Blood-Kissed Sky (Darkness Before Dawn) (21 page)

“Dawn, please, please wake up.”

It’s a rude awakening, the sunlight harsh in my eyes. I raise a hand to shield myself from the glare. Michael, crouched in front of me, hands me his sunglasses.

“Thanks,” I murmur, even though I want to slip back into the dream. “The sun seems so much brighter out here.”

“Yeah, I was noticing that. No smoke from the Works blocking out the sky.”

My body aching, I shove myself into a sitting position. “Tegan—”

“Is fine. Still sleeping.”

“She shouldn’t be alone.”

“Neither should you.” He can’t see me rolling my eyes behind the sunglasses.

I stretch, trying to work out the kinks.

“Here, turn around,” Michael orders.

I shift around slightly. He sits down on the bench and begins kneading the muscles in my shoulders. He has such large, strong hands.

“Oh, that feels good,” I murmur. Really good.

“You have a nice, comfortable bed and you sleep on a bench,” he chastises.

“I needed a little time alone.”

“Not wise, Dawn.”

He presses his thumb on either side of my spine and I arch my back like a cat getting up from a long nap in the sun.

“Are you okay after last night?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“If you need to talk, you can tell me. What you went through was brutal.”

“That’s the thing,” he says, stopping the wonderful massage. “I
am
fine. It was violent, but that’s what I signed up for. I take no joy in it, nor do I feel any remorse. It simply … is.”

Michael’s shedding his youth just like I have. It’s as if the farther we move from Denver, the older we become.

“A month ago, you and Tegan were complaining because you’d never been beyond the wall. Is it all you thought it would be?”

“Not exactly.” He starts the massage again.

“I’m sure you impressed Ian. I don’t mean to sound cold, but he’ll need a new protégé. You could work alongside your hero.”

My shoulders have relaxed. His kneading has softened until it’s more caressing than working out knots in my muscles.

“I’m doing what I want to be doing. The only thing that matters, the only thing that has ever mattered to me is you, Dawn. Even if we aren’t … together. I’ve always considered myself your guardian. When I was training, I wasn’t fantasizing about protecting the city; I was fantasizing about protecting you. Before you were ever a delegate. Before we even started dating. Throughout training, when they asked me to visualize the person I was meant to protect, I always thought of you.”

This entire train seems to be empty, and it’s just us and that vast space. Somehow, though, the distance from here to those mountains seems shorter than the one between both of us on this bench.

He eases up and I can feel his breath whispering along the back of my neck. “I miss you, Dawn.”

I slam my eyes closed. I miss him, too, but it’s his friendship I long for.

His hands cup my shoulders and he turns me to face him. His eyes are the color of rich chocolate, and they hold so much emotion. My life would be easier if I could simply fall into his arms and be content there. I can see how badly he wants to kiss me. And I know how great his kisses can be, but they aren’t enough. What we had before isn’t enough.

“You deserve someone who thinks about only you,” I say in a low voice, as though that will lessen the sting.

“How can you want a vampire?” he grounds out.

“It’s complicated.”

“You know a time will come when he’ll dig his fangs into you again, but this time he won’t stop. He’ll either kill you or turn you into a monster.”

“No, last night he said the craving has lessened.”

Michael stiffens, going into full hunter-alert mode. “He’s on the train?”

“No.” I press my hands on either side of my face, rub my temples. Suddenly I have the mother of all headaches. “No. I don’t know why I said that. It was in my dream, but it was so real.”

“You’re not fully recovered from your coma. You should never have left Denver. Maybe three days in Los Angeles isn’t such a good idea. We should probably turn around as soon as we arrive.”

“No. I’m fine, Michael. Things just get mixed up sometimes. That’s all.” I stand up. “I’m hungry. Let’s go eat. Then I want to read my dad’s journal.” Until nightfall. At which point, I want to talk with Faith and Richard.

L
ord Percy’s demise has rallied the troops. Lieutenant Ian Hightower is being heralded a hero for taking down an Old Family vampire single-handedly. I celebrate his success but I also mourn the loss of an opportunity to speak with an ancient soul, with someone who might have been able to provide answers to the questions that haunt me.

The vampires are hoarding secrets, dark secrets. Deep in the catacombs beneath Lord Percy’s manor, I found a vault with more writings in Ancient Vampiric. It’s not just the complex writing that creates a barrier to the knowledge that I seek. It’s the cryptic messages—half-formed thoughts, random musings, words that seem out of place. I find a reference to a plague and a mention that blood must be kept pure. Can vampires contract disease from us? Are they not immune to the Black Death? Or is this something else?

Of note, within the vault was a painting. Fifteen male vampires standing behind a table. I recognize several as the heads of the Old Families. But who is the fifteenth man? I feel as though I am playing a game similar to one I’ve played with my daughter—what is wrong with this picture? Who does not belong? Why is he there?

Is he the man of whom my father spoke? My father threw away his entire academic career looking for proof, always searching for the legendary lost family.

Have I found it?

Absorbed in my father’s writings, I barely hear the knock on the door. I can’t help but think that he is as cryptic as the vampires. What was my grandfather searching for? I never knew him—he died before I was born.

I want to puzzle out what my father was referring to, to delve deeper into his writings, but as Michael gets off the bed where he’s been playing cards with Tegan, I have a feeling that I’ll be closing the book for the night. When Faith and Richard stride into the room I know I have more important things to address—like making sure Michael doesn’t try to stake them.

He’s been moody and unnaturally quiet since we returned from the observation deck. Even with her blatant cheating at the game in order to win, Tegan hasn’t been able to get much reaction out of him.

