The Ortega Project

by Linnea Alexis

  “Roman?” Her hands shook as she pocketed her phone. She set the glass beaker back on the shelf and stood to reveal herself. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask the same question,” he shot back.

  She jerked her chin in his direction. “You first.”

  He jammed his cell phone in his pants pocket and stepped toward her. “I made a stop on my way home. When you drove by, I figured you were up to something. Curious why you’d be out this time of night, I followed you and ended up here.”

  “Why did you follow me inside?” she asked in a quiet voice

  “I couldn’t very well let you go in alone. God only knows what would happen if you ran into trouble. You’re carrying my child, for cryin’ out loud.”

  Tears welled. “I thought you hated me.”

  His brows drew together and his gaze softened. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pissed. But I could never hate you.”

  “How did you figure out which room I’d be in?” Her voice broke.

  “I checked every door on this floor until I found one that wasn’t locked.”

  She gasped. How had she been that careless? “I left the door unlocked?”

  “Don’t worry. I locked it. I figured you wouldn’t be in a lecture hall, and trusted my instincts. When I checked the lab. I saw you hiding behind the counter. Or have you forgotten I can see pretty well in the dark?” Coolness and sarcasm oozed from him. “Now it’s your turn to tell me what you’re doing here.”

  “I came to alter the pesticide. To make it safe.” Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she blinked hard to keep them from spilling.

  “So tell me what you need me to do to keep you out of trouble?” he asked.

  He didn’t even acknowledge her explanation of why she was here, and she wanted to wipe that smug expression off his face. “Keep your eyes and ears open while I clean out my locker and do my thing with the formula.”

  “Okay.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall.

  Grace spun the padlock on her wall locker and opened the door. She unzipped her backpack and stuffed it with steno pads, a notebook, a lab coat, and a pencil pouch crammed with pens, pencils and markers. When she finished, she closed the locker door and zipped her backpack. The weight of it sent a sharp pain through her womb. Didn’t Dr. Shelby once mention to avoid heavy lifting?

  “Can you hang onto this?” She handed over her backpack.

  He swung it over his shoulder and stood guard in front of the door leading to the hallway.

  Modifying the formula to match the changes she’d made on the computer program would take more time. She went to work, hoping to finish the task before security made their rounds. If guards found her in the lab after hours and checked her ID, they’d discover her access had been revoked. Worse yet, if they spotted Roman, she’d have a lot of explaining to do.

  * * *

  Roman

  * * *

  Once Grace modified the formula, they raced from the building and didn’t stop until reaching her car in the parking lot. She unlocked the doors.

  Roman opened the driver’s side door and dropped her backpack behind the seat.

  “Thank you.” Grace slipped in behind the wheel and left the car door open.

  He leaned over, to speak with her. “Did you get everything done?”

  Grace nodded. “I diluted the garlic solution. The pesticide’s weaker now, but will still be effective enough to kill insects—and only insects.” She studied him, an expectant expression in her eyes.

  Her betrayal was like a scorpion’s sting, and he couldn’t bring himself to forgive her quite yet. He needed more time to cool off.

  “Before I left the apartment, I tweaked the formula from my laptop and made a small notation in the footnotes justifying the change. That way, if anyone finds out, there won’t be any repercussions when they mix up a new batch. The change is minor, no one will even notice.” Her eyes watered. “Roman,” she whispered in a husky voice. Her chin quivered and she touched his hand.

  “I’ll call you,” he said, pulling back.

  “Soon?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened. I know I can’t bring your vampires back, but I can certainly prevent anything like that from ever happening again.”

  He tried responding, but emotion choked back his words.

  After fastening her seat belt, she sat up straighter and stared ahead. Resolve was etched on her face. “Your vampires are safe now.” Her voice broke and a sob escaped. “I’m sorry.” She pulled the car door closed, jammed her key in the ignition. And without saying goodbye, she drove off.

  As he watched her Sentra disappear out of the parking lot, he didn’t feel anger, but sadness. Sadness because she shouldn’t have to shoulder the blame herself. He was partly responsible. But dammit, why didn’t she say something before?

