Turning on his heel, Sebastian beat a path back along the tunnels scattering the cold gray ash of extinguished torches in his wake.
Urgency drove him forward as he plowed through the woodland, using his fists to splinter dry winter branches, imagining Connor’s face as his target.
He crossed over the River Thames and stopped on the sidewalk outside Serge’s house. ‘Phase one’ of his plan tasted sweet. He arranged his features into the suitably shocked expression, ready to open the first scene in his play.
Sebastian took the steps up from the sidewalk four at a time and pounded hard on the wooden front door. The echo rushed down the hallway. Seconds later, the door eased open, and four bony fingers curled around the edge.
“Councilor Serge.” His tone of concern was convincing.
Serge pulled the door open and raised thin brows.
“I just heard. Is it true Doctor Connor attacked you?” asked Sebastian. Indignation started in his voice and filtered through him until it puffed up his chest. “He can’t get away with that.”
Serge’s eyes were needle-sharp in the gloom. A cloud of fine dust stirred when he turned and retreated down the hallway. “Walls have ears, Sebastian, come in,” he said tightly, throwing back over his shoulder, “And close the door.”
Following Serge inside, the sharp concentration of his one hazel eye pierced the older vampire between the shoulder blades. Like an eagle tracking a mouse, Sebastian kept him in his sights.
The disturbed cobwebs in Serge’s study filled Sebastian’s mouth with fibrous strands as he stopped on the threshold to look around. Fresh tracks circling the room had forged new paths through the sediment of dirt on the carpet. The councilor’s detached desiccated arm lay on a chair, the bony fingers curled into a fist of protest.
The museum which preserved the vestiges of Serge’s mortal life had suffered the equivalence of a hurricane. Even the framed photos of his human family had been pushed aside to make room for the leather-tooled tomes of legal reference books that Serge still poured over. He had not been an educated man, but he was determined to use the upcoming decades, centuries even, to become an educated vampire. Sadly, a crisis had come before the educating part had progressed very far.
“What are you planning to do?” Sebastian’s eye settled on Serge’s jaundiced, sun-deprived face. “What does protocol demand?”
Serge shrugged. A hefty volume lay open on his desk. “There seems to be nothing, other than the charges I have already leveled at Doctor Connor.”
Sebastian arranged a thoughtful expression on his face. “You know, in the Durham Hive, a wronged councilor had the right to challenge the offender to a duel.”
“A duel? A ridiculous notion.” Serge stretched out his one good hand and spat, “Do we tie one of Doctor Connor’s arms behind his back? Ridiculous.”
“There were witnesses, correct?”
Serge’s rheumy eyes narrowed. “The council guardsmen, and the jurors.”
“So, the circumstances are not in dispute. Go and petition the jurors. They cannot refuse you if they witnessed the crime.” Sebastian’s voice dropped to a persuasive whisper. “This is your chance. Throw down the gauntlet, and Doctor Connor will have no choice but to accept. Vampire law demands it, no matter how uneven the opponents may appear.”
Serge drew in a wet breath, and cackled. “A duel to the death? My death.” Humor melted, and malice glinted in his eye. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“You would not have to fight. The council would appoint a proxy combatant. They saw the man tear off your arm. They have no choice.” Sebastian’s barrage of words had a hypnotic rhythm.
“Someone of my choosing?” Serge smiled, and his tongue slipped along his lips as though revenge was a sugar coating he could taste. “My general, perhaps?”
Sebastian bowed in implied complicity. “Of course. But-” Sebastian shot his cuff and looked at his watch. Half an hour gone. “You have to strike while the iron is hot. Go now, and demand that the council convene tonight, before Doctor Connor can take his brat and disappear.”
Serge crossed the room, and, using a hideous handshake, picked up the arm lying on the chair. He swung the appendage up and cradled it across his chest. Looking at Sebastian, he asked, “Shall we?”
“I think it best if I hang back and act as your insurance. If you agree, I thought I’d go to the hospital and make sure Doctor Connor obeys the summons. And then, I’ll come in behind him.”
