William's Blood

by S S Bazinet

  William smiled back, trying to be patient. Arel didn’t have a scientific bone in his body. “You mentioned something about control. We can use these mice to practice.”

  Arel sucked in a breath. “Control? Oh, hell.”

  William ignored him. “Here’s what we’ll do. We have three mice here and also three control mice over there in the corner. There’ll be no interaction with those three. Annabel has already weighed each one and started a log. With our subjects, there will be a period each day when we hold them. During that time, we’ll try using our abilities to positively affect their growth and health. After a week, we’ll see if our mice differ from the control group.”

  Arel frowned. “A week? I don’t know if I’m staying that long.”

  William should have been happy to send Arel on his way, but instead, he had to grit his jaw as a surge of anger hit him full force. “I see. Well, there’s the stairs. Please don’t let me keep you here.”

  Arel back pedaled at once. “Just give me a mouse, okay? I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of science.”

  William was surprised by his outburst and quickly made himself relax. “Fine, you can have the one that just woke up.”

  “That little tan and white one? It’s so small,” Arel protested. “I suppose you get the big, white one.”

  “Of course not. That white one belongs to Annabel. Mine will be the little brown one sitting next to it.” William looked up. “Would you like to go first, Arel?”

  Arel stiffened. “Why me?”

  “They’re very sweet,” Annabel said as she opened the cage.

  “Never mind, let me show you how it’s done,” William said confidently. Annabel was watching him, and he liked the idea of demonstrating how competent he could be around animals. He even gave her a brief smile as he reached in the cage and tried to snare his particular rodent. He was rewarded by razor sharp teeth that pierced his finger before he could pull back. “Damn!”

  Arel laughed. “Feisty little bugger, isn’t he?”

  “You frightened him,” Annabel said as she examined William’s finger. “It’s just a little nip, hardly bleeding at all.”

  William’s misfortune seemed to spur Arel on. He reached in slowly and carefully scooped up his mouse. Holding the tiny creature in his palmed hands, he smiled. “I’m naming this one Whiskers. He has an extra-long, impressive set.”

  Annabel went next and carefully picked up her white mouse. “I’ll call mine, Squeaky. He seems to make a lot of noise like a couple of people I know.”

  William ignored her look and made another try at his mouse. This time he was successful in picking it up. “This ferocious beast will be called Wolf, and he’ll be the leader of this pack, a true reprobate like myself.”

  Annabel put her face close to William’s. “He’s got a mark under his chin.”

  William held Wolf up and noticed a little diamond of pure white under its mouth. “You’re right, and it proves my point. This is a special mouse.”

  Arel was stroking Whiskers’ tiny head. “This one has character. Do you notice how he’s cleaning himself? Very fastidious.”

  William glanced over. “He’s probably obsessive. When Annabel first showed me the little buggers, he was doing the same thing.”

  Arel carried Whiskers over to a chair and sat down. “Don’t listen to him, Whiskers. Your tidiness is a sign of mouse manners.”

  Annabel gave Arel and William each a look of censure. “I thought we were supposed to commune with our mice, not each other.”

  “You’re right,” William conceded. “Let’s give them our undivided attention for ten minutes.” The small creature in his hand was a young mouse, but at five weeks, it was socially developed enough to leave its litter mates without too much emotional stress. It sniffed his hand, including the finger it had bitten earlier. For a long moment, its beady, black eyes were focused on William’s. The message was clear. Do you have a treat for me? Smiling, William reached in the pocket of his robe and retrieved a shelled sunflower seed. He’d come prepared after reading up on mouse care and telling Annabel what to buy. He’d barely put the seed in his palm when Wolf snatched it up. William smiled again as he watched the mouse sit on his haunches and devour the delicious morsel. When the timer dinged and the ten minutes were up, he was surprised. He’d been so entranced by the mouse, he’d forgotten his pain.

