Awakening (Fire & Ice Book 1)

by Karen Payton

  Chapter 14

  Julian’s words of four days ago haunted Connor. “This has the stink of a personal vendetta. I do hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Not really, thought Connor as he whipped along the hospital hallway, his white coattails flapping in an agitated rhythm. But he did know he needed to see Rebekah again, and escaping Serge’s attentions was proving impossible. The damn man is everywhere I look.

  He entered a side ward and, from his pocket, pulled the vials containing his blood quota, both animal and human. I don’t have time to hunt today. Pensively, he rolled the human blood vial between his fingertips, stirring a current which released a copper-tinged aroma that wrinkled his nose. He could not recall having an emotional response to it before. His reluctance to drink it surprised him. It is what it is, a way of life, or death.

  The irony was not lost on him that a trusted facilitator of the farming process, charged with finding new ways of surviving the food shortage, was keeping humans out of the farm. ‘Threatening the food supply’ is where I am, about now, and Serge just needs to make the death sentence stick.

  Connor inspected the vials again. “Ah well, as the saying goes, needs must,” he muttered. He had his other need to attend to also. Sleep. He quickly emptied the vials into his mouth and tossed them into the recycling cart.

  With the desperation for Rebekah’s safety clawing inside his skull, descent into rap-sleep would bring him the release of lucid dreams. I can’t go to Rebekah, but, I can feel closer to her. For Connor, who never experienced the true oblivion of sleep, the last few days had seemed like years. The unrelenting hours of uncertainty resembled the constant grip of a vise.

  Connor lay down on the examination table, closed his eyes, and prepared to enter heaven through the gateway of Hell. He relaxed, even though a clenched fist twisted his insides, gripping his heart as rap-sleep overwhelmed him.

  His cheeks hollowed with tension as he embraced the pain and his mind raced along the tunnel, chasing down the pinprick of light which exploded inside his brain and summoned a memory of his Rebekah. It was a pale imitation, but enough to save his sanity.

  Crystal clarity pulled her image into sharp focus, and she appeared, sitting in their glade waiting for him. Walking through his mind, he sank down beside her, tucked a strand of silky blonde hair behind her ear, and kissed her. Connor smiled in his sleep as he stared into her chocolate-brown eyes and watched her face flush to rose. The agony of making love to her would forever stain his soul. As his body and hers found a rhythm, he held her and absorbed the waves of pleasure chasing up and down her fragile frame. Everything I want, right here.

  He hung onto the euphoric feeling, until it suddenly turned to dust in his hands. He groaned in his sleep. The stone weight of his heart bore down and crushed him. The vision of Rebekah’s pink flushed cheeks as she lay in his arms, faded to ashen gray. He gently shook her shoulders, but her head hung limp, and he could not wake her. Panic oozed through him. He shook her again, tightening his grip, until, like a statue sculpted in sand, she crumbled and slipped through his fingers.

  His return to consciousness was the instant click of a hypnotist’s fingers, but Connor opened his eyes slowly, waiting for the anxiety to subside. Sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he muttered, “It means nothing.” But his need to see the real Rebekah’s smile, hear her heart and make sure she was okay, burned more urgently now.

  Leaving the room, Connor collected his greatcoat and headed out of the hospital via the emergency exit. He felt rather than saw Serge’s henchmen melt into shadows, staying out of sight.

  He stepped out onto the sidewalk and swore, “Dammit. Promenade.”

  The sea of enraptured vampires wandered by. Connor searched the flowing crowd for dark-haired decoys and familiar faces, and found one of each. Waiting for the right moment, he left the sidewalk, joined the sluggish tide, and adjusted his stride to fit in. He slotted himself in between a face he trusted, and three dark strangers wearing long-sleeved dark shirts. Not as tall as I’d like, but close enough, although, I’ll need to lose the coat.

  “Charles,” greeted Connor quietly, smiling when the young vampire faltered. Casting an eye over the fifteen abreast river of vampires, he added, “It’s still busy, considering it’s late.”

  Charles gathered himself, and nodded, “It’s a nice night.”

