Tainted Blood

by James M. Thompson

  “Wow!” Elijah said under his breath. “That’s amazing.”

  Kim shrugged again, a slight blush on her face. “I don’t really have all that good a control over it, Elijah, but I do know that it seems to work best at times of high stress or fear.”

  “How about you, Ed?” Elijah asked as he and Ed bent to grab their luggage off the carrousel. “You have any strange talents?”

  Ed pursed his lips as they walked toward the garage where Elijah had parked. “I guess about the only thing out of the ordinary is I’m pretty good at long-range telepathy.”

  Kim touched Elijah’s arm, pride for Ed showing in her eyes. “And not just emotions, like most of us, Elijah. He can actually speak mentally over long distances.”

  “Show me,” Elijah asked.

  Ed squinted for a moment, and then Elijah’s cell phone began to beep.

  He glanced at Ed and answered it.

  “Hey, Elijah,” TJ said, “I just got the strangest thought in my head to call you. Is everything all right?”

  Elijah laughed and told her he’d explain when they got back to the cabin. After he hung up, he helped Ed store their bags in the back of his Explorer and then they piled in and he took off.

  He paid the guard and turned the car toward the Maine Turnpike. Once they’d gone through the toll, he asked Ed, “You obviously don’t have to know the exact location of the party you’re talking to, but are there any restrictions, like distance or personal knowledge of the person?”

  Ed nodded. “Yeah, I have to have at least met the person before, and it helps if I’ve had some mental contact with them in the past as well. As far as distance, I really haven’t spent any time testing it so I can’t tell you for sure.”

  “Once, when he was in Toronto at a Mountie convention, he ‘talked’ to me and it was as clear as if he’d telephoned,” Kim said, looking at Ed with admiration. “And that’s over a thousand miles.”

  “My oh my,” Elijah said. “I can’t wait to tell the others about this.”

  “Elijah,” Kim asked, “You told us when you called earlier that you had some ideas about passing abilities around among us. Is this the kind of thing you meant?”

  He nodded. “This is exactly what I hope we can somehow learn to share with each other, Kim. I’m pretty sure it’ll work with new transformees, since they’ll be getting doses of all the different DNA samples at one time, but I’m less sure about whether old dogs like us can incorporate the new DNA into our systems without messing up our old DNA in some way.”

  “So,” Ed said softly, “that means in addition to contributing some of our blood to the two young men, Matt and Shooter, we’re also gonna be passing it around to you and the two girls?” Ed asked.

  Elijah nodded. “As well as accepting some of our blood, Ed. This is hopefully going to make all of us stronger, faster, more intelligent, and better psychically.”

  “Sounds almost too good to be true,” Kim said.

  “Yes, it does, and I just hope it isn’t,” Elijah said, mentally crossing his fingers.

  * * *

  As they pulled up to Elijah’s log cabin on the shore of a small lake, both Ed and Kim remarked how beautiful the spot was.

  “ ’Course, these little foothills you call mountains down here in Maine don’t compare with the big boys we have up in Canada,” Kim teased.

  Elijah nodded and smiled. “You got that right, but when we got into the vaccine business and found out how much antipathy and resistance there was to the idea of helping Vampyres escape the curse of needing human blood to live, I decided to come up here and hole up due to the cabin’s isolation.” He looked around at the deep woods that surrounded the place. “Not much chance of anyone finding us here unless we want them to.”

  As he reached into the back of the Explorer to get the Slonakers’ luggage, the cabin door opened and Sam appeared.

  As soon as Elijah saw the expression on her face, he knew something was wrong.

  He forgot about the suitcases and straightened up. “Sam, what’s wrong?”

  She gave Ed and Kim a quick nod. “Hi, guys, good to see you again.” Then she turned her attention to Elijah. “You’d better come in here. There’s something you ought to see,” she said, holding the door open wide.

  The three of them followed her into the cabin and through the living room and into Matt’s bedroom. Matt was covered with sweat, his face flushed with temperature, and he was literally writhing on the bed in pain, groaning even though he appeared to be unconscious.

