SURVIVAL

by Karen Payton Holt

  He adjusted Rebekah’s weight, and his baby kicked him in the ribs, hard, as it shifted inside the ever restricting space of her abdomen. The baby’s big. Connor spanned his palm over the saturated fabric of her dress and calculated the size of the bump stretching her skin tight. Six pounds and growing fast. “I don’t know how long we have left, buddy, before you break a few ribs,” Connor murmured in a low vibration for his ears only. Staying close to the hospital is the right decision.

  As Oscar’s footsteps thundered along the tunnel and across the dining cavern, Connor lifted an eyebrow at Leizle. “Uh-oh, we’re in trouble, now,” he said in a theatrical whisper with ‘yikes’ written on his face.

  Leizle looked around at the devastation, some of which had been her doing when she panicked and hurtled around the kitchen. She laughed ruefully, “You’re not kidding, big trouble.”

  Oscar stepped over the threshold and skidded to a halt like a train hitting the end-stop on the siding. He was sweating and his chest heaved from the exertion of running. His wet shirt sleeves were dripping, and he automatically resumed wiping the soap bubbles from his big hands. A frown disguised his concern as he took in Rebekah’s blood soaked appearance and Connor’s calm control.

  “Cut yourself shaving, lad?” His eyes skirted his domain and his mouth sucked lemons as he added, “Guess we’re having liver and onions, without the liver then?”

  Connor grinned sheepishly.

  Oscar mopped his face with the damp towel and stepped aside. “The bath tub is filled and ready to go. I guess the laundry will wait.” He looked at Rebekah’s blood streaked skin and jerked his head. “Off you go. Me and Leizle will clean this lot up.”

  Connor’s eyes were drawn to Rebekah’s blood smeared face as her head dropped back onto his shoulder. Absorbed in her rapt expression, searching her hooded gaze, he penetrated the fathom deep pools, and the molten currents of her contentment warmed him. Her intoxication was tangible, settling a somnolent mood of relaxation over her.

  But not so, for the baby. The vibration of tiny teeth grinding together resonated through Connor’s chest like the arcing of electricity. The drip feeding of the umbilical cord is whetting its appetite. How long have I got? Connor’s grim thoughts painted pain across his face as his lips tightened and his nostrils flared.

  Attracting Leizle’s attention, Oscar raised a skeptical brow. “Well, lassie?”

  She blushed at the mess scattered at her feet. “I’ll help clean up,” she muttered, and moved away, reaching down to pick a pan up from the floor.

  Oscar waited until she was making her way across the tiles, concentrating on gathering the utensils scattered far and wide, before turning his attention to Connor.

  He inspected the grim stone-hard features and asked, “So, tell me. First, raw liver, what’s next?”

  The mask cracked, and for a moment Connor’s uncertainty broke through. “I don’t know. We’ve never been here before.”

  “But you have a plan, right?” Oscar’s voice was the low breath of a prayer.

  Connor’s gaze sharpened as he said, “This is the final stage, and she cannot be on her own. I may need to act fast. If things go bad, can I rely on you to get yourself and Leizle to the safety of the other eco-town?”

  “Go bad? What the hell does that mean?” Oscar stared Connor down. “She’s not going to die?”

  “Trust me, Oscar. I may need to take drastic measures, but I won’t let her die.” Connor’s eyes drifted to Rebekah’s relaxed features. “You have my word.” Suddenly the smell of the blood caked over his body, dragging talons of thirst through his dry throat, became the nightmare of her blood. Connor’s muscles jerked as the thought tore through him, and only movement could relieve the pain inside.

  Oscar grunted. “Go and get her cleaned up. We’re all in the dark, but, I have your word?”

  Connor nodded and left the kitchen. Walking quickly down the tunnel to the laundry cavern, his preternatural stride absorbed the rocking motion of his movement.

  A spring water well served the cavern. A generator heated the water which ran through the network of copper pipes, and as Connor walked past, he pulled two towels from the folded pile and draped them over a heated water pipe running along the wall. They heated the room efficiently, which made sense of giving it the dual purpose of a bathing area as well as a laundry.

