Mistwalker

by Fraser, Naomi

  At the door, he pressed in another series of numbers. “This is the clinic,” he said, waiting as the doors swung open. “The mystery is because I hope you will view it without prejudice. See it for how it really is.”

  She looked at him uneasily. “Without…”

  “Any taint of our first meeting.”

  She frowned at his choice of words as they entered a large room, passed a receptionist’s desk, waiting room, hospital beds, and medical paraphernalia. “It’s huge.”

  “These are the private rooms,” he said, taking her down the other side of the building. Each room had its own bathroom and a comfortable sitting room. “We have twenty-four hour medical surveillance.”

  “How did Lars escape then?”

  “He read the mind of the person watching him, then used compulsion on the vampire guards. He destroyed the cameras in his room. The thirst got to him which is why he could not control himself that night.”

  Her footsteps slowed, and then she stopped. Juliun stood too close; the dark, spicy scent of him was filling up her lungs. “Why are you showing me all this?”

  “I hope you will reconsider allowing Tammy to stay here for the short term. It is too dangerous to have her in your apartment. She could be moved from the hospital right now with Alec to take care of her.”

  The walls of Simone’s future flew up with astonishing speed. He asked too much, or did he? Who was she to refuse anything for Tammy’s safety? “I can’t leave her somewhere strange.” Simone’s protest sounded feeble, cruel.

  He backtracked stealthily down the main corridor. “My mother has offered to nurse your friend back to health. You are more than welcome to stay. The clinic has automatic shutters, or you can stay in one of the spare rooms in the castle. There are many to choose from. My mother and aunt Madalina will look forward to your company.”

  “Oh.” Simone shook her head as she followed him. “I can’t leave Tammy here. You don’t know her. She will freak out. Imagine her thinking I’ve left her at the home of the…the…” Simone stammered and looked up at his taut profile.

  “The leader of the vampires who attacked her in the street,” he finished, grimly.

  “Right. She wouldn’t understand. It would be better for me to take her home and care for her myself.”

  “Newly risen vampires have been known to attack their family. If she bites you, you will transfer the mist. She could turn her own family and all the people in your apartment building. We will not know if she can walk in daylight, it will depend on the power balance between her vampire and werewolf side.”

  Simone frowned. “I will fade her and myself any time she tries. I can handle anything she comes up with.”

  He chuckled and pushed open the doors that led to the emergency part of the clinic. “I do not doubt that. However, I am more concerned that you will not have the heart to hurt her to save yourself. There is every possibility you will let down your guard.”

  “I haven’t that done since I was ten.”

  He looked down at her with great interest and smiled. “That’s why my grandfather likes you so much.”

  Her eyebrows rose. She looked around at the hospital beds. The scent of disinfectant and starch filled the room. A vampire slept on the far side. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

  “Believe it.” Juliun gestured to the man lying so still on the bed. “This is Jeffrey Riva. He was bitten by his girlfriend, Alicia. He had no idea she was a vampire.”

  “Are vampires allowed to turn anyone they like?”

  Juliun shot her a hard look. “No. You must ask Council permission. It is rarely given.”

  “And if you’re royalty, you are the Council.”

  He caught her hand and smoothed his thumb over her skin. He kissed the back of her hand, quickly, and then replaced it by her side. His grin was irresistible. “I know this is all strange for you. It does get easier. I have carte blanche with her situation as long as the pact is adhered to.”

  “Is that what your mother meant by ‘certain conditions’ must be met? I can’t bite Tammy?”

  He glanced away. “One of them.”

  “I don’t understand how Lissanne didn’t get the mist when she was pregnant with you.” Simone shook her head and sighed.

  “The Cel Batrin book will explain how this occurs, and it will also clarify many other things.”

  “Like what?”

  He gave her a brief, mysterious smile. “I would not want to ruin the surprise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The scent of thick traffic fumes clouded the air, kicked up from the heavy rain, along with the smell of petrol, motor oil and dirt. The street had that wet road smell Carlo always associated with gloomy weather and hunting humans with Lorena.

