Darkness Awakened: Legends Of A Dark Empire, #2

Merciless Obsidian never met a rogue vampire he wasn’t eager to assassinate. Until the beautiful Kayla Chandler enters his life. Her courage touches a part of him he thinks lost forever—his heart.  When the vampire empress orders Obsidian to murder Kayla, he refuses and they flee west toward the only shelter against the Dark Empire...a legendary stronghold which may be more fable than fact.

Chapter 1

Jefferson, Pennsylvania

Two hits down and one to go. Daranda really needed to find him more challenging targets. Things were working out so well, he was ahead of schedule. Thunder rumbled in the sky behind the assassin as he hung a left, cutting across the shabby landscaped central court of the faux French-country style apartment complex where his current target lived.

He ran his finger under the studded black leather of the collar around his neck. A collar for the Empress’s Guard Dog, a reminder to all who looked on him that if they ever chose to betray Daranda, his was the last face they’d see. If he didn’t think her Seer would discover his disloyalty, he’d take the damned thing off and toss it in the nearest trash can.

None of the buildings in the complex seemed to have working air conditioning—not surprising in a poor neighborhood like this. No-one lived here if they could afford something better. Hell, half the people in the complex probably didn’t have a full-time job, or if they did it paid no more than minimum wage.

Windows stood open to the muggy summer air, and his vampire hearing easily picked up every muttered obscenity, every moan of sexual pleasure, every slap of a parental hand on an undefended cheek. He could smell them, too, sweating in the heat, their blood pulsing in veins that begged for the attentions of his fangs. But drinking would have to wait. He had a job to do.

He paused in the unlit courtyard and peered up at Building #3 of the Riviera Estates. The target lived on the third floor, and should be at home according to his usual schedule. Go through a window or try for the front door? The window was more likely to be unlocked, and since the court had no lighting he could just fly up there unobserved. In and out in a matter of minutes, then knock off for the rest of the night, have a few beers, find a willing woman for a fuck and a sip of the blood he craved.

Obsidian levitated gently into the air and ascended the outside wall of Building #3. The hair on the back of his neck stood up straight as a powerful sense of being watched came over him. The watcher, however, wasn’t human. Lightning flashed over his head with a deafening boom and the feeling dissipated.

Something in one of the cheap aluminum-frame windows on the second level caught his eye. He paused, hovering. The room he peered into was a dining nook off the beat-up kitchen of the apartment. A girl stood with her palms over her head and flat against the wall of the room as the rest of the family sat in the attached living room and watched TV.

Her cheeks were hollow, and purplish circles underscored huge, pale-blue eyes fringed with sooty black lashes. Her black hair hung so thin it looked like she was going bald, and her skin had a yellow, sickly cast to it. She was as skinny as a famine victim. She could have been any age from twelve to seventeen.

What the hell? Why did they have her standing against the wall like that? Nobody else in the apartment looked like they were starving. He frowned, momentarily forgetting his mission.

The girl had a distant expression on her face, as if she wasn’t fully in the room. Her arms trembled. She wore low-rise shorts that hung on her bony frame, the points of her hips poking at the skin above the waistband. A fan running on the table blew a whiff of her scent to him. She was ill, feverish, probably suffering from an infection of some kind.

Her illness and emaciation should have made her ugly. Instead she had a kind of strange, luminous beauty, like an alien woman from a far-away planet. The way she stared seemed to call to him, as if she were silently asking him to rescue her. He stared at her through the open window, wanting to reach out and touch her poor, bony shoulder.

A middle-aged woman with long, black hair came into the room, her lips a thin line. She glared at the girl and smacked her in the back of the head. Straighten those arms. You’re slipping.

Wordlessly, the girl obeyed.

The assassin’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. She shouldn’t treat the girl like that. Something about the teen’s patient endurance of the abuse made his gut churn. Made him want to hurt someone, preferably the woman who seemed to be responsible.

But it wasn’t his business. Wasn’t anything he wanted to get involved in.

Sheila, we got any ice cream? bellowed a masculine voice from the floor above.

Obsidian glanced up. He had to make this last hit. Daranda kept careful track of his work, and if he slipped up there would be consequences for everyone involved. Even the target would suffer. More.

You’re a killer, not a rescuer. Don’t forget it.

