Vamped Up (5 page)

Vamp coroners determined her blonde friend died of “unknown” natural causes . . . even though she was a newborn vamp at a young and healthy thirty-six years old.

Chapter Eight

“Therians retreat into the shadows of Crimson Bay after their attack on San Francisco’s haven ends in defeat. But remember: just because the winds have calmed, doesn’t mean the storm is over . . .”

Crimson Bay
Channel 8 News

S
AVAGE STIFFENED HIS
muscles from his calves to his back, balled all the energy he could summon into his core, then sent it flying out into the air around him. He felt that energy stretch and search the night. Felt it fly and soar in the crisp night air, swerving around sky-scraping buildings, dipping over and down San Francisco’s rolling roadways.

It snagged on something as solid as a rock. In his mind, he pulled. Something on the other end of his mental connection pulled back, caught on a dark energy just as powerful. He drew the energy on the other end closer.

He closed his eyes and focused hard on the death shade, pulling it back to him like a magnet lures metal. Just as suddenly as his energy tapped into the death shade, pulling and tugging as their energies intertwined, the line snapped. He felt the disconnect so strongly that he jerked backward, slamming his body against the concrete wall behind him.

What the hell just happened?
He felt empty. Hollow.
Achingly alone.

Savage’s skin crawled with realization. Meridian’s death shade was gone. He knew it as certain as the sun was going to rise in a few short hours. He’d lost it. Lost his grip. How did that happen? Weren’t both light and dark death shades always within elders? Why then, when he took possession of Meridian’s, did it leave him—he checked his watch—exactly twenty-four hours later?

Maybe there was a time limit—no, that’d be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? Otherworldly things didn’t run on man-made restrictions like time.

Maybe he pushed the death shade too hard, not knowing its strengths and weaknesses. Did he move too quickly, sending it out to San Francisco’s haven in a rush? Was there a limit of how many souls it could take to the Ever After? Did he cap that limit already?

Unanswered questions bogging down his normally clear thought process, Savage gathered his things together, shoving his gun and blade into the duffel in the corner. He stormed out of the chamber and down the cold hall, slamming the cell door behind him.

As he wound in and out of the narrow corridors leading out of Fort Point, his mind raced. Did he do something wrong to release the death shade? Was losing control of it a fluke? Would another elder’s death shade be as fickle or was it just batty because it matched Meridian? Would each one’s strength be based on the age and strength of the elder?

So many things to consider. So many things he didn’t know for certain
. Too many
.

More than the questions surrounding the death shade, Savage had to wonder how strong the vamps’ defense would be when he attacked. He wanted to bring the whole goddamn place to its knees after his former khissmates had cast him to the street like yesterday’s garbage. He didn’t want to kill only the main players in his banishment. No, he wanted every single one of them to pay with their souls.

And he was no closer to finding out why Meridian would go to such lengths to protect Eve . . .

As he climbed the winding concrete staircase leading to the ground level of Fort Point, Savage watched the impending sunrise taint the horizon beyond the Golden Gate Bridge a pale orange. Good thing being a vampire-therian hybrid granted him reprieve from the sun, he mused with a twisted smirk. Walking along the narrow path on the bay side of the fort to the front parking lot, Savage thanked his lucky stars the place was closed to tourists on weekdays, and slid into his raven-black Porsche.

There was simply too much he didn’t know to move forward with his plan now, especially since he lost Meridian’s death shade a day after he’d acquired it . He still had so many questions about the death shades and what they could do.

His skin crawled in anticipation. He’d need another death shade to measure this experience against. That was the only way he’d get his questions answered.

He brought the boxer engine of his Porsche roaring to life, and peeled out of the parking lot, flying through gears with renewed purpose. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he shoved the car into sixth and headed out of town.

Chapter Nine

“Evil is in the eye of the beholder: from deadly therian to friendly half-breed. How Slade plans to use his therian intel for the vampire good.”

