In Darkness We Must Abide (2 page)

Swearing in Spanish, he beat his palm against the steering wheel. None of his plans had come to fruition. How foolish he’d been to believe he could somehow evade the inevitable. His struggle wasn’t just against Aeron’s edict, but also a millennia’s worth of magic. How could he possibly save Vanora?

Two figures darted into the road. One stumbled and fell. The other immediately bent to help them up. Armando slammed on the brakes, and the car skidded to a stop a few feet from the blood-soaked people. It took Armando a few seconds to realize one was Carlotta and the other was a handsome teenage boy with dark hair. Quickly shifting into PARK, Armando tossed open the car door and rushed to assist Carlotta. The boy immediately bared his fangs and prepared to attack, placing his lean body between Armando and Carlotta.

“Armando,” Carlotta gasped. Her neck was a ruin and she was emaciated from the loss of blood. “Help me!”

“He killed my brother and sister,” the boy raged, slashing his long nails through the air toward Armando in warning.

Carlotta placed one gnarled hand on her son’s hip and shoved him aside. Reaching out to Armando, she looked lost, afraid, and desperate. Armando immediately took her hands and dragged her into his arms. She’d lost so much of her life force, she was skin and bones. Sweeping her off the ground, he hurried to the passenger side of the car. The teenage boy growled in anger, but followed.

“Get in and hold your mother,” Armando ordered.

“You can’t tell me what to-”

“Francisco, do it,” Carlotta rasped.

The boy relented, shoulders slumping. Once settled in the seat, Armando handed over Carlotta. The teenager gently wrapped her fragile form in his embrace as Armando closed the door and returned to the driver’s side. Searching the night, he didn’t detect any pursuers, but it was difficult for his senses to identify vampires of his own bloodline as enemies. As soon as he was behind the wheel, the little car shot down the street.

“How did you escape Lorelei?” Armando drove with caution in order to not draw any unwanted attention as emergency vehicles and police cars roared past the car.

“I saved her,” Francisco said defiantly. “I waited until the little bitch tried to carry my mother way and I attacked.”

“Did you kill Lorelei?” The vampire was impressed with the boy’s bravery, but doubtful that he’d overcome the powerful older vampire. Then again, Lorelei had been weakened by the battle with Greg.

“No,” Francisco confessed, looking downcast. “I threw part of the burning roof on her and set her on fire. I grabbed my mother and ran.”

“May she burn to death and then burn in the fires of hell,” Carlotta muttered fiercely.

Armando reviewed the night’s events in his mind. “You were in the house earlier, weren’t you, Francisco?”

“I was in hiding when you killed my brother and sister. I was coming to kill
you
when my mother returned,” Francisco replied, his belligerence evident in his manner. “And she stopped me.”

“I wasn’t going to lose you, too,” Carlotta said, her dark eyes filled with tears. She needed to feed so she could heal, but there wasn’t enough time to find human blood for her. They had to reach a safe haven before sunrise.

“I’m sorry, Carlotta. I didn’t realize…” Armando faltered in the dark flames of her despair and Francisco’s rage. “You didn’t attack me and Vanora because you were giving Francisco time to escape by keeping us talking, weren’t you?”

“Sometimes you’re not so stupid,” Carlotta answered in a ragged voice.

“But I don’t run from my enemies!” Francisco declared. “I hid and waited to see when I could strike.”

The boy’s voice, behavior and looks were very familiar. Armando glanced at the teenage vampire and studied his face in the dim light cast by the console. It took only one long look to wrap his heart in rose thorns. The past and present collided in a violent fury.

“How many secrets have you kept from me?” Armando growled at Carlotta. “Is he my son?”

“He’s not yours!” Her gaunt appearance only added to the ferocity of her gaze.

“He’s a DeLeon.” Armando knew this to be true without a doubt.

“But not
yours
.”

Francisco didn’t appear surprised by this conversation. He tenderly held the woman who had given birth to him and eternal life. Armando guessed the teenager had died and been transformed around the age of fifteen. He looked almost identical to Armando’s brother Jose when he’d been in his mid-teens. Though it was impossible that Francisco was the result of his affair with Carlotta as vampires, Armando couldn’t help but wonder if he was the product of their trysts before his mortal marriage. Armando’s involvement with the sultry dancer and singer had started when he was a young man of twenty. Carlotta had many lovers and was well-known for her scandalous lifestyle, but he’d found her irresistible. Though she’d come to their town as a young girl from an impoverished gypsy family, by the time she was eighteen, she’d been secure in a modest home with a small staff of servants. There had always been speculation about who her secret benefactor was, but Armando had never dreamed it was one of his own family members. When Armando departed with Aeron after the death of his beloved wife, Carlotta had been barely twenty years old. Over a decade passed before Armando returned and found her destitute after losing the support of her lover. She’d been even more beautiful and alluring in her thirties and he’d fallen into a mad love affair with her that had resulted in her becoming a vampire.

“Is he Jose’s?”

Carlotta shook her head. “He’s not your brother’s son either.”

Francisco regarded Armando with his heavily fringed amber eyes and a sly smile.

“My father’s then.” It made cruel sense. When Armando had returned, his father had been dead for several years and his brother had control of the family holdings. Removing financial support from Carlotta would be exactly something his brother would have done out of spite.

“The two younger ones?” Armando asked, his throat tight with dread.

“They were the children of other lovers.” Carlotta sounded weary, not scornful. This was the sort of dramatic news she usually loved to play out in an emotional storm. The events of the night had stolen that fire from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why should she? You didn’t help us. You went away.” Francisco gave him a dismissive look. “We had to go live in the orphanage when your brother cast us out of my mother’s home when your father died.”

“What does it matter?” Carlotta’s head was tucked against the neck of her son. “They were mine. Mine alone. Why should I share them with anyone else?”

