The Endangered

by S. L. Eaves

  My pant leg has been cut off and the bullet hole stitched, as has a gash in my side and the laceration that reached around my jaw and across my nose, I discover upon taking inventory of my wounds.

  Bride of Frankenstein.

  A female vampire emerges from a door to my right. She smiles when she sees I’ve awakened. She disappears and comes back with a pitcher of blood, a hooded sweatshirt, and a pair of cotton drawstring pants.

  “Drink up. You lost a lot of blood. Your body wasn’t healing fast enough so we stitched you up.”

  I run my fingers across the bridge of my nose, picked at the dressings.

  “Stitches are the dissolving kind. They don’t look as bad as they feel…I brought you a change of clothes. I hope these will be adequate for the time being.”

  She speaks softly, apologetically. It is probably pity.

  “Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks. You the doctor?”

  She laughs. “I masquerade as a nurse to score blood and whatnot from hospitals. I’ve picked up a few things, but let’s just say I’m glad you didn’t need major surgery. Can I get you anything else?”

  I eye the pitcher.

  “A beer bong.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing. Where is Vega? How long was I out?”

  “Not long. He’ll be in shortly.”

  “Okay. Thanks for stitching me up.”

  She nods and leaves. I gulp down the pitcher. Warmth rushes through me. I can feel the life enter my veins, regenerating all I’ve lost. Wonderful.

  I exchange my stained and tattered clothes for the clean apparel. The blood has revived me, but I am still well below a hundred percent. I limp to the door, but it opens before I reach it. Vega’s tall frame fills the doorway.

  “Ahh…I see you’re up and about already.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Can we have a word?”

  “Sure.”

  He leads me down the hallway.

  “Where are we? If I didn’t know better I’d say a school.”

  “You’d be right. I’ve taken up temporary residence. Seems to have been boarded up for quite a while. Saved us the trouble.”

  I am about to ask who exactly “us” is when suddenly the door at the end of the hall bursts open. Vega stops but registers no alarm.

  It is Catch. Sword raised, dragging the little Irish punk behind him. Catch immediately freezes, eyes fixed on Vega. The sword vanishes back in its sheath and his unconscious hostage hits the floor with a thud.

  “Hello Catch.” Vega is the first to speak.

  Catch’s face shows recognition, but his jaw gapes open, speechless.

  After a moment his gaze shifts, as if seeing me for the first time.

  “Lori!” His voice is shaking.

  “My hero,” I utter dryly.

  Vega’s thin lips purse at the corners. A smile.

  “You are here for Lori, no doubt?”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Your reputation precedes you,” Vega continues. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am—”

  “I know who you are,” Catch interrupts. “It’s an honor. I apologize for my intrusion. It’s just that…Lori and I…Earlier we…”

  “It’s perfectly all right.” Vega gestures down the hall. “We were just heading to my study. Care to join us?”

  Catch merely nods. I’ve never seen him so rattled.

  ***

  As a Pureblood, the extent of Vega’s strength and abilities are far superior to the average hybrid. Granted, a human turned by a Pureblood would amass a great deal more power than a human turned by a third or fourth generation and so on…however, a Pureblood’s powers are inconceivable even to the strongest of us hybrids. Or so I am told.

  We settle into an old classroom he’d converted to an office. Bookshelves line the walls; whether they are from the school or his personal collection I can’t tell. They are certainly dusty enough to come with the building…maybe not old enough to be Vega’s. An uneasy Catch keeps shooting me nervous glances. I lean back in the old leather armchair by Vega’s desk, feeling pieces of rib poke my lungs.

  Vega pours three glasses of Old English without asking. We accept them and he takes his seat behind the desk.

  “I take it you have not been in touch with Marcus?”

  “No, he’s not in town and your men broke my comm. I tracked the van here. Your boys are not very good at being inconspicuous.”

  I remember when Jiro injected me with the tracking device. Catch and I exchange knowing glances as I rub the tracer in the back of my neck.

