by Mary Hughes
“Right.” A computer dinged. “Oh, wait.” She perched on a rolling stool before the monitor. “The microbe enzymes test is ready.”
“The what?” I came to her side. A mishmash of words and numbers was onscreen.
She smiled. “The scat test. What makes a vampire a vampire? And the winner is…” She scanned her monitor. Her smile disappeared. “Ribulose-1, 5-bisphosphate…carbon fixation enzymes?” Every muscle in her body seemed to tense. “Is this right? Can this be right?” She shut her eyes. “It explains the resting in dirt. The inability to eat food. The sensitivity to sunlight?” She popped up a browser and typed in a word I didn’t recognize: “Chemoautotrophy.”
The results included a lot of references with “Cave,” and “Movile, Romania.”
“Holy crap,” she whispered, staring. “This is it.”
My own heart beat faster. “What is?”
She didn’t hear me, still staring. “I’ve done it.” She leaped to her feet with a whoop. “We’ve done it.”
Before I could stop her, she grabbed me in a bone-crushing hug. Yeah, not a hunter, but the lady was strong.
“The chemo-whatzit?”
“It’s the key to vampire life. And you helped me discover it!”
“Undead life—isn’t that kind of a contradiction?”
She released me to hit me with a huge smile. “What do you know about life?”
I thought back to eighth grade biology. “Well…animal, vegetable. Not mineral.”
“And bacteria. The one thing we all share is carbon. We’re carbon-based life forms. What’s different is how we get our carbon building blocks.” She clapped my shoulders and sat again in front of the computer. “Animals can’t make them, so they eat them.”
I vaguely remembered that from eighth grade biology. “Right. Plants are the only things that can make energy from sunlight.”
“No. Not the only things. Some life builds carbon from chemical nutrients—in the soil.”
“Dirt.” My mind actually lit up. “Like vampires resting in graves?”
“Not graves.” She shook her head impatiently. “That’s a misinterpretation of skin to soil. They get energy from resting in earth. Now I know why. They draw nutrients from it and use chemosynthesis.”
“Chemosynthesis—like photosynthesis, but with chemicals? Wait. You’re saying that’s why they don’t need to eat food? They get their carbs from the soil?”
“They make their carbs from it, or stuff in it like sulfur, ammonia, ferrous iron. No plants or sunlight needed. That’s where this comes in.” She pointed at the browser window with its search. “The Movile Cave bacteria.”
“Wait, this is for real?”
“Absolutely,” Alexis replied. “Near the Black Sea in Romania, it’s the first cave system we’ve found driven completely by chemosynthesis—using chemicals instead of light. Check this out.” She clicked on the first window and did something to turn it into a graph. “This is a soil analysis of a vampire’s resting dirt.” She clicked up another window. “This is Movile Cave’s. It has the same chemical signature.”
“Good guillotines of grief,” I whispered, awed. “That’s why the vampire legends point to Eastern Europe. The vampire factor must’ve been born there.” I rubbed my forehead. “But the lacy tissue. You said suckers are part human. How can bacteria get along with human cells?”
“Symbiosis. It’s not that weird an idea. We have helpful bacteria living in our gut.” Alexis pointed to her belly. “Hell, even our mitochondrial DNA used to be bacteria.”
My eyes must’ve popped out. “They didn’t teach that in eighth grade biology. I might’ve been more interested. Let me get this straight.” I pulled up a mental checklist of vampire legends. “Suckers rest in soil because their vampy microbes grab stuff from the dirt to make energy and carbon?”
“Yes.”
“They burn in the sun because…?”
“The UV in sunlight kills bacteria. Silver is an antimicrobial, too. Raw garlic is a triple threat because it’s antibacterial, antiviral, and antifungal. Oh! And that’s why, when vampires use their blood to heal humans, it only works for a short while. The immune system in a healthy living human kills off the v-microbe.”
“Damn. Okay. What about the drinking blood thing?”
