Karolina Dalca, Dark Eyes Page 5

  I survived most of my life on animal blood. My family had caught rabbits in the backyard, and their sweet taste was a flavor I’d gotten used to.

  “I need a second,” I said and got up.

  He cleared his throat. “Before you do, can I please have your certificate, or we don’t have a deal.”

  I picked up the box from the floor and held out my birth certificate.

  “Nice trick with the box,” he said and yanked the paper from my hand. He looked down at it. “It’s just yours.”

  “It’s all I have,” I said.

  His lips narrowed into a thin line. “It’ll do for now,” he said and walked out of the room.

  I sat down in one of the chairs which remained upright. The room was trashed. My hand absentmindedly found the remote on the coffee table and I turned on the TV. A news announcer was telling a story about a mauling last night: “Police reports state the people were mauled by unidentified animal talons, but amongst the wounds human bite marks were found, baffling crime scene investigators. A detailed report to be broadcast tonight at eight.”

  ****

  A little while later Andre returned. “Your stuff,” he said, and dropped a cardboard box full of clothes at my feet. On top were my finest lace bras and panties. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

  “We need to talk,” I said. “But first I’m going to change.”

  I took the first couple pieces of clothes and stepped into the bathroom. Then I turned the lock and ditched the towel. When I got to the mirror I gasped. The bruises on my chest were gone. I tossed my hair back to look at my neck. All traces of Roman’s kisses had disappeared. I felt two round scabs on my artery. Only Andre’s fang punctures had remained.

  Vampire blood could heal.

  His blood hadn’t broken the spell; it had healed me physically. This knowledge arrived too late, and at a price. Mama was gone. I broke a vow to Grandpa Dalca. I hadn’t drunk from a person before, and I hadn’t expected to…love it. It’s just another vampire, I told myself. I closed my eyes and rested my hands on the sink. When I opened them again, my ruby necklace caught the light. Fire danced inside the gem. I clutched it, feeling its pattern against my palm. I had family, an uncle. Andre could get me out of the country.

  I yanked on the lace and threw on the pair of jeans and sparkly tank-top. When I walked back into the room, Andre was lying down on his bed watching TV.

  “I need to tell you something. I didn’t just run away. I’m a fugitive. Or will be.”

  “What?”

  “I may be named a person of interest, if not the main suspect shortly. We have very little time to get out of Canada before it will be impossible for me to cross the border.”

  “Because your house burned down?” He raised a brow. “Not uncommon for a fire user?”

  “Yesterday, the Forged showed up at my house. The Dyads followed.” My jaw clenched. “There was a battle and my mother died.”

  Sadness flashed across his face. He looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry.”

  “That was eighteen hours ago,” I said.

  “I’m smuggling a fugitive over the border if we wait much longer?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  He took an ancient flip-phone out of his inner coat pocket and started dialing. He spoke in Russian to the recipient on the other end, and after a moment he flipped it closed. I kept my face blank when I recognized the language.

  “The nineties called. They want their phone back?” I asked.

  “Very funny. We’re getting a plane out of here,” he said. “When was the last time you saw the Forged?” He threw some clothes into his bag and zipped it up.

  “When Mama died. Where are we going?”

  “Romania,” he said.

  “Romania?”

  “I need to check in with my contacts there. What about the Dyads?” he continued.

  “The same time. Don’t they only show up when the Forged are around?”

  “They say that, but I’m not one to trust the rah-rah Dyad propaganda,” he said. “No organization should be given that much power unchecked. Next they’ll be the ones running your government.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “The Dyads own half the buildings in Ottawa. Their headquarters are out of Greenland, but they’ve recently made a great deal of money in penny stocks. They expanded their enterprise to Ottawa real estate and the publishing industry in Iceland.”

  I grunted. “That’s absurd.”

  “It’s the way things are now, princess. The world is changing, and so are the power struggles amongst the undergrounds.”

  “Does every supernatural race have an underground?” I asked.

