Awakening (Fire & Ice Book 1)

by Karen Payton

  Julian looked across at Serge. He was that rarity, a vampire who looked old. His skin was wrinkled and his hair was more gray than black. Rumor had it he begged a vampire to turn him, fearing he would die in the influenza pandemic. His thin, frail human frame meant he was cursed to being another rarity, a vampire without strength.

  Julian’s jaw clenched tight, and Connor relaxed, knowing which way this would go. Serge represented a thorn in the principal’s side, and Connor was worth more than that as a friend, and a Hell of a lot more as an honorable vampire.

  “Very well, bite and blood tests in the morning. Without detention,” said Julian. He glared at Serge, prepared for a protest, but not for the gloating smile which stretched the creped cheeks smooth for a fleeting second. Julian’s eyes narrowed. “You better hope you are right, Councilor, otherwise it will be like Cinderella’s slipper. If Doctor Connor’s bite radius does not fit, then I’ll be finding one that does.”

  Julian turned away from Serge’s barely concealed satisfaction. “Connor- Doctor Connor,” he said, hastily revising to the formal. “In my chambers, now.” Calculation glittered behind Julian’s eyes as he struck the bench with his gavel and declared, “Court dismissed.”

  He rose quickly and exited through the door behind the bench. Jurors’ Marius and Alexander followed him in one fluid movement like a series of knots along the same length of string. The door closed behind them, and the silence was complete.

  <><><>

  Inside his chamber, Julian removed his white cravat and hung his black robe inside the wardrobe, closing the solid wood door with the silent dexterity of a magician. He turned at the brisk rapping of knuckles, which rattled the door loudly in its frame.

  “Come.”

  The door flipped open, and Connor materialized inside the room.

  “What is going on?” Julian said slowly, projecting calm he did not feel. “Serge’s reaction was not as I expected. So, are you going to tell me?”

  Connor cast an appraising glance over Julian’s mild features.

  Julian’s bronze-toned collar-length hair was immaculate, as always. He exuded the impressive bearing of a swan, serene and efficient; but under the surface a turbulent inquisitive brain and a good heart made him an astute and valued ally. However, he also had the suppressed emotional expression common to one born in the 19th century. London society might have changed a lot in two hundred years, but essentially, Julian had not.

  “I’m not sure you’d understand, Julian. More to the point, I’m not sure you should become involved.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” said Julian firmly.

  Connor sighed. “Okay, you win, but you may wish we never had this conversation.”

  “Clearly, this Annabelle is not the same girl as the one at the hospital,” Julian said carefully. “Although, Serge thinks you have something to hide. Is he trying to flush you out? What’s going on?” Julian’s level stare demanded answers.

  Connor said flatly, “It’s not the same Annabelle. And yes, Serge is digging.”

  “So, what is it? He’s raising the stakes in council, forcing you to prove the human girl he dragged into court is nothing to do with you, or face the death sentence. Why?”

  “The stakes are already pretty high, Julian.” Connor took a decisive breath and said, “I have found ‘the one’.”

  “The one?” said Julian, and his confusion gave way to understanding. “Ah, so, there is another Annabelle, the one from the hospital. You’re keeping her cluster location to yourself because you don’t want Serge leering over her on the farm?”

  “Not exactly,” Connor said quietly. “Julian, how long have you known me?”

  “About ninety-three years, give or take.” Julian said, the laughter draining from his face at Connor’s sober expression,

  “Try, then, to imagine what it takes to say this. Her name is Rebekah, and she’s human.”

  A sneer molded to Julian’s features as he blurted, “What the Hell, Connor. Are you insane?” He squared his shoulders, preparing for an argument, and felt confounded when Connor sank down into the battered leather armchair and became stone still.

  The silence stretched. Julian could find nothing to say.

  Finally, Connor said quietly, “For the first time in a hundred years, yes, I think I am insane. It certainly feels that way.”

  Connor’s face remained blank while words poured out. His fears about Douglas hardened his tone to flint, but his voice cracked when he spoke about Rebekah. Finally, he concluded, “I have no idea what Serge has up his sleeve.” He met Julian’s pragmatic look head on. “But, I need to get moving, and fast.”