  He stopped and stared down at his tennis shoes. He’d always preferred comfort over style, unlike his bride, but he couldn’t think about Lorena now. He would never get her back; never hold her hand as they hunted the streets. Nor listen to her wild, free laughter; ringing through the air that so distinctly embodied everything about her.

  Nothing could hold her. Not the night. Not right or wrong. Yet, somehow death had stolen her from him.

  The weight in his heart made him sick. He frowned down the closest alleyway, at the people who scurried to escape the driving rain. Their quick footsteps echoed, and combined with the downpour, the symphony hurt his ears. It was life.

  He couldn’t go home. Not yet. That made the pain too close, too unbearable. His throat burned from hunger, heart throbbed with a black poison. He’d gnawed the inside of his cheek, and the corner of his lips dribbled with blood. He wouldn’t have bothered with Master’s directive, but for the fact he’d end up as a shell in the pits. Carlo had only left headquarters and had a few hours before they would be on mission to get the mist. He must eat. Their task wouldn’t be easy with him on an empty stomach and the royal guards on notice.

  The stink of humans was inescapable—sunlight and grease, bad breath and bacteria-ridden sweat. Only one way. He trudged past piles of flattened boxes and puddles to the far dark corner of the alleyway. There, he waited under a ratty awning, hidden by night’s shadows. More footsteps and voices, that human music which sounded so garish and useless. As useless as Lorena’s death?

  He clenched his fist and looked down at his rain soaked hand. The pale skin, unlined and strong, looked to be from a man in his prime. Strangely, he shook from the cold. Drenched in his blue jeans and sports jacket, a heavy thickness iced in his veins.

  Tears dripped down his face, mixing with the rain. The stupidity of humans had brought this about. If only they could live longer and truly see the world.

  Then came the familiar click-clack click-clack of a woman’s heels on wet stone. The scrape of her stockinged thighs as they rubbed together. The sound mimicked his heartbeat, his breaths. He looked up. Then he stepped forward. Otherwise, he’d stay here and die. Die fast or slow. What was the difference? Time? He possessed too much of that. The anger throbbed there, deep down in his belly, and slowly he brought it all the way to the surface.

  *Down here,* he ordered on his mind-link. *Stop. Come back.*

  The footsteps faltered, and then silence, until the sharp tap of her heels hurried toward the alleyway. He breathed out. *Closer.*

  At the first sight of her, he trembled, his mouth working silently. He lashed out in his fury, sinking his fist into the bricks. The raw sting of his knuckles made his breathing pick up.

  Her blonde hair trickled in wavy ringlets over her shoulders, the curves her slim figure clad in a svelte black dress. A cursory overcoat for the chill London weather and high heels. Yet, it was her face, her very life, which made him so speechless. She held a wide black umbrella to protect her from the elements. How could she live while his beloved had died? He doubled over with the pain. Humans deserved nothing.

  *Come here.*

  The woman walked right up to him, her blue eyes dazed and limpid. “Oh yes.” Her voice was breathy and swe
et, shooting clouds of white into the frosty air. “Please.”

  He couldn’t touch her, not so soon after losing Lorena.

  He stared at her slender neck, at the pulse wildly beating beneath her skin. He reached out for her hair with a bloody hand and yanked her head to one side, pulling her deeper into the darkness. Hunched over her, he moaned at the ease with which his fangs sliced through her jugular vein. Blood, salt, fresh rainwater and make-up coated his tongue. But he ached. The throbbing sickness clenched harder in his stomach. His breathing quickened and nausea made him panic. He thought it was hunger. It had to be hunger. He must eat more.

  The woman wobbled on her heels, and the umbrella landed with a splash in the puddle at their feet. Water ran into his shoes. Harder, he sucked. Harder, deeper. Lub-dub-dub, lub-dub-dub. Her heartbeats slowed. Lub...dub...until her shoulders slumped against his chest.

  He growled, wrenching his mouth from her neck. He shook from head to toe, gripping the front of her overcoat, then her arms. “What is wrong with you?” The soft flesh of her upper arms gave compliantly beneath his hard fingers, but the sickness bubbled within him, unsatisfied and demanding. Her head lolled, and that creeping, tell-tale grey swept beneath her skin. Shit. He’d taken too much. He quaked with yearning, and she shuddered. More, more. The pain was still there.

