“Yeah, I’m fine. Look, Nimo, vampires don’t exist. I know you teach mythology but even you must realize that all of that paranormal, supernatural mumbo jumbo is just bullshit. I mean as much as I wish that John Barrowman really was an immortal time travelling companion of a time lord and that aliens really existed, I know none of that is real. I think you’re letting Zay’s imagination affect you so that you have a reason to not get involved with the doctor. You need to just take the leap. You really do.”
His alarm went off on his phone and Lucas pulled it out to look at it. Muttering a curse he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. He picked up his jacket and grabbed the keys to his Fiat and turned to smile back at his best friend, wishing he’d ridden his moped over. “I have to get to the restaurant but I’ll be back over tomorrow to check on you. Go to bed and get some rest. You look like shit.”
“Thanks. I love you too.”
Lucas laughed and let himself out of Nimo’s house. He needed to get to work and as far away from the talk of vampires as he could.
CHAPTER TWO
Michigan Sevion stared at the pathology report in front of him and cursed a blue streak. The little girl who’d been brought in for a simple checkup because she’d been feeling sick and having headaches had leukemia. She was only three.
He rubbed his eyes and sighed, hating his job, not for the first time. There were times when he was excited, even proud to be the top diagnostician in the country. He knew that between him and his other nine brothers they had really put Gelreen Memorial Hospital on the map making it the most efficient hospital and the one where most patients wanted to be treated. However, there were days like today when he wanted to hang up his stethoscope, toss his lab coat in the trash can, climb on his motorcycle and leave. He didn’t even have a clear destination in mind. He just knew he wanted to get the fuck out of Dodge.
Or Lewiston, Mississippi.
His cell phone vibrated on his desk and Michigan groaned when he saw the name on the display. Utah. His brother had gone to check on Dakota who had met his sufletul pereche, his mate, or his fated one, a couple days before and the man had rejected him. Unfortunately, for vampires once they met the one they were destined to bond with they only had two weeks to complete the bond, or they would die from starvation. In Dakota’s case, the process had been accelerated because his sufletul pereche had a son who was a forziq, or a human who could see, scent and smell the paranormal world, mates, and zombies. It was complicated and a big mess. Michigan’s family was worried and fearful that Dakota’s mate, Nishon, wouldn’t contact him in time and that Dakota would go feral, and either go on a hunt draining blood from humans in an effort to quench his thirst for blood, or die from being unsatisfied.
Michigan was selfishly glad that he hadn’t met “Unca Lucas”, his own sufletul pereche, which is who Isaiah, Nishon’s son, had told him he smelled like. At first Michigan had been excited about meeting the other man, especially when he’d found out Lucas could cook. Michigan could barely boil water without starting a fire. But seeing the issues Dakota was having with his own mating, Michigan hoped he and Lucas never met.
“Hello?” he answered.
“As soon as you get off, get to Dakotavitch’s home,” his father’s voice came over the line, startling him a bit, and though he couldn’t see him, Michigan straightened up in his chair, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin.
“Yes, Tată. Is there a reason why? Is this about his mate Nimo or his son, the forziq, Isaiah?” He asked and then winced. He knew better than to question his father and when he heard Decebal’s growl he braced himself for the lecture.
“Michiganus! Your brother’s sufletul pereche has denied him and your brother, your frate, needs you and the rest of his brothers to come and offer him support and advice. So, you will complete your shift and you will bring your ass to Dakotavitch’s home. Do I make myself clear?”
Michigan nodded then answered since his father couldn’t acknowledge his physical sign of acquiescence. “Yes, Tată.”
“Good.” His father hung up without another word and Michigan sighed in relief.
Yeah, staying single was starting to look better and better.
§ § §
Michigan showed up at Dakota’s home with a box of donuts under one arm, a six-pack of Sam Adams beer in one hand and another six-pack in his other hand. When he stepped into the house, he gagged at the stench and almost stepped back out of the room.
“Holy fuck! It smells like shit and death in here!”
“Nice,” Jersey growled at him as he stepped into the hallway from the living room and glared at him. “Can you try to be a little sympathetic, Michigan? Our little brother is having issues here.”
Michigan halted and frowned at Jersey’s tone. “How serious is it?”
Jersey ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m scared, Mich.”
“Fuck.” Jersey didn’t scare easily, and if he was afraid then things were bad.
Michigan stepped into the room and placed the donuts and beer down on the coffee table before sitting next to Jersey on the couch. He stood after a moment and began to pace the floor, his worry over Dakota’s physical well-being making him anxious. He needed to be at one of his rental properties at that moment with a sledgehammer in his hand doing demo. It was the only thing that could calm him down and settle his mind other than riding his Harley or fighting a zombie or a rogue vampire. He couldn’t do any of those things in that moment, however, he needed to be there for his brother. He needed to be there for Dakota. Walking over to one of the chairs that surrounded the coffee table in a semicircle, Michigan sat down, smoothing his hands over his jeans and tugging down on his leather jacket. He was glad that he’d taken a moment to go home and change when he’d left the hospital, otherwise he’d have been here in his button-down shirt and slacks, and extremely uncomfortable.
