Midnight Whispers (The Midnight Duology #1)

Chapter 2

2

Now…

The day my protégé Wren died, I promised myself I’d never become a maker again; except under one condition, and that's when I got the chance to kill Cedar. The Counsel requires a life be made to replace a life taken.

There’s no proof Cedar was the one who killed Wren, but after they left L.A., we never saw him again. Wren sent letters for a couple of years, but a few months before his death, they stopped. The letters came postmarked from all over the world, so it was nearly impossible to track him down.

Letting him go was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.

I had become a “vegetarian” of sorts; only eating deer, bear, and whatever kind of large feline I could literally sink my teeth into. It never fully satisfied me, so I decided I needed something else. I had chosen to live an alternate lifestyle because killing innocent people never felt right for me but killing the monsters was just fine. I do still snack on animals from time to time to sustain my appetite, but I love hunting the worst types of people.

Unlike my maker, Asher, who felt no remorse for hurting anyone, I still clung to my humanity even decades later. After rebelling in the twenties, once I decided I was ready to integrate back into society, I realized the number of shitty people in the world and all their behaviors and actions made it easy to revert to my natural appetite. If I was forced to be a monster and live in the shadows, the least I could do is rid the streets of the ones that lurk within plain sight.

The sweet metallic taste of blood dances on my tongue as my most recent victim relaxes beneath me. It’s all the same, really. They fight for a moment until their veins flood with my venom, making them believe they enjoy this. It took me centuries to not feel guilty for being what I am, for doing what I need to survive.

My current victim’s knees buckle beneath him, his heartbeat slowing to a stop as I drain the last bit of his blood. I push down the feeling of guilt; he doesn't deserve my remorse. Much like the little emotion he was going to show the young woman he had been following for the last three blocks. I pulled him into the alleyway only moments before she walked up the stairs to her apartment, where he planned to sneak up behind her and strike.

I drive out near the outskirts of town and toward the ocean. Emolyn Cove is a sleepy little beach town that rests along the coastline of Oregon, perfect for hiding in plain sight. Once I get to the cliff, I back up, so the trunk of my car is near the cliff's edge. I exit the car and stand at the edge, looking down as the waves crash along the cliff face.

The water crashes angrily against the rocks that rest below; it’s the perfect place for disposing of a body. I pull the lifeless corpse out of the trunk of my car, tossing him effortlessly over my shoulder and shutting the hatch. I lunge the body off my shoulder, watching him fall down the cliffside and into the water. He’ll be shark food by sunrise and this sleepy beachside town will be all the better for it.

I want to feel sorry for the life I’ve taken, but I don't.

The sun is beginning to rise, painting the sky in its pastel hues of morning. I look down at my hands and chest that are now covered in the blood of the man I just consumed. Shaking off the aura of death, I drive my car through the familiar winding, mountainside streets up to the house Asher and I share. This is the fourth time we’ve lived in Emolyn Cove. The first time we lived here together was when I was changed, but Asher had lived here once before that.

Asher and I have spent the better part of the early 1900’s seeing the world. We stayed in Europe mostly before coming back to America. Desperate for music and art, we visited New Orleans, Chicago, and Los Angeles once or twice. Asher had always been hopeful in his search for a coven. In every place we had seen, there had always been a way to find more of our kind. But most covens were established, and mates were found and had no reasons for any new additions.

We purchased a duplex nestled into what locals called the Hollywood Hills. It was a Spanish style home, which was incredibly popular in L.A during the twenties. It had only taken three days before we found a coven and laid eyes on Evelyn for the first time.

Her green eyes stared back at me and my knees threatened to buckle beneath me as I gazed at the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Everything around me faded away into a blur. Her beauty was ethereal and unlike anything I had ever experienced. Freckles scattered across her ivory skin, and I desired nothing more but to plant kisses on every single one. I was surprised by the softness of her skin, and was intrigued to find the scent of jasmine and rose had covered a faint hint of tobacco. I remember how my fingers twitched with desire to run them through her shoulder length copper hair. Every nerve in my body felt as if it was begging her to touch me, to kiss me, to ruin me.

And she did just that.

My thoughts snap back to reality as I near the front gate of the manor. I approach the towering iron gate, placing my thumb on the fingerprint reader, and watch as the gates begin to swing open. I drive onto the path that leads to the newly built home, designed by Asher of course. He wanted to keep it classic but felt the desire to modernize it. The house is two stories tall and honestly holds more rooms than we need, especially since we don’t sleep. I’m quiet as I pull my car into the garage in hopes to not awake any guest Asher may have.

