Sins of the Blood: A Vampire Novel

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  "Neither did I." He slid the keys into the ignition. "They warned me in med school, though. They said that good doctors rarely had days off."

  The engine purred to a start. He reached over and put his hand on hers. His fingers were warm. "You want a cup of coffee? I haven't had lunch yet."

  "Me, either." Her hand felt trapped beneath his, but she didn't move. She glanced at him sideways, wondering what was wrong with her. He was intelligent, attractive, and well off. They shared the same taste in books, films, and food. They had wonderful discussions. He had worked for the Center longer than she had, and she had never seen him do anything violent. He was safe. He was smart, he was gentle, and he scared her.

  "Ovens?"

  "Okay."

  He put the car into gear and spun out of the parking lot. As long as she had known him, he drove fast cars with an assurance only good drivers had. He never endangered her life, but he always made her feel as if she had just helped him qualify for the Indy 500.

  He steered with his left wrist resting on the wheel. His right hand balanced on the gear shift. "Know a good toy store?"

  Cammie's shoulders tensed. He was asking for Janie. "Puzzlebox on State."

  "I'd forgotten about that. They have lots of stuffed animals?"

  "The entire back of the store. Mostly spendy ones, like Gund."

  "It's okay. She treats them well." He spun the car onto University and half-slid across the divider into the Shorewood shopping center. He parked around back so no one would see the bright red car.

  They got out, and this time he turned on the alarm. He took her arm as they walked along the narrow sidewalk, past the gallery, to the restaurant.

  The Ovens of Brittany had several restaurants in town, all of them good. Cammie loved the one on Shorewood, though, because they had put their bakery by the entrance. Three chefs in white worked on morning buns. One rolled the dough up front, another basted them before putting them in the large ovens, and a third put the finished buns on a cooling rack. Cinnamon and baking bread filled the air. Cammie's stomach growled.

  "I'm hungrier than I thought," she said.

  "When was the last time you had a meal?"

  She frowned. She couldn't remember. Eliason sighed. He put his hand on her back as he opened the door. A Mozart piano concerto tinkled overhead. The warm scent of baked goods mingled with wine from the bar, a mingling of roasting beef from the kitchen.

  A slender hostess grabbed two menus and held them to her chest. "Usual spot, Brett?"

  "Yes," he said. He hadn't let go of Cammie's back. The hostess glanced at her, then looked away. She led them down a short flight of stairs, so that they sat beside a quietly running fountain filled with pennies. The water and the music made some of the tension leave Cammie's shoulders. The hostess handed them menus and walked back up, saying nothing.

  A busboy set water glasses with a slice of lemon in front of them. Cammie set the menu aside without looking at it, already knowing what she wanted.

  Eliason glanced at his, then set it on top of hers. They said nothing as they waited for the waitress. Cammie ordered a vegetarian omelet, a small morning bun, an orange juice and an espresso. Eliason asked for a chicken potpie.

  When the waitress left, Eliason leaned forward and took Cammie's hand. She smiled, just a little, and pulled her hand away. "How bad did I fuck her up?"

  Eliason sighed. "You didn't help her. I finally had to give her something to calm her down. You're the last person she should have seen."

  He made the comment calmly, with no judgment at all. Cammie squirmed. She wanted him to yell at her. She had been stupid and she wasn't sure why. "Is she going to get better?"

  Eliason shrugged. "I don't know what better is in this case. Technically she was better when her father was alive."

  Cammie unfolded her linen napkin and snapped it on her lap. "The Center sent me to his house."

  The waitress brought the orange juice, morning bun, and a salad for Eliason. "I know they sent you," Eliason said.

  "Then why is everyone acting like I did something wrong? Whitney was there too. We were doing our jobs."

  "No one has said that you made a mistake." Eliason picked at the lettuce. "He would have turned on her. They always do. This one's bothering you too much, Cammie."

