Life's Blood (Pulse Book 2) (PULSE Vampire Series)

by Kailin Gow

  She stopped. She had so long tried to initiate this kind of contact, so long been rebuffed – told to wait, for her own sake, that the idea that Octavius was neither pressuring her nor holding her back was refreshing. And yet it brought with it its own set of fears. For all that she and Jaegar had kissed – for all that she'd even nervously taken off her shirt and let him feel her breasts – they had never gone much further than that. Octavius must have had loads of women – all of whom knew exactly where to move, how to...

  “I've never done this before,” she said. “I mean – I don't really know – I don't want to do it wrong...”

  Octavius kissed her into silence. “You don't have to do anything,” he said, “but, I hope – relax. I want tonight to be about you, about what you want – only tell me...if this is what you want...”

  “Yes,” she said, without hesitation, and the night faded into a breathy silence.

  ***********

  When Kalina woke, she could not tell if it was morning. The apartment's windows were boarded shut, so that no light could seep in. She wrapped the blankets around herself, taking a moment to remember where she was. She felt Octavius’ arms curled around her and then it all came flooding back to her – the endless night, Octavius’ patience, his kindness, his skill...the way he had listened to her body – used their telepathic connection to feel what she felt, to enhance her pleasure, to unite the two of them in hours of exhausting joy.

  He had even, as the night wore on, and grew ever and ever more thrilling, allowed her to drink his blood; even now, that blood coursed through her.

  So, Kalina thought, this was all the fuss was about. And she hadn't even had to break the spell for it. She felt grateful, reminiscing, that she had waited – not entirely by choice – for this long. She and Aaron's fumblings beneath the bleachers were so insignificant compared to this skill, this connection.

  Octavius raised himself on one elbow. “Are you all right?” he asked her.

  She laughed and turned to face him. “I think that's a bit of an understatement.”

  “I didn't...hurt you, did I?”

  “Hurt me?” She laughed. “I'm more worried that I hurt you.” She motioned to the wound where she had sucked the blood from his wrist.

  “It will heal,” he said. “I am glad. I wouldn't have wanted – to take advantage...”

  She rolled over. “I'll take advantage of you right back, if it would make you feel any better.”

  “Well, perhaps it would even the score...”

  “It's only fair...”

  They began kissing again, and Kalina felt that same familiar flutter within her.

  Suddenly, there came a knock at the door – a horrible, familiar sound.

  Octavius stopped immediately. “Don't move,” he said. “Get a stake.” All joy had flooded out of him.

  He bounded into the living room; Kalina hurriedly put on a dressing gown, arming herself with two stakes...

  He stopped short. The voice seemed to fill her head; she could see Octavius wince, too, as if the voice were there as well.

  So, you think you can run away?

  Octavius put his hands to his ears; it did not good.

  I am stronger than your boyfriend, little girl. I don't need an invitation.

  Immediately Kalina felt a pounding, searing pain in her head, a screeching, high-pitched cackle that infected every part of her and reduced all her attack plans to nothingness. Her muscles relaxed unwillingly; her stakes tumbled to the floor.

  “No...” Octavius was whispering. He seemed to gain control for an instant. “No! Kalina – lock the bedroom door” He rushed forward, but it was too late. Kalina could see the door fly open – the last thing before she slammed her own door shut and bolted it. It would do no good here. The windows were boarded shut – she couldn't get through them in time...

  Kalina – I love you, remember that I love you...

  Little girl – come out! Unless you want your boyfriend's entrails for dinner.

  Don't listen to him – Kalina – stay there!

  It's no use. I'll have one of you – or I'll have both of you.

  Kalina screamed, against herself, as the pain of both voices battling in her brain became too much to bear.

  Stop it! Please, stop it....

  Don't let him in, Kalina, darling – please don't let him in...

  Open the door, little girl. Go on, open it. The guards are dead. That valet who bought you the pretty blue dress – dead. Do you want your boyfriend to die too?

  Kalina, don't.

