Bound By His Blood

by Jennifer August

“Damn,” McCallister muttered. “Guess he’s not making it entirely easy on us.”

  Sullivan whipped out his lock set, knelt and fiddled for a few seconds. He surged upward, pushed the handle and shoved the door inward.

  The room beyond was immense. It looked like a giant warehouse filled with various steel carts, chemicals, tables, tubes, and a huge vat that stood easily eight feet tall and six feet wide. A few gurneys were lined up at the far end of the warehouse, each with a form lying still on top of the metal.

  No sign of Barrett or his hybrid creatures.

  “Bert!” Sheridan said on a gasp.

  Her small hand tugged at McCallister as she wiggled her way between him and Sullivan.

  Bert sat in the rear left of the room, slumped on a wooden chair. His chest, waist and legs were secured with duct tape. His silvered head hung down and McCallister couldn’t tell if the old man was breathing or not.

  “Easy,” he murmured, holding her back.

  Brooks strode through them with Sullivan and Leopold close at his heels. A sudden bright light clicked on, flooding the three with a glare. “Far enough, gentlemen. McCallister, if you and Miss Aames would join your friends?”

  Barrett’s voice drifted through the room but McCallister still couldn’t pinpoint the bastard. Too many heartbeats in the room to differentiate between anyone. Except Sheridan, of course. He’d recognize her life pattern no matter where he was.

  He gripped her hand tight. “Stay close,” he repeated.

  “Damn straight,” she muttered.

  They cautiously walked toward the ring of light, stopping just beyond its boundaries. “Coming out, Barrett? Or do you prefer to ambush us?”

  “If I’d wanted you dead, McCallister, you would be. For the moment I prefer you alive, even if it’s not necessary.” That damn eerie, half-mad chuckle filled the air again and grated on McCallister like a fork scraping a dinner plate.

  “Big words for a hidden man,” McCallister replied.

  Leopold, Brooks, and Sullivan eased out of the light ring.

  “I didn’t tell you to move,” Barrett snapped.

  “Tough shit,” Sullivan retorted and took another few steps toward Bert.

  “Stop,” Barrett snarled. He appeared from behind the large vat, training a long silver gun at them. Six hulking, furry beasts with glowing red eyes and teeth lethal enough to rival a great white shark followed him.

  The six fanned out behind Barrett in a semi-circle. Their heartbeats were faster than anything McCallister had heard before and he wondered at their genetic make-up. They looked half like wolves mixed with some kind of human and bear.

  He shuddered at the implications. Calliope was right—the unnatural creatures must be destroyed.

  “A gun isn’t going to stop us, Barrett,” McCallister said.

  Barrett waved the barrel toward them. “It might not stop you, but it will do significant damage to Miss Aames.” His grin shone with ferocious insanity. “Despite your lovely DNA, you will die if I shoot you in the right spot.” His gaze swung to McCallister’s. “I don’t need her alive, McCallister. I can harvest her genes as she dies on my floor. You’ll do well to remember that.”

  McCallister’s heart skipped several beats and fury rose in him like a tsunami. He struggled to remain calm. What he really wanted to do was leap forward and rip the bastard’s head from shoulders.

  “Ah, ah, ah. Your temper is showing,” Barrett said. He tapped his temple with a finger. “I can hear you, you know.”

  McCallister frowned and slanted a glance at Brooks who looked equally as surprised.

  “Didn’t my daughter tell you?” Barrett asked. “I’ve been experimenting with all sorts of vampire traits.” He winked at Sheridan. “I had to flood the streets with Dust in the last few weeks in order to get you to take an interest, Miss Aames. It’s true I was trying to draw you out as I knew you’d be intrigued by the human deaths. But I had an ulterior motive as well.”

  He began to pace, the panting hybrids matching him step for step like a well-trained feral army.

  “What was that?” Sheridan asked. Her heartbeat amped up a notch.

  “I had to be certain the breakthrough I achieved was correct. The only way to do so was test the drug on humans and vampires alike.”

  “What the hell does it do?” Leopold asked.

