Rest in Pieces Read online

  Kent lifted his head from Brandon’s neck and groaned. “Seriously? I’m feeding here.”

  Enough. I’ve had enough. No more. I’d do anything to make it stop. To make it all stop.

  My fingers brushed cool metal, and without thinking, I reacted, clasping tight around the scimitar’s handle.

  Never pick up a weapon you have no intention of using. If you fight, you fight to kill.

  The words were my mantra as I swung the blade up and brought it down. The blade slipped right through the center of Kent’s neck but stopped short. I could hear him spluttering, feeling the squelching around the sharp end of my sword. He reached up, trying to claw at the other end poking through his trachea. Rage filled me.

  No, I thought. He doesn’t get to live. He doesn’t deserve to live.

  Of all the things my parents had taught me, they had focused on the methods with which to kill a vampire the most. As a child, I’d relished in the idea of beating up make believe monsters. As a teenager, I’d grown annoyed by their adamant urgings. I channeled all of my guilt at never believing them into my current task. Bearing down, I gritted my teeth and turned the scimitar, forcing it the rest of the way through one half. His body flopped against the carpet. All of the blood he’d just drunk from Brandon spilling out onto the floor. I felt numb inside. The blood didn’t scare me—not anymore.

  Travis stared at me, dumbstruck. That much damage might wound a vampire, but it wouldn’t kill a vampire, I knew. Dad had always said that to kill a vampire, you had to remove the head or stake the heart. But just running this creature through with my father’s prized blade wouldn’t do the trick either. It needed to be doused in holy water. I glanced to the side. The kitchen. Dad always kept vials of holy water there.

  Before I could move, though, Travis was across the room, his hand snapping out, gripping my throat and throwing me against the wall, pinning me there like a butterfly under glass. Spots of black and white danced in front of my eyes before I managed to calm myself enough to focus.

  “I guess you’re not completely broken, are you?” His lips stretched into a sinister grin.

  Growling, I thrust the curved blade through his stomach. I don’t know what I had expected. Perhaps shock, a cry of pain. Something. Anything. But neither happened. Travis merely glanced down where the sword was lodged in his abdomen and then returned my gaze with a lifted brow. “Really?” He tsked. “Tell me that’s not the best you can do.”

  I swung my legs up and kicked until the sword sank to the hilt and reached up, raking my hands down the skin of his arm. Travis didn’t even blink. I was starting to find it difficult to breathe. It wasn’t until a hand grasped at his ankle that he looked away.

  Kent had half crawled, with his open wound bleeding all over the place, and now clutched at the bottom of Travis’ leg, his pupils blown wide, the red irises huge. Bloodlust, I realized. Everything my parents had taught me, though I hadn’t taken any of it seriously, was suddenly coming back to me. A vampire in need of blood would do almost anything to attain it. The pain so great and unbearable, it made them literally lose their minds until they quenched the thirst. Kent sank his teeth into Travis’ leg and Travis grunted a curse, dropping me. I grabbed the blade and tore it out of his abdomen as I went down.

  A rain of blood gushed from his side, spraying Kent’s face and making him shake back and forth, tearing at the bite wound he’d already inflicted. I rolled away and leapt to my feet, bolting for the kitchen. There—right out in the open, sitting on the counter—were the holy water vials. I grabbed a handful, stuffed them in my pockets before uncorking one and dumping it on the end of my reddened blade.

  The blood from both Kent and Travis immediately dried up and turned to ash.

  “Wow…” I guess the legends were true.

  “Fuck! Get off me, bastard!” Travis’ shout had me working faster. I needed to end this quickly. Mom and Dad couldn’t be helped, but Brandon … if he was still alive, I might be able to get him to a hospital.

  Uncorking another vial, I dumped the new water on the scimitar. Now cleansed, I readied my resolve and hurried back to the living room. Travis had Kent up on his feet, holding him by the throat as the other man snarled and fought. Catapulting him back, I jumped forward and stabbed the sword through his chest. Right where his cold, dead, unfeeling heart would be.