  “All of them. I’m surprised you don’t know, since your campus is full of underground agents. Ottawa’s a capital city, there are diplomats from everywhere,” he said and walked to the door.

  “I knew it existed,” I said. “But, excluding the Charmed and the attack from yesterday, you’re the second supernatural I’ve met.” Roman wasn’t his concern.

  “Oh yeah? Why did you reek of wolf then?” He opened the door. “Forewarning. All the wolf race wants is a strong mate to make super-human wolf babies with. If you’re not messing around with the pack leader himself, you’ll just be passed over to him by one of his minions.”

  I scoffed. “You don’t even know him. He’s been loyal to my family since the day we were born.”

  “Oh yeah? Why’s he not here with you now?”

  “None of your business,” I said.

  “Sure. I rest my case.” He stepped out into the hallway.

  “Where are you going?”

  “We are taking a cab to the airport.”

  I put on my dirty boots and stepped out into the hall. A quick glance back at the black hole in the wall reminded me of who I made a deal with.

  “You know, if this is going to work, you’ll have to stop attacking me and start trusting me,” he said.

  I clutched the straps on my backpack and looked up at him. “How about this? When I know I can trust you, I’ll stop trying to get the jump on you.”

  “Well, trust me when I say those boots aren’t low profile,” he said.

  I looked down and harrumphed. He was right.

  “I’ll call for a cab and see if I can get you a new pair,” he said. “What’s your size?”

  He walked down the hall, took out his retro phone, and started dialing.

  Chapter Six

  Into the Night

  A black unmarked cab picked us up and drove us to the Ottawa International Airport. The driver scanned the road under his baseball cap, and a few times he caught me looking at him in the mirror. We entered the drop off lane. “Best of luck,” he said to Andre. “Boots are in the back.”

  “Thanks for the favor, Nikki,” Andre said.

  Nikki. I would remember his name.

  We got out and I put on the finest pair of caramel riding boots I ever saw. They were the same style as my ruined ones but were of the quality I only fantasized about buying. I didn’t know if Andre paid attention to my style or if it was pure fluke. We headed to the VIP entrance of the airport. I walked past the baggage check and fought the urge to spring into a run.

  “Play it cool, princess,” he said. “Act like I’m your sugar daddy taking you to Europe.”

  “More like pain in the ass chaperone who I can’t wait to ditch.”

  “Ouch,” he said.

  We made it all the way to customs before my clothes started to dampen with sweat. I got my passport out when I caught sight of the security check. A heavyset man stood by the metal detectors.

  “Passports, please,” said the customs agent.

  The agent swiped them and handed them back to us. “This way, please,” the heavy man said. He held his arms away from the customs channel and toward a side room. His Russian accent was thick.

  Andre appeared calm, but he gave me a slight nod. I queued my vampiric sense up.

&
nbsp; “Just routine screening,” the customs guard said.

  “Yes, of course,” Andre replied.

  The guard led the way for us, and we politely followed him. I kept pace with Andre, staying at his side rather than behind. My hand grazed his by chance and I felt a shocking prickle.

  We entered a door marked ‘Security Office’ and the smell of blood enthralled my senses. My fangs glided halfway down from the roof of my mouth. I glanced at Andre. His gaze was fixated on the guard’s back like a cat, his fangs freely exposed.

  In the middle of the room I could see the interrogation area clearly. A fleshy object lay just within the door. It was an outstretched human arm. The smell of not only blood, but death drifted to my nose. The security door echoed as it slammed shut behind us.

  Andre darted behind me in a streak of violet.

  I stomped down on the back of the guard’s knee.

  He cried out in pain and buckled to the ground. Recovering quickly, he pivoted on his injured knee and rose on his good leg, thrusting his weight forward. He shot back at me swinging his fist like a cannonball. His eyes bulged. His fangs spread wide, looking like he’d rip my throat out.

  I recoiled into fighter’s stance, back to back against Andre.

