The Cold Kiss of Death

by Suzanne McLeod

  ... or at least no one that I could see.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Warmth slipped over me like the summer sun on my skin, heating the bruises that encircled my left wrist and setting my pulse throbbing. I breathed in, concentrating my inner senses, and tasted Turkish delight on my tongue: Malik. Surprise sparked in my mind - he shouldn’t be here; he was supposed to be too injured after the explosion. Then wary relief filled me. Malik hadn’t set this up; it wasn’t his style.

  ‘Malik al-Khan,’ I murmured, ‘show yourself.’

  He appeared as if from nowhere, the nonexistent shadows he’d gathered to him trailing like dark smoke from his body. His enigmatic face was as pale and beautiful as ever, his slanted eyes dangerous black pools that held thoughts I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, his hair a fall of black silk that my fingers itched to touch. Anticipation fluttered as a traitorous part of me whispered I could do that and more once I’d made a deal with him. I shut it up.

  ‘Shame you couldn’t have turned up ten minutes earlier,’ I said, my voice matter-of-fact. At least he didn’t appear to be showing any ill-effects from whatever injuries he’d sustained. Of course, I could only see his face and hands; the rest of his body was elegantly hidden by a designer suit in his usual black - even his neck was covered between his hair and the high Nehru collar. ‘But as you’re here now, and you appear to have taken control, maybe you can help sort it out?’

  He stared at me, a fine line creasing between his brows, pinpricks of anger flaring deep in his pupils.

  I frowned. What the hell was he angry about?

  For a moment I thought he would speak, then the pinpricks in his eyes turned incandescent with flames; he came towards me, his rage sending shockwaves of burning air that lifted my hair and scorched like the desert sun over my skin. Terror slammed inside me and instinct warned me to flee. But this time I remembered my stepmother’s words: you don’t run, you don’t struggle; it gets a vamp too excited. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stand and face him.

  He halted, close enough that the October chill that still clung to his body cooled the heat burning over mine, close enough that the blue veins pulsing under the translucent skin of his throat blurred before my eyes, close enough that the slow, shallow thud of his heart shouted of his need and thirst in my ears.

  Not just angry, but hungry too.

  Shit. I was neck-deep in trouble here.

  I shivered as he smoothed a hand over my head and I felt him twist my ponytail around his fingers. He tugged on my hair, forcing my chin up, leaving my throat vulnerable. My pulse sped faster, jumping under my skin. I stared into his eyes. The flames in his pupils snuffed out, leaving them as opaque as obsidian, a thin film of blood colouring the sclera. Bloodlust. Fuck, he was on the edge of bloodlust ...

  My heart hammering with fear, unable to stop the trembling in my body, I placed my palm against his chest, wanting to push him away, knowing I wouldn’t, not when the 3V in my blood urged me to give him what he sought. He lowered his head, but instead of my throat, he touched his lips to mine, demanding that I submit. My mouth opened beneath his almost of its own volition and I felt the sharp sting as his fangs pierced my bottom lip. He pulled my lip into his mouth, sucking painfully hard, and as I tasted the honeyed sweetness of my own blood a whimper of terror escaped me. His other hand closed around my throat, almost choking me as he silenced the sound.

  A shudder travelled through his body and the pain of his bite dissipated with his mesma, twisting fear to warmth and lust, tightening my nipples into aching peaks, coiling desire hot between my legs. His hands stroked down my spine, cupped me and pressed me closer, his own body hard. My knees weakened and I clutched at his arms, sliding my tongue between his fangs, wanting what he was offering.

  ‘Genevieve.’ His voice sounded rough, somehow desolate, in my mind.

  Then he was gone ... ... leaving me trembling, a slice of sorrow lodged like ice beneath my breastbone.

  I rubbed at the cold spot, fear, disappointment and need spiralling through me in a whirlwind of conflicted emotions. Malik stood a few feet away, watching me, a considering expression on his face. The blood-kiss, or whatever it was, might never have happened. I touched my fingers to my bottom lip. It felt bruised and tender, and when I took my hand away, a bright bead of blood shivered on my finger. Anger that he’d treated me like a blood-slave, and that I’d let him, pushed the other emotions away. I held my bloody finger out to him.

