Blood-Kissed Sky (Darkness Before Dawn) (20 page)

I know it’s pointless to argue. I head for the bed, then turn to face him. “I didn’t know Faith and Richard were onboard until I saw them at the party. If I’d told you right then and there that they were vampires, would you have kept your stake holstered?”

He looks down at his feet. That’s answer enough.

“Who are they?” Tegan asks quietly. “I mean, it’s obvious that they’re Old Family. They’re too beautiful to be Lessers.”

I join her on the bed. “Faith is Victor’s half sister. Richard is his friend. He’s a Carrollton. His father is the overlord of Los Angeles.”

“Are you going to meet with his father?”

“That’s the plan. He might know something about Sin or Day Walkers that can help us. At the very least he’s familiar with the Thirst. The Infected have been there for a while.”

She shivers, and I suspect it’s not because she’s cold.

“You don’t have to go with me,” I assure her. As a matter of fact, I’m going to make certain she doesn’t. Michael, though—unfortunately I’m probably going to need him.

Drawing her knees up, she wraps her arms around her legs. “I don’t know what I thought we’d find outside of Denver’s walls. I just know this isn’t it.”

No,
I think as the train hurtles over the tracks,
I don’t think anything could have prepared us for all this.

Hours later, as hard as I try, I can’t sleep. I hear Tegan snoring softly beside me. I can’t believe she fell asleep so easily. But then, she didn’t see the horror and carnage that I did. I’m glad that being with Faith spared her that. Although maybe not entirely. She did ask that we keep one lamp on, its light dim.

Michael is stretched out on the couch, his eyes closed. I’m not sure if he’s asleep, or just thinking. I guess we all need those quiet moments to ourselves, where the world is shut out.

I slip out of bed. Tegan murmurs. Michael doesn’t move. I grab my hoodie and the holster with the stake. Not bothering to slip on shoes, I creep across the room, glance back once. No one has stirred. Quietly I unlock the door and step into the hallway. I lock up, draw on my hoodie, and strap on the holster. I’m actually a little sad Christopher isn’t outside waiting. I’m hoping he’s with the crashing waves now.

I walk through the cars, noting the stillness around me. No one is in the passageway. I’m surprised Richard and Faith weren’t outside my door, but they knew Michael was taking a turn at watching me. They’ll be mad if they discover that I snuck out without an escort, but I’m feeling hemmed in again. I need something. I’m just not sure what it is. I reach the winding stairs that lead up to the observation deck. When I get there, a sense of relief washes over me at the sight of the night sky. Without any windows, time acts strangely. I had no idea whether it was really day or night until I came up top.

For some reason I needed to see the moon and the stars; I needed to be lost in the vastness of the night sky.

I’m happy up here; I needed my own quiet moment. The moon isn’t quite full yet, but it’s bright enough to illuminate the countryside. Taking a seat, I watch the scenery roll past. Mostly desert with tiny patches of dying vegetation, yellowed from the heat and drought. Mountains rise in the distance, so far away they seem like pieces of art, only there to be looked upon, and forever beyond reality. I figure this must be the safest area. Without any forests or caves to offer shelter, where could the Infected hide when the sun is out? I guess there could be small towns off in the distance, just beyond those hills, their citizens once human, now turned. The vampires may stay locked away, resting inside shacks made from old cardboard and whatever scraps of wood they can find, anything to keep the sun out. The idea of an ornate coffin, varnished and clean, with velvet lining in which Dracula sleeps, is fiction. Even the Old Families wouldn’t touch that: They sleep in comfortable beds in elaborate manors.

The scenery is repetitive; the train rocks me back and forth, making me drowsy. I lie down on the bench. And before long, I nod off to sleep.

I’m in Valentine Manor again, walking down a familiar hallway. I come to the room where Valentine and I discussed abductions and blood supply. The door is open.

When I peer inside, I see the huge table that stretches from one end of the room to the other. Victor is reclining on the massive throne where his father once sat. Waiting. I can sense the tension in him. His breathing is long and shallow, but his hands are gripping the armrests and I think that if he were suddenly startled he would rip them free of their mooring.

I hear footsteps echoing along the hallway. I glance over my shoulder and see the ancient vampire servant who always escorted me to this room. He was once elegant and regal, forever polite. Now he just seems harried. He’s walking fast as though he’s afraid the lumbering man behind him will step on his heels.

Roland Hursch.

So much has happened, I feel disoriented and realize that this is the night that he was boasting about when I saw him on TV. This was the night that he was first meeting with the new Lord Valentine.

The servant enters the room and bows. “My lord—”

“I don’t need an introduction,” Roland Hursch says as he storms through the doorway, brushing past me as though I don’t exist. Maybe for them I don’t.

The servant is obviously upset and confused. Protocol wasn’t followed. He doesn’t know what to do and is afraid that he’ll pay for it. With the old Valentine he would have. With the new—

Victor simply nods. “Thank you, Eustace. You may leave us.”

Eustace. During all my visits to the manor, I never knew his name. Was I any better than Valentine, seeing only the shell instead of a man with burdens and a desire to please?

He closes the door with a click, and I’m inside the room. A ghost in the shadows. Observing but not really here. If I yelled, would Hursch hear me? Would I want him to?

He’s dressed in a black suit with a bloodred tie. It’s the only color on him. I wonder if he chose it as a symbolic representation of the thing Victor and his vampires need so desperately, a kind of underhanded jab.

The entire scene is shaky, like a picture moving just a little in front of me. I have to concentrate to hold it still, to keep the voices clear.

