The Mortal Touch

by Naomi Clark

  Here’s a thing about vampires. If they didn’t know how to fight when they were alive, most don’t bother learning once they’re dead. They don’t need to. They can overpower any ordinary human. They’re faster, stronger, sneakier, and tougher. If you don’t know how to kill to vampire, you aren’t going to do it by accident.

  But me, I know how to fight. Because I’d never really stopped being that twelve-year-old girl with a tennis racquet, facing down the monster attacking my mother. The monster that was my father. That night taught me a lot of things. It taught me I never wanted to be defenseless. So I knew how to fight, and when I mounted Charlotte, I pinned her on the grimy floor and I swarmed her with my fists, driving blow after blow into her chest and face, never giving her a chance to use that vampire speed and strength.

  I pummeled her until my fists and arms ached, listening with grim joy as her ribs cracked. Blood few from her mouth, splattering my face, and I licked my lips, greedily sucking up the energy it offered. Screams bounced off the basement walls, but nobody stopped me. Nobody stopped me as I did to Charlotte what she did to Kinley.

  I don’t know how much time passed, but my knuckles were sore and bloody and Charlotte was still and silent when Mr. Cold finally said, “that’s enough.”

  Mind cool and blank, I stopped, straightening up. I was shaking all over, adrenaline and rage draining away fast. I stared down at the bloody mess I’d made, horror slicing through my frozen brain.

  I stood, backing away from Charlotte, and banging straight into Mr. Cold. He caught my forearms and I shrieked and ripped myself free. I didn’t feel like iron anymore. I felt like a cornered wild animal, crouched and hissing at him, desperate to escape.

  “That’s enough,” he said again, calm and glacial, as if I hadn’t just pounded his lieutenant’s face into mush. “Sit down, Georgia.” He gestured at one of the chairs Charlotte and I had sent flying when we knocked the table over.

  I shook my head mutely, still scanning the room. Harmony and Ezra blocked the stairs. I thought I could probably take them, but I had to get Kinley out of here. He still lay Mr. Cold’s feet like a discarded coat, unimportant and uncared for.

  “I’m leaving,” I said, my voice harsh. “I need to leave.”

  I expected Mr. Cold to tell me to sit down again, and I was ready to attack if he did. Instead he paused for a moment, glanced at Charlotte, and nodded.

  “Perhaps that would be best for now.”

  “And I’m taking Kinley.”

  Another pause. Dammit, I wished I could see his fucking face. “No.”

  My hand curled into fists, sending a spasm of pain through me. “He’s mine. This whole stupid shit started because you think he offended me or insulted me or whatever the fuck, right? So he’s mine. Mine to punish if there’s going to be punishment. If I’m the victim, that’s my right.”

  “Georgia,” Ezra said softly. There was a warning note in his voice that I ignored.

  “I’m taking him,” I said again, focusing solely on Mr. Cold. I wanted him to see me, splattered in blood and ready to fight. I wanted him to understand that even if I was bound to lose, I’d still always fight.

  “You are claiming him?” Mr. Cold asked.

  There was a weight to his words, and if I’d been less blood-hyped and jittery, I would have paid attention to that, and to the groan Ezra let out. Instead I snapped, “yes,” and thought nothing of it.

  Let that be a lesson to you. No matter how long you do a job, you never know everything.

  “Very well. In the interests of continuing our partnership, you may do so.” Mr. Cold stepped aside, waving dismissively at Kinley. “Take him. I will allow you a cooling-off period. I understand tonight has been difficult for you. But we’re not finished.”

  Difficult. Like I’d miscalculated a budget for work. I ground my teeth and said nothing. I knelt by Kinley and managed to sling one of his arms around my shoulders. He was so light, like a bird. All hollow bones. His head rolled against my shoulder, and I felt the tiniest, iciest breath on my throat.

  I half-carried, half-dragged him the stairs. Harmony shot me a look of pure venom as I passed, but Ezra’s expression was soft and worried. I held his gaze, thinking as loud as I could.

  I’m out.

  He shook his head but said nothing. That was fine by me.