  “Jesus!” Elijah exclaimed, rushing to the bedside to feel of Matt’s forehead. “He’s burning up with fever. How long has he been like this?”

  “It started this morning, right after you left for the airport.” She shook her head, worry in her eyes. “His temp’s been as high as a hundred and six.”

  Elijah’s eyes narrowed. “And Shooter?”

  She glanced at him. “The same. TJ and I have been continually bathing them in cool water to keep their temperatures down, but without much success.”

  Kim, who had been a Vampyre longer than Ed, and who had in fact transformed him to be her mate, stepped closer to the bed. She peered down at Matt and shook her head. “Elijah, I’ve seen a couple of transformations, and they didn’t act at all like this. They got sick, but it was much milder, kind’a like the flu, eay?”

  “You’re exactly right, Kim. This is very unusual,” Elijah replied, stroking his chin unconsciously as he thought.

  “TJ and I think it’s because of the . . . uh, rather special circumstances of their transformation,” Sam said.

  “Oh, you can speak freely around Ed and Kim,” Elijah said, “I’ve told them about our experiment with multiple donors to the transformation process.”

  “How would that change things?” Ed asked.

  Elijah motioned them to follow him out of the room. “Let’s go out here to talk so we won’t disturb Matt’s sleep.”

  When they got to the kitchen, he took cups for everyone out of the cupboard and poured cups of coffee all around.

  “In answer to your question, Ed, the sickness Kim mentioned that occurs to transformees is because of their bodies’ reactions to the invading Vampyre bug, as we call it. Just like when you get the flu and your body causes fever to help fight it off, so does the body try to ward off the Vampyre bug.”

  “Uh huh,” Ed said, as his nonmedical mind wrestled with the idea.

  “However, in this case, instead of just one new bug to fight against, Matt and Shooter are fighting against three each.”

  Kim glanced at Sam. “You mean you and TJ and Elijah have all contributed blood to the boys?”

  Sam nodded over the rim of her coffee cup.

  Kim looked back at Elijah. “And what about the girls and you, Elijah? Haven’t you all also shared blood?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but we didn’t get as sick as the boys probably because our Vampyre blood’s resistance is very high to any kind of new infection.”

  “But even so, we did feel the effects, Kim,” Sam said. “All of us ran a slight fever for a couple of days after sharing our blood, though not nearly so bad as Matt and Shooter’s, and we had mild muscle aches and pains too, but again, not as bad as the pain Matt and Shooter are experiencing.”

  Kim looked at Elijah. “I know you asked Ed and I here to contribute to this experiment, but do you still think it’s safe, considering how ill the boys are? Wouldn’t more blood from two different donors make them even sicker, or possibly even kill them?”

  “I don’t know, Kim,” Elijah said, a speculative glint in his eyes. “This is new territory for all of us, but perhaps you could be of help?”

  Kim raised her eyebrows in question.

  “Maybe if you used your precog talent, you could get some idea of how we should proceed.”

  “Precog, as is precognition?” Sam asked, her eyes moving to stare at Kim.

  Kim nodded, shrugging. “Heck, it’s worth a try, though like I said, it’s n
ot very predictable.”

  Sam moved to put a hand on her shoulder. “If it’ll help Matt, please try.”

  Kim put her coffee cup down and walked back to Matt’s room, with the others following close behind.

  She sat on the edge of his bed and put her palms on his burning cheeks and closed her eyes.

  “I’m imagining us all donating blood to Matt to try and see what will happen,” she whispered.

  After a moment, she gave a shiver and stood up, smiling. “I think it’ll be okay,” she said. “In my mind, after I pictured us all giving him blood, I saw him healthy and completely recovered.”

  Sam moved quickly to hug her. “Now, quickly, go and try it with Shooter. I know it’ll be a great relief to TJ to find out he’s going to be okay too.”