  Julian nodded. He registered Connor’s lungs bellowing in agitation, as if holding her imagined scent at bay. Even with this Rebekah miles away, he’s suffering. “So, it is love? Well, that I can understand, or did.” Julian’s mood became solemn. “I had a wife, of course, when I lived. Only for three years, but, nonetheless-” He paused. I did not think vampire existence offered that depth of feeling, and I’ve been happy with that, but it seems I was wrong. Julian straightened, and locking his memories back inside their box, he asked briskly, “So, what now?”

  Connor rose to his feet and dropped a hand onto Julian’s shoulder. “I need this business with Serge to go away,” he said simply. “I just wish I could do the tests now and be done. You know now this Annabelle is a red herring?”

  “I suspected as much. Though, it seemed a little theatrical, even by Serge’s standards. He must know you will be cleared in the morning.”

  “Something does not add up,” Connor muttered.

  “Well, I’ll help where I can, but Serge is out for blood, so tread carefully. The bite radius won’t match, so I’ll issue a summons and keep him occupied.” Julian jerked his chin towards the door. “You go, and do whatever it is you’ve got to do. But Connor-” Julian waited until he had Connor’s full attention. “Don’t do anything foolish. I would hate to see this ‘Douglas’ land you in the storage facility. I doubt he is worth that. Now, go.”

  Connor needed no second bidding. “Thank you, Julian.”

  Chapter 15

  Connor left the council building and swept along the sidewalk, covering the ground at breakneck speed. Absorbing a chill factor which would have burned human skin, he shifted automatically up through the gears, until he detected the guardsmen.

  Four. Damn. I don’t have time for these fools. Vampires can stand as still and silent as stone, and be lethal in an ambush, unless, of course, they stink.

  Stale air trapped inside their chests, and the rancid odor of their last feeds pervaded Connor’s nostrils. More of Serge’s pet guardsmen, the stench is the same. These vampires failed to understand that passing air through the lungs was not only part of speech, it was good hygiene.

  The question is, what do they want? Connor suspicions inclined towards kill.

  Harnessing the buzz of adrenalin rippling through his abdomen, Connor pinpointed the first opponent. He passed by the shadowed alcove and then, hitting reverse gear, swung back into it. He rotated quickly and the forceful uppercut Connor drove into the vampire’s stomach punctured the diaphragm. The blow crushed his lungs, and he dropped to his knees. Connor cocked his head, considered the vampire’s gaping mouth and leaned closer.

  “Don’t try to get up,” he hissed. “I’ve cut off your blood supply. Your legs will harden to granite before you can cross the street.”

  Round two. He obligingly straightened, and an arm closed around his neck. Connor forced an elbow back in a two-handed shunt, dislodged the hold, and spun around. He grabbed the hapless vampire by the shirt-front and yanked him forward. With a manic grin, Connor’s eyes narrowed. The vampire had the sense to register fear as Connor tightened his grip, jerked his arm back out in an explosive movement that ended abruptly. The vampire’s head snapped backward and slammed into the wall behind. A crack appeared on the stunned face and crept down from the hair line, opening up a crevice in his forehe
ad. A sharp repeat of the pounding movement crumbled the vampire’s cranium, and Connor let him drop to the ground.

  The two remaining vampires stepped into view.

  “Well, what have we here?” whispered Connor.

  The pair advanced in a synchronized pincer formation and Connor stood, arms relaxed at his side, waiting for their move.

  He enjoyed being a doctor and embraced the prospect of using his knowledge to deadly advantage.

  “You can still change your minds,” Connor said casually.

  “I’ve got the tall one.” Julian’s voice floated through the air, and the designated vampire disappeared. A blow hit him side-on and the momentum whipped him out of view.

  The remaining vampire’s head jerked around when his companion vanished, and Connor used the distraction. He shot forward and closed a vicious grip on to the vampire’s face. He burrowed his thumb into the eye socket as he tightened his fingers and held him out at shoulder height, impaled, and dangling in midair.