  Outside, I was shocked to discover dawn was approaching. The dark sky was fading to gray, and gulls wailed overhead. Meeting Jesse at the Alice Rose was suddenly a lifetime ago, and everything that had happened since felt surreal and distant, like a movie I’d watched without paying real attention to.

  Kinley’s body was somehow much heavier with the threat of the rising sun looming. I didn’t have much time to get him home, and I couldn’t carry him all the way. I was going to have to hail a cab and give the driver the tip of his life. Both Kinley and I looked like we’d escaped a torture porn movie.

  It had been a hell of a long night and it wasn’t over yet.

  I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW much money I shoved at the cab driver, but I was grudgingly grateful to Mr. Cold and his suitcase full of money as I did it. As the driver disappeared down the road, I dragged Kinley inside. Daylight chased us in, and I kicked the front door shut with a sigh of relief. Elijah was waiting in the kitchen, croaking angrily at me as I hauled Kinley to the table.

  “I know,” I snapped. My dream lurched to the front of my mind, and it was impossible to feel anything except misery as I stared at the crow hopping around on my sideboard. “I’m an idiot and I’m going to regret this. I know. I know.”

  I dropped Kinley into a chair, my strength giving out. He groaned and slumped down, head hitting the table. I collapsed into the next chair, relieved he’d at least made a noise. The whole cab ride here, I’d been half-certain I was dragging a true corpse around with me. As young as he was, he’d probably sleep through the daylight hours, which was good. It would help him heal. A good hit of fresh blood would help more, but I wasn’t offering. I should get him into my bed and cover him up for the day. I should clean myself up. I should burn the draugr body. I should figure out what fucking day of the week it was.

  Instead, I echoed Kinley, resting my head more gently on the tabletop and closing my eyes. Just for a second, I promised myself. A few seconds later, I felt Elijah nestle up against me and start preening my messy hair, crooning softly.

  I’d burned through the effects of Charlotte’s blood, and now all I wanted was comfort and sleep. As much as I told myself I was going to get up any minute now, it was impossible to resist the drag of exhaustion and Elijah’s quiet humming. I drifted off into blissful emptiness, a vampire beside me and a crow making a nest in my hair.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I didn’t sleep for long. The kitchen table isn’t remotely comfortable, and Elijah soon got bored of grooming me and started scratching at the cardboard across the window. The insistent sound roused me into groggy, unhappy consciousness, and I staggered across the room, intending to open the window. Then I remembered that it was, in fact, covered in cardboard. Still. Another thing to take care of.

  Somehow it seemed less of a priority than...well, everything else.

  I let Elijah out the front door and went to check on Kinley. He hadn’t moved, and part of me thought it might be better to leave him alone. With the cardboard over the window, the kitchen was pretty sun-proof. But come nightfall he’d wake up stiff and sore, and probably scared, confused, and disorientated too. I’d rather he came around somewhere comfortable, with a door I could block up if necessary.

  I manhandled him upstairs and more or less buried him in my bed, making sure the duvet covered him completely. My blinds would keep the sun out, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I hesitated in the doorway, wondering if I really should bar it somehow. I could prop a kitchen chair under the handle, but honestly that wouldn’t stop a raging vampire for long.

  In the end, I just shut the door and headed for the bathroom. I didn’t think Kinley
would wake up as a savage, crazed monster. If he did, I was pretty sure I could handle it. Maybe not right now, when I was dizzy with tiredness and my head thumped like there was a rave going on in my skull, but later, sure. I had all those nice new stakes I hadn’t used yet, after all.

  I didn’t want to use them on him. But if it came to it...

  I all but fell into the shower, turning the water up as hot as it would go. It took me a whole minute to realize I hadn’t taken my blood-stained clothes off first. I laughed hysterically, slapping my hand on the mint-green tiles and leaving a streaky, bloody handprint behind. I was a ridiculous mess, and now my jeans were plastered to my skin, and getting them off would be a pain in the ass. I’d be lucky if I could take out an average-sized spider, never mind a full-grown vampire.

