by Mary Hughes
I’d counted forty stories. Lizelle said the elevator stopped with a single turn of the key—while Marrone had used two clicks to get to the top.
The implications goosed me into a run toward the elevators. Unless I missed my guess, two clicks took the elevator to the fortieth floor—and one to the thirty-ninth.
The moment the doors opened I jumped inside and hit the top button. Both thirty-nine and forty were unavailable unless I had a key—by elevator. But maybe not by stairs.
I took the elevator to the thirty-eighth floor, got out and walked up one flight.
The doorknob was missing. When I tried a pull, the door opened easily.
Relief cascaded through me, but I was still cautious, and I dug in my pack for a hand mirror. Shrugging the pack onto my shoulder, I cracked the door and used the mirror to peek out.
An institutional corridor greeted me, not the business kind done in textured vinyl wallpaper and sculpted carpet, but washable paint and moppable floors. Ammonia was sharp in my nostrils. It smells like an ICU… I put the mirror away and sneaked out.
A hand grabbed my wrist.
I swung with it, my palm raised to smash nose. A second hand grabbed my other wrist, but not in a good, crashing-into-Luke way.
I was suddenly face-to-face with Lizelle’s husband, John Umbras.
Villains are supposed to have too-close eyes, fleshy lips and piggy noses. Aside from his too-broad shoulders and spindly legs, Umbras was insanely good looking. A rock cliff of a jaw, thick dark hair, clear brown eyes.
Eyes that now blazed down at me. “You’ve ignored and spurned my master’s advances. But now you’ll see how he holds everything in his hands. You’ll be glad to play your part.”
Holy crap. Who’d written this guy’s lines?
I stiffened my spine and spat back, “I’m here for Lizelle. For Una.”
“Then we both want the same thing.” He released one of my hands to yank me into motion along the corridor.
My free hand meant I had an opening to slam a fist or scalpel into his kidneys. Yes, I was a healer first, but for Lizelle’s sake I sneaked a hand toward my backpack.
Then his head turned slightly, keeping me in his periphery, and the opportunity was gone.
As we advanced along the hallway, the smell of urine got stronger, invading my nostrils and sticking, made worse by the abominable pseudo-citrus of antiseptic cleaners. Maybe all the rest of the facility was test tubes and mass spectrometers, but here there was blood and guts.
He dragged me to a closed door. Grasping the knob, he turned it with a click-click that meant the door had been locked, swung it wide open and pushed me through into a narrow, dimly lit room.
I spun to see him pull the door shut. A click came from the door as the lock re-engaged. I grabbed the knob and twisted—futile. What kind of damned room locked from the outside?
Turning away in frustration I realized Lizelle trembled in the middle of the room, her eyes glued to one wall.
As the light came up on the other side, I saw it wasn’t a wall but an observation panel.
Premonition chilled my skin. I stumbled over to Lizelle and wrapped her in my arms, and we both stared through the glass.
The room on the other side was a lab of some sort, work stations with built-in sinks and burners scattered throughout, except for a clear spot of floor near us. Lining the walls were glass-front cabinets containing petri dishes and flasks, solid locked cabinets probably containing more corrosive supplies, and several refrigerators for bio samples. And in the clear spot…
Lizelle’s daughter Una lay on a gurney, eyes closed, her breathing slow and raspy. A hanging bag was probably the cause, IV line running to a taped needle in her hand. A machine looking almost like a slot machine or an armless robot stood to her left.
Or a dialysis machine. That could definitely be a portable blood exchange.
Sick terror wicked into my flesh as the hallway door opened and Lizelle’s husband wheeled in another gurney bearing an unconscious young man, scrawny to the point of emaciation, like a drug addict. But something about him told me this was no ordinary addict, donating a pint of blood for an eight ball of blow.
Behind Umbras was Marrone.
Umbras was talking. “…will make her like me, master?”
“We’ll know soon enough, won’t we?” Marrone pointed to the right of the machine as he activated something on his phone, which must’ve been a recording app because he said, “Trial one. Baseline. Patient is unaltered, but her genetic line has been successfully enhanced. Host is young but strong. Complete evacuation.” He turned to Umbras. “All right, connect the little dear up.”
As Umbras wheeled the gurney into place, the young man’s eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, his muscles twitching as if he was about to jump off the gurney.
“Stop.” Marrone’s voice was rich, echoing. “Stay. Lie down.”
I found myself stepping back, an odd compulsion to lie down creeping over me. Damn it, I’m immune to vampire compulsion. Abruptly, I shook off the lethargy.
Next to me, Lizelle was shaking her head as if also trying to shake the compulsion from her brain.
The scrawny man closed his red-rimmed eyes and slowly lay back.
Umbras hooked a length of clear, coiled tubing from Lizelle’s daughter to the machine. Marrone took a second tube from the machine, and I could see there was no needle or delivery system attached. I was wondering what he was going to do with that bare tube when, with a powerful strike, he simply thrust it bodily into the young man’s chest.
The young man’s fist flew to his chest, fingers clutching spasmodically, and he made a sound, half-whimper, half-groan, all tortured pain…even through the observation booth’s speaker it was a sound that would haunt me in nightmares.
