Darkness Before Dawn (23 page)

His vampire ears, so sensitive, pick up the approaching footsteps before my own can. He takes my hand and we run down the hall, heading toward a part of the theater where I’ve never been before. The darkness here is all-consuming, but I trust Victor’s sense of direction. I trust him.

The Watchmen are right behind us.

Victor kicks open a door, and the faint light from distant street lamps barely illuminates an abandoned alleyway. He lets go of my hand and runs over to something that looks like a pile of junk covered by dark cloth. I’m unsure why he’s wasting his time on it, until he tears the cover off in one sweeping motion, like a magician revealing his assistant to a mystified audience.

“You ever been on a motorcycle?” he asks, as I stare at the two-wheeled beast.

“No,” I say.

“Well, no better time to learn.”

He hops on, revs the throttle, and I quickly slip on behind him. The romance of being this close, the tension of our bodies touching, is lost as the door to the theater bursts open, three Watchmen tumbling out.

Victor blasts past them, and though they give chase, they quickly give up. Minutes pass; street signs fly by.

“Where are we going?” I ask, shouting into the wind of our movement.

“A friend’s.”

We’re barreling through the city at breakneck speed. I’m clinging to Victor as though my very life depends on him. I feel like I’m following Victor down the rabbit hole. I don’t know what his plan is, but I trust him.

Victor is driving so fast that everything is a blur, but I realize we’re heading into the Far West District, known for its sparse population, vast empty spaces, and abandoned buildings. Agency posters and street signs fly by. As usual, few people are out, but those who are stop and stare. Motorcycles are rare. Especially one like this shiny restored model. Riding it makes us stand out, but then, not riding it would have meant Victor’s death and quite possibly mine. I have no way of knowing if the Night Watchmen would have recognized who I was before they’d rammed a stake through my heart. Or maybe they would have decided it was enough to find me guilty by association.

Once we reach the Far West District, the alleyways get very narrow. Without slowing down, he cuts through them, and we find ourselves on streets that could barely be called that. A car could never make it through the sharp turns and tight passageways.

The Works doesn’t even have pipes running out here, and people have to use their own oil lamps or fireplaces to light their homes. The signature feature of this place is the small, crude windmills atop every building, like strangled dandelions twirling slowly in the wind. They provide the few families who live out here with just enough power for the basics, like pumping up water from the sewers and filtering it to make it barely drinkable. The same strong winds that move those turbines also blow the Works’ coal dust over here, where it settles on everything. But most people say it’s actually the dust of ground-up dreams. It’s the harshest district in the city. Not because of violence, but just cruel indifference.

Suddenly we stop between two huge buildings. I see a few people milling around, but I suspect they aren’t really people, but vampires. Another thing this place is notorious for: a thriving black market for blood. Victor turns off the ignition, and the quiet is almost deafening. I realize I’m trembling. I thought it was just the rumble of the engine beneath us, but I must be in some sort of shock after the attack.

Victor puts his hands over mine where they’re knotted in front of his chest. “We’re safe here.”

“Yeah. Okay.” I untangle myself from around him and slide off the bike, nearly falling to the ground, my legs are so weak. But Victor is there to pull me back up.

“Are you okay?”

“Just … just adrenaline.”

He touches my cheek. “You didn’t get hurt?”

“No. I’m okay. Just shaken. How did they find us? I swear I didn’t tell anyone about the theater.”

“No one at all? Not even Tegan?”

“No one.”

“We’ll figure it out. Come on.”

He leads me over to a door that is so rusted it blends in with the red brickwork. He opens it onto a hall lined with oil lamps that give the cramped corridor a haunting glow. I follow him inside and he closes the door behind us. I stay in his shadow, never more than a step away, as we move forward.

A light at the end reveals itself to be an entire room. Inside are several couches, like those from Valentine Manor, and old oak tables that people only dream of having now. No windows for obvious reasons: The three vampires within wouldn’t want any sun coming in. They immediately rise. I can feel the tension radiating from them, the alertness, the sense of a threat.

