Blood Inheritance (The Lazarus Hunter Series Book 1)

by Cas Martin

  'Better,' admitted Elizabeth.

  'That's what I was hoping for. What about this shoulder?'

  'I'm hoping that it will just need popping back into place. Ever done that before?'

  'Sure, but not for a while. What if I hurt you more?'

  'Short of ripping my whole damn arm off, I'm not sure that you can hurt me any more than it already is. I'm willing to take the chance.'

  'Okay then, if you're sure.'

  'Go for it,' Elizabeth extended her arm weakly in Monica's direction. Monica stood up and shifted her position several times to make sure that she had got a good grip and the right hold on Elizabeth. Then, with an old-remembered tug and shift, she relocated the shoulder back into its rightful place.

  Elizabeth promptly passed out.

  29

  It was several minutes later when Elizabeth regained consciousness. 'Oh god, I'm sorry. I passed out again didn't I?' Her eyes fluttered open beneath Monica's fingers. In them, for the briefest second, Monica saw innocence lost.

  'I did ask you if you were sure.' Monica resumed cleaning the wounds on her face with an antiseptic swab.

  'You must think I'm such a wimp.'

  'Not at all. To be honest, it turned my stomach. And I don't get queasy that easily.'

  'It feels better though. Not great, but definitely better. Thank you. Again. You must be sick of hearing me say that.'

  'It's fine. Now, let me clear up this cut on the side of your face. It's got something left in it, and I don't want it to get infected.'

  'Okay.' Elizabeth was still as Monica carefully dabbed at the wound with the corner of the swab, teasing out a bit of pavement.

  Monica was glad of the silence, just for a moment. She felt guilty about Elizabeth thanking her. She was glad that the other woman had not been able to see her when she had begun cleaning the wounds on her face.

  Leaning over Elizabeth's unconscious figure, completely unguarded and vulnerable, with fresh blood seeping from the wound, Monica's teeth had flown forth against her will. She had concentrated them back into place without too much effort, but she knew that if Elizabeth had woken up that moment, things would have been extremely awkward.

  'Okay, that's you done.' She smiled once she was satisfied it was all out. 'Now it's time for that stiff drink we promised ourselves earlier.'

  'What about you?'

  'What about me?'

  'You still look pretty messed up.'

  'Thank you for the compliment,' said Monica dryly, raising her eyebrows.

  'I just mean you're covered in dirt and blood — apologies if any of that is mine by the way — don't you want to get cleaned up first?'

  If you don’t mind? I'll have a really quick shower and wash up, then we can both have a drink.'

  'Sounds good to me.'

  'Bar's just there in the corner if you feel like you can stand up. Don't worry if you can't though, I won't be long.'

  Monica made her way to the bathroom, hoping Elizabeth was still going to be conscious by the time she returned.

  She shrugged out of her clothes, realising ruefully that she had destroyed one of her favourite blouses and there was no way she would be able to wear it again. Not only was it ripped in a couple of places, there was a level of blood on it that was never going to come out. She would have to burn her clothes anyway. It was the only way to guarantee she would not be tied to what she had done.

  She walked over to the shower, stopping to inspect herself in the mirror. She too had sustained a rather large bruise to one of her ribs, but it paled in comparison to Elizabeth's. Besides, her wounds were already starting to heal, something she was glad about. She wouldn't be able to go to the club tomorrow night, but there was a chance her face would heal enough for her to get away with it the night after. Especially if she went heavy on the makeup and stayed in dark corners.

  The water on her skin felt good, washing away the dirt and the fear and the blood and the smell of adrenalin. She closed her eyes and almost felt as though the events of the night were also washing down the drain. If only it were that simple. Even if she was just a regular family member, even if she was still at the bottom of the pile like she used to be, then she could still get into serious trouble for this. As head of the family, the consequences of her actions would be magnified a thousand times.

  Yes, she would destroy her clothes first thing in the morning.

