Darkness Descending (32 page)

Might as well sleep
, he told himself. There were still plenty of hours left in the night, and it would help conserve his dwindling supply of smokes. He’d set his cell alarm to buzz at six a.m.

Maddox closed his eyes for a moment, then opened and rubbed them to clear away the blur floating in front of his vision. His eyelids lowered again. He was on the verge of drifting off into a doze when a rasping sound filled the grave.

He was immediately alert, his gaze raking the stone ceiling less than three feet above his head.

More sounds of iron scraping stone filled the grave, followed by a grunt and an irritated voice. “Maddox?”

It was the best thing Maddox had ever heard in his life. He sat up straighter. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“You gotta help me by pushing from inside,” he heard Reyen call back. “Once you get your side up, I’ll use your crowbar to hold it. Then I can lift the other end.”

Maddox rose into a standing crouch. “I can do that,” he yelled back. “Just tell me when to push.” He heard Reyen working from above, forcing the iron bar into the narrow space.

“Push now!” the Indian called.

Since the five-foot-deep grave didn’t exactly accommodate his full height, Maddox had to lift from a halfstanding position. The best leverage he could gain was by kneeling in the coffin and lifting his arms above his head. Palms pressed against the corner of the cold stone, he pushed up with every ounce of strength in his body. “I’m pushing,” he called.

The marble slab moved an inch, and then another. Just as soon as a crack appeared, Reyen shoved the crowbar into the narrow opening, propping up one edge of the slab. “Got it,” he grunted before moving to the other side.

A breeze of cool night air winnowed into the grave. Swallowing past the knot in his throat, Maddox gulped down a few deep breaths. The grave had been cramped and hot, and he was burning up. His skin still felt tight, as if he were suffocating. “I thought you’d left me here,” he said.

Reyen grunted as he worked his own iron bar under the slab. “Night patrol,” he groused. “I had no choice.” A few seconds later he’d managed to lift the marble cover high enough for Maddox to wriggle out.

“Don’t drop that thing on me,” he warned as he scrambled away from the dangerous weight. The last thing he needed was a hand or foot crushed. Safely out of the grave, he collapsed on the ground. The wind stirred leaves and tugged at his hair, tousling the strands around his burning-hot skin.

Reyen shot a heated glance at Maddox. “You’re such a pussy if you think I left you there deliberately.”

Maddox brushed aside bangs damp with perspiration. Right now he was a stinking, pathetic mess.

“Given that you’ve been threatening to take my ass out, I figured you’d recognized the perfect opportunity and took your shot.”

Reyen offered one of his malicious smiles. “If I’d wanted you dead, frog eater, I’d put a bullet in your head and walk off.” He shone his flashlight the length of Maddox’s body, head to foot and then back up. “By the looks of it, that thing almost did you in.”

Maddox gingerly probed the scratches the demon had raked into his face. “That damn thing fought hard.” He paused, and then asked, “How bad is it?”

Reyen considered. “You ain’t a pretty boy anymore,” he said, giving his grim assessment. “It’s going to take a little time for that to heal.”

He let his hand drop. “At least it won’t leave any scars.”

“Well, that’s the good news of the night,” Reyen said drily.

Maddox found himself concentrating on what lay hidden behind his guarded words. “The way you’re talking leads me to believe there’s going to be bad news.”

Reyen’s features turned hard. “I don’t know, but I got a feeling something’s up.” He dug out his cell, one he reluctantly carried only because Sam insisted they should all be able to keep in touch when working. “This thing rang, but when I answered it, there was no one on the other end. Just silence.”

Maddox scrambled to his feet, reaching for his own cell. Flipping it open, he saw the signal had thankfully returned. He quickly punched in Sam’s number. A busy signal buzzed in his ear. “Shit. No answer.” Insides cramping with fear, he shot a look at Reyen. “Where have you been all this time, anyway? You left me down there for more than three fucking hours.”

“After I ditched the cops, I went on to the second body we had to check.” His fingers bunched into a fist, striking his thigh in frustration. “I was too damn late. The Kindred got there first and got the fledgling out. All I found was an empty coffin. We were definitely outnumbered tonight. Too many bodies were infected.”

