Sunset of Blood (Silhouette Vampires Book 2): Silhouette Vampires, #2

Sunset of Blood: Silhouette Vampires

Book 2

Harlan Harper

Copyright © 2024 Harlan Harper All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Contents

1.All Things Must Pass

2.If I was the Devil

3.The White Communion II

4.Wedding Bands

5.The Worst Bartender

6.God and Jameson

7.Carpe Noctem

8.Fine.

9.The Mendoza Line

10.Boom

11.Bloodrose

12.A dying breed

13.This damn place

14.Honey, I'm home

15.Dynasty

16.In the silence, you find yourself

17.To wane with wonder the whetted hearts

18.Impale the skies

19.I have something to tell you

20.The forest

21.If it makes your skin crawl

22.Prince

23.The brief case: A tale of mercy

24.I'll wait for you in the shade

25.Violet. Violin. Violence.

26.Crimson Drippings

27.Sunset of Blood

28.Irish Whiskey

About Author

Chapter one

All Things Must Pass

Oliver

The clean windows gave the illusion that there was nothing severely wrong with the black Cadillac. Someone watching from afar might think, damn, they got in a pretty nasty accident. They might have a look of surprise as they wonder how it’s still on the road.

But goddamn, if they were to get close enough to peek inside.

Should have known better than to give Darius a job that required some effort.

Lyrian, if you’re watching. I’m sorry. I’ll clean her up, don’t worry.

The leather seat sloshed and swooshed as Oliver adjusted himself to get comfortable. It was just a little blood, but knowing that it was Lyrian’s blood made the hairs on his arms stand up.

Oliver popped open the glove box, hoping to find one of those green tree scent things to hang in the rearview. He knew doing so would be like dumping bottled water on a forest fire, but better than doing nothing.

Registration papers, dozens of pens, a bag of balloons, a gun, and what’s this? A letter?

The glue seal of the envelope peeled open as Oliver slid it out of the glove box.

In blue ink, across the front of the envelope, it read: For You.

For who? Me? He couldn’t have assumed I’d open his glove box. Could he?

He closed the envelope and tossed the letter back into the glove box after making a mental note to read it as soon as he had a moment to breathe. 

The gun fit nicely into his coat pocket.

Otherwise, he left the rest of the contents untouched.

The keys jangled against one another as Oliver put one into the ignition. The engine clicked and sparked; sputtered and floundered until it roared and chugged to a start.

It was time to head home. Oliver imagined his father would consider the journey a failure, but he knew it wasn’t. Emily saw him, spoke to him. She remembered him. And she got away. By some God-given miracle, she got away. The only problem now was dealing with The Communion. Because it would surely take more than a car to kill Ambrose. And you don’t just impede the dealings of The Communion and live to tell the tale.

He rubbed his nails across some peeling rubber on the steering wheel, adjusted the rearview mirror, then turned up the radio.

Steel guitars. Twang. Simple tunes about simple things. Someone who sounded just like Willie Nelson sang a song about their hometown. Oliver couldn’t help but smile. He rolled down the driver’s side window and put the car in reverse.

I’ll see you soon, Dad.

Oliver tossed his parka on the coat rack. The Atierian Mansion had an unfamiliar scent, something foreign. None of the candles were lit, and the home looked empty. Each step Oliver took echoed up the spiral staircase and into the upper levels.

Something shuffled in the cellar, then something slammed. Oliver focused his ear on the sound, but wasn’t able to place what it might be. 

Then Shane appeared from the cellar, his hair disheveled. Full stubble-beard surrounding his long, pointy goatee.

Brother, Shane nodded, then closed the cellar door behind him. surprised to see you make it back in one piece. He wiped dust from the front of his jacket.

Your limp, it’s gone. Oliver noticed that when his brother stood up straight he looked a lot like their dad. They both had the stature of the type of man who scales mountains and builds fires with their bare hands.

My studies have been going well...very well. That’s not the only thing that’s improved.

Does that mean?

The antidote? You did it? You actually did it.

The world will change soon. And I’ll be the one who caused it. 

Shane scratched at his chin and neck. The house was so quiet that each scratch was like nails drug along pavement. Beads of sweat fell from his forehead.

That’s amazing, Shane. I want to hear all about it soon. But I really need to see dad.

The floors creaked as Oliver walked toward his brother. He paused, the curious smell grew stronger with each step. He examined Shane. Something seemed off, but again, he couldn’t quite place it. This didn’t feel like home. Not at all. And this didn’t feel like the brother he left behind when he stepped into Lyrian’s Cadillac.