  He should be with her right now. Lying next to her. Making love to her. Recalling the last time they shared a bed, he longed for the intimacy they once enjoyed. But after her betrayal, could anything between them ever be the same again?

  36

  Roman

  Roman returned from meeting Grace at the university and pulled into his usual parking spot behind the lab. By now, he was sure security had been alerted of his absence and had informed Crawford, who would probably keep him under lock and key for going against his direct order. He retrieved his cell phone from the passenger seat and noticed a missed call from Doc.

  Curious why Doc tried contacting him, he hit redial. Realizing it would be as easy to speak with him in person, he hung up before the first ring. When he stepped outside, it was starting to rain. He locked his truck and sprinted toward the building.

  Doc met him at the door, his brow rutted with worry.

  “What’s wrong?” Roman asked.

  “Didn’t you get my message?”

  “Uh, no. Why?”

  “It’s Alex.”

  Roman’s heart flew to his throat, choking him. He shoved Doc aside and charged down the hallway, his boots pounding the tile floor on his way to the lounge.

  “Stop. I need to speak with you before you go in there,” Doc shouted, trying to catch up.

  Something had happened to Alex—his cousin and best friend. Ignoring Doc’s warning, Roman barged into the lounge. The lights were turned low and the heavy medicinal odor caused him to retch. The sight of Alex, pale and asleep on his recliner, made him gasp. He whirled around to face Doc. “What the hell happened to him?”

  “He’s sleeping now.” Doc lowered his voice and touched Roman’s arm. “I’m afraid he’s quite ill with pneumonia.”

  “What the hell?” Roman pushed Doc’s hand away and knelt next to Alex’s recliner. “Alex, it’s me. What’s this bullshit I hear about you getting pneumonia?” Seeing his cousin—his rock—so pale made his voice tremble. He rested his forehead on his cousin’s chest, as he struggled to keep his emotions intact and remain strong.

  “Is that you, Roman?” Alex spoke in a quiet, weak voice.

  He lifted his head and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t ever do that to me again.” While managing to show a feeble smile, he held his cousin’s hand, and shot a hopeful glance at Doc. “He’s awake. That’s a good sign, right?”

  Doc shook his head.

  Roman jumped to his feet. He grabbed Doc by the arm and pulled him near the door, and away from Alex. “Are you trying to tell me he’s dying?” he whispered, hoping Alex couldn’t overhear their conversation.

  Doc opened the door and motioned for Roman to follow. They stepped into the hallway and Doc closed the door behind them. “The next twenty-four hours will be critical. He’s stabilized, but extremely weak.”

  “Ehhh. Wrong answer.” Roman took hold of Doc’s lapels, lifted him off the floor, and slammed him against the wall. “This is your fault. If we hadn’t come to this fucking institute, none of this would have
happened. We trusted you and look where it got us. You were supposed to help, instead of weakening us to the point where we can no longer fight slayers or defend ourselves against…garlic. You’re no better than the hunters who want to kill us. I swear, you’d better do something to fix Alex now.” His gaze drifted to Doc’s jugular, and he salivated, watching the large vein pulsate—calling him to feed. Every fiber in his body struggled to keep him from killing Doc.

  Doc closed his eyes and trembled. “Please don’t do it, Roman.”

  Forcing Doc to beg for his life, caused Roman’s body to quake. He couldn’t kill Doc. He was his friend. Remorseful, he dropped Doc to the floor, and stumbled outside into the rain.

  “God no, not Alex.” Groaning, he tore his jacket from his body, along with his shirt. He threw the clothes aside and beat his chest, wailing like a wounded animal. “No.” he screamed, reaching toward the heavens. Holding his face in his hands, he dropped to his knees, and rocked back and forth moaning, allowing raindrops to pound his bare shoulders and back.

  Anyone but Alex. Roman remained on his knees until the agonizing rage that possessed him subsided. His hands shook as he gathered his torn clothing from the wet pavement. Someone approached from behind. “Get away from me,” he shouted, without turning around. The footsteps came closer. “Didn’t you hear me? I said, ‘Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone!’”

