In Darkness We Must Abide: The Complete Second Season: Episodes 6-10 (40 page)

Vanora shuddered, lowering her eyes.

“So we kill them all.” There was no fight in Sheila’s comment, just surrender.

“Yes. I hear four heartbeats. Most likely it is the dealer in and his three regular cronies.”

“Just because they deal drugs doesn’t mean they should die.” Vanora finally looked toward Armando, tears in her eyes.

“This is war, Vanora. People die.” Armando’s expression was one she’d never seen upon his features before. It was cold, aloof, and a little cruel.

Blinking rapidly to fight her tears, Vanora directed her attention away from him and toward the fiery radiance to the east. Was it the mansion burning? If Alisha was here, what would she do? Would she kill? With a sigh of despair, Vanora suspected her sister would do whatever she had to in order to be at full strength to protect her.

“We have no choice,” Sheila whispered to Vanora.

She ignored the vampires. How many times tonight did her heart have to break? How many dreams had to be dashed?

“They already broke all the cameras in the area, so we don’t have to worry about that,” Armando said to Sheila. “I’ll pull around with the headlights off and park. They’ll think we’re customers. Sheila, carry Alexander. I’ll deal with the humans. Vanora, you’ll stay with the car.”

Vanora wedged her fingers under Alexander’s elbow. She was going to have a terrible bruise, but it didn’t compare to the fresh wounds her soul now wore.

Armando put the car in gear, and it rolled quietly around the corner. The voices of the men on the far end of the alley wafted on the fetid air. The reek of garbage and urine was nauseating. Vanora tugged her scarf back over her nose.

The engine fell silent, and Armando vanished from the driver’s seat. Vanora took this as her signal to let Sheila and Alexander out, but before she could open the door, Sheila was on the hood and pulling Alexander through the broken windshield.

“Stay here,” Sheila ordered, then slung Alexander over her shoulder and slid off the car to follow Armando.

Vanora stretched out her body, relieved not to be crushed anymore, but the painful knot in her stomach refused to lessen. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she struggled not to let them fall. Staring at the world through the watery sheen of unshed tears, she drew a deep breath, instantly regretting it. The air tasted foul even through her scarf.

A startled cry tugged her attention toward the far end of the alley. A broken street lamp shed putrid yellow light over an area populated by a dumpster, broken pallets, and a sagging wood fence. The blank wall of another building loomed just beyond the mouth of the passage, and against this backdrop she watched as a shadowy figure rendered four men unconscious in just a few scant seconds. At least Vanora assumed they were unconscious. Had Armando already killed them?

Cupping her hands over her mouth, she fought the urge to scream for him to stop. The heat of her breath warmed her numb fingers. Soon those men would no longer have breath or warmth. They would be corpses, cold and dead.

Cold and dead just like the vampires about to feast off of them.

The fear and hysteria that she had felt before on that terrible Halloween night was born anew within her. The need to run away and not witness her friends and lover leaning over the prone men rose inside of her like a great dark wave. Yet she couldn’t look away. She watched as Sheila slashed the throat of one of the dark garbed men and held him aloft over Alexander’s mouth. Mesmerized by the flow of blood, she didn’t avert her eyes even when Alexander suddenly rose, grabbed the man, and rolled over on top of him to tear at his throat like an animal. Armando’s black coat covered the body of his victim as he drank, obscuring her view, which was most likely deliberate.

Somewhere deep inside of Vanora, her fear dissolved into raw anger and fierce boldness. Pushing open the car door, she stepped into the freezing night wind. The vampires continued their feast, the coppery scent of blood mingling with the other foul odors. Quick, determined steps carried her rapidly to the edge of the feeding frenzy. The three people she considered dear to her heart sounded more like animals as they hungrily slurped at the ruined throats of their victims. Alexander had finished with his first feast and was now on his second. Vanora purposefully looked into the faces of the men who died to give her friends life. They were young, yet a bit worn. Two were white, one may have been Hispanic or of Native descent, and the third was black. Young and stupid men living dangerous lives. A small sandwich bag filled with smaller bags caught her eye. Squatting, she saw the bags contained what looked like rock candy.

