by S L Hartley
Nicholas took the opportunity to remove one supporting hand from her hip. His fingers found the top of her sex and gently circled her clit, sending waves of pleasure through her. He brought his hips up to meet hers more forcefully, fingers working against her gradually faster until Page had to bite back screams of pleasure. She could feel herself cresting and frantically thrust against him, desperate for release.
She came with a small cry, shuddering against him, feeling her flesh clench and spasm against him. Caught by surprise, Nicholas released, shaking and moaning her name as he came inside her.
They remained entangled for a few minutes, sweating and trembling, arms around each other. Page slowly disengaged, pulling his flaccid member out of her and flopping down beside him. He leaned forward languidly and peeled off the condom, dropping it in the bin beside the bedside table.
He rolled over and rested his head on the back of Page’s neck, curling his body to fit around hers.
“I’m sorry I didn’t last a bit longer,” he said, hands cool on her fevered flesh.
Page smiled lazily. “I’m more than fine, Nicholas,” she reassured. “That was wonderful. And we can always practice more later.”
With that, the two lovers fell silent, and eventually to sleep.
****
Chapter 6
Page was woken by the sound of Nicholas’s cell ringing. He rolled out of the bed and found it in the pocket of his discarded pants.
“Hello?” His voice was fuzzy with sleep – vampires didn’t sleep often, he’d told Page, but when they did, they slept deeply and could be difficult to wake. He had attuned himself ages ago to the sound of his phone ringing so he didn’t miss an emergency shift at the hospital. “Slow down, Armand. Okay. We’re on our way.”
“What is it?” Page asked, sitting up and glancing at the clock. Three am.
Nicholas’s face was grim as he threw his clothes back on. “The vampire watching Janine got attacked. Armand’s trying to patch him up, but he needs help.”
Page practically bolted out of bed and began looking for her own clothes. “Is Janine okay?”
Nicholas just shrugged helplessly.
The two of them raced back to the coffee house, Page having to run full-tilt in order to keep up with what seemed to be scarcely more than a jog for Nicholas. Once they’d reached the coffee house, they spared no glances for the smattering of late-night and early morning patrons, instead heading straight for the back room.
What struck Page first was red. It didn’t seem possible that a single person could possibly contain so much blood, and yet enough had been shed to stain a large portion of the duvet as well as color patches of the wallpaper. The vampire was one she didn’t recognize, an ashen-faced young man with hair so pale it was nearly white. Armand was kneeling next to him, pressing a wad of stained and dripping cloth to the young man’s shoulder.
Nicholas moved quickly and efficiently, dropping to his knees beside Armand and reaching under the bed to remove a large black case in one movement. He popped the clasps on the case, opening it to reveal what appeared to Page to be an extremely well-stocked first aid kit stuffed with all manner of tubes and ointments. He dug through it for a few moments, setting aside a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a bag of cotton swabs, and a roll of gauze bandages.
Nicholas handed Page a large pair of scissors. “Cut off his shirt while Armand and I hold him.”
“What?” Page stared dumbly at him.
“He might think he’s being attacked, and you aren’t strong enough to hold him down for me.” Nicholas reached over and gripped the other vampire’s arms tightly. “Go.”
Page tried to cut through the man’s bloodstained t-shirt without thinking too hard about it. It had what looked like a heavy metal band’s logo on it – she didn’t recognize it, which somehow made it a little worse. The scissors finally sliced through the collar, and the cloth fell away, revealing three deep gouges in the man’s chest in addition to the wound on his shoulder.
“He clawed him and bit him,” Armand said faintly, voice vibrating with quiet rage. Nicholas grunted deep in his throat, as though not really paying attention. He dumped what seemed to Page to be an unnecessarily large amount of the rubbing alcohol onto the chest wounds, then motioned to Armand to remove the makeshift compress from the man’s shoulder.
Page struggled not to retch when she saw the bloodied wreck the compress had been hiding. Whole chunks of flesh had been ripped away, leaving a mangled mess where part of the man’s arm should have been.
“He’ll be able to heal,” Nicholas said. Page wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her, Armand, or the victim. “We’ll need to feed him, though.”
