Dark Heart of the Sun (Dark Destinies Book 1) (26 page)

Chapter 26

Gray Areas

Cassidy watched the sun rise over the Atlantic as if she had never seen a sunrise before—and never would again. The sheer silent power of it, the explosion of color and heat, stirred an ache so intense she found it difficult to breathe. But as the gentle orange glow turned into a blinding blaze, night seeped from the sky and with it all traces of eternal magic.

Until darkness returned, vampires were no more.

She wiped at a tear trickling down her cheek. Dominic had delivered her to her room only a couple of hours ago. For a while she lay on her bed, staring at shadows on the ceiling, thinking. Eventually she climbed into the shower and let hot water beat away what grime and filth remained of her violent introduction to the supernatural world.

The commotion in the bathroom roused Samantha. “Sunrise meditation,” she said, shaking out her thick braid into a wavy blond cascade. “Excellent idea.”

As good an idea as any, Cassidy supposed as she followed her friend to a secluded spot on the resort property. They settled cross-legged into the thick, well-tended lawn and faced into the soft sea breeze. But while Samantha sat, eyes shut, communing with the universe at large, Cassidy watched sunlight sparkle on the water and contemplated a universe shifted into an alternate reality. In the glaring light of day, the lines blurred further in her mind, and what was real and what wasn’t became increasingly uncertain.

She studied the fine white scar on her forearm, the only trace of the knife wound that should have landed her in the ER. Under ‘Dr.’ Marchant’s ministrations, the cut had healed thin and smooth. It looked like nothing more than a long-ago cat scratch.

The scrapes on her face were gone, and she shivered a little, remembering the caress of his soft tongue there, the momentary tingle as the injuries healed while she drifted, enveloped in his spicy cool scent. ‘Poison’ he called it, the substance in his saliva that made it happen. ‘Miracle’ was more like it. Had she known beings like him existed when her mother lay dying of cancer, she knew she would have searched the world to find one—and gotten herself killed if last night was any indication of how vampires usually dealt with mere mortals. Obviously Dominic was an exception.

Maybe.

She genuinely cared for him. He made her laugh and stood by her when she needed him. He even put his immortal life at risk to save hers. She thought of him as a friend even though what she felt for him at this point was more. Way more. But she would be a fool to forget the surreal monster she witnessed killing that terrified boy. Or the darkness in him that hungered for life like a black hole hungered for light. In her heart of hearts, these two sides of Dominic had yet to merge into the same entity.

A lone figure bounded along the beach beyond the clattering coconut palms, his tall, tanned, and muscular body instantly familiar.

“Jackson,” she called with a guilty jolt. She’d forgotten all about him.

“Shhhhhh,” Samantha admonished on a dreamy sigh.

“Sorry.” Cassidy got to her feet and hurried after him. “Jackson. Wait.”

He slowed, but not because he heard her over his ear buds. Done with his morning run, he now moved on to his cool-down stretches. He looked surprised when he spotted her jogging in his direction, the borrowed green meditation shawl fluttering around her.

“Are you all right?” Cassidy asked.

The brow over his nose pinched tight. He leaned forward into a hamstring stretch. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She hesitated. According to Dominic, a chunk of Jackson’s memories had been ripped out of his head. There was no telling what he remembered. Or how.

“You seemed upset last night,” she offered, wrapping the shawl tighter around herself.

“And you’re surprised?”

“Well, I—”

“Turned me down for a romantic dinner because you were too busy touring strip clubs with your gay roommate. What the fuck did you expect?” He switched legs and glanced at her astonished face. “Yeah, I saw you. Nice, Cassidy. Real classy.”

She stared at him, speechless. So he had filled in the hole in his memory with random bits of imaginings, concocting a hybrid reality all his own. One in which she was the bad guy.

“I’m sorry,” she managed, regretting she didn’t have that damn ring handy to throw at him. For the duration of this trip, to avoid questions from Samantha, she had zippered it into a pocket in her purse, which was back in the room.

