by L. M. Justus
She stood up and slipped the phone into her back pocket. She pulled out the phone the Queen had given her from another pocket and watched the second video. The instructions the Queen had given her for destroying the virus were virtually identical to the ones the hunters had come up with. At least everyone was in accordance on that front.
Sarah reminded herself she would have to get Sophie’s location from the Queen before they demolished the manor. That is, if Nathaniel hadn’t already been successful in rescuing her sister. With any luck, Sarah would never need to speak to the Queen again, but with four of their team members out of commission, luck did not appear to be on their side so far.
Slipping out of her room into the hallway, her sneakers barely made a sound on the carpet. She continued down the hall to the grand staircase leading to the main floor. The place was deserted as per usual during the day, and after a quick check to make sure the front door was unlocked for Joe, Sarah continued to the elevator.
After a short descent to the lower level, she stepped out into the white marble-lined hallway. The lights were as bright as she remembered from her last visit to the area, and she could see workers in the lab through the glass wall in front of her. They didn’t pay her any attention, so she turned to her right to find the storage room for the virus.
She rounded the next corner and a nearly identical looking hallway to the last one stretched out before her. It would be easy to get lost if she wasn’t careful. Concentrating on the route she’d memorized, Sarah continued straight and then took the next right. One more turn and she’d be there.
Sarah gasped when she came face-to-face with a man going in the opposite direction. Crap! She’d forgotten to keep her mind open to avoid running into anyone.
“Are you lost?” The man looked down at her. “Can I help you find something?”
Sarah gave the man, or vampire more likely, an innocent look. Time to think fast. “I’m trying to find the King,” she said, her voice sounding higher than usual. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to talk to him about . . . something.”
“You missed the last turn,” he said. “This place can be a bit of a labyrinth. Follow me.”
With a regretful glance at the door she’d been heading towards, she turned to walk behind her guide. Was she really about to help the hunters blow this place up, killing everyone inside it, including this vampire? He seemed friendly enough, but this was a bad time to start second-guessing the plan. And what was she going to say to the King?
The vampire stopped in front of a door that looked the same as all the others and knocked. A deep voice from within called for them to enter. Sarah’s helpful guide opened the door and held it for her. “There you go, Ma’am,” he said, waving her inside.
“Thanks,” she said, and stepped into the dimly lit room. The door swung closed and she blinked. Sarah paused to let her eyes adjust to the sudden drop in lighting.
“Ms. Perkins.” The King’s voice rumbled across the room. He sat on a gigantic round bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows. Everything in the room from floor to ceiling was dark, from the deep crimson carpet to the black painted surface above them. The bed linens were black silk, and a set of midnight blue velvet couches ringed the room’s perimeter.
“Your . . . highness?”
“To what do I owe the honor?” the King asked.
“Um . . . we had an appointment this evening for me to give you a blood sample, and I was wondering if we could postpone for a day or two. I’ve had a long day and I’m not feeling up to it.”
“Yes, I heard about young Reed. He had a bit of an accident?”
“You . . . know about that? How–”
The King chuckled. “Do not look so surprised. I am always well informed when it comes to the affairs of my realm. As for your blood donation, consider our appointment postponed indefinitely. You may go.”
Sarah blinked. That had been too easy. Why did the King seem downright uncaring about getting a sample of her blood when he’d been so anxious to get it earlier? Or was it part of his strange behavior?
“Okay, thanks. I’ll leave you alone now,” she said, backing out of the room. She squeezed her eyes shut when the bright hallway lights enveloped her once again.
Breathing slowly to force herself to relax, Sarah opened her mind to her surroundings. The only presence she felt nearby was the King, so she continued back to her original destination. When she reached the door to the virus’ storage room, she “listened” one more time before turning the knob. The area was clear, and the door was unlocked.
