Bloodliner

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  They nearly got Mavis.

  When Shakespeare had emerged from the Lyonesse portal, he'd seen the creatures make their play. The mermaid siren had floated near Mavis, holding her attention, as the shark had skated up from dark depths with teeth flashing.

  I wonder what went through Mavis' mind when she saw that fish-skinned woman undulating 'neath the waves, fangs bared and long hair flowing like crimson seaweed.

  Arthur had snatched Mavis away just in time, yet the danger had not ended. The siren had launched herself after her prey, followed closely by the shark.

  They would have outrun Mavis and Arthur had Shakespeare and Thomas not intervened. Each had snagged a tail and wrenched a creature from its course, giving Arthur time enough to carry Mavis from the sea to safety.

  Now, Thomas and I are the prey, with a difference: we've no one to come to our rescue.

  The siren continued to batter Shakespeare with her tail, each blow like the crack of an oar against his back. She punched and clawed at him, digging shreds of meat from his sides and forearms and wisping the water with his blood. Shakespeare squeezed her throat harder, kicking and pumping knees into her belly in the bargain.

  In a sudden flurry, the siren nearly freed herself, slashing at his eyes and swiveling in his grip like a snake. Shakespeare let go with one hand, just long enough to haul back a fist and plow it into her face.

  As the siren went limp, Shakespeare stole a look toward Thomas and the shark. All he could see was a cloud of blood and foam, swirling in the darkness below.

  Does the battle continue apace in there, or has it ended in a feeding frenzy? Have I failed not only to redeem the wayward twin but even to preserve his life?

  Fresh urgency burned in Shakespeare's veins. He felt the siren twitch, and he killed her, twisting her head around hard enough to break her neck.

  Her tail flexed as if about to batter him again, then shivered and flopped. He let her drift free, red hair weaving in the current, as he dove toward Thomas.

  Does the boy yet live? Have I lost the chance to keep my vow to reform him?

  And if I reappear without him, will I lose the alliance, the prize...and the loyalty of his twin? Will James lose faith in me, if such a short time after reuniting with his brother, he is left alone again?

  Shakespeare closed on the bloody cloud and stared...but even his vampire gaze could not pierce the thick froth. He circled around, searching for a thinner spot or gap through which to glimpse the combatants. If anything, the cloud mass only thickened.

  Then, suddenly, it broke.

  Shakespeare leaped aside as the blood-red shark burst forth, blunt snout thrusting through the cloud like a battering ram.

  There was no sign of Thomas, other than the smell of his blood in the water.

  The boy's mauled carcass lies either in the gut of this monster or the heart of the cloud.

  As Shakespeare watched, the shark shot free of the cloud, then veered toward him.

  The feratu pulsed in Shakespeare's chest, lacing his blood with a fiery stimulant. Surging with power, Shakespeare bolted away from the beast and led it on a zigzag chase through the fringes of the cloud.

  Shakespeare flashed around the cloud three times, always with the shark a nose behind...not because the fish was fast, but because Shakespeare wanted to keep it close. When the moment was right, he slowed just enough to give the shark hope. The shark's jaws snapped, nearly hacking off a foot—and Shakespeare suddenly leaped ahead and plunged into the core of the cloud.

  The shark followed.

  When it emerged seconds later from the opposite side of the cloud, it trailed ribbons of blood and swam at an angle, almost tipped over. Ten trenches had been gouged in its hide from nose to tail, one for each of Shakespeare's claws.

  Shakespeare left the murk in his bat form. He'd shifted shape within the cloud in the split-second before the shark had come in after him. What his bat form lacked in swimming speed and maneuverability, it made up for with the giant, knife-sharp claws.

  I'll make him a feast for the bottom-feeders, leaving only bits so small the crabs won't be able to tell if they're shark or plankton.

  Shakespeare swam up alongside the shark and slashed its hide again, tearing off more flesh. The creature seemed to be in a daze as he ripped out chunks of it, exposing ribs and drawing more blood.

