Broken Souls (4 page)

“Is it just me or is everyone staring at me?” I asked in a
nervous whisper.

“I think it’s because you smell different,” Cloe mused,
gently taking me by the arm and crossing Fourth Street. I slyly peered into Big
Nose Kate’s Saloon as we passed by, noting the live music and bodies crowded inside.

“What do I smell like?” I asked, ignoring the instinct to
sniff myself, thinking it would look kinda weird if I lifted up my arm to sneak
a whiff.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you’re a Newborn, but you
smell… different.”

Again, fear threatened to take over me at the notion that I
was different, and Wilson’s caution to keep my hybrid anomaly a secret flashed
through my brain. But even though they’d sensed my difference, neither Horus
nor Cloe had puzzled out the reason behind it so far. I just prayed it stayed
that way, because as my mentor had warned, anyone knowing about my being a
hybrid could mean my death. I almost laughed, thinking I might be walking
straight to my death now anyway, if the legion deemed it so.

We continued past the Saloon and on to the next block on
Allen Street. The scent of vampires became more distinct, as though we were
walking right into a nest of them.

“Where are we going?” My voice broke nervously.

“The Birdcage Theatre,” Cloe said. “It’s just up here on the
right.”

Directly past the theatre stood the grand wall surrounding
the city that kept trespassers out of Tombstone, and upon seeing it I realized
we’d reached the end of the town. I gazed past the wall to the dark desert sky
beyond, thinking it looked as dark and as empty as my heart felt. The closer we
got to our destination, the more melancholy I became.

Ever since Guy had left me here I couldn’t seem to shake my
sorrow and fear, feeling like something was eminently wrong in the grand scheme
of things. I had an odd sense of foreboding and ached for Guy’s presence,
wanting to feel safe in his arms again. The vivid dream of him still clung to
me like Saran wrap on a cold cornbread casserole and I couldn’t help but wonder
what Guy was doing at this very moment. I wondered if he’d made it back safe to
his FUSE headquarters. But I took comfort in Guy’s promise to me that he’d take
care of Frank. I may have never met my biological father —my maker— but I still
didn’t want him to suffer.

Yet reflections of Guy and Frank fled as we stopped to let a
group of women pass. They held overflowing crates of glass vials and bottles
that clinked together as they walked. Witches, I guessed. I knew by their
smell, which was similar to a human’s but, yet, slightly different. They
chattered together like little song birds as they hurried across the street.
Cloe latched onto my arm pulling me forward. Like the witches, she was also in
a hurry.

I glanced to my side at the girl vampire, her wide eyes
scanning the streets cautiously. I wondered about all the vampires who lived
here. How were they made? Were they brought here as humans like Cloe and
recruited to become a part of this society? Or had they been dead long ago and
made the journey here to join the others? Curiosity overtook me.

“You said you were reborn here?” I asked, following Cloe’s
now rushing footsteps toward the theatre. We passed another large group of vampires
who froze at our passing. I ignored their stares, hating the way it made me
feel like I was on display. “So you were brought here as a human. Was it
against your will?”

Cloe shot me a sidelong glance. “No. I did not wish to
become what I am if that is what you are asking. But it was many years ago and I’ve
come to accept my life now.”

“Do you know who your maker is?” I asked.

My guide’s shoulders tensed at my question, and I got the
sudden hunch that asking about one’s maker was a highly personal question. But
upon thinking about it, the notion made sense to me. Turning into what we were
was hardly a happy event. It was grim, painful and, if I was right in my
assumption, most likely nonconsensual.

The words Cloe said next leaked dread through my body, and she
spoke barely above a whisper.

“Horus… is my maker.”

SIX: RUBY

My heart sank to my feet when Cloe told me Horus was her
maker, now allowing me to understand her apprehension and fear. I felt bad for
her and couldn’t imagine what she must’ve gone through being made by that
horrible beast. It almost made me glad I didn’t know Frank, my maker, and I
couldn’t help but think maybe it was better that way.

