In Darkness We Must Abide

  IN DARKNESS WE MUST ABIDE

  A Supernatural Serial

  Rhiannon Frater

  In Darkness We Must Abide

  by Rhiannon Frater

  Copyright 2013 - 2014. All Rights Reserved.

  Kindle Edition

  Cover art and design by Corey Hollins

  Cover typography by Ashley Dawn

  Interior formatting by Kody Boye

  Special Thanks to:

  Sky Texture 3 (kaotika /Brusheezy.com)

  R0man Abstract Brushes 3 and 12 (http://r0man.de)

  Night Sky Brushes by (skippytheroo/http://www.brusheezy.com/brushes/22031-night-sky-brushes)

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronically, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the proper written permission of the copyright owners, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead or undead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

  This is a single installment of a serialized novel. At the time of purchase, not all parts may be available.

  To my mother, for always believing in me.

  Episode 11:

  Into the Temple of Shadows

  When I was a little girl I wanted to be normal. Though other little girls desired to be someone special like an adored fairytale princess or the latest pop star, I merely desired not to be set apart. Of course, my specialness wasn’t seen as something to be exalted, but a curse. I was teased without mercy, not only because of my albino appearance, but because of my adverse reaction to sunlight. I’d stand in the shadows of the playground wearing my sunglasses and watch the other children play. Their boisterous shouts, joyful laughter, and grandiose games filled me with longing.

  But I didn’t belong with them.

  I was alone.

  Every morning I’d wake up, run to my vanity and stare into the mirror hoping that my milky skin had taken on a deeper hue, that my white-blond hair had become golden like my sister’s, and that my lavender eyes had darkened to blue.

  Every morning I was bitterly disappointed.

  Upon reflection I can see now that it wasn’t just my looks that defined me as other. It was something else. Beneath the surface of my ivory skin, lurking behind my pale purple eyes, and tucked deep in the recesses of my soul was the secret that truly and completely set me apart. Whereas other little girls dream of being magical and special like the heroines in their novels, I am exactly that.

  I am magic.

  I am special.

  I am a being of prophecy.

  I am the chosen one.

  More than a millennia of magic created me.

  I am the sum total of a supernatural conspiracy.

  No wonder I have always stood apart.

  My life was never meant to be my own.

  “A penny for your thoughts?”

  Vanora maintained her attention squarely on the huddle of small houses sliding past the passenger window of the big truck. The headlights glinted off their darkened windows giving the eerie impression of glowing eyes whenever Greg directed the vehicle around a corner. She was bone weary and emotionally exhausted, yet it would be a long time before she could rest. The fast food she had eaten earlier sat like a hard, anxious lump in her stomach, but she was grateful that Armando had insisted that she eat. Normal daily luxuries like meals, clean clothes, and sleep already seemed like a distant memory. The Socoli Mansion was gone, burned to the ground with nearly all her possessions within it and possibly her beloved sister. All that remained of her life was in the big purse slung across her torso and resting on her lap. She cradled it in her arms, holding it protectively. That action kept her magically shimmering hands from shaking too much.

  “How about a nickel for your thoughts? Or do I need to up it to a quarter?” Greg cast a creepy smirk in Vanora’s direction that she caught out of the corner of her eye. “C’mon. Talk to me. It’s weird with you sitting there all sullen and ghostly.”

  “Fuck you,” Vanora said darkly.

  “Many have,” Greg replied. There was a long pause, then he added, “Okay, okay. Sorry about the albino crack. It comes naturally after dealing with Aeron the White and Assholish for so long.”

  Sighing, Vanora finally regarded the incubus. He looked a little rough around the edges with his dark red hair mussed up and his face a bit ruddier than before. Cocking her head, Vanora also noted that his features looked just a little off in a way that reminded her of the wax figures in Madame Tussauds where the resemblance was just a little skewed. Uneasily, she wondered if his human appearance was just a facade and if something much more frightening lurked beneath the pudgy face and broad smile.

  “Forgiven?”

  Vanora incredulously stared at the incubus. Did he really expect her to play nice with him? He’d admitted that he had ulterior motives for rescuing her. “How did you know Aeron was going to Carlotta’s?”

  “The fucker came by the club as I was getting ready to bail town. He killed my girls and made a real nasty mess. Unfortunately, one of my girls thought she could bargain with him by giving him Carlotta’s address.”

  “And he killed her anyway.” Vanora was certain of that fact. Aeron was ruthless. That was quite evident since his arrival in Houston. In his desire to possess her, he’d destroyed her family and her home. He’d even taken Armando from her. Or maybe Armando had never been hers to begin with. That thought rang true, which saddened her.

  “It’s kinda Aeron’s shtick to kill people,” Greg said with a mirthless chuckle.

  “But he didn’t kill you,” Vanora observed.

  “You’re really not good at this witch stuff, are you?” Greg huffed with disappointment.

  Lifting her gleaming hand, Vanora narrowed her eyes. “I’m learning by doing. So don’t make me learn how to kick your ass.”

  “Threats are not necessary!”

  “So I can hurt you?”