Crimson Bay Chronicle
article featuring Slade and the Crimson Council

“D
ID YOU MAKE
the call?” Slade guided Dylan through the spacious meeting room to her seat along the back wall. In the center of the room, four rounded tables faced one another to form a circle, with enough space between each to form an aisle to the open center. Slade pulled out her chair, but she didn’t sit. Instead, her gaze scanned the chairs circled around the edges of the room for Ruan and Eve. They should’ve been here by now. “Is Ruan coming?” Slade asked, his voice rough.

She wished she knew. “I called three times. No answer.”

“Want me to ask around, see where he’s been hiding out? I might be able to make it there and back before the Crimson Council’s called to order.”

The slamming of one of two side doors had Dylan and Slade’s attention snapping to center.

Twenty or so vampires from Dylan and Slade’s khiss entered the room, followed by half a dozen Primuses from local khisses. Dressed in long, flowing robes that pooled at their feet, they appeared to be floating over the stone floor. Stoic guards, required to follow the royals everywhere, flanked each Primus.

Behind the khiss members, Primuses, and royal guards, a dozen blood-dolls—decked out in skimpy red skirts and boots up to their knees—entered on their heels. Being that the emergency meeting was called during broad daylight, it was crucial to have a blood-doll for each Primus in order to transport them from Point A to Point B. Blood-dolls, humans with no vampire blood who envied and lived the vamp lifestyle, could drive from place to place with their precious cargo hidden inside the bellies of big SUVs, behind blacked-out windows. Underground garages at each haven provided perfect cover for times as desperate as these.

They took their seats, talking amongst each other, waiting for the Crimson Council meeting—reminiscent of old-fashioned town hall sessions—to begin. The gathering of Primuses in the area didn’t happen often, and when it did, it didn’t take two honed fangs to know something terrible was lurking on the horizon. Especially when meetings were called during daylight hours. Whispers of therian attacks and questions about how to proceed spread from one khiss representative to another.

They finally quieted when Hiram entered behind two guards. Their Primus was covered head to toe in a glossy black gown that made him look an elegant ten feet tall. His eyes were a lighter shade of pale than usual. Was that anger lacing his hard gaze? Disgust? Stacks of scrolls were tucked beneath his arms. He looked like a revenge-thirsty executioner on judgment day.

“I don’t think you have time to do much of anything,” Dylan said to Slade above the muffled hush of the packed room. “Look.”

She nudged her chin at Hiram as he took his seat at the center of one long black table and spread the scrolls out, securing the curled edges with two silver blades. Candles on wall-hanging sconces behind him wavered, flittering shadows on the pale faces of the expectant vamps and their respective Primuses. “It’s too late,” she whispered. “They’re getting started.”

Dark swags of fabric hanging from the twelve-foot ceiling breathed and rolled against the charcoal-gray walls as a rogue draft swept through the circular room. A hush fell over the crowd as the Primuses stood from their prospective khisses on the outside ring and took their places at tables in the inner circle.

It was the rightful claiming of title. One seat on the inner circle for each Primus in the area. General khiss members, guards, and blood-dolls stood back, watching as the Primuses sat together, becoming one unit.

Loud stomps sounded from the foyer behind Dylan and Slade. Someone was coming, about to enter the council’s chamber . . .

Just when Dylan thought she’d lost her chance to warn Ruan about what was coming for Eve, the back doors swung open, banging against the walls, announcing an entrance with two resounding thuds.

All eyes turned to the menacing-looking figure in black. Guards clutched knives on their belts. Primuses went rigid. Slade rolled his eyes. The room only relaxed when everyone saw the familiar face of a former royal guard.

Ruan looked mean. Angrier than Dylan had ever seen him. His blonde hair was slick and pulled back from his face, revealing the tightness in his jaw and the hatred burning in his eyes.

Had he really grown to hate them so fast? Had this conflict with Eve’s blood driven such a huge wedge between them that he’d never return to their haven and ReVamp? No, she had to believe this would blow over. He’d come back to their khiss, his home, the only home he’d ever known, and get back to work. It’s what he did . . .

