The Vampire Julian

by Ann B. Morris

  Julian’s eyes sparked fire. “Well get on it with it man, what the hell is it?”

  “A viral infection caused by the saliva from your bite.”

  Julian jumped up, Simone’s hand still enclosed in both of his. “I did not bite her, damn it!”

  Michael leaned over Simone and brushed the hair back from her neck to expose the rosy spot below her ear. “Then what the hell is this?”

  Julian’s face paled and his eyes widened and filled with fear. “I accidentally scraped her skin and I cleansed it immediately. Almost all signs of the abrasion were gone before I left her.”

  Michael could feel his friend’s panic and felt sorry for him, but he had to know the truth. “The laceration was evidently deep enough for your first drop of saliva to enter her bloodstream. It may well be one of the rare times when a first bite from a Whitcombe vampire caused a deadly infection from a virus.”

  Julian’s face twisted in anger, and he looked on the verge of losing control. It was not the first time Michael had seen his friend consumed with rage, but it was the first time it had been directed at him. “Why was I not told this before?”

  “I saw no need to concern you with something that was so rare the chances of it happening were—”

  Julian broke in, his voice and his anger rising, “Obviously it wasn’t rare enough.”

  He understood Julian’s fury, but there was nothing he could do about it and wasn’t about to waste time indulging in his own self-defense. If there was a chance to save Simone, he had to start identifying the exact cause of her illness as fast as possible.

  He could work fast in the lab—much faster than any human—but if Simone’s affliction was caused by Julian’s saliva, it would race through her system with more speed than any infection presently known to man.

  As he turned to leave, Simone began to convulse, her body thrashing from side to side on the bed. He’d seen this before. Her fever had suddenly spiked. Something had to be done immediately.

  He scooped Simone off the bed, shouting orders to Julian as he carried her into the bathroom. “Go downstairs and get as many buckets of ice as you can carry.”

  When Julian opened his mouth to question him, Michael’s anger got the better of him. “Damn it, Julian! Do as I say now, unless you want this woman to die before I have a chance to save her.”

  “DUMP IN THE ICE,” Michael barked a few minutes later when Julian entered Simone’s bathroom and found Michael in the bathtub supporting a naked Simone in his arms to keep her head above water.

  “She’s naked,” was the only thing Julian could say, as he carefully dumped a bucket of ice near Simone’s feet.

  “Keep dumping,” Michael ordered, ignoring Julian’s remark as he scooped water in his cupped hand and poured it over Simone’s forehead.

  Julian did as he was told, unable to take his eyes off Simone’s unclothed body and castigating himself for feeling even the slightest twinge of jealousy. Michael was trying to save her life, so for him to be jealous was insane. The lecture didn’t ease the feeling.

  “Refill them,” Michael said when Julian emptied the last bucket. “Hurry.”

  Julian had already made his decision by the time he returned with the second round of ice. As soon as the last of it was in the tub, he began stripping off his clothes.

  “You’ve read my mind,” Michael said as Julian stepped into the tub. “It’ll be much easier to keep her above water if her body is supported by yours.”

  Michael slipped his hands from beneath Simone and transferred her weight to Julian. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. And remember, it isn’t safe for you to stay submerged in this icy water for too long. We need to bring her temperature down as fast as possible, but yours is already so low that if you stay in there too long you’ll lose consciousness.”

  Julian maneuvered himself into as comfortable a position as possible, considering he was sitting in an old claw foot bathtub half his size. Tightening his arms around Simone’s chest, he pulled her up until the entire length of her body was sprawled against his, her head resting beneath his chin.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Michael said, grabbing two bath towels from the cabinet under the face bowl and laying them on the toilet tank.

  “If you begin to feel the least bit dizzy, get out of the tub. It won’t do her any good if you pass out and she drowns.”

  As he turned to leave, Michael stopped and looked back. “Just for your information, the Changer who brought her home has been taken care of.”

  “Good.” That was one relief off his mind, although at the moment nothing was as important as getting Simone well. Her fever was still dangerously high. He could feel the heat from her body where her buttocks rested against his groin. Perversely he thought of what he could do to her in such a position if they were in the tub and indulging in foreplay.

  He mentally punched himself for having such a base thought at a time like this and made himself think instead of what he could do to help her. Perhaps he could speed up the process if he rubbed the ice directly onto her skin.

  He grabbed a cube of ice as it floated by and passed it over her forehead, her cheeks, and under her neck. When the ice melted, he scooped up another cube and repeated the process over her breasts that were only partly immersed in the water.

  Simone moaned softly and he saw her eyelids flutter. A flicker of hope touched his heart and made it thud weakly against his chest. His heart beat was faint, a physical response that signaled his temperature was dangerously low, but he pushed Michael’s warning aside.

  He had to fight as long as he could to help Simone. He couldn’t lose her now. He would fight to his last breath to keep her alive. After all, what did he have to lose? If Simone died, everything that was important to him would die with her. Without her, he could kiss his plans good-bye. Without her he would be completely dependent on Michael’s success in the lab. And even as close as Michael said he was, it was doubtful that he’d find the miracle they needed before All Hallow’s Eve. And if Michael didn’t find his miracle, and Simone wasn’t here . . .

