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

  When she lifted her eyes, the cashier was still distracted by the ongoing conversation with the overnight manager. It took a few seconds of eavesdropping for Vanora to realize they were discussing the fires raging throughout Houston.

  “Terrorists are doing it,” the manager said with confidence, her dark eyes flashing with indignation. Her salt and pepper hair was scraped back from her face into a tight bun.

  “I heard it was devil worshippers,” the cashier replied. Light brown hair in a short ponytail, pale face free of makeup, wearing rimless glasses, and just enough extra weight to give her a doughy appearance, she had a look that made it difficult to discern her age.

  Lightly tapping her debit card against the edge of the card reader, Vanora waited. Fearing her magic might manifest again, Vanora’s hands were tucked into gloves. It had taken her nearly ten minutes of hard concentration to get them to stop glowing. Anxious to get to Sheila and the others before the sun rose, Vanora fought to contain her temper. Yet, it was difficult because she could feel the pleasure the cashier gained from making Vanora wait.

  …snobby, rich bitch…

  The words hissed through her mind in the cashier’s voice.

  …thinks she’s so much better…

  For a second, Vanora entertained the idea that she was imagining the venomous voice, but then she saw the cashier’s eyes flick toward her and the serpentine smile on her lips.

  …what if the kids are scared…the fires are so close to the house…

  It was the manager she now heard.

  Vanora shivered in her coat as she struggled to maintain her composure. Was this yet another manifestation of her power? Reading minds?

  At last, the cashier totaled Vanora’s purchases and waited for Vanora to finish at the card reader. Tapping in her pin code, Vanora raised her gaze to meet the cashier’s. Catching herself before she could gasp, Vanora saw reptilian eyes staring at her from behind the woman’s glasses. The cashier’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. Vanora finished her end of the transaction and hastily shoved her card in her wallet. The cashier unhurriedly tore the receipt off the printer while scrutinizing Vanora.

  “Odd shopping list,” the cashier said, seeming to finally take note of what Vanora had bought.

  The blue bags were stuffed with energy bars, charcoal, salt, bottled water, a single white sheet, and a cast iron Dutch oven. Vanora heaved them into her cart, ignoring the woman. As she hurried out of the store, she could feel the woman’s gaze following her.

  What the hell was she?

  Vanora was almost to Greg’s car when he jogged up looking rather pleased with himself and a little less ragged around the edges.

  “Already?” Vanora couldn’t hide her disgust.

  “I’m tough to resist.” Greg grabbed the bags and tossed them into the back of the truck. The impact resounded across the parking lot.

  “Where? Who?” Regarding the darkened areas surrounding the shopping complex, Vanora shuddered.

  “A hot little Latina with a big, round ass on her way into work. Against the wall over there. It was great!”

  “Ugh!” Vanora shuddered at the thought.

  “Take that, Leah!” Greg flipped off the store, then climbed behind the wheel while Vanora settled into the passenger seat.

  Yanking the door shut, Vanora said, “Leah doesn’t sound like a Latina name.”

  “Oh, no. The girl’s name was Marisol. Leah is the bitch demon who rules over that Walmart. She feeds off the misery of her co-workers and the shoppers.”

  “Great. Another demon. I should have known. Her eyes were…”

  The incubus was shifting the truck into gear, but at her words, he hesitated. “You could see what she was?”

  “Her eyes were like a reptile,” Vanora answered.

  “Oh, wow. You saw through her disguise! There may be hope for you yet, Snow White!”

  “Greg!”

  “It’s a compliment!” The demon drove the pickup toward the entrance on the far side of the parking lot. “Snow White’s a princess. All girls want to be a princess.”

  “I never wanted to be a princess.”

  “Sure, you did,” he said sarcastically.

  “Seriously, I didn’t. They were always so…pathetic. Waiting for someone to rescue them. Or changing themselves to make someone love them.” She was actually lying. A good portion of her childhood had been spent wishing she could change her appearance in hopes that someday some cute boy would think she was pretty and love her. She had that much in common with the fairytale princesses.

  “So you wanted to be the knight in shining armor?”

