Dark Vigil Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Mailing List

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  Two months earlier

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Present day

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Epilogue

  Mailing List

  Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 Gary Piserchio

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, would be quite remarkable and purely coincidental.

  You can certainly copy tiny passages of this book as part of “fair use” copyright—especially if you’re writing a kickass review! However, be cool and don’t copy large chunks (or the entire thing) without getting written permission from me. Thanks.

  Edited by Rebecca Hodgkins

  Bandruí Chronicles

  Dark Vigil (Book One)

  Dark Fear (Book Two)

  Mailing List

  Click here to sign up for my mailing list and get TWO FREE short stories set in the Bandruí universe.

  I won’t sell or give away your email address and I won’t really bug you all that often with emails.

  Facebook

  Click here for my Facebook page

  www.facebook.com/Piserchio

  To the best sibs ever: Jeff, Gail, and Randy

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tabitha Meagher expected him to look creepier and more sinister. Instead, except for the sickly pallor of his skin, he seemed fairly normal. Not that looks mattered as she would kill him regardless.

  “Wanna go somewhere?” he asked.

  “Where’d you have in mind?” said Tabby.

  He shrugged. “There’s a cool joint not too far that stays open until three. Good music and cheap drinks.” The nightclub they stood in front of was closing. He reached out. She took his hand, surprised it wasn’t cold. Of course, it was August in Kansas City.

  He guided her down the block, across the street, toward the dark maw of an alley. “There’s a shortcut through here.”

  She knew exactly where the alley led. Aunt Patrice made her study Google Maps for the surrounding area where the pick-up would most likely happen. All was going to plan.

  As they disappeared into the dark alley, she glanced back. Aunt Patrice shadowed them. Just in case. Tabby was nervous. Even a little scared, but she could handle this guy. It’s what she’d trained for her entire life as one of the legendary bandruí gaiscíoch.

  Tabby reached down into the side slit of her little black dress and pulled the rowan heartwood stake from the leather sheath tied to her thigh. The weapon was about a foot long, the blunt end tipped with a heavy iron head so it could be used as a striking weapon. The other end was sharp enough that with enough force, it could penetrate the sternum or ribcage of a vampire.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Dead Beat Club gyrated, per usual. Calico Meagher and her friends went to the bar first, then with drinks in hand, they scouted for a table. They were in the EDM area of the club, Calico’s favorite, but people were packed in and there were no open spots.

  “Retro!” yelled Maggie in her ear. Calico barely understood her against the driving beat of the music.

  The five twisted through the crowded fringe of the dance floor to the half-dozen steps that took them into another bar that acted as Switzerland to the warring music. Behind them thumped EDM, to the right through a doorway was hip hop, and left through another doorway was poppy top-40. The Denver dance club was a mélange of musical genres.

  They went straight, scouting for a table but finding none, and descended a darkened stairwell that took them to the basement where Depeche Mode wanted you to reach out and touch faith.

  Calico didn’t mind retro. It’s what her parents listened to—it was the soundtrack to her and her sister’s life growing up in Lakewood, a suburb west of Denver. But the most beneficial thing about retro music, was that the downstairs bar and dance floor were the least crowded in the club. And behold, they found the holy grail of an empty table. They deposited purses and drinks, adjusted their clothing, and then caught up, as it’d been a week since they’d been together.

  Calico was the shortest, at five-foot-four, but also because she didn’t like wearing heels. On that Friday night she wore silver ballet flats. The other girls had on various-sized heels, with Vickie wearing her usual black four-inch stilettos with their red soles, but they weren’t authentic Louboutins. Maggie also had black stilettos, but wore tight jeans and a clingy gold blouse, while all the others had on various LBDs.

  Calico had the longest hair—a fiery mane of curls that hung down her back. Her complexion was mapped with freckles that she chose not to hide beneath makeup, preferring a light natural look with just some pink lip gloss. She did like a touch of brownish-black smoke to make her emerald eyes pop.

  Maggie took a sip of her gin and tonic and smiled at Calico. “Have you decided about Vegas?”

  Calico lit up. She yelled back, “I’m totally there! Bought my tickets. Where are we staying at?”

  “My folks got us a suite at the Bellagio.”

  “Seriously? Isn’t that expensive?”

  Maggie grinned and nodded.

  “You two talking about Vegas?” asked Stephanie, coming over with her spiced rum and diet Coke. “The Bellagio is going to be amazing!”

  The three raised their drinks and turned toward their other two friends. “What happens in Vegas—” began Maggie.

