Unearthly, The (8 page)

This was the second time I’d heard about this power, but I was skeptical that I actually had this ability. Wouldn’t I have already felt it?

“Luckily the glamour is diluted by the recording, and anyway, Celeste is only singing about enjoying the moment. Pretty harmless. But still, it’s outlawed in most places because the song bespells listeners without their explicit consent.”

I listened to the lyrics.

Carpe diem they say,

Seize the day,

Because before long,

Tomorrow will dawn,

And you will be gone.

“I read about sirens. You were right. Apparently we don’t last long.”

“I know.” He was solemn. “Lucky for you, your vampire genes gave you a back up plan.”

I gave him a long look. “I read about vampires too. And it seems like a pretty lousy back up plan if you ask me.”

In the background, my mother was still singing. I got chills hearing her voice. She might be dead, but not forgotten.

Andre’s phone rang. He pulled it out and looked at the number. “I need to take this. I’ll be just a moment. When I get back we’ll begin.” And like that, I was alone.

I walked out onto the balcony. Leaning over the ledge, I raptly listened to the rest of the song. Once it was over, I watched the crowd slowly awaken from the song. They were invigorated.

I went back inside, feeling like I was an interloper on their fun.

When I tried closing the door behind me, it wouldn’t latch. I jiggled it, and tried to force the lock into place. Distracted, I mistook the light tread of footfalls behind me for Andre.

Until someone grabbed a fistful of my hair.

Yanking my head back, my attacker placed a sharp knife at my throat.

In a gravelly voice, the man spoke in my ear. “If you move an inch, I will slit your throat.”

Chapter 12

I raised my
hands in surrender, barely breathing. How did an attacker get inside the most guarded room in the club?

“Good. Now follow my instructions exactly. I am going to calmly lead you out of here as though nothing’s wrong. If you scream or otherwise alert anyone that that’s not the case, I will kill you
—
don’t think I won’t either. I promise you, I mean every word.” He said this with such lethal coolness that I believed him.

But I’d also watched enough CourtTV to know that once I left the premise with him, my chances of survival drastically decreased. And that realization was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’d had a really shitty day already, and I. Just. Couldn’t. Take it. Anymore.

From within me I felt something release, and a wave of power washed over me.

Moving fast, I grabbed the hand that held the knife to my throat and squeezed. He screamed and dropped the knife.

Using the arm I held as leverage, I catapulted him over my shoulder, vaguely impressed I could throw a grown man across the room. He hit the far wall and slid down.

I walked over to where he lay gasping, put a hand to his throat, and squeezed. “What do you want with me?”

“Abomination,” he wheezed. And then he threw me off of him.

I skidded along the floor, but before I had the chance to get up, he was on top of me. He cocked an arm back and punched me repeatedly in the face. Something crunched, and blood poured from my nose. The smell of it triggered something primal, and I felt my canines elongate in response. My nose stung badly, and my eyes teared up from the pain.

Believing me sufficiently incapacitated, he stood up and picked up the knife where he dropped it. I backed up, still on my back. My self-defense classes hadn’t prepared me for this. I didn’t know how to fight, and this guy did. But I had more to lose.

Almost casually the man walked back over to me. He kneeled down over my body. “Hmm, if you won’t leave quietly, I’ll just have to kill you now.” He ran a hand down my face, toying with me. My attacker was enjoying this. Enjoying my pain and the slow process of ending another life.

I moved quickly, kicking him swiftly in the chest. He fell back, and I followed him. We rolled together, grappling for possession of the knife. I grabbed his free hand and bent his wrist back until I heard a snap. He howled in agony, and I made the mistake of relaxing. With his good hand he sliced the dagger down my cheek and drove it towards my heart. I jerked my body to the side at the last minute, and my attacker plunged the knife into my shoulder. I screamed.

Behind us the door opened, and then a roar eclipsed my scream. I saw the whites of my attacker’s eyes a second before his body was torn away from mine and flung across the room like a rag doll. I heard the sickening crack as his body hit the far wall and the plaster gave.

Andre stood at my feet, looking like a fallen angel. A very pissed off fallen angel.

“Take him away!” I heard him order his bodyguards.

Andre bent over me, concerned. “I am so sorry,” he whispered.

Andre’s gaze flicked to the knife that was still plunged in my shoulder before shifting back to me.

“I need you to stare me in the eyes,” he commanded. “Don’t look away.”

I glanced at his hand, which he’d wrapped around the hilt of the dagger.

