Zara's Curse (Empire of Fangs) (15 page)

Micah cackled from the altar.
 

Zara and Twig both twisted around and looked down the aisle at him.
 
He stood there with his arms spread wide.
 
He was speaking a strange language, his booming voice shaking the ground and making dust fall from the ceiling.

“What…is that?” Zara asked, looking at Twig, who gripped a stake in his hand and gritted his teeth.

“That’s no language I know,” Twig replied in a whisper.

Before Zara could stop him Twig dashed forward, stake in hand.
 
Micah dove at him with great speed, and lifted him up by his throat, holding him in the air. Zara rushed to help him but Micah was ready, and struck her with a backhand that flung her back like a child.
 
She lay on the floor again, as Twig gasped and struggled.
 
With his free hand, Micah snatched the stake out of Twig’s hand.

“Tsk, tsk.
 
You Solleros are a daft bunch aren’t you.
 
Now, since you killed my cousin, the stake goes in slowly.
 
I want you to beg for death.”

He put the tip of the stake over Twig’s chest, who wheezed.
 
Zara looked up at the scene helplessly, sapped by her efforts.
 
Twig was turning blue.
 
She struggled to get up but fell back to her knees. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.
  

Micah positioned the stake over Twig’s heart.
 
“Be still boy, it’s only going to hurt worse if I miss the heart.”
 

Micah began to push the stake in, slowly.
 

Zara felt a rage overwhelm her. A swelling of hatred unlike anything she had ever known. She rose to her feet and lunged at Micah, knocking Twig free and slamming Micah hard against the altar.
 
He hissed at her and swiped, but her fury was absolute.
 
With her left hand she reached inside Micah’s shirt and tore away the protective Kevlar patch she knew he’d be wearing. With her right, she ripped the stake from his hand. Micah hissed again.
 
She lifted the stake high over her head and drove it down hard into his heart.
  
He let out a piercing howl.

Zara stood and looked down at Micah.
 
He managed to rise to his feet, and took a few aimless steps.
 
Twig had caught his breath and was looking on with a look at terror, at both Micah and Zara.

Micah looked down at the stake protruding from his chest and smiled sinisterly.
 
His face had reverted back to its smooth, innocent form.
 
He looked at Twig.
 
“She’ll turn on you too,” he said.
 
He wobbled and then slumped over a pew.
   

Twig lay there stunned, his eyes wide with confusion.
 
Zara sat down on one of the wooden benches and began to weep into her hands.

Twig slowly regained his composure.
 
He stood up and coughed up some blood and rubbed his throat.
 
He went over and put a hand on Zara’s shoulder, but she shrugged it away. “I need a moment,” she said, and sat down in one of the pews.
 

“Okay…sure, yeah,” Twig stammered.
 
He sat next to her, and took labored breaths.
 

After a long bout of silence Twig spoke.
 
“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Zara said listlessly.

 
“Do you, um, feel different?”
 
He asked.

“No.
 
I feel the same.”

Twig let out a long sigh and clasped his hands.
 
“It wasn’t Micah who bit you, was it?”

Zara stared blankly at the floor.
 
“I don’t know. Apparently not.”

She looked over at the pitiful creature slumped on the pew.
 

“Then it must have been Drake.
 
Damon was sleeping when we were at the party, and Vivian is dead.
 
He’s the only one who could’ve done it.

“Nic…I’m sorry.
 
I guess I can’t stop it now.”
 

She seldom called him by his real name.
 
Hardly anyone did.
 
“That’s not entirely true,” he said as he walked over to the Ziploc bags and picked one up.
 
He pulled out one of the vials, which was filled with a gray liquid.
 
“My father said there was another serum he hid.
 
One that stops the mutation.”

Zara’s eyes lit up.
 
“You’re telling me there’s a cure?”

“Well.
 
Not exactly Zar.
 
This stuff just stops the progression of the mutation.
 
It can’t undo what has been done.”

Zara sighed and gave him a confused look.
 
“Great.
 
So what then?
 
I won’t be human or a vampire?
 
I’ll be stuck in some kind of genetic limbo?”

Twig went over to her and handed her the vial.
 
“It’s not ideal.
 
But think of the alternative.
 
These things…” he looked over at the corpse of Micah.
 
“Their souls are lost.
 
Any good in them dies.
 
Maybe this way, you can hold onto your soul.
 
And who knows?
 
