Blood Rush: Book Two of the Demimonde

by Ash Krafton

  Shiloh was beginning to fail. We had no choice.

  She, of course, saw things differently.

  "Why do we even have to do this at all, Dad? I'm seventeen. I should be picking a college, and planning for prom, and making out in the back seat of a car. Instead I have to see weird old doctors who talk about blood and 'lution and forcing me to be something I'm not. Why can't I just be normal?"

  "It's not that you're not normal, Shy..." Rodrian sat on the edge of his desk, hands in his pockets.

  "What do you call it? Luke's already been accepted at State. I haven't even filled out pre-apps." She paced toward the stereo and popped open the cabinet, stooping down to look through the stacks of CDs stored inside.

  "There's time. We don't have to rush that."

  "But this we have to rush? The gross stuff?"

  "It's our way," Rodrian said firmly.

  "Yeah, well, your way sucks. I'm glad it's not mine. I hope it never is. I just want to be normal."

  "You're Demivampire. When Pontian's through treating you, you will be normal."

  "No, I won't." She sagged into the high-backed chair next to my desk like a fragile toy. Even her fighting spirit drained quickly these days. "I'll never be the same."

  "You'll be healthy, strong. You won't feel powerless."

  "I'll be alone." Her voice was tiny.

  I knew that feeling, that one that made voices sound tiny and confidence shrink and hearts feel crumpled.

  Rodrian didn't seem to, though. He only sounded confused. "How do you figure?"

  "Oh, I don't know. I'm guessing Luke will run screaming the first time my fangs pop out and he'll probably break up by a text message. That kind of alone."

  "What about us?" I sat down my desk, switching on the monitor and loosening my towel-turban so that I could dry my hair.

  Shiloh whipped a contemptuous teen look at me. "No offense, Sophie, but you're not my type. And anyways, you'll probably just die of old age long before Dad decides to show any gray. I'll still be trying to get into college when they have your funeral."

  I dropped out of the conversation then. She'd tossed me too brutal a mental image to hold up an argument.

  "Shiloh, you know what she meant. You're not losing your family."

  "Oh?" The tears began to thicken her voice and she stomped over to my desk to snatch a tissue from the pop-up box on the edge. "What do you call what happened to Uncle Marek?"

  "This isn't about him."

  "No, it's about me. If I don't cusp, I don't ever have to worry about evolving. I won't end up shunned and hated by everyone on the planet."

  "You'll just be dead." Rodrian seemed to finally lose patience. "Is that better?"

  "It'll be easier than this." She grabbed a tissue from the box on my desk before turning away to blow her nose. "I don't care—"

  She wavered, staring down at her tissue.

  "Shy?" prompted Rodrian.

  "Something's wrong," she said quietly. "Something bad."

  She lifted the hand holding her tissue, turning to face us.

  Blood streamed from her nose.

  "Daddy?" Her voice trailed off before she fainted.

  Shiloh had revived and we got her into bed. Despite my years of Emergency Room experience, I'd never seen such a severe nosebleed. Shiloh choked on the blood and vomited a bright red puddle on her comforter.

  Want to talk helpless? Try being me, knowing she needed to be cauterized, knowing I had no clue how much blood she could lose before she crashed. I ended up pinch-ing her nose and putting a frozen burrito on the back of her neck. I knew she'd be okay when she stopped gagging and asked if I'd mind putting the burrito in the microwave when we were done. The laugh would have been a good one if there weren't so many blood-soaked towels on the floor.

  Rodrian had called Pontian after carrying Shiloh into her room. Pontian arrived within the half-hour, making me wonder how close he'd been or by what strange means he traveled. I didn't really want an answer to either question. The less I knew about the healer, the better.

  It wasn't his lack of bedside manners that bothered me—I'd worked with plenty of people like that, and simply had made up for their deficiencies with kindness of my own. Pontian's healing abilities were more than evident to me, and I'll even go as far to admit I was curious about DV medicine.

