42nd & Lex

by Hofland, Bria

  “Sorry Mister,” she replied earnestly. “I’m finished. I though nobody’s home. I’ll come back to change your linens when you’re out.”

  “No, no. Please, go ahead. I’ll was just going anyways,” he stammered. He must have missed her knock before. Well, at least he could leave before Serge got back. He hoped the maid was as lucky. Serge would love to find clean sheets, fresh towels, and lunch in the form of the plump little maid waiting for him. Mark choked back a gag as he grabbed his coat and left. It was after lunch now, but if he hurried, he could stop off for some food and start thinking about how to win Sarah back before heading into the office for the afternoon.

  ***

  Serge spent the morning wondering the park; thinking of how Abri Cole must look in a business suit. He’d only given in to Mark’s demand that he stay away because he would have either ended up arrested by the humans or dismembered by O’Reilly and that tracker who were undoubtedly accompanying her to court. Instead, Serge had found a lovely young woman jogging alone with her headphone up too loud and amped her into submission under the Greyshot Arch. Serge was incredibly turned on by the struggle. It was ten minutes before he had her under control and a solid lock on her jugular. Unfortunately, her heart gave out before he could suggest moving their little party to the Essex. Satisfied, Serge made his way back to the room for a quick shower before he was due at the Enclave for his shift.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Court days always wear me out more than regular days and today is no exception. I sling my briefcase and purse on the dining room table with a sigh. Lucan doesn’t appear to be home yet. In fact, it looks like he hasn’t been home all day since the shades are down and the newspaper is where I left it on the kitchen table.

  The sun is going down and the city lights are coming up. It’s not a sight to be missed, especially when a nice chilled glass of wine and some relaxing tunes accompany it. After locating the remotes on the coffee table, I hit the buttons for the CD player and the shades before heading to the kitchen for a drink. My heart stops when the shades have fully retracted to reveal the view. Outside, perched on the steep, steel curve of the building is a heavily silhouetted shape staring out over the edge. A man-sized shape.

  I tuck and roll behind the dining room table, snagging my purse as I go. My heart is pounding in my ears as I fish around for my cell phone. I dial Lucan’s number and wait. His phone buzzes on vibrate across the room. He’s here somewhere.

  “Abri?” his muffled voice calls out to me. “Abri, are you here?”

  “Lucan!” I stand up from my hiding spot and move towards the windows. “What are you doing out there?”

  “I locked myself out. I didn’t hear you come in. How long have you been here?” he calls back through the thick glass.

  “Just a few tense minutes under the table thinking you were Serge out on the ledge, that’s all,” I joke. “How do I let you back in?”

  I can’t hear his reply over the keening wail of Ryan Adam’s harmonica on the stereo. How did the volume get up that high?

  “What?” I call back. “I can’t hear you. Let me go open the window for you.”

  I tug at the sill of a window large enough for Lucan to crawl through until I hear the antique glass give a sharp pop and a diagonal crack runs across the pane. The steel frame is warped. “It’s stuck. The lock is free but the window is stuck. Why don’t you just kick in the glass? It’s already broken,” I shout.

  Lucan shakes his head at me. I realize he is barefoot out on the ledge of the building so I haul back and kick the little window with all I have. It gives way on the first volley. The glass falls to the ledge below in several large chunks. Hopefully nothing slides off onto the street.

  “Probably should have thought that one out a little more. Why do you insist on going out there, it’s dangerous! And in bare feet!” Lucan doesn’t answer me. “I can call a glass man in the morning. I represented a guy last year that works for Quick Glass, I think I still have his number in my off—” I stop. Lucan is staring at me, his eyes wide with, fear, pain, I don’t know.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask cautiously. “I'm sorry about the window, but at least it’s small. Part of a historically significant building and most likely not easily replaced, but small.”

  “It’s not the window I'm worried about,” he replies calmly, too calmly. “Abri, look at your foot.”

  I look down. There is a red splotch seeping its way through my sock.

  “Run,” he says barely above a whisper.