Victor waves his hand toward a chair. “Please sit, Delegate Hursch.”

“Look here, young pup, I have no interest in games. The power is going to shift. You need our blood. There’s nothing we need from you. Nothing. You’ll get your damn minions out of the city, every last one—”

In the blink of an eye, Victor is out of the chair and slamming Hursch against the wall. His hand is wrapped around Hursch’s throat. His fangs are extended, glistening and close to his captive’s throat. Hursch’s dark eyes are so wide that I can see the whites of them. At any moment I expect them to roll back in his head.

“What I did, Mr. Hursch,” Victor says, “was dispense with the need for etiquette. I did not dispense with the need for manners.”

Releasing his hold, he steps back. Breathing harshly, Hursch slumps against the wall, deep white marks on his throat from where Victor’s hand had been wrapped around it in a death grip. I almost feel sorry for Hursch. He just got an unpleasant reality check. He’s lucky it came from Victor. Murdoch Valentine would have simply snapped his neck.

Victor tugs on the cuffs of his suit jacket. “Shall we start again?” He walks to his massive chair, sits, and indicates the one opposite him for Hursch.

Hesitantly, Hursch wanders over and drops onto the leather seat.

“Now,” Victor says, “before we discuss blood donations, I want to know what happened when Eris returned for Dawn today.”

Hursch’s eyes widen. “You know about that?”

“I know everything, Hursch. What happened when Clive didn’t turn Dawn over to Eris?”

“She had a fit, because no one seems to know where Dawn is. The little coward apparently went into hiding.”

Victor’s voice cuts through the air like a knife, aiming for Roland’s heart. “You’re the last one to speak of bravery, Hursch. Where were you during the war? Where were you while your brethren fought and died in trenches in lands they never heard of? Hmmm …”

“I was … I was fighting a different war. Behind the curtains, in the shadows.”

“You were hiding in the darkness. You took refuge with all your money and all your influence and you ran far, far away until the war was finally over. Dawn’s brother fought. Dawn’s father negotiated VampHu when no one else would. And Dawn herself faced my father, something you always claimed you wanted. But you would not have survived. Trust me.”

Hursch’s fists tighten, but he can’t think of anything to say and lets the silence linger for as long as Victor likes.

“What of Clive? What did he say to Eris?”

“Clive assured her that he has people out searching for her. She gave him three more days to find Dawn before she unleashes hell.”

“Our meeting is over.” Victor rises and turns his back on him.

“But the blood—”

“You’ve already said you won’t deliver it. I’d strongly reconsider that if I were you; otherwise I cannot guarantee the safety of your city or its citizens.”

His father once said the same thing to me …

The door opens, and Eustace steps into the room. He always had the uncanny ability to know when the meeting was over.

“Eustace will see you out,” Victor says.

I can tell that Hursch is conflicted. He wants a confrontation, but one that he’ll win. He hasn’t yet learned that with vampires that seldom happens.

When the room is empty, Victor sits in the large padded chair, leans his head back, and closes his eyes. I move forward. I just want to touch him, to brush his hair off his brow, to comfort—

“You came back.”

I spin around and stare in shock at Victor standing there. I

jerk my attention back to the chair. He’s still sitting there, eyes closed.

“That’s me sleeping,” he says as he comes up behind me.

I turn to face him, touch him. He seems so real. “And you?”

“Me dreaming.”

“I don’t understand.”

He skims his knuckles along my cheek. “I’m not sure I do, either. You’re warm. You’re … solid.”

A snore startles me into a little jump. “The sleeping you is kind of creeping me out.”

He flashes a grin and takes my hand. “Come on.”

I follow him down a hallway that I’ve never traveled before. Statues of mythical creatures stand on pedestals—or at least as far as I know, they’re mythical. We used to think the same about vampires.

He leads me into a smaller room. A fire is already burning in a hearth. In here paintings of sunrises adorn the walls.

Victor releases my hand and walks to a table. “A little brandy?”

“Sure.” I don’t know if I can get drunk in a dream.

He returns to my side and hands me a snifter. Then he taps his against it. “To knowing that you’re safe.”

He takes a long swallow, while I take a small sip. The fumes burn the inside of my nose; the liquid pricks at my throat.

“Are you?” I ask. “Safe?”

He turns away from me and walks to the fireplace. He stares into the flames. “I think things would be easier if we could just find Sin.”

“Have there been any more attacks by Day
Walkers?”

“No.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. I almost tell him about the attack on the train, but he has enough to worry over. This is all just a dream. Do I really want to spend it talking about Sin and Day
Walkers and the Thirst? I stroke my hand over his back, can feel the contours of his shoulders. “I can’t believe how real you feel.”

He takes my snifter, places it on the mantel beside his. He cradles my face. “I can scent your blood, but it’s not calling to me as strongly as it was. I’m not sure if it’s the passage of time or because we’re dreaming together. I’ve never craved human blood like that before, but then I’ve never had to take so much. At first I thought I might go insane with the need.”

“And now?”

“Now, I’m back to just wanting you.”

“But you walked away.”

“And I should again. I would never turn you, Dawn, and that condemns me to someday losing you.”

“Did it never occur to you that without immortality, it means I’ll lose you, too?”

“But that’s the way it is with humans. You accept it.”

“Doesn’t make it easy. And do we really want to spend this dream talking philosophy?”

He grins. “No.”

He’s still smiling when his lips touch mine. I don’t know if it’s because of the weird state of this dream but everything seems more intense. I press myself against him. I never want to wake up. I just want—