by Karen Payton
As he went through the final set of doors and into the surgical wing, a sudden cacophony set his eardrums ringing. “For goodness’ sake,” he growled, “What now?”
He swung into the operating room and confronted the chaos of the flailing patient knocking over trays of sterile instruments which clattered onto the floor. Anthony was flailing his arms around too, as he tried to catch hold of the agitated youngling.
“Anthony, get out of the way,” Connor said, his low tone cutting through the pandemonium and ending his surgical assistant’s frantic dance. Connor swiped a syringe from the instrument tray, stepped in close to the vampire, as if they were about to waltz, and smoothly buried the needle into the soft space framed by his jaw. Shoving it up into the carotid artery, he depressed the plunger, and the vampire hit the floor with a thump.
At his protégé’s stunned expression, Connor raised a speculative brow and said, “Muscle relaxant.”
Anthony scuttled forward and hoisted the crumpled figure up onto the table.
Connor collected the Mole grips and prepared to gnaw away at the graveled tissue, but he could feel Anthony’s confusion filling the room. Wryly, he waited for the question.
Although reluctant to appear foolish, Anthony eventually braved it. “We don’t feel pain, not in the human sense of the word, and, nothing at all in dead tissue, so why did he flip out?”
“Panic originates in the brain, and just thinking about the procedure would be enough. He probably needed rap-sleep and his aggression spiraled out of control once panic set in.” Connor waited for Anthony to absorb this. He jerked his head towards the prone vampire. “He can still hear us, but his body is not under his own control at the moment. So, let’s not keep him waiting, hmmm?”
<><><>
Keeping her vigil at the mouth of the eco-town tunnel, Rebekah squinted across the meadow, shading her eyes from the glow painted across the sky by the rose-colored glove of dawn. She felt relief when the distant whine of a two-stroke engine gradually grew louder, and unfolding her cramped legs, she pushed up onto her feet.
Thomas, thank goodness. It had been a long night. When Rebekah watched Connor disappear into the night, it unleashed anxiety to gnaw a hole in her chest. But at least one thing has gone right.
Thomas trundled the motorcycle carefully across the clumps of grass on the final approach and Rebekah hugged the boy tight as he dismounted. She knew how Connor must feel; his frame creaked under the pressure. At his soft grunt, she said, “Sorry.” Though, she spoiled it with a beaming grin.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Harry told me not to go. But, I knew you’d want to know about Leizle.”
“Hey, you were right.” She placed a hand on his thin shoulder. It was tough being sixteen, and trying to prove he was a man. His emotions keep getting the better of him.
“Have they found her yet?” he asked lightly, but his eyes were flat.
“Not yet, but Connor won’t stop looking. There’s no sign of Douglas, either,” said Rebekah.
Thomas glanced up at her and said quietly, “I think I saw him going through the woods. He was a long way up, towards the hilltop. But, I’m sure it was him.”
“Never mind him, he doesn’t matter,” she replied. Draping an arm over his shoulders, she drew him with her to walk down into the eco-town. She forced a feeble smile of reassurance, knowing the dim light would disguise her terrible acting. I would feel safer knowing where Douglas is right now.
When they slipped behind the heavy sackcloth curtain, the torch flames danced in welcome as she let the flap fall back into place.
“Connor will find Douglas, and he probably has Leizle safe and sound already. C’mon, you must be hungry. Connor killed a lamb, and Oscar is working his way through the culinary alphabet.” Rebekah produced a wide grin to nudge aside the gloom on Thomas’ face.
“He’s only on C for casserole, so you’re in luck, supper tonight will be a feast.”
Chapter 29
Connor stared down at the relaxed vampire laid out on his operating table. The patient’s naked torso glowed like pearl-dusted marble, with the exception of the gunmetal gray area staining one arm. Extending the damaged limb, Connor used a surgeon’s black marker to outline the hardened tissue, and painstakingly injected the site with blood, turning the toughened hide pink and softening its surface.