Giving Reyen’s explanation half an ear, Maddox quickly dialed Sam’s alternate number. Ever the techno geek, Sam didn’t trust that one phone would be enough. He always carried two. This time he got a ring, but that was all. Nobody answered.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, snapping his phone shut.

“I think they had two in St. Louis Number Three. Should have been a hop and a skip to get them both.”

An inexplicable chill clutched at Maddox’s heart. “They could have run into trouble,” he said.

“St. Louis Number Three isn’t far from here,” Reyen said.

Maddox was already heading that way. “Let’s go,” he called over one shoulder. He didn’t look back, trusting that Reyen would keep up. Forcing his limbs into motion, he sped toward his destination. Even though he’d been wounded, the injury was nothing more than a minor annoyance.

Located some two miles from the French Quarter, the cemetery was one of the most popular with tourists. It wasn’t unusual to encounter private tour groups, and the cemetery was still very active, with burials occurring almost on a daily basis. Unless a family or organization already owned a private crypt, the waiting list to get in was a long one.

Reyen caught up with him, huffing like a steam engine running low on coal. “Shit, man. I haven’t run like that in years,” he groused.

Maddox struggled to catch his breath. “That’s what you get when you sit your big ass on a motorcycle all the time,” he chided. “We’ve all turned into a bunch of lazy slobs.”

“Speak for yourself,” Reyen grumbled.

Maddox ignored him, heading into the cemetery. The main aisles were named after other saints, while the cross aisles were named for various clerics in the Roman Catholic Church.

Even though the cemetery was huge, it didn’t take them long to locate the correct tomb. The McClain tomb was the only one with the door wide-open and a light shining from inside.

“This isn’t good news,” Reyen muttered as they headed toward it. The outside of the tomb had been desecrated; the white crosses and guardian angels bracketing the walkway had been pushed onto their sides. The stinking odor of sulfur lingered in the night air.

The stain of evil emanating around the tomb was frightening. Pulling out the rosary in his pocket, he hung it around his neck so it would be in plain sight. At least he’d have a little protection from anything lurking inside. He also gave himself a mental kick for leaving his backpack behind. Aside from the cross, he was essentially unarmed.

A grimace twitched on his lips.
I’ll have to risk it
, he thought, and passed under the threshold.

The signs of a violent struggle were immediately apparent to his searching gaze. Darkness closed in at the periphery of his vision, tunneling his view toward the two bodies in the tomb. They both looked too damn familiar. The horror outlining recent events was splattered all over the white marble. Appearing black in the amber glow of the lamplight, thick smears of blood surrounded the fallen.

Maddox quickly knelt beside the nearest body, which appeared to be a young female. Dismay coiled tightly in his gut. Breath freezing in his lungs, he slowly turned her over. Though a good portion of her skull had been blown away, he could still make out her features.

It’s not Jesse
, was his first thankful thought. Though her skin was cool to the touch, her limbs hadn’t yet stiffened with rigor, but she was certainly beyond help.

Leaving the unfamiliar girl behind, he moved to the second body. Unfortunately, the man sprawled on his back was all too recognizable. Dagger still shoved in his gut and cell phone still open and pressed against his ear, Sam had clearly been trying to call for help when he’d lost consciousness. The yin and yang symbol he habitually carried lay halfway across the tomb, well out of reach. Maddox glanced back toward the dead girl. Kindred, no doubt.

“Shit,” Reyen cursed, stepping over the girl’s body. “Is he still alive?”

Maddox bent closer, checking for a pulse. It was there, but weak. Sam’s skin was unnaturally pale. “He’s still alive,” he announced with relief.

Reyen dropped to his knees, examining Sam’s abdomen. He tore at the stained material to get a closer look. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he assessed.

Maddox dared a glance. Several of the slices in Sam’s abdomen had already begun to heal, closing into thick red welts. “Can you get the knife out without damage?” he asked.

Reyen nodded. Taking off his jacket, he slipped out of his T-shirt. Bunching it into a thick wad, he pressed the material to Sam’s skin before easing the dagger out of its place.

At that moment Sam groaned piteously. Though his eyes remained closed, he seemed to be coming back to consciousness.

Worry pressed against Maddox’s heart for release. “Sam? Can you hear me?”

