Rebekah could imagine he felt like the worst vampire to walk the earth. It was a lot to ask, but she had no hesitation. “Take it.’ Julian did not need to tell her it was life or death, she already knew that.
Without appearing to move, Julian, his shoulder draped in a catheter lead, was suddenly clutching an empty infusion bag and a tourniquet.
Rebekah blinked in surprise.
Julian was only the second vampire Rebekah had ever spoken to, and as he deftly rigged up a saline drip to help her body replace fluids, she watched him carefully. A million questions filled her head. But, the only one that matters is, will Connor be okay? But she felt foolish even thinking it.
“He’ll be okay.” Julian said with ferocious honesty, “You know him, or you should by now. He’s waited a hundred years for you, he’s not about to leave you now.”
“Thank you, Julian.” Rebekah smiled gently. “And you? Two hundred years and still waiting... or have you found her?”
“Oh, I think you know the answer to that one.” Julian’s lips curved in a wry grin. “I’m not there yet, but I’m trying.” Animation melted away as he sank into deep thought, and just as Rebekah was wondering if she should fake a cough to bring him back to earth, he breathed fervently, “Tell her to wait for me.”
“And, I think you know the answer to that one.” Rebekah smiled. “But I’ll tell her.”
The bruising on Rebekah’s skin stood out more fiercely against the pallid complexion of blood loss and, as the infusion bag became full, her head began to drop as drowsiness set in.
Julian withdrew the catheter needle, and as she folded her arm over a ball of cotton wadding to stop the bleeding, he held out two painkillers. “Here. Take these, and then I better get you home. Connor will be climbing the walls until I make an appearance.”
The journey home was one of lightheaded euphoria for Rebekah. The combination of painkillers and thinned blood worked like a charm.
When Julian left, she lay out on her bed in her cavern, where Connor’s scent was strongest. It permeated her sheets and her favorite clothes, and the fabric of her mattress remembered his weight.
She was back in familiar surroundings, but still waiting to feel better. And I will, once I see him again.
In that dark basement, the door swinging open had struck terror into her as she braced herself for another assault. But the sound of his voice had punched a hole in her fear, and hope had made her beaten body glow. He touched me, and everything was all right. I need that now.
Her bruises throbbed as she supported her arm with a pillow and tried to get comfortable. He was so gentle, and his face... Rebekah sighed. His face had all the usual angles and shadows which took her breath away. But there was more. His face said it all, he’s in trouble.
She couldn’t erase the dread that Connor might not return.
He’d be angry if he knew Julian asked for my blood. But Rebekah could not regret finally doing something for Connor that his pride would never have allowed. He needed me, and Julian had no such qualms.
Julian had mentioned using dialysis to remove Sebastian’s venom from the blood he had taken, but the thing she latched onto was that, it may take a few days, but Connor was coming back.
Fatigue settled an iron grip on her heart as it struggled with the balance of an oxygen deficient bloodstream and the exhaustion of her fear. Slipping beneath a blanket of slumber became an irresistible lure, and her last clear thought was of Connor. He will keep his promise.
<><><>
Putting the next step of the plan into action, Julian walked into the blood dispensary at the hospital and sought out the familiar figure of Charles, the blood technician. If anyone knows where Anthony is right now, he will. Julian was aware the council was waiting.
“Good evening, Charles. Have you seen Surgical Assistant Anthony?”
“He’s waiting for Doctor Connor to start rounds, in the surgical wing, I think.”
“Ah.” Julian joined Charles behind the dispensary counter and drew him to one side. Dropping his voice, he said, “I’m afraid Doctor Connor will not be returning to the hospital. Can you make sure Assistant Anthony receives extra blood rations, he’ll be pulling a double shift.”
Charles was stuck on Julian’s first announcement. “Not returning to the hospital? But why?”
