by Karen Payton
<><><>
While Connor waited for the shock of his sudden arrival to wear off, he scanned the weighty volumes of the chemistry, physics and biological engineering textbooks covering one wall of Harry’s personal cavern. He arranged a half-smile of apology on his face, aimed at calming Harry’s hyperventilating breathing, and reducing the older man’s heart rate before he passed out.
Harry had leapt up from his wing-backed armchair when Connor materialized in front of him.
Connor retreated to lean against the unfurnished wall of Harry’s cave, resisted the urge to unleash his impatience and dig his fingertips into the rocks that lined it. The purpose of the visit was to put phase one of his plan into action, and Connor hoped he could make good on the promises he was about to make. Keeping my hands off Douglas showed restraint, and should gain Harry’s trust.
Connor watched Harry closely, feeling like a rattlesnake reassuring a mouse.
News of Stan’s violent death had rattled the community, and even Connor felt it. He had not yet met Greg again, but it was clear Connor was adding to a burden Harry already found heavy. It’s a pity it was not Douglas who died at the feral’s hand.
“Harry.” Connor sighed as the man started and fell back a pace. Patiently he tried again, “Harry, I know my presence is alarming, but I’m here to protect Rebekah. Do you understand that?”
Harry stared, and just when Connor was wondering if the man was comatose, he whispered, “You brought her back.”
Connor’s lip curled as he said, “Douglas is still alive as a show of good faith. I’m not a monster, I leave that to others, and I’m sorry you lost a man out there.”
“Thank you.” Harry swallowed loudly, and continued on a stronger voice, “And, I know you saved Rebekah from Douglas, something I should have done a long time ago. I thank you for that, too.”
Connor nodded. They both knew Harry had much more to feel guilty about, and Connor wondered at the naiveté of a brilliant mind. Harry had been easy prey for a sociopath like Douglas to manipulate.
For Rebekah’s sake, Connor buried the recriminations boiling inside him, inclined his head, and spoke slowly. “You, all of you, are no longer safe here. Rebekah attracted more interest than just mine. You will be discovered if you stay.”
Harry’s alarm was tempered by calculation. “We have survived this long, and we always knew this day might come. We know what we must do, we’ll move out.” Harry’s chin rose. “Thank you for the warning, but we don’t need your help. You told Greg you’ve killed the monster. We can look after ourselves.”
Although Connor was impressed, his slate eyes were dull as he said, “You have no idea what you are up against. Make no mistake, Harry, where Rebekah is concerned, my help is non-negotiable.” Connor’s menace thickened the air. “Now, all I need from you is your promise to keep Rebekah safe until I return.”
Harry had the grace to look shamefaced as he croaked his agreement.
“There are things you need to know for your own protection.” Connor took a measured breath. “Vampires do sleep.”
Harry met Connor’s eyes as curiosity got the better of him, “But not in coffins?”
Connor laughed softly. “Sometimes, yes.”
Harry’s surprise was tainted by satisfaction. “I knew it,” he whispered.
“Not as you think, however. Imagine having three identities caged inside your head. When we take grave sleep, a door in our brain is unlocked, and we are mindless killers for a short time. Not ferals, but still dangerous.” Connor said, marring his face for a moment with a manufactured fierce expression. “Now that we are no longer in hiding, we have other options. Cadaver drawers, abattoir cold stores, and bank vaults are all suitable places. Prisons.”
“Grave sleep?” Harry frowned.
“Sleeping in coffins was just a joke that stuck. But, make no mistake, think of us as Jekyll and Hyde, and you will be close to the mark,” said Connor earnestly. “Trust me, Harry, when you move out, you will need my help.”
Harry nodded slowly as he digested this unexpected revelation.
“You will need to have enough beta-blockers and pheromone suppressant spray prepared for the entire group. Tell me what you need from the hospital, and consider it done,” Connor said, leaving no room for argument. “You may be moving out faster than you think.”
Harry’s over-awed expression melted quickly to concentration as he seemed to flick on the professor switch inside his head. Seeking refuge in the familiar, he recounted quickly the list of pharmaceutical substances which appeared to be etched into his brain.