  “Roman,” a male voice said softly.

  “Get out of here, Doc, I almost killed you!”

  “But you didn’t when you had the chance.”

  Still on his knees, Roman rested his palms on his thighs and doubled over. “Everything’s happening too fast. Why can’t you save Alex?” Once there were four of them…soon he’d be the only one left. He couldn’t even depend on Grace. He was truly alone. His stomach churned at the possibility this was Grace’s doing. “Tell me,” he ground out. “Was it the pesticide?”

  “It’s possible the pesticide may have exacerbated his already deteriorating condition, but I highly doubt the pesticide caused the pneumonia. Let’s go inside before you catch pneumonia, as well. Give me your jacket.”

  Roman reluctantly handed it over. “Sorry I took it out on you. None of what’s happened is your doing. I don’t know what got into me,” his voice broke as grief overtook him.

  “I understand your suffering. All’s forgiven.”

  “Thank you,” he answered barely above a whisper.

  Doc draped the leather jacket around Roman’s bare shoulders and helped him to his feet. He put his arm around his friend and guided him back inside.

  For over two hundred years, Alex had been his rock. His most loyal warrior. They were family. Closer than brothers. Their mothers were sisters. He and Alex grew up together—born only five days apart. Together they were turned. He had no memory of life without him.

  Alex stirred.

  “¿Hay algo que puedo hacer para usted, Alejandro?” In Spanish, Roman asked if there was anything he could do for him. He hoped hearing their native language would bring comfort to his cousin.

  Alex’s eyelids snapped open. “Me ahorro,” he whispered, begging Roman to save him.

  Had he heard correctly? The only way he knew to save a vampire was to feed him blood. But before doing anything drastic, he’d better make damn sure he understood his cousin’s request. “¿Hambre?”

  “Si.” Alex answered, confirming his hunger.

  Hunger to a vampire meant one thing—blood. If Alex was dying, Roman would do anything to save him, even if it meant feeding him blood. But first, he needed to verify his suspicion. “Alimentación usted...sangre?”

  Alex slowly licked his bluish lips. “Si. La sangre…Por favor.”

  “Si.” Roman scanned the room to verify they were alone. He balled his hands into tight fists and released a low growl. In deep concentration, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried forcing his fangs to drop. But they stayed put. Damn.

  Roman charged into the lab and stopped at the stainless steel refrigerator. He jerked the side-by-side doors open, and sent the broken padlock flying across the room. In a frantic search for blood inside, he checked the labels on every plastic container lined up on shelves. No luck.

  Growing more desperate, he raced to the padlocked door across the hall. He pulled off the lock, tossed it over his shoulder, and barged inside. He crossed the room and yanked open the heavy, insulated door of a walk-in refrigerator. Floor-to-ceiling shelves stood on three sides of the room. He charged inside. Starting on the top shelves, he quickly inventoried each bottle, jar, and plastic pouch.

  When his frenzied search for urgently needed blood turned up empty, he settled on the obvious solution.

  Hurrying back to the lab, he rummaged through several drawers in the long, stainless steel counter. He chose a knife from the drawer and ran his thumb across the razor-sharp edge until he drew blood. He sucked the bleeding cut dry and returned to Alex, who slept.

  “Alejandro, estoy de vuelta,” he said to let Alex know he’d returned.

  When Alex failed to respond, Roman gently shook his shoulder. Time was running out! He straddled a stool next to Alex, set the sharp blade on his lap, and opened Alex’s mouth slightly. He gripped the blade in his unsteady hand and scraped the blade against the inside of his own left wrist. As the red liquid oozed out, he held his breath and cut.

  His cell phone rang. Startled, his hand holding the knife jerked, making the cut deeper than intended. Pain shot through him like a bolt of lightning. He held his wrist over Alex’s open mouth and let the crimson liquid flow. Nausea swept over him. Still he continued to feed Alex. No sacrifice was too great to save his cousin.

