The Blood In Between (The Safe Haven Trilogy Book 3)

by Randall G Ailes

  “There goes all our stuff; weapons, case files and evidence.” Frank moaned.

  “Rich?” Enos asked.

  “Could be. I thought he was behind me but he went back up.”

  Frank raised his gun to Enos. “Now what’s this way you have of detecting a Lorn?”

  “Frank, how would you like to meet a vampire?”

  42

  The Haven from inside Persephone, had entered Ruby and led her into a light coma. Then, she had explored this strange being referred to as a Dog-one, to get some idea of what sort of being this was. Following various corridors of thought, not unlike walking through a hall of a hotel, she came upon a doorway marked in urine, as dogs so often mark things. Once inside the room, she found a huge smoky orb which seemed immense, but really was the size of a marble. She knew what it was and why is was there. It had been placed inside Ruby’s brain, and was intended to break open at some point, dissolve and unleash the Lorn waiting inside. The poor Dog-one was a Trojan horse, brought within the confines of the Great House.

  Inside that orb, something was aware of the Haven’s presence. It watched through the glassy walls. Persephone’s Haven glided along and explored this sphere further. The texture, the thickness, its transparency, how would whatever was inside get out? Even more frightening, could it get out now? Occasionally there came a thump from inside and less frequently but more disturbingly, a tink…tink…tink against the inside glass. The Haven searched for seams and cracks, doors or windows…thin spots or screens. Sometimes, she was the vapor cloud as she smoothed along the surface of the marble. Sometimes, she walked along beside it in something akin to muscle memory. It was when she was studying the underside as it curved towards the floor that movement caught her attention, movement outside the marble. Two legs moved in the same direction, slowly around the sphere. This course would bring them face to face. The Haven contemplated escape routes and the possibilities of being trapped inside the room. Would this be an encounter of a horrific kind? She drifted forward, ready to disperse and scurry.

  Two more steps and they would meet. She checked the progress of the approach. Still haltingly forward but…here was a puzzle. The legs were sometimes there and sometimes not…sometimes solid and sometimes wavering. It appeared as though a struggle was going on. It might be best to confront this being while this tussle was occurring. She whooshed around the remaining distance and met the approaching threat.

  Misty stood there, sometimes solidly, sometimes transparently and sometimes like a swirling vapor cloud. The Haven held itself back from rushing to embrace and enfold. What was going on here? What an unexpected event. Traps were often made of a clever mixture of appearance, timing, confusion and desire. The appearance of Misty here was highly unlikely. Here, in what was a locked room where the very essence of their enemy lay waiting to spring forth…how could something as preposterous as Misty’s appearance be anything but a trap.

  It stopped its forward movement and after a few swirling seconds, spoke in a gargling warble. Something that reached her ears but also spoke to her soul.

  “Mom, is that you? I need you, mom. I’m lost. I’m me…b-b-b-barely me. I am so tired and so achingly… alone.”

  The Haven replied. “Oh, these are sweet words to hear and your appearance, just as sweet. And I want to hold you.” It was difficult not to just swoop in, and yet she kept moving and was ever watchful of the Lorn infested marble and the confines of her environment.

  “Here is a drop of me. Look at it. Smell it. Feel it. Taste it. It is me…and not for much longer. I am j-j-j-juggling m-m-me.”

  The mass that was claiming to be Misty shimmered for a second, and a dew drop fell slowly to the floor, away from the orb. The ever-changing swirling cloud moved away from the droplet.

  The Haven approached but made no examination.

  “How did you come to be here, my child?”

  “I-I-I am running. Mama, I found them... aw, Dustin, you liar…sad. Th-th-they see me. They chase me…ch-ch-ch…ased me. Ow…ow…owee, they sh-sh-shot at m-m-me. Ma-ma-make it t-to the water. Purge…purge…purge. Let go, let go, e-ease out…oh no! Big Water! Keep me together! Juggling…holding me…oh no…oh no…I’m slipping through my f-f-fingers. I am losing me. Wa-wa-wait. That dog-thing…in the water…sniffing and licking and slurping. Hurry! J-j-jump inside! And I d-d-did j-jump inside. They would never l-l-look for me here…inside the dog-one…R-R-Ruby c-c-comes for me…inside…hides me…h-h-here.”

