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The puma froze midstep, nostrils quivering as he scented the night air. Fear burned as an ignited fuse wire through his brain. Sides bellowing in agitation, he chose survival and his haunches bunched, ready to propel him to safety. The dark foliage beside him erupted with movement as the cat leapt.
The puma’s front paws lifted from the ground, and a crunching blow to his side broke three ribs, rushed the breath from his body, and rolled him onto his back. The animal grunted as his diaphragm ruptured and he was pressed into the dirt.
Connor hugged the cat’s ribcage tightly in one arm as he pinned the flailing back legs with his knees. He pressed his forearm down onto the cat’s throat and the animal yelped as his hyoid bone crumbled. Satisfaction purred in Connor’s throat as his naked chest flexed and he pulled in the iron rich fumes of the terrified puma’s blood.
Going in for the kill, Connor pushed the cat’s head up sharply, shoved his own muzzle into the damp fur, and bit down hard, flooding his mouth with heat. He swallowed greedily in time with the fading heartbeat, filling his stomach and staining his chest with blood.
The puma’s body lay slack and the gray clouds of the night sky reflected in the glassy stare of the dead eyes when Connor finally released his grip and roared in frustration. He was left still feeling ravenous.
“Fight me,” Connor growled. The fierce expression on his face clung to his skull like a mask. In exorcising a demon, he wanted to feel close to the death he missed out on a hundred years ago. But no prey matched his speed and cunning, and the kill lacked danger.
Connor wanted to fear something solid. He wanted something that could wrestle him to the ground and make him terrified that he would not survive it. He wanted a threat he could understand, not the fear which compressed his chest with dread, the fear that he had lost her, his Rebekah, the fear that nothing he could do would put things right, and that Sebastian had won.
In grave sleep he was a ruthless, efficient predator. The cell door of the killing center inside Connor’s head had been thrown open, and his hungry tissue gloried in the gluttony of bloodlust. The synapses of his brain glittered with the emotions thundering through his temporal lobe. His vampire sight was honed to terrifying sharpness as he reacted to the slightest rustle in the foliage with lightning-quick reflexes. His brain was more than rehydrated, it was saturated. And still his feral instincts raged out of control. Insatiable thirst filled every space inside his mind, becoming his refuge.
Connor raised his chin, every corded tendon of his throat bulging as though an invisible leash tightened a collar around his neck. Sanity was calling, but he resisted. I don’t want to come back. As he stared out over the black horizon, the whites of his eyes tinged pink with the blood of his kill, billowing red clouds dulled his vision and his pewter-rimmed pupils had the thousand-mile stare of a tortured soul.
Surviving one hundred years had been a physical challenge Connor had come to enjoy. Supremacy had been addictive. But how do I fight ghosts? Rebekah recoiling from his touch had torn a hole in his heart, and he slammed the door shut on the memory. His eyes grew cold, his stare as glassy as that of the puma lying dead in the undergrowth. With his bare torso stained the greasy brown of blood diluted with sweat, he balanced on his haunches, loose wrists resting on knees, for once, unaware of the satisfaction which accompanied the effortless, lubricated movement of being fully fed.
He surged to his feet and broke into an effortless, easy Kenyan run. The muscles of his large frame bunched and relaxed in concert as he accelerated swiftly, increasing to the velocity of desperation. The windchill, had he been human, would have stiffened his face with freezer burn. He honed in on hunting out his next challenge with grim determination as the need to drive Rebekah from his mind threatened to crush him.
Chapter 14
Julian projected calm as he made his way to the jurors’ bench and took his seat between Marius and Alexander.
“Court is in session,” he announced with quiet authority. A procession of misdemeanors passed before the austere panel of three, and the session had all the indicators of being predictable. Julian was more than content with ‘predictable’, however, he had his eye on the last listing of the day.
“The last case on the list is the council verses Guardsman Nicholas.”
As Julian sought out Councilor Serge, for the first time since he could remember, he did not object to the aged vampire’s peculiar odor. In a disconcerting way, he looked forward to it.
