by Karen Payton
A snarl escaped him as he yanked his gown away, tugged off his mask and surgical cap, and cast them savagely aside. His raven-black hair clumped around his face, and the toughened-steel blade of his stare flashed as, bursting through the theatre doors, his stride devoured the yards of the antiseptic-white painted corridor.
If Anthony has any sense, he’ll be back at the hospital sleeping inside a mortuary drawer by now. Though, even that might not be enough to redirect the blast of the rage burning through Connor.
“Anthony,” Connor roared as his lengthened stride skimmed the waxed floor. Concentrating on the measured extending and flexing of his muscles, he hung on to his sanity as he beat his way through doors, bouncing them off the walls and scattering plasterboard dust onto the ground.
“What the Hell happened in there?” he shouted into the Anthony’s face. The fluorescent light cast Connor’s face in ice-sculpted fury and his black hair was comically disheveled, but no one was laughing. His wrathful glare was the most terrifying thing Anthony had ever seen.
“We didn’t see it,” stammered Anthony.
“For God’s sake, it was a routine ultrasound scan. There shouldn’t even have been a scalpel tray in the examination room,” Connor ground out, shoving clawed fingers into his hair to keep them from closing around Anthony’s neck again. “These people are morons.”
Anthony cowered. The rippling muscles of his solid bulk strained the fabric of his white coat as he crossed arms, protecting his diaphragm, and for a moment, Connor felt shame. He was angry, but driving Anthony into adopting a vampire posture of attack-survival? Not a good feeling.
Anthony had been a boxer for ten of his thirty mortal years, and it was his misfortune that, unlike Connor, whose exposure to blood as a human surgeon strengthened his resistance, in Anthony the opposite occurred. Connor had his own views on that. He knew Anthony’s boxing career was fueled by the anger of a bullied and beaten child. Now, Anthony, the vampire of sixty years, was indestructible. His anger had evaporated and the gentle nature he protected, re-emerged. It was bad timing for him. Now, more than ever, he needs to be tough to resist the very thing he craves, human blood. Connor liked Anthony and was not about to give up on him.
He looked into Anthony’s stricken face, turned abruptly, and strode away.
Connor didn’t want to be involved in this situation. Human surgery was one thing, but not this. If she hadn’t stabbed herself in the stomach, I could pretend it’s not my concern. It killed him that the human breeding project existed. And now, it will turn me into a liar. He loathed keeping his involvement from Rebekah. But, it’s being run by short-sighted idiots, and I have no choice. Will she understand that?
Connor’s frustrated rage demanded a scapegoat. Someone to unleash his resentment upon, and he knew just the person. He left the compound, kicking up a trail of spray as he crossed the slick, wet meadows of grass. Keeping his anger warm, he took the shortest route through the sidewalks of London. When it came to finding a target for his wrath, he considered Julian as good a bet as any. He may be the principal of the vampire council, but he’s also the closest thing to a friend I’ve got, and better yet, I can shout at him.
Connor burst into Julian’s chambers, shrugged out of his coat and flung it down on the leather armchair.
Before he could speak, Julian stopped him. “I heard,” he said, with quiet authority.
They had not seen each other since the battle in the woods, and their unresolved differences thickened the air. They stood toe-to-toe, comparable in height, with Julian’s bronze-toned determination squaring up to Connor’s menacing dark presence. Julian’s jade-green regard was unflinching. The shared physicality of an alpha-male was only a small part of their bond. They would never stand shoulder to shoulder on this issue, but, they understood each other, at least. The residue of human integrity struck a chord between the two.
Shaking his head, Julian said, “I’m struggling to understand what has happened to your detachment. I could do with Doctor Connor, the analytical surgeon, showing up about now. With Rebekah... Well, I’ve avoided pressing it, but I need your help with the breeding program.” Julian’s words weighed heavy with exasperation. “If only to keep Serge’s dangerous ambitions in check.” Julian crossed to his favorite spot in the room. The compressed patch on the thickly-piled carpet told the tale as he rested an elbow up on the mantelpiece and adopted a relaxed posture. “Connor, I’m waiting for you to arrive at the same conclusion; we have no choice.”