  The Haven tentatively moved over the droplet on the floor and then picked it up and embraced the wavering Misty-thing. Mother and child reunited.

  A storm raged and swirled inside the marble.

  In a few minutes a cloud of mist exited Ruby through her nose. And drifted into the nose of Persephone. Moments later Persephone’s sleeping body animated. She turned to Cinnamon.

  “I have her! I have Misty!”

  Then the two of them raced upstairs. Cinnamon could not keep up, and when she arrived, Persephone was open mouthed kissing her sleeping daughter, and then became lifeless. Persephone’s knees no longer were able to support her unconscious body and began to buckle and slide off to the floor. Cinnamon guided the course and speed of her slip, but could not prevent it. Others arrived in time to prevent any damage. It was a full hour of anticipation, which felt like a week, before Misty opened her eyes and weakly smiled.

  43

  Desmondo Milan surveyed the desert valley below, from the mouth of a cave, his cave now. He thought of it like that and so did those with whom he associated. The cavern was actually a fissure, an ancient crack in the rocks along the walls of a mesa. There were many holes and pockets along this vertical fracture. It allowed several places to be out of the weather and yet keep an eye on what was happening below. Being the desert, there was not usually much of interest going on, but since he had returned to Spain after having second thoughts about leaving for several days out to sea, this unique location suited his needs. A small monastery, now abandoned, had been established at one time, no one from the nearest villages knew by whom or how long ago. But it was quite usable to house the small army Milan was building and strong enough to contain the regenerating remains of clever Bevin and the beautiful Jennifer.

  The witch woman, Belladonna was below somewhere in the same cave complex with the little monster, The association between Belladonna and himself went back many years and had its beginnings with admiring each other’s work, which slowly led to mutual respect. They each had their quirks and their agendas, but for the most part they had an uneasy alliance. This relationship was born from the power they recognized in each other and the ability to deliver it.

  The two vampires, kept across the valley in the monastery, had successfully gone from ashes to ashes to ashes to flesh thus far. He and the witch had followed the actions of the meddlesome Michael Ro`dan and the tender Charlotte Tilson, and what they had done with Del Rio and the Daccotta tramp. Dangerous work. It was just fine with him if Belladonna wanted to oversee it, though it was a serious and dangerous undertaking. She had dug for information, as little as there was. Lore said that death went to those who worked to revive a vampire. Who could argue that?

  But there was another reason why witch and vampire were paired, however unlikely. They both were infiltrated by Lorn. Milan and Belladonna both fought against a takeover of their own being. They both desired to shake their intruder and champion their own agendas. Though their battles against a bodily takeover and struggle for freedom were different, they could not help each other in his cause. These struggles were one-on-one and very rare due to the fact that almost no one in the entire universe was aware that Lorn even existed. And so, the Lorn strove to maintain this important secret. The elimination of all who knew of their existence was their agenda. They marched toward that end, using whomever and whatever means.

  An unfortunate, who was freshly invaded, was initially guided or urged toward the direction the invading Lorn desired. As time passed by, the Lorn’s g
rip tightened. What was at one time inferred, became a command with little room for discussion. Some species, like vampires and an occasional human, could put up resistance or at least make the takeover difficult and time-consuming. Most of the time, in that scenario, it turned out like the epic battle between a clam and a starfish, the starfish encompassing the clam and with slow, steady pressure, slowly wearing the clam’s resistance down, opening the shell and consuming the clam. Milan and Belladonna were impressive in their battles with Lorn takeover. Most likely, in the end, it would be like the addict attempting to fight free of the drug.

