A Shining in the Shadows (Gabriel Davenport Series Book 2) Read online

  Published by Ink Raven Press

  Copyright © 2017 Beverley Lee

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13 978-0-9935490-2-1

  ISBN-10 0-9935490-2-1

  Chapter One

  Night followed night followed night. An endless cycle of unimaginable cold and blood and loneliness.

  I thought back to the beginning, as I often do. The first feeling on opening my eyes? Euphoria. I thought I had been prepared to die, but when it comes right down to it, who is ever ready for that? What I remembered was hazy, like it had happened to someone else. Like a flickering away on a screen as I passed. I remember the way Clove’s hair fell over my face, silky and slightly damp from the pre-dawn mist. The shiver that ran down my spine at the touch of his chilled lips. I remember breathing so fast, thinking each inhalation could be the last. I wondered if it would hurt.

  Something else had happened too, before the blinding, white-hot pain took me to a primal place out of my own consciousness. I was floating, but still tied to my own body, like a balloon with a trailing string.

  He took me on the hilltop overlooking The Manor, laying my body down on the wet grass as the pain twisted me into a seething mass of raw nerve endings. There was no ceremony or prettiness, just my eyes to the stars as his fangs sliced open my throat. I cried. For the boy I once was and for the man I would never be. Death came to meet me in a soft blanket of black.

  Then his wrist against my lips and the first drips of blood on my tongue. Nothing magical happened. I know I gagged and spluttered, spattering his face. But he forced the gash against my mouth, massaging my throat with ice-cold fingers until I swallowed. And then the need hit me, flooding my senses. My senses, which a moment ago had been drifting towards nothingness, were now burning; I didn’t know where one ended and the next one began. I grabbed his forearm, clinging on with a strength I didn’t know I had, my mouth locked against his wrist, my tongue delving into the wound. Horrified at what I was doing, yet begging for more. His face was impassive as he watched me, only changing when he smoothed back the hair from my face and broke the contact, even as I whimpered for more.

  ‘It is done.’

  And so it was.

  ‡

  That was last year, before the brutal cold of my first winter. It’s hard to gauge time when all you can go on is the changing of the seasons. At first I had tried to count the nights, until I realised that was pointless. It didn’t matter; they were all the same. Clove took us all out to hunt. We killed as a group, with his guidance. We feasted. He took us back to where we slept, and told us what we had done wrong.

  Some nights Teal read to us, something that was comforting but Moth didn’t like me sharing. I hung around on the outskirts, pretending to be busy, whilst my ears tuned in to the lilt of Teal’s voice. Teal didn’t mind me listening. On rare nights, Clove took Moth out by himself and those were the best of nights. Teal without Moth was a very different creature.

  I had a moment during those first blood-fuelled nights. A moment when I realised there was nothing else for me but this, stretching out into eternity. I’d be forever hovering on the cusp of adulthood, one foot in either camp, straddling the great divide and fucking up the great hereafter. I had Clove, who had gifted me with this—purely for his own agenda, or the agenda of the whole vampire race as he kept telling me. I’d laughed the first time he told me, and then he’d banished me to the back of the cave where we slept, his reprimands ringing in my ears. I needed to know my station. And that was caught between a rock and a hard place, with Clove at one side and Moth and Teal, my adopted brothers, at the other. I sometimes wonder why he did it. What made me so different from any other kid he could have chosen? I’d spent my whole life running, being hunted. But now I was the hunter.

  By some strange twist of fate, I had become the thing my family studied, the thing they yearned to be true. Just thinking about the life I had before hurts.

  Teal was my only friend; there wasn’t a bad bone in his body. He’d been the one to come and sit by me when Clove lifted his ban. He didn’t need to speak; his presence was enough. How he ever ended up being a part of this was something I had yet to learn. But Moth protected him fiercely and would growl at me if I even looked in Teal’s direction some nights.

  Moth hates the fact that I’m stronger than he is. Clove’s blood is old and powerful. I’m pure bred, whatever that means. My fangs are longer than Moth and Teal’s. Sharper. And I’m faster, too. But I can’t control the hunger for blood yet, because the gene in me is so strong. It seems unfair. But what has fairness had to do with any part of my life? The Before, or the Now.

