by Karen Payton
Rebekah collapsed over onto her side, and survival one-oh-one took control. She unzipped her oilskin and the fleecy inner jacket, pulled Thomas’ body in close and drew the woolen layers around them both. She struggled to zip up the coat. The zipper took thirteen attempts, and counting them stopped her thinking about anything else. I don’t know what the fuck that was...
“Thomas,” she whispered his name, rubbing her hands briskly over their joint cocoon, until finally, he stirred, and the rubbing became a hug of relief.
His dry throat croaked, but it was enough.
“Shhh...” Her lips pressed to his ear, she said, “We have to wait ‘til morning.”
Rebekah hugged him again, trying to ignore the fact that this deep in the forest, even daylight would not penetrate. Morning might not save them. They huddled together. For now, just finding each other was enough.
Rebekah felt a tingle of heat again. She sank under a blanket of slumber, the numbness creeping in masquerading as a persuasive glow of welcome warmth. The icy fingers of frost stroked a path from brow to chin, dragging her eyelids down and her slack mouth open.
Chapter 32
Thank God Julian gathered his wits in time. Thinking back over it, Connor was impressed at how Julian sliced through the red tape. By conceding that perhaps Serge was correct, and expressing guarded enthusiasm, Julian took control away from Serge. He decided that Leizle’s suitability for the breeding program should be determined by the court, and Serge could not argue against.
Connor admitted to enjoying Serge’s impotent rage. Getting one up on Serge will always feel good. When Julian insisting Connor perform the examination, Serge’s complexion had blanched to tea-stained parchment.
Night crept across the purple sky crushing the sun’s resistance to streaks of blood on the horizon by the time Connor left the council buildings and dashed across London. The gathering cloud transforming the face of the moon from its usual silver dollar bright smile into one of dull, metal gray reflected his steely determination.
It felt good when he made the final run across the apron of grass surrounding the human farm factory. I am on my way to examine Leizle, and there’s nothing Serge can do about it.
Following protocol, arriving at the perimeter fence, he stopped at the gates and waited to be allowed in. Connor’s eyes skimmed the landscape on the other side of the fence, looking for the vampire sentry who would open the gate. Twelve yards away, on the boundary of no man’s land, an area of coal black shadow moved and Connor swallowed his impatience.
He flirted with the idea of scaling the metal chain-linked barrier. It would have been quicker, but the silhouette of the vampire guard cut a swathe towards him and good manners prevailed.
“Ah, here we go,” he breathed when the fast-flowing clump of shadow resolved into an unfamiliar face.
“Doctor Connor.” The guard opened the gate and stepped back.
“Nice night,” said Connor. Nodding briefly, he disappeared across the compound, knowing his escort would catch up. When the vampire materialized beside him, Connor asked, “No mailman tonight?” Connor missed the good natured banter he shared with the usual guard.
The vampire looked blank for a moment, and then said, “The mailman, of course. He’s out hunting on Dartmoor. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Good for him,” he muttered. Connor was pleased the vampire was off having fun. He liked him and his absence tonight could only be a good thing. Things may get messy.
The gate in the second perimeter fence was opened by a vampire intern.
Connor handed his new escort Julian’s principal seal, his crest imprinted into a gold ingot. “Supervisor Matthew will be expecting me.”
“Of course. This way, Doctor Connor, if you would follow me.” The vampire dropped the ingot back into Connor’s hand and set off briskly.
Connor fell obediently into step on the vampire’s shoulder even though he knew the place like the back of his hand. He strode purposefully through the grounds, thinking ahead to his examination of Leizle. It should not be hard. He was, as always, untroubled by the thick scent hanging in the air as they moved past the siphoning annexes.
Leaving the sheds behind, the vampire skirted the fenced boundary of the accommodation zone. Connor cast a jaundiced eye over the rows of the utilitarian barracks; sturdy ship lapped wooden constructions, capped with terracotta tiled roofs, and mounted on elevated platforms to stave off the dampness of the waterlogged landscape.
