“She was hiding in the hospital last night. She was in the courtroom a few weeks back as a witness for Serge.”
When she looked at him, Connor instantly regretted spoiling their moment, watching the warmth of her thoughts cool to a stagnant pool of worry. He added, “She was a vampire pet, and I don’t think she knew what hit her. Serge’s attentions were terrifying, I’m sure.”
“How do you know she is what she seems?” she asked on a dry whisper.
Connor paused to consider. He didn’t like the Annabelle coincidence. I came up with the name, but her having the same name is not a crime. He dropped the last cause for concern into the mix. “Her name is Annabelle.”
Rebekah’s chin jerked up. “Annabelle?”
He nodded. “I know, but yes, Annabelle. She’s frail and covered in vampire bites. Battered and bruised.” Connor, knowing how even Rebekah suffered bruises at his touch, hoped the list would pave the way to tolerance. “All I really know is her weakened physical state fits with her story,” he said quietly. He caught hold of her hand again and stroked his thumb over the agitated pulse in her wrist, in a soothing circular motion. “She shows signs of long-term abuse. Her scars are real, Rebekah, but I understand if you can’t help.”
His intent gaze filled in the blanks. He knew Leizle had shared the horror of her experiences on the human farm. I just have to wait for her to realize that she could not wish that on Annabelle.
“Where is she now?” Rebekah asked on a sigh, unbending a little.
He laughed gently. “Julian’s.”
Rebekah slanted a stern look across at him. “Connor. You’ve got to stop torturing him. And what about Leizle? He may not be interested in her, but she’ll be mortified if she finds out you are putting temptation his way.” She snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “I know he doesn’t care for humans, but let’s not tempt fate.”
Connor disagreed. Leizle is Julian’s Achilles’ heel, he just doesn’t know it yet. He was just grateful for the decisive spark in her eyes as she squeezed his fingers.
“How do we get her to the eco-shelter safely?” asked Rebekah.
“Thank you.” He turned her hand and raised her palm to his lips. Dipping into the pooled heat of warm nectar, he endured the branding of her skin on his kiss and smiled. “She will be grateful, I know it.” I know she wants to run from this. Fifteen years of bonding has forged their community, and letting a stranger in must feel like opening a can of worms best left closed.
“How will we get her there?” Rebekah was trying to inject some enthusiasm.
“We’ll use a couple of motorcycles and wait until vampire dawn,” said Connor. “Julian and I know the country lanes better than most, and if you are up for a hurtling fairground ride, you’ll be in safe hands.” He ran his fingertip down her cheek, the exhilaration in his gaze dampened with reassurance as he said, “For us, danger is just a dream, we are beyond defying death. But, we can use that to get you and Annabelle out of London fast”.
Rebekah stared at him. “Are you sure it’s worth the risk? After all, we’ve only felt secure for a week or so, and Serge has no clue where we are.”
Connor knew the new eco-shelter was beginning to feel like home again, and in wanting it back the way it was, changes were hard to accept. “What choice is there? Deliver her to the farm, or let her fend for herself? I don’t have all the answers, Rebekah. I only know what I can’t do.”
“Are you sure it’s safe, that she is safe?” Rebekah whispered.
And, even as he answered, “Yes.”, a clutch of uncertainty tightened his nape.
<><><>
When Connor arrived back at the Richmond house, what Julian heard robbed him of speech. All he could do was glower. The plan of escape did not meet with his approval, and Connor’s neutral expression irritated him more. He knows my anger will blow itself out, and he’s right. He was waiting for Julian to admit that there was no other solution.
“Sorry?” ventured Connor.
“Really. You think that covers it?” Julian’s scowl altered as he allowed his sarcasm to drip. “And a mad motorcycle dash through the early dawn, do you really think that’s wise?”
Both vampires were shut away in Julian’s study, yet again, and even though vampires didn’t need to move, Julian was fast developing the habit of pacing. He carved a circling path into the thick pile of the carpet, not taking his eyes from his friend’s face. “What do you know about her? Really?”
