sound. The mid-morning light reflected off the many windows while the gargoyles peered down at her in silent repose. The atmosphere of the old house, imposing and aloof, welcomed her home.

Parking before the massive front doors, Vanora turned off the engine, opened the car door, and stepped onto the gravel drive. As she tucked the keys into the pocket of her black skinny jeans, the hot stones heated the soles of her red ballet shoes. Her long pale tresses caught the cool breeze that flowed about her while she stared at the house. Tilting her head, she could see the windows of her old bedroom and the spot where Armando had perched to give her the silver bracelet and rose.

The tears in her eyes blurred her vision.

After all the promises she had made to herself, she had returned. It was like being in a horror movie where the actors make all the wrong decisions and head straight toward the monster. The fresh breeze licked along her belly, and she tugged her lightweight black sweater into place. Her mother’s Celtic cross glinted against the dark weave of her top and her fingers played with the stars and moons on her bracelet. Both were objects of protection that she kept with her at all times. For a short time, she had not worn the bracelet, but her wrist had felt strangely bare without it. It was a reminder of Armando, but she was slowly realizing she couldn’t ever forget him or what they shared. The bracelet was now not only protection, but a reminder of the monsters with the beautiful faces.

Trembling, Vanora climbed the steps
to the entrance. The house key she had taken with her on the night she fled fit easily into the lock.  She had plenty of time to do what she needed to do. It would be another two hours before Miss Robbins and Ryan arrived.

It was time to face the past and the demons that dwelled there.

Dragging in a deep breath to steady her nerves, she entered the great foyer, pushing her dark sunglasses up onto her head. Immediately, her eyes strayed to the spot where Armando had kissed her until she had been breathless and burning for him. She shuddered at the memory, terrified by how naïve she had been that night. She had seen and felt his fangs, but had trusted him implicitly. Pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes, she tried to regain her composure. As always when she thought of him, she was torn between desire and dread.

Armando wasn't here. She didn’t have to face him. She was safe.

The heels of her shoes softly clicking against the marble floor, she ventured deeper into the house. If she wanted to banish her fear of that night, she had to be strong.

The long hallway was spotless. The table where Armando's hat and mask once rested was dust free and a brightly colored vase sprouted beautiful flowers. The door to the library was open. Muted morning sunlight streamed through the windows to cast a soft glow on the blue curtains and highly polished cherry wood bookcases. Stepping deeper into the room, she saw that all the old furniture had been upholstered in new brocade. She rested her trembling fingers on the back of the sofa where Armando had made love to her and the tears she had been so valiantly fighting fell onto her cheeks. For a short period of time, everything had been so wonderful and then...and then...

Pressing her knuckles to her lips, she pivoted on her foot to gaze toward the hallway. She often walked along it in her dreams, drawn toward the ballroom where she could hear Armando shouting angrily. The nightmares always ended with her gazing into the room and seeing her sister’s inhuman face revealed seconds before she drove sharp teeth into the throat of the terrified human.

Vanora had promised herself she would not go into the ballroom, but she was drawn inescapably toward it. The horror of that awful night rose within her. She fought against the swelling dread, attempting to control of her emotions. Her footsteps were faint against the long Oriental runner that decorated the long stretch of corridor.

The doors stood open to the vast room. Pausing in the doorway, she was surprised to see how spotlessly clean and serene the grand room was in the pale morning light. If her own eyes had not seen the two men torn apart and the blood that had rushed out like a river from their slaughtered bodies, she would never believe such an act could have occurred in the stately room.

Drifting toward the windows, Vanora regarded the mausoleum with trepidation. Roman’s honor had cursed them all when he had brought the ancestors home. The mausoleum was a vivid reminder of the day death arrived in their lives and shadowed all that followed. Twisting toward the doorway, she briefly flashed on Armando, the way he had looked, splattered in blood, so wild, so hungry, so devastated.

As though in a dream, she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Walking slowly, deliberately, and as quietly as possible, she passed her siblings’ rooms, shivering violently when she sensed their cold, inhuman presence. Only the light coming through the window at the end of the hall kept her from fleeing.

It was difficult to enter her old bedroom. The rush of emotions was crushing. She felt like she was coming home, yet she couldn't imagine sleeping in the neatly made bed ever again. The personal effects she had left behind were neatly arranged on her vanity and dresser. Inside the closet, her clothes were clean and pressed as though they were waiting for her to wear them again. The opulent white costume hung in a plastic garment bag, just as spotless and perfect as it had been on that night.

Closing her eyes, her head swam as once more she was overcome by thoughts of the past. For a crazed moment, she yearned to be in Armando's arms again, feeling his cold touch, his smoldering kisses, and his love. Then she remembered his bloodied face, glowing eyes, and sharp teeth, and she whimpered.

“
He's not here,” she whispered. “Don’t be afraid.”

After a few long minutes of revisiting bittersweet memories as she drifted through her old room, Vanora dared to enter Alisha’s workroom. The windows were open, a gentle breeze rustling the sheer curtains. Alisha had paintings spread all about, and Vanora studied them with admiration tinged with jealousy. Alisha was so talented, it put her to shame. Vanora’s sketches were her strong point, while her paintings lacked the brilliance and fire of her sister’s works.

