Page 7 of The Night Runs Red

A rigid body crashed into me, and we fell together. My name was called out, but I couldn’t register the source. Someone held me down, using their body as a shield between me and the onslaught of chaos. “Please,” I gasped, failing to keep my panic under control. I was hyperventilating, the edges of my vision darkening. “I…,” I tried to speak, but the words felt trapped in my chest.

They leaned down and whispered in my ear as their weight lifted slightly. “Breathe,” they commanded.

I fought for air, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t take enough into my lungs. The smell of blood was overwhelming, and I couldn’t help but stare into the dead priest’s eyes as I spiraled downward. “I—I can’t.” Glass shattered from above, sending sharp shards raining down on us. I narrowly covered my head in time, but didn’t miss the keen sting of cuts along my fingers.

I was going to die.

Would anyone other than my aunt’s family mourn me? I hardly had friends due to my introverted nature and my overbearing father. People would come to my funeral, weeping for a tragic life lost too soon. But I would be forgotten by the time the sun set on the day.

The person above me reached over, intertwining their fingers with mine and placing them on the floor. “Breathe!” they commanded again, their tone sharp and laced with authority. This time my body succumbed to their command. On the next inhale, I felt a rush of air filling my lungs. The darkness abated with each breath, and I grounded myself with the thundering beat of this person’s heart.

It took a moment for me to realize the shooting had stopped, though the sounds still rang in my mind. People were still shouting, and I heard feet crunching against the glass. “Calia! Calia!” This time I recognized the voice calling out for me, and I struggled underneath the body still covering my own.

The world spun as I pushed off the ground, and I reached out for something to steady me before I lost my footing. Rough hands gripped my own, and I looked up into Rion’s cold face. His depthless eyes, which had been black only moments ago, were now an icy silver that glittered with untethered power. “T—Thank you,” I stammered, pulling away from his hold.

He dipped his chin, stepping back as Brielle and my aunt barreled into me. They pulled me in tightly, only pulling back to check me for injuries. I could barely concentrate on their words, refusing to lose Rion in the crowd. The guests fled during the shootout, leaving only those closest to us lingering to inspect the damage.

My father stood, brushing a piece of fallen hair out of his face as he surveyed the few dead bodies around us. His spiteful gaze landed on Rion, but before he could open his mouth to spew his venom, the heavy doors of the chapel burst open. I watched as my uncle and Jasper stalked through the room, a man hanging limply between them. He let out small sobs and pleas for mercy, begging everyone for help, but his cries elicited no pity. As they drew near, Jasper forced the man down on his knees at Rion’s feet while my uncle approached and kissed my forehead.

“Please, please, please,” the man whimpered. “I was set up! I was—”

Jasper held the man in place as Rion bent down and gripped him by the throat, cutting off both his oxygen and his words in one quick strike. “Who sent you, human?” he asked, voice low and lethal. Goosebumps skittered across my flesh as I watched him inhale deeply. Growing up, we’d been told vampyres could taste a lie with a single drop of blood. It was a story that began as a cautionary tale, but seeing Rion work in front of me, I couldn’t help but wonder if there might be any truth to it.

The man fought against their hold, his face turning blue as Rion finally released his grip. “I don’t know who it was,” he gasped. “I only answered the hit. It was untraceable.”

Rion looked at Jasper as the human’s head sagged, a small trickle of blood running down his chin. Apprehension ran down my spine as they silently communicated, occasionally glancing up at me. “Who was the target?”

The man said nothing as we waited on bated breath to hear a name. Instead, he shook his head vigorously, looking up into my eyes. “You’re not safe with any of these creatures,” he rasped. “They will use you until you are spent.”

My aunt’s grip tightened on my bicep, but I was too shocked to say anything. Was he referring to the D’Arcy family, or perhaps even my own? Before I could question him, Rion moved with lightning speed. His hand plunged into the man’s chest, a snarl crossing his face as he leaned in close to watch the light die from his prey’s eyes.

His excitement was palpable, fangs peeking out from under his top lip, but he paused before leaning in and staring at me. I was frozen in shock, immobilized by fear and a shameful desire to know what they would feel like scraping against my neck and—

Rion pulled his hand free from the man’s body with a wet pop. Hot, sticky blood splattered against my face and chest, seeping through the fabric of my dress and staining my skin. He clutched the man’s heart in his palm before letting it fall from his fingertips to the floor at my feet.

This was a test, one I was trying not to fail. I felt every eye on me, gauging my reaction until I felt anxiety rush to the surface. But I refused to shy away from these people—especially Rion. Had he done it to scare me? To show me who he was beneath it all? He was underestimating me if he assumed a little murder would send me running. He was wrong.

While my mother was alive, she shielded me from my father’s depraved nature, but once she was gone, he’d force me to watch as he carved up those who had wronged him. It was a lesson—he told me—a reminder that even if I disappointed him, I still had the Darrow name, and Darrows never let those wrongs go unpunished.

Rion’s mother came up behind him, tsking as she looked down at the body. “What a waste,” she said with a sigh. Her eyes followed the trail of blood from the floor up to my face, widening in hunger as she stepped forward and dragged a single digit through the mess across my cheek. “Welcome to the family,” she said with a wolfish grin, before licking her finger clean.

CHAPTER FIVE

I sat next to Rion in the back of a sleek black town car, the silence near suffocating. After what happened in the cathedral, there’d been no time to think, let alone catch my breath. Rion’s mother insisted we continue as if nothing had happened, not even giving me a moment to wipe the smeared blood from my face.

The body of our dead priest was removed, so I didn’t have to stand over his corpse as Rion and I pledged ourselves to one another. His blood, on the other hand, stained the bottom of my gown and smeared across the marble flooring as I made my way out of the chapel.

Dark water rippled past us as the car drove across the bridge toward Rion’s home. I’d seen the imposing, gothic mansion before—usually, during early morning strolls along the banks of the Odesza. I was always curious to know what secrets were held behind its massive walls. Now, I was only moments from finding out, and I wasn’t sure if I was still as curious as I used to be.

He checked the time on his watch before turning toward the window with a soft sigh. His foot tapped gently against the floorboard, almost muted by the soft piano music flowing from the speakers. “We’re almost there, sir,” the driver said. When Rion didn’t respond, I glanced out the windshield for a better view.

Straight ahead was an imposing wrought-iron gate; sharp points lined the top, preventing birds from perching atop it. It nearly reached the branches of tall hemlock trees lining the drive. With the press of a button, the gate swung open to reveal a winding drive. Tall spires peeked out from atop the small surrounding forest, letting the last glint of sunlight against the glass beam down on us.

In front of the house was a large circular driveway encompassing a great black fountain. In the middle stood a marble goddess with her hands outstretched, her head tilted to the sky in prayer. “Beautiful,” I muttered, unable to pull myself away from looking at her.

Was it pain or pleasure written across her face? Did she have a name, or was she cursed to remain unknown until she crumbled away?

As the car came to a stop, Rion cleared his throat. “Excuse us for a moment, Hendrix.” The driver stepped out and stood near the back of the car. The night was approaching, and the windows were tinted so dark it was hard to see. When Rion turned to me, I straightened my posture ever so slightly. “Under different circumstances, we would have been able to speak about this beforehand, but there was no time, given the nature of our agreement. We will go over my expectations in the morning—”

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