BloodStar

by Montoya, Cassidy

  The sensation of eroticism came, and the moan that passed his lips was a betrayal. This bullshit was the worst for Sam. He didn’t need this on his deathbed. What manner of evolution had granted them this gift? Why should he have to feel like he was being fucked by this monster rather than killed? Sickest was the fact that it was so goddamn good, best fucking lay he ever had.

  From somewhere a hundred miles away, he heard Marley screaming. That was good, though. He could pretend she was at his throat instead of that fucking infestation she loved so much. With Marley at the helm, death would feel like a fantasy come to life.

  Hell, he was on his way out. It was only prudent to ponder regrets, right? Jesus, he wished they’d actually been able to do the do.

  Marley was still a hundred miles away, but she really had something up her ass. Her screams were closer, a little less tinny, punctuated by the word no over and over.

  Oh, for Christ sake, was she telling the leech to stop? He hoped not, or at least hoped Sabian wouldn’t listen. This was it, and he was ready to be done. Fuckers won, and if he believed Franky, he’d be back. Shit, if he was lucky, maybe he wouldn’t walk the Hunter path again. Maybe Sabian and his bride would live forever and Sam would find his way to Franky instead of Marley next time.

  Hell, just this once Karma could overrule fate and grant him a pardon from servitude with only the hope of sloppy seconds as a reward, couldn’t it?

  "No, stop it! Sabian, you’re killing him. Stop!"

  This time he heard her loud and clear, just above him, but he couldn’t see her. Sabian was blocking his view, and still sucking it back like the mother fucking antidote.

  Sam could feel himself slipping away. Not long now. Jesus Christ, it felt good, though. He just hoped he wouldn’t cream his drawers on the way out.

  He wondered if Sabian and Marley would take care of his body, maybe burn it with Anya. Solis would handle his shit, but Sabian never told him his plan and who knew if they’d actually put two and two together about who Marley was. The other agents wouldn’t lift a finger. He didn’t exist anymore, not since taking the oath with the Vanguard.

  Then he felt something tugging at his throat, different than Sabian funneling what had to be Sam's reserve tank by now. It was more like getting stitches, feeling your skin being hooked together as the threading closed a wound, not much more than a dead pressure thanks to anesthetics.

  Tug, tug, tug, and then rip.

  Now that was his flesh, no doubt about it. Marley must have yanked Sabian off him. Sam saw a starry night blur in front of his eyes, and when his vision cleared some, Marley filled his world. Her lips moved frantically but he couldn’t hear her, like he’d just left a Suicidal Tendencies concert and all noise was muted if not deadened completely.

  His eyes took a lazy trip over her shoulder where he saw Sabian. His fists were clenched and he was absolutely seething. Sam thought, Jesus, let it go man. You killed me already, what more do you want?

  He let his eyes loll back to Marley, and he could almost hear her now. What was so fucking important that she couldn’t just let him glide off into the ever? Or would it be the never? He still wasn’t sure what might happen no matter what Franky and Sabian said.

  "Sam, Sam! Look at me!"

  Jeez, he was looking at her. Why couldn’t she let this be? She’d made her choice with silence, so what the hell was there to say with words?

  "Sam, this doesn’t have to happen. You can drink!"

  "Over my dead body!" came Sabian’s voice.

  This was funny to Sam. Wasn’t his body already dead? He chuckled, inside his head of course as his body had pretty much closed up for the night, lights off, alarm activated.

  And Sam knew what Marley meant, but she was bent on explaining.

  "Sam, you can live. You can drink. I’ll feed you, and you’ll live."

  In the history of the world, Sam thought there’d never been a more preposterous proposition.

  Sabian walked close again, and Sam, now paying a bit more attention with the BloodStar back on the case, heard him say, "Marley, you have to choose. You cannot have it both ways. If you do this, what of us?"

  Great question there, BloodStar old pal, Sam thought. Everything had turned a little wacky, a little loopy, kind of like sleep-deprivation delirium.

