In Darkness We Must Abide: The Complete Third Season Read online

  Regarding the ruined house, Sheila almost burst into laughter. Of course, what was safe nowadays was debatable. It seemed like eternity since she’d last seen Roman and enjoyed a night of relaxation at his home. The past was swiftly being swallowed and forgotten in the aftermath of the horrors of the purge.

  Sensing her maudlin thoughts, Alexander tucked his hand behind her neck and guided her lips to his in a soft, loving kiss. Sheila squeezed his arm gently and forced a smile when he straightened. They were alive and together. Alisha was still alive. Vanora was becoming a super-witch, and there was hope of destroying Aeron. That was what she needed to concentrate on.

  “All that in one kiss,” she said to Alexander.

  He winked.

  Angel cracked his knuckles and started across the lawn. “Let’s get Alisha and get the hell out of here before that fucker decides to come back.”

  Hidden by their magic, the other three vampires followed Angel across the darkened lawn. Without the lights from the house and the garden, the grounds were shrouded in darkness. Their keen vampire eyesight helped them traverse the area, but as they drew close to the spot where the human Socolis had been laid to rest, all four vampires came to an abrupt stop.

  “Is the mausoleum still there?” Tracy asked. “I can’t see it.”

  Angel bent forward, resting his hands on his thighs as he stared ahead. “Neither can I.”

  Where the mausoleum once stood was empty ground. Feeling sucker punched, Sheila fished her phone out of her pocket and stared at the messages from Vanora.

  “Vanora swears she’s here,” Sheila said cautiously.

  “But the mausoleum is not here,” Tracy replied.

  “But the ground isn’t disturbed either. There should be rubble and a big hole where it stood.” Angel straightened. “This is some serious voodoo.”

  Alexander bent over and dug up a handful of dirt. He flung it across the lawn at the spot where the mausoleum should stand. The clods struck something invisible and exploded into clouds of dirt.

  “It’s there,” Angel gasped. “But...like...cloaked.”

  “Like Star Trek,” Tracy said in disbelief.

  “Like magic,” Sheila corrected with a wry smile. “Impressive.”

  Alexander shrugged, and trudged onward.

  Continuing toward their destination, the four vampires tensed with every shift of the wind. Though they were stronger now, Sheila wondered if they’d be any match for vampires who’d never weakened themselves on animal blood. Though she was shielded from the eyes of humans, she still felt exposed walking across the lawn.

  Alexander reached the location of the mausoleum first. Hesitantly, he stretched out his hand and slowly advanced to where it should stand. Sheila didn’t see or hear the explosion, but the concussion wave knocked her onto her back.

  “Alexander,” she gasped, scrambling onto her knees and crawling to where he lay on the ground writhing in agony.

  “What the hell was that?” Tracy exclaimed, freezing in her steps.

  “Magical ward,” Angel answered. “And a strong one.”

  Alexander’s arm was a scorched mess of raw flesh, and he was missing several fingers. Sheila clutched him against her as he healed, utilizing the blood he’d drank earlier. He’d be weaker now, so hopefully, they would evade any type of battle.

  “So how do we get her out if we can’t even approach it?” Angel asked, squatting next to them.

  Tracy rotated about in a circle, scrutinizing their surroundings. “This feels all wrong. Are you sure it’s not a trap?”

  “Vanora wouldn’t betray us,” Sheila replied.

  “Are you sure? After what Leto told us?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.” Sheila could barely contain her anger.

  “Sure,” Tracy grunted, clearly suspicious.

  The twinge of doubt Sheila experienced wasn’t a comfort either.

  “Why did the ward attack us?” Angel paced around them, glaring into the darkness. “Wards keep out people who are threats. We’re not a threat. Something is wrong.”

  Alexander raised his healed hand and flexed it. Brow furrowed, he motioned to Sheila to help him up. She complied. Alexander headed toward a nearby oak tree, and Angel followed. Meanwhile, Sheila stayed near the invisible mausoleum, hands on her hips, head cocked while she listened for any suspicious sounds. Would she be able to detect the other vampires since they were possibly stronger than she was? Probably not.

