Undone By Blood (The Vampire Flynn Book 5)

by Peter Dawes

  “Utterly delusional,” he said, gritting his teeth at me.

  Reaching behind his back, he pulled out the dagger he kept tucked away and freed it from its sheath. I reached for the sword hanging at my side, but he moved swiftly, closing the gap between us before I could swing for him. As he jabbed at me, I ducked one way and the next, avoiding each of the prodding blows while knowing neither had been intended to actually hit me. When he made his third attempt, aiming higher, I dodged it, but left myself open to a well-placed knee to the stomach. The pain made me double over, which left my back exposed.

  Seizing the opportunity, Flynn plunged the knife between my shoulders.

  I cried out in pain. He pulled out the blade and motioned to stab me in the front, but I acted out of instinct, lifting the hilt of my sword and hitting him square in the forehead. This forced him to retreat, giving me an opportunity to put distance between us again. Fortunately, he had missed my spine, I noted, making an assessment. Unfortunately, the aches radiating down my arms made lifting the sword into a readying position laborious.

  Flynn smirked at the way I winced. “I know what you’re thinking, seer,” he said. “Keep that in mind before you try anything clever. I know you better than you know yourself.”

  “And yet, your thoughts remain an enigma to me,” I countered. “Hardly fair.”

  “Oh, but I’m the boogeyman, Peter, do you really want to confront the things you won’t admit to yourself?” He blocked my first attempt at a swing, using the shorter blade of the dagger. “Like how much you actually relish killing things? How much you took to being a vampire?” His gaze pierced through me, convicting me as much as his words did. “How much of a lost cause this truly is?”

  “No.” I swung for him again, but this time he sidestepped the arc of my blade. “Not so long as I live. Saving them will never be a lost cause.”

  “You’re going to rob Patrick of his lover? Need I bring up again how many times this man has thwarted you?” Flynn snuck in a jab I narrowly dodged, the blade of his knife cutting into my shirt while avoiding my arm. I countered with another attempted blow, but he already had his dagger at the ready to intersect it. Our blades touched and once more, I found myself falling victim to his piercing stare.

  “Your wife is corrupted and Patrick will sooner die than let you take back Robin,” he spat. “This is the reality you don’t want to confront.”

  “No.” One hand lifted from the hilt of my sword. In a fit of fury, I threw a burst of raw power at Flynn, not needing a pause to gather the tremendous amount of energy I hurtled at him. He fell backward, but I refused to allow him to regroup, a sheen forming over my eyes as I watched him start to stand. Instead, rage bubbled upward, spilling over me and directing my actions. I brought Flynn to his feet. As I locked him into place, I clenched my jaw and made up the scant space between us. “You only believe that because you have given up,” I said.

  Flynn sneered, but remained composed otherwise. That alone only served to anger me further. “Accepting the truth is hardly surrendering to it,” he said. “This isn’t like your world-saving missions, where the Fates grant you the carrot they dangle in front of you. You missed your chance to change your fate years ago. You settled down and had a family. You let yourself sink into a lie and this is the bed you’ve made for yourself. If you wanted to stop Patrick, you would’ve needed to before he even started.”

  “I refuse to believe that this is it. That we would need to give up our soul in order to keep Monica.”

  “That you don’t see it is staggering, Peter. You really are that blind.”

  My hold on him wavered with my emotional stability starting to denigrate. He freed the hand not clutching the knife, but rather than using it to strike out at me, gathered a fistful of my shirt and tugged me closer to him. Scant centimeters separated us, and as he met my gaze again, it seemed to accomplish what he could not in our brief sparring match. It cut me to the bone.

  “She wants this,” he said. “She’s given herself over to it. Whatever your dearly beloved would have needed in order to cling onto her humanity never followed her across the veil. Whether or not Sabrina or Patrick or the fucking Ghost of Christmas Past is what threw her into oblivion, nothing has stopped her from craving more. She has no Robin to pull her back from the brink. If she hasn’t drowned in it already, then she will and at that point, we won’t be able to pull her back out.”

