Julius suddenly put out his hand. “Let me try.”
Ian hesitated for a second and then handed the needle to Julius; the doctor knew there was no time for arguments. Julius took the needle and lifted Gabi’s arm in his large, pale hand. He closed his eyes and ran his thumb softly over the crease on the inside of her elbow, once, twice, a third time. Then, in a blur of motion, he sank the needle home; he was rewarded almost immediately with a drop of blood from the other end of the needle. Ian let out a breath he probably didn’t know he’d been holding and quickly injected a full syringe of Morphine into Gabi before hooking up the blood and saline.
As the Morphine and the blood slowly helped steady Gabi’s heart rate, and her blood pressure began to normalise, the rest of the world came back into focus for Julius. He realised he had no idea what was happening above-ground. Kyle had reported that the worst of the fighting seemed to be over, and since Dantés death many of his followers, the Vampire ones anyhow, had surrendered and were throwing themselves on Julius’s mercy. Julius was only interested in finding Mariska and making sure they had eliminated all the Demons. He gave Alexander a look and his second in command left on quick, silent feet to check what was going on.
The other two medics helped Ian splint her broken ankle while Kyle and Julius helped keep her still. Julius closed his eyes and breathed deeply when she screamed in pain, reminding himself to keep his grip on her gentle. At that moment in time he could have destroyed Danté a hundred times over without a single moment of regret. Finally, Ian allowed Julius and Kyle to lift her onto the stretcher. As they were preparing to leave, Julius stooped down and picked something up; he put it on the stretcher with Gabi, tucking it in against her thigh, in reach of her right hand. She noticed the movement and moved her hand down to touch the object. An almost contented smile lifted one side of her mouth as she closed her fingers around the familiar shape of Nex’s hilt. Then they left the horror of the underground cellar and headed for the helicopter as fast as they could without jostling her.
Chapter 25
Voices in the dark. That was all. No sight, no smell, no feeling, no pain. Just murmured voices. Soothingly familiar voices. Nothing to worry about. She didn’t need to leave the dark numbness. She could put names to the soft voices. She could hear words, but she couldn’t make sense of them, yet. For now, she was content to absorb them, she’d process them later.
“How is she?” Alexander’s voice.
“Ian and Jonathon say she’s stable.” Kyle’s voice. Stressed, tired.
“She hasn’t come around yet?”
“No, they’re keeping her in a coma for a few days so the head injury can heal.”
“She’s strong, she’ll be alright.”
A snort. “Yep, she’s Hellcat.”
The voices were quiet for a moment.
“Have they found her yet?” Kyle’s question.
“The Maleficus?” Alexander’s hard-edged query. “No.” Sharp, annoyed. “They’re looking under every rock, but it’s like she simply vanished.”
“The Magi will find her. Eventually. What about the Demons and Ghouls?”
“Obliterated. None left. The Magi even found away to damage the Wraith. They don’t think it will be back in a hurry. There were a few more humans who’d been bitten or just held captive; they’ve been taken to the asylum with the rest. We found Gregory’s remains.”
“How is Julius?”
A heavy sigh. “I’ve never seen him like this. He’s been questioning the Vampires who surrendered. I had to get away for a while. He’s not himself. Nathan and Fergus are trying to reason with him.” These words made something tense inside her.
“Has he found out anything of value?”
“Gregory claimed to have interesting information about Gabi. None of the Vampires know what it was or whether he told Danté. None of them were high up in his Clan, they were just following orders.”
“Do you think he told Danté about her being Dhampir?”
“We don’t know. It seems that at least one of his commanders wasn’t at the vineyard when we attacked. We don’t where he is now, or what information he may have.”
“Shit.”
“Why don’t you take a break, Wolf? Get some food, a shower, some clothes,” a trace of amusement in Alexander’s voice. “I’ll stay with her.”
Darkness and silence.
“I don’t think that’s…….” A louder voice that took her a moment to find a name for. Ian. Yes, Ian’s voice. An edge of panic in it.
“Don’t worry, he won’t hurt her.” Kyle’s reassurance. “He’s going to hurt himself if we don’t let him at least see her. Not even Rose can keep him calm anymore.”
“It’s alright Ian,” Byron’s voice, soothing. “Razor won’t hurt Gabi. Let him see her, and be near her. It will do them both good.” Muttered grumbling. Then a bone deep, soul massaging purr enveloped her.
Darkness and peace.
“What’s the news, Wolf?” Alexander’s voice.
“Jonathon just left. They’re going to bring her out of the coma tomorrow.” Kyle’s voice. Lighter, happier. “I’m just trying to work out how we’re going to keep her in bed for the next few weeks. She’s a terrible patient when she’s conscious.” A wry chuckle.
“Good luck with that.”
“So, do you think this thing is really over?”
“Well, the influx of Demons and Ghouls should come to an end without Danté around to control them. But with Vampire politics there will always be power struggles. If Danté knew about Gabi and managed to get word to the Princeps……” A deep sigh. “Only time will truly tell.”