Without scanning the large room, he sat down a few empty seats to Dylan’s right. He didn’t spare her a single look. But she knew he saw her there. He clasped his hands in his lap and stared straight forward, the black of his sweatshirt starkly contrasting the pallor of his skin.

“Here we go,” Slade grumbled, planting a kiss square on Dylan’s lips. “I gotta take my place, too.” He slid out of the aisle, past Ruan, without giving him the dignity of a glance. Slade took his post alongside Hiram’s guards on the back wall, one of them being his cousin Erock, who was dressed in full kick-ass gear—leather pants, boots, and a trench coat hiding more silver than Dylan cared to speculate about.

Slade winked at Dylan and planted his hands on his hips. He was cool and calm compared to Erock, who acted like he had a stake up his ass. It might’ve been because Slade knew he didn’t need weapons and a mean mug to be a deadly predator. He had something none of the vampires in this room did: therian blood.

Dylan knew it wasn’t easy for Slade to conform to their khiss’s rules and responsibilities. Despite his upbringing that taught him vampires were nothing more than greedy leeches, Slade had agreed to use his shape-shifting ability to protect their khiss . . . which meant he was Hiram’s intel. His right-hand man, next to his own son, Erock. Dylan was damn proud.

Before Hiram could address the other Primuses, Dylan leaned across the seats. “Glad you came, Ruan,” she whispered. “We have to talk.”

He nodded so subtly she might’ve missed it. He rolled his shoulders back and kinked his neck to the side. He’d never been this tense before, being amongst his kind. She wondered what triggered it now.

“Fellow Primuses,” Hiram began, choosing to stand and lean across the table rather than sit idly. His eyes scanned the Primuses to his left, and to his right. Each royal sat rigid and straight, waiting for the news that had them dragged out of their havens after daybreak. “I appreciate you coming together so quickly. Under the circumstances, this has to be a quick meeting. And after today the Crimson Council must convene at a secondary meeting point in Petaluma. There can be no communication about this over the airways.”

A thick Primus wearing a burgundy gown with raven black hair and charcoal skin stood from the table across from Hiram. “I am Justus, the East Bay representative. I know not why you called us here or under what circumstances, but why must we choose a new point to meet? This has been the Crimson Council’s rightful meeting place since it was started nearly a century ago.”

“Things have changed,” Hiram boomed, standing upright. “Someone murdered an elder.”

Desperate voices cried out at once. Justus sat slowly and whispered to the lanky female attendant sitting closely behind him. She nodded, her mahogany hair bobbing up and down, and slid out of the room in a hurry.

“Where did you get your information?”

“We would have heard!”

“Lies!”

Ruan slid to the edge of his chair and leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him. He looked larger than life. Like the anger taking root in him had filled him up. His gaze slid over Dylan, stopping short of her eyes. “You knew about this?” His deep, calloused voice skipped over the dissention of the crowd.

She scooted beside him, her gaze wandering over the other members of their khiss. For the first time in her life, she saw fear in their eyes. Elders weren’t killed . . .
ever
. “Something’s happening. Last night some sort of dark shadow moved through our haven. It was looking for Eve.”

She couldn’t bear to tell Ruan about her suspicions. If an elder had turned on their own kind, using their
shadow
for evil—if that’s even what they called it—Ruan would be facing something much more powerful than anyone had ever encountered. She wondered if the elder who was murdered had something to do with what they saw in their haven.

“Bullshit.” Ruan hissed something she couldn’t make out and turned away. “Nothing is looking for her. Not anymore. The second I took her away from the hungry eyes in this room, she added fifty years to her life . . . or more. As long as she stays the hell away from here, she’ll live until she’s old and gray.”

“Ruan, didn’t you get my messages? No vampire within a hundred-mile radius is going to touch a hair on her head. I’ve duplicated Eve’s blood. You can come back now. It’s safe.”

The breath he was holding in his chest came out on a rough exhale. His eyes measured the greed and power in the room. “Yeah, I can see that things are fine and dandy. Excuse me if I don’t serve up the love of my life on a silver platter.”