  The still surface of the water in the Jacuzzi-sized tub reflected their image like a mirror. As Connor moved to the edge his thigh brushed over Rebekah’s blood soaked dress, and the water stirred as scattered droplets floated like red rose petals for a moment, before melting away into the crystal depths.

  Lowering them both into the pool, he uncoiled the movement in a silky smooth descent. The water saturated his pants and snatched at the cotton of Rebekah’s dress. The blood swirled in crimson-colored strands before billowing in pink clouds as the warm current stroked over his skin.

  The water lapped at Connor’s chest as he subsided into a sitting position and held Rebekah close. The rising tide made her shiver. Lifting her blood-soaked dress away, he gently turned her to face him and settled her onto his lap. Peeling off his shirt, he tore away a square of wet fabric and immersed himself in the task of stroking it over her somnolent features.

  As the streaks of dried blood melted from the ivory skin of her shoulders, he dipped his chin to kiss them. Wrapping her in his arms, he cradled her to him, and, resting her head upon his shoulder. He was content to stay.

  He detected the moment when the electrical activity in her brain subsided into a hum. He knew she was asleep and could not hear him. But still, saying the words out loud will be a relief. “I don’t know where this will end, honey, I just know that this blood thirst is only the beginning, and we should be worried.” I can’t do this alone.

  He savored the feeling of his skin on hers. The caressing current of water cooled her fevered flesh and warmed his, but the bath was cooling fast. Reluctantly, he rose, and, with easy grace, stepped up out of the pool. Tugging the warmed towels from the pipe, he swaddled one around her and fashioned a turban for her wet hair with the other.

  Back in her cavern, he sat her on the edge of the bed, drowsy and compliant, as he dressed her in cotton pyjamas. While his body still retained heat, he laid out and held her against his chest until the feathered strands of her hair dried.

  She was deeply asleep when he took up his vigil. The bath calmed the baby, which is good. Connor lay on his side with her body tucked into his. Hitching up onto his elbow, he could watch every nuance of her face. His fingers spanned her swollen stomach as he gauged the mood of his child.

  His thoughts turned to Julian and the descending guardsmen. The next few days are crucial. If I have to get her into theater, I’ll do whatever I have to do.

  Chapter 22

  The silence in the full gallery of the courtroom was charged with anticipation. Julian called the court into session, and Sebastian entered the dock to enjoy his fifteen minutes of fame. Julian took one look at the glint in the vampire’s good eye and knew which side the tossed coin of fortune had landed.

  Make the most of it, Sebastian. It will be all you’ll ever have. Julian opened the proceedings. “You have remembered the location of the nest? I understand from Councilor Serge that you were confused for a while.” Julian’s intent bored into Sebastian, the message clear; your life hangs on this moment, think carefully.

  Sebastian closed his eyes and massaged his eye sockets.

  Julian could imagine the rainbow-colored explosion inside his head as the optic nerve compressed. Although, I guess half of the light show is missing for him.

  “Are you ready?” Alexander broke the silence, the rustle of fidgeting fabric welcoming his words, a sure sign the rows of vampires in the gallery grew tired of waiting.

  Sebastian eyes snapped open and his hazel-tinted spite strobed into Julian’s mind. “Yes, I am ready. The nest is thirty five miles from this spot.” Sebastian pointed in a southeasterly directi
on off to his right, although his eye remained locked on Julian.

  Julian’s lips compressed at the carelessly pointed finger. Sebastian gave it no thought, but Julian, even after two hundred years found moments to marvel at it. Vampire sense of direction is unerring. The low body temperature congealed blood, and the accumulation of iron deposits in their sinuses intensified the earth’s magnetic field. They were homing pigeons in human form, and Sebastian’s finger was as accurate as a compass needle. One hundred and twenty four degrees, four minutes, twelve seconds South East. Spot on.

  “Head out through Swanley and follow the old M20 for ten miles. Turn east through the woodlands for two point seven miles, until you reach a glade of silver birch trees...”

  Julian silenced him with an upheld hand. “Sebastian, remember where you are. The location is to be divulged only to the guardsmen.” Julian bared his teeth. “You know that.”