  “Well, yeah. Your voodoo would probably hurt like a bitch and burn off my…uh…” Greg flashed a grin that contained far too many sharp teeth. “It would probably tear up my handsome visage.”

  “You mean your human disguise?”

  “You could call it that.”

  “It’s looking a bit ratty.” Vanora lowered her hand, her magic feeling strangely warm on her fingertips.

  “Well, I kinda fucked the old flesh suit up when dealing with Aeron earlier.” Greg shrugged his broad shoulders. “I need a new one anyway. But a good feeding should fix this one up.”

  “So how did you escape Aeron at the club?” Vanora didn’t even want to know what lurked beneath Greg’s slicked back red hair and pudgy face. It was better to change the subject.

  “I set it on fire. Vampires and fire don’t really get along. Though you wouldn’t know it by looking at the skyline.” Greg wagged his head sadly. “They sure did fuck up Houston.”

  “But you’re okay with fire?”

  “Fire and I get along just fine. It just tickles.”

  “So he killed your girlfriends and you burned down your own club to get rid of him, huh?”

  “Yup. I was planning on blowing out of Houston tonight anyway.” A frown shaped on his features and the result seemed just a bit off. “Once Aeron hits an area, it’s time to go.”

  Sinking back against the seat, Vanora wearily sighed. “I wish my brother had listened and left the city.”

  “It wouldn’t have changed
much except his expiration date. Once Aeron is gunning for you, you might as well start writing your own obituary.”

  “But he can’t kill you?”

  “Babe, I’m a demon. I can’t be killed. Only vanquished. If your mother had taught you anything about your nature, you’d know that. Let me guess…dear old mom never cracked open a grimoire and taught you anything about the craft before kicking off.”

  “Aeron killed her when I was ten.” Vanora bit off her words angrily. “So fuck you.”

  “You may not want to hear this, but she was a stupid old cunt for not teaching you how to fuckin’ protect yourself.”

  Vanora slapped her glowing hand against his arm and was satisfied by his scream. Wrenching away from her touch and jerking the truck dangerously close to a parked car before recovering, Greg howled curse words at her in several different languages Vanora didn’t even recognize.

  “Don’t speak that way about my mother ever again!” Vanora shouted over his cussing.

  Shoving his foot down on the brake, Greg brought the truck to a dizzying stop. Vanora caught herself on the dashboard as the seat belt bit into her chest. Yellowish smoke that reeked of sulfur puffed out of Greg’s nostrils.

  “You and I need ground rules right now!” Greg pointed a finger tipped with a talon at her.

  A few weeks before, she would have been terrified, but tonight she was just angry. “I agree!”

  “First off, do not use your fuckin’ magic on me. It hurts! Plus, I’m trying to fuckin’ help your white ass!”

  “You don’t speak ill of my mother, family, or anyone else that I care about. And stop with the albino shit!”

  “Fine! Then you have to accept that I am a foul-mouthed, opinionated, sarcastic, demonic bastard!”

  Vanora met his glare. “As long as you keep in mind that I am the only person who might be able to kill Aeron, and you have to respect that! If you want your vengeance, then you better remember that I am not your lackey!”

  Pressing his lips tightly together, Greg punched his foot down on the accelerator and the truck lurched forward. “I’m just grumpy, okay?”

  Annoyed, Vanora said, “I just lost everything in my life that mattered to me, remember?”

  “Well, after setting my club on fire and saving your whi-petite ass, I’m starving over here. I didn’t get to feed tonight and it’s really pissing me off.”

  “By feed you mean…” Vanora flinched at the thought of how the demon probably fed.

  “Yeah. Sex. I’m an incubus. I feed off sex. So I’m cranky, hungry, and horny.” Greg pulled over as a fire truck screamed up the lane behind them. Watching the vehicle speed past on its way to yet another fire, the demon grimaced. “Aeron always has the best timing. He always catches me off guard and when I’m not up to full strength.”

  “Well, you have my sympathies,” Vanora said, sarcasm stealing into her voice. After all she’d possibly lost to Aeron’s purge, she couldn’t muster any pity for the demon.

  “Well, I could use a little more than your sympathies. I mean…a blow job would hold me over until-”

  Vanora raised her hand and the golden, sparkling light intensified.

  “I would ask for a hand job but…” He snorted with amusement while eying the manifestation of her magic.

  “Greg…” Vanora said in warning.

  “Fine! You can’t fault me for asking.”

  “Yeah, I can. Remember the respect thing?”

  “I’d still respect you if you slurped on my-”

  “Greg!”

  “Fine!”

  Flipping on his turn signal, Greg edged the truck onto the road, checking his mirrors. The lack of emergency vehicles prompted him to continue their journey to Sheila and Alexander’s rental home. The incubus drove in seething silence while Vanora texted to Sheila that they were almost to their destination. Even though she knew it was a fruitless endeavor, she also sent a message to Alisha. She didn’t disclose where she was, but merely asked her sister to call. Finger hovering over the face of the phone, she considered trying to contact Armando. To merely think of him was to invite a tumult of emotions she wasn’t capable of dealing with at the moment. What if he was with Aeron? She couldn’t risk compromising the man she loved. So instead she put the phone away.

