Slay My Love

by Lee Colgin

  “What will you do during the day, while I’m stuck here?” Gianni asked.

  “I sleep most of the day too, but at some point I’ll get up and get us real food. Is there anything you’d like?”

  “Whatever you’re having is fine. We’ll need toothbrushes.” Gianni’s expression grew sly, and he winked. “And proper lube. Please tell me you’ll get that.”

  “That’s the best idea you’ve had all night.” Heat rushed to his cheeks, but he asked anyway. “Should I get condoms too?”

  “If you want. It’s up to you. I can’t catch, carry, or transmit any human diseases.”

  “Really?”

  Gianni nodded. “We’re actually different species, you and I, despite the similarities.”

  Franklin hadn’t known for sure. “Are there many of you?” There were loads of undead vampires—humans who were turned—but how many like Gianni?

  “Not many. Breeding is strictly controlled in most populations to ensure survival. DNA contributions and semen samples are required before we can be turned. I’ve already done my part.”

  Franklin had no less than ten follow-up questions. He chose the most pressing. “Turned?”

  “Into a regular vampire, the kind you’re used to. I thought Oswald would do it, but he was lying. I guess I’m glad he didn’t, or I’d never have met you.” Gianni smiled and kissed him.

  Franklin returned the kiss, but curiosity burned. “Why would you do that, though? Be turned? I mean, you’re alive now. Why would you want to be dead?”

  “Undead,” Gianni corrected. “Because I’m fragile, like you. I can be killed in all the ordinary ways. All born vampires are turned eventually. Who wants to risk dying when you can live forever?”

  “I don’t want to live forever.”

  “Don’t you? Have you ever given it any thought?”

  He hadn’t. Humans lived a normal lifespan; vampires lived forever. He’d never questioned it, so why would Gianni? Of course a vampire would want to live forever in the same way most humans would not.

  “I guess not,” Franklin finally answered. “It’s unnatural.”

  “For you, maybe.”

  “So, are your parents turned?”

  “I assume so.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I don’t know who they are. I’m a test tube baby, a product of the best genetic combination to ensure diversity in the line. Most of us are.”

  “Wait, your whole species? Was what, created in a lab?”

  “Well, not originally, no. The science is fairly new. But many of the modern generation, including myself, yes.” Gianni laughed. “You should see your face right now. It’s doing this thing…” Gianni mimicked him, his mouth dropped open, eyes wide.

  “Sorry. It sounds crazy. What happens if a couple falls in love and wants to have their own baby?”

  “They can. It’s not outlawed or anything, but their DNA, semen, and egg samples would still be used in our breeding program. It’s not common because most want to be turned long before they’d desire children. That’s probably why we got so close to extinction.” Gianni shrugged like he was bored. “Enough about me. Tell me about you. How do you know so much about dogs if your dad never let you have one?”

  Another subject change. Frustrating when he had so many questions, but it was only fair. “For a while, I thought my dad would cave if I could prove I was responsible enough to look after a dog. So I studied up. Volunteered at a shelter until he found out and put a stop to it.” Franklin still felt the sting. He’d shown up to walk dogs only to be turned away. The staff had said his dad had been adamant.

  “No offense, but your dad sounds like a dick.”

  “None taken. He is.”

  “How’d you turn out so sweet?” Gianni climbed into his lap, knees straddling Franklin’s thighs, bare skin over his cargo pants.

  Franklin struggled to maintain his train of thought. “You’re the only one who thinks I’m sweet.”

  “Good.” Gianni sighed the word into his mouth and kissed him. He tasted of the chocolate candies they’d been eating, sweet and delicious. Inching off Franklin’s lap, he broke their kiss with a popping sound.

  “Then be a dear and take off your pants.”

  Late morning found them in bed, tangled amongst the sheets, the length of Gianni’s body pressed tightly to Franklin’s side. The vampire had flung both an arm and a leg over him, and Franklin held him firmly around the shoulders. A peaceful warmth surrounded them in the dark room.