Dad asked me to watch after things while he was gone, the cellar included. I think he’s finally getting ready to prep me as leader of the house.

You’ll have no contest from me. Oliver’s nose wrinkled. What the fuck is that smell?

Shane spun his watch around his wrist, looked at the flooring, and said, Running an experiment downstairs. It’s nothing serious.

I’ve got to see this.

Absolutely not. I was given specific instructions to not allow anyone else in the basement, that includes you. Also, the experiment I’m running. It’s dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.

Well, Oliver looked around the room. I don’t see Dad anywhere. Come on, I always help with your experiments.

I said no. Shane put his arm around Oliver’s shoulder and guided him toward the kitchen. take a seat. You look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.

Sitting in that kitchen again brought back a flood of memories—his first rabbit, talks about his first girlfriend, his first fist fight—all of his first memories involved Shane.

We practically raised ourselves, huh? Oliver asked.

Nonsense. I practically raised us both myself.

You proud of your work?

Fuck no, Shane pushed a glass across the table. It nearly fell off the edge and smashed on the floor until Oliver caught it. you’re probably starving. One minute.

Starving puts it lightly. I have half the urge to open up the dungeon and take one of my father’s prisoners for myself. But the better part of me would regret it.

Here. With his teeth, Shane ripped a blood bag open. The blood spilled down the sides of the glass, onto Oliver’s hands and the table. However, most of it found its way inside of the glass.

Cheers. Oliver wasted no time tilting the glass back. The cold blood made his ears pop when it hit the back of his throat. Thick. Salty. A chunk of something got stuck between his teeth, but he flicked it out with the tip of his tongue, chewed on it between his teeth, then spit it back in the empty glass.

Gristle of some sort. A sign of a bad quality bag. Not typical of Uriah’s work.

So, Shane took a seat across the table from his brother. He locked his fingers together in front of him. Tell me everything.

And so he did. He told him about the advice Lyrian gave him. The Cadillac, the country music. He glossed over some details about the motel. Too soon, he thought. It would be unwise to keep revisiting what bothered him. He explained how he saved a man’s life. How that same man is also an accessory to hiding Lyrian’s body. And then, of course, Lyrian himself. He spoke of his death. Spared the gruesome details. He laughed while he mentioned the little old lady. She would have been an interesting person to get to know. Then he paused, gathered himself, and told Shane about Emily. About meeting Ambrose on the highway.

What? Shane waved his hand through the air. that girl, she’ll have us all killed? For what? I have the antidote now. That must be why we’ve been invited to meet with The Communion. You, me, and our father. Haven’t seen dad in a few days, though. Maybe a week. I’ve been working too much, sleeping too little. Everything blends together. Shane looked everywhere but into Oliver’s eyes. He was hiding something.

You’ll have to leave your work behind. At least for now. We can’t ignore a request from the Communion.

While you’ve been off chasing a girl, I’ve been saving the world. He wiggled his fingers in the air, near his face. and now you’ll bring me down with you? They don’t summon a family to The Communion for good news. Never good news.

As long as we get word to Dad, he’ll be able to help, Oliver said. and what happened to my humble brother? You’re trying to save the type of people who don’t want to be saved.

Are you saying you no longer want the antidote?

I still need to find Emily, hell or high water. I can’t do that if I’m mortal. I’ve seen too many die already. I fear the dying will only continue.

And why can’t you just stop? Let her go. Let the Communion find her. If she’s as powerful as you say. So important that Ambrose himself went to find her. Then they’d be fools to kill her.

I’m the one who did this. You don’t deserve to be punished for what I did. Neither does Dad. I alone need to fix this.

Yet here you are. Telling me I must come with you. That I must go to The Communion meeting.

Sorry for dragging you into this, Shane. But the fact they even invited us rather than simply slit our throats could mean there’s a path out of this for us.

Save your apologies for Lord Ambrose. His opinion is all that matters now.

If Dad isn’t there, they will chop my head off, or worse, they’ll bury me alive.

Can we at least call and ask Dad if he’ll come?

He didn’t take his phone. You know how he is about technology.

Headaches, buzzing in his ears, constant paranoia. True, but he always keeps his phone if he’s gone for a long period. Especially when he has no known return date.

Oliver let his suspicion fade. His father wasn’t reliable, not his entire life. He had to take his chances with Shane, but more important, he had to take his chances with himself.

What’s Lord Ambrose like anyway? Oliver said. You had to have read a book or two about him by now.

The table shook as Shane rocked his leg up and down beneath it. He rubbed the back of his neck, closed his eyes, and said, Brother, I love you, and therefore I won’t lie to you. You don’t become a lord of vampires by being a nice guy. Nor a forgiving guy. Your best chance is to fall to your knees, beg forgiveness, offer years of servitude. Whatever it takes to keep you from dying. To protect this family.