Julian leveled a steady stare at the small wiry vampire. “You will hear soon enough. Doctor Connor is facing charges of ‘threatening the food supply’.” Julian shook his head. “And this time, there is no question. He is guilty.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Right now, I need to talk with Surgical Assistant Anthony, if you’ll excuse me.”
Leaving a bemused Charles muttering under his breath, Julian exited through the side door and was soon moving through Connor’s territory. The I.V. bag of Rebekah’s blood was warming his side where it lay secured under the layers of his shirt and coat. Now, to find Anthony.
Charles had said the surgical wing. Examination room 2. Even Anthony thought of that as Connor’s home, so, Julian tried there first.
“Anthony,” Julian said, as he entered the examination room, recognized Anthony’s hefty bulk resting in the corner of the room, and bore down upon him.
Anthony’s body jerked, his revival sleep evaporating instantly. “I’m waiting to begin rounds with Doctor Connor,” he mumbled sheepishly. He had literally been caught napping.
Brushing aside Anthony’s embarrassment, Julian said bluntly, “Doctor Connor is on trial in an hour, and he will be sentenced to death.”
Anthony did a double take. His eyes moved to the empty doorway as though he expected Connor’s arrival to prove Principal Julian wrong. “What?”
Julian plowed on. “I will be calling upon you to prepare him for transportation to Storage Facility Eight.”
“Doctor Connor?” Anthony’s brow creased in confusion.
Julian dropped a hand onto Anthony’s bunched shoulder, and looked him in the eye. “Anthony, pay attention, Doctor Connor needs your help.”
The younger vampire nodded. Confirming he was up to speed, he said briskly, “What do you need?”
“When you prepare Doctor Connor for transportation, you will substitute the muscle relaxant injection with saline solution. Connor will take care of the rest.” Julian paused.
“Okay, and then?”
“When he’s admitted to the storage facility, you must find him and rehydrate him with this.” Julian held out the bulging infusion bag, and waited.
“But it will be too late. The pronouncement rounds are daily. He could be twenty-four hours into dehydration by then.” Anthony was horrified.
Julian was relieved. Anthony hadn’t thought to argue. Connor was right that he would help without question. It saves me threatening him, because in this case, refusal is not an option. “We have bought him time.” As Anthony opened his mouth to speak, Julian held up his hand, demanding that he be allowed to finish. “His rate of dehydration will be slowed by drinking four vials of human blood before he’s sent into storage, so, he will have time.”
“But his body still has to metabolize an animal blood infusion. Rehydration will be too slow, even if human blood is still present, it will take time he hasn’t got.” Anthony frowned as if solving a puzzle.
“Unless... the infusion you give him is one hundred percent human blood,” Julian breathed quietly.
“But where-?”
Julian drew Anthony’s gaze by holding out the bag of blood again.
“You mean? But how? Where?”
“Just take it, Anthony. Explanations can wait. Doctor Connor can’t,” said Julian. “You have to get it into him in time, or…”
Chapter 12
Connor cooperated with his guardsmen escort, matching their pace, even though his natural inclination was for a higher velocity. He obediently followed them in to the council anteroom and sat on a wooden bench to await his summons.
Down the hallway, the vampire communi
ty filed into the courtroom.
“Well, Councilor, enjoy your day in court,” Connor murmured as Serge entered and took up a position opposite his prisoner. Serge’s smile of anticipation stretched his crinkled cheeks tight and satisfaction glittered in his amber gaze.
Connor tapped out a tune on the parquet floor with his boot, just to irritate Serge, and took pleasure watching the guardsman struggle with his own amusement.
A cry echoed down the hall. “Call the prisoner to the dock.”
Connor silently entered the courtroom. Six rows of pale faces tracked his progress as he crossed in front of them and stepped up into the dock. Exuding the easy grace of a gladiator, Connor awaited the arrival of his opponent as Marius, Julian, and Alexander took their seats on the dais, behind the jurors’ bench.
“You are charged with ‘threatening the food supply’. How do you plead, Doctor Connor?” said Julian.
“Guilty.” Connor’s voice rang out.