“You need to hurry,” Vanora said in a flat voice. “They have a lot of meth here, which means they have a lot of customers.”

Alexander rose drunkenly, wiping the blood dripping from his mouth on the back of his hand. He avoided looking at Vanora while scanning the area. She could tell he was trying to piece together what had happened.

Much to her fascination, the blood covering the vampires snaked off their clothing into their flesh. Rivulets of the red liquid slid along the dirty asphalt to creep up into the folds of their clothes, seeking out their skin.

“Armando, you need to hurry,” Vanora insisted, annoyed that he wasn’t listening to her. Twisting about, she watched fretfully for anyone approaching. “Seriously, one of his customers could show up at any minute.”

The man she loved, yet feared, rose to his knees, hiding his bloody mouth behind one hand. His usual golden gaze was replaced with vibrant scarlet. A few feet away, Sheila also finished and sat back on her heels. With a cry of relief, she was swept into Alexander’s loving embrace. The lovers clung to each other, Sheila’s face buried in Alexander’s long black tresses.

“I told you to stay in the car,” Armando grunted.

Waving her hand at the dead men, Vanora said, “This is my life now. I better get used to it, don’t you think? All the death. The blood. Besides, I’m your lookout.”

Armando growled with frustration and fury, rising gracefully to his feet. His curls fell across his furrowed brow as he glowered at her. “I didn’t want you to see this!”

“What? The truth of what you are? I know! Remember!” Vanora met his angry glare with her own. “God, Armando, I love you so damn much, even though I know what you are. Even though you just killed in front of me, I love you so much it scares me to death.”

Lowering his eyes, Armando pressed one hand to the top of his head. “You don’t deserve this.”

“But this is
my
reality. My brother is dead. My sister might be dead. My home is in flames. And you, Armando, have my heart and soul in your hand, and even this,” she waved her hand at the corpses, “doesn’t change that fact. I’ve been running from the darkness so damn long I didn’t realize it had already caught me.”

“Don’t say that!” Armando stepped toward her, darkly menacing yet alluring.

When she had first seen him long ago, she’d known he was dangerous.
Specifically
dangerous to her. The denial created by her feelings had not changed that reality. Now as the vampire stood before her clothed in shadows, stained in blood, she accepted that to love him meant to love the monster, too. Heart beating harshly within her breast, she knew without a doubt that she did love him completely and that truth would cut her dearly and soon.

“I’m only speaking the truth,” Vanora replied.

Armando swore fiercely in Spanish.

Sheila and Alexander stood nearby obviously listening, but also looking a bit embarrassed. Sheila discreetly ran her fingers over her mouth, attempting to wipe away any residual blood. Their sheepish expressions upset Vanora even more. How could she judge them when she had done nothing to stop them from killing? She was complicit, and it wounded her to acknowledge that fact. Yet she wanted to survive the night. She didn’t want to fall into Aeron’s hands, and the three vampires standing sullenly before her were her best chance at eluding him.

Alexander finally broke the silence by picking up one of the corpses and tossing it into the dumpster. Sheila helped him with the other bodies as Armando stared firmly at the ground between his feet. Vanora dared to draw close to him. Armando slightly flinched, obviously emotionally torn over the situation. Tenderly, she rested her hands on his waist. Peering up into his eyes, she saw shame, anger, and savage resolve.

“I’ll do what I have to,” he said at last, his now golden eyes gazing into hers.

“I know, Armando.”

Vanora wasn’t certain what Armando would do in the end. There was so much he was still keeping from her, and she knew once the truth was laid bare she would face a terrible choice. But that time wasn’t yet, so she slid her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. Since fresh blood was in his system, she could hear the slight stutter of his heart. Enfolding her in his embrace, Armando rested his cheek against her hair. The leather of his jacket creaked softly as he squeezed her gently.

“You don’t deserve any of this,” Armando whispered.

“But it’s happening.”

Armando kissed her cheek tenderly, the coppery scent of blood lingering on his lips. Vanora winced before she could stop herself.

“Let’s go,” Sheila called out. “Vanora’s right. People will start to show up the longer we stay here.”

