Bloodlust

by Kramer, D. L.

  Gayle took a slow breath, but whether out of a desire to keep calm or to buy time while she was thinking, I had no idea. Either way, the slow breath made the sound in her lung all the more obvious to me.

  “And this one who said he was your brother?”

  My stomach knotted at her comment.

  Then I had to stop myself from extending my claws and tearing from the room to find Aleksander now as a deep anger took hold in me. Bastard. How had he known about Dawn, or that I’d been there before? I fully intended to beat it out of him before I ripped him apart.

  “My brother?” I repeated, controlling my tone even though I already knew what she was going to say. Aleksander was the only person who’d call himself that.

  She nodded. “He was here last night just before I left. He was looking for you and was asking all sorts of questions about where you were and why you’d been here before.”

  I realized he must have followed my scent to the hospital earlier and only come back last night to try to figure out why. It wasn’t like we had any real need to seek out healthcare. We pretty much were either dead, or going to heal and live regardless of how badly we’d been hurt. There was no middle ground.

  “Do you mind if I ask what you told him?” I was almost afraid to know what she’d said. Especially if he’d imposed his will on her.

  “I told him I had no idea who he was talking about or why you might have been there if you were. I also told him if he really were your brother, I was sure he knew how to get a hold of you to ask you himself.”

  I wanted to hug her. The fact that she had openly lied to Aleksander’s face immediately gave me a new respect for her. And quite possibly a new level of fear.

  “I’ll—make sure he doesn’t bother you again,” I told her, keeping my voice level. Yes, I fully intended to make absolutely sure he didn’t show up here again.

  “I’m not too concerned,” she told me. “But you are not leaving this office until I know what’s going on and if that baby out there is in any danger.”

  I paused, that tight gripping in my stomach again. Before I could say anything, she continued.

  “I know what you are, Mr. Dorian and I know this ‘brother’ of yours is the same thing.” Her gaze met mine directly and I could see it in her eyes. She did know. She had quite possibly known all along.

  And she never flinched.

  I still hated it when I could hear the quotes in someone’s words that way.

  “How?” I asked her, the single word seeming to stumble from my mouth. There was no point denying it now. Those enamored with what they thought this life was would follow us out of suspicion, fear or hope, but no one outside of another of us had ever known with absolute certainty before. We kept ourselves too well hidden and were too far removed from what all the legends and beliefs claimed we were.

  Gayle watched me. Silent, calculating, studying.

  “I’ve been a nurse for a long time, Mr. Dorian,” she finally said. “And I’ve learned there’s a lot to see if you just open your eyes and don’t let preconceived notions cloud your vision.”

  I nodded slowly, not really knowing what to say. It’s not like I was going to apologize for what I was. I’d gotten over that little bout of self-pity a long, long time ago.

  “Is that baby in any danger?” she asked me.

  Now that was one thing I could respond to. “If I have anything to say about it, she will not be in any danger by the time she’s healthy enough to leave this hospital.”

  “And this other one?”

  “That would be the danger I’m planning on stopping.”

  She nodded her head. “I suspected as much. He seemed like he was no good. Let me see your hand,” she motioned to my left hand. “You keep scratching at it.”

  Hmm. I hadn’t even realized I was doing that. “It’s just an old scar,” I told her. “It bothers me on occasion.”

  She stepped over to me and took my hand after giving me another deliberate look. She looked the bite scar over on both sides of my hand.

  “How long ago?” she asked.

  “Do you want the truth, or should I make something up so I don’t assault your concept of normal?”

  She glanced up at me.

  “I would appreciate the truth.”

  “About 1844,” I told her.

  Again not even a flinch. Instead she only nodded. She really did know. If anything now, it made me even more nervous around her, even though I could tell she meant me no harm.

  “There’s certainly not much you can do about it now,” she stated. She let my hand drop then looked back at me. “And if you are going to raise that baby, then you need to spend time with her now.”

  Even knowing what I was, she still felt I could possibly be a parent to Dawn. Perhaps it was possible after all.

  “When it’s safe,” I told her. I made myself not fidget. I still couldn’t figure out why she had this effect on me. “Right now it’s better if I don’t have her around me.” I paused for a moment. “Is she safe here?” It was something I needed to ask.

  Gayle nodded. “If I see someone poking around here that I don’t like, I’ll make sure she’s moved. If they can’t trace you to her, they won’t know.”

  “Thank you,” I told her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go work on that whole ‘brother’ thing.”

  Great, now I was using the damned quotes in my speech.

  Gayle nodded and opened the office door for me. “I’ll see you later then,” she told me as we walked back into the hall. “Next time, be prepared to hold that baby, Mr. Dorian—and for more than thirty seconds.”

  “With any luck, next time I’ll be here to take her home.”

  I wondered when I’d finalized the decision in my mind to seek custody of her as I walked out of the hospital. As I turned to go look for Marcella, I couldn’t answer my own question. I wasn’t so certain I actually had. I did, however, find myself asking a whole lot of other questions.