<><><>
Lying in bed beneath a heavy blanket, for a moment, the feeling of being unable to move overwhelmed Rebekah. But then, the hot, doughy flesh of Douglas was overlaid with the relief of Connor. She took a deep breath, savoring the delicious citrus scented aroma of Connor which still hung in the air inside the intimate space of her den, even though he had gone to see Harry. She opened her eyes, watching the drifting motes of dust dancing in a shaft of light.
Easing her stiff limbs, the bruising did not shriek as loudly as she expected. At moments during the night, Connor had rendered first aid in his own inimitable fashion. In the twilight world where waking thoughts tugged at slumber’s blanket, the weight of his cold palms gently infused her angered flesh with the chill of his soothing touch.
The dappled light of dawn picking out her treasured possessions reassured her, and she found a cheerful note. This was her place, but, her little den now had a new significance. Now, it is mine and Connor’s. The full gambit of emotions, from fear through to happiness, from despair through to hope, had rampaged through her over the last week. But, the early hours of this morning fell into the happiness and hope category, for sure.
“You’re awake.” Connor appeared from nowhere, wearing a self-deprecating grin, but the light in his eyes was euphoric. At least, so it seemed to Rebekah as his gaze stroked over her skin and chased prickled heat in its wake.
Being lost in watching him settled the smile of a simpleton on her face as he joined her in the bed.
“Hey, earth to Rebekah.” Connor glowered, and that was entrancing too.
“Did you scare Uncle Harry?” Rebekah asked, meeting Connor’s gaze at last.
“Only a little,” he replied. “As always, I left London in a hurry. I have to catch up with Julian, and find out what Serge is up to.”
“Is Serge still on your tail?”
Connor laughed. “He will always be on my tail. He digs, and gets frustrated when he comes up empty. He thinks your name is Annabelle, and that’s as close as I want him to get. I won’t underestimate him.”
“Annabelle?”
“I had to give him something when he saw you at the hospital.”
“I’m sorry.” She stroked her fingers down over his strong jaw. “I am a nuisance to you, I know.”
“Never that, honey. But for now, do you think you can stay out of trouble until I get back?” His locked gaze, granite gray in the dim light, was serious. But his fingers flirted with her skin and his lips softened with the distraction. “Say, yes Connor- ”
‘And I can make love to you’. Her memory supplied the punch-line. “Yes, Connor,” she breathed, as Connor finally erased the remnants of Douglas’ touch and laid a trail of delight through her senses. That was her last crystalline thought until Connor reluctantly stirred her from the blissful state of afterglow with a languorous kiss.
“I have to go, honey.”
He slipped from the bed, his hard muscles moving beneath perfect skin as he dressed with smooth grace. Fully clothed, he leant over to kiss her again, saying with a rueful chuckle, “I’ve never liked playing Russian roulette. We must get a cover for that window funnel.”
Left alone, Rebekah leaned up on one elbow and focused again on the fairy dust drifting lazily in weak sunlight. She leaned over the side of the bed to measure the light patch cut into the shadow on the floor. It was only a defused square foot. B
ut enough to make a vampire nervous, I’ll get Oscar to fit a blind.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Rebekah winced. “Stiff thighs. That’s not really a surprise,” she murmured with a smile, rolling back onto her side and nuzzling the scrap of citrus-scented fabric, a talisman that would bring Connor back to her.
Chapter 18
Continuing the search for Julian, Connor left the council buildings, and stepped down onto the sidewalk. Puddles of rainwater soaked the bottom three inches of his pants. The driving rain plastered his shirt to his chest as he eased into a run that took him along the north side of Hyde Park, heading towards Hammersmith and on to Kew Bridge. The eight-mile-long route to Julian’s West London Richmond home was locked into Connor’s autopilot, so he spent the journey cursing Julian’s love of relaxing walks in Kew gardens.
“The man’s a vampire, has no one told him that flowers look better in sunshine? And greenhouses are bad for his health?” muttered Connor as he rounded the last bend, vaulted the hedge bordering Julian’s Edwardian property, and disappeared around the side of the house.