  As the massive guard rushed me, I caught his wrist with a two-handed block. I twisted my hands and used the momentum of the blow to dislocate his arm. In one smooth motion, I glided over his shoulder, and drove my elbow with all my weight into his jawbone.

  He dropped face first.

  I regained my position against Andre’s back, and his magic tingled through my clothes. We moved together in a circle. My focus shifted to his opponents. A man lay on the ground with his throat pulsing blood on the tile. Two men remained. One was blond with a lean build. The other had a dark complexion and braids to his ears. They spoke in Russian, summoning sparks of darkness from thin air into their palms.

  Andre’s magic flared out around me, the violet lightning weaving together into an orb-like shield.

  The vampires thrust their arms forward. Streams of black lightning shot from their hands and sizzled through the air. They hammered into Andre’s shield. The impact drove us back against the wall.

  I hit the concrete flat. My spine rattled against the steel and drywall, but I held form, thankfully, because the moment Andre hit the wall he bounced back and charged them. I struggled to remain alongside him, trailing in the outskirts of his orb. He moved so fast his outline blurred as he ran. He lunged and hammered his fist into the blond’s front knee, sending him crumpling to the floor. Then he drove his heel into his diaphragm. Andre’s mouth dove to his throat.

  “Nooo!” I cried. It was against my vampire instinct, but I didn’t want to be a part of slaughtering these men. If an opponent was down and not getting up, it was enough.

  My breath jarred from my lungs as the large man with braids slammed into me.

  I was flung to my back in the seconds of shock. Before I recovered, he was on top of me pinning down my hands. I attempted to buck him off by using the strength in my hips, but he was too strong. His fangs gleamed in fluorescent lights as his face darted to my neck. I panicked. My skin erupted in flame.

  In a flash of color, Andre flew at him from behind. He grabbed him from the back in a chokehold, and the vampire’s eyes bulged. He kicked out and grasped at Andre, but Andre continued to hold his neck tight. In thirty seconds, the vamp grew limp.

  “Your morals are going to get you killed,” Andre said. He let go of the vampire, who hit the ground with a thud.

  I looked at the blond. He was unconscious but breathing. I rose to my feet.

  “Open up. Police!” Insistent rapping came from the other side of the door.

  “Come on, princess. It’s time to go.” Andre blasted the camera with a lightning bolt, and a flickering light traveled through all the wiring making it smoke. Next, he did the smoke alarm. We took off running.

  Dozens of footsteps echoed from where we exited.

  Andre took my hand and propelled me out the backdoor. We ran through the small VIP waiting area. Cries for us to stop echoed at our heels.

  “A-one,” Andre said while we ran.

  “Sir, you have to slow down. Surely your pilot will wait!” a flight attendant in a blue suit called out as we dashed by her and through the doors. Down a carbon fold-out hallway, there was a metal airplane door which opened with our approaching footsteps. We hustled through the hatch. A flight attendant slammed it shut behind us.

  We cut our sprint to a halt inside the entrance cabin. I dug my heels in to avoid crashing into Andre’s back. I panted to catch my breath and choked on my own saliva when the gaudy plane décor gleamed in my face. This had to be a joke.

  The floor was clad in bright cobalt-blue carpet, and the lights on the walls sparkled gold. In front of us was a small kitchenette with black marble counters. Black velvet curtains hung in the doorways at the front and back of the plane.

  “Heya Smoke, glad you could make it. We’re all queued up. I’ll tell the pilot it’s lift off,” said the flight attendant. He walked into the front behind a velvet curtain.

  “It’s Smoke, eh?”

  “Wow, Canadian’s really do say ‘eh’,” Andre said and walked to the kitchenette. He turned around and his sparkly white teeth were crimson. I winced as the image of the third vampire with his throat ripped out flashed into my head. What had Andre said? My morals will get me killed.

  He ran his face under the tap and rinsed the blood away. Not only did I feel the siren song of hunger inside myself, with more than a woman’s intuition, I could sense it in him. A low vibration emanated off him. It hit me in waves, promising me excitement and release. The need to feed felt equivalent to the thrill of being alive.

