by Karen Payton
Principal Julian inhaled sharply.
“Need I remind you of council protocol? You will remove yourself from my court. And consider this carefully.” Julian stared Serge down. “There is a difference between evidence and wishful thinking. You owe Doctor Connor an apology.”
A smile lit Connor’s eyes, but his smooth, porcelain face remained impassive. This should be fun. Challenging Julian in public is not the smartest thing Serge could have done.
After the council adjourned, Julian took Connor aside. “Well, Doctor Connor, it seems Councilor Serge is baying for your blood.” His eyes narrowed, his youthful appearance belying many decades of experience. “What did you do, hmm?”
Connor met the probing stare. “It’s better if you don’t ask, Julian.” He had no intention of compromising the principal. Its better he doesn't know that there is no ‘Annabelle’. Sparring with Serge is only the beginning, but, this is my fight.
“This has the stink of a personal vendetta. I suggest you tread very carefully.” His expression stern, Julian said, “I do hope you know what you’re doing.”
Connor nodded gravely, hovering indecisively.
“Is there something else?”
“Julian, when I made the trip to the storage facility, I killed a feral. I think a sweep of the woods is needed.”
“I thought we’d seen the last of them, it’s been three years.” Julian swore beneath his breath. “I’ll get Captain Laurence to sweep the fields around the human farm, although, you’ve probably done the job already. Where did you find him?”
“Heading along the North Downs, south of London.”
Julian raised a brow. “I won’t ask how it was that you were going in entirely the wrong direction. It’s probably best I do not know.”
Connor felt a little easier as he left. Julian was right, of course. Ferals are a minor irritant to us, but it isn’t us I’m worried about.
Chapter 12
How can three days feel like a lifetime? Rebekah pushed her plate away, the food untouched. She knew not eating would not help her situation. But honestly? The waiting is killing me. Her appetite had been the first casualty of the conflict playing out inside her head.
The dining cavern had emptied out, but that would not last. A constant trickle of humanity would flow through it until the evening reading session drew them all to the meeting cavern.
The atmosphere was rustic and homely. The spotless wooden tables were a basic construction and the rustic benches had been polished slick by the accumulation of more than ten years of backsides sliding over their surface. Rebekah discovered the benches also numbed her backside when she sat there too long, daydreaming.
Rebekah immersed herself in a fragile world where Connor worshipped her body, well, her soul, really. Her body, he tried very hard to worship, and she still had the bruises to show for it. But he’d been gone for days now, and her impatience became tinged with doubt.
The new relationship argument echoed in her head. Now he has gone, is he having second thoughts? Perhaps he won’t come back at all?
But, he promised. She planted her chin in her hand. He has a lot to do, for heaven’s sake. Covering their tracks meant disposing of vampire bodies, checking out the danger, and, from what Connor had said, she knew Councilor Serge would not be easily put off the scent.
Rebekah grinned as she recalled the recent cluster of fingerprints trailing across her skin; being with Connor resembled a battle of good and evil. Her body simmered when excitement flared at his touch, but even as he chased a hot pulse under her skin, the cool touch of his fingers snatched her breath away.
She shivered, rubbing her arms briskly when certainty of his return rose as a warming tide inside her. He’ll come back.
Thanks to Leizle, no one missed her the night of her meeting with Harry. Leizle told Douglas Rebekah was exhausted and gone to bed. Redirecting Douglas’ attention formed part of an unwritten pact between the two girls, and, on this occasion, her help had served Rebekah particularly well. I wish I could tell her about Connor, but, for now, its best no one knows he exists.
After his encounter with Connor, Douglas had been in the mood to celebrate and drink a little, and Oscar had made sure Douglas was well-fed and too comfortable to consider leaving. A deliberate kindness by Oscar, she was certain. He knows Douglas makes my skin crawl. Everyone usually steered well clear of Douglas when he was in one of his manic moods, caused, this time, by the euphoria of ‘capturing a vampire’. Although, he would never have let others in on that secret.
Rebekah got to her feet, deposited her loaded plate on top of a pile of dirty dishes and left the dining cavern.