Connor arrived in a drop of air pressure and a gust of rain that soaked the carpet in Julian’s study.
Julian glanced around, unfazed at the window bursting open. He remained standing with an elbow resting on the mantelpiece, and a thumb hitched in his belt loop, and waited. Julian had changed from his tailored principal’s garb into a casual coffee-colored shirt, but he still exuded authority.
The rain-peppered wind whipped the curtains into frenzy as Connor swung his legs around in to the room, and said curtly, “Julian.”
Julian watched Connor refasten the study window, took in his disheveled state, and said “I was going to say, gone are the days when vampires are reduced to entering through the window.” Julian cocked his head to one side. “But, I guess it remains the most direct route when you’re in a hurry.”
Julian drew the heavy brocade curtains, muting the howling wind outside to a rumbling growl. All that was missing from the room’s cozy atmosphere was the roaring fire which hadn’t burned in the hearth for fifteen years, and it would never occur to Julian to light it.
Connor was drenched, but he didn’t care. The cotton fabric of his pants and shirt creaked as his muscles rippled in dynamic movement, and his hair, sapphire filaments trapped within coal-black strands, dripped down his neck.
Cutting to the chase, Julian asked, “Is Douglas still alive?”
Connor nodded abruptly and continued pacing, his nostrils flaring with the air he bellowed in and out, and tight muscles propelled him around the room at a speed which was sure to irritate.
It was not a huge leap for Julian to make. “And how is Rebekah?”
“Let’s just say, trying to keep her safe is killing me.” Connor glanced at him sharply.
Julian grinned in sudden, genuine amusement, and the switch in his demeanor arrested Connor’s pacing. I’m hanging on by my fingertips, and he finds it amusing? The back of Connor’s neck burned, and he ground his fingers into the strung-out fibers.
Julian shook his head. “I wonder what Charles would have made of all this. I’m not at all sure he’d approve of us. Either that, or he would have lost himself in the fascination of it all.”
“Charles?” Connor turned to face Julian. “You can’t mean Dispensary Charles?”
Julian laughed. “Of course not.”
“Who then? Have I met him?” Connor’s hands dropped to his side and irritation died away to curiosity. I’ll bite. Julian’s stories usually have a point.
“Goodness, no. It was before you were born. I knew him for about fifty years, back in the 1800’s.” Julian’s eyes sparkled. “Charles Darwin. You may have heard of him?”
“Hell, Julian.” Connor said reverently. “You certainly got around.”
“He is the only human I ever wanted to hang on to. He never knew it, of course.” Julian’s smile became wistful. “I met him at Cambridge University in 1828. He dropped out of medical school at age nineteen, and his father sent me to coax him back into academia.” Julian appeared lost in the heart of the story. “He was a gentle man, and operations without anaesthetic were not something he could handle.”
“Did you know him when he wrote the book?” Connor’s brow creased, he knew the answer must be, ‘No’. After all, that was thirty years on from Cambridge, unless Charles Darwin was more enlightened than I thought.
Julian met Connor’s eyes. “No, he didn’t know I was a vampire. It was Victorian England, but even with society being hampered by good manners, or the illusion of them, I could see he was something special. He had a hunger for, well, everything.” Julian sank in to his leather armchair, melancholy running through every line of his body. “We were pen pals, if you will. I watched over him, I even got him off his backside to publish that damn book.” Julian’s voice lightened with rueful laughter. “That Wallace guy nearly beat him to it. I sent Charles a letter giving him a kick up the butt, telling him it was now or never, and the rest, as they say, is history. Thirty years of observations poured out onto the page in as many days to become ‘On the Origin of the Species’, and Charles became a household name.”
“Is it wrong that I’m glad you resisted turning him?”
“You would disappoint me if you felt anything less. He loved his Emma, and put the book off for twenty years for fear of offending her religious sensibilities. She was the world to him, and you reminded me of that. The irony is that he proved the theory of natural selection, and here we are, the most unnatural of selections.”