You’re asking me to be weak?

You are weak. If you tried to be anything else, he’d call your bluff. Just trust me on this. Beg for forgiveness. Keep yourself from dying. I don’t much like the idea of my little brother dying at the hands of The Communion.

You don’t quite like the idea of me staining the Atierian name. You want to become leader of the house? What house would be left if they punished us all for my actions? You fool nobody, brother.

Thanks for the meal, but I’m exhausted, Oliver said. Be sure to be packed by tomorrow morning.

I’ll bring the antidote with me, just in case you change your mind.

The table shifted as Oliver pushed himself up. Every bone in his body braced itself under what felt like a shift in gravity. The world, the air, the particles of dust. It all seemed heavy.

Goodnight, Shane.

Yup, Shane sighed. and one more thing. Do not go to the cellar. I’m not kidding when I say the experiment is dangerous.

Oliver could think of nothing he’d rather do than go into that cellar. See what his brother was hiding. But his exhaustion led him up the steps, behind the door to his bedroom, and fast asleep.

If he survived the Communion’s sentencing, maybe he’d take a trip down there and see if Shane maybe unearthed the truth of what lies beneath.

Chapter two

If I was the Devil

Florence

One day you’re getting assaulted in a parking garage and lying to doctors. The next day you’ve got a Scarface amount of cash in a black garbage bag and vampires exist.

Steady on the gas pedal, Darius said. I still think you should have gotten the Chrysler.

I can’t believe how much of a discount I got using cash. Been doing it wrong my entire life.

Care if I smoke in here?

Florence smacked his arm as he rolled down the window. I care. I want that fresh car smell in here as long as possible. Roll the window back up. Freezing out there.

When it’s your last new car, it has a value that other people wouldn’t be able to see. Darius had a pouty lip. He looked goofy. At least he was freshly shaven and showered.

You can smoke when we get to the mall.

Thanks, mom.

More like Grandma.

I ain’t that young.

Got any kids?

No.

Then you’re that young.

She drove forty in a sixty-five the entire way to the mall. Some people might get leaden feet when they’ve a date with dying, but she kept thinking of the things she wanted to see out. Vampires? Revenge? It was more thrilling than another night of Wheel of Fortune and chicken noodle soup.

After double parking, they walked through the lot.

An odd couple, Florence thought. But then, she wasn’t a teenager anymore. People didn’t really notice the odd couples these days like they once did. She let Darius pick the first few stores they went to. He had that Christmas morning look on his face and she enjoyed just witnessing someone in true happiness. His store choices left a lot to be desired, though. Dick’s, Nike, GameStop.

He spent so much money that they had to fill up the trunk of the car before continuing. She let Darius do that while she rested on a large plastic chair—fit for a giant. For a moment, she thought, he could steal the car and be off with that bag of money. How well do I know this man, anyway?

Then, just as the thought crossed her mind, he returned. That same smile on his face. Other than the chipped tooth at the front, his smile was practically perfect.

I find it odd, Florence moved her purse from the seat next to hers. the world’s supposed to end in less than a month and people are still using credit cards. Teenagers are still going to their jobs. Milk and bread, still on the shelves. I expected more chaos.

Expected it, or wanted it? Darius said as he sat next to her, smelling like smoke.

Just surprised to see everyone going about their lives like they aren’t about to end.

Maybe nobody believes it can really happen. It’s hard to imagine dying, after all.

Maybe. How did you smoke so fast?

Didn’t want to leave you alone in here. I walked and smoked.

How sweet. She wondered if his kindness would prevail when a bag of money wasn’t present. Maybe. Then she figured she wouldn’t be around to find out, either way. Just enjoy yourself.

How long did you live in that motel room? Florence asked.

Shit. Twenty-seven long ass days.

Bet you’re glad to finally be out.

A pretty girl, about his age, walked by. He stared at her for a second, but it’s like he knew Florence’s hand was about to smack his leg. He looked back to her and said, Couple things I’m glad for. Couple things I ain’t. Why you even thinking about me? You should be worried about you. You gonna drive that new car to a hospital once we’re done?

I had another idea, actually.

Yeah?

You know where we can find Oliver?

Didn’t seem like he wanted to be found.

Everyone’s irrational when they’re mourning. Come on, can’t you just call him or something?

Didn’t leave me his number.

Each breath she took hurt. Every bone ached. Her legs were numb from sitting so long, but she worried if she tried to move, she’d pop something out of place. That cane would be nice right about now.

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