The II AM Trilogy Collection Read online

  Missy snarled, racing around one edge of the couch. Two moved swiftly to the other, keeping the sofa between herself and Missy’s claws, hooked into talons and ready to tear at flesh. Her foot landed on something: a table leg. It rolled, and Two was unable to cope with the sudden shift in balance. She stumbled backward, fell to the carpet and landed on her back with a thud. The plush softness of the material seemed somehow obscene in light of the situation.

  Missy howled in triumph and flung herself again into the air, so fast that Two could barely track her movement. It was too late to roll, too late to dodge, too late to do anything. Time seemed to stretch out. Missy was in the air above her, a vision of death and hate and horror unlike any Two had ever beheld. Two’s hands scrabbled at her sides, looking for something, anything. Her hands touched something cylindrical, grabbed it in a panic, brought it in front of her.

  The table leg.

  Twelve inches long, three in diameter, the leg had splintered into a sharp point when the table had disintegrated. Two held it out against the oncoming impact in desperation. Missy’s eyes flared wide in surprise just before she landed.

  The sound the piece of oak made as it entered Missy’s breastplate was indescribable. Splitting flesh, cleaving through bone, it pierced her body, the force of her landing driving it further and further in. Two felt a sudden liquid warmth gush across her hands. She shoved out and up, flipping the girl over on her back. Missy somersaulted, flailed in the air, and crashed to the floor on her back. Two rolled away, blood on her hands, her clothes, the carpet, everywhere.

  Missy was making strangled choking noises, clawing at the stake in her chest, unable to get a decent handhold through the blood and the pain. She writhed on the floor, unable to lie flat. The point of the table leg held her back in an arched position. She screamed, and the scream became wet and strained, filling the air with red mist. Then she fell back again and was still.

  * * *

  Two lay on the ground, waiting for her limbs to stop shaking. It seemed an eternity but was in truth only moments. She pushed herself to a sitting position and looked at the body on the floor in front of her. She was vaguely aware of Sam’s presence beside her. The half-vampire spoke, her voice taut and breathy with tension. “Holy shit!”

  The body on the floor jerked at this sound, arms flailing, and clawed at the entertainment center to its left. Missy’s nails dug into the wood, splintering it. With an effort, she hauled herself upward, leaning against the wall, coughing blood. She brought her feet around and slumped into a sitting position, leaning against the cabinet, looking at the stake in her chest.

  “Oh, God,” Two moaned. She scrambled backward on her hands, like a crab, away from the figure.

  At this, the girl’s head jerked upward. Her eyes locked with Two’s. Not Missy’s eyes, Two realized. Melissa’s.

  “Oh, God!” Two cried. “Oh, no! Melissa …” She crawled back toward Melissa. The wood had pierced the lower part of Melissa’s breastplate, traveling at an upward path and emerging just to the left of her spine, some six inches above the spot it had entered. Not knowing what else to do, Two grasped at the stake and began to tug, trying to pull it from her friend’s body.

  Melissa regarded her calmly, opened her mouth, tried to talk. A crimson bubble formed, burst at her lips, and the words came.

  “Two. Two, stop. It hurts. Please stop.”

  Two stopped, looked at Melissa, tried to say something that would make up for what she had done, and instead burst into tears.

  Melissa took her hand.

  “It’s okay, Two. Thank you. She’s gone. She’s dead, Two. You killed her. Thank you. I’m dying too, I guess, but that’s okay. I told you: I was going to die anyway.”

  Two was making whimpering sounds, between her sobs. She wanted words to come. She wanted to apologize, to take it back somehow. Her throat seemed incapable of forming articulate sound. She pressed her forehead against Melissa’s, tilted it up, pressed her lips against the bridge of Melissa’s nose.

  “Sisters.” Melissa’s voice was weakening. She turned her head, coughed blood again, looked at Two in apology. Two reached out and smoothed Melissa’s hair away from her eyes.

  “It’s not so bad. It’s all right. I don’t even feel it anymore. I’m all numb. It’s not so bad, Two. It’s not so bad, Theroen.”

