Eyes of Ice

by J. C. Andrijeski

  They heard his groans and yells, but they didn’t hear her.

  “How?” he said. “How can I see you, if––”

  Just think at me, Nick. Her voice remained patient, but he noticed again her mouth didn’t move, her expression didn’t change. Try to relax, okay? I can hear you just fine. Just think at me. I’m not there, remember?

  He tried to make sense of that, couldn’t.

  He understood enough to try to relax, to not strain against the machine.

  What’s wrong with me? He thought it at her that time, but his body tensed all over, panic taking hold of his chest, making the pain worse, mixing it with a desire to break free, to run. What’s wrong with me?

  Nick… calm down. It’s okay. No one bad is around you. You’re safe, okay? Everyone is worried. Ms. St. Maarten has people there. They’re all mad, and worried about you. They won’t let anyone hurt you––

  Where’s Wynter?

  Wynter’s up here. With me.

  Nick fought to comprehend that, couldn’t.

  We’ll come tomorrow, she promised. Both of us.

  The girl’s voice grew even more calm, as serene as those pale, blue-white eyes.

  You’re just scared because of the drugs, Nick, she explained. The drugs that doctor gave you are kicking in. You’re not fully conscious now. It’s making you scared because of what happened before. The last time you were unconscious––

  How am I talking to you? If I’m unconscious, how am I talking to you?

  I’m in your mind, she answered at once, calm. It’s like me being inside your dreams with you. I can follow you into that other place, so we can still talk.

  She paused, as if letting him think about her words.

  Nick, she sent next. This is really important. Who did this to you? Do you know? Who drugged you before you went into that ring?

  Nick fought to think about that, to remember.

  He shouldn’t tell her.

  She was just a kid.

  Forget about that, Tai’s soft voice grew even more soothing. Forget about that, okay? Pretend I’m Ms. James. Tell Ms. James… Wynter… who did this to you. Tell her what happened, Nick. She’s really worried. She wants to know who did it, so they can’t do it again. You need to tell her, so she can help.

  Nick fought to think about that.

  Then, all at once, it came flooding back.

  He remembered––

  “That guy, Tom…” he blurted.

  He struggled to speak, to sit up.

  His words came out thick, mired in a liquid slurring.

  “Vampire.” He gasped the words. “Vampire venom. Someone dosed him. They dosed him, and he said something. Brick. Brick sent him––”

  Okay, that’s good, Nick. That’s really good. But you don’t have to speak out loud, okay? It’s making you more tired to talk out loud. Let the doctor fix your body. Just think it at me.

  Brick, Nick thought at her. Brick sent him there. He had him talk to me.

  Who’s Brick?

  Vampire. White Death. He was my sire…

  What’s a sire?

  Nick frowned, confused as to who he was talking to.

  How could she not know what a sire was?

  The vampire who made me. He fought to think, trying to explain, trying to find the words. He made me, a long time ago. I was in the White Death. They let me leave… but they were there tonight. That guy, Tom. He was working for them… probably without knowing he was. He was really dosed on vampire venom. Infiltrating them for Brick. Maybe the White Death is behind the vampire harvesting…

  Nick’s mind grew confused.

  The soft voice rose, calming him.

  It’s okay, she said. Just go slow. Think it through, Nick.

  I don’t know why they would do that, he admitted, thinking at her. I don’t know why they’d kill vampires. I don’t think Brick… Brick wouldn’t do that. He’s a racial supremacist. He wouldn’t kill vampires. Not like that. In war, yes. Traitors, yes. Threats to the White Death. But not like that. Not for money. Not to harvest––

  Would Brick kill you? the voice asked, patient.

  Nick struggled, fought to think about that.

  Would Brick kill him?

  He remembered his sire.

  He remembered the last time they’d spoken.

  He remembered how Brick reacted, when Nick told him he was leaving.

