by Deanna Chase
Peter releases me and we stand on the pavement in an awkward circle. The laughter and joy of the night have completely vanished and it’s all my fault.
***
It takes much longer to find a taxi this time. I’m too numb after my attack on D’Argneau to worry about it but it keeps running through my mind. The scent of his fresh blood had been so overwhelming. The mammoth task of getting to the end of the month seems impossible. I knew it was going to be tough but I didn’t understand it would probably be easier to strike a match on jelly.
Beth takes charge. She ushers us to a main road where we’ll have a better chance of finding transport home. Faint streaks of purple are appearing in the sky and Nicky, in particular, is getting twitchy. I’d like to calm her down but selfishly all I can think about is myself. Everything is such a mess. I briefly consider whether to make a run for it and find shelter away from the Family and everyone else. The flat that Rogu3 found for me will now be out of commission, but as long as I find somewhere out of the sun, I’ll be fine. But there is a part of me that thinks perhaps I’ll be better off letting the dawn do its worst. There seems to be little point in struggling on when my own nature is my enemy.
By the time we flag down a taxi, I’ve been sucked into a vortex of misery. I huddle into a corner of the back seat. Beth is giving me worried glances but I can barely muster up the energy to care. The cab trundles past the grey buildings and the shortening shadows. When we arrive back at the Montserrat headquarters, it’s obvious we won’t have time to sneak back inside before dawn strikes. We’re going to have walk in through the front door and hope no one notices. It’s a stupid plan. I consider pointing this out to the others and then decide I don’t care. Rushing inside to avoid something as simple and beautiful as the sun’s first rays is bad enough.
Nicky pays the driver and we step out. I can already feel my skin starting to burn. Nell, Nicky and Peter sprint to the main door. I stay where I am, on the pavement, sniffing curiously at the slight smell of burnt hair from my bare arms.
Beth grabs me and shakes me. She gets right up into my face. ‘Do you have a bloody death wish?’ she hisses.
I shrug back helplessly. Maybe I do.
She mutters something then pulls me towards the entrance. The others have discovered that it’s locked. Oops.
Nell pushes against the door with her shoulder. ‘Why in the hell is it locked? Vampires are creatures of the night! This door should never be freaking locked.’
It’s locked, I think, to keep us monsters in and the rightfully vengeful humans out. Because one of our so-called Family members slaughtered an innocent two-year-old child. One of our brothers.
Nicky swears loudly. She thumps on the door to get someone’s attention. ‘We’re going to burn out here!’ she yells. Nell joins her, their fists creating a rhythmic drumming on the worn wood.
I turn away and gaze out at the location of the old Tyburn gallows. And I start to giggle. It begins as a hiccup in my guts, and then escapes through my nose and mouth. My shoulders shake as the giggle transforms into a laugh and I clutch my stomach, then sit down cross-legged, facing away from the door towards the trail of crimson red sky above Hyde Park.
‘Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight,’ I half-sing to myself, ‘red sky in morning, shepherd’s warning.’
‘Bo, will you get a fucking grip?’
I laugh harder.
There’s a creaking sound from behind. The thunderous face of Michael Montserrat stares at us from the threshold. I raise my arms and cackle, then turn back to the sky, lifting up my face while my cheeks and forehead prickle, burn and blister.
Arms encircle me from behind and drag me upwards. I protest but they merely tighten their grip. ‘Lemme go,’ I moan. ‘I’m enjoying the sunrise.’
The arms scoop me up. Montserrat is holding me against his chest like a child. ‘You should let me go,’ I tell him matter-of-factly. ‘This way you don’t have to wait for proof to execute me. I’ll just be dead.’
His expression is granite stern. He shifts my helpless weight and then stalks inside.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Truth
The dreams that follow are dark, terrible and steeped in blood. I have brief moments of lucidity, soon destroyed by bouts of dizziness and vomiting. I’m aware of people hovering over me, murmuring. I shut them all out and concentrate on the pain in my stomach and the ever-increasing desire for blood. At one point, someone changes my sheets because they’re soaked in clammy sweat, and I allow myself to be moved to a chair like a doll. When I sleep again, I have disturbing nightmares of the one-eyed doll’s head from Wiltshore Avenue. It talks to me in a little girl’s voice but its words are so awful that I scream in agitation.