  “Actually, I kinda wanted to be Maleficent. That way I could turn into a dragon and no one would pick on me.” That was the truth and she grinned at the memory.

  Greg wickedly chuckled. “There’s hope for you yet, Dark Vanora.”

  His words vividly reminded her of the painting Alisha had created of Vanora as the Queen of the Night. She shuddered. “Anyway, Greg, you knew there was a demon in the store and you still let me go in?”

  “There are demons everywhere, cupcake.”

  “But what if…” Vanora hesitated. “I guess I’m just being paranoid.”

  “Not everyone in this world is out to get you. But, if she had figured out you’re a witch that could’ve been an issue. Your kind is supposed to be virtually extinct thanks to the ivory asshole.”

  “What could she have done? To me?” Vanora dreaded the answer.

  “Though she’s one of the nastiest demons you’ll ever meet, she probably would have run away. Your kind can vanquish us. You’re dangerous.”

  This answer pleased her though it was a bit unsettling.

  “Besides, if she did figure out you’re a witch, I bet she’s shitting bricks right now, which is awesome. I love pissing her off every chance I get. She hates it when I feed off her people. Stupid ol’ bitch. I really fuckin’ hate her.”

  “Why? Because she does what you do?”

  “You take that back,” Greg growled.

  Vanora gave him a surprised look. “Why?”

  “I bring pleasure to the women I feed off of. That demon-bitch inspires misery into her prey so she can slurp it up.”

  “And you don’t cause misery? Your girlfriends all died tonight.”

  Returning the pickup to the road, Greg frowned at the darkened road through the windshield. “Okay, so usually my affairs end with death and destruction, but it’s not my fault. My girls just have difficulty letting go. Because, ya know, I’m just that good.”

  “Because you’re using magic on them!”

  “So do vampires! How do you think your Spanish stud gets his victims?”

  The thought of Armando hurt so much tears instantly sprung to her eyes.

  “Yeah, he’s all handsome, charismatic, and charming, but he’s putting the big ol’ vampire mojo on those victims to get them to pony up the old red wine. So how is he better than me? And don’t think he hasn’t killed people or caused a shit-ton of misery in his day! I’m not the only monster around here. But at least I don’t deliberately fuck up people so I can feed on their despair. Leah treats Marisol like shit. I just gave Marisol something to grin about. I’m the good guy here.”

  “No, you’re not,” Vanora said firmly.

  Greg scowled at her for a second, then laughed. “Yeah, I’m not. I just don’t like being compared to that demonic she-beast.”

  “I could read her mind.” Vanora watched Greg intently, waiting for his reaction.

  “What?” Greg took a turn a little too fast, forcing Vanora to brace herself against the door.

  “I could read her mind and the manager’s. I’ve never been able to do that before.”

  “Can you read my mind right now?”

  “I definitely don’t want to do that!”

  “Why don’t you take a peek? That way you could tell me if I’m getting the details right for when I wank off later.”

  “What?” Vanora ran his w
ords through her mind one more time. “Oh, hell, no! Don’t you dare fantasize about me!”

  “I kid. I kid.” Snorting with delight, Greg spun the wheel and the truck skidded around a corner. “Though, on a serious note, it does sound like you’re powering up. Maybe it’s because Aeron is near you.”

  Vanora did not like that speculation at all. It unsettled her to even consider that her magic might be linked to Aeron even though she felt inexorably drawn to him. If what Greg had told her was true, then she’d have to accept that it might be a possibility. Bitterness twisted around her heart and soured her thoughts. The concept of her life not being her own was infuriating. She would not relent to the magic that had created this hell.

  “The stuff you bought…that’s for something important, isn’t it?” Greg’s tone had altered to a more conciliatory one.

  “Yes,” Vanora answered simply.

  She didn’t want to discuss what she was planning to do at the moment. The emotional fallout from the night’s events continued to threaten her resolve. It was unbearable to ponder Alisha’s fate. Vanora committed to not contemplating her sister’s possible demise. Alisha was alive until proven otherwise. As for Armando, she missed him so much it hurt. Yet, those feelings were eclipsed whenever she remembered how her soul had responded when Aeron had entered Carlotta’s kitchen. When his power had reached for her, for a split second, she’d actually welcomed it.

