Heir of Night (The Thorne Hill)

“Hey, everyone.” Eliza speeds over to the bar and jumps up on it once we’re on the other side of the room. “I had some requests to see how us vampires spend the day.” She motions to the windows. “These are light-tight and allow us to tend to this establishment during daytime hours.”

People think it’s cool and buy the story for the time being. Abby, Melinda, and I make our way through the crowd and go through swinging black doors that lead to the basement.

“If there are vampire prisoners down here, don’t be alarmed,” I warn and grip the metal railing with my free hand. Conjuring a ball of blue energy, I toss it up to illuminate our way. There are lights down here, but finding the switches takes time we might not have.

“I need to call Phil.” Abby’s hands are shaking, and she comes to a stop. She gets her phone out and then looks up. “Oh my God. Ricci and Min are still here!”

“Then they’re safe,” Melinda tells her. “I saw them as we walked past.”

“Did they see you?”

“No. They were busy taking selfies.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Abby says quickly, composure starting to crumble. I push back my shoulders and look around the basement. We’re in the main storage area, neatly filled with extra tables and chairs, shelves of dishes and glassware, and several cases of alcohol.

“Text them,” Melinda says calmly. “Let them know you heard about a possible shooter and tell them to stay where they are, but there’s no reason for alarm yet.”

Abby’s head bobs up and down, and she feverishly types out a text, fingers trembling so much she keeps making typos she has to go back and fix.

“The service down here sucks,” Melinda mumbles, looking at her own phone. She calls her brother and leaves a message, telling him a CliffsNotes version about a “powerful demon” infecting people and making them go crazy. Moving away from the stairs, I go toward the hall that leads to the jail cells made out of reinforced steel and cinderblocks, strong enough to keep a vampire in. A weakened vampire, that is.

The ball of energy moves along with me, leaving Abby and Melinda in the dark. A flashlight clicks on, and Melinda shines it around the room. Seriously, where the hell does she store that stuff? I rejoin them and sit on the bottom step, getting my own phone out. Melinda was right to say the service sucks, and it takes a good minute for a local news station site to load.

“I’ve come to check on the humans,” Eliza says, walking down the stairs. “Why are you in the dark? I know at least two of you have no night vision.” She pulls a string, turning on a single bulb over the stairs.

“How is everything upstairs?” I ask.

“The news reports are rolling in about an active shooter in the area. Some are worried, some don’t seem concerned. And the band offered to keep playing.” She rolls her eyes. “Now they think they’re like the damn orchestra on the Titanic keeping everyone calm. Though, news flash, no one cared about the music when they knew an icy death awaited them.”

“Were you on the Titanic?” Melinda asks slowly.

“No. I was already in America by that time. Lucas wanted to go on it, actually.” Her lips curve into a small smile as she thinks back. “Anything big and flashy has his name all over it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Eliza thinks back for a second. “We were out west then. Arizona, I believe, had recently become a state, so of course Lucas wanted to see what kind of property he could purchase.”

“It’s working,” I interrupt, holding up my phone. We all grow quiet, watching footage from a helicopter. The live feed keeps buffering, and though it’s annoying, we’re still able to get most of the reporting.

A man with a gun entered his place of work and opened fire. He left through the back and went into a restaurant, which was thankfully closing up for the night. Only the employees were there, and no one at this point knows if there are any injuries or deaths. The police have the place surrounded and are going to start negotiations in case the gunman has taken hostages.

We’re all gathered together, hunched over to watch things transpire. Abby slips her arm through mine, fingers still shaking. More police cars pull up and the helicopter moves back, giving us a look at the whole street. The news cuts back to a reporter on the ground, with flashing lights behind her. She’s a distance away, yet could still be in the line of fire from a rogue bullet.

“You think War is behind this?” Melinda asks me.

“It would be a pretty big coincidence if it wasn’t.” I run a hand over my stomach, feeling a little sick. The news cuts to an aerial view of the restaurant again and then back to the reporter, who says it’s now believed the gunman does indeed have hostages. She’s interrupted by a string of gunfire, and then something moves behind her, so fast it’s just a blur.