Last Vamp Standing (21 page)

He closed his eyes. Rubbed his hands together faster and faster until she couldn’t see more than a blur of flesh. Heat radiated from his hands, warming the cemetery hotter and hotter. The newbies leaned back, shielding their eyes as flames erupted from his fingers.

Edmund smiled and pulled his hands apart, stretching the flames caught between them. Then with the force of a cannon blast, he shot the fire into the tombstone he’d been sitting on, splitting it in two.

“Now we’re talking,” Ruan said, standing with the other newbies.

“What the hell are you pulling?” Ariana said, shoving Edmund in the chest as she walked by. “Mawares are not to be used to destroy property unless it’s as an indirect result of an act used to protect yourself. You know the rules.”

He shrugged. “Guy’s dead anyway. Not like he’s gonna mind getting a shiny, new headstone. That one was so grimy you could barely make out the inscription.”

Ariana snatched her coat off the ground and tossed it onto the fire, stomping out the flames. “That’s not the point. It’s disgraceful and shows a hell of a lot about your level of respect for the elders who came before you.”

When the flames snuffed out, Ariana shook out her coat. It was dirty, smelled of ash, and had a huge, ratted hole in the back like a sewer rat had chomped on it for dinner.

Super.

He’d completely desecrated the grave. The grass around the tombstone was dead and charred, and the stone itself was split right down the middle. Like a lightning bolt struck it from above.

She’d have a hell of a time cleaning up his mess. She wiped her hand over the stone where the inscription was covered by layers of filth.

Black Moon’s Primus,
it read in old-time script. Curious, she swept her fingers over the rest of the inscription, holding her breath as she revealed the words.
An angel’s mate, Dante’s father, my trinity of love and life.

“Class is canceled early today,” Ariana mumbled, the crisp morning air warping in and out around her. “We’ll continue the session tomorrow. Same time.”

Dante’s father.
The words clumped in her mind like soot to the dirt.
Black Moon’s Primus.

Could it be referring to the same Dante? And when had a Primus ever preceded the current one?

Strength leached from Ariana’s muscles, rooting her into the dirt, centering her gaze on the busted tombstone. She knew the truth in her gut. There was a reason she’d run into Dante in the black market and again a few nights back. There was a reason she felt such an intense attraction to him that went far deeper than physical—an attraction she couldn’t explain.

Dante was linked to Black Moon. Just like she was.

Rubbing Black Moon’s emblem on her arm, Ariana stared at the name carved into the stone—the name that connected Dante to Black Moon, to her.

Andre Cornelison.

Chapter Twenty

D
ANTE RAN UNTIL
he couldn’t breathe, until his lungs punched and wheezed with every pounding step. He sprinted around every corner of the haven, praying for reprieve, hoping the next loop would spark something in his veins that would satiate his hunger.

Running himself into the ground had quieted his voices before. It didn’t work every time, but once in a blue moon he could go for a kick-ass ten-mile run and come back to his apartment feeling completely, one hundred percent drained. Relaxed. As if he’d fed.

It wasn’t working. He could still taste Ariana on his lips, smell the intoxicating fragrance of her skin like he was nuzzled into her neck.

And he couldn’t even think about the mark that had sprouted over the top half of his body or what it meant. Not without feeling like he needed to bust open Pike’s head to let some answers spill out.

As Dante rounded the northern corner, entered a rose garden, and weaved around a pickle-shaped fountain, he spotted the back gate. He could head out into the forest, locate the Watchers’ compound, and drag Echo out by his jugular. Get his fill and satiate the voices while repaying Echo for stabbing Ariana in the back. Bloody perfection.

Early sparks of adrenaline shook his veins like live wires.

Make him pay for his sins. Spill his blood!

No one would have to suffer for his hunger. No one other than Echo, and he was far from innocent.

“That’ll never happen again,” Dante swore as memories of his former lover crashed over him in a clamming sweat. Sway hadn’t deserved what had happened to her. She’d wanted nothing more than to grow old at his side. He’d stolen those things from her. Loving Sway had killed her in the end. He’d be a monster to forgive himself for such a thing. “I’ll never do it again.”

But you will, slave. You will drain Ariana. You’re evil to the bone. Prove it . . . drink some blood, break some bone.

As the voices rose up, Dante sprinted hard and slammed into the back gate, shoving it aside as he swept through. Demonic commands escalated, pounding and vibrating like drums in his head. The gate hit the wall behind it with a thud, echoing through the forest like a gong signaling his entrance.

The weight of a thousand pairs of eyes set upon him. Dante slowed his pace, coming to a stop.

Someone is out there. Someone is watching. Peel the lids from their eyes and make them see the error of their ways!

Whispers tiptoed through the forest—high-pitched little squeaks that reminded Dante too much of what the kids at school used to do the second he turned his back. Like he couldn’t hear they were talking about him, spreading rumors that he was a freak.

Had they known the truth about him—if he would’ve let them in on what he could do—they would’ve saved their breath and run as far away from him as possible. They wouldn’t have stayed talking behind his back, knowing he could hear their every malicious word.