  If Simone wasn’t here. By all the Goddesses, what would it be like if Simone were no longer here? If he couldn’t see her? Touch her? The thought was unbearable.

  Julian’s mind started to drift. He was close to losing consciousness when Simone stirred in his arms. With great effort, he roused enough to get them both out of the water. He wrapped a bath towel around Simone, took one for himself, and carried her into the bedroom.

  He laid Simone atop the bedspread while he dried himself, rubbing his body vigorously to restore his circulation. His teeth were chattering and his heart started and stopped like it did when he first awakened from his death sleep. He had gotten out in the nick of time. Another few seconds . . .

  He was wrapping Simone in the bed covering when Michael came back.

  “I’ve isolated the source of the infection. John is securing the antibiotic for me. I’m going now to get it.”

  John was Dr. John Stanton, owner of Metropolitan Blood Bank and a licensed physician. He was also Michael’s liaison with the medical community.

  “What now?” Julian asked, sitting on the bed and cradling Simone in his arms.

  “Pray to every Goddess that ever lived that Simone stays alive until I get back.”

  Michael checked Simone’s pulse, lifted her eyelids, and put his ear to her chest. When he finished, he looked at Julian, making no effort to mask his concern. “I must tell you truthfully, my friend, that after I inject her with the antibiotic I will have done all that is possible to help her. The rest will be up to Simone—and Fate.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  SIMONE DRIFTED in and out of consciousness, her body wracked with pain. She burned as if she had flown into the face of the sun. Sometimes the sun would release her and she would fall into t
he arms of night where darkness would hold her against its cool heart and whisper, “Wake up, Simone. Wake up.”

  She didn’t want to wake up. She didn’t want to listen to the whisperings. She wanted to turn away, to leave the pain of this world for the peace of the next. But the whisperings wouldn’t leave her alone. Instead, they became more urgent, more forceful, even angry. “Wake up, Simone. Wake up. Don’t you dare leave me now.”

  You can leave if you choose, a thunderous voice objected from behind a bright light that suddenly lit up everything around her. The reason you are with Julian has not unfolded yet, the voice thundered on, but you are free to leave now if you wish.

  From deep within her soul, Simone found the words to communicate. What about Dottie? What about Casey?

  There was no answer.

  Simone closed her ears to the voice and listened instead to the undertones of her heart. She had to stay. She had to bear the pain, the heat, the fear of what might lie before her if she returned. She had to bear all of that and more if she wanted to see everyone she loved again.

  Her heart knew when she made the decision to return, and from that heartbeat on she tumbled between day and night, between hot and cold, as though she were sliding on sheets of ice that sent chills rippling along her skin, or covered with coals so hot they burned through her flesh to her bones. At last, she was neither hot nor cold, but warm and safe, and she somehow knew that her body was spooned into Julian’s and she was asleep in his arms.

  She drifted sleepily through time, her mind and body uniting, breaking away and uniting again. Slowly her body responded to her mind’s commands. Her toes wriggled, her fingers curled inward, and the tip of her tongue moistened her parched lips.

  She reached for Julian. There was only emptiness. The safety of Julian’s touch, the comfort of his body no longer enfolded her. She was surrounded instead by a wellspring of hope. By a sense of peace. By a knowledge of rebirth.

  Warily, she touched her fingertips to her mouth, to her nose. Joy spread through her ravaged body and brought with it a thrilling awareness. She was alive!

  Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. There was nothing but blackness around her.

  Dear angels in heaven, she was blind!

  SIMONE’S SCREAM jerked Julian awake. He’d been dozing in a chair across the room, and he moved instantly to her side.

  She was sobbing uncontrollably, and he lay down in the bed next to her and rolled her toward him, cradling her against his chest. “Don’t cry,” he whispered, “You made it. You’re going to be fine, now.”

  “I’m not fine,” she protested weakly, gulping down another sob, her words muffled against his chest. “I can’t see a thing. I’m blind.”

  He was so relieved she had returned to the world of the living, he almost laughed at her erroneous conclusion. As her body trembled next to his, he suppressed his laughter. This was no time for humor. She was truly frightened.

  “You can’t see,” he explained softly, “because we’re inside the chamber where I sleep.” Reaching behind him, he switched on the bedside lamp. “How’s this?” he asked, turning her face away from his chest when the room flooded with soft light.

  “Oh,” she cried, the pitch of her voice like that of a child handed a new toy. “Oh,” she cried again, this time ending on a childish giggle. “I can see. I can see.” She put a hand to his cheek as if to caress him, but almost instantly, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep again.

  Julian let out a heavy sigh of relief. Michael had said when she first awoke she’d drift in and out of sleep at the drop of a hat, and he hadn’t been kidding. But she had recovered. It would take some time for her to regain her strength, to get back to the Simone he knew, but she was going to make it.

