Crimson Midnight (A New Adult Dark Urban Fantasy Series) (The Crimson Series Book 1) (31 page)

Roman was walking back to his
house. His mum was taking too long to sort herself out. It was his job to
convince her she looked great and get her to the party before she turned into a
pumpkin or however that story ended.  Besides if he didn’t hurry, Mr McIntire
might just get a permanent crick in his neck from watching the door.

He’d passed a couple of kids trick
or treating and scared a couple of other kids along the way to his house. On
the porch he pulled off the wolf mask, shaking out his hair. Damn it was hot in
that thing! 

He drew in the cold refreshing air
and stiffened as the overpowering scent of flowers assaulted his senses– scent
of flowers gone bad, sickly and nauseating. Alarm bells went off inside his
head and he fumbled with his keys, pushed open the door, rushed in and stopped.
The mirror was alive, eating something.  He saw legs, a body being swallowed,
splatters of crimson on the laminate floor and luminous emerald eyes alight
with fire.

“Oh, hi,” Faye said as she spotted
him. Then she casually shoved Flo’s feet through the mirror. “What are you
doing home? Wouldn’t have Rose with you at all would you? It would really make
my life easier.”

“What the fuck is going on?” His
instincts thrummed with the awareness of danger but his human mind struggled to
comprehend the scene.

Faye rolled her eyes and sighed.
“Well, I’m not explaining it now.” She walked up to him hastily and he was
assaulted by the scent again, dying flowers.  He gagged.

“What…what are you?” Because it was
obvious to him by now that whatever stood before him was not human.

Faye smiled sweetly before plunging
a silver blade deep into his shoulder.

40.

THE SILVER CAGE

The wolf inside him was ablaze with
fury.  It clawed at his insides, needing to be released, needing vengeance. But
he couldn’t set the wolf free, no matter how much it wanted out. He was
surrounded by silver rays of light lancing down around him, boxing him in. 
They hurt to look at, they hurt to touch. He was trapped in a cage of light. 
Shackles of silver fixed over his wrists and ankles and fastened securely to
the rocky ceiling and floor, stung and irritated his flesh.  He was half-naked.
His jacket, top and socks had been removed. All he had were his jeans, torn and
dirty from the brutal attack in which he had tried to fight back.

Raven could barely see through the
blinding silver light, but he could just about make out a figure standing
beyond his prison. Through the constant thrum and burn of the silver that took
away his strength, and through the ever howling, needful cries of the wolf, he
wondered if the figure was
him. 
In less than a moment his question was
answered as the silver light abruptly dimmed. And there
he
was.

Ossian stood before the cage,
looking at the man he was responsible for incarcerating. The Beta werewolf. He
had achieved his goal, succeeded in the task he had been instructed to perform.
And the task was necessary, so much depended on its success. And so he could do
little but quietly suffer the pangs of guilt.

He reached out a hand and touched
the silver cage. The light dimmed substantially, and Raven’s eyes focused
intently on him– eyes that were of the same vibrancy and shade of the cage,
eyes that blazed with unadulterated rage.

Ossian had picked up the vibe of
danger that radiated from Raven on the few occasions he had been close to him,
but now the vibe had been replaced by a seething pulse of fury.  The danger was
no longer cloaked. It was now a beacon of intent, screaming from every taunt
muscle and stretched sinew of the werewolf’s form. Ossian was thankful that the
silver shackles still held his captive so securely.

“You,” Raven said weakly, his tone
laced with vitriol. “So you finally show your real face.”  Raven studied the
man before him with a narrowed gaze.

The long black hair had been
replaced by a sheet of luxurious silver tresses, set against incandescent skin,
which rivalled the purest rays of the moon.  His eyes, which had been a
startling violet, had deepened to a unique, captivating amethyst and sparkled
like two precious jewels. The student Ossian was truly gone, replaced by a
treacherous fey. Cloaked in glamour he had been beautiful to behold, but
stripped of it he transcended beauty, defying the laws of perfection as did the
most seductive of the fey.

Raven glared at him, his lip
curling in disgust.  He knew of the fey, a mishmash of stories and myth.  He
knew that seduction was but a weapon to the creatures and that under their
perfect skin their hearts were untouchable, their alliances borne of self
service and ambition. It was no revelation that they had been unable to last as
part of a unified supernatural council, their interests laying only in their
own survival.  Richard had intimated that the council had breathed easy once
the strange creatures had retreated back to their sidhes, deciding to live out
their days as recluses in the realm beyond the mist, the land of Fairie.

“How are you feeling?” Ossian asked
gently, dragging Raven from his thoughts.

“How do you think?” He was
exhausted and in pain. But it didn’t stop him from keeping his tone as cold as
ice as he focused his very will on Ossian, making sure his gaze never strayed
from the fey.

“I’m sorry you have to suffer like
this, but silver is the only thing that will hold you.”