  “I am happy to lead the guardsmen there myself.” Sebastian smiled.

  “That will not be necessary. You lack the status with this court to lead the guardsmen.” Julian twisted the knife.

  Fearing he was losing control, Serge got quickly to his feet. “I presented this petition. It is my place to lead the guard. Protocol demands it.”

  Serge is right, protocol allows him to take command. Julian smiled. “And are you willing to die if Sebastian is wrong? Fall on your sword, so to speak?”

  Serge’s body jittered. “The council can’t demand that of me, Principal Julian.”

  “I can, Councilor Serge, and, in this case, I will.” My one consolation to this performance is that glory has a flip side. Serge could be sentenced to locked-in syndrome for wasting the guardsmen’s time. And Sebastian, of course, will follow him.

  Ignoring his stunned expression as Serge sank back into his seat, Julian’s attention shifted to Sebastian. “You will go with Captain Laurence to the guardroom, and to him alone, you will reveal the whereabouts of the human nest.” Julian’s tone warned Sebastian that there was no coming back from this.

  Serge stood up again.

  “Councilor Serge?” said Julian.

  “I should be there with Sebastian, Principal Julian.”

  Julian’s jaw ticked. He could not think of a reason to deny Serge’s request. “Very well.”

  Sebastian left the dock to follow the captain of the guard out of the courtroom, and Julian caught the gloating glance from Sebastian’s jaundiced eye in his peripheral vision. Connor will need me there to deflect summary execution. He has broken out of a storage facility. The guardsmen will deliver the death penalty, there and then. No hearing, required. Although I’d like to see them try.

  As the door swung closed behind Sebastian, Julian intoned, “Court adjourned.”

  Twenty seconds later, he stood at the mantelpiece in the jurors’ anteroom staring into space. Waiting for the Captain’s report was a low point for Julian. He couldn’t show his hand and make a case to the juror’s until the coordinates were known, and so, he adopted a pose as outwardly lifeless as those of Marius and Alexander, despite his churning gut.

  The knock upon the door reanimated the gathering, and Julian said, “Come.”

  A tall vampire entered and inclined his head. “Principal Julian.”

  “Captain Laurence.” Julian’s brow raised in invitation.

  “We have the coordinates.” The captain strode across the room and handed over a folded piece of paper. “They have been memorized by the platoon.”

  He wore the olive-green greatcoat of the council guardsmen uniform, and his jet-black hair and strong jaw put Julian in mind of Connor. He had been captain of the guard for almost three decades, and a moment of regret crossed Julian’s thoughts. If Connor has confrontation in mind, I hope Captain Laurence is not the heroic type.

  Julian took the piece of paper. “I see no reason to delay further. If Councilor Serge is ready?”

  The captain’s lip curled in distaste, and Julian smothered his amusement by checking his watch. “If you deploy at oh-two-hundred, we’ll have six hours before daylight.”

  “Yes Sir.” The captain executed a precise turn, glided swiftly out of the room, and closed the door behind him.

  Julian waited out the fifteen minutes until two o’clock in silence. He felt the eddying currents whisking through the space beneath the closed door as the twelve guardsmen ‘fell in’ and began their whispered flight along the corridor. The subtle drop in room temperature signaled the opening of the front doors of the building which would precede the platoon filing out over the threshold.

  Each of the guardsmen had been turned at aged twenty six, when at the physical peak of human fitness. They were vampire shells who enjoyed the physicality of the fight. Their free will had been scooped out and replaced with an illusion of status. They do as they are told. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Serge’s shuffling footfall was a long way back, and Julian grinned as he imagined the feeble form chasing along behind. The guardsmen were impressive when in full flight. The fortunate thing about allowing only Serge to accompany them was that they would be cooling their heels while waiting for his arrival. It will give Connor a warning.

  It also gives me time to catch up with them. “Marius, Alexander, there is more to this.” Julian looked from one impassive face to the other. “I think we should be there.”

  “Even if that is true, why would a capture detail need our presence, Julian?” Marius’ expression was bored.

  Julian disguised his frustration. The guard would be hurtling through the night in formation, effortlessly eating up the distance. Connor will be expecting me there at the start. Urgency tugged at his muscles, and staying still required all his willpower.

