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

by Randall G Ailes

  “No, Max is gone. This is a lie Thing-One uses to get you to open the door. If you do open the door, he will grab you and eat you.” Persephone was firm. “Max is gone away, Ruby. Somewhere inside, you know this. So does Thing-One and he uses your… your hurting for Max, to trick you.”

  Ruby was crying. Slapped with the truth once again and more concerned about the loss of Max than her own safety or her own life.

  “Open the door, Ruby. Now!” Thing-One hadn’t gone anywhere, still there, just outside the door.

  Ruby turned to the door and then swung back.

  “Helped me!” She pleaded.

  “Listen to me. There is not much time. Everywhere Thing-One touches, everywhere he steps, and every breath spreads his sickness. That’s why he says he already has you. But we can help you. We are helping you. My mate, John and a family member named Sanford are already helping, you’ll see. But we can’t get to you. You have to come to us.

  Ruby nodded, awaiting further word. Here is what you need to do. You must be very, very quiet. Go to the other door and very quietly unlock it. With brief hesitation she followed Persephone’s instruction and then returned keeping the silence. Now, hear me close. You have to unlock the other door where Thing-One waits. Don’t worry about being quiet with this one. In fact, it’s probably better that you unlock it normally but once you turn that lock, you run like I know you can, across the room to the other door, the unlocked one. Thing-One will come into the room at the other door. That is when you must go out the other door. You must trust me. You will be safe once you go out that door, Ruby. Do you understand what you need to do?”

  Ruby nodded.

  “Any questions?”

  Ruby shook her head.

  “Thing-One was put here by the same people who killed Max. You need to know that.”

  Ruby said nothing, absorbing what Persephone had said.

  “Unlock the door that Thing-One is standing behind and as quickly as you can, without tripping or falling run over to the other doorway. John will be there. You will be safe. Do it now before Thing-One breaks the door in.”

  Ruby went tentatively towards the door, looking back through the large window to see Persephone, and pointed to her destination. Persephone and Millie were nodding with reassurance. Bravely she unlocked the door with Thing-One, on the other side and then scampered toward the other door which was along the same wall. Half-way there she heard Thing-One charge through the other entrance and launch angrily into the room. Valuable seconds were lost, as Ruby froze with fear at the clamor. But Thing-One was confused briefly by the door being suddenly unlocked, and that Ruby wasn’t immediately there. It looked around for its quarry and located her but Ruby had begun to surge toward her door. John was at the other exit and he quickly guided Ruby out into the hall, drawing the door closed behind her. A strong cord had been attached to the knob and drawn tight, to further restrict the door being opened. This allowed further time to fit a white translucent membrane over the opening. Sanford arrived from the other door where he had finished doing the same thing.

  John tried to calm Ruby while they worked. “This is a clot. It will take Thing-One some time to get out here.

  Outside, Ruby was lying down on a bed, and Persephone was gently plunging a syringe into Ruby’s left eye and then, with assist from Millie, the right. Inside the window room, movement in front of the windows caught Thing-One’s attention and he saw a woman from outside peering in. She held a syringe in her hand. Sliding through one of the windows came the shank of the needle. The room began to flood with a milk-ish liquid.

  “I see you in there, Thing-One. Go to sleep. These are your last waking moments.” Persephone said this in the way a physician might say it to a patient.

  Soon after, Millie, Sanford, Persephone and John collected with Ruby in the hallways of her mind.

  “Ruby, you have a decision to make and it is a huge one.” John said.

  Ruby tipped her head slightly as a dog often does when being talked-to.

  “Thing-One will continue its battle to take you over. We don’t know if we can stop it…probably not. But, we can or at least we think we can help you escape. The four of us can take as much as we can, in several trips, and place you into another body.”

  Ruby tipped her head back the other way. “If…if…if…what will happened to Ruby?”

  You will be you, but you will not look as you are used to seeing yourself. We must act fast to get you away from Thing-One. If he gets to you, Ruby will be gone.”