  Chapter 19

  Secret Service agent Michelle Meyers slipped out of the door of the cottage and pulled a Marlboro out of her handbag. Strictly speaking, she wasn’t supposed to smoke on duty, but what the hell, she figured. She was going to be stuck at this health spa eating tasteless food that was supposed to be good for her and watching rich brats lollygag around the swimming pool and ride horses while she stood around hoping someone would assassinate the little assholes for at least the next week, so she was going to treat herself to some nicotine every chance she got.

  She put her lighter to the end of the butt and inhaled deeply. God that tasted good, she thought, glancing around at the heavily wooded area around the small group of cabins they’d been assigned to. It was beautiful here, and she supposed this duty did beat hanging around the vice president’s mansion, ignoring the sexist comments of the other male agents assigned to the vice president while her charge, Allison Burton, spent the day on the phone or playing games on her computer.

  She took a final drag, smashed the butt under her shoe, took a hit on some Binaca breath spray to cover her tobacco breath, and reentered the cabin. If her highness was through with her morning shower, they could begin the day’s activities, she thought.

  Allison was sitting on the couch running a brush through her still-damp hair. She glanced up at Michelle and sniffed, her face screwing up into her habitual scowl. “You know I hate it when you smoke,” she said tartly. “It makes you smell like an ashtray.”

  Michelle bit her lip to keep from replying in kind since it could cost her her job. “Yes, I know,” she said, her voice tight as she glanced at her wristwatch. “We’d better go,” she said evenly, trying to keep the disgust she felt for the young teenager from her tone. “It’s time for your morning massage,” she said, while thinking, as if that’s going to get rid of all that baby fat on your ass.

  Allison’s face brightened and she jumped to her feet. “All right,” she said, excitement in her voice.

  Michelle grinned at the sudden transformation. “I see there’s something here you like.”

  Allison smiled smugly. “Yeah. That Sammy Akins is a hottie, and I think he likes me.”

  Michelle’s grin faded. “You mean the spa’s assistant director has been giving you your massages?”

  Allison shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  “I thought only women were allowed to massage the female guests,” Michelle said, moving toward the door and unconsciously checking her sidearm holster before opening it.

  Allison smirked. “Well, you’d have known it if you didn’t sneak out to suck on a butt every time I took my massages.”

  Michelle nodded. The kid was right. She had been shirking her duty, but no more. She intended to have a word about this with the head of the spa, Ms. Whitmire. She knew the vice president would shit a brick if he found out some man had his hands on his darling daughter!

  * * *

  Michelle accompanied Allison into the massage room and held up her hand when Sammy Akins moved to pick up the massage oil. “Hold on there, mister,” Michelle said. “I need to have a word with Ms. Whitmire before you go any further.”

  Sammy shrugged and moved to lean back against the wall, his hands crossed over his chest. “Okay,” he said. His words were addressed to Michelle, but his eyes were on Allison, and they were filled with hunger.

  As soon as Michelle had left the room, Allison stepped behind the curtain in the corner of the room and began to undo her blouse. “You don’t have to listen to that old biddy, Sammy,” she purred, wrapping a large Turkish towel around her nakedness and moving toward the massage table. “She doesn’t own me, she’s just my bodyguard.”

  She hopped up on the table and lay on her stomach, letting the towel open to reveal her buttocks, as she always did.

  Sammy grinned and moved to stand next to the table as he dribbled heated oil onto Allison’s back. “Okay by me, kiddo,” he said, placing his hands on her back and beginning to rub gently in small circles. “After all, you’re the boss.”

  He felt himself getting hard and pressed his groin up against Allison’s arm as he rubbed her. Elizabeth Whitmire had told him today was the day he got to begin the Rite of Transformation on Allison, and he could hardly wait. She was going to be his first and the thought excited him greatly—almost as much as the feel of Allison’s tight young ass under his hands did.

  Allison squeezed her eyes shut tight when she felt his erection against her arm. She was right: He did care for her.

