Blood Hunt

by Christopher Buecheler

  * * *

  “I should thank you,” Naomi told Two as they entered the hotel room that they were sharing, the pink light of dawn just beginning to show on the horizon. The vampire’s voice held the same tired acceptance that it had since Ashayt’s revelation.

  “… the hell would you thank me for?” Two asked. She sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled off her shoes, looked up at Naomi. “I feel like you should hate me.”

  Naomi shook her head. She had her hands folded in front of her and was staring down at them. “No, I don’t hate you, and I’m thanking you for not ever saying those words when you didn’t mean them.”

  Two tasted a sudden bitterness in her mouth. “You’re a better person than I am,” she said.

  Naomi sat down on the other side of the bed and began to undress. “I wish we’d made love last night instead of going right to bed,” she said in a far-away voice.

  “We didn’t know,” Two said.

  “No.”

  “Naomi, I … I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Naomi told her. “Tomorrow morning I will book flights for the four of us, though it may be a few days before we can leave. Soon enough we’ll be back in the United States, and then we’ll go see what we can do about Theroen.”

  “Oh, hon, you don’t have to do that. That’s not fair to you at all.”

  Naomi shrugged. “He was my friend. More than my friend. I gave him my virginity, once upon a time, and I was happy to do it. We spent decades together with Lisette, and it was lovely. I have missed him very much these past centuries. Of course I’ll go with you.”

  Two moved closer to the vampire. Naomi looked over, gave her a small smile, went back to gazing at her hands.

  “It would mean a lot to have you there,” Two said. “To me and I’m sure to Theroen. He missed you, too.”

  “Good. Then that’s that. If … do you mind if I spend one more day in this bed? I will arrange for a different room in the evening.”

  “You can just stay here until we leave, if you want …”

  Naomi smiled a little at this but did not look up. “No, I think it’s best if we separate quickly. I just … I’m too tired to deal with the desk clerk right now. He barely speaks English, and I know exactly three words of Turkish.”

  “OK,” Two said. “Naomi, I’m sorry it went like this.”

  “It had to end sometime, I think. You were never going to love me like you love him.”

  Two didn’t respond to this. Her throat ached and she wanted to cry, but what was the point? Naomi was right: it had to end sometime, and now it was over. If there was crying to be done, she could do it in private and let the vampire do the same. She swallowed hard, pushed the tears away, sat in silence for a time.

  “I’m going to take a shower before bed,” Naomi said at last. “You should sleep.”

  Two said nothing, and after a moment Naomi stood. Two watched as the vampire stood and made her way toward the bathroom.

  “Naomi,” she said, and the vampire stopped, glancing over her shoulder at Two and waiting. Two tried to think of what to say, came up with nothing. It was over, and there was nothing more to talk about. Two shrugged, shook her head, looked away.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Never mind.”

  “Goodnight, Two,” Naomi said, and in a moment more the bathroom door closed behind her.

  “’Night, Naomi,” Two said, and the words made her throat hurt again, so she turned off the light, lay down on the bed, and closed her eyes.

  Part V

  Chapter 27

  The Last Source

  The mansion where Abraham had lived with his small, strange family had been burned to the ground nearly two years ago, but the stone wall that surrounded the estate was still there and had been reinforced with razor wire. The vampire council had moved quickly to secure the land after Abraham’s death to prevent prying eyes.

  The wrought iron gate that served as an entrance to the grounds was padlocked shut, but Naomi had the key. The perimeter, she had said, was wired with motion sensors, heat detectors, and other devices that made trespassing nearly impossible, even for vampires. The security firms that monitored these systems were not directly owned by the vampire council, but they were well-trusted.

  “That land is as secure as it gets, outside of the government,” Naomi had told Two. “Only a few of us know the codes to disable the systems, and even so we have to call ahead of time and alert the security office that we’re going to be doing it.”