  When the truck finally pulled into the driveway of the rental house, Vanora exhaled with relief. The terrible night had knotted every muscle in her body. As she disembarked after Greg parked in the garage, Sheila met her with a tight hug. The coldness of her flesh reminded Vanora of Armando and she ached for him.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay. You have to tell us everything. Your text messages didn’t really say much,” Sheila said, releasing Vanora.

  “It was awful. We never should have gone there. It was a mistake. Aeron showed up and…”

  “I saved her!” Greg dragged the two bags out of the truck bed.

  “I knew you weren’t a total asshole,” Sheila said approvingly.

  “He saved me for his own evil purposes,” Vanora sniffed.

  “Hey! Let me bask in the adoration of the hot vampire for a second,” Greg retorted.

  Alexander lingered near the doorway to the laundry room. Vanora sensed his amusement at Greg’s words. She wondered why he wasn’t jealous.

  …because she loves me, not him…

  The voice with the Creole accent startled her and her eyes widened.

  Alexander met her gaze.

  …you hear me…

  Vanora nodded.

  Alexander smiled.

  …interesting…

  “I thought you’d be here earlier,” Sheila said, chiding Greg. “What was the hold up?”

  “Other than her unexpected shopping run at this world’s version of hell known as Walmart? I needed a quickie.”

  Sheila gave Vanora a sharp look.

  “It wasn’t me,” she said defensively.

  “I was going to say! He can’t feed off of witches or vampires. We give him zero sustenance.”

  Vanora punched Greg’s shoulder as he passed her on his way into the house. “You asshole! Asking me to feed you when you knew-”

  “You cannot blame me for trying!” Greg ducked away.

  …he’s a demon. It’s what they do…

  “He doesn’t have to be such an ass about it,” Vanora answered Alexander.

  Sheila stopped dead in her tracks, eyeing Vanora. “What did you say?” The skinny vampire’s eyes flicked back and forth between Alexander and Vanora. “You…you can hear him?”

  “Can you?” Vanora asked.

  “Not actual words. Not his voice. I just…sense what he’s thinking,” Sheila answered. “But can you hear words?”

  “He has a Creole accent,” Vanora said, feeling a bit like she’d been caught doing something intimate with Alexander. When she met Alexander’s gaze, she grasped that veracity of that thought. Sheila was Alexander’s voice to the world. Vanora had just circumvented her. Not only that, she could actually hear his voice when Sheila could not. Guilt ripped at her like a hungry shark.

  Sheila stood very still, her hands clenched at her side, then gradually relaxed. “I can’t be selfish. I’m glad someone can hear him.”

  The long haired vampire reached out and caressed Sheila’s cheek. She went into his arms and they held each other tenderly. Staring into Sheila’s eyes, Alexander didn’t need words to convey his emotions. Vanora skittered around them, allowing them a moment.

  Besides, she needed to prepare.

  It was time to enter the other world and open the box to discover the secrets it contained.

  Sprawled across a white brocade divan, Leto watched Aeron pacing before the flames in the hearth. Dressed only in linen trousers, the vampire nearly matched the whiteness of the marble fireplace. Though the walls and floor were ivory and decorated with white furniture, the darkened room was aglow in orange-yellow glow of the fire. It was a relief from the stark whiteness that inhabited most of Aeron’s haven.

  The heavy, warm bodies of the two wolves sharing the divan with Leto reminded her of the fur pelts Aeron had worn when he’d first found her so long ago. At the sight of the wolf hide, she’d attacked him only to learn what so many of his enemies would discover over thousands of years of conflict. Aeron could not be killed.

  “Must you have them on my furniture?” The purple eyes flashed red for a second with indignation.

  One of the wolves yawned, while the other snoozed with his head on her lap. Leto had saved them from a poacher when they were mere cubs, and they were usually at her side in quieter moments. Without answering, Leto continued to stroke their furry backs. When she’d finally close her eyes to sleep, they’d press against her bare skin, warm and loving. It was the only true comfort she had anymore. Because of Aeron, the world was in turmoil and her werewolves were in danger. She’d do anything to protect them, even if it meant sacrificing some of her own blood.