  She eased her fangs out, feeling them long in her mouth, aching with the events of the evening. She had become a true vampire tonight, killing but not to feed. It was what made them so dangerous, and it was why humans, in their worst nightmares, feared them. When her teeth had bared themselves over Elizabeth's unconscious form, she could see why. It was the unpredictability of the base desires in her, ones she had thought she could tame, but now realised would never go away completely.

  She quickly washed her hair and scrubbed at her skin, taking care not to be too rough on her sensitive bruised areas, but ensuring the ingrained remnants of the night were washed away.

  She bundled her hair up in a fresh towel and wrapped herself in a warm fluffy robe. Her apartment was always warm, and now that she was out of her torn and bloodied clothing, she hated the thought of getting dressed again. She needed to be in for the night, safe in her own space, and was grateful that she kept the spare room permanently made up for unexpected guests.

  Which was unusual in itself, as she never had any unexpected guests. She just wasn't that sort of person. But tonight, everything about it, was so far from being usual that she was unsurprised.

  As she padded her way back to the living room, enjoying the feeling of the plush pile carpet on her sore naked feet, she was relieved to see that Elizabeth was not unconscious as she had feared. Instead, she had managed to pour them both a large measure of what looked like whisky. It was a rough night that needed a rough drink and Monica thought she had chosen perfectly. By the way Elizabeth took a sip and nodded appreciatively, Monica guessed she was not a woman who was shy of alcohol.

  'I'm impressed,' said Elizabeth. 'This is a very fine Scotch.'

  'Why thank you,' Monica smiled and raised her glass in return. 'I'm glad you appreciate it. It's one of my better ones, but I think we've done more than our fair share to earn it this evening.'

  'You approve of my choice then?'

  'It's the one I would have picked out myself. I have it imported especially, although I generally prefer a good red wine. I didn't take you for a whisky drinker.'

  'My father was. He taught me to appreciate the good ones. And not to shun the bad ones if there was nothing else. There were many evenings we had a nightcap in his study once I turned eighteen.'

  'You must miss him.' Monica felt like it was the most inane thing to say, and almost regretted it.

  'I do. Every day. I'm not going to lie and say I haven't done it since. There have been many, many nightcaps. It's just that more often than not, since he died, they are alone.'

  'Well, if it's any consolation, my drinking has also spiked since your father died. He probably wouldn't believe just what an important figure he was.' There was a pause. 'I'm sorry, you must think I'm a terrible person, talking about the way your father's death affected my life and those around me, when no one must have been affected more than you. It was very insensitive of me.'

  'Not at all.'

  'He was the only man I know who has ever successfully straddled our two worlds. And maybe you will be the one to follow in his footsteps. It seems such a shame to go backwards and not take advantage of the lessons that your father forced us to learn.'

  'Like what?' Elizabeth's curiosity was clearly as strong as his had been.

  'Like the fact that in some ways, we're not that different. That if we stop being ashamed of those differences, we will be better and stronger as a race. That what we are doesn't mean that we don't know the difference between right and wrong.'

  'That sounds like my dad. Even when I was very little, he was always banging on about kn
owing the differences between right and wrong. I know it mattered to him. As a person. So I shouldn't be surprised that you were on the receiving end of it too,' she tried for a smile but it was tinged with sadness. 'Let's move onto other things shall we?'

  'Of course,' said Monica, realising she had caused even more hurt on what was turning out to be quite a painful night. Way to go. 'Top up?' she asked, draining her glass. It was the wrong thing for both of them, yet exactly what they needed. Something to take the edge off the evening. She could smell Elizabeth's anxiety still simmering just below the surface, but the whisky had done its bit to suppress it. Another hearty measure would probably relax her completely.

  Monica tried not to think about how vulnerable she would be then. Either of them.

  Elizabeth drained the remains of her glass in response and held it out for a refill. She winced as she stretched just a little too far, causing a twinge in her ribs before she could stop herself. It might not be the racking pain it had been before, but it was still obviously there.

