The beginning
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
nine
ten
eleven
12
13
fourteen
15
sixteen
17
18
nineteen
20
21
22
23
Epilogue
8

"Sergio, I'm coming home." Her voice sounded shaky, even to her.

"Are you okay?" her cousin's rich voice asked, his West Texas accent thick and strong.

“Yeah, I'm just having a rough time right now,” she answered. She tried not to look at the

mauled man on the floor of the hotel room.

“Yeah, I saw what went down at your college. Scary shit. Satanists doing stuff like that. Are

you okay? Did you know anyone who died? "

Combing her fingers through the edges of her hair, she said, “Yeah, I knew someone.”

"Were they close to you?" Sergio's voice asked.

Tears in her eyes, she looked over at the ravaged body. “Yeah. She was. I'm coming to see

Grandmama. The bus leaves Dallas at 9:45. Can you pick me up around 11:30 in Eastland? "

"In the morning?"

“No, at night. I'm still ... on my way. "

“Yeah, sure. I could get you then. Grandmama will still be up watching the late night talk

shows. You know how she is about them, ”he said with a laugh. “But she said she missed you on

Easter. More drama, huh? "

"You know how it is with our family."

“You mean how our aunt drove to East Texas with her floozy eighteen-year-old daughter to

help take care of her dying sister and how said floozy cousin then slept with your Dad? The way

that is? "

"Yep." She wiped more tears away.

“Gotcha. I can't stand Kelly Ann either and she's family. Don't get me started on Aunt Mae. "

Despite herself, Amaliya laughed and held the phone closer. The voice of her cousin made her

feel safer somehow. Safe from what though? The bogeyman wasn't outside the door. The

monster was in the room and already living inside of her.

"I think she has less teeth now than before."

“Maybe Kelly Ann is punching them out,” Sergio suggested. “You know, she's a lot like our

dead uncle.”

“Violent and stupid?”

“And ugly.”

“True dat,” Amaliya agreed.

She looked over at the body. It was amazing how little blood there was, but then again, she

had drained him dry. She couldn't stay here any longer though. If Rob's truck stayed idling out in

the parking lot, it would get hairy for her real quick. Especially if the sun was out.

“Okay, so I'll get you tomorrow night,” Sergio said, realizing the conversation was at an end.

“Thanks again,” she whispered.

“Hey, it's what family is for.”

“You always were my favorite,” she confessed.

“You say that to all the cousins,” he teased, then said in a more serious tone, “Take care of

yourself. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow.”

The loud buzzing that followed the click of the phone being set down made her sigh. She

hung up the phone. It was probably stupid to call her cousin, but she had used what little

remained of a phone card she had at the bottom of her bag. Hopefully, by the time the police

traced it, she would have said goodbye to her grandmother and sworn her cousin to secrecy.

Sliding off the bed, she looked down at Rob's body. The rage she had felt earlier still burned

in her. She felt shame that she could kill without remorse.

Rubbing the side of her nose with one finger, she cocked her hip, and stood over Rob, looking

down at him with intense hatred. She now fully understood what she was capable doing.

Somehow, the slaughter of the people in the fraternity did not seem like her actions. It was as if

she was another person doing unspeakable things. Even draining the crazy woman earlier in the

night had not made her feel inhuman. In her mind, she had rationalized that she had saved the

woman's children from having their crazy mom barge into their home and murder their father.

But this...

She subconsciously licked her teeth.

“I enjoyed this,” she said softly.

It shamed her how much she had enjoyed killing Rob, but she could not deny it. The last two

nights were a blur of bad luck and terrible actions. This incident had taught her one thing for

certain. She liked what she was now. For the first time in her life she knew exactly what she

wanted.

She needed to find another of her kind. Someone to teach her how to control her powers and

guide her as to what she should or should not do. Fuck Professor Sumner. She would find her

own damn way and show him a thing or two about survival.

Tugging on her black jeans, she formulated a plan in her mind. It would take some time, but

she was sure she could find one of her own kind. Hell, she'd go to freaking New Orleans if she

had to. Fishing around on the floor, she found her socks and glared at the dead man as she pulled

them on.

Maybe she was fucked up, but she had been fucked up ever since she’d walked in on her Dad

doing her slutty cousin. She stomped her feet to get her boots on all the way and glanced at the

covered mirror as she did so. Flipping it off, she walked over Rob's body and quickly packed up

her bag.

Hot anger filled her once more as she thought of Rob grabbing her and trying to rape her. It

was far too reminiscent of what had happened between her and Professor Sumner. She would not

let herself ever be in that situation again.

Picking up the pack of cigarettes, she pulled one out and tucked it between her lips. She lit it

and took a deep drag, savoring the moment. After shoving her hat onto her head, she yanked the

door open and walked outside. Impulsively, not even sure if it was the smart thing to do, she

vaulted over the rail and landed with a thud on the ground below. Nothing hurt, nothing felt

sprained, nothing felt wrong.

When she looked up she saw the night clerk staring at her through the window in shock.

Walking over to the door, she yanked it open. She felt the dark power inside of her swelling up,

and she said in a low voice, “Sleep.”

Without a word, the clerk fell face first onto the counter, hit it with a resounding smack, then

slipped out of sight onto the floor. Sliding over the counter, Amaliya avoided landing on the man

and headed for the small office visible beyond a cracked door. As she suspected, a series of three

monitors were set up and an ancient VCR whirred loudly as it recorded the scenes. She hit the

eject button, and the tape slid easily into her hand. She would destroy it later, once she was far

away from here.

