I knew that voice.
“I know you’re up there! So does Cyrus! If I were you I’d come down here and burn before he gets to you!” She laughed. It was the same crazy sound she’d made the night before.
“Nathan?” I whispered, paralyzed with fear.
Ziggy tried to stand. As soon as he was upright, he crashed back to the floor and clutched his head.
“What the hell happened?” He looked the room over through barely opened eyes.
Nathan raised a hand, shiny with blood, and motioned frantically for me to help him. “I don’t know where he’s bleeding from.”
“Oh, shit!” Ziggy’s eyes grew wide at the sight of his blood on Nathan’s hands. He struggled to his feet. The window shade had nearly been torn down during the brick’s dramatic entrance. A few rays of sunlight spilled into the room. Ziggy was careful to keep those beams of light between Nathan and himself.
When the smell of the blood hit me, I understood his reaction. I felt the muscles and tendons of my face rhythmically clench, and my fangs began their aching descent.
“Not now, Carrie!” Nathan snapped.
His sharp tone surprised me, and my transformation stopped instantly.
Ziggy looked from Nathan to me, as if trying to judge the best escape route. Nathan approached him cautiously. “Remember who you’re talking to, Ziggy. I would never hurt you. I know you’re not food.”
Dahlia was still in the street, but she appeared to be running out of steam. “Are you waiting for sunset so you can come out and kick my ass? I’ll have a lot of backup by then.”
“Get out of here, Dahlia, or I can’t be responsible for my actions!” Nathan roared.
“Oh, I’m so scared,” she yelled back. “What are you gonna do, bookstore man? Read me to death? I’m going. I was just supposed to deliver the message.”
“What message?” Nathan asked.
Just then the shade fell completely from the window, flooding the room with sunlight. Nathan cursed and dropped to the floor. My reflexes weren’t as good.
Words can’t accurately describe how sunlight feels when it hits vampire skin. The worst sunburn couldn’t compare with the searing pain that rocked through me. My skin bubbled then burst into flame anywhere the light made contact with it. My shirt caught fire from my incinerating skin, spreading the flames to the rest of my torso. The only thing I could think of was that my burning flesh smelled like hot dogs. Nathan leapt up and grabbed me, smothering the flames as we tumbled to the floor.
Ziggy grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it across the window. “I’ll try to rig this up so it doesn’t fall again.”
“Are you all right?” Nathan asked, his face hovering mere centimeters above mine.
“I’m fine,” I wheezed, unable to take sufficient breaths. “Except for the third-degree burns.”
Nathan actually smiled at that. He didn’t seem in much of a hurry to move, and despite the fact that I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t really mind. Until I remembered Ziggy had an open head wound.
“And I can’t breathe. Will you let me up?” I squeaked, shifting slightly beneath him. I realized too late what effect my wriggling might have on a half-naked man.
He looked embarrassed and apologetic as he rolled off me, clutching his towel closed.
While Nathan tended Ziggy, I sat up and gingerly inspected the burned patches on my arms and chest. The skin was blackened. When I ventured an experimental poke it flaked away, revealing tender new flesh beneath. “Why didn’t I burn up?”
“Because I saved your ass with my mad blanket-throwing skills,” Ziggy answered.
Nathan made a sound in the back of his throat. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at Ziggy’s comment or upset by the gash in his skull.
“This is going to have to be stitched up,” he said with a sigh of resignation as he examined Ziggy’s wound.
“I can do that,” I offered, but Nathan shook his head.
“I don’t have the supplies on hand, and you don’t have enough control yet to be around this much blood.” He turned to Ziggy. “It’ll be safer if you go to the hospital. Do you mind?”
“Better than hanging around here,” he said with a shrug. “It’s like swimming in a pool of sharks with a paper cut in here.”
Nathan went to his room. He returned with pants on his body and a roll of cash in his hand. “Take this,” he ordered. “Go straight to the E.R.”
Ziggy stuffed the money in his jacket. “Where else would I go? Denny’s?”
