The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1) (3 page)

“
Get in my car, Sloane! Now!” my father ordered, and I ran in a daze to his beat-up Toyota Camry, which was parallel-parked along the curb in front of the Camaro. We locked ourselves inside, and my father started the engine, switching gears and slamming his foot on the gas. I was thrown back against the seat as we rocketed down the street.

“
What’s happening?” I asked.

My father’s face was pale, his eyes glued to the road.

“
The end of the world,” he whispered.

I furrowed my brows, too scared to ask any questions. Movement caught the corner of my eye, in the side mirror.

A group of people scattered and shrieked as dark creatures with glowing red eyes and sets of flashing fangs ripped them apart, wildly lapping up the growing pool of blood on the street. All I could do was watch as we turned a corner and sped toward downtown Pittsburgh (where a heavily guarded shelter was being set up), my neighbors’ desperate pleas for help giving way to growls and eerie silence.

I blinked hard, pulling myself back to the present. A sickly yellow school bus sat in the middle of an intersection, limping on two deflated tires. As I crept alongside it, keeping to its shadow, I caught the outline of a black form moving above me, its hunkered shape slinking along the top of the bus like a cat hunting a mouse.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I wheeled around, cocking the pistol, only to find nothing, no nightmarish creature waiting to pounce.

My breath grew more ragged as my heart rate sped up, throbbing painfully inside my ears until it was the only sound I heard. In the windows of the bus, my reflection was still aiming the pistol at the roof of the vehicle. Shadows were at my back, save for a flash of crimson eyes.

I drew a sharp breath and dropped to the ground, spinning around on the balls of my feet as the vampire lunged out of the darkness, a rabid snarl erupting from its oversized throat. The gunshot was silent as death, and time seemed to slow as the vampire changed direction at the last second before the bullet hit, tearing a bright red gash into its bared rib cage. The vampire sailed over me, and I followed its path with the pistol, firing again as the creature shrieked and hit the ground. Quick as a shadow, it scuttled out of the way before the bullet hit home, missing its head and blowing a hole in its side, spraying the ground with black blood. The vampire latched itself on the side of the bus, crawling over the roof like a spider before disappearing from view.

I cursed and went after it, the Scarlet Dagger shining brilliant crimson in the moonlight as I unsheathed and raised it into a defensive position, gripping the pistol in my other hand. My forefinger jittered against the trigger as I paused at the end of the bus, using the dagger as a mirror to see the other side. Only dirt and a scattering of MISSING CHILD posters lay next to the bus.

Each breath I took made my whole body shake, and I willed my heartbeat to slow as sweat dripped from my forehead onto my chest. Something rapidly clucked its tongue a few feet from me, making a low guttural noise, and I pointed the pistol at the darkness, not seeing anything. A bead of sweat dropped into my eye, and I swiped at it as my vision blurred. I glanced at my hand and did a double take, rubbing the sweat drop between my thumb and forefinger. It was warm, and much thicker than it should be.

It was also deep red.

Later, I would be grateful I saw that drop of blood, because it was the only warning I had before the vampire tackled me from the top of the bus, catching me off guard and throwing me to the ground. I landed hard on my back, giving my lungs a jolt as the breath was knocked from me. While I lost hold of the pistol, I managed to bring the dagger up swift enough to block the vampire’s gaping jaws. The creature wasn’t very heavy – little more than sagging, purplish skin and fragile bone – but its speed was nearly too quick for my seemingly sluggish human reflexes, and it was all I could do to keep it at bay as it scratched at my arms and snapped its razor sharp teeth at my neck.

I grunted, struggling against the vampire.

Think about what Leo taught you. Look for the opportunity to strike to present itself.

I waited, conserving my energy for what I hoped against hope would be a fatal blow to the monster on top of me. Gazing at its narrow, sunken face – a face that might have very well once been human – churned up memories of my brother, of his happy, jester-like smile, intermingled with his screams of terror as a vampire very much like this one sank its teeth into his flesh.

Rage, hot and bitter, flooded my body, consuming me like a wild fire laying siege to a forest. Loathing filled my eyes, which had morphed into dangerous slits. At last, the vampire swiped, losing its balance for a splinter of a second and creating a narrow path from the tip of my blade to its sternum. With a bloodthirsty roar, I plunged the blade deep into the creature’s chest, feeling the steel tear and snap its way through bones, muscles, and tendons until only the hilt showed, my hands gripping it so tightly my knuckles had turned white.

Almost immediately, the vampire stopped moving, its wild eyes frantic with growing pain and confusion as it stared at the blade in its chest. Subconsciously, my lips twisted into a carnivorous smile.

Gotcha.

I raised my knees, digging the heels of my boots into the vampire’s stomach, and pushed with my legs, pulling back on the dagger. It at last freed itself of the creature and I fell back, rolling along my shoulder blade as I sprang up into a defensive position, my knees bent and the dagger poised over my head, dripping blood.

The vampire shuddered and grew still as winter before it began screaming madly. The wound, which ran clear from one side to the other, was starting to smoke as the vampire’s dead skin eroded away, dripping to the ground in smoldering black gobs as it clawed at its chest, literally tearing itself to shreds.

I stared at it, part in awe, part in grim satisfaction, as its muscles and bones glowed orange-red like embers before what was left of the vampire disintegrated into a pile of ash.

My knees shook so hard I nearly collapsed. Clutching my stomach, I doubled over and vomited, catching a few shaky breaths before standing and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, which still trembled from the tidal wave of adrenaline flowing through my body. I took a deep breath and tasted the bitter, charred smell of the vampire, nearly gagging all over again.