The prospect of satisfaction renewed Serge’s fervor – his neck creaked as he nodded so hard Sebastian felt like he should be ready to catch the councilor’s head, in case it, too, fell off. “Good idea,” Serge muttered and headed quickly for the door.
The old vampire disappeared along the hallway and, as the front door closed behind him, Sebastian smiled. Of course, Julian could nominate Serge a proxy, but why would he pass up the opportunity to rid himself of the councilor, once and for all? And, while Connor is faced with the ludicrous prospect of fighting Serge, I’ll take the good doctor’s reason for living and suck the lifeblood from it.
“Phase two,” muttered Sebastian as he whisked the cobwebs into a storm of dust devils and slipped soundlessly from the house. Skimming down the steps, he turned towards the hospital and picked up speed.
Serge’s labored flight was slow as juggling the granite weight of his detached arm put a strain on his wasted legs.
Sebastian easily caught up, but hung back. I don’t have to suffer his company. Like a predator flanking his prey, he made sure Serge entered the council building. As the door swung shut, Sebastian peeled off on a new course, devouring the last mile to the hospital.
Approaching the main entrance, he leapt up, clinging to the masonry. Hooking his fingers into the cracks between the marble slabs, he scaled the slick surface of the wall as though gravity worked in his favor. Swinging up onto the stone parapet, he settled on the roof, crouched on the corner of the building.
If he glanced left he could see the gray ribbon of sidewalk outside the morgue exit, and, to the right, the main doors. From which one will they emerge?
When the waiting stretched to half an hour, Sebastian checked his watch and frowned. Pity, I couldn’t have gone in with Serge. But then, they’d expect him to stay until the time of the duel, and that would ruin everything he had planned. Serge’s passion is real, and he thinks I will fight for him. He will demand satisfaction.
To gain a better view, Sebastian lowered his knees onto the slate-tiled roof and eased forward. With his chest brushing the masonry, he leaned out over the edge. Hugging the contours of the stone, he hung there, unmoving.
At last, Juror Alexander arrived. He carved a direct path across the park, and the lines of his body transmitted urgency as he disappeared into the main entrance of the hospital.
Ah, here we go. Excitement dragged a sneer across Sebastian’s lips.
Will Doctor Connor and Principal Julian refuse to attend the council? Can they? Sebastian found it intriguing that the London Hive had been brought to the brink of anarchy by a small bundle of skin and bone which amounted to an abomination. A third species. Sebastian scoffed at the notion, but his gut knotted. At best, an immortal food supply, tainted by human weakness.
Two figures streaked away from the building, kicking up moisture from the damp sidewalk. The blond hair of the leading vampire glinted like fool’s gold in the moonlight. Julian leaving with Alexander. Sebastian tuned into the fast-moving conversation.
“How did Serge come up with this?” Julian’s voice drifted on the breeze as an ambient whisper which filtered into Sebastian’s mind.
“I have no idea, but, he’s correct. Doctor Connor maimed him deliberately. Not as part of a fight gone awry.” Alexander’s heavy tone vibrated through the air.
They are worried. That’s good.
“So, he is demanding satisfaction under the ‘impairment of hunting’ clause?” Julian’s laughter was tight. “Serge hasn’t hunted a darn thing in
all the years I’ve known him.”
Alexander nodded. “Nonetheless, he is now unable. Marius is looking into the precedent in the Durham Hive, although it seems to be an open and shut case.”
The words drained away to a babbling brook of musical tones, but Sebastian could imagine the rest. ‘Will the charges stick?’ Yes. ‘Is the only resolution a duel?’ Yes. Sebastian settled back on his haunches. Not long now.
Like a gothic gargoyle with a demonic aura, he grinned with unconscious relish when Julian returned alone, disappeared into the hospital, and, after some minutes, emerged with Connor at his side.
Impressive. Sebastian compressed his lips in reluctant respect. They do not hang around, that’s for sure. Seeking a quick resolution, perhaps? Sebastian strained his ears to hear.
“Why do I need to be there? Surely, Marius and Alexander can deal with this.” Frustration fired Connor’s words like bullets.