“Knowing you, anything is possible. But I’m not kidding,” Nathan warned. “Stay off the street tonight. I want you in by curfew.”
“No problem,” Ziggy said. “They’ll probably give me some wicked pain medication at the E.R.”
Nathan watched him descend the stairs, then closed the door and turned to me. “Here we are again. Just you and me, alone together. Not completely dressed.”
The comment was so playful and unexpected, I didn’t know what to say. I wrapped my arms around my chest to cover the burn holes in the T-shirt and tried to force a laugh. “I’m not having much luck with shirts lately.”
“Well, I’d loan you another but I saw what you did to the last one.” His voice sounded weary, but he smiled, anyway. “Besides, I like the view.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you’re going to be a smart-ass, I’ll just ignore you.”
Nathan clearly dealt with stress through humor. As long as I had to deal with him, I hoped he had enough stress to cause an ulcer. He was much more pleasant when he was using his coping mechanisms.
The fading sunlight that had peeked from the edges of the blanket over the window disappeared. If Dahlia’s brick had broken the window five minutes later, it would have already been night. I checked my scorched flesh again. It had nearly healed.
“Why did that happen?” I asked, holding up my seared hand.
“Because you’re a vampire. Haven’t you seen any movies?” Nathan asked.
“I’m more of a werewolf fan, for your information.”
He made a face. “You wouldn’t be if you ever met one.”
“Werewolves are real?” I smiled in spite of myself. I’d always liked the idea of wild guys who were animals in bed. Not that I’d ever actually experienced said animalism for myself, but a girl can dream.
Sighing deeply, Nathan stretched out his legs. “Why is it you women find them so damned attractive? Is removing ticks from a guy such a turn-on?”
“I never said I was attracted to them. I just said I favored them to, well, humanoid leeches, for instance.” I spied Ziggy’s cigarettes that lay forgotten on the coffee table, and snuck one from the pack. “Anyway, why did it happen now? It’s been nearly two months since the attack, and I’ve been in the sun since then.”
Nathan pushed an ashtray toward me. “You hadn’t drunk any blood yet. You might have been light sensitive before, but after feeding, the sensitivity turns deadly. It’s in The Sanguinarius.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t finished it yet,” I confessed sheepishly. “But it makes sense. After I started…feeding, artificial light doesn’t bother me as much as it used to.”
“You were going through a prolonged transition into vampirism. Once you stopped denying your hunger, the change completed.” He snagged the cigarettes from me. “Are these Ziggy’s?”
Biting my lip, I considered the answer to that question. I didn’t want to get Ziggy into too much trouble.
I decided the best course would be the parental guilt trip. “You shouldn’t let him smoke. It’s not good for him.”
Nathan slid out a cigarette and lit up, another surprising development. “I know. These things will kill you.”
“Har, har.” I rolled my eyes. “You can make a joke about it because your lung function isn’t going to be seriously compromised in twenty years.”
“I don’t believe all that crap they say on television. I smoked when I was much younger than Ziggy, and it never hurt me.
”
“Yeah, because you didn’t live long enough to get emphysema or cancer.” For the first time, I realized how wide the gap in our age really was. People from his generation hadn’t worried about carcinogens and tar and nicotine addiction. He was a century old. He was probably more concerned with the danger of women wearing pants.
He studied me, an amused smile on his face. I felt naked, and not from the gaping holes in my shirt. I plucked at them self-consciously. “Would you mind?”
He headed into the bedroom. He playfully tossed me a new T-shirt as he returned.
There was a dull thud and he yelped in surprise. He bent down and picked something off the floor. It was the brick Dahlia had thrown. She’d tied a scrap of paper to it.
“Did you see this?” Nathan asked, dropping into the chair to nurse his stubbed toe.
I shook my head. “It must be the message she was talking about.”
As he scanned the paper, his eyes lit up with alarm. He held out the note and I took it.
“‘Lady bug, lady bug, fly away home. Your house is on fire…’” I read aloud. The rhyme wasn’t complete. “You don’t think…Nathan, my whole life is in that apartment!”
