Forever Black (Nightwalkers 2) (20 page)

"A feather as light as you would not make it to the
bottom of an abyss."

She quickly turned to the voice. Her breath quickened as her
eyes settled on the Count's cocky smile. His presence was fitting in this
place, his body cloaked in a black suit, and his light hair shining under the
lights. The devil had come for her, just as she had asked. Just like in her
nightmares.

"I want to die." She sniffled. "So, leave me
be."

His arms were crossed over his chest. "You want to
forget." He wasn't making an attempt to pull her away from the edge and
seemed to be studying her instead.

"How do you know what I want?"

"How do you know that I do not?" He appeared next
to her. His lips rested near her ear as his next words hissed from his lips,
"We have been here before, you and I. The ledge, you believe, will let you
fly—the wings you think you have inside you coming out and giving you
salvation."

She trembled at his closeness. She could sense his shape,
but not feel him.

"Your heart is black, just as mine is. You cannot
escape who you are. Fate is like the dark chariot of death—it will come for
you, no matter how far you attempt to outrun it." His words softened, each
one feeling like needle pricks against her delicate skin. His lips brushed
against her ear as his hands took a firm hold of her shoulders. His fingers dug
into her skin and made her sob louder.

"Drake, you said, my soul is like a flower that has
wilted under your moonlight. I can die and never be free of the curse your love
has placed on my soul. Forever is black with you, like the darkest night
without a light. You have drained me of all that is good."

"I didn't say that."

He yanked her hair and halted her words. "
Kiss
me, you said. Kiss me and blind my
eyes from my sins." He kissed her cheek. "My love, take my kiss, and
let me give you the paradise you desire. Let me mold the dark clouds into your
dreams. I can give you everything. Love me, and I shall never let the sun rise
in your presence. In the night, it shall kneel at your feet, only shedding
light when you will it."

This was a side of him she was only familiar with in her
nightmares. This thick, heavy presence that choked her. This was his true form,
and he felt like the devil. His voice was velvety, yet accompanied by a prick
of sin that made her ears bleed.

Though she was terrified of him, his touch calmed her. It
took away all the fight that lined her muscles and made her body numb. He had
complete control over her. Her fragile mind was so lost, she couldn't
concentrate. She wanted to jump, but in the arms of the devil, her wings were
restrained, and she feared soon cut off completely.

"Sweet, red blood…" His tongue peeked from his
parted lips as he admired the coveted skin of her neck. "The taste of it,
only heavenly beings like us can savor. Let me make you into what you once
were, for with this final bite, you will be as I—forever black—with a soul as
dark as the moonless night, and as powerful as the endless sky. I shall make
you a god."

He playfully nipped at her neck. "Take my hand, and I
shall make the world bow to you. I will make you forget, and live in a happy
bliss that will make every day a paradise."

"I just want everything to go away."

"Accept my offer, my queen. Let me take you into the
realm of the gods." His hands slipped around her waist. One of his fists
was balled, and Ashleigh felt the hard tip of something brushing against her
stomach.

"I want to forget." Her next words were
breathless, and she knew once they were released, she couldn't take them back,
"Make me forget, Drake."

"Death will give you all the release you need. You have
called death's chariot to your side, and now there is no turning back. The
devil has arrived to collect the soul that is mine."

Ashleigh let out a silent, choked scream as he shoved a
knife into her chest. She let go of the railing and tried to pry it out. Her
breaths were choked as her body was covered in a thick cloak of pain. So sharp
and paralyzing, her vision was slowly clouding.

"I will blacken your eyes and take you to the paradise
that is this world's hell." In an artful twist, he dug the knife deeper
and made her belt out a bloodcurdling scream. Her head fell backward and rested
on his shoulder. He glanced into her pained face as he licked his lips.

She tried to speak. Her mouth was open wide as her eyes
begged him to stop. All she could see was the yellow light in his eyes—those
intense, emerald eyes she had dreamed about.

Then, everything faded to black. She heard his voice, though
he wasn't speaking, "Do not yearn for the heaven you have been barred
from. For in my arms, the fabricated paradise in which we live will be far
greater."

Ashleigh's head was swimming as she lost the world around
her and was plunged into another. All she could see was swirling smoke, the
sound of her own voice cutting through her watery world and filling her ears,
"Tell me about our heaven, Drake."

"No, my love," The Count's voice was soft and
light, the sound of it magnified by the nothingness around her. "It is
you
who will create it. I shall mold
heaven as you see fit, and your dreams shall be the only to take form. I am but
a servant—humble and admiring. You are the queen who rules me."

She heard herself giggle. The sound bounced around, as if
hitting imaginary walls. "You spoil me."

"To spoil a beauty such as yourself would be a
sin." His deep, malicious chuckle warmed her chest. "And
sins
I will gladly commit."

* * * *

After an hour of searching for Ashleigh, Caleb couldn't find
her. Instead of sulking, he attended the meeting with the Count. He arrived
late, walking into the room filled with the Council of Elders and taking a seat
next to his father. Everyone was quiet, even Caleb. Something didn't seem
right. The mood in the room was somber as they waited for the Count to arrive.

They all turned when a few men came into the room. Caleb's
angry eyes searched for the Count. There were four men, one of them Neal, but
no Count.

"Good evening." Neal nodded in greeting. His eyes
settled on Caleb. Neal's smile grew larger when he saw the rock star’s anger.

Anthony's voice was firm, "I'm glad you have come
tonight." There was a stern expression painting his features. He looked
down at his hands then up to Neal. "Please…" Anthony motioned toward
a few chairs set up in front of the Council. "Sit, so we may discuss the
issue of Ashleigh Brown."