  No, he thought finally. Maybe. But I don’t think so. He’s weirdly… protective. Of me. He still sees me as his. As belonging to him. He sent Tom to warn me. What he said… it was a warning. He said there were three. Three of them. He said something about taking care of one… but there were three left.

  Three people? she asked. Three vampires? Three humans?

  Nick frowned, shook his head.

  I don’t know.

  Okay, she said. He saw her exhale, and then he saw her again. A small body, delicate features, black hair with streaks of green. She was leaning on the bed, fidgeting with one of her feet as she leaned her arms next to his body. Her silver-blue eyes shone like stars. So not Brick. What about Farlucci? Was he in on it?

  Nick fought to think about that.

  I don’t know, he sent. I don’t know.

  What do you think, Nick? You don’t have to know. Let your cop instincts talk to me. The vampire part of you. You don’t need evidence. Not for this. Just go on feel.

  Nick struggled to answer her, to decide what he thought.

  He fought to remember what he thought about Farlucci.

  He’d seen Farlucci before he went up to the pit.

  Farlucci had been making bets when Nick was ushered into his office.

  The human was wearing another of his retro suits, dark blue with a gold tie.

  He’d had a virtual portal open. A group of people were visible on the other side of the portal. From the images in the background, it looked like they were talking to Farlucci from the Las Vegas Protected Area. Farlucci had been betting on him––Nick. Farlucci had been betting Nick would win his match. He’d been betting crazy, ridiculous sums of money.

  He beamed when Nick walked in, introduced Nick all around.

  He’d joked with him, shaking his hand.

  He’d been happy he was there, confident––

  No. Nick was sure suddenly. It wasn’t Farlucci.

  You’re sure?

  Nick knew he had no right to be sure, but he was.

  It wasn’t him. Farlucci wasn’t in on it. I’d be willing to bet he didn’t know about Tom, either. Farlucci’s operation was infiltrated… by White Death. Maybe by other groups, too, but definitely by Brick and the White Death.

  Nick trailed, thinking.

  He added, sharper,

  Farlucci needs protection. If I’m right, he’s not safe. He’d definitely know something happened after that fight. He’d know I’d been drugged. Hell, anyone watching must have known… suspected, at least. Farlucci would be pissed. He’s a hot-head, and he thinks of his organization as his family. He’d know someone on his team was probably behind it…

  Nick found his thoughts coming faster now.

  They poured out of him, frictionless.

  …He might think it was Tom, given that I was with him all night. He might figure out Tom got bit by vampires, or maybe he would just think someone paid him off. Either way, Farlucci probably doesn’t know what he’s dealing with. He’s probably trying to figure out who infiltrated his organization right now, and who drugged me, not knowing about the vampire ring. If he gets too close to whoever’s behind this, they might kill him––

  Okay, the soft voice soothed. It’s okay, Nick. I’ll tell someone, okay? I’ll tell someone what you said… don’t worry.

  Nick felt a pulse of relief.

  Thank you. Thank you––

  You don’t think Brick would do this? the voice pressed. You said you don’t think it’s Farlucci. You also don’t think that vampire, your maker or whatever… you don’t think he’s killing va
mpires, Nick?

  Nick felt a faint pressure on his mind.

  It brought him out of the comfortable softness where his mind wanted to go.

  It lulled him in a different way, reassuring him it was better for them to talk.

  Tugging, pulling, coaxing him to answer…

  It made him want to answer her.

  He was tired. He was so fucking tired, but he really wanted to answer her.

  He wanted to help.

  I know you do, Nick, she sent, soft.

  How can I help? he thought at her. I don’t know anything. I told you everything––

  Who is killing vampires, Nick? the soft voice said. It moved through him like Wynter’s breath, a faint wind soothing and coaxing his thoughts into gentle eddies. Who is killing them? Who hired the people who took you from the club?

  Nick fought to think, to answer her.

  Let your mind go, the voice advised. Just let your mind go, Nick. You’re smart. You’re a cop. You know more than you realize. You know who took you…

  He tried to do as she said.