Running his fingers through his gray streaked black hair, Michigan put one of his ankles, clad in his motorcycle boots, up on the opposite knee and began to nervously tap on the heel. He ignored Arizona when the other man growled at him, smirking at Jersey when his twin brother picked up a pair of chopsticks from the floor and began to play a beat in time with his tapping. When Utah started to hum along with them and Arizona started to mutter beneath his breath about how annoying they all were, Michigan felt a little better. They had annoyed Arizona, which was something that was guaranteed to brighten any cloudy day. That bright spot burst a few seconds later.
Michigan looked up from tapping on the heel of his boot when Dakota walked into the living room and Michigan hissed at the sight of his brother. Dakota stood at the entrance wearing a pair of sweats that appeared loose on his somewhat smaller frame. His usually lustrous, vibrant, long black hair was dull and lifeless. His hazel eyes were flat and dead. His broad shoulders drooped forward as if he carried the weight of the world on them, and his healthy, tan skin, a Sevion trait they all shared along with the hazel eyes and gorgeous features, was sallow and sickly. In short, Dakota looked like he was dying.
It made Michigan want to cry and punch his fist through a wall, simultaneously. What cruel, sick, twisted game was Fate playing? Obviously the bitch knew what Dakota’s mate’s reaction was going to be and yet she paired them up together anyway? Why wouldn’t Fate pair Dakota up with someone who would accept the existence of the paranormal world without freaking out? Without causing their mate pain?
The thought of his own mate’s possible reaction flashed across Michigan’s mind and he shoved it away. He wouldn’t even consider it. He would make sure that he stayed away from any place that Nishon’s friend Lucas might possibly be. That way the bonding wouldn’t begin and he would be safe. He refused to suffer the sting of rejection that Dakota was currently suffering. He refused to go mad, dying for a taste, a touch, a smell, or even an embrace from his sufletul pereche. It just wasn’t going to happen.
Refusing to let Dakota or the rest of his family in on the tumultuous tho
ughts currently taking place in his mind, Michigan folded his hands and rested them on his cloth covered abs as he smirked at Dakota, shaking his head. He watched as Dakota bumped fists with Carolina before sitting down next to him with a sigh. Michigan laughed when Utah walked over and sat down next to Dakota and pulled him into a headlock, laughing as he saw the easy camaraderie between the two. They were all really close. Well, all of them except Arizona. He seemed to be closest to Kansas, the two of them were always off in the corner somewhere, whispering and talking, while the other eight Sevion boys hung out and got into trouble together.
“As you all know,” Decebal started talking and Michigan turned his attention to his father and away from Dakota for the moment. “I called you all over here because Dakotavitch has found his sufletul pereche. From the information I have received from him, Arizona, and others, his name is Nishon Moore, whose nickname is Nimo, he is a single father, with a three-year-old son named, Isaiah, whose nickname is Zay. Isaiah is a forziq.”
Michigan looked at Dakota as their brothers gasped then asked questions rapidly amongst themselves.
“I just want you all to know, that no one is going to harm one hair on my son’s head,” Dakota said in a firm tone. Michigan wanted to cheer his brother on for taking a stand, especially with Arizona in the room, but he knew that to do so was just tossing kindling on the fire, so he remained quiet. Instead he just inclined his head in Dakota’s direction and looked around the room, surprised to see that Arizona’s face wasn’t mottled red with rage, it was pulled into an expression of extreme confusion.
“But your sufletul pereche rejected you.”
Dakota opened his mouth and hissed before grabbing his chest, his legs shook and Michigan recognized that his brother was having a seizure of some kind. Everything seemed to slow down in that moment and Michigan jumped to his feet starting towards Dakota even before his father’s very slow order to “grab him” registered in his mind.
Michigan was aware of Colorado asking their father a question, but he tuned his brother out, his only focus on straightening Dakota’s body out on the couch and to calm his racing heart.
“…Since Dakota was denied, the thirst is overtaking him much sooner. No doubt his sufletul pereche is suffering similar withdrawals.” Decebal’s voice penetrated the haze surrounding Michigan’s brain and he instantly went into diagnostic mode.
“So we need to get them together and quickly.”
CHAPTER THREE
Lucas stirred the soup in the pot on Nimo’s stove and winced as he listened to his best friend throw up for the fifth time. He tried to softly set the spoon down on the counter since Nimo had told him that everything in the house sounded about five hundred times louder. He turned to grab another sprig of mint and more lime and ginger root. He saw Zay hovering at the edge of the doorway looking uncertain and frightened and his heart turned over. Sighing, he beckoned the little boy forward.
He winced when Zay ran across the floor and collided with him, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck.
“Unca Lucas, I wanna help,” the little boy sniffled.
Lucas agreed and smoothed his hands over Zay’s soft curls. He pressed a gentle kiss on Zay’s forehead, his heart clenching for the son or daughter, or kids, he would never have. While he wanted children, desperately, he worked too much at the restaurant to be able to have any on his own and without having a partner to help raise them, when he wasn’t around, he had given up that dream a long time ago. He grabbed a small mixing bowl and filled it halfway with tepid water before adding salt and after cutting a lime in half, he squeezed the juice in the bowl. He swirled the water around before grabbing a small washrag and placing it inside. He turned and found Zay watching him carefully, his head tilted to the side.