  Her answer was, even in his looped out state of mind, a serious downer. Not that he expected a happy ending, but damn.

  "Sabian, don’t make me do this. I love him, but not the same way I love you. If you let me do me do this, it doesn’t change us at all."

  Sam thought, Man, how many times am I going to fall for her games?

  She only colored his world for a couple of months, but even when he’d first began using Jenna to reconnoiter Marley, he’d felt something. And since the abduction, she’d played the pendulum with his emotions a bazillion times. And fuck, he was as good as dead now. What did he want to hear anyway? That she would leave the bloodsucker and spend her immortal life with him? Not that it mattered because what she’d essentially said was hey, I love you. I really really love you, but just a little less than I love this other guy over here. You know, the one you hate so much?

  Sam was surprised when Sabian said, "There is nothing I would deny you. If this is what you want, do what you must." Sabian reached into his pocket, and withdrew Marley’s pendant. He took her hand, and placed the precious talisman in her palm. He closed her fingers around it as he spoke. "But it does change us. Don’t ever think it doesn’t, and don’t ever think I’ll stop fighting him for you."

  Then Marley was back in front of his face, and he felt it now. He had only seconds before his chest would be too heavy to lift with another breath.

  "Sam, will you drink? I can change you, and you can live." He watched a blood-red tear, the blood of a dead little girl, fall from her eye, and he felt it land on his cheek. "Sam, please. I can’t watch you die."

  And he believed her, even as he understood her selfishness when she did not. He knew she did love him, and wanted him to be part of her life. But he couldn’t play second fiddle, not to Sabian, not ever.

  And so he answered her with the last of his failing strength. "And what?" It was only a whisper. "Stick around so I can wish every second you were mine, but know it’ll never happen?" He rasped in two shallow breaths. "Unrequited love for all time? Thanks, but no thanks."

  He reached for her cheek, meaning to stroke it and take the feel of her skin, even hardened in immortality, as his last sensation before the end, but his hand never made it. Halfway to her face, he exhaled his last breath, and his hand fell to his side.

  He died with his eyes locked on hers, and her bloody tearstain on his cheek.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Solis and Teichmann walked through Marley’s front door after listening from outside for a few moments. The house was silent, and both Hunters knew from instinct there were no vampires on the property.

  They surveyed the scene, taking in the body of the little girl, a pool of black ooze where Anya’s head had been severed from her body, and finally Sam’s corpse.

  "Goddamn it, Halac," said Solis.

  "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened here?" asked Teichmann, knowing the answer and knowing Solis knew he needed no explanation. His second question, however, was not of the rhetorical variety. "Think this just went down?"

  "I’m guessing no more than thirty minutes ago. We need to get him the fuck out of here before anyone else shows up," said Solis, voice choked.

  Teichmann nodded. "Let’s get him back to headquarters, then. A place doesn’t look like this without some kind of screaming or madness. People would have heard something. We need to move."

  Solis squatted down to his mentor’s body, and said in a hushed voice, "This isn’t over, friend. We’ll find them. Fucking better believe it."

  "Let’s go, man. Nothing you can do from here."

  There was still the issue of Anya to deal with, and Sabian knew Marley couldn’t help. She was grieved
over Halac’s decision, and Anya’s blood still lived in her flesh and still held a whisper of influence. So Sabian handled the head, the center Anya’s persuasion.

  They were as far up the mountain as time permitted, and he was ready to burn the bitch’s head once and for all.

  "But what does it matter? She’s gone, and I have your blood in me, now."

  Marley asked the question, but Sabian felt her secret. She was still operating under a feeling of obligation to Anya. And she really didn’t want that head in Sabian’s hands. He could feel the why of it, too. He may have been Anya’s sire, but in the end, he was also Anya’s greatest enemy. He had killed her, and Marley was angry over that even if she didn’t know it.

  She wanted that head for herself.

  She was also angry with him over the Hunter, although for that he gave her no latitude. There had nearly been a full-scale betrayal at the end, and thankfully his old nemesis made a decision that spared them all the clash of a lifetime.