  “Councilor Serge?”

  Connor felt the pressure of the vampire trying to nod.

  “Kill?” he asked, and the vampire’s skull rocked in the cradle of his hand again. Connor’s fist closed in a vise-like grip. Forcing the vampire’s chin up with a sharp twist of his wrist, he sliced his teeth across the exposed throat, growling in frustration. He dismissed the vampire before the body hit the sidewalk.

  Pulling a linen handkerchief from his pants pocket, he wiped smears of blood from his mouth and hands. Cold congealed vampire blood was less gory than human. Unless the vampire was literally just fed and fully saturated, the tissue had little left to spare.

  Julian strolled back into view. “Assassinate the character before the man,” he said thoughtfully. “Serge did not want you detained.”

  “He could not have me killed if you locked me up. He played us both. He used the council hearing to undermine my reputation, nothing more.”

  “When you didn’t turn up tomorrow for bite and blood work-” said Julian.

  “It would look as though I’m guilty, and I ran. And he would have walked away from my murder.” Connor’s eyes narrowed with icy certainty. Serge still plans to hunt Rebekah down. “What brought you out here, tonight?”

  Julian disappeared around a corner and returned holding Connor’s coat. “Unluckily for Serge, I had this in my closet. Charles said you’d left it with him.” Julian’s brows climbed in speculation. “I thought that if things are as urgent as you say, you’d need it. It’s almost dawn, and even this time of year, you’ll have some shadow dancing to do.”

  Julian indicated the three bodies and shrugged.

  “I’ve got this. I’ll have Serge hauled up in front of the council. But without witnesses it will only delay him for a short while. You’d better go.” Julian’s eyes glittered with exhilaration, before he nodded and melted away into the darkness.

  <><><>

  Julian had taken pleasure from the kill. Something which made his sluggish juices flow faster was rare these days. He stood in the disused attic of his sparsely furnished Edwardian house. Careless of the cobwebs clinging to his clothes, he settled in his thinking place, where he looked out over the London skyline and watched the lilac halo of sunrise creep over the sky.

  The city had changed so much in two hundred years. Fantastical inventions, for a time, made London a jewel of neon and sulphur-bright wonder, but now, she had plunged back into darkness. The buildings were in mourning, with walls shrouded in carbon-black and windows dressed in a cold glare. Nothing much twinkles out there any longer. The only light he could see, glinting like a gold tooth in a rotten smile, came from the hospital.

  His London, 19th century human London, had been a different place. Full of the light, sounds and colors which his Eva had brought to his life. He understood Connor’s conflict, and his pain, too. Julian focused on his reflection in the glass windowpane and allowed it to blur as two hundred immortal years melted away and took him back to 1812...

  Julian smiled when he rounded the corner at the top of the wide oak staircase and looked down to see Eva teasing the curls of her honey-toned hair into place. As his eyes gathered every nuance and angle of her delightfully-delicate scowling features, he said softly, “You look beautiful, my dear.”

  He walked purposefully down the stairs, arriving at her side as she finally gave a satisfied murmur and smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

  “As I said, beautiful.” His hand settled on her waist when she turned to face him.

  “You always say that. It is why I love you.”

  “Ah.” His smile was wicked. “Surely not the only reason?”

  Tracing an insistent path over her alluring curves, his hand slipped around to the small of her back. He drew her close, glancing down at the swell of her breasts. A tantalizing glimpse of satin skin flushed beneath his gaze as her heartbeat thundered visibly in the base of her throat.

  “Julian,” she whispered. A small frown of pretended disapproval framed the blue eyes she lifted to look into his, and he drowned in her turbulent emotions.

  “Eva,” he echoed, his breath warming her lips as he closed the space between them. His long fingers threaded sensually into the silken tresses of her hair. He paused, holding his breath and indulging the urge to press her trembling body to his.

  Her skin warmed his palm through the thin muslin dress. The new fashion for ladies, thought daring and immodest by some, revealed such a charming expanse of creamy shoulder and delicate collarbone and had his whole-hearted approval. He did not miss the whale-bone corset his hold was accustomed to, although, unlacing it last thing at night was a chore he sorely missed.