  Annabel got up from her chair and put Squeaky back in the cage. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I want to change William’s bed while he’s down here.”

  “Sorry about all the extra work,” William said with a frown.

  “Do you need a hand?” Arel asked as he put Whiskers back in the cage.

  Annabel paused on the stair. “Yes, that would be great.”

  William cleared his throat. “Annabel . . . uh . . . could you give me a moment with Arel?”

  “Of course.”

  After Annabel disappeared up the stairs, William turned his attention to Arel. “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to tell you something.” He ran a finger over Wolf’s head. The mouse was sleeping soundly in his hand.

  Arel came over and smiled. “Whiskers didn’t want to nap. But you’re right. He does clean himself a lot.”

  William eased the sleeping mouse back into the cage. “I sent a message to the man you mentioned.”

  “The guy who wants to kill me?”

  “Yes, I told him that circumstances have changed. You don’t have to worry about—”

  “Your message won’t make any difference. The guy wants us both dead.”

  “What?”

  “I tuned in this morning. It’s kind of something I do automatically, like checking the weather. He’s gunning for us both.”

  “Why would he want me—” William let out a long sigh as he answered his own question. “He’s a loner, easily threatened. My contacting him was a mistake.”

  “William, listen to me. Sooner or later, I’ll be returning to Chicago, but you’ll be here. And you’re in no condition to defend yourself at this point.”

  “He doesn’t know where I live.”

  “It doesn’t matter. This guy is different. We might have been vampires, but he’s also got psychic abilities. He’ll find you. I’m sure of it.”

  “You know all this from simply tuning into him?”

  Arel shrugged.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Arel opened his mouth, then shut it. “I better go upstairs and help Annabel.”

  Thirty-Seven

  ROLPHE CLOSED THE lid on his laptop. He’d read and reread the latest email from William. Each time that he did, Rolphe questioned himself. Should he change his mind and forget about William and his friend? Obviously, William thought that was a good idea. The man explained that he’d made a mistake in wanting his friend killed.

  Your mistake was taking my blood, William. Your second mistake was giving it to another. Then you had the stupidity to tell me about it. There’s no going back now, you fool.

  William might want to call off their arrangement, but Rolphe didn’t. William and his friend were dangerous. He could feel it in his bones. As he got up from his desk, he rubbed his hands in thought.

  “So how dangerous are these two?” he asked aloud. He was used to talking to his cat, Satan. But the tom hadn’t been home in a week.

  He’s been fighting again. He’s in trouble.

  It was another burden that Rolphe felt in his bones. Sometimes he hated the gift of “knowing” that Chessa had shared with him. It was hard enough when bad things happened, but to have a vision of them in advance drew out the misery. But he’d be the foolish one if he didn’t take advantage of his gift.

  He walked over to the window. The moon was full, reminding him of the woman who changed his life. Chessa loved the time of the month when the lunar orb bared herself to the creatures who lived below. It was the time that Chessa welcomed with anticipation and eagerness. The moon’s powerful urgings stirred something wild and free in the sensuous gypsy
. She put on her colorful, flared skirts and blouses that exposed her smooth, inviting shoulders. She danced wildly around the campfire, unable to contain her desires. Her intense appetites were always more needy when the moon was in its full glory. Chessa often came to Rolphe in the middle of a moonlit night. Her long, flowing hair, the color of raven feathers, framed her striking face, making her look like a beautiful bird of prey.

  She brought me out of my despair on many occasions.

  But Chessa also used the moon when she wanted to know things. She passed on her knowledge to Rolphe. He was an apt student and quickly learned to focus on the moon’s radiance. When he did, he could use the light to enhance his natural gift of sight. In that state, he often tapped into the future, especially those events that held the seeds of danger. He’d even seen Chessa’s life coming to a close. He tried to make her take flight, but she said she already knew her time in the world was finished. She’d made peace with the fact, saying she wanted a new adventure. This world was becoming a bore after all the years she’d lived.