  Most of the land had been allowed to grow untended, and was slowly being reabsorbed by the forest that surrounded the mansion. Where the building had once stood, however, there was still little more than a great expanse of ash, marked occasionally by the remains of a charred timber poking out at strange angles. Somewhere among those ashes there was a heavy concrete slab and, underneath it, a door of solid steel. That door, which faced straight upward, opened upon a stone staircase that spiraled deep into blackness. At its bottom, the body of Theroen Anders still lay upon its stone bier. In what state they might find that body, neither Two nor Naomi knew.

  Two had thought her nerves under control, but when they pulled up in front of the gates, she felt her body jerk involuntarily in a series of spasms. Naomi noticed this, but made no attempt to calm her. In truth, Two and the vampire girl had barely spoken for the past six days. She had spent most of her time alone, and when she had been with the others they had been listening to Ashayt’s stories of the past.

  Their flight had arrived in New York’s John F. Kennedy airport on December eighteenth, sometime just after dawn, much to Stephen’s annoyance. The ride home in the sunlight had been painful and exhausting for him. They had gone directly to Naomi’s apartment without announcing their arrival to anyone. Ashayt’s presence complicated things; before anything else happened, Stephen wanted to take her to the cathedral at which the council met to introduce her to Malik and Jakob. The others had agreed that this was wise, not knowing that Jakob had been taken into captivity shortly after Naomi had spoken to him on the phone.

  Ashayt was given the bedroom that had once been Two’s, while Stephen and Naomi took their standard rooms. Two slept on the couch, not minding, just happy to be back in the United States and excited at the idea of being reunited with Theroen. There had been little talk once they arrived, the vampires preferring to go directly to sleep. The next evening they had separated; Stephen and Ashayt headed for the cathedral, while Naomi and Two went to Theroen.

  Now they were here, and Two was fighting to keep her muscles under enough control to exit the car and walk. Just the sight of the mansion’s grounds had brought up old, ugly memories that filled her with fear and pessimism.

  “Christ,” she said. “I thought I was done with this place. I never want to come back here again, especially not at night.”

  “One way or the other, this should be your last visit,” Naomi told her. She shut off the car’s ignition and opened her door, stepping out into the cold night air. Two sat for a moment longer, and the vampire came around to her side of the car and opened the door.

  “Are you all right? Do you need help?” Naomi asked.

  There was no malice in her voice, but Two bristled at the question anyway. “I’ll be fine.”

  Naomi stepped back, and Two forced herself to get out of the car. Her legs were shaky, but they held her. Naomi had opened the car’s trunk and was removing two hand-held electric lanterns.

  “I wonder if he’ll recognize me,” Naomi mused, closing the trunk and turning on both lanterns. She handed one of them to Two.

  “I wonder if this is all a bunch of bullshit,” Two muttered. She stepped toward the gate, but Naomi held a hand out.

  “Don’t touch it.”

  “Is it electrified or something?”

  “No. At least, not in the way you mean it. There is a mild current running through it, but you wouldn’t feel it. Your touch would alter it enough to set off th
e alarms, though.”

  “We don’t need security showing up while we’re down there,” Two said.

  “Precisely.” Naomi moved to a small metal plate attached to one of the stone columns that supported the gate. She inserted a key and the cover swung open, revealing a keypad. Naomi pressed several digits in rapid succession, pushed a large green button, and watched the tiny LCD screen. After a moment there was a single beep, and the screen flashed.

  “Good?” Two asked.

  “Yes. Here,” Naomi said, and handed Two a key for the padlock on the gate. Two used it, the lock’s action working smoothly, and in a moment she held the open padlock in her hand. She looped it through one link in the chain, leaving it open, and took a deep breath.

  “Let’s go,” she said, and she pushed the gate open. They made their way up toward the mansion, Naomi taking the lead as they neared it. She brought Two to where the concrete slab lay, and they stood for a moment looking at it.

  “Think we’re strong enough to move that?” Two asked.

  “Let’s hope so, otherwise we’ve made a long trip for nothing,” Naomi said. She bent down and wrapped her fingers under the slab, as Two did the same. Naomi counted to three and tensed her muscles, attempting to slide the block sideways. Two pushed as well, trying to help. After a moment, the concrete began to make a grinding noise as they slid it aside, revealing the door beneath – and a host of scrabbling black beetles, now hunting for cover.