  Despite the wintery nip in the evening air, its caress on vampire skin felt warm. Connor removed his heavy coat, slung it casually over one shoulder, and rolled up his shirt sleeves, welcoming the breeze through the thin cotton of his shirt. I might as well get some air exposure. Pity they don’t care that moving faster increases the wind chill and speeds up the hardening process.

  Vampire tissue, like every other element of their existence, had conflicting needs. Tough surface tension relied upon air exposure; if covered too well, their skin softened over time and became vulnerable to injury. Yet another balancing act to manage, mused Connor.

  Connor cocked his head. “Don’t you ever wish they moved a little faster? It would make the walk more invigorating,” said Connor, keeping an eye on the dark heads clustered over to one side.

  Charles smiled, “You don’t consider this snail’s pace as exercise?”

  “You need to ask?” replied Connor, laughing as he drifted out to where the throng thickened, his conversation drawing Charles with him.

  Connor would normally have stirred the current himself. Looking after his human frame was second nature, and he was ever mindful that bursts of speed lubricated tendons and sinews. Exercise is a good thing. However, today, he wanted to remain invisible.

  His dark-haired companions eased their way out to the edge of the procession, and Connor moved along with them. This is it.

  He suddenly dropped his hand, and his coat slipped from his shoulder, landing with a muffled thump in the street. “Oh Hell,” muttered Connor, slapping his hand on his forehead in faked realization. “I have to see Principal Julian. Get my coat, would you, Charles?”

  Charles dived for the coat, and Connor smoothly changed direction, arriving on the sidewalk at the same time as a dark-haired vampire who formed part of the fortuitous group. Connor blended in, staying with them for a distance of thirty yards, turning his face away as Charles craned his neck and scanned the crowd with a puzzled expression on his face.

  At the first opportunity, Connor entered a store, passed through the sales floor and exited by another door. He slowed to a casual walk and repeated the shopping maneuver twice more before, using the back alleys to make a U-turn, he headed south across the river and out of London.

  Connor traveled southeast across the countryside, shadowing the same route taken by him and Rebekah, and keeping the narrow country road known as the ‘A20’ in sight. He didn’t want to miss a human on a motorcycle headed up to London. Things are tough enough already. He finally settled on a vantage point of the hilltop just outside Swanley; less than ten miles from the eco-town location and within vampire surveillance range, if you knew what you were looking for.

  Hunkering down, he turned up his shirt collar, folded his arms, and tucked his hands beneath his arms. The sweep of his black hair covered his brow, and he became all but invisible, even to vampire eyes.

  Midnight crept in, and Connor remained still for so long a dusting of frost covered his cold skin. In the distance behind him the dead buildings of London cluttered the horizon like outcrops of coal, with a snowfall of stars as a backdrop.

  He stared intently ahead, wishing he could summon the power of X-ray vision to burrow through the packed clay earth. It took all his skill to zero in on the distant eco-community, and, using the acute vampire senses he did have, he picked out the subtle blend of odors drifting on the breeze. Fourteen humans are there today. But, the only one who interested him was Rebekah. It should have been easier to single out her rhythm. When he tasted her blood, she had imprinted on him. As surely as ink would tattoo his skin, the colors and note
s of her body had swelled the empty chambers of his heart and given him reason to exist.

  But, he could not get a fix on her, and he was worried. I finally give Serge the slip and get my moment outside London, and now what? Where the Hell is she? Annoyance grated like a bone saw inside his head and wringing Serge’s scrawny neck blossomed as a perfect solution.

  Connor heard movement in the woods, and the thickening of shadows told him he had company. He tuned into a muted heavy heartbeat and admiration rattled through him. A human, and a smart one at that. He must know the terrain to have picked out my shape.

  Rising smoothly to his feet, still staring out over the landscape, Connor invited him in closer. He heard the whistling flight of the weapon launched at his head. He whipped around, and his hand darted out and closed around the handle of a blacksmith’s mallet, halting the six inch lump of metal two inches from his face.

  “Impressive,” he murmured.