  Rolphe understood Chessa’s feelings of being on the earth too long. But unlike the bold woman, he wasn’t ready to let go of his life. He had times of sadness, but for the most part, his life was still good. When he thought about William, he was determined to keep it that way. That meant that he had to know more about the danger that William and his friend posed.

  As the moonlight bathed his face in soft light, he gave himself to it like Chessa had instructed. He shut his eyes and allowed the rays to wash over his mind and cleanse it of thought. A perfect moment of stillness followed. In a flash, he was propelled forward. He found himself in a dark place, perhaps an alley. There he saw two faces. He recognized one of them, the man from the email who called himself William. William had referred to the second man as Arel.

  In Rolphe’s vision, the men stood side by side. A powerful glow, almost like the light of the moon, surrounded them both. But unlike the moon’s light, this glow had an ominous quality to it. When Rolphe thought about killing the men, the glow exploded into a fiery orb. It was like gazing at the noonday sun and almost blinded him. He was forced to look away with a pounding heart. As he tried to recover from what he’d witnessed, he was left swallowing back a bitter taste that soured his mouth.

  A soft mewing brought him out of his trance state. “Satan, are you back?” It took a few seconds for Rolphe to collect himself. His mind was still scattered as he walked quickly in the direction of the sound he’d heard. He tried to calm himself, but his body was wired and readying itself in preparation for what was coming with the two men. Rolphe’s glance into his future was almost as powerful as the one he’d had forewarning him of Chessa’s death. Had he just been warned that a similar fate awaited him?

  When he got to the kitchen, he turned on the light and glanced at the window. He always left it open so that Satan could come and go as he pleased. Hopefully the old tom had returned home.

  “Satan, where are you?” Rolphe’s fierce gaze was alert and wary as he scanned the room. Something felt very wrong, and this feeling had nothing to do with the vision that he’d just had. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw on the floor. Satan was stretched out on his side. His ears and muzzle were caked with dried blood.

  “No, not you too!” Getting down on his knees, Rolphe leaned over the battle worn cat that he’d come to love. Satan stared back with unseeing eyes as the rise and fall of his breath stilled. The tom cat had fought one too many battles.

  Rolphe fell back, stroking Satan’s rough coat. He began to take heaving breaths as the anguish of loss signaled the end of a long bond. His grief was overwhelming, connecting him to the past and the loss of his family. He thought about his children and how they had been torn from his heart. Death always sought him out. It danced around him, but not in colorful skirts. It wore a black cloak of finality that robbed him of any chance of retrieving what it had taken.

  A mewing sound interrupted his heartache. It came from a dark corner close to the chair where Satan liked to sit. Two bright blue eyes peeked out from the shadows. Rolphe swiped at his teary gaze, straining to see what was stirring just a few feet away. When he couldn’t get a good look at what was hiding itself, he crawled on hands and knees to investigate. A small kitten tried to run from his outstretched hand. He was fast and caught her easily.

  “So, Satan brought me a present.” He smiled as he carefully held the creature close. Soon, the small animal stopped struggling and sat quietly in his hand. She was thin and half starved, but stared back at him bravely.

  Rolphe smiled at the kitten. “You must have a courageous heart like your daddy’s.” He ran a large finger over the soft, black fur covering her delicate ribcage and noticed something interesting. Each of the kitten’s toes looked like they’d been dipped in white paint. It brought a name to mind.

  “I’ll call you Dantela.”

  It was a word meaning lace, and Rolphe thought it suited the way the cat’s feet were adorned. The kitten began to purr as if she approved of the name.

  Later, when Rolphe gave Dantela a bowl of milk, he thought about the situation with William and the other man. The irony of it all was clear. Death and new life were on opposite ends of the spectrum, and he was the puppet caught in the middle. He was a death dealer who nurtured life. It was a disturbing thought that he quickly dismissed.

