Dire Straits

by Helen Harper

  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 concerned 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 escapade’ 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?’

  She looks surprised. ‘Oh, I was already signed up. I want to do this. I specifically want to be part of the Montserrat Family. I did my research and I’d have waited another ten years to apply if that’s what it took. But I promised your grandfather I wouldn’t drink until either you did, or we made it to the end of the month. He gave me the powder to help.’ She gives a short laugh. ‘You’ve no idea how many smegging times I tried to sneak it into your water. Except I never got close enough to manage it without getting caught. There was one occasion when I managed to get into your room and then Nicky came in after me. I think she was looking for you. I came up with the most appalling excuse to explain why I was there.’

  I rub my forehead. My bloody meddling grandfather. I should have known; he’d accepted my entry into the Montserrat Family far too easily. And the amount of energy I’d expended thinking that Beth was one of the traitors… I sigh. ‘What a sodding mess.’

  Beth gives me a sympathetic glance. ‘He’s only trying to help you.’

  ‘He could have told me about the powder. He didn’t need to be so underhanded.’

  ‘He seemed to think you wouldn’t accept his help.’

  I think about that. I can be bloody minded at times and, yes, if I can avoid his assistance, I will. But I went to him for help with O’Shea. And when it comes down to the difference between ending up as Sanguine and ending up as a fully blown vampire – hell, I’d crawl on my knees through broken glass to ask for help with that.

  ‘You’re quite alike, you know,’ she comments.

  I snarl quietly. Beth merely grins.

  ‘Do the vampires know about this powder?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  I wrinkle my nose. I’d like to think that if Arzo and Michael Montserrat knew about it, they’d have given it to me but I can’t be sure. Either way, it doesn’t change my next move. ‘You can consider yourself absolved of any further obligation,’ I tell her.

  ‘My agreement is with your grandfather, not you.’

  I look at her sternly, underlining the fact that I’m not going to brook any argument on this. ‘You’ve done what you needed to do. Besides, I owe you now because I thought you were one of the Montserrat traitors.’

  ‘Traitors?’ She looks shocked. Obviously she knew no more about my real motives than I knew about hers.

  ‘I’ll make sure he knows you’ve fulfilled your oath,’ I promise. ‘You’re free to drink if you really want to.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her voice is quiet. She digs into the pocket of her jumpsuit and pulls out the little envelope. ‘You only need a couple of grains every day mixed with water. Mr Blackman – I mean, your grandfather – was very clear about not taking more.’

  Considering the side effects of O’Shea’s spell, goodness knows what might happen if you overdose on this stuff. Perhaps ignorance is bliss. I take the envelope then lean over the fountain, trailing my fingers in the water.

  ‘Actually, Beth, there is one more thing I need you to do.’

  ‘Name it.’

  ‘I have to get out of here so I can go where I need to be.’

  The expression in her eyes says it all. ‘After last time?’ she shrieks, then claps her hand over her mouth when she realises how loud she’s been.

  ‘It’ll be okay,’ I reassure her. ‘I won’t be near any human blood.’

  ‘Why? Where are you planning to go?’

  I smile humourlessly. ‘It’s time to pay the Bancroft Family a little visit.’

  Chapter Twenty-three: Spa Treatment

  I’m not a complete fool. Even without Beth’s comment about the increased number of guards around the Montserrat complex, I know there is little chance of me sneaking out a second time. No doubt the Montserrat PR machine is still working at full throttle; they’re not about to let any more thirsty new recruits onto the streets again. I imagine heads are still rolling because we managed it once. I suppose I’ll have to seek out Lord Montserrat. I have to admit I’m surprised when he appears suddenly on the path as Beth and I head back inside. His figure is shrouded in shadow, but there’s no mistaking his broad shoulders and aggressive stance.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  I smile disarmingly. ‘Out for a little stroll, my Lord. It’s such a wonderfully balmy evening, don’t you think?’

  Beth inhales sharply at my disrespectful tone. I have no idea how Michael Montserrat feels about it, as his face remains hidden by the darkness. Irksome.

  ‘Beth, if you’d be so kind?’

  She walks off so quickly that her stilettos spray up gravel in her wake. I raise my eyebrows. ‘I’m impressed, my Lord. I didn’t think Beth was scared of anyone. Congratulations.’

  He takes a step towards me, moving into the moonlight so his dark scowl becomes visible. ‘Tell me exactly what you thought you were doing,’ he growls.

  I blink, a picture of innocence. ‘I told you. We came out for a walk.’

  His hands ball up into fists although they remain by his sides. I’ve never before seen someone so genuinely intimidating. I’m going to st
and my ground though, no matter what.

  ‘Bo, you know what I’m referring to. Your little jaunt into town. You know, the one where you almost killed someone and destroyed yourself?’

  I shrug and inspect my fingernails. ‘Considering the last conversation we had involved you telling me my name was top on the list for execution, I hardly thought you’d care.’

  ‘I had my reasons for that.’

  ‘And I had my reasons for going out.’

  He takes another step towards me. ‘We have never, ever, had any recruits sneak out in the middle of the goddamn night before.’ He’s not shouting, but he doesn’t need to. His voice is so dangerously quiet it’s making me shiver.

  ‘What you mean is that you never caught any recruits sneaking out before.’ I’m dancing with death by taunting him but the perverse part of me that’s still glad to alive – and human – can’t help it.

  ‘You almost killed someone.’

  ‘Are you pissed off about that or that we pulled the wool over your eyes?’

  ‘You assured me several times that you didn’t want to be a vampire. How stupid can you be to think that you could go outside and not be tempted?’

  ‘I had to do something!’ I’m starting to lose my temper. ‘This is my life on the line. You stopped talking to me, like we were bloody schoolgirls having a spat. How else was I supposed to continue investigating? You didn’t tell me anything about Tommy Glass. I was out of the loop on freaking everything! I gave up my life for this, my Lord.’ I enunciate the last two words as clearly as I can. I might understand his position but I also want him to appreciate the disdain I feel for him right now.

  ‘Do you think this is all about you? There are five Families, Bo. That’s two thousand five hundred lives to consider. Not to mention what will happen to all the humans if we are destroyed. The universe doesn’t revolve around you.’