“Not to mention The Sanguinarius.” He wrenched open the closet door and pulled his leather trench coat on over his bare shoulders.
“You didn’t give me the only copy, did you?” I imagined my eyes bulging from my head as I spoke.
“No, but it’s the only copy I have. The last thing I need is some firefighter finding it in the rubble and showing it off. Besides, we don’t know if this is Dahlia being vindictive, or if she’s done this on Cyrus’s orders. He might have someone waiting for you, and if he does, I can take them out.”
“I can’t see Dahlia doing anything that was going to bring me closer to Cyrus, even if he ordered it. She definitely doesn’t want me around.” I noticed that Nathan had pocketed several stakes while I spoke and had yet to hand one to me. “Planning a road trip?”
He nodded. “Yup.”
“Where?”
“To your apartment.” He turned back to his arsenal and strapped a leg holster to his denim-covered calf, dropping another stake into it.
I waited expectantly as he pulled out Ziggy’s axe. “Um…were you going to give me something to protect myself, too?”
“You’re right.” With an embarrassed smile, he headed down the hall. When he returned, he pressed something into my hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where my head was.”
I frowned at the cell phone in my palm. “So…is this a James Bond type of device that shoots fireballs or sprays acid or something?”
“Not exactly.” He took the phone and pressed a button, lighting up the screen. “But it does speed-dial Ziggy’s pager. If you have any trouble, call him.”
My jaw dropped. “What? Ziggy’s at the hospital and you told him to stay off the streets.”
I wanted him to be annoyed by my protestations, but he remained perfectly calm as he prepared for battle. “Ziggy is better equipped to handle an emergency than you are. I trust him to keep you safe. Besides, there are plenty of weapons in the closet that you can use, and I really doubt that Dahlia will be back.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Hey, it’s my apartment burning down! I’m coming with you.”
“No.” Nathan shook his head adamantly. “Too dangerous.”
“Too dan—” I sputtered in my anger. “You’re supposed to want me to die! Hell, if you’re so loyal to the Movement, you should be shoveling vampires into burning buildings by the truckload.”
“This isn’t open for discussion. You don’t know how to fight, and you’ll be nothing but a distraction to me.” When I opened my mouth to argue further, he held up a hand. “I’m leaving. If you want to live through the night, you’ll stay here.”
Grabbing the axe, he stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door so hard the walls rattled.
“Well…fuck you!” I shouted, kicking one of the couch cushions to the floor.
How dare he! As if I were somehow incapable of looking out for myself in my own, albeit probably on fire, apartment. And what did he mean when he’d said I’d be a distraction? Did he think I was going to get in his way, asking questions with painfully obvious answers and twirling my hair while looking on with a vapid expression?
Jerk.
I tossed the cell phone on the table. It slid across the glass top, colliding with the notebooks piled there. Papers cascaded to the floor. Frowning, I knelt to straighten them. I lifted the papers one sheet at a time and shuffled them into a uniform stack. When I laid the pile aside, I noticed the top page was an Internet printout of a map. It was a map of the very affluent neighborhood on the east side of town, with a big red X drawn on in marker.
Now, this was interesting. I flipped the paper aside to examine the sheet underneath. It was a fax, dated three days before John Doe had attacked me. Sent from VVEM to N. Galbraith, the letter contained only an address. The same address on the map.
“I thought his last name was Grant,” I muttered to myself. I was about to flip to the next page when the cell phone rang.
“Nate, it’s me. I’m stuck in this emergency room. They put me in this curtained-off little room and haven’t been back since. I think they’re calling the police.”
I cut Ziggy off when he stopped for a breath. “Nathan isn’t here. Dahlia set my apartment on fire. He went to check it out.”
“No shit? And he left you there?” He sounded as surprised at Nathan’s actions as I was.
“He thinks I can’t defend myself.” I looked over at the computer desk in the corner. “Listen, a fax came after he went out. From VVEM? Is that the Movement?”