I hallucinate. O’Shea’s body, bleeding out in that small grubby room. Me, down on all fours like an animal, lapping greedily at his blood. Then I’m in the office at Dire Straits, and the vampire who murdered Tam isn’t the indistinct form of the dark-haired man. It’s me, sinking my teeth into his neck and ripping out the soft, tasty flesh.
The images flit from one to another, as if I’m being forced to endure a never-ending reel of grotesque film. Someone tries to make me drink some water and I lash out, pushing them away until I’m left alone in the darkness. Arzo speaks to me, then Michael Monserrat. Sometimes Peter is there, sometimes Beth and Nicky.
‘Bo.’ The voice penetrates through my thick, throbbing skull.
‘Bo, I’m sorry. It took longer than I thought.’
Yet another glass is placed at my lips. I moan and shake my head. I already know it’s not blood and it’s blood that I desire above all things. I push it away.
‘Bo. The guard will only be gone for a few moments. You need to drink this now.’
I can’t make sense of the words. The glass tips and my lips are wet. I tentatively taste the liquid and start to choke. It’s poison. Panic writhes through me like a twisting snake. They’re feeding me O’Shea’s spell and there’s nothing I can do about it.
‘Smegging hell, Bo! Stop it and bloody drink!’
Hands tip back my head. I close my mouth firmly to avoid more of the foul-tasting liquid but sharp fingers pinch my nose and I can’t breathe. I try for as long as I can, but eventually I have no choice but to open my mouth and gasp for oxygen. As soon as I do, the liquid is poured in while I gag and splutter.
‘Everything will be fine now,’ the voice says, as the welcoming darkness returns yet again.
***
When I wake up, for a heart-pounding moment I think I’ve gone blind. It takes me a few seconds to realise that my eyes are glued together with such a build-up of gunk that I can’t open them. I fumble with one hand, searching for the jug that’s always on my right and scoop some water into my palm then rub it onto my eyes so I can pry open my eyelashes and finally see again.
I blink several times, clearing my vision. I’m still in my room and in my own bed. My arms and legs are covered in welts and scratches and I trace the marks with the tips of my fingers, wondering where they came from. I feel light-headed, but alive. I’m not sure how long I’ve been out for; it has to be at least a day but my memories are so foggy, I can’t be sure.
There’s a soft knock at the door.
‘Come in,’ I call, except it’s less of a call and more of a croaky whisper. My lips are cracked and sore.
The door opens a few inches and a familiar face peers in.
‘Arzo,’ I smile, then wince at the stabbing pain as my mouth moves into a position it’s clearly not ready for.
He looks white but his relief is palpable. ‘You’re awake.’
I pull my knees up to my chest and give him a small smile. ‘I guess so. What in hell happened to me?’
Arzo wheels himself inside, braking to a stop by the edge of my bed. It’s an oddly uncomfortable situation. The relationship I had with him involved little more than me checking what Tam’s schedule was. Now I’m in my standard issue vampire pyjamas while he gazes at me like a co
ncerned parent.
‘It’s the bloodlust, Bo. It’s what happens.’
I frown. ‘You didn’t tell me it would knock me out and make me hallucinate. It kind of makes investigating anything a bit difficult.’
He shifts in the wheelchair and looks away. ‘We thought you’d have enough time,’ he mumbles. ‘Before this happened. And if you found nothing, well…’ His voice trails off.
‘Jesus, Arzo! That was the big plan? Hope I had enough time to find a traitor that the combined might of the five Families couldn’t uncover before I collapsed into a coma?’
‘It shouldn’t have happened so quickly,’ he protests, half-heartedly.
‘But you were expecting it.’ My voice is flat. No doubt the abrupt appearance of D’Argneau’s blood speeded up the process. Lucky old me.