“No,” I whimpered.

“Gabrielle, focus on me. Focus.” I stared into his eyes and felt everything fall away. It was just him, me, and that whimsical feeling I could really get used to. And then it all shattered as Andre yanked the knife out of my shoulder.

The scream ripped from me.

“Shhhh.” Andre soothed me like I was a small child. Someone handed him a towel, and he used it to halt the bleeding. It took many minutes for the pain and nausea to become manageable.

“Aren’t you supposed to give me a drink before you go about pulling out knives?”

That earned a chuckle. “I can’t be giving alcohol to minors. I might lose my liquor license.”

I rolled my eyes. As if Andre actually followed the rules.

“I think my nose is broken,” I said.

He glanced down at my nose. “Then it already healed itself.”

“
What
?” I realized the pain in my face
had
lessened. “How is that possible?”

He picked me up, somehow managing to shrug even as he carried me.

“Vampires heal much more rapidly than normal humans,” he said.

We passed back into the VIP common room, where people huddled in clusters, some with their camera phones pulled out, taking shots of us.

“I can walk, really,” I said, struggling against him. Reluctantly he put me down. “So vampires heal quickly. But I’m still human, aren’t I?”

A crease appeared right between Andre’s eyebrows. I tried not to think about how breathtakingly gorgeous he looked.

“Gabrielle, I think we can agree that you haven’t been completely human since you woke up in the hospital. Your nose is proof that your body already has the ability to return itself to its original state. This same ability keeps vampires frozen at whatever age they were changed.”

“So what does that mean?” I asked.

He only shook his head. “I don’t know.”

***

When we approached the onsite paramedics, there was not much left for them to mend. The bruising on my face had lightened to a nasty yellow color
—
apparently this was a good thing
—
and the knife wound on my face had almost completely healed.

Most surprising of all, my shoulder wound had closed up, making stiches unnecessary.

The next few hours were weary. I repeated my story over and over to the police. Luckily the police
—
and just about everyone else on the island
—
happened to be supernaturals, which made telling the truth a whole lot easier. My assailant was in custody, and the police force was currently running a background check.

Eventually, Andre rescued me. For once I appreciated his pushy ways. He pulled some strings and got me out of the police station before 1:00 a.m.

I met him at the entrance, where he was sitting in one of the vinyl chairs. I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The sight of him dwarfing the seat in the sitting room of the police station, clad in his designer clothes, was ridiculous.

“Inspector O’Reilly wanted me to give you her
best
regards,” I said, walking towards him.

At some point today, my opinion of Andre had drastically changed. Maybe it was that he reached out to me when I had been feeling like a social pariah, or maybe it was his tragic history. Or maybe it was that he saved my life.

He gave me a smoldering look, one eyebrow arching up.

“Oh, cut the brooding crap,” I said, walking past him to push the door open, “Thanks for getting me out of there.”

Andre followed me out. “So that’s it?” he asked. “You’re going to act as though you didn’t nearly die two hours ago?”

I stopped in my tracks and faced him, the chilly night air prickling my skin. “How am I supposed to act?”

“Bothered. Scared.”

“I am bothered, and I am scared. Happy?”

“No.”

I looked at him curiously. “Why do you care?”

“It’s my job to protect you.” He looked angry.

I closed my eyes. “Just because I am your newest member does not mean you’re entitled to question why I act the way I act.”

“I am when you are blatantly cavalier about your life!” He ran a ticked-off hand through his hair. “Being what you are, the price is much too high.”

“My soul is fine. I already know it’s time that screws all you vampires over.”

He quieted down. “I wasn’t talking about that.”

I was surprised. “Then what were you talking about?”

He opened his mouth to speak, thought better, and shook his head. “Never mind. Let’s get you back. We’ll reschedule training.”

We got into the car, and Andre pulled out of the police station.

I ran my fingers over the upholstery, thinking about the fears I buried deep. “Who was he?” My voice was so quiet I wasn’t sure I spoke the words at all. “The man who tried to kill me?”

Andre’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Scum.” He looked over at me. “The police didn’t tell you who your attacker was?”

I watched the scenery fly by as Andre accelerated down the dark city streets. “All they told me was that he was currently in custody, and they were doing a background check.” I was glad Andre had turned the guy in. I got the distinct impression that most people who crossed Andre disappeared. I couldn’t say why, but I was relieved my attacker hadn’t died.