  Thirty-Eight

  IT WASN’T THE “scheduled” time to interact with his science experiment, but Arel was holding his mouse, Whiskers, anyway. Sitting on the sofa bed in the downstairs lab, he held out a piece of oat cereal to the youngster. Whiskers promptly took the food, turned his back on Arel and began eating. Viewed from behind, the mouse’s long whiskers twitched contentedly as he hid himself and his morsel of food from Arel.

  “Don’t worry, little guy, I’m not going to take your treat away.”

  William wasn’t the only one who could secretly sneak food to their charges. Arel had been out walking earlier and found a small grocery where he purchased his own supplies. He wouldn’t tell William that he was cheating with treats or the extra attention he was giving the mouse. Why stir up trouble? They were getting along a little better. That was part of the reason Arel needed to do whatever it took to relax.

  “William and I are finally finding a way to co-exist almost peacefully,” he said to his mouse. “Unfortunately, it’s just in time for some maniac to try to snuff us both out.”

  Arel had saved William’s life twice, but if he returned to Chicago, he doubted he’d be able to do it a third time. His anxiety level leaped upwards as he pondered what might happen to William. The man was still very weak. He was in no position to take on a seasoned killer.

  Things were also iffy in Chicago. Carol was expecting again. She’d nearly lost her baby the first time she’d been pregnant. Arel hoped she wouldn’t have a difficult time again.

  The two issues made Arel wonder if he did have a heart problem. He denied that fact to William, but every time he reviewed the possibilities of something going terribly wrong in his world, his heart had palpitations.

  “Trouble?”

  Arel jerked his head up in time to see a tall man appear a few feet away. He scowled back, wishing that angels gave people more warning before showing up. “We haven’t been introduced, but I assume you’re Raphael. Michael said that you’ve been helping with William’s recovery.”

  Raphael smiled. “I’m not the only one. You’ve been doing a very fine job yourself.”

  The angel was about the same height as Michael but slighter in build, and he had a more youthful appearance.

  “Thanks, but I was trying my best to kill William. It’s what he wanted, but as usual I didn’t succeed in granting his wish.”

  “I think he’s changed his mind now that he’s feeling better. But you don’t seem very happy.”

  Arel stood up and took Whiskers back to his cage. “I’ve been thinking about something Annabel said. She asked if I’d like to be one of you. On refle
ction, maybe it’s a good idea. Your kind seem to maintain a serene attitude no matter what is going on.”

  Raphael laughed. “You talk about ‘our kind’ as if we’re aliens. I’m a little surprised. After interacting with Michael all of this time, I would have thought you simply saw us as friends.”

  “Michael is a friend, but he doesn’t have to deal with life the way a human does.”

  “Do you envy us? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “When’s the last time an angel was torn apart by worry or felt regret?”

  “But those are only the negative parts of your world. What about the joy of creating whatever kind of life you want? You could enjoy serenity as a human too, if it was your prime motive in life.”

  “I don’t have time for serenity.”

  “Are you worried about William?”

  “Of course I am. The poor bastard can’t win. If the killer who’s stalking him doesn’t finish him off, one of your kind will.”

  “Annabel?”

  “Yes, little, sweet Annabel. I was hoping to steer William away from her, but as usual, things backfired. Now, he’s more interested in her than ever.”

  “And you don’t approve.”

  “William has gone through enough. And granted, I’m responsible for most of his misfortune, but I never expected an angel to try and take him down.”

  Raphael walked over to the mouse cage and looked in. “They’re such dear little creatures, aren’t they? Annabel said hers is called, Squeaky.” He looked up, gave Arel another broad smile and reached into the cage. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I held the little animal.”

  “You can’t touch that mouse,” Arel said as he quickly retrieved Squeaky from Raphael’s sheltering hand. With a censuring glare, he placed the mouse back in the cage. “William has strict rules.”

  “But I thought I saw you holding your—”

  “Never mind what I’m doing.”