Jackson gave her a long, hard look, his jaw muscles bunching, before walking away.

Once he disappeared into the building, Cassidy turned back to the quiet expanse of ocean and tried to calm her rattling nerves. Aurelius must have done far more damage than she realized. Plus, the vampire who first attacked her must have done a job on him, too. She’d have to ask Dominic if he could unscramble Jackson’s brain before he became completely delusional.

On the drive home, Samantha filled the car with a chipper Calypso beat that fit the sun-drenched scenery going past but grated on Cassidy’s exhaustion and festering frustration. She desperately needed to talk to someone about her experiences, how it was possible and what it could mean, but she harbored no hope of explaining any of it to her sweet
human
friend.

For thirty miles, Samantha talked nonstop, analyzing all the yogic wisdom she had absorbed at the conference before noticing Cassidy’s lackluster responses.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I’m carrying on over here while something’s obviously bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”

Vampires are real,
she thought, but shook her head. “No. Not really.”

“It’s Jack, isn’t it.” Samantha sounded grim. “I saw you with him this morning. It looked like he was being a real jerk.”

“Well . . .”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“What? No. No, seriously, Sam. We’re over.” Of this, Cassidy was more certain than ever. Part of his recent behavior may have been due to supernatural influences, but by no means most of it. “He just hasn’t gotten that through his thick skull yet. You heard him. He even said that’s why he followed us down here.” Not to mention following her out into town and flying into a jealous rage when he found her chatting with a promising source. Who, as it had turned out, wanted to drink her blood, but it wasn’t like Jackson would have known that. “To be honest, he’s starting to creep me out.”

“I know. He doesn’t take no for an answer. No Striker ever does.” Samantha sighed. “Like I said, I love him as my baby brother, but, dear God, I couldn’t imagine being married to him. I don’t know how Mom can put up with half the crap his father dishes out.”

Cassidy’s tired brain turned this over and spotted an opening. “Warren the maybe-sorcerer?”

Samantha chuckled. “Right. I did say that, didn’t I? He and Garrett are secretive enough, that’s for sure. And Jackson, too, come to think of it.”

“What if . . .” Cassidy searched for the right words while tightening her ponytail against the wind blasting through the open windows.

“What if? What if what?”

“What if they are?”

“What if the Strikers are a clan of wizards?” Samantha’s already high voice rose another octave with giddy disbelief.

“Right. What would you do if you found out? If you discovered some one hundred and ten percent irrefutable proof?”

She glanced over and saw Cassidy’s intent expression. The delicate brows rose over the rim of her Ray Bans. “You’re serious.”

Cassidy forced herself to relax and not look like a candidate for the nearest psych ward. “The conference . . . something someone said got me thinking about the supernatural. And I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she tossed in for good measure and shrugged.

“Really.” Samantha looked dubious, but turned down the radio and brushed at the strands of hair the wind had pulled out of her braid. “Well then, I guess my reaction would depend on what kind of wizards they are.”

“How do you mean?”

“There are good wizards and bad wizards, right? Which one do you think Jack would be?”

“I—I have no idea.”

“That's important,” she counseled, getting into the theory that wasn’t a theory. “If he’s the kind of sorcerer who uses his power for evil, then, well, that wouldn’t work for me. But if he does good, now
that
would be cool,” she finished, nodding. “Maybe I should ask him.”

Which one was Dominic? Which version of him was dominant? Cassidy didn’t know. “What if he’s both? You know . . . a gray area?” Understatement of the century.

“True. Nothing is ever black and white.” Samantha bunched her mouth to one side in thought. “I guess that would depend on what I could accept. You know, where to draw the line. But I’ll tell you this. If I find out Jack is training to be an evil sorcerer, I’m moving in with you. Do you think your roommate would mind?”

Cassidy had shared with Samantha only what her brother already knew about Dominic—French, cooks, gay, infuriating. At trying to imagine the vampire’s reaction to another clueless human showing up at his door, she didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or faint. She did neither. Just stared at her friend.