“Maddox?” Sam rasped, his eyelids fluttering open.

“Don’t let him move,” Reyen warned. “He still needs a little time to stabilize.”

Maddox laid his hands on Sam’s shoulder. “You heard Reyen,” he said, attempting to keep his voice steady and controlled. “Just be still and concentrate on healing.”

Staring up in stark misery, Sam blinked again and looked confused for a moment before his focus sharpened. A gurgle escaped his quivering mouth. He swallowed and clenched his teeth. “As if I have any choice,” he whispered.

Maddox placed a hand on Sam’s forehead, silently willing his strength into his wounded friend. Even though it was a wishful gesture, it was better than sitting there feeling totally helpless. “What happened?” he asked, already fearing the answer he dared not think about. “Where’s Jesse?”

Still more than a little dazed and weakened by his blood loss, Sam closed his eyes a moment before continuing. “They jumped us,” he answered in a shaking voice.

Maddox bent closer, straining to hear. “Who?”

Sam drew in a pained breath and moistened dry lips with the tip of his tongue. “Consanguines . . . ,” he said, then forcefully cleared his throat. He tried to lift an arm, pointing vaguely toward the coffin. “We got . . . the fledge . . . but the Kindred . . .”

Reyen grimaced as if a sour taste filled his mouth. “The dead girl?”

Sam pulled in a painful breath. His eyelids fluttered, but he forced them up again. “She attacked me. Jesse shot”—his head lolled to one side, then to the other—“but they had us.” Mouth wide-open, he breathed laboriously for a few seconds, then locked eyes with Maddox. “They took her . . . ,” he finished ominously.

The first thought through Maddox’s mind was the one that immediately popped out of his mouth. “We have to get her back.”

A
fter a fitful night of disjointed dreams and tossing and turning, Jesse woke to a new morning. Despite her initial grogginess, she sensed she was in a strange place, somewhere quite out of the norm. Pieces of the strange nightmare she’d had last night reared up to taunt her. Menacing voices whispered from the abysmal darkness inside her skull. She was vaguely aware of her mind working to establish her surroundings. Then suddenly, a rush of unbidden images overwhelmed her.

Each was worse than the last.

By the time the final pieces unspooled across her mind’s eye, a gasp of horror tore from her lips. “Sam!”

Jesse struggled to sit up. The cool softness of silk sheets slid across her bare skin. Barely aware of her nudity, she cast her gaze around the unfamiliar surroundings. Thick, heavy draperies hung over the windows, effectively shutting out most of the sun’s illumination. Shadows flourished throughout the spacious chamber.

She had the distinct, sickening feeling something was watching her. Cool incense-laced air stirred to her left, as if someone had passed through the space.

“Je . . . sssss . . . ee.” Her name was a hiss on invisible lips. The zephyrus-like voice caressed her. She’d heard it before; she knew it well. Except this time the undertone had a threatening quality.

“Is anyone there?”

But no one answered. The silence and absence of familiarity only served to magnify her anxiety.

She looked around. Enough illumination filtered through the drapes to give her an idea of the room’s interior. Luxurious white carpeting stretched out like a glacier. The walls were covered with plush, rich wallpaper in an embossed toile ivory print. Fashioned out of heavy dark wood, the furniture looked old. An ample hearth stood ready for a fire.

Jesse felt the invisible observer’s presence. As if on cue, the door to her room ghosted open on silent hinges. A familiar figure stood outlined in sharp relief at the threshold; pale, blond, and wraithlike.

Jesse gasped as recognition slammed into her. “Amanda.” The single word slipped past lips that had gone numb. At the same time the demon inside her stirred. It knew one of its own.

Her twin slipped into the room, gliding toward the bed. She was dressed in straight-legged jeans that had deliberate tears and a tank top covered by a bejeweled black T-shirt, also deliberately ripped by the designer. Kicky heels with ankle straps completed her fashionably young ensemble.

Jesse immediately recognized the clothes as Shadow Chic Goth apparel. The T-shirt was emblazoned with the image of a decaying skull clutched in a clawed hand. Splotches of red were meant to indicate clots of blood. It was just the sort of stuff Amanda loved to wear.