  Bevin and Jennifer would hopefully, soon rejoin Desmondo’s ranks. They were in full-fledged wildness now. He had seen the aftermath of such terrible abandonment of reason. But unlike Lucido Del Rio, these vampires were not gallivanting around the countryside causing death and destruction. They were confined, imprisoned for the moment until the wildness burned its course and burned out. Desmondo had two vampire hunters and a small army trained in marksmanship as archers. A vampire might be able to endure several arrows but not a concerted effort with many upon many arrows loosed. All that was needed, was to find them all together and preoccupied. The turning of Michael Ro`dan would be perfect for that. Nearly every one of the House of Del Rio would be there and probably blood drunk. The trick was, to know when the turning was taking place. Milan had solved that by planting someone there who could send a message as it was happening. Releasing Charlotte wasn’t a mistake or an oversight, it was calculated. She was such a pathetic wretch. He had so wanted to kill her in front of Ro`dan and what meager group of Del Rio’s stragglers might be housed at the farm their little homestead. It was only as a second thought that he decided to use her differently. So he drank until she had swooned to crush Ro`dan from where he screamed and bargained from the barn. Oh, what a delicious moment! Once Milan read from Charlotte’s blood that she was pregnant, he understood that an array of options for her use were available… that he could kill her anytime. Who knew what possibilities might present themselves?

  Oh, what a fortunate decision that was. He tore down her walls one brick at a time, learning about her and Ro`dan, the House of Del Rio, and the paradoxes of pregnancy as a vampire. Does it kill the fetus? Change the fetus? What does it do the mother? How can a pregnancy progress when a vampire’s lot is to return to its former self day after day after day? There were so many interesting questions.

  Charlotte would be contacting him very soon. Following his demands placed inside her. Reinforced time after time, she was his spy even though she didn’t know it…and even if she did, it would be very difficult for her to resist doing his bidding…their bidding. Whenever the word came that a gathering had occurred and a bloodlust was unfolding around Michael Ro`dan’s turning, the entire House of Del Rio would be vulnerable. Then he and his army of vampire-killing archers could attack the blood-drunken celebration and Bevin, Jennifer and Belladonna would follow to shred anyone struggling to survive.

  It was time to break camp and move closer to the place of the coming massacre. This was one party where it wouldn’t be wise to arrive late.

  44

  The snow whirled with wild frenzy. Just coming from the car to the building entrance felt as if she had been reduced in size and had come under the focus of a sand blaster, or maybe a relentless snow globe with settings on high, if snow globes were more like a kitchen blender. The wind was cold and harsh, but she had her key ready and it slid in as if the lock had been freshly oiled. Still, pulling the door open seemed like a tug-o-war waging over entry into the building. With a foot finally in the door to prevent it from closing completely, Cinnamon oozed her way in. Then, up the stairs where her office door lock received the key and performed its function noiselessly and smoothly almost as if it was a dream.

  Wait, this IS a dream. Cinnamon thought. It’s not winter. And more than that, I certainly am not in that life…that routine.

  But now she was by the work station where the ‘world according to Constance’ ruled. However, her secretary friend was not there. She must have taken the day off or was busy with an errand.

  She didn’t remember taking the steps, but she saw the doorframe to her office within easy reach and stepped right through. To her right was her desk. Straight in front of her was a grouping of chairs arranged for intimate conversation. At her far left, there should have been a table and chairs for further discussion options, and work on things beyond words, but instead there was a casket on the floor. All the chairs were gathered around it.

  Cinnamon was tempted to sit down in one of them but it was just a little too close to the unlikely appearance on the floor to feel comfortable, despite her training and experience whispering to her the assurances of logic. Her eyes noticed movement and she watched apprehensively as the lid swung on hinges toward the ceiling. And then, rising to a sitting position Michael Ro`dan turned slowly toward Cinnamon, pointed a trembling finger in her direction and said, “I have always wanted to do that.”

  He climbed out without being stupid or moronic and remarked further. “Yes, this is a dream. You picked up on that pretty well and still kept inside the dream. Nicely done.”

  “That was a lot of work to go through just to have your little joke.”

  “Not really, and I’m not joking, but I am trying to have a little fun with something deadly serious. I’m not being careless with this. I’m bringing you along in a manner that will hopefully get you through.”

  “I know. I know. But, can’t we jump to the chase?”