The domed ceilings of the smaller tunnels leading off from the main artery were high enough for all but the tallest of the eco-town inhabitants to still walk without stooping, but gloomier. Pulling her torch from the pocket of her combat pants, Rebekah was about to flick the switch when she heard the urgent hiss of whispered conversation. She stopped, dropping the torch back down to her side as the hairs on her nape went up. Douglas.
The voices echoed in the tunnel, and she strained to listen. She tuned in, to hear Douglas plotting. There’s no better word for it.
“We’ve had him locked in there for three days. He won’t have fed. That means he’ll be weak, surely?” Douglas’ tone had the jarring note of nervous excitement.
At least, he has the sense to know that he doesn’t know anything for sure.
Leaning over to one side, Rebekah brought part of Douglas’ broad back into view, and could just make out Harry’s white face beyond.
“Keep your mouth shut, Harry. Another day should do it. If they don’t feed then they die. So another day.”
Tension gripped Rebekah’s neck; fear was becoming a familiar companion. Douglas’ determined enthusiasm had a sadistic edge to it, and she was relieved he was doomed to disappointment. She didn’t really want to listen to more of his poisonous thoughts. But, as Connor would say, “know your enemy”.
It was entertaining to think that while Douglas believed Connor was trapped inside his vampire cave, he had been with her, denouncing Douglas as an idiot. And listening to him now, Rebekah could only agree.
To think, Connor had insisted on waiting for her, and, for some reason, it seemed important he gave her that time. But why would I want three years of this?
When Douglas’ arm had settled around her shoulders and he marched her into the tunnels away from Connor, she thought she had lost him, and her world felt as gray as his eyes. Thinking about him now, and of the way fierce concentration melted his earnest gaze to pewter whenever he touched her, it was all she would ever want. So, why must I wait?
Douglas’ unrelenting advances loomed as her biggest threat. He believes he has dealt with his rival, and after seven years of thinking of me as his wife-to-be, his delusions are unshakable.
In the last couple of days, avoiding Douglas had been easier than she expected. Too easy. She had steeled herself for the confrontation over Connor, after all, he declared himself as her ‘friend’, so Douglas knew she had lied. Although relieved Douglas felt inclination to ignore the situation, deep inside, she feared it was a bad sign. I’ll breathe easier when he shows his hand.
For now, Douglas appeared to be immersed in vengeful plotting. But when that all falls apart, what then? Until Connor confirmed the woods were safe, she couldn’t sign up to go out on one of Greg’s foraging expeditions, so she was stuck here. When Greg gets back, I’ll have to find a way of warning him about these demented vampires. Maybe I’ll say I saw one. While Douglas held his tongue, Rebekah would not mention Connor.
In the meantime, she would stay out of Douglas’ way. When Connor comes back, surely Douglas will accept defeat.
Douglas turned away from Harry, and the light of a bulkhead lamp played across his features. The tight expression on his face filled Rebekah with foreboding. She knew things would be tough, but he seemed different today, fired up and decisive. He was a man with a
plan, and it did not bode well. She could feel the thunder clouds gathering.
Chapter 13
Harry paced the tiled floor of the hospital cavern. It was the only cavern they had taken the trouble to tile with precision. The manual preparation of the floor, using metal drums filled with concrete as rollers, had been back breaking, but worth it. He ran his fingertips over the smooth, glass-like finish of the walls. Amazing what we managed to achieve with those bathroom tiles. Harry’s mind scuttled away down memory lane, clutching at the useful distraction from why he was really here.
A bird flu epidemic scare left humans unscathed. To counter scare mongering and manage mass hysteria, the panicked populace was prescribed an influenza vaccine – even though experts agreed it was no more effective than a placebo. When the big influenza pandemic hit, flu vaccine stocks were so low, it wiped out a crippling eighty percent of the human population.
He relived the early days, before the vampire clusters became hives, when London had yet to fill up. Going out on sorties, targeting the deserted shopping malls, had been less dangerous then. We found these tiles in a hardware superstore that no longer had front doors, I seem to remember. It gave them the means of creating a sterile environment.