  “We should just go,” Tracy said.

  “Alisha is in there.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. How the hell can we know who to trust anymore? Everything has been one big fuckin’ lie. From Roman’s Law to this supposed rescue.”

  “Roman never lied to us,” Sheila snapped. “He wanted something better for us than all this.”

  “He was delusional and so were we for following him.”

  Sheila clenched her jaw and refused to answer.

  Angel and Alexander returned carrying a huge branch they’d torn for a tree. Together, they hoisted it over their heads and flung it at the mausoleum. The tree limb splintered apart against the ward, and the sound echoed through the night.

  Alexander gave Sheila a slight shrug.

  Those inside the mausoleum had to have heard the noise.

  The wind swirled around Sheila, and with it came the scent of danger. Alexander and Angel instantly tensed, and Tracy looked at them with worry in her eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Pulling her silver dagger from its sheath, Sheila said, “Werewolves.”

  A second later, the howls of wolves filled the night.

  Alisha finished tying the laces of the Doc Martins that Dexios had tucked into one of his bags. The preparation for her escape had been very detailed. It must have been Morgan who’d stolen bits of clothing from Alisha’s room. The oversized gray sweater, black skinny jeans and lace-up boots were some of Alisha’s favorite things to wear. It was a small comfort to wear them again.

  Dexios didn’t bother packing up the bags he’d brought with them and stood near the stairwell to the ground floor. Tucking her blond hair behind her ears, Alisha joined him at the base of the stairs. Tilting his head, he frowned at what looked like a white stone set in his palm.

  “Something is wrong, Alisha.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The ward is agitated.”

  Alisha raised her eyebrows. “And that means what?”

  “You really don’t know much about magic, do you?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “The ward keeps the mausoleum invisible from the outside world, but it is also like a security system. It was attuned to you, so anything threatening your safety will agitate it.”

  “It can differentiate between friend or foe?”

  Dexios nodded. “Yes, it can. And right now, it’s saying there are foes outside.”

  “Vanora said Sheila and Alexander are coming,” Alisha said. “Could it be misreading them as a threat?”

  “Possibly.” Dexios stared upward. Worry scrunched up the spot between his eyebrows.

  A second later, the air in the mausoleum flashed with sparks of blue magic. Leaving the afterglow of fireflies in her vision, the ward sang like rushing water in her ears.

  “It’s on the defensive! Someone is here.”

  Dexios raced up the stairs, and Alisha followed. By the time they reached the sealed doorway to the outside, long black claws tipped Dexios fingers.

  Familiar voices came from beyond the door, and Alisha grabbed Dexios’s arm. “Those are my friends out there.”

  “They can’t be what it’s sensing though. Someone else is out there.”

  The gloom of the mausoleum was filled with tiny wisps of bright light fluttering through the air in a wild aerial display. The magic was building. Alisha could feel that.

  “It has one last attack left, then it will go dead.” Dexios grabbed her hand and placed the stone in her palm. It was very hot against her flesh.
“Hold onto this to make sure the ward is attuned to you. If your friends are really out there, the ward will not attack them.”

  “Are we going out?” Alisha clenched her hand, holding the stone tight. Fear gnawed in her gut. What if Aeron’s people were outside? What if they had her friends prisoner? She swore she heard Sheila speaking, but couldn’t discern her words.

  “When the ward burns out, we’re going to have to flee,” Dexios responded. “Stay behind me. I will protect you.”

  “How do I use my powers to fight?” Frustration filled her voice. Why hadn’t anyone taught her how to be a proper vampire? It was embarrassing how weak she felt.

  “Make it up,” Dexios answered, then flashed a grin that wiped away the glum look that usually haunted his features. “And if we survive, I’ll teach you.”

  “Wow. You’re really reassuring.”