  “No, I suppose they aren’t… I am sorry we are meeting under such circumstances. Which is why I feel bad asking, but if I may, can you tell me about Franco?”

  Catch shifts in his seat.

  “He gave me my limp.” Catch stares into his drink.

  “Perhaps I should start.” Vega’s eyes turn from Catch to me. “He’d been spying on a werewolf pack in the city. His reports were coming in less and less frequently and increasingly vague in nature. I sent Conner to check up on him. You both met Conner."

  Catch finishes off his drink, looks over at me.

  Vega continues, “Conner and Franco go way back. Conner’s loyalties are with me, however, so I could trust his judgment. Or so I thought. He came to the States with a couple of his comrades and reported back a few days later that Franco was onto something big and hadn’t been communicating for fear of breaking cover.

  “He’d gotten himself sucked in too deep. Thus, I decided a venture to the States was in order. A little investigating revealed many flaws in Franco’s story. Conner suspected Franco wasn’t dealing blood anymore, for one. Then he refused to meet with me directly. Probably because I’d know if he were lying.”

  “Did he provide Conner with anything useful to back up his story?”

  “Not really. Said werewolves were buying up chemicals. Operating a lab.”

  He refills our drinks and sits down with the bottle.

  “He may have been telling the truth about that,” Catch says.

  “Be it as it were, Franco’s allegiance was questionable. So now that you’ve confirmed my suspicions, do me one more favor and fill in the blanks.”

  I watch Catch mull this over. I can’t see the harm in sharing intel, but it is his call to make.

  “We recently infiltrated a warehouse run by wolves. Storage for lab equipment and weaponry. The stock was being supplied by vampires, mostly. In exchange for blood. That’s where Franco likely played a part.”

  “And these supplies are for?”

  “Wolves are creating a virus of some sort. We are pursuing a couple angles to that end—either human infection or extinction of our kind; maybe both. We can’t confirm it yet. Two brothers are leading the cause.”

  “Striden and Deacon?”

  Vega isn’t completely in the dark.

  “Uh huh.”

  “We want to know who they are targeting and why. Tonight we were trying to get answers. We just wanted to ask him some questions. He had other ideas. I didn’t want to kill him. No one benefited from that.”

  “No. I suppose I should have intercepted him sooner. Questioned him myself,” Vega sighs. “To be honest I saw no reason why a vampire would ally with the werewolves. What could possibly be gained that would justify the risk of being branded a traitor? I’m no fool. I know I’ve been in the dark for a while, but there are certain things that defy logic.”

  “Franco isn’t the first vampire to fall in league with wolves. Blood is a valuable commodity,” I offer.

  “Hmmm…” Vega stares into his empty glass. I empty mine.

  “What about Conner? You said they were close,” Catch asks.

  “The thought has certainly crossed my mind. But no, he’s not the brightest and I think he genuinely believed Franco was in an undercover situation. Said he was in over his head.”

  “Which he was.”

  “We were hoping to get Franco to take us to Striden. Or at t
he very least shed some light on this virus business.”

  Vega nods, strokes his mustache.

  “You knew Striden was alive. Of his involvements.” I call him out.

  Vega shakes his head. “I had my misgivings after the firestorm but assumed his brother had taken up his cause.”

  “And you couldn’t have alerted Marcus to this?”

  “I didn’t have any concrete information. Like I said, just theories. And I certainly didn’t know either of them were operating out of this city. I had no reason to link Franco’s actions to them until tonight. If you’re going to turn this into an interrogation I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Catch speaks up. “We just want to learn more about Striden. We didn’t mean it to sound like an accusation.”

  With the tension relenting, I interject. “Did Conner get any information about their activities from Franco?”

  Vega thinks for a minute. “Once we suspected Franco wasn’t being straight with us, Conner began tailing him. He might be able to point you in the right direction.” Vega shrugs. “Is there anything else I might do to aid your cause?”

