Blood

by Kay Williams

  “And your abstract is not a defensive one?”

  “It's whatever I want it to be, I just didn’t want to hurt anyone else.”

  “Only problem with that is predators tend to give chase.”

  “I have heard that before.”

  “I saw you on your phone. I take it you called in for help but before it arrived they closed in?”

  “How long were you watching me for?”

  “Half an hour or so, I was curious to what they were hunting.”

  “Thank you for your help.”

  “You’re welcome. Miss?”

  “Hannah.”

  “We are skipping the formalities completely?”

  “You saved my life; I think you deserve to know my name.”

  He leant forward offering me his hand and I took it. His hand was warm and soft but it wasn’t smooth, against my skin I could feel the outline of each of his scales.

  “Aolir.”

  # # #

  My flat was playing host to Carson’s cooking skills and another Dependant who looked eighteen and didn’t bother to curb his tongue but who Carson assured me was another member of the Council and highly trustworthy. It wasn’t that I doubted Carson it was just that his companion, James Ross, had spent the morning poking about in my things and claiming to have had all of them himself at some point in his life.

  What a man of his years and experience would have a cabinet of dolls and teddy bears for was beyond me and I didn’t ask for details.

  “Have you ever thought about upgrading to the twenty-third century?” Ross sniggered.

  I didn't appreciate his cheeky overtones when we where in my own home and he had come to take Valdine's sample. The least he could do was be grateful for the fact I was giving up what I needed to live so he could have a meal in front of the television in the evening like every other person. So I felt safe, and justified, in using my abstract to lift an apple out of the fruit bowl and hurl it at my visitor, feeling rather liberated when it turned into apple sauce in his hair and knocked him off balance.

  “What the hell?” Ross snapped, wincing in disgust as he put his hand in the sticky mess.

  “Bathroom is to your left,” I offered.

  Growling to himself like a sullen teenager Ross followed my directions.

  “Is this apple?” He whined just as the door swung shut. “How is that apple?”

  “That was cruel,” Carson complained. “I’m living with him at the moment. I'm never going to hear the end of that.”

  “Was Aolir able to help with security tapes?” I asked.

  Carson set down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me and poured out three coffees, I didn’t know if it upset me that he was so comfortable in my kitchen or just grateful that one of us could demonstrate some level of competency in it.

  “The dragon?” Carson hesitated. “You really know how to make friends.”

  “Yes, A-listers, predatory wildlings, Dependant Councillors, dragons. I don’t discriminate.”

  “That’s not quite what I meant.”

  “Did he help you or not?” I repeated myself happily tucking into my breakfast.

  “Yes. He was very helpful, gave up footage and still shots on all five members, readily identifiable faces.”

  “So you know them?”

  “The one you sent me a picture of is Charlie Snow, the man who joined you at your table is Quinton Long; both of them are well known for their extreme views on the Races of man.”

  “Cattle. A view Valdine shares?”

  Carson shook his head.

  “Valdine was never much of a people person, he has always been a businessman and a scientist at heart, it’s not that he dislikes people but Pre-Pause going out to feed meant a ten-minute break from his lab. Now it is now taking him all evening because he doesn't have many social skills, he is desperate for a solution and it's his lack of progress that upsets him.”

  “Sounds like he needs a social life.”

  “That’s not fair,” Carson frowned a little.

  “I’ve been attacked and threatened; I need to vent a little,” I replied unable to give any heat to the words which were further diluted by my smile. “This is really good by the way. Were you a chef too?”

  “No,” Carson answered, but he appeared mollified. “But I remember how to make food.”

  We both looked up as Ross emerged from the bathroom, he scowled at both of us and I realised he was undecided on whose fault it was.

  “He doesn’t know does he?”

  “Know what?” Ross demanded.

  “He knows that he is here to take blood for Valdine, but not the exact nature of why.”

  I wish I had known that before, I might have thought twice about throwing the apple at him, but I couldn’t not tell him now.

  “What am I missing here?” Ross complained.

  “I’m an abstract,” I answered. “When Anthony fed from me he absorbed the power.”

  “Nice!” Ross grinned like a child given his favourite candy; it was a refreshing change to meet someone who wasn’t fascinated in a scientific sense. “What kind of power?”

  “Telekinesis.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “Moving things about with the power of your mind?” He asked, Ross seemed to have completely forgotten the fact he had had an apple smack into the back of his head.

  “Yep.”

  “Show me,” Ross turned to Carson.

  I nearly choked on my mouthful of egg, that was usually the question I had levelled at me, the one I hated with a passion. Ross had taken the fact I had said I could do it as gospel and turned on his colleague to prove the transfer had worked as I said it had.

  Carson took a fork out of the drawer and with a strained frown of concentration and a moment of rattling the utensil lifted off of the counter.

  “I want a go!” Ross exclaimed with absolute delight.

  Shock registered on Carson’s face and the fork clattered to the counter.

  “You want a go?” He repeated completely stunned.