  Her heart pounded. She knew, with dreadful certainty, that there was no way to fight him. He was too powerful, too deadly.

  “Kill yourself first,” Stuart had said once. “If defeat is certain.” But that couldn't be true. Kalina felt within her blood – now, after last night, more than ever – that it couldn't be that simple, that there was something in her that demanded to live, demanded to fight.

  And if it meant saving the man she loved, so be it. She had come to love Octavius with a fierce realization she didn’t think possible. They were connected by mind, body, and soul as though it was meant to be. That was how Octavius could dreamwalk with her. She was meant to love Octavius. She must not lose him.

  She opened the door.

  “I'm the one you want,” she said, and she could see Octavius’ face contort with anguish.

  Mal stood in the doorway. He was wearing no hood, now – she could see his face; thin like a wolf's, cruel, handsome once, but transformed into monstrosity by his cruelty, his rage. Even when Octavius had been her enemy, he had always seemed noble, straightforward. But Mal was not like that. His beauty had long since turned into ugliness, the way marble statues can be worn by rain and time until they resemble nothing so much as Medieval gargoyles.

  She was not a potential love. She was not a woman. She was only prey.

  And she was his.

  “Leave Octavius alone,” said Kalina. “And I will go willingly. If you hurt him, I die before you reach me.” She pointed the stake at her own heart.

  Mal smiled.

  Go to sleep, little girl.

  His smile was the last thing she saw before she hit the ground.

  Chapter 15

  Kalina woke in a darkened room. “Where am I...” she tried to mumble, but she found that her mouth made no sound; her throat was too parched. She was strapped down to a chair, a splintering wooden thing that ached against what she was sure were bruises she could not remember sustaining. She struggled against her bonds, but it was no use.

  She was alone.

  As Kalina's eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, she became gradually aware of her surroundings. There was almost no light – a single candle on a table had to suffice for the whole room. They were in some sort of basement – her sense of smell told her that almost as much as sight. There was mold and moss on the walls, a pungent mix, and she could hear the scurrying of rats around her and even – once, terrifyingly, - feel soft fur brush swiftly against her ankle.

  Her voice was returning to her, slowly. “Hello!” she called out. “Is anyone there?” As she remembered Mal's face – lean, vulpine, and cruel – she realized that she wasn't so sure she wanted an answer.

  Nothing could have seemed further from her now than the soft luxury of the week before – when she had slowly fallen in love with Octavius, with his bravery in Rome and his kindness in Paris, when she had let him kiss her in the shadow of the Castel Sant'Angelo and then at last, deliriously, deliciously succumbed to her desire in the little flat on Rue Duroc. She longed for Octavius’ arms around her now, that tight embrace that made her feel so safe, but could feel only the harsh, cold dungeon air on her arms.

  Octavius? Can you hear me?

  There was no answer. With a sickening jolt she remembered Octavius as she had last seen him, his eyes pleading with her not to surrender, covered in blood. Had she been a fool, to give herself up to Mal? Had he killed Octavius anyway? She knew there had bee
n no choice – Octavius would have been killed anyway; Mal would have broken down the door – it was a hopeless fight...had Mal, at least, in his rush to ferry Kalina away, forgotten about the vampire he had just beaten?

  Octavius? Her silent voice nevertheless raised into a scream that almost escaped her lips. Octavius, please...

  Was he dead? Or had Mal merely put a block on her powers.

  She tried the only other vampire she could think of with whom she had exchanged a telepathic connection.

  Jaegar?

  No response.

  She considered. On the one hand, it meant that Octavius wasn't necessarily dead – unless Jaegar, too, had succumbed... on the other hand, it meant that wherever she was, nobody could hear her, not even telepathically. That meant that there was nobody to hear you scream.

  Kalina.

  She started with a jolt, listening again for the voice.

  Kalina.

  No, this wasn't Octavius – this wasn't Jaegar. This voice was harder, colder, crueler...this was Mal's voice.

  Hello, little girl.

