by R. E. Carr
“Sit!” he commanded. The werewolf made a puppyish whine and plopped his hairy butt on the ground. Steve raised a bloody, fuzzy palm. “Stay!”
“We’ve got an even bigger problem,” Gail said as she helped Steve to his feet. “I really hope that your whammy voice works on Paige.”
Headlights nearly blinded the vampires as a van tore into the lot. Gail waved furiously towards the vehicle. The side door tore open, and Toy and Kyle both came rushing from opposite directions towards the disaster zone—each brandishing a gun and looking appropriately terrified.
“Kyle, it’s Paige—” Gail started. The redheaded giant shoved past her, sending terrible pain through her ribs. “Be careful!”
Toy’s gaze darted between the unconscious monster and the other werewolf whimpering in the corner. She sniffed the air. “Oh, my lord, who the fuck vomited all over the place?”
Nadia finally got out of the car. She unloaded a clip of tranquilizer darts into the sitting werewolf. The hairy beast toppled over, landing with a mighty thud. She then turned her attention to Williams, taking his pulse and checking the swelling where Gail had bludgeoned him. Gail took a moment to peel open Steve’s shirt. Three nasty gashes cut a swath over his heart, but the vampire inside him had already bubbled up to seal the wound.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be,” she said softly.
“I get that a lot,” he replied with a pathetic smile. His jaw dropped as he looked past Gail and into the shadows of the restaurant shell. “Holy—”
A strange whimpering sounded from the shadows as Kyle emerged from the darkness carrying a squirming, mewling little thing in his bloodied arms. Red and white checkered fabric wrapped up most of the bundle of joy, but Gail could clearly see a tiny human face nestled in there. Nadia bolted past the vampires and rushed to take the baby out of Kyle’s arms. Even her normally impassive face melted at the first sight of a teensy little hand.
“Is . . . is that—?” Gail stammered.
“Gail! Need help in here,” Kyle barked as he motioned her inside. “And bring the hammer.”
“Excuse me?” she asked. She started for the doorway, but the moment her hand crossed the threshold, a burning sensation radiated from her fingertips. She began to cough and wheeze as fresh pain wracked her already bruised body with each breath. She stumbled away. “T-toxic,” she gasped as she scrambled clear of whatever death cloud filled the dining room. She heard another snarl, then the whoosh of darts firing, then . . . silence.
Gail faltered, coughing and choking until she could brace herself against the van. She surveyed the devastation and wonder of everything as a snarling Nadia held the infant, while Toy rushed in to help Kyle. Soon three other stunned people emerged from the scene, with Maria DeMarco running straight for Nadia. Her jaw dropped as the purple-haired werewolf handed her a perfectly human-looking baby.
“Is this . . . my . . . but where is . . . where . . . is?” Maria choked out. Nadia looked towards the mess. Tears welled in Maria’s eyes as she clutched the infant. She then glared at Steve. “And where were you in all this? You have a lot to explain, Grandpa. That is still you, isn’t it? Can’t you take off that ridiculous . . .?” She stopped and began sobbing. Steve walked over and awkwardly hugged them both while Gail curled up, alone.
“What the hell is happening now?” she asked, even though no one seemed to notice her nor care amid all the chaos.
18
“Chaos seems to follow us everywhere, but I suppose that is inevitable. You can’t try to impose a perfect order without invoking a perfect response.”
There was a beep to one side, an intermittent yet incessant beep. To the right was a whooshing sound, either a ventilator or someone crushing boxes over and over. Georgia couldn’t make out much more than a mix of chemical smells and a blurry figure occasionally passing through her rather limited field of vision. The chemical smells mixed with a mineral and plastic taste as she felt painful implements poking into her fuzzy mouth. She attempted a cough, but it ended up barely more than a wheeze. The blur with dark eyes peered at her intently again.
“Oh, hey! I can’t believe you are still with us. Infection almost got you, you know. You are very strong for a human. Are you sure you are human?” the mysterious voice asked.