Andre muttered something about incompetent police, but to me he said, “Your attacker is Timothy Watts, a laid-off construction worker and an alcoholic. More importantly, he is one hundred percent human.”

“What?” I shook my head. “That’s not possible. The man threw me across the room, and he moved quicker than I’ve ever seen a human move.” I remembered my own inhuman feat of strength. I had also tossed a person
—
a full-grown man
—
across the room. Then I remembered what other physiological changes my powers brought on.

“Damn,” I said.

Andre looked over as I felt my canines. They seemed normal.

“Ah,” he said, recognizing what I was doing. “Did your fangs come out earlier?”

“Yeah. It was the smell of my blood.”

He nodded. “Blood, pheromones, and adrenaline will trigger it.”

“
Pheromones
?”

He shrugged. “Pheromones can be a powerful aphrodisiac for a vampire.”

I cringed.
Ew
.

He laughed at my expression. “You’re not going to be so grossed out when it happens.” His laughter was distracting, full and rich.

“Anyway,” I said, getting back onto our previous topic. “Why was this Timothy guy trying to kill me?”

“I don’t know. The police think he was going to kidnap you for ransom money.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. First off, I have no money. But second, and more important, the guy was going to kill me. I’m absolutely certain about that.”

Andre growled, sending shivers up my arms. “What doesn’t make any sense is how he got into my VIP suite in the first place
—
and why he would attack you in such a highly protected location. That room should be impenetrable.”

I gazed out the window at the nightlife beyond the road. The most amazing thing about my new vision was how alive the world was at night.

Andre’s phone chirped.

Smoothly he pulled it out of his pocket and to his ear. “Andre.”

I could hear the other end of the conversation, and, unashamed, I proceeded to eavesdrop. “This is Sergeant O’Brien.”

I tried not to roll my eyes as I waited for her to flirt with Andre. Instead, she said, “Timothy Watts just escaped custody and is at large.”

Chapter 13

Andre swore. “Why
wasn’t anyone paying attention to him? I paid good money for your department to make this a priority case.”

Now
that
was news to me.

“Sir, we have no idea how he could have escaped. The officer watching him says the man vanished right into thin air.” If I wasn’t mistaken, Officer O’Brien was a little shaken.

Andre’s lips thinned in displeasure. “Margaret,” he said, “
humans
don’t just disappear into thin air. Find him.”

Officer O’Brien sounded weary. “We will notify you of any and all updates. Have a good night.”

Andre clicked off the phone and pounded a fist into the driving wheel, denting it as he did so.

His jaw muscle twitched. “You heard everything she said?” he asked.

“You mean the part about Timothy Watts escaping? Yep, heard that.” My hands had begun to shake. Was Timothy Watts going to come after me again? Would I have to live in fear of another attack?

“This day just needs to be over,” I mumbled.

“You should stay with me at the mansion,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t think so.”

He looked up at the car’s ceiling
—
really unsafe when considering how fast he was going. “We have guest rooms Gabrielle.”

“Well, I want to sleep in my own bed. My building has decent security.” A.k.a., a college student at the front desk.

“Fine.” Andre wasn’t buying it, but for once he didn’t argue. Instead he said, “I meant to tell you this much earlier this evening, but got sidetracked: Santiago left you an inheritance, and I scheduled a meeting for you with the manager of his estate later this week.”

My heart skipped a beat. My biological father wrote me into his will? Why had I not known about this? “How do you know that my father left me an inheritance?”

“All vampires write out wills, and Santiago left me in charge of carrying out his. I actually hadn’t thought about the matter until yesterday. I looked into it, and it appears that Santiago’s assets have remained frozen since his death.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to this news. My father had become a shadowy figure in my memory. I was so young when he died that almost everything about him
—
even his name
—
had all but been forgotten. All that I knew for certain was that I loved him and that he saved me from that fire.

“Santiago left behind peculiar instructions. Instructions that his inheritance go to you, and further that, in the case of your disappearance, the inheritance was to be frozen for up to twenty years. All that he owns is yours
—
and believe me, it’s a lot.”

***

I woke up to a pillow smacking me in the face.

“You’re a loser.” Leanne sat on my bed, arms crossed. She was still in her pajamas and her hair was a mess. “You were almost murdered last night, and you didn’t bother waking me up!”

I rubbed my eyes. Behind Leanne, I read the letters brightly illuminated on her laptop:

Attempted Murderer at Large.

Investigators Claim Perpetrator Vanished into Thin Air.