Julian was not fooling Connor. Relaxation did not pull every tendon tight and fill the air with the hum of a tuning fork. Connor ground his teeth. He knew his expectation of Julian letting him off the hook was unfair. Julian’s help in saving the eco-town community was more than I had a right to expect.
Connor’s first priority centered on developing a synthetic blood substitute, but he knew each set of tests which failed increased the pressure upon him to commit to the human breeding program. But now, with Rebekah, perpetuating human existence as cattle is unthinkable.
“I can’t be directly involved, you know that.”
Julian’s look said otherwise. “In the ideal world, I wouldn’t ask you to, but this is not the ideal world Connor. You know that.”
Connor struggled under the weight of Julian’s assessment. “But dammit, Julian, they don’t know what they’re doing. How can they work on the farm and not understand that humans long for freedom?” Connor glared. “It may have been a hundred years ago, but I still remember it. Surgery was brutal. There were men who would have a leg amputated without anaesthetic to hang onto life, but if you locked them up, they gave up hope and died.”
“Connor, as principal, I have no choice.” His eyes were somber as he sought understanding. “Bottom line, we need the human population to thrive. If inseminated pregnancies and nursery farms can increase the population, then I will have a blood riot on my hands if I don’t support it... And I need you,” he added quietly. “If we can’t find a way to calm them, make them accepting, this will keep happening.”
“Drug them, you mean? But not harm their babies? A very honorable exercise,” said Connor tightly. He knew the other baby’s death had been avoidable, too. The mother concealed the symptoms of pre-eclampsia until it was too late; they had both found a way of escape.
“Well, honor is a luxury we can’t afford.” The pendulum swung back as Principal Julian squared his shoulders, abandoning relaxed in favor of courtroom hauteur. “I know you don’t like it, but only you have the control to be near a bleeding human and not rip their throat out. Look at what happened to Anthony today.”
Neither spoke in a stand-off they both knew had only one outcome.
Finally, Connor growled as the truth pressed down upon him. I could have prevented what happened today. I would have known the girl’s cooperation was a ploy. “Rebekah will never forgive me.”
Julian leveled a pragmatic stare and said, “Then don’t tell her. More will die without your help.”
Connor knew he had no choice, but he was not ready to roll over yet. “I’ll think about it, that’s all I can promise.”
“Well, it’s a start. But, don’t think too long. Serge is stirring up support in the council for the hybrid breeding program.” At Connor’s sharp glance, he said, “Things are becoming desperate.”
“The man disgusts me,” Connor spat. “Surely, even he can see we can’t risk more human females in a sadistic cause.” Connor swallowed the venom filling his mouth at the thought of biting into Serge’s scrawny neck. Even the knowledge he would taste rank could not stop satisfaction flooding in. “It’s a pity deliberately wasting human life in experimentation doesn’t carry the death penalty. After all, he’s still threatening the food supply.”
“At least, while his focus is elsewhere he won’t be recruiting guardsmen to replace the ones we culled.” Julian’s lip curled. “You will have time to organize the escape of your humans.”
“Don’t tell me you’re regre
tting helping us, Julian? Turn them in, and there are six female feathers in your cap.” The dead girl’s features filled Connor’s mind. Her slackened muscles tightened and transformed into Rebekah. “But remember, Julian. One of those is my Rebekah, and I would have to kill you,” he breathed conversationally.
Julian’s eyes flashed. “I’m not your enemy. I have no wish to see Rebekah on the farm, but I can still wish we were ignorant of their existence. Life would be simpler.”
“You’re right. Keeping tabs on Serge is a headache. And killing a dozen of his guardsmen in as many days still only buys us time.” Connor sighed. “Simple is no longer an option, I’m sorry.”
