by Lund, S. E.
“How much time?”
Soren’s busy flipping through a file. “About a month to six weeks, give or take a few days.”
I look up in alarm. “So if you don’t stop it in six weeks, it could mean the oil fields are affected?”
He nods. “And once any part of a reservoir is affected, it will be almost impossible to stop it. As the biggest conventional oil field in the world, Ghawar is pretty damn important.” He points to a sofa on the other side of the room. “Now, take a seat for a few moments. I have to make a few arrangements.”
“If you don’t need me right now, can I go to Julien?” I ask and glance quickly at Michel, who is already seated, and unfolding a newspaper.
“He’ll be out for a few hours so no,” he says and points back to the sofa. “Sit. We’re expecting company.”
I sit beside Michel, who takes my hand and squeezes. “Julien will be fine,” he says, then drops my hand before turning back to his paper.
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“You did the right thing, Eve,” Michel says once more. “I won’t be angry with you, or jealous. This was the only way. Because of this, Julien will survive. If you’d chosen me, Soren would have let Julien die. I didn’t want that. He’s valiant. He deserves to live.”
I nod and take in a deep breath, trying to calm myself and trust that Michel has seen this and knows the outcome. It’s not easy to do. He’s been wrong before—he’s missed things. He could be wrong about this as well.
The door to the study opens and in walk two guards with my brother. Dylan looks pale and slightly gaunt, as if he hasn’t had enough blood.
Has Soren been starving him? My heart rate increases and I have to try once more to calm down.
“Eve,” he says and comes over to where I sit. I stand up and we embrace, and he hugs me so tightly. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was worried that he’d kill you in anger.”
I shake my head and step back, looking him up and down. “He let us leave so Julien could lead him to one of the rebel cells in Fort Devens. It was all a setup. I had to turn Julien to save him when he was wounded.”
Dylan nods. “The guard told me. He’s better off vampire anyway. A great warrior like him? We can’t afford to lose him to some stray bullet.”
I nod and Soren comes over to us, standing with his hands on his hips, his legs spread like a general inspecting his troops.
“You look like you need a drink,” Soren says to Dylan. He turns to one of the guards. “Bring us some blood. Fresh.” He makes a face at me. “None of that preserved dreck for us. It’s time to celebrate!”
I try to hold back my anger and say nothing, but I don’t smile either.
“Oh, come on, Eve,” Soren says and frowns. “Don’t be a spoilsport. Things are going as planned. Soon the plague will stop, the Twelve will be resurrected, and order will be restored. Those wrongfully prevented from ruling will be returned to the throne. All’s right with the world. You should welcome the return to stability.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Empiricist to the end,” Soren says when a guard returns with a tray holding a carafe of blood and several glasses. “You and Dylan are like two peas in a pod. My little scientists.”
Soren pours and hands a glass to Dylan, who takes it and drinks down hungrily. I take one as well, for I’m starving and exhausted from the events of the past two days.
Michel remains sitting on the sofa, looking as if he’s glad he no longer is plagued by the bloodlust of being vampire. Seeing him sitting there all alone, I think of Julien in the other room, his body undergoing the change that will make him undead once more. Since I was a child, I’ve wanted to study exactly what it is that turns a human into a vampire. What does this virus do that infects our blood? How can we eradicate it? How can we harness its unique characteristics for our own benefit?
Immortality… That has been the Holy Grail of all human desire since we developed a sense of our own mortality. It’s there, hidden in the genome of the virus that turns a mortal into a vampire.
I bring Dylan over to the seating area and we sit across from each other, me beside Michel and Dylan sitting on a wing chair across from us.
“How are your parents?” I ask. “And my father?”
“As well as can be expected,” Dylan replies. “As long as Blackstone believes you’re cooperating, they’ll be fine.”
I turn to look at Soren standing behind his desk, looking at papers.
He glances up. “I never said anything to Lord Blackstone about your little escape attempt, or Michel’s attempt to walk out, so don’t worry.”