“If their long-bone marrow is repurposed to make vampire cells, they can’t make fresh blood. The human parts still need blood to carry oxygen, even though the vampire part doesn’t.”
“Shit, that’s why they don’t need to breathe.”
“Yes.”
“What about their insane healing?”
She stared at her screen. “If I had to guess, the vampire symbiont has a way to repair the telomeres—”
“Translation?”
“The endcaps for our DNA. Telomere shortening is the main cause of age-related breakdown of our cells.”
“Mist?”
“The vampire microbe must produce special CAMs—cell adhesion molecules—to stick to the human cells. Maybe they’re advanced enough to separate clumps of cells without losing health or integrity.”
“Mist is clumps of cells?”
“Maybe. It’d explain how they’d repurpose cells for shapeshifting, too. This is amazing. My brain is, like, sparkling.”
“I can see.” I smiled at the gleam in her eyes. Then I caught sight of a test tube tray with one tube of ruby serum. “Oh, why I wanted to talk? Ruby serum makes living vamps go green, lumpy, then disintegrate. Can I take that?”
“Sure. I meant to ask you. Your last name is Kean, right?” As I grabbed the capped tube, she typed at her station. A printer somewhere whirred to life. “Logan apprehended a vampire researcher who based his efforts on some earlier research. Like from thirty or forty years ago. The earlier scientist’s last name was Keanu.”
My breath froze in my throat. The vampires who’d killed my mom and dad had stolen their research, but my parents weren’t vampire scientists… Were they? “What were the full names?”
“Gheorghe and Elenuta Keanu.”
My parents were George and Helen, strikingly similar. Hell. Maybe it wasn’t a horrible coincidence vampires had killed them.
“Thanks for telling me.” I started for the door, catching sight of the baggie and its shards of glass lying on the table. “Got any idea how long before you’ve got something on the needle?”
“A day at least. Unless…” She finished typing.
“Unless what?”
“Well, maybe you can do me a favor, if you have time. You know it’s Oktoberfest, right?”
“Kinda hard to miss. The entire town is done up in beer and cheese.”
“There’s a big fun fair at Good Shepherd, with a midway and rides set up in the parking lot and everything. I’m supposed to take Sarah Jane and Ellen Ripley today. If you could take them instead…”
My throat closed off. “Babysit?” The word came out breathy.
“They’re really looking forward to it. If you do me a solid and go instead, I can get your needle analyzed.”
“Alexis, I have zero experience with kids.” My heart was beating harder than fighting ten vampires.
“It’s only until two p.m. or so. Until Liese or Hattie gets there. Please? I’ll give you another tube of serum to sweeten the pot.”
“Can I take them on my scooter?”
“I’ll drive them over. You can take it from there.”
Chapter Sixteen
So that was how I found myself being dragged by two cuter-than-hell steamrollers into a wilderness of sugar, eye-bleeding colors, ear-banging music, and a constant up-down, side-to-side, tilt-and-whirl upchuck of motion.
“Do me a solid,” Alexis had said. I’m solid fighting vamps. Dealing with small children, not so much. I was vaguely aware I was not supposed to be buying the twin tyk
es every sweet and toy they wanted—including a pair of eleven-inch fashion dolls called “Barbsie”—but I had money and it seemed to make them happy. I deliberately did not think of how Liese would react when she showed up.
It took exactly sixty minutes of stuffing them with candy and excitement to see why my strategy was a bad one.
“I want the merry-go-round!” Sarah Jane tugged from my hand and dashed toward the bobbing rows of horses under their colorful canopy.
“I want lemonade!” Ellen Ripley dragged me in the opposite direction.
“Sarah Jane!” I yelled at the receding bobbing curls. “You come back here this instant.” I used my most commanding tone. Hey, it worked on vampires.
On tiny blond whirlwinds, not so much.
So, when I glimpsed something tall, dark, and yum slipping between the cotton candy vendor and the Ferris wheel, I jettisoned any personal feelings in desperation and shouted. “Ryker, help! Over here.”
