Obfuscate (2 page)

I
failed
. I should be dead.

The schism of words replayed again and again as though they were a needle stuck between a track and a scratch on an old vinyl record.

I tried to open my eyes and sit up in the bed but found my head was wrapped and I’d been tied down.

What the hell? Where am I? Have I been captured?

I leaned my head closer to my hands and pulled on the strips of cloth covering my face. Rewarded with searing pain, I jerked my head away, sucking in a breath. Immediate and intense, the sensation behind my eyes was the same torment from a jammed toe against the bed frame in the middle of the night. Agonizingly slow to dissipate.

My eyes! Did they take my eyes?

I wrestled against my bonds and kicked my feet hoping to find some sort of escape. Something fell, clanging to the floor. It sounded as though a hundred steel marbles scattered, bouncing in every direction. My runaway imagination insisted the calamity had to be a bloodied tray full of shiny, sharp implements.

I can’t see … how can I get out of here? Breathe, Cheyenne, think.

I leaned over again and bit the thick, padded belts holding my wrists.
Blood pooled in my mouth as my lower lip snagged on a buckle. I spat out the blood and felt along the length of my mouth with my fingertips. Hard, plastic stitches lined my lip as if I were a forgotten rag doll in a creepy carnie show. Were they trying to sew my mouth shut?

Unholy hell, what are they doing to me?

I knew it—it was a trap. I should’ve listened to my guts. Cannibal vampires. We weren’t prepared. What if I’m an ingredient in their recipe? Are they preparing to stuff me with crab and then roast me over a fiery spit?

Shouldn’t a vampire be able to escape? Am I trapped in silver?

Questions seared my mind as I made headway pulling the strap with my teeth through the loops.

Everything will go as planned
, they said.
Nothing will hurt us
, they said.
Drunk with fermented drinks,
they said.

Why did I listen to them?

Khaldon and Harris—they were burning under the water. Did they make it out alive?

What about Briggs? He was unconscious. Did he drown?

The sharks were everywhere.

Where’s Torchy? Did he send for help?

Ludovic? Did he—

Footsteps closed in with the acrid stench of disinfectant. A female, disembodied voice threatened. “
Kuthri,
look at this mess. You’re making this much too difficult. Hold still.”

“Hold Still? Are you kidding me?” I jerked my arms inside their confinement. “Wait—who are you? Where am I? What are you doing to me?”

“You’re in isolation.” Her words snapped with disdain.

“Don’t touch me! Why are you tying me down? Stop it!” I pulled harder on the bonds, and the metal bars of the bed groaned and began to give way.

The female voice ignored my question. “Quick, hold her. This won’t take but a second.”

“Did you dispense the stronger dosage this time?” an agitated male voice hurriedly asked. “She burned through the last one in record time.”

Another male voice came from the direction of my feet. “Make sure this one keeps her down for good. We still have fleshy, meaty spots to dig out closer to the bone. I’m not getting another black eye tonight.”

For good? Meaty spots? Closer to the bone?

“Get away! Help!” I kicked while rough, wide fingers and hands wrenched my face sideways, exposing my neck. “Khaldon!”

I thrashed my head around and bit the hand holding my face.

“
Kamina!
” the male voice exclaimed and wrenched his hand out from between my teeth, practically yanking my fangs out with it.

Another set of hands held down my legs while an elbow jabbed me in the head. A sharp stab to my neck flashed fire behind my eyes in a kaleidoscope of intense luminescence.

I cried out in pain, arching my back in defiance.

My limbs grew heavy as Aunt Maisie’s cast iron skillets.

“No … stop … please don’t … eat … me…”

Far away, the female voice flatly stated, “She’s done. Let’s get her prepped for Rattanakosin.”

There’s something … it’s right at the tip of my…

I failed. I should be dead.

The words replayed again and again in the fissure of my memory.

Dakota, my sister?

Oh, no!

Oh, yes … I should, most definitely, be dead.

“
L
ook right here
, Khaldon.” I tapped the computer monitor screen and clicked to an article about the Rakshasa. “The Paranormal Wikipedia entry for the Andaman Islands states that North Sentinel is inhabited by cannibalistic, blood-thirsty warriors.” I turned in my chair to study his face for a reaction.

He didn’t respond, but continued to read over my shoulder.

Khaldon finished the parawiki page aloud in his formal English accent. “With fierce black fangs, they drain the blood of their prey and then roast them over a fiery spit. The Rakshasa celebrate their kill by wearing the bones and teeth of those they eat.”

He paused for a moment and made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat. “Right, then.”

“So, wait—are you telling me there are different types of vampyre?” Only managing to smear my chocolate-covered fingerprint, I tried to wipe the sugary goo from the screen. “C’mon, is this a load of bunk?” I licked my fingers clean and pursued the sticky smudge again. My blue eyes mirrored back at us in the monitor’s reflection as I gazed up at him. “Next, you’re gonna tell me there are creatures such as demon fairies, hounds of hell, and black-eyed kids, right?”