  ‘What the fuck was that all about?’

  His eyes skimmed over my body, the look impersonal. ‘You have a penchant for using the bodies of others, Genevieve. I needed to ensure that you were yourself and yourself alone under this new exterior.’

  ‘Ri-ight. You’re telling me that little tantrum was my fault? Well, you can think again,’ I said flatly, as I tried to calm the rapid beat of my heart. ‘I know you can tell who I am just by scent, so using my Glamour as an excuse to have a quick bite has nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Your own scent is strong enough to conceal the scent of another beneath it, so I am unable to distinguish any other within it.’ He lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. ‘But yes, you are right, I am angry. You should not have left.’

  I shouldn’t have left! Crap, we hadn’t even started negotiating and already he was acting like he thought I was going to behave like some fang-hazed blood-pet. And no way was that happening, no matter how pretty he was. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to ignore the fear- and anger-laced adrenalin hyping my emotions.

  ‘I am not your property, Malik,’ I said firmly, wanting to get that straight for both of us. ‘So don’t get any ideas about me hanging around waiting for you to wake up every night, ’cause it’s not going to happen.’

  For a moment a bleak expression touched his eyes and a chill skittered down my spine, then I decided I’d imagined it as he said, ‘We have the matter of your alibi with the police to take care of.’ He gave my Glamour a disparaging look. ‘You will need time to make yourself presentable.’

  I stared at him suspiciously. Had he really searched me out just to provide me with an alibi? Well, it wasn’t like I was going to say no, but—

  ‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’ I waved an arm at the mind-locked gathering in the hallway. ‘But I’m not going anywhere until I know everyone’s okay.’

  ‘This is a hospital, Genevieve. The staff are trained, and well-equipped to deal with emergencies such as these.’ He smiled, and I nodded at him, agreeing that it sounded reasonable. ‘There is nothing to be done here by you, so it is better that we do not impede their efforts.’

  As if someone I couldn’t hear had shouted ‘action’, Grace got up. Her determined gaze passed blindly over me and she rushed to where Moth-girl was buried beneath the two guards. The guards leapt out of her way and at her order one of them raced back down the corridor. Grace knelt, started checking Moth-girl’s vitals—

  ‘Genevieve.’ Malik’s calm voice commanded my attention. He was still standing, waiting, his hand now held out to me.

  I looked at his proffered hand and thought how good it would be to wrap my fingers round his, to let him lead me away from this place to somewhere safe. Only, that wasn’t right, was it? Nowhere was safe, not with him, not with anyone. Damn. The annoying vampire was trying to mould my thoughts. Bad enough he kept using his mesma on me and playing with my senses without adding that.

  ‘Nice try, Malik.’ I gave him an irritated look. ‘But the vamphypno stuff isn’t working so well, so just forget it, okay?’

  ‘My words are true, Genevieve.’ He moved to survey the scene behind me. ‘There is no one that can be helped here, but if you insist on staying, I must acknowledge our friends.’

  I looked over at Grace; she was untying a white ribbon from around Moth-girl’s neck. Another doctor - Craig, I thought, judging by his bald patch - was prepping to place a shunt in Moth-girl’s throat. Where had he come from? I frowned, uneasy. Had Malik distracted me enough that I’
d lost some time? But it wasn’t just the lost time that bothered me ... I turned back to him.

  ‘... apologise for disturbing you, troll,’ he was saying to Hari, making a gesture that encompassed the hallway, then he inclined his head at the goblin. ‘I offer you both my word that I intend no harm to those under your care.’

  ‘Fair enough, guv.’ Thaddeus jerked his thumb back at Neil Banner. ‘But what about my charge? My contract states I have to oppose any vampire mind-locks with extreme measures.’ He tapped his bat, his mouth widening in a ruby-glinting grin. ‘So, you gonna let him loose or not?’

  ‘My hold is a precaution only,’ Malik said calmly. ‘But if you will vouch for your charge, I will have no hesitation in releasing him.’