Hiram’s voice, louder than the rest, blared through the room. “Last night our haven was infiltrated by a shadow that moved and breathed and took five of our khissmates’ souls to the Ever After. I wouldn’t have believed the rumor if someone had spoken it to me, but I saw it with my own two eyes. And I’ve seen it before, a long, long time ago.”

He paused, and met each Primus’s eyes in turn. “It was a death shade. I’m certain of it.”

Mumbles of disbelief spread through the room like wildfire. Primuses sat back in their seats, quiet and pensive. Dylan could’ve heard a pin drop in the silence that lay thick throughout the room.

“Someone is attempting to unleash the death shades,” Hiram continued. “I don’t know who would want to do this, but we have a chance at stopping them before this gets out of control. If we can—”

“What do you mean, before this gets out of control?” Justus interrupted. “What happened when you met with this kind of evil before?”

Hiram looked down at the Primuses beneath heavily lidded eyes. “Not much damage can be done with a single death shade. Five deaths are nothing compared to what they are capable of. The person who unleashed this creature upon us now knows its true power. He or she knows what it can do. Greed and pure evil will take root and he will search out another, and another, until the evil of the Nether Realm is brought upon us.”

Two Primuses spoke at once, a slurred grumble. “How’d you stop them before?”

“We didn’t. The Crimson Bay Massacre of 1912 and subsequent explosion of the premises claimed the lives of every elder in the area, along with the evil that was trying to take over. Total devastation. I don’t have to remind you of our tragic losses. But we are forewarned this time. It is not too late. Thanks to Dylan and Slade recovering a few pages of scroll, we have a clearer picture of the Grimorium Verum than we’ve ever had. I’ve been informed that in a newly translated passage, it reads, “Elders will fall, all will succumb.” These events have been foreseen, fellow Primuses. Perhaps the way we can defeat this evil has been foreseen as well. We have a team working on translating the scrolls as we speak, along with another searching for the rest of the revered tome. If we can piece together the rest of the scrolls, we may be able to stop more elders from being murdered for their souls.”

Dylan leaned over again, speaking quietly into Ruan’s ear. “This is something we’ve never seen, Ruan. We could use your help.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the best at breaking codes and deciphering the scrolls; you know that. There’s no one like you.”

As if Slade’s superior hearing caught on her words, his gaze shot to her. She loved his possessiveness, but at times like these he needed to tone that shit down. She continued anyway, a blush rising in her cheeks. “If you can look through the scrolls for two minutes . . .
two minutes
. . . and try to piece some things together, maybe we could figure out what’s really going on.”

He met her eyes for the first time. Behind the hard exterior of his clenching jaw and the tight line of his lips, Dylan glimpsed the friend she knew. “I’m telling you,” she said softly, nervously tossing her curls over her shoulder. “This thing, the death shade, it spoke Eve’s name.”

His eyes, flaming greener than she’d ever seen them, shadowed over. “If what you’re saying is true, I can protect her better away from here. This haven sounds like a target. Besides, I don’t take orders anymore.”

“I’m not giving you an order, Ruan. I’m asking you. As a friend.”

Justus shouted over them, his voice demanding. “Do you know which elder was killed?”

“No,” Hiram said firmly.

Another Primus, tall and sleek in black and gray, stood up from a table at Hiram’s left. “And you don’t know who is behind this?”

“Nothing concrete,” he answered again.

“What else?” another Primus asked. “We must know everything and you’re holding back.”

Hiram held up the top page of scroll for the room to see. “I know that there is reference in these scrolls to the death shades. Also found in these scrambled passages is where they will be unleashed and how many will die in the end. We simply didn’t know the time before. The time is
now
.”

“But you said they’re scrambled,” Justus spoke out. “We’ve been trying to decode those pages for centuries. What hope can we have if a death shade has already been released? It could be too late.”

Dylan put a hand on Ruan’s knee and squeezed. His gaze shot to his jeans and the placement of her hand, then up to her face. Gone were the traces of lust he’d had for her months ago. All that remained was friendship . . . if that. God, she hoped that was still left. Otherwise, there would be no way he’d help with the scrolls. And they needed him.