  “Gross,” Two said.

  Naomi made a noise of agreement and reached down, brushing a few of the beetles away from the door’s lock and inserting the key. She twisted it counter-clockwise twice, clicks and ratcheting noises echoing from the lock mechanism, and then pulled on the large handle. The steel door creaked as it swung upward, revealing the stone stairway beneath.

  Two stared into the receding darkness with some trepidation and glanced up at Naomi, who gestured for Two to go ahead.

  “I feel like Abraham’s going to be down there waiting for me,” Two said.

  “You cut off Abraham’s head and burned him to ashes,” Naomi replied.

  “Yeah,” Two said. “Still …”

  She began to descend down into the chamber, Naomi following. Two could hear nothing from below, only the sound of their footsteps, the faint rush of wind from above, the occasional skittering sound of some small creature behind the wall. The staircase smelled dusty and dry, and several times on her way down Two was forced to push her way through large cobwebs. At last they reached the bottom, exiting out into a large, dark chamber stuffed full of furniture and other objects that the vampire council had apparently deemed too precious to burn.

  At the far end, Theroen’s lifeless body lay on a stone table, covered by a white sheet lined with a thin layer of dust. Two stepped forward, heart pounding, and pulled the sheet from the body.

  “Jesus, Naomi … he looks exactly the same!” she exclaimed.

  Theroen’s body lay before them, pale and thin but otherwise spared from the ravages of time. He was still wearing the black suit in which Abraham had dressed him, preparing him for a cremation that had never come. If not for his lack of breath, he might have been taking a nap. Two felt her heart wrench at the sight of him, felt pain and grief spring forward, as fresh within her as the day she had lost him.

  “We are lucky,” Naomi said, and Two could hear a kind of breathlessness in her voice that sounded like awe. “His blood must be very strong.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this …” Two felt sick to her stomach with worry and excitement.

  “You can. I know you can. Do you have the blood?”

  Two had barely let go of the two vials in their slim silver casings since leaving Naomi’s apartment. She reached now into the small interior pocket of her leather jacket and took them out, holding them up to the light, wondering if her hands were shaking too hard to spring the tiny locks. She dug in the pocket of her blue jeans with the other hand, fishing for the key.

  Naomi was looking at Theroen, head slightly tilted. “He had longer hair when I knew him,” she said at last.

  “He told me he changed it to keep up with whatever a guy in his early twenties would probably look like, you know … during whatever time period. Clothes, hair, all of it.”

  Naomi nodded. “I do the same – you have to. If I was still wandering around in the sort of clothing that was popular when Lisette first found me, it would look rather odd.”

  “Yeah,” Two replied. Two had set the cylinders on the table next to Theroen and was looking at her hands now, willing them to steady. Naomi said nothing, waiting, and eventually Two was able to unlock the cases and remove the vials. The two women stood for another moment in silence.

  “We can’t make him swallow,” Naomi said at last. “We’ll need to inject it.”

  “I don’t have anything—”

  “I brought a syringe,” Naomi said, digging in her purse. “Do you think we should mix the blood first or inject twice?”

  Two shrugged. “It’s going to mix in him anyway, right?”

  “Yes.” Naomi held out the syringe, which was much larger than the ones Two had used to shoot up with in a time that felt so long ago she thought of it almost as prehistory.

  “Should I worry about air bubbles?” Two asked.

  “I doubt we’re going to give him a stroke,” Naomi replied, her voice dry.

  “All the same …” Two filled the syringe with blood from one vial, and then from the other, holding it aloft and tapping it to clear the air from it. When she was done, she looked again at Theroen.

  “My love, I’m so scared,” she whispered to him. She touched his face, the skin icy cold. “What if it doesn’t work?”

  “There is no reason to delay,” Naomi said. “It won’t get any easier with time, and there is no other way to know.”

  Two nodded, took a deep breath, took her hand away from Theroen’s face. Her heart was pounding, throbbing painfully in her chest, and she felt dizzy. Sick. Her muscles ached with tension and breathing seemed difficult.