  Barrett shrugged. “In humans, it turned them into jelly for the most part. The two who survived were similar in gene structure to Miss Aames, though not as strong.” He nodded toward the back where the gurneys stood. “The Dust stabilized their DNA regeneration, basically freezing the telomere to a length that never eroded. But their blood is not strong enough. So far, you’re the only one I’ve found with a slow enough turnover to be viable. If that unfortunate situation with Ernest hadn’t happened, I would have given you a bit of the Dust to verify my suspicions.”

  Sheridan’s fingers tightened on McCallister’s. He squeezed back. “What about the vampires?”

  Barrett’s mad smile widened. “Ah, yes. The other reason for spreading the Dust. I discovered a way to isolate and manipulate specific vampiric traits such as speed, telekinesis, and the like. Unfortunately, that method required their sacrifice and not many were willing to die for me. The Dust immobilized them and put them into a stasis that allowed me time to harvest and separate the traits I was looking for.”

  “Christ,” Leopold muttered.

  “Excellent analogy, Hunter,” Barrett said. “However, unlike him, I will need no resurrection. As soon as I take what I need from Miss Aames, I will be invincible.”

  “Tough shit,” McCallister said, anger swelling again. “You’re not touching her.”

  “Wrong,” Barrett said. He snapped a command and the hybrids leapt forward. Four headed toward Leopold, Brooks, and Sullivan while the remaining two loped their way. McCallister shoved Sheridan behind him. “Get back to the hallway. Close the door,” he yelled.

  A sudden loud click sounded over the whine of the approaching hybrids followed by a metallic thunk.

  Shit.

  Barrett cut off their only means of escape.

  The hybrids were only feet away. He spared a glance for his friends and found them fully engaged in a brawl of fangs and fur with the others. He lifted his gun and shot one of the approaching animals in the knee. Or where he figured the knee would be. The impact made the creature stumble. It howled and wrapped long, claw-tipped fingers around the bleeding wound.

  The other snarled loudly.

  “You die.”

  The words were guttural, heavily accented and slurred but intelligible.

  Damn, what had Barrett done?

  McCallister lifted the barrel of his gun again but the hybrid wavered then reappeared on his left, one clawed hand swooping down and knocking the gun away.

  The hybrid elbowed him in the stomach then grabbed his throat and squeezed slowly. McCallister grappled with the furry hand, tried to peel the fingers away but the creature was too strong. Black dots swam in his peripheral and he felt his heart slowing down. He drew his energy to mist, lost it in the continuing pressure on his airway, and gritted his teeth.

  Can’t pass out. Protect Sheridan.

  The creature slowly lifted him off his feet. McCallister grabbed at its arms and swung his body backward, gaining enough momentum to slam his feet into its chest. The impact broke the hybrid’s hold and McCallister dropped lithely to his feet.

  He crouched and waited for the creature to come at him again. He focused on the thing’s haunches and when he caught the ripple of muscle movement, he dodged to the right, grabbed the hybrid by its pointed ears and slammed it to the ground. He leapt on top of its back, dug his hands through the thick fur and twisted viciously.

  The snap of bone was loud and sickening. The creature went limp beneath him.

  McCallister rose, searching for Sheridan. She’d picked up his gun and was inching around the perimeter toward Bert. His smart girl kept to the shadows and behind as many
pieces of furniture as possible but she was still a visible target. He didn’t dare yell at her and risk drawing Barrett’s attention which seemed focused on the fight still raging between the vampires and hybrids.

  Three of the creatures lay motionless on the cement floor while the remaining two fought with loud howls and slashing swings. Barrett yelled at them from beside the vat, his silver gun waving just as madly as their claws.

  McCallister moved stealthily forward toward the right side of the vat. He spied Calliope and Valdór hiding in the shadows and exhaled softly. There was another way out. If he could get Sheridan to them, she’d get out safely.

  He turned to look for her again just as Leopold took down the final hybrid.

  “No!” Barrett’s voice echoed around the room in a hideous angry wail. “You sons of bitches, I’ll kill you all.” His gaze swung madly from vampire to vampire as he started to scuttle backward, toward the concealment of the vat.