  Thaddeus nodded, his red and grey horse-tail hair fanning over his wide shoulders. ‘I’ve no problem vouching for him, guv.’

  Malik inclined his head and Neil Banner blinked, his blank expression changing to anxious concern. Before he could speak, Thaddeus grasped his arm and steered him to the seat furthest away and pushed him down into it. He started talking earnestly, but his voice was too low for me to hear what he was saying.

  I turned back to Malik and asked the question that was bothering me. ‘What did you mean, there’s nothing to be done?’

  He stared down at Moth-girl. Her skin was glowing radioactive-red with blood-flush. ‘The girl’s heart is overstimulated by the venom, and despite her increased level of red blood cells and thus the increased levels of oxygen, the blood is moving too fast for her lungs to cope. They are collapsing, her heart is labouring, and her blood has thickened to the point that the supply to her brain is diminishing.’

  A classic case of venom-induced adrenalin-based hypertension, and if unrelieved, it was usually followed by a stroke, then probable cardiac arrest. I knew the symptoms - I’d experienced them myself, but I was sidhe fae. Moth-girl was human. I frowned. Other than the flushed skin she looked quite peaceful, the hint of a smile wreathing her lips.

  ‘Then why isn’t she having convulsions,’ I said, ‘if she’s reached that stage?’

  ‘I am limiting her distress.’

  ‘But they’re taking blood from her; the shunt will relieve the pressure.’

  ‘Taking blood from the jugular will not suffice,’ he said. ‘Piercing the carotid artery would improve her chances, but as a medical procedure it is too dangerous. The flow from the heart needs to be controlled.’

  I didn’t need to ask how. ‘Necking’ - feeding from the carotid - is a popular, if illegal, entertainment in the less salubrious blood-houses in Sucker Town. Unsurprisingly, the same ones that are usually home to the Moths. One or more vamps stoke a junkie up on venom, then just as the junkie hits the edge, the vamp bites into the carotid, gulping down the blood as if the junkie’s a spurting soda fountain. But even in the most unscrupulous houses there’s always a failsafe: another vamp able to control the junkie’s heart, to stop them bleeding to death and help heal the wound as the vamp ‘necking’ usually succumbs to overindulgence and falls into a blood-dream. Of course, if the vamp was hungry enough, a blood-dream shouldn’t be a problem. I touched my tongue to the small bruise on my lip as an idea formed in my head. ‘If you fed on her, could you save her?’

  He gave me an impassive look. ‘Genevieve, it is not possible for me to feed on her.’

  ‘Why not? Surely you’re hungry enough.’

  ‘You are correct. I am hungry, but she is human. If I were to feed in the manner my blood insists, she would not survive,’ he said, his voice empty of any emotion. ‘I am not able to stop myself from feeding any other way.’

  I had a sudden terrifying thought; maybe he’d bitten my lip because he couldn’t trust himself not to rip my throat out. Then the recent ‘memory’ I’d had of Rosa tracing her tongue over her own fangs as she lowered her head to feed came back to me. I knew how I could save Moth-girl.

  I shrugged out of my leather jacket and hopped on one foot while I pulled off a trainer.

  Malik regarded me with detached interest. ‘What are you doing, Genevieve?’

  I jerked my head at Moth-girl. ‘She needs a vamp to feed on her if she’s going to stand any chance of surviving. You won’t do it—’

  ‘It would be counterproductive,’ he interrupted.

  ‘Whatever.’ I pulled off my other trainer and unzipped my jeans. ‘So I’m finding a vamp that will.’ I tugged the jeans down over my hips, then stopped and looked up at him warily. ‘Rosa.’

  Pinpricks of rage flickered in the depths of his eyes, then disappeared. ‘I do not see how wearing Rosa’s body will help the situation.’