  “Precisely, who is Sebastian? Does it not seem strange that he should find this nest so conveniently?” Julian glanced at Alexander. “If there is a nest, then they have remained hidden for fifteen years, surely they warrant our attention?”

  “I must admit to being intrigued.” Alexander finally roused himself. “To avoid detection for so long requires skill.”

  “You both know better than to trust Councilor Serge. I wish to see this ‘capture’ for myself.” Julian sensed he had their attention at last. “There is more to this, and I will be there to witness it.”

  He removed his principal’s cape and cravat and pulled on a long tailored coat. If Connor cannot move Rebekah, then discovery is inevitable. With the jurors present, I can negotiate a compromise. Surely, a hybrid pregnancy is a compelling reason for restraint.

  Julian’s resolve penetrated and Alexander said, “Very well, I will bear witness.”

  When Marius nodded in agreement, Julian contained his sigh of relief; showing emotion was not expected.

  He straightened his coat and crossed to the door. “Shall we, gentlemen? I’m keen to see Serge’s expression if Sebastian has played him false.” Julian stepped out into the corridor, and in a formation as tightly woven as the guardsmen, the three vampires headed out into the night.

  Julian enjoyed the liberty of movement, and easing his stride to full speed, his chest filled with exhilaration. He brushed away the discomfort at the thought of Leizle. Connor will make sure they are safe.

  <><><>

  Rebekah paced the floor of her cavern, and Connor, sitting on her bed, delivered a superb performance of relaxed contemplation. His hooded gray gaze trailed every step she took. Her heartbeat is strong and her sweat has her usual pheromone balance. After his charge through the woods, his relief at finding her safe, even though he hadn’t expected to find her drenched in blood, had long since worn off. Since she had woken up from her blood-lust stupor, she could not stop moving.

  Rebekah reached the cavern wall and huffed in irritation as she turned on her heel. She teetered for a moment before regaining her balance, and then walking forward again.

  Every muscle in Connor’s body remained primed and ready to catch her if she fell. He flexed his ribcage, flaring his nostrils and drawing in the br
eath she had released as he checked for the pear drop odor of high blood sugar. Okay, her pancreas is working fine and insulin levels are good.

  Reclining on the bed, Connor reached out a hand as a wince of pain tightened her face. “Hey honey. Come sit with me.” He waggled his eyebrows in suggestive enticement. “Just think of it. These ice cold fingers smoothing over your sweaty skin will cool you down in no time.” Connor wriggled the fingers in question in time with the eyebrows.

  “Sweaty? Gee thanks. You sweet-talker, you.” Rebekah smiled, but her eyes remained dull; the purple circles outlining her eye sockets were the color of coal dust.

  Connor rolled off the bed, circled the room to collect the arnica ointment and appeared behind Rebekah. Revival sleep flooded into his brain center, unwinding the tension in his muscles before, reaching out, he laid a gentle hand on her bump. He closed his eyes and tuned into the glittering array of the sparks of the baby’s nervous system. The baby’s agitated. His jaw clenched when Rebekah winced, and tension jerked through her as the baby jabbed an elbow into her kidney.

  “It’s a bit like having a prize-fighter in there, hmm? C’mon honey, lie down and I’ll massage some arnica ointment into those bruises.”

  “Okay. You win,” said Rebekah, glancing over her shoulder.

  Connor’s ready smile disguised his worries. The doctor inside him shuffled endlessly through the medical and surgical options which lay at his disposal. Pathetically few.

  Persuading Rebekah over to the bed, Connor made her comfortable with cushions at her back and exposed the taut skin of her stomach. His fingertips slipped over the purple patches mottling the satin of her skin, and the baby’s movement beneath his palms settled to a coiled stillness which made him frown. The wave of electrical activity in the small brain delivered a jolt of static through his palms as suddenly, with an audible slap, an explosion of movement inside her belly knocked his hand away. A bruise blossomed where the crushed capillaries bled out and resolved into a tiny footprint. Connor calculated the force needed to do that, and he stepped back with his hands in the air.