  Melissa’s eyes moved away from Two, focused on a point behind her. Theroen stood in the doorway, motionless. His expression was calm, almost peaceful, but there were tears in his eyes.

  “Is it not, Melissa?” he asked.

  “No. Theroen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you … for being my friend for all these years. You gave me more than I deserved.”

  “Melissa. My sister, you deserve far more than anything I could ever have given.”

  Melissa closed her eyes for a moment, opened them, looked back at Two. Her voice was little more than the movement of air past her lips.

  “You’re going to be a wonderful vampire. He loves you. An eternity of love, Two. Don’t cry.”

  Two found her voice at last, a brittle croak that made her throat ache. “I’m sorry for this, Melissa. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m free. You’re free. Don’t be sorry.”

  She looked again at Theroen, who had moved to kneel beside her, and opened her mouth to say something else. It never came. As she drew in breath, her chest hitched once. Twice. Settled. Melissa’s eyes grew wide and distant, distant and dark; like a glass reflecting eternity. Two made a low, sorrowful noise, closed her eyes, held Melissa’s hand. Theroen spoke, but his voice was distant. Distant and dark.

  “Peace be with you, Melissa. If there is a God, and if he is just, he will bring you to a better place than this.”

  Two felt herself rising, felt herself moving away, running away, as far away as she could go. She made it six feet before she tripped, stumbled, fell to the floor. Her hands clenched at the carpet, as if to tear it from the floor. Death, despair, love. The love made it worse, somehow. An eternity of love.

  Two put her face in the soft loops of wool, sobbing.

  * * *

  It took nearly a minute of saying her name before Theroen was able to gain Two’s attention. She looked at him, blinking and unable to comprehend, then shook her head to clear it. Theroen watched as her eyes filled again with horror, with despair.

  “Don’t.” A simple word, delivered in the same calm, strong manner in which he always spoke. Not a request, not a command. Almost a piece of advice, as in the car, the first night she had met him. Don’t.

  Two clenched her fist, fought down the sorrow that wanted to engulf her, and looked again at her lover.

  “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

  “Oh, yes. Very much so, I’d say. This has not gone according to plan. Anyone’s plan. Unbeknownst to me, there were many of those.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your death at Missy’s hands was meant to be Abraham’s parting gift to his son. Just a little dark comedy. A way of thanking me for centuries of service, and a reminder of who truly holds the power, now and forever. It seems he underestimated your abilities.”

  “Or my luck.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You are alive and Missy is dead. It is regrettable that she took Melissa with her, but this was inevitable. Abraham will not be pleased with this. I think it best that we leave. Now.”

  “Can I come?” The two vampires had forgotten Sam, who had thrown herself behind the couch when Melissa’s body had initially jerked back to life.

  Theroen sighed. He looked at Melissa’s body, looked at Sam, looked at Two.

  “You promised her, Theroen,” Two reminded him.

  “I did, yes.”

  “So let’s go.”

  Theroen nodded. “Yes, Samantha, you may come.”

  Two looked over at Melissa. “What about her? We can’t just leave her here.”

  “Abraham will take care of her. No, don’t
argue. I realize how preposterous it sounds, but you have to trust me. One of the few customs he seems to care about is giving dead vampires a proper funeral. He will conduct services, and then he will burn her, but he will do both with reverence. I do not know why he does this, but I have seen it more than once. It is the only thing in him that still seems human.”

  “It feels wrong.”

  “Everything is going to feel wrong for some times, I think. We must go, Two. You’ve done all you can for Melissa.”

  Sam came to join them. “So what now?”

  Theroen turned to Sam. “Where are your shoes?”

  Sam raised her eyebrows. “How the hell would I know?”

  “You’ll need something for your feet, and a coat. The closet in the hall is full of discarded clothing. Find something.”

  Sam looked at Two, unsure. Two nodded. “Do what he says, Sam.”

  She did. Theroen turned to Two. “Good. Let’s go.”

  Two glanced once more at Melissa as they left the room. She wanted to apologize, to take it back somehow.