“Councilor Serge, I believe the defendant is under your tutelage?” Julian assessed Serge’s appearance with a deadpan expression.
“Principal Julian.” Serge rose to his feet. The brown cloth of his jacket hung from bony shoulders which lacked the bulk to give it form. “Guardsman Nicholas is under my guidance, yes.”
Julian turned toward the tall vampire in the dock. “You are here to answer charges of ‘critical harm’. Have you an explanation for the court to consider?”
“I failed to seek confinement when in grave sleep,” the young guardsman said. His face, with its deeply carved expression lines, suggested forty human years of experience. By his smell, Julian estimated that he had the same again in vampire years, although he could not be certain.
“Booking your place in the morgue is basic procedure for grave sleep. What were the consequences?” asked Julian, coldly.
“Guardsman Nicholas injured another guardsman, it was nothing serious,” Serge jumped in.
Julian arched a brow at Nicholas. “Injured?” Flicking an icy glare Serge’s way, Julian continued, “I take issue with your assessment Councilor. Injury is rarely insignificant. How bad was the injury?”
“I broke his left arm.” Nicholas’ tone was colorless.
“I know,” said Julian, and switching his focus, he pinned Serge with his disapproval. “Surgical Assistant Anthony could not repair the damage and the arm was amputated. It’s a pity. If we had Doctor Connor’s skill at our disposal, the outcome would have been different.” Julian turned back to Nicholas and said sharply, “How could you have failed to confine yourself for grave sleep?”
“I thought I had more time,” said Nicholas.
The glacial expression in Julian’s eyes stripped him of hope.
“Then you were mistaken. You will spend a month where you should have been in the first place, in the morgue. Present yourself for confinement immediately.” Julian’s anger flashed. “If you cannot master the idiot’s guide to being a vampire, why should the rest of us suffer you? Count yourself lucky it is not the Storage Facility I am sending you to.”
Nicholas nodded, and without comment, left the courtroom.
Once the door closed behind the condemned vampire, Julian spoke again. “Before we adjourn...” Julian’s raised hand captured Serge’s attention. “Councilor, can you provide us with an update on Sebastian’s condition?” What I really want to know is, where the hell is he?
Councilor Serge’s sun-starved decrepit appearance perfectly suited the vampire myth of one who dwells in a crypt and hides in the shadows. In contrast, Julian’s appearance would never pass as unremarkable. At over six feet tall, he could hammer home an advantage with one glance. He had lived two hundred years ago in an era when being a gentleman signified breeding. This made some think that Julian was not capable of being ruthless. They were wrong.
Julian emanated the authority of a keen intellect. “Well, Serge?” He dropped the councilor title, rudeness rare in him.
“Thank you for your concern.” Serge dipped his chin. “He’s progressing, but the rehydration of three brain centers is taking longer than expected.” Serge smiled, and, in an unguarded moment, his pale eyes glittered.
He thinks he has the upper hand, thought Julian. “I would like to satisfy myself that he is comfortable. Where would I find him?”
They both knew Sebastian was not a vampire worthy of a visit from a principal, and certainly not from Julian. The attack on Sebastian had been devastating becaus
e Connor knew where to hit, where to drive the spike home to shut down the brain and induce vampire coma. How long that lasts will depend upon the individual, so, is he awake, I wonder?
Coma vampires were fed intravenously, and kept at the hospital until brain reboot occurred, but not Sebastian. Serge had broken with protocol, knowing that Julian’s hands were tied.
Both Serge and Julian were withholding information. Sebastian’s location was in Serge’s hands, and he believed Connor to be well on the way to desiccation in Storage Facility Eight. And he clearly enjoys that thought. It amused Julian that Serge’s gleam of triumph was empty.
“I’ll gladly inform you when Sebastian is able to receive visitors.” Serge smiled.
This was an insult, but Julian bore it. Serge would learn the location of the eco-shelter when Sebastian surfaced. It’s no surprise he doesn’t intend to honor the gentleman’s agreement he thinks cost Connor his life.