He resumed his ascent, pausing again at an open window on the third floor. It led into a messy bedroom, with clothes and dirty dishes strewn all over the floor and the bedding half off the bed. The stink of stale sex and moldy food permeated the room. Obsidian grasped the sill and slipped easily inside.

Sauntering past the piles of filth, he emerged into a short hallway. The front section of the apartment reeked of cheap pizza and beer, which was an improvement on the bedroom but not by much. The sound of cage fighting blared from the TV.

The target sat in the living room, shirtless, his skinny chest stark white, his hair in greasy strings to his shoulders. What a winner. Why was it that these amateur vamp wannabes always looked like their next step up in life was a box under a bridge?

Okay, technically they were real vamps, not wannabes. But they were self-made, they hadn’t taken Daranda’s blood or paid their dues, they didn’t know what the fuck they were doing. And that’s why they had to go.

Are you sure about that? After all, what’s this idiot ever done to you? He snorted under his breath. Yeah, he was sure, and if he ever had doubts, Daranda’s torturers would be happy to show him the error of his ways.

Sid walked into the guy’s living room and smiled. The new vamp jumped out of his threadbare brown recliner so fast the thing toppled over behind him. His jaw hung open and his face lost the last little bit of color it had.

What the fuck are you? he said in a strangled voice.

Honey, what’s going on? said a woman’s voice in the kitchen.

Tell her it’s okay, Obsidian said quietly.

I-it’s okay, baby, the guy yelled.

Good.

Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?

"I’m a real vampire, Brad. Sid let his fangs descend. Then he opened his mouth wide. We don’t like little fucks like you who try to go it alone."

The reek of urine filled the air and a dark stain appeared on the front of the guy’s denim shorts. Please. I didn’t know.

And now you do. He slipped up to the target, so fast the poor fuck probably couldn’t even see him move. Put his hands on either side of the guy’s head. Good night, Brad.

Sid gave the target’s head a quick twist to one side. The spinal bones cracked as they pulled apart. He kept twisting until the target’s head came off, strings of flesh dangling from the stump. Sid grabbed it as it listed to one side. The man’s body fell backward over the upended chair. He set the head, its mouth slowly opening and closing, on the target’s lap.

Behind him, a woman screamed. Obsidian turned. A young blonde stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a bowl of ice cream covered in fudge sauce in her hands, her mouth open in one long shriek. She wasn’t a vampire. He could tell by her scent.

Sid pressed on her mind with the power of his. Shut up.

She quit screaming.

Don’t be stupid and do what Brad did. If you turn yourself into a vampire, I’ll have to kill you, too. Got it?

She nodded with a whimper. For an instant, he saw himself through her eyes, and wanted to howl.

Sid clenched his hands. Good. You can call the police now. Normally he’d take the body and leave it in the sun somewhere, maybe the top of a building, to destroy the evidence. But this kill was supposed to be a warning to others.

How’s it supposed to warn them, huh? It’s not like there’s a national association for rogue vampires to put out the word. Daranda just wants to stir up the humans and make them wet their pants.

Dismissing the dangerous thought, he strode down the hallway, through the bedroom and climbed out the window. In the apartment, the woman was dialing the cops. Her fingers made soft, panicky noises on the buttons of her phone.

The air outside the apartment smelled sweet in comparison with the stench inside. Obsidian took a deep breath as he began an easy descent to the ground. As he passed the second story window, he paused and glanced inside.

She wasn’t there anymore. The dining room was empty, although the fan still blew the hot air around. He could hear the TV playing in another room—some kind of detective show, from the sound of it.

He shrugged. She was none of his concern, just some puny human who wouldn’t live above eighty or ninety years anyway. Why should he care what happened to her?

His favorite nightclub was just getting started when he arrived. Obviously his unusual luck tonight was holding. There wasn’t even a line of people out front waiting to get in. Sid found a table at the edge of the dance floor and ordered a whiskey. Beer just didn’t feel strong enough tonight.

On the floor, an early clutch of humans did their bump and grind in the darkness, the movements intimate but their faces remote. He knew just how they felt. His whole life was a series of intimate encounters devoid of real connection.

As he drank his whiskey and watched the dancers, he couldn’t get that young human girl out of his head. Her pinched little face and form made her look like a grotesque, sorrowful elf ... with lovely, haunting eyes. That woman, probably her mother, beat and starved her. The bitch. What was wrong with her, that she’d treat her own daughter that way?

Christ, why should I care? I’m a killer, not a social worker.