  “And you would rather sink with her than try?”

  “I would rather drown than try to live without her.”

  He scowled at me and I, him, but in that moment I saw us as a strange mirror, reflecting back and forth to each other that same desperate plea. For ten years, we had shared the same woman, who saw both sides and loved them both, and neither wanted to give quarter to the other. I wanted the mother of my children; the one person who ever managed to help me find peace after five years of bloodshed. And Flynn, he wanted the woman who had tamed a tempest. Even if it meant getting swept into a hurricane.

  “We cannot do that,” I said, ignoring the tear which escaped and trickled its way down my cheek. “If we drown, then Patrick wins. The world burns, whether we care about it or not. Those children you claim you helped me protect become casualties in whatever chaos ensues. I do not know what Patrick has planned, but surrendering means that we help him usher it forth. It only delays the inevitable.”

  “But can you accept the alternative, boy scout?” Flynn raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you can.”

  “I am not willing to give it up. Not until I am ash.”

  “Or she is.”

  “Do not say that. We are bringing her home and one way or another, we are restoring her to herself. She did it for us. We owe her the same.”

  Flynn and I continued to stare at each other, and while I got the sense of him harboring the same turmoil, and judging me for mine, he seemed ready to relent. I released him completely from the hold I had on him and he tossed the knife he held aside. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll do it your way. Allow me to warn you this, though, Peter. If this goes awry – if I have to wallow in a pit of misery because of you – then I promise that you won’t know a moment of peace for the rest of our accursed existence. I will rip apart every attempt you make to smile again. To laugh; to love; to do anything in order to free yourself from the burden of fucking up the one good thing I have ever known. If this fails, then we wallow together.”

  Nodding, I fought the urge to issue any sort of a retort. This could not fail, I told myself. Whatever the road from this point carried with it, it would end with everyone back where they belonged. Flynn exchanged the nod and shut his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath while doing so. “I don’t wear any puppet strings I don’t allow to be there,” he added. “You could do well to remember that.”

  “Then you will not mind us ridding you of these,” I quipped. Reaching forward, I placed a hand on his shoulder and peered upward, into the black above us.

  “Go on ahead, Katerina,” I said. “I believe he is finally ready to cooperate.”

  I felt dizzy when I opened my eyes again, unable to focus at first on the room surrounding me. Katerina still sat where she had been positioned, and as she slowly exhaled, she opened her eyes as well, meeting my gaze when I could finally see clearly again. “They’re going to be angry,” she said, the presence of fear causing her voice to waver. “But I think I managed to close your connection to her.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured, lifting a hand to rub at my forehead and blinking a few times to restore my bearings. I glanced toward where Evie still stood, overlooking whatever had transpired from the outside. A phantom ache still emanated from my back, and the real wound on my chest had knitted itself enough to settle into a dull roar. When I beheld Ms. Stanton with lucidity and without any malice, however, her posture relaxed into its usual, statuesque pose.

  “What now?” she asked. “I’m aware that I’m harboring an enemy now of two sides, not simply one. This impacts my nor
mally-keen sense of self-preservation in a spectacular manner.”

  “I know,” I said. Slowly coming to a stand, I took a tentative step forward before determining that my knees would not buckle beneath my weight. Once I was certain I could, I continued onward to the other side of the living room, closer to where Evie stood. “I need to make another attempt at getting ahold of a friend at the Order. He might still be persuaded toward helping.”

  “And if he isn’t?” Evie arched a brow. One of her hands came to rest on her upper arm, nails half-disappearing in a nest of fabric formed by her suit jacket. “What is our plan, then?”

  “Our plan?” I mirrored her expression. “I thought you more apt to toss Katerina and I onto the street.”

  “I wouldn’t have the position I do if I balked the moment a situation turned dire. I do honestly believe you are still our best hope at resolving this dilemma.” Her gaze turned more severe. “Though I want to know how much your feelings are going to compromise you from this point forward.”