  On a choked sound, Kent’s body dissolved and ash drifted down. I grimaced, tasting it in my mouth as it coated my whole body.

  “Oh, you’ve definitely got some fight left in you,” Travis growled, crouching as he held his hands out. I watched, transfixed as his nails lengthened. “Well then, little girl? Do you want to play a game?”

  Sucking in a breath, I nodded. “Bring it on, asshole.”

  My father’s teachings flowed through my limbs until my movements became second nature. I moved with a speed I didn’t even know I possessed. I dodged. I struck. Lopping off first one limb and relishing in the agonized scream Travis released as his arm fell, disintegrating into ash before it ever hit the floor. My anger pushed me further and further, taking over until I could have sworn it wasn’t blood pumping through my veins, but white-hot fury.

  The sight of my parents—like slaughtered lambs—lying limp and dead drove me to the darkest of places. I didn’t care if Travis killed me. When he caught me against the wall, I shoved forward, not even blinking when my shoulder popped out of joint. It should have hurt. It did hurt. But it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was killing him.

  Vengeance. Revenge. Recompense.

  Hatred. Loathing. A bitter dust on my tongue.

  I struck, sending Travis’ remaining arm flying somewhere else in the room. In the next breath, I took his left leg. Then his right. Until he was lying prone on the floor, unable to move. I stood over him, lifting my leg and bringing my foot down on one of his many open wounds.

  “The man that put you up to this,” I said. “What is his name?” I demanded.

  Travis laughed, though instead of enticing as it had been at the party earlier, it now sounded cold. “Why do you want to know?”

  I saw no reason to lie. “Because after I kill you, I’m going to find him and I’m going to kill him too.”

  Travis’ chest shook beneath my foot. “That’ll never happen. No one can kill Arrius, much less a child like you.”

  “Yet, I was able to kill you,” I replied.

  “You haven’t killed me yet.”

  I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I drove the end of my sword down until it cut through his chest, straight to his heart. His face froze for a split second before the pallor of his skin turned gray and his body began to sink in on itself as he became the perfect outline of a man that had once been, a pile of ash and a memory of destruction left in his wake.

  “Yes,” I whispered to the quiet room, “I have.”

  I took a step back, leaving the sword where it had struck the floor. It held there, sunk through the carpet to the hard floorboards underneath.

  “Bar … bie?”

  I jolted, turning to gape as Brandon’s eyelids cracked open. I nearly fell over as I rushed towards him. When I got to him, I did fall. I grabbed his hand and stared at his dull eyes. Shadows were cast beneath them. I tried to avoid looking at the horrid wound at his throat.

  “Brandon? It’s going to be okay,” I said quickly. I needed to call an ambulance. I needed…

  “Barbie, you have to run,” he whispered.

  “What?” I shook my head, but he didn’t follow the movement. His eyes were open but he couldn’t see. “No, Brandon. I have to call an ambulance. You’re going to be okay. I’ll be right back, I have to go get the phone.”

  “It’s too late, Barbie. I’m … sorry.” His hand went limp in mine. I paused. But his eyes were still open. He was awake. He had to be. I shook him.

  “Brandon?” His eyes stared up at the ceiling. “Brandon, you have to stay awake. Help is on the way. I just have to—” I cut myself off and scramble
d back reaching for the house phone where it had fallen from its cradle during the fighting. I held it in my fist, the first two numbers punched in before I even realized the futility of it.

  I sunk back against the wall, the phone clasped in my fist against my chest. He was right. It was too late. They were dead. All of them.

  And it was my fault…

  I couldn’t remember how long I’d sat there, staring at their remains. The bodies that had once housed my family were nothing more than carcasses now. Empty shells. When I finally did manage to move, I stumbled up the stairs to my childhood bedroom.

  I removed my soiled clothes, the holy water vials clinking as I dropped the party dress I’d been so excited to wear hours ago on the floor at the foot of my bed. I changed and grabbed a backpack. I filled it with the bare minimum of necessities, rummaging through the house like a thief in the night. I took holy water vials. I took daggers. I took a couple changes of clothes. I tucked them all neatly inside, along with pictures taken from my mom’s photo albums and then I went to the garage.