  The door to the dungeon swung open, and Kalina could see Mal's thin, cloaked figure gliding towards her.

  “Let me look at you.” His voice was aloud now.

  “Octavius!” she cried. “What have you done with Octavius?”

  “It's none of your concern.” He leered at her. “Now, to decide what is to be done with you. Are you worth more to me – or to others? All at once...or in pieces?”

  “You can't do this!”

  “You're blood, little girl. Pretty blood, but blood nonetheless. And I know plenty of vampires who would pay ten times what Octavius was willing to part with to have you in their veins.”

  He came in close; his breath stank of death.

  “Not the first Carrier I've tasted,” said Mal. “But certainly the freshest.” He sniffed. “Yes – a virgin. But...not quite. Most Carriers taste pure and sweet. You smell different – more sensual.” He flashed yellowing fangs at her. “What sort of naughty things have you been up to, little girl?”

  She spat in his face. “None of your business.” But against herself, her mind flashed back to last night – to Octavius, his eyes, his touch, his mouth...

  “I see!” Mal had heard her thoughts. “How very...scandalous. All the same, your Life's Blood is pure. I can smell it. But what an...interesting bouquet. And what an interesting night you've had.”

  Kalina tried to think of something – anything – else to deflect Mal's telepathy. But in spite of herself, her thoughts kept returning to the very things she tried not to think about: Jaegar, Stuart, Aaron, Maeve, Justin – Octavius! - those she loved...

  “Poor girl,” said Mal. “Now, be good blood – lie still – and I might just forget about your friends. Or I might kill them for fun. But they all have a better chance if you do exactly - as – I – say. Now, hold still. This will hurt.”

  Kalina screamed as she felt a hypodermic needle enter her arm. She winced as she saw the tube attached to it, fitted into a vial on the other end, her blood filling the void.

  “Each one of these would fetch a fortune,” said Mal. “More than you as a whole – it'll start a bidding war. Once one vamp tastes you, even a bit, the others will have to pay a premium to keep up...”

  He jammed another needle into her arm. “Of course, I only regret I can't have you all to myself. But I've sucked so many Carriers in my time...”

  These Carriers had done what Stuart had warned Kalina she would do if she were ever drunk from unwillingly. They had made him as powerful and evil as any vampire she could ever have imagined in her worst nightmares.

  “What do you want?” Kalina's voice was shaking; she already knew the answer. She screamed as he put in one more needle, this time in her upper thigh.

  Three vials of blood were quickly filled.

  “That's enough for now,” said Mal, yanking out the needles with callous nonchalance. He put the vials on the table.

  “Oh, dear.” He smiled. “You're wounded. Let me kiss it better.”

  She shuddered as he let his tongue trace the wound at her thigh, lapping up the few remaining droplets of blood at the wound. He licked her again at both arm-wounds; she felt his fangs brush against her skin and wondered, shivering, if he would lose control...

  “Delicious,” he licked his lips. “Fear not, girl. I can hold back. I told you – I know Carriers. I've had them before.”

  He sat, letting the effect of her blood take hold. He grinned, and she could see his face become in the candlelight even crueler and more monstrous than it had been before.

  “It didn't have to be this way, you know,” said Mal. “The last Carrier – I gave her a chance. I wanted her – she could have loved me, you know. Loved me and given me all the power she held in that pretty little throat. Tess – we called her Tess – La Contessa di Ischiatana. This must have been, what, five hundred years ago?” He laughed and jabbed another needle into Kalina's arm, squeezing it tightly to make the blood flow faster. “I wanted her so...badly. But she refused me. She wanted another – a stupid prat of a vampire who only wanted her blood to turn into a human again! Can you imagine?” He laughed and dug the needle in deeper. Kalina bit back another scream, her teeth sinking deeply into her lower lips.

  He stopped. “You've cut your lip,” he said. He leaned in, licking up the offending droplet from her mouth.