  I want to know Moth’s story, how he got to be where he is now, his life before, but all he does is sneer at me and say, ‘The who I was doesn’t matter, all there is, is this’. But I can’t agree, part of me is still the kid who went looking for the box.

  Because I’m unstable, Clove took us far away from The Manor. There were too many temptations in the village for three young vampires learning to hunt. And I was glad to leave, because the thought of seeing any of them again would make me crumble. I didn’t want a reminder of what had happened, of my old life.

  Still, there was nothing more I wanted to do than to talk to Noah, for him to tell me that it would all be okay like he had when I was a kid. But how stupid was I? Nothing would be okay ever again, and he would hate me, be repelled by me. I couldn’t stand the thought of that. Sure he’d seen the others, but it wasn’t quite the same as seeing me—undead, with the need for blood branded in my veins.

  In the scheme of things, knowing I’ll never find love is probably insignificant. Sometimes I wish there had been time to fall for someone, to feel the thrill and ache of something so beautifully painful. To get laid. I’m lonely but I’ll never admit it because it’s a weakness, and I’ve learned that showing weakness marks a vampire, makes him an outsider. And I’m making a good enough job of that already.

  I’m working on being at one with the night, a shadow of a shadow. Because sometimes I feel like the dark is my only friend.

  Chapter Two

  This was the moment we had been waiting for.

  It was late summer and dusk fell a few minutes earlier each night. The day had been hot, like the days before. A rare English heatwave. I stamped down the unease that crawled around my gut, not wanting to remember what had happened after the last one. A thin film of dust, from the track above the cave where we slept, coated my skin. I wiped my arm over my face. It was dappled in dried blood.

  It was, perhaps, too close to the outside world, but a steep drop to the v-shaped valley below stopped any hikers from being too curious, and the mouth of the cave was hidden from view by an overhang of rock.

  I was always the last to wake. Moth and Teal stood by the entrance, their instincts trained on something above. As the last drifts of death sleep left me, the smell of blood hit me full force. I scrambled to my feet and joined them. Saliva filled my mouth as salt and heat and blood wafted down from the path above.

  Clove flowed down the rock face, a liquid shadow, his feet and hands finding invisible holds, but I knew if I concentrated hard enough I would see them too.

  ‘A single man.’

  He told us what we had been longing to hear. I pushed forward and Teal moved aside to give me space. Moth didn’t even glance in my direction.

  ‘I believe you’re ready for the next step in your education.’ Clove’s gaze was trained on us, but I knew he was mentally evaluating any change from above.

  Me? I was ready to dive in head first and think afterwards. My fangs ached in my jaw.

  Clove nodded to Teal, who slipped away in a heartbeat, using the narrow sheep path that clung to the hillside, hidden from anyone above. Moth craned his head out of the entrance until Teal disappeared into the gloom. He was as eager as I was to get going, but the thought of blood was only part of it. He didn’t like letting Teal out of his sight.

  I climbed up to the track, following Moth, preferring to have him where I could see him. Even after nearly a year, I was sure he would get rid of me if he could. We tolerated each other, that’s all I could say.

  Twilight had fallen fast and the first few stars already glinted in the navy blue sky. This was moorland country and the landscape was dotted with tors, the granite outcrops from a time long before man. They ranged along the hillside, giant monoliths punctuating the heath and patches of bog. It was wild and desolate terrain. Sometimes it seemed to have no soul, especially when the north wind knifed across the heather. What better place for us to exist?

  The day’s heat rose from the track, the sandy surface crunching underfoot. The man was nowhere to be seen. A meagre light from a torch beam bounced on the path in the distance, but I didn’t need that. I was tuned into his heartbeat.

  Moth grabbed my arm. ‘We keep to the plan, okay? I don’t want you spoiling it for us.’

  Us didn’t include me. I shrugged his arm off, quickening my pace. This was the first time Clove had allowed us all out together to work as a team. I didn’t want to mess it up.