  Though she was still a virgin, she’d seen enough movies and talked to enough of her girlfriends to know what his hardness meant, and the very thought that she made him feel that way gave her a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that shot right down to her groin.

  She gasped and sucked in her breath as his hands moved lower to knead and caress her buttocks. Wow! That felt good, she thought. She squeezed her hips together to make them feel firmer, concerned that he’d notice the dimples she’d gotten there when she gained her last few pounds. She vowed for the hundredth time to give up cheeseburgers and order salads instead.

  After a few moments of this, his hand slipped between her cheeks and his oily fingers began to caress areas of her body that’d never been touched by anyone other than herself. At first, she felt a sudden fear that things were getting out of hand and would go too far, but after his fingers went a little deeper and slipped inside her, she began to worry that he would stop and things wouldn’t go far enough!

  Jesus, she thought, holding her breath when his finger began to draw little circles around her clitoris. That’s unbelievably wonderful!

  In spite of a nagging cautionary thought that she pushed far down in her mind, Allison’s hips began to move with Sammy’s hand, pushing back against him to make him go deeper inside her. Faster, harder, she called out to him in her mind, and it was as if he could hear her thoughts for he did indeed begin to move his hand faster and harder, pressing down in exactly the right spots to make her quiver and shake under his touch.

  When his hands moved to slide around her and lift her up so he could cup her breasts, she wondered why she wasn’t fighting him off, but the thought soon evaporated under his skilful caresses and she moaned and groaned with the pleasure his hands were bringing.

  When he finally turned her over onto her back, she didn’t resist letting the towel slide to the floor, and she arched her back when he bent his head to take her right nipple between his lips.

  Moments later, she opened her eyes to find a naked Sammy easing up on the table next to her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he filled it with his tongue before she could make a sound.

  She felt woozy, as if she’d had too much to drink, and her arms went around him and pulled him down as he moved on top of her and nestled down between her legs. When he entered her and moved his mouth to kiss her neck, she whispered his name over and over.

  She didn’t mind either the pain between her legs or the sharp stinging in her neck—they both felt wonderful, and when he pressed the bleeding hole in his own neck against her lips, she sucked the sweet, coppery blood down hungrily.

  * * *

  Michelle was in no mood for an argument when she b
urst into Katherine Whitmire’s office. “Ms. Whitmire,” she began in a stern voice, “I’ve got a complaint!”

  Katherine Whitmire smiled graciously and got to her feet, indicating with a sweep of her arm that Michelle should take a seat in front of her desk. “Of course, Michelle, but you must call me Kathy,” Whitmire said, her voice as smooth as silk and seeming to be slightly more husky than Michelle remembered.

  Suddenly, Michelle was having trouble remembering just what it was she was so angry about. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the clouds that swam before her eyes. The last time she’d felt this befuddled had been in her college days when she’d shared a joint with her roommate. She wondered briefly if she could somehow have been drugged, and had a fleeting glimmer of panic that perhaps it was a plot against her charge, Allison, but the thought disappeared into more clouds before she could act on it.

  She barely noticed Whitmire moving around behind her to lock and bolt the door, and she somehow wasn’t surprised when the lady stepped up close behind her and began to rub her shoulders.

  “Uh . . . Ms. Whitmire . . . uh . . . Kathy,” Michelle struggled to remember why she was here. Her face felt numb, her lips didn’t seem to work right, and her tongue felt as if it was covered with fur or something else that was keeping it from obeying her mind’s commands to protest this treatment.

  “That’s all right, dear,” Katherine crooned behind her ear, “You just relax for a moment and all will become clear to you.”

  Michelle leaned her head back against the chair. Damn, that did feel good. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just relax for a change and let someone else take care of her for a while.

  For some reason, when Katherine’s hands moved off her shoulders and began to knead and caress her breasts, Michelle said nothing, even though she was strictly heterosexual and had never in her life been with another woman. She was just so damned relaxed she couldn’t seem to muster the energy to protest.