He returns his focus to his papers and I wonder why he’s being so accommodating. He wants things to go well with Blackstone so he can take power over everything, shut Blackstone down and stop the plague.
Exactly. You’re finally getting it. Now, cooperate and you’ll get what you want. Every bit of it, Eve. Every inch.
I see him smile to himself and I glance away, hating that he can read my every thought.
That’s what a god is, isn’t it? Omniscient? And once I bring back the Twelve, we’ll truly be omniscient, the way we once were, connected, thirteen minds combined as one beautiful perfect form. That’s heaven, Eve. That’s heaven.
Finally, Soren looks up and addresses the group, not just me. “You want to see another miracle?” he asks, leaving his desk and papers. “Shall we show her, Dylan? The reason you helped me?”
Dylan looks at me, his face unreadable, as if he doesn’t know how to feel. “Yes.”
“Good,” Soren says and rubs his hands together. “This is so much fun! I love reunions!”
I frown and follow Soren and Dylan as they lead me through the doors and down a hallway. We go downstairs to the basement and to a room in the back. It’s small, dark, and cold. Inside is a table and on it, I see one of the cement tanks from the SCU.
Dylan stands over it, his hands on the side. He glances down, a smile on his face.
“Come and see, Eve,” Soren says. “See what miracles I have wrought.”
I step closer and stare into the gel that fills the tank, catching sight of a mass of orange-red.
Curls. Strawberry blonde and floating in the gel like kelp.
Sarah…
“Oh my God,” I say and step closer, leaning over the edge. She’s pale, her skin white in death, her lips blue around the edges. Her eyes are closed, her mouth slightly open.
“Dylan agreed to help me get the antidote to the plague. I agreed to help him. Once he delivers and I can see that the antidote is working, I’ll revive her.”
“Dylan,” I whisper and glance at him.
His eyes are wet and he’s struggling to keep control. “I had to,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
I cover my mouth, remembering the last time I saw her on the floor in her parents’ cottage, her hair spread out around her head. She was beautiful even in death. His betrayal makes complete sense.
“Now, off to your room to rest for a while,” Soren announces, clapping his hands together like he’s a happy cruise director. “You can change for dinner. Your things are in the closet.” He smiles. “Once we’re all done, Julien should be awake and ready for his first meal. Then, tomorrow night, it’s off to the cathedral for the show.”
He turns and points to the stairs but I’m too stunned to move, my eyes riveted to Sarah lying in the stasis tank. When did this happen? When did Soren take her body?
Dylan turns away with reluctance. I imagine he could sit and stare at Sarah for hours. I know I could. As I turn to go, I wonder if Soren will really resurrect her. How could Dylan not comply with Soren, given the chance to have Sarah back?
I follow Dylan up the stairs and the guard leads us to our rooms. Once there, I throw my self down on the bed, exhausted from the ordeals of the past few days. I can’t help but cry because of everything that’s happened, overwhelmed at last.
Dylan sits on the side
of the bed and rubs my back. “Do you understand now, sister? I had to save her. I’d do anything to save her. Just like I’d do anything to save you.”
I turn over and sit up, wrapping my arms around him, understanding completely.
Even so, even as happy as I am to know Sarah may be resurrected, I have to find a way to fight Soren and prevent the resurrection of the rest of his monsters. There’s no way I can accept their return. But at the same time, I want Soren to resurrect Sarah for Dylan. I used to have a plan. Now I’m torn.
But at the same time, I remember the deaths of all those who came to watch Kael’s resurrection and I know I can’t be a part of Soren’s plans to resurrect all of the Twelve, no matter what he promises about stopping the plague or bringing Sarah back to life.
There has to be a better way and I intend to find it. Once Julien is alive again, the two of us can meet with Dylan.
I won’t give in.
* * *
I wake when there’s a knock at my door. The old wind-up clock on the wall shows that almost two hours have passed since we arrived.