  He let his mind…

  Drift.

  As he did, his thoughts returned to that night.

  They returned to the club in Queens.

  His view of the club exploded around him, in technicolor.

  He saw all of it––heard and saw and smelled every detail. The thumping music. The neon-lit bar with the virtual dragon on top of the antique mirror. He’d barely tracked the dragon at the time, but he saw it in full, vibrant color now, flapping jeweled wings. He remembered faces, smiles, flashes of fangs. The smell of sweat, blood, alcohol. He remembered watching Kit, seeing her dance with that other female human, the one with the tattoo of a tree on her back, and the long, neon earrings that looked half-embedded in her skull.

  She never got a chance to ask Kit how things went with that girl that night.

  He remembered tracking every eye on the young tech-punk, every eye on Charlie, despite what he told himself about Charlie being old and experienced enough to take care of herself.

  He hadn’t paid enough attention to the eyes on him.

  Some part of him tracked those eyes, but he hadn’t focused on them at the time.

  He hadn’t paid enough attention.

  The bartender, he thought. Someone should talk to the bartender…

  What bartender?

  At the club. The fighter’s club. Vampire club. Queens. Someone should talk to him. He warned me. When I asked about the vampires, he warned me…

  Nick frowned.

  He stared off into the dark, seeing nothing now, not even those silvery-blue eyes. Something nagged at him in that dark, pulled at him.

  Something bothered him, but he couldn’t quite touch it.

  He remembered another smile, sharp fangs.

  He remembered a smirk.

  Tattoo.

  He remembered the tattoo––

  Tattoo? The voice sharpened slightly. What tattoo, Nick?

  He had a tattoo. Farlucci covered it up. He changed it in virtual. Brown mohawk. It looked like the Farlucci logo, but it wasn’t. I asked. I asked if the tattoo was real. I asked if he was White Death, but Farlucci said no…

  The voice grew confused. Who are you talking about?

  Vampire. Vampire fighter. That night. Before me. Early in the night. Fought the green mohawk. Green mohawk was winning, but the brown mohawk fucked him up. He fucked him up… ripped off his jaw. He fucked him up bad. He wore one of those racist tattoos. Weird thing for a vampire to wear. He put it off as some racial superiority thing, but I wonder…

  He trailed, lost somewhere in that thought.

  You wonder what? the voice prodded. What do you wonder, Nick?

  Nick frowned inside that dark, remembering the strange vampire.

  Remembering how he acted.

  How there was something off about him.

  Maybe he was new, Nick said. Maybe that’s why he was so angry. Maybe he was new.

  New? New at what? At fighting?

  Nick shook his head. No.

  New at what, Nick?

  At being a vampire, Nick said, his mind a bare murmur.

  There was a silence.

  Nick found himself thinking she was talking to someone.

  She was talking to someone else.

  That was okay. He could wait.

  He drifted.

  He drifted… waited.

  He didn’t know when everything went away.

  He didn’t know when he stopped remembering.

  Eventually, he sank further than she could go.

  Chapter 23

  She Played You

  When he woke up next, Nick was in a different room.

  He couldn’t tell what he was lying on, but it didn’t hurt.

  Nothing hurt. His whole body was notable by its complete absence of pain.

  He still didn’t exactly feel good, though.

  He felt uneasy. His mind didn’t feel right. He wondered if some part of him knew the pain could come back at any minute… if his subconscious knew more than he knew. That animal part of him, the vampire part, knew when his life was in danger.

  The thought made his muscles tense.

  Immediately, he grew aware of restriction, of a lack of free movement in his limbs. Still, he sensed no immediate danger, just that fear, that uneasiness. He tried to relax, to assess his situation objectively, but that harder, more animal instinct in him resisted.

  It wanted to fight.

  Or flee.

  He told himself to calm the fuck down.

  He told himself his uneasiness was purely psychological, borne from memory, an after-effect of the pain, not a present danger.

  Maybe it wasn’t pain at all that he feared. Maybe it was some other memory that was causing him anxiety.