“Coward.”

“There was no other way.” Ossian’s
brow creased in a slight frown.

“Coward.”

“I don’t enjoy seeing anyone in
pain. But precautions have to be in place. I’ve dimmed the bars so it shouldn’t
hurt as much.”

Raven ignored what he’d said. There
was no way he was going to appear even remotely grateful for the reprieve. “Do
you have Thistle too?”

Ossian shifted uncomfortably.
“Yes.”

Raven closed his eyes briefly
biting back a curse. He had hoped that this capture may be unrelated, hoped it
wasn’t a small part of a bigger plan.  Now his worst fears were being
confirmed. “What have you done to her?”

“She’s safe.”

Raven continued to watch Ossian
closely and was surprised to see what looked like sorrow flit across the fey’s
face.  For a moment those brilliant eyes dimmed as if a shadow had passed over
the moon.

“Is she in pain?” Raven demanded.

Again, Ossian didn’t answer
straight away and when he did it was only to repeat that Thistle was safe.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is
she in pain?”

Ossian cocked his head to one side.
“I do not feel what she feels. I am unable to tell you more than that she is
safe.”

Raven and Ossian held one other’s
gaze, eyes locked together. Ossian wanted to break the contact but Raven held
fast.  He wanted Ossian to feel intimidated. It was the only thing he could do
seeing as he couldn’t drive his fist through that perfect face. “Where is Brandon?”

Ossian looked away. “He’s safe.”

Raven growled, using what little
strength he had to pull on the chains. “Where is he?”

“He’s-”

Raven rattled the chains, pulling
himself forward, almost touching the dim bars of light. “
Don’t
say he’s
safe.
Don’t
say Thistle is safe.”

“As you wish.”

Raven’s lip curled, his expression
deadly. “You are really beautiful,” he said bitterly. “Even under glamour, you
are breath-taking. But I do like you this way, much, much, hotter.” His mouth
twisted in a grin that was part grimace. Self-loathing at the attraction he
felt for this creature mingled with a desire to throw his captor off balance.

“Stop it.” Ossian took a small step
back from the cage.

“I mean it, you are very sexy.”

Ossian was silent.

The grin on Raven’s face was gone.
“You used things on me. You used your fey tricks to mess with my head. All I could
think about was you. I dreamt about you, thought about what it would be like to
kiss you and to fuck you. And that night when you came to the party and ignored
me it drove me over the edge. I needed to feel better about myself so I slept
with Brandon, someone who felt about me the way you made me feel about you. And
I hurt him. I hurt a kind, sweet man because I wanted to feel better about
myself after realising you had no interest. But you did. You had a lot of
interest in me. What was that cologne? It drove me crazy.”

“Raven.” Ossian held up his hand as
if to stall him.

Raven ignored him and continued.
“Did you know all along that I would end up with Brandon like that? Does your
little fey magic have the power to foresee that? Or are you as manipulative,
clever and conniving as your reputation indicates? You used him to get to me,
whatever your reasons are for wanting me. You preyed on him just like you
preyed on me. Why?”

“You hurt him. He was in need of a
friend.”

“And there you were.” Raven said, every
word laced with anger.

“We all have to do what we have
to.”

“Why did you have to do what you
did?” Raven asked mockingly.

Ossian shook his head.

“Come on, what is so special about
me, Thistle and Brandon? What is so important?”

Ossian turned away. “I’ll leave the
lights dim.”

“NO!” Raven lurched forward, the
chains squealing with the force. “Put them up again. I’d rather that than have
to see your face.”

“Raven…”

Raven growled low in his chest, the
wolf skimming the surface. “Don’t say my name. I’m getting out of this cage,
and when I do, I’m going to make you suffer.”

Ossian’s expression was suddenly
blank.

“You will pay for all of this, for
Thistle, for Brandon, for messing with my head and for chaining me up like a
helpless dog. Believe me, you will pay.”

“I’ll leave the lights dim.”

“Get away from me,” Raven said
coldly.

“It won’t hurt as much if I leave
them dim.”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Raven threw
himself forward. His face hit the silver light and his head snapped back. He
lost his balance and fell to his knees with a hard thud. The shackles on his
wrists ate into his skin as he roared and pulled on them, blood running down
his arms.

Ossian moved closer. Raven stopped,
breathing heavily. He slowly lifted his head, a raw red mark like a slash
across his face. “Put the lights up and get the fuck away from me,” he said
through gritted teeth.

Ossian hesitated, and then nodded
backing away from him.

The silver lights of the cage were
gloriously bright once more.

41.

BEYOND THE MIRROR

Rose glanced at her watch for what
seemed like the hundredth time.  The party was truly underway and the DJ was
giving the crowd what they wanted in a back to back collage of disco classics.

“Rose? Any sign of them yet?”
Dracula asked politely. 

