by C. Gockel
“Come come,” Arcadian said, his mood shifting toward exasperation. “Don’t waste the opportunity. Examine the wound. Perhaps I used a trick knife. Best you check, don’t you think?”
Elliot looked to Peter and Chani for their reactions. Peter raised his drink in salute, and Chani smiled encouragement. He approached Morgan uncertainly, and bent to examine the injury. He touched the knife feeling it vibrate with each breath the man took.
“Does it hurt?”
Peter snorted and Chani tittered.
“Of course it bloody hurts,” Morgan said in disgust, and glared at Arcadian. “I’d pull it out, but I think he wants you to do it.”
Arcadian nodded. “I want him to be sure there is no trickery.”
He shook his head. There wasn’t much blood for such an obviously deep and fatal wound, but the knife was plugging it. “We should call an ambulance.”
“Oh for Danu’s sake,” Peter said, moving to take charge.
“No,” Arcadian said softly, and Peter froze. “Let him do it. Please proceed with your investigation, Professor. Don’t take all night. Poor Morgan looks uncomfortable.”
Morgan grimaced and rolled his eyes at Elliot. “He likes his little jests.”
Elliot was shaking, but he gripped the hilt of the knife and pulled. Morgan grunted as the knife grated on his sternum, and a trickle of blood escaped his lips.
Morgan took a deep breath as the blade came free. “Thank you, that feels much better.” He used a handkerchief to clean the blood from his chin and dabbed futilely at his sodden shirt. “Disgusting stuff, blood. I’ll never get the stain out.”
Elliot held the bloody dagger and stared. “May I see?”
“Might as well see the entire show,” Morgan said opening his shirt. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Peter did this last time. I didn’t know it would hurt as much as it did.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. The gaping wound in Morgan’s chest was bleeding heavily, but it wasn’t pumping the blood out of him. He reached to touch it, but glanced up at the last moment for permission. Morgan nodded to go ahead, and Elliot fingered the edges of the wound. It was no trick. The knife was an inch wide and had penetrated Morgan’s chest for its entire length—about four inches. It had done massive damage. By rights the man should be dead. Not only wasn’t he dead, there wasn’t really that much blood. It was messy, and Morgan’s shirt was sodden with it now, but for this kind of wound it should be gushing.
He swallowed as the wound slowly closed before his eyes. It was already half as wide as it had been. He knew what Arcadian’s so-called cure had to be, and it was evil.
“You’re a vampire. I should have known it was all a trick. Vampirism as a cure for my daughter... you have a sick sense of humour.”
“I’m a man, not a vampire,” Morgan said but then cocked his head. “Well, a man with a little something extra, courtesy of the Arcadian.”
“How are you responsible for his healing?” Elliot said.
Arcadian reached to relieve him of the knife, and he didn’t resist. He held up the knife then slowly pushed it through the palm of his own hand. He held the hand out for inspection then pulled the knife out. A small puddle of blood welled up in his cupped palm, but then it seemed to evaporate. It hadn’t of course. It had simply been absorbed via the wound back into his body. The wound closed and faded. It was gone in seconds.
“Please take your seat, Professor, and I will explain what this means to you and your daughter.”
Elliot collapsed onto the sofa.
Arcadian put aside the bloody knife. “I am what you would call a vampire and my birth people would call a revenant. It doesn’t matter what term is used, they mean the same thing. Basically, I am immortal.”
Elliot couldn’t let that stand. “Vampires are already dead and can therefore not be called truly immortal. Stasis is not immortality.”
Arcadian scowled. “Semantics. I had hoped for better from you. Some would have you believe vampires are not alive. I ask you, do I look dead?”
Elliot turned to Chani and Peter. “Both of you as well?”
“Afraid so old chum,” Peter said and Chani nodded.
“And you?”
Morgan shook his head. “I’m something else.”
“He is my human servant,” Arcadian explained. “He’s my friend, my confidant, my aide if you will. He’s a man who will not age. Neither will he die unless I do. Even by your narrow definition of such things, Morgan is immortal.”
Morgan might be immortal by Arcadian’s definition, but was he even human? He had no data to prove things either way, but he did have past research of shifters to guide him. Like Morgan, shifters began life as humans but they underwent huge physiological changes when infected by lycanthropy; their DNA itself rewritten by the virus. Vampire wannabes underwent similar changes when they submitted to the blood exchange and infected themselves with the vampire virus. That was fine and proven data, but what of a vampire’s human servant? Was Morgan still human on a biological level? How could he know? He needed to get the man into his lab for tests.
Assuming for the moment Susan could become what Morgan was, she would be trapped forever unchanging in her twenties. No bad thing some might say, but what of the other side effects? What about daylight, and drinking blood? Did Morgan need to drink blood the way vampires did to survive? What of the soul and children? What about that? He frowned as all the old legends and stories of vampires and their servants crowded into his brain.
“Is Morgan immune to disease like you?”
Arcadian cocked his head. “Yes. Morgan is immune because I am. It has never come up, but I suspect that should some new plague strike me, he would also be infected through our bond.”
Elliot’s heart sank. “There is a bond?”
