Night Kings: The Complete Anthology, Page 2

  With her headphones in and eyes closed, Elsa completely shut off to the world around her. It was for those reasons she didn’t hear her bedroom window creak open and dark figure enter. It moved ever closer to Elsa with hands outstretched.

  “…The hell?” Elsa asked as a hand placed itself on her shoulder. She struck back with an elbow to the attacker’s nose that sent him down to the floor. She ripped the headphones from her ears and dove over the side of the bed to get better look at her assailant.

  “Ugh,” said the figure from below, “what are you doing?”

  “Lukas, is that you?” Elsa drew back immediately and fell back to her bed in laughter. “You can’t do that. I almost broke your nose.”

  “Almost?” he asked in response and rose with a hand over his bloody nose. “C’mon, El, that wasn’t cool. Did any blood get on the suit?”

  He struck more than a few comedic poses in his newly acquired suit so that Elsa might get a better look. There was no blood on his suit, but that was the least of his problems. There weren’t many men, young or old, that could confidently pull off a pastel colored plaid suit. Lukas wasn’t one of those people and he stood out accordingly.

  “Looks like you’re dressed to impress,” Elsa said with a hand to cover her gaping smile. “I mean, if you’re into girls without any taste.”

  Lukas brushed off her jokes and extended a hand to his companion for the evening. “Shall we depart?”

  “We shall,” said Elsa as she accepted his hand and twirled around once in the bedroom, “but we’d best leave the same way you entered.”

  “Problems with the old man again?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” she said. “It would only be a problem if he were ever home.”

  She peered outside her bedroom window to the bushes below. Before Lukas could advise caution she darted from window to latticed wall and began her downward descent pass the main floor smoking den. It was a room used rarely in their gargantuan mansion and one that they could use to pass undetected by her father.

  The distance from outskirts to city center wasn’t one that took much time. While Salem stood as tall as any city in the state, it remained in the small form of the town that once was. From gated neighborhoods in the north to Blackrose Manor in the south, the city of Salem was as close-knit a community as there could be. All the more strange that few people were ever caught conversing outside their homes.

  Tonight’s Festival of the Moon was to be held at the farthest reaches of Elsa’s home, Blackrose Manor, home to both tonight’s proceedings and innumerable ghost stories. The manor was owned by an eccentric millionaire, said to be nearly one hundred years of age, and so sickly that he hadn’t left the top floor of his home in almost two decades.

  They took a slight detour on route to their destination to pick up the last of their party. It wasn’t the finest part of Salem they found themselves, but it was a neighborhood that had close ties to the house they were about to visit. To those that lived on these streets they were as close as kin and not to be trifled with. That was the power of a Kohl; a family with no name, no currency, and yet found a family that needed neither to survive.

  But Gemma and her mother did more than just survive in the slums. They thrived.

  “This place gives me the creeps,” Lukas said with eyes over his shoulder. “Let’s make this fast. Don’t want anyone jacking my style.”

  “I didn’t think of that,” said Elsa, playfully. “You should probably get out of here while you still can! Hurry up, Lukas, those pretty little legs of yours can’t possibly run fast enough to outrun the imminent horde of fashion starved citizens.”

  “You laugh now,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Be nice,” Elsa hushed. “Gemma’s been alone since her mother took off in the middle of the night.”

  “Does she at least know why?”

  “Nope,” said Elsa with a nervous gulp. “No one knew she was leaving, least of Gem, and the only sign of her departure was a note suggesting that Gemma would be safer without her only parent around.”

  “So she went nuts,” Lukas rationalized.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elsa said.

  “Come on,” said a wounded Lukas, “we’re both thinking it. She’s always been a little batty. Since we were kids I’d remember her scaring us off every time we’d go ringing on her door—.”

  “Oh,” said Lukas, stopping dead in his tracks as he caught sight of their missing friend, “hey there, Gemma. I didn’t see you.”

  Gemma Kohl stood in front of the two of them with her hands on her hips. She wore a radiant canary dress that billowed at her feet in the gentle night breeze and was topped off with matching headband to add color to her pallid skin.

  Elsa had always known her friend was beautiful. Now the rest of the city would be able to see.

  “Makes sense you didn’t see me,” said Gemma blankly. “You’re not the type to talk shit to someone’s face.”

  Lukas was floored at her response and failed to grasp the necessary words for a proper apology. It would turn out none was needed and once Gemma doubled over in laughter, Elsa was quick to follow suit.

  Gemma was hiding her pain; and she was doing it well. Only Elsa could see the anguish behind the crooked smile, the dead eyes. Elsa knew the heartache of losing a mother, but Gemma’s mother had left of her own accord. That was a pain not even Elsa could pretend to understand. All she could do was see the signs in front of her.

  “Are we doing this or what?” Lukas asked.

  “Well, I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing,” Gemma said, “that’s for damn sure.”

  He extended an arm to each of his ladies, and with their acceptance, escorted them from out of the dregs and into the decadent. Each had their reasons for escaping the everyday minutia of their lives. One was running, one hiding, and the other trying to find their place in this world.