  Franklin startled to high alert when the space was suddenly and inexplicably drenched in light. He pressed Gianni closer to his chest, gaze darting from one end of the suite to another even as his eyes adjusted to the bright overheads.

  Confusion gave way to dread.

  They were surrounded by hunters.

  His GPS chip.

  The Scourge must have tracked him there. The thought had occurred to him, but he’d dismissed it. He was on a mission, not obligated to return each morning. Why would they follow him? Fuck.

  Hutch, General Labat, and her entire team swarmed the room. Gianni was waking. Franklin sat up and maneuvered him behind his own body, shielding him as much as he could from their view.

  Last through the door strolled Chief Darrow himself, an angry look on his face as he surveyed the room.

  “What the hell is this?” he bellowed, coming closer until he stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at Franklin with disdain.

  Gianni had a death grip on his flanks. “Richard?”

  Shit shit shit shit. What could he do? This was bad. This was so bad. He spread his arms wide, a futile effort to protect Gianni. Could he say anything to get them to leave?

  He would have to hand Gianni over. Now. And willingly. To have any chance at all of being allowed access to him in the labs, of keeping his job, of attempting a rescue unsuspected, he must cooperate.

  Franklin leaned into Gianni and whispered in his ear, “Trust me. I’ll save you.” Then he turned to his commander, even as Hutch was speaking.

  “I fucking knew it, Franklin. You’re screwing the blood sucker.” Hutch’s triumph sounded bitter to Franklin’s ears.

  Franklin ignored him. “Chief, I know what this looks like, but I have my reasons.”

  “Get out of the fucking bed, hand over the fucking vampire, put on some fucking pants, and explain yourself, Franklin, before I let them take you too.” The chief gestured to the team.

  “Franklin?” Gianni’s voice shook. He’d dropped his hands from Franklin’s sides. Tears formed in his devastated eyes.

  Franklin couldn’t do anything. “Yeah. Franklin. Gianni, don’t struggle. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Franklin threw the covers over Gianni as he got out of bed and reached for their clothes. It was humiliating, but he got dressed in front of them. The silence was eerie as he handed Gianni his things. He fingered the blood sample in his pocket. Gianni wouldn’t understand. The vampire would hate him. But there was no other explanation. He produced the vial and held it out for Darrow.

  “I did it for this. It’s his blood. I thought the lab could begin testing on that sample while I continued to acquire information directly from the target. It didn’t occur to me you’d doubt me, sir, or I’d have reported this location myself.”

  Franklin didn’t dare look at Gianni’s face. He couldn’t bear it. The thought almost overcame him, but he held his ground and gave orders to the team as if they were there on his command and not Darrow’s.

  “The vampire is fragile. You cannot treat him as you would an ordinary vamp; you might kill him accidentally. I’ve told him not to struggle, but as you’ve blown my cover, I can’t say as to whether he’ll heed the instruction. Be careful subduing him.”

  Hutch wasn’t buying it. “Bullshit! I saw you with him last night. He’s got to you.”

  “Silence, Lieutenant,” Darrow ordered, taking the vial from Franklin and clapping him on the shoulder. “Franklin has a fucking
sample of his blood. How else was he going to get it? We blew his cover for nothing, thanks to you.”

  Inside, Franklin breathed a sigh of relief. It was working. Darrow believed him. But how would he ever explain to Gianni?

  “How would you recommend we proceed?” asked General Labat.

  Whether she spoke to Darrow or Franklin, Franklin didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He answered with authority. “A tranquilizer would be best.” And easiest on Gianni.

  She nodded and began to load the gun. Franklin flinched; that wasn’t what he meant. The gun would be painful.

  “Do you have a syringe?”

  “Yes, but that’s not standard procedure. It’s an unnecessary risk.”

  “I’ll do it.” Franklin held out his hand. Labat pulled a syringe from her vest and handed it over. Franklin steeled himself and faced Gianni. What he saw broke his heart.