“The tank’s still at least half-full,” Armand said, beginning to stand. Nicholas halfway shook his head, expression conflicted.
“That blood’s been in there for at least a day or so,” Page said slowly, thinking aloud. “And let me guess – fresh is better.”
Nicholas nodded, not really looking at her.
“He was watching Janine because I put her in danger,” Page said matter-of-factly. “Do you have an IV in that kit of yours?”
It really wasn’t much different than going to a blood drive, Page mused. Nicholas had extracted a small packet which proved to hold what he called a “butterfly needle,” which was nowhere near as cute as the name suggested. Still, he managed to tap into a vein in the crook of Page’s arm easily, allowing the blood to flow into a plastic tube which ended in a steady drip just above the other vampire’s mouth.
“No more than twenty minutes,” Nicholas warned. “We can’t really measure how much you’ve bled, and I don’t want you fainting.”
Page agreed readily, occasionally glancing at the clock on her phone as her blood flowed. The vampire’s eyes had opened blearily around minute seven, his tongue flicking out to catch a stray droplet of blood that had started to flow down toward his chin. Page was a little startled to note that his eyes were brown – with hair and skin as fair as his, she’d expected him to have light blue eyes like Nicholas’s. After fifteen minutes, his eyes seemed to focus and he made noises deep in his throat like he was trying to talk, though Nicholas hurriedly hushed him. The brown eyes rolled with frustration, but he continued drinking through the drip until Nicholas finally pulled the needle out of Page’s arm, handing her a cotton swab to stem the tiny wound while he tipped the last of the blood in the tube into the vampire’s mouth. The chest wounds had already almost disappeared, leaving nothing but stains on his fair skin. The gouges in his shoulder seemed to be gradually knitting together as well, fresh skin and new flesh filling in the wound.
“I hadn’t been watching for him,” the vampire said as soon as he’d swallowed. “I was watching the girl. Janine. Had my laptop out, was just playing Starcraft while keeping an eye on her.” His eyes pleaded with Armand. “When Janine went off shift, I closed up and followed her for a bit. He was so big and I wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t expecting him to go after me first.”
Armand ruffled the vampire’s hair, a gesture that managed to be both ludicrous and touching, given the situation. “You did good, Sam,” he said. “It’s fine. Not your fault.”
“Did you see what happened to Janine?” Page asked, trying to keep desperation out of her voice.
Sam shook his head. “No. I’m sorry.”
The four of them sat in stunned silence for a few minutes. Armand hesitantly suggested putting together a search party, but then it was pointed out that the searchers wouldn’t know where to begin looking, or even if Janine actually had been abducted.
At that, Page brightened a little. “I could just call her,” she said, holding up her phone.
The point became moot, though, when her phone beeped. A new text, and a quick glance confirmed that it had come from Janine’s phone.
Page stared disbelieving at the words on her screen for almost a minute before finally reading them aloud in a voice that sounded hollow and dead:
&n
bsp; “Orchard Lane Warehouse. Bring Page before sunrise and Janine walks. Love, Donovan.”
“You aren’t going,” Nicholas said immediately.
“We can’t even guarantee that he’d let her go safely,” Armand added.
Page still hadn’t looked away from her phone, from the simple words that had sent her gut roiling in a potent mixture of anxiety, terror, and guilt. “Janine’s my friend.” And it’s my fault, came the treacherous thought. Van would never have bothered with her if you’d just—
Just what? Given in right away? Gone back to him as soon as he showed back up at her door after vanishing for years? Abandoned Nicholas?
“Maybe we can sneak her out,” Nicholas said to Armand.
“Not a chance.” Armand waved a hand in a vague gesture toward the window. “Moon’s still full. He’ll be jumping at the tiniest sounds and snapping if he so much as thinks he smells something off.”
The two men attempted to come up with a plan, ignoring Page entirely. Page, for her part, almost didn’t notice. She knew Donovan better than either of them, knew his rages and his conceits and probably even had a better understanding of his physical abilities. His weaknesses.