“One thing I know is that her fear is real, she stinks of it.” His frown was fierce. “And you cannot fake a bloodstream that’s fighting to find the strength to replenish. She’s been bled at an unhealthy rate, she’s suffered much more than being siphoned.”
Julian shook his head. “I still don’t like it.”
“Neither do I.” Connor jerked his head to indicate where Annabelle sat on the other side of the wall. “You’ve seen her. She may have been a convenience in Serge’s plot, but you can’t seriously be suggesting we give her back to her owner?”
Julian stopped pacing.
“You’re right, Julian, we are taking a risk. But Rebekah has opened a door.” Connor dropped down onto a chair which creaked alarmingly beneath the dense mass of his body, stabbing a hand through his black hair as he said, “It was easier when they were just cattle.” He glanced up at Julian. “Bet you’re glad you’re not inside my head, huh?”
Julian satisfied himself with glaring.
“The safe options are easy, give her back to her owner, take her to the farm, or release her outside the city.”
An image of Leizle’s terrified face, as he had seen it in his courtroom nudged every argument of Julian’s into touch. “Damn it, Connor, stop playing Devil’s advocate. I give in, but you can’t keep picking up strays.”
Connor bristled. “I wouldn’t call Rebekah a stray. She changed everything. I had no idea how boring the last one hundred years had been.” He expanded his lungs and puffed out his frustration. “Surely you understand that, now.”
Julian refused to be diverted from the matter in hand. “Connor, if Annabelle ends up in the farm, it’s not so bad, compared to the life she had.” It’s worth one more try. However, his heart was no longer in it.
“Mmm, not so bad? Very humane, I thought, and the insemination of forty human females.” Connor sneered. “How many pregnancies were there?”
“None, thank God. And the story is the same throughout the other hives, so I have some leverage at last.” Julian took an exasperated breath. “I held Serge off as long as I could. The Hybrid Project was always going to proceed, even if only to prove it would fail.” He arched a brow. There is always an upside. “You should be glad. At least, you know now that vampires and humans are not compatible.”
“You held him off barely weeks. That was as long as you could manage?”
Julian held his hands up in apology, swallowing the comments which would drive a wedge between them. -I held him off for months, before that, but these last few weeks you’ve been too preoccupied to see that blocking every move Serge makes will arouse suspicion, and put us all in jeopardy. I had to concede something.- Instead, he said calmly, “It is done. Serge has run his experiment and now it’s done.”
“Until he thinks of another sick scheme.”
Julian met Connor’s skeptical eye. “I am not going to let that happen.”
“You let the hybrid fiasco happen.” Connor growled gently. “What’s next, Principal?”
Julian ignored the knot of frustration in his chest and allowed Connor to vent. He knew the danger of impregnating Rebekah lived as a spectre inside his friend’s mind. But now, it had melted away, and the selfish benefit of the Hybrid Project would sit ill with Connor. Guilt is never easy to assuage.
Julian ground his teeth. “We are going to die if they die, you know that.”
“I would turn Rebekah, and have us both die together, rather than sit back and watch the widespread torture of humans,” Connor breathed.
> “It won’t come to that.” Julian’s green eyes flashed. “You know me better than that. I’m pushing hard for a compromise, free range farming.” He circled the room, easing the tension which urged him to give Connor a good shaking. “One step at a time, Connor, but humans forming social groups would be a step in the right direction.”
Although vampires moved quickly on a physical plane, on the conceptual one they lacked urgency. We are immortal and used to having all the time in the world to think things through. Pushing the crisis of human mortality to the fore was proving harder than he expected. But Connor’s next words pulled him back and reminded him that humans were actually their own worst enemy.
“Unless they have an egomaniac like Douglas in their midst.” Connor cast a jaundiced look at Julian. “Too many men and too few women will always make the scum rise to the top.” He suddenly grinned as the thought of Douglas’ doughy fleshed carcass buried in the woods brought him a flush of pleasure. “If it weren’t for the fact that the vampire who killed Douglas came close enough to Rebekah to leave his scent on her skin, my joy would be complete.”