She slid inside, and closed the door. The lights were on, reflecting off the metal walls. On the far side of the room was a bank of drawers. Metal tables covered in beakers full of liquid and lab equipment were lined up against the wall to her left. The room was slightly smaller than the bedroom in her quarters upstairs, and there was a cloying alcohol smell in the air.
Sarah headed to the drawers across the room, noting that some were labeled while others had only an empty square where a label was meant to go. There were also three different drawer sizes, with the smallest being similar to a bank’s safety deposit box, and the largest resembling a drawer for a corpse at a morgue.
Scanning the labels on the larger drawers, she found the one she was looking for, “XIV – 11.2.” She had no idea what the labeling scheme meant, but both the hunters and the Queen had given her the same number. She gave the drawer handle a tentative tug, and when it didn’t budge, she pulled it more sharply until it released with a hiss. Frosty clouds of mist billowed out and she opened the drawer wider. Despite the cold air swirling out around her, she broke into a nervous sweat.
The mist began to clear, revealing about thirty test tubes arranged in neat rows. The drawer was two-thirds empty, which was perfect for the next part of the plan.
She stepped back from the drawer and surveyed the equipment to her left. There were six tanks stacked in the corner, each marked with a single word: “Oxygen.” She grasped the closest one by the metal handle ringing the top, and dragged it over to the open drawer. The tank was about two feet tall and five inches in diameter, and it was surprisingly heavy. Squatting to slip a hand around its base, she struggled to lift the tank off the ground.
She manhandled the tank over the drawer and it slipped, hitting the edge. A metallic clang echoed through the room, and Sarah barely managed to stop the tank from rolling onto the test tubes. If she smashed the tubes open, she risked infecting herself with the virus.
“Focus, goddamn it,” she said. Her heart raced and a drop of sweat dripped down her back.
She repositioned her grip on the tank, and tried to ease it into the empty space next to the test tubes. Her arms shook with the effort, but at last Sarah managed to nestle the tank in place. The drawer was so large there was still room for two more tanks, but she felt confident that one tank would suffice.
The next task on her list was to find some gauze and alcohol. The Queen’s instructions had assured Sarah this room contained these supplies, so she began searching through the tables stacked with equipment.
Success! Sarah gathered up a few packs of gauze and one bottle of alcohol. She returned to the drawer and began ripping open the gauze packets. Placing the gauze pads in between the rows of test tubes, she continued until she had one piece remaining. She opened the alcohol bottle and poured it liberally over the gauze until it was well saturated.
Sarah took a deep breath to steel herself for the last part of the process. She reached into the drawer and unscrewed the valve on the oxygen tank, the gas hissing as it escaped. The only piece of equipment she’d brought with her besides her phone was a lighter, which she pulled out of her pocket. She lit the last piece of gauze and threw it onto the pile of test tubes and alcohol-soaked gauze and shoved the drawer shut just as the fire caught in earnest.
A few licks of flame escaped for a moment, but the fire was self-contained with plenty of oxygen to keep it going. Sarah stepped away, pulling her p
hone out to text Trudy. The sound of glass breaking from within the drawer made Sarah smile. Mission accomplished.
She pulled up Trudy’s name on the phone, and texted “virus destroyed.”
Sarah closed her eyes and “listened” one last time to make sure the way was clear before she headed out.
Suddenly, a loud boom reverberated through the room. Sarah stumbled and the floor shook. What the hell? Another shock wave–from a blast?–rocked through the walls, and cracks formed a web across the ceiling. Had Trudy set off the explosives already?
Sarah snatched her phone back out of her pocket and stabbed at the buttons in a panic. “Stop still inside,” she texted. A crack in the ceiling near the door opened up, and a shower of wires and plaster rained down. The lights flickered off and the room shook once more.
The dim light from her phone kept Sarah from being in complete darkness. She remained still, listening, but the explosions seemed to have stopped. Her phone vibrated in her hand, and she nearly dropped it on the floor. A new text from Trudy. “Sorry was mistake u ok?” Sarah read.