They’re like Victor, well dressed and well manicured. But one in particular stands out as Old Family, because his jeans and buttoned shirt are crisp and show no sign of wear. His features are the strongest, and his long brown hair is fitted with a single knot of gold ribbon framing the right side of his face.

“We’ve got a problem,” Victor says.

The Old Family vampire runs his gaze over me. “I can see that. Why did you bring her here?”

“I didn’t have a choice. Night Watchmen raided the theater, tried to kill us.”

“I’m not surprised. I’ve gathered some of the information you wanted. It’s not good, Victor.”

As though suddenly remembering his manners, Victor says, “Dawn, this is Richard Carrollton, along with his trusted bodyguards.”

“From Los Angeles,” I say.

Richard tilts his head. “You’ve done your homework.” He looks at Victor. “What does she know?”

“Nothing.”

I jerk my gaze over to Victor. He gives me a look that’s riddled with guilt.

“But you can speak freely in front of her. She’s going to have to know everything now.”

“And just what is everything?” I ask.

“We’re about to start a war with my father.”

Chapter 23

S
tunned, all I can do is stare at Victor as he guides me over to a couch.

“Are you insane?” I ask as he eases me down to the cushion.

“I hope not,” he responds, sitting beside me and wrapping his hand around mine, offering comfort and strength. I know I should subtly withdraw mine, but right now I need the physical contact to anchor me.

Richard retakes his seat, but his bodyguards remain standing.

“Richard’s been in the city for a while,” Victor says. “He’s my second in command.”

“Second in command of what?” I ask.

“An army I’ve been assembling. My father, Richard’s father … all the heads of the families … they’re from another time, another era, another … mind-set. No more bombs are being dropped, but there is no peace. Not really.”

“And now that the Thirst has infected the Los Angeles territory, it’s only a matter of time before it spreads everywhere,” Richard says.

“What’s that?” I ask. In all my numerous vampire courses and studies, I’ve never heard of the Thirst.

“Our dirty little secret,” Richard confesses.

“Vampires can feed on other vampires,” Victor explains. “That’s been under lock and key and was kept out of the VampHu for fear that humans would stop giving blood if they knew.”

No kidding. Everyone thinks vampires depend on human blood to survive, and now I’m learning they can feed on one another as well? That they could be self-sustaining?

Richard looks at me keenly. “You’re wondering why we need you.”

“Drinking from another vampire isn’t a permanent solution,” Victor says firmly.

They trade sentences back and forth as they explain the Thirst: Under dire circumstances, vampires
can
take the blood of other vampires. It’ll get them through the night and give them enough strength until they can find human blood. Once, maybe twice a year and it’s fine. The problem comes when they keep feeding on their brethren. Every month. Every week. Every night. The Thirst kicks in and they change. They become addicts, losing all sense of reason and understanding—like rabid dogs. Their fangs grow, their eyes turn black, and all they want is blood. Vampire blood. They’ve lost the taste for human blood, but it doesn’t stop them from devouring any who get in the way.

I remember Victor whispering
thirst
on my balcony. “That vampire that was attacked near the school. You think that’s why another vampire was responsible?”

I can see the worry in his eyes. “Yes. I think the beginnings of the Thirst may be taking root here.”

“Is there a cure?” I ask.

“A stake through the heart or a field trip into sunlight.” Richard attempts to bring a bit of levity to a very serious subject.

“If a cure exists, no one’s found it,” Victor says. “It’s a recent phenomenon. Before the war, there were few vampires and plenty of humans. Blood was plentiful. Now, not so much.”

“Which was the problem in Los Angeles,” Richard says. “Our blood supply has dwindled as the humans stop donating, but the damn city is so strong, so well defended, that even if I wanted to sneak some vampires in, I couldn’t. I’ve offered to pay blood slaves huge amounts of money, but the stigma of selling blood to vampires lasts a lifetime, and I haven’t had many takers.”

Richard goes into more detail, telling me that the situation is completely opposite from the one here. The Carrolltons aren’t as strong as the Valentines; their grip over the population is weak. As a result, the city is late on blood payments all the time, sometimes going months without delivering at all. And unlike Denver, their walls stretch higher, farther, and are fiercely defended.