I yawned. “Right. Because I want to relive my attack at 2:00 a.m. in the morning
—
when we have class the next day.”

She paused. “I guess that’s a good point.” I could tell Leanne was still agitated, and it took me a second to realize that it wasn’t me she was angry with.

Understanding dawned on me. “Are you upset because you didn’t see it happen?”

“
Foresee
—
seers foresee,” she corrected absentmindedly. “And yes, I should’ve been able to foresee this like I did the fight with Doris.” She frowned.

“Leanne, don’t be so hard on yourself. You just developed the ability a few days ago.”

“Yeah,” she agreed halfheartedly. Her voice indicated that she was going to still blame herself.

There was a bang as someone tried to open our locked door. Leanne and I grabbed each other.

“Bitches, let me in!”

Oliver. I let out a shaky breath, got up, and unlocked the door. He pushed his way in before enveloping me in a hug. “Stop almost dying on me beautiful.”

When he pulled away, I saw his eyes were red rimmed.

“Aw, Oliver,” I hugged him back, “I’m pretty tough to kill.”

He wiped his eyes, composing himself. He took in the two of us and made a tsk-ing sound. “Whoa. You two put the
hag
in
haggard
.”

That earned him a pillow to the face.

***

Today was going a lot like yesterday. Everyone acted as though I was the bubonic plague. By the time I walked into my third period class, History of the Isle of Man, I had adjusted to the disgust and fear I saw in most students’ eyes. When would they realize I was just like them?

I made my way down a row of desks. Predictably, those closest to me scooted their desks away
—
as if my mere proximity would somehow affect them.

I managed to find a series of empty desks near the back of the room, and I picked one and sat down.

I was left to my dark thoughts until a sexy guy with wavy blonde hair entered the room. The girls noticed him instantly. They followed him with their eyes as he made his way through the class. I could hear the subtle increase of the room’s collective heart rate, and I could even smell the adrenaline of a few girls who had some serious crushes.

He passed them, making a beeline for … me. I stared into a pair of baby blues as he sat down next to me, looking like a golden god.

“Hey,” he said casually, his voice thick with an Australian accent. He leaned back in his chair and stretched, oblivious to the attention he was receiving.

“Uh, hi,” I replied, surprised someone wanted to talk to me.

“I’m Caleb Jennings.”

I looked around us, sure this had to be a mistake or some sort of prank. “I’m Gabrielle,” I said.

The bell rang, and our teacher approached the front of the class.

“Did I miss anything yesterday?” Caleb asked. “I was out.”

I whispered back. “Only a series of Manx terms for different geographical regions. Absolutely riveting.”

Caleb stared at me for a moment, and then broke out into laughter.

Mr. Mead gave us the stink eye, but he didn’t stop talking to scold us.

“I heard Mr. Mead is supposed to be epically boring,” Caleb said.

“Really
—
you heard that? Your source must’ve confused our teacher with someone else. Like I said, this guy’s absolutely riveting.” Caleb snickered.

Two girls turned to give me dirty looks. They turned back around and leaned into each other. I could hear their whispered accusation:
Why is
he
sitting with
her
? And why is he talking to her?
I was wondering the same thing myself.

As the class got going, and the professor discussed the history of the Isle of Man, Caleb passed a paper to me.

I looked over at him, and he smiled before continuing to take notes. I opened the note to find a game of hangman. The sentence that I was to figure out, letter by letter, ended with a question mark. As we passed the note back and forth, and I was seriously losing, the hanged man began looking an awful lot like Professor Mead with his monocle and neatly trimmed beard.

Eventually I decoded the message.

Will you go out with me Friday night?

I quickly looked over at Caleb, who was waiting for my answer.

Going on a date would be a lost cause. For one, my past experiences had never ended well. The only person to ever pursue me further than a single date was Andre, and well, I didn’t really know what to think of that situation.

Two, I was a soulmate. The odds were next to impossible that Caleb was my single true love.

Even knowing it would end badly, I wrote
yes
below his hangman game along with my number.

He smiled brightly and began humming as he went back to his notes, while I sat there trying to tune back in to the lecture and already regretting my decision. 

“… The
Mauthe Doog
, or
Moddey Dhoo
, is a black demonic dog that is said to roam these very halls.

“It is believed to be a death knell; anyone who sees the dog will supposedly die soon after.” The bell rang, interrupting today’s oh-so-exciting discussion of demonic dogs.

“Remember to study your Manx names and read the first chapter of the
History and Myths of the Isle of Man
for Friday’s quiz. Class dismissed.”