  He looked down at her, really looked at her for the first time since she’d fallen ill. In the six days he’d been caring for her, he hadn’t paid much attention to her physical appearance. His focus had been on keeping her alive.

  Now, her sickly pallor, dark circled eyes, and sunken cheeks hit him like a hammer to the head. At that moment, she looked more like she was standing at death’s door than she had while she was fighting for her life. He would speak to Michael about it at the first opportunity. Michael would know what to do.

  He rolled to his back, slipped his arm under Simone shoulder and cradled her head on his chest. Just then, the chamber door opened. Speaking of the devil, Julian thought whimsically as Michael stepped inside.

  “You’re still awake?” Michael spoke just above a whisper and nodding toward Simone, asked, “How’s she doing?”

  Julian yawned. “She’s back with us. When she first awoke, she thought she was blind until I turned on the lamp.” He cast a worried glance at Simone then looked up at Michael. “But she’s so pale. You need to do something about that.”

  “Once she wakes completely, food, vitamins, and rest is all she’ll need,” Michael said, bending over Simone to check her vital signs. When he finished, he turned to Julian. “You need to rest, too. You should be asleep. It’s well past dawn.”

  Julian crossed his free arm over his forehead and closed his eyes. “I was just drifting off to sleep when she awoke. I’m on my way down again now,” he said, feeling the death sleep a breath away. “You’d better come back as often as you can in case she wakes again before nightfall.”

  Michael stepped away from the bed. “Leave Simone to me. Your job now is to sleep and renew yourself. It’s been a difficult six days for you.”

  No one knows that better than I, Julian thought, as he watched Michael close the door behind him. Turning his attention back to Simone, he shifted both their bodies so he could spoon with her the way he’d grown accustomed to these past six days. He flexed his arm more comfortably under her shoulder and nuzzled his chin against the back of her head.

  It seemed as if he had just gone to sleep—or was he on the verge of awakening?—when Simone cried out and the jolt to his heart sent a shock through his body. She was sitting up, her face a mask of terror as she stared straight ahead.

  “What . . . what is that?” she stammered, before quickly turning toward him and pressing her face against his chest.

  He didn’t have to look in the direction she was pointing to know what she was talking about. “It’s my coffin, Simone. It’s where I sleep when I need its special restorative powers.”

  She shuddered against him, wrapping her arms around him and digging her nails into his back. “You . . . you mean you actually get in there?” She shuddered again and clutched him tighter, pressing her face harder against his body.

  He could only imagine how it looked to her, a human whose only thought of getting into a coffin was when she had no life left.

  “Why am I here? I want to go to my own apartment,” she said, her voice shaky and her body still trembling against his.

  “You needed twenty-four hour care and we thought it best for you to be in here with me. I took care of you during the night and Michael cared for you during the day.”

  She pulled back and looked at him with those big brown eyes that had lost some of their luster. “How long have I been sick? And what was wrong with me? I remember feeling feverish and achy, like I had the flu, right before . . .” Her eyes grew larger with fear. He heard her breathing accelerate and felt the quick pick up of her heartbeat. “Deke Williams, what happened to him?”

  Julian eased her back onto the pillow and propped himself on his elbow next to her. He figured she’d be easier to talk to if his coffin wasn’t staring her in the face.

  “That wasn’t Deke Williams who walked you home, Simone. It was a Changer.”

  Her brow creased and she closed her eyes for a moment. “A Changer?” she finally asked as she opened her eyes.

  “Someone who has the ability to take on the physical characteris
tics of another person. Unfortunately, creating Changers is one of Zurik’s more deadly powers.”

  “But where is the real Deke? What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know. He could still be alive or . . .”

  Simone closed her eyes and frowned. He waited for another question about the missing man, but none came. When she opened her eyes again, she said, “You still haven’t told me how long I’ve been sick.”

  “Almost a week.”

  She sat up so quickly it threw him off balance.

  “A week? I’ve been knocked out for a week?”

  “Just about.”

  She rolled to the side of the bed, and he had a hard time catching hold of her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  He pulled her back down beside him. She did her best to get away from him, but she was too weak and he was much too strong. He rolled on top of her, bracketing her with his knees, and supporting his weight with his hands.

  “You have to let me up! It’s been a whole week. Deke had a friend who was going to give me information about Dottie!”

  Ah. So that was the trick they’d used to get to her despite his warning. “It was just a ruse, Simone. There’s probably no friend at all.”

  “Then why would he . . . Deke . . . whoever . . . tell me such a thing?”

  She couldn’t possibly be that naïve. Not after what had happened. “Perhaps they were after you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because Zurik probably found out you were staying here and thought it would be easy to get to me through you. I can’t be positive of course, but with all I know about Zurik I think we should be prepared for anything.”

  She had stopped struggling, and he didn’t know if it was because she realized he was telling the truth or because she didn’t have the strength to fight him.

  “Dottie,” she murmured, swallowing a quick sob. “What’s happened to Dottie? How will I ever find her now? What about her little girl?”