  Then, all of a sudden, a clawed hand punched out from inside the shark. It burst through the very spot he'd been working on, snapping ribs in the process.

  Startled, Shakespeare fell back—though he quickly realized whose claw it was and scrambled to return to work.

  Before he could resume his excavation, though, the shark exploded. Chunks of meat and shards of bone leaped outward, spraying through the water and spattering Shakespeare.

  By the time he'd wiped the mess from his eyes, the person who'd blown up the shark from inside floated free before him. Even in his bat-form, his giant grin was familiar.

  Thomas.

  Shakespeare waved, then hiked his thumb toward the surface. Time to go.

  I can't believe I'm actually relieved the little monster isn't dead.

  Thomas reverted to his human form, which wasn't as good for clawing through sharks, but was better for swimming. Shakespeare did the same.

  Right before Thomas leaped upward, he smiled and waved back at Shakespeare. He mouthed a message, too, which wasn't hard for Shakespeare to lip-read.

  Screw you.

  Then, Thomas jabbed both middle fingers straight up, saluting Shakespeare, and launched like a missile for the surface.

  *****

  Part Three: Germany

  Chapter 36

  Arthur was grinning. "We just went under the English Channel," he said. "On a train."

  It was the tenth time he'd said the same thing or close to it.

  Jonah, who was sitting across from him, nodded politely. He was exhausted, and the whole "King Arthur digs the wonders of the modern world" bit was wearing kind of thin.

  So was the "Stanza makes goo-goo eyes at King Arthur" bit.

  "The Chunnel," said Arthur. "Amazing."

  "It is, isn't it?" said Stanza. Arthur had the window seat, and Stanza sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, often leaning across to point out some new attraction as they hurtled through the twilight countryside.

  "What are those lights up there?" Arthur craned his neck to gaze at the sky. "The blinking ones."

  Stanza leaned over for a look. "Airplane," she said. "It's a machine that flies people through the sky."

  "No!" Arthur pressed closer to the window. "You're joking!"

  Stanza laughed and sat back in her seat. "We might even get to ride one."

  "Really?" Arthur said with childlike enthusiasm. "I would love that."

  Stanza laughed again. Giggled was more like it.

  Oh, brother.

  Jonah looked at Mavis for a reaction, but she was still pretending to be asleep in the seat next to him. Now that things were getting obnoxious with Stanza and Arthur, Jonah wished he'd opted out of the conversation as well.

  His chances with Stanza were looking worse than ever. How can I compete with King Arthur?

  Even as a fish out of water from a bygone era, Arthur had Jonah outclassed. Even in a green polo shirt, tan khakis, and white sneakers, Arthur looked kinglike. The sunglasses he had to wear all the time in broad daylight to protect his sensitive vampire eyes only made him look cooler. Next to him, Jonah was just a skinny wuss with prematurely gray hair in a black Jethro Tull t-shirt and faded bluejeans.

  It didn't help that Arthur had been nothing but nice to Jonah since coming through the portal from Lyonesse. Not once on the boat ride from Samson Island to St. Mary's, the ferry to Cornwall, and the train to London and through the Chunnel, had Arthur been less than friendly to Jonah.

  I can't even hate this guy. No fair.

  "Let's see the rest of the train," said Arthur.

  "I'll give you the tour." Stanza got up and started down the
aisle. "This way."

  "Join us?" Arthur said to Jonah.

  "I'm gonna catch some sleep," said Jonah, shifting against the headrest.

  "See you soon." Arthur smiled and left.

  A moment later, Jonah nudged Mavis with his elbow. "They're gone. You can 'wake up' now."

  Mavis kept her eyes closed. "You knew I wasn't asleep?"

  "You're a bad actress," said Jonah, "but I don't think the mutual fan club caught on."

  "I do feel like I could fall asleep, though." Mavis opened her eyes and looked past Jonah out the window. "I think everything's finally catching up with me."

  Jonah nodded. "You've been getting the worst of it."