He focused on Julian’s white face, inhaling and tasting the concentration of copper in his scent which indicated dehydration. Doctor Connor emerged as the dominant force in the room as he said, “You need revival sleep, Julian. You look wired. Don’t let this get on top of you.”
Turning briskly, Connor headed for the door.
Julian stared at the space Connor had left. The door was closed and the breeze of its movement whisked across Julian’s skin, but he was lost in his own thoughts by then, cataloguing his tight tendons and grating tissue.
“Damn it, he’s right.” Wired didn’t even come close. He needed revival sleep, and he was irritated Connor had to point it out.
If my stress levels spiral out of control, it calls my competence into question and lays us open to attack. That would be a gift for Serge.
Julian crossed the room, took two vials of human blood from the cooler and rolled them absently between his palms. This is no time for stupidity. Tension hummed through Julian’s body like a simulated rush of adrenalin, and he grinned. On the battlefield, at least, Connor and I know the score.
Serge easily recruited juveniles, knowing they were very strong, but desperate for a mentor to make their existence more comfortable, but they were no match for Connor’s and Julian’s maturity. They are, however, still lethal to humans. The thought weighed on his mind, and not only because of his allegiance to Connor.
Julian downed the vials of blood without tasting them. Pressure was like an aneurysm building inside his skull as though his thoughts caused friction-burns inside the tightening space. He had not been the same since the night of the battle. His flashbacks always resolved into the same face, with green eyes and tangled chestnut hair. It was not only Rebekah who had piqued his interest. I don’t like it.
For Julian, the rioting relaxation of revival sleep was a siren call of welcome release.
Chapter 25
Rebekah walked along the hallway of the safe house, shrouded in darkness. The effort of being furtive cramped her muscles, and even her bones seemed to ache.
Connor had now laid rubber flooring, and she wore the expensive sneakers he had pressed into her arms when he agreed she could visit in London. “You have no concept of quiet,” he had said, “believe me”.
Well, she did believe him. And it scares the shit out of me.
She sometimes wondered how they managed to survive before Connor. A lot of luck, it would seem. Smiling, she remembered other revelations which never occurred to them. “And, Rebekah...” He had waited until she won the battle with the distraction of his stunning features, and her brown eyes locked onto his. “No nylon, rayon or wool. You might as well announce your presence with a firework display. Vampires can smell the electricity of static sparks.”
Rebekah checked her watch. Time to go down into the basement. She didn’t give a thought to lights anymore, vampires embraced darkness, and so did she. She ran her fingers around the door frame to check it was properly closed. Another trick learned from Connor, do not move anything you do not need to move. And don’t take anything for granted, always check. She did not bother to lock the door. Metal was as soft as butter in a vampire fist, which Connor had shown the day he had first come here to find her.
When she passed the hallway mirrors, her reflection reached out and pulled her back for a closer inspection. I’m still a girl, after all. Rocking back and forth, Rebekah played the moonbeams over her features. Her eyes glittered as they collected the light they needed to see. She fluffed up her blonde hair and pinched her pale cheeks until the word ‘ouch’ almost escaped. She scraped her teeth across her full bottom lip, making that red, too.
Deep breaths. She had no idea when, but she knew he would come.
Rebekah smiled, stepping back until her reflection sank into shadow. It felt as though Connor had always been hers. His passion in everything ran deep, and even though his hunger for her was alarming at times, his latent ferocity excited her. Basement. Now. What happens if he gets here and I’m wandering around with a heart hammering like a dinner gong?
Looking down at her sneakers, Rebekah negotiated the narrow, wooden open-tread stairway down into the basement. “What I’d give for heels to make my legs look a mile long, and drive him nuts.” Rebekah muttered. Thinking of him, yearning spiraled inside her, tightening seductively until merely breathing made her tingle.
With both feet planted safely on the floor, she surveyed the basement.
The grime coating the skylight glass hid the worst of the debris, filtering the light and deepening the shadows. Evidence of the others who had shared the house trailed across the room like morsels fallen from a buffet table. Okay, we wouldn’t have been able to talk, not now night has fallen. But she missed seeing their faces. The craving for company was hard to suppress. She retrieved an empty orange juice carton and rubbed her thumb over its waxy surface as though, like Aladdin’s lamp, it could bring them all back.
