I could see every detail of the tunnel we were in. The mildewing smell was stronger, but somehow it wasn't as offensive as it had been before. I was dead. Mold and mildew were just trappings of that fact. I walked along the wall, examining the structure, a mixture of stone and brick. They were sealed, but the clay used to do the job had white growth on it. Bugs made tunnels through the material, which could never properly dry-out in the damp, dark corridor.
My nose prickled. I caught the scent of copper, sweet and tangy. It was coming from the floor. I crouched down and noticed a splash of blood. It wasn't my own. It was Gilchrist's.
Rawdon sat, propped against the foul wall. His shirt couldn't get any worse, what with the holes and the dried blood. Even Cody's blood had started to dry and turn to the color of rust. How long had it been? How long had I stayed down? Rawdon smiled at me and held out a hand, beckoning me to join him.
“Come, my love,” he said. “Come sit with me.”
I stopped, standing at his side and crinkled my nose at the wet ground below. Rawdon patted it with a pale hand. “You'll get used to dirt. We'll have to spend some time below ground before we can find a new lair.”
The idea of buying a house, painting the windows black, and moving in with Rawdon like a happy family was one that I couldn't swallow. If Rawdon and I made it out of this tunnel, I would be resigned to a life drinking blood out of plastic bags and sleeping in a basement all day. I would be stuck with him.
I had loved Cody. He was the most sane human being I had ever met. He was sweet and intelligent and good to me. The sex had been fantastic. I had run scared at the idea of spending a normal human lifespan with Cody, and now I was trapped for eternity with Rawdon.
I needed to find Gilchrist.
Rawdon had other ideas. I had never seen him this way, but then again, I had only met him eleven nights ago. Talk about a quick rush into a long commitment. Gilchrist's plan to drug the vampire had worked. He reached over and pressed his hand into my thigh. I pushed him away. “I'm hungry,” I said. “I need food.”
“You need blood,” he corrected.
“I need blood, and I need to get out of this tunnel,” I said. “We can celebrate later.” At least I had my focus back, even if I had a much, much bigger problem now.
“Kendall,” he said, whining like a horny teenager. “Show me how much you love me.”
“Later,” I said. I took a deep breath to steel myself, and then realized that it was useless now. I would never need to breathe again. “Right now, we need to solve our Gilchrist problem, before he gets away. Or,” I added, “Would you prefer he stumbles upon us and stakes us while we're compromised?”
Rawdon smiled, “The risk might be thrilling.”
“What are you, sixteen?” I asked. I stood up. The temptation to go lick the blood off of the floor was surprisingly strong. I supposed it wouldn't be so bad, eating off of this horrid floor. At least I couldn't get sick from it.
“Fine,” Rawdon said. “We'll kill Gilchrist, and you can have his blood. I'm full, anyway.”
Yeah, of my blood. I looked ahead down the tunnel, but there was no sign of my ally. How far in had he hidden?
“You know what we should do after we kill him?”
“I know what you're going to say.”
“We should fuck on his corpse.”
It turned out, I didn't know what he was going to say. I stared at him, unblinking, wondering how I ever could have found him attractive. My knowledge of him had transformed him from a handsome man into a monster in under two weeks. I was never going to be like that, I decided. Rawdon was evil.
“Let's just find him first. We can decide the rest later.” The idea of drinking Gilchrist's blood was starting to appeal to me, but I knew it couldn't happen. He was a blunt asshole, sure, but he was the only one who could save me from Rawdon. I was a fledgling vampire. I had no idea of my own strength yet, or how to use it. I wondered how fast I could run.
Rawdon started off down the tunnel. His gait was relaxed as he lead the way. “Use your nose, Kendall,” he said. “Follow the scent of blood.”
It was surprisingly easy to pick up even the smallest traces of blood in the tunnel. It was like my nose was callibrated to its coppery twinge. I walked quietly after Rawdon, my eyes focused on his back, directing my hatred towards him. He had killed me. He had actually killed me, and he thought of it as an act of love. There was still a large hole in the back of his shirt. The edges of that hole were crusted in black blood, but the skin revealed behind it was flawless. My death had healed his wounds.