  He scanned the deep shadow, and before the human he saw crouched there could move, Connor darted forward and pinned him to a tree by the throat. He stared into a mud-caked face, scanning the combat gear with a sweeping glance. “Military? Fancy your chances, hmm?”

  The man jabbed a knife into Connor’s stomach. The blade tore through his shirt, but skidded harmlessly across his hard flesh. Connor’s brows shot up in surprise.

  Curious about what the fool might do next, Connor released him.

  The human reached into his combat belt, and in a jerking action, he smashed a glass vial on Connor’s chest, and they both watched the acid burn its way through the black cotton fabric of his shirt and stain his vampire skin with a powdered residue.

  Gripping the man by the front of his jacket, Connor growled, “What the Hell is wrong with you? Have you got a death wish? Are you one of them? Rebekah’s lot?”

  The man’s eyes widened.

  “You are? Well, you’re lucky I bothered to ask or you’d be a bag of bone dust about now. Start talking. What’s your name?”

  “Greg.”

  “Ah, the Royal Marine. So, why are you behaving like a prick?”

  Greg sneered and spat at Connor. “I’ve seen you for what you are. Fucking cannibals.”

  Wiping the spittle from his face, Connor said calmly, “I’ve been nice up ‘til now. You don’t want to test me.”

  “Nah, ‘cos you’ll rip my fucking heart out, right?”

  He had Connor’s attention now, and his ice-gray stare burrowed into Greg’s brain. “You’ve seen a feral?”

  For the first time, Greg looked uncertain.

  “Shit,” said Connor. “Where? When?”

  “Just over a week ago. He got Stan-”

  Connor scoured the trees. “Where are the rest of your away team?”

  Greg bristled, saying quietly, “Why?”

  “You’ve been out in the field for weeks, Rebekah said, and I doubt you’d be out there alone. Go home, Greg. They need you back there. I already killed the feral.” Connor tilted his head. “We’re on the same side, they aren’t us.” Connor withdrew his hand. “Next time I see you, and there will be a next time because I’m watching out for Rebekah, don’t throw acid on me, okay?”

  The muscle in Greg’s jaw twitched as he stood down.

  Connor returned the blacksmith’s mallet and smiled. “No hard feelings?” Checking his watch Connor swore gently. “I have a clinic waiting. Dig in here and wait until dawn, you stink of adrenalin. But do me a favour,” Connor added casually, “go check on Rebekah, and tell her I said, ‘Hi.’” He stopped short of voicing his anxieties, the man was nervous enough already.

  With a sharp nod, Connor turned and disappeared, leaving Greg staring into empty space.

  Making himself go back into the darkened streets of London rated high as the hardest thing he had done in a long time. With Serge sitting upon his shoulder, and not knowing Rebekah’s whereabouts, ‘acting natural’ was almost unbearable.

  His niggling doubts about her safety constantly came back to Douglas’ smug smile. Could the man be that stupid? Connor feared the answer was ‘yes’.

  The clinic felt surreal in its normality. Connor called the next name on the list, and a patient wearing an eyepatch got up and followed him back into the consulting room.

  Injecting animal blood into the vampire’s eyeball in an attempt to hydrate it and restore the sight took Connor back to his Royal Eye Hospital days in 1910. Becoming a vampire had meant making tough decisions and saying goodbye to his human love, Lady Lavinia Cranham. It was a long time since that Pandora’s Box had sprung open. Dammit, I’m not losing Rebekah, I can’t.

  Connor tossed the syringe at his surgical assistant, Anthony, knowing his lightning quick reflexes would catch it.

  “Finish up here,” said Connor as he swung out of the room, leaving Anthony gawping at the slammed door.

  It’s going to take Greg the best part of a day to get back to the eco-town. Dawn is still a way off. I can make it there and back before then. I’ll face the consequences when I get back.

  Back out on the street, Connor rounded a corner, applied the brakes and stopped dead.

  Serge stood six feet away, smiling. “Hello, Doctor Connor. We’ve come to take you before the council.” His yellow eyes glinted with satisfaction.