  “I like this new fashion. It suits you well, my love.” He cleared the gravel from his throat and added impishly, “There is no crime in kissing my wife in my own hallway. I am the master here.”

  He smiled as Eva gasped in delightful surrender, and when he kissed her she welcomed him. Her softened mouth clung to his lips, and when the tip of her tongue danced over his, he growled in frustration.

  “Temptress,” he said hoarsely, releasing her and lowering his eyebrows in a playfully threatening gesture. The ruddy flush across his cheekbones and his tight jaw reflected the battle he fought to regain his composure.

  Peeping up flirtatiously through long lashes, Eva smoothed her hands down over the soft fabric of her skirt, drawing his attention to her delicate frame and the slender length of her thighs.

  “I think the fresh air of a walk will do us good, hmm?” Julian caught her fingertips in his and pressed a kiss into her lace-covered palm.

  Eva smiled, her eyes alight with happiness that her husband of three years still found her alluring. She said lightly, “I’ll wait outside. Oh, can you ask Bessie to bring my wrap?” She drifted away to the doorway, standing for a moment framed in the amber glow of sunlight before she gracefully descended the steps to the sidewalk.

  Julian grinned ruefully and pulled on the cord, ringing the hall bell three times, knowing it would sound in the servants’ quarters in the basement and summon Eva’s maid. He also knew, that by the time Bessie received his instruction and traveled the length of the upstairs hallway and returned, another five minutes would in all likelihood have passed.

  “I won’t need my wrap after all, Julian.” Eva’s musical tone, alive with surprise, called out from where she waited outside. “It really is a beautiful evening,”

  Julian lifted a sardonic brow as he took a pair of gloves from Garrett, his young footman. Frowning as he worked each finger inside the butter-soft leather, Julian murmured, “Garrett, apologize to Bessie for dragging her away from her smoothing iron. The mistress has changed her mind.”

  “Very good, Sir.” Garrett nodded politely.

  “Oh, and Garrett, can you inform Mrs. Warner, it is only eight for dinner this evening? Aunt Augusta is unwell. She has the stomach flu,” Julian said absently, focused on tugging the second glove into place and securing the button at his w
rist.

  “Mrs. Warner will be pleased, Sir,” said Garrett, adding hastily, “only ‘cos it’s even numbers, Sir. She likes even numbers.”

  “I know.” Julian laughed. “Make sure you tell her, mind.” Collecting his hat from Garrett’s outstretched hand, Julian turned and moved eagerly forward. He was swinging into his second stride when Eva’s agonized groan cut through the air, sounding as though a heavy weight barreled into her and forced the breath from her lungs.

  Terror jolted up Julian’s spine, the hat fell from his senseless fingers and, without thought, he was moving fast.

  All that registered to his frantic gaze as he jumped the flight of steps and landed heavily on the sidewalk beside her, was not the man running away, but the shower of pearls, his anniversary gift to her, unraveling from the tidy row which had caressed Eva’s throat. Cascading onto the ground, they ricocheted in lunatic disarray over the uneven flagstones, their luster enhanced to obscene beauty by the early evening light.

  Stepping closer and grabbing Eva’s arm, he pulled her into his body as her knees crumpled. Subsiding to the ground beneath her, Julian cushioned her fall until she lay against him like a broken doll.

  His eyes locked onto the red stain devouring the delicate pink of her muslin dress. He bellowed, “No!”

  With horrified fascination, Julian spread his hand over the blood-sodden fabric, molding his fingers desperately to her soft flesh and pressing down hard.

  The biting pain of a knife blade was a myth; it was more like the bruising blow of a fist which, without the stiffened bone corset to protect her, had driven the breath from her body. It was only when her blood pressure plummeted, the sudden release of blood exploding sparks behind her eyes, that realization dawned. Eva’s gaze locked onto his, wide with puzzled shock.

  Julian pressed his palm harder to the blossoming pool of red which stole the color from her face. “Eva, please, stay with me.”

  His whisper became a howl when he knew she had gone.