Blood Run – The Complete Trilogy – First Promise, Two Riders, Last Chance

by Dougherty, Christine

  Promise began to have a new sensation: annoyance. How would Chance even get an opportunity to get in if this dumb thing was stuck in the opening like that? But how could she possibly make it leave? If she spoke or yelled or did anything…it would only drive it mad with hunger. Eventually, it might even find a way to break the heavy glass, even if it was just by luck.

  Then movement at the shed caught her eye. The other vampire was coming across the yard. Great. Now there would be two of them trying to jam themselves through the opening. There was a good chance they’d break it. Promise gritted her teeth in frustration. They were going to have to start all over again. Come up with another idea.

  She was just about to call up to Lea to drop down the straps, when the second vampire fell on the first, grabbing at its hair and pulling, trying to yank it out of the opening. The first vampire screamed in outrage and turned, snapping at the second vampire. It bit a chunk from the second vampire’s forearm and spit it out on the patio as if it tasted nasty. They snarled and circled, buzzing low and menacing. Then they leapt at each other and rolled, fighting on the concrete.

  Promise felt a whoop of hot elation, and she wished fervently that they’d somehow manage to kill each other. “Do it,” she whispered with horrified, angry conviction. “Kill each other you blood sucking–”

  A small, white face appeared at the far side of the glass door. A beloved face, despite the change, despite the need in its vampiricly glowing eyes.

  Chance. Her baby brother. Still in his pj’s, although they’d been soiled and torn, the sleeves especially hanging like rags around his thin wrists. He was hunched against the slider in obvious fear of the rolling, fighting vampires. He braced himself against the glass with his small white hand, and his eye skittered from the melee to the family room. In his eyes, Promise thought she read a desperate homesickness; a sad compulsion to be somewhere he felt safe. He looked so small and alone…she nearly cried out. Then she remembered the fighting vampires and bit down on her tongue. It would be dangerous for Chance if she were to draw their attention.

  She couldn’t call to him. She’d have to put herself where he could see her, and she had to do it quickly, while the other vampires were still occupied. She took a deep breath and went to the far end of the laundry room. Then she steeled herself and peered around the doorjamb, out into the family room.

  Chance was still at the glass, but now his back was to it, little shoulders shaking. He seemed on the edge of flight, spooked by the roaring and buzzing, the bits of flesh and hair flying from the clinched and struggling vampires.

  “Chance…” Promise said, and it was barely a breath, but still…he heard.

  His head snapped around, eyes staring wildly, searchingly, into the family room. A shudder ran through Promise, and fear pushed hot bile into her throat. The little vampire’s face both was and wasn’t that of the baby brother she loved so much.

  Promise wanted to fade back into the laundry room, so great was her fear and disorientation; instead, she swallowed and lifted her chin, willing calm into her muscles.

  She stepped around the corner, fully into his view.

  His head swiveled to her. Both his hands came up to the glass, and he hissed. She couldn’t tell if the hiss was surprise, anger, or need. Her eyes went to the other vampires in alarm. So did Chance’s. Then he looked back at Promise. She waved him forward, keeping her movements to the barest minimum so that she wouldn’t attract the attention of the other two.

  He glanced again at the vampires, who had now rolled onto the grass, and he slid toward the opening. He hesitated at the gap, sniffing like a dog, then his eyes found hers again.

  He slipped into the family room.

  She could smell him, but she didn’t think his smell was as bad; not as strong as the adult vampire’s stench had been. His was more barnyard, less abattoir. He was so white and emaciated he almost didn’t exist. Promise was overcome with a wave of pity.

  “Chance,” she whispered and stepped toward him, her hands out, beseeching. He looked so sad, so unhappy. Could she get him to fight his condition? It would put an end to the whole nightmare right now, and she would have her dear brother back. “Chance? It’s me, honey, it’s your sister. Remember me? Remember what I promised you? I want to–”

  He hitched in a breath and screeched in rage, his hands curling into fists. Fresh terror pounded adrenaline through her body. The fire in his eyes flared furiously alight, flashing orange across the family room. His incisors were long and gleaming; his chin dropped to the point of dislocation. His mouth was a black cavern, and Promise was reminded of the vampire that had chased her through the woods–the soullessness. The futility.