  *Stay awake.*

  Her eyelashes fluttered, and she moaned.

  *Follow me to around the corner. You will walk.*

  She complied, albeit unsteadily, her skin an ugly grey. Maybe her alcoholic blood would kill this strange pain once and for all. He smiled at the thought and speed-walked her back to his townhouse.

  His. He shook his head. No. Lorena’s soul remained there. He didn’t intend to bring the woman at first, but it was his best chance to placate the beast. Full circle. Punishment for what her kind had done, and continued to do. She had to see the depth of her responsibility.

  He opened the front door, and her heels crunched on the leftover dust that had once been Korpus.

  Carlo led her inside and gave her an opened bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet. *Drink it all. Fast as you can.*

  Then when she’d finished, Carlo pushed her into the bedroom, locked the door and said, *You can see clearly.*

  She gasped, breathed deeply a few times, then glanced down at the bodies on the floor. She screamed, then promptly vomited from the alcohol. Quick as thought, he flew at her and slammed her back up against the wall, covering her mouth with his hand. *Keep that in. Shut up. No sound.*

  Her eyes widened, and sweat instantly beaded her forehead. She banged her head back against the wall, thrashed, and furiously bowed her back. Finally, she bit into his hand. Hard.

  He laughed. A fire blazed in his stomach, the heat within which made him burn. That twisting, coiling agony wanted her. “I like it when they have a bit of fight in ‘em. Take a good look around. Humans are so stupid. Try to escape.” He knocked her down, then reached in a drawer next to the bed for the rope. He tested a length between his hands. “I love it when they run. So did Lorena.”

  The woman manic-crawled for the door, but he yanked her up and tied her in spread-eagled fashion to the rings on the wall.

  He retreated to the chair and carried Lorena’s folded clothes toward the dresser. “I know,” he said to them. “It’s all their fault.” He lifted the clothes to his face and breathed in her sweet, spicy scent, revelled in the softness of the cloth. Heat climbed and climbed up inside of him. His hands shook, but he lifted his head and firmed his jaw. Hunger. He had to stop the hunger.

  After a fast rummage into another drawer for his favourite hunting knife, he sat on the chair and sharpened the knife on whetstone. He spat on the rock again, and then scraped the metal across the surface. Many, many times, and the sound echoed in the room. The blade sharpened.

  The woman strained against the rope, cutting her wrists, and her mouth opened and closed with absolute terror.

  He tested the edge with the tip of his finger. Perfect. He rose and kicked back the chair. “It’s all your fault she’s dead,” he said, calmly. “All your fault.” He shook so hard he couldn’t articulate what he really meant, feeling something indomitable rise up inside of him, tearing through his throat. Poison, pain, pleasure—all of it—that beast of despair which knew no control.

  He lunged, blade out.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Loud banging echoed in Simone’s dreams, interrupting the deliciously erotic things Juliun was doing to her. She frowned at the heavy weight on her chest, opened her eyes slowly, gasped and in a terrified moment, sprang to her feet, pushing out with both hands. The Cel Batrin book tumbled end over end, and the delicate pages slammed against the wall, then slid to the carpet with a dull thud.

  She winced. Radu would love that.

  The rhythmic thumping shook the walls of her bedroom, and she rubbed a hand over her face. She must have fallen asleep while reading. The book made a fascinating study. Written as diary entries, the pages were packed with information of all the species who resided in Whitby and across the world. Wolves, elves, sprites, fairies, mermen...Radu said two-hundred years had passed while he hid during the Great War. He failed to mention it had taken him five-hundred years to kill all the immortals that begun the instability. Talk about determination. She had a lot to learn. The banging continued louder than ever, and she moaned.

  “All right, all right. I’m coming.” She darted a quick glance to the windows to make sure the blankets covered the glass and faded to mist to appear at the front door.

  The chain and lock rattled. Fingertips resting on the door, she rose on tip toe and peered through the spy hole.