“Nicholas,” Page said suddenly, her voice cutting into the men’s half-whispered conversation. “Just how strong are you?”
“What? Why?”
“Because I think I have a plan.”
Nicholas didn’t like any plan that involved Page responding to the summons, though he and Armand had been forced to admit that they couldn’t come up with anything better. Not without more time, and every moment brought the sun a little closer to rising.
As she and Nicholas made their preparations to leave, Armand pressed something cold and smooth into her palm. Page started, her fingers closing around the little glass vial.
“Wolfsbane,” Armand said, his features cast faintly with disgust. “I keep some around just. . .just in case. Use it only if you have to.”
“What’s it do?” Page asked, eying the innocuous bit of greenery encased in the vial.
“You don’t want to know.”
With that, he ushered Nicholas and Page out of the back room, barely giving Page time to tuck the vial into her pocket. Sam had managed to sit up on his own, and the toothmarks on his shoulder had almost disappeared completely. “Be careful,” he called.
Nicholas gripped Page’s hand tightly, nearly crushing her fingers with worry. He didn’t relinquish his grip until they had to briefly part ways to get into his car. The warehouse wasn’t far away, but if everything went well, they’d need the vehicle.
Actually, Page thought grimly, we’ll need it if everything blows up in our faces, too.
The warehouse was a nondescript tin bunker-like building down by the river. It had been abandoned as long as Page could remember, and its rusting walls were layered with what seemed like generations’ worth of graffiti. Its few windows had long since been boarded up, and the boards were now patchy with grey moss.
Nicholas parked the car within a few steps of the door of the warehouse, hesitated, then stowed the keys under the driver’s seat. He locked eyes for a moment with Page and seemed to be on the verge of saying something. Whatever it was, he let it die unsaid and settled for kissing her mouth tenderly.
Page gave his pale hand one last reassuring squeeze before climbing out of the car and walking resolutely toward the sliding door of the warehouse. The rusting chain and padlock which had secured it had been twisted apart and lay on the concrete as useless as the bits of glass which crunched under Page’s shoes. Her mouth had gone dry and she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. The pounding increased to a roar as she peered inside the door, her eyes encountering nothing but pitch-black darkness.
“Donovan!” she called. It came out as more of a croak. She swallowed heavily. “Van! I’m here.”
The blow came without warning, a heavy blunt weight to her left temple that sent her reeling into the darkness. Red spots exploded in front of her eyes as she rolled further away from the entrance. She patted the ground around her frantically, trying to regain her bearings, ignoring the fragments of glass that cut into her fingers. Her hands encountered a warm body – a slim face and long, tangled hair.
“Janine?” Page whispered. The form was terrifyingly still, but her breath felt warm and moist on Page’s palm. The other woman let out a stifled sob. “Can you walk?”
“I don’t think so, Page.” It was Janine, though her voice sounded thick and muffled, as though she were speaking around cotton. That she could talk at all came as a relief to Page.
A light flared in the door, painfully bright to Page’s addled vision. The lantern-style camping flashlight was one of Armand’s, used in the coffee house when the power went out. It was bright enough to send vivid yellow light through one end of the warehouse, crates and hanging chains casting dark, sinister shadows over the concrete floor.
Nicholas was squinting through the light. He adjusted his glasses, shoving them a little further up on his nose. He still saw Van before Page did, and managed to set the lantern down before the werewolf attacked.
Van was fully transformed, a giant misshapen hulk of fur and teeth that was only nominally bipedal. Next to him, Nicholas seemed thin and fragile. In fact, Van’s weight bowled him over, the two tumbling over the floor.
Page saw her opening and grabbed Janine under her arms, hauling her bodily toward the door. Janine whimpered again but pushed against the floor with one leg so the two women could scuttle along that much faster. For an instant, Page was grateful for the discolored, flickering light. It meant she didn’t have to see just how badly Janine was hurt.
They’d almost reached the door when Page heard an anguished howl from Van. She dove over Janine’s prone body, hoping desperately that Janine would keep crawling away. She landed badly, the concrete floor scraping painfully against her bandaged arm, but she’d gotten Van’s attention away from the door.
