Read Dead Rising Online

Authors: Debra Dunbar

Tags: #templars, #paranormal, #vampires, #romance, #mystery, #magic, #fantasy

Dead Rising (2 page)

A date. With a vampire. Dad would kill me if he found out. No, actually Dad would give me a list of questions to ask Dario, as if I were Barbara Walters on an exclusive interview. Mom was the one who would kill me. I did the side-eye thing and wondered if Dario had any intention of having
me
for dessert? That expression of satisfaction on his face—…it was making me more than a bit uneasy.

Oh well. At least I had additional reassurances of getting out of this meeting with Mistress Leonora alive. Dario would want me to remain alive at least until date night.

“I’ll pick you up at your place at nine.”

Nine. After sunset. I’m guessing this restaurant kept late hours in the summer. Did they have vampire investors? Were they aware of the peculiar dietary inclinations of their guests? Vampires weren’t truly “out” when it came to the human world, but they did trust some with the knowledge of their existence.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about going to a possible vampire-friendly establishment. I’d need to make sure I slapped the leather bracelet back on to cover my tattoo, just in case someone thought I was there on official business, or decided to retaliate against me for my Order’s pre-truce activities.

“Okay. Nine it is.”

Certifiably insane, that’s what this was. Although Templars did take the pursuit of knowledge seriously. Dad was always on my case about being well informed. How better to find out about vampires than go out to dinner with one.

You could read a book, dummy
. Well, that was true and I certainly had a lot of books at my house. But nothing beat field experience when it came to research.

I gave up baiting Dario to check out my surroundings. After six months of living in this city I was ashamed to admit I wasn’t familiar with anything north of Hopkins. Baltimore was an odd mix of blue and white collar, of tourists and residents, of crushing poverty and waterfront wealthy. We were far from the harbor, but the houses going by outside my window definitely belonged to the well off. I’d have to GPS this later and find out exactly where we were in relation to my house.

Fancy brownstones gave way to a collection of Victorian and Queen Anne style homes with balconies and wrap-around porches festooned with lush Boston Ferns. We pulled into one driveway and up to a three-story home nearly hidden behind massive oaks and maples. The dim golden light from the windows made me think of candles. Romantic, but all I could imagine was drapes catching fire and the whole house going up in flames—which wouldn’t be a good thing for a house presumably full of vampires.

Dario parked the SUV alongside two others and the moment I got out I felt them—dozens of vampires. Maybe more. My skin prickled and I rubbed my arms. I couldn’t see any of them, but I could feel them nearby. For a fleeting moment I wished I had my sword, but it wasn’t like I could ask Dario to swing by my apartment on the way to this meeting. I didn’t usually carry it around. Sitting through a play with a huge sword in hand, even a play about yellow fever, wasn’t socially acceptable.

The vampire took my arm with a motion that seemed more protective than forceful and led me across the brick courtyard to the entrance. Once inside I was relieved to find the golden light was from shaded lamps and not open flame, although why I was worried about a bunch of vampires burning to death, I don’t know.

Three vampires met us in the foyer—a big bald guy and two steely-eyed women. They all wore black leather, and I forced myself to not comment. I might feel reasonably comfortable teasing Dario, whom I’d seen out and about for months and had a sort-of minimal friendship with, but not these vampires who looked like they had even less of a funny bone than Dario did.

“New blood slave, Dario?” one of the women commented. A slow smile curved her lips but never reached her eyes. “She’s pretty sweet. If you don’t want her, I might be interested.”

Dario’s hand tightened on my arm. “This one’s off limits, Rosa. She’s the Templar.”

The woman sidled up her smile widening enough to show her fangs. I reached in my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the keychain, but Dario edged in front of me before I could pull the crucifix out. He hissed, and the woman backed off.

There was one of those significant moments of silence. I forced my fingers to relax on the crucifix.

“Leonora is waiting.”

The woman tensed, then lowered her eyes, backing up and stepping to the side. This whole thing was a bad idea, but I was in it to win it at this point. Might as well soldier through this meeting. As dicey as it might get, it had to be better than yet another boring evening alone in my apartment.