  He remembered the pain, so that stuck out in his mind, hovering loudly at the forefront. He remembered that pain with a clarity more intense than he remembered feeling it consciously at the time.

  He opened his eyes with an effort.

  Like with the pain, he expected another too-bright light, but this time, the light was friendly to vampire eyes, a low, orangish glow, almost like candlelight. Still cautious, he glanced around where he lay.

  It looked almost like he was in a bathtub.

  He floated, surrounded by orange glows, and had an image of himself in Wynter’s bathtub, surrounded by burning candles on the edge of the claw-footed tub. He imagined candles on all of her counters in that giant bathroom with the two goddamned sinks.

  He scowled.

  When he did, someone near him moved.

  He turned his head and eyes as quickly as the gel around him allowed. He found himself staring at a pair of eyes he knew, in a face he knew.

  He could only stare at her at first.

  He could only watch her look at him, her full lips mostly soft, just the tiniest bit tight in one corner.

  He wanted to kiss her there. He wanted to bite her there, too.

  He wanted to tell her to go away.

  He wanted to tell her to get the fuck out of here, to leave him here.

  He didn’t, though.

  Looking at her, all he could feel was relief.

  Her fingers reached out. She stroked the hair off his forehead. He watched her swallow, her eyes grow too bright.

  “I love you,” she said.

  Panic tightened his chest.

  If she noticed, she ignored it.

  “I’m also going to kill you, Nick…” she added, her voice as calm as when she’d said the other thing. “…If you ever do anything like that again.”

  He felt his jaw harden, but he didn’t look away from her face.

  “Well?” she said after a pause. “Are you going to lie to me? Promise it’ll never happen again? Tell me some bullshit about how you had no idea it would happen this time, that you never would have gone in, if you’d known?”

  Nick frowned.

  Staring up at her, he
could only think of one thing he wanted to say.

  He knew he shouldn’t say it.

  He knew how insane it would sound.

  He didn’t care.

  He didn’t give a shit.

  “I want to tear out that fucking sink,” Nick said. His voice came out gruff. He cleared his throat, and it grew stronger. “I’ll do the work myself. I’ll pay for it.” Thinking, he added, “I’ll even put in a new one, if you want two. Or something else, if you don’t.”

  She blinked.

  Disbelief pooled in her jewel-like eyes, but Nick didn’t waver.

  He was fucking serious. He wanted her to know he was serious.

  Once she realized that, she covered her mouth with a hand, right as she burst into a laugh.

  “Wynter,” he said. “I said I’d pay for it––”

  “You are certifiable,” she said.

  “Probably,” he grumbled.

  He glanced down, trying to see his body for the first time.

  “Can I walk, though?” he muttered. “I can’t tell if I’m paralyzed, or just…” He fought to move his arm and hand, then a leg, managing to budge each only about an inch. “…restrained in some way.”

  “Restrained,” she said.

  When he glanced up, she was still smiling at him ruefully.

  “I called for the tech,” she added. “They should be coming.”

  Nick nodded, forcing himself to relax.

  He found himself remembering then.

  He remembered that voice in his head.

  Tai.

  Tai hacked his damned mind while he was high on vampire tranquilizers.

  “That damned kid…” he muttered.

  “What?”

  Nick looked up, scowling at her. “Tai. Where’s Tai? Did she come down here with you?”

  “Yes.” Wynter studied his eyes, puzzled now. “How did you know that?”

  “Where is she?” Nick growled. “Tai. Where is she now?”

  “With her brother––”

  When Nick cursed, struggling once more against the restraints, fighting to sit up, to yank himself out of the goo he was immersed in, Wynter leaned over him, pressing a palm down on his chest. She held him down, gripping his fingers with her other hand.

  “Hey… Nick. Calm down.”

  Her voice sounded puzzled, but he felt a twinge of alarm on her, so tangible it closed his eyes, forcing him to relax, if only to calm her down.