Rose shook her head. “No, Mr
McIntire. I tried calling Roman’s mobile but he’s not answering, and there’s no
answer on the house phone either.”

Mr McIntire frowned. He was a
solidly built, stocky man with warm brown eyes and only a slight paunch. He
made a novel looking Dracula.  “Maybe they’re on their way here?”

“Maybe.” Rose agreed, shooting him
a quick smile. He was right. They could be on their way. But then why was Roman
not answering his mobile? Pack members always answered their mobiles, the fact
that he wasn’t was not a good sign. Plus, she had an awful queasy feeling in
her stomach, a feeling that said something was wrong. “I’ll wait ten minutes
and try again.”

“Let me know. I can give them a
lift if they’ve not left yet.”

“I will.”

“Mr McIntire?”  A dainty ballerina
interrupted, who, on closer inspection, turned out to be a slender woman with
an abundance of crow’s feet and laugh lines which her expertly applied makeup
still failed to conceal. Rose put her age around her mid- forties.

Mr McIntire turned to the woman.
“Ah, Mrs Howe.”

“I was wondering if I could have a
word about the new proposal for an Area Crime Watch.” Mrs Howe babbled.

Mr McIntire smiled politely. “Oh
come, Mrs Howe. Tonight is a time for fun and dancing, and we can discuss the
proposal at the next meeting.”

“But, Mr McIntire-”

“I insist.” He said firmly.

Mrs Howe opened her mouth to
protest but was distracted by a beefy hand on her shoulder.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for
you,” said a deep, meaty voice. “Isn’t this your favourite song?” Carwash by
Rolls Royce was playing and the dance floor was heaving.

“Mr Howe.” Mr McIntire greeted the
new arrival. “I was just telling your lovely wife that shop talk can wait until
the next meeting, and that she should go have fun.”

Mr Howe looked reproachfully at his
wife. “Now, sweetheart, we discussed this. All work and no play…”

Mrs Howe held up her hands. “All
right, all right, let’s dance.” She allowed herself to be led away.

Mr McIntire turned to Rose rolling
his eyes. “That woman is a workaholic. Since the last of her four children flew
the nest she’s enlisted herself with four charities, holds a part-time job and
is on the neighbourhood committee.”

“It must be hard to dedicate your
life to your kids and to find that one day your purpose for living no longer
needs you like they used to.”  Rose sympathised.

“Yes, which is why we have made it
our mission to get the lady to have some fun, to relax and enjoy her freedom.
God knows the Howe’s can afford it.”  He scanned the room as he spoke, his eyes
wandering to the entrance.  He frowned. “Maybe you should give Flo another
call.”

“Mr McIntire!” Someone called from
across the room.

“Excuse me, Rose. I’ll just be a
moment.”

Rose flipped open her mobile and
dialled the house number.  The phone rang once twice, three times. After the
tenth ring Rose hung up. 

Fuck this, something wasn’t right!

By the time Rose reached Flo’s the
queasy feeling in her stomach had intensified to include a dull ache. As she
climbed the steps to the porch she felt a charge of adrenaline, her body’s way
of warning her to fight or flee. The front door was ajar and as she reached for
it with hesitant fingers, a tinkling laugh filled the air around her, caressing
her like an icy hand and pulling goose bumps from her skin. For a spilt second
she considered turning away, because she knew, with a primitive certainty from
deep within, that whatever lay behind the door was ten times worse than
anything she had encountered so far. She considered the option for a fraction
of a second and discarded it.  No way was she walking away.  Flo, Erin and
Roman were in there and she was a lot of things, but a coward was not one of
them. Squaring her shoulders she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The hallway was shrouded in
shadows, someone had turned out the lights, and silence reigned.  Heart
thudding hard in her chest, she took a step forward and then another.

“Flo?” she called out, tentatively
at first, and then when there was no response, with more volume.  “Flo!”  She
could see the glow from the kitchen lights and was drawn toward it. Her foot
slid from under her as she slipped on something and went down on her arse.
“Shit!”  She cursed then started as a shadow blocked the light.

“Finally! I haven’t got all night
you know.”  Faye stood in the kitchen doorway, hand on hip.

“Faye…what the hell is going on?
Where is everybody?” Rose squinted, the backlight from the kitchen making it
hard for her to see her friend’s face.

“Everyone’s at the party, they’re
all waiting for you.”  Faye said sweetly. “And I love the outfit, Krystal.”

Rose pulled herself up, reaching
for the nearest light switch to illuminate the hallway. 

“They haven’t turned up. I came
back to check.” She flipped the switch, bathing the hallway in bright light,
and turned back to her friend. “And what are you…”  the words dried up in her
mouth because although the woman standing before her wore Faye’s body, Faye’s
smile and even adopted Faye’s manner of standing, she wasn’t Faye, couldn’t be
Faye. There was an aura about her, an aura of power, of ageless confidence,
and…she was glowing like a hundred watt bulb.