  She took the bun and put it in front of her. It was warm. She ripped its edges into small pieces and buttered them. The bun didn't look as good as it had a moment ago. "No one ever warned me about children."

  "No one thought they had to."

  She glared at him. The waitress set down two steaming cups of espresso. Eliason took his, filled it with cream and sugar, and stirred as if nothing were wrong.

  "You don't know the history of the Westrina Center, do you?" he asked.

  Cammie took a bite[C&F61] of the bun. Rich and sugary mingled with just enough butter. It tasted wonderful. She spoke between bites. "It's been here forever, and about twenty years ago, it changed buildings, after this rehabilitation program started."

  Eliason picked at his salad and pushed it away. "Nice, encapsulated, short, and straight out of the manual. Ever wonder why they train so many people like you?"

  "Because there's so many vampires."

  "There's not that many vampires."

  Cammie finished the bun. She put the plate on the edge of the table. A busboy whisked it away. "They already told us when they recruited us. High burnout. People last about three years."

  "And you've been here, what?" Eliason sipped his espresso. "One?"

  "Over two."

  The waitress brought their food. Cammie's omelet took up half the plate. Cheese smothered the vegetables, and homemade hash browns covered the side. Eliason's chicken potpie was baked in a puffed pastry. They ate for a moment in silence. Occasionally, he would look at her as if measuring her. Finally he set his fork down.

  "When did the dreams start?" he asked.

  Cammie jerked, nearly knocking a bite of omelet into the fountain. Eliason's eyes were dark brown and very intense. She had never noticed that before. "I've always had dreams," she said.

  "But you're having nightmares now."

  She swallowed. His voice was soft. Her eyes burned and she longed to rub them. She took a deep breath, and made herself look at him. "Anita's making me to see a counselor."

  "I think that's a good idea." Eliason said. "Janie doesn't hold the answers for you. She's got to search for her own when she's ready. You, on the other hand, already know how to search."

  Cammie felt a blush build on her cheeks. She hadn't meant to disturb the child, but Eliason was right. She hadn't been thinking of anyone but herself. "I don't know what I'm searching for," she said.

  "I think you do," he said.

  She glanced at her hands. The nails were flat and cut close to her fingertips. "I went back to my textbooks last night," she said. "They did have passages on children and vampires. They said that every child of a vampire had a high chance of becoming a vampire too. The chances went up if the child was natural, not adopted."

  "I know, Cam." Eliason's voice was soft.

  "I didn't remember any of that." She took a sip of her espresso. It was warm and rich, just the way she liked it. "There's a lot of things I don't remember. My whole first grade year is gone. I can't even tell you where I went to school."

  "You should work with a counselor on this," Eliason said.

  "I don't want to work with a counselor. I don't want to pay someone to talk to me!" Cammie's voice rose on the last sentence. The young couple at the next table looked over at her. She avoided their gaze and ran a finger along the rim of her demitasse cup. Eliason wasn't going to listen any more than anyone else was. She pushed her hair away from her face and changed the subject. "Why did you ask me about the history of the Center?"

  "Because," he said, his expression not changing. "About twenty-five years ago, when the rehab program failed, a number of the counselors became vampires themselves. Too many vampires to stop in such a s
hort period of time. The people left worked on keeping the threat from spreading, not at taking care of the vampires who already existed. They lived mostly in the Willy Street area, and no one went there, and no one left, not even the children who lived with a vampire, like Janie did. Do you understand me?"

  "Not completely." The food churned in Cammie's stomach. "The children had to fend for themselves?"

  "Everyone did, until the Center finally decided on eradication in all cases."

  Cammie had finished half of her omelet. That was enough. She drank the fresh squeezed orange juice as if she had just come off a marathon, then cupped the demitasse cup in her right hand. She was still trembling. "Must have been pretty ugly."

  "You tell me," Eliason said. He finished the last of the potpie.

  "Me?"

  "Sarge tells me you were sick on the day she took your class to the Old Westrina Center. The only sick day recorded in your entire file."