  The track curved up ahead at the point where a patch of blackthorn bushes clung to the edge of the cliff. We rounded the bend, keeping to the sparse grass at the edge of the path to hide our footfall. Teal’s
voice drifted back along the haze of heat. Moth exhaled, a deep release of relief.

  Teal sat on the ground, his hands around his ankle as our meal ticket loomed over him. Late thirties, medium build, wide shouldered. He would be strong. But not strong enough. He swung his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped a compartment, producing a bottle of water, offering it to Teal. Teal’s eyes flicked towards us and he groaned, easing himself onto his knees as though he was trying to stand.

  Moth took up the pace. Teal’s groan was all play-acting, but it had triggered something inside him. This wasn’t part of the plan. We were supposed to be soundless, invisible, then take our victim down. The element of surprise. Clove had told us there was no point in taking risks, even if the kill looked easy.

  Teal took the water bottle and raised it to his lips. The man gazed down at him, and his easy stance told me he didn’t feel threatened. Teal played the part of a boy out walking, who had injured his ankle, like a pro. With his beach-blond surfer hair and bright eyes, he looked as if he wouldn’t hurt a fly. The man looked around, his gaze towards where we were. His shoulders tensed. Then he pulled something else from his backpack.

  I sensed, rather than saw, Moth flinch.

  Our quarry’s heartbeat quickened, sending his blood raging through his veins. The scent of it clung to the fine hairs in my nostrils, causing the built-up saliva to drool from my lips. Instinct fought with reason in that split second before reaction. I wasn’t thinking about being quiet or hiding, I was thinking about that first warm rush of blood against my tongue.

  My keen eyes caught a shimmer of metal in an outstretched hand. He knew something was out there. Teal offered him the water bottle back and the man studied it, a surge of salt sweat rising to his skin. Moth flicked out his tongue, tasting it.

  Some primal instinct triggered inside our prey. He grabbed Teal by the arm and hauled him roughly to his feet. Sense should have told us Teal was more than capable of bringing him down, but when the blade nicked Teal’s wrist, I launched myself forward, covering the remaining distance in a few seconds.

  The man stared, his jaw dropping open in horror. The blade dropped to the ground. I hit him, full force, in the chest. A rush of air exploded from his lungs as his body hit the ground with a thud. I straddled him, pinning his shoulders with two hands, making sure he could see my fangs as they glistened with saliva.

  I could smell the urine as it soaked into the fibres of his jeans. Teal joined me, his tongue lapping at the wound on his wrist, those blue-green eyes shimmering with anticipation. Moth stood above us. A surge of tension danced along the hunger pangs gnawing in my gut.

  I didn’t wait for an invitation. Little noises of terror mewled from the man’s throat. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated with shock. I tore open the neck of his shirt, mesmerised by the pulse in his throat.

  Moth knelt beside me, his face inches from mine, the same hunger on his tongue. But I’d gotten first blood, that moment where the fangs slice cleanly through the skin and the salt is the first taste to hit, followed by the sweet hot gush of blood. I know I groaned, the pleasure spiralling me off into a warm, dark velvet place.

  Then a hand hauled me backwards so quickly that I ended up sprawled on the floor, fresh blood dripping from my fangs.

  Clove loomed over me, his face like thunder.

  ‡

  It took me a few seconds to process what had happened.

  The taste of blood hummed on my tongue, blurring out my other senses. Behind me, Moth and Teal feasted. The wet sounds of torn tissue. Teal’s whimpers of pleasure.

  ‘You were a sitting target, Gabriel.’ Clove’s eyes bore into my skull. ‘If this was a vampire trap, you would be dead. One of you always needs to be vigilant.’

  I wanted to say ‘why did it have to be me?’ but I knew the answer. I might be the youngest, but whatever dark gene ran in my blood, it was stronger than either of my brothers. Clove held me to that fact, something which didn’t help my relationship with Moth.

  The scent of new blood made my stomach turn over. I went to my knees and licked the remains from my lips. Moth raised his head, the lower half of his face stained red, and smiled. It was a smile of triumph. If it could have talked it would have said, ‘fuck you, Gabriel.’