He spun at my cry and dashed toward me with heartening alacrity. “What’s wrong?” His black gaze darted all around, analyzing, seeking the danger.
“A medieval drawing and quartering re-enactment courtesy of two rug rats.” I pointed at Sarah Jane, entering the fence funnel for the merry-go-round. “You get that one.”
He blanched, eyeing the girl with something akin to fear. “What makes you think I know anything about children?”
“You can’t know less than I do. C’mon, I can’t be in two places at once. You get merry-go-round or lemonade.”
“Fine. I’ll take merry-go-round.” Setting his shoulders and firming his jaw, he strode toward the small girl.
I smothered a laugh. He hadn’t been half this grim and determined fighting bloodsuckers.
I yelled to Sarah Jane that Mr. Ryker was my friend and would help her. Then I let Ellen Ripley drag me to the lemonade stand, where I bought four lemonades.
Ellen Ripley grabbed hers immediately. While I paid, she decided her Barbsie was an Olympic diver and did a reverse-twist into her cup. I announced the Swedish judge gave her a ten, threw that lemonade out, and bought her another. She wanted a SugarBombBar too, though by then she was vibrating like an overexcited Dachshund, so I convinced her it wasn’t good for Barbsie’s Olympic training. See? I can learn. Besides, I was a little worried that one more molecule of sucrose and she’d need a defibrillator. “Why don’t we check out your sister at the merry-go-round?” She was bouncing up and down enough to be her own horse.
We got in line as Sarah Jane handed over her ticket. She ran under the carousel’s canopy directly to her chosen mount, a too-tall blue beauty. Scrabbling on the plastic, she tried to climb up and failed.
Ryker shot me a helpless glance. I shrugged. Heaving a sigh, he laced his hands into a stirrup and said something to her. She glanced at his hands, then at him.
Then she shot both hands in the air, a clear demand to be lifted.
Quick and decisive fighting vampires, but he hesitated. Rolled his shoulders.
She jabbed her small hands toward him again, growing impatient.
Awkwardly, he wrapped hands around her waist. Slowly and gently he lifted her onto the horse, as carefully and apprehensively as if he was transporting a priceless Ming vase.
She settled into the saddle with a quick wiggle then beamed at him. He blinked, bemused. Hottest thing on wheels and completely sure of himself when kissing me, and way out of his orbit with the small tyke.
It was adorable.
The music and carousel revved. Sarah Jane held onto her pole with one hand and flew her Barbsie with the other.
Ryker stayed beside her the whole time, poised as if to catch her the instant she fell. As clueless as me yet determined to do his best. That went from adorable into heart-ping.
The ride finished. He plucked her from her horse as gingerly as he’d put her on it, settling her little shoes onto the wood planks.
She snared his hand and tugged him toward the exit. “Let’s go again!”
He stumbled after her, nothing like his usual graceful glide. As if this small being had taken possession of his will and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.
But he didn’t release her hand, either.
“We’ll all go in a moment,” I said as she wrestled him back in line. “Lemonade?”
The girls gulped while Ryker and I sipped. He bought everyone wide-brim cowboy hats and we all galloped the West on carousel horses. Then the four of us and the two Barbsies went on every ride where “You Must Be This High” was less than three feet. Ryker ensured we took frequent indoor breaks, visiting the food and souvenir tents.
Finally, I tucked both girls into a baby rollercoaster, making sure they were properly belted. “No flying for Barbsie on this ride,” I admonished Sarah Jane. “She could hit her head and get hurt.”
“Okay, Aunt Kat.” She reached up with her doll and touched it to my cheek as she made a big smacky sound with her lips. “Barbsie says she loves you.”
“Oh.” My cheeks heated as my heart inexplicably filled. “Um, me too.”
Both girls beamed. I backed away as the operator started the ride and went to stand at the rail to watch.
Ryker stood beside me. “I haven’t seen this side of you.”
Unsettled? Out of my depth? “What side, well done? Parboiled?”
Ryker smiled slightly. “You’re good with them, you know. Nurturing.”
