A Kiss Beneath the Veil Read online

  A Kiss Beneath the Veil

  By Aimee Roseland

  Copyright Aimee Roseland 2012

  Chapter One

  Daphne passed a fresh box of tissues to the weeping mother and glanced surreptitiously out her window at the darkening sky. It was now filled with purple shadows and burnished red clouds. The sun had dipped behind the mountains leaving the heavens looking like a beaten, bloody mess. She tried again to wrap up the late session as a creeping sense of dread rose within her.

  “All of the information she gave us has been passed on to the Rockford Paranormal Division,” Daphne said, motioning to her computer and its Message Sent banner. “Hopefully this new evidence will help them catch the bastard,” she offered quietly, settling back and pulling the band from her hair. She scraped her pale blond curls into a high ponytail and refastened it snuggly. Channeling was a messy business and she usually emerged looking the worse for wear. This session had been particularly intense considering who she’d channeled.

  “My little Emma never saw his face? Even when he was...?” the distraught woman asked, trailing off on a wet sob. Her eight year old daughter, Emma, was the latest victim of a serial killer that’d been stalking local children for almost a full year now. Daphne was able to channel her easily. Unlike some of the ghosts people asked her to contact, Emma had simply floated in with her mother. No need to call her forth from the space between.

  “No, ma’am. Try not to focus on that. Try to remember that she’s out of pain now-” Daphne tried, but the woman cut her off.

  “But she isn’t out of pain! She’s trapped here until we catch him! Why haven’t they caught him!?!” she howled, slamming a fist filled with damp tissues against the desk.

  Daphne flinched and felt the echo of her frustrated rage vibrate strangely through the room. It was getting way too close to dark.

  “They’re trying, Mrs. Berkley. Honestly, you’ve done all you can for the day. It’s getting late, you really should go home. The R.P.D. will contact you the moment they have any news,” Daphne said. She stood, trying to politely escort the woman toward the door.

  She should never have accepted a session this late in the day, but she’d grown desperate to catch the murderer. His victims were an almost constant stream through her office, and seeing so many dead children had crushed Daphne’s soft heart. She wouldn’t get a decent night’s sleep until he was caught. Neither would this poor mother, but Daphne had already stayed an hour past closing. Night was coming, and with it came other things...

  “But, I didn’t get to say goodnight to her. Please, call her back so that I can say goodnight,” the woman begged, grabbing onto Daphne’s sleeve and tugging plaintively.

  “I’m very sorry, ma’am, I can’t stay any longer. I have to be getting home,” Daphne said, pulling her arm away.

  She ignored the little girl’s dark, pleading eyes and marched straight through the apparition on her way to the door. A chill ran up her spine as the ghost snatched futilely at her. But she’d learned not to let them push her around and pretended not to be frightened of the spirits she could see now that the Veil had been lifted.

  It would be five years this winter since that day. The day the monsters lifted the Veil and revealed themselves, breaking the locks that once separated their two realities and shedding light - or shedding dark, really - on the creatures that walked among them.

  Finding out that your neighbor was a monster hadn’t even been the worst part. The worst part had been finding out that you were a monster.

  Like Daphne. She’d never seen a ghost until V’Day. Now she couldn’t walk down the street without passing through a dozen shades looking for a medium to tell their story. And most of their stories were pretty bad ones. That was the reason they were still stuck on Earth. Trapped in a sort of limbo until their unfinished business was, well, finished, or revealed, or whatever.

  So Daphne had set up shop as a medium, helping the dead contact their loved ones, or the authorities, or the local tabloids, as the case may be. She also helped the living contact the dead when they were still around. Like the little murdered girl who was floating in the center of her office.

  “I’ll pay extra. Just stay a little longer, please,” the woman begged, digging through her purse and making Daphne’s heart clench in sympathy. But fear of the coming darkness outweighed pity any day.

  “I’m sorry, but I really have to go,” Daphne said, opening her shop door and waving the woman forward.