  Monica took both glasses over to the drinks cabinet, and sloshed a small measure into her own glass first. Then, with a 'what the hell' thought, she added another, more generous measure, and filled Elizabeth's up to the same level. A couple of clinks of ice and they were all set.

  'Thanks,' said Elizabeth, taking the glass from her and immediately indulging in another sip. 'So, I hate to be the one to mention the elephant in the room, but what the hell happened tonight?'

  'More than you can possibly imagine,' sighed Monica, sitting down next to her and sinking into the cushions. She pulled her legs up under her and looked into her glass thoughtfully, swilling it round and listening to the chink of the ice as it hit the sides.

  'So tell me. I need to know. You saved my life tonight. And even though I'm very, very grateful — more than grateful – I still need to know why.'

  'It's a long story.'

  'So start at the beginning. I'm not going anywhere, and I happen to know that you don't have a problem with late nights,' she teased.

  'Touché.' Monica raised her glass in a mock salute. 'Let's just say that when I was picked to be the head of the family, I wasn't the popular choice. In fact, if it had been a democracy, then I wouldn't even have got under starter's orders. But being the head of the family is something that is kind of ordained. I can't really explain it. Not without making it sound like some crazy cult-like bullshit.'

  'Mythical mumbo jumbo? Mystical forces and all that?'

  'Yeah, kind of.'

  'I don't get it either. But I know that it's there, whether I understand it or not. Whether I want it to be there or not. Anyway, carry on.'

  'Okay, but it's quite hard to know when everything really began. I think it's suffice to say that me being the next in line was unpopular. But I think that you being next in line was also equally unpopular.'

  'I'd have to agree that I haven't been feeling the vamp love. I was starting to think that my dad was actually entirely deluded until I met you.'

  'I'll take that as a compliment. I think.' Monica couldn't help but smile. There was something about Elizabeth's honesty that was utterly refreshing.

  'It was a statement of fact. But it's a compliment too.'

  'I haven't been on the receiving end of many lately, so you'll have to forgive me if I don't recognise them anymore. Most of the family think I'm too inexperienced. Or not pure-blooded enough. Or just a little bit too trusting. Especially of you.'

  'Me?'

  'They don't think you can be trusted. They believe that just because your father was a friend, or at least openly tolerated despite what he knew, they don't think that means you should be. Even people who are on my side don't think that you should automatically be allowed into my life. They think that you need to prove it first.'

  'I can kind of see where they're coming from.'

  'I know, but they don't know everything that we know. You simply don't have the time to earn that trust. Don't get me wrong, I'm not naïve enough to think that you would trust me automatically just because your father was friends with my predecessor. But you know that time is short, just the same way that I do. So we have no choice. We will be stronger working together, and if everyone catches onto that idea later rather than sooner, then I'm just going to keep moving ahead without them until they do.' Monica tried to keep her tone business-like, hoping the loneliness she so often felt wouldn't shine through.

  'Very eloquently put. Is that why you rescued me?'

  'That makes me sound like a knight in shining armour. You are seen as a threat by all of the elders. Some people have been stirring things up a bit to make a bad situation worse.'

  'So I'm public enemy number one?'

  'If you are, then I'm a pretty close second.'

  'So why don't you agree with them?'

  'Like I said before, I think your father's journals hold a lot of information that could be very powerful. That could be very destructive if they fell into the wrong hands.'

  'But other people don't think I'll be useful in stopping that from happening?'

  'They know the journals belong to your father, and it's only reasonable you would try to get them back regardless. After all, they were stolen from you. If you got them, then it is only a small and logical step to think that you may use them to your advantage. Perhaps to wipe us all out. After all, your reputation for killing is already greater than your father's.'

  'I can suddenly see why my death is such a high priority for everyone.'

  'Which brings me back round to why I was there tonight. Someone let slip that it was a trap. Before you ask me, I don't know if he had a hand in it, but if he did then he wasn't acting on my orders. Which, if I can prove, really prove without a shadow of a doubt to all my disbelievers, then he will face the full wrath of the family law.'