He pulled a glass cleaning wipe from the container and scrubbed the computer surface clean. Intently staring at me, his eyes flashed wide and then narrowed again to inquisitive slits. “And if I did, Cheyenne, what then?” His tone was caring, but it had an under-lilt of sarcasm in that
I-told-you-so
kind of voice. “You still haven’t read the
Vampyric Canons
, have you? Have you started your training?”

Hoping to find solace deep within the candy bag, I pulled my mouth over to one corner, hid my face, and dug in for another cluster of peanutty goodness. The feelers of a headache were beginning to stab at the back of my eyes. I closed them in favor of a brief rest from the computer screen and the invasive oceanic winds.

Why do I have to embrace anything new? What’s so wrong with being human?

He let out an exasperated sigh and kissed me on top of my head. “You’re never going to learn how to be a vampire unless you take the time to work through the courses.”

Khaldon smiled a genuine smile. The kind of grin where the curve of his lips playfully danced in tune with his green eyes. I had daydreamed about that smile a thousand times, and it never failed to stop me dead in my tracks, turn me around, and make me want him more than I already did.

“Consider your training like a twelve-step program—minus five or six steps. You’ve got to learn to trust yourself and let go. No matter how much I wish I could, I can’t complete this transition for you. Only you can discover what your vampyric dynamics will evolve into.” After removing my sweet smudges, Khaldon tossed the chocolate-covered rag into the bin. “Just like you’re able to perceive people’s emotions through their scents. Not every vamp can do that. We’re all different.” He evaded my jab to his ribs while I licked my fingers once again. I stared as he walked past the bulkhead and leaned on the ship’s railing.

Khaldon’s body stood out like a silhouette against the light shining through the yacht’s starboard balcony. I studied him for a minute, his chin firm and confident. His five o’clock shadow bristled, entirely framing his mouth, and he had his long, black hair tied back in a jewel-encrusted family heirloom. He seemed very at home within his skin even though at a moment’s notice, he could shape-shift into any person he desired.

Indignant, I returned to the monitor. “And when exactly have I had time to read
The Canons
while hunting Dakota and running a multi-million dollar global gaming company with Sheridan?”

Hoping to stave off a headache, I rubbed my forehead, pushing my thumbs deep against the sinus cavities to help relieve the pressure. “My sister is a prisoner on that island. If our strategy works, the Rakshasa won’t have anything left to celebrate. They especially won’t be roasting Dakota over a fiery spit.”

I stood up from the computer and followed him to look out over the crystalline water. He opened up his arms to me, and I leaned in close against his chest, breathing in the warm frankincense he wore. Even if it were just for a fleeting moment, in his arms, I could allow my mind to escape—to pretend we were all alone on a holiday and not faced with this nightmare.

The playful waves mingled with the beachy scents of salt and seaweed while I watched the fish jump out of the water in their graceful aquatic ballet. My fingers twirled the little hairs peeking out from the top of his t-shirt. He wore one of his favorite band shirts with the words “Another One Bites the Dust” written across the chest and the Queen concert tour schedule on the back.

“Breathe, Cheyenne.” His lips lingered on my forehead as his hand tangled in among the dark red, auburn curls at the nape of my neck. Khaldon finished his words in a soothing whisper. “Everything is jolly well fine. Our plan is solid. As soon as Torchy and Harris arrive with the final supplies, we’ll load up on the beach and take off with the dragons. We’ll get her back—tonight. You have my word, m’lady.”

I wanted to vouchsafe his reassurance—to stand in his arms and pretend this horrific night was already over, but my doubts consumed me. An inner voice nagged hard at the edges of my gut, pouring acid over an already bleeding ulcer. I was afraid, and everyone knew it. Worst part was, I knew it too. Dakota was my baby sister I’d sworn to protect, and I had to face this fear. There was no going back now—after months we had finally found her.

Dammit, none of us sisters ever broke the promise of our almighty sister pinkie swear, no matter what the cost. Despite the fear, I had even come to terms with the possibility that the cost could be my own life.

W
e disembarked
from Khaldon’s yacht, the
M’lady,
and climbed aboard the skiff toward Jolly Boy Beach about fifty yards from the stern of the ship. We loaded the supplies and trussed the nylon body harnesses around our chests and legs. My feet felt confined in the black combat boots, but from the sound of the creepy crawlies inhabiting North Sentinel, I didn’t want to take any chances of bug or snake bites.

I should take a picture of myself in this get-up; Sheridan will laugh out loud for sure.

The sun hung low in the sky as the gulls flew to the beach, finding their mates, chicks, and nests for the night. The waters choppy, we steered the little boat to the shore to meet up with our crew, Ludovic Zyryanov, Tony Briggs, Harris Archer, and Torchy Gravenor. They were to meet us along with an arsenal of guns, ammunition, and various other search and rescue accoutrements.