“More like hutches,” muttered Connor.
At a glance, he could see fifty of the dreary dwellings and knew there were a dozen more rows stacked up behind. He felt fortunate that, so far, he was winning the battle with disease.
His concerns about disease made Connor ask, “Will Supervisor Matthew be joining us?”
“No. He sends his apologies.”
“I’m sure he does,” said Connor. He has a lot to be sorry about.
The constant stream of humanity trudging back and forth from the accommodation to the sheds had worn the grass away to a trail of compressed bare earth. Like dairy cattle, the humans were rounded up from their barracks, siphoned on rotation, and returned. Every detail was recorded. Not written down, of course. The accommodation wardens, chosen for their mental acuity, carried every human profile inside their heads.
Oddly, it helped to build a relationship of sorts with the inmates. They feel better when a warden remembers their name, little do they know it is just regurgitated information. But, for some, it eased the path. Duty-of-care was an illusion. The British welfare state curled up and died about the time the pandemic hit, and it was humans who had the duty to perform now, willingly or no.
“We have three new blood siphoning sheds, even though new arrivals are rare nowadays.” The intern darted a smug look at Connor’s profile. “We still siphon the more robust humans daily. It’s still the best way to keep them in check. Escape is the last thing on their minds when just walking uses every ounce of effort.” His conspiratorial chuckle struck Connor as obscene.
Connor flicked a glance up at the razor wire and said, “It’s not escape you are managing in reality, though, is it? It’s more a case of preventing the spilling of blood if they try.” Connor bared his teeth in a simulated sadistic grin. “Don’t want to waste the good stuff. I imagine you’d pay dearly for that, hmm?”
The vampire’s laugh clattered with nerves this time.
Connor enjoyed an uncomfortable silence. “So, the robust inmates are siphoned daily. And the rest?” He already knew the rest, but questions would distract his escort.
“The rest we siphon weekly, except for those living in the new mixed gender compound. They have a bi-weekly regime and monthly medical examinations.” The vampire puffed up again, on safer ground now. “I run the new medical center and make sure the breeders have a perfectly balanced diet, and that menstruation is regular and sperm counts are healthy.”
“I see,” said Connor.
“I’m taking you to the new medical block where we run the health checks. We even have a clinic up and running.” The vampire tried to stay ahead of Connor’s surging pace as he struggled to maintain his feeling of control. Preening and running was a cumbersome combination, and Connor swallowed the urge to laugh.
“And how is breeding progressing?” Connor asked.
A shadow passed across the vampire’s features. “Not good. I move the females out of the dormitories; their comforts are pandered to, they have their own box, and vitamin/folic acid supplements, but still, the pregnancies fail. We lost two recently.” He glanced at Connor with respect. “But, you know about that, of course.”
Connor stared coldly. Fail was one take on it.
“So, the new female is certainly headed for the breeding compound?”
The vampire nodded as they reached a set of gates which bridged the gap in a ten foot high stone wall. Turning his attention to an integral man-sized access door embedded within the larger iron-barred gate, he said, “The
indicators are good, although that’s for you to say.” He swiped a security card which beeped. “The medical center is just the other side of this wall.”
Entering the newer brick-walled enclosure was like stepping into Utopia. The facades of these dormitories resembled 20th century terraced houses, and the flowerbeds out front splashed a frill of color around the grass lawn aprons.
Connor swiped and beeped too, thinking fast. So, this physical examination is my best chance to get Leizle out. Stepping through the gate, he faltered midstep. An image of Rebekah filtered into his head. Like a droplet of blood hitting a pool of clear water, it billowed and swirled long enough for him to absorb the detail. Discomfort plagued him and the words ‘what’s she up to now’ solidified in his mind.
He pushed them firmly away. He had Leizle and his crazy rescue plan to attend to first. But then...