  'Which is what exactly?'

  'He can be executed for treason.' Monica shrugged, realising as she said the words just how true they were.

  'Holy shit. That's pretty serious.'

  'I can't do anything until I can provide a watertight case against him. It doesn't help that he's both well-liked and respected. More so than me. Quite high in the family too, so people will be instinctively on his side. I'm not naïve. I know how precarious my position is right now.'

  'So do they know you came to help me?'

  'No! Dennis – my PA who arranged our meeting — stayed behind to casually block the exit if anyone tried to follow me. I hope it worked too. If I get caught doing this, then all hell will break loose.'

  'Why, because you killed those vampires, or because you helped me?'

  'Both. Killing a member of another family is pretty much declaring war on them. For the head of the family to do it is normally a call to arms. Trust me, it's just about the worst thing I could have done. If the elders deem I didn't act in the best interests of the family, if I killed a vampire from another family for my own personal interests, they could remove me from my position.'

  'I thought that the only way you stopped being the head of the family was when you died?'

  'Yep.' Monica stared into her glass, knowing that all the drinking in the world couldn't take that reality away.

  'Oh.'

  'Indeed.'

  'God, my 'thank yous' are looking even lamer now.'

  'Don't say it again. It was the right thing for me to do.'

  'Yes. Everything you've said so far points to it being the right thing to do,' said Elizabeth sarcastically, draining her second glass. The guilt was written large on her face.

  'Another?' Monica took her glass without waiting for a reply and set to re-filling them before returning to her position on the sofa. 'I know when I put it like that, it doesn't sound like the most sensible thing I've ever done in my life. But that doesn't mean it wasn't the right thing. I deliberately told everyone, all of the elders, that no one in our family could harm you. I would be the one making the decisions about how this new relationship was going to work in the absence of
your father. I made myself quite clear. Trust me, there was no ambiguity. This was a threat to my leadership. It was someone disobeying me, trying to shake my confidence even more, so I could be overthrown. Saving your life was a risk that I was willing to take.'

  'Well, you sound like a very decisive leader to me,' said Elizabeth with a reassuring smile, as she raised her glass.

  'In reality, it was mainly me just realising what was going on, thinking 'shit, shit, shit' and leaping in a car. Then killing people. Then leaping back in the car. Still going 'shit, shit, shit', only this time there were people in there to hear me. My spiel sounds impressive now, but I mainly was just reacting at the time.'

  'I don't care whether it was instinct or part of some greater master plan. It saved my life, and I'm grateful for it.'

  'Gratitude for the thousandth time, accepted. Now can you please stop thanking me?'

  'Okay, but seriously, what do you think your chances are of getting caught out? Of this whole thing blowing up in our faces?' Elizabeth seemed genuinely worried for her. Monica couldn't recall a time when anyone other than Dennis actually cared.

  'I'm trying to be cautiously optimistic. We killed them all. No material witnesses. Always a bonus. The family will clean up the bodies before they get discovered by humans. It started raining towards the end of the fight. I remember my hair wet and in my eyes when I killed that last one. Sorry to put it so bluntly.'

  'That's okay. How do you feel about it?'

  'It's instinct to protect the family. And to do that I protect you.' It was easy to say, especially with the soothing balm of alcohol, but she knew it would be chafing her conscience come daylight. 'But moving on, the rain should wash the scent away. Hopefully enough for them not to be able to smell me. It depends on just how long after we left that they discovered the bodies. If it was a matter of minutes then our chances are much less. Half an hour of rain and we could be in the clear.'

  'Fingers crossed then.'

  'I kept my face turned away from the security camera as much as I could. We were moving fast. Even if they had tape in there and it captured the whole thing, they would have an image of someone who looked like me. My figure. Some fairly ambiguous clothing that thousands of women in the city could have. Luckily, we are an arrogant race. They're more likely to believe that security camera footage is an unnecessary deterrent in comparison to teeth.'