  Cursing, laughing, and sobbing, I struggled out of my clothes without falling over, and tossed them over the top of the glass shower door. They landed with wet, sad smacks on the floor, and I leaned back against the tiles and let the hot water sluice over me. I scrubbed off Charlotte’s blood with my tobacco and vanilla shower gel. It had been Elijah’s favorite scent, and even though I didn’t especially care for the smell of tobacco, I still bought the gel religiously.

  It was a balm to my senses now, and by the time I was physically clean, I felt mentally clearer too. Charlotte’s blood had helped with that, reducing my concussion to a migraine. Like Kinley, what I really needed was rest. I doubted I’d napped for more than an hour at the kitchen table, and even with my head feeling better, I was still crushingly tired.

  I climbed out of the shower and wrapped myself in a clean towel, debating the pros and cons of getting some sleep. Pro – it was full daylight now, so no vampires would be coming after me. Con – Ezra still might. Not to mention the warlock. If he’d sent the draugr to my house, he either already knew where I lived or had some way of tracking me. And he’d done that before I’d been stupid enough to gift-wrap myself and dump myself in his basement. It was a safe bet he wasn’t going to back off now.

  I replayed the last twelve hours or so in my head and decided I’d made my life infinitely harder for no good fucking reason and that I may as well take a nap.

  I crept back into my bedroom, dug out a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt of Elijah’s, and went to make myself a bed on the sofa. Elijah was waiting on the front room windowsill, and I was pathetically grateful for the company. I let him back in, found a long audiobook on my phone, and curled up on the sofa. The narrator’s soothing tones and the story of how England first stole tea from China washed over me, and with Elijah perched on the back of the sofa, I fell asleep once again. This was as close to good as it could get.

  I WOKE SLOWLY TO A thorough explanation of why Chinese tea plants grew so well in the Himalayas. The shadows stretching across the room told me it was late afternoon – not close to sunset yet, but close enough that my spine prickled. If there was going to be fallout from last night, from the vampires or the warlock, it would come after sunset.

  I sat up, running my hands through my disheveled hair. My stomach growled and my throat was dry. Pushing aside my fears about tonight, I went to the kitchen. First things first. I scrounged up a meal of cheese on toast and made a proper pot of coffee. While I ate and tried to guess what might happen next, Kinley appeared.

  Baby vampires are far more tied to actual sunrise and sunset than older ones, so it was a surprise to see him up while it was still daylight. It hinted at strength, a power yet to fully bloom. I filed that information away for future reference and looked him over critically.

  He’d taken a shower at last. His dark hair was wet and clung to his ratty t-shirt. His face had healed, mostly. He had two black eyes, dark purple bruises making him look like a goth kid after a heavy night out. Those were the only signs left of the beating he’d taken, though.

  That, and the heavy grief lining his face, and the apprehension in his eyes as he watched me study him. His shoulders were hunched, his hands jammed into his pockets as he tried to make himself look as small and harmless as possible.

  I nodded toward a chair, my mouth full of toast. He sat down cautiously, making me wonder if he was still hurt elsewhere, or just afraid of what I was going to do.

  I wasn’t actually sure what I was going to do, beyond not hurt him, of course. I was afraid if I examined my motives for helping him, I’d cut open a bunch of wounds I wanted to leave well alone. I’d felt guilty that Mr. Cold punished him, angry that his punishment had been so severe, and panicked at the thought of leaving someone behind with the enemy. That was as deep as I was willing to go.

  He was a kid and a vampire and a lost soul, and I couldn’t afford to let myself feel empathetic.

  “How are you doing?” I asked him.

  He shrugged, staring at the tabletop.

  “Do you remember anything from last night?”

  “Everything,” he said, quiet and bitter. “Until I passed out, I mean. I don’t remember you showing up. But...thanks.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, considering my bruised, scraped knuckles.

  “What happened?” he asked. “I remember getting to the restaurant, but...” He flinched, as if even trying to remember was painful. It probably was.

  I decided he didn’t need to know the bloody details. “I had information on the vampire deaths. Mr. Cold came to the restaurant to get it and brought you with him. I think he thought he was doing me a favor, or repaying a debt, or something twisted like that.”

  “You saved me,” he said, with a hint of wonder in his voice.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “Well,” I said, and then went silent because I had no idea what else to say.

