Blood-Kissed Sky (Darkness Before Dawn) (4 page)

“Then why isn’t he here? Why are you?”

Richard Carrollton takes my hand and presses a kiss to it. “Victor’s new responsibilities as overlord keep him pretty busy. I’m glad to see you’ve regained your color.”

Old Family vampires are elegant, suave, sophisticated. Comfortable with what they are. Humans who are turned—Lessers—never quite achieve that beauty. Richard Carrollton is Old Family and it shows with each movement he makes. Like Victor, he’s well dressed and well manicured. His jeans and buttoned shirt are crisp. A small clump of his long brown hair is braided and decorated with leather wraps that line one side of his face. Like all Old Family vampires, he’s gorgeous. He’s different from Victor. More party boy than poet. But they’re two sides of a similar coin. I can understand why they’re good friends.

“You’ve been here before?” I ask.

He gives a casual shrug. “Victor had us keeping watch.”

“Were you in the city that night?” I ask, knowing I don’t have to clarify.

Richard nods. “We did what we could to contain it.”

“What about Sin? What happened to him?” If they destroyed him, they might not have told the Agency. Vampires have a tendency to keep vampire business to themselves.

Faith moves nearer to the bed. “My creepy half brother got away. We don’t know where he went. Victor has hunters out looking for him.”

“He … he turned my brother. Brady.”

“He’s apparently obsessed with your family,” Faith says. “He may even be the one who killed your parents—possibly at Father’s bidding. We don’t know.”

“But your father said it was rogue vampires—”

She purses her lips as though I’m the silliest thing. “Well, he certainly wasn’t going to confess that he was behind their deaths, now was he?”

“But why would he kill them? What would he gain?”

She gives me a pointed look. “Think about it, Dawn. What did he gain?”

The answer slams into me, making me dizzy. “Me as delegate,” I whisper, forcing out the answer, trying to make sense of it.

He had requested me, and what the mighty Lord Valentine wanted, he got. No one questioned why he would want a seventeen-year-old girl, still in high school, to serve in such an important role, yet I had always wondered.

“But why?”

“Who knows? But you were there the night he confronted Victor. He kept saying you were special.”

“Special how?”

“That’s the mystery,” Richard says. “Victor has been going through Murdoch’s journals searching for some clue, but as you can imagine, almost a thousand years’ worth of handwritten text is slow going.”

I sigh with the futility of it all. “Waste of time. I think Valentine was just referring to me being a pawn because he knew that Victor and I … I mean, that Victor … that I—”

“That my brother would die for you?” Faith asks.

“He wouldn’t—”

“He almost did.” She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. “And that is strange because vampires are not normally emotional creatures. Not when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“I disagree,” Richard says. “I believe vampires can love. Deeply.”

He’s not looking at me anymore. He’s focused on Faith, not bothering to mask his feelings for her. She refuses to meet his gaze. How can she ignore him? I know they have some sort of history, but I’ve only recently met them, and we’re not yet to a phase in our friendship where we pour out our souls to one another. I can’t imagine that we ever will be. She starts to fidget with her pearl necklace, running her slender manicured fingers over it, creating little clacking noises. Seeing the usually calm and cool Faith flustered makes her seem almost approachable.

“Hospitals give me the creeps,” she finally says. “Let’s find the blood-storage room, grab a midnight snack, and get out of here.”

“Your wish is my command,” Richard says.

She rolls her eyes again. “You can be so—”

“Romantic?” he asks.

“Banal.” She turns her attention back to me and lays a small package on my lap. “Hospital gowns have never been very fashionable.”

She walks from the room.

“She’s not as uncaring as she acts,” Richard says. “Valentine didn’t tolerate weakness in his children, including showing emotions.”

“You love her, don’t you?”

“Let’s just say I understand her.” He turns to leave, stops, looks back at me. “Just so you know: What you did for Victor means a lot to us. You could have left him to die.”

“No, Richard, I couldn’t.”

I see in his eyes that he understands. I didn’t save Victor because I knew that his being alive was best for Denver. I gave him my blood because I didn’t want to live in a world without him in it.

When he’s gone, I open the package that Faith brought me. A crimson nightgown shimmers in spite of the dim lighting in the room. I run my fingers over it. It has to be real silk. Only the fabulously wealthy can afford something like this—and Old Family vampires have wealth beyond measure.

I imagine wearing this for Victor. I slam the box closed, then my eyes.

In spite of Victor being willing to die to save me—and me being willing to die to save him—the reality remains: He’s a vampire. I’m not.

I lay back, stare up at the ceiling, and listen to the nighttime streets far below. The hum of the city, so subtle now, slowly fades until I hear nothing but the wind. Then that, too, disappears, and I hear the night. The quiet, the silence of the moon.

I turn off my lamp, welcoming the plunge of shadows. Whereas so many of us now fear the darkness, I’m beginning to draw comfort from it. This world without light, this world of midnight sounds calms my breath, calms my heart. I feel its grasp slowly enveloping me, and all I can do is thank it for being there.

For always being there.

I
don’t know how long I stare into the night before I hear footsteps. Several of them. My heart speeds up along with them. They’re moving with purpose.

A strange fear takes hold and I’m tempted to try to escape through the window, but then Rachel comes through the doorway. Attila the Nurse is right behind her.

Rachel smiles. “Hey, kiddo. You ready to go home?”

I jerk my gaze back to the window to make sure—

“I’m not complaining, but it’s night. Seems an odd time to break me out of here.”

She suddenly looks uncomfortable as she sets a small duffle bag on the foot of my bed. “We just thought it would draw less attention.”