  With his eyes still closed, Alex licked his lips. Blood flowed into his mouth and he groaned.

  Feeding Alex, Roman grew light-headed. Weakness replaced strength. A ringing sound squealed in his ears. A powerful pounding in his temples, accompanied by a gray veil that covered his eyes. His head drooped. Everything turned black.

  “What the hell did you do to yourself?” The first voice Roman heard after regaining consciousness belonged to Doc.

  A bearded, young man was holding Roman’s legs. A middle-aged bespectacled man held him under his arms. Together, they lifted him onto a gurney. The lounge bustled with lab techs scurrying about, pushing metal carts, carrying white towels, and swabbing blood from the floor. When had they arrived? Many of them, male and female, he had never seen before.

  Doc wheeled him into the lab and, with the help of two husky males, lifted Roman from the gurney onto the stainless steel countertop.

  Roman looked down at his own body, covered with blood. “What happened?”

  “You came close to bleeding out,” Doc snapped.

  All activity centered on Roman. A tech cut off his blood-soaked clothes. Another rinsed his torso with warm liquid. Doc started an IV in Roman’s left arm.

  Roman grew dizzy—like a rag doll being pushed and prodded. The room spun out of control. When he attempted to sit, someone held him down. Fear clenched his gut. “How’s Alex?”

  “Bloody. You passed out on top of him,” Doc answered.

  Roman was grateful for the time left to spend with Alex. Grateful they weren’t moved to the infirmary. Grateful they were transferred to the more comfortable lounge where lights were dim and soft classical music soothed their souls. Barely alive, pneumonia-ravaged Alex lay on the next recliner. The loss of blood sapped Roman’s strength.

  He ran his right hand over the bandaged wrist and glanced at the IV in his left arm. As he watched Alex’s chest rise and fall, tears filled his eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t save you,” he whispered. “Sleep well.”

  The door burst open and Crawford rushed into the room, followed by Doc.

  “He’s much too weak,” Doc said. “Please don’t do this now.”

  Crawford held up a hand, stopping his colleague from speaking. “Roman, it’s time you and I had a little chat.”

  “He needs his rest,” Doc argued.

  �
�Don’t worry. I’ll keep it brief,” Crawford said, giving a dismissive wave. He approached Roman. “Your unborn child needs our protection. Because your transformation was incomplete at the time of conception, there’s a good possibility your baby may not be human. If it isn’t, we can help. We are its only hope.” He drew in a deep breath, and released it slowly. “Grace can’t hide forever. We want her and so does the Catholic Church. Our reasons are quite different, however. Let us protect her and your child from the ones who want to destroy them.” His cell phone rang. Checking caller ID, he paled.

  “Is something wrong?” Doc asked.

  “It’s Father Lucas, the new priest at St. Mary’s. He’s calling again. I need to speak with him.” He hurried out of the room.

  “Father Lucas?” Roman asked.

  “Since Father Darius’s disappearance, the Church has become awfully interested in this institute. And now it seems, Father Bernard, the elder priest, has also gone missing.”

  As Roman attempted to sit up, Doc rushed over and adjusted his recliner. To make him more comfortable, he slipped a pillow behind his head.

  “Be straight with me, Doc. Does the missing priest have anything to do with Gabriel?”

  “Yes, he’s involved, along with Crawford.”

  “How can a snake like Gabriel help Crawford? They despise each other.”

  “Apparently, they’ve become partners in crime. It seems Gabriel’s preventing a possible predicament for the institute. And, as you know, with Crawford, it’s all about the institute.” Doc turned his attention to Alex and checked his IV. “Let’s leave it at that. I can’t say more. Please don’t ask me anything else.”

  Roman coughed and turned toward Alex, who struggled for each breath. “He’s not going to make it, is he?”

  “He’s very weak.”

  “When I fed him my blood, why wasn’t he healed?”

  Doc finished adjusting Alex’s IV, and sat between the cousins. “Unfortunately, it may have been too late to reverse the process. Remember the samples we collected in the woods?”