  “Cinnamon, the chase has been underway since before you were aware of it and they are hot on your heels. You are just short of full flung panic. I’m trying to help you see your way before you find yourself running down a blind alley…and a dead end.”

  “Michael, what happened to Veria, Don Lucido and Beatrice? All of those from the house of Del Rio? Where are they now?”

  Michael’s face revealed nothing, though it certainly did not project mirth. He turned from her and approached a dream window in her dream office and stared out into the dream world.

  You might be surprised to learn that transition from human to vampire does not take place in reality as it is presented in movies; not in twenty second fast-speed changes, not in an hour. It’s somewhere between a full day and a full week, and that is pretty miraculous. I was sick, Cinnamon. Vacillating between life and death, rebirth and re-life, I was weak and vulnerable and stupid… out of my mind with pain and transition. Out with the old, in with the new!

  I wasn’t left alone. Although, not always where I lay, someone lingered watchfully nearby. And, if I wandered too far inside… into a dream, which I will tell you now, were some of the scariest, eeriest, illogical mixtures I have ever experienced in my life, someone would come and find me and bring me back to myself. Dream worlds are by their very nature, a place apart from the world we know. Some of the ones I wandered were easy to negotiate, but most were dark or sad or full of horrors and insanity. I think an attempt was made to send someone with whom I was familiar, but there were times when faces I didn’t recognize shepherded me home. More often than not though, don Lucido was there to turn me from wherever I was and help me come to my senses.

  “Quit hiding from the changes you’re going through. Pay attention. Distractions line up for you like so many whores vying for your attention. You could spend your entire day with them and end up tired and empty.” He scolded, but his eyes showed he understood. He had brought me to another of his favorite haunts. Sitting on the edge of a rock cliff, my legs dangling over the drop, with the floor of the canyon a death-drop away.

  “I am in pain. My body is stretching and pulling, and you want me to pay attention to these painful things rather than seek the relief of distraction?”

  “You will have all the time you want to follow every diversion dancing before you, but first learn who you are and what you want and how to move in that direction. You have been chased into your dreams more than once. Michael, you’re
beyond the shallows now. You can drown in the deep or you can free yourself to go where you will. Short trips first, and then increase your distance…your depth.”

  It’s all too much, too thick…too deep.”

  “What did you learn about gazing into Veria’s eyes? Furtive glances, short looks, there is an ocean there, too.”

  “I know. I think I have drowned.”

  “You have tread those waters and lived to tell about it. Made those eyes cry and yet she still comes to you. Not very many can claim that.”

  “But I want her.” I blurted. “I love her. I….”

  “Find her in one of your dreams, or many of them. Meet her there. Do you see what you have before you?”

  I felt like I was in great danger of slipping off this cliff where our legs dangled.

  “But these are dreams.”

  “You know better than that. Enjoy your sleep, vampire. This is what we do. Some of us are immature and ravage our victims like cattle and then return to our sleep like a drunk in his stupor, driven on and on by our lust for blood. ‘Eat and sleep, eat and sleep!’” He called this out like a crow.

  “Blood is an excellent food. The food of life, the food of death and the food of dreams. What does a vampire do after he has stalked and killed his victim? Not much is said about that in all this supposed lore about us. We live our lives. That’s what we do. We sleep a lot and dream a lot and fuck a lot. Our senses see more, feel more, smell more, taste more and hear more. Is it any wonder we might live our lives deeper as well? Some of the stupid ones just eat and sleep and die from stupidity.

  You are turning, Michael. There is no going back. The blood taken from you floods us with images and instances, yet your life has taken decades. We cannot know everything… not yet. And we, in turn, have given you glimpses of each of us. Such is the give and take when you become family. It is a joy for a vampire to feed and momentarily live the lives of those we feed upon. But we feel everything, the happy and the sad, triumphs and failures, the love and the rage. It’s much like walking into a library. Have you been to one? I must take you. Anyway, right now you are overwhelmed by the selection. Read, Michael! Read! Here is where you will learn your balance and how to negotiate your way along the aisles and shelves. And look! At the end of the row, I see an enchantress.”