“Well, they’ll have a lot of people to get through first if they come after her.” Kyle’s voice. Hard, resolute. A mutter of agreement. “There is some good that came out of this mess. The Werewolf packs have called a truce and are trying to work together to form their own Council and play a more defined role in the SMV. Byron has had seven promising Hunter Trainee applications. The Magi High Council is overhauling its systems and looking at ways to prevent others like Mariska slipping through the cracks.”
A long pause, then Kyle spoke again. “The Council will welcome Julius and the Clan to the table if he wants to be a part of it. They are trying hard to understand your kind. Now would be a good time to cement alliances and formalise boundaries.”
Alexander’s voice. Heavy, weary. “Julius will need some time. Vampires…..” A pause. “Older Vampires don’t react well to emotional turmoil. His feelings for Gabi, the betrayal by his Children, taking Danté’s life, these are harder for him to cope with than you might expect. It would be helpful if you could try to explain this to the Council. Buy him some time to recover.”
“Okay. Yeah, I can do that.” Kyle’s voice dropped to a whisper. “What about him and Gabi?”
“I don’t know,” Alexander’s voice. “I guess that’s up to the two of them.”
Darkness and disquiet.
Consciousness returned to Gabi in stages. The first stage was an awareness of the pain. Not the acutely blazing pain which was her last real memory, more of an all-over, dull hum of ache. She yearned to slip back into the warm, dark pool of oblivion where the pain didn’t exist, but her mind was inexorably making its way to the surface. The need for information stirred her to the next level of consciousness. She could hear the faint, steady beeping of a heart rate monitor, the hum of other electronic equipment and the almost inaudible drip of liquid. She could feel a cool sheet touching parts of her body, other parts felt cocooned and warm. She could smell antiseptic, but not as strongly as she would’ve expected in a hospital. Her next level of awareness told her it was too quiet to be a hospital, and curiosity broke the final layer of oblivion. She heard her own groan and held her breath while she learned how to cope with the sudden assault of a hundred different hurts.
She knew he was there. Without opening her eyes, without hearing him move, without smelling his scent in the air, she knew he was in
the room with her.
“Julius?” she tried to say. Her voice came out a hoarse rasp. She swallowed, trying to work some moisture into her dry mouth. She opened her eyes finally as she felt the faint disturbance of the air near her. The room was almost dark, lit only by the monitors that surrounded her on two sides and the moonlight streaming in the window. He was a dark, silent shadow near her right hand. She could feel the tension and anxiety rolling off him like a palpable wave.
“Water?” she croaked, lifting a hand to search for a cup. As she started to lift her shoulders to sit up, she could feel stitches pull and muscles and tendons scream in protest. A cool hand pressed her down.
“Wait,” his voice was a mere whisper.
A moment later, the top half of the bed gently tilted upward with a slight hum. A loud purring started from somewhere in the vicinity of her feet, but the cat didn’t move. Some dim memories of voices in the darkness clicked into place.
Julius leant in close to her, and with infinite care, slid his hand behind her head, holding her upright enough to take a sip from the glass of ice water he was holding to her mouth. “Slowly,” he cautioned. “Not too much.”
She nodded minutely but was finding it hard to control herself when her mouth felt like a long abandoned salt pan.
He allowed her three small sips and then settled her back on the pillow. “Do you need more pain relief?” he asked. “We weren’t sure how much to give you, Ian had a general idea, but we were being cautious. I can up it.” He moved to reach across her to the dripline.
She raised her right hand to catch his; it made her wince. “It’s fine,” she rasped, her voice a little stronger. She grasped his fingers and pulled his hand to her face, waiting. Finally, he turned his face and looked down into her eyes.
She didn’t know where exactly she was, or how many hours or days she’d been unconscious, but none of that mattered when she looked into his face. Grief, horror and guilt were etched into every line. His eyes were coal black and dark shadows underlined them. He opened his mouth to speak, and she knew what he was going to say and interrupted him.
“Sit,” she said, indicating the edge of the bed. “We need to talk.”
He pulled his hand away from hers, gently but firmly, his features hardening into a controlled mask. “I need to call Kyle. I promised I’d let him know the moment you woke.”
“Is it true?” she asked him. “What Danté told me, is it true?” She heard his broken sigh and then a chair being moved to her bedside. She turned her head to see him collapse into it, his head in his hands.
“If he told you I was his brother, then yes,” he answered roughly, “it is true.”
She waited; she knew he needed to say more.
“My Maker’s name was Simone; she seduced me, pretending to be human, and later turned me without my consent. She expected me to forgive her and join her in a life of eternal, sadistic fun. I couldn’t find it in myself to forgive her, and I didn’t want to become like her, so I walked away from her to find my own way in my new and difficult life. Simone didn’t like to be thwarted, and like the petulant child she was, she sought revenge. She went back to my family’s estate a few years later and seduced my younger brother. Unlike me, Danté willingly joined her cause. He was the baby of the family and his lack of maturity made him easy to manipulate. When I discovered what she’d done, how the two of them were travelling the world committing atrocities in the name of ‘fun’, I hunted them down. I had grown strong over the intervening years, and I killed Simone: a true death. Danté was under my blade, and I could have killed him, too. I should have killed him, too.” Julius’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “I looked into his eyes, and I couldn’t do it. I warned him to change his ways. I offered to help him. He ran from me, spitting curses and swearing vengeance for Simone’s death. I should have killed him then.” Centuries of despair and regret made his last words leaden.