  Gianni had tucked his knees to his chin and clung to the blanket wrapped tightly around his body. He hadn’t bothered with clothes—frozen in place, cheeks wet with tears, eyes wide with fear. Franklin wished he could signal to him somehow. I’m on your side. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry. But even if he could, the vampire would never believe him. The betrayal hung in the room like fog, infecting every breath, blurring his vision, dampening his senses.

  He approached Gianni. “I know you’re confused. I don’t want you to be hurt. This is the simplest way.”

  The gaze Gianni cast on him was staggering. Hurt gave way to anger. “Is that your professional opinion, Franklin?”

  His real name from Gianni’s tongue burned like acid.

  “Give me your arm.”

  Gianni flung the covers off and stood. A collective ripple of anticipatory movement came from the team, but Franklin raised his hand in a fist. “Hold.”

  If Gianni’s nudity bothered him, he didn’t show it. He stopped directly in front of Franklin and tilted his head, offering his throat instead. Franklin was ashamed as the thought of the vampire’s blood made his mouth water.

  “So this is how it is.” Gianni’s voice was cold as stone, hard eyes locking tight with Franklin’s.

  Franklin couldn’t manage words. He only nodded.

  “You’ll have to catch me when I fall.” Gianni closed his eyes.

  Franklin pushed the needle into his neck and depressed the plunger. Gianni staggered, and Franklin caught him. When he was unconscious, Franklin ordered Hutch to get the dark bag. Without emotion, he wrangled Gianni’s body into it and gathered the vampire’s things.

  “All right, it’s done,” said Darrow. “File out. Wilson, carry the body to the van. Franklin, you’re with me.”

  As the team left the room and Hutch tossed Gianni’s body none too carefully over his shoulder, Franklin quickly slipped Gianni’s phone from his leggings into his own pocket.

  “Good work, Franklin.” Darrow slapped his shoulder once more. “That was the easiest capture of my career.”

  Franklin filed out, trying to keep his eyes off the bag.

  What had he done?

  15

  Testing

  Gianni

  The irritating scent of cleaning chemicals stung Gianni’s nostrils as he woke. Lights bore brightly into his retinas. Terror hit him like a nightmare, but this was real.

  The slayer had betrayed him. He was a prisoner.

  Gianni glanced around, trying to get his bearings. He was in a cell, metal bars—silver, no doubt—surrounded him on three sides, the only solid wall at his back. Outside the cell were worktables laden with test tubes, microscopes, and a host of other machinery he had no hope of identifying. White, sterile, horrifying. He’d never felt more exposed. Silver manacles on his wrists and ankles produced a constant dull ache where they touched his skin.

  Gianni tried to sit up but couldn’t. Nausea and dizziness overwhelmed him, and he gave up. The tranquilizers must still have been in his system. There was no way to know how long he’d been out. At least he was alone, and a sheet was draped over him. That beneath it he remained naked wasn’t ideal.

  Was this how Spike felt? Abandoned by those she loved, alone in a cage at the animal shelter, her fate entirely out of her control? This was no way to exist.

  Gianni closed his eyes, and the pain of betrayal overwhelmed him, coming on like a train and running him over again and again. Richard—no, Franklin—had been playing him the whole time. A sob welled up from deep within his soul, and Gianni let it out with a ragged breath. He’d trusted the slayer, loved him. Told him secrets. Questions came back to haunt him. What kind of vampire are you? Are there many of you? You were created in a lab? Not questions to get to know him—information to bring back to the Scourge. Gianni had answered all of them like a lovesick pup.

  And his blood. The slayer had stolen a sample straight from his wrist. If he wasn’t already chained to this goddamn cot, Gianni would kick himself for being so stupid.

  He sure knew how to pick them. First Oswald and now Franklin. Bitterness threatened to choke him. Gianni would die for his poor choices in men.

  The slayer had said to trust him, that he would save him. All bullshit to gain his cooperation. He wouldn’t allow himself false hope. Trusting Franklin had gotten him where he was; it certainly wouldn’t get him out. Gianni would wallow in his misery, endure whatever the Scourge put him through, and then he would die. The end.