  “You wouldn’t mind would you, Miss Roberts?” Ross coaxed. “If when I took Valdine's sample I could have a mouthful?”

  The words ‘only if you pay me for it’ sprang to mind but I had thrown an apple at his head and I didn’t think he would do anything nefarious with the sudden skill.

  “Just this once.”

  “You are perfect and wonderful,” Ross complimented me over Carson’s huffed protest, and to my absolute surprise he also cupped my cheeks and planted a kiss on my forehead. “You taste good too.”

  A little known fact about most girls was that compliments were like currency, the more we got the more they stacked up in someone’s favour, and currently Ross was accumulating his with interest.

  “Thank you.”

  “Tell me,” Ross pulled out a stool. “Can you just rattle forks about or are you actually powerful?”

  I watched Carson’s cheeks hollow in embarrassment and I felt inclined to defend him.

  “We had no idea that my abstract would be absorbed, Anthony is learning as it's weakening, he isn’t weak himself.”

  Carson smiled a little gratefully and I felt for him.

  Valdine was in possession of a superior intellect and ego that had used Carson to get to me as a means to an end, despite the fact that Carson was under no obligation to help him with his pet project.

  Ross was a tease and a torment, he didn’t appear to hold grudges but was blunt and by the look of things a whirlwind of activity who was always plotting and scheming something, he was the kind of person I felt mentally and physically exhausted with after a couple of hours of trying to keep up.

  In our short time together Carson had proven himself intelligent, fun, even-tempered and caring, it made me wonder what kind of man the other Councillors were.

  “So how powerful are you?” Ross repeated himself as I finished my breakfast.

  “I don’t know, if I
put my mind to it I can accomplish it, I don’t think it is the abstract that is limited, just my application of it.”

  The scheming little light in Ross’ eyes lit up again and he rather eagerly fetched the black bag he had brought with him. In an instant he became calm and professional, he snapped on latex gloves, we moved to the sofa and the few words he used while prepping the equipment were laced with a light Bespelling so when he pushed the needle in a delicate ribbon of pleasure licked up and down my arm.

  He took the agreed units for Valdine, then he pulled out the needle and covered the small pin prick with his mouth, he didn't puncture me with his fangs but took several deep pulls at the small cut for himself before licking the wound closed.

  I got another kiss for being brave but I wasn’t so Bespelled that I couldn’t tell Ross just wanted another taste.

  After Carson had shown Ross out he made me tea and brought over the newspaper automatically flicking to the back and folding it in half so we could share the crossword.

  “Why did you indulge James?” Carson queried.

  “Because he’ll go home and not have a clue how to use the abstract and make a fool of himself trying to do whatever it is he wants to do with it.”

  “And you threw an apple at him?”

  “And I threw an apple at him.”

  “I have never known apples to turn to liquid on impact, how hard did you throw it?”

  “He insulted my flat.”

  “It is a bit strange,” Carson smiled.

  I felt myself stiffen, why was it people were happy to give me ambiguous compliments but always insulted with the intent to wound? I hadn’t commented on his place with its dark imitation wood and leather furniture, bare walls and the overabundance of potted plants that looked like they could take over at a moment’s notice.

  “Not to me.”

  “But don’t you like any modern art or work at all?”

  “I like things that have stood the test of time and are still as coveted now as they were then.”

  Why was that so hard to understand?

  It wasn’t as if I believed in old political or medical thinking, it wasn’t as if I was one of those Old Earth cultists, or in an extreme Religious congregation, who spoke out against the Nexus and the people of Favlas and who wanted the world to go back to how it was before the Pause.

  I valued the clean and renewable Fusion Drive power, I enjoyed new technologies and gadgets, I was thankful that the Priest and Priestess had brought their healing magic and potions to Earthling hospital and illnesses that had been deadly and incurable before the Pause were now eighty percent treatable and hospitals were clean and safe.

  I didn’t live a Pre-Pause life.

  I just liked old things.

  I hardly knew why I bothered explaining myself to people anymore, no-one even tried to understand.

  I didn’t even realise I had pulled away from Carson’s side and the crossword until he reached out and ran his knuckles up and down my arm gently.

  “I’m sorry, Hannah, I really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just I remember all of this the first time around and its strange for me to see so much of it given pride of place in a modern flat.”

  “Been there, seen it, done it, owned it,” I summed up.

  “I have respect for it,” He replied with a sharp edge to his tone. “I guess because I remember when it was new and exciting, so I have always preferred new and exciting.”

  “New does not equal exciting, just as old doesn’t always equal valuable or beautiful.”

  “Why don’t you just admit that old things are safe because they have already been catalogued, and by collecting them what you are actually saying is that you don’t like to take risks?” Carson scowled.

  “If that were true I would never have shared blood with you,” I snapped.

  What right did he have to judge what I did with my short life when he could go on to have hundreds of years more?

  “The only reason we managed to get that far was because your fear abstract has no effect on me.”