What would he have done upon discovering he had a half-brother? The man he used to be would have seen it as a disgrace. He never would have made Carlotta a vampire out of spite and vengeance. Also, he wouldn’t have tolerated a half-brother living in an orphanage, and would have insisted on him being returned to the DeLeon home. Armando would’ve forced his brother to raise Francisco. Carlotta would have lost her children forever.

“You’re right,” Armando admitted. “Telling me would have been the wrong thing to do.”

Francisco appeared surprised by this confession, but instead of responding, he asked, “Where are you taking us? I need to take care of my mother.”

“My apartment. It’s nearly dawn. Lorelei will return to Aeron’s haven. As soon as the sun sets tonight, you’ll take your mother, the funds I provide, and flee the city.”

“Getting rid of us, huh?” Francisco gave Armando a scornful look.

“Saving you.” It was difficult dealing with this new crisis when his heart was shattered and his mind was adrift in a sea of hopelessness. If it was another time, maybe he would have been thrilled to find out he had a living half-brother. Maybe he would have been angry. But at the moment, he was just exhausted and lost. Every part of his being longed for Vanora.

“Out of guilt? For what you did?”

“Francisco, I’m doing it because I care about your mother. Plus, it’s the right thing to do.”

“But you-”

“Don’t argue with him,” Carlotta whispered to her son.

“I should kill him for what he did to my brother and sister!”

A broken laugh erupted from Carlotta. “Francisco, you don’t understand. We’re all as good as dead. Maybe it’s a blessing they are gone and will not experience the hell that is to come.” The unsettling laughter dissolved into tears. “Dios mio, I considered killing you all myself to spare you.”

There was silence from the teenager instead of an angry outburst. Francisco glanced at Armando, looking afraid for the first time. It was proof the boy wasn’t stupid. Carlotta was dangerous when emotional. Armando could easily see her killing her children instead of allowing Aeron and his vampires to torture them to death.

“I’m sorry,” Armando said at last.

Francisco snorted.

“It doesn’t matter,” Carlotta sobbed. “Aeron killed Roman. He’ll kill me. Armando, take Francisco and leave the city tomorrow.”

“I can’t,” Armando answered, daring to lightly touch her trembling hand where it rested on her son’s arm. “I have to find Vanora.”

“For Aeron?” Carlotta’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Do you still serve him?”

“For myself. I’ll find a way to break the edict.”

“Only death can save you from an edict,” Carlotta responded.

“I will find a way,” Armando said, but his voice lacked confidence.

“You’re a bigger fool than I,” Carlotta scoffed.

“Why?” Armando dared to ask. Maybe he just wanted to torture himself.

“Because you still love and still hope.”

“Then, yes, I am a fool.”

The convertible surged up an on-ramp and sped towards Armando’s haven.

Alisha licked the blood from her lips as she slumped against the wall of the mausoleum. The gray stones were chilly against her now feverish skin. The werewolf blood pleasantly burned in her veins. It reminded her of how a mug of hot chocolate felt against her palms on a cold winter’s morning. Dexios gently shifted her blond hair away from her face with one hand and tilted his head to study her expression.

“Good, yes?” he asked, slightly smiling.

“The very best,” she answered drunkenly.

“Werewolf blood is very potent,” he explained. “A delicacy. And we rarely share it.”

Alisha contentedly sagged against the wall. The pleasant sensation of drifting through warm waters lulled her brain into a languid haze.

Setting the flashlight down, Dexios was instantly swallowed by the darkness, but Alisha’s vampire sight promptly discerned his body moving through the murk to a bag resting by the heavy iron door. The werewolf plucked it from the floor and returned to her side.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Nowhere right now,” he replied.

“We’re not escaping?” Wrapped in the euphoria of her feeding, it was difficult for Alisha to focus.

“They’re still putting out the fires,” Dexios answered. “And no one will come here.”

“Because they’re all dead?” Alisha gestured to the tombs.

Dexios’s lips turned up at the corners. He had a dimple on one cheek. Or was it a scar? “Because of a magic spell that will keep the humans away.”

“I’m a witch,” Alisha confided, then briefly wondered why. The golden warmth encapsulating her was wonderful. She never wanted it to go away.

“Yes, but it’s not your magic warding the mausoleum.” Dexios tucked an arm around her waist and lifted her body until she was standing, but leaning against him.

“Vanora did it?”

“Vanora isn’t here. She escaped Aeron.” The tall, lean werewolf guided Alisha deeper into the mausoleum, their footsteps barely audible against the stairs leading downward.

“I don’t want to go into the ground,” Alisha protested. “What if I can’t come out?”

“Don’t fear the darkness.”

“But there are
things
in it.”

“A werewolf and a vampire are in it. And we’re the most fearsome creatures here.”

“Oh.”

Upon arriving at the bottom level of the mausoleum, Alisha shuddered. The large round room was completely enshrouded in darkness, yet she could clearly see the tombs ringing it, the names of long dead Socolis etched into stone. The scent of decayed flowers and old wax filled her nostrils.

Dexios dropped the bag on the floor and the sound echoed through the room. Lowering her to a stone bench set before an altar of the Virgin Mary inset in one wall, Dexios quickly moved to cover the statue with his coat.

“I love her, you know.” Alisha sobbed, but was relieved when he covered the relic.

“The Virgin Mary?” Dexios said, arching a thick, finely arched eyebrow.

“No. Vanora. She’s everything to me. I have to go find her.”

“Right now you need to recover. Morgan gave you poison to weaken you and now my blood is healing the damage.” Dexios unzipped the bag and drew out two plastic rolls. With a flick of his hands, he unfurled air mattresses with built in air pumps. He turned both on and left them to inflate while unpacking the rest of the bag.