“Come in,” I say and in walks Michel. He’s changed out of his bloody clothes and has washed up, for his hair is wet and hangs in his eyes. He’s wearing a clean set of vestments, a black cassock coat, and a large wooden cross. He looks very priestly.
“Have you checked on Julien?” I ask, my heart squeezing just a bit at the thought I cursed him once more with vampirism.
“He’s still out. I expect he’ll wake up in another hour or so. Soren wants you to get dressed and ready for a meal. We’ll be planning all evening for the event to bring back the rest of the Twelve. You’re not needed, so you can spend time with Julien when he awakens.”
“I don’t like this,” I say. “I don’t want to preside over another massacre like the one that happened when Kael was resurrected.”
“Do you think I do?” he says, exhaling in exasperation. “I despise them, but this is the only way to stop the plague. Don’t fight me in this, Eve. If you do, you’ll make it even harder.”
I glance away from him; I plan on doing precisely that.
I go to the bathroom to splash water over my face, not wanting to argue with him about the merits of his plan. I return and Michel has laid out a dress on the bed, the same long white gown I wore previously. I shake my head and take it back to the bathroom to change, feeling shy in front of Michel now that he’s once again a priest. I fix my hair, placing it up as before, although Michel shouldn’t be taking any pleasure in seeing my bite mark anymore.
I return to the bedroom to find Michel standing at the window, looking out over the grounds. He turns and takes me in, his eyes moving over my body. I can still see the possessiveness in them, the pleasure in seeing me.
Not totally a priest, I guess.
“I want to check in on Julien before we eat,” I say as we prepare to leave the room.
Michel nods. “By all means,” he says and holds the door for me.
He leads me down the dim corridors, the walls lined with dark wood paneling and adorned with paintings of European landscapes and ships at sea. Soren has really tried to recreate an old aristocratic environment for himself, no doubt wanting to reinforce his age and power.
Michel stops at one door and waits for me. “He looks worse than he is,” he warns. “Once the virus has finished its transformation, he’ll revive. The medic was able to suture most of the wounds, but they won’t heal completely. He’ll bear scars from the battle for the rest of his existence unless he ascends again.”
“Do you think he will?”
Michel shrugs and leads me into the room and over to the bed where Julien lies. I gasp when I see him. They’ve stripped him naked, the long, bloody slashes on his arms where he was struck by a sword clearly visible. He has bullet wounds in his shoulder and belly. Someone has cleaned the blood off his skin but he does look terrible, pale once more from loss of blood. Vampire pale.
I sit beside him on the side of the bed and lean over to stroke his cheek and brow, not caring if Michel sees me. He has to understand that it’s hard for me to see Julien this way, despite knowing he will awaken once more. I bite back tears. I’m happy he won’t die, or at least, won’t be dead. He has died, but will be reborn once the virus finishes its work.
“Come,” Michel says, his voice soft. “It’s time for dinner. Soren doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
I wipe my eyes and take one last look at Julien before rising and following Michel out of the room and down the hallways to the dining room.
Soren and Dylan are already seated at the long burnished wood table, dressed with white linen and pewter bowls filled with flowers and lit with candelabras. There’s roast game and grilled fish and vegetables on platters as well as loaves of bread and of course, carafes of blood and wine. It smells marvelous and I’m hungry for both food and blood, the latter craving never really fulfilled except for a brief few moments after gorging.
Soren stands when I approach. “Eve, Michel, please come and join us.”
Dylan stands as well and kisses me on the cheek as I take my place between him and Soren. Michel is seated across from us, and I wonder if Soren has arranged the seating on purpose. Is he taunting Michel by having to sit across from me, or was it entirely random?
I wouldn’t put it past Soren to do anything he might think would make us uncomfortable.
“Are you?” Soren asks, taking a sip of blood from a crystal glass with delicate etching on the sides. “Feeling better?” he adds, as if to cover up.