  He stopped suddenly and a look of absolute hatred crossed his face. He narrowed his gaze toward the far end of the room and McCallister’s heart froze.

  Barrett raised his gun.

  “No!” McCallister roared. He turned, spotted Sheridan and misted just as the shot rang out. He felt the bullet pass through his shadow form as he re-appeared in front of her.

  She jerked, her luminous blue eyes went wide, and she grabbed her abdomen. Blood oozed from between her fingers. She blinked a couple of times. Her heart sped up as panic set in.

  “McCallister?”

  She fell to her knees and he fell with her, cradling her shoulders. “Slow breaths, Sheridan. You need to calm your heart. The faster it pumps, the faster you’ll lose blood.”

  “McCallister, look out!” Leopold yelled.

  A moment later, strong hands sank into his shoulders and yanked upward. He flew through the air and crashed down near the vat. His head and ears rang with the force of the landing.

  Barrett misted in front of him and knocked him prone to the floor then straddled him with both knees pressing against his shoulders, pinning him. McCallister bucked but Barrett didn’t move a centimeter.

  Sheridan’s heartbeat faltered, sped up, then slowed dramatically.

  “I told you,” Barrett said on a snarl, “I don’t need her alive. I’m going to take great pleasure in killing you, McCallister. I’d dreamed of long and slow but since you’ve deprived me of that pleasure, I’ll have to settle for quick and vicious.”

  His hands flattened against McCallister’s chest and immense heat enveloped him. He gasped for breath as the room spun and turned over. His flesh burned and seemed to melt beneath Barrett’s continuous pressure. He felt the man’s fingers slip through skin and muscle and bone as he drove down to his heart.

  “Yes,” Barrett muttered, eyes bright with maniacal glee. “I’m going to pull your heart right from your body while you watch, McCallister. You’ll feel yourself die as I have died all these years. You could have saved me,” he spat. “But you didn’t. Now. You. Die.”

  McCallister’s strength ebbed as both air and life leeched from him.

  Sheridan.

  “Fight McCallister. Fight.” Her voice filled his head. A surge of energy buffeted him. A soft pink and white glow rose in his vision and the scent of roses, lavender, and hydrangea invaded his nostrils. The brush of her fingers against his head heated his body, further strengthening him.

  Barrett stiffened and his hands froze. “Impossible,” he whispered.

  McCallister’s eyes snapped open. He wrenched free of Barrett’s knees, wrapped his hands around the man’s wrists and peeled them from his body.

  “No!” Barrett screeched. “I’m invincible, you can’t do this.”

  Sheridan’s strength continued to flow into McCallister. Empowered by her Sine Qua Non, he rose to his feet, still holding Barrett captive.

  The man kicked and screamed. He tried to mist but McCallister mentally blocked the attempt. He didn’t feel the kick aimed at his stomach nor did Barrett’s sudden assault on his mind get through.

  “Damn you, McCallister,” Barrett howled as he twisted and writhed.

  “No,” McCallister said as he dropped the man. He pulled a silver-tipped wooden stake from his pocket and plunged it through Barrett’s black heart. “Damn you.” He held the stake until he felt the final, whimpering beat of Barrett’s heart, then threw the corpse down and vaulted across the room to Sheridan’s side.

  Her life force was so low he could barely detect it. The other vampires had crowded around her but parted now to give him room. He cradled her to his chest.

  “Sheridan, don’t leave me,” he pleaded.

  Her blood seeped through his shirt, going clammy when it touched his skin. Each breath she drew was slower and less than the one before.

  “No choice,” she whispered.

  Her eyes fluttered open. A tiny frown formed on her brow and her hand twitched on the floor. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again but no more sound came out.

  “This sucks, McCallister,” her voice echoed in his head, her tone as saucy as the day he’d met her.

  “I know,” he whispered. “It’s all my fault.”

  “Nah, Barrett was crazy. You got him, right?”

  “Yes. Hush, Sheridan. Don’t talk.” He looked up at the semi-circle of his friends. “She needs help,” he pleaded to them. But he didn’t need their somber expressions to tell him help would arrive too late for Sheridan. He’d been a cop long enough to recognize death when it took hold of a victim.