  I swallowed. ‘Rosa—She’s—Her body is still a vamp, so when I activate the spell ... I have the same capabilities as a vamp. That way I can feed on the girl.’ I ignored the nervous twist my stomach gave; I’d never fed on blood before as Rosa, only venom. ‘You can be my failsafe.’ He didn’t answer, so I took it as agreement. I let the jeans drop around my ankles and kicked them off, leaving me standing there in my socks and shirt and the magicked-up white bikini bottoms. There was no sign of the spell-tattoo on my left hip; the Glamour of the bikini covered it. I tugged the briefs down, noting absently that Tavish had made me a true blonde, and looked, but there was still no spell-tattoo. I traced my fingers over the skin of my hip, concentrating. After a month of not using it, the magic should be jumping eagerly, almost forcing me to activate it. But I could feel nothing. Damn. I wondered again if something was wrong with the spell. Or maybe the Glamour Tavish had tagged me with was interfering with it? Time to get rid of it.

  ‘Scissors,’ I muttered to myself and gazed around. I spied a pair on a nearby trolley. When had that appeared? Didn’t matter, either I wasn’t paying attention, or Malik was still skewing my perceptions. I grabbed the scissors and bent over, flipping the blonde ponytail so it hung down in front of me.

  ‘Miss Taylor,’ Neil Banner’s diffident voice came from somewhere to the side of me. ‘If I might suggest something?’

  I peered impatiently up at him. ‘What?’

  ‘As I understand it, you and the vampire here think that the only way to save the girl is to feed on her?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. Trust him to pick now to interfere. ‘If you’ve got a problem with that, you’ll have to save it for later.’

  ‘Oh no.’ He smiled, his eyes lighting with happiness. ‘I’ve no problem, not if it will save her soul.’

  I blinked at him in surprise.

  ‘But I think there is a better solution to whatever it is you’re planning,’ he carried on, pointing at the lifts. ‘There is another vampire here, is there not? And one who desperately needs help. Why not let him feed? That way two souls might be saved instead of just one.’

  I stood upright and stared at him, trying to get my head round his idea. I looked over at Bobby, slumped in a heap, still clutching the carving knife, surrounded by a wider pool of blood. I’d completely forgotten about him - and by the looks of it so had everyone else. But he was a vampire, he’d survive, except—‘You said he’s dying?’ I asked Banner. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘God has graced me with the ability to see our souls.’ He steepled his hands together, pressing them against his lips. ‘When our earthly bodies are dying, our auras gradually thin until our souls are released and can travel onwards into the glorious light of God’s majesty. It is a wondrous moment to witness’ - his face fell into concerned lines - ‘unless our souls are too weighed down by earthly sadness and pain to travel upon their journey.’

  ‘Sounds great,’ I think, ‘but what has that got to do with them?’

  ‘Both the young girl’s aura and the vampire’s are almost nonexistent, Ms Taylor.’ He clasped his hands tighter. ‘They are dying. Thaddeus and I have been praying for them both, but it might not be enough. I fear that their souls are too heavily laden to reach Our Lord’s heaven. The girl’s might be trapped here as a ghost or spirit, and as for the vampire ...’ He shook his head, despair
settling on his face.

  I turned to Malik. ‘Is he right?’

  ‘I cannot see souls or ghosts, Genevieve,’ he said calmly. ‘But he believes he is right.’

  ‘No, I mean about Bobby dying. He’s a vamp, he shouldn’t be dying.’

  Malik lifted his chin and inhaled. ‘He is young, and if it has been sometime since his master fed him, he will be weakened. The magic in the restraints that contain him will also block his bond with his master, so yes, he is possibly suffering in the same way a human would with that injury.’

  ‘Do it then!’

  He stared at me, expressionless. ‘Do what?’

  ‘Cut the crap, Malik.’ I stuck my hands on my hips. ‘You’re playing the master puppeteer, busy pulling everybody’s strings in this show, so tell them to take the girl over to Bobby and let him feed.’

  He stared at me, speculation in his eyes. ‘You ask a lot, Genevieve. My interference in their minds is minimal, just enough to encourage them to do what the circumstances and their training are already urging them to. And of course, to ensure they see us as nothing to be concerned with, since we do not need their medical help.’ He waved a hand in an all-encompassing gesture. ‘To direct their minds in something alien is a more difficult task.’