Julian gave Connor a long ‘I’m doing my best, give me a break’ look.
“Okay, truce,” muttered Connor, “I have to leave Annabelle with you for another hour.” He chuckled when Julian glared. “Serge informed me the storage facility has some stage-two’s awaiting my attention.” Connor turned on his most sincere expression. “I told him I’d be only too happy to deal with the matter at once, if only to annoy the hell out of him.”
Connor rose from his seat and appeared abruptly in front of Julian. Cocking his head, he said, “And then, the mad motorcycle dash will commence.” Connor’s glance said, ‘You up for it?’.
Julian thumped him on the arm. “Remind me again, why on earth am I friends with you?”
From the other room, Emily heard the mumbling voices. The speech was too fast for her ears, but the animation and colorful tones of the interaction was unmistakable. She sank slowly downwards, until she sat huddled on the floor. She thought vampires were indifferent and sadistic, but she knew better now.
An emotional kaleidoscope of expressions passed over her face, beginning with the tightness of dread, softening to hope and swinging back to horror, again. “I’m here to destroy them. Oh God.” Emily dug her nails into clenched hands. Staying still was hard as each thought chased another around the circuit. “Him, really, Doctor Connor. And he has a woman, a human woman. So, he can’t be a monster.” Emily wrapped her arms around her middle, cradling her stomach as envy settled like hot coals inside her. “How would that feel, to be his woman?” she whispered.
Chapter 5
Storage Facility Eight was a stark name which suited the colossal gray granite structure positioned on the bank of the River Thames. It overlooked the estuary like a vulture perched in a concrete nest. The walls glistened in the moonlight as the crashing waves of high tide cascaded up the edifice. Connor sighed, pulled up the collar of his greatcoat and resigned himself to a drenching.
Councilor Serge’s prod to make Connor visit today to pronounce vampire deaths was far from urgent. He was merely flexing his muscles as a councilor. After all, he has precious little of those on his bony body. Connor grinned at his own joke.
Vampires in stage-one were immobilized by muscle relaxant and restraints, and they would pass, without Connor’s assistant on to stage-two within twenty four hours. Connor was reminded of the quote ‘abandon hope all ye who enter here’, because that most accurately described the purpose of this facility. You crossed Principal Julian at your peril. He is not inclined towards weakness.
Those vampires in stage-two could be maintained in the state of locked-in syndrome for many decades. A daily dose of blood, syringed into nose or mouth, fed them with just enough to retain brain function. It meant, although trapped inside a concrete body, the condemned spent every second considering their crimes in full.
Connor’s routine visit was due, but the timetabling of it was never written in stone. Not unless I’m preparing The Butcher for his annual outing. He had his uses, as the ultimate deterrent which ensured others toed the vampire council’s line. The Butcher’s killing rampage was brought to an end by his internment in a mausoleum in London’s Kensal Green Cemetery in 1919. When vampires became the dominant species, he was brought out of the anonymity, to become the very first inmate in the purpose-built vampire penitentiary. More than ninety years, and Julian is still not inclined to deliver him from his suffering. Connor shook his head, reminding himself to stay on his friend’s good side.
Most are sent here by Julian through sentencing at the council and the remainder are medical emergencies beyond saving. So, my hand is here, too. Connor had pretended to be irritated at Serge’s patronizing reminder, as would be expected, but once he conceded, with sugar sweet compliance, he wasted no time in getting there.
He entered the large gray airless building. It reminded him of the stale musk of the Egyptian pyramids, filled with the heavy heat which made him sweat when he was human. The steel lined door closed with barely a whisper behind him, plunging him into unrelenting darkness.
Connor closed his eyes, and channeled his keen sense of hearing. When the change in the echo of his footfall told him he had arrived in the reception chamber, he stopped walking and unhooked a flashlight from an alcove carved into the wall.