The clipped grass gave way to a polished quartz pathway which, like Dorothy’s yellow brick road, drew Connor towards the brick built construction of the new medical block.
Ah, a little nostalgia to make them feel at home? It was certainly a mirage of the familiar in comparison to the granite-gray and steel siphoning sheds, and more welcoming than the bare wood of the human barracks.
Connor entered the new ‘health center’, as the plaque proclaimed it to be, and stopped within the inviting puddle of light projected by a honey-colored spot lamp onto the sage-green carpet. Connor’s lightning assessment took in the tastefully decorated reception area. It showed the effort vampires were devoting to breeding humans.
Maybe a keen youngster studied fengshui, or was an interior designer when human. Either way, Connor found the end result pleasing. Good God, and what have we here? Beyond the cluster of comfy brown leather chairs was a vending machine bursting with healthy snacks and drinks and, the ultimate olive branch, a coffee dispenser.
Of course, wardens escorted the humans attending the clinic. Connor wondered if the males still wore handcuffs which were tethered to the chain around their ankles. Another practice used concentration camps, it prevented prisoners raising their hands above shoulder level to garrote or cosh a guard. Vampires did not need the protection, but it made the boundaries crystal clear. Stamping out hope is a bigger part of human acceptance than most realize. He headed across the plush carpet. But, this is a start.
The fumes of fresh paint stung his nose, and he grinned at the idea of a vampire using a paintbrush. “The only thing funnier would be a ballerina operating a pneumatic drill,” Connor muttered.
Stopping abruptly, Connor raised a brow at the vampire guide who still flanked his shoulder. “Second floor, and what room number? I think I can find it.”
The vampire looked offended, seeing his opportunity to gloat disappearing. “Room 13.”
“Thank you.” Connor mounted the wide, polished wood stairway and did not look back. He traveled silently along the corridor until he reached Examination Room 13, hoping it was a good omen.
His plan centered on pretending to find cause for concern which required further tests at the hospital. Hopefully, I can get Leizle to fake an anxiety attack. Human hysteria is always good for creating chaos. It will redirect their attention, and, somewhere between here and there, I’ll return her home. He would have to cover his tracks afterwards, but he had yet to think that part out.
Entering the room, Connor stopped inside the door, and waited for Leizle to register his arrival. Was I ever that slow? When she finally noticed him with a start, he minutely shook his head. They were alone, but he was under no illusions. Serge did not trust him and everything must appear as it should.
Leizle’s face was a battlefield of confusion.
Connor intended the examination to be perfunctory, and he had no choice but to restrict conversation to instruction. Leizle’s a bright girl, but will she see it as an act? The pheromone-cocktail she emanated clung to the roof of his mouth and he wryly acknowledged that fresh human blood was still his drug of choice. Their emotions are such a colorful banquet, if only they knew how hard they make it.
He acclimatized to her scent, and, like a deep-sea diver descending into murky depths, Connor sank into the tranquil waters of revival sleep. Once he had her measure, he stepped closer. I’m not taking any chances. Advancing slowly, he still arrived at her side without her seeing him move, and she leapt out of her skin, again.
Inwardly, Connor groaned, a rueful smile flitting over his face. “Lie down,” he said, resisting the ‘please’ hovering on his lips.
He found it easy to control his feeding reactions to her scent. A cinnamon accent to her aroma made his nose sting, but nothing more. He was more concerned when her face drained of color and the glitter of jade in her eyes dimmed. I need her to be ready for flight. What I need from her is a burst of adrenalin.
Leizle lay back and folded her hands over her stomach, her gown trembling as her heart rate thundered.
Connor laid a professional palm on her forehead, taking her temperature more accurately than the mercury thread of a thermometer could. He inhaled slowly through his nostrils with his mouth open slightly, analyzing her scent as it washed over his palate. He measured the iron levels in her blood by how thick the scent was, and how heavy the metallic aftertaste. He gathered the information as part of the performance, in case questions were asked.