As a delegate, I do usually have to deal with the media following me around. I’m actually surprised that no one has barged into my room with a camera and microphone. I can only assume that the Agency provided guards to make sure that didn’t happen.

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m ready,” I say.

The nurse comes over and removes the IV from the back of my hand. I’m fascinated by a drop of blood that beads up and rolls in slow motion along my skin. The nurse slaps a bandage over the wound and the spell holding me mesmerized is broken, the tiny droplet absorbing into the cotton, taking shape like some red butterfly with broken wings. She proceeds to remove other monitoring devices that were clamped on me or stuck to my skin.

“Thanks,” I say when she’s finished.

She just glares at me before pivoting on her squeaky shoes and leaving the room.

“What
is
her problem?” I ask.

Rachel ignores my question and just pats the bag. “Get dressed. I’ll be outside.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I pull my long black hair back into a ponytail. It feels great to shed my drafty hospital gown and pull on the clothes she brought me: well-worn jeans, a black tank top, and a black hoodie. I place the box of chocolates and the gift from Faith into the bag. I give the room a final glance and hope I never have to come back here.

When I join Rachel in the corridor, I’m surprised by how quiet it is. But not surprised by the two guards standing by the elevator. I have no doubt that Faith and Richard charmed them in order to visit with me. Or maybe they found another way in. Vampires are very resourceful.

“Aren’t there any other patients?” I ask.

“Not on this floor,” Rachel says. “VIP only.” She tries to smile like it’s a little joke.

“You mean only people who are in danger and need twenty-four-hour guards posted at the entrances.”

“Let’s just say it’s easier to watch you when there’s no one else around.”

Normally I’d call them out for being overprotective, but maybe they aren’t this time. Sin may have gone underground, but he’s still a threat. Plus not everyone in the city appreciates my role as delegate.

We quickly make our way to the elevator and step in. The two bodyguards join us, standing like ever-present statues ready to spring to life.

“Now that you’re well, Clive wants to debrief you soon,” Rachel says, the elevator rumbling downward. “There’ve been a number of developments since … since the party.”

Yeah, I can just imagine.

We step out of the elevator and into the lobby. Two more guards are standing nearby. They acknowledge us with a jerk of their heads. The lobby, like my own floor, is empty, the lights dimmed or turned off completely. It’s so eerie here with no one around—like it’s a ghost hospital.

Jeff is outside, waiting for us beside the Agency town car. “You’re looking good,” he says with a bright smile.

“And how about me?” I ask teasingly, pretending that I think his comment is for Rachel.

“You’re looking good, too,” he says with a wink, indulging me.

“Will you two knock it off?” Rachel says, then gives me a pointed look. “Yes, Jeff and I are dating.” She ducks into the backseat.

“Awesome,” I say as I join her. “About time you admitted it.”

On the drive home, I welcome the sight of familiar places. I spot the Works, a sprawling mass of steel pipes reaching out to the sky. Out of the top plumes the constant blue smoke, created from the processing and burning of coal, which fuels the massive generator that provides electricity to the city. It also coats the city in soot, giving it a blackness that mirrors the oppression we faced under Valentine’s rule. It’ll be different with Victor. The darkness won’t seem so dark.

“Can we take a detour by Day Street?” I ask.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rachel says.

“Please? I just … I need to see it.”

I notice Jeff studying Rachel in the rearview mirror, waiting for her decision.

“Okay,” she finally says.

Day Street is what all of Denver is working toward becoming. When the sun sets and the shadows lengthen and creep between the buildings, huge streetlamps come on and chase back the darkness, making people feel safe.

But at this time of night, in spite of the bright lights, the street is completely empty. It wasn’t abandoned before Sin wreaked havoc. A few people could always be seen taking in the evening, feeling the warm glow of the halogen bulbs, pretending for a moment that they weren’t afraid, that they were the masters of the night.

Then I spot the Daylight Grill. It’s a popular teen hangout. Or at least it was. Now it’s boarded up. This is where we held the Teen Initiative party.

I started a campaign to get teens to donate blood in an attempt to increase our supply and keep Lord Valentine satisfied. The reward for donating was a free ticket to an entire night of dancing, food, and live music. As the sun set, we locked everyone into the Daylight Grill so no vamps could get in and ruin the fun. Unfortunately, the vampires were already there. Sin had decided to use the venue to reveal that he was the first Day Walker to ever exist. He did it by unleashing hell.

Jeff slows the car to a crawl. Flowers, plush teddy bears, and burning candles create a memorial in front of the building. Pictures of people my age—some I recognize from school—are mounted to the boards covering the space where the windows once were. And words have been scrawled in dripping red paint that gives a sinister feel to the messages left.

We won’t forget.

We love you.

Vampires will pay.

Death to Dawn.

My chest tightens painfully with the last one, because I’m pretty sure they aren’t referring to the sunrise. I swallow past the lump in my throat. “How many died?”

“Twelve confirmed,” Rachel says in a raw whisper, and I know she didn’t want me to have to face this yet. “Three are still missing.”

As we roll past, I can’t seem to tear my gaze from “Death to Dawn.”

“Is this why we left the hospital at night?”

“During the day, people gather there, chanting, protesting. We weren’t sure we’d be able to control the crowd if word got out that you were being discharged.”

Jeff turns the corner and speeds up, maybe fearing that our little detour did more harm than good.

“People blame me,” I say, almost trancelike.

“It’s not your fault, Dawn. People don’t know where to direct their grief and anger. You’re a symbol, that’s all. The Daylight Grill is going to be renovated and it’ll reopen. It may take a while but things will return to normal.”