He didn’t even belong in her world. The only time he interacted with humans directly was to buy something from them, drink their blood, fuck them or kill them. His kind gave the humans nightmares.

Now that he was here, he didn’t want to be. What he needed was to get a little blood donation, then go home and have a drink in the peace and solitude of his apartment. He’d forget about the pathetic black-haired girl, forget about his job, forget everything.

On the dance floor, an over-endowed twenty-something with garish blonde highlights and a fake tan smiled at him while she gyrated to the beat. Her lips looked fake, too. Maybe the whole woman had come out of a box, like a high-quality blow up sex doll.

That one would let him have as much blood as he required, without any work on his part. He smiled back at her, lifting his glass in a salute. Her partner seemed oblivious to the exchange, moving clumsily, probably already drunk.

Obsidian got up and stalked onto the dance floor, the humans melting back as he approached. All except the blonde. Her partner had disappeared, ceding the floor to him. He put his arms around the woman.

She laughed up at him. I was hoping you’d come over.

Sid slipped into her mind so easily he could almost believe she’d invited him in. Let’s get some fresh air.

Sure.

They walked to the door together, Sid’s arm around her waist. She had a hard body, toned in a gym no doubt, and smelled like the newest trendy perfume all the young human women wore. He didn’t know what it was called, but he smelled it everywhere he went. It made his nose wrinkle.

Outside, the breeze blew some of her obnoxious scent away. He led her to a shadowy area on the side of the building, a place no sensible woman would go with a stranger. They were out of view of the main street and the entrance to the club; he could do anything he wanted to her and no-one would ever know. The blonde leaned against him, giggling, with no sign she thought she was in any danger.

Of course, she wasn’t. He had no intention of killing her.

She went up on her toes to press her lacquered lips to his mouth. Mmm, I knew you’d taste good.

Sid broke away to lick the side of her neck. This made her giggle again, as she tilted her head to the side to give him better access. Perfect. He flooded her mind with sexual desire just as he stabbed his fangs into her vein. She didn’t even whimper.

The blood slid hot down his throat, bringing energy and a sharper mind with it. He should have done this last night, instead of waiting until after the hits were finished. It was always better to eliminate his targets when his blood hunger was recently sated. Made him even colder, more calculating.

Releasing the blonde, Sid wiped a few drops of blood from her neck. She gazed up at him with a little frown creasing her brow. What did you do that for?

Forget me, he said, still pressing on her mind with his own. Go back inside and find the guy you were dancing with.

Her eyes glazed over. She turned and walked slowly toward the front of the building without looking back at him, taking her cloud of perfume with her. In a few minutes, she wouldn’t even remember that she’d been outside.

Sid tilted his head back and stared at the sky. The lights of downtown Jefferson drowned out the stars, except for a handful of the brightest ones. He could see Vega at the moment, a tiny bluish pinprick overhead, and that was about all. So far away. Cold, remote, untouched.

The black-haired girl appeared again in his mind’s eye. She’d smelled not of perfume but of sweat and sickness.

Christ. I’m going to have to do something about her or I’ll never get her out of my head.

He had plenty of time before dawn, so he might as well get this nonsense over with tonight. Backing deeper into the shadows, he took to the air. Jefferson passed beneath him in a blur as he made his way back to the Riviera Estates. Luckily for him—and the girl—the complex was only about a mile away from the club by air.

Cop cars still gathered around the front entry of the building, a few of them with lights flashing blue and red. Men and women in dark blue uniforms passed in and out, carrying small plastic bags, talking on cell phones, interviewing other humans who didn’t wear uniforms. They didn’t even think to look up as he glided overhead.

The window of the apartment where the girl lived was still open. He paused outside, listening. The TV still yammered in the living room. From somewhere deeper inside came the rhythmic smack of someone hitting an object. A stifled moan.

The woman was beating her.

Didn’t the humans have government agencies, child protection or something like that, to help kids like her? Where were they when she needed them? What good was child protection if it couldn’t protect her? God only knew how many other kids were suffering like this, in silence, brutalized by the people who should love them and care for them.

It was none of his business and he didn’t give a damn anyway. He didn’t know these people, didn’t give a shit what they did to each other. They were only humans, after all. But he climbed through the window and stood in the darkness of the cramped dining nook and watched.