“But you did kill him,” she said softly. “You had to do something life should never have asked of you.” She reached for him; compassion warring with anger and hurt. Anger that she hadn’t been able to help, hurt that he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth.
“I could only do it because of what he’d done to you, because of what he was trying to do to you,” he growled, his hands clenching into fists so tight that his knuckles looked ready to burst from the skin. “If it had been anyone else lying there, I’m not sure I would have been able to do it. I might have let him live.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“SORRY?” he roared, lurching out of the chair, storming to the window. “Sorry?” he asked, still loud but not yelling. “What have you got to be sorry for? Danté tortured you to within millimetres of your life; he was trying to turn you into a full Vampire. I could kill him a hundred times over for what he did to you.” He was breathing hard and his hands were clenched in his hair as he stared at her incredulously.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to kill him for you,” she said quietly. “No one should ever have to take the life of blood kin. I wish I could have done it for you.”
Julius collapsed to his knees on the floor, his head hung, and in the pale light of the full moon Gabi could see his tears splash down onto the floor tiles. They left tiny dark specks where they fell. She wished she could go to him, take him in her arms and comfort him, hold him until his grief was spent, help ease the weight of his guilt. But even if she hadn’t been confined to the bed with plastercasts and plastic tubes, she wasn’t sure she could comfort him. Not yet. Her own spirit felt like it had been shredded into a million tiny pieces; her confidence in herself was shattered, she was bleeding on the inside as well as the outside. How could she offer emotional support when she was so deeply in need of it herself?
And so, she watched him in the light of the moon, until he finally stood and came to her. Without looking at her, he bent and kissed her forehead, a featherlight touch of lips and then he was gone.
She closed her eyes against the sting of her own tears, then she felt a movement on the bed. She opened her eyes to see Razor sitting next to her, simply gazing adoringly into her face, his joy at seeing her vibrating through his entire body. Gabi laced her fingers into his lush coat and felt some cuts on her face crack open as she smiled at him. Suddenly, it felt as though a few of the tattered slivers of her spirit had just healed into a larger, more robust chunk. She remembered Kyle calling her back from the welcoming darkness with the words that Razor was still alive, but she hadn’t actually believed him. Seeing the cat sitting next to her, whole and uninjured was a priceless gift, a caress to her battered soul.
She must have drifted back to sleep because when she opened her eyes again, the faint grey light of dawn was colouring the room. She turned, looking for the water glass, and found Kyle slumped in the chair a few feet away. He was asleep, but at the sound of her movement, he cracked one eyelid. A warm, relieved smile lit his face, and he sprang up to go to her.
“Thirsty?” he asked, seeing her eye the glass. He helped her sit and drink. “It’s so good to see your eyes open,” he enthused. “I want to hug the breath out of you, but I don’t know where to touch you.” He settled for ruffling her mussy curls and dragging the chair closer to sit where she could look at him without straining.
“Where are we? It doesn’t sound or smell like any hospital I know.”
“You’re in Julius’s private hospital wing at the Estate. It’s fully equipped, set up for his Werewolves, and Ian has been liaising with Julius’s Vamp doctor about your treatment. Ian really wanted to get you to his hospital but Julius wouldn’t budge, and he’s not really in the kind of mood where anybody is keen to argue with him.”
“Oh,” she said lifting her hand to her hair. “Ugh, what a mess.” Her hair was heavy with sweat and dirt and blood.
“Yeah, the nurse didn’t want to wash your hair until the major wound had closed a bit. It was a nasty one,” Kyle explained.
“What’s the res
t of the damage?” she asked, suddenly realising she had no idea and lifting the sheet to peer down at herself underneath it. She catalogued the braces, bandages, burn dressings and stitches as he filled her in.
“Broken left arm, broken right ankle and shattered knee, fourteen broken ribs, a cracked skull, fractured cheek bone, and I didn’t bother trying to count the stitches. Ian might know the final count.” He tried to sound unaffectedly jovial as he listed the injuries, but Gabi could hear the concern underlying his cheerful tone. “They pumped five or six bags of blood into you as well.”
“Ian’s going to book me off for weeks isn’t he?” she asked in resignation.
“Hmmm, I’d go with months,” Kyle replied. “And, if Byron has anything to say about it, it could well be years.”
She made a rude noise in her throat.
“We’ll just see about that,” she declared, a gleam coming into her eyes as she stroked Nex’s hilt where she found it tucked between the bed railings and the mattress.
A Cat's Chance in Hell Page 37