  If Mrs. Berkley didn’t leave, Daphne was just going to lock her in.

  The low peal of a giant bell rang across the town. Fifteen minutes till full dark.

  Daphne gasped involuntarily, throwing a quick look over her shoulder. People began rushing through the deepening twilight, trying to get home before darkness fell and control of the city was transferred to the night breeds.

  “So you’re one of those people,” Mrs. Berkley sniffed behind her. Daphne turned to see the woman gathering her purse together and standing slowly.

  Daphne knew what “people” she was referring to. The frightened right-wing groups that’d formed after V’Day, the ones still trying to unify the “regular” humans against the “freaks and monsters”. They were constantly evangelizing on TV, trying to get people to stop patronizing monster owned stores, while selling high priced wards and weapons to protect homes against monster invasion.

  Daphne wasn’t one of “those people”. Well, she might have sent away for a few of the wards they sold, but she still bought her milk from the werewolf family that owned the Speedyway in town.

  She had other, very personal reasons for avoiding the dark.

  “I don’t hate monsters, obviously. I practically am one,” Daphne said defensively and felt a twinge of shame. If she really saw herself as one of the monsters, why was she pulling the door shut on the heels of a woman who’d just lost her daughter? Why wasn’t she helping her say goodnight to the murdered little girl shimmering at her elbow?

  Because there were monsters, and then there were monsters.

  Daphne shushed her inner debate and locked the door. She caught the wounded look the poor mother threw at the window, as though her daughter had been locked inside.

  “She’s with you, you know. She has been since she died. Even though you can’t hear her, she can hear you.” Daphne said, wasting another precious minute to console the broken woman.

  But before Mrs. Berkley’s hopeful expression could manifest into more questions, Daphne pointed at the ghost of her young daughter, calling “She’s right there!” and dashed down the street.

  She really wasn’t all that frightened of the newest denizens of Rockford, Pennsylvania. After all, they’d been there the whole time, hadn’t they? They’d just hidden their true nature. The way Daphne hid what she was truly afraid of. Everyone knew there were as many monsters that were human as there were monsters that were, well, monsters.

  Like the serial killer. Emma had just revealed that her killer stumbled when he was carrying her, twisting his ankle and crying out. That tiny incident was a huge breakthrough and supported Daphne’s growing suspicion that the killer was human. All of the known monster breeds had a preternatural grace, so tripping while carrying a child was immediately suspicious. And even if something had sprung up and tripped them, a twisted ankle shouldn’t have caused them any pain since they were also exponentially stronger than humans.

  After talking with the other dead children who’d stuck around, it really seemed like the killer had some very human weaknesses. Daphne couldn’t mull it over for long though. She’d never walked through a town on the verge of transfer before, and seeing it firsthand made all thoughts except the monkey-urge to flee go blank in her mind.
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  She’d seen this on TV before, but now she was caught right in the middle of it.

  Sanctuaries were starting to open for business, promising safe harbor to any humans caught out at night. They were glowing at every street corner, their buzzy neon lights blinking on in the murky twilight. Most people were scattering like roaches into the recesses of the city, disappearing behind locked and warded doors while other more adventurous types spilled onto the streets in laughing throngs, hoping to make it past the bouncers of the local vampire club.

  Some human businesses were closing, their warded shutters rolling down and exposing magical symbols that shimmered at the corner of Daphne’s eye. Her own curtains sported very similar designs, spells that prevented most of the night breeds from entering her home. Of course, there was really only one person from one breed that she was trying to keep out.

  The transition bell sounded again. It would continue striking each minute on the countdown to full dark. How many times had it rung already? Daphne had lost track.

  A couple of women ran past, their frightened faces whipping back to watch her slower progress before they disappeared in the gloom. Daphne wanted to call out to them, Never run! It attracts their attention! But she held her tongue. Shouting attracted their attention too.

  So did her appearance, come to think of it. Daphne yanked her pink hoody up over her hair and glanced around. She’d been propositioned more times than she could count in the last five years and she couldn’t afford another delay tonight.