Mistake? Jesus! She ground her teeth. “Yes leaving now,” she texted back.
She turned the phone to shine light on the damage near the door. A good portion of the ceiling had come down, and fluids from broken beakers pooled across the entrance. She could probably squeeze her way through the mess.
She took a step forward. The moment her foot met the liquid on the floor, a jolt of electricity ripped through her body and she flew backwards through the air. The pain was worse than anything she’d ever felt, yet her body was frozen and she couldn’t scream. There was a loud crash as she slammed into the bank of drawers, and then everything went black.
Reed
My eyes popped open and the pain was gone. Thank God. It had seemed like it would never end. A flicker of movement down at my feet caught my attention. Nathaniel was staring at me, his mouth slightly open like he wanted to say something, or as if he was waiting . . . waiting for what?
“Where are we?” I asked, my voice scratching my throat like sandpaper.
“In a basement storage locker in a warehouse, close to the scene of your . . . accident,” Nathaniel answered. “How do you feel?”
“I feel–” I paused, squeezing my eyes shut. Relieved? But I remembered what had happened, and I had a horrible feeling I would never be whole again.
I didn’t feel any phantom pain: that pain people had in their limbs even when their arms or legs were missing. “They’re gone, aren’t they?” I whispered. My eyes filled with tears.
“Who?” Nathaniel frowned.
“Not who–my . . . arm. My–”
He shook his head. “Reed, look for yourself.”
Huh? What a heartless thing to say. The next thing he’d probably tell me was to be grateful I wasn’t dead.
Nathaniel sighed and crawled over to my left. I refused to look, so he gently turned my head. “Reed, open your eyes.”
I took a trembling breath and did as he asked. My mouth fell open when I saw the pale, skinny arm attached to my body. My arm. My new arm. I looked lower. There was a new leg: chalky white and thin, but whole.
“I don’t believe it,” I breathed. I wiggled the fingers on my new hand and then flipped it over to look at the palm. The jagged scar at my wrist from where I’d fallen off a ladder and landed badly was gone.
“Regeneration,” Nathaniel said. “Like your finger when it grew back. I will say, you healed quickly, even for a vampire. You are a fighter.”
“You saved my life.” I searched his eyes before he turned to look at the ground.
“That was more Sarah’s doing,” he said.
Sarah! “Where is she? What happened to her?” I sat up.
Nathaniel raised his hand. “She is fine. Do not worry. She is back at the King’s mansion.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s . . . good.” I sighed and leaned back against the wall.
“I must leave you as the sun has almost set and I have an errand to run. You will be fine here.”
“Errand? What kind of errand?”
Nathaniel glanced away as though he was considering whether to tell me or not. “I do not wish to alarm you,” he said.
“Come on, Nathaniel.”
“All right, I shall tell you, but I do not want you to panic. The Queen has taken Sarah’s sister. I plan to retrieve her.”
“Taken? You mean the Queen kidnapped her? What the hell for?”
“To ensure Sarah’s compliance, I believe. The Queen gave Sarah a mission: to destroy the virus.”
I raked my hand through my hair. “Wait a second. The virus? How does she even know about it?”
“I am uncertain.”
I shook my head. “So, what did you say Sarah’s up to right now?”
“I did not say, however, I believe she is . . . destroying the virus,” he said.
“What? Like, at this very minute?” I scrambled to stand up, which felt weird with my new leg. “I was supposed to help her.”
“Reed.” Nathaniel stood and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Sarah is fine on her own. You should stay here and rest. By the way, I obtained some new clothes for you,” he said, pointing to a duffle bag on the floor. “I was not sure what size you are, so I gathered an assortment of things. I must leave now, but I will call you with instructions to meet us soon.” He looked back once before he left and then he was gone.
“Yeah, like hell I’m going to sit on my ass while everyone else is busy saving the world,” I muttered. I rummaged through the bag and found some clothes to wear while I waited to make sure Nathaniel was good and gone before I headed out.