“Why did you put limes in there?” Zay asked.
Lucas blushed and chuckled. He shook his head as he placed his hand on Zay’s back directing the little boy from the kitchen towards Nimo’s bedroom. He answered in a very soft voice.
“When my mommy and daddy went to Heaven, I got to live with a few different mommies and daddies for a while before they finally just let me live in a home with a bunch of brothers and sisters. Well, in that home with all those brothers and sisters we all had the same mommy. Her name was Ms. Cora Jean Alibene. She was born in New Orleans, Louisiana but her parents were from the Caribbean. Her mother was from Jamaica and her father was from Barbados.” Lucas smiled as he thought of Ms. Cora Jean. She was the reason he loved to cook and why he did it so well.
“Well, one of the things Ms. Cora Jean taught me was that Bajans, that’s what they call people born in Barbados or people who come from that culture, believe that limes are not only extremely tasty but that they have the ability to cure you.”
Zay’s eyes widened and he looked up at Lucas in wonder. “Really?”
Lucas bobbed his head. “Yes. Really. Whenever I got sick with a cold or the flu or something. Ms. Cora Jean would bring me some hot water with salt, sugar and lime juice squirted in it, and the water she used to bring down my fever had lime juice in it as well. The other kids and I never were as sick as other kids from our school. And when I got older, I started drinking lime water every day and I haven’t been sick a day since.”
“Wow,” Zay breathed. He looked at the bed where Nimo lay curled up in a ball, groaning in agony. “Can I wipe my daddy’s forehead with your lime watuh, Unca Lucas?”
Lucas smiled down into Zay’s eyes and nodded. “Absolutely Zay.” He handed the bowl to Zay and watched as the little boy walked over to the bed and sat down next to Nimo on the bed, setting the bowl on the nightstand. When he began to softly hum a song, something that sounded like an old lullaby, while wiping Nimo’s forehead with the washcloth, Lucas returned to the kitchen to finish the soup.
He stopped when their friend, Dietrick, came into the house and started towards the bedroom, his slight limp filling Lucas with the urge to find Dietrick’s parents and break their necks. Though he walked with an uneven gait, Dietrick was still gorgeous with his big, beautiful blue eyes, and long blue hair. He wore tight black pants, and a button up purple shirt with a blue vest over it. A black fedora, pulled low over one eye made him look alluring and if Lucas was even remotely attracted to gorgeous twinks, he would have been all over him.
“Did you get all of the medication?” he asked.
Dietrick checked the bag in his hand. “Yeah.” He sighed and glanced towards the bedroom then back at Michigan. “Don’t you think we should just take him to the hospital?”
Lucas sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yes, I do, but he won’t go. He’s already told me that if we try to take him to the nearest hospital, which is Gelreen Memorial Hospital, he was sure to point out to me, then he will either report us to the police for kidnapping or check himself out AMA.”
Dietrick’s eyebrows lowered for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth and Lucas knew he was trying to figure out the acronym and it would only take the man a few seconds to get through the thousands of acronyms that he kept locked away in his brain to get to the right one. His eyes widened. “Against medical advice? Really? He would do that?’
Lucas bobbed his head. “Apparently he’s very serious about not ever going there again if he can help it, on the off chance that he sees that doctor again.”
Dietrick sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Well that’s just stupid and I’m going to tell him so.” He turned and swept his long blue hair away from his face and walked away.
Lucas chuckled and stepped back into the kitchen to finish cooking. He started to hum to himself as he thought about Ms. Cora Jean, his mind on the kind, black woman even as he pushed away the upsetting images of his parents’ death. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and Lucas felt as if every cell in his body was trying to leave his body. He dropped the ladle onto the stovetop and lowered his head as he gripped the bar on the front of the oven, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Something was pulling at him, trying t
o get him to move from the kitchen and out of the door.
A flash of hazel eyes, the eyes he’d been seeing in his dreams for days came to his mind then, and Lucas gasped and stumbled back from the stove into the kitchen island. He raised a hand and rubbed his chest, his mother’s scream sounded in his head and he covered his ears, trying to block out the noise when a loud thump sounded from Nimo’s bedroom shattering the memory.
Lucas turned to rush down the hallway, worry for his best friends coursing through him. He stopped at the doorway of the bedroom, alarmed at what he saw. Nimo was lying face down on the floor and Dietrick was pressed against the wall not trying to help him.
“Don’t come any closer!” Nimo commanded. “I don’t want you to get hurt again.” He waved his hand. “I’m not sure why you can’t touch me, but you can’t. Apparently, only Zay can. Let him. Zay, come here.”
Lucas looked back and forth between his friends, wondering what had happened, why Nimo had come to the conclusion that Dietrick couldn’t touch him. He opened his mouth to ask when Zay looked past him and smiled. Lucas looked over his shoulder and couldn’t see anything to have made the little boy smile, though he felt the compulsion to run to the door and fling it wide open.
Michigan Page 2