Thinking about it only fueled his anger and increased the gnashing of voices in his head. Determined to reach the compound before he blacked out, Dante ran hard, past row after row of trees. The voices carried on the wind, whistling through his ears. They sucked at his feet, dragging him down, slowing his pace.

Every mile was another tree. Another mud pit. A turn around the bend up ahead. He’d trudged so deep into the forest that not even the light of dawn was granted entrance. The bright orange orb cowered behind umbrellas of leaves. Not a single stream of light led the way.

He was never going to find the Watchers’ compound. And if the voices got much worse, he’d black out in one of these damn mud pits. The Watchers would find him, wouldn’t they? They knew this forest and were probably watching his every stupid move. He’d black out and be dragged to the compound, never to see the light of day again.

Above the mashing of voices, he made out,
The world would be better off without you!

Would that be such a bad thing? Dante wondered. It’s not like he’d be missed by a mother or father—his mundane parents were long gone, and his biological gene-donors had never been there to begin with. And it wasn’t like people at work would notice he’d taken a major hiatus—he quit assisting at Crimson Bay University right before the shit with Savage hit the fan. He didn’t have friends other than Ruan and Eve, and they were too busy sucking each other’s faces to care about whether he lived or woke up in a fiery pit of hell.

As the thought struck him, that no one would miss him if he disappeared off the face of the planet, he felt his face fall.

Things would continue without him. . . .

When Savage came knocking, Ariana would have to fight for herself, with no one to protect her but the elders in the haven. They wouldn’t win the war by themselves. They couldn’t. Black Moon was going to need every able-bodied vamp they could get, fighting his or her heart out to defeat Savage.

Dante would be damned if Savage wound up the last vamp standing at the end of all this.

“Damn it,” Dante mumbled, digging his fingers into his temples. “Can’t live with her, can’t live without knowing she’ll be all right. Fuck me sideways, I can’t even die peacefully.”

Shaking his head, Dante turned back toward Black Moon and weaved around a knotty trunk. A glint of silver caught his eye. Crouching low, he peered through the forest . . . and made out the outline of four towers in the distance. Someone in the closest tower had a rifle. The scope reflected stray rays of morning light, blinding him for a fraction of a second before disappearing completely.

Jackpot.

Dante took off at a dead sprint—and skidded to a stop when Pike stepped from behind the nearest tree.

Slice his wrists! Suck his life out! Steal his soul!

Pike was slick. Lethally quiet. If Dante couldn’t find Echo, taking his aggression out on Pike would more than do the trick.

“I was hoping you’d come back.” Pike’s voice was eerily calm, like the sounds of the forest around them. The clanging symphony in Dante’s head was anything but. “Didn’t expect to see you under these circumstances, but it’ll do . . . you’re starving.”

Dante’s stomach throbbed at the mention, pinching until he winced. “I was hoping you could help me with that.”

Pike put his hands up, stopping Dante before the imminent attack. “There is a way to rise above the evil, my friend. A way to control your hunger so that you never hurt another soul again.”

“What do you know of my hunger?”

“I know you feed on adrenaline and sexual energy like the rest of us. That you’re starving for it.”

Maybe he wasn’t an incubus after all.

“You can feed from Ariana without hurting her,” Pike blurted as Dante charged another step.

Ariana.

Dante breathed hard, his nostrils flaring as he picked up hints of other Watchers circling them. He wanted to run, bolt, bash Pike’s head in. The voices would certainly thank him for it.

“Talk,” Dante grit through clenched teeth as the voices scraped against his skull. “But do it fast.”

“I’m willing to bet this is the first time you’ve seen the mark on your side. Am I right?”

“What would you know about it?”

Pike pulled down his turtle neck, revealing a swirling charcoal black design. The same design that had appeared on Dante’s side. Dante held his breath, swallowing down the voices so he could hear clearly.

“It is the mark of someone who has resisted the temptation of the Jinn and sworn to live by a higher standard,” Pike said, keeping his distance. “If you’ve never seen the mark before, it’s because you’ve resisted them for the first time. This had to have happened recently.”

Pike had no idea how recently.

“The voices are terrified of losing their hold over you and are growing desperate. That’s why they’re alternating between bouts of silence and blasting vengefulness. It’s the strength of your will that silences them, your weakened will that brings them roaring back.”

Since Dante had entered Black Moon, he’d experienced things he couldn’t explain. Things that had never happened before. He’d been knocked unconscious. Slept for two damned days. Pleasured Ariana without feeling a single stream of sexual energy flow from her body to his. His hunger had grown to new, screaming heights, yet there had been minutes, hours, of nothing but silence.

Was Pike right? Were the voices losing their grip? Dante couldn’t allow himself to hope. Not yet.

Wait. There was more.

“How do you know about the voices?”