  The magic in the air around her flashed.

  “Is it down?” she asked anxiously peering at the stone in her hand.

  “No. Not yet. That wasn’t a full assault.”

  Glancing over her shoulder into the blackness of the crypt, Alisha wondered if maybe they should retreat and hide, but then realized it would only trap them. Her stomach was fluttering with fear, but she squared her shoulders and concentrated on the doorway. If her enemies were coming for her, she had to be strong for her sister. Vanora had already lost so much. Alisha was determined not to leave her alone in the harsh world.

  The howling of wolves sent shivers down her spine. “Are those-”

  “No, not my pack,” Dexios answered tersely. His eyes were fully those of a wolf, and his mouth was full of sharp teeth. In a strange way, it made him even more handsome and impressive. Grabbing her hand, his flesh was hot against hers. “Stay close behind me, but if one attacks you go for the throat. Bite, claw, tear. It’s a hard wound to heal and will slow them down. If you’re strong enough, rip their head off. That they cannot heal. Do you understand?”

  “I’ve killed before,” Alisha replied, remembering far too well the horrible night in the ballroom on Halloween. “I can do it again.”

  Appearing feral and dangerous, Dexios gave her an approving look, then released her hand.

  A second later, the mausoleum shuddered with the violence of the ward attacking one last time. The air was filled with light, and the roar of magic rushing out of the mausoleum was deafening. Dexios jerked the heavy metal door open, and they plunged out into the night.

  Sprawled on the floor before the oracle pool, Siana was writhing and mewling as the power of her portent rolled over her. The water in the pool sloshed about, wild waves being birthed and dying in a matter of seconds. The Oracle was completely soaked, her damp white gown transparent and clinging to her body.

  Aeron approached cautiously, unnerved by her black hair wriggling about her head like snakes. When he squatted next to her, the coil of ivory hair cascading from her widow’s peak took on the form of a white cobra. It rose above her head, the hood flaring, and hissed at Aeron.

  Aeron shrank back, acknowledging the power of the magic that was manifesting. The aura of the temple was chaotic, and the air pricked against his skin like a thousand needles. Unnerved, he watched the three glowing orbs beneath the cloth that hid Siana’s eyes. The white cobra continued to guard over her as the rest of her hair transformed into ebony snakes that bared sharp teeth and hissed warningly.

  To his surprise, Aeron realized he was afraid. Setting his hands on the marble floor, he lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head.

  “What do you wish me to know?” he dared to ask.

  The Oracle’s body snapped upright. The crown of snakes twisted about to glare at Aeron with glowing eyes. The water from the pool rose in a high arc above her head, the waves bending about to mold into the transparent forms of people and places. The liquid sculptures altered so quickly, Aeron only recognized a few. They were representations of his past, present, and perhaps, the future.

  The voice of the Oracle came not from her lips, but from the air. “The prophecy is threatened.”

  Aeron resisted the urge to grab the Oracle. “No, this cannot be,” he growled.

  The white cobra lowered its hooded head to bob before Siana’s covered gleaming eyes. The vampire had the distinct impression that Siana was gazing at him through the snake.

  “You’re betrayed. And the betrayal has begun to unwind the prophecy. All is not well. All is threatened. The universe waits to see if the prophecy will shatter.”

  Behind the Oracle, Vanora’s face formed in the wall of water.

  “Who has betrayed me?” Aeron demanded. “Who threatens my destiny?”

  Vanora’s face faded and another replaced it.

  Aeron howled in rage and despair.

  Siana flung out her arms and the face of his betrayer vanished. The snakes melded into tendrils of hair as the Oracle was enfolded by the wall of water and levitated high above Aeron’s head. Lapsing into silence, the Oracle’s mouth continued to move, but her words were gibberish.

  Trembling, Aeron rose to his feet. A quiet step behind him drew his attention to the entrance of the temple. Lorelei stood there observing. Finding it difficult to walk, Aeron went to her. The heaviness of despair weighed him down and made it nearly impossible to form words. When he reached the little vampire, he went onto his knees in front of her. Lorelei’s slim arms went about his neck, and she held him tenderly.

