The Renfield Syndrome

by J. A. Saare

  “Incoming!” Carter yelled, eyes narrowed, his mouth pressed in a tight line.

  Vampires engulfed the alley. Some came from the opposite end while others dropped from the rooftops. I pressed into the wall, attempting to seem as miniscule as possible. Whatever the hell was about to happen didn’t involve me. I didn’t want to become a part of it. The alley erupted in gunfire, snarls and the distinct symphony of fighting.

  Someone snagged me by the shoulder and hoisted me up.

  I planted my feet and tried to lean in the opposite direction, but stumbled when my weak knee caved. The gargantuan soldier dragged me along behind him. I focused on the scuffle he was pulling me from. Vampires were attacking in bursts of speed, but they weren’t killing their targets. Those suited in camouflage didn’t offer the same courtesy, firing round after round into heads and torsos.

  “Come on!” the man yanking on my arm ordered.

  Too bad for him I was equally pissed.

  “Let go of me!” I snarled, planting my feet again. This time, I used my left leg to bear my weight. I pulled him up short, and he scowled. With a firm tug, he yanked me toward him.

  “Get her out of there!” Carter thundered. “We’ve got to move!”

  A strange sensation brushed my skin, the slightest drizzle of water tickling my face and hands. I stopped arguing with GI Joe and lifted my chin in the direction of the cooling sensation.

  Then I heard outraged snarls.

  Misty waves of condensation flittered from the rooftops and whispered through the air. If the sun had been in the sky, the tiny beads of fluid would have created a rainbow effect, much like a water hose with fork holes that created an instant ghetto sprinkler.

  The vampires hissed in fury, and Kate pulled her lips back to reveal elongated fangs. Steam rose from her body and I noticed blisters spreading across her face. It took a moment to realize what was taking place. When I did, my stomach knotted and an unexpected surge of nausea made me want to toss my Cheerios.

  The water was blessed. It had to be.

  “I don’t have time for this.” GI Joe used my distraction as an opportunity to take control. He bent at the waist, shoved his shoulder into my midsection, and lifted me easily. “Up you go.”

  “Put me down, you dumb motherfucker!” I screamed, kicking and thrashing.

  He ignored my tirade, striding purposely to the camo army. My head flopped, and I tried to see through my hair. A few vampires were on their asses with enormous holes seeping their life’s blood from their bodies. The bullets had to be blessed or silver. Their wounds would have started healing otherwise.

  The walls of the alley disappeared from view, and my weight shifted. Before I could get a decent look at my surroundings, the shoulder beneath me vanished. I attempted to brace myself for the fall that I knew was coming, trying to relax in the hope my connection with the ground wouldn’t hurt as much as I knew it would. My back hit first and a sharp burst of pain wound from my neck to my ass.

  My faulty knee protested as I tried to stand. I rolled onto my stomach and struggled into an upright position, using my hands as leverage. Then I lifted my head. Several men stared down at me from their seats, their expressions unreadable. I was on an enormous bus of some kind.

  A spike of adrenaline overcame my fatigue.

  Stay in a big-ass vehicle full of scary-ass men from the future?

  Thanks for the offer, but I have to fucking pass.

  I hurried to situate my body properly, making sure my left leg would be the one I relied on when I fled. I lunged for the front of the bus, charging toward the open door.

  A fist lashed out, coming toward my face. I deflected the blow and pivoted in the opposite direction. When I came to a stop, I discovered men had risen from their seats.

  Watching them all, I pulled out my knife and flicked it open smoothly. As I peered down at the blade, and then gazed up at the men, I wanted to slap myself. It was laughable, really. All I had was a lame-ass balisong to protect me from massive guys armed with Uzis.

  Something hard and cold nudged the base of my skull, and I heard the very distinct double-click of a gun being cocked. My breath left my lungs, and I went stock-still.

  “Drop the knife.” The order came from Carter, and it wasn’t friendly or open to discussion.

  Shit.