  Catch and I exchange glances. I know what he is thinking.

  “Join us. Fight with us. You and your followers would double our efforts.”

  Vega shakes his head. “This is not my war.”

  “Why? Why do Purebloods think they are above defending vampires? Forgive me, but it’s as though you want us to fail.”

  Catch shakes with exasperation as he speaks, like he had no control of his words, his temper. I search Vega for a reaction but get nothing.

  Catch stands and motions to help me up. I hold my hand to stop him.

  “You were there the day of the fire. You made it. You survived somehow. Fire daylight. You walked away.”

  I can see it. I can’t tell if I am reading his thoughts or he is projecting them onto me but I see the fire. I feel his guilt. His sorrow. He did not cause it. But he fled and his back has remained turned.

  He hesitates, gives a slight nod.

  “Why?”

  He stares into his glass. Catch sits back down.

  “It’s not that simple. I wasn’t forewarned about the attack, mind you. But I was there. And despite my efforts, I was only able to save a few. But I needn’t justify my actions. Especially not to a couple of narrow-minded foot soldiers.”

  I feel Catch react and I grab his arm. Vega proceeds.

  “You only see the short term. I see time in the form of centuries. You see days, weeks, months…insignificant manmade increments. I’ve witnessed more wars than you’ll ever read about.

  “Allow me, if you will, to show you the big picture. Perhaps then you will understand my take on this war.” He gets up and refills his glass, this time from the merlot colored crystal bottle. Catch picks up his own glass, still full.

  Vega settles into his chair and places his feet on the desk, stares up at the ceiling.

  “You see, there’s a natural order; it’s natural because it’s designed to take care of itself without interference from an outside influence. In the present world, humans reside at the top of the food chain. Their supply is quickly depleting. Animals are being hunted to extinction. Crops are facing shortages. And not for the first time. When crops diminished a century ago, fertilizer was invented. Maybe another discovery of similar magnitude will intervene. Who’s to say?

  “Factors like pollination, contamination, over-population, weather…One can say with relative certainty that corn, wheat, barely, various grains will face extermination in the near future, livestock will follow. Some studies predict humans will be living off insects by 2040. Maybe sooner. Maybe later. There are too many variables to consider.

  “It’s not that absurd. Many third world countries live off insects. They are a great source of protein and vitamins essential to human survival. But that’s neither here nor there.

  “So let’s fast forward. Say it’s now 2050. Werewolves have continued their surge and now make up a significant part of the population. By now humans are aware and have accepted their existence. It’s undeniable. Thus, they begin to hunt them. Food is scarce. The so-called Happy Meal is now grilled mosquito larva. But wolves are plentiful and can be captured and carved up before reverting to their human form, offering an abundance of meat. All other animals having been hunted to extinction, or close to it, and meat costing hundreds of dollar a pound…think about it.”

  “Cannibalism,” Catch concludes.

  “To an extent, yes. I needn’t remind you werewolves are no more human than we are. They can masquerade with less difficulty, but a guise is a guise. Wolves will attempt to hide behind their human form for protection, but only those more evolved can control their transformation; those who go untrained will fall powerless to the full moon.

  “Humans will do our job for us. To restore their balance, to fight for survival, they must take out their new predator. We need not lift a finger.”

  He pauses and sips from his glass.

  “Striden has made it apparent he has his own agenda. Are we certain he’s responsible for the attack on The Covenant?” He searches us for a response we don’t offer.

  “I digress. His followers will continue turning humans, risking exposure in exchange for growth. S&D is an illusion of wealth and power. It’s not us they’re waging a war on; it’s humans. Seven billion in number. Try as they might, the wolves don’t stand a chance. To Striden, eliminating us is just a bonus. He’s deranged, believes he can take over the world. You, Marcus, Atticus, you’ve all come to believe he represents a true threat.

  “The only creature Striden is a threat to is himself.