  “If…if new Ruby… Max is not finding.”

  Persephone interjected. “Ruby, we can keep Max out of your mind if you want. You will go to sleep, and if you say you want this, you could wake up without Max in your heart.”

  Ruby swung her head and looked to the wall. Her face could not be seen, staying in that position long enough for others to become uncomfortable with the pause when time was at a premium.

  Finally, she turned back, whispering from far away. “I will living with pain for Max and Ruby, Ruby and Max… howling in the night.”

  Though they were tired from their efforts with Misty, they worked to transfer the heart and soul of Ruby into the body readied for Misty, which she no longer needed. These were the efforts of many and the technologies of the past and present. The energy and care that been spent on one was now widened to two, but there was an unexpected benefit.

  They worked it with safety in mind though it was slower to do so. One of them was always stationed and watchful for Thing-One, while the others gathered what they could of Ruby’s essence. They strained it, polished it and rid it of contaminants and cancers, and then began to fill the empty void with … Ruby. They worked as long as they could, and then some more. And when they could give no more, it was done, and they left Thing-One implanted into an abandoned shell of what once was. Along the way, they discovered many memory files within Ruby of overheard conversations by her keepers, things her watchful eyes had picked up. Reviewing those gave the residents in Haven in the Pines, a view into their current state of the Lorn, at least locally, their plans and their exact location.

  59

  Edward Connelly watched his crew pack up the trucks with equipment. It was hard to believe that this was a tactical retreat. They were “The Authority” after all. When the spies and assassins, that had been sent to eliminate the Havens, were late with their check-ins, it caused a small ripple within the Lorn base. Flags went up. The longer they went without a report, the more concerned they had become. Lorn nearly never had setbacks, and this had not been a haphazard launch. Minutes late had become hours, and this situation, coupled with the shootout at the FBI, brought them to the edge of panic. The thing was, that this was so unexpected, and quite new to their experience. To contemplate anything other than success was wayward thinking, and giving credence to thoughts that could undo a firm mind. When the spies they had planted into the FBI, came back on retreat, the Lorn reluctantly started to consider a plan B. But doubt had worked its way in. Lorn had always been the unseen, unheard, ambush, stab-in-the-back kind of force. Being discovered and in anyone’s awareness, was something foreign to them, and a threat. Lorn would work endlessly to eradicate all of those who knew of them, so that they could once more live in the secrecy they once had and drive the slaves they infiltrated toward Lorn purposes without the slave even knowing.

  Havens, a bit like Lorn but far inferior, had let themselves become known to others. No matter how stupid that was, they were not now easily plucked for slaughter like they used to be. They had become powerful through powerful alliances. Though it was difficult to conceive, this rogue bunch of Havens might almost be formidable.

  They should have been gone by now, but it had taken time to send their menagerie of research animals (“Widow’s Children” they were called,) away and clean up any remnants left behind due to the fact they were lacking several team members. The shootout at the FBI was alarming, the disappearance of their “Dark Unit,” dispatched to t
he shores of Lake Michigan even bolstered by two of Dog-Ones was unnerving. So, now they were loading the rest the equipment in order to pull back and regroup. No matter. In the end, the Havens, one-by-one, would scream in pain as their lives evaporated, and the Lorn would revel in the sound. The Universe would soon forget that Havens ever existed.

  But the loading had stopped. Everyone was standing around. Connelly went to the window and called out through the screen: “What’s going on out there? What’s the hold up?”

  “Do you feel a sense of panic, Connelly?”

  From the shadows of the loading zone, a form emerged wearing a black tuxedo, shoes shined impeccably and to top it off, a black cape with a crimson velvet liner. He walked slowly and fearlessly, unperturbed by the circumstances.

  “Don’t worry, Connelly, your time of slavery is coming to an end, and the Lorn who has been feeding upon you will never return.”

  Others, Darian Smokerman, Tommy North and Ron Kennison came into the room. They held guns and when they joined Connelly at the row of windows, handed him one.