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” Greg said abruptly.

  Giving him a doubtful look, Vanora said, “For what exactly?”

  “I’m cranky, hungry, horny, and just a little pissed off that you don’t know more about what you are, okay? I was hoping you’d be a bit more…Dark Willow.”

  “You watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” Vanora couldn’t have been more surprise.

  “Sarah Michelle Gellar is my dream woman,” Greg confessed.

  “She kills demons on the show!”

  “Which is kinda hot.”

  “You’re truly fucked in the head.”

  “That I am. But my point is that I hoped you would be…ya know…more educated in the ways of witchdom.”

  Within her mind, the bronze box in the ancient temple waited for her. Vanora only had to direct her mind’s eye to the vision and she was instantly immersed in that other world. “Witchdom, huh? I may not have been instructed by my mother, but…I haven’t been without guidance.”

  “Oh?”

  There was incredible weight in that one word from Greg. It was filled with hope, fear, and other emotions that beat along Vanora’s skin like bat wings.

  “There’s something I need to do today and I’ll need you to help me,” Vanora said, relenting to the concept of depending on Greg. Instead of watching the world around her, she was observing the world within. The three women stood by the pool of water, heads now covered in veils that hid their faces. One poured water into the pool, another cupped hands filled with salt, and the third held out a long swatch of white cotton. Checking her phone, she searched for a nearby, all-night Walmart. “I need you to take me to get some supplies.”

  “Where?”

  “Walmart.”

  “Perfect. I’ll feed there.”

  Vanora gawked at him. “How?”

  “Trust me, babe, I can find willing pussy anywhere. Even church.”

  “Of all the people in the world, you had to be the one to rescue me,” Vanora grumbled.

  “You’re welcome.” Greg grinned.

  The wind streaming through the empty frame of the windshield tossed Armando’s curls into disarray and froze his skin, but the vampire didn’t notice. Driving Roman’s small convertible through Carlotta’s neighborhood, he was lost in his own misery and barely aware of the world around him.

  Flames twisted and danced beyond the treetops as Carlotta’s home burned. The fiery glow against the backdrop of the night sky only added to his despair. He’d brought unbearable pain to Carlotta and knew he could never assuage his guilt. When Vanora had decided to go to Carlotta’s home, he’d agreed for the sole purpose of being alone with her so he could make her a vampire. Desperation had spurred that decision, and even now he was torn. If he’d started the transformation, Carlotta’s children would be alive and he’d still be with Vanora. But if Vanora didn’t cross over…

  Swearing in Spanish, he beat his palm against the steering wheel. None of his plans had come to fruition. How foolish he’d been to believe he could somehow evade the inevitable. His struggle wasn’t just against Aeron’s edict, but also a millennia’s worth of magic. How could he possibly save Vanora?

  Two figures darted into the road. One stumbled and fell. The other immediately bent to help them up. Armando slammed on the brakes, and the car skidded to a stop a few feet from the blood-soaked people. It took Armando a few seconds to realize one was Carlotta and the other was a handsome teenage boy with dark hair. Quickly shifting into PARK, Armando tossed open the car door and rushed to assist Carlotta. The boy immediately bared his fangs and prepared to attack, placing his lean body between Armando and Carlotta.

  “Armando,” Carlotta gasped. Her neck was a ruin and she
was emaciated from the loss of blood. “Help me!”

  “He killed my brother and sister,” the boy raged, slashing his long nails through the air toward Armando in warning.

  Carlotta placed one gnarled hand on her son’s hip and shoved him aside. Reaching out to Armando, she looked lost, afraid, and desperate. Armando immediately took her hands and dragged her into his arms. She’d lost so much of her life force, she was skin and bones. Sweeping her off the ground, he hurried to the passenger side of the car. The teenage boy growled in anger, but followed.

  “Get in and hold your mother,” Armando ordered.

  “You can’t tell me what to-”

  “Francisco, do it,” Carlotta rasped.

  The boy relented, shoulders slumping. Once settled in the seat, Armando handed over Carlotta. The teenager gently wrapped her fragile form in his embrace as Armando closed the door and returned to the driver’s side. Searching the night, he didn’t detect any pursuers, but it was difficult for his senses to identify vampires of his own bloodline as enemies. As soon as he was behind the wheel, the little car shot down the street.

  “How did you escape Lorelei?” Armando drove with caution in order to not draw any unwanted attention as emergency vehicles and police cars roared past the car.

  “I saved her,” Francisco said defiantly. “I waited until the little bitch tried to carry my mother way and I attacked.”

  “Did you kill Lorelei?” The vampire was impressed with the boy’s bravery, but doubtful that he’d overcome the powerful older vampire. Then again, Lorelei had been weakened by the battle with Greg.

  “No,” Francisco confessed, looking downcast. “I threw part of the burning roof on her and set her on fire. I grabbed my mother and ran.”

  “May she burn to death and then burn in the fires of hell,” Carlotta muttered fiercely.

  Armando reviewed the night’s events in his mind. “You were in the house earlier, weren’t you, Francisco?”