Connor joined in Julian’s gentle laughter. “You’ll have to tell me the whole story one day.”
“One day, I will. From the HMS Beagle through to the billiard table I bought for him. What was it he said?” Julian looked at ceiling, as though it was a page upon which he could read the words. “Ah yes, ‘playing billiards does me a deal of good and drives the horrid species out of my head’. That always made me smile, would he consider me ‘the most horrid of species’?”
“You’re a good man, Julian. He was lucky to have you.”
“Well, in the spirit of Charles’ survival of the fittest and all that.” Julian was serious now. His unnatural skin, smooth as the palest marble, had a fine network of veins. Connor’s acute vision discerned them with ease; he watched them recede and swell again as Julian rubbed a firm hand over his jaw. “What are we going to do about Rebekah and you?”
“I need all the damn help I can get.” Connor looked at the ceiling too, retrieving the list that swirled inside his head on the journey from the eco-town to here. “What Serge might be planning? How many guardsmen does he have? When he is likely to come after the humans? Anything, really.” He cast an inquiring glance at Julian.
The bite and blood tests had put the Annabelle fiasco to rest, but, as they had already known it was a ruse, it didn’t alter Serge’s agenda to find Rebekah.
“I can delay Serge another day or two, at most. But, surely you’re not asking me to spy on one of my own councilors?” Julian tried to hold on to his offended expression, but the sparkle in his eyes finally gave way to a grin. “Consider it done. Seriously, though, I think he’ll commit numbers to a grid search, now he suspects there are humans to find.”
Connor sighed in frustration. “How many guardsmen do you think? They are pretty young and easy to dispose of, but how many?”
“I think you’re looking at half a dozen. He’ll send them out in the same direction as the last patrol which mysteriously disappeared.” Julian raised a sardonic brow. “And grid search from there.”
“They’ll find the eco-town for sure, and six is a big number for me to finish.” Connor ramped up the pacing, as well as the panting; neither one had he ever done before Rebekah. “I’ll have to hide them. I’ve already delivered the beta-blockers and the chemicals Harry needed, and he’s stockpiling pheromone suppressant spray.” Connor froze midstride and whisked around as his thoughts changed direction.
&
nbsp; “Connor, please. Have pity on the carpet.” Julian rubbed his neck, feeling the strain of keeping track of Connor’s ever-increasing pace.
“I’ll just have to break the news that moving out is not a safe option. Not right now.” Connor was no longer talking to Julian. “I can hide them. Moving out will have to come later.”
Julian reached out and grabbed Connor’s arm, calling his attention back. “Charles always said, a grain of balance will decide who lives and who dies. So, is she worth dying for? That is what you’re looking at here.” It cut to the heart of the matter, and it had to be said.
Connor’s sober gray eyes met Julian’s speculation. “She’s worth dying for.”
Releasing Connor, Julian sighed. “Well, in that case, three guardsmen each aren’t such bad odds, hmm?” His green eyes flashed and his pupils suddenly contracted to pinpricks. “I’ll watch your back, on one condition.” Julian threw a towel at Connor’s head. “Stop soaking the damn carpet.”
Chapter 19
At dusk the following night, Connor and Julian sat in the woods, and the cold earth tried in vain to steal heat, creaking under their weight. Connor had been back at the eco-town barely a day, preparing the humans for the upcoming conflict, when Julian arrived with bad news. Serge had already made his move.
They hunted together, and, after filling up on animal blood to prepare for the battle, they drank the vials of human blood Connor had taken when he did his last hospital round. They each kept one vial to tuck away as an emergency supply.
“I find it surreal that I can still go into London and work at the hospital, and no one notices I have changed,” Connor mused. “I thought vampires were observant.”
Julian laughed quietly. “Well, clearly not. They see what they expect to see.”
“You’re right. Just as I did when Rebekah turned up at the hospital.” Connor shook his head. “I can’t believe, even with beta-blockers and pheromone suppressant, that I was fooled.” But then again, I hadn’t been. My body had known, it was just my brain that needed to catch up.