A sluggish dark red started to fill the tube.
Blood.
Blood was flowing from the pale young man into Lizelle’s daughter.
Horror threw me at the glass. I nailed the pane with an elbow smash, twisting my trunk and throwing my whole body behind it.
The glass rang like transparent metal, but didn’t break.
Marrone looked up, directly at me as if he could see me, and his lips lifted in a mean smile.
Umbras, as if he hadn’t noticed, shook his head. “I’m still surprised you don’t have to infuse it direct.”
“The blood only has to be pushed by a beating heart through a closed system with the recipient, a bit like an electrical circuit.” Marrone sounded more like a medical lecturer than an evil scientist. “As long as the host is alive, the blood will work.”
I returned to Lizelle and clutched her harder. The “host” didn’t look like he’d be alive much longer, his skin papery white, his breathing rapid and shallow. I mentally riffled through my medical backpack for something that might break the door lock or impossibly strong window. Assuming I could get through, I didn’t know what I could do against a man as powerful as Umbras, much less a vampire like Marrone, but I knew I had to try.
“Then why the machine, master?” Umbras said.
“Oh, this?” Marrone shrugged one shoulder. “I’m trying it out. I’ve been having a problem ensuring proper circulation between host and recipient in the final stages.”
Red fluid continued to flow, far past what was safe. At two quarts the average human heart gets stuttery, trying to keep blood pressure up. Two and a half to three quarts, and death occurs. That much blood, Marrone must be draining a like amount from Una to keep her BP stable, but it wasn’t going back into the young man. The scrawny man’s fingers continued to clench past what I estimated as three quarts and even four.
But eventually even that strange, gaunt young man turned white, and his hand relaxed, then slumped and fell from his chest.
And then…he seemed to crumple in on himself. Not complete disco
rporation into dust, but as if key parts of him crumbled and the rest just…fell in. I clutched Lizelle harder.
The scrawny man was a vampire too.
“He’s used up.” Umbras watched dispassionately.
“You’re right.” Marrone pursed his lips. “I’d hoped he’d last longer. Our paying customer is doing better, but he isn’t cured yet—without which, I don’t get the bulk of my payment. Research isn’t cheap, you know.”
I hadn’t thought of anything in my backpack to break the glass or door. I could only watch as Marrone unhooked Lizelle’s daughter from the dialysis-like machine and pulled the tube out of the corpse.
Then Umbras said, “But we have fresh blood.”
His words made me shiver unhappily.
“We do, indeed.” Marrone grinned. “Let’s prep our paying customer, shall we?”
Umbras paused, looking at the girl. “When will we see something?”
“We’ll see something when there’s something to see.” Marrone’s usual oily charm turned sharp. “The old man, please.”
“Yes, master.” Reluctantly, Umbras left the girl to wheel out the corpse. Marrone gave the observation room one final sneer and followed.
Lizelle’s daughter lay there, breathing slowly, regularly. Her blood now mixed with that of a vampire.
Vampire blood healed vampires. But I’d gleaned that in a normal, living human, it did nothing. In fact, all traces disappeared within minutes.
Except for Rorik.
I frowned. Why fill Una with vampire blood when it would do nothing? Well, obviously Marrone and Umbras thought it would do something, but I didn’t know what. I strained for understanding, millimeters out of my reach.
I felt off-balance, behind the curve, as if things were happening too quickly for me to catch up; worse, they were cascading.
At least Rorik was safe, and Sarah Jane.
And suddenly it occurred to me—if Sarah Jane was free, where was Luke?
Chapter Twenty
Staring at Una, thinking about Luke and Rorik, I got an idea.
I released Lizelle and searched our booth for a button I knew had to be there.
“What are you doing?” Lizelle stumbled over to the wall and leaned against it, following my progress with her eyes. Even in the dim light, she looked pale.
“What your husband did…it was despicable. But we may be able to turn it to our advantage.”
Marrone and his minion had filled the girl’s veins with vampire blood. Maybe trying to turn her, but I knew from researching with my sister that vampire blood in a normal, healthy human couldn’t turn the human. Only the dead turned.
More likely they were trying to make her an augmented human like Rorik, which probably wouldn’t work either, because there was something about healthy living people—I guessed the immune system—that killed off the vampire factor, eventually.
But vampire blood healed vampires, and while it disappeared over time in humans, for a little while vampire blood might heal people too, and enough vampire blood might even make a kid a superkid, temporarily.
Maybe not superstrong or superfast, but with all that blood from a rapidly healing vampire pumped into her, I was betting she’d be able to do what Marrone obviously hadn’t considered—kick off her sedation.
I found the intercom button and pressed it. “Una, honey. Wake up.”
Lizelle shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. “They drugged her. Maybe k-killed her.”
I took her by her shoulders. “Lizelle, do you trust me?”
She nodded reluctantly.
Waiting until she looked at me, I said, “I’m a doctor. I know healing. Una isn’t dead—far from it. I even think she’ll wake up now, but she’ll need your help.”
Lizelle searched my eyes, and I let her read my absolute conviction. Hope kindled in her gaze. “What do I do?”