  Alec. With his hair all mussed up. What on earth was he doing here?

  “Miss Woods?” his usually calm voice barked. The door knob rattled. “Open the door or I’ll break it down!”

  “Wake up the neighbours, why don’t you, Alec?” she mumbled and unlocked the door. The door flew open and crashed against the wall, and she jumped out of the way in the nick of time. “Damn. What’s all the fuss?”

  “You’ve got to help me. We need the mist. They’ve taken Tammy.”

  “Come on in,” she said, closing the door behind him. “What do you mean?”

  He pushed a shaking hand through his blond hair, spiking up the normally well-groomed strands even more. His white coat fell askew from his shoulders, the blue cotton shirt ripped across his abdomen. “They’ve got Tammy! We have to leave to find her right now. We have to get—”

  Simone rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Whoa. Wait. Who’s got Tammy? Slow down, Alec. I just woke up.”

  “Rogues have her. I couldn’t stop them. You have no idea what they’ll do once they discover she doesn’t have the mist.”

  “Rogues. Have. Tammy?” Simone narrowed her eyes on him. “Rogue vampires?”

  He nodded. “I couldn’t stop them,” he repeated, his blue eyes anguished. “I can’t reach Juliun or Radu. You have the mist. You’re my only hope.”

  Coldness settled over Simone, and she woke up in a hurry. “Where would they have gone?”

  “I don’t know. I heard them talking about the mist. They looked like they were on foot, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Did she wake up?”

  He shook his head. “No, and they’ll kill her when she can’t tell them anything. Her blood won’t give them the power. That’s why she was stolen, they thought she was you.”

  “Wait here.” Simone faded and appeared in her bedroom. She tore off her pyjamas and pulled on her vampire hunting gear. She jammed a stake inside the back waistband of her jeans, put on the Kevlar vest, holster, guns and then slid on her black leather jacket. She hit speed dial five on her cell phone. Her steel-toed boots were on in seconds.

  Vinnie picked up. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

  “I need your help. I never told you but my friend and I were in hospital, and now she’s been kidnapped,” Simone said.

  “I’m co
ming over to your place right now. Don’t—”

  “We won’t be here,” she interrupted. “I’m going after her. Run by the hospital would you? I don’t think they’ll be there, but if they are use the weapon I told you to last time I slept at your place. A crossbow.” She paused. “Hey Vinnie, shoot first and ask questions later, okay? I don’t need to tell you these guys will take one look at you and rip out your throat.”

  A silence echoed down the line. “I understand.”

  “Oh and Vinnie,” she said. “One last warning. These guys are fast and deadly. Don’t be shocked by anything you see.”

  He laughed. “Hey sweetheart, you know me. If I was slow, I’d be dead already. Don’t worry, we’ll get her back.”

  Simone ended the call and dialled the number Juliun gave her before she’d left Ravenkeep. She got his answering machine. “Answer your damn phone, Juliun. Tammy’s been kidnapped, and Alec and I are going after her. Bye.”

  Simone appeared in the kitchen beside Alec. “What’s the first place you think they’ll go?”

  He fidgeted and kept glancing at his watch. “We need to hurry. You have guns?” he sounded surprised.

  “Yes,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Two, and a stake.”

  “Bullets don’t kill vampires. Slow them down, maybe.”

  “One has custom ammunition, doc. You’re going to see a giant big hole in any vamp that tries to stop us. Now, where would they have taken her?”

  “Without a car? The train station,” he said, worriedly. “I hope.”

  She pulled out the .44. “The platform closest to the hospital?”

  Alec nodded.

  The burn fired into her legs, arms and up her neck in spidery tendrils. Her arms transformed into a solid curl of mist, and then Alec appeared beside her.

  She stalked through the train station’s grimy storage alcove, over piles of discarded newspapers until they finally stepped from the shadows. Old fashioned lamps hung from the ceiling and posters of various women in states of undress plastered the opposite wall. Commuters boarded the train down the far end of the platform, and the whistle blew in a screeching wail. She tucked the .44 back in the holster and zipped up her jacket. “We’re catching that train.”