Our feet clacked on the sidewalk as we neared the entrance
of The Bird Cage Theatre, the place I would await my sentence. The sounds of rowdy
music and cheering could be heard through the old doors, and my heart pounded
hard, mirroring the rhythm of the muted music inside.

“Here we are,” Cloe announced, her voice quivering.

Faded pink paint covered the structure and the bricks on the
sides were disintegrating like a dried-out sandcastle. Three tall doors
interrupted the façade and were set back within brick archways. The place
looked deceptively small from the front, but I imagined it was long in depth to
hold the size of a theatre. The top of the structure was painted with the date
it’d been established, Eighteen Eighty-One, and we stopped directly below the
sign. Cloe gently placed her hands on my shoulders and I turned to face her.
She looked deeply into my eyes, obviously unbothered by the noisy cacophony
inside.

“My only advice is: Do not speak unless you are spoken to.
And address the legion with the upmost respect.” I nodded, my pulse racing hard
through my body. Cloe opened the doors and I followed her inside.

The first thing to hit me was the scent of the place,
piercing my nose like a distinct fume. It smelled very old as though history
itself still resided within its crumbling walls. I detected the decaying of brick,
the rotting of wood, and even the dust that clung to the stained wallpaper
peeling from its sides. Large antique chandeliers dimly lit the inside and the
aroma of burning kerosene filled the air as well.

A long wooden bar to our left ran the length of the room. It
was crowded with vampires holding glasses of blood and chatting idly. Thankfully,
they only offered quick pause at our entrance and then went back to their
conversation. I continued scanning the room, trying to get my bearings.

To our right, a large painting of a half-naked gypsy woman
flanked the entire wall, her eerie smile causing me unrest. A chill ran through
my body and I resisted the urge to shudder. The room was tight and narrow yet
the ceiling rose high above our heads, being topped with a wooden catwalk near
the cracked ceiling. On opposite sides of the catwalk were two small doors and two
staircases, allowing access from the bottom floor where we stood.

“This way.”

I followed Cloe through the hordes of bodies, mesmerized by
the ladies clad in Edwardian-style suits and corseted dresses, and men in
tuxedos and top hats. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d gone back in
time and was pretty certain I stuck out like a sore thumb in my rumpled jeans
and faded T-shirt.

We swerved through the room, past the bar, and stopped in
front of a closed door beneath one of the staircases, music reverberating from
inside. I imagined it was the entrance to the theatre room and Cloe opened it,
affirming my suspicion.

Piano music burst through as we entered the dark theatre,
the audience clapping in time and stomping their feet to the dissonant and
eerie tune. I recognized it immediately as an odd rendition of Poor Unfortunate
Souls, a childhood classic. A hefty vampire woman in a green bustier and hoop
skirt bounced around the stage, her vibrato thick and enchanting. Her hair
stuck out in every direction like snakes and her skin glistened with makeup and
glitter. Two thin Saloon girls followed her, their green and black costumes
tightly fitted to their lithe forms.

My stomach dropped to my feet when realization hit me. On
stage between the vampires stood a naked female, a
human
female, and the
aroma of her blood found its way to my senses, thundering my heart like the
drums of the band. And I couldn’t help but think the pounding in my chest came
not from a place of hunger for the poor woman’s blood, but from a place of fear
for her life. The actors floated around her tauntingly, throwing her around the
stage like a rag doll.

The woman tried to flee the stage but was apprehended by the
two saloon girl vampires, laughing like they were merely playing a game of
ring-around-the-rosies. Tears streamed down the woman’s face and her hair hung
in clumps over her shaking shoulders. The larger vampire came to the front of
the stage, bent down, and shimmied her large breasts in a man’s face. The
audience roared with laughter and I glanced up to see more Unfortunates hanging
over the small birdcage balconies at the top, their eyes wide with excitement.

“Are they allowed to do this?” I croaked, my eyes brimming with
tears for the poor woman. Disgust burned my throat like acid, and I couldn’t
believe the cold cruelty I was witnessing.