The preparation done, Connor cut along the guideline and lifted the epidermis. He grunted. He was moderately successful, although the dried membrane still cracked in several places. Using Mole grips, Connor gnawed away the graveled tissue underneath. He packed the crater firmly with nylon gauze which would repel blood when the vampire next fed – no point wasting fuel, and absorbent cotton gauze would stink when the blood rotted. He laid the skin back over the top.
“Anthony.” With a flick of his wrist, Connor tossed a tube of glue to his assistant. “We managed to avoid amputation. I’ll leave you to glue the skin back in place, and make sure you fill all the cracks, okay?”
Anthony stepped up to the patient; he was alone before he had time to answer.
Determined not to waste time better spent looking for Leizle, Connor’s intervention was faster and more clinical than usual. Bedside manners were less important when the patient feels no pain. Anthony can handle this one, it will do him good.
The moment he left the surgical wing, Connor dismissed the patient. He did not expect Julian to be able to shed any light on Leizle’s fate, but he was clean out of inspiration, and waiting did not sit well with him. I can’t just do nothing.
Connor pushed the hospital’s toughened-glass front doors aside with barely the flex of a hand, leapt the flight of marble steps, and hit the sidewalk at an easy run which stirred the cauldron of unease simmering inside him. He ramped up to vampire top-speed instantly, his expression set in granite. If she’s in the hive, then my best bet is Julian.
As always, the silvered face of the moon bathed the marble facades within London’s square mile in an ethereal glow. The cold glare of darkened windows reflected Connor’s progress with complete disinterest.
When he arrived at the council building, Connor took the steps three at a time. His momentum had transformed the damp night air into chips of ice, and the frozen fabric of his greatcoat barely moved when he stopped dead. As though conjured by the sweep of a magician’s wand, he appeared in the council chamber hallway like a black marble statue, the fierce frown on his face as rigid as the glittering frost on his coat.
In the same instant Connor appeared, Julian swept into view, dragging Marius and Alexander in his wake.
Hope flared, and then died for Connor as, staring straight ahead, Julian barked, “Doctor Connor, I need you in council, now.”
“Julian, I need to talk-”
“It will have to wait.” Julian’s expression was unwavering, and, striding past, he said, “Councilor Serge.”
Connor needed no further explanation. He wheeled around and matched the jurors’ stride.
Taking a seat in the gallery, Connor resigned himself to the time wasting of Serge; the best he could hope was that the councilor’s latest tirade of petty complaints would be short and to the point. Leizle’s disappearance plagued Connor’s concentration. This better be quick.
Connor focused on a spot on the wall four feet over Serge’s head and breathed in the aroma of the freshly polished paneling before the aged vampire’s halitosis took hold.
Serge rose to his feet, adjusting his jacket and clearing his throat in an effort to catch Connor’s deliberately averted gaze. The ambient light cast a sallow glow over Serge’s smug expression. His eyes gleamed, and his skin crackled over his bones as he smiled widely, revealing mustard colored teeth. Serge was less fortunate in his human raw material than practically every vampire on the planet.
Connor smothered his frustration with a condescending smile.
“Principal Julian.” Serge waited until every pair of eyes reluctantly looked at him.
“Get on with
it, Councilor.” Julian blasted Serge with his irritation.
“Of course.” Serge left a dramatic pause until Julian opened his mouth in warning. Rushing on, he said, smugly, “I have a new capture. She is young, fit, and has never been siphoned.” He swung round to meet Connor’s suddenly keen interest. “She has the strongest immune system and biological health of any specimen we have had.”
Serge clicked his fingers, a door opened and a girl was marched into the court by a guardsman.
Before he saw her face, Connor recognized the unmistakable riot of copper-bright hair. Leizle. Though her eyes were murky green pools of dread, and Connor could hear the trembling of her knees, her chin jutted in defiance.
So, Serge is not time wasting, far from it. Connor’s over-riding feeling was disbelief. Where is he going with this?
“She is a prime specimen, perfect for the hybrid breeding program,” said Serge.