“He has surfaced then? I’m glad to hear it.” It was a shot in the dark, and Julian watched Serge closely.
Serge’s quickly veiled surprise confirmed it. Sebastian’s awake. Pity, we’d hoped for longer. “Give him my condolences on losing his eye.”
Julian’s blank expression suggested the news was of no importance, but in his mind, he was already drawing up evacuation plans for the eco-shelter.
Rising to his feet and bringing the session to a close, Julian hid his impatience and kept pace with Marius and Alexander as they moved along the corridors. At the door to his chambers, he made his farewells and passed through it, only to re-emerge the instant the halls were empty, leave the building, and disappear into the night.
Two days ago I told Connor to go and be with Rebekah. Damn it, thought Julian, accelerating along the tree-lined streets until the foliage resembled a vertical sea of turbulent waves. And now, I need him here.
A trip to the eco-shelter had an upside. I will see Leizle. The prospect moved his speed up a notch, and the trees became an ebony glacier as the detail blended away. Leizle had harpooned his dead heart and made him feel more alive than he ever remembered being. I’m new to this, and touching her still scares me, even in revival-sleep. Connor had told him that Rebekah still tested his control.
“That’s comforting to know,” he muttered.
Turning into the gravel driveway, he had the eco-shelter evacuation fixed firmly in his mind as he mounted the steps and made his way through the house.
He crossed to the wardrobe as he pulled the cravat of his courtroom garb away from his throat. Reaching into the depths of the hanging space, he found the dark shirt and pants he wanted. Turning back into the room, shoving his arms into the fresh shirt, his gaze swept the space and he froze. A small pebble, just like the ones covering his driveway, was sitting on his mantelpiece.
Leizle. An unguarded smile banished the fierce concentration from Julian’s face. Digging into his pants pocket, he extracted a key. I didn’t smell her, so, the padded cell works.
With meticulous attention to detail, Julian had lined the walls of the small sitting room with soundproof padding and then disguised the fact with new plasterboard, shrinking the dimensions by four inches in all directions. The house dated from the Elizabethan era, and Julian had confidently bricked up the window. It was not an uncommon sight in the London of the early eighteen hundreds. Window taxes had lasted a hundred and fifty years, and many older houses bore the scars where families sacrificed the style and beauty of their home. They bricked up windows in the interest of saving enough shillings to put food on the table.
The decor inside the room featured plush carpet, and upholstered furnishings. All hardwood surfaces were covered with thick fabric, and silence, even for humans, was a reasonable expectation.
Julian walked the length of the hallway to the rear of the house and stopped outside the closed door. I wonder if she likes it? His mind was cluttered by her face as he inhaled deeply, satisfied that her cinnamon-tinted fragrance was barely detectable. He unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“Leizle?” As the sound of her cantering heart buffeted his ears, his relaxed smile grew wider, but only until the cutting blade of hunger buried itself in his stomach. His stride faltered on the threshold as he gazed at her face. Even with her hand clamped over her mouth, she was entrancing to him.
“You startled me,” she whispered. Her eyes were dark emeralds in the dim light of a 20Watt bulb, an acceptable risk in this room alone. The words ‘still-dicing-with-death?’ died on his lips when she smiled. She swept her copper-shot hair from her eyes, and the movement enveloped him in her scent, stinging his nostrils, and worse, constricting his chest as desire burned inside him.
“Rap-sleep,” he muttered urgently.
Before Leizle’s smile of greeting had fully formed, he disappeared again.
“Julian?” she whispered, frowning. As she went to say his name again, his cool breath moved over her hair as he groaned.
He was back, and his lips closed over hers in a fleeting, probing kiss. Pain glittered in his eyes as he whispered, “I’ve got you a blanket, and I’ll be back soon, okay?” He stroked a finger down over her cheek, and then he was gone.
Leizle hugged the blanket to her chest. The last time she was here she’d been wet and cold because vampires had no need of heating. “At least he’s trying.”