Climbing onto the counter, she sat and pondered her options. She could set Rob on fire and let

the whole thing burn, but she had heard children in the other rooms. Her name wasn't recorded

here and she could be a million different girls in Texas with her dark hair.

“Eh, fuck it,” she said. She slid off the counter and landed lightly on the floor.

She'd risk it. Besides, how could the cops ever think she could rip a man to bits?

Confident that she was okay, she walked out into the night and the glass door swung back

with a soft whisper.

* * *

“We may have a serious problem,” Roberto decided as he stood, arms crossed over his chest,

watching the large screen TV with great interest.

Cian looked up from where he sat at his glass and chrome desk nearby. His four flatscreen

computer monitors were flashing a variety of images and text. His hazel eyes rimmed with dark

lashes regarded the other man, then looked at the TV. “What is it?”

“Cult killing in East Texas,” Roberto answered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He was on the

slim and petite side of the scale in appearance but had broad shoulders. His dark hair was sleek

and swept back from his high brow. His green eyes flicked toward Cian. “It looks highly

suspicious.”

“Like something he would do?” Cian frowned and stood up sharply.

He was medium height, despite his age. He was not exactly sure how old he was, but he was

old enough. Clad in jeans and a black t-shirt, he did not look like the man behind countless

successful business and companies sprawled across Texas. He looked like a young man in his

late twenties with short, scruffy, brown hair.

“Something he would definitely do,” Roberto answered. “It's mass confusion and people in

complete terror of Satanists.”

Bare feet padding across the floor, Cian peered at the TV for a long moment, watching and

listening to the repeat of the evening news. His ever faithful human servant, revenant, or

whatever the latest tag was from some gawdawful game or book, stood next to him rubbing his

chin and looking deeply thoughtful. Emulating Roberto, Cian crossed his arms and looked

equally disturbed.

“It sounds like a fledgling kill,” Roberto decided.

“I agree. He probably turned someone and let them loose.” Cian collapsed into a leather and

steel chair and let his legs sprawl out in front of him.

“They are probably already dead by now if they are this insane.”

“Not a clean transformation, I don't think,” Cian answered in his light Irish lilt.

“Should I go and check it out?” Roberto asked.

“No, not if he is still out there. I don't want you risking it,” Cian said firmly. Rubbing his face

with his hands, he looked more and more upset. “Dammit. It's been so long since he has been

heard of I had hoped that someone had finally found a way to kill the bastard.”

“It's hard to kill someone so old,” Roberto said with a soft sigh and turned down the sound on

the TV with the remote.

Cian nodded slowly and then tilted his head back. The soft lights of his loft apartment in

downtown Austin gave off a warm glow and provided a nice sheen to the hardwood floors. He

loved his home, but the mere thought of The Summoner being somewhere in Texas, no matter

how big the state was, did not make him feel safe.

“God knows I tried to many times,” he finally said.

“I could go and see if the fledgling is still around and kill it before it causes more harm.”

“Too risky. You know the games he plays. He may be trying to lure me out of my territory.

He'd use you as a pawn,” Cian answered.

“There may be more than one. They found one forest grave with an occupant and another that

was empty.”

Cian shook his head and swore softly. His Gaelic accent was more pronounced when he was

upset. “It sounds like he's either playing another one of his damn games or he is trying to lure me

or someone else out. Someone who gives a damn about keeping us hidden behind the veil.”

Roberto sat in the chair across from him and leaned forward. Steepling his fingers together, he

peered over them intently. “If there is a fledgling and it is mad and out there killing-”

“I'm getting married in two months,” Cian said sharply. “I worked hard for this life. You

know it. I'm not about to leave my city to go out there and hunt a fledgling down and kill it. Most

likely the fledging will get itself killed by the sun. It may already be dead.”

“What about those?” Roberto waved to the screen as it once more showed the parade of body

bags being taken from the fraternity house.

“They won't rise unless blood was exchanged,” Cian assured him.

“But they could also rise as ghouls,” Roberto reminded him. “More dangerous than a

fledgling at times.”

“I don't think so. Modern technology seems to have that phenomenon under control. Morgues,

autopsies, and embalming. Pleasant ways to deter the mindless undead.” Cian rubbed his fingers

along the curbed armrest of his chair. “Can we contact an independent contractor to deal with

it?”

Roberto slowly sat back in his chair looking very thoughtful. His green eyes looked toward

the Texas Capital building looming out of one of the windows. “Perhaps. I'll make inquiries.

Since the purge of '78, not many want to deal with you.”

Cian shrugged. “You'll figure it out.”

“We could call in Summerfield,” Roberto suggested.

“He died of cancer a few months ago, remember? His son is taking over the hunt. I don't trust

the son to keep my deal intact past his father's death.”

“Have you met him?”

“No, not yet.” Cian shook his head once more in disbelief. “I don't care for him to know my

face. His father swore my file was destroyed and I believe him. It is best to keep quiet especially

to keep Samantha safe.” The thought of his mortal fiancée made him sigh deeply. He had to keep

her lovely innocence safe. It was tragic enough she was willing to take him on, despite knowing

his true nature. But she drew out the good in him and he loved her for it.

“Find a necromancer if you can,” Cian said after a long beat. “The Summoner's power is all

based in death.”

“Agreed.” Roberto rose to his feet, hearing the clear order in his master's voice.

“And keep an eye on the news statewide. If the fledgling is out there, I want to know where it

is.”

Roberto nodded and elegantly walked away.

Cian, meanwhile, sprawled in his chair and let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Great, just

freaking great.”

© Enok Mayeny,
книга «Mere scars».
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