“Yes,” I reply. “I’m still a bit emotional from seeing Sarah. From everything.”
“You’ll have to get over it,” he says and examines a bowl of soup that a servant places in front of him. “We’ll all be together most of the time for the next while. At least, until order has been restored. We have to show a united front, the four of us.”
“What about Julien?” I can’t help but ask.
“What about him? He’s a warrior. He can stand guard, but he’s not key to my plans.”
We eat our soup in silence. It’s delicious, taking the edge off my hunger. A waiter pours some blood into our glasses and wine into Michel’s. Soren stands and holds his up.
“To the Twelve,” he says. “May their resurrection bring peace to our troubled world.”
I put my glass down and watch as the three men drink a toast.
“Not very polite, Eve,” Soren says after sitting down and selecting a piece of meat from a tray a servant holds for him.
“I find it hard to be excited about the ceremony, knowing it will mean the death of so many people.”
“My brethren have been fighting off the nanovirus all this time. They’ll need a big drink, and many souls. So what if a few hundred die to save several billion?”
“They don’t have to kill,” I say, wondering about his reference to “souls.”
He smiles but says nothing.
I eat until I feel satisfied and then push my chair out from the table. “I’d like to go and be with Julien now,” I say and wipe my mouth before putting my napkin on the table. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“By all means,” Soren says and waves his hand with a flourish. “Go. Be with Julien. Hold his hand when he wakes. When the time comes, I’ll bring him some blood to drink so he can become immortal. He won’t say no.”
I leave the room and follow a guard down the hallway to the room where Julien lies in transition between death and immortality. The guard unlocks the door and opens it for me, and I go inside to find him on the bed, another guard standing inside as if to watch him.
“He hasn’t woken yet, m’lady,” the guard says, nodding towards Julien. “He’s due any time now.”
I sit on the bed beside him and pull up the covers up to hide his nakedness. He should have some dignity when he awakens from the dead for the second time. I watch him, waiting for a sign that he is revived.
He’s so beautiful in his paleness, with his dark h
air cut short, his jaw and chin covered in a few day’s worth of dark stubble, his lashes long and black, his lips full. His body is beautiful as well, with a strong neck and shoulders, well-defined pecs and abs. I know his body so intimately, having been his lover now for these past months, but I am still struck by how perfect he is, despite the scars from his wounds.
They’re slowly healing, the red gashes closing up, replaced by thin, silvery scars. I’ve never watched someone become a vampire before and I’m anxious that he’ll come through okay and will agree to drink the blood so he can complete the transition. I’m certain he will. Julien said he didn’t want to die.
* * *
When he finally does awaken, he sits up and cradles his head in his hands.
“Holy fuck, I forgot how much this hurts,” he says, groaning and grinding his fists into his temples.
My heart squeezes to see him alive once more but I know he’s not quite a vampire yet. He has to drink blood to complete the transition.
“Quick,” he says, squinting at me as if the light hurts—which it does. “Get me some blood before my head explodes.”
I turn to the guard, who goes to the door. He leans out and says something, and I expect them to bring in a carafe of blood. Instead, Soren arrives hand in hand with a beautiful woman with long pale hair, her body naked beneath a thin chiffon robe.
“What are you doing?” I say, taking the young woman in. “All he needs is blood, not a mortal.”
“We’re going to do this right,” Soren says and pushes the young woman over to the bed. “Crawl up on top of him and offer him your neck, sweetheart.”
She looks calm. It’s obvious she’s been compelled to cooperate, her fear erased. She complies and before I can say anything, she straddles Julien, who stares at her through narrowed eyes. He glances at me as she pulls her hair aside and leans down closer to him. I know what he sees and feels—he sees her as a ripe plum, juicy and delicious, ready to pluck. He smells the blood in her and it feeds his bloodlust. His teeth, just beginning to elongate, ache to bite down hard on her flesh. His body craves the sensation of a living human, beneath him, in his arms, his mouth on her neck, his lips sucking her blood.