  Apparently light blond hair and periwinkle eyes were a hot commodity among the night breeds. They had spotters that worked the daylight hours, searching for pretty girls who were interested in finding out what a vampire’s kiss really tasted like.

  She already knew, thank you very much.

  And if you asked her how it tasted (which you shouldn’t), and if she answered (which she wouldn’t), the answer would be pretty damned delicious.

  She was still two blocks from home when the bell toned again. She’d passed the last Sanctuary two minutes ago and hadn’t even paused. Spend the night on a urine soaked bench crowded with fear-mongers and paranoid weird-os when her house was just a few blocks away? No thank you. Rolling shutters suddenly rattled to life beside her, shocking a startled squeak from her. They revealed a brightly lit store once hidden safely behind their lightproof panels. A young man in a white apron shoved the door up the rest of the way and smiled at her startled face. His mouth was filled with needle-like fangs and his head sported two curling black horns.

  A demon! Full dark had come.

  Daphne took off running, screw whoever’s attention it drew. She could see the steps leading to her apartment. She was almost there!

  Her view of home was suddenly blocked by a giant chest as she ran full tilt into the man that appeared in her path.

  He pulled her to him, holding her arms in a light grip as she gasped in shock, finally finding the breath that’d been knocked out of her.

  No! No! No! This wasn’t happening! This just couldn’t be happening! She was never out after dark. Never! Not in five years! And she’d been so close to home! Why hadn’t she stopped at that nice Sanctuary?!?

  Daphne tried to step back, but the man kept hold of her. She couldn’t force herself to look at his face. The familiar scent of him was enough to tell her whose arms she was in.

  After five years of running, Isaac had finally caught up to her.

  Chapter Two

  Five years ago, before V’Day, she and Isaac had been dating. She was falling head over heels for him, and who wouldn’t? He was sweet and smart and thoughtful and as the icing on the cake, Isaac was gorgeous. Thick black hair that appeared perpetually wind tousled, pale blue eyes with lashes a camel would envy, six foot six when he slouched - which was rarely and with the utmost grace - an accent that made everything he said sound like a sexual position, and a body that a Greek god would drool over. But, honestly, the best part was that he had character. Really! He had a sense of humor, but knew when to be serious. He spoke passionately about the environment one minute and could laugh at himself the next. The man was perfect! Except he wasn’t a man, he was a vampire.

  When something sounded too good to be true...

  Most women might’ve thought the everlasting life thing was another perk, but not Daphne. The night Isaac came out to her, she’d run for the hills. Or to Anaheim, Dallas, Cleveland, and now Rockford to be precise. Trying to hide from the vampire that had fallen in love with her.

  See, that was the thing. Why her? Yes, she was honest and kind and smart, blah, blah, blah. So were a lot of women! And there was also her infallible sense of humor supported by an awesome collection of 80’s movies. “Space Balls” anyone? But what else had he seen in her? What made a thousand year old vampire fall in love with her?

  Daphne had summed it up in one word. Boobs.

  Isaac was the most gorgeous man...vampire...whatever that she’d ever met. But Daphne was a bona fide hotty herself. She knew that “like seeks like” so she figured that in a thousand years the one thing Isaac hadn’t found was his female equal.

  And Daphne really was beautiful. With a generously full pout, and soft heart-shaped face, she could’ve been a model. But her mom had instilled in her a deep-seated mistrust of celebrity and the superficial pursuit of beauty. So Daphne erected walls around her heart and developed tests that any date had to pass to go out with her. She figured that was the best way of avoiding falling for someone who only liked her for her body. They included a series of not-so-subtle questions about things that mattered to Daphne, in the hopes of avoiding a guy’s usual minefield of “compliments” such as the classic “you’re so hot!” or the ever popular “you’re so beautiful!” or her least favorite, “your ass is kickin!”

