Bloodlust

by Kramer, D. L.

  We parted ways that time as friends. Even the next few times we crossed paths we remained friendly, but then things slowly grew apart between us. I grew tired of his schemes, he grew tired of my moodiness. By the time I’d known him twenty or so years, I had begun to view him as the sort of friend you spent time with out of politeness, but not any real desire to be close to.

  I suspect he felt the same way, shortly after that was the first time he tried double crossing me.

  But even then, we parted as acquaintances still on speaking terms.

  It had taken over a century of knowing him and putting up with him for me to get to the point that I was going to kill him.

  Moody artist, indeed.

  I suppose we’d find out soon enough how this latest scheme was going to play out. I hoped Marcella didn’t interfere this time. Well, interfere when I went after him.

  But until then, there were far too many threats coming from different directions for my liking. The sheer numbers of those Aleksander was recruiting, as well as knowing I’d been there at the hospital for some reason other than research for a painting. He also knew about the church and had spoken to Mallory. I didn’t know if he knew about Marcella’s shop and Rosie, but I wasn’t going to take the chance. Thankfully, Rosie would be with the rest of us, though I was sure Marcella was going to argue about that, too.

  Gayle came back out of the nursery once Gianna was gone. She stayed back by the door until I nodded, letting her know Gianna had really left. There were advantages to being able to hear someone’s footsteps long after they’d left the immediate area.

  “What was that about?” Gayle asked me, coming over.

  “Hopefully not more trouble,” I told her, trying not to growl. All the speaking I’d been doing had smoothed out most of the roughness in my voice, but that didn’t change what my mood put in there.

  Gayle was quiet for a moment, watching me.

  “Why don’t we go get a cup of coffee and you can explain,” she suggested.

  That caught me off guard. My mood was suddenly shifted to a moment of confusion, then awkwardness. I was suddenly very much aware of the buzz of the lights overhead, the machines in the nursery, my own heartbeat and the quiet rattle in her chest every time she took a breath.

  And why in the hell were my hands suddenly sweaty?

  “I--” I paused, trying very hard not to stammer. I wasn’t sure what to say next.

  “Coffee?” she asked me, tilting her head slightly and watching me. “You don’t strike me as the type who needs single syllable words, but I suppose I could try.”

  I was almost upset by that until I saw the faint upturn to the corners of her mouth.

  Teasing me? She was teasing me?

  I wasn’t sure I could remember the last time a virtual stranger had done that. Possibly never.

  Wait, what was I doing? My mind stumbled over things for a moment before finally focusing. Yes, Aleksander. I was supposed to meet with Aleksander shortly. I looked at the clock on the wall a short ways down the hall. There was still almost half an hour until I needed to be there.

  How did she do that to me? If she’d been infected, I’d think she was imposing her will on me, but I was positive she hadn’t. Just the fact that she had a health problem told me she was a normal human.

  Coffee. Aleksander. I suppose I could handle that.

  I hoped.

  “My apologies,” I told her, straightening up slightly. I realized I’d retracted my claws at some point, but couldn’t remember when. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” Now that was quite possibly the worst excuse I could have come up with. “I suppose I have a few minutes before I need to be somewhere else.” I wondered if she’d think that was an excuse, too.

  Gayle nodded. “The cafeteria’s just downstairs,” she said, motioning for me to come with her.

  I fell into step with her easily, using the rhythm of the steps to hide my urge to fidget.

  “I’m curious,” I said, hoping casual conversation would distract my nervousness. “How you know what I am.”

  Gayle glanced up at me as we walked. “When I was a little girl, I met a friend of my grandfather’s,” she said, pausing to give me a meaningful look. “A very old friend of my grandfather’s.”

  “Really?” I asked. Now that was intriguing. I wondered if it was one I’d met when traveling. A thought occurred to me. I hoped to high heaven it wasn’t Jozef.

  She nodded, stopping by a staff elevator and pressing the down button. