“Wouldn’t that be an easy way of dealing with all of this? To stop the spread of this deadly virus?”
Lady Sylvia’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What would be?”
“Destroying the Cured. Then you have no problem. This ‘chemical warfare’ that you are so worried about would be unable to continue.”
Lady Sylvia looked exhausted by the suggestion. “Has the Equal Rights Movement taught you nothing? We do not wish to kill anyone. And besides, the Cured were once like us, we’d be turning on our own.”
“But they are not your own anymore. They are human.”
Lady Sylvia stared into the camera, her expression hard. “They are under our protection now. The Vampire League will do whatever it takes to keep them safe. They did not deserve what has happened to them by the hands of that ignorant man. This ends now.” She looked down at her desk and shuffled around her papers some more. “I have nothing more to say to you. This interview is over.”
“Well, thank you for taking the time to discuss this matter,” said Joanne. The camera panned away from screen which promptly replaced Lady Sylvia’s office with the News logo.
Joanne fixed a fake smile on her face and gestured to the right of her. “Now it’s over to Gregory with sports.”
Robin muted the TV and silence plunged into the room. Evie flexed her fingers and realised that they were wrapped around Caius’. She didn’t even remember taking his hand.
“What did she mean by branded?” It was Varsee who spoke, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.
“Like cattle,” replied Alexander, his voice hoarse. “He’s alive, then. Should have known as much. I should have finished the job myself.”
“Why didn’t you?” asked Robin.
Alexander sighed, placing his smoothie on the coffee table. “I don’t know. I guess I was kind of hoping that if I gave him a second chance, he’d realise how dumb he had been. And killing him wouldn’t have solved anything anyway. If anything, it would have ruined my chances of Turning back.” He gulped hard and bent his head so his hair flopped over his face. “Not that I was counting on that anyway. I know I’m stuck like this.”
“I can’t believe he hasn’t even been put on trial,” said Varsee with a sneer. “And instead he’s being protected? What the hell?”
“Speaking of being protected,” said Caius. “From what’s been said, I’ll probably be getting a call from Milah anytime soon.”
“Alexander doesn’t need her,” said Varsee. “He’s got us.”
“It couldn’t hurt to have the Court behind us, too.”
“I’m going upstairs.” Alexander pushed himself up onto his feet and grabbed his smoothie.
Varsee’s head spun to him. “But I’m making you some dinner.”
Alexander was already at the foot of the stairs. “Send it up when it’s ready.”
About an hour later, Caius tensed beside Evie and pressed his fingers to his temples as if massaging a headache. Evie watched expectantly, knowing that it was no ordinary headache. Varsee was still upstairs with Alexander. She had brought his food up for him only a few minutes after he had left and had never returned. Robin was still channel hopping, trying to catch some more stories about Nico.
“I think he was friends with the one that killed themselves,” said Robin, his eyes still fixed on the screen.
Evie glanced at Caius, wondering if he was going to answer, but his eyes were shut as he was channelling Milah. He was in a whole other world.
“What?” asked Evie.
“The Cured. The one the blonde vampire lady was talking about on the News. One of the Cured killed themselves.” He looked around the back of the chair at Evie. “I think Alexander was friends with them.”
Evie shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“That’s why he’s so twitchy. A person he cared about committed suicide. That’s bound to mess someone up, right?”
“Sure, I guess.”
Robin’s eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I mean, that could be true but I don’t think it’s that simple. Alexander’s been around for over a century. He lost his Maker. Just losing a friend wouldn’t have had such a drastic effect on him.”
“Well, there’s being human on top of that. We all know that’s not what he wanted.”
Evie let out a depleting sigh. “It doesn’t matter what’s made him like this anyway. What matters is snapping him out of it.”
Caius’ eyes flickered open. They were bleary as if he’d just woken from a heavy sleep. “Milah’s on her way. She’ll be here soon.”
“To brand Alexander?” asked Robin.
Caius nodded.
“Did she say how exactly she’s going to do that?”
Caius’ face was grim. “Alexander had the right idea. Like cattle.”
Evie made a sound of disgust. “That’s so humiliating.”
“Not to mention painful,” added Robin.
“We’ve just got to be thankful that the Court even want to help. As they said on the News, Alexander and all of these Cured carry in their blood the means to the end of the whole vampire race. Killing them all would be the easy way out,” said Caius.
Evie wanted to be appalled by the idea but she wasn’t. She knew it was true. But what was making her head reel was the fact that Guardian, the savage ancient vampire who had turned her whole world upside down, was the person who was keeping everything in line. Guardian, and his patient, level-headed, calculating way of thinking was the only thing between the dark, ugly world they currently inhabited, and complete anarchy.
A knock at the door made everyone’s head swivel in its direction.
“That will be Milah,” said Caius, rising to his feet.
But he hadn’t even reached the threshold of the hallway before the front door swung inwards and in came Milah, gliding weightlessly with a branding iron dangling between her nimble fingers.
“I hear you are harbouring a fugitive.” She flashed a grin, swinging the branding iron limply. Her ocean blue eyes landed on each of them. “Well.” She flicked the branding iron upwards so that the stamp was visible. It was in the shape of a V within a rather rough looking circle. “I’ve come bearing gifts.”