I limped awkwardly up the stairs while I tried to get used to my new leg. If I lived for over two hundred years like Nathaniel, how many original body parts would I still have? At the rate I was going, there’d be nothing left of the old me by the end of the year.
It was a chilly mid-November night, and I pulled my jacket tighter around me and stepped into the street. My breath puffed in the air and I started a light jog to get the feel of my leg before trying to run. The area was eerily quiet without a person or car in sight.
I had a good sense of direction and was able to find my way back to the manor without getting lost. When I turned down the road towards the manor, I smelled smoke. I ran down the street, turned into the driveway, and passed through the open gate. Smoke drifted out a side window, but other than that, the building looked undamaged.
I raced up the front steps and threw the door open. The smell of smoke was much stronger even though the air in the foyer was mostly clear. I sprinted to the elevator and jabbed the button, but it didn’t light up and I couldn’t hear the grinding sound of movement.
There had to be another way to get downstairs. I took off down the hallway to find a stairwell to the lower level. I threw open each door along the hall until I found what I was looking for. The light grew dimmer the farther I raced down the stairs. I had to hold the railing so I wouldn’t fall on my face, which meant I moved almost as slow as when I was still human.
I slammed through the door at the bottom of the three flights of stairs into pitch darkness. Even with my vampire night-vision, I couldn’t see a damn thing. I stepped further into the hall and smelled blood. Underneath that strong odor was the scent of plaster, wood, metal and . . . Sarah! Yes, it was definitely her. Whether she was dead or alive, I didn’t know.
Following my nose, I scooted blindly down the hall with my arms outstretched. When I hit a wall, I turned to my left and continued as fast as I dared. After a right turn, the blood smell became much stronger and my fangs sprang out.
I dashed ahead and tripped over something. I flew forward, landing hard on my stomach. I swore and fumbled to dig my phone out of my pocket. I pressed the button to turn it on and shed some light on my surroundings. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier? Goddamn it.
Even though I had a bad feeling about what I’d tripped over due to the smell of blood filling the air
, I turned the phone to see what it was. I stopped breathing. It was one of the vampire hunters, Joe. His dead eyes stared past me, unseeing.
“Ah!” I yelped. “Holy frig! No!”
I swallowed hard. There was a curved sword gripped in Joe’s hand. It looked like a samurai sword, and knowing the hunters, I guessed it was probably coated in silver. After a brief moment of hesitation, I reached forward and pried his fingers off the hilt. I might need a weapon myself and I didn’t think Joe would mind.
Then I spotted the sheath for the sword sticking out from under his body. A strap held it onto his back, so I pushed his arm through and tugged to release it from his upper body. When it pulled free, he rolled to the side and I saw the back of his head. Or what was left of it. Now I knew where all the blood had come from.
I stumbled back, trying to keep a grip on my new prize as well as my phone. I slung the sheath over my shoulder and picked up the sword. I thought about closing Joe’s eyes like people always did in the movies, but I couldn’t do it. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.
I sniffed the air and picked up Sarah’s scent again. I moved down the hallway, my phone lighting the way and the sword held out in front of me. I reached a door where the scent grew stronger, so I burst into the room.
The King was there, sitting on the world’s largest bed. Lit candles and a million velvet pillows surrounded him. It looked like a pimp’s palace. At the foot of the bed there was a young kid curled into a fetal position. Then I realized the kid wasn’t breathing.
“Mr. Hennessy, welcome,” the King said as if people burst into his bedroom all the time. “You look well. A quick healer I see. Yet another exceptional thing about you. Please, excuse my lack of manners,” he added, pointing to the child’s body. “I would offer you a sip, but I tend to drain the little ones after a single feeding. I am afraid this one is all dried up.”
I cringed, the sword wavering in my grip. “Where’s Sarah?”
“Not here,” he answered with a smile.