  Cammie nodded. She remembered that. She had awakened with the worst case of stomach flu she had ever had. "Twenty-four-hour bug."

  "Was it?" Eliason asked. "Or was it nerves?"

  "Nerves?"

  "What would you do if I took you to the old Westrina Center this afternoon?[C&F62] "

  "This afternoon?" She was parroting him. She hated doing that, even to stall. "I haven't had much sleep, Brett. I—"

  "Do you even drive by it? When was the last time you were on East Wash?"

  "I don't live in that part of town." She frowned. "What are you getting at?"

  "Come with me, Cammie." His voice was gentle. He held out his hand and this time she took it. "I'll keep you safe."

  ii

  Her throat got dry as they rounded Capitol Square. East Washington Avenue had more lanes than she remembered, but the near east side still looked like it had in the ’50s[C&F63] . Warehouses, dilapidated storefronts. And there, off to her right, the oversized fortress that had once housed the Westrina Center.

  She didn't know how he had talked her into this.

  In the late ’40s[C&F64] , the Westrina Center had taken over the building that had once housed Madison East High School. The school moved its headquarters farther out to accommodate the children of the workers at the upgraded Oscar Mayer plant. The old building, built in the teens, was too large for the Center, but they quickly filled it with function rooms and bunks for the children.

  Cammie put a hand to her forehead. Amazing the information she had picked up and hadn't realized she had.

  "You okay?" Eliason asked.

  Cammie nodded. She was dizzy, but she wasn't going to tell him. Visiting a part of town she hadn't been in shouldn't be hard.

  Eliason swung the Ferrari into the empty parking lot. Broken glass littered the cracked pavement. He drove to the main entrance and parked in front of it. "I'll wait here if you want," he said.

  Cammie sat for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to fade. Then she grabbed the door handle and let herself out of the car.

  The sun was half-hidden behind the tall buildings of the university, casting the school in shadow even though it was mid-afternoon. Cammie's shoes crunched on the glass.[C&F65]

  A padlocked wire fence surrounded the building. Obviously not designed to keep vampires out. It kept humans from prowling the grounds. Still, the vampire defenses remained. The large wood double doors had ancient garlic nailed to them. All the windows were barred with small crosses and none had been broken.

  The old Center was not as big as she expected it to be. Still, as the shadows made their way across the lawn, the Center loomed, holding a power the new, modern facility didn't have.

  He's just a baby. I take care of him!

  The little girl's voice was insistent. Cammie put her hands on the cold wire, but could see no one.

  I need to see him. Nobody else knows how to take care of him.…

  She wandered around to the side of the building, saw the half-ruined remains of a playground. The swings were mere chains and the teeter-totter had rotted into the earth.

  I don't want to play. I want to see him…

  And then the scream, so long and shrill that she had to close her eyes. The sound ripped the pain from her belly, let it rise into her neck and mouth. She leaned her head into the wire, feeling the metal dig into her forehead.

  She had clutched her little brother's hand tightly, as two people, smelling of blood, led her into the center. As they walked into Reception, she was surprised to see how many people waited for her, how quiet they seemed. She said nothing. A slender man knelt beside her, pried her brother's hand from her own. She looked at her brother's face, the face she had protected all this time, and was startled at the blood on it. Blood spattered all over his clothes. Tears built behind her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. She hadn't wanted him to know, but there he was, blood-covered and frightened. She reached out to him, but the man picked him up and carried him away.

  And she never saw him again. They told her she was too dangerous. Too unstable. Too frightened.

  You might hurt him. You wouldn't want to do that, now, would you, honey?

  She pushed herself away from the fence. Her forehead ached and her entire body shook. She wiped her face with her sleeve, and then looked up. Eliason leaned against a tree, his arms crossed.

  "You followed me," she said.

  He nodded.

  "And you knew."

  "Yes," he said. "Current rehabilitation theory. You can't do anything for the parents, but you can save the children."

  "I don't feel saved," she said and pushed past him.

