Authors: Aiden James
Twice Bitten (64 page)
But it wasn’t that way for the rest of our companions. Although everyone aside from Xuanxang smiled pleasantly, eventually Racco’s and Koimala’s looks turned sour from worry. This was especially true when forty minutes became an hour, and the hour added another fifty minutes.
Finally, the guard gave us the okay to move forward. Even that didn’t happen until I watched a handful of large bills leave Racco’s hand and slide up the guard’s sleeve. Instead of another round of prying looks into the limousine’s interior, the guard simply smiled and waved us through.
“Whatever it takes,” Racco said to me, after his window was rolled back up again. He added a wry smile. “We should reach the heart of the city in just a few minutes.”
The digital clock behind the driver’s seat read 1:42 p.m. I had overheard Racco tell Koimala earlier that we needed to leave Almaty by four o’clock at the latest. If we left any later, we might not make it back to the lodge and fortress before dusk. No one needed to remind anyone else what that would mean in terms of a welcoming party from Vere Kuningas and his associates.
Despite the military presence that pervaded everywhere, the downtown areas were largely unaffected. The main concern seemed directed toward travelers entering and leaving the city limits. Despite my previous visit to Kazakhstan’s former capital, the architecture in both modern and older buildings seemed even more striking to me than before, and in styles that I now believed were unique to this city. Nestled near two mountain ranges, the towering peaks in the distance give Almaty its own distinct personality.
When we neared the gorgeous orthodox cathedral that Racco and I had visited in our last visit, Xuanxang called for the driver to stop the limousine.
“There are several buildings here that will serve us well in locking into Marissa’s exact location,” he explained. “I feared that she might’ve moved on to some other location. But, she’s definitely here…in
this
area.”
For the first time since I met him in China, Xuanxang smiled, and wide enough to reveal his sparkling double-incisors. Racco motioned for the driver to pull into a parking lot across from the church.
“This may be as good a place as any for us to get out and have a look around,” said Racco. “Mercel, I will have you keep an eye out here near the car, in case you see her. Txema and I will visit the church and the park. That leaves everyone else to search wherever their instincts lead them…. Be sure to keep your radios turned on, since not all of us can communicate silently.” He chuckled.
The limo parked near the main walkway, and the other two vehicles pulled up behind us. When the doors opened, certainly sixteen Ray-Ban clad passengers climbing out at once looked inconspicuous. All facetiousness aside, the vampires soon disappeared, infiltrating the entire area.
As for Racco and I, we walked over to Zenkov Cathedral, where again I reveled in the building’s beauty. I probably mentioned this before, but knowing that it’s the tallest wooden building in the world adds to its allure for me. This time, we had the opportunity to go inside and take a closer look. Yes, perhaps foolish, since Marissa could go strolling by at any moment, and maybe a waste of money since it would be a quick look and then we’d be out of there. But, seeing the gilded alter and the amazing murals is something that will stay with me for quite a long time.
Racco was tense, and I could tell he struggled mightily with an urge to upbraid me for my impulsiveness versus wanting to prove his undying devotion to me. Who knows what might’ve happened if I hadn’t noticed a lone figure standing roughly a hundred feet away, after we exited the church. It was a woman, and she stood in front of the World War II guardsmen memorial in the adjoining Panfilov Park. If not for the woman’s old-fashioned, ankle-length dress, I might’ve dismissed the familiarity from where we stood. It quickly became apparent who it was.
I nudged Racco, and he agreed that it was the same light blue dress Marissa wore that morning. Surprised to find her so easily, his immediate instinct was to run to where she stood with her back to us, intending to tackle his daughter before she could flee again. It took my greatest effort to keep him from doing something that foolish, and I must’ve looked like an idiot trying to shush him when his indignation got the better of him.
I may not possess the telepathic and other psychic gifts that every vampire and Relance de sang child seemingly possesses. But I can be fairly persuasive when necessary. It took a moment for Racco to believe my plan of approaching Marissa in a non-threatening manner was the only option that could work. He finally caved in, once he considered how delicate our chances were of getting her to listen and actually agree to come with us. A woman’s touch was definitely needed here—especially one that belonged to a female Marissa trusted. Any aggression—even slight—could be perceived in the same light as what went down in the fortress laboratory that morning.
“Give me just ten minutes,” I said. “That should be enough time to convince her to come with us. If she won’t come, then I’ll grab her around the waist and wave to you for help. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said, still reluctant to handle the situation in this way. “I trust you, Txema. Go and get Marissa.”
I reached up and kissed him and then set out on my mission. I moved as quickly and quietly as possible, careful not to drag my shoes across the pavement. All the while, I worried that she might look over her shoulder and notice my presence. But she remained focused on the Panfilov Guardsmen monument, created long ago to commemorate the Russian heroes from World War II.
“Hello, Txema,” she said, without turning around, when I was within a few feet of her. “The exquisite décor inside the cathedral is quite impressive, isn’t it?”
She looked over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling with playfulness. I didn’t know how to respond. Obviously, she was aware of my presence long before I noticed her.
“It’s amazing,” I said, wondering how our conversation would progress. Would there be extensive non-invasive chitchat regarding this marvelous city, or would she move to cut me off as soon as I confirmed my reason for being here? Surely, she already knew why we came. “It’s a place I will always remember.”
“My friends from long ago used to talk about when Zenkov Cathedral was being built, and how the architects would argue whether to use stone or wood for the framework,” she said, turning her attention back to the monument. Her French accent was fading into southeastern American, and I realized she was directly mainlined into my mind’s resources again. “I thought seeing it would bring me peace. The new city is so beautiful…but it doesn’t touch the emptiness I feel inside.”