  “No – poor Tess wouldn't have me. So I showed her! I sucked her dry. She would have loved me – she loved me – she wanted me – I know she wanted me...” He shuddered as this second dose of Kalina's blood took hold. “Left her for dead. So high off her blood I didn't think to make sure her heart had stopped – I just wanted to expend all that energy! Find women, men, victims, partners ...feeders...but the bitch lived. Married her prat – made him human. Hid from me – living in Vatican City (for her uncle was a Borgia Pope!) - thought the Carrier line was too good for me! Well, I'll tell you. I showed her. Not three hundred years later I drained Johanna dry – God, was she good. But you! Oh, you, little girl – taste so much better. Must be all the fun you had last night.”

  She concentrated telepathically.

  Go to hell.

  He reeled back, surprised, before his face crinkled with amusement. He slapped her straight across the face; she whimpered.

  He laughed a deep crazed laugh that sent shivers through Kalina's body. She thought again about Stuart, about Jaegar and Aaron. Is this what would have happened to them – if they had drunk from her, if she did not truly love them? Is this the fate she would have subjected them to?

  She almost felt sorry for Mal, even as she feared him.

  So, this was the end, she thought, trying to stay calm, stay brave... She was only glad that she had been able to keep the Greystone brothers from this fate.

  Octavius – she called out. If you can hear me...please remember – I love you.

  Mal laughed. “He can't hear you, little girl. And even if he could, there's nothing he can do.”

  His laughter echoed through the dungeon. Kalina closed her eyes, feeling another needle jab into her, and started to pray.

  Chapter 16

  The hours that followed were the most difficult hours in Kalina's life. Mal continued to toy with her – withdrawing vials of her blood at a time, giving her only brief periods of respite in which she could regain strength, lest she lose too much blood right away and die. He also, Kalina felt, wanted to keep her alive as long as possible for other reasons – he seemed to enjoy taunting her in her distress, and even when he left her alone for endless, horrible hours, he remained in her head – reminding her of what was to come, of the taste of her blood...

  She tried to struggle against her bonds, but it was to no avail. It was clear that Mal was far more powerful than any normal vampire, and the droplets of her blood he had consumed had only made him stronger still. At last she realized, with terrible certainty, that there was nothing left to do but wait and pray, with the end draw
ing ever nearer.

  Octavius – she kept calling, fruitlessly, through the waves of her brain. Please, if you're out there – come find me.

  And the silence, and Mal's laughter, echoed through her brain.

  Kalina was exhausted. Mal's procedures had left her pale and drained, her energy sapping with her blood loss. Mal had come and gone again two more times, leaving her sweating and gasping, still bleeding from the puncture wounds.

  And then she heard the voice.

  Kalina, are you alive?

  She gasped.

  Yes.

  Where are you? It was Octavius – unmistakable, now. Her heart leaped, forcing her reduced blood through her body.

  I don't know.

  Mal knows.

  So, Octavius wanted her to enter Mal's brain, to use their telepathic connection against him. She concentrated harder, trying to picture Mal, to enter his mind the same way she had called to Octavius. All she could see was her own terror – her shame – Mal's horrible flickering smile and the way he looked into her mind, the way he fed upon her fears.

  I can't. She was too weak, too afraid, and so ashamed of her fears.

  You must.

  Octavius’ voice gave her courage. She concentrated again, trying to connect with Mal's brainwaves. She saw herself, lying strapped onto the chair – saw Mal's evil, his cruelty, his anger, his pain; felt his pain wash over her, until she was feeling what he was feeling, feasting on her own blood, letting Mal's agonizing monstrosity overtake her.

  And then she saw what Mal saw.

  We're near the river, she said. We're still in Paris. We're by the Pont Neuf.

  She gasped.

  Oh my God – Octavius – I'm in the Library.

  Mal's memories, Mal's images came flooding into her.

  Illyria – the mermaid – she's in league with Mal, selling him my blood – she's the one who ratted us out, she's the traitor...

  She withdrew from Mal's mind as quickly as she could.