Connor picked up a wooden tongue depressor. “Open wide,” he said abruptly.
Instead of inspecting her throat, he stared into her eyes, using the moment of proximity to plead silently for cooperation.
His voice and face were a comical mismatch, the icy edge in his clipped tone at odds with his brows, arched in apology.
“When did you last eat?”
“Do you consider your menstrual cycle to be normal?”
“Is your sleep pattern regular?”
“Do you suffer with headaches?”
His face became more serious, as though every answer she gave took them one step closer to an uncomfortable truth. Connor built the tension, leading her to the moment when he would tell her to scream. I need her to just do it, with no questions asked. He wanted the bloodcurdling variety. The scream had to make the ears of the vampire wardens vibrate with such ferocity that they would do just about anything to end it.
He opened his mouth, about to say ‘scream as if you are dying and don’t stop’, when the door flipped open and deposited Anthony into the room. His face was locked into an earnest ‘give me another chance’ expression, and Connor would not have been surprised if he had whisked out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. He smells so sincere. Heck.
The trolley Anthony towed across the room was loaded with the gynecological instruments required to perform a thorough human physical examination. His inquiring glance forced Connor to act natural.
Connor crossed to the basin, scrubbed in and pulled on a sterile gown. It was routine when dealing with humans; risking cross infection within the herd was unthinkable.
Jerking his head, Connor indicated where he wanted the trolley placed, and then he faked a vacant frown. “Thank you, Anthony.” Connor turned away, praying Leizle would not leap off the examination table. She trusts me. That much is clear. He knew by her apprehensive gaze, and by the firework display of electrical activity dancing inside her brain, how hard it was for her to stay still. Anthony may get the scent of it too, but he’ll assume it’s the usual panic humans feel around vampires.
“That’ll be all, Anthony.” Connor pretended to focus on the patient and hoped Anthony would leave.
“May I stay?” Anthony asked. “You’ll need someone to circulate the sterile field, you’re scrubbed in.” Anthony picked up the parcel containing plastic stents, one of which Connor should insert into Leizle’s vein, along with the glass test tubes capped with non-return valves which he would fill with her blood. Anthony unfolded the package and laid it open without touching the sterile layers inside. His hand gesture said ‘ta-dah’ as he smiled hopefully.
Backed into a co
rner, Connor faced the prospect of examining a clearly terrified Leizle. He flicked a glance at her white face, and, turning his head so Anthony could not see, he mouthed, “It’s okay.” Relieved when she stayed lying down, he skimmed his hands down over her limbs in a quick assessment. Over his shoulder, Connor muttered remarks about calcium deposits and signs of old breaks in bones, mentoring Anthony as always, and distracting him in the process.
When Connor’s cold hands framed Leizle’s bare stomach, a bolt of electricity shot through him and light exploded inside his head.
The flash arcing behind his eyes printed an image of Rebekah’s sleeping face on the walls inside his skull. Her eyes snapped open, and a filigree pattern of frosted lace crawled up her neck until it covered her features, finally decorating her eyelids and dragging them closed. But not before he saw her brown eyes die, the irises shriveling like autumn leaves drying out and crumbling to dust.
A knife thrust of dread stirred in the pit of his stomach. He knew Rebekah was not dead, but he was overwhelmed by her anxiety and the pull to find her escalated sharply.
I have to go, now.
There is always a moment, that if only moment, upon which the world turns. Recognizing it as though it was signposted in neon, Connor saw an escape route and took it.
As Anthony placed a speculum in Connor’s outstretched hand to begin the internal part of the examination, and Leizle tensed, ready to jump from the bed this time, Connor hissed, “Sorry.”
Blood samples were the next stage in the process. But, before Anthony even thought to put on the mask tucked inside his belt, Connor slipped a scalpel from his pocket. With a flick of the wrist, he pressed the blade to Leizle’s arm. Her eyes watered with the shock of pain. The scent of blood filled the room as her anxious heart pumped at a satisfying rate.