  There was one thing I didn't like—one thing that made me acutely uncomfortable about his presence, so much so that I had successfully avoided asking him when I would finally be off coffee quarantine. That should put it in complete perspective. I was willing to continue starve myself just so I didn't have to endure being near him, even if only to ask the million-dollar question: was I cured yet?

  That one tiny thing was that Pontian could read minds.

  It was more than a DV talent. It was a sign of brinking. Pontian was old and he was close to the edge, where the line between DV and vampire was a hazy blur.

  It wasn't that I was afraid he'd eavesdrop on my thoughts. I suspected he'd taken himself to that edge on purpose, because he wanted—no, craved—the power and the spike of strength the Brinkage would lend to his healing abilities.

  That kind of play was dangerous. He flirted with damnation and didn't seem to mind the risk. It rubbed me the wrong way, on a deeper level than my being faithful or oracular. I just didn't trust someone who would be willing to die for the chance to grab more power.

  I knew Caen was the same kind of man. Just because Pontian practiced healing arts didn't make him noble.

  Pontian examined Shiloh, taking a blood sample and her vital signs, before making her drink a small glass of remedy. It looked light years more appealing than the revitalizer he'd once made for me. Considering how the yucky revitalizer had kept me from dying of severe blood loss, I couldn't fault him. Still. Yuck. I knew looks were usually deceiving and I didn't envy Shiloh the experience of drinking Pontian's home brew.

  I tucked her in and watched her drift off into a limp sleep. Stroking her hair away from her damp forehead, I sat on her bed and fought tears, knowing that she struggled in so many ways, knowing I couldn't take this burden from her. All I could do was stand by and try to absorb some of the overflow. Her battle was hers alone to fight.

  Helpless. Damn near useless. As I pulled Shiloh's bed-room door closed behind me, the sounds of men's voices echoed down the hallway. Walking quietly toward the office, I stretched my awareness inside to determine who was there. Rodrian was clear, and if I didn't have ears, I'd swear he was alone. I couldn't feel Pontian at all.

  I wondered if he'd ever be willing to examine my barriers since he had the ability to "get inside" people. Maybe after Shiloh got better I would be brave enough to ask him.

  "We will begin in two weeks, when I return." Pontian's words sounded like granite. He'd never be able to play a doctor on TV, unless someone wrote in a storyline for McScary.

  "Two weeks?" Rodrian said. "I thought we had more time."

  "You don't. Her vascular system is losing integrity. That nosebleed wasn't the first. And did you think to tell me about the bruising?"

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  "You didn't even know," Pontian continued. "I suspected as much. She is your child, Thurzo. Need I remind you how important she is? I would have started an hour ago, had my schedule been more accommodating. Two weeks. You have time to make arrangements. She can be treated here but I will require the amenities we discussed."

  "Of course." Rodrian murmured his acquiescence.

  The conversation sounded more or less over, so I walked into the office. Rodrian sat behind his desk, making notes on a legal pad. He didn't even look at me.

  Settling his overcoat down upon his shoulders, Pontian flipped the collar straight before picking a satchel off the floor. "Ah, Sophia. You look much better."

  "Yeah. I put the 'speedy' in speedy recovery," I replied. I supposed someone as old as Pontian had a loose grip on the idea of time. I refrained from reminding him it had been quite some time si
nce my bout with anemia. "I'm relieved that you'll be helping Shiloh. She's got us worried."

  Pontian ran a hand over his hair, a shocking mix of red and white. My grandmother once told me that true red hair never turned white; rather, it faded. Pontian's hair bore two distinct colors that mingled without blending. He had no faded red; the white was defiantly silver. "I'm surprised you didn't call me. You, of all people, Sophia."

  Rodrian made no reply, but he stopped writing. His gaze remained on the desk, and I knew guilt ate at him, despite his attempt to keep his emotions concealed.

  "I am glad you'll be here, Sophia. Blood rush is dangerous, even under controlled circumstances. She'll need you." Pontian shouldered his bag and walked to the door. "Two weeks. If you notice any dramatic change, call."

  I waited until the front door slammed behind him before speaking. Not that it made any difference. "Amenities? What kind?"