Armando kissed Vanora’s forehead, nodded, then guided her back to the car. She clung to him, needing to feel him close to her. How much longer they had on this earth was questionable. What was even more terrible to consider was how much longer they had before Armando’s lies ripped them apart.

* * *

Leto watched the mansion burn without emotion and with no fear of detection. Shrouded in darkness and magic, she was invisible to the world of the mortals. The humans with their big red trucks and massive hoses were working diligently to save the fiery structure. They would most likely save it from completely collapsing to the ground, leaving it a gutted shell, but the fire had already performed its duty. The dead vampires would have decomposed rapidly, but the fire had now wiped away all traces of them. The human security guards would be discovered inside, nothing more than ash and bits of bone.

Crouching on the wall surrounding the Socoli estate, Leto cocked her head to regard the silent form beside her. Aeron was not pleased with the unexpected turn of events. Long legs dangling, Aeron watched the fire with his lips pressed into a grimace. Standing next to him on the wall, Lorelei rocked back and forth on her heels. The movement was beginning to annoy Leto.

“Alisha is missing,” Aeron said at last.

“Yes.” Leto nodded.

“And Vanora is with Armando, but he’s not answering his bloody cellphone,” Aeron continued.

“With so much of Houston on fire, service may be spotty, you know,” Leto said with a shrug of one shoulder.

“Unless this demon they went to see did something to Armando,” Aeron replied, concern coloring his comment.

“Why would a demon do anything to him?”

Aeron gave her an incredulous look. “Demons are scum. They act without conscience and on a whim. They’re not worthy of life.”

Leto was slightly surprised that Aeron still cared so deeply for anyone other than himself, but it was clear that he was concerned for Armando’s welfare. “Demons also know when to not anger the powers that be.”

Aeron scoffed at her words. “When it suits them.”

“If they’re looking for Carlotta, then why don’t you go to her and wait for them?” Lorelei suggested.

“Because I do not know where Carlotta’s haven actually is,” Aeron said testily.

“Oh, that’s right. She gave you a false address.” Lorelei giggled.

“Damn gypsy,” Aeron grunted. “I only made her because Armando was so in love with her. She has always been difficult and secretive. I should have killed her long ago.”

“I want to cut her head off and hurl it at Armando,” Lorelei decided. “I wonder if he’d scream or cry.”

Leto growled at Lorelei, startling the vampire.

“What?” Lorelei widened her eyes.

“Your childish dreams of revenge have no place among your Master’s plans,” Leto answered.

Aeron continued to stare at the fire with his hands resting gently on his knees. The space between his eyebrows was wrinkled into a frown, and his lips were pressed into a thoughtful line. “How many do you think escaped tonight?” Aeron asked Leto, finally shifting his purple eyes from the fire to her face.

“From the mansion?”

“No. The city.”

“Maybe a hundred.” She dug her long claws into the wall and arched her back, stretching out her muscles and bringing sweet relief.

“They’ll scatter and warn the other rogues dwelling on this continent.” Aeron smirked at the thought. “They’ll warn the others of the white vampire that shows no mercy.”

“You enjoy being the stuff of myths and legends, don’t you?”

Aeron shrugged. “I like being the stuff of nightmares. You’re the stuff of myth and legend, and no one really remembers you, do they?”

Leto knew he meant his words to be a subtle insult, but what he didn’t understand was that she didn’t want people to remember her. She matched his shrug. “No, they don’t.”

“I never forgot you. I sought you out when I understood my destiny.”

“I know, Aeron.”

“I’ll find her tonight,” he said with confidence, “and fulfill the oracle’s words from so long ago. A new race of gods will walk this earth, and they will exalt my name.”

“Aeron the White and Terrible,” Leto said, attempting not to sound amused or mocking.

“Soon you will not be the only god left on this world,” he said and rested his large yet elegant hand on her arm. “Soon you will not be alone.”

Leto solemnly nodded. “No, I will not be.”

Lorelei pulled out her cellphone and peered at the screen. “Good news. The incubus is still at his club.”

“Excellent.” Aeron kissed Leto’s hand. “We depart.”

“Be wary of demons.” Leto watched Aeron take to the air, Lorelei at his side. “They’re liars.”

Aeron merely smiled, then was gone.