  "Stupid me," said Mavis. "Before we went to Lyonesse, I had to go and ask what could be worse than what we'd already been through."

  "I guess you found out," said Jonah.

  Mavis scowled. "By the way, thanks a lot."

  "For what?" said Jonah.

  "We said we were going to watch each other's backs. Nice job." Mavis said it sarcastically.

  Jonah sighed and threw up his hands. "Geez, Mavis. What the hell could I do?"

  "I'd be dead right now if it wasn't for Arthur." Mavis rolled around in her seat, turning her back to him. "I should've known better than to trust you."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You're just like the rest of your family," said Mavis. "Great at letting people down."

  Jonah frowned. Was this the same Mavis who'd had a funeral for his parents in the truck stop parking lot? The same Mavis who'd practically become his surrogate sister? "I don't get it. You and I never even met before Stanza brought me to your church."

  "We met," said Mavis, "but you don't remember it."

  "What?" said Jonah. "When?"

  A darker, angrier tone curled through Mavis' voice. "Right after my parents died," she said. "When your parents told me to get lost."

  Jonah stared at her back. "When did your parents die?"

  Irritably, Mavis flung herself around to face him. "I was five years old. The house burned down, and I was the only one the firemen rescued."

  "That's terrible," said Jonah.

  "And your parents." Mavis' eyes flared with rage. "Your parents wouldn't take me in! Their own niece...your mother's sister's daughter...and they turned me away!"

  Jonah shook his head. "That doesn't sound like something they'd do."

  "Well, they did it!" said Mavis. "I had no other family to stay with! Nowhere to go but foster homes. One lousy foster home after another!"

  Jonah stared into her raging eyes and wondered.

  She can't be right. My parents would never do something like that.

  Would they?

  "You're wrong," he told her.

  "I was there!" Mavis' voice was so loud, people were starting to look. "I know what happened!"

  "There must've been more to it," said Jonah. "Maybe more than you know."

  Mavis stomped her foot on the floor. "You just don't want to accept that your parents ruined my life."

  "Maybe you're the one who doesn't want to accept something," said Jonah.

  It was then that Mavis lashed out a hand to slap his face. He caught her by the wrist before she could strike him, and then he held her as she fought to break free.

  "That's enough!" he said.

  "Your family never stops ruining things!" said Mavis. "First your parents, now you!"

  Jonah glared at her. "But I thought you and I were getting along."

  "I let you think that." Mavis struggled to pull her hand away from Jonah, and he let go of her."I needed someone to watch my back. I should've known you'd let me down!"

  "Right," said Jonah. "And you did such a great job of watching my back in Lyonesse, didn't you?"

  Mavis seethed and trembled. "Go to hell."

  "You know what?" Jonah got up and pushed past her into the aisle. "Screw this. I'm gonna go see if I can find a drink on this train."

  "Go ahead. Bail out on me." Mavis lay down across both seats, using her arms as a pillow. "Your parents taught you well."

  Jonah paused, looking down at her. Briefly, he considered trying to talk things over, to get her to see how wrong she was.

  If my parents did what she said, they must have had a good reason.

  If that was the case, though, what could he possibly say to convince Mavis that she was wrong? Even if he knew anything at all about what had happened, what could he say to stop her from hating him?

  Nothing.

  That was why he turned and stomped off down the aisle through the passenger car. It was better for him, for now, just to walk away.

  *****

  Chapter 37

  When Mavis heard Jonah slam the door shut at the end of the train car, she rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. She felt liberated and guilty at the same time.

  She felt liberated because she'd finally unloaded on somebody for what had happened to her as a little girl. She hadn't unloaded on Jonah's parents, the ones who'd hurt her, but Jonah had been the next best thing. After thirty years of bottling up the anger, she'd finally let it loose.

  But then she felt guilty, too. Jonah might have been the next best person to yell at, but did he really deserve it? He wasn't the one who'd turned her away, was he?

  As for watching her back, what more could Jonah have done? Mavis didn't really think he could have single-handedly killed Rapiarre the Lampreyus. He probably couldn't have saved her when she was drowning in the sea, either.