Asher has no preference between mortal and vampire lovers. He has never discriminated against anyone willing to go to bed with him, not that it takes much convincing on his end. I walk through the manor door and take in the quiet, appreciating the silence as I make my way toward the library. It was the only room I had demanded to be incorporated into the building plans.

Books are my escape, the only escape, really. Through the pages of books, I can enter a new reality. I am no longer a monster but the hero who wins at the conclusion of the book. An outrageous notion, really, because I could never be the hero. I’ll always be the villain.

The smell of aged parchment fills the air as I run my fingers along the spines of the books that have been unpacked and sorted. With Asher and I having lived through quite a few publications, we have a vast variety of books and first editions.

We don’t show many people the library for this very reason. Too many questions would be raised on how we came to acquire so many original copies of the classics. He stopped reading as much when the television was invented, especially now with so many streaming services at his disposal. I do enjoy the occasional movie, but I much prefer the comfort I find within the pages of my books.

I’m surprised to find the manor empty as I walk in through the garage. There’s a tinge of guilt at the relief I feel to have some time alone, but nobody being here means I don’t have to explain my appearance. My bare chest is covered in blood, as is my neck and chin, so the only thing I want right now is a shower. I take off my boots by the front door, not wanting to hear Asher complain about me tracking blood and dirt throughout the new floor and walk up the stairs.

He wouldn’t ask any questions or really pay any attention to the blood that covers my skin, but the staff might. Asher has grown accustomed to my alternative lifestyle over the last decade or two. Asher’s never been one to judge, especially since he’d seen me kill out of anger before.

We’ve lived in France for two years now. We’ve come to thrive in this country. The five of us; Asher, Markus, Evelyn, Cedar, and I found our villa shortly after we arrived in 1945. It has six bedrooms, so there was enough room for privacy.

Evelyn and I share a room, now that we’ve been together for a while. We had hope that Cedar would find companionship with Antionette when we met her upon our arrival in France. She and Asher knew each other in another lifetime, and she joined our coven shortly after we found our way to France. Cedar, however, found comfort elsewhere. He’s very secretive about his lover, only speaking about her when he details their sex life. After the first couple of conversations, Asher finally demanded he stop. The level of detail was beginning to make everyone uncomfortable, especially Evelyn.

There wasn’t a lack of nightlife in France. Asher and I enjoyed the cinema, but nobody else in the coven wanted to join us. Tonight, we watched the crime film, La femme en rouge, or The Woman in Red.

“I wish Evelyn would watch films with us more,” I admit as we cross the street on the walk back to our villa.

“Why did she stay home tonight?” Asher asks.

“She didn’t get a reason, but you know film just isn’t her favorite activity.”

He let out a humph.

Out of the twenty years that I’ve spent involved with Evelyn, Asher has disliked her for the last nineteen. He has no reason except he thinks she’s taking advantage of me and my good heart, which angers him. Asher feels the need to protect me, both as my maker and as my friend.

As we near the entrance of our villa, I’m surprised when the only light that is on is coming from my bedroom. The door is unlocked, but there’s sounds of crashing coming from the back. There’s an echo of something breaking, followed by a muffled moan.

My breathing immediately speeds up, a pressure building in my head like I’m going to explode. I know that moan.

Asher grabs onto my shoulders, “Finnian, listen to me,” he instructs. “You need to calm yourself, come to your senses. Don’t let her lead you to do something you’ll regret.”

I jerk my shoulder out of his grasp and race up the stairs. My knees threaten to fail as the weight of what’s in front of me sinks in. Evelyn looks over her shoulder, making eye contact with me, and smirks .

She fucking smirks.

“What. The. Fuck,” I hiss.

I was so naive, so desperate to be loved that I didn’t see what was happening right under my nose. Cedar turns to me and lowers his gaze; a snarl escapes his lips in challenge as he drives into her again.

My vision blurs to crimson; anger fills every part of my body and I just lunge. I know exactly what will happen to me if I were to kill another vampire, but there’s no longer a single rational thought in my mind.

“Finnian!” Asher’s voice sounds miles away.

Cedar dodges my advance, but it wasn’t him I was after anyway. Evelyn’s eyes stare back into mine, full of surprise and betrayal. I push my hand in her chest, through her sternum, and wrap it around her cold heart.

It doesn’t beat, of course. But I grip onto it tighter and rip it through her skin. A single tear slides down her cheek as she stares into my eyes, before her body goes limp and she falls to the ground at my feet. Cedar crawls to her lifeless body, sobbing as he wraps her into his arms.