  Gianni wasn’t one to give up, but then again, he didn’t feel much like himself at the moment.

  Time passed. How much was impossible to tell. Was it day or night? Gianni didn’t know that either.

  A woman entered the lab and strode across the room to his cage. She looked like a scientist: glasses, white lab coat, brown hair pulled back into a tight updo.

  “You’re awake. Good. Get up.”

  Gianni stayed where he was. He’d grown cold, his body stiff to the point of numbness. He had no incentive to reawaken it.

  The woman took a sharp breath and continued. “Maybe you don’t understand. Allow me to explain. I’m Doctor Lojan. You may call me Doctor. I have means to force your cooperation if you resist, but they’ll be painful. It’ll go faster and easier for us both if you choose to comply. If not, I’ll have to provide a sample. Now, get up.”

  Gianni feared pain. He didn’t want it, but he also couldn’t bring himself to move. It was better not to care. If he proved useless, they’d kill him sooner, so he lay there and waited.

  The doctor pressed a button on the wall, and his entire body lit like wildfire. Instantly, the extreme burning sensation raged across his skin, accompanied by a sick sizzling sound and the smell of burnt hair. His muscles seized and his limbs locked, hands curled to fists.

  It stopped as suddenly as it had begun, but Gianni could only lay twitching from the experience. The pain slowly receded. Blood bathed his throat from where he’d bitten his tongue.

  “I’ll give you a moment to recover. Then I’ll need you to stand and approach the bars, or next time, the electrocution will be worse. The entire cage is wired. That was setting one. There are ten.”

  Stomach roiling, Gianni sat up. No way could he live through that again. If he’d had anything in his stomach, he’d have lost it. He looked down at his arms. The peach fuzz hair that had covered them was gone, and track marks lined each forearm. What had they done to him? Taken more blood? Drugged him again? Jesus, he looked like a junkie.

  Gianni brought his hands to his head and felt for his hair. It was still there. How many more settings until it burnt as well? He didn’t plan to find out. Gianni stood on weak limbs and approached the bars.

  “What do you want?”

  Franklin

  Gianni’s cell buzzed in his pocket. Franklin hurried out of the compound to the privacy of his car. He had to get away before he could deal with the phone, somewhere he could think. The Scourge was full of interruptions: cadets congratulating him on his catch, other hunters slapping him on the back. Darrow had given him full credit. Apparently sleeping with the enemy
was a heroic tactic where the end justified the means.

  Franklin constantly felt like he would vomit, but outwardly he had to maintain a proud façade: a lieutenant whose unorthodox plan had paid off with the live catch of the century.

  His life had become a waking nightmare.

  God knew what they were doing to Gianni in the labs. His imagination created horrifying possibilities. Franklin couldn’t risk putting in a request to see him so soon, or Darrow might suspect he’d grown attached. Franklin had gotten the blood sample that made his story convincing only by sheer luck. Things could easily have gone worse.

  Damn Hutch and his meddling. The temptation to blame the other slayer was powerful, but Franklin knew he was the only one at fault. If he’d only warned Gianni sooner, none of this would have happened. He had to get the vampire out, no matter the cost. Gianni’s lively spirit would wilt in captivity, and Franklin couldn’t bear to let that happen.

  He couldn’t do it alone. The Scourge was too well guarded, the labs locked down, and the jail cells nearly impenetrable. Desperate circumstances called for some unconventional assistance.

  Franklin sat in his car in the lot at the baseball fields. From there, he could see their park bench. He stared at the phone in his hand. Gianni’s phone. Twenty-two messages. Seven missed calls.

  He pressed “return call” next to Hayleigh’s name. She picked up almost immediately.

  “You’d better have a damn good explanation for keeping me waiting like this, Gianni. The council is breathing down my neck. You can’t just disappear with a goddamn slayer and expect me to cover!”

  Whoa. “Um, Hayleigh?” Franklin managed.

  “Who is this?” Caution in her voice now. Fear. “Where is Gianni?”

  “They have him. I need your help.”

  “Is this Richard? What do you mean they have him?”