  I didn’t know what I was looking for until I found it. A full can of gasoline in the back of my parents’ black sedan. I took it out and walked back into the house.

  It hurt. I couldn’t take anything else with me. How would I explain that? There would be social workers after this, I realized. People. Questions. I’d wanted freedom from my family, the choice to go out after dark, to meet people, go to school, have friends.

  In a twisted way, my wish had been granted.

  I poured the gasoline over their bodies. Over the ash. Over the couch. Up the hall. Through the foyer. I stood at the front door and dropped the can to the side. My hands shook as I held up the matches I’d found in Dad’s workbench. Where he’d spent hours sharpening his blades. Blades that I couldn’t take with me.

  Still, there were no more tears.

  I didn’t shed a single one as I lit the match, dropped it, and walked away.

  The flames roared to life, eating away all of the evidence, but nothing could burn hot enough to ever wash away my sins. Nothing could ever erase the fact that had I followed my parents’ orders, they might not have died. Brandon might not have died. Their blood was on my hands.

  That had been the night I’d first killed a vampire, but it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

  Six

  Barbie

  I yanked my hair back and tied it up as I descended the stairs of the McKnight mansion. A yawn stretched my mouth the second I hit the ground floor. Seven was far too early for any sane person. My eyes burned from the long hours I’d spent devouring the articles and research information on the laptop Beth and Jon had given me. Unfortunately, all I’d managed to uncover was the location of a couple local churches where I could restock my holy water supply when it ran out. Nothing on where to get more untraceable weapons and once again, nothing on the mysterious Arrius.

  “Oh good, you’re up.” I looked up, bleary eyed as Beth headed towards me—or rather, towards the front door that I stood in front of—with a travel mug of coffee in hand. “I’ve got to head to the office early,” she said. “Mav’ll be taking you to school until we can get you a car of your own.”

  “A car of my own?”

  “He’s leaving in the next fifteen minutes, though, and he’s not a morning person. So, you might want to get a move on. I’ve asked him to wait for you, but really, he’s quite grumpy in the mornings,” she continued, hurrying to collect her coat and purse. “I’ll be at the office until late too. Mav can give you a ride back after his football practice. First strings have both morning and afternoon practices.” She paused and flipped her wrist to check her watch. “Oh, damn. I really do need to go. I’ll see you tonight, Barbie!”

  I blinked as she rushed through the front door and let it swing closed behind her. I took one look down at my pajamas and groaned. Maverick already didn’t like me. I highly doubted he’d wait around for me to grab breakfast before it was time to go. I turned and rushed back up the stairs. His door opened as I headed for my bedroom.

  “I’m about to—” he began, a grumpy growl in his tone.

  “Your mom told me,” I interrupted, sliding past.

  The moment my bedroom door was closed, I flung off my pajamas and grabbed a pair of ripped jeans Beth had forced me to get yesterday and a v-necked t-shirt. I shoved the scant school supplies I had into my backpack over the dagger and one of the bottles of holy water. A few minutes later, I was back out the door and heading down to the kitchen once again.

  Maverick was already there and fully dressed. He scowled at me as I entered. “Let’s go,” he snapped, carrying his own travel mug of coffee as he left the room. I looked to the now empty pot and held back a whimper. It was official. Maverick McKnight was a bastard.

  In the car—which turned out to be a practically brand new souped up black truck with four doors and a step that I certainly needed just to get into the front seat—we both sat in tense silence. I dared not even reach for the radio just to have some sort of noise other than the sound of his grinding teeth and my slow, quiet breaths. The tension was palpable. I didn’t know what his problem was, but I hoped he got it off his chest sooner rather than later.

  When we pulled into the St. Marion Academy student parking lot, I was already unbuckling before he had even put the car in park. But as my hand gripped the door handle, Maverick hit the locks and gave me what I’d wished for. I froze. A new kind of tension crept up the back of my neck as I slowly turned back around and lifted a brow.

