scent of it: blood. He sniffed, guided by a twisted desire to the torn body. Crying out in ecstasy, he pounced on it, burying his face in the meat, lapping up thick liquid. In his excitement, he dropped the dagger—
With a push of horror, Dawn jolted to reality, slamming against the ground. She gasped for breath, jarred by her fall, by what she’d seen. A film of defiled nastiness coated her skin, her bones.
Above her, Kiko stood, his shirt soaked with sweat as he shivered. “Didn’t I tell you? I knew I shouldn’t have—”
“What the hell was that?” she grated out. “Who were those . . . things?”
“I don’t know. . . . I don’t know. . . .” His eyes were reddened, haunted and pained.
“Where were they?” she asked. “And when . . . ? What happened after . . . ?” Then comprehension descended as she started putting two and two together. “Vampires. Oh, God, who was that guy with the crazy eyes—the one who tore that man in two, Kiko?”
Now the psychic looked scared, as if she’d asked a question he’d been wondering about, too. As if he’d been afraid to know the answer.
“You’ve studied vampire lore, Dawn.”
This was a joke. One big cosmic hah-hah. The only cruel big guy she remembered from vampire literature came with names like Vlad. But maybe there were others like him . . . maybe?
Or, yeah, maybe Jonah had gotten ahold of some artifact from the Impaler’s era? There were so many rumors about the prince, so many so-called facts that’d been bent and turned into fantasy throughout the years. . . .
The next thing she knew, Kiko slumped to his knees, his arms wrapped around his torso while his shaking got worse.
This vision had gotten to him, and he’d summoned it for her. Or was he reacting to his medication withdrawal?
She wasn’t amping out half as much as Kiko, so it had to be about the pills.
“Kik?” Dawn darted over to his side, everything else but worry for him disappearing.
“Don’t give me any . . . pills. . . .”
Dawn took him in her arms. “Right, you don’t need them.” That was probably why he’d been able to get such a clear vision, she realized. He’d gone cold turkey, and his powers were coming back full force.
“I can make it without . . .” he said, sweat drenching his face as he cast a pitiful glance up at her.
“I know, Kik. You’ve got your mojo back. It’s all there again.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Hurts . . .”
Unsure of what to do, she hefted him up in her arms. He was little, but still heavy. Struggling, she made her way out of the weapons room and into Jonah’s office. There, she eased Kiko onto a velvet couch.
“Someone get in here!” she shouted. “Breisi? Kik needs help!”
She didn’t want to leave him alone, so she glared around to see if one of the Friends had awakened and could lend aid. Then she saw the portrait with the fire landscape, and she stopped cold.
Because it had just filled up with a shape boasting long, dark hair and a red cape that hid all identity.
FIVE
BELOW, TAKE ONE
As night gathered strength, so did the vampires under the streets of L.A.
The Master adjusted a silk pillow on a sunken bed, the round mattress surrounded by netting held back by ribbons. He mounted the stairs to look down upon his work, then smiled.
At the moment, he was in his original human body, feeling more complete than what his usual nebulous form allowed. In this solid shape, he was unfettered by the sorrow that had imprisoned him for years; instead, he felt liberated by the events of the past few months.
Benedikte was someone again, and when Dawn Madison finally joined him here in the Underground, he would never have reason to go back to being nearly invisible.
The door to Dawn’s future room slid open, and without even glancing, the Master knew his second-in-command, Sorin, had entered. He heard his son’s thoughts via their Awareness, a direct link between maker and high-vampire child, or also between . .
With a push of horror, Dawn jolted to reality, slamming against the ground. She gasped for breath, jarred by her fall, by what she’d seen. A film of defiled nastiness coated her skin, her bones.
Above her, Kiko stood, his shirt soaked with sweat as he shivered. “Didn’t I tell you? I knew I shouldn’t have—”
“What the hell was that?” she grated out. “Who were those . . . things?”
“I don’t know. . . . I don’t know. . . .” His eyes were reddened, haunted and pained.
“Where were they?” she asked. “And when . . . ? What happened after . . . ?” Then comprehension descended as she started putting two and two together. “Vampires. Oh, God, who was that guy with the crazy eyes—the one who tore that man in two, Kiko?”
Now the psychic looked scared, as if she’d asked a question he’d been wondering about, too. As if he’d been afraid to know the answer.
“You’ve studied vampire lore, Dawn.”
This was a joke. One big cosmic hah-hah. The only cruel big guy she remembered from vampire literature came with names like Vlad. But maybe there were others like him . . . maybe?
Or, yeah, maybe Jonah had gotten ahold of some artifact from the Impaler’s era? There were so many rumors about the prince, so many so-called facts that’d been bent and turned into fantasy throughout the years. . . .
The next thing she knew, Kiko slumped to his knees, his arms wrapped around his torso while his shaking got worse.
This vision had gotten to him, and he’d summoned it for her. Or was he reacting to his medication withdrawal?
She wasn’t amping out half as much as Kiko, so it had to be about the pills.
“Kik?” Dawn darted over to his side, everything else but worry for him disappearing.
“Don’t give me any . . . pills. . . .”
Dawn took him in her arms. “Right, you don’t need them.” That was probably why he’d been able to get such a clear vision, she realized. He’d gone cold turkey, and his powers were coming back full force.
“I can make it without . . .” he said, sweat drenching his face as he cast a pitiful glance up at her.
“I know, Kik. You’ve got your mojo back. It’s all there again.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Hurts . . .”
Unsure of what to do, she hefted him up in her arms. He was little, but still heavy. Struggling, she made her way out of the weapons room and into Jonah’s office. There, she eased Kiko onto a velvet couch.
“Someone get in here!” she shouted. “Breisi? Kik needs help!”
She didn’t want to leave him alone, so she glared around to see if one of the Friends had awakened and could lend aid. Then she saw the portrait with the fire landscape, and she stopped cold.
Because it had just filled up with a shape boasting long, dark hair and a red cape that hid all identity.
FIVE
BELOW, TAKE ONE
As night gathered strength, so did the vampires under the streets of L.A.
The Master adjusted a silk pillow on a sunken bed, the round mattress surrounded by netting held back by ribbons. He mounted the stairs to look down upon his work, then smiled.
At the moment, he was in his original human body, feeling more complete than what his usual nebulous form allowed. In this solid shape, he was unfettered by the sorrow that had imprisoned him for years; instead, he felt liberated by the events of the past few months.
Benedikte was someone again, and when Dawn Madison finally joined him here in the Underground, he would never have reason to go back to being nearly invisible.
The door to Dawn’s future room slid open, and without even glancing, the Master knew his second-in-command, Sorin, had entered. He heard his son’s thoughts via their Awareness, a direct link between maker and high-vampire child, or also between . .
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