"There is nothing to discuss." Neal clasped his
hands together in front of him. His shoulders rolled inward slightly and showed
off his bulky frame. "I come to tell you what is to be done."

"We have some terms to—"

"The Count doesn't work on
terms
. He is our authority, and his words must not be
questioned." One of Neal's eyebrows raised as a challenging look appeared
in his eyes. "You should know that."

"Yes…" Anthony slowly sat down. He glanced briefly
toward Caleb then back to Neal. "I do."

"The Countess will return to
Krest
and this…" He motioned with his head toward Caleb. "
Boy
and the rest of the Morgan vampires
are not to make any contact with her. If anyone challenges this order, then the
Count will make sure there is no living vampire left in Morgan."

"How long will she stay in
Krest
?"
Caleb stood. His hands held onto the ledge of the table in front of him.

Neal laughed as he uncrossed his arms. He opened them wide
as he spoke sarcastically. "Eternity. She belongs to the Count and will
never leave."

Caleb continued to speak, "The deal was two
months." He ignored his father, who was trying to get him to sit down.
"Why can't she keep the original conditions and then return home? She's
my—"

"Those terms no longer apply." Neal glanced at
Anthony and then back at Caleb. "The Count has turned her, and she will no
longer remember you or anyone else. She is no longer the girl you know."

"Turned her?" Caleb looked to his father,
confused. "What's that mean? I already—"

"Learn your history, boy." Neal's brow lowered,
and his eyes narrowed on Caleb. "The Countess is the only living pure
blood other than our Count."

"Pure blood?" Caleb was still confused, and
because he had no idea what Neal was talking about, he didn't know how to
argue. So, he changed the subject, "She's pregnant." He pointed to
himself, his voice deepening as he glared at Neal. "With
my
baby."

"You are wrong." Neal's bald head shone under the
lights. The tattoo under his eyelid wrinkled with his glare. "The child
belongs to the Count."

"He's my son." Caleb was going to raise his voice,
but he refrained. The stress showed in his tone, but he didn't snap. "The
Count can't have my child or my fiancé."

"You misunderstand," Neal sounded annoyed.
"The Count fathered her child."

"No." Caleb's breath quickened. It was clear from
the change of his tone that he was on the verge of starting a fight.

"You didn't know?" Neal snickered. A cocky
expression filled his hardened features. "She and the Count are
lovers."

"I don't believe you." Caleb was going to jump
over the table, but his father quickly stood and held him back. "You're
lying! She wouldn't do that to me!"

Neal ignored Caleb's outburst and addressed the rest of the
Council. "Please control that boy. For if we find out he even
attempts
to contact the Countess, all of
you will suffer." Neal then walked toward the door.

Caleb shouted at Neal as Lucas tried to calm him down.
"You fucking—" Caleb's words were quickly silenced by his father's
hand.

"This fight is over, Caleb." Lucas' voice was
stern, but it hid his own sadness. "She's a pure blood. She can't ever
come back."

Caleb pulled away from his father. He wiped at his lips as
he glanced toward the door. "What’s a pure blood?"

"It means she's not like us anymore. Her blood is
pure." Anthony ran his hand through his hair. His voice was soft, "He
killed her, Caleb."

"I don't believe you." Caleb tried to make a run
for the door, but his father restrained him again. "Fuck!" Caleb
struggled, trying to break free. "We can't let them do this! Let me go!
I'll get her back!"

"It's no use," Anthony sighed. "She's dead,
Caleb. She's like him now—a demon."

Caleb's voice softened, "But my son—"

"Your son is dead." Anthony looked away from Caleb
as he spoke, "To become a pure blood Ashleigh has to die to be reborn as a
demon. When she dies, so will your son."

Caleb slowly settled down. "They'll…" He gritted
his teeth to dam his tears. "Both…die?"

"Come, Caleb." Lucas put his arm around Caleb's
shoulders and led him toward the door. He spoke softly as Caleb stared at his
feet. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could help you."

"There has to be a way to save her." Caleb's voice
was low, and even though his words seemed strong, his voice was weak and
beaten. "I know there is. I won't stop until I get her back, even if it
means taking on the Count himself."

"Don't be foolish." His father's whisper grew
sharper. "You cannot see her again. Didn't you hear the Count's warning?
If you even speak to her, he'll wipe us all out. I know you love her…" He
stopped walking and put his hands on Caleb's shoulders. "And I know how
much this hurts you, but is just one more glimpse of her worth your own
death…and mine as well? You can't think this way, Caleb. You have to accept
this."

"But I love her, Dad." Caleb stared at his
sneakers, the tongue of his untied shoes overlapping his baggy jeans. "I
love her more than anything. I'll let her down, if I don't." He looked up
at his father, his eyes glassy. "She wants me to rescue her, I know
it."

"You can't." Shaking his head, Lucas had to look
away from Caleb's pleading eyes.

"I know that." Caleb turned to the side and
sniffled back the thickness that had gathered in his nose. "I'm nothing
but a helpless little bitch that has to sit at that fucker's feet while he
keeps my girl hostage. It's not fair."

"Caleb—"

"Don't touch me." He pushed his father's hands off
his shoulders then quickly disappeared.

* * * *

Wearing a giant smile, Ashleigh sat up in bed and stretched
her arms. She felt amazing. That feeling of the Count's bite was extended, but
instead of leaving her with an intense longing for him, all she could feel was
happiness.

She'd never felt this good. Her body felt as light as a
feather, and as she stood, she could barely feel the floor at her feet. This
amazing new feeling kept her preoccupied for a few more seconds. Her arms
stretched toward the ceiling as she kept her eyes closed. She was afraid to
open them—afraid that all this was a dream, and if she opened her eyes, this
wonderful feeling would disappear.