That was the thing, with a fully-transformed werewolf on the night of a full moon. The man within might still think he was in control, and to an extent this was correct. But it was the same sort of shaky control logic retains over a mind sodden with alcohol. The wolf was strong, predatory instincts surging toward the surface of consciousness.
To the wolf, the women were prey rather than prizes.
And a wolf could not keep its mind on more than one prey at a time.
Van had never liked admitting his own limitations, and thus had holed himself up in the warehouse alone. Nevertheless, he was still much stronger than Page, and he lifted her with one massive hairy hand which tightened inexorably around her throat. Page clawed uselessly at him, gasping and gurgling for air, darkness eating away at the corners of her vision.
A loud impact seemed to shatter her hearing, and she was dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Blinking furiously and clutching her throat, she looked up to see the remains of a broken crate scattered around her. Van was crouching nearby, seemingly stunned, while Nicholas’s arms were still half-raised in a throwing motion.
“Page, run!” he cried, leaping to get between her and the beast.
Page turned for the door and ran, footsteps echoing hugely in the warehouse. Behind her, she heard a frenzy of snarls from Van, followed by the dull thuds of flesh against flesh.
Janine had kept crawling past the door and had nearly reached the car. Page threw the door open and pushed the driver’s seat forward, hauling Janine into the tiny back seat where she could at least almost remain lying down.
“My leg,” Janine said weakly. Page glanced down. One leg of Janine’s jeans was dark and mottled with blood, the ripped fabric revealing a mess of open flesh.
“It’ll be fine,” Page said. She moved to get into the driver’s seat, ready to get as much distance as possible between them and Van. That hadn’t been part of her original plan, but it had been the one alteration to it that Nicholas had insisted upon. She was to use the time he took to fight Van to get away. Sh
e’d gotten as far as pulling the keys out from under the seat when an all-too-human cry of pain cut through the air.
Nicholas.
Page tossed her phone onto Janine’s lap. “Call an ambulance,” she ordered before running back to the warehouse.
Inside, Van had Nicholas pinned to the floor. His jaws lolled open, seeking to fasten around Nicholas’s throat. Nicholas had his hands locked on Van’s open maw, but his arms trembled with the strain of holding the werewolf back. A trickle of blood slid down Nicholas’s white arm.
Page pulled the vial from her pocket, tugging frantically at the cork. The noise caught Van’s attention, and he jerked his head up, nearly dislodging Nicholas’s grip. He growled and tried to lunge at her, but Nicholas still wouldn’t let go, acting as an anchor to the monster.
The cork finally popped free, and Page flung the vial and its precious contents directly at Donovan.
Van howled as the wolfsbane hit his face, the sound so great that it seemed to make the whole building rattle. He pawed frantically at his eyes as though Page had thrown hot ash in his face. She could smell burning hair and seared flesh. Nicholas took advantage of Van’s distraction and pulled the beast into a choke hold, slowly dragging him toward the door.
He slammed the wolf’s head into the ground, ignoring the shrill cries of pain Van gave with each fresh blow.
“Stop!” Page said, then clapped a hand to her mouth. She couldn’t believe it. Van had kidnapped Janine, nearly torn Sam to pieces, and even attacked her and Nicholas. Yet here she was crying for mercy.
Nicholas obeyed, though he kept his arms taut around Van’s throat.
Page approached cautiously, making sure to keep out of Van’s immediate range. Part of her wanted to scream at him, to condemn him for daring to invade her life, for attacking her and her friends. But suddenly she just felt massively tired. “I want you to leave,” she said. “I never want to hear from you or see you ever again.”
Nicholas tightened his grip a little, enough to make the werewolf wheeze for breath. “We’ll know if you don’t leave town,” he said, voice calm and even. His glasses had gotten knocked off in the fight and his blue eyes were strangely intent. “You made a mistake, thinking I couldn’t see in the dark. We all can and we have eyes everywhere. If you ever so much as touch Page again. . .” he leaned a little more weight on the wolf’s windpipe. “Well, I’m sure you understand by now.”