  Until Anya was burned to ashes, Marley would be subject to her will. Sabian understood this, even though he had never been in this situation, never even heard of it. It was as old as the most ancient Kindred—there could only be one sire. Many had tried to save their dying loves, desperate for the impossible miracle. All had failed.

  Until now.

  In all his years, there had not been a new BloodStar, and the others had an even bigger fuck-you-and-the-horse-you-rode-in-on attitude than he did. Did they know the power they held? It explained so much about coven rule and the wars of ages past.

  Deep down, even with no precedent to refer to, Sabian knew Marley could not be allowed to handle the head.

  He sensed her growing bitterness. He looked at her suspiciously, and decided to move in on the situation rather than passively let it play out.

  "What are you thinking, Marley?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Why are you upset with me?" It sounded like a statement rather than a query, mainly because Sabian already knew the answer. The key was to name it and let Marley discover the why for herself. He hoped she would, and soon. He could feel black dominion coursing in Marley’s direction from the ensconced head.

  She didn’t bite, so he decided to help her, but he needed to know what Anya was throwing at Marley. He let the intent of the dark will emanating from what was hidden beneath his shirt wash over him.

  Sabian could read thoughts, he knew now. He’d done it like a champion back in Marley’s apartment with Halac. But God, he didn’t want such clear access to Anya’s psychosis, so instead he relaxed his body and focused his mind. Settling for the old fashioned way of doing things, he read her intent.

  He couldn’t (wouldn’t) put it into words, but then, Marley wouldn’t be able to, either, especially being so new to life through the lens of the Dark Gift. Most of what Anya was pushing at Marley was doubt of his love. She aimed to make Marley question why he’d taken so long to find her. Even worse, Anya had Marley wondering what it meant that he was willing to sacrifice her life to kill Anya.

  Sabian saw Marley fighting with herself, and said gently, "My love, these feelings are not coming from you. They’re coming from her." He nodded his head toward the shrouded, severed head. "Don’t ever question my love for you. I came as fast as I could, I swear it. I’ve never been as alone and terrified as I have these last days, and I did everything in my power to get to you."

  Marley made no response; in fact, she'd become practically catatonic.

  He bobbed and weaved his head to catch her eyes (which Anya willed her to avoid). "I killed her, and yes, I knew it would kill you, too, but it was the only way to be together without her. I would not have lasted the night if you died. I’d be burning in that fire, too. She’s not gone, not yet, and she’s fighting to protect herself. She’s pushing these feelings onto you, into your head. I understand and I can feel what you feel right now in this moment, but the feelings are not yours. I want you to go sit down."

  "Fuck you, Sabian! I’m not a child, and I can keep her out of my head. Back off." The words poured from her mouth, scalding and filthy like hot tar, blackening and baking as she spoke.

  She was getting dangerous. As far as Sabian was concerned, he couldn’t get that head into the fire fast enough. "Marley, I need you to sit so that we can be rid of her once and for all."

  "Why don’t you just do your little voodoo mind control thing? I mean, you decided to be my sire, so why play games?" Again her tone was sharp, and even though he felt her regret and confusion, he also felt Anya’s power amp up every time Marley back-talked him.

  "Marley, remember what I said about frequencies? Right now you’ve got one song playing in one ear—hers—and mine in the other. It’s hard to tune one out and one in, but you have to try."

  "Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, you son of a bitch!" Her face was a mask of pure hatred. Oh, no. She looked just like Anya.

  He didn’t want to do his "little voodoo" thing, but she was giving him no choice. It was only a matter of seconds before Anya broke through her defenses and Marley became totally unpredictable. He would do what he had to do.

  Sabian walked over to Marley, placed his hands on her cheeks, and could almost hear Anya’s voice shrieking for Marley avoid his eyes. But she couldn’t, and he said, "Marley, sit, on that log, now."

  She obeyed, muttering obscenities the entire time. He couldn’t wait to be through with this.