In one corner, a large easel was set up and covered with a white sheet. Curious, Vanora approached it and lifted the sheet to peer at her sister's painting.

She gasped.

A white piece of tape on the frame declared the title to be Queen of the Night. It was definitely not Alisha’s usual style. No sun blazed in the sky. Instead, it was of a pale woman dressed in a midnight-blue gown embroidered with silver and decorated with diamonds. A tall, platinum crown glittering with dark sapphires rested on her long white tresses. The amazing aspect was how the dress seemed to fade into the night sky, the diamonds becoming stars. Purple eyes fringed with white lashes were painted vividly and appeared to stare out of the canvass. The gaze was piercing, cat-like, sly and so very seductive. It was a beautiful piece of art, but the face of the queen was unmistakably Vanora’s. 

Feeling faint and weak in the knees, Vanora dropped to the floor, her hands pressed to her throat. Though the image was lovely in execution, it terrified her.

Then she noticed something that she had missed in her initial observation. A man's face was completely shrouded in shadow except for the lips pressed to her neck. Crawling forward, she rose to her knees to stare at that one portion of the painting. Gradually, she realized she could see the dim outline of a man's form hidden with the night itself. It was as if the darkness was made manifest to claim her.

Panic seized Vanora. Gasping, she clambered to her feet and fled. No longer mindful of the noise she was making, she rushed down the stairs, raced through the foyer to the front entrance, and out the door. Scrambling around the front of her car, her vision grew muddled.

“No, not right now,” she gasped.

Feeling along the vehicle's body, she managed to find the handle, open the door, and climb behind the wheel. It was difficult to find the ignition and slip the key into it. Not daring to turn it on and drive until she could see again, Vanora rested her forehead against the steering wheel, inhaling deeply, before releasing her breath in long exhalations.

“Get a grip,” she muttered.

She had come home to confront her fears, but instead was more terrified than before. Alisha's painting meant something significant, prophetic. Vanora had felt that truth to the core of her being while staring at it. Did it mean she would be consumed by darkness? That she would become what she feared most? Was the man someone real? Or was the mysterious figure just a symbol of the evil that was trying to consume her?

Feeling faint, Vanora fell against the seat, her head tilted back. It was difficult to regain control of her wildly surging emotions, but she finally managed to find some measure of balance. Opening her eyes, she was relieved to be able to see.

Weary, she turned on the car and steered it away from the mansion that haunted her nightmares.

Vanora spent hours driving through Houston, revisiting old childhood haunts and favorite spots. Though she had fond memories of each place, it dawned on her that most of her recollections were wrapped in the presence of her brother and sister. In her attempt to find peace with herself and all she had experienced, she was continually reminded of the darkness that had invaded her existence when she was a small child. It was interwoven throughout every aspect of her life.

For her birthday lunch, she ate alone at a café that she had once frequented and treated herself to a cupcake afterward at Alisha’s favorite bakery. It was difficult to visit the city where she’d grown up and not yearn to see those who had been so important in those years. Yet, she couldn't imagine seeing Alisha and Roman without being terrified.

Dread filled her whenever she thought of Armando.

Vanora was torn apart inside with no sign of healing.

At last, she traveled out of Houston to return to Austin. She had lied to everyone in her life there about her whereabouts, and she felt remorse. The months of therapy had helped her to some degree, but now she realized it had been foolhardy to believe she was prepared to return home to find some measure of peace.

Perhaps it was the strain of the day, but she'd been driving for several hours when she realized she didn't know where she was, or even what time it was. The sun was much lower on the horizon than she thought it should be and the tall trees lining the two-lane highway cast deep shadows over her route.

“
What the hell?” she whispered.

For several miles she watched for signs, but saw none. The terrain was unfamiliar. A few cars passed, which was a small comfort. Pulling off the road, she tried to find her location using her iPhone, but was out of a service area. Uneasy and a little frightened, she drove on, hoping that she'd soon find a town or road sign. The aura of the world felt unnatural and surreal. A growing disquiet settled into her bones, and she gripped the steering wheel with clammy, shivering fingers. Though she was certain it was mid-afternoon, the sun was sinking below the tops of the trees. The shadows grew darker, thicker, and more ominous. The last glimmer of sunlight vanished and night came.

“This isn't right,” she muttered.

The fluttering wings of fear buffeted her already fearful soul.

A Mercedes sped past, zooming so close when it cut in front of her vehicle that she let out a startled gasp. Vanora’s car wildly shimmied on the road. The howling wind fought with the roar of the road for dominance. The sound was nearly deafening. Great drafts of air rolled into Vanora's car, shoving it to and fro across the asphalt. She struggled to keep the car steady. Ahead, the Mercedes fishtailed, skidding along the shoulder, leaving long streaks of rubber in its wake. In the illumination of the Mercedes’ headlights, Vanora saw the approaching bridge. The Mercedes smacked into the guardrail with a loud crunch.