“Ugh,” sort of resembled the moist sound Georgia could conjure. She tried her best to give the middle finger to whatever was harassing her now, but could only wiggle a couple of fingers on her left hand. She thought she could see a possible smile in reply—that, or the creature was merely baring his teeth at her.
“Anyway, since I have an audience for the first time in ages, I thought we could talk. Just let me know if it’s too much for you. Oh? Nothing . . . good! It’s so nice to have a captive audience. You know, this may just move me to sing.”
The creature began caterwauling in some ancient tongue. The reverberating melody reminded her of the intro to some sort of fantasy video game, albeit a video game with low production values and a cat in heat screaming over the score. Still, the music drowned out the horrendous beeping, and Georgia fell into a fitful sleep again as the wailing progressed.
Her eyes snapped open as she smelled something burning. Georgia bolted awake and marveled at her lack of tubes, stitches, and bandages. A messy braid fell all the way down to her butt, and she wore a little white shift that would have looked more at home in a Ren Faire than other aspects of modern life. The snap, crackle, and pop in the room came from a massive fireplace. “I know this place,” she whispered as she took in the ornate carving on the bed and the musty, earthy smell from the walls. “Pendragon . . . Castle?”
She rolled out of bed and curled her toes into an actual bearskin rug. Distant sounds of off-key singing led her to lean against the door and listen closely. “I must be dreaming,” she muttered as she flipped her annoying mass of hair over her shoulder. “Well, I’ve already dreamed of ancient Egypt, what’s a little medieval times?”
“Gwen?”
The voice came from behind the door. “Just a minute!” she replied as she looked around the room for something a little more modest. She looked in a cupboard and saw a row of frighteningly girly and complicated-looking garments. She heard the key turning in the lock, so she grabbed a red number that looked like it would pull overhead. Just as she was stuck with her head and one arm still buried in fabric, a pair of strong hands took the liberty of helping her. A pair of bemused green eyes awaited her once she emerged.
“What the hell are you doing in my hallucination?” Georgia asked the grinning Lorcan, who had the audacity to cop a feel before lacing up her dress. “I have had some pretty intense vampire fantasies, I won’t lie—but none of them involved you.”
Lorcan responded by grabbing her and shoving her against the side of her closet. As he kissed her roughly, there was a distinct lack of fangs pressing into her lip, and she felt a decidedly human warmth radiating from his pounding heart. “Who are you?” she gasped as she finally pushed free.
“The vampires, they think you belong to them and them alone,” the still-human Lorcan said softly, touching the side of her face. “But you and I know the truth deep in our hearts, don’t we? Gwen, you are so much stronger than they give you credit for. Remember that, please.”
“My name . . . is Georgia,” she replied as the whole world began to spin.
“Do you have a name I can call you, human?”
Georgia gurgled unintelligibly as she awoke back in her hospital bed. The blurry monster leaned in, so she could see his dark eyes and baby-smooth skin. “What was that? I didn’t quite get it—oh! You have a tube down your throat, don’t you?”
Georgia rolled her eyes. As her vision cleared she came to the horrible realization that her visitor seemed to be naked, at least to the waist. She gave a choked gag. This prompted her visitor to turn and walk away, giving her a perfect view of his shiny, bare bottom. The stranger picked up a tablet from near the door. He rubbed his smooth head and gazed thoughtfully a
t the screen. “This here says your name is George . . . sorry, is that Georgia?”
Georgia moaned in agreement. The stranger beamed as he turned back to face her. Georgia’s eyes instinctively peeked downwards, where she discovered the stranger only wore a ribbed red and white gym sock for modesty—Red Hot Chili Peppers style. She quickly looked up to try and make sense of his foreign, almost-alien mix of facial features.
“Why, pleased to meet you, Georgia! I’m . . . um . . . I’m afraid I don’t quite remember who I am anymore. It’s been so long since anyone has been able to see me that I really don’t know what to tell you. I think I was someone important, once upon a time, but now I mostly wander about, listening to other people’s adventures. I’m so glad I picked up English a while back, otherwise this conversation would be rather pointless. You do speak English, don’t you?”