  The coals were nice and hot now, and the sun would be up soon. He started the process with the most dangerous part—the head. He put it right in the middle of the pyre, and turned his head in disgust as first one eye popped from the heat, and then the other. The juices boiled instantly and turned to steam on the coals. The hair left a toxic smell in the air, and Sabian hoped for a breeze to infiltrate the forest and blow it away.

  The fire wasn’t hot enough to completely burn the skull, and that would have been good enough, but Sabian was taking no chances. He had lost Marley too many times, and spent too many days and nights regretting Anya, so he plucked it out of the fire, scalding the flesh on his palm. It would heal.

  Would Marley?

  Sabian smashed the skull against a large rock over and over until it was in pieces, and then he smashed those pieces with smaller rocks. When he was satisfied at the destruction, he put the shards back into the fire, hoping at least some of the smaller pieces might become ash.

  The process was repeated for the other limbs, one at a time. They finished just before the sun came up. He could have remained with the fire—sun had no effect on him, and now he believed in all the reasons he’d long rebuked—but Marley would have disintegrated into a pile of ooze, just as dead as Anya. So he went to ground with her, knowing she wouldn’t sleep and not wanting her to be lonely and scared entombed in the earth.

  Once the sun set again, he pulled her from their makeshift grave. She was filthy with bits of earth smudged across her skin and stuck in her curls, but he was relieved to find that she looked at the bed of expired embers with a different point of view. She was relieved now—and regretful. The lament was twofold—she was sad to see Anya destroyed (mostly a product of unmetabolized filth still in her tissues), and she was sorry for her behavior and hateful words.

  But she was safe.

  Still, he went to work piling more and more wood onto the pile and lit the blaze once again. He’d suffered enough of Anya’s poison for ten lifetimes, and before this night was through, he would have no doubts of her release.

  When the flames were lapping the air fifteen feet and more above the pit, he turned to Marley, and said, "It’s done."

  "We shouldn’t have left Sam."

  He knew it was coming. Once Anya’s influence had departed, a new round of emotions had found purchase. It hurt him; she would never know how much. Because he would never let her know.

  "The Vanguard will see to him," he answered, trying to keep the chill from his voice.

  "He was important to me."

&nbs
p; "I know. He’ll be back, and believe me he’ll find you."

  "You shouldn’t have made me choose like that."

  Sabian leveled his eyes at her, looking her deep in the heart and soul. "I told you, I will always try to give you a choice." Then he looked up at the sky, following a spark that danced upward into the night air. "But I don’t have to."

  He felt her ache, and began to wonder—really wonder—if maybe she hadn’t made a different choice in her heart. To the naked eye, it looked as though the BloodStar had won, but a deeper look told a more complicated story.

  Fucking Halac. Even in death the Hunter managed to threaten his prize.

  No. Sabian stepped closer to Marley. He wouldn’t allow another conclusion. It was over, and she was his, regardless of what her heart said in the darkness of this mountain meadow. He took her filthy hand, the one tucked into a fist, and opened it. Her pendant was there, safe in her grasp, and he let his finger trail from the center of her palm where it lay upward and over her tattered blouse until he could stroke her throat with his thumb. Her breath shuddered, and he realized she’d forgotten his gift.

  When she looked up into his eyes, he said, "What you are to me, and I am to you—this is fate. Choice is irrelevant."

  He stared at her a moment longer, and probed her mind for intent. She was his, and she was new, essentially a childe bride. He felt too many emotions wrestling inside, too many impulses to sort through. She was still angry and heartsick, and no matter what he said and how much he could feel she loved him, she blamed him with black disgust at the same time.

  Sabian sliced his wrist, and put it to her mouth. She did not resist, unable to turn from the dripping promise of ecstasy. She took him in her mouth, and the two vampires swooned in shared rapture.

  She sucked until he withdrew. With black-blood on her lips, she said, "I hate you."

  With a wicked smile, he said, "I know."

  Sabian leaned in and put his lips to hers without authority, not wanting to command her response. Much like with the blood a moment before, Marley did not resist.