He nods his head. ‘It always does. It’s why so few ever make it to the final stages of the lunar month. The hallucinations and pain can be … difficult.’ He frowns. ‘Lord Montserrat was about to order your feeding. You were past the point of no return. I don’t understand how you managed to recover.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’ve never seen that before.’
I think I understand how it happened. Or at least who was responsible. What I really don’t know is why. It’s a piece of information I’m going to keep to myself for now.
‘What about the others?’ I ask. ‘Peter, Nicky and Beth?’
He looks surprised. ‘They’re fine. The man – Peter? He’s a bit wan and frail but he’s coping. The girls appear barely bothered.’ His brow crinkles. ‘They said that you got talking to a man who cut himself on some glass but they managed to get out before it affected them. It was fortunate you had someone with you who has already completed turning.’
I keep my lips buttoned. Until I know more about what’s going on, my plan is to make sure my theories stay with me. It’s becoming more and more obvious that I’m just a very small cog in the Montserrat machine. Apparently neither Arzo nor Michael Montserrat cares that much for my well-being. But I’m surprised I was to be given blood to help me survive the transition; surely it would be easier to simply let me slip away? I say as much to Arzo and he looks pained.
‘I had words with Lord Montserrat about that one. He should never have thought that about you. He’s under a lot of pressure, Bo.’
Like he’s the only one. I snort. ‘So that’s it? Now he believes I’m not part of this gigantic conspiracy because you simply told him so?’
He won’t quite meet my eyes. ‘Well, that’s not the only reason.’
‘Go on.’
‘Bancroft has uncovered one of the traitors. They admitted to throwing that woman under the train, as well as attacking the daemon.’
Bancroft again. It’s high time I departed this Montserrat gig and went to find some answers there instead. I just need to work a way to manage it. ‘Blond hair?’ I ask. Arzo nods. ‘What’s going to happen to him?’
‘It’s already happened. He was executed four days ago.’
That doesn’t make sense. How could I only be hearing about it now? Tentacles of dread snake through my veins. ‘Arzo, how long have I been out for?’
‘A little over a week.’
‘A week?’ I shriek. I can’t believe I’ve lost so much time. In some ways it’s a good thing – it means the full moon is closer. But it leaves less time to discover what is really going on.
‘Is that it?’ I ask, desperately. ‘Did Bancroft find out who’s really behind all this? Is it over now?’
Arzo moves himself over to the window and gazes out, avoiding my eyes. ‘No. No. And no.’
‘Nothing?’
‘He was apparently being coerced. He could tell us what he’d done but not who was responsible for the planning.’
‘O’Shea’s spell.’
‘We can only presume so. Bancroft tested him before he died. He was incredibly submissive and open to suggestion.’
‘But also sexually aroused?’
Arzo looks embarrassed but nods.
‘I don’t suppose anyone has thought to speak to O’Shea to see if he can come up with a way to reverse the effects?’
‘It’s too late. Once the spell was transformed into physical form, it was beyond his control.’
I shake my head. What a mess. I swing my legs out of the bed and stand up. My head spins but I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay. I wouldn’t mind several pints of O negative to see me on my way but the bloodlust doesn’t seem much worse than it did before my attack on D’Argneau. Despite Arzo’s gloom, it’s hard for me not to feel optimistic.
‘Bo, what are you doing? You should rest.’
I give him my death-stare. For once it apparently works because he blanches ever so slightly. I smile at his reaction. ‘I’m going to save your sucky Montserrat arses, that’s what.’
***
It takes some time to persuade Arzo to leave but, as soon as he does, I move into high gear and head for the shower, almost colliding on my way out with the guard who is posted outside my room. After he calms down from his sudden-attack stance and carefully looks me over, he nods and leaves. I wonder whether he’s been there to guard me from potential threats from the others, or whether he was my own personal prison guard in case I was a threat to them. Regardless, now that I’m conscious and walking, I must be free.
There’s a layer of grime covering every inch of my skin and, despite a few lingering moments of light-headedness, the pleasure I take in scrubbing it away under the spray of hot of water is almost immeasurable. Once I’m done, and feeling much improved despite having to clamber into another silly jumpsuit, I stride over to the social area in search of Beth.