From here, he could see part of the living room. The stench of impending death hung over the room, as if the cramped apartment were permeated with it. How could these people not smell that? A dark-haired girl and boy, probably in the same age range as the black-haired girl, sat on the dingy shag carpet staring at the screen. They weren’t starving, though. They looked completely normal, well-fed, maybe even slightly plump.

A man with a beer belly and a comb-over lounged on the sofa behind them. He looked up and saw Obsidian, shock in his piggy eyes. The man jumped to his feet, surprisingly fast for such an ungainly body.

Sid held up a hand, using his mind to control the humans. Quiet.

None of them spoke. He walked past them, following the sound of the beating. It came from one of the three bedrooms in the apartment, the one with the closed door. Sid opened it and looked inside. What he saw and smelled wiped his mind blank for a moment.

The bedroom reeked of blood and infected flesh. It held one twin bed, covered with a ruffled pink comforter and bedskirt with white lace trim. Stuffed animals were piled on top, and a poster of kittens hung behind it in lieu of a headboard.

On the floor on the other side of the room, well away from the bed, was a kind of pallet made of several layers of cardboard. The girl lay face down on this pallet, completely naked. The woman from earlier bent over her with a belt, beating her with the buckle end. The girl’s back looked like hamburger, the smell of blood thick in the air. Bright crimson spatters decorated the grayish white walls next to the pallet.

Obsidian’s stomach twisted and he began to tremble with rage. The woman glanced up at him. Her mouth opened to scream.

Quiet. His voice sounded icy and calm. As if he didn’t care. As if this were merely a matter of curiosity to him. But his fangs itched to descend, to take blood from this beast of a woman. No. He didn’t have time. He could hear the faintness of the girl’s breath, so slow and quiet it was barely audible even to him. If he didn’t get her to someone with medical skill, she would die.

You’re killing her. Why?

The woman’s lips pinched together in a white line. I’m not killing her! And she’s my daughter. How I discipline her is none of your business.

Sid crouched next to the girl and laid his fingers against her neck. Her skin felt scalding hot, her pulse thin and thready, barely hanging on. Not two hours before, he’d murdered a man. Before that, he’d offed a couple of others. Now he sat with this nearly dead girl and wished he could give her life back to her.

It was so easy for a vampire to kill. Especially him, a professional killer for two hundred years. But saving a life, now that took some skill. Skill he didn’t have. However, he knew some people who might be able to help.

One life to balance the countless ones he’d taken.

What’s her name?

B-britney. The woman was shaking now, her eyes—so similar in color and shape to those of her daughter’s—round with fear.

How old is she?

S-sixteen. W-who let you in here? she demanded. Who are you? What do you want?

He looked her right in her pale blue gaze. I’m Death, and I’ve come for you.

She gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing just like Brad’s had. You—you—

You deserve to die for what you’ve done. But I’m taking your girl instead. When I’m gone, you’ll go downstairs to the police and tell them exactly what you did to your daughter. You will confess to murdering her. Do you understand?

No—I can’t—there’s no b-body—

Then I’ll come back tomorrow night and take your head from your shoulders. I can pull it off with my bare hands. Does that work better for you?

She seemed unable to reply, her mouth still opening and closing without any sound.

He scooped the girl into his arms, trying to avoid putting any pressure on her wounds. She moaned, but her eyes didn’t open. She was going fast. Sid carried her from the bedroom, still face down so as not to further injure her back. The three people in the living room stared at him as he passed through their home. None of them said a word.

He couldn’t go out the front door because of the cops. The window would have to do, although hauling the girl through it might worsen her injuries. Sid paused between the living and dining rooms and jerked his chin toward the man.

You. Come here.

The human lumbered toward him. Sid held out the girl. Carry her until I tell you to give her to me.

The human nodded dreamily. He was exceptionally easy to control, and strong. Very convenient.

Sid led the way to the dining room window. He climbed out and hovered there. The human male watched without a trace of surprise.

Laying his arms across the windowsill, Sid beckoned to the human. Put her in my arms now.

The man obeyed. She was so light that even with his arms extended in this awkward position, she felt like nothing but a down-filled pillow. Or, given her emaciation, a bundle of twigs.

The human still stared at him. Sid met his gaze. Should he wipe their memories? If he did, it would blunt their need to obey him and turn themselves in. Besides, they’d be too scared to run to the cops with a story of a floating vampire, and no-one would believe them if they did. He let their memories remain.