In vampire culture, although lying was not expected, they were usually more creative with the truth and tried to wriggle off the hook. Only a fool welcomes decades in Storage Facility Eight. To stand before the court and baldly admit to the deception Connor had perpetrated was unheard of.
He almost laughed at the confusion radiating from the gallery. They could see their hopes of entertainment slipping away.
The spark in the eyes of the jurors showed their surprise. Marius shrugged in detached disappointment, and Alexander’s gaze lit with keen interest as he clearly wondered why Connor so willingly gave himself up.
“Principal Julian, if I may?” Serge rose to his feet, his parchment dry skin glowing with satisfaction.
“Continue, Councilor,” Julian replied.
“Will the court demand that Doctor Connor give explain his bizarre behavior?” Serge preened as all eyes reluctantly turned to him.
Connor raised a brow. I am not sure which part Serge considers to be bizarre. Perpetrating the crime, or admitting to it so bluntly? He waited with interest as Julian decided which tack to take.
Julian said flatly, “Doctor Connor, please tell the court why you chose to take a human pet.”
Connor drew to his full height and looked down at Serge, sensing the thrum of excitement which tinted his jaundiced complexion with a pink glaze. Serge wants his pound of flesh.
Arranging an empty smile on his face, Connor said, “No, I will not justify my actions to the court.”
Serge spluttered, “The court will compel Doctor Connor to comply.”
Julian registered his annoyance by picking up his gavel. Having decided enough was enough, he was about to declare as much, when Connor spoke again.
Connor’s smile was genuine this time. “What penalty would you have the court impose for my being in contempt?” His direct gaze made it clear his contempt was for Serge alone. “I am already resigned to the death of locked-in syndrome. Maybe you would add ten more years at stage-two to the sentence?” Connor shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Serge’s jaws snapped shut as words deserted him.
Connor grinned openly as Julian called Serge to order.
“Do you have anything further to add, Doctor Connor? Any mitigating circumstances that the court should take into consideration?” asked Julian, his face tight with displeasure.
Connor knew he was backing Julian into a corner, and his sentence would now be harsher to reflect the disrespect of his outburst. “I have nothing further, Principal Julian,” he said meekly.
“Very well.” Julian sighed. “As decreed by vampire law, I sentence you to the mandatory sentence of locked-in syndrome.” He scanned the faces in the gallery. Connor’s performance had stirred their expressions from bored to curious. “With an additional penalty of fifteen years at stage-two for your contempt of this court.” Julian’s attention zeroed in on Connor with mock severity. “You will be taken from the courtroom to Storage Facility Eight to begin your sentence with immediate effect.”
His gavel strike signaled the end of the trial and Julian nodded to the council guards. “Take the prisoner down.”
The Principal’s disdainful pronouncement conveyed that the trusted doctor had disgraced the entire vampire race. The vampires in the gallery appeared to be carved in stone – shock radiated from them like a heat haze.
Before the vibration of the gavel strike had faded, Connor left the dock. With the manners befitting his station, he paused in front of the bench and inclined his head to the jurors’ bench before sweeping from view.
Doctor Connor was being transported to Storage Facility Eight to start a death sentence, and Serge’s face glowed with satisfaction.
Connor smiled as fifteen guards jostled for room in the corridor outside the anteroom. “Not taking any chances then,” he muttered as the sea of white faces parted to let him through. Do they seriously think I’ll make a run for it?
Once he was back inside the small anteroom, the door closed with an emphatic click, and a key grated in the lock. Connor’s grin widened. A locked door would not hold me. It’s just mind games.
Connor knew the form, although he was usually on the other side of the fence as the doctor of record at trials where the death penalty was handed out. The warden will be waiting for me. Anthony will be here within the hour. No vampire had ever resisted being prepared for transport. After all, escape would be a hollow victory when it cuts off access to human blood. Without it, desiccation would be slow and painful as his brain centers surrendered to insomniac dementia.