Khaldon’s best mate and loyal dragon ally, Torchy, and my best friend, Harris, were on a final supply run we needed for Dakota’s rescue mission. The six of us had rehearsed her forced extrication in virtual simulators, but crossing over into the real world from a cyber-reality was an entirely different story. Unable to anticipate alien factors, we had to expect anything could go wrong.

I spoke over the small outboard engine. “How long do you think we can keep Ludovic alive before the vampyre queen orders Amicula to try and kill him again? Once we have my sister back, won’t the queen keep coming after Ludovic to locate Dakota? How can we be sure turning him loose wouldn’t endanger us again?”

Khaldon steered away from a patch a kelp. “Well, Chey, I think you’ve just answered your own questions.” His face held a stern frown as if he’d been pondering the same question for a bit of time himself. “We can’t risk it any longer. Especially now that Sheridan is going to have the twins soon. It’s not right, endangering the children—always having to look over our shoulders. Do you want to spend the rest of your life running? Ludovic is a threat to our family now—more than ever.”

I didn’t answer him because he was right. Deep down inside, I did know the answers. We couldn’t keep Ludovic around us and we couldn’t allow him to fall back under the control of the queen. After a few moments, I responded with a surprising sadness in my heart. “Even though I despise him, I guess I never really thought about killing someone just because they were a threat to my family’s survival.”

Khaldon stared at me possibly remembering an age of his own innocence. Past days when life was simple and fun and not so politically corrupt.

My eyes studied the calm of his face, and I wished I could feel that level of confidence. I ached for the days when I knew nothing about this dreaded paranormal life and I never had to worry about answering the front door. Normal humans don’t have to worry about flower delivery guys trying to kidnap them. Why should I?

My life was total shite now and I hated it.

Khaldon pointed to a huge rock on the far side of the beach. “Did I ever tell you how the Andamans got their name?”

I shook my head and gave him a small smile. Not really interested in what he had to say, but I knew he was trying to ease my mind away from the topic of killing Ludovic, so I placated him and tried to give the appearance that I was paying attention.

“It was about the time when…”

Khaldon piloted the boat closer to shore, maneuvering around the outcroppings of Mangrove trees. Even though he talked about the Andamans and their lore, his words faded beyond my thoughts as I preoccupied myself with the reasons I was in this skiff in the first place.

As the boat chopped across the gentle crests, the waves lulled me deep into questions I’d pondered a hundred times before, but never managed to answer.

What would have happened to me if my sisters hadn’t have been kidnapped last Halloween? Would I have continued my life as a software gaming designer? Would my days be filled with worrying about the next boss sequence or the mobile roll-out of the game? Would I have gotten a female boxer puppy as a companion for my Beano puppy? Those mundane decisions seem so irrelevant to the ones I was forced to make now.

I reached into my camouflage jacket pocket and took out a picture of me and my sisters dressed up for Halloween Scream Nights: Me as a fifth-century mummified streetwalker, Dakota dolled up as, Elvira Mistress of the Night, and Sheridan, disguised as a man-eating plant in a Ghillie suit. I traced Dakota’s face with my finger and bit back a sob in the back of my throat. Would I really get her back tonight? Would she still be the sassy brat I adored?

Talk about a case of mistaken identity. Ludovic was all wrong about us. Why would a vampyre queen want to kidnap us in the first place? The Irish, red-headed, O’Cuinn sisters—from a royal bloodline? Insanity! I caught the hint of a smile trying to escape my lips and almost laughed out loud dismissing the ridiculousness of the thought.

I breathed in the pungent, salty, seaweed aromas of the beach and sat quietly in the boat trying to take it all in. I stared at the back of Khaldon’s head as he pointed this way and that, showing me the what-nots about the flora and fauna of the surrounding seascape. If I were honest with myself, I’d admit to being baffled at how my online boyfriend of two years was actually a different man, and a vampire to boot.

Why couldn’t he just’ve been a normal guy?

I gave him a sweet, simple smile and nodded my head in such a way that showed I was indeed listening, but couldn’t help but mull over a new set of questions which would require decision and action soon.

What will our lives be like if we rescued Dakota tonight? What do vampire couples do for an eternity? When forever becomes real, it’s seriously intimidating. Would we become dull and boring when the fun runs out? How long does the secret sauce last anyway?

What if I didn’t embrace the vampiric lifestyle Khaldon craves? I wasn’t sure if I could—or even wanted to embrace it. What would we be doing if we weren’t trying to rescue my sister?

If we weren’t in the midst of adrenaline junkie acts of heroism, would he grow tired and leave me? Could I handle being a vampire alone if he did?

But I think the most important question was: Did I want to keep around a guy who felt the need to change me? I liked who I was, even if that was a chicken-shit vampire from time to time.

I looked back at the yacht and the comfortable safety of the ship and longed for the happy voyage home. I heaved a worried sigh and tried to unravel the knot of angst in my gut. For now, we were anchored twenty miles east of where my sister was held captive on that island, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was my final chance to find Dakota alive—and would it be Ludovic’s last night to live?