“When the world was created, three creatures came to form: mundanes, Jinn, and others.” Pike circled the ring, his hands clasped behind him. “You, my friend, are an other . . . like me, like every other vampire, therian, nymph, Seeker, Watcher, or otherwise hiding out in Crimson Bay. If you’ve never heard of the others, it’s because they don’t want you to.”

Pike had kidnapped Ariana. Thrown them into a pit. Branded Black Moon’s emblem onto her arm! For someone who chirped about resisting violent tendencies, he sure inflicted a lot of pain. At least Dante had no qualms admitting he had hurt others in his past.

Hell, he’d killed others.

Guilt soured his stomach at the memory of Sway in the nursing home . . . the way her ruby red eyes had glazed over when he’d killed her.

“I’m nothing like you.” Dante sucked a deep breath through his nose as his eyes rolled back. The voices were so loud he could barely make out Pike’s words. “Nothing. Like. You.”

“You are a Watcher, the descendant of a fallen angel, just like me.” Pike raised his voice. As if he knew exactly how distracting the voices were in Dante’s head. “You are a Watcher like every other cursed soul in my compound. We didn’t ask to have the blood of fallen angels coursing through our veins. We didn’t ask for their curse to alter our future, our forever.”

“What curse?”

“In order to pass to the Ever After when we die, we must not partake in the pleasures of man or assist in their battles while we’re on this earth. We must watch from the outside looking in and play the hand we’ve been dealt. All the while, Jinn are in our hand, tempting us to embrace evil, twisting and turning our cards into something they’re not. It’s a sick, twisted game.”

Dante’s knees wobbled as a hunger pain knifed into his stomach.

Pike shook his head, forcing out a raspy laugh. “We must earn our way to the Ever After by watching, witnessing the downfall of man, yet we are tempted to go against that nature by a creature designed to make us fail.”

As Dante’s equilibrium spun, he palmed the tree to his left. Pike stayed put, his expression blank, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Dante, you are like us in so many ways, but we can’t deny that a part of you is uniquely different.” Pike seemed to be whispering now, though his mouth was making large, gaping fish movements with each word. Dante’s head buzzed with noise, louder, challenging Pike’s words. “Your arrival in this forest was prophesized by our ancestors. You descend from the mating of a fallen angel and a vampire, were raised by a mundane family, and have a Jinn strolling around in your head. You are all three creations mashed into one troubled hodgepodge, with powers the likes of which we’d never seen.”

Dante crouched low, baring his fangs. Even over the few feet separating them, Dante could hear the blood chugging through Pike’s veins. It sounded a lot like mealtime. “What the fuck are Jinn? How do I get rid of them?”

Pike’s ashy lips turned up at the corners. “Jinn are the curse passed from generation to generation, from one original fallen angel to their child, from their child down their cursed bloodline. The curse originated with one weak-willed SOB who fell from grace. Jinn are spirits that become part of our consciousness. They amplify the evil within us. Jinn are the devils on your shoulder telling you to tear my throat out right now.”

He’s lying! Tear his—

The voices gurgled to a hushing murmur. Dante’s ears rang. His balls ached. “You said I can feed without hurting anyone.” He dropped to his knees as the fir trees around him spun like a psychotic merry-go-round. Watchers closed in. “How?”

Pike knelt at Dante’s side, though he kept his hands off. “When you resist the voices, the mark of the fallen angels shows on your skin and—”

“How?” Dante screamed over the clanging of noise in his ears. He looked up slowly, anchoring on Pike’s cloudy eyes. “I can’t pull the good from Ariana’s soul. I won’t. Tell me how. How do I feed without hurting her?”

Had he really said her name? He hadn’t meant to. It had bounded off his tongue before he could catch it.

“You must first eliminate the threat, the voices dragging you to the edge that tempt you to do what you know you must not. Drinking this will help.” Pike pulled a water bottle from the pocket of his robe, only the thing wasn’t filled with water. Whatever the juice was, it was black and thick, like crude oil. “It’s natural energy derived from plants in the area. Not all plants supply the energy we need to survive, but we’ve managed to find a solid crop nearby.”

What did he have to lose? If Pike wanted Dante roasting over his fire pit, he could’ve had him. The Watchers closing in would’ve tried something by now. Deep inside, Dante knew Pike spoke the truth. Even if the truth about Dante being a Watcher and having some sort of devil in his head warping his thoughts threw him for a loop, at least he knew more than he did yesterday.

The fact that he was a hybrid—part Watcher, part vamp—made sense, given he had fangs but didn’t feed off blood. Could walk in the day but was cursed to live a dark life, forbidden to have any kind of relationship without tainting it with the filth of his soul.

With an uprising of the voices, Dante snatched the bottle from Pike’s hand, unscrewed the top, and shot it back.

His first instinct had been wrong. The liquid in the bottle wasn’t crude oil. Oil would’ve tasted better.

“What the hell is this?” Dante asked, wiping the taste of dirt and decay off his lips.

“We call it Nightshade, after the plant it’s derived from. It’s an acquired taste.”

“I’d rather acquire a hemorrhage.” He forced back another drink and capped it.