She moaned again. He smiled so wide she could see his impressive fangs. His smile faded at the sound of approaching footsteps. He retreated into a shadowy corner. “Be back soon. Try not to mention me, OK?” the sock monster warned her amicably before disappearing completely from view.
The door opened, and a more familiar vampire stepped into her sightlines. Georgia made a mix of gurgles and growls as Merlin himself peeked inside to examine the same tablet the sock monster had studied. He looked extremely perturbed as he locked eyes with Georgia, then let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, all while muttering something in a language she couldn’t understand.
“You do realize that you are dead, don’t you, girl?” he asked. “Why don’t you make it easier for all of us and act like it?”
She gurgled her best attempt at, “Fuck you.”
Merlin smiled passively and sat by her bedside. “Your funeral was today, you know. It was truly sad how few people showed up. I mean, your fake parents and your fake ex-father, and a few other annoying humans made an appearance. I think one of them was even a man dressed as a woman. Does it comfort or terrify you that they are sprinkling some of your ashes around Fenway Park?”
Georgia looked away. Merlin broke into deep, throaty laughter. “You know who didn’t bother showing up to your little show? You do, don’t you? Arthur forgot about you, child, and Ren had neither the will nor the ability to move him otherwise. Anyway, the longer you insist on lingering like this, the more painful it’s going to become.”
He went through the motions of checking all the machines attached to her, changing her bandages, and injecting something into her IV line. “Well, I’ll be damned,” was the last thing she heard before drifting back off to sleep.
“How bad is it?” Gail asked, looking at the array of tubing connected to the sunken, bandaged form of Paige. Kyle and Dr. Nakano both carefully monitored the trio of patients all strapped into makeshift beds at the Biogenesys Lab urgent care clinic. The sheriff had cleared out all human staff not directly under her control and restocked the medical supplies with the best that could be airlifted into Nashville during a state of emergency.
A terrible wailing answered her from the next room. Kyle continued to work on Paige while Dr. Nakano alternated between the hollow, glassy-eyed Bernard, and the battered, sagging form of the comatose Williams. “I know she’s regenerated two fingers before, but I’m pretty sure an arm is a little tougher,” Gail could barely hear Kyle saying. “Right now, she has nothing in the bank.”
“Gail, can you help me here, or are your ribs too bad?” Dr. Nakano asked as she listened to William’s chest. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Tom sputtered, red spittle staining his lips. Gail hurried over and listened to the horrible gurgling coming from one side of his chest. “Kyle, I think he’s got a punctured lung, can we switch?”
The doctors played round robin, trying their best to keep three werewolves alive, and by the end of the day, Gail found herself sweat-soaked, bloodied, and in pain. She finally stumbled into the breakroom, where she found Maria and the still-shapeshifted Steve taking turns walking while bouncing a non-stop bundle of noise. Maria paled as she saw the stains on Gail’s scrubs.
Both looked frantically at Gail. “Any news at all?” Steve asked.
“I need a drink. Gimme a second,” she said, going straight to the fridge. Sodas and sandwiches had been replaced with rows of baby formula and bags upon bags of human blood. One pile read “For Human Use Only.” Gail made sure to grab one from the other shelf.
“None of them are doing that well, I’m sorry. Paige’s arm was shredded so badly that it had to be amputated at the elbow, and she was burned all down her left side. Right now, she’s getting as many fluids as she can absorb, and she has a feeding tube inserted in the hopes of recovering enough calories for her regeneration to kick in.”
“Will she . . .?” Maria sniffled a little. “Please, just tell me the truth.”
“Right now, it’s touch-and-go. She is very weak, but Kyle is doing everything he can to give her the best possible chance to recover. Bernard is doing the best. He’s badly burned but regained consciousness about a half hour ago. Williams and Antonova are both in comas. How is, um . . . the baby?”
“This little guy doesn’t know the meaning of the word sleep, does he?” Steve cooed to the crying fellow. “And his first diaper was unspeakable, wasn’t it?”
“I think it was blood,” Maria added. “Normally I’d be worried, but, all things considered . . .” She shrugged. “He’s eating like a horse, but he simply won’t sleep.”