Words spoken without anger or remorse…detached, as if she were burrowing inside her own psyche as a casual observer.
“It’s because all this time you’ve been missing those who care about you,” I said, delivering the words carefully, and with compassion. “I can think of several people who love you, Marissa. Alaia and I have not known you long, yet I know that you know we’ve grown to care deeply for you…as our cousin, and something much more than that.”
“I’m fond of you two, as well,” she said, and then glanced to where her father stood. Racco had crept to within a hundred feet of us. “But, I’m not going back with you. I’m not going anywhere. This place will be my home…this place where I can come see a good papa every day.”
She pointed to the monument, which is dominated by a Hulk-like soldier who looks as if he is taking on the guardsmen’s enemies by himself. Ferocious in appearance, I suddenly remembered seeing pictures of this monument during my junior year in high school.
“But, where will you stay?” I asked, deliberately mimicking her cool calmness, although deep inside I had begun to panic. “Who will take care of you?”
She had to go back with us—no other option was acceptable. And I couldn’t have cared less at that moment about any male’s perspective. My daughter’s survival depended on it—even if it meant that I wouldn’t be so lucky. The creation of one more amulet was all I hoped for at this point. With Alaia protected from harm, I could deal with Ralu, Vere, Huangtian Dadi, or whatever other bastard vampire who wanted me dead. At least our bloodline would survive.
Marissa’s playful look melted into one of worry and fear, as if this was the first time she considered such questions. Sheltered and watched over for hundreds of years, it was as if she had never considered that this nurtured state would cease to exist once she left the confines of her prison.
“I-I…I’m not sure yet,” she said, and then suddenly looked around in a panic. “But, I’m not going back. “I’m
not
—”
At the moment, there were a number of tourists on either side of us. Most had seemed oblivious to our conversation, and only became mildly interested when Racco crept to within twenty feet. But when a shrill scream erupted from the other side of the monument and cut off Marissa’s words, I turned my head in time to see a blur approach us. An instant later, she was gone.
“Run, Txema! Run, Racco!!”
Mohini came up beside us, stark naked, and immediately the center of attention for a bevy of cameras from a stunned audience of roughly sixty people. Extremely frightened, she looked behind her, and we followed her gaze. Xuanxang, who also was as naked as a jailbird, sprinted toward us. He elicited even more surprise from the burgeoning group of onlookers, since his torso was engulfed in flames. But only for a moment. In a matter of seconds, he shifted into his dragon form, roaring angrily as he approached us.
I didn’t have the opportunity to see much else. Mohini grabbed Racco and I, lifting us both up off the ground. Then, she raced toward the parking lot where our limousine waited. Moving as a blur, I didn’t see much else—other than Xuanxang in his dragon form, and something much bigger than him coming up fast behind him, and obviously in pursuit of us all.
A creature of nightmares. Black as coal with long wings and fiery red eyes from hell, it smiled. Its long crimson-streaked fangs announced its preference for blood, and a young man focused on capturing an impossible shot of us with his camera instead served as an appetizer for this fiend when he unwittingly crouched in its path. I closed my eyes before the blood gush fully erupted, sadly convinced that we had waited too long to secure our protection.
The ancient shifters that Gustav warned everyone about had found us.
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Deadly Night: The Murder of Candi Starr
Ghosthunters 101 Series, Book One
(Please read on for a sample)
I’d never seen a fresh corpse before. At least not human.
Blood dripped below her face, spreading across the chipped linoleum kitchen floor of our host, Johnny Rush. Candi Starr stared back at me, a red grotesque halo framing her tussled golden hair, still wrapped in foil strips. Her stone gaze faced us all as we stood in shocked silence.
Her head was barely attached at the neck, and a deep jagged wound traversed from ear to ear beneath her chin. Sprawled upon the floor, the expression in Candi’s lifeless steel blue eyes was one of sudden surprise.
Johnny sat at the kitchen table, across from Brenda Wright. Rope-bound to a pair of high back vinyl chairs, one olive green, and the other merlot. Both wore matching black t-shirts and jeans. Intense terror was visible in their eyes, and both mouths lay open, slack-jawed, and emotionless in contradiction. Their single fatal shots to the forehead announced assassination. Not intended victims, but here just the same. In all likelihood the pair not only witnessed the murder of their famous companion, but also had plenty of time to anticipate their own demise.
So...correction: I’d never seen
three
dead human beings before.
When I was finally able to tear my eyes away from the scene, my attention was drawn to Fiona. The loveliest, smartest and bravest woman I’ve ever known didn’t seem so at the moment. Two cops in the dining room were grilling her. One was dressed in uniform and the other wore plainclothes. Her gorgeous hazel eyes, which often morph to amber and pure gold depending on her attire and mood, were now swollen. They were puffy and red from a deluge of tears. Her grief was genuine, as these were real friends. She struggled to answer the cops’ questions—despite the pained looks each man wore, nodding quietly in response to her clipped answers.
What questions did they ask? I could only imagine, but I managed to hear a few. Basic things like ‘how long have you known the victims?’ and ‘can you think of anyone who might hold a grudge, one bad enough to do something like this?’ No doubt they also want to know what she and the rest of us were doing there, anyway.
Meanwhile, two forensic techs brushed past our group on their way to beginning the painstaking task of moving from the stiffening corpses in the kitchen to the living room to look for more evidence. It made me feel awkward, standing near the entrance to the living room. I fidgeted, unsure of what to do…or where to go, half horror movie, half feeling five years old and told to stand in the corner.