“But the inside of the city is rotting like an apple’s core,” he says. “The Agency there is inept. The people are starving, and so are the vampires on the outside. We have too many damn Lessers.”

“So what does that have to do with starting a war with your father?” I ask, trying to draw the connection between the Thirst and family infighting.

“My father, just like Richard’s, refuses to give any attention to the seriousness of the problem. The Thirst is like a plague making its way across the country. If it ever reaches Denver in full force, it’ll turn the area outside the wall into a giant killing field. Imagine an entire race of vampires driven mad. They’ll rip one another apart. And even Old Families won’t be safe.”

“Are they that powerful? To take on Old Families?”

“In their numbers? Yes. Even a vampire as powerful as my father. The Thirst doesn’t play by our rules. Infected vampires don’t care about duty or honor. All they care about is where to get their next fix.”

“Not only that,” Richard chimes in, “they’re insane. They’ve lost all control. No one is safe. Not vampires. Not humans. They can’t be reasoned with. They’re set on destroying everything. When it comes to monsters, the citizens of this city haven’t seen anything yet.”

Richard’s genuine fear sends a shiver through me.

“So what are you going to do?” I ask.

“I’ll try to reason with my father,” Victor says. “I’ve tried in the past, and been harshly punished for questioning him. He still doesn’t believe the Thirst exists. He actually thinks it’s just a myth, an urban legend spun out of control. If he won’t listen this time, I’m prepared to take more drastic measures.”

“Such as?”

“I’ll ask him to step down.”

I scoff. “You might as well ask him to fly to the moon. He’ll never give up his throne.”

“I don’t expect him to,” Victor says with regret. “But it’s the proper thing to do, before the next step is taken.”

I look at him, then back at Richard, seeing the pieces fall together.

“You can’t be serious,” I say. “Are you really prepared to battle your own father?”

“It’s not my first choice, but in a lot of ways, I’ve been preparing my whole life.”

“That’s right,” Richard says. “And I’ll serve as Victor’s witness, if that time comes.”

When an Old Family vampire ascends the throne through challenging the clan leader, a witness from another family must verify that it was a fair fight. I don’t envy Richard the job. Even if his friend were dying, all he could do would be watch. It’s the way of the vampires.

“That’s quite a burden,” I say.

“It’s an honor,” Richard counters.

“He’ll be doing me a great service,” Victor says. “Most Old Family vampires refuse to become entangled in other families’ affairs. After all, if you’re a witness, that means you support the changing of the status quo. Without Richard backing me, I couldn’t do this.”

“What if you just staked your father when no one was looking?” I ask. “I mean, who’s to argue with you?”

“Every Valentine in the world. They’d all claim they were the rightful heirs. My father has two brothers; they each have several children, and each of them has even more. My uncles and cousins would be vying for control.”

“But aren’t you the obvious choice?”

“The head of the family is not based on a direct bloodline. It’s all about power. With Richard backing me, there will be no question that
I
was the one who destroyed my father, and
I
am the one who will take his throne.”

“As much as vampires work in the shadows,” Richard says, “we never like to admit that. A witness makes things more
proper
, in our minds.”

“What if someone can’t find a witness?” I ask.

“Then all they can do is hope for the best. Kill the lord, and then everyone who gets in their way. It rarely works. Old Families don’t like when vampires break code.”

“If my father won’t take the Thirst seriously,” Victor says, “then I’ll have no choice. I can’t stand by and let the entire world face this monstrosity just because a few ancient vampires refuse to recognize its existence.”

“Unfortunately, we have an additional problem,” Richard says gravely. “I heard through the grapevine that your father contacted your brother a few months ago. Speculation is that he’s here in the city. If that’s the case, it could explain the attack on you tonight. He might have tipped off the Agency in an effort to get rid of you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?” I ask Victor.

“He’s not really acknowledged. Father hated his other son, called him a bastard child, a freak of nature. I don’t know why. He kept him locked up in another manor, far away from us. Eventually, he banished his own child before he was even a teenager. Why my father would reach out to him now, I have no idea. And whether it’s tied to all of this, I don’t know. But I can’t imagine he’s just making amends.”