My four vamp honor guard led me into a living room converted into a throne room. A carved wooden chair sat facing the door, big enough for two to sit with minimal intimacy. The windows were covered with heavy drapes, the lighting barely enough to make out the shadows. Dario halted, and since he was still holding my arm, I did, too.

And we waited. For once I kept my mouth shut. The house was eerily silent, the only sounds were the crickets outside and the brush of tree limbs against the windows. The vampires were like statues beside me. Finally I heard the soft whoosh of a door swinging on well-oiled hinges and three more vampires entered the room. The air crackled with their energy, prickling my skin and making me feel slightly claustrophobic.

So. Much. Leather. I bit my tongue and watched as one woman made her way to the seat of honor. She was tall and generously proportioned with a pale oval of a face. Her black hair was curled and arranged in a complicated updo, her eyes dramatically made up. Impressive cleavage squeezed northward from the riveted corset. The woman had a serious rack. I swear she could put a tray on her boobs and serve hors d’oeuvres.

Leonora sat. I held my breath, waiting for the tight leather pants to give way, but they held. She leaned back and crossed her legs, further testing the limits of modern tailoring.

“Solaria Angelique Ainsworth to see you, Mistress,” the bald vampire beside me announced.

I cringed at the God-awful name my parents had saddled me with. Aria. Aria Ainsworth was what was on everything except my birth certificate and the family bible. Even the shortened version was weird. I would have changed it years ago, but names had power when given in ceremony and I wasn’t willing to leave that power behind—even if I had the worst name in the history of our Order.

Dario jabbed an elbow into my side. Suddenly I realized the vampires were staring at me expectantly, and had been doing so for a while. I made a hasty bow. “Pleased to meet you Mistress Leonora.”

The vampire Mistress got right to the point. “We have been told you are a Templar.”

I glared at Dario who didn’t even have the grace to flush. I guess this was payback for those Bloody Marys and snarky napkin messages.

“Yes, ma’am. I haven’t taken my Oath, though.”

She blinked. “Not taken…but you must be at least thirty years old.”

“Twenty-six.” Guess I needed to start moisturizing. Maybe a little Botox of my own would be a good idea.

Leonora exchanged an unreadably blank glance with Dario. “But you are an Ainsworth? Tarquin Ailpean Ainsworth’s great-granddaughter?”

Okay, maybe I wasn’t the only person in the history of the Templar Order who had been given a truly horrible name.

“I am.”

I could feel her confusion. My great-grandfather was a legend among the Templars. His descendants had been…disappointing. Still, children of Templar families took the Oath at twenty-two and began their lifetime of service. They didn’t shirk their duties for four years then skip off to make espresso in Baltimore.

“We request the gift of knowledge,” Leonora announced. The former confidence in her voice was now edged with doubt.

Knights of the Temple had three guiding principles that served as the focal points of their lives. One of those involved the pursuit and recordation of knowledge, which included ensuring that knowledge was openly available to all—and that did mean all. If the Prince of Darkness himself flagged one of us down on the street corner to ask directions, we’d be duty bound to provide him with such. Good and evil were subjective concepts, and we were not in a position to judge. Only God held that right. In the normal course of things, a Knight would have smiled and told her they would be honored to do so.

But I wasn’t a Knight. And I was on the verge of being evicted from my crappy apartment if I didn’t find something that paid more than making lattes.

“Do you now? Well, if I decide this job is a good fit for my talents, I’ll be requesting the gift of U.S. currency.”

Her eyes narrowed. It was forbidden for Knights to take payment, but I had rent to pay. Overdue rent. And I was sick and tired of my Ramen noodle diet.

“How do I know you can perform this task? If you have not yet taken your Oath, then how will you guarantee your silence concerning what we are requesting of you?”

I shrugged. “I understand if you don’t trust my abilities or discretion. You could always make your request to another Templar, one who actually is a Knight.”

Again, there was an uneasy wordless exchange between Leonora and Dario. There were only a few thousand of us Templars left in the world, and less than one hundred on this continent. Knights don’t respond to supplications for aid over e-mail or via phone, requests must always be made in person—which meant Leonora would need to travel to Virginia, New York, or California. All of those were outside the safety of her
Balaj
’s territory. A Templar in the hand, no matter how untested, was definitely worth two in the bush in this instance.