“We have not been here before. You may have to fight him.” Julian’s tone was colored by disbelief.
Connor’s harsh laughter rode the air as they ramped up their speed and the darkness of night swallowed them.
Sebastian honed in on the twin tailed comet of their racing shadows until they faded from his sight, and then, he made his move.
Chapter 30
Sebastian launched himself fearlessly over the edge of the hospital parapet. His chest collided with the wall as he swung around to face the smooth marble. He hung from the lead gutter for a moment before descending fast and hitting the sidewalk with a crunch which cracked a paving stone.
Pushing aside the heavy glass doors leading into the emergency room, Sebastian took his bearings, and indulged in a mental run through of the next few minutes. The last few minutes for Rebekah and the doctor’s baby. An acid pool of resentment settled in his stomach as he remembered the feeling of Connor chasing him down, breathing down his neck and forcing him to flee the hospital. Was it only two days ago? Not this time.
Taking a shortcut through the morgue, he slipped through the door marked ‘authorised personnel only’, and closed it silently. The eerie quiet of the surgical wing wrapped itself around him. This is it. No turning back. He leaned back against the polished steel door and scanned the corridor for vampires.
Faint sounds echoing through the chambers of the hospital made it hard to know if it was safe to make a move. He finally decided he could not wait. It’s better to take a risk.
First things first. Phase three, I need a syringe.
He whipped along the corridor. He could smell Rebekah. She’s here in the surgical wing, but the boxer is here too. That was not a surprise.
He scanned the row of closed doors and ducked inside a treatment room. The floor felt gritty underfoot. Looking down, Sebastian noticed the residue of white quarry dust at the same moment as its calcium-enriched odor coated his nasal lining. Bone dust. Did the last patient lying on this treatment table walk out without losing a limb? Were they luckier than Serge?
A tray of instruments rested on a wheeled trolley in the corner of the room, and on it was a syringe filled with an amber liquid. It was a veterinarian bovine-grade syringe with a tempered-steel needle, because anything less would bend if pushed into vampire skin of more than thirty years of age.
Sebastian picked up the syringe, depressed the plunger, and emptied the dose of muscle relaxant into a basin. Flipping open his coat, he tucked it inside his shirt.
Back outside the room, Sebastian focused on the double doors at the end of the corridor with the word ‘exit’ written above them. Each yard he covered tightened his gut with grim pleasure, until the doors abruptly disappeared from view, eclipsed by Anthony’s stern face.
The surgical assistant sidestepped to block Sebastian’s path when he tried to dodge around him.
The armful of dressings, surgical tape, and analgesic tablets he had cradled to his chest tumbled to the floor. Anthony clenched his fists and said, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Sebastian met Anthony’s glare head on. He waited for the attack, and felt a moment of confusion when it never came. But then he realized that Anthony expected an answer. He doesn’t recognize me. It was on the tip of his tongue to say he was lost, but he had used that excuse last time their paths had crossed. Of course, I had two good eyes then.
Sebastian looked for any glimmer of recognition and settled for something closer to the truth. “I have been sent by the council. They want Doctor Connor to attend, urgently.”
Anthony bristled, stepping in close to drive home his animosity. “You will leave, now.” Crossing a line which vampires rarely dared to, reaching out, he gathered a fistful of Sebastian’s shirt. His lip curled and the tendons in his neck stood out like cords as he yanked Sebastian up until their faces were level. “If I see you here again, I will kill you.”
Sebastian’s hackles rose, but he swallowed his own anger and eased on a mask of contrition. Dropping his gaze, he let his body go slack and dipped his head, acknowledging Anthony’s alpha status.
He shrank further when Anthony’s grip relaxed and his heels touched down onto the floor. All brawn, then.
Releasing the fistful of fabric, Anthony stepped back, still watching closely as Sebastian turned away.
With his back to Anthony, Sebastian slipped the syringe out from inside his shirt, pulled out the plunger, and filled it with air. Feinting away, he increased his rate of turn and dived forward again.