The fire hissed and spat, flicking glowing embers into the soft winter breeze as Milah idly poked at it with her branding iron. Everyone had gathered in the back garden. Milah had made a fire by lighting up a pile of dried leaves and sticks after realising that the ornate fireplace in the lounge was protected by glass. Evie and Caius were standing side by side, their fingers worrying their lips as they observed. Varsee was sitting beside her brother on the doorstep. She had covered him with a patchwork blanket before she had brought him down to meet Milah. He was now wearing it like a shawl, his shoulders bunched from the cold but his face showing no signs of discomfort. No signs of anything, in fact.
“Is this really necessary?” asked Varsee, looking more frightened than Alexander, the person who was going to be subjected to a torturing device. “I will protect him. If anyone wants his blood, they’ll have to go through me.”
“This isn’t about other people trying to weaponise his blood,” said Milah, still poking the fire like a curious child inspecting roadkill. “It’s if he turns on vampires and tries to poison blood banks himself. The nurses need something to identify the infected.”
“He would never do that. And anyway, they can use a photograph.”
“He’s not a vampire anymore, Varsee.” Milah flicked her gaze to the blonde ancient. The tail of her white dress whipped against her calves in the breeze, “-he’s going to age. The brand will be a permanent reminder.”
Varsee was power and beauty.
Milah was beauty and power.
They were fire and ice.
Evie couldn’t help imagining Milah as being the shadow of Varsee- her photonegative. Two strong women – thankfully – on the same side. This was just a minor disagreement. Evie contained a shudder at the thought of what cou
ld transgress if the two of them ever got into a real fight.
Varsee’s eyebrows pinched with pain and she looked to Alexander. His eyes were glazed, gazing off into the black fields. If it wasn’t for the juddering of his shoulders, he could have easily been mistaken for a waxwork figure of himself – a decoy so that he could run away and avoid this whole ordeal undetected.
“There’s no point dragging this out. I have places to be,” said Milah, continuing to stab at the fire.
“Are you ready, Alex?” asked Varsee, squeezing his shoulder.
Alexander blinked slowly in response; an action so miniscule but it spoke volumes.
“Tip your head to the side for me, expose your neck,” said Milah.
Varsee helped him, pressing lightly on his temple so he tilted his head towards her, resting on her shoulder. She gathered his hair in her hand and pulled it back, exposing the white of his throat. His veins pulsed an icy blue beneath his thin, pale skin.
Evie reached backwards blindly and Caius’ hand found hers. Their fingers entwined.
When Milah lifted the branding iron, the red-hot symbol reflected in Robin’s huge dark eyes as he gawked from the open door. Varsee’s eyes were on her brother as the branding iron pressed firmly against his neck.
Evie imagined Alexander’s neck giving way under the hot iron, melting inwards like a Barbie doll held over a candle. But the reality was that Alexander was made of flesh, blood and bone. His skin cried out with a vicious hiss. Alexander’s jaw clenched with agony and he whimpered. The first sound to pass his lips in so long. Varsee’s lips were on his forehead, her blood tears dropping onto his cheeks. He moved under the blanket and even though Evie couldn’t see, she knew he was grabbing onto his sister for support.
Milah’s face was a blank mask, unaffected by the scene. A person squashing a bug. When she pulled the branding iron back, Alexander cried again at the ripping sound of tearing, burnt flesh. The brand left behind was ugly. So ugly that Robin pressed his fist to his lips as if to contain rising vomit. The fresh wound glistened in the beam of the floodlight. It looked meaty and raw. The burnt skin around the edges was crusted, black and curling in on itself.
Alexander’s face was now firmly lodged into the crook of Varsee’s neck, his shaking more violent now. Varsee held him, rocking him slightly and whispering reassuringly into his ear.
Milah inspected the now cold tip of the branding iron and flicked off pieces of charred flesh with a look of mild disgust before stabbing it against the grass. “Well, I guess I’ve outstayed my welcome. I’d better be off.”
She turned to Caius and flashed him a bright-eyed look. “I’ll be in touch.”
Through their entwined hands, Evie felt him go rigid behind her. She turned to see him with his head bowed shamefully, as if it was his fault she was there.
They all watched as she stepped over the fence with her weapon, the night swallowing her up. And just like that, she was gone. The misshapen, bloody ‘V’ on Alexander’s neck was the only sign that she had even been there.
Feeling like they should stay out of the way, Evie, Caius and Robin went for a walk out along the country roads while Varsee cleaned her brother’s fresh brand. Alexander had mumbled as Varsee took him upstairs that it was ironic that he was marked with a V and not a scarlet A after all of his naughty misdoings. He even managed a heavy-lidded smirk as he said it, and the sight had Varsee crying all over again.
It wasn’t long until the three vampires had done a full, winding lap of the roads and wound up back at the farmhouse. They all stopped before the gate, eyes solemn as they looked at the covered windows. It would be silent when they entered. It had been silent for most of their stroll. No one really knew what to say. There seemed to be no need to say anything. Everyone knew what each other was feeling, either through sire bonds or simply just the look in their eyes. Forlorn. Desolate. Sorrowful. And the close, suffocating feeling that this was it. The end.