Cloe offered me a sympathetic glance and leaned into my ear.
“This is how all of the celebrations go. With a human sacrifice.”

“How is this a celebration? It’s inhumane.”

Cloe shrugged. “I forget how young you are. I used to feel
the same way when I was a Newborn. But you aren’t a human any longer, Ruby.
You’re an Unfortunate Soul. Again, something you’ll get used to.”

The lead actress’ heavy voice brought my attention back to
the stage. The music lowered and she spoke melodically as she swayed her round
hips back and forth.

“Before the sun rises on the third day, you must consume
your first human breath. And if you don’t your soul will wither and you will
belong to the true death.”

I pondered the lyrics she sang, wondering if they were true.
If a vampire did not drink human blood soon after turning, would they die? Should
I have died since I hadn’t drank human blood? I shook away the notion, deeming
it invalid at a time such as this. Plus, the rules must not apply to me because
I was a hybrid freak of nature, and I was indeed, still alive.

My wondering thoughts were interrupted when the music grew
in intensity, the vibrations pounding from the soles of my feet to the tips of
my fingers. The voluptuous, snake-haired vampire raised her arms and the two
thinner ones brought forward the whimpering human, her chest heaving with sobs.
The two accomplices steadied the human and yanked her head to the side,
revealing a pulsing vein in her neck. The larger vampire circled the human and
came up behind her. She closed in on the sobbing female, the music now speeding
like an out-of-control marching band. The audience went wild, shouting and
laughing as the human’s body shook with tremors. Without warning, the vampire
sunk her teeth into the soft flesh of the woman’s neck, eliciting a
blood-curdling scream from her. I gasped in spite of myself and the lights went
down, casting the room into complete darkness. The music came to an abrupt halt
and the screaming stopped.

Maybe because I was a Newborn and freshly remembered my humanity…
or maybe because I was different than the others with an aversion to taking
human lives… but regardless of either, tears streamed down my face. White-hot
anger coursed through me and an overwhelming urge to fly on stage and rip the
woman from their arms tore through me. I wanted to save her. I wanted to take
her with me and get the hell out of this place. Instead, I stood there with
shaking hands and a heavy heart, knowing I’d be done for if I showed my
sympathy for the human.

“Is this the Newborn?”

A woman’s voice behind us gave me a jolt and I quickly
swiped away my tears, swiveling a one-eighty to face her. My vision adjusted to
the dark, revealing a tall, thin vampire, her long red hair hanging like satin
ribbons down her shoulders. She looked at me with eyes that shone as green as
emeralds and I couldn’t help but be frozen in place by her timeless beauty. My
mouth hung open in spite of myself.

“Yes. This is Ruby Carter,” Cloe affirmed, stepping forward.

The woman looked me up and down, her gaze landing on my tear-stricken
face. She frowned, obviously unimpressed. “Pull yourself together, young one, or
the legion will eat you alive. Come, they are waiting.”

I glanced to the stage, now empty, and sorrow clenched my
heart for the poor woman who was more than likely dead. I sucked in a deep
breath, and followed Cloe and the red-headed vampire, thinking if my experience
in the theatre was any indication of what was to come, I was in for quite a
surprise with the legion— and I was pretty certain that surprise would be far
from cake and presents. We took the left aisle that slanted downwards past the
noisy crowd and came to the side of the bottom of the stage. The taller vampire
leaned down and opened a hidden door right beneath it and went through. I
hesitated.

Behind us the lights rose on the stage again. The music
elevated, another performance under way.

“Go on,” Cloe urged. I glanced back at her nervously, my
heart slamming against the inside of my ribcage.

“It’s okay. Go on.” She nodded toward the opening. I exhaled
slowly and hunched down to climb through the tiny door, followed by Cloe.

“This way,” the red-head said impatiently when I appeared on
the other side, apparently in some sort of basement. I scanned the dank walls
as I followed her quick footsteps past a wooden railing and around a corner of
crumbling bricks. There in a small room sat three forms at a long narrow table,
and I knew at once they were the legion. I knew it was them for the familiar
male vampire who sat in the middle. Horus.