He flipped the switch and the token infusion of a weak amber beam lifted black shadow to crystal clear vampire vision. The blurred arc of light pushed feebly at the darkness and a warden instantly stepped forward. It is like a tomb. The stillness of each warden resembled a stone effigy, and their charges were unable to move.
“Doctor Connor,” said the warden, his dusty vocal chords creaking from disuse.
“Warden James.” Connor nodded encouragingly as a frown etched lines into the vampire’s middle aged face. Warden James took his responsibilities seriously, and Connor liked that about him. “Is there a problem?”
“Not a problem, just something I’ve not encountered before.” The warden stroked a thoughtful hand over his chin, and a musty odor enveloped him as he disturbed the dust from his clothes.
“How many stages of graveling am I here to diagnose?” Being direct was expected.
“We have nine inmates in the stage-one chamber. They have been starved of blood, and their tissue has begun to harden, but for three, the graveling is slow.” The warden registered Connor’s inquiring glance. “Like gelatine hardening in jelly, they remain... well, soft.”
“Let’s take a look.”
Connor set off at a brisk walk, the torch swinging in time with his footfall. He knew the way, and within minutes, he was surveying the row of inmates. Each vampire resided inside a container resembling a steel funerary box, and metal restraints secured the bodies, although they were essentially comatose.
Connor moved along the line, stopping at each open coffin shell, reaching in to prod their muscles, peel back sticky eyelids, stare into blown pupils, and bark his verdict at the warden.
“Here are the three soft ones,” the warden said urgently.
Connor pressed firmly on the first inmate’s shoulder, and this time, the surface moved like the skin on a rice pudding. It’s not a pleasant way to go. As fluid loss approaches crisis point, muscles become spastic, skin shrivels, vision fades, and delirium sets in. Once the fluid loss exceeds fifteen percent it’s irreversible.
“How long have you had them? I can’t smell the muscle relaxant,” Connor said. A condemned vampire was given no chance to fight back.
“Almost three days.” The warden flipped the catch on a steel band so Connor could bare the chest.
Connor pinched the skin on the sternum. “They should be about thirty percent desiccated by now.” He levered the jaw open, leaned in to sample the breath that drifted into the air, and then looked up at the warden. “Their last meal was human blood. That slows down the dehydration process initially.” As he walked away, he said, “
You can move them down to stage-two in eight hours.”
They had hung onto the golden hours of stage-one for a little longer, but they had passed the crucial fifteen percent threshold, and there would be no going back. Not even the drastic measure of a one-hundred-percent human blood infusion would help them now. And with human blood being so precious, no vampire was worth that.
Connor’s pronouncements moved the vampires down through the levels of the storage facility, where the humane crushing of their skull was the final act. But, only after they had served sentences extending into decades would they earn that release.
“Any at stage-three to witness?” Connor hoped not, witnessing the crushing of skulls took time he would rather not spend today.
“Five,” said the warden.
“Let’s go.” Connor suppressed a sigh. He had no choice, being the doctor of record. For him, ordering skull crushes would never be routine, even though they represented an end to suffering. Julian will have to cope with Annabelle’s presence awhile longer.
“Has The Butcher been fed today?” asked Connor.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. He’s still with us and fully aware?”
“Of course, Doctor Connor. Principal Julian’s sentence has another fifty years to run. I take very good care of him, especially since we lost Vampire Vlad to insanity.”
Connor nodded decisively. “I know that you do.”
Getting the dosage right was crucial, and Connor sometimes chose to deliver it himself, inserting the syringe needle between The Butcher’s dried cracked lips and administering a precisely measured ten milliliter ration of blood. The blood would pool in his throat and wick quickly up the dried-out carotid arteries to spread insidiously through the straw-like texture of his brain, and, in witnessing the flash of excitement in his eyes, Connor knew The Butcher still suffered. That was what Principal Julian’s sentence demanded.
SURVIVAL (Fire & Ice Book 2) Page 6