  She stepped back, fear nearly buckling her knees, and groped for the laundry room opening behind her. Chance advanced, his tattered pajamas shivering around his thin frame, and he screeched again. Promise could feel it vibrating painfully in her eardrums.

  The vampires outside paused in their fighting and raised their heads, looking for the source of the sound.

  They saw Promise behind the glass.

  The original vampire was up in a split second and battering itself against the opening. The second threw itself headlong into the glass as if it hadn’t seen it. Its skull thonked dully, and a long crack appeared in the door, spiderwebbing out like silver lightning in the moonlit glass.

  Chance pressed himself against the back wall and hissed furiously at the vampire trying to force its way through the opening. It hissed back, its features spread and smashed as it tried to push its head in. The other vampire had fallen in a heap and struggled in a dazed fashion, crawling toward the yard. A long flap of skin had peeled off its forehead and dangled over its eyes.

  Promise stood on tiptoe, her eyes bouncing from the vampire stuck in the door to Chance. She was too panicked to run.

  Then Chance’s eyes slid back to her. They glowed hotly, nearly crackling with heat.

  He tilted his head and leapt at her, his mouth yawning wide.

  Promise’s paralysis broke, and she turned into the laundry room, screaming. Chance’s hand brushed across her back. He was right behind her.

  “Drop the doors! Drop them now!”

  As if in answer to her demand, the sliding glass door burst inward with a crashing roar, and the other vampire was in. It scrambled toward the laundry room doorway as Chance rounded into it behind Promise.

  “Drop them! Drop the doors!” Promise threw herself against the back wall, not daring to look behind her.

  Seeing her trapped in the laundry room, no other way out, Chance screamed in triumph.

  Promise closed her eyes.

  The doors fell.

  The rest came to Promise only faintly as she flirted with consciousness, nearly overcome by shock. The straps dropped down, and Peter yelled her name. Chance battered himself against the heavily reinforced door that separated them. The other vampire screamed in rage outside the laundry room.

  She wound her arms through the straps, but had no strength in her hands. She fumbled, and they slipped from her fingers. She mewled in stunned and disbelieving terror and tried to pick them up again. Chance screeched and pounded on the door, each flat smack making her jump, making her heart race to the breaking point.

  The first vampire had found the slit she’d put in the wall to be able to see into the family room. It scratched at the opening, screeching madly, its fingers wiggling, trying for purchase. Promise’s vision honed down to a blurry pinpoint. Something small but nasty struck her in the face, and she flinched back, her knees buckling. She began to slide down the wall, her eyes closing.

  Someone grabbed her shoulders in the small, cramped space, and Promise screamed in despair, lashing out.

  The vampire had gotten in.

  Now it would kill her.

  “Promise, it’s me,” Peter’s voice was warm in her ear, and his arms went around her. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

  “Peter,” she whispered, and her consciousness wane
d further. She sagged against him.

  Then she felt herself being lifted, his hands steady on her waist as he raised her straight up. “Reach out,” he said, his voice showing no strain from her weight. She had the briefest sensation of flight, then her hands were grabbed from above as Lea and Mark pulled her up and out.

  They laid her on the floor on her back. Lea knelt and grabbed her hand then reached to pick something from her hair. A long, dirty vampire’s nail, bloody where it had been peeled from the vampire’s finger–the thing that had hit her in the face.

  The last thing Promise saw was Peter jump up through the hole as if it were only two feet high. He landed lightly in a squat, and his gaze found her.

  His eyes were burning.

  She fainted.