Maybe someday my father can cure you completely.”

“And how do I know this won’t just kill me?
 
You think of that?
 
Maybe that was your father’s idea all along?
 
To him I’m just another monster.”

Twig looked hurt.
 
“My dad wouldn’t do that to you…he wouldn’t do that to me.”

Zara turned the vial around in her hand.
 
She knew he was right.
 
She didn’t want to end up like the Caspari family.
 
She didn’t want to be angry and hateful.
 

She squeezed his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder.
 
She undid the cap of the vial and threw it back.
 
“Woo,” she said miserably.

Twig laughed.
 
“Let’s hope that worked.
 
You’ll probably still lust for blood.
 
That might be a tough one.
 
I guess there are always blood banks.
 
Or telemarketers.”

Zara laughed and it filled the room.
  
She turned her head.
 
She kissed him lightly, and ran a hand through his hair.
 
“What if…I can’t control myself?
 
What if I try to bite you?”

Twig got up and walked over to Micah’s body.
 
“Just try to remember that that is a really bad idea.
 
Remember Vivian? Ker-blooey?”
 
He shook the Ziploc bag at her.
 
Pretty clever really, I can’t be turned if whoever bites me explodes a few minutes later.
 
Gotta give the Pops some credit there.” Twig chuckled but there seemed to be a hint of sadness in his voice.
 
Maybe it was hitting him that he would someday die an old man, while she might live for a very long time
, Zara thought.
 
And who knew how deeply infected she already was?

He gathered up the Ziploc bags and tucked them under his coat.
 
He walked over to Micah, yanked the stake from his heart and flung it to Zara, who caught it.
 
He rifled Micah’s wallet, and stuffed the cash in his pocket.
 
“Gonna need all we can get,” he said apologetically to Zara, who looked only a bit appalled.
 
Lastly he took off the leather band around Micah’s wrist.

“Now you’re just being rude,” Zara said at him.

“It’s inscribed in some ancient language.
 
I bet this thing is a thousand years old Zar…” His voice trailed off as he inspected it.
 
Finally he put it in his pocket for safekeeping.
 
He looked around the room.

“Is that a crossbow?” He asked excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s all yours.
 
I’m a lousy shot as it turns out.”
 

He walked over to it, his gear banging around noisily on his belt, and picked it up.
 

“We have to finish this,” Zara said, looking upwards with a look of grim determination.
 
“Nobody else can.
 
We can’t let them destroy more lives.”

Twig nodded.
 
He put the crossbow strap over his shoulder.
 
“Damon has plans.
 
Serious plans.
 
I think he is going to marry Norah Winters.
 
He said something about going to Washington.
 
Who knows what he is capable of?”

Zara stood up.
 
“And then there’s Drake,” she said.
  
“By now Abby has changed as well,” she thought of her old friend, of better days when they used to steal her mother’s make-up and dance around to Britney Spears songs in her room.
  
It was just another memory she would have to let go, like so many others, she thought.
 

“Let’s get out of here,” Zara said, looking around the room one last time.
 

This time they went through the front door.
 
“Should we lock up?” Twig asked.

Zara laughed.
 
“For all the trouble this place has caused us I’m not too worried about it.”

They walked together, briskly for the Scout.
 
Inside Twig turned on the heat and rubbed his hands together.
 
“Bit nippy,” he said.
 
But Zara couldn’t tell either way.
 

Twig reached down and turned on an old police scanner that was bolted under the CD player.
 
“See if were famous yet,” he grumbled.
 
A female voice crackled over the scanner.
 
At first it was barrage of undecipherable police jargon.
 
But Twig snapped to attention when he heard his name. “Nicolas Sollero, age 22, Caucasian male, blonde hair, hazel eyes, approximately five foot eleven inches. Suspect is wanted for questioning in the murders of Vivian and Jonas Caspari.
 
Suspect is considered armed and dangerous, and is driving a beige 64’ Dodge Scout and was last seen wearing hospital scrubs.
 
He is traveling with a female…”

The woman went on to describe Zara, the black hair with streaks of blonde, pale complexion…

He started the car and drove down the lonely and quiet streets.
 
The madness of downtown had subsided, and only a few restless souls shuffled along on its sidewalks. He had to get Zara someplace safe and quiet.
 
Someplace she could rest.
 
He couldn’t take her to his apartment or hers.
 
Cops were surely waiting for them there.