  “I can kill him for you,” she offered.

  “You saw,” Aeron rasped.

  “Yes.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, a rare show of affection. “I can find him and kill him.”

  Aeron couldn’t speak the words that would seal the fate of Armando. How could the man he loved like his own son and brother betray him?

  “I suspected he loved her.” Lorelei lightly brushed her palms against Aeron’s cheeks as she gazed at him. “I never trusted him.”

  Aeron pressed his lips against her brow and held her tight. “You are the most faithful of all my children. The only one I shall ever trust. Find Armando.”

  “And kill him?”

  “No,” Aeron answered. “Bring him to me.”

  Lorelei scowled.

  “I want to speak to him. I want to understand how he could do this. And then...” Aeron found it painful to continue, but he had to be strong for himself and Vanora. “I will kill him.”

  A gleeful smile spread over Lorelei’s lips.

  “No one shall take Vanora from me. No one.” Aeron vowed.

  Vanora dreamed.

  Falling through layers of consciousness, she entered the nightmarish landscape of the dream world. A panorama of distorted memories surrounded her and made her heart ache. In every direction she turned, she was surrounded by bits of Aeron’s journey across Europe haphazardly pieced together. Again, she witnessed his heartbreak, his triumphs, his failures, and his eventual death and rebirth.

  “Do not leave me,” Aeron whispered in her ear, and she knew he stood behind her.

  The feather light touch of his fingers against her neck made her tremble with desire and dread.

  “Do not abandon our future. Fight for what will be ours.”

  Vanora attempted to pull away, but his hand closed about her wrist and spun her about.

  “No one will come between us,” Aeron vowed. His strong, beautiful hands caressed her face lovingly.

  “I choose my own path in this life,” Vanora replied defiantly.

  Aeron’s kiss was gentle and seductive.

  She resisted him, but not without difficulty. Her body craved him, and her soul cried for him.

  “Vanora, you cannot deny what will be,” Aeron chastised her.

  “I can and will,” Vanora answered.

  Anger flashed in his amethyst eyes. “Armando will not come between us. You cannot love him, because you are mine.”

  Terror seized Vanora. This was no mere dream. She’d known that since it began, which meant it was a portent.

  An
d that could mean only one thing.

  Vanora forced herself awake, drugged by sleep and magic. The room was gloomy, and only a single lamp glowed very faintly in one corner. Armando sat on the bed with her head on his lap gently stroking her hair.

  “Armando,” she rasped, struggling to escape the dream completely.

  “I’m here,” he said with an affectionate smile.

  “We have to go. Now.” Vanora scrambled for the edge of the bed.

  “What’s wrong?” Armando helped her off, holding her protectively.

  “Aeron knows about us,” Vanora answered. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  “How do you know this?” Armando asked, his eyes filling with a flash of anger.

  “In my dream, I saw Aeron. He knows, Armando, about us.”

  Armando cursed in Spanish. “He doesn’t know about this haven,” Armando started to protest, then faltered. “We can’t risk it. You’re right.”

  Pulling her sweater over the tank top she’d borrowed from Armando after a quick shower earlier, she shoved her feet into her boots. Desperation helped her push through her exhaustion. She’d hoped for a small nap before meeting with the others, but that was not meant to be. It was time to run. She wouldn’t lose Armando.

  “How does he know?” Armando asked while helping her into her coat.

  “The Oracle must have told him.” Vanora remembered Leto’s words from earlier and a spark of hope flared to life within her. “Which means we’re starting to change the future.”

  Armando stared at her somberly, then slightly inclined his head. “Good. I won’t let him have you.”

  Vanora grabbed the collar of Armando’s leather coat and kissed him passionately. He responded just as ardently and rendered her nearly breathless. “I love you, Armando, and that makes me stronger than any prophecy.”