“Call to her. Like it’s a normal morning and you’re waking her for school.” I released her shoulders to go to the button and press it again. “Una, your mom wants you to wake up.” I flicked my eyes from Lizelle to Una, a silent plea for her to try.
“Una. It’s…it’s Mom.” Lizelle, eyes glistening with unshed tears, came beside me. “We want you to wake up. Can you do that?”
Una twitched.
Lizelle sucked in a breath. “She moved.” Clasping her hands at her breast, she said, louder, “Time to get up now. Wake up for Mommy, sweetie.”
The girl groaned. Slowly sat. Saw the line leading to her arm and sat bolt upright, looking wildly around. “Mommy? Where are you? There’s a needle in me and…and I’m scared.”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” I said.
“It’s okay,” Lizelle spoke at the same time. “Honey, it’s okay. Listen to Alexis. She’s a doctor, she knows what to do.”
“But there’s a needle in me…” She gazed at it with rapidly blinking eyes, her lips and chin trembling.
“We’ll get that nasty old thing out, promise,” I said. “It’s easy. But first you have to do something for me. See the tape holding the line to your arm? Tear off that tape. Then you can pull the needle right out.”
“But if I pull it out, won’t my blood come out? There’s a needle in me.”
“A little ooze is all.” I tried to make my tone light. “Just press your thumb into it, okay? It’ll stop right away.” Maybe not sanitary, but infection was the least of my worries then. “Now take a deep breath and get to it.”
It took a couple tries but she got detaped and free of the IV. She held up her arm.
“I did it.” By this time her whole body was shaking. Stress, but more. I thought the effect of the vampire blood was wearing off. We didn’t have much time.
“Okay, the hard part is over. Good job.”
“Good job, sweetheart,” Lizelle echoed. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Now one last thing, Una.” I used her name to focus her. “Carefully get down from the bed. Go out the door—there’s only one, see it? Then turn to your right. Show me your right hand?”
Una was twelve, old enough to understand left and right, but even an adult could get confused in a crisis and I wanted to be sure. She held up her right hand and I released a pent breath in relief.
“Go out your door and turn to your right. There’ll be another door with a knob. Open that door, okay? Your mom and I will be waiting.” I took Lizelle’s elbow and gently urged her toward our locked door, waiting myself by the intercom to give Una any last-minute instructions.
“But why can’t you come get me?”
“We would, honey. Believe me, we would if we could. But you only have to do this one thing, and then your mom will hug you and we’ll get out of here. Okay? Now go.”
She hopped off the gurney and hit the floor with a wobble. I held my breath as she pin-balled off the machine and a couple of tables getting to the door, but she made it. When she was out of the room I counted to a slow three, the amount of time I thought it would take her to find our door.
Nothing.
I exchanged a worried look with Lizelle, whose eyes were glistening again.
Then there was a metallic thud and the knob of our door was turning, unlocking automatically as it had for Umbras.
Mother and daughter fell into each other’s arms and it was only by a heroic leap that I got my hand between door and jamb before it closed and locked again. Nearly sprained my fingers and stifled a few ripe curses, but I kept it from shutting.
I gave them their moment, then whispered, “We must go.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Lizelle, arm around her daughter who was looking distinctly woozy now, followed me out and down the hallway to the stairwell. But when they started downstairs, I hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” Lizelle whispered.
“We need a plan.”
&n
bsp; “We have a plan. Get out of here.” Some of the old Lizelle came back in a small eyeroll, and I was glad to see it—and distressed I had to crush it.
“Yes, except the whole front entrance was battened down. Metal curtains everywhere. Electrified too.”
Lizelle’s head swiveled toward me, expression shocked. “Then where will we go? How can we get away?” She forgot to whisper.
“With a plan.” I thought hard. Julian and Bo were outside, and though they didn’t know Lizelle and Una were in here, they knew I was. I was confident they’d stop at nothing to break through Marrone’s barriers to fetch me.
Mostly confident.
All we had to do was outlast Marrone and company.
“We hide.”
“But where?”
“Good question.” Cameras were everywhere. Worse, if Marrone was a vampire, he had ways to sense us humans I couldn’t even begin to imagine—well, after that whole eye-closing out-of-range bit with Luke and Bo and Julian, I could imagine some. But how much more sensitive was a vampire?
I turned to Una. “Can you hear more than usual? Smell more?”
She frowned, then nodded. “Not now. But when I first came to, I could sense you and Mom breathing in the next room and some of your body heat and…and I could feel your hearts beat.” The last was whispered, and she shivered. “It was weird.”
“No, it’s okay. It’ll help us. What else?”
“Well, when you told me to pull out the needle, it was harder because I smelled something…coppery. My blood…” She scrunched her eyes and swallowed visibly. “It was hard.”
“You were very brave.” And now I had my answer. If Marrone could hear our hearts, smell our bodies and feel our body heat, we had to hide someplace loud, smelly and hot.
Right. “I think I know where we can go.”
“Where?” Lizelle’s tight eyebrows meant she was worried. Una slumped against her.
I glanced around for security cameras. I didn’t see any but that didn’t mean there weren’t eyes or ears on us. “Follow me.”