“When Morgan hurts, I hurt and vice versa. We are linked via the blood bond. When I stabbed him, I felt his pain.”
He might have felt Morgan’s pain, but he wasn’t actually injured. There was no blood on Arcadian’s shirt. “Let’s be clear. You’re saying that if Susan becomes like Morgan she will be cured?”
Arcadian inclined his head in assent. “She would be cured.”
“What about the side effects?” he said and giggled. “Vampirism is one hell of a side effect!”
“Calm yourself.”
“Easy for you to say,” Elliot said not feeling like himself at all. He felt on the edge of something both scary and momentous. “How was Morgan… how did he…”
“How was Morgan made?” Arcadian offered and Elliot nodded. “As always, the secret is in the blood. We know how it works, but we don’t know why. No one does.”
“That’s what you want isn’t it? Your research is to learn why it works?”
“The exact opposite I’m afraid,” Chani said. “The project was created to learn why it doesn’t work. Making another vampire is chancy. If I were to infect you right this minute using my blood, you would have a two in ten chance of surviving it and making the transformation, but it doesn’t end there. I might infect your daughter and kill her, or she might have a six in ten chance of pulling through. There seems no logic behind why it works sometimes and not others.”
“It is mere chance then?”
“Not quite that bad. We’ve learned that certain techniques will increase the probability of a successful transformation. Repeated feedings upon a subject leading up to his infection and death will double his chances of being turned.”
Peter butted in. “That’s another thing I’ve never understood. Why does it take three days for some of us to come back, and others weeks? Why do some of us die and stay dead? Why did you die and bounce back before we could even arrange for somewhere to lay you out?”
Elliot blinked.
Chani noticed his confusion. “My turning was unusual. I died as we all must, but was back on my feet transformed in a heartbeat. We don’t know why. We don’t know why the blood bond works either, or how for that matter, but it
does. We aren’t just strong humans. We look human, but we’re not. Science can’t explain this for instance.”
Elliot reared back in surprise when Chani’s face changed into one of a stranger and then back. He looked up at Peter in time to see him turn into Blake and back.
“Goddess bless. I’ve heard of vampire mind tricks but never thought to experience them.”
Arcadian chuckled. “No trick I assure you. It is true magic, or glamour if you want to get technical. All of us can do it to one degree or another.”
“The stories?”
“Are true up to a point. Not all of them, but enough to serve.”
“I always thought the Shadow was cool,” Peter said and wiggled his fingers like a magician. “Clouding men’s minds you know?”
He nodded calmly but felt chilled by this development. If they could cloud his mind and make him see things, how could he ever be sure of anything they told him?
“What about Morgan?”
“I can’t do anything like that. I’m physically tougher but that’s it.”
“Blood, sunlight?”
“I wouldn’t be a very good aide if I couldn’t go about in the day time. I eat and drink in the human way, though I could abstain for longer than a normal human if push came to shove. I don’t drink blood,” Morgan made a face. “Nasty stuff.”
“You get used to it,” Chani said with a smile.
“Hypothetically speaking, let’s assume I say yes to working for you and that Susan is agreeable to becoming what Morgan is, how would that work?”
Chani answered. “One of us, me probably as I do not currently have a servant, would bond with Susan. She would agree to let me feed from her, and then later she would take blood from me. It may only take one feeding, but three is the usual method. She will become like Morgan shortly after that. For this to happen, you both have to agree to live and work here with your colleagues. You will have no outside contact for an indefinite time, and will work for us as we direct. You will not discuss any of this with anyone.”
“I can’t agree to an indefinite time. Your research may never be realised. I would be signing the rest of my life over to your project.”
Arcadian nodded. “Let us say a minimum of two years with options for renewal of the contract.”
Elliot nodded slowly. “I need to speak with Susan. I can’t go ahead unless she agrees.”
“Excellent! I’m sure she will agree, Professor.” Arcadian smiled slowly. “I’m certain of it in fact.”
2
Lephmann
“Am I boring you, Doctor Lephmann?”
David frowned at the mockery. “Not at all. I was considering your choice of subject. I don’t know about you gentleman,” he surveyed the others, “But talk of this nature… troubles me.”
Jan nodded her agreement, but it was already obvious that the others agreed with Hoberman. A cynical man might think to charge them with toadying—and be right. Doctor Hoberman was senior to them all and he was in tight with those that mattered. Jan was relatively new in her position, just as David himself was. Both of them were still on the outside looking in. He hadn’t been able to make friends with Hoberman’s little clique, and if he were honest with himself, he didn’t want to. He saw the wall growing ever higher between him and the others every time he opened his mouth, but it was not in him to keep silent when he heard such bigoted trash expressed by professional and well respected men. They should know better. Opinions voiced in private were one thing, though the smell of such hypocrisy turned his stomach, it was better than the alternative. Saying such things where others could hear and perhaps act upon them was irresponsible in the extreme.
“Troubles you in what way exactly?” Hoberman said, playing to his audience.