Inevitably, his eyes were drawn to the reason he was sweating, and why, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he had a migraine.
Harry stared at Rebekah’s restless form laid out in a hospital bed. The blonde hair at her temples was dark with perspiration, and there was a grayish sheen to her usually creamy complexion. The restraints running across her body were not tight, but they looked sinister.
“This isn’t right, Douglas,” Harry muttered.
“It’s necessary. He made fools of us. She must have let him out.”
“But she didn’t know, I swear it.” Uncle Harry’s usual command gave way to impotent frustration. “You can’t keep her sedated forever, and the others will ask questions.”
“And if this friend of Rebekah’s escaped without her help, then that makes it worse.” Douglas clenched and unclenched his fist.
But Harry knew the truth. It suited Douglas to have Rebekah under his control, and he blamed himself for that.
“I’m damned if I’m going to let a bloodsucking leech lay a hand on one of the few eligible women we have, much less my woman.” Douglas’ eyes glinted with sickening fervor as he jerked his head in Rebekah’s direction. “He has her in his power, so this is for her own good.” Douglas looked Harry in the eye. “The sooner she is my wife, the better.”
“It was never meant to be like this.”
“Was I supposed to woo her, Harry? With hearts and flowers?” Douglas laughed. “Wake up, man.”
Harry swallowed, and the guilt stuck in his throat.
Douglas arrival at the eco-town coincided with a low-point. They had needed Douglas’ vision to survive, and his going price was a wife.
When he betrothed the fourteen-year-old Rebekah to Douglas without her consent, Harry knew he had let his sister down. Margaret died thinking Rebekah was in safe hands. His stomach swilled with disgust. The danger of being caught by the vampires overshadowed everything else. But blood is still thicker than water and somewhere along the line, I lost sight of that.
The bargain had seemed an abstract notion, after all, who knew what seven years would bring.
It was a little like promising your soul to the devil; you never really expect him to come knocking. But it was Rebekah’s soul Harry promised. Douglas had honored his agreement to wait until she was twenty-one, but now, he was determined to collect.
One month ago, in Douglas’ controlling mind, Rebekah went from being Harry’s niece, to becoming his woman.
Harry could still see Rebekah’s wounded expression when he told her what he had done, and that Douglas would not back down. But he promised to keep trying. He rubbed self-consciously at his throat, recalling the night Douglas made clear exactly how far he would go to force Harry’s hand. The bruises Douglas inflicted had lasted a week.
His throat rasped, suffering from many hours of arguing with Douglas; pleading Rebekah’s cause. If only I was twenty years younger, or Douglas had a better nature to appeal to. The man has no conscience to prick.
Harry’s modified beta-blockers gave humans a critical edge in those early days. Gathering information on vampires was only ever a secondary consideration. We were never foolish enough to believe the balance of power would shift back. ‘They’ are immortal, so, open and shut case. But, by suppressing our heart rate, we have a fighting chance. We can at least forage for fuel for the generators, renew supplies of blankets and clothes, and of course, raid ‘their’ crops.
However, whichever way you looked at it, Harry had needed Douglas to overhaul the living conditions, or the real threat remained that humans would die of carbon monoxide poisoning, or worse yet, dysentery. While they could live without physical comforts, Douglas’ expertise in rigging up the generators provided enough lighting to save their sanity and enabled warmed water to be piped around the caves in a crude form of heating. His mechanical knowhow made hot food and a warm bath a reality.
In this new world, Douglas held all the cards, and he knew it. Harry had never seen Douglas so furious. I was right to fear him. Rebekah had become the pound of flesh Douglas felt he was owed.
“You can’t marry a woman in a coma,” Harry snapped.
“But I will marry her. Surely you can’t think her better off barren, being drained by a bloodsucker?”
“You don’t know he is one, not for sure. You’re letting jealousy cloud your judgement.”
Douglas’ face flushed to the shade of a rotting plum. “Have you seen the bruises on her body? It’s disgusting.” he spat. “She will marry me and have children. It is her duty to our community.”