“Me?” I jerked my head around to stare at him.
“You’d make a good mom.”
“You should talk, Mr. Uppies. I fed them sugar and awarded a doll points for diving into a cup of lemonade. Moms set rules and yell.” And abandon their kids. I clenched my jaw. Water under the bridge. I was over that. Mostly. She’d apologized and I’d forgiven her. Mostly.
…
Ryker stood beside Kat, aware of every taut line of her body, her scent filling his entire being, and struggled to understand what was happening to him.
He didn’t want to have feelings for her. Yet watching her with the small girls, his heart leaped ahead, to her surrounded with her own children.
With their children.
His chest gave a painful thump. He’d yearned for children, once. Unmated vampires were essentially sterile, though, and he’d reluctantly put the desire away. But males mated to human females could have offspring. If Kat was his mate, he could have a family.
They could have a family. Hope rushed through him. Until another thought occurred.
And if—when—she pushes me away?
Deliberately, he cut off that entire train of thought. I have bigger concerns. Like… Like Elias and that damned needle. He wouldn’t have thought of tapping the vampire medical researcher, Alexis Steel, to find out what it contained.
Kat had.
He was a resourceful, independent PI, but Ryker had the uncomfortable suspicion he might not be able to find Elias on his own after all.
…
We’d taken several short breathers inside the pavilion tents, but lunch was longer. The girls were getting restless on a bench when I checked the time. After three. The tag team was overdue. “Where are Liese and Logan?”
“Maybe they’re waiting for you at the entrance.”
“Good idea.” I turned to the twins, who were diving their dolls into a Big Gulp cup. I’d had the forethought to fill it with water this time. “Come on girls. Let’s go find your mom.”
They ignored me while Sarah Jane’s Barbsie did a full gainer off the lip of the cup. I gave her points for difficulty, though she could have stuck the landing better.
“Come on, Ellen Ripley.” I reached out with my hand.
“No.” She jammed her doll into the cup beside Sarah Jane’s.
“Don’t,” Sarah Jane said. “My Barbsie needs to swim out.”
“She’s been in too
long. It’s my turn.”
“Not.”
“Is.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yuh-huh.”
Both dolls became martial arts experts as the girls whapped them at each other.
I tried again. “It’s time to go—”
“No!” Sarah Jane said. Ellen Ripley shot me an obstinate glower worthy of a mule. “We’re not going.”
I was frazzled to within an inch of my life and never so glad to hear the maternal voice behind me.
“I’ll take over now.”
But it wasn’t Liese. Stomach dropping, I turned.
Hattie stood smiling at me. And with her was Race.
I immediately stiffened.
Race knelt by the little girls. “Time to go, Ellen Ripley, Sarah Jane.” Shrewdly, he added, “Grandma’s going for a ride on the train. You wouldn’t want your Barbsies to miss the fun, would you?”
The tykes exchanged a glance.
“Gosh, Grandpa Race,” Sarah Jane started. Ellen Ripley finished, “You’re right!”
Both little girls popped to their feet with their dolls. Race took one girl’s hand and Hattie the other. They headed for the pavilion exit, the little girls trotting beside their grandparents. The one with Race chattered brightly, Grandpa this and Grandpa that.
My heartstrings got an unwanted tug at that.
Notions burned years ago into my brain…shifted slightly. It was uncomfortable and I didn’t like it at all.
At the entrance, Race delivered Sarah Jane to Hattie. As she took them outside the tent, his gaze followed. If he’d been anything but vampy, I’d have said his expression was doting.
Then he turned. All tenderness dropped from his face. Resolutely, he stalked toward me.
A good offense is a terrific defense. Before Race could open his mouth, I snarled, “What are you even doing out in the daytime?”
“Our car is shielded. Hattie drove. Don’t try to sidetrack me.”
“I’m not—”
“Kat. I get you don’t care for me. That’s okay.” He held up both palms. “I didn’t do anything to deserve you liking me. Don’t let your distaste for me affect your opinion on all my kind, though. It’s not good for you.”