He turned his back on the man, gliding away from the building. An explosion blasted the air and something slammed into his back, knocking him off-kilter. Looking down at himself, he could see a red stain blossoming on the front of his jacket. An exit wound. Shit. That idiot had shot him.

Obsidian zoomed away into the blackness above the apartment house. Below him, the cops were shouting and running into the building, guns drawn. He paused long enough to look at the apartment window, but all he could see was the human male holding a handgun and staring at it like he didn’t know how it had gotten there.

The injury in his back closed up, the speed of his healing fueled by the blood he’d taken earlier. Luckily, the bullet had passed completely through him, so he wouldn’t have to worry about digging it out. The whole incident was messed up, though. That human shouldn’t have had so much fight in him.

Maybe it was the woman who fired the shot. And then what? She handed the gun to her man in order to incriminate him? He snorted in disgust. She seemed like the type who’d do something like that.

The wind created by his flight whipped the strands of the girl’s hair, exposing acres of white scalp. Her little body shivered in his arms. The sound of her heartbeat slowed even more. He could feel her giving up, drifting away.

She wasn’t going to hold on long enough for him to get help. He thought of her dying, slipping away into whatever it was that awaited humans on the other side. Maybe that was best for her. She would feel no more pain, no more humiliation, no more terror.

Yet she wouldn’t feel joy, either. Didn’t she deserve to feel joy, after what that monster had done to her?

The girl gave a little sigh, almost inaudible even to his vampire ears. He didn’t have time to get her to a hospital emergency room, let alone marshal the human guardians he had in mind for her. She had no time for anything now but a cold grave. Unless he took action...forbidden action.

Sid looked beneath him for a short-term hiding place. They were still in the thick of Jefferson. Parking lots, alley ways, roof tops too slanted to stand on, streets and more streets... wait. There, a tiny graveyard behind a small church that looked almost as old as he was. He descended unsteadily into the midst of the headstones, blood loss from the bullet wound making him a little weaker than usual.

A floodlight mounted on the back wall of the church sent glaring light into the cemetery. An enormous granite monument with a winged figure on the top dominated the plot. Sid whipped around to its other side, putting the edifice between him and the church building. A weeping angel carved in white marble gazed down at him mournfully from the top of the monument.

He turned the girl so that his arm supported her upper back. She gave a low moan when he touched her injured flesh, and Sid gritted his teeth in guilt and sympathy. He was causing her more pain, but it was necessary.

Her poor body didn’t even look like that of a teenager. Her breasts were tiny, mere buds, her stomach pitifully shrunken, the ribs standing out like barrel staves. Her mother must have been starving her so long she’d stunted her growth.

I’m going to give you something that will help you get well, he said.

Her eyes opened and she stared at him in dull incomprehension.

Sid lifted his wrist to his mouth, willing his fangs to descend. What he was about to do was forbidden in the Dark Empire. The only vampires who engaged in this practice were the West Coast renegades who followed Daranda’s enemies Niko and Laila. His blood would create a bond between him and the girl, connecting them on a deep psychic level for the rest of the human’s life. It would be awkward, maybe even dangerous, but worth it. She would live.

He slashed his wrist with his fangs, letting the blood well up before holding the wound over the girl’s mouth. Blood dripped onto her closed lips.

Open up for me, little one. Open your mouth.

Her lips parted, revealing two missing teeth. Knocked out? Or lost due to malnutrition?

Good girl. A little wider. Now the blood landed on her tongue.

How much should he give her? He didn’t want to turn her—not that he could do it this way, but taking too much of it might have strange consequences for her. There were stories....

He pulled his arm away. Good. Now swallow.

Her throat worked, but not enough to get the blood down. Some of it dribbled out. Sid wiped the drops away and urged her jaw shut. He stroked her throat until she swallowed. The sound of her heartbeat strengthened.

It’s working, little one. You’re going to be alright.

A door slammed open. Is somebody out there? yelled a man’s voice.

Sid froze. Time to leave.

This is private property, the fellow hollered. And sacred ground. You get outta here before I call the police. He shut the door, muttering that kids these days had no respect for the dead and he was going to teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget.

He would come back with a big flashlight, maybe a stick, and search among the grave markers, his intention so powerful even Sid—who had little telepathic ability—could pick up the thought. They had to leave now. Sid yanked off his jacket and shirt, pulling both over the girl’s head. Her arms felt like sticks when he drew them through the sleeves, and the garments were so big on her it looked like they