Three Days of Night by Tracey H. Kitts Page A

what we called his lightning rod. It was a metal rod about two feet in length with a large ball on the end, a perfect conductor for the lightning he controlled. As he walked to the center of the stage, lightning danced in his dark eyes, causing them to turn white. Sparks flew from his feet with each step and when he held the rod high, a bolt of lightning shot straight through the artificial atmosphere, knocking dirt loose from the surface.
    “Dr. Death is going back with us. If any of you has an objection to that, I’ll bring this whole fucking place down.”
    “You would die for him?” a deep voice echoed above the crowd.
    “Who said anything about dying?” Morgan replied.
    The crowd grew silent at the sound of the voice. In that moment of silence D put his hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “Vivian, I was robbed. I am paying the toll the only way I know how.” His voice reminded me of rushing water. There truly was no way to describe it. It was deep, yet soft and subtle. Always there was the sense of water flowing, although it sounded nothing like it.
    I reached behind me and patted his bare thigh. “We’ll talk about it later. I am not letting this happen.”
    “Kik, is this your doing?” the voice asked.
    Apparently Kik was the auctioneer, because he started to tremble when the voice spoke his name. A few gasps were heard throughout the crowd and I turned my attention to where everyone else seemed to be looking. There was a dark corner in the back of the room that even I could not quite see. This was where the voice was coming from.
    “Who are you and what is this man to you?”
    Somehow I knew the voice was speaking to me. Morgan and I had already said D was our crew member, so this question must be personal. A very tall dark figure became visible in the back of the room and I directed my answer toward it.
    “I am The Crimson Kiss, and this man is mine .”
    As I spoke I removed my hood and shook out my long red hair. I figured it would be wet and stick to my face and shoulders. But as I felt my hair fall down my back and heard the gasps from the crowd, I almost smiled. Sometimes being undead was really worth wild. Especially when you always managed to look good when you knew you should look like shit. Let’s hear it for vampire powers!
    “So it is true.” The voice spoke so softly, so intimately that I fought the urge to glance behind me. I could have sworn someone besides D was standing there. Someone who wanted to touch me, to own me in a completely different way.
    I watched as the dark figure drew closer. Up until this point, Morgan was the tallest man I’d ever seen in person. D, Ash, and Dark Dream were all over six feet tall. Bob was almost exactly six feet, so I was used to everyone being taller than me. But this shadow had to be at least seven feet tall. Talk about intimidating.
    The figure glided up onto the stage, looking like it didn’t even take a step. Sparks still flew from Morgan. Strands of his dark hair rose as if floating. The crackling sound was scary enough. I could feel the electricity radiating from him and knew he was keeping it under control.
    The figure stopped directly in front of Morgan and turned toward me. A dark hand stretched out to me. I’m not sure why, but I extended my hand toward it. The instant I touched him the darkness fell away as if he were shedding a cloak. Before me stood someone, like myself, who was rumored to not even exist anymore. Seeing him next to the six-foot-five Morgan, I felt I had estimated his height correctly. His skin was blue, like the clearest sky I could remember. And his eyes were like the depths of the ocean. A tempest raged there and I found it difficult to look away. He had a body to die for. Then again, I’m already dead. His chest was completely bare. A simple golden gauntlet on each wrist was his only decoration. He wore what looked like a long skirt that touched the floor. It was deep blue, darker than his skin, with a