  “Again?” Although Connor’s hackles rose, he disguised the sneer tugging at his lip with a blank expression. “Surely, there are other ways for you to satisfy your need for drama?” Connor’s smile became ice cold and dangerously calm.

  Serge shuffled his feet. “If you can just come with us.”

  The ‘us’ turned out to be another pair of Serge’s enthusiastic young guardsmen. Connor remembered how easily he had dispatched the first two. But then, Rebekah’s safety resided in his hands. Now, her safety gnawed at his mind, and the feeling was just as urgent.

  “Councilor Serge, when Principal Julian issues a summons, I will, of course, attend. Until that time, I think not.” He took a step forward, almost touching his chest to Serge’s. “Now, if you will get out of my way.”

  Connor sighed when vampire hands gripped his arms from behind. Escaping their clutches would be simple, but he felt annoyed at the inconvenience. Finding a fast way out of this was his only consideration; the rest was window dressing and he had no time to waste on niceties.

  “Serge-”

  “Principal Julian has issued a summons.” Cutting Connor off, Serge grinned.

  Problem solved. Julian’s resolution would be fast and decisive. “Let’s get this out of the way.” Connor surged forward, slipping from the grasp of the surprised guardsmen, and leaving Councilor Serge to catch up.

  In the council chamber minutes later, Connor stood in the dock facing Principal Julian who was flanked again by jurors Marius and Alexander. The gallery was eerily empty this time. Even if the hive knew round two was about to commence, the hours of darkness were set aside to tend the crops which fed the humans. For once, they have something better to do.

  “But there’s always room for a good old-fashioned lynching mob.” Connor scowled.

  “So, Councilor Serge, what have you for us this time?” Julian asked wearily.

  “I have the girl,” Serge said.

  The twitch in the facial muscles of the council jurors betrayed their surprise.

  Connor, too, was startled into paying close attention. He’s lying. If Rebekah was here, I would know it. But his gut churned until he knew for sure.

  “Well, get on with it,” Julian demanded, shooting Connor a quizzical glance.

  At Serge’s signal, a girl entered the courtroom.

  Connor looked her over, and certainty returned. He deliberately expelled the insult of a laugh.

  Undeterred, Serge turned to address the council, enjoying being their focus. “This girl’s name is Annabelle. She has identified Doctor Connor as the vampire who helped her a week ago in the hospital.” He paused for effect. “She has been living in a deserted basement and Doctor Connor has been br
inging her food.”

  The accusation might be ridiculous, but it gave Connor reason to pause. In a truth-is-stranger-than-fiction moment, he recalled Rebekah asleep in her basement. Serge was nearer the mark than he knew. Where is he going with this? Turning his attention to the girl, Connor grimly registered the breath hitching in her swollen throat and wondered how long she had been crying.

  Serge crossed the floor to stand beside the cringing Annabelle. His fingers tore away the fabric of her blouse, revealing shoulders covered with teeth marks and lesions staining her skin with red and purple blotches.

  “Doctor Connor is keeping a human pet.” Serge’s eyes glittered in triumph. “This crime carries the death sentence.”

  “For goodness sake, Julian, where is the proof? It’s a fairy tale.” Connor knew that better than anyone because he had written the tale himself when he gave Serge the name ‘Annabelle’. I’ve never met an Annabelle, and I’ve certainly never seen this waif. He could guess what Serge had promised in exchange for her lies. Probably, release from a miserable existence as another vampire’s pet. She certainly looks well snacked upon.

  “It is Principal Julian in council, please, Doctor Connor. As you say, this is not yet proven. However, I am obliged to detain you until the evidence can be assessed.”

  Connor’s frustration moved from simmering point to boiling. “Very well, I’ll submit to bite and blood tests, but for heaven’s sake, Julian. Detention is not necessary, we can do it now.”

  Julian barked a reminder. “It’s one in the morning, and crops come first, Doctor Connor.”

  Connor’s dead expression conveyed it all. Wasting time locked in a cadaver drawer waiting for his innocence to be proven was a delay he could not tolerate. The indigestible sickness inside told him something was wrong with Rebekah.