Anthony’s instinctive left jab shot out and lined up his target. He followed it up with a devastating right cross and satisfaction registered on his face at the juddering vibration which raced up his forearm.
Sebastian’s cheekbone creaked and then crumbled. He rocked back on his heels, and a clattering sound tumbling down the corridor took Anthony’s attention with it.
He knew that noise, he had heard it more times than he’d like to admit – something metallic and surgical hitting the deck and skidding along the shiny floor.
Both vampires took off in pursuit.
Anthony was running and scanning, but could see nothing to give meaning to the sound he heard.
But Sebastian knew what he was looking for. He brought his body into jarring contact with Anthony every few feet, keeping his opponent off balance, and then Sebastian’s eagle eye found his target.
He fought to judge the distance with monoscopic vision and, at the crucial moment, he scooped up the syringe. Changing trajectory and closing him down, Sebastian wedged Anthony’s broad frame up against the wall.
He shoved the needle in an unrelenting upward stabbing action into the side of Anthony’s neck, depressing the plunger fast and shunting the air in the glass chamber into the carotid artery.
Anthony’s shocked features folded in pain when the air bubble rode the tide of propulsion and entered his cerebral cortex.
His pupils opened to black chasms as Anthony descended into vampire coma. He dragged clawed fingers over his face, burrowing them into his features as if he could release the pressure inside his brain. He staggered until his shoulder blades hit the wall and he slid down it, his heels scrambling as a seizure gripped him.
Sebastian’s apologetic mask fell away and the muddy-green hazel eye glinted with malice. He leaned over the prostrate Anthony and breathed into his face, “Maybe Doctor Connor can siphon the air pocket out.” He shrugged. “That’s if he can diagnose the problem. That’s the beauty of not using the muscle relaxant.” Sebastian added carelessly, “There may be brain damage, but you weren’t using much of yours, in any case.”
As though chatting with a good friend, Sebastian sat back on his haunches and continued, “I wondered if Connor’s arrogance would run to openly keeping her in the hospital. He is so cocksure of his own authority.” Patting Anthony’s chest, Sebastian shook his head. “So much more pain for Connor, to have sacrificed his faithful boxer to a lobotomized existence.” He registered the uneven dilation of Anthony’s oil-black pupils and satisfaction rattled in his chest.
With a final slap on Anthony’s slack shoulder, Sebastian rose to his feet, and the silence draped him in calm. Surgical wards were usually deserted. Vampires were treated here and walked out. Unless they had lost a leg, of course. He set off along the hospital corridor with open confidence, knowing two things – first, the council was in session, and second, there was no one left to challenge him.
The hot coil of anticipation drove him forward. This is my moment. Sebastian could barely contain the venom flooding into his mouth. He had yet to decide if he would kill the baby first, or save it for after, and take the time to savor the taste.
Sebastian had drank the blood of the urchin brats of the coal miners in Durham. One lad had come running into their hovel to find Sebastian pretending his satisfaction came from being buried between his mother’s thighs. The child’s eyes widened, and its mouth gaped at seeing the torn flesh of its mother’s throat, and the river of blood staining the coupled bodies red. The scream which had gathered in the young chest as a mewling sound was never released. Sebastian had swooped in to swallow it as he bit into the pasta-soft windpipe, still too young for gristle to spoil the pleasure.
The vampire hybrid phenomenon disgusted Sebastian, although knowing Connor was the father made objectivity impossible.
He could almost taste Rebekah’s blood pumping into his gullet. Her scent pulled him forward as he took in a deep draft of it and hunger heightened the ecstasy of the hunt. Turning the corner and scanning the row of closed doors, his acute senses latched onto her smell, and that of the baby. The aromatic tendrils clustered around the fourth door on the left were tinted a cool yellow by his heat sensitive vampire retina.
Taking pleasure in the game, Sebastian paused at each door, with his muzzle almost touching it, to breathe in the smell of dried paint and dust, before moving on to the next. The alluring scent beckoned him on, until finally, he rested his forehead against the fourth door and filled himself to saturation point with her fragrance.
SURVIVAL Page 32