  Isaac was the first guy she’d ever met who might have been even prettier than her. Still, she’d immediately mistrusted his interest, going into full beauty battle mode, and singing Gaston’s wooing song from “Beauty and the Beast” in her head. Did he only want to date her because they were equally beautiful? But he’d passed her tests with flying colors, talking easily about politics and art and popular literature. He even liked the same movies as her! After he quoted “Rockula” during one email exchange, Daphne had finally been convinced to give him a chance. She’d realized that mistrusting him for being beautiful was just as bad as other men pursuing her for it.

  So they’d gone out to dinner and ended up talking all night. And every night after that. For two weeks they’d been inseparable from dusk till dawn. And every morning he’d kissed her goodbye without pressing her for anything further. Kisses that had, honest to god, almost made her cum. Seriously. But they’d never actually done the deed.

  The night Isaac told her that he was a vampire, he’d said that he needed her to know what he really was before he took her - his words - and that she was the first woman he’d ever fallen in love with. The only woman he would ever love...

  That last part had been the nail in the coffin, so to speak. Daphne bolted. Terrified that she couldn’t really measure up to that kind of pressure. A thousand year old vampire had fallen in love with her in two weeks and was ready to quit the search. She was the one. Like THE ONE.

  He’d let her go when she ran, calling for her, begging her to stay, but not restraining her. Not stopping her when she left him. And he’d let her keep running as well. Her first few moves had been over the course of a couple months, and she’d actually thought she’d lost him. Wrong.

  He’d followed her. Not only had he followed her, but he’d waited outside her door every night since. Waiting for her to come back to him.

  She hadn’t realized he was there at first. Then a neighbor mentioned her “guard” in passing. That was in the early years after V’Day. Lots of people had hired protection for the night. Daphne had written the comment off and hadn’t realized it was him until her last move, when she’d settled in Rockford. She’d almost convinced herself that she was
free of him, that he must have moved on. A friend had invited her out to a late dinner party at the museum and Daphne told her she’d consider. That night she’d gotten dressed, all the while feeling nervous and uneasy. This would be her first foray into the dark since the night breeds revealed their true face. She’d peered out the peephole in her apartment door, thinking she’d scope out the street one last time before leaving. Then she saw him. He was standing beneath one of the trees that lined the curb. Isaac. His large form was unmistakable.

  That’s when her neighbor’s comments finally clicked and she realized that he’d been with her the entire time.

  The thing that had never added up for Daphne was why he hadn’t simply hired someone to catch her during the day. Why had he waited for her to enter the night on her own? Now that she’d come face to face, well, face to chest with him, she could finally ask.

  “Let me go.” Daphne said firmly. She didn’t raise her eyes beyond the shiny button on his black silk shirt, and tried to maintain pressure against his chest, holding herself away from him. She knew that if he wanted to, he could squish her like a stuffed teddy bear, but he didn’t draw her any closer.

  She watched the button begin to dip as his head bent toward her, so she scrunched her shoulders up as though that could keep a thousand year old vampire from biting her if he chose to.

  She felt his smooth cheek slide against hers and heard the whisper of his breath as he smelled her hair.

  “Never.” he whispered.

  ####

  Daphne blinked and found herself standing in the center of a giant stone room. Isaac was still holding her lightly, his hands resting against her shoulder blades, his head dipped close to hers. She tried not to look into his face as she gawked at her surroundings. It wasn’t just a stone room. It was the vaulted great room of a castle.

  “Is this real? You guys can actually teleport!? You told the Human Relations Inquiry that you couldn’t! You totally lied!” Daphne huffed accusingly. She couldn’t believe that she was actually in a real live castle. The ceilings were painted with celestial scenes so exquisite that she had to wonder if they were a lost Michelangelo or something. They were held up by towering columns carved with vines and leaves. The floors were polished marble and covered in expansive Turkish rugs. The furnishings were elegant and tufted and probably named after some king or another. Daphne had never been this close to anything so splendid before, it nearly took her breath away.