Nico’s reign of terror was over. Alexander was back. Precautions were being put in place for the Cured to be accepted in the same way that vampires were fighting a constant battle for equality.
“Should we go in?” asked Robin, tentatively.
Caius answered by swinging the gate open and starting up the path. Evie followed with Robin close behind. Caius paused a moment at the door, listening before opening it and stepping into the hallway. The hallway and living room were lit only by the flickering light of the fireplace. The flames danced across the walls.
They all gathered together, side by side in the silence. Robin inclined his head to the closest armchair. Both Varsee and Alexander were sat on it, Alexander sprawled lengthways across his sister, his face pressed into her shoulder and his body wrapped in the patchwork blanket like a swaddle. His hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, exposing the now healing brand. Varsee’s eyes were closed, her features smooth, but she was awake and massaging her brother’s scalp.
“What should we do?” whispered Robin.
“Don’t leave on our account.” It was Varsee, her voice a hushed whisper. “You can sit. He’s asleep.”
“I was going to see if there were any news stories.”
“That’s fine. Just mute the telly and put on subtitles. It took me a while to get him this relaxed.”
Robin dropped into the remaining armchair and grabbed the remote. He turned on the TV, quickly flicking it onto mute before the sound caught up with the picture.
Alexander squirmed and Robin’s head spun, his dark eyes wide a fearful. The room froze in suspense. Alexander shuffled a bit under the blanket before he succumbed to his sister’s gentle caresses and relaxed again.
After hopping several channels, Robin found a repeated newsreel about the Cured and Nico’s antics. Evie stepped into the room, transfixed. They were currently interviewing one of the escaped Cured. A pale man in his early thirties, wrapped up in a thick coat and knotted scarf.
“I recognise him,” Evie whispered, her heart rising to her throat. “He was in the cell across from mine.”
His name was Simon Ellis.
She read the subtitles as they ran beneath him.
“Dr. Bergan is not a hero. He is a sick, self-obsessed psychopath. He tortured me endlessly for months without an ounce of remorse. And even when he knew his cure was a failure, he hid the truth from us. He told us it was for our benefit but he just wanted to control us.”
“And how exactly was his cure a failure? You have been cured from vampirism, right?”
“That is only the tip of the iceberg,” Simon scowled. “What the cure has done to us goes beyond that. Vampirism is not simply an illness. It changes you. Moulds you into something else. There are remnants of your old self still there, enough to make you believe that nothing has changed, but not enough to sustain on its own.
“Think of a vampire’s being as a table,” Simon continued. “As a human, it has four legs, and once Turned, three of those legs change. The table still stands. It’s still stable. Just mismatched. Now, think of the Cure as taking away those three legs. You’re left with one. A table cannot stand on one leg.”
“So, you’re saying that the Cured are unstable?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Should we be worried?”
“We have more reason to worry than you do.”
Even though the sound was off, by the look on Simon’s face Evie could almost hear the irritated clip in his tone. And she didn’t blame him. Of course, the interviewer was more interested in the public’s safety rather than the Cured who had survived such brutality.
After a few more questions, Simon disappeared from the screen and was replaced with another hauntingly familiar face.
Evie gasped. “Daisy.”
“Daisy,” Alexander mumbled in his sleep, before smacking his lips and pawing at the strands of hair tickling his cheek like a cat.
“Who is she?” Caius was beside her, his hand resting on her hip.
Evie glanced u
p at him. His eyes were on the small blonde girl on the screen.
“She was in the basement at Nico’s, too. When I was Cured I… I injected her.” Her expression pinched with shame. “I did it to make Nico trust me.” She looked up to Caius, her eyes pleading for understanding. “So I could get you out.”
“Says here that she wanted to be Cured,” says Robin, pointing to the subtitles.
“…sister is still holding strong. Just being able to hold her hand has been worth it.” Daisy smiled wistfully. But then her expression sharpened. Her black eyebrows formed a serious line. “But that doesn’t excuse Nico for all the pain he had caused all of the others. I was the only one in there who wanted this. The others-” Tears swelled in her eyes and she blinked them away. “-I’ve had side-effects, too, like Simon was saying, but I don’t care. As long as I’m here for my sister, I don’t care.” She ran a hand under her nose and turned to the side, her eyelashes batting together to clear away new tears. She had been branded, too. The huge, ugly V was scabbed over and sore-looking.
“I believe that Nico Bergan should be punished for what he did to them.” She looked back into the camera. “This can’t be it. We are walking around with scars visible to the world.” She gestured to her neck, her hand trembling. “As if we should be ashamed of who we are. Even now that we have our humanity back, we are still being segregated. Looked down on.” Her face scrunched with fury and the tendons in her neck bulged. She was screaming. “He should be ashamed! Not us!”
Something happened to the camera, it swerved – the image blurred and then focused back onto the pavement. Daisy must have knocked it because then the broadcast was cut off and the screen was filled with a surprised looking news anchor behind his desk.
The Progeny Page 55