Meeting Serge’s penetrating gaze head on, Connor’s smile of faint amusement disguised the tension gripping the dry stone of his heart. He was a step closer to feeling out of control, and his lungs ached as he tried to suck in enough breath to speak. Way to go Connor. Why the Hell didn’t I bring Julian up to speed on the Leizle thing?
As the stunned silence in the chamber deepened, Connor glanced across the courtroom. Does Julian recognize her?
The Principal’s white frozen face was not what Connor had hoped for.
As Connor prepared to say the words which would open the door, he wondered at Julian’s extreme reaction. So, he does remember her. Can I rely on him to follow the game plan I’m going to set out? Connor’s jaw tightened as he tuned in to his friend’s progressing state of anguish.
Julian’s stress levels spiked like an electric charge blowing all the fuses, and his glazed stare of revival sleep was not encouraging.
He’d better snap out of it, and fast. Connor stepped up to the plate. “So, the hybrid breeding program has progressed through chambers?” he asked with convincing nonchalance. He did not look in Leizle’s direction, but he detected the jolt of hope clenching her heart as she recognized him.
“Well, let’s just say the capture of this girl will accelerate the process.” Serge grinned at Connor.
“And this impressive list of healthy attributes, they have been confirmed?” asked Connor. I hope not, because my plan depends upon it, and because if she’s suffered a vampire health examination then her body will be screaming in pain about now.
Serge’s jaundiced gaze skittered around the courtroom, uncertainty slithering across his face as he said, “Well, not confirmed, no. But the indicators are good.” He tried to recapture his previous confidence. “I’m sure you’d agree? I mean, look at her.”
Connor gave a convincing impression of clinical objectivity when he turned and did as Serge demanded.
Although he did not have to battle the magnetic pull of his attraction to Rebekah, he could still appreciate Leizle’s allure. Her chestnut hair, striking even though dirty and tangled, her square chin, green eyes flashing with hope, and her youthful naiveté. Her heartbeat remained strong and steady. Her faith in Connor made her stand taller and brought a glow to her cheeks as she bore the ordeal of Serge’s scrutiny.
Connor finally met Leizle’s gaze. Her relief at establishing a connection with him at last relaxed her features, and his eyes narrowed in warning. I need her guard up. He drew in her aroma, passing it across his palate, and was encouraged by the healthy dose of fear. Connor prayed it would keep her focused and not let her betray them. This has still to play out.
Directing a glance at Julian’s still thunderstruck blank features, Connor’s poker face threatened to fold as he wondered at Julian being bitten by an unexpected bug. He more than just remembers her, then.
“Surely, the girl’s suitability for the breeding program is for Principal Julian to decide,” said Connor, and the sharp gaze he bored into Julian spoke volumes. Pull yourself together, and fast.
Like an engine reacting to an ignition key, Julian began moving again
“Councilor Serge, before we let our hopes run away with us, Doctor Connor will perform a complete physical on the girl. When I receive his report, we will talk again.” Addressing Leizle’s escort, Julian added. “Take her to the farm. Doctor Connor will join you shortly. Court dismissed.”
Okay, a bit abrupt, but it does the trick. Connor avoided looking at Leizle as she was led away.
<><><>
The heavy door of the courtroom thumped closed behind her, and Leizle kept her eyes lowered, hanging on to the hope glowing inside, even though vampire guardsmen surrounded her once more.
The broad back of the leading jailer became the anchor point she concentrated on, although her gut cramped when, passing over the threshold into a small holding room, Councilor Serge appeared beside her.
His cold grip, like an iron cuff around her upper arm, forced her to a stop while he stared at her.
She held her breath as his rank breath fanned her face. The cold glint in his eye terrified her.
“I’m sure we’ll meet again,” he said smoothly. “I look forward to it.”
“Councilor Serge.” A tall vampire wearing a dark uniform inclined his head. “I’m here to transport the patient.”
“Of course.” Releasing Leizle, his dragging nails leaving welts across her pale skin, Serge stepped back.