  “That is the problem, Evie. The Fates count on my feelings compromising me. They are both a strength and a weakness.” Taking a deep breath, I paced closer to the counter and rested my arms atop the lacquered marble. As I struggled to answer her question – what we would do if Julian could not be of help – I thought about what Robin and I had been doing before Flynn took over. I thought of the notes he had written in the small book he had given me and furrowed my brow.

  “Somehow, I need to get ahold of my brother’s journal,” I said, pursing my lips in thought. In my mind, I saw locations on a map, each with memories attached to it, and wished that Robin himself could still be there to provide his guidance. Patrick had taken him, but if fate had any desire to see this end, then it had to have left us some boon to fall back upon. “If there is any way for us to get the better of Patrick, he would have the answer.”

  Chapter Twenty

  I left another message only when Evie indicated the number I recited for Julian could not be traced back to her. While we waited for him to respond, however, she and I sat with Katerina, brainstorming ways that we could get into the hotel room Robin and I had occupied. By now, we reasoned, the Order had combed through it, and Katerina pointed out if they had uncovered where we were staying, they had also taken everything in it.

  “Let us hope not,” I said. “Otherwise, we have a larger problem on our hands.”

  Richard returned with a change of clothing for me and made certain to present my sword with an accomplished grin on his face. I thanked him without pressing him for details, and as I retreated into one of Evie’s rooms, I heard her send him out again, asking him to provide us with reconnaissance. The shower I took settled my nerves enough for me to focus, providing me one last chance to tell myself I needed to keep my wits if I was going to be as successful as I promised Flynn I would be.

  I had barely had the chance to pull my trousers on when the phone Evie had provided began to ring. Peering at the display, I saw Julian’s number appear and scrambled to accept the call. “Hello, Julian?” I said upon lifting the mobile to my ear, attempting not to sound too eager.

  The brief pause which followed unnerved me while it lasted. When I considered prodding him with another declaration of my voice, I heard him sigh and counted my blessings that he had not passed the phone to one of his cohorts at the Order. “You created a large mess,” he said, his English straining more than usual. He paused again, then lowered his voice considerably. “I don’t think you realize how much trouble you’re in.”

  A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Trying not to think of it, to be honest. If only the Order was my greatest concern.” Slowly, I walked over to a bed and sat on it. “Did they tell you to come after me?”

  “They’ve already sent people after you. This is the only reason why I’m calling you.” He sighed. I began to read the spaces between his statements for what they were, visualizing people walking past, forcing him to stop speaking or turn away. The stress present in his voice added all the confirmation I needed of this suspicion. “It’s too much to explain over the phone. Do you trust me enough to meet with me?”

  “It depends, Julian. Do you intend to capture me?”

  “No. I don’t know how to convince you of that, but I promise I’m not lying.”

  My fingers combed through my hair while I carried on a mental debate concerning my sanity. My sense of self-preservation suffered a loss, my intuition claiming the victory. “Where are you?” Julian asked when I failed to answer.

  “I am still in London,” I said, “Attempting to think of where we could meet so that I would not needlessly put the others here at risk.”

  “London?” Julian barked a restrained laugh. After muttering something in German, he switched back to English. “There’s a park in the north side where I go to be alone. I can text you the address if you’re willing to meet. You can determine how much you trust me afterward.”

  “Very well.” Glancing at a clock in the room, I read its face and added, “Ten o’clock would give me an hour to get to you.”

  “Hail a taxi. Don’t use the Underground. They’re searching the tube stops for you. The police, at least, have been told not to release your picture to the media.”

  “Good to see they are at least cleaning up one part of this mess. Though I hesitate to think of at what cost.” I nodded. “I will be careful. You do the same. See you in an hour.”