  The men looked ready to roast me alive, and the rosary wouldn’t do squat against any of them. Although I had a certain amount of power against vampires, I was defenseless against humans. I opened my right hand, letting the hilt of the knife slide through my fingers. The weapon landed with a dull thud on the floor.

  “Good. Now, take a seat.”

  A firm hand gave me the initial “get a move on” shove.

  I kept a smartass response to myself, but it wasn’t easy. My temper had a mind of its own. Carter put a hand on my shoulder and guided me to an empty seat on the right. I slid into the small area and sat. Carter walked past me, toward the front of the bus. He lowered his sidearm and uncocked the hammer. I cringed when I heard guns being fired in rapid succession in the alley, followed by gurgles and shrieks in the distance.

  “Quinn has the second team.” Carter spoke in a hushed tone to the driver. “Take us back.”

  The bus started with a grinding roar. The engine sputtered at the start but soon quieted as the wheels started rolling. I jolted forward in the seat and stared out the window, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Humans might be on the verge of extinction, but some of them obviously weren’t down with being vampire Happy Meals.

  Carter whipped around, and I felt his eyes burning a hole in my face.

  Past my breaking point, I returned his stare, thinning my lips and crossing my arms like a surly teen. He looked away as he strode back down the aisle. I returned my attention to the windows, gazing into the darkness. His footsteps stopped a short distance from my seat, scuffled, and started back in my direction. The all too familiar sound of pieces of metal sliding together chimed in my ears, and I turned in time to see Carter shove my knife into his pocket.

  “These aren’t so easy to come by. You can consider it a down payment for saving your ass,” he said calmly and propped himself into the seat across from me. Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his parted knees.

  I drew in a breath and looked away. Rolling my eyes, I muttered, “Don’t be so quick. You didn’t save shit.”

  “What were you doing out past curfew?”

  I blew him off and kept staring out the window, wishing I had the power to shut him out entirely. How the hell was I supposed to know about a curfew? It wasn’t as if I’d experienced anything in the last century. Besides, I had my own set of problems to think about—namely finding Disco and delivering the message from Zagan. It was the only thing that would end the bargain between them and ensure the vampire I’d fallen in love with wouldn’t pay the piper in spades. I had to take this one step at a time or run the risk of losing my goddamned mind.

  Anger surfaced, a fire inside my chest. Maybe that was Zagan’s intention all along—to have me freaking out and caught up in something I couldn’t control.

  The rotten bastard.

  “What were you doing out past curfew?” Carter repeated.

  “You know what?” I tilted my head back against the seat and peered in his direction, looking him in the eye. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. So why don’t you drop me off at the next stop and we’ll call it a night?”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible. You should have stayed safe and sound where you belonged. Now we have to take you with us. It’s protocol.”

  “Protocol, huh?” He didn’t so much as nod, gazing at me in a manner that made my skin crawl. “Fuck me sideways,” I muttered and leaned forward, pressing my head against the brown leather seat in front of me. When I got home, I knew the first thing I was getting. A tattoo
on my forehead that said, “Your ticket to insane shit stops here.”

  “I wouldn’t say that any louder, if I were you.” His gray eyes darkened, and his voice deepened. I glanced at him and he said, “Someone might try to give you exactly what you’re asking for.”

  “It wasn’t an invitation.”

  He moved across the distance and rested his hands on the seat directly next to my leg. I felt my hair part when his face brushed the strands. He whispered thickly into my ear, “Then keep it to yourself.”

  I settled in and kept my big fat yap shut, fuming silently—and safely—instead.

  The view from the window didn’t lift my spirits. The landscape was as dead as the people I saw on a routine basis. In fact, I saw several of those along the way too. The spirits we passed watched the bus as it drove by, likely sensing my presence. Their faces didn’t tell me much, but their ravaged bodies did. Some had died in ways I didn’t want to think about. I could only guess as to what had transpired to make things so bad.

  The entire city was a dead zone.