We walked for a long time in silence. I noticed, as we continued further down the tunnel, that his gait became more steady. The drug was wearing off. I stewed in my hatred for him, wishing he had passed by me that night as I was held at gunpoint. I might have survived that. I could have parted with my iPhone and my car more easily than my life.
“Oh... your brother, Noah, called,” he said, not looking back over his shoulder.
“Noah,” I repeated. “Did you speak to him?”
“You didn't tell me that your brother's a Mandrake.”
“A what?”
“Gay,” he said. “Though I can't blame you. In my time, it was something to be hidden. The fact that they flaunt it now is shameful.”
I bit down on my tongue. Telling Rawdon that he came from a backwards time was not going to help Noah, and it certainly wouldn't help me.
“I told him you were sleeping. He asked who I was.”
“What, exactly, did you tell him?”
“That I was taking you away. He kept calling back, so I decided to turn off your phone.”
“Oh,” I said. Maybe I could sneak a text and find out if Cody was alive. “Can I have my phone?” I asked.
Rawdon stopped and turned back. He handed my iPhone back to me. The screen was fractured, like something had struck the middle. “What happened to it?”
“I couldn't figure out how to turn it off, so I broke it.” He smiled. “Twenty-first century technology. Not all of it's as user-friendly as it should be.” He turned back and kept walking.
I tried to turn the phone on, to see if it would work despite the cracked display. He must have pushed so hard that he damaged the chip set inside. I shoved it in my pocket, murmuring swears, and kept walking. Now I understood the situation perfectly. Even if I thought my family would understand my new condition, he wasn't going to let me see them again.
“You should have waited,” I finally said. Neither of us stopped walking. Rawdon didn't look back. “If you left me human, I could have made it much easier to relocate. I could drive by daylight, shop for a house, and then when we were settled you could turn me.”
“I had to be sure you wouldn't change your mind,” he said. “I wasn't given the chance to have doubts. This gift was given to me by force.”
“You used to talk about it like it was unwanted.”
“Only because I thought it would stop me from being with you.”
Of course. Typical. He had said just what was necessary to get in my pants.
“I've really have had quite a spectacular life, Kendall. And now you can be part of it.” He walked on, telling me about feeding off of the already dying men on the battlefields of the Great War, about the parties of the roaring twenties, and about getting to witness the great change in the art world with the birth of the avante garde.
“I've lived through some of the most important changes in history. I've witnessed them first-hand. Did you know that when I was born, we didn't even have a term for a scientist? And now mankind can go to the moon and send cameras to Mars. Just think of all of the things we'll see. We'll see them together.”
“Will I have the same powers as you?” I asked.
“You will,” he said. “Your abilities are directly determined by your sire. You were created from a great lineage. None of that ugly nonsense of turning into bats. Our line is one of the ones best equipped to hiding among humans.”
Ra
wdon stopped at an intersection of tunnels. “Which way?” he asked me. He was testing me, training me. I pointed down the left tunnel. It was short and it ended at a stairway. “Good. Your senses are sharp.”
I hadn't expected him to go hide this far away. What if he wasn't hiding in the tunnel at all? What if he had abandoned me? Maybe he wasn't planning to rescue me. What if he had laid a trail of blood to draw us further into the tunnel and then planted explosives to kill us both? What if I wasn't bait, so much as a sacrifice?
Rawdon turned to me. He brought his voice below a whisper, but I could still hear it. “Should Gilchrist be waiting at the end of this tunnel, stay behind me. You have not learned your strength and speed. It is dangerous for you. If he pulls out a UV gun, stay out of the light.
“What about you?” I asked.
“I've dodged Gilchrist for fifteen years. I'm not worried. I'll end this tonight.”
Gilchrist hadn't actually told me where he would be hiding. I wondered if he had done this to stop me from spilling the beans while I was doped up. Now that my mind was sharp, I wished he had left more specific instructions of what to do after Rawdon had freed me from my binds.