His eyes burned into me with their inky blackness and the fine
hairs on my body stood on end, the sudden instinct to run nudged at my wobbly
legs. He held a cigarette between his teeth, the smoke swirling around his
head.

Tension thickened the air, and my heart pounded so loudly I
was certain everyone could hear it. I was suddenly aware of the legion’s wariness
of me, and thought it maybe had to do with my sixth sense. But either way, I
knew if I could sense their uncertainty, they could sense my fear. But I stood
up straight, pushing away my doubts, thinking I would not let them see my
weakness. I would stay strong and proud, if not for me, for Guy, and Wilson,
and my real dad. The look in Horus’ black eyes, one of pure hatred, blazed
through me. But I took a calming breath and turned to Cloe.

“What are they going to do to me?” I whispered.

She turned her head so the legion would not see her reply, but
as vampires go, I knew they heard every word we said. Cloe whispered in my ear.

“It’s okay. Just do what I told you.” No sooner had she
spoken to me, was Horus standing mere inches from her face, bearing down with
his body.

“What did I tell you about speaking with the prisoners?” he
growled. All color drained from Cloe’s face, leaving her pale and quivering. Awareness
struck me like a wooden bat. I was not just some vampire come to join their coven.
I was different and they were aware of that. I was not their guest, but a
prisoner awaiting her fate. And Cloe remained the pawn in the middle.

“I’m sorry,” Cloe choked, her voice trembling.

Horus lifted a hand and backhanded her so hard she flew
against the wall, slumping to the floor like a puppet without strings. She
brought her hand up to her swollen lip and took it away with a spot of blood.
My mouth hung open in shock.

“Horus!” The red-headed vampire moved in. “That’s enough!”

“Stay out of this Pandora,” he growled, spinning toward her.
“Although you may not like it, I am the vampire legion leader. Not you. You are
merely an Overseer.”

The shock of what Horus did to Cloe fled when he used the
red-headed vampire’s name. Pandora. My breath caught in my chest and —if only a
little— hope replaced my fear. Pandora was the one Wilson told me about, the
one I was supposed to find. His friend. And if Wilson’s kind nature had any
indication of the company he kept, Pandora was likely my only hope for
survival. I remained unsure of her connection to Wilson, but I needed to trust
his words. Or single
word
, rather. The name Wilson gave me came to mind.

Nora
.

I was somehow supposed to give that name to Pandora. Wilson
said she would understand. But how could I do it without the others hearing?

“Sorry is not good enough,” Horus boomed at Cloe, his sharp
features and dark hair making him look like some creepy Halloween cartoon. He
lifted a hand and pointed down the hall, his long black duster swooping the
floor with the movement. He opened his mouth to speak, and I saw his fangs,
sharp and extended. “Now go. Get the hell out of my sight. You disgust me.” Cloe
scuttled across the floor and quickly made her way out of the room. My sympathy
for Cloe was clouded by my desperate need to make contact with Pandora. I had
to do it soon or I might not have another chance. But just how I would do that,
was a mystery within itself.

Pandora sighed and shook her head, looking to the place
where Cloe disappeared to. I couldn’t tell if she thought the young vampire a
nuisance or felt sad for her, but either way it didn’t affect her for long. She
turned to me impassively.

“Come.”

She took me to a spot in the middle of the room facing the
legion. I stood there, studying my surroundings, making note of the cluttered
space. To our side, broken bottles littered a dark wooden bar, and a worn poker
table sat in front of it with burn holes and cracked poker chips strewn about.
Black and white pictures of horse-mounted cowboys hung askew on the walls. There
were no doors or windows, the only light coming from an overhead kerosene lamp,
its eerie glow flickering against the walls reminding me of a bad horror flick.
The sounds of the muffled performance leaked from the ceiling above, confirming
that we were indeed beneath the stage in some sort of secret gambling hall.