I blinked hard, trying to clear my erratic thoughts so I could focus. The Scarlet Guard no doubt heard the vampire’s ear-piercing screams – hell, the capital probably heard that – and if I still wanted a shot at finding any clues to my brother’s whereabouts, I was going to have to keep moving, and fast.

I jogged the few feet to where my pistol rested and retrieved it. Then I scraped the rest of the vampire’s blood from the dagger, making sure the edge was clear of any obstructions, before sheathing it and taking off at a shaky but steady sprint.

***

My breath caught in my throat when I spotted my house, its once cheerful yellow paint now cracked and ridden with holes from insects. The lawn was overgrown and an ugly, dead brown, and the narrow sidewalk leading up to the front porch had more crevices than I remembered.

One tentative step at a time, I approached my house, my footsteps falling in the same spots they had when I’d come home every day from school; or when Orion and I had snuck back in after a night of carefree recklessness (mostly harmless practical jokes on our friends); the same sidewalk that had listened to the sometimes hysterical conversations between Leo and me.

The night was quiet. A single streetlamp, its shade broken, threw sketchy patches of faded yellowed light on the porch, making the shadows dance as I slowly wrapped my fingers around the handle. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously pushed the front door open.

A triangle of orange light fell on the dust-coated wood floor in front of me, my shadow frozen as it peered at the remnants of a forgotten time.

So many memories lay wrapped up in that house, the one my father had vowed to raise my brother and me in so we wouldn’t have to constantly move around with our Marine Corps mother. There was the old pink couch, faded and worn, where I had curled up with a good murder mystery on so many cold winter days. My dad’s favorite recliner sat in the corner, his hot-spot for watching football or Penguins’ hockey on our tiny, used flat screen TV. Orion’s hockey gear still laid in the pile he’d always thrown it in after practice, right by the door (to the disgruntlement of our father).

I swallowed hard and took a step inside. The floorboards gave a comforting squeak as my eyes fell on the old rocker in the living room, where my father would entertain my brother and me with stories of the South. The fireplace looked lonely without its cheerful flames. I walked over to it, as I had so many times when I was very young, and ran my finger along the dust on the mantle, eyeing the photographs of my parents. My father, with his beautiful ebony skin, stood next to my mother, with a head of blond curls and skin as white as milk, their arms linked around Orion and me. We looked like a normal American family. I’d dare say we even looked happy.

Directly ahead of me was the dining room, where my father, brother, and I had spent many evenings dining without my mother, and just past that was the kitchen and then the stairs. At its base, I saw toddler-me in my mind’s eye, clutching the blanket I’d had since I was an infant to my chest as I listened to my parents argue, the same argument they had nearly every night after they thought my brother and I were asleep downstairs in our room. Memories of their voices ran through my head, shouting at each other over money (or our lack thereof).

The floorboards behind me creaked ever so slightly, and I drew my pistol, scanning the patches of darkness within the living room. A set of small windows casted squares of red moonlight on the dusty planks. There, so light it was nearly unnoticeable, was a footprint in the dust, much too large to be my own.

Fear, icy and tangible, tapped its claws along my spine and up the base of my neck. I froze for a long second before rushing to the front door, my head screaming,
Get out! Get out now!

I was literally inside the door frame, one foot in the house, one foot out, when a hand reached out of the shadows and grabbed me by the throat, slamming me into the wall so hard I lost my breath.

Someone wrested the pistol from my grasp before I could collect enough of my senses to think to fire it. My fingers were so clammy I couldn’t get a hold on my attacker’s hand as I clawed at it, trying to free myself. A thumb pressed into my air tube, and I choked as a tall, lithe silhouette stepped in front of me. The figure’s gaze shifted, its eyes reflecting red like the lenses in a cat’s eyes as it glanced at my right wrist, where the tattoo was bathed in moonlight.

“
What are you doing here, hunter?” came the low, musical voice of a man. Though his timbre was soft, there was a steely edge to it.

I coughed and sputtered, glimpsing the bottom corner of a black leather trench coat and ruling out that my mother’s guard had caught up to me. The Scarlet Guard got their name from their red uniforms… and their thirst for bloodshed. But if this man wasn’t with the Scarlet Guard, then who was he? What was he doing here – in my house, of all places – on the anniversary of the Eclipse?

The figure leaned in. Wispy platinum blond bangs came into view, though his face was still obscured by shadows. He studied me a moment longer before I heard a tiny gasp. “It can’t be…” he whispered in disbelief, and my brows furrowed.

Who is he? Do I know him? He’s not Orion...

My eyes dropped to his slightly agape mouth, and my blood ran cold. There, just visible beneath his upper lip, were the points of two fangs.

A vampire? But he can’t be. He looks so… human.

I thought of the creature I had faced only a few minutes ago, of its animal urge to kill me, and panic fluttered in my chest. In the few short years humans had known vampires existed, never had we seen one that looked exactly like a regular human being. The fact it could talk was stunning; I didn’t even know vampires could speak. Of the two I had faced, they both seemed hell-bent on ripping out my throat first.

Suddenly, the man – the
vampire
– in front of me seemed twice as dangerous as any monster I had encountered. And he had my pistol.

“
What’s your name?” the man asked. His musical voice was cool and soft, and all the more frightening for it.

His thumb released just enough pressure that I could feel my voice box again, and I gulped for air. I had to get out of here, away from him however I could. A wild, irrational thought formed in my mind, and I tried to speak, my words strangled because I could barely breathe.