  I run to the only secure place I can think of— the elevator. It provides not only an exit, but also a steel reinforced cage. I pull the wooden outer door closed and slide the lock in place on the iron grate. My heart is pounding in my throat. For the first time I am truly afraid of what Lucan could do to me. I wait.

  Nothing.

  “Lucan!” I shout. “Where are you? Are you okay?” I try to disguise the fear in my voice with concern for his wellbeing. I know he can’t hear my thoughts in here, which is good because they are filled with images of splattered blood and broken souls. If he’s told me to run, it’s because he can’t trust himself to keep his promise not to hurt me. Still, I’m worried about him and I’m not sure how much longer I can stand to be locked in this tiny ass elevator. I call out again, “It’s not that bad. Just a little cut. Bring me the Band-Aids and peroxide and I’ll clean it up.”

  Lucan’s face appears in the round window of the outer door. His eyes are red and he is sweating. “Abri, don’t open the door. I can’t trust myself right now. I was hoping Zaid would make it here before you came home. I need to feed …er, eat, badly and I can’t be trusted,” he says, sadness overwhelming his face. “I would never intentionally put you in danger, you know that right?” The words are a little lispy from his overly extended fangs. They reach below his lower lip and he struggles to keep them concealed.

  “Sure, Lucan. I understand. But what happened? You were okay this morning when I left.” I check the locks again. The stereo is now blasting something with a lot of bass and I wish Lucan would turn it down.

  “Zaid texted me about Mark’s hotel this morning and I went over to the Essex House to investigate. I had to wait a few hours but I caught Serge as he was coming out of their room. I lost some blood, but he lost more. I headed back here and called Zaid to bring me some blood but his phone was off. Apparently he and Amelia were taking in a matinee.”

  “Oh Lucan!” I exclaim. “Were you hurt bad?”

  “Nothing that hasn’t healed itself already, but Serge will be a little worse for wear for a few days. Mark wasn’t with him.” He is absent-mindedly running his tongue over his elongated fangs.

  Ordinarily, his fangs were a turn on, but I had never seen them in direct response to wanting my blood before, especially given how anti-blood Lucan was with me. “Tell me Zaid is on his way.”

  “Aye. He’s should be here any minute. I’m so sorry. I should have called, told you to stay away.” Lucan steps back from the window and I lose sight of him. I try to peek out of the tiny window on my tiptoes, but I’m too short to get much of a view.

  “It’s okay. Lucan, where are you going?” I call out. This time I am unsuccessful in masking my panic. “I can’t see you.” The stereo quiets, answering my question. The sudden silence reverberates through the tiny elevator car and all I can hear is my breathing.

  “I'm here. I just caught a draft coming out of the elevator. I can smell you which is not a good idea right now.”

  “Oh.” I move away from the door. “I think from now on we should keep a supply of blood in the house. For emergencies, you know. Just until we complete the ceremony and then you can use mine.”

  I expect immediate protest to my suggestion but he doesn’t say anything. Curious, I move back to the window just as he slumps down against a pillar across from the elevator, resting his arms on his bent knees. “I'm sorry, Abri. I’m sorry I'm such a monster.”

  “Lucan, no. You’re not
a monster. It will be okay. Zaid will be here soon and it’ll all be okay,” I soothe. I mean every word. It is not as if he has a choice in being this way. His reaction the other night in the wine cellar proves he doesn’t want my blood. I try to find an example of new relationship hiccups on par with this situation to prove it’s something we can get past but I fail. This is most definitely a problem unique to vampires and humans. “We’ll get through this.”

  He doesn’t answer, just hangs his head. We sit in silence for a few minutes. For the first time I wish Lucan could hear my thoughts, just so he will know I mean what I’ve said. Just as I am about to ask Lucan again if he’s is all right the elevator begins to shake violently.

  I grab the bars of the iron grate and try not to freak out. The threat of Lucan’s hunger is the only thing keeping me inside. “Lucan, what is that?” I scream.

  Before he can answer, the door adjacent to the stairwell bursts open and Zaid flies through with a black flask in hand. “I'm sorry brother; I should not have ignored your calls. I came as soon as I could.”