  Chapter Four

  Night Kings: The Lady in Red

  Gregory Blackman

  The Man in Black

  There it stood, Blackrose Manor, the generational estate of the mysterious Castalon family. It housed over a hundred rooms of luxury and affluence that few would know if not for these parties. Colossal stone pillars lined the entrance to the main entrance where stairs of marble awaited to greet the three friends. Despite the welcoming support staff, the group of three stayed just outside the gated entrance in wait of one of them to make the first move.

  “Shall we?” Lukas asked of his companions. “We’re late enough as it is.”

  “Let’s go around back,” Elsa said, nervously. “I hear the staff make a scene when new guests enter.”

  “Since when don’t you enjoy being the center of attention?” Lukas asked.

  The scowl to end all scowls was all the response he needed and Lukas found himself more than a few paces behind the ladies he was to accompany. They skirted around the high stone walls beside the manor and headed to the back area.

  To call the environment they walked into a backyard would have put it as mildly as possible. Blackrose manor looked every bit the estate home from the front, but it seemed the back garden was an entirely different world altogether. Hundreds, if not a thousand, of Salem’s residents had come out for the Festival of the Moon, and still it couldn’t fill the patio space meant for one ancestral family.

  A large ballroom floor had been enacted in the center of the backyard where a formal dance was to be the highlight of the night’s festivities. It was, however, a dance not of particular interest to the young ladies Lukas accompanied to the festival. All the better for him, Lukas thought, for it was on the dance floor he could bust the moves needed to land a lady.

  “Well, you can breathe a sigh of relief now,” said Elsa jokingly, “because I don’t see anyone here jacking your style.”

  “Keep laughing, El,” Lukas said in his defense. “Wait ‘til the men with style show up to this thing. Then you’ll see.”

  Luka
s and Elsa argued with each other for some time while Gemma looked around for anyone she recognized, anyone she could use to separate herself from two friends that’d yet to realize what they meant to one another.

  Both Elsa and Lukas were in search of someone at this party to save them from the mundane. Yet, little did they know it was each other they searched for. Gemma could see it. Everyone here could see it except for the two of them.

  “I see one of those fashionably dressed gentleman now,” said Gemma, breaking up the soon-to-be public disturbance, “and I hate to break it to you, Lukas, but your style may be out of date.”

  She pointed to a man in black that stood apart from all the townsfolk. While he might have been apart from the crowds, the man looked as if he belonged at that precise spot now and for all eternity. The man owned not just the secluded ground beneath him, but the entirety of everything around.

  “Why can’t that be your style?” Elsa asked.

  Black dominated the man’s presence, from the pristine oxfords he wore on his feet to the skinny bowtie that lay slightly askew. Even the hair curled around his neck was blacker than an abyss and cast him a mysterious aura that extended far past his ominous shadow.

  “You’re serious?” Lukas asked in disbelief. “The guy looks like he hasn’t stepped outside in half a decade.”

  To say Lukas was jealous of the man in black would’ve been an understatement. He fumbled around in the background for a moment while his two friends crooned over a man not likely to pay them any attention.

  Lukas would soon find out karmic balance restored in their group with the entrance of another.

  The crowd stirred to attention with the arrival of one that stood out from all others. Whispers began to pass among all those at the festival and soon all eyes were on the latest guest to arrive.

  “Who’s the pair of legs?”

  “I’ve got to get me some of that.”

  “You’ll have to go through me first, pal.”

  Her red satin dress was beyond radiant, backless to showcase her exquisite figure, must have cost a small fortune and had all the men chomping at the bit to get at her. Some fawned over her beauty, others argued over her revealing choice of attire, but all eyes were upon the lady in red as she made her way down the cascading patio steps.

  “Now that’s why I come to these festivals,” Lukas said with wide-set grin on his face. “Enjoy the Festival of the Moon, ladies. You’ll find me otherwise occupied for the remainder of the evening.”

  A line of eligible, and some ineligible, bachelors started to form at the edge of the patio where the dance floor lay. A classical band stood ready to play at a moment’s notice, but it wasn’t until the lady in red placed a heel on the floor that the band started to play. The entire festival was wrapped around the tip of her finger. What they didn’t know was that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Too tall,” the lady in red said to the first gentleman with his arm extended, “and you, well, you’re far too small.”

  “You’re too ancient,” she said to the elderly man, accompanied with a smile and tender hand to the cheek. The line of eligible bachelors was shrinking almost as fast as it was forming, and one by one, men were being cast aside as if they were nothing.

  “Isn’t it past your curfew, young man?”

  “Try to find some style.”

  “Sorry, honey, I need someone that knows how to lead.”

  The field dwindled before Lukas’ eyes and soon the lady in red was almost upon him. He was confident, far more than he should’ve been; certain he was neither too old nor too young, of according tastes and well versed in leading a waltz.

  That’s when the lady in red approached.

  “What do we have here?” the lady asked. She looked him deep in the eyes, and as if she could see the man behind, pulled back slowly with a devilish smile upon her face.

  “Uh, well,” stammered Lukas, “my name—.”