While I was still packing, Caleb grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow,” he said, and then he was gone.

***

After school I wandered into the library. Now that my genetics were at the center of a controversy, I needed information about my parents. I didn’t know if I’d find anything, but I figured the supernatural community was fairly small. Hopefully that made it more likely that someone had recorded my parents’ lives.

The library was barren except for what appeared to be a witch reading up on her spells.

Reading through the catalogue signs, I came to an aisle marked
Monsters
.

I walked down the isle, reading the subcategories. Aquatic Beasts. Otherworld Creatures. Nocturnal Beings.

Bingo
.

My eyes skimmed over books on demons, doppelgangers, and lycanthropes before finally finding books on vampires. I pulled out a few books that looked good and headed to a table.

Clicking on the desk lamp, I opened the first book,
Famous Vampires of History
. Sitting right in the middle of the table of contents was my father’s name, Santiago Fiori. I knew that he and I shared last names, so I wasn’t sure why it was so shocking to see it written on the page. Maybe it was because I hadn’t expected to find him so easily after so many years of dead ends. Or maybe it was because the book was first printed in 1887. I flipped to the corresponding chapter. 

Born in Venice in 1498, Santiago Fiori was the youngest of the Five Elders and the last vampire sired by Andre de Leon.

Andre had changed my father?

Raptly I read through the next ten pages, finding out that Santiago befriended a number of popes
—
which shocked and greatly embarrassed the supernatural community
—
helped smuggle out many aristocratic families during the French Revolution, and had rubbed elbows with Shakespeare
—
who he later admitted was a “charming brute.” And there was so much more. He was a bitter enemy of Henry VIII, a confidante of Napoleon, and a close friend to Benjamin Franklin during the time the latter spent in Europe. It appeared my father went wherever history went.

There was likely to be more information about my father’s life throughout the twentieth century, but the book was old, and its history stopped a century short.

I picked up another book,
Modern Day Vampires
. Just like in the previous book, this one discussed my father. While it touched on some of his historical achievements, it focused more on his personality and what he was doing up until the time of his death.

Fiori was an avid supporter of Andre de Leon’s Vida Mandata, the official declaration that prohibits vampires from turning a human. He was the only Elder to not pass on his vampiric lineage.

Toward the end of his life, Santiago met, fell in love with, and married Celeste Kallos, the last living siren.

Celeste Kallos. I had found my mother’s name. I shut the book. Now it was time to learn about my mother. I got up and wandered the isles, eventually coming across a promising section.

“You’re not going to find her here.”

I looked up from where I was crouching and met the gaze of an old woman with skin the color of ebony, Peel’s head librarian. I read her nametag: Lydia Thyme.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, confused by her words.

“Your mama. You won’t find the truth about her in these books. They don’t talk about the darker side of your world. For that you need permission to access your clan’s private collection.”

“How did you know that … ?” The woman raised an eyebrow and swept her gaze across the library. She didn’t need to speak; her eyes said it all. She could read me like the many books around us.

“I’m sorry
—
I’m still getting used to this new world.”

“That’s alright, hun. Like I said, if you want to find out more about Celeste, you’ll need permission to access your clan’s books.”

“How do I get access if I’m the last of my clan?”

“In that case I’m afraid students are only allowed in if they are interning with the House of Keys or training with the Politia.”

I’d only understood about half of the words in that sentence, but enough to know I didn’t have access.

“However, I think under the circumstances surrounding your past and your lineage, I can bend the rules.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. I’d been met with so much animosity lately that I greatly valued her offer.

“If you can wait here, I’ll grab the book I believe you’re looking for.”

“Yes, definitely.”

She inclined her head, and walked down the isle and out of sight. Five minutes later she returned with a single book. She passed it to me, and I read the cover.
The Last of the Sirens
.

“That book should answer all your questions. Make sure you bring the book back to me before you leave.”

“Why are you doing this?”

She stared at me for a long time, and I got the distinct impression she was looking into my soul. Finally she said, “I was leading the ritual the night you died. You …
intrigued
me. I also happen to be old friends with someone from your past.”

The hairs on my arm rose. She was trying to tell me something, but I was not sure what. I was also not sure how I should feel about her. She didn’t seem evil, like the man in the suit, but she didn’t seem good either.

***

I walked back to the table and opened this final book. A bookmark slid out. Never taking my eyes off the text, I fruitlessly groped around for the fallen slip of paper.