“To differentiate between patients for such petty reasons as his or her race is abominable. I became a doctor because I believe in helping people. It doesn’t matter to me whether the patient is human or something else, and it shouldn’t matter to you gentleman.” He tried to catch their eyes. “There is nothing in the oath we all swore that restricts our practice of medicine to humans.”
One or two of the others did have the decency to look abashed, but they didn’t have the moral courage to agree with him. They looked away trying not to meet his eyes.
Only Jan had the guts to speak up. “I agree. You must admit the situation has changed, if not, we are nothing but frightened peasants hiding from the bogeyman.”
Hoberman glared. “The times have indeed changed and not for the better. Your bogeyman is as real as you are. We knew how to deal with such creatures as they deserved back then, but now we cuddle up with them and pretend not see what we’ve taken into our beds. Your peasants may have been ignorant savages beset by superstition, but they knew the folly of trying to live with these animals!”
Jan hissed in shock. Even the clique was shocked to stillness. Hoberman had called them animals. They weren’t animals but people. Different from humans maybe, but they were sentient beings. They loved and hated like people, laughed and talked like people. They were people!
“I believe you misspoke, Doctor,” David said giving the man a graceful way to withdraw. “I hope you misspoke. I’m sure all here agree that it was people you meant, not animals.”
“I said what I said and meant every word. You may call them people if you wish. You may even believe it, though how anyone could is beyond me. That is beside the point.”
“What is the point?”
“The point is, I’m in need of someone with your peculiar outlook where non humans are concerned. Alex Brauer called me yesterday and asked me to recommend someone to help him over at Mercy. I thought you might like a change of scenery. Unless of course you’ve changed your opinion about working with the animals?”
He gritted his teeth to stop himself replying immediately and rashly. Doctor Brauer worked at Mercy Hospital, which was understaffed. A change of scenery would be good right now, but knowing Hoberman, his exile was likely to become permanent in a hurry. He had only recently come on staff here at Saint Bartholomew’s, and he had his future to consider. Making an enemy of Hoberman was not a good idea; his opinions had weight. If the man just happened to mention that a doctor of his acquaintance was a troublemaker, that doctor would find it very hard to find a worthwhile position anywhere.
“Ah,” Hoberman smirked. “He’s having second thoughts. It seems David’s convictions have been tested and found wanting. Perhaps you, Janice?”
Jan shook her head and looked down as if ashamed. She glanced once at David then away.
“My convictions remain the same. I have no problem working at Mercy for a time. The experience will be good for me.”
Hoberman raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? Well then, I shall tell Alex to expect you tomorrow. Shall we say ten?”
“By all means,” he said with a sinking feeling. What would Michelle say when she heard about this? Whatever she said, he knew he wouldn’t like it.
The rest of that day he couldn’t stop thinking about Hoberman. Why did the man dislike him so? He had done nothing to warrant it, and it wasn’t his opinions where non-humans were concerned either. Hoberman had spoken with Alex Brauer yesterday before their discussion about them, so the trigger couldn’t be their opposing view.
It was late when he arrived home. He showered and took the opportunity to change his clothes before leaving the house again to drive to Michelle’s place. He would rather drive almost anywhere else than explain to her how he had volunteered to work with non-human patients, but he couldn’t hide it forever. Michelle and he were supposed to go out tonight, but he was late. She would be in a bad mood. By the time he parked his car, he had summoned enough courage to tell her what had happened and where he would be working for the foreseeable future.
Michelle opened the door and waited for him. She must have been watching the street. He tried to kiss her but she was having none of it. She spun on her heel and stalked back inside the house leaving him at
the door. David sighed. He really didn’t need this.
“I’m sorry,” he said closing the door quietly. Michelle didn’t like noise. “We can go another night.”
“You could have at least let me know. Robert was free; he could have taken me.”
“Why Robert and not Jennifer?”
Michelle shrugged.
He let his anger at the idea of Robert taking his place go. He didn’t want to be angry with her and he certainly didn’t want her angry with him. He stepped up behind her and clasped her shoulders. “I’m sorry. We had an emergency; I couldn’t just leave.”
“There’s always an emergency with you. If it’s not one thing it’s another.”
“Hey,” he whispered. He tried to pull her into his arms but she resisted and shrugged him off. She stalked to the other side of the room. “What do you want me to say? I’m a doctor. I had to stay and save someone’s life. I’m sorry if that messes up your social schedule.” He winced as soon as that came out. He wished he could take it back, but it was too late and he knew it. He headed for the drinks cabinet knowing he would need one.
“I have a life too, David.”
“I know you—”
“My life doesn’t revolve around your work. If you think that I’m going to make an appointment every time I want to see you, you have another thing coming.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Well that’s what it feels like to me.”
He poured himself Glenlivet over ice and threw it down his throat in one gulp. “I have something to tell you and I don’t want you to interrupt.”
“What is—”
“Hoberman asked me to work over at Mercy and I said yes,” he said in a rush and winced waiting for the explosion. He turned to see her standing as before. “Well?”
“I’m waiting for the punchline.”
“It’s not a joke.”
“How could you? You know what this will mean.”
He rolled his shoulders trying to dispel the tension building there. “It means I’ll be out from under Hoberman.”