Connor reached inside his jacket and extracted the four vials of human blood Julian had given him. As good a time as any. Connor popped out the stoppers and downed them one by one.
Moments later, the door opened and Anthony entered, accompanied by the warden who would escort Connor into storage. He had the opaque lacklustre complexion of someone who lives almost entirely in the dark.
Connor acknowledged the flash of apology which warmed Anthony’s brown gaze. The transportation trolley, upon which rested a lidless steel coffin, became the elephant in the room when the warden dragged it over the threshold.
“Doctor Connor.” Anthony’s blank expression masked his reluctance as he prepared the syringe of muscle relaxant.
Connor nodded curtly. “Anthony.”
A muscle ticked in his assistant’ s clenched jaw and Connor took pity on him. Better get this over with. “Coffin?”
“If you wouldn’t mind,” said Anthony.
“I have to say, I long for the days of wooden coffins. Still, we have to move with the times, hmm?” Connor climbed into the steel coffin shell, and lay down inside it. He shrugged until he had found a degree of comfort, lifting his chin as he said, “Ready.”
Inserting the needle vertically up into Connor’s carotid artery, Anthony pushed the plunger home in a quick, practiced, movement. Connor’s body relaxed, his mouth dropped open as the weight of his jaw sagged, and his eyelids drooped.
Anthony stared into the slackened features and wondered if he should close the eyelids. He dared to drag his fingers down over them, but they drifted open again, hanging there in a hooded gaze. He was uncomfortable knowing that, even in the grip of muscle relaxant, Connor’s conscious thought would have remained.
The warden clicked three steel bands into place across Connor’s prone form. One secured his chest and biceps, one molded to his pelvis, and the final one fitted over his thighs.
“I will take it from here,” said the warden, and, with the assistance of a gray-complexioned colleague, he lifted the coffin and whisked Connor’s body out through the door. Anthony remained glued to the spot as if turned to stone, like an actor on the stage no longer part of the plot.
The muffled thud of the main doors of the council building closing acted like the click of a hypnotist’s fingers, and Anthony blinked several times. “Julian better know what he’s doing.”
<><><>
The warden and his aide progressed at a brisk run through the night.
The gray stone walls of Storage Facility Eight loomed in Connor’s peripheral vision, and he felt the change in both the temperature and weight of the air when they entered. As the steel door slid back into place, the rubber seal deadened the sound to a dull thump which echoed inside Connor’s chest. A yellow glow of a flashlight danced over the walls, and finally, as the base of his coffin grated on stone, he came to rest.
Left alone in the dark, Connor carefully expanded his chest and sucked in the stagnant atmosphere of the stage-one storage chamber. He flexed his fingers, reassuring himself that Anthony was on his side and had substituted the muscle relaxant with a saline shot. Connor was faced with continuing the deception he had started in the council anteroom, and faking it as best he could. The hardest part had been not allowing his thoughts to show on his face, and not allowing his eyes to focus on the passing scenery.
The wardens believed Connor to be awaiting his first pronouncement by a doctor, and that the steel bands were strong enough to restrain him – by the time the muscle relaxant wore off, the dehydration process would have already begun to drain his strength. No one will check on me, they think I’m paralyzed.
Even so, with facility’s airtight seals activated, there was no way to walk out of there unnoticed. Everything hinged on Julian’s plan.
The high dose of human blood coursing through his system had bought him a few precious hours before graveling would start to set in. The isotopes in the human blood would slow the process, but ultimately, if desiccation exceeded the crucial fifteen percent, he could not be rehydrated and his tissue would petrify. I need Anthony to perform his rounds before that happens. Everything could still go wrong.
Connor latched on to his promise to Rebekah. But that led him to visualize the horrors she must have suffered, and he quickly realized that madness lay down that road. Instead, he sought the refuge of revival sleep, and, as Rebekah had done before him, he transformed her name into a litany which would save his sanity.
SURVIVAL Page 14