  There was no time.

  * * *

  They found Sam at the closet, pulling on her shoes and jacket. Two had brought no possessions to the mansion, and had none to take. Theroen cared very little for any of it, and had no desire to bring anything with him. He held other apartments, in other places, had more than enough money in banks with which to begin their life. They left the mansion, packed full of art, trash, and everything in between, to Abraham.

  The Ferrari wouldn’t fit three, nor would a motorcycle, of which there were four in the garage. A Jeep was parked behind two of the latter, and Theroen leapt on the first, moving it quickly out of the way and returning to move the second. He seemed agitated, an unusual state for him. Two thought it best not to question, but Theroen picked up on her curiosity.

  “I am greatly concerned by what Abraham may do in the heat of the moment. He is undoubtedly aware of his daughter’s death, and I do not expect him to take it well. I hope he may allow us to escape, though I do not know if he will. If he decides to stop us, things will likely not go well.”

  “I’d ask you to define that, but I think I already know.”

  Theroen nodded, and let the second bike drop with a crash, not concerned with it. He moved back to the Jeep. Two reached over, hit the button for the garage door opener, and watched it rise. It was raining outside, dark and cold; December rain just barely too warm to freeze. The hunger raged in her, but now was not the time. She heard a howl.

  “What about Tori?”

  “No time, Two, and no choice. Abraham’s orders were to leave her. We’ve already killed his daughter and are stealing her fledgling. I’ll not risk angering him further.”

  Two looked again out into the blackness beyond the garage door, understanding but not yet ready to accept. Behind her, she heard car doors opening. One closed.

  “Two.” Theroen was standing at his door, waiting. The passenger side was empty in the front. Sam sat in the rear. Two bit her lip, fighting against her anger.

  “Okay, Theroen. It’s not right. It’s not fair. It’s totally fucked up, but I think we crossed the line between right and wrong somewhere around the time I stabbed my friend to death with a fucking table leg, anyway.”

  “That may well be true. We wait on you, my love. You must decide if you are ready to leave.”

  Two clenched her teeth, turned, moved toward the Jeep.

  * * *

  They made it halfway down the driveway before Theroen was forced to jam on the brakes, bringing the Jeep to a sudden, skidding halt on the wet asphalt. Two, not wearing a seatbelt, caught her weight on her arms. Stronger now than she had been before, she barely felt the impact. Sam thudded against the back of Two’s seat with a squawking cry.

  “Theroen! Jesus, what are you …” Two didn’t need to finish. The sweeping sense of dread that engulfed her, starting at the base of her spine and working its way up, told her everything she needed to know. Abraham. Outside. Two looked out through the windshield, and into the eyes of hell.

  “Run him over!” It took Two a moment to recognize her own voice. It sounded like a scared little girl.

  “He could pick up the car.” Theroen’s voice was flat, bereft of emotion, accepting, and Two understood in that moment what was to happen. This would be the end, likely, for all three of them. Frustration, hate and rage rose up inside her. It was going to end like this?

  Theroen picked up on these thoughts, and turned to her. “I am out of ideas, Two. I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought you into any of this.”

  Before Two could respond to this, they heard the rear door unlatch. Two glanced back. Sam’s eyes were fixated on the figure standing before the car. Glazed, unseeing, Sam pushed with her arm, opened the door, stepped out of the car. Two felt the tug as well, a gentle push. Get out. Get out, and all will be well. It grew like the tide, surging over her thoughts, compelling her. Get out, and all will be well.

  Two felt Theroen’s own mind drive suddenly into hers like a spike. It acted as a harsh slap, a mental shock so great that it left her reeling. Abraham’s grip on her thoughts was lost.

  “All will not be well. I’m sorry, Two. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I could think of nothing else to do.”

  “S’okay.” Two felt groggy, like she had just been pulled from a deep sleep. “What do we do, Theroen?”

  “We get out. All will not be well. Be ready to run when I tell you.”

  “Run where?”

  Theroen shrugged. “Run in whatever direction Abraham is not.”