His curse resonated down the line, and no doubt through the stark, sterile emergency room. “Yeah. That’s them. I wonder what they want.”
“I didn’t read it,” I said, compounding my lie.
“It’s probably another kill order.” He cleared his throat. “Just stick it on the fridge. It’s the first place he goes after a fight.”
“Thanks, Ziggy.” I bit my lip. “When exactly did the order come down for Cyrus?”
“The original one? I don’t know, he’s got like forty by now. Hey, somebody’s here to take my blood and they’re not happy I’m on a cell phone here, so—”
“No, the last order for him,” I practically shouted into the phone. “When did that come through?”
“Why?” Ziggy’s tone was suddenly suspicious. “Maybe you should ask Nathan when he gets back. I have to—”
“Ziggy, wait!”
The line went dead. I threw the phone to the floor in frustration. This was too much of a coincidence, I concluded as I stared at the map. Three days. What were the chances he’d gotten this message about a different vampire three days before he’d attacked Cyrus?
I flipped a page. There was my answer, in black and white.
From: VVEM
To: N. Galbraith
Re: Case #372-96 Part 9Y
Assassination Order: Simon Seymour, aka Simon Kerrick, aka Cyrus Kerrick for Crimes against Humanity.
Well. There it was.
I glanced guiltily at the door and wondered how long Nathan would be gone. But did I really care if he found me missing?
Remembering his condescension earlier, I decided that I definitely would not care. This wasn’t any of his business, and I only had a few precious days left to make my decision about the Movement. I deserved to know the truth about my undead birth. As much help as Nathan had been, it wasn’t his blood flowing through my veins.
A curious ache filled me at the thought of Cyrus, and I wondered if this yearning was a symptom of the blood tie. And if it was, would this strange link protect me from more harm at the hands of my sire?
Without allowing myself to dwell on fear, I stuffed the map into my pocket. I called in to work to say I wouldn’t be in. When I hung up, a vaguely empty feeling came over me, the realization that I might
not return to the hospital. I forced the thought aside and opened the closet.
Though there were plenty of weapons at my disposal, I took a stake, the smallest and easiest to conceal of the bunch. Besides, I knew what to do with a stake. The spiky-ball-on-a-stick thing looked considerably more complicated to operate. Of course, a stake wouldn’t protect me from Dahlia, if she was still waiting for me. But Nathan was a vampire hunter, not a witch hunter. I suppose I could douse her with water and melt her like in The Wizard of Oz, if it came to that.
I almost left a note for Nathan but decided against it. I realized there was nothing I could write that wouldn’t seem like I’d turned my back on all of his help. There was no way to soften the truth.
As helpful and considerate as he’d been, there were some questions Nathan couldn’t answer. For those, I’d have to face my fear the way I had that night in the morgue.
I had to meet my sire.
Six
John Doe
T he day obviously hadn’t been a warm one. The twilight air was cold enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
I’d found my wool coat hanging over the towel rack in the bathroom. It appeared Nathan had spot-cleaned the blood from it. But it didn’t keep me warm as I walked the miles from Nathan’s apartment to the address on the paper. Being dead had some serious disadvantages, like constantly assuming room temperature, no matter what that temperature might be.
While my car still sat at the curb outside the bookshop, the keys were probably still on the ground outside the donor house. There was no way I’d go back there. I preferred walking.
I was familiar with the posh neighborhood. When I’d been new to the city, I’d often drive through the winding streets and marvel at the modern mansions and fairy-tale châteaus. They looked completely out of place in the sparsely wooded area. Tall brick walls and elaborate gates wrapped around the lots. Some had privacy hedges with formidable-looking security cameras that glared at passersby with cold, glassy eyes. From the shelter of my car, I’d daydreamed about the people living in these houses and imagined living in one myself ten years down the road. The fantasies had always featured a handsome yet oddly faceless husband and our adorable, ambiguous children. Only one house had ever been the feature of a horror story in my mind.
Blood Ties Omnibus Page 8