  He hands Lucan the flask. Lucan rips the lid off. I turn away as he lifts it to his lips. Reflexively, I gag thinking about what is to come next. “Oh shit! Abri, you’re here. I smell blood. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, Zaid. I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible though,” I call through the door. “You let me know when it’s okay.”

  “I’m fine, love. Please come out… if you want,” Lucan answers. “I’m done.”

  No need to tell me twice. I throw back the lock and fling open the grate and the wooden door. “It’s going to be a while before I go back in there,” I exclaim. “An elevator is the last place I need to call a panic room.”

  Lucan embraces me and I can smell the metallic tang of blood. I try to hold my breath but he feels me tense up and lets go. “I'm so sorry, love. I will never let that happen again. I should have gone straight to the Enclave but I was bloody and couldn’t risk the Council seeing me. I don’t have permission to use deadly force yet.”

  “I'm sure I'm going to have to say this a few more times, but it’s really okay. I know you didn’t want to hurt me or anything—”

  Lucan cuts me off. “No, but I could have. Even if you hadn’t cut your foot, I could have hurt you. Wanting to wouldn’t really have played into the equation either. I can’t control the blood lust when I get that low. I haven’t let myself get that way in a long, long time.” Lucan’s thoughts seem to drift to a distant, unpleasant memory.

  “Speaking of your foot, Mitra, we should get that taken care of,” Zaid interjects. “In spite of what Lucan’s willpower wants to believe, he’s not entirely out of the woods yet. That blood will take a few minutes to kick in.”

  Lucan shoots Zaid a look that says he’s right but not happy about it and goes to find his first aid kit. I hobble over to one of the dining room chairs to take off my shoe and sock. It is a deep cut but not enough to need stitches. Lucan lets Zaid tend to it while he paces back and forth by the stairs, ready to make a quick exit if necessary. He is still clutching the black flask even though it’s empty.

  “Did Zaid tell you I won in court today?” I call out to Lucan. “Sarah gets to keep the apartment. I don’t think Hicks was very pleased either.”

  Lucan stops pacing to look at me. “What if I’d tasted your blood today, Abri? What if I’d ruined my chances…”

  “Well, it didn’t happen. No use in worrying over it.”

  “Agreed,” Zaid says as he finishes putting the bandage on my foot. “Not that I don’t think you shouldn’t complete it as soon as possible. I just think we should be glad we dodged a major bullet today.”

  Lucan glares at Zaid and then me. His eyes turn almost black. “You think I could go through with it now?” he yells. “There is no way. What if I killed her? Abri, I'm never going to forget how badly I wanted to take your blood tonight, how I knew I wouldn’t want to stop.”

  “Wait a minute, not going through with the ceremony? Lucan, that’s ridiculous.”

  “You don’t know how close you came to death tonight. How very close,” he replies, softer this time.

  “And I probably come close every time I use a Manhattan subway or step off a curb down there, but there is no use worrying about it every morning. Otherwise I’d never leave my bed,” I spit back. “I completely understand the seriousness of the situation Lucan, but I can’t spend the rest of my life worrying if you’re going to kill me or not. Hell, I can’t even spend it worrying if Serge’s going to take another crack at it. Not to mention, didn’t you tell me that one of the benefits to being Sodali is being invincible to a vampire attack? You’re a vampire; he’s a vampire. Ceremony performed. Problem solved.”

  Zaid tries to cover his laugh and fails. “Brother, I seriously love this woman. She’s the antithesis of you. For all your careful worry and planning, she’s ready to go balls to the wall, damn the torpedoes, and any other euphemism you Americans can think of. She’s right you know, the bond will keep her safe from you and Serge alike.” He laughs some more. “I love it. Good for you, Mitra. Shake his world up a bit, he needs it.”

  Lucan is not amused in the slightest but he has calmed down enough to release his death grip on the flask. It falls with a hollow clang to the marble floor.

  “I just worry for you. You are breakable compared to the other members of this happy little saga, so very fragile.” There is no anger in his voice, only a resolved sadness.

  “Enough of about me and my mortality,” I order. I put my shoe back on and toss the sock in the kitchen trashcan hoping that will mask the smell of blood. “What happened with Serge?”