  He exited the car and went to stand beside Sam in the rain. Two followed. Abraham towered in front of them, massive, grim and silent, his face a mask of fury. Two felt rooted to the ground, legs stiff and numb from fear. Run? She wondered if she could move.

  “Father.” Theroen’s voice was quiet. Cautious. Abraham’s eyes moved to his son, seemed to bore into him. Theroen stood firm, staring back at the elder vampire.

  “Leaving so soon, Theroen?” he asked. His voice was light, mocking, but behind it Two heard anger, and an ageless, depthless hate.

  “I thought it best. I can only assume you wish to be rid of me, and of Two, as soon as possible.”

  “Rid of you. Yes. Yes, my headstrong son, I wish to be rid of you. And so, you may go. You will leave me Samantha, and you will leave me Tori, and since I am now short a daughter, you will leave me Two. In doing this, you release yourself from my bond, forever.”

  Theroen took a breath, set himself, looked off to the side and back at Abraham. “No, father. I will not.”

  “Oh no? And tell me, boy … how would you have this encounter end? Shall I allow you and your lover to run off into the darkness? No, I think not. Shall I instead slaughter her, and this half-vampire cow, right where we stand? My child is dead, Theroen, because of your fledgling. Her life is forfeit.”

  “Your daughter murdered herself, Abraham. There is nothing Two wanted less, but she did what she had to do. Two proved superior to Missy.”

  “Did she?” Abraham’s voice was raw in its malice. “Did she indeed? What will she do now, Theroen? She is a quaking little girl, trembling at the darkness. See how she stares? She stands in the face of eternity, a candle before the blackness of the storm. What will she do?”

  Theroen closed his eyes. “She will run, and when you try to pursue her, I will stop you.”

  Abraham seemed taken aback by this. He paused for a brief moment, cocked his head, and then howled his horrible laughter. Two felt goose bumps ripple up and down her arms. Sam cried out, and took a step backwards, her trance dissolving. Abraham put his hand out, and she stilled, but looked at Two as if awaiting instructions.

  “You are ready to die for these two, my son?”

  “Two has my heart, and Samantha has my promise to my sister. I will sacrifice myself for them, if that is how it must be.”

  “Ah, little, holy Theroen. Do you truly believe this act can
make up for centuries of godless living? Centuries of death and evil? How much blood is on your hands?”

  “That blood can never be washed away, Father. You know this. There is much I would atone for, given the chance, but the blood will always remain.”

  “Perhaps I shall simply kill all three of you.”

  Theroen shrugged. “It is within your power. I ask that as payment for three hundred and fifty years of loyalty, you let us live. Let us go, Abraham.”

  “No.”

  “Then I offer my life for theirs. That is the bargain … the request.”

  Two wanted to protest, but could not find her voice. She wondered if it was Abraham or Theroen keeping her from speaking, suspected it was the latter, and began to weep in frustration.

  “Your foolish notions of love and redemption disappoint me, Theroen. At every step, you have disappointed me. Did you learn nothing from Lisette?”

  “I learned much from Lisette, father.”

  “Not everything. No, Lisette brought one secret with her into the ground, Theroen. Sweet little Lisette, pure and honest. Wretched. Loathsome. Good. All these years and you’ve never found out. How marvelous.

  “Oh, Theroen … How she did scream when I chained her to her funeral pyre.”

  Theroen’s eyes blazed. His jaw clenched, hands wrapping into fists, muscles tensing. It seemed that at any moment he would spring at Abraham.

  “Isaac—” he began, and Abraham cut him off with the wave of a hand.

  “Isaac was a fool, and a puppet. It took me little effort to work him into a frothing rage over Lisette’s transgressions. He brought her to me, Theroen, so she would know. Before she died, I wanted her to truly understand the penalty for taking what was mine.”

  Theroen was pale. Shaking. Barely in control of himself. He spoke through his teeth. “I have given you more than three centuries of service for a debt that I did not owe. You will let my child, and Melissa’s child, leave. Then you will prepare for death.”