“You like the new look?” The woman
who called herself Faye gave a little twirl. “Or should I say old look?” She
frowned. “Never mind, it’s not important now. What is important is that we get
to the party.” She clapped her hands with glee. “It’s going to be so much fun!”

Rose took a step back and almost
slipped again, she glanced down to see a smear of red.  “What, what is this?”
She took another careful step back, instinct driving her to put more distance
between her and her friend.

Faye studied the floor. “Oh that.
That’s blood.” She shrugged. “Shouldn’t stain, its laminate flooring, lucky the
hallway’s not carpeted. Now that would be a bill.” She giggled. 

Rose was backing away toward the
front door but suddenly Faye’s eyes were on her, rooting her to the spot. 
“Now, now, Rose. Don’t be rude, you’re invited to a party and you must attend.”

“Whose blood is it?”  Rose asked
through gritted teeth.

“You know what, I forget. I think
it’s a bit of everyone’s actually.” She shrugged unconcerned, then strode
toward Rose, grasping her by the upper arm.

Rose tried to pull away but Faye’s
grip was like iron. Rose stopped struggling, realising it was futile.

“You’re obviously not human. So
what are you, some kind of demon?” It was all coming together in her head.
Whatever Faye was, Rose was almost certain that she was responsible for the
attacks that had taken place over the last few weeks.  She was also almost
certain that her so called friend was crazy. She needed to tap into her powers,
she needed to stall.  She fixed her eyes on the blood stain, calling upon her
rage, imagining Roman, Flo or Erin hurt and bleeding. She felt the stirrings of
the heat that was her power, allowing it to build on a subconscious level. She
turned half her attention back to Faye.

“What gave it away? The drop dead
gorgeous looks, the glowing skin or the incredible strength?”

“No, just that having breath that
bad can’t be humanly possible.” Rose smirked. She knew it was stupid to
aggravate a crazy person, but sometimes her mouth just ran away with her and it
was worth it to see Faye’s expression. The woman looked horrified.

Bringing her hand up to her mouth
she exhaled then sniffed. “Bitch! You almost had me there.” She yanked at
Rose’s arm twisting it painfully. “Now enough of the chit chat. I admit we have
tons of catching up to do, I mean you and Roman…Oh my God! After all this is
over we really need to have coffee. Oh, who am I kidding? That’s not going to
happen is it? You can’t have coffee with a dead person.” She shook her head,
making a sad face.

“And what if I refuse to go with
you?”

“Er, have you noticed how strong I
am?”

“Strength isn’t everything, Faye.” 
Rose’s lips curved in a smile of promise before her arms lit up with an intense
inner fire.

“Fuck me sideways!” Faye dropped
Rose’s arm and stumbled back a step.  “I heard about it but…well, maybe you
inherited it after all,” she finished cryptically. 

Rose stood poised, her arms out to
her sides, ready to blast away if needed.  She needed to get away from insane
Faye and call for help, Richard or Maxwell… someone.

Faye took another step backwards
until she had her back against the large ornate mirror that hung in the
hallway.  “Everyone’s at the party, Rose, and you’re running out of time. I
know what you’re thinking, Rose– that you’ll call for help. That the pack will
come save you, that the warlock will provide aid.” Faye laughed cruelly and for
the first time since their encounter had begun, Rose glimpsed the true face of
Faye.  Her eyes lost all warmth and became hard, unforgiving orbs of ice. Her
lips thinned and twisted into a mirthless smile. 

“You pretended to be my friend.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“A means to an end.”

“Your family, your dad?”

“I have my abilities just as you
have yours. The human mind is such a fragile thing.”

“You never did answer my question.
What are you?”

“One of the fey folk.”  She looked
almost smug as she flicked back her crimson hair. Typical, the only race they
hadn’t considered being involved.

“Everything was a lie.”  Rose
stared at the face she had loved for the past six years. The person she had
confided in, turned to, laughed with, her best friend.  She allowed these
emotions to roll through her, nostalgia, loss, regret, and then turned them
into something much more productive– anger.  There was no Faye, there never had
been, it had all been a lie.  What stood before her was the truth and she had a
feeling she was about to find out the reasons for the charade pretty soon.

Faye took another step back and
Rose’s eyes widened in shock as her body began to melt into the glass. “The
portal will close in a few minutes, long enough for you to follow, not enough
time for help to arrive. Not that it would do you much good.  Your friends are
waiting, Rose, and there is plenty of blood to spill while we wait.  So what
are you going to do?” She cocked her head inquisitively before disappearing
into the mirror altogether.

Rose stood staring at the mirror.
Reaching in her pocket she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text then
tucked it back into her pocket.  Finally, taking a deep breath and closing her
eyes, she ran toward the mirror.