The rest of the group had headed off on the motorcycles two hours ago, taking low risk routes back to the eco-town plotted out for them by Connor. It remained their best option when moving around. For humans, there were still only two choices if they crossed a vampire’s path. One was to move motorcycle-fast and the other was to stand stock-still and hope.
That one worked out well for me. She grinned. It had proved the theory at least, that for vampires the scenery whips past like the view through an express train window. The vampire certainly had not registered my presence. I just didn’t figure on the backwash.
The motorcycle panniers were filled with medical supplies delivered by Connor to the safe house. He had vetoed backpacks as being very un-vampire-like. Beta-blockers and the drugs Uncle Harry needed were more easily available with Connor’s help, and they no longer needed to go inside the derelict London hospitals to find them.
Normally, it would be unthinkable to leave someone behind, but in her case it no longer applied. Uncle Harry still worries of course, but now, I have Connor.
Leizle would worry, too, but as all women in love would know, when weighed against a night with her man, there was no contest. She’ll understand one day.
Rebekah’s hands refused to settle, so she refolded the blankets left from sleeping six in here last night. Her thoughts turned to the reason they were feverishly stocking up on supplies. The close escape in the woods had them rattled. After fifteen years burrowed into the rolling hills of the North Downs of Kent, their time was up. It was still home, but no longer safe. We have to move out, and, thank God for Connor. Her joy was iced with guilt. He hasn’t mentioned Julian lately. It can’t be easy for Connor. I guess as the principal, he has to appear uninvolved.
It was going to take a lot of planning, and it looked like it was all down to Connor.
<><><>
Connor stood on the sidewalk outside the safe house, once again wearing his charcoal greatcoat. The garment was authentic. He had some sentimental bones in his body. 1968 was not long ago for Connor, and his memory held a crystal-clear image of the Hungarian refugee who gave it to him. The Soviet invasion had clubbed his countrymen into submission, and when Connor came across his emaciated form, it did not promise to be a satisfying snack, even if Connor had been tempted. In the end, like Hansel and Gretel’s tale with a twist, Connor fattened him up and let him go.
The great
coat had been his reward, and he hung onto it as a square in the patch worked cloth of his humanity. My thirst is always there, but I can still choose. I don’t have to act on it.
And so, with his collar pulled up, Connor’s bulk was a blend of jet-black and charcoal, with the moonlight picking out indigo strands in the raven’s wing of his black hair and stirring mercury into his gray eyes. His bone structure invited moonbeams and bent them to his will, casting ink-black pools beneath his cheekbones and accenting a brow line which gave his face intensity.
Bram Stoker would have been proud.
Connor grinned wryly. The fact Julian displayed signs of stress proved one thing. He’s not as detached as he pretends. But I can’t argue with Julian; life would be simpler without Rebekah. He had spent a lot of his day worrying about her. She was stubborn and he would feel easier if she would stay in the eco-town. But she’s fearless, and that’s why I love her. She was tantalizingly close, now.
The sour taste of his meeting with Julian lingered until he breathed in the warmed-syrup of Rebekah’s scent, and, like casting sawdust on an oil slick, it calmed him.
He had not agreed to Julian’s request. Not out loud, at any rate. I’m not lying to her, not yet. Connor grimaced. It’s just semantics, but after the day I’ve had... He fancied he could still feel the waxy residue of the vernix-coated fetus clinging to his fingertips. He was feeling every one of his hundred plus twenty-four human years, and what he needed now, was to lose himself in Rebekah.
Drawing in a deep breath, he wiped the day’s events from his brain. He immersed himself in the faint honeysweet scent of her skin, and hunger stirred in his gut. Her heart rate is a little high. Does she know I’m here?
He took the stairs three at a time, and, without conscious thought, he was where he wanted to be.