  “We fought. He certainly has it in his head for you, fucking bastard. He admitted to creating Mark. He’s proud of it in a sick way, even though he only got it half right. I wanted to kill him but I couldn’t. As Indagator for the Council, I need their permission. Even though he attacked you. I plan to seek it out immediately now that I have proof he’s Mark’s creator.”

  “Did you at least hurt him real bad?” I ask, hoping the Essex House cleaning staff had a royal mess to clean up and charge to Mark’s room.

  “Aye. I got him pretty good. He was mostly recovered from the other night, but I was able to cripple him again.” Lucan is being vague so it must be bad.

  “What did you do?” I ask, wanting to know and yet not wanting the visual.

  Lucan stays silent. I look to Zaid, who I know won’t be able to resist telling me something bloody and disgusting.

  “Let’s just say he won’t be giving anyone a high five anytime soon,” Zaid interjects and then peels off into another round of laughter.

  Lucan gives him another perturbed look. Zaid is not one to hold back on the details, especially the bloody, gory ones, so I focus my interrogation on him. “What does that mean?”

  Lucan mumbles something to Zaid that I can’t understand. Zaid throws his hands up in surrender. “You know that our bodies regenerate or heal themselves back to however they were at the time we were turned, right?” Lucan asks.

  “Basically like all the movies and stuff?”

  “Yeah, well, if you—” he stops.

  “If you cut something off it will grow back,” Zaid finishes. “Unless you pour salt on it or burn it.”

  “What did you cut off?” It probably wasn’t exactly what I would have cut off, if I had been doing the cutting. Lucan hears that thought and winces.

  “Hand,” Lucan says. “Right hand. Such thoughts, Abri.”

  “Cut off? More like he rip—” Zaid stops himself. “Anyways, it’s going to grow back, just takes a while. Too bad no one had ordered room service or there might have been a salt shaker lying around.”

  “And he’s going to be über pissed about it too, or didn’t you think about that? What am I going to do, be stuck under lock and key until you get permission to off his ass? If you can even find him again. I’d have damn sure done more than just piss
him off, Council or no Council. Fucking bastard has probably gone into hiding now and we’ll never find him.” I am yelling now.

  “That’s not all,” Lucan adds. “Know that violence goes against my very nature, Abri. Both as a vampire and as a human, but I needed to slow him down until the Council meets again and I can gain permission to end his existence. I hated not being able to kill him as much as you do. This is one place where our laws differ from human laws, however. Deadly force must be authorized by the Council if there’s an investigation going on. Even after all he’s done to you and to Mark.”

  “Well,” I huff. “Spit it out. What else did you do?” Zaid attempts to stifle a laugh again. Lucan and I both shoot him a dirty look.

  “What?” he replies. “I never get into this much action anymore. It’s nice.” Zaid had been a trained killer and tracker, even before becoming a vampire, working as a mercenary on North African trade routes. The gory details were business as usual for him. “Oh all right, I’ll tell her. I just wish I’d been there to do it myself. Damn Broadway shows Amelia drags me to every time we’re within five hundred miles of New York… Anyway, Lucan removed his eyes. They’ll grow back though like the hand. Bastard.” He spits out the last word.

  “I’m going to be sick,” I whisper just before I pass out.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Mark returned to the Essex House around seven o’clock that evening. He Serge would be at work by now and he’d be alone. He’d spent the afternoon at work trying to focus on a new project rather than Sarah. It was amazing that he kept the job in spite of his resent disabilities and a rather undocumented leave of absence. His employer either hadn’t noticed or was so in debt to Mark’s family for some reason or another that he couldn’t very well fire him. Either way, work was a good distraction from his life now that he was able to concentrate again.

  Mark slid the cardkey into the lock and opened the door. The smell of blood hit him in the face like a train, making his fangs run out and the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Fuck. Mark thought of the maid. How stupid was Serge? Didn’t he understand they’d have to clean up the mess and deal with the cops when they came asking. Her supply cart was no longer standing outside the bathroom; so maybe Serge had been at least smart enough to destroy that piece of evidence.