  “I’d bet any money Atticus recognized this, but he couldn’t resist a fight. It was in his blood. From the days of the Roman Empire that bore him, he never stopped searching for something to fight for. For over two thousand years, rarely a war passed without his participation. He witnessed more acts of selflessness, more sacrifice, more suffering, more violence than anyone can begin to comprehend, even me. It drove him mad. Compounded with his age…I was not surprised to learn of his passing.”

  He looks at the ceiling for a long while. I rub my bullet wound, which is healing nicely but still burns like hell.

  “If Adrian was looking for a fight, he’d have gotten his hands dirty. He wasn’t after Striden as much as what Striden was after. Trying to beat him to the punch, so to speak. He almost succeeded.” Catch looks to me, then back to Vega. “From what little we know.”

  “I carried a deep admiration and respect for Atticus. But I do not share his thirst for battle, never did. He still fed off the living, too, did you know that? For this reason, Marcus requested he not take up residence at The Covenant. Ironically I think the house you currently use as a base is where Atticus moved to when Marcus and the others pressed him to leave. Marcus is diplomatic; I’m not surprised he fell back in favor with Atticus. Killing humans is no longer acceptable. Technology has made it an unnecessary risk. But to tell a Pureblood he must change his ways… Even I dare not utter such profanity.

  “So there you have it. It appears Atticus appointed you as his predecessors and Marcus to oversee your fate. Marcus is another whom I respect but will never understand. I’ve heard rumors of a split Jekyll and Hyde psyche, but the Marcus I know is a philosopher at heart, more suited to play the game of Risk in the safety of his study then to pick up a sword.”

  While he has a point, Vega has obviously never met Mr. Hyde. The acts committed by Marcus’s hand make the brutes who worked me over look like children. His actions had driven Adrian away as much as Marcus’s dislike for his thirst. But those implications are merely rumors.

  Catch squirms a little in his chair. “Atticus was a Roman?”

  Vega shakes his head. “In searching for my own kind, I encountered him in Rome shortly after Augustus’ death in 14 A.D. But that is a story for another time. I am tired and I’m sure you are anxious to return home.”

  He sta
nds and motions to the door. We comply, but I hesitate.

  “I’m grateful for your hospitality, but I find it hard to believe your claim of ignorance in regards to Striden and his brother.”

  Vega maintains the same look of indifference he’d born throughout our meeting. He shows no guilt, no protest, no denial, no anger, nothing.

  It must take centuries to master that level of apathy.

  “You’re no greater a creature than the roaches that infest this dump. The powers of a Pureblood are wasted in a being like you who stands on the sidelines and pretends to be above it when you’re really just a coward. A deserter.” I am trying hard not to let his dismissive attitude enrage me, but I cannot leave with a polite smile and nod as though everything is fine. When it is so beyond fucked.

  Catch takes my arm, tries to lead me out.

  “I don’t contest what you’ve stated here today, but I sure as shit won’t stop fighting if only to prove that our efforts are not in vain.”

  I resign to Catch’s plea to leave.

  “We all have our reasons. When you have survived as many centuries as I have, you stop wasting time over petty conflicts.”

  “Petty!” It is Catch’s turn to explode in disgust. “We are at war! Vampires are being wiped out by these mongrels!”

  His fist clenches, veins rippling across his sheer skin. Conner appears in the doorway.

  “You summoned, sir?” Telecommunication?

  “Yes, Conner, please supply them with the address of the building Franco frequented and show them out.”

  “Thank you for your time,” Catch manages through gritted teeth.

  I hobble out after him.

  “Atticus saw great potential in you, Lori.”

  I stop, regarding Vega curiously. ‘You holding little powwows? Were you sipping wine with him in the Caribbean? Perhaps enjoying the ocean view?”

  He ignores my sarcasm. I begin to exit. Have a thought, turn back.

  “Why’d he do it?”

  Vega purses his lips. “Time will take us all, Lori. It takes its toll on all of us.”

  “Even us immortals?” I quip.

  “Especially us immortals. One day you will understand.”