  “—Stays in Vegas!” they all shouted, clinking glasses and laughing.

  Dina’s smile turned into a pensive frown.

  Calico said, “You okay?”

  The smile returned. “Of course!”

  “But—” said Calico, drawing out
the word.

  The other girls gathered close, sensing Something Important.

  Dina’s smile looked terribly sad. “It’s great news, actually.”

  Calico doubted that.

  “Vegas is probably going to be my goodbye. I was offered a job in San Francisco.”

  It felt like someone swept Calico’s legs, sending her sprawling. She blurted, “You can’t move!”

  She must have looked horrified, because all of them, including Dina, put a hand on her.

  Dina said, “It’ll be okay. With the money I’ll be making I can fly back a couple times a year.”

  “Yeah,” said Maggie, “and we can go visit her in San Fran. It’ll be exciting.”

  As Calico looked around the group, she saw the same doubt in all their eyes. Dina wouldn’t find the time to come visit, they wouldn’t find the time, or money. They’d been together since Freshman year of college. And now it was over.

  Stephanie held up her drink. “Congratulations, girlfriend!”

  The others held their drinks up, but Calico’s heart was most definitely not in it. End of an era. Shit, she was only twenty-two. Ends-of-eras shouldn’t happen until she was at least thirty, for fuck’s sake.

  First she lost her sister Tabby, who moved away to who-knew-where, and now Dina. What the hell? She hated shit like this.

  They drained their drinks and quickly ordered a second round.

  Vickie yelled, “Let’s dance!”

  All five went out onto the wood dance floor, staying close enough to the table to keep track of their stuff. Calico smiled, but she assumed everyone saw how fake it was. However, the smile grew more genuine as the night wore on.

  A few guys tried to join in and as long as they didn’t get grabby, the women put up with them. Except Vickie, of course. One of the guys started yelling in her ear and she laughed and yelled something back.

  Calico wasn’t surprised when she leaned toward her and shouted, “We’re heading to EDM!”

  “’Kay! Have all the fun!”

  Vickie grinned and winked at her. And then the girls were down to four. When Dina left them, it would be just three. They were supposed to stay together. Maybe not forever, but at least a few more years. They were still kids. It should have been nothing but laughs for them. Not taking Big Jobs out of state.

  CHAPTER THREE

  By 2 A.M. closing time, Calico went in search of Vickie. It was the usual dawn patrol for her friend who sometimes got a bit too drunk and thought about going home with some schlub she just met at a bar. As was the case that night.

  Vickie was always a happy drunk. Too happy when it came to men. Calico found her holding hands with a different guy than the one she’d gone upstairs with.

  “Hey, Vick! Let’s go,” said Calico, all smiles.

  “Callie! This is my friend Callie! Callie, this is Nick!” The house lights were on and the music turned down to something you could actually talk over, but Vickie was both a happy drunk and a yelly drunk.

  Nick smiled and held out his hand. Calico shook it, willing to be friendly for the moment.

  “Thanks for taking care of her, Nick. Okay, Vick, let’s get going.”

  Vickie smiled blearily at Nick. “’Bye, Nick.”

  He didn’t let go of her hand. “Thought I was giving you a ride home.”

  “You did?” said Vickie, still smiles. “That’s awful sweet of you.”

  Calico let the smile slip a bit. “Awful sweet, but we’re fine giving her a ride home.”

  “See?” said Vickie. “The girls’ll give me a ride. Nice meeting you.”

  He didn’t let go her hand. “No, it’s okay. I’ll take her.”

  Calico was all of five feet and four inches. She preferred ballet flats, so there was no extra height from heels. Nick was a few inches over six feet. But that didn’t stop Calico from stepping close to him and saying. “Let her go or I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

  Her smile was gone.

  His smile turned derisive. “Right. Out of my way, short stuff, I’m taking her home.”

  Vickie’s smile vanished. “It’s okay, Nick. She’s my friend. I should really go home with her.”

  “I told you I’d take you,” said Nick, putting his arm out to brush Calico aside.

  She ducked under his arm, drove her fist hard into his bicep, and then returned to her standing position in front of him. If this were a real fight, she wouldn’t have stood so close—and he’d already be unconscious on the ground. She counted on his manly manliness to keep him from doing anything to really hurt her. He was a complete asshole, but he wouldn’t want to look like a complete asshole in front of other people.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his arm and flexing his hand. He tried to shove her again with the same arm, but it had lost all its strength. Wincing, he said, “What the hell?”