  “What do I do?” she asked, her voice somewhere between a whisper and a croak.

  Naomi reached out and put her hand on Theroen’s jaw, tilting his head and exposing the neck. The skin was clean and unblemished, no bite marks visible from Abraham’s final, deadly attack. Whether this was a sign of healing from within or simply a factor of the minor healing properties in vampire saliva, Two didn’t know. Naomi tapped against Theroen’s skin.

  “That’s the jugular,” she said. “It’s as good a place as any … we don’t have the equipment necessary to go through his breastplate and into his heart. Frankly, I don’t even know if that matters.”

  “I don’t think I could stab him in the chest anyway,” Two said. She felt sick just contemplating the idea of shoving the needle into Theroen’s neck. Nonetheless, she brought the tip forward, pressing it to the point that Naomi had indicated.

  “Push in first, then angle up a little,” Naomi said, and Two could hear tension in the vampire girl’s voice now. “Watch for blood. His skin won’t have any … there’s not enough left, but the jugular itself might.”

  Two took a deep breath and did as she was told. After some resistance, the needle pierced Theroen’s skin and slid forward into his flesh. Two angled upward a bit as Naomi had told her, and a single drop of blood welled up around the syringe’s metal shaft.

  “That’s it,” Naomi said. “Do it!”

  Two pressed the plunger, injecting the mix of elder blood into Theroen’s lifeless body. Once every bit had been pushed into him, she withdrew the needle.

  “What should I do with this?” she asked.

  Naomi took it from her and tossed it casually into a darkened corner. “We’re done with that. Step back, Two. I have no idea what may happen now.”

  The two women took several steps backward and stood, watching and waiting for some sign from Theroen’s prone form that the blood was working within him. Seconds passed, became
minutes. Two felt frantic, her heart still pounding, her breath still coming too fast. Was it working? How could they know?

  She was drawing in a breath, preparing to ask Naomi these questions, when Theroen’s arm twitched. Two’s chest locked, her heart seeming to redouble in its throbbing, her hands balling up into small, tight fists. She wanted to ask if Naomi had seen it, wanted to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice.

  Before she was able to do so, Theroen made the question irrelevant. His entire body heaved, curling from the slab at his midsection so that only his shoulders and heels touched the table. He drew in a ragged, gasping breath that seemed to go on and on, filling his lungs until Two felt sure they must burst.

  And then he began to scream.

  The noise rose, starting loud and growing into a horrific, ear-splitting wail of agony. Theroen’s fingernails scraped audibly against the stone table as his hands clenched and unclenched, scrabbling for purchase. He drew in another breath with a horrible sound like tearing cloth and continued to scream. Two felt herself surging forward instinctively, screaming herself, terrified and wanting only to help him if she could. Naomi grabbed her shoulders and jerked her painfully backward.

  “For God’s sake, Two, stay back!” the vampire cried over the noise of Theroen’s screaming. His body was convulsing now, arms flailing madly, legs kicking, beating his heels repeatedly against the stone table in a ghastly drum roll. The screaming went on and on, interrupted only by those harsh and terrible gasps for air, until Two felt sure the sound of it would drive her insane. She was still struggling against Naomi’s grip, still trying to get to Theroen, to help him in some way.

  It ended without warning, Theroen’s voice suddenly cutting off in mid-scream. His muscles relaxed and he fell back onto the table, hands at his sides, motionless.

  “Oh, Jesus … God … no!” Two cried. Had they brought him back from the dead only to kill him with the power of the blood? “Theroen!”

  At the sound of her cries, Theroen’s head turned to the side, the rest of his body still motionless. His eyes opened, and for a moment Two saw nothing behind them, no recognition, not even a spark of consciousness. Then they seemed to clear, focus, and Two felt her entire body clench in excitement at what she saw there. Not fear or pain, not madness or hate. She saw only calm and peace. There was a slight smile on his lips, that bemusing, mysterious smile that she so loved to kiss. She was looking at Theroen Anders, the man she loved, and he was unquestionably alive. Awake. Aware.