Harry recoiled under the tirade. If he is a vampire, he shows more humanity than Douglas. I’m glad the trap failed. But, he kept those thoughts to himself.
<><><>
Rebekah’s subconscious registered the ebb and flow of voices around her, but she found concentrating on any one in particular too difficult. Although, she was aware that the voice she clung to was not there. She couldn’t recall his name, or clearly define his face, and disappointment weighed her down.
She tried to move, but the blankets felt like lead.
“Uncle Harry?” her voice scratched over a parched throat. She had lost track of time, but her head was clearing. As she stared at the meticulously tiled domed ceiling, she wondered, what am I doing in the hospital cavern?
She hated it here. It smelled of antiseptic and despair. No one ever ended up here for a good reason, and the isolation made the air of loneliness so thick you could taste it.
It was on the lowest level of the eco-town where a natural underground spring made it the ideal location for the hospital.
“Uncle Harry,” she croaked again.
A hand lifted her head and another held a beaker of water to her lips. “Shh,” Leizle hissed, “he’ll hear you, and he’s in a foul mood.”
Fear iced her spine. She didn’t need to ask who.
“What happened?” Rebekah whispered. She trusted Leizle, and she tried hard to focus and find some reassurance on her face. A curtain of vibrant chestnut hair covered her expression, but the green eye peeping out became clouded with worry.
“You were in the dining cavern and you fainted, spark out. You hit the floor like a sandbag and cracked your head on it. Douglas insisted that you needed rest.” She scanned the cavern quickly, adding quietly, “It’s been two days, and no one has been allowed to see you.”
Rebekah frowned. She remembered sitting in the dining hall playing with her food, making patterns with it on her plate. Douglas appeared from nowhere and slid onto the seat beside her, and a sharp pinch in her thigh had made her leap to her feet with a yelp. The room tumbled, and when she turned to make her escape the floor rushed up at an alarming speed.
“He did this. Douglas.” He
jabbed me with something, but why? Even as she clutched at the memories, drowsiness dragged her eyelids closed, and a feeling of mourning shrouded her muddled thoughts. To sink into oblivion in her own bed was suddenly all she wanted.
She clawed her way back to consciousness and focused on Leizle’s face, saying urgently, “When will I be allowed back to my den?” Rebekah liked her small cave. They had been dug out in rows and although you could hear the murmur of voices as companionship, you still had privacy. All her treasures were there.
“He’s organizing a new den for you, near his.” Leizle paused, looking into Rebekah’s suddenly keen gaze. Her next words stung like a slap to the face. “He’s planning the wedding.”
Rebekah’s body jack-knifed as she tried to sit up, and the band across her middle dug into her ribcage. The sudden pressure squeezed her heart tight. She croaked, “Wedding? No! Tell Uncle Harry, no he can’t-”
“Shhh, he’ll hear us. Harry tried to stop it, but, you know Douglas. I’m so sorry.” Leizle laid a hand over Rebekah’s, her chin emerging from behind the copper curtain on a mutinous slant. “We’ll think of something, don’t worry. We’ll run away,” she whispered, but they both knew that the trap was set to close.
Leizle’s head shot around. She hissed, “He’s coming. I’ll come back.” With a hard squeeze of Rebekah’s fingers, she slipped silently away as heavy footsteps approached.
Rebekah subsided quickly and feigned sleep.
A warm, fleshy hand rested heavily over hers. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears when it moved to her thigh. The clammy heat creeping into her skin through the sheet disgusted her. She could almost feel his gaze crawling over her face, and just as panic began to grip her, his fingertips dug into her flesh and suddenly withdrew.
His footfall faded and left the room, and she listened until her neck ached with the effort of not moving.
Her relief was filled with a revelation. The elusive voice which had floated inside her head suddenly had a name. Connor. When he touched her, it had sparked entirely different feelings. Douglas’ touch swilled her stomach with bile. God help me. Adrenalin pumped, urging her to run, her left leg even twitched a little, but in the end, sleep seemed the more enticing means of escape.