"Alright," I said. If Gilchrist was there, I had a decision to make. Did I help him fight Rawdon or stay in the shadows. If Gilchrist lost, and I had raised a hand to help him, I knew that Rawdon would put me down in the most painful way possible. Of course, if I helped Gilchrist, he stood a much better chance. It all came down to this: would I prefer to survive with Rawdon for eternity or perish for good?
Rawdon pulled me close and kissed me. Once again, I pretended to enjoy the romantic gesture. He needed to think I was on his side until the last possible moment. "I love you," he whispered, "Forever."
"I know," I replied, in Han Solo fashion.
Rawdon whipped around and ran down the tunnel, moving at a blurred speed. A sudden rumble ripped through the tunnel. It was the portable generator that Gilchrist had brought into our hotel room the night before. Rawdon was fast. His foot found the generator before it could create enough juice to power the elaborate UV lighting rig that Gilchrist had set up around the tunnel. It skidded along the ground, crashed into a wall, and lay silent, leaking pungent gasoline. The filaments in the light bulbs flickered and went out.
A much smaller light kicked on from a nook by the bottom of the stairs. It was Gilchrist's UV curing gun. The gun was drawn in the dark, but Rawdon caught Gilchrist's wrist and pointed it skyward before it flicked on. The beam of light fell on the ceiling. Rawdon reached up with his other hand, careful not to touch the beam of cool light, and crushed the device with his hand.
With Rawdon's hands both occupied, Gilchrist took the opportunity to make another attack. The vampire hunter wore an aparatus on his head that looked a lot like binoculars strapped to his face-- night vision goggles. A dagger sank into Rawdon's side, coming nowhere near his heart. His fangs sprang out and he hissed like an angry cat. Gilchrist lunged forward, and the men rolled onto the ground. Rawdon had the advantage of sight.
In seconds Rawdon had taken the top position, holding Gilchrist down and wrapping his fingers around his neck. Gilchrist socked him hard in the jaw. Rawdon didn't recoil. His neck stayed steady as his jaw dislocated. There was a vulgar crunch, the sound of Gilchrist's fingers breaking with the impact.
Rawdon paused and used his thumb to set his jaw back into place. Gilchrist's knuckles were bloodied; the smell of it made my senses go haywire. I was so hungry. He swung at Rawdon again, but the vampire's superior reflexes gave him the edge. He caught Gilchrist's fist and twisted, exposing the inside of the hunter's wrist. He bit down. Gilchrist screamed. Rawdon pulled back and spat the blood out on the stone floor.
Gilchrist laughed. "Garlic," he said. He must have ingested it after leaving me in the tunnel. He drew a stake from a strap on his leg. Rawdon caught his wrist and squeezed it until Gilchrist's dropped the stake.
The struggle didn't go on for long after that. Rawdon had superior strength and speed. He pinned Gilchrist's hands and hissed in his face. “I'm going to kill you slowly,” he said. Gilchrist kicked his feet, but was unable to make Rawdon flinch. Then his boot hit the stake and it skittered across the floor, stopping at my feet. I realized his plan.
It was my turn.
I crouched down slowly and picked up the stake. I was staring fixedly at the off-center hole in Rawdon's shirt. I knew that if I could hit it, I would be right on target. How hard did you have to push to drive a stake through a body?
Rawdon was pressing his thumbs into Gilchrist's collarbones. I heard a crack and Gilchrist screamed. It was now or never. I couldn't let Rawdon turn around and see me holding it.
My footsteps were masked by Gilchrist's cries. I bent my knees, lowering my center of gravity, raised the stake high above my head, and with my eyes trained on the flesh beneath the hole, I struck.
I guess I didn't know my own strength. The stake went through him, only stopping when the heel of my hand pressed against his cold, pale flesh. Rawdon stopped, frozen for the second time in a week. Gilchrist stopped screaming as soon as he realized that Rawdon was defeated. It had been an act to keep him distracted, though the broken collarbone was real.
He shoved the body off of him and stood up. Gilchrist drew the scimitar that hung off of his belt. “Back up,” he said.
“Are you alright?”
“I'll live. Back up.”
Gilchrist raised the sword high in the air and brought it down on Rawdon's neck. I looked away at contact. A squishing crack, a thump, and then silence. When I looked down, Rawdon's head lay three feet away from his body, face down in a puddle of blood on the floor. I stepped forward.