  Connelly tried to appear calm and he felt bolstered now from the gun in his hand. “That’s pretty funny, your remark about feeding, coming from a vampire. You must be Michael Ro`dan, from the house of Ro’dan. But it’s an empty house, no one living there but you. The rest of your family dead and gone. How sad, The Last of the Mohicans. Do you honestly think that through the vastness of space and time we haven’t prepared for an enemy such as you?”

  “What I think is you should be dead already, but you’re playing for time and hoping to disrupt my control over your friends out there, standing like so many statues.” Michael sighed in mock disappointment. “I wish I’d taken up juggling. You’ll have no help from out there.Yes, that’s what I think. I also think you’re trying to distract me, to loosen my grip on those on the loading dock being kept frozen.” Michael sighed. “I wish I could juggle.

  Connelly shook his head in disgust. “You somehow believe that a lone vampire can make a difference to the outcome?”

  “I have made a difference, especially with your outcome.” Michael replied.

  Zip! Zip! Zip! The sound of suppressed gunfire was followed instantaneously by sharp pain, body spasms and surprised expressions. Those experiencing these reactions turned to see the origin of their pain.

  “Good evening. The name’s Frank Lucas…just sending a message from the FBI.” Frank stood in the shadow of the room by the doorway that provided their only escape. He turned slightly to his right. “Right Enos?”

  Enos nodded. “Hey Michael. Look at these guns we found. We tried them out on the loading dock bunch out there. It froze in their tracks.” Enos moved closer to those most recently receiving this special ammunition. “If I remember right, you’re beginning to feel like you want to lie down. I advise it. I don’t know if you would shatter into a thousand pieces if you fall to the floor, unable to catch yourself but, all the King’s horses….

  Kennison, I think it was you who said….” Enos mimed himself in the act of recall, ‘“Your body’s gonna slow way down. I don’t think you’ll suffocate but I can’t promise you. Take some mental notes on how you’re feeling as this stuff takes effect. If it works out, we might talk about it later.’ Oh, wait. You’ve killed a friend of mine, Myrna. Surely we can arrange a way for these guys to atone for that cruelty.”

  “I am a monster, you know,” Michael said, “not someone you want as an enemy and…we are enemies. I’ll see to it that you have a fiery, painful end. I promise. Water and dust…and the blood in between.”

  60

  Dr. Cinnamon Starr was having a good long cry, alone in the dark on the rooftop patio at the Great House. It was the culmination of events in the last weeks and the changes that they brought. It was what lay ahead. It was hearing the sad tales of those around her now, and the impact of their histories and her own. The merging of the new and the old was overwhelming, too much to fold into her life all at once. Her life was changed forever, and she would have to learn how to navigate it all over again. She would have to become much better at covering her tracks and looking over her shoulder as well as handling better what was on approach. She was a woman and a psychotherapist. They both found comfort with each other, and a dissonance that could never be attuned. She mourned the loss of old habits and the familiar. She mourned also the sad tale Michael had told her. How utterly alone Michael must feel. Was there more to hear? Yes, wasn’t there always? She bent to the patio table top in front of her and wept some more.

  Gradually she began to pull herself together, dabbing her eyes. In the shadows of the night she noticed the form of a man facing her, sitting in one of the patio chairs.

  “Michael?” She asked tentatively.

  “His name is Lucido Del Rio,” said someone at the edge of the deck. It was a woman’s voice. And now seeing her darkened form- she was either facing inward or outward- It was difficult to tell. But, almost in answer to this unasked question, this visitor turned and came away from the edge and flowed slowly across the floor until she seated herself at Cinnamon’s table. “He’s a creature of the night, you know. Sitting out here is healing. You know the therapy of it. Do you not?”

  Cinnamon nodded her head.

  “Once upon a time, I was known as Beatrice the Vampire Witch but not many know me as that anymore. Just my friends. They know this but they call me Beatrice. It’s friendlier, more intimate.” Beatrice raised her eyes and regarded Cinnamon and Cinnamon caught her breath.