  “I care not for your name,” said the lady in red softly. “I care only for what lay concealed underneath. Well, boy, do you know what I see?”

  Lukas turned as red as the lady’s dress and fumbled around as if a school kid without a clue what to do next.

  “No,” he said, “I don’t.”

  “I see the man underneath such garish attire,” the lady answered. She offered Lukas a gloved hand and proceeded to the center of the dance floor to the astonishment of all in attendance. None more than the two ladies he’d accompanied to the festival.

  “Can you believe this?” Elsa asked.

  “I’m still trying to figure out that suit he decided to wear,” Gemma replied.

  Once the lady had chosen her partner the rest of the men accepted their consolation prizes and so, too, did the women. The ballroom floor filled up as quickly as the lady had rejected suitors and soon there was no one left for the two ladies that waited still in the corner.

  The night’s festivities were only just beginning it would seem for the gathered crowd of mild mannered citizens. Lukas would be the first to realize that fact when his waltz with the lady in red was interrupted by an unpleasant passerby.

  It was the man in black and he now stood between Lukas and the woman he so eagerly lined up to meet. In spite of the music from the twelve piece orchestra, the townsfolk stood at a standstill for what would transpire next.

  “What the hell’s your problem, man?” Lukas asked, his fists balled up in anger. He wasn’t the kind of man to raise his fists in anger, but he’d fallen under the hold of another, and the actions he thought his own were guided by another.

  He charged at the man in black with a fist raised high into the sky and threw as heavy-handed a blow he could in the man’s direction. Lukas missed wide of his mark, and with a black oxford to the stomach, Lukas crumpled to the ground as if little more than a minor annoyance to the man in black.

  “Lukas!” Elsa cried out as she rushed to his aid.

  But it was too late. There wasn’t anything Elsa could do for her friend. Gemma was aware of this and held tightly onto Elsa to keep her from rushing to her close friend’s side.

  “Stay back,” Gemma warned. “There’s nothing that can be done for him now.”

  Chapter Five

  Night Kings: The Lady in Red

  Gregory Blackman

  Holistic Healer

  It would take more than firm hands and words of caution to keep Elsa Dukane from Lukas’ side. She pushed through a sea of less than gentlemanly guests to get to her friend and when she arrived at the center of the dance floor it was almost as if she didn’t exist to the enthralled Lukas Wendish. All he could see was red, the color of the lady, and the black stain on his honor that prevented him from getting closer.

  “Nothing to see here,” the lady in red said to the gathered crowd. “Turn back to your partners and resume the festivities.”

  The citizens of Salem turned back to their partners and they did just as the lady command. It was as if they were hypnotized by the woman’s crimson aura, powerless to break from her grasp, and seemingly unwilling to do so.

  With the guests otherwise occupied it was Lukas’ turn to return to the offensive. Only he picked the wrong moment to plan his attack, and as he cocked back his fist to strike, he collided with a target far from his mark.

  “Elsa!” Lukas hollered as he turned around to see his closest friend down on the ground. Both the act and the emotions it stirred within were enough to snap the young man from whatever hold the lady in red had over him. He dropped to the floor immediately and scooped up his bloody-nosed friend. She fought him all the while and remained on the ground until Gemma arrived to calm the two of them down.

  “Are we really doing this?” an alarmed Gemma Kohl asked. “Get up, the two of you. We need to get out of here—now!”

  “Not until I get her name,” Lukas said.

  He hoisted himself up and turned to greet his lady in red, but no longer was there a lady that awaited him. She’d vanished into thin a
ir and the man in black along with her. No one around seemed to realize their crimson mistress had left. No one seemed aware of anything except for the orders they continued to follow to the letter.

  “She’s gone,” Gemma said with a tug on her friend’s less than fashionable coat, “and so, too, must we be if you want to see it through to the next sunrise.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elsa asked. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “And I’m not going to until we’re far from this place,” insisted Gemma, still trying to pry Lukas away from his search for the lady in red. “This festival is a bust. We’re leaving.”

  The three of them argued the entire way out of Blackrose Manor, none more than the spellbound Lukas, still mildly under another’s control and unable to keep from going five minutes without mention of her.

  Elsa hadn’t fared much better since her entanglement on the ballroom floor. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but it was the blow to her ego that worried Gemma most of all. Lukas had been blindsided by the ominous woman in red, taken for all he was worth, and ready to give so much more. Gemma had seen such possession before, once, and she never wished to see it again.

  It was to her home they headed, to the slums of Salem, where not even the monsters dare tread. At least that’s what Gemma counted on when she took her friends there. They made no detours on route to her house. Gemma wouldn’t hear of it and yet she refused them any explanation of the sort.

  “You know,” said Lukas, “I don’t think I’ve ever been inside your house.”

  It was a home visited by many in the area, but Gemma’s friends were not among them. They never asked her what kind of work her mother performed. Some said voodoo, others holistic healing, but only one of them knew for certain.

  The ramshackle bungalow Gemma called home was no more than three rooms connected by a living room, half a bathroom, and even less of a kitchen. Elsa had single rooms that were larger than their entire house footprint, a fact that seemed to bother Elsa more than it did her friend.