  ~ ~ ~

  Through the night, she swam in and out of a sleep so deep and sludgy that it was almost a coma. She was peripherally aware of Peter’s arms around her, of Chance below them, finally quiet. Other whoops and screeches filled the air as vampires rampaged outside. Then she was at the beach, and Peter was beside her, setting up a checkerboard. “Want to play?” he asked her with a smile, and a small hand slipped into hers, filling her with joy. She looked down for Chance, but a little girl, maybe three, with blonde pigtails and sand-dusted cheeks looked up at her with light gray eyes.

  “Where is Chance?” she turned and asked Peter, but he was gone. The checkerboard was overturned, the red and black discs scattered across the blanket, and fear whispered across the back of her neck like unwanted breath. All at once, the sun went down, and the beach was black, the waves tipped with silver from a cold and distant moon. Her hand was squeezed, and Promise remembered the little girl. She looked down, and the girl was looking out over the black waves.

  “Whose little girl are you?” Promise asked, and the girl turned to face her.

  Her eyes were alight with inner fire.

  Promise woke, gasping and struggling.

  She was lying in the cradle of Peter’s arms, and they were halfway to the safe house. He had carried her five blocks. Over his shoulder, she saw Mark and Lea walking a distance behind them, heads down, holding hands like children.

  It was morning.

  “Hi,” he said, and she wound her arms around his neck, hugging him. “You’re awake,” he said, and she nodded into his neck. He put her down gently, dropping her legs so she could stand on her own. She kept her arms around his neck. “It’s okay; you’re okay,” he said, whispering into her hair. “I’ve got you.”

  “I had a dream,” she said. Her voice was muffled. It helped to hide the trembling in it. “A bad dream.”

  His arms squeezed her tighter, drawing her up. Her feet left the ground. She put her mouth to his ear so that only he would hear what she said next. “You had a daughter.”

  His arms tightened almost painfully around her, and his head went back as he searched her eyes. “How did you…?” He trailed off in confused shock as Mark and Lea ran up to them.

  “Promise!” Lea said. “You’re awake!”

  Promise kept her eyes on Peter. “I dreamed about her,” she said and then slid from his arms.

  Lea grabbed her in an embrace, and Mark grinned and clapped Peter on the back.

  Promise looked at Peter over Lea’s shoulder. Her eyes were dark with fatigue and something more: sadness, understanding. She knew now why he’d wanted to help her with Chance. It was somehow something he hadn’t been able to do for himself, for his daughter.

  “I was scared you’d never wake up,” Lea said and smiled tentatively. “Promise, we have him. It worked; the plan worked. Do you remember?”

  “Yes, I remember that part. It’s afterwards that it…it gets a little hazy for me.” She turned to Mark. “Was he okay this morning? Could you hear him in there?”

  “He was moving around; we could hear that. I covered the slit in the wall first thing so no light can get in…just to be on the safe side. I told him everything was going to be okay. He didn’t answer me, but I got the feeling…” He trailed off and glanced at Lea.

  “Tell her, Mark; she’ll understand,” Lea said.

  “I got the feeling he was listening,” Mark said and flushed slightly. “Like, that he understood. Some part of it, at least.”

  Promise flashed back to her dream of the little girl on the beach. The sudden and clear understanding that this was Peter’s daughter, and he must have somehow communicated that information to her as they slept. “I do understand, Mark,” she said. “Thank you.” She put her hand on his arm then turned to Peter. “I’m going back. I have to check on him.” She took a stumbling step, exhaustion catching up with her all at once. Peter grabbed her and swung her into his arms.

  “Rest first. And food. Then we’ll go back. No arguments.” He smiled at her, and she nodded and curled herself into him and fell into a less complicated sleep as he carried her to the safe house.

  Once there, he put Promise in a bed upstairs while Lea and Mark took another bedroom. They did so without consultation. They were ‘together’. Then Peter let the horses and an overjoyed Lady out into the yard. He sat on the back step to watch the animals frisk together and reflected that the horses hadn’t gotten much use just lately. But maybe that was about to change, he thought, as the ghost of an idea began to coalesce in his mind.