  Luckily, Kinley had already moved on. “You found out about Beckett? What happened to him?”

  I told him, warily, about my visit to Obsidian. Wary because I knew as soon as I did tell him, Kinley would want to go there and burn the place down if it was his only shot at vengeance, and I wasn’t sure that was a good idea.

  Sure enough, his eyes lit up as I talked, his nails digging into the table. His face was cold and blank, but his lips trembled. Anger and grief made a bitter poison. I knew that well enough to recognize the signs of it.

  “Ante Mortem,” he said suddenly, when I mentioned the ‘house special’ cocktails. “That was the special offer the night Beckett died.”

  “Before Death,” I said, with a tickle of black humor. “I bet that asshole’s really pleased with himself over that one. Do you remember that drink specifically?”

  “There was always a couple of girls wandering around pushing the specials,” Kinley said. “They changed the drink every so often, but it was always a red cocktail of some kind.”

  That fit with Jesse’s story, not that I had any reason to doubt now, having tried Ante Mortem for myself.

  He nodded, distracted, then fixed me with a nervous, determined look. “I’m going. I’m going to find him.”

  Elijah hopped onto the table and began picking at my toast crusts. I watched him absently, trying to formulate a reply. It wasn’t my place to tell him no, but I didn’t think he was a match for the warlock. Or for Mr. Cold, who would doubtless be paying a visit to Obsidian himself.

  Kinley correctly interpreted my silence. “You don’t think I should? What, then? Just let the bastard get away with it? Let him carry on murdering people?”

  “Vampires,” I said softly, then shook my head, regretting the word even as I said it. Before Kinley could argue, I quickly carried on. “Ezra knows, so Mr. Cold knows now. He’ll take care of it.”

  Kinley scoffed. “Ezra’s a junkie. He spends his whole life stoned and drunk and his powers are useless. Don’t assume Mr. Cold’s got the whole story just because Ezra sat next to you for five minutes.”

  I frowned, making sense of a few things all of a sudden, then pushing them aside. They weren’t important. “I told Ezra and Harmony the warlock was operating out of Obsidian. How much more information can they need?”r />
  “The guy’s name? What he looks like? You just keep saying the warlock. Mr. Cold doesn’t get his hands dirty. He won’t do anything unless he’s completely sure. Why d’you think he wanted to hire a dhampir to hunt this dude down in the first place? You’re plausible deniability. If you finger the wrong guy or end up dead in the process, he can claim he was never involved.”

  I pulled a toast crust away from Elijah, chewing that over. “Why would he care? He’s the master of Ridderport. It’s not like some other vampire is going to ask him to resign for handling matters badly. This isn’t human politics.”

  Kinley gave me a superior, pitying look. “No, it’s vampire politics. It’s much worse.”

  That irritated me. I’d spent a good chunk of my adult life neck-deep in vampires. I think I knew a little more than Kinley about it. I wasn’t in the mood to argue, though.

  “All the same,” I said. “I’ve done my job. I’m not tangling with a warlock again. And you don’t need to get under the vampire mafia’s feet again.”

  “A warlock?”

  “What?”

  “You said a warlock. Not the warlock, or this warlock or something.”

  I stared at Elijah, trying to keep my face blank. “So?” I asked, my voice too prickly.

  “So what’s the deal? It’s about him, isn’t it?” He nodded at Elijah.

  Elijah stared back, black eyes unblinking. It was too easy to imagine he knew Kinley was talking about him. Easy to imagine he remembered that night seven years ago, that he knew what the deal with warlocks was, and that he, like me, was ready to put this one to bed. It was easy to ascribe whatever thoughts and ideas I wanted to Elijah, in fact, because he had no voice of his own. He could never argue with me. He could never contradict me, tease me, or kiss me, ever again.

  I closed my eyes, the old, familiar pain pricking at my soul, at my bones. It was such a private grief, so deeply embedded, that talking about it felt like a betrayal. Of what or who, I had no idea. Of us, I suppose. Me and Elijah, of our tragic little romance, of how smart and capable and unbeatable we thought we were.