Despite Faith and Richard being on our side and the fact that I trust them, Tegan scoots back against the headboard, grabs a book she left on the bedside table, and pretends to read. Warily she watches them over the edge of the spine.

Michael isn’t happy, either. He’s standing nearby, his arms crossed in such a way that he could grab two stakes and jerk them free as he’s unfolding his arms.

Faith saunters over to the liquor cabinet and opens a bottle of wine.

“Why don’t you just make yourself at home?” Michael says.

Faith smiles and winks at him. “I will, thank you.” She grabs three glasses between her fingers and comes over to the sitting area, where Richard has joined me. She pours the deep red wine into the glasses. “Vintage cabernet, 1855. You simply must have a sip. And don’t use your age as an excuse not to indulge. You’re old in soul, that’s all that matters. Not what some, oh … identification card says.”

A chill goes through me at the thought of being an old soul. I’m not sure why it bothers me. Maybe because Father referred to Lord Percy as an ancient soul. I guess sometimes he got tired of writing “vampire.”

Richard doesn’t hesitate to take a glass and clink it against hers. In spite of Michael glaring at me and Tegan studying me with curiosity, I lift a glass and salute the vampires before sipping the wine. To my surprise, it goes down smoothly. I don’t choke or cough. If I didn’t know better, I would think I’d been drinking wine since I was born instead of only since I’ve become friends with vampires.

After we exchange pleasantries—everyone slept well, no evidence of other vamps onboard, lovely moon out—I retrieve the document, unfold it, and flatten it on the coffee table.

“Can you tell me which symbol represents the Carrolltons?” I ask Richard.

Without hesitation, he places a finger beneath a symbol right beside the Valentines’.

“So you have that inked on your shoulder?”

He studies me for a minute, maybe wondering how I know about that. Then he figures out that Victor must have told me. Vampires try to stay so mysterious and, as my father noted, tend to guard their secrets. He finally nods.

“And Faith, you have this one?” I ask, pointing to the one Victor has.

“Yes. What is that document anyway?”

“I’m not sure. But there are fourteen names clustered together; then we have this one over here. My father thought it represented all the families, and so far, I’ve had no luck discovering more by reading his journal. I don’t suppose either of you read Ancient Vampiric.”

“It’s a dead language for a reason,” Richard says. “Vampires have a way of overcomplicating everything, including their own language.”

“So that’s a no. Do you think your father can read it?”

“Probably not. But if old father Carrollton is anything, he’s eccentric.”

“Probably” gives me some hope. I’ll take this with me when I meet with him.

“Is that the symbol you’re dreaming about?” Tegan asks. She’s moved to the foot of the bed, her feet tucked beneath her as though fearful that if she places them on the floor she’ll be connected to the vampires.

“Yeah.”

“You’re dreaming about it?” Richard asks.

“This one that’s off by itself. The dream is so freaking real. But then all my dreams are, recently.” I decide to ask Faith about something that’s been nagging me all day and ease to the edge of my seat. “Speaking of dreams that seem really freakishly real, last night I dreamed I was at Valentine Manor.”

“With Victor?” she asks.

I was going to keep the Victor part of the dream private, and can feel the heat of embarrassment rushing into my face. I wish I’d asked Michael to leave.

“We walked into a part of the manor I’d never been in before. I’m sure that it’s just what I imagine that part of the manor would be like, but as I said, it’s so real. I can feel things, smell fragrances, hear sounds … I sound crazy. Never mind.”

She lifts a shoulder. “So what did you see in this ‘never-before-visited’ part of the manor?”

I can tell by her tone that she’s just humoring me, but I decide no harm can come from telling her.

“It’s a hallway. Pedestals line both sides and on each one is a mythical creature.”

“What kind of mythical creatures?”

Humoring me again.

“Oh, I don’t know. Werewolves, dragons, goblins. A woman with snakes growing out of her head.”

“That hallway is in the manor. Maybe you saw it at some point and just don’t remember.”

I know I’ve never seen it. I would have remembered it. Whenever I saw Valentine, I was on a very strict path, where any deviation would’ve meant death. With Victor, the few times I was there with him … I never saw this place. I saw other parts of the manor, but never this room. Never.

“We went into a small room with comfortable chairs. A fire was burning in the fireplace. On the wall were paintings of the sun over the horizon.”

If vampires could go pale, I think she might have. “Okay, you couldn’t have seen that room before. Victor had that room redone after Father died. He refers to it as his dawn room, because each painting is the sun rising. I think it’s an homage to you.”

“How could I dream about it, then?”

“Have you ever dreamed about Victor before? Like this, in the manor?” Faith asks.

How do I answer that? Dreams that include Victor began the night I met him, before I ever realized he was a vampire. They made me feel guilty because Michael and I were together then. But I knew they were dreams. What happened last night has happened only once before. “I’ve had one more.”

“After you let Victor take your blood?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I mean, I’ve always, you know, had dreams about him. But now they’re powerful. More intense. It’s like I’m actually there.”

Faith looks at Richard, who quickly finishes his wine and refills his glass.

“Why?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just very unusual,” Faith says. “Vampires never dream. Except … well, sometimes, if they have a very strong connection with someone, they do dream, but only about that person.”

“That’s what Victor told me,” I say. “He said that he never dreamed until he met me.”

“And I believe him,” she says. “The thing is, sometimes both people can share these dreams, and it forms a link between them. They can still communicate, be it in a strange sort of way.”

“Victor wasn’t asleep, at least not at first. I saw his meeting with Roland Hursch.”

“Very strange,” Faith says. “That sort of thing doesn’t happen unless you’re a vampire.”