  “If you’re not quite sure how locks on cars work, I’m not sure about this arrangement with you driving me to school,” I said when he still hadn’t said anything. “The switch goes up to unlock and down to lock.”

  Maverick clenched his fists on the steering wheel, his jaw tight and his eyes boring holes into me. “I don’t like you,” he said.

  “Really?” My lifted eyebrow remained right where it was. “Color me shocked.” When he didn’t say anything more, I sighed and dropped the eyebrow, choosing, instead, to purse my lips as I granted him my full attention. “Is there a reason you don’t like me or is it just my mere existence that has so spoiled your obviously sterling personality?”

  “Up until a few months ago, you didn’t even exist,” he snapped, releasing the steering wheel as he unclicked his seatbelt and rotated to face me fully.

  “Uh, I beg to differ,” I stated with a shake of my head. “I can assure you, I did, in fact, exist before a few months ago. In fact, I’ve existed for seventeen years. Just because you don’t see something, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.” Wasn’t that the damn truth? I silently added. Oh, if only this muscle bound high school idiot knew the things I knew. “So, if that’s your reason for dislike, I’m sorry to have to burst your entitled bubble of bullshit, but you need to find a new one. That isn’t gonna cut it.”

  “Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you’re planning, but my parents have never mentioned a goddaughter. They never even mentioned your parents’ names up until ‘social services’ called.” I narrowed my eyes as he lifted his hands and air-quoted the ‘social services’ part. “My parents have money, and they’re well meaning people too. I know what kind of snakes money attracts.”

  “Your mom has pictures of my parents,” I said blandly. “From when they were in college. I don’t know what you think—”

  “I think you’re scheming,” he cut in. “But even if you’re not, I don’t know you and I don’t trust you. I know what I’ve heard about foster kids.”

  I hid the wince easily enough, but it still stung. The slight opened up a cavern of irritation that I hadn’t known I felt until that moment. I let a calm mask descend over my expression as I let him have his say.

  “And what, pray tell, have you heard?” I asked quietly.

  “They lie, cheat, and steal. If you think you’re going to worm your way into my parents’ hearts just because they’re fucking nice, don’t think I’ll let you get away wi
th it.”

  “Awww, are you scared they’ll love me more than you?” I couldn’t help the dig, though I knew it was cruel. He was an asshole.

  Maverick pointed his finger right in my face. “I’m watching you, Barbie,” he spat my name like a curse. “If you try to steal from them, you’ll be out the door so goddamn fast, you’ll have burns on your ass from being kicked to the curb.”

  “For your information, Maverick,” I said, using the same tone he’d used with my name, “I’m not here to find a new fucking family. I’m here because the government put me here. Comprende, dumbass? As a minor, I don’t have much of a fucking choice.”

  “Choice or not.” He shook his head and fixed me with an outright glare. “You will not fuck with me. You will not fuck with my parents. You will stay the hell out of my way and out of my fucking business. Do you comprende?”

  “Duly noted,” I replied dryly. “And since we’re on the topic of discussion, let’s make a deal—you and I.” Before he could agree or not on any sort of deal, I continued. “You stay out of my fucking way and I won’t kick your ass. And trust me, pretty boy, I may look smaller than you, but I would have you begging in a matter of seconds. If you don’t like me now, wait until I unleash my inner bitch. Therefore, if you wish to remain breathing, I suggest you back off,” I growled. “And in case you can’t understand that, understand this”—I stopped and leaned forward, moving into his space until I could smell a hint of his spicy cologne—“thou shalt not try me. Do so at your own peril.” He eyed me with no small amount of cold-blooded hatred. I didn’t give much of a shit. I moved back once more and jerked the door handle. “Now unlock the fucking door, Deputy Maverick, or you’ll see just what my inner bitch can do.”

  Watching me, Maverick reached behind him and unlocked the car. As he did so, he released a breath. “I think you’re mistaken,” he said. “Your bitch certainly isn’t inside. She’s right out there for everyone to see.” The door was open and my feet were on the cold hard pavement in less than a second. I slammed the door behind me and turned towards the school.