  Julian hung up the phone without saying goodbye. As I pocketed the borrowed mobile, I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach, aware I both had no luxury with which to gamble and yet, would have to be bolder than I normally cared being. A twinge in the back of my head reminded me of the alternate personality looking on, evaluating every move I made, and while I no longer feared him being controlled by Patrick, I also did not know at what point he would steal my autonomy again. Buttoning my shirt, I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing a man who should look far more certain given the task at hand. Who faced the challenge of keeping his fragile emotions intact.

  I feigned confidence when I finally emerged from the guest room.

  Evie arched a brow at me, seeing I had pointed myself on a direct path to her. Turning away from the marble counter against which she had been leaning, she spoke into the phone she had lifted to her ear. “No, if we could avoid involving Marius for the moment, that would be preferable,” she said. “Let me call you back. I think our asset has something for me.” Evie waited only long enough to receive a response before ending her call. “You look like a man on a mission,” she observed, tucking away her mobile. “Did a thought occur in the shower?”

  “I received a call from my contact inside the Order,” I said. Still clutching the suit jacket I had been given, I swung it around so I could thread my arms through its sleeves. “He texted me the address of a park on the north side where he wishes to meet.”

  “Is that a wise idea? They could be using him to bring you in.”

  “Yes, I know.” I met her gaze as I reached for the sword I had propped against the wall. Lifting it first for her appraisal, I held it close to my side after that. “I hope not to have to use this, but I believe I have reached the moment where I figure out how many bridges I should burn.”

  Evie succumbed to a frown, the expression a stark contrast against the lack of unnecessary movement. “Burn too many bridges and you might run out of places to hide, Peter. If my centuries on Earth have taught me anything, that ranks among the most important lessons.” She glanced toward the weapon I held and back again. “Do you intend to make it out of this alive?”

  “I have to,” I said, breaking my gaze. Walking toward the front door, I scooped up the coat I had stolen from the hospital along the way. After wrapping my sword inside of it, I tucked it underneath my arm and pivoted to face Evie, catching sight of Katerina sitting in the living room as well. “God willing, I will be back before sunrise. Or I will be in contact in case something happens.”

  Katerina looke
d at Evie, who nodded. Neither spoke, though I provided them no further opportunity. Instead, I exited with no further ceremony, hailing a taxi once I had positioned myself on the street corner and enthralling the driver when we reached our destination. “You decided to pick up fares here tonight,” I instructed him. “Once you leave, you will not remember me at all.”

  His gaze distant, he nodded slowly, and drove off shortly thereafter. Left alone to confront whatever waited for me in the park, I strode to one of the benches deep within and sat. My sword lay across my lap, my focus attuned to everything around me which possessed a thought or bore a pulse. At first, I sensed nothing other than a few stragglers, all of whom ignored me on their way to wherever they were headed. It took another half hour before a prickle afflicted me, brought about by somebody’s presence.

  I did not turn my head to look at them. Instead, I tilted my chin enough to line them in my periphery, one hand slipping beneath the folds of my coat to take hold of my sword’s hilt. My visitor strode closer and only when I finally allowed myself a better look at them from the corner of my eye did I see that it was Julian, and he was indeed alone. The hum of energy surrounding him became more pronounced the closer that he came, and when I sensed no other gifted being anywhere in the vicinity, I relaxed.

  Albeit, marginally.

  Julian did not speak at first. He took a seat on the opposite side of the bench and adjusted the crossbow holstered in its sling so that it hung beside him. A case containing his quiver ran along his back, preventing him from sitting back, but from all appearances, while he was armed, he did not seem ready to draw his weapon. Instead, he reached into his pocket and produced a beaten-up pack of cigarettes. “Would you like one?” he asked, pinching the filter of one and pulling it out.

  “Please,” I said, accepting the one he had produced. He had his out and thrust between his lips before he brought out his lighter and lit the ends of both. All of his materials disappeared back inside his coat with actions that bordered on fatigued. I perked an eyebrow, drawing from my cigarette and exhaling smoke before talking. “Have I been causing you that much consternation?” I asked.