  After Teal and Moth had finished, Clove gave me permission to drink. I fell upon the man’s corpse even though the blood was starting to congeal. My punishment was the leftovers, like a hyena waiting for a lion to grow tired of its kill. Moth and Teal watched from Clove’s side, Teal shifting uncomfortably at my humiliation.

  We were all silent as we walked back. Clove had disposed of the body, tossing it over the edge of the cliff as though it meant nothing. The foxes would clear up what we had left. A twinge of remorse flared up in my gut as the body thudded against the rocks below. This man had done nothing wrong. He was simply in the wrong space at the wrong time. I should have felt more but I didn’t.

  Back in the cave, I sat apart from the others, scratching marks on a rock with a flint-edged stone I’d found. The action helped to stem the sting of my shame. I’d been made an example of because I had broken the rules. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Moth got the same treatment. Only Teal seemed to get away with it, but then he never tested Clove’s patience. Deep down, I knew Clove was right. We had been sitting targets, too caught up in the thrall of the kill to take any notice of what was happening around us.

  My mind drifted back to the demon. The demon that now wore my mother’s skin. I hadn’t wanted to believe him when Moth told me. He’d tossed it into conversation like it was no big deal. ‘Suck it up, Gabriel.’ Those were his words. ‘Deal with it, because one night you will have to destroy her.’ My mouth filled with bitterness and I spat in the dirt.

  Moth looked up and strode across, his form blocking out the view of the stars from the yawn of the cave mouth. He had the uncanny ability to judge just when I was struggling. His words could slice as easily as any knife.

  ‘I’m not in the mood.’ I banged the flint so hard against the rock a spark flew between us. Some nights I could tolerate his jibes. This wasn’t one of them.

  ‘You’re too easy to bruise, Gabriel.’

  I glared up at him. ‘I am really not looking for a fight tonight, Moth.’ But what I saw wasn’t antagonism, for once, and it confused me.

  ‘There is no going back, you know. What’s in front of us? It’s all we have.’

  He left before I could answer, the stars swimming into view again.

  I wanted to hate him. I wanted to believe there wasn’t an ounce of goodness in his worm-ridden soul. But then he would floor me with a comment like that, or I would see him with Teal, and I would wonder about the boy he had once been, underneath that coat of snarkiness he wore. I wanted to get Teal alone, see if I could get him to open up about Moth’s history. Maybe if I knew a little bit about it, I could cut him some slack.

  Through the darkness, two blue-green eyes pin pointed me like laser beams. It was like looking into the universe and seeing galaxies spinning through time. I didn’t know why they shone. But I never got tired of looking at them. It made me realise not everything that is perceived as evil is truly all bad. There are shades of black and white. I’d learned that first a year ago.

  A pang of nostalgia twisted in my stomach. Did they think of me still, back at The Manor, or had they all moved on with their lives? As far as they knew, I was officially dead, killed by some freak fallout from the demon. I missed them all terribly. I don’t think I’d ever stop missing them. I hadn’t asked for the life I’d had back then, but it had worked out pretty much okay. Apart from my final twenty-four hours. But then I hadn’t asked for this life. Maybe I was destined to be forever at the whim of creatures stronger than me, a marionette dangling whilst they pulled the strings and made me dance. I half laughed, and the sound echoed against the cold walls.

  Moth’s words came back to me: ‘there is no going back.’ But I wanted to. To see them all one last time. To say goodbye.

  Chapter Three

  Noah Isaacs brushed his teeth in the small bathroom adjoining the biggest guest suite at The Manor. Although ‘guest suite’ wasn’t really an appropriate term as he wasn’t a guest anymore. Shortly after the night that had changed all of their lives, he had announced to his church committee that he was taking a sabbatical to help an old friend, which wasn’t strictly untrue. What he didn’t tell them was that the deaths of Beth, Ollie, and Gabe were not the only casualties. His faith had died too. What kind of a God could be so heartless as to stand back and let those horrors unfold? Their losses were a constant dark shadow. Gabe, the darkest of all.