  "He'll create a clinic here for Shy," he said. "It needs a separate entrance, since there will be a lot of people coming and going but it will be secure. The garage should be big enough."

  "That much space?" I knew the garage was a pretty big place, even though I'd only opened the door and glanced in once or twice. The garage had four bays in front, two of which had draped vehicles parked in them; there was an equally spacious storage area behind them. Garage, smarage. Try warehouse.

  "We'll have to build a recovery room, a storage room for the treatment, and a lounge."

  "Oh?" I almost laughed. "A lounge? I didn't know clubbing was part of the therapy."

  "It's not for Shiloh," he said flatly. "It's for the donors."

  I struggled to find a response but failed.

  "Treatment starts with stored blood. She'll be sedated, and Pontian will gastric tube it in. But once she begins to cusp, she'll need live sources. She'll have to be taught how to feed." He shrugged and flipped the pages over his notepad. "We have a good donor pool, and we want to keep them comfortable. They perform a tremendous service."

  So Rodrian needed to build a DV feeding ground in my house. Yuck. "These donors. Are they your donors, too?"

  Rodrian looked unsettled. "Gods, no. Not my type. Way too young. College aged, and mostly male. I don't do guys."

  "Not even for blood?"

  "Not a chance."

  "Wow. You sound positively phobic."

  "It's a preference. Chicks taste better, and they're nicer to hold. Not to mention they're usually good for a little fun on the side."

  "All right. Enough already. I don't need to hear what a slut you are."

  "I'm not a slut. I'm a chauvinist. I was only saying that I can usually get them to clean my apartment when we're done."

  "Enough!" I turned to retreat to my rooms, leaving him alone to enjoy his sense of humor.

  "Have you been practicing?"

  I nodded. "I've actually improved. Thank you so much, Eirene. I can't think of a way to show you my gratitude."

  She smiled indulgently. "Ah, Sophia. It is to our mutual benefit that you come to full strength. A Sophia can only be of use if she makes the best of her potential. There is no need to thank me. Shall I examine your barriers?"

  I closed my eyes and raised my barriers, immediately sensing her white light on my periphery. It danced and flitted, tapping along my barriers, as it sought a breach. I kept it in sight, resisting the urge to bunch my barriers beneath her touch. I held them steady, concentrating on maintaining an even, impenetrable wall.

  I lost track of her somewhere behind me and detected her only moments before she struck. I thickened my power to stand between us and deflected the blow, pushing her back.

  Eirene clapped her hands. "Sophia! I am truly impressed. You have been working diligently."

  I didn't express that our little walk in the park had provided plenty of motivation. I was more determined than ever before to prove to myself I was nothing like her—that I could make a difference in this world without simply excising the broken parts. Increasing my defensive abilities was a bonus, especially since I knew even the good guys had killer instincts.

  So I chose the more diplomatic route and displayed a mild smile. "I practice as often as I can. I admit that I feel... better now. Barriers help me keep separate from everyone else around me. I didn't realize how stressed-out I've be-come. I like being apart again. Since manifesting, it seemed like I constantly was in contact with everyone around me. At least now I have space."

  "Yes," she agreed. "Space and sanity."

  "Exactly. Thank you for that gift, Eirene."

  "Do not mention it. It is easier to perform your sacred duties when you have control."

  "Yes, it is. The barriers don't hold me back at all. If anything, I...think I've grown stronger."

  Eirene leaned toward me, lifting her chin and peering at me intently, dark eyes glittering beneath her lush lashes. "How so?"

  "I can't explain it, really," I said. "It's still so new. But, it seems like now that I have barriers, the Sophia has more space and has grown to fill it. Now it's braver, more confident."

  "Interesting." She rolled her lips together as if freshening her lipstick and spread her hands. "Of course, always having been in control of my Sophia, I have no weaker state to which I can compare."

  I refrained from making a face. Just had to be the superior, didn't she?

  "But yes," she said. "I do recognize your description of the power filling you. I wonder if there is a way to judge your progress."

  I had an idea, but it was one I wasn't willing to share. Rodrian could taste me again and compare. Knowing Eirene would have plenty of objections, I tried to forget the idea. It would only cause too many problems.