  The day was cold but bright. It would warm up later.

  He was not tired, despite the calamities of the night. His sleep had been deep and uncomplicated by dreams or nightmares. He’d been content to have Promise in his arms. Nothing else had mattered.

  But now he was anxious.

  The dream she had had about him having a daughter…where had that come from? It was puzzling, but he decided to put it aside, at least for now. Because he had a more pressing problem.

  When she had been in the hole, screaming and panicked, he’d felt a hot and frustrated rage building in his heart and mind. He’d had the urge to strike out at Mark and Lea, as if hurting them would relieve his pain.

  He had jumped into the hole with her, and he could feel the vampires on both sides of him. A primordial sense urged him to turn and fight, but they were behind barriers. His mind had clouded, and he’d teetered on a balance point of senselessly throwing himself against the walls in an attempt to claw through anyway.

  Then Promise had screamed, and the fog had cleared. He’d remembered that he had to get her out.

  And he’d done so. But for a brief second…as her unresisting body was clasped to his…he’d become aware of the heart that beat below her breast. He could smell the blood that coursed strongly through her white neck. A hunger had awoken in his gut, and he’d been tempted.

  So tempted.

  He’d resisted and gotten her out, and then he’d slept as if drugged.

  But he had awoken this morning to a troubling new thought: how dangerous was he?

  ~ ~ ~

  They rested and ate, and when Promise could not wait any longer, they went back to her parents’ house.

  She hesitated on the front porch and turned to her friends. “I want to go in alone,” she said and looked at Lea and Mark each in turn, Peter last. “Do you understand?”

  They nodded, and Lea reached out to squeeze her hand. “Good luck.”

  Promise nodded and glanced at Peter once more. Then she went in.

  The disarray was no greater than the day before with the exception of the broken sliding glass door. One panel was completely gone; the other starred into a spider web. The house was silent.

  She kneeled near the entrance to the laundry room and put her hand on the heavy door that had been dropped into place. “Chance?” she whispered and held her breath.

  Nothing.

  She raised her voice.

  “Chance, can you hear me? It’s Destiny. You’re safe. You’re in your old house.” She waited again. Nothing. “I’m going to help you, Chance. You’re sick right now, but I’m going to help you get better. Okay? Chance?”

  Nothing. She
swallowed back tears.

  “Remember, Chance? Remember how I promised?”

  “Prooomissssss…”

  The word came seeping from under the door, from around the edges, like smoke. It was inhuman, less like a voice than a snake’s sibilant hiss. Then something bumped gently against the door, and Promise nearly cried out. She pictured Chance sitting against the door, listening.

  “It’s okay, Chance. You’re home, and I’m here. I’m right here,” she said. She ran her hand over the rough wood. “Can you…can you feel me, Chance? Can you feel that I’m here?”

  Something bumped again, and then she heard a light rustling. She looked down. A tiny corner of something had appeared under the door. Her hand shaking, she drew it halfway out. It was stiff paper with deckled edges.

  A photograph, face down.

  Her eyes already filling with tears, she slid it the rest of the way out, and holding her breath, she flipped it over. It was the four of them: Dad, Mom, herself and Chance. The picture had been taken at the lake the year he’d been six. In the picture, he was in her lap, and his head was tilted back as he looked up at her. She was laughing, looking into the camera. Her parents were slightly behind, her dad reaching forward to put a hand on her shoulder. Her parents were laughing, too.

  A rush of sadness and joy swept through her, and she became light-headed with relief. He remembered. He remembered his family. He remembered her.

  “Chance,” she said, “I love you. I love you, baby brother, and I’m going to save you.” Her breath caught in her throat. “Here, honey,” she said and slid the picture back. “Hold on to it. I’m going to save you. I love you, Chance.”

  “Promise?” Peter’s voice from the front hall.

  “Peter!” she said and scrambled to her feet. She met him halfway, and her tears had come again.

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked as she slammed into him, nearly knocking him over.