Julian’s retreat took him to his study where he locked the door. I need rap-sleep.
He whisked around the room, hitting the marks he needed. First, he extracted three vials of blood from a chiller box, two human and one animal, which was more than the daily ten percent of human he needed. But with Leizle here, I’m not taking any chances. He stopped at the fireplace, downed the three vials and tossed them into the recycling container. Finally, he picked up the small pebble from the mantelpiece, and took it with him as he reclined into the familiar worn embrace of his brown leather armchair.
Content that Leizle was safe, he closed his eyes. Lucid dreams filled his head as they burned through the synapses, glowing like a red hot migraine which pulled his face into a mask of pain, drawing his lips back into a snarl as he passed through the anguish of hell to where the Leizle of his dreams waited.
Julian imagined her crossing the floor towards him, until, reaching out he molded his hands to the soft swell of her hips and pulled her closer. Tracing his fingertips over the contours of her delicate ribcage, he could feel her heartbeat thundering through his own chest as he teased her flushed skin with his mouth. As his body pooled with desire and a ruby flush tightened his velvet flesh, he dreamed of finally drowning in green eyes which reflected the maelstrom of his own emotions, and of showing her how much he loved her.
As his eyes snapped open, with the gatekeeper refreshed and his equilibrium restored, Julian braced himself to face the challenge of the reality of Leizle. Her intoxicating bouquet pulled at the beast inside him, as much as the lover.
Julian sat up, opened his hand and stared at the pile of sand that filled his palm where the pebble had been. His smile was grim. I could probably make diamonds out of coal. At that moment, he could fully empathize with King Midas. I just want to touch her without hurting her, is that too much to ask? Somewhere deep inside, he feared that it was.
Brushing the ground pebble fragments from his palm, Julian headed back towards Leizle. I will not give her up.
She was wrapped in his blanket, and the flush on her warm cheeks told him that it was not because she was cold, but because he had given it to her. It was russet with green threads shot through it and that warmed her more, because they were her colors; her hair and her eyes.
Julian sat down beside her, his cold thigh settling against hers, before she had noticed the door opening.
“Well. You’re a nice surprise,” he said gently. “Sorry about... leaving.”
“Nice blanket.” She looked up through her lashes, youth making her foolishly coquettish when her eye was set on seducing a vampire.
A growl rumbled in his throat. �
��I can manage a kiss, if you don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you,” she said seriously. “Just one kiss.”
He rested his lips against hers. A sneer tried to bare his teeth, but he stopped breathing and, keeping her scent at bay, he relaxed into revival-sleep. As it washed through him, he could trust his hands, and he laced his fingers into her hair. Her tongue stroked over his lips and he let her in, cautiously deepening his kiss.
As he pulled away wearing a tight smile, he cleared his throat, swallowed down his venom, and whispered, “That was easier.” He looked into her flushed face and felt tentatively happy.
“Much better,” she breathed.
“I’ll get there, but, it’s going to take a while.” Fascination etched into his face as he rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “What am I going to do with you? I was on my way to see Connor. If I had gone straight there, I’d be going crazy about now wondering where you were.”
Leizle sat back and said, “That’s why I’m here. Something is wrong. Rebekah’s sleeping all the time, well since she came back from...” She swallowed loudly. “She barely wakes at all now. And Connor has been gone for two days.”
“Connor’s gone. Gone where?” breathed Julian.
Chapter 15
The knowledge Connor was missing focused Julian’s mind as he shadowed Leizle back through the woods. The two stroke engine of her motorcycle whined steadily, and Julian knew where she was at every given moment. He circled like a hawk, ensuring that she was the only thing moving through the undergrowth. Damn it, Connor. With Sebastian awake, the storm was gathering. First, I must get Leizle home.
He swept into the entrance cavern of the eco-shelter and watched Leizle dismount the motorcycle. Her cheeks were red and apprehension glittered in her eyes, and for a moment his reserve was stripped away. Without speaking, he closed the distance between them and brushed his lips gently over hers.
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