  I'd spent enough nights, lying awake, thinking about him and the relationship we had. No matter what I aimed for, nothing fit because Marek always loomed. Despite all that happened to Marek—and all I had learned about what really happened—I still loved him and knew any other man would only come second.

  And yet, the first thing that came to mind was sharing blood with Rodrian. How messed up was that?

  Of course, I couldn't discuss any of this with Eirene. But part of me really wished she was different, just so I could.

  "Well..." Her voice broke through my reverie. "I'm not sure what else I can teach you. You have strong barriers, and you exercise them. Your strength has improved because of it. I suppose it is all up to you, now, to be the best Sophia you can be."

  She stood and smoothed her skirt into place. "Soon, I will return to my lands. My business here is nearly complete, and I grow longing for home once again."

  "But we haven't—"

  "We have done much more than I originally thought you could ever accomplish. You did seem to be such a hopeless case when first we met..."

  Gee, thanks, I thought. "But the Canons and the Circlet. You've told me so little."

  "We will write, Sophia." Eirene laughed and clasped my hands. "We will correspond. I am not leaving you forever."

  Great. Another pen pal. Although I could live without her condescending tone of voice, it wouldn't be the same as the one-on-one training she'd given me. Then again, no more slaughtered pre-vamps. For once, I'd like to not be conflicted.

  Diplomacy must rule, I decided, since the Sophia society was too small to alienate one of them. "Will you have dinner at my home before you leave? At least let me show you my gratitude."

  She nodded once, bending her head low with an elegant bow. "I would be delighted to dine at your home and look forward to it. You are most gracious. Dorcas, what day would be best for us to say farewell to our Sophia?"

  "Thursday, madam."

  Eirene lifted her eyebrows at me, waiting for my response.

  I shrugged. "Thursday would be perfect. I'll arrange a car for you."

  "That is most appreciated. Not a cab?"

  "No, not a cab." I remembered her disdain for public transportation. "I'll send a driver."

  She smiled. "That will suffice. Please, no sooner than eight o'cloc
k. You know I take my meals late."

  "Of course." Quietly, I rejoiced. It was hours earlier than I'd been going to dinner with her. Eight o'clock was practically teatime compared to our usual meetings.

  As I waited for the elevator to arrive, I mused over which approach I should use to let Rodrian know I'd just volunteered his chauffeuring services.

  The next evening, as I read over my column work in the den, I heard the growl of Rodrian's Audi outside.

  "Has Pontian called?" Rodrian didn't even say hello; he barely paused to take off his coat before ducking behind the bar and rooting through the fridge.

  I shook my head. "No, why?"

  "I haven't heard from him since Monday, and there's a shipment of clinic supplies arriving tomorrow."

  "Monday? You didn't mention that."

  "Yeah, well, it was a strange call. He wanted me to consider changing the clinic site to some place up in Lackawanna County."

  "That far? Why?"

  "Better facility, I suppose. Doesn't matter. She wants to stay here. I just don't know why he hasn't shown up yet. Marek didn't mention anything."

  "I didn't know Marek was involved."

  "Neither did I." He looked perturbed and an uncomfortable ripple cut through the feel of his power. "But Pontian asked for his new number so I guess he is. I figured Pontian would be here to set up, at least."

  "Well," I said. "I didn't see anything on the caller ID but I'll check again for odd numbers."

  Rodrian didn't bother with a glass; he popped the lid off a chilled emergency unit and drank it straight. I'd never seen him so distraught that he'd do something so revolting right in front of me.

  I reached out hesitantly, but he was locked down tight. "You don't think he's in trouble, do you?"

  "No. I'm just worried about Shy. She's sick with anticipation. I hate to drag it out."

  "I'll do what I can do to cheer her up. Maybe Dally will come over and keep Toby busy. He's still trying to make up for the whole wolf thing even though it wasn't him." Too late, I realized I'd never told him anything about Tanner's wolf. I didn't think now was a good idea to tell him about the whole ghost wolf thing. Quickly, I improvised. "I think he feels bad for leaving the pet door open."