“Back up!” Gilchrist barked.
My confusion was only momentary. The first thing to change was the temperture of the room. My body might have been cold, but I could still tell when the temperature suddenly plummeted ten degrees. The shift was followed by a low hissing. Rawdon's head rolled onto its back, and his eyes looked up at me. His mouth opened, his fangs bared, and then black tendrils like smoke and shadows poured past his lips. The darkness that poured forth from his disembodied head was so complete that even my vampire eyes couldn't penetrate it. The hissing turned into a scream, and the room was covered in absolute, unnatural darkness.
The blackness quickly twisted and spiraled, forming into a cyclone of evil energy with a human face. Rawdon, like a shade, floated in the tunnel between Gilchrist and I. He lunged forward, hissing and screaming at Gilchrist and then dissolved into nothing.
I looked down and realized that the corpse was gone. A puddle of blood, blood that had once been mine, was all that remained.
“Shit,” I finally said.
“It's not as bad as it looks,” he said. “But I'd have hated for you to be standing right over him when it happened. I've seen men with more steel than you pass out.
“He's gone?” I asked.
“For good. He's passed on to hell.”
I stared at the puddle of blood for a long time. Everything was changed now, all because of a man that I had hardly known. I could never go back to that house in Cheyenne, living with Geneva and working for that pack of stuffy old lawyers. I didn't have a fortune like Rawdon had, and I knew that after the trauma of this week, Geneva and Cody would not accept me as I was. I would have to figure it out. First I would need to figure out where I was sleeping.
Gilchrist went to his bag, tucked away in the little alcove that he had hidden in. He unzipped the main pouch and pulled out a large square of cloth.
“So the UV lights,” I asked. “did you plan for him to break them all along?”
“It would have been nice to get him right there, but yeah, I figured it might not work. I was pretty sure I'd need you to stake him by surprise. It's hard to kill a vampire if you don't get the drop on it.”
I watched him fold the square in half along the diagonal and tie a knot with the opposite ends. He sipped it over his head and fitted the cloth as
a sling. “Glad the fucker only broke one of them. 'Course my other shoulder will bruise, but I can handle a little black and blue.”
“Are you going home now?” I asked, “To your wife?”
Gilchrist nodded. “For a while. Right now I don't have any leads, and I'll need to rest up and heal. I could really go for her chicken parmesan right now.”
I was hungry, but the thought of chicken parmesan seemed as unsettling as the idea of eating mud. I nodded. “It's been a long night. We could use some rest.”
Gilchrist walked over to the puddle of blood. In the middle of it sat the stake I had used to paralyze Rawdon. He picked it up, getting blood all over his hands, and shook it until it no longer dripped. Then he slipped it into his bag and started packing up his things.
“You keep the stake?” I asked.
“Sure. It's the only trophy left.” Gilchrist laid the scimitar on top of the crossbows and extra UV guns before zipping it up. He raised a flashlight and turned it on. I winced.
“My eyes were just getting adjusted to the dark,” I said.
“We need to mask the blood,” he said. “In case someone comes down here.”
I held the flashlight while Gilchrist used an old scrap of wood to spread the blood around the floor like jam on bread. When it was reasonably thinned out, he collected dirt and crumbling cement from the corners of the tunnel and spread it over the blood.
“It still looks terrible,” I said, pointing the flashlight. Now the whole floor was red-tinted, instead of just a puddle.
“Best I can do. It'll test as blood, anyway. Just thought I'd make it harder to find.”
Gilchrist turned for the stairs. “We're done here?”
“Where does this go?” I asked.
“Crown Bar, I believe. They'll be doing last call, about now.”
I followed close behind him. Now I needed a plan. He didn't know I was turned. His work was done. He would be going back home to Boston. I could part-ways, or take off when he was distracted, and make a break for my parents' storage locker. I could stay there until tomorrow night, and then formulate a more long-term plan to stay hidden at night. Too-bad Rawdon's house was gone. I didn't really like the idea of burrying myself in a grave.
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