  The driver turned right on Prospect Park West, and my eyes bulged in shock. The reality of my situation hit me hard and fast. I was seeing the buildings that were only a concept during my century. Prospect Village had reached its completion in my absence. It was impressive, even on the darkened street, and I was fairly certain the contract on the leases had expired by now, leaving plenty of room for new tenants.

  The bus took a sharp turn around the corner and I ducked instinctively, thinking the roof of the bus would rip off due to the short parking floor of the building. We barreled into the area without incident, driving into a dimly lit garage. I latched onto the seat in front of me as the driver maneuvered the large vehicle. He slammed the brakes and tossed the bus into reverse. After he’d pulled in to the area he’d chosen, he put the vehicle in park. The bus veered back and forth before going still. The sounds of shuffling feet echoed inside the enclosed space. I looked to see the men filtering out the back door.

  Carter stood, and his broad body blocked the walkway. He stared down at me, studying me quietly for a moment. He hadn’t bothered speaking to me after our initial chat. It was cool, I didn’t miss the conversation. I only wanted to get the hell off the bus—at some other location preferably.

  He lifted his hand and pointed down the aisle. “You go first.”

  Pressing my lips together and biting my tongue so I wouldn’t say something stupid, I rose from my seat as gracefully as possible. The men from the back were gone, but I could see them entering the building directly ahead. I reached the drop off, jumped and landed awkwardly on my left foot. I wobbled unevenly, losing my balance as I almost tumbled forward.

  Carter was there in a flash. He gripped my arm and pulled me up. He waited until I regained my balance before he let go. He motioned toward my bent knee.

  “What happened to your leg?”

  “Oh, that?” I looked down at my lame leg and shrugged. “I was a professional river dancer until one of my jigs didn’t go as planned. It happens.”

  His brow crinkled in what I recognized as very real confusion—a look I was all too familiar with. He probably had no clue who in the hell Michael Flatley was, much less Lord of the Dance.

  He didn’t press the issue, remaining behind me as I strode up the ramp and inside the building. The hallway was barren, the cream-hued walls spray-painted with multi-colored graffiti. He placed his hand under my left arm and guided me toward the elevator. The men from the bus moved aside, allowing us to pass. I felt the weight of their stares but tried to appear unfazed, looking directly ahead at the silver elevator doors.

  When they slid open, I stepped inside and found there was one bonus to be had in the apocalyptic future—no whimsical flutes serenaded the inhabitants of the compartment. Carter pushed the button to take us to the top floor, and the doors closed with a happy ding. My stomach flip-flopped when the elevator shot up. I shifted my attention, staring at Carter. He was as serious as ever. From what I could gather, he was probably in his thirties. But when his brow furrowed and creased, creating lines and wrinkles around his eyes, he looked damn near fifty.

  When we reached the designated floor, the alarm chimed again and the doors opened. Directly ahead was a huge living room, complete with art deco furniture. Carter lifted his hands and motioned to the room, indicating I should go first, and I nervously stepped into what I assumed was his apartment. Although he hadn’t given the vibe that he would try to do something I wouldn’t consent to, I was well aware of the masks people wore when they wanted to portray themselves as something they weren’t. Therefore, I stayed on guard.

  “Take a seat,” he instructed.

  I took him up on the offer—not to be menial but because my knee was betraying me like the two-faced bitch it was. The couch wasn’t comfortable, but neither my bruised posterior nor my crippled leg complained.

  I sat back, remaining anxious and on alert.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Carter asked and stepped from the center of the room. Everything felt surreal. He was talking to me like a guest.

  I remained silent as he walked around the bar and worked the holster off his broad, muscular shoulders. He tossed the item to the counter and unbuttoned the long-sleeved camouflage shirt covering his body. In doing so, he revealed corded forearms with a scattering of dark hair. He shrugged out of the garment and folded it. Then he placed the shirt on the counter next to the holster.

  He walked to the fridge and I heard the pop of the door opening as he called out, “Do you always make people repeat themselves?”