Almost everyone is there. I spot Peter, hunched in the corner. Arzo wasn’t kidding when he said he was looking frail; I’m amazed he can still sit up. I’d like to check on him but the others spot me and rush over, and I’m inundated with smiles and messages of goodwill. I’m taken aback by the positive feeling about my recovery.
‘So,’ Nicky says, ‘you’ve still not drunk then?’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t know how I managed it,’ I tell her, ‘but I’ve been to hell and come out the other side.’
‘There are only eight days left, you know.’
‘Yup. When are you planning to, you know, drink?’ The word sounds so innocuous yet carries so much meaning.
She smiles weakly. ‘Any day now. I’m feeling worse and worse.’ She looks away. ‘I dropped in on you. You were too far out of it to notice, of course, but there’s no way I’m putting myself through that. You were screaming and…’ Her voice trails off and she shudders.
‘It was pretty nasty,’ I agree. ‘I’m not doing that again.’ When I say the words, I realise that it’s true. I don’t want to be a vampire. Short of finding those responsible for screwing up my life and killing my friends, there’s nothing I want more than to become Sanguine. Deep down, however, I know I can’t go through that pain again. I’m desolate at the thought until I spot Beth hovering in the background. I catch her eye and focus on the matter in hand, looking meaningfully at the door. She nods.
I extricate myself from the others. As soon as I’m in the corridor, I open my mouth to speak but Beth puts her index finger to her lips. She starts to move away. I follow.
We end up in the now-familiar garden although we veer away from the path and towards a small section of shrubbery overlooking a fountain. Her stilettos make small indentations in the grass. I have to admit that I’m impressed she climbed a tree wearing them.
‘The noise from the fountain will help cover us,’ she tells me quietly, ‘but you still need to keep your voice low.’
I raise my eyebrows.
‘Guards,’ she explains. ‘Apparently, Lord Montserrat has the entire place on lockdown after our ill-advised escapade. And you know that vampires have highly attuned hearing.’
I murmur noncommittally. As much as I needed to talk to D’Argneau, I still feel guilty that it was my ‘ill-advised escapa
de’ and that I was almost responsible for his death. Beth seems to understand and places her hand on my shoulder.
‘How are you?’
‘I’m okay.’ She’s going to continue with the niceties so I press forward. ‘You gave me that drink, right? When I was hallucinating and sick?’
She doesn’t move or say anything but the answering flicker in her eyes confirms it.
‘Let me guess,’ I add drily, ‘it was something that came in a little white envelope which you hid under your water jug.’
‘Until you decided to get nosy. You’ve no idea how difficult it was for me to find another hiding place. You don’t make life easy, Bo.’
‘You could just have told me about it. What is it anyway? Some kind of bloodlust control thing? It’s got to be why I recovered instead of having blood rammed down my throat.’
She shrugs. ‘I’m not sure exactly what goes into it. But yes, it’s meant to control the cravings. It won’t remove them. Although you’re better than you were, you are still on the edge. You need to be careful.’
‘You’ve given it to Peter and Nicky too?’
‘No.’ Beth’s confusion is clear. ‘I have no idea why they’re still doing so well. I’ve been taking it almost since the beginning.’
I absorb this information before asking my next question. I’m pretty sure I know the answer. ‘Why did you give it to me?’
She plucks a leaf off a shrub and starts shredding it. ‘I promised I would do whatever it took to keep you safe and stop you drinking.’
‘Promised who, Beth?’
‘I’m also not supposed to let you know I’m doing it.’
‘I think that cat is out of the bag.’
‘You have to understand that I owe him. A few years ago things were rough. He helped me out. I was on the streets, tangled up with a group of tribers who were definitely on the shadier side of the supernatural.’
I wait for her to go on but she obviously doesn’t want to talk about it. I grit my teeth trying to control my anger. ‘And this is how he’s making you pay him back? By forcing you to become a freaking vampire?’