  Chapter Twelve

  Precepts

  There was a library I used to visit in England. Row upon row upon row of books and papers filled the tiny building. The head librarian was a fastidious man, as precise in his appearance as he was in keeping the shelves in order. His collar and jacket always neatly pressed, his hair always neatly combed in the exact same way each day, his boots always perfectly shined and buttoned. He could tell you where anything was and most of the time he was accurate right down to the spot on the shelf where you found it. He could rattle off the authors in a section entirely in alphabetical order from memory. His inkpot was always filled and he always knew who was there in his library.

  I’d have gone stark raving mad if I’d been him.

  That’s not to say there isn’t something to be said for order and tidiness. I was very particular about my painting supplies. There can be such a thing as too much order and tidiness, however. Life isn’t life without a bit of chaos thrown in for good measure.

  I just wished chaos didn’t have to make a habit of rearing its head and getting in my way.

  The greatest lesson I learned from that librarian wasn’t one of organization or memorization. It was being aware of my surroundings. It was knowing who and what were around me at any given time and what they were doing. It was a lesson I always tried to keep in mind, even when my thoughts kept wandering to other things. My art was one of the things that could distract me. A feeding cycle was another. I tried very hard not to let much else beyond that join them as culprits.

  I occasionally failed.

  I couldn’t help but wonder how Dawn would impact that order I had in my life. I had some idea of the care babies took; I’d been around Marcella’s grandchildren enough--a few even from the time they were born.

  My studio was entirely and completely unsuitable for a baby.

  There was no way to close off my work area and there were far too many things there that could hurt her. The place was also open, with little to no privacy aside from a couple o
f carved wood and fabric screens I’d placed to give some separation to areas. The only room that closed off was the bathroom and I was pretty sure you couldn’t confine a baby to the bathroom for that long.

  Well, until they were teenagers and did it to themselves.

  As I ran across the rooftops and leaped from building to building, I came to the slow realization that if I truly wanted to raise Dawn, I was going to have to find somewhere else to live.

  This wasn’t a thought that improved my mood just then. I happened to like my studio. A lot.

  I made it to the roof of the building where the morgue was located by early afternoon, then stopped and tested the air, looking for Marcella’s scent. I took a moment to sort it out once I found it, sifting for the different aspects.

  Yes, she was definitely still old.

  Now that I had Marcella’s scent, I moved at a slower pace, following it as it led me in a slight northeast direction. I stopped every so often to check the area, but didn’t pick up any scent other than hers. That struck me as odd, if she’d been following the scent of the old one we’d picked up, I’d think I’d find that here, too. Then again, her ability to sniff one of us out had always been stronger than mine. I suspected it was an age related thing.

  It took me almost an hour to catch up with her. She was in a small field behind an industrial park, crouched down behind an abandoned, rusted out car. The engine, tires, seats and anything else of value had long ago been stripped from it, leaving nothing but the shell to rust away. It was something from the mid seventies, steel, not the lightweight plastics and metals they used now. It would probably still be here when Dawn was Rosie’s age. There was something to be said for building things that lasted. It was something I found myself missing as the decades passed. I could only imagine what Marcella had seen come and go.

  I made sure to approach Marcella from a direction she could see. Though I had no doubt she’d smelled me coming half a mile away. She didn’t move as her dark eyes watched the buildings on the far side of the car. About half of them looked vacant, with overgrown weeds growing from cracks in the pavement and sidewalks and the occasional broken window.

  “I lost him about a mile back,” she said, glancing up at me. She obviously knew what I was going to ask.

  “Then what are you doing here?” If she was going to answer one question before I could ask it, I’d just have to ask a different one. I shifted my coat slightly, adjusting the collar to hide more of my neck.

  And yes, I knew that was the next obvious question to ask and she was probably expecting it, too.

  She pointed towards the building.

  I followed where she pointed, spotting the two boys and one girl after searching for a minute. They were weaving between cars parked behind one of the buildings, sometimes looking inside. I tested the air carefully, picking out their scents from the surroundings.

  All three were dressed in ratty clothes and one of the boys smelled like he hadn’t showered in a week. There was a faint scent of stale alcohol coming from each of them, as well as cheap menthol cigarettes. The girl smelled faintly of old, sour vomit.

  Stomach turning, really.

  “None of them have been infected,” I noted. Which made why Marcella was following them all the more curious. “I’m not impressed with any of their personal hygiene habits.”

  “One of them mentioned Aleksander,” she said. “I picked them up about four blocks back.”

  “What did they say about him?”

  “Something about proving themselves to him.” She watched the three as they moved closer, shifting her place behind the car slightly. They were gathered around an old utility truck now, cupping their hands against the dirt-covered windows as they looked inside the cab, occasionally pointing and nodding to each other. It was obvious the truck had been left sitting there for some time. The building behind it looked to be one that was vacant. I caught bits of their conversation--comments about tools and pawnbrokers. Marcella glanced up at me again. “Nothing like trying to be subtle with an unusually tall, scarred man in a coat and hat standing next to you.”