The baby wailed again. Gail stared at him as she slurped her much-needed drink. The little guy yawned and stared back at Gail with sleepy blue eyes. Steve made the mistake of stopping his bouncing, and the little one perked up and started to scream again. Maria snatched him and started to walk and bounce once more. Finally, the magic mix of Grandma plus a new bottle brought blessed silence to the breakroom.
“Does he have a name?” Gail asked.
“Paige will give him one when she wakes up,” Maria said. “He looks so much like she did as a baby, you know.”
“Is it weird that I think he looks like a tiny, strangely adorable Lorcan?” Steve asked. “Boy, is he gonna be in for a surprise when he gets back.”
“Has there been any word?”
Maria eased into a chair and shook her head. Steve took a moment to finally look at his phone. “There were two gas main explosions in Nashville. Only ten injured and no deaths, but the authorities have not yet determined if it is a design flaw or an act of terror. I wonder how mommy dearest plans to spin it? The repair crews and bomb squad are still scouring Nashville. Amazingly, there is nothing about a restaurant nearly burning down on the west side of town.”
“Kevin,” Gail growled. “I am happy to report that he is in agony. He’s more hives and burns than actual skin, and I get the impression that he is melting from the inside.”
“You aren’t . . . helping him, are you?” Steve asked incredulously.
“At this point, helping him would be pulling the plug. I’m not at all sorry to say I’ve just been too busy to lift a finger for him. But he is alive—mostly—so the sheriff can’t say I tried to kill him.”
“Another small explosive was found near the Parthenon. Damn—that asshole had some serious balls,” Steve said, still scrolling. “What a mess. Hey, is that Jonathan guy really some sort of first responder type, or is mommy dearest just trying to keep him out of the way?”
“I know he did a lot of work for the sheriff, mostly the hunting people down and shooting kind of thing, but it wasn’t something that came up in everyday conversation.”
“What doesn’t come up in everyday conversation?” a cold voice asked from the doorway. “My conversations recently have been quite unusual, to say the least.”
Everyone stiffened at the sight of an innocuous-looking old lady in a lavender track suit. A giant of a man with coffee-colored skin and wearing quite a lot of bling followed her, his head lowered. The sheriff nodded to Gail and Steve dismissively, and instead zeroed in on the baby in Maria’s
arms.
“I’m going to need that child,” the sheriff said flatly.
“Over my dead body,” Maria replied.
“That can be arranged quite easily.”
Steve stepped between them. “Look, we’ve just spent all day trying to get that little guy to sleep. I don’t care if you are some ancient vampire, you back off now, and let the baby sleep.” His voice echoed in Gail’s ears, just as Mina’s had earlier. Both the sheriff and Mr. Sugar took pointed steps back.
“Impressive, boy. But don’t ever do that to me again, if you know what’s good for you.”
All of them stared, confused, no one knowing quite how to start the conversation back up again. Finally, the more diplomatic Mr. Sugar offered up, “Mr. Dean and the others are on their way back. I am certain he will be eager to see both Paige and the baby, especially after the last twenty-four hours. I believe we have managed to thwart most of our former compatriots’ misguided plans.”
“Yes, speaking of Kevin and Zenya,” the sheriff said with a sigh, “What has become of them?”
“Come with me,” Gail said and led them to the last room in the clinic where Rikuto Nakano served as the current watchdog to the unconscious patients. Dr. Antonova spasmed occasionally with low blood pressure and a slow pulse, while what little was left of Kevin was wrapped in plastic to keep him from dripping too much onto the floor. He no longer breathed, only gurgled from time to time.
“What sort of weapon did this to him?” the sheriff asked softly. “Or was he simply torn apart by too many splinters? Kane, find out everything that you can.”
Mr. Sugar nodded curtly and left the women alone in the room. The sheriff looked back at Rikuto. “Leave us,” she commanded.
“I’d do it,” Gail said, squeezing the obviously shaken human’s shoulder. He too gave a little nod and slipped outside. The sheriff gave a sly glance to Gail.