  Calico tapped her fist into his crotch. Not hard enough to hurt, at least not too much, but enough to get the point across. “If you don’t let go her hand right now, I will put you in the emergency room. Last warning.”

  His smile was pure hatred and hurt feelings at this point. There was a hesitation as his breathing became ragged. He really wanted to punch her, not that he could with his disabled arm. Instead, he did the smart thing and released Vickie.

  Calico immediately took her hand and walked her downstairs to the others.

  “I’m starving!” declared Stephanie. It was a declaration one of them was going to make sooner than later.

  “Pete’s?” said Calico.

  Two nods and two shrugs from the girls. They had their consensus and headed for the doors as part of the club’s exodus. Stephanie got them an Uber and they were off to East Colfax and Pete’s Kitchen for 2 A.M. breakfast. It was in a seedier part of Denver, a mile or two from downtown, but as always on Friday nights/Saturday early mornings, there was a line, so the girls never felt uncomfortable being in that part of town in the wee hours. And because it was mid-August in Denver, it was still quite warm.

  They talked the entire time, but no one mentioned Dina’s impending move to San Francisco. None of them were married and none of them were in any particular hurry to have kids. Only Stephanie had a boyfriend. But Fridays were for the girls. If neither were too hung over, Stephanie and Tom would do something tomorrow night.

  Twenty minutes later they were seated at one of the large round plastic tables in the back ordering various eggs and pork dishes, except for Maggie, who was vegetarian. She got the veggie omelet and sour dough toast. Calico got the Denver omelet, no bread. They all drank giant glasses of water to try to keep the hangover to a bleary minimum.

  The conversation continued unabated until halfway through her omelet, Calico felt uneasy. She couldn’t pinpoint why. Her heart beat faster. Sweat shimmered across her skin. She was suddenly anxious. It wasn’t the alcohol, she didn’t think. Was she sick?

  “You okay, Callie?” asked Stephanie. “You look, I don’t know, pale or something.”

  The other girls turned on her, concern sweeping across their faces.

  Calico smiled, albeit weakly, and said, “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  And scared about something.

  Then she saw the damned black cat. It sat across the dining room, tail twitching, eyes like molten gold staring at her. It wasn’t a house cat. It was the size of a panther with a white heart on its chest and a shimmery purple aura surrounding it. It also wasn’t really there, hence no one else saw it. She hadn’t seen the cat in forever—years—and thought it was gone for good. Its sudden arrival was a really-bad-no-good thing.

  Then a stark image made her jerk. It was so real that the diner and her girlfriends faded. Her sister Tabby stood in an alley wearing a little black cocktail dress and holding a wickedly sharp rowan heartwood stake.

  A woman standing next to Tabs looked a bit like Mom, but taller. And in front of them was a man straight out of a fashion magazine. He was dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit along with a matching overcoa
t. He was several inches over six feet and slim. He had a full head of black hair tinged with gray framing a face that had no right to be so gorgeous. His eyes practically glowed with a startling blue-gray color and his skin was the color of ash.

  Oh, shit.

  Calico reached out her hand and said, “No!”

  “What is it?” asked Vickie.

  She looked at her friends as if they’d suddenly materialized in front of her. Trying to smile, she said, “Sorry, just remembered I was supposed to call my mom.”

  She pushed herself to her feet and left without saying another word, the image of her sister still as vibrant in her mind as if she were watching it live. Pushing through the blockade of people at the door from the still-long line, she made it outside.

  Mom picked up after just one ring. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Calico couldn’t speak at first. It felt like she was crossing a line, a line she’d drawn in the sand for herself. She didn’t want any part of what was on the other side. So much so that she’d never looked beyond the line, afraid of even catching a glimpse.

  But for her sister, she finally said, “It’s Tabby.”

  “Oh, God,” whispered Mom.

  In the background, Dad said, “What is it?”

  Mom shushed him. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe nothing.” Tabby was in an alley facing down a tall pale man. But that’s not why she hesitated telling Mom. She wasn’t afraid of sounding insane. Just the opposite. She was afraid it would sound perfectly reasonable.

  “It’s okay. Tell me.”

  Calico took a deep breath and said, “I saw her—wait, wait, no, I didn’t actually see her. It was a vision, I guess. But it was really clear. Tabby was in an alley with Aunt Patrice.”

  “Were they alone?”

  “Of course not, or I wouldn’t be calling. There was a—” The drawn line burned inside her as hotly as any conviction she’d ever had. No, more so. Crossing that line meant buying into the beliefs of her family. Beliefs she didn’t want to accept.