  “It never stopped you before,” I returned. But she was right, I did tend to draw attention. As a matter of fact, sometimes I drew all the attention. I considered how I could use this to our advantage. “I say we go ask them what they know about him.” I couldn’t see any faster way to try to get a lead on where he might be or who else might be working with him. And maybe we’d get lucky and find our way back to the trail of the old one. I didn’t want to have to hurt them, but sometimes those things can’t be avoided. Maybe they’d talk before it came to that.

  Marcella laughed quietly, that deep cackle rising from her.

  Or maybe Marcella would get to them before they had a chance to talk first. She obviously didn’t mind the idea.

  “Which one do you want?” I asked her, not liking the situation, but knowing there was no way to stop it. Better to just get it over with and back to the problems at hand.

  Marcella raised up slightly, pointing one claw at the boy on the far side of the truck. He was wearing a ragged jeans jacket and black trousers with a stained t-shirt. His hair was pulled back in a short ponytail and it looked like he might be trying to grow a goatee. He was a bit bigger than the other male; more muscular. While he paced nervously behind them, the other two were trying to figure out how to unlock the truck.

  “The other boy is the one who mentioned Aleksander,” she motioned to him. “Are you coming?” she stood up fully and walked towards the twisted and broken chain link fence separating the field from the parking area.

  I nodded and fell into step behind her, extending my own claws as we walked. I flexed my fingers a few times, making sure the joints were loose. I hated the violence, but it was something we were very good at.

  I already knew Marcella would move quickly on her victim, so I was going to make sure the other two didn’t have a chance to scream or run. The boy especially. “I’ll worry about the other two.” I knew they’d be no problem for her on her own, but I also knew she’d be just as likely to kill them all and get the information from the other boy with his dying breaths.

  We jumped easily over the fence. I jumped a second time when we neared them, landing on top of the truck with a solid thunk of my boots on the steel roof and drawing their immediate attention. Marcella crouched slightly near the front of the truck. Barely a second later, she launched herself towards the young man she’d picked out. Her movements were barely even a blur as she closed the distance between them before I could blink. A long, low growl escaped from her as she landed on him, pinning him under her knees and slashing with her claws. One swipe tore his jaw from his skull and sent it flying towards the fence in a spray of blood, teeth and tissue. The other swipe opened a deep gash in his throat, silencing even his strangled attempt at a scream. A third tore a chunk from the front of his shoulder.

  And she was just getting started.

  I focused on the other two, jumping down between them. I sank my claws deeply into the chest of the girl, the upward motion lifting her several inches off the ground. Only a second later, I felt both of her lungs puncture. I gave a slight jerk to my claws and flexed my fingertips, tearing her lungs more. I let her drop to the ground, writhing and gasping as she clutched frantically at her chest trying to breathe.

  I grabbed the other boy before he could run. I swiped at him with my other hand, spinning him back around toward me as my claws caught on his jacket and arm underneath. The momentum carried him forward slightly and I grabbed his other arm, sinking my claws deeply into his shoulder just beside the base of his neck. I felt my claws cut the muscles cleanly and push past the bones with no problem. I kicked his feet out from under him as he screamed and twisted, pushing him down to his knees and holding him there easily. I could feel the warm, sticky blood from his shoulder as it surged over my fingers and hand. The smell of it strong in the air along with his fear and panic. The girl behind me fell still except for the g
urgling in her chest whenever she tried to breathe. I could hear her heart struggling, trying to continue beating even as it slowly choked from no oxygen. It shuddered violently, seemed to seize, then…nothing.

  Marcella stood from the boy she’d attacked. I could see him behind her, sprawled on the ground, blood seeping from a dozen wounds on his head and body. She hadn’t stopped at his jaw, but had also gouged out his eyes and practically disemboweled him. One foot twitched slightly and I caught a slight movement of one of his hands. I made myself not listen for his heartbeat; I didn’t want to know if he was still alive or not. Better to tell myself he was dead and the movements were only reflexive.

  I didn’t have to catch my breath. Neither did Marcella.

  Animals.

  We were nothing but damned animals.

  I couldn’t help but despise the carnage we’d just committed. I could blame it on nothing but myself and the bloodlust the animal demanded. Even though it seemed like second nature to me after all this time.

  “My friend here heard you mention someone by the name of Aleksander,” I said to the boy, trying to shut out the two bodies around us.

  “I d—d—don’t know,” the boy stammered. His skin was growing pale and he started shaking under my grip. He was obviously going into shock. I moved slightly to the side, showing him the girl’s body, then turned him with a violent jerk to see his other friend. He screamed again as my claws tore at his shoulder with the movement.

  “I would suggest you try very hard to remember,” I told him. “It’s important.”

  The boy shook more violently, trying to shake his head but not quite succeeding.

  Marcella growled and slashed out at him, swiping her claws across his face. He screamed and I immediately saw the thin line of black in each wound from her venom. As the blood ran from the cuts, I could smell the venom as it ate its way into the wounds. Oily, thick and just a bit bitter. He screamed again and brought his other arm up, trying to dig at his face. Willing to tear off his own skin to stop the venom from eating away at him. Marcella grabbed that arm and twisted it up behind his back.