  "Cammie—"

  His voice echoed behind her, one of many trailing into the growing twilight. Her father had called her Camila, her brother Cam-Cam. She had adopted Cammie because it brought no pain.

  Until now.

  Chapter Ten

  The arm felt heavy across his neck. Ben pushed it away and sat up, his naked body sliding on the satin sheets of his bed. The woman's long red hair covered her face, but the two gashes he had opened in her neck showed. He leaned over and sucked a bit more, just enough to clear his head and give him the strength to get up.

  He stretched. Amazing how quickly[C&F66] he could get hungry again. The redhead had been his third the night before—all young, new cows themselves—and his third orgasm too. Van said the sexual stimulation would ease, but so far it had only gotten more intense. He had slept through the day, as he was supposed to, and woke hungry again.

  This time, he would pick his own cows. Mikos had a reason for giving him these young things, but two of them had been very frightened. Ben had had to hold them down until the drug in his saliva had worked its way into their system. The redhead was the only one who seemed to be familiar with the routine.

  He got up, grabbed his kimono off the chair,[C&F67] and slapped the redhead. "Wake up," he said.

  She shook her head and pushed her hair back. She would have been pretty, if it weren't for her glassy eyes.

  "Come on." He picked his wallet off the night stand and pulled a ten from it. "Here. Get yourself some breakfast. Mikos will probably want you again tonight. Your clothes are on the floor."

  She sat up and squinted at him.

  "Hurry. You've been here too long already."

  He turned on the light beside the bed and tossed her clothes at her. Then he tied his kimono and left the room.

  The party hadn't started yet. After three nights, he no longer slept as long as he had in the first. He was also learning how to stop himself from taking too much from one cow. Mikos had been right: killing Ian had cured Ben of that almost immediately. They had only had to push him off one more cow, and that had been just after, when the killing lust still ran through him.

  The kitchen light was on. Van sat at the table, playing solitaire. She had her hair pulled back, away from her face, and the harsh light gave her an odd beauty. Ben opened the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of house wine. The barriers were coming down. A week ago, he had been appalle
d at sucking someone's blood. Now he looked forward to it.

  "You are not dressed yet," Van said.

  "Soon." Ben sat across from her. He took the eight of hearts, and the four cards spread beneath it, and set them on the nine of spades.

  "I would have done that," Van said.

  "You didn't see it." He sipped the wine. The coppery taste soothed the jitters running through him. "Answer some questions for me?"

  "Maybe," she said.

  "Where's the money come from?"

  Van didn't look up. "Investments."

  "What kind?"

  Van set the cards down and looked at him. "Most of us here have been alive for a long time. The longer you live, the wiser you get. The wiser you get, the more money you make."

  "You didn't answer me," he said.

  She smiled. "I know. It is not any of your business. Mikos will take care of you."

  "Like he took care of Ian?"

  She picked up the cards again, and started going through the pile. "Ian made his own mistakes."

  "What was Ian? He wasn't a vampire. He wasn't a cow."

  "He was a servant who bit his master." Mikos stood in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep. He was wearing jeans, no shirt and no shoes. His torso was flat and bare. His ribs were outlined beneath his skin. "You ask a lot of questions, Ben. Most people who come here are content to eat, and fuck, and sleep in luxury, in return for a few odd favors that I ask."

  "Should I shut up?" Ben asked, having no such intention.

  "No. I like an inquiring mind. I have missed it." Mikos crossed the room. He opened the refrigerator and took a bottle of wine for himself, then came to the table and sat beside Ben. "Haven't you, Van?"

  "I like things quiet."

  "I'm sure you do." Mikos kicked back and put his bare feet on another chair. "Van made the mistake of getting too involved in our last project. She barely escaped with her life."

  Van scooped up the cards and shoved them to the side of the table. "Ben does not need to know this."

  "I think he does." Mikos took a swig from the bottle, then wiped his mouth. "I think he needs to know modern history—from the correct viewpoint."