  Aeron snarled, flashing one fang at her.

  She grinned in response, her mouth full of sharp teeth.

  That elicited a slight smile from Aeron. “You don’t worry about displeasing me.”

  “You can clean their black hair off your precious white divan after I retire if it bothers you so much.” Sitting up, Leto’s dark hair spilled over her shoulders and breasts. She was naked except for a filmy black scarf wrapped around her hips. After spending a few hours in her miso-likos form, clothing agitated her.

  There was a soft, hesitant step at the door to the room. Swiveling about, Aeron regarded the young woman in the doorway imperiously.

  “What is it, Kallos?” Leto asked swiftly, not wishing for Aeron to aim his dangerous mood at the nervous woman.

  “All of the likos have returned except for Dexios,” Kallos timidly said. She was tall and very slender with masses of medium brown wavy hair. Thick, dark eyelashes edged her green eyes.

  “Likos…”Aeron grunted. “You mean the wolves.”

  “My wolves,” Leto said sharply. “My likos.”

  Aeron often scoffed at Leto for clinging to her Greek heritage. Many of her children had Greek names and called themselves the likos among themselves. Though Kallos was descended from Leto, her family line was diluted with mortal blood. In fact, Kallos was human enough that Aeron had committed the worst sins against Leto when they’d been adversaries. He’d made Kallos a vrikolakas, a vampire. A hundred years had passed since then, but Leto’s anger had not diminished over time. Aeron was arrogant and foolish enough to believe that Leto had sided with him out of lust for power. He never imagined that she’d only sided with him to find a way to destroy him.

  “Dexios is strong. If he was wounded, he’s found a den,” Leto said, sliding off the divan, leaving her wolves to their slumber. “He’ll find his way home when he’s healed.” Hopefully, Aeron would forget about Dexios altogether. It was impor
tant that Dexios stayed with Alisha in hiding, but Kallos didn’t know that and the young woman was obviously worried.

  Biting her lower lip, Kallos barely nodded.

  “Is he the only wolf missing?” Aeron asked.

  Kallos kept her eyes firmly planted on the marble floor. “Yes, my Master. A few vampires have not returned. Lorelei is among them.”

  “Lorelei is dealing with Carlotta. She’ll return soon,” Aeron said, clearly not caring to learn the names of the other vampires who may have perished.

  “At least I’m not the only one dealing with difficult children,” Leto remarked gently touching Kallos's locks, the silky softness wrapping around her fingers.

  Kallos lifted her eyes to gaze sorrowfully at Leto.

  “Carlotta has always been difficult. I should have killed her long ago,” Aeron said with a dismissive shrug.

  “I have one more message for you,” Kallos said, her apprehension very evident.

  Striding back to the fireplace, Aeron flicked his fingers at her, urging her to hurry. “Deliver it.”

  “Queen Mirrah and the Brides arrive tomorrow night.”

  With a dark laugh, Aeron leaned one elbow on the mantle. “Excellent.”

  Allowing Kallos’s curl to slip from her fingers, Leto dropped her hand. Mirrah was cruel to Kallos and treated her more like a pet than a member of the servant staff. “How will you explain Vanora to her, Aeron?”

  “I don’t need to explain anything to Mirrah,” Aeron answered, already sounding bored.

  The vampire dismissed Kallos with the wave of one hand, and the girl hastily spun about to leave. Something in the hallway made her gasp, then she darted out of view in a rush. Taking her place in the entrance was a badly burned Lorelei. Her skin blackened and cracked, large patches of her blond hair were gone. Stumbling slightly, the girl attempted to bow.

  “Forgive me, Aeron. I failed you.”

  “Lorelei,” Aeron gasped, then rushed to the small vampire. Falling to his knees, he took her slim arms in his big hands and stared into eyes that resembled boiled eggs. “What happened?”

  “Someone threw a part of the burning house on me. By the time I fought my way out, Carlotta was gone and the fire trucks were arriving.” The flesh around her mouth split and seeped viscous fluid as she spoke. “I tried to find her, but had to return before sunrise.”