  Tears stung his eyes.

  He looked down at her again. “Sheridan, God, Sheridan.”

  “Bert okay?”

  He nodded. “Calliope and Valdór are with him.”

  “Good.” Her heart tripped a few beats before slowing even more. She shivered in his arms. “Cold.” She smiled up at him. “Sorry, McCallister.”

  He just shook his head. “I love you, Sheridan.”

  Her eyes widened and her heart picked up its pace for a long moment. “You do?” The whispered words were tremulous, tentative.

  “Yes,” he rasped. “We need more time. I want more time!”

  She coughed, the rattle too damn close to a death signal. McCallister cuddled her closer. “I will love you until the end of my days, Sheridan.” He brushed a kiss to her clammy forehead. “It won’t be long. I promise you that.”

  “Don’t. Get. Emo.”

  Leopold snorted.

  “Have. Solution.”

  McCallister’s skin tightened. “What?” he asked.

  She lifted her hand and gripped his. “I love you,” she said with force then coughed again. “Love you ’til the end. I’m not ready to die. McCallister...turn me.”

  Every particle of breath left his body as joy and horror fought for dominance. He didn’t want her to die, but could he consign her to his hell? She’d end up hating him.

  “I can’t,” he whispered in anguish.

  She squeezed his hand. “I want it, McCallister. I want to live.”

  “It’s not living,” he said desperately.

  “I can do it for you,” Sullivan offered.

  McCallister’s head snapped up and he snarled, fangs bared.

  Sullivan lifted his palms. “Just a suggestion. She’s dying,” he said bluntly. “She will die unless we do something.”

  “McCallister.”

  Sheridan’s voice had grown weaker. Soon, she’d have lost too much blood for even them to save her with turning.

  He stared down into her sweet, beloved face. Stroked her cheek and kissed her lips. The pink and white glow ebbed like fading sunlight and the scent of flowers, usually so strong, drifted away.

  He was losing her. Forever.

  “I love you,” he whispered. “Always remember that.” He lifted her higher, tipped her head to the side and fastened his mouth to the faint pulse at her neck. Fear, jubilation, and certainty all assaulted him as his fangs pierced her skin.

  She groaned, h
er hand slipping into his hair and clinging lightly as he drank from her.

  Her heartbeat slowed even further.

  She went limp beneath him as it finally stopped.

  McCallister continued to feed, pulling out the human life force until nothing remained. He waited one second longer then wrenched free of her skin. She was pale and pallid. No life shone from her beautiful blue eyes.

  “I went too far,” he whispered harshly.

  Calliope dropped beside him. “Give her your blood,” she ordered. “You must do it quickly.”

  McCallister sliced open the skin at his wrist and pressed the wound to her lips.

  His tension ratcheted higher and higher and defeat weighed down his shoulders. “Come back to me, my love. I need you,” he begged softly.

  “My love!”

  Her sweet voice echoed in his head at the same moment the room exploded in a blinding explosion of white and pink light.

  “What the hell?” Leopold bellowed.

  “What is that smell?” Sullivan asked.

  “Flowers,” Brooks replied. “More specifically, Sine Qua Non.”

  Sheridan’s lips clamped to his wrist and her soft suckling turned fierce. McCallister winced but let her take her fill. He could not contain the joy sweeping through him. He caressed her cheek, smoothing back the limp hanks of blond hair covering her face, and drank in the beauty of his returned love.

  Finally, she released him. Her eyes opened and she smiled, her pert tongue reaching out to flick at a stray drop of blood.

  Tiny fangs peeked through her full lips and McCallister thought it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

  “Wow,” she said, eyes going wide. “I feel good. Totally jazzed. Like I’m hopped up on some kind of crazy juice.”

  Her heartbeat revved back up before settling in a mostly normal pace.

  “You do?” McCallister asked as he helped her to her feet. “I felt like shit when I was turned. For days afterward.”

  “Yeah, but you were turned by that bitch Desdemona. All she wanted was sex and blood,” Brooks reminded him. He beamed at the two of them. “You turned Sheridan with love. Your souls have already found each other, there is no need for them to search endlessly. Completely different.”