  So why did she still feel like everything bad that had happened to her had been Jonah's fault?

  Because everything sucks, and I need somebody to blame.

  Mavis' life before the vampire attack on Desert Wind Presbyterian Church hadn't been so great, but her life since the attack had been a nightmare. She'd almost died several times. She'd seen an unforgettable vision of herself as a monster.

  And she'd had enough. She'd been trying to act tough and sarcastic. She'd been trying not to let anyone see how vulnerable she was, but the mask was wearing thin.

  Oh God, oh please let me go home.

  She felt utterly alone and bottomed-out. She rolled over to face the seat-back and sobbed. Tears ran from her eyes and wet the cushion under her head.

  Please help me.

  And that was exactly when she heard the deep and familiar voice from above.

  "Chocolate?"

  Mavis turned her head and looked up. Through a film of tears, she saw the same green-eyed, red-bearded face she'd seen through the bubbles when she'd been drowning on the way out of Lyonesse.

  Arthur. King Arthur.

  Smiling, he pushed a candy bar toward her. "It's wonderful stuff," he said. "Guaranteed to make you feel better."

  Mavis sat up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sorry," she said. "I'm just a little worn down right now."

  "Don't apologize." Arthur sat in the seat across from her and opened the candy bar. He broke off a piece an inch long and handed it over. "Just eat."

  Mavis put the hunk of chocolate in her mouth and chewed slowly. It was dark chocolate, rich and bitter, with a hint of orange.

  "Well?" Arthur grinned and nodded. "I was right, wasn't I?"

  "Yes," said Mavis. Arthur broke off another hunk, and she took it. "Thank you."

  "I wish we'd had this at the Round Table." Arthur broke off another piece of the candy bar and ate it. "Maybe Camelot wouldn't have fallen."

  Mavis ate her chocolate and studied his reflection in the window.

  Am I really sitting here with King Arthur?

  He certainly looked the part, at least in terms of physique and chiseled features. He had the self-assurance and booming voice for it. He gave off a sort of energy that made him seem much more than the average person. And, of course, Mavis had seen what he was capable of in battle, which was extraordinary.

  But still—King Arthur?

  "I hear you're a woman of God," said Arthur. "A priestess."
/>   "I guess I am," said Mavis.

  "I wish we'd had women priests in the old days," said Arthur. "The men would have paid more attention with someone as beautiful as you presiding at Mass."

  Mavis smiled. Arthur offered another piece of chocolate, and she took it.

  "Thanks for saving my life," said Mavis. "Both times."

  Arthur shrugged. "It was truly my pleasure. It would have been a great loss if I had not had the chance to get to know you better."

  Mavis felt herself blush and looked away.

  Is he hitting on me?

  Thoughtfully, Mavis ate chocolate and wondered what it would be like to be King Arthur's girlfriend. Would his mere presence be enough to make her feel better? Would his magic touch be enough to turn her life around, to elevate her in ways she could not yet imagine?

  Just one problem: he's a vampire.

  Or was that a problem after all? Arthur wasn't anything like the other vampires she'd met. Sometimes, in fact, Mavis forgot he was a vampire at all.

  "Have you ever thought about staying here?" said Mavis. "In the outside world, I mean?"

  "You know they say I'll come back here to stay someday," said Arthur. "They call me 'the once and future king.'"

  "Would you ever be the future king?" said Mavis.

  Arthur stared into space. "For the right reason, yes." He met her gaze. "I would do it."

  Mavis stared back at him for a long moment, then suddenly felt uncomfortable and broke contact. "All these people," she said, looking around the passenger car. "What would they do if they knew the real King Arthur was sitting right here?"

  "Depends on if they knew I'm a vampire, too," said Arthur.

  "That wouldn't matter," said Mavis. "The world needs you. It's in bad shape."

  "Same as always then." Arthur shrugged. "And by the way, I didn't do such a great job the first time around. Camelot fell, remember?"