  “Sure Martha, I’ll take a drink,” I replied evenly. “Why don’t you whip me up some dinner while you’re at it? I’m starving over here.”

  I heard glasses being dinged together, followed by the slosh of liquid being poured. The refrigerator door closed with a whoosh and he came around the bar with two drinks in hand.

  “Here.” He extended one of the glasses to me. I took it but kept the beverage far, far away from my mouth. I balanced the container on my knee, studying the amber liquid inside.

  “Not thirsty?” he asked and downed his own drink.

  Rhiannon’s Law #5. Don’t accept drinks from strangers. Not unless you want to be drugged, date raped and given all sorts of STDs, and not necessarily in that order.

  “I don’t drink things unless they come from a sealed container.” Anyone could drop something into an open glass. I was a bartender back in the normal world, and it was a known fact. I’d seen too many women fall victim to men who liked to add a little something extra to the concoctions they offered to them.

  “Then you must be special to one of them. I haven’t tasted soda since I was a boy.” He plopped the glass on the table in front of me. “I’m amazed your master let you stray so far. I’m sure he’ll be upset to find you’ve been taken.”

  “Look.” I leaned forward and placed my own glass on the table. “This isn’t what you think, and I don’t really have the time or patience to explain. You’re going to have to let me walk out of here. The sooner, the better. I have somewhere I needed to be yesterday.”

  “I bet you have somewhere you need to be, and lucky you, we’ve brought you here.” He stood and gazed down at me. “Distance from vampires will allow you to see clearly. With a little bit of time, you’ll understand the way of things.” He smirked and returned to the kitchen.

  “I am not staying here, you have no idea who you’re messing with,” I warned quietly, refraining from screaming at him like I wanted to. Acting like a raging bitch wouldn’t help me now. I had to attempt to pacify him and, in the doing, bargain with the asshole. “I need to leave.”

  “Not happening. Your bedroom is right there.” He appeared at the kitchen counter and pointed behind me, gesturing to a door to the left. “I suggest you get comfortable. This is home now.”

  “Lik
e hell it is.”

  “All of you black swans are exactly the same, so don’t think you’re any different. You get swept up in the nightside and forget all about your own kind. A few months here will open those eyes of yours. If it doesn’t…” He cleared his throat, shaking his head again, and said, “Let’s hope it won’t come to that.”

  “You don’t get it,” I snapped, standing smoothly without the betrayal of my knee, and walked toward the elevator. “I can’t stay here. I have something important I have to take care of. You worry about your business and I’ll worry about mine. Fight your war with someone who gives a shit. Me? I’ll take my chances with the creepy crawlies outside.”

  I pushed the button repeatedly. The round, flickering yellow circle indicated the device was working. My heart rate increased, the few contents left in my stomach shifting, and I tasted bile at the back of my throat. I didn’t want to vomit, not right now. However, once I was safely inside the confines of the neat and clean elevator, I could let my stomach do its thing.

  A ding sounded and the doors opened. Two men dressed in camouflage pants and black wife beaters were waiting inside.

  “Is there a problem?” one questioned. Their eyes trained on me as their hands drifted to the firearms at their sides. I loved men who felt superior simply because they had bulk and an automatic weapon on you.

  Spineless pricks.

  I lowered my head, exhaling in exasperation. This was the craziest fucking shit. Too bad I’d probably be repeating that very same thing eventually. I couldn’t seem to stop trumping myself when it came to weird predicaments. I always found a way to bump into crazy situations.

  “I think she understands what’s going to happen if she tries to leave,” Carter said from behind me. The big-ass bastard on the right nodded his buzzed blond head, his pectoral muscles flexing as he pushed the button and closed the doors with another cheery ding.

  “So, this is what we’ve reverted to,” I snapped, turning to glare at Carter. He’d returned to his seat and plopped his boots on the table. “Kidnapping people and holding them hostage. It’s good to see the human race has evolved.”