  I could see that Carson regretted those words the moment they were out of his mouth, but they hurt, we might not be in a coffee house and we might not be doing it gently but once again I was being put into my relative place. What had I been doing in letting myself think we had anything in common? Hadn’t I told myself time and again that he was Dependant, that he didn’t have the same psychological needs as I did? Hadn’t I reminded myself that any interest he had in me was born of the abstract and his absorption of it? Hadn’t I told myself not to get emotionally involved?

  How pathetic was I when a dress and a little companionship could blind me?

  One lesson I had learnt early on was that no matter who they were or what they did the moment people found out about my abstract they took advantage of it. I had trusted Carson and I had been stupid to. His Council now owned a unit of my blood. Other members of his Faction were trying to get their hands on it by whatever means necessary, and he was making it very clear that now they had what they wanted any pretence of friendship he had coaxed me with was now being withdrawn.

  I wouldn’t have been surprised if he ended up saying I was on my own to deal with the problems he had created for me; displaying the same disregard for life that the rest of the Dependants shared.

  “Hannah.” The apology in that one word was another lie. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

  “I think you should go.”

  “Hannah.”

  “Get. Out.”

  Carson looked away with shamed eyes and hollow cheeks, the man should have been an actor, maybe he had been, but he left quietly and when my tears came they were accompanied by a vicious mental commentary that continued to curse me with my own stupidity.

  # # #

  After my tears I had showered a second time, I had gotten out of my flat, but only for as long as it had taken me to walk to my local store. I bought everything I usually denied myself based on the fact that, although I couldn’t put on weight, I was just as susceptible to high cholesterol, heart problems and rotten teeth as everyone else, before settling down in front of my television for an afternoon of Festival programming.

  The official opening ceremony for the Pause Festival was in Istanbul, but I had broken a habit of a lifetime by changing the channel halfway through to watch the broadcast of the ballet Frederick Harper was leading. After only a few hours I decided that if Heronsgate had been serious when he said that Harper wanted to introduce me to his son then I was going to avoid the meeting at all cost.

  Frederick was handsome in a lean athletic way, he moved in strong defined lines while his partner was everything liquid grace and feminine. Thankfully, I was saved from another mental flogging about my looks and lack of figure when my pager began to chime. Under normal circumstances I would have cursed it, I would have sworn at it, but after the last few days it felt normal and gave me something to think about other than Carson, Dependant assassins, torture by Bespelling, life saving dragons and my abstract.

  I checked my pager and called security, not in the least bit surprised when Pear answered the phone. Dependants weren’t the only ones to boycott the celebrations.

  “Sorry to call.”

  Pear had to yell above the wailing security alarms in the background.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Power surge set off the alarms, I called authorities to let them know it's a false alarm, but you need to come and override it with your code.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  “Thanks, Roberts.”

  I hung up, pulled on a jacket and my computer and left my flat, my usual ten-minute walk to work was hampered by people hosting street parties and those going to and from the fair but I cut down several back alleyways and managed to make it to the service entrance to the museum without being too late.

  I keyed in my code and hesitated when Pear wasn’t waiting for me. The power had surged cutting off the Fusion Drive
to everything except for emergency power and the security cameras, turning the narrow corridor dim and uninviting.

  “Marcus?” I called out for Pear as I stepped inside and shut the door.

  The alarms were still blaring, and the security lights were flashing. I would need his code along with mine to get them shut off.

  “Marcus?”

  I rounded the corner and poked my head into the security booth and I shamed myself by momentarily being too shocked to move.

  I had done first aid training, which had constituted of looking around for danger, pulling on some gloves, giving the victim a potion and calling for an ambulance.

  I was not trained in how to cope with a middle-aged man with two deep gouge marks in his neck laying pale and still in a large pool of his own blood.

  In the next instant, I had dropped my bag and squeezed into the booth dragging off my jacket and pressing it to the wound, while struggling to search for a pulse.

  “You won’t find one.”

  My head jerked up and my gaze clashed with that of the thin man who had followed me around the fair.

  What had Carson called him?

  Charlie Snow?

  He lounged the doorway licking Pear’s blood off his fingers at the same time as wincing.

  “A little older than I’m used to.”

  “He never hurt anyone,” I protested. “Why?”

  “I had to get your attention. He got in the way,” Snow shrugged as if the man's life had no importance, as if living and breathing and loving were just random acts of self-indulgence that held no greater purpose. Snow went down on the balls of his feet. “So now you are going to come with me. Nice and quiet.”

  I was still holding my jacket to the neck of a man who had been my friend, possibly my only one, and I had had to buy him with biscuits. I hadn’t deserved him and he had died because of me.

  I looked up at Snow who thought of me as little more than a cow to be milked for blood. I looked in his eyes and I didn’t see a man, I saw a dried husk pushed by an endless need to feed. I saw something that had died but hadn’t had the good sense to stay that way. He served no greater purpose, he did not add anything, he had not become a thinker, an inventor or scientist for the greater good of the two worlds. He took advantage of all the benefits that so many Earthlings and Favlians had brought to the economic table