After a long moment, the Mistress nodded and pulled forth a paper. She handed it to another vampire who couriered it the five steps to me. “We need you to identify this mark, and tell us everything you know about it.”

I looked down at the paper. This was a
bit
embarrassing. Everything I knew about this mark was a big fat zero. It wasn’t any of the more common angel or demon sigils. Although it bore a slight resemblance to Mars, it wasn’t planetary in nature. Maybe if I’d stuck around and become a Knight, I’d actually know what the heck this thing was.

I pursed my lips and pinched my chin in an imitation of my college professor. When you don’t know squat about something, it’s best to bullshit. “Small details make all the difference when it comes to sigils and magical marks. I’d like to consult some of my texts to confirm my suspicions, and give you a definitive answer rather than conjecturing.”

All those years in boring elder meetings, and the only benefit was that I could say “I don’t know” in a way that made me sound like I truly
did
know. Nobody could talk their way around a situation like the Knights Templar. Legends abounded of how we rid a holy site of the devil by talking the poor guy into a painful state of boredom.

I took a steading breath and made my outrageous demand, ready to negotiate. “Five thousand dollars, flat fee for this job. Half up front, half upon completion.”

“You have seven days.” Leonora got up and walked out, flanked by her bodyguards and the three vampires who had escorted me into the room.

No negotiation? Really? Earning five thousand dollars in one week was exciting, but her easy acceptance of that amount made my stomach roll over. I looked down at the symbol on the paper again, worried that this job wasn’t going to be as simple as I had originally thought.

Dario tightened his hand on my arm, almost to the point of pain, and steered me to the exit. “Hey,” I protested, trying in vain to pull free from his grasp. The former protective feeling I’d had from him was gone. This seemed more like he was marching me out to rough me up in the driveway.

“I will give you your payment in the car,” he told me. Was it my imagination, or did I detect an edge of disappointment to his voice?

Chapter 2

 

T
HE MONEY WAS
indeed in the car. I stuffed the wad of bills into my purse, but not before counting it first. Twenty-five hundred dollars. I’d be caught up on rent. I could stop stealing rolls of toilet paper from the library bathroom. I could actually add some protein back into my diet.

And if I didn’t find out what this symbol meant in seven days, Leonora would have me at the bottom of the Chesapeake Bay, weighted down with cinder blocks, Templar or not. No, she’d probably lock me somewhere in her home for vampires to feed from until I passed out from anemia. I glanced over at Dario. He was pretty hot, and necks
were
an erogenous zone. I could see how women everywhere thought the idea of tall, dark, and handsome sinking his fangs into your neck would be orgasmic. I don’t know, maybe it was, but puncture wounds hurt, blood loss was no fun, and orgasms didn’t last forever. I’m quite sure they didn’t last long enough to make it worth the dizzy hangover feel, throbbing neck wounds, and weeks of withdrawal symptoms.

I glanced over at the vampire in question. Maybe, with the right vampire, it
would
be worth it. Before I could continue on with that suicidal train of thought, Dario’s phone rang. He shot me a quick glance and began speaking in an unfamiliar language.

Okay. Vampire business. Not for my ears. Got it.

My hand touched the folded paper in my pocket. Where to begin my research? I had thirty or so reference books back at my apartment, not counting the occult ones I’d picked up over the years. I’d start with the basic symbols then see what was left if I removed them from the equation. With any luck, I’d be in bed in a few hours.

“I need to get back, so I’ll drop you off here.” Dario put his phone down and pulled the SUV to the curb, setting the emergency brake.

I looked up, surprised. “But my car is back at the theater.” And we were nowhere near my house. I glanced around at the boarded up buildings, the convenience store with a healthy number of loiterers outside indulging in their own sort of commerce, at the street lights, half of which were not working.

Dario didn’t answer and before I could dig in my heels and refuse to leave the vehicle, he’d unbuckled my seatbelt and was leaning across me to open the door.

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