Leizle instinctively knew that she was a prize between two combatants. Councilor Serge may appear feeble, but her fear of him was real. I need Doctor Connor to come for me.
The transport turned out to be a sedan with a steel grid separating the driver from the prisoner on the back seat. Metal grills encased the internal door handles, and the seatbelt buckle was a padlock. They take no chances.
The car barely reached twenty miles an hour, so throwing herself out onto the road would be an ineffective way of committing suicide in any case.
The tinted windows and confined space of the darkened interior triggered claustrophobia in Leizle, and just breathing needed all her concentration. It was too dark to gather more than a fleeting image of the hulking siphoning sheds with their dull steel finish before the car pulled up outside a metal door.
Once inside, the vampire guided her along a narrow corridor past a row of metal doors. He swung one open and ushered her inside a windowless cell of ten feet square. The only item of furniture was a narrow bedframe bolted to the concrete floor.
Leizle dropped down onto the mattress, grateful for a dim bulb protected by a wire cover which burst into life when the door slammed shut. She began chewing her fingernails again. I can’t blame Rebekah this time. When the skin became angry and inflamed, she sat on her hands, wincing when the rough denim of her pants rubbed against the sensitive skin. If I carry on there will be blood, and that won’t be good.
She picked a rivet on a panel in the door and stared at it. Counting inside her head like a child playing hide and seek, she set a number at which she willed it to open and deliver Doctor Connor. After she had reached the number several times, she gave up and laid down on the bed.
Closing her eyes brought with it the chance of denial. She could be on her own bed in the eco town, if she tried hard enough to pretend. She had no idea how long she slept.
A cold hand on her shoulder woke her with a jolt, and she shot to her feet so fast she almost fell over.
“The doctor will be here, soon. Come.” The vampire standing in the cell wore the blank-faced expression of a lobotomy victim. No emotion colored the voice; it felt as though the words were a string of sounds which just happened to make sense.
The grip on her arm guiding her along the corridor was compelling as he marched her out into the night. The cold air bit into her stiff, sleep-cramped muscles, and she shivered, keeping her eyes on the ground in case she fell.
They headed toward the towering brick facade of a square building. When the vampire mounted a wide flight of sandstone steps without slowing down at all, Leizle had no choice b
ut to look up or stumble. She noticed a rectangular copper sign beside the entrance doors stamped with black lettering, which she had no time to read. It probably says ‘torture chamber’.
Leizle went through the doors and into a softly lit foyer, and faltered as her feet sank into plush sage-green carpet. Torture of a different kind, then. The familiar leather smell of the brown armchairs stirred a long forgotten memory of her father’s study. With a little imagination, Leizle could have pulled the comfort of home around her shoulders like a warm blanket. But, as she expected, no such luck.
The frog marching continued on up a wide stairwell, along a corridor and into a small whitewashed room.
“Wait here.” The vampire placed a folded white-cotton gown onto the examination couch. “Change into the gown.”
He vanished from the room, and Leizle quickly checked inside the cupboards for any kind of weapon. Unless she planned on hanging herself with a crepe bandage, there was nothing useful.
Following the vampire’s instruction seemed like her best bet. Being made to undress with them watching didn’t bear thinking about. Stripping down to her underwear, she put on the white gown, wrapped it securely over at the front, and piled her clothes neatly onto a table.
There was no other furniture, so she hitched up onto the cold examination table and sat with her feet dangling in midair. Trapping her hands under her thighs stopped her from grabbing her clothes and making a run for it. Wait for Doctor Connor. Anything else was just lunacy.
Chapter 30
Sebastian easily found the farmhouse from where, as Serge told him, the guardsmen had started the grid search. The years of gritty dust inside could be dismissed, but Sebastian dropped to one knee, and tasted the pale gray powder concentrated in one part of the main room. He grinned. Bone dust. It wasn't much to go on, but a fight ending in death had all the signs of leading to something much bigger. Why cover tracks, unless the stakes are high?