  Flustered, Cinnamon said, “You’re not dead! You, you’re beautiful.”

  “And so are you my child. May you enjoy its many curses! But, let me bring you some closure to your morose temperament this evening.

  Yes, I am alive and healed from my injuries of that awful night. Not everyone was so fortunate. The House of Del Rio was shattered and lay in pieces. The sun burned bright on that day, and anyone who lay unshielded, whether land or sea, was burned…dust in the wind. Those of us seeking shelter under the sea slept that day and through that night and the next day too. When finally we went out for feeding, we were ravenous. Oh, the terror for the villagers and country dwellers. Jennifer carefully approached us and asked to speak with Veria or Michael. We were still discovering those among us who had died and told her this. She offered to help which of course we refused. She began to cry and disclosed to me that she had been burned in that barn fire where she and Veria had faced-off. Though she was pieced back together again by Belladonna, she felt a stranger to herself and felt she was growing weaker…dying. She had hoped that Veria or Michael might understand what was going on and might be able to help her. I told her that I would pass that message along if either of them had somehow survived, and bid her to stay away and yet, wished her well.

  The city lay in ruins, carnage and rubble everywhere. For a few days, Michael lay trapped under the collapsed building, skewered by sharp splinters. He was afraid that he might be uncovered by villagers who might be searching for survivors. He needn’t have worried. No one would come near. Still, one night he awoke to find himself freed, but could not account for how that had happened. Had Charlotte survived and rescued him? Had Veria? Was it Jennifer or perhaps in some delirious fog of recovery, Michael did it himself. Michael searched for Charlotte. We all did, but there was nothing to be found after searching and then researching. The same could be said for Veria. The last we knew she was a body, alive or dead, floating near the docks as the sun became brutal and relentless. The water left even less traces than what we found in the quest for Charlotte.

  Lucido, dear Lucido, we thought him dead at first but several of us in the following days began to have troubling dreams, and you know the sort of dreams we have. We all saw the heavens and the tapestry of stars strewn in their fabric. In those travels we, each in our own way, heard someone calling out. Eventually we discerned it to be Lucido’s name that was being called and that the caller was Veria. Lucido had taken all of those arrows filled with Lorn and t
aken them so deeply among bubbles and worlds, and flung them into some raging star. So many Lorn were consumed, a huge blow to their numbers. But oh, how far Lucido’s journey and how terribly weak he was. Michael said to us one evening that he had seen Lucido in a huge enclosed bubble in the rock that held part of the city of Glyn preserved. That they had walked and talked and Lucido said he was lost out there in the heavens. He also said that Veria possessed ‘The Beating Heart’ and was not dead or lost, but wherever she was, she called to him every night in hope of guiding him back to us. We all took to this, man and woman alike. And we continually called to him, like so many beacons in the night- for days, nights, weeks, months, years, decades…centuries. And within us grew hope that we could also find Veria. I counseled that she would come back when she was ready. And Michael the caretaker took hold of the remnants of the House of Del Rio, and has kept the family together since Lucido became lost.

  “And so….” John’s voice came through the darkness and he and Persephone were just completing the stairs from their rooms below. They crossed to the table and took a seat. Cinnamon became aware that Sanford and Millie were there on the deck now as well as Enos, Constance and Frank.

  “Misty is still recovering. But she wanted to come up. I would have invited Ruby too, but she has apparently run away.”

  “Oh no!” Several people said at once.

  “The procedure she’s going through, the reanimated body she now occupies….” Persephone interjected. “It’s amazing she could cross the room let alone get out of the house.”

  “We’re watching her close. She just doesn’t know it.” Sanford added. “She’s curled up now under some trees in the woods.”

  “We can afford our little get together. Being up here like this is important and helps us understand how we arrived at this point.” John said. “Sitting here, we are Haven and Yooman, Vampire and Human. That’s a nice little rhyme”.