“Oh, relax, sweetie. I was kidding,” Samantha cajoled with a reassuring grab of Cassidy’s arm. “I’m sure he’s no sorcerer. The French cook is all yours. But I won’t say no to a dinner invite.”

Cassidy smiled at the other woman’s carefree laughter. So clear. Black and white and a bunch of gray in between. Draw a line and pick a side.

Not so easy when it came to Dominic. It wasn’t even a question of life or death. He had killed with ruthless delight while saving her and, by extension, a number of others that Zack might have preyed on even without Aurelius. Dominic also killed to feed—to survive—following a law of nature obeyed by every predator on the planet. Though no other predator came camouflaged as an intelligent and seductive human being. Dominic did. That made him extraordinarily dangerous.

But did it also make him evil?

Cassidy looked out over the simmering tropical day and knew Dominic was right; she should be running from him as fast as she could. He gave her that option by allowing her to live in spite of what she knew of him.

Which was precisely why she would do no such thing.

The mid-morning sun already seared as it beat down on Jackso
n’s head, coating his face in sweat and making his polo shirt stick to his ribs. According to the custom app on his phone, the micro-tracker he planted on that presumptuous bastard of a bloodsucker last night hid at the end of a tiny lane too narrow to park in. Leaving the Audi at a curb around the corner, he resigned himself to going for a walk and dealing with the logistics of removing a comatose vampire once he had found the creature.

It wasn’t the first thing to go sideways this morning and probably wouldn’t be the last, but he could deal. Just like he dealt with Cassidy. Though he wanted nothing more than to grab her and haul her away, he knew there was no escape for either of them at this point. She was under that baby vamp’s control and would do whatever he commanded, and for the time being, Jackson couldn’t trust her not to kill him in his sleep. The youngling had it out for him, no question, and in Cassidy he had found his perfect weapon.

They won’t hesitate to turn the people you love into weapons . . .
Garrett’s words still rang in his ears, mocking him.

“Fucking bastard,” Jackson spat under his breath, not sure which one he was more pissed at, his uncle for being right or Nicky for proving the point.

Never mind figuring out how to carry a vampire in a body bag to his trunk in full daylight in a beehive of activity like Key West. He should put the bloodsucker out of his misery on the spot.

Jackson throttled his bloodlust with thoughts of presenting a live capture for his uncle’s inspection—and then going on to trap the powerful sire as well. Maybe even a whole nest, including the demon that had first attacked Cassidy. The sire couldn’t be far. Anything that old and powerful wouldn’t tolerate a youngling getting away from it for long. Already brimming with his anticipated victories, Jackson homed in on one of the decrepit little houses in various stages of renovation. Just the sort of place vampires liked to hole up in during the day.

“Now let’s see who’s useless,” he muttered.

The high-pitched buzzing of cicadas rang in his ears and almost drowned out the squeak of the gate’s hinge as he let himself into the tiny yard. Several large flies hummed past his face. Many more gathered over foul smears on the ground and . . . 

Jackson stopped. “What the—”

The body lying in the weeds was that of a young man, more a boy really. The paper-white face was frozen in a silent, skyward scream, and the throat gaped with a deep, savage gash. There was no blood beyond what smeared the ragged, fly-encrusted wound.

Jackson’s gorge rose. Ferocious memories of his brother’s death pounded over him. His feet refused to cooperate as he scrambled back, getting tangled in the clanging carcass of a bicycle. He managed to stay upright long enough to grab at one of the posts holding up a sagging porch roof. Compared to Justin’s death, this was surgically tidy, but the cause was unmistakably the same.

He stood, taking deep, calming breaths until the panic subsided. Sweat poured down his face and neck. He wiped at it. “Okay, buddy. You’re done.” When he found the bastard, there’d be no need for the body bag.

But the tracker wasn’t inside the house. According to the app, it lay behind it. Jackson squashed a spike of anger. If the tracker had come off, he was screwed.