  I opened the velvet curtain and stepped into the seating area.

  There were rows of black leather chairs positioned to face the big screen on the wall to my back. A few coffee tables were bolted to the ground. On my right there was a full-size bar.

  “Okay, passengers. We’re taking off. Sit down and fasten your seat belts. We’ll be in the air in a second!”

  I picked a spot by the big screen and was fumbling with the seatbelt when Andre entered.

  “First time flying?” he asked.

  I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. “Yes.”

  He sat down beside me and clicked his belt on. “Then you’ll need this.” He handed me a piece of gum. The plane’s engines abruptly blasted out a whirling noise. Andre took out his phone and powered it down.

  “What’s the deal with your phone anyways? It’s old,” I said.

  He stuffed it into his pocket. “There wasn’t much selection in Ukraine after the conflict with Russia.”

  “Oh.” I remembered some of the side conversations in my Russian politics class. “What has it been, four years ago now since Russia helped the separatists?”

  He faced me. “Yeah, but I’m talking about the one in 1992. Though, it was nothing compared to the one in 1920.”

  Wow. Andre looked like he was rolling up to twenty-one, but what he’d just told me would mean he was over ninety years old. How long would I have made it before my friends started to notice I didn’t age like them? The embittered timelessness in which Andre carried himself now clicked into perspective. He’d lived through the worst of the world wars, the tank battles of Ukraine, and Chernobyl.

  “You’re from Ukraine. Do you have family there still?”

  “No, Karolina.”

  “Where are they?” I asked.

  He looked down. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  A coolness hit me. Then a sensation reminded me of one thing, and one thing only—the way I felt after Mama died. I carried the feeling in the pit of my stomach since. Revenge.

  Nine hours later, I awoke to an empty seat. I looked over and found Andre at the front of the plane. He was opening a compartment concealed in the wall. He punched in a code
on the metal dial pad. With a beep, the electronic lock unlatched, and the door opened. Stacks of money in a multitude of colors sat inside.

  “You have Romanian money in there?”

  “Yeah,” he said and held up a stack marked Lei, “I have whatever I need to get you to your uncle.” He slipped the cash inside his inner coat pocket.

  “I see,” I said. His words were mundane enough, but the indifference in which he said them, reminded me I was his objective. Healing me back at the dorms had been necessary for his survival. The room felt colder again, and the chill was coming from Andre himself.

  The plane speaker buzzed to life. “Agent Smoke, prepare for landing. Hang on tight—we’re coming in hot!”

  Agent. He said Agent. I sat back in the seat upright. Gears thumped beneath my feet and the landing gear dropped along with my stomach.

  Andre handed me another piece of gum. He hadn’t looked at me since I awoke. I felt my jaw tighten. Deciding to test my new hypothesis, I concentrated on my inner senses, and parsed out the one which was new. I could feel him with it. When I closed my eyes, I knew where he was sitting from memory, but I could also feel him. In my mind he stood out like a beacon in a black void. I probed out with my newfound power and nudged toward him, only to slam into an invisible icy wall.

  My eyes snapped open.

  Andre was glaring at me.

  I looked down.

  Chapter Seven

  Romania: The Home of Folklore

  “Where’s your passport?” Andre asked.

  “It’s in my pocket. Why?” The plane door opened and music from the airport traveled down the fold-out hallway, beckoning me to my mother’s homeland.

  “Switch it to your inner coat pocket,” he said. “The gypsies around the airport will have it sold on the black market before you realize it’s gone.”

  I forgot about Europe’s reputation for ‘Travelers’: gypsies who roam the land pickpocketing to get by. Not everyone from Roma descent was like the stereotype; both my grandma and grandpa’s side had a long, proud history in Romania.

  “I forgot,” I said, and slipped my passport into my inner pocket.

  “Call your magic up, not the fire,” he said. “Usually if they feel the Charmed in you, they’ll leave you alone.”