Asher races to me and yanks me from the scene. “Go! Now!” he shouts. “You must leave. The Council will see this as an unforgivable act. You must go, Finnian,” he demands and wraps me into an embrace, just a goodbye for now.

The decision to leave was easy.

I no longer want to feel anything, and I know I’ll bring Asher down with me if I stay.

I pass through my room and the walk-in closet to get to the bathroom. The walls are painted a sleet gray; it accents the white and black marble tile and the black subway tiles that line the walk-in shower. Water begins to flow from the rainfall shower head hanging from the middle of the ceiling. The taste of my victim’s blood still lingers in my mouth, so I quickly brush my teeth while the water heats. I take off the rest of my clothes, throwing them into a pile in the corner of the bathroom before stepping into the shower. The water rushes over me, washing the wine-colored dry blood off my skin. My hair is caked with remnants of my victim, so I take extra care when I wash it to make sure I get everything out.

After I cleanse my skin of the blood, I stand beneath the flow of the water. I’m reluctant to leave the warmth of the shower. Even though I don’t need the therapeutic properties of the heat for any muscle aches or pains, I still enjoy the slight increase of body temperature.

Regardless of it only being temporary.

I dress in dark jeans and a T-shirt, my typical attire. The sound of Asher’s voice carries itself from downstairs up toward my room. It only takes me a moment to realize he’s giving someone a tour of the downstairs. Not wanting to be bothered, I shut and lock my bedroom door and grab a book off the shelf.

My phone dings with an alert.

Asher: It’s just one of the contractors I’ve hired for the other room renovations.

Me: Renovations? Didn’t we just rebuild this house?

Asher: Yes, but there are some things I’m not satisfied with .

I let out a small chuckle and put my phone away. In the hundreds of years I’ve known Asher, he’s seldomly satisfied so I’m not in the least bit surprised. His voice echoes as he moves from room to room, showing the contractor what exactly he wants done.

To return to reading, I close my eyes and try to focus on quieting the sounds around me. It’s a skill I have yet to master, regardless of how hard I try. As a vampire, my hearing is extremely heightened and it’s overwhelming to say the least. Especially since I was someone who enjoyed the quiet before going through the change.

Eventually the contractor leaves and Asher retires to his favorite room in the manor: the television room. I go back and forth with my choice before ultimately deciding to go and join him. The curtains are drawn, and the lights are all off, really setting the mood for the scary movie he’s turned on.

“Finnian. Join me!” Without turning in my direction, he pats the couch next to him.

I detest scary movies. I’ve never been one for horror in any form be it books, movies, or those ridiculous haunted house walk-throughs. It’s not that I’m scared per se, but my fight or flight response wasn’t trustworthy when I was a human and it only got worse as a vampire.

“What are you watching?” I ask cautiously.

“ Insidious. It’s not that scary.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Oh, of course not,” he replies mockingly.

In the moment I go to turn, there’s a damn jump scare with a red-faced demon popping out of fucking nowhere.

“God damn it, Ash!”

“You’re a vampire, you aren’t supposed to be scared.”

“I’m not scared . This shit just makes my skin crawl. Why do you like it? ”

Asher laughs before responding. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “I’ve just always enjoyed the adrenaline rush.”

I narrow my eyes in his direction. “You’re a freak, Ash.”

“Don’t I know it,” he smirks.

Reluctantly, I stayed with him and finished the movie. As soon as it ends, Asher turns and asks, “Want to watch the next one?”

My eyes widened. “There’s more? How many are there?”

“I don’t know, like five or something.”

“That’s four too many,” I shake my head and stand. “We need to find you a mate who likes this scary shit.” A pained expression appears on his face, and I realize I struck a nerve. He’s been without a mate for so long and here I am just rubbing it in his face. “I didn't mean…”

Asher musters a small smile. “I know you didn’t. One day she will come, and it will be wonderful. All the scary movies and sex I could ever want.”

“Nobody deserves that more.”

He smiles. “But really,” he continues, “are you going to watch it with me?”

“Absolutely not,” I responded, turning and exiting the room.

“Love you,” he yells after me.

“Love you too, Ash.”

And I do. He’s not only my maker, but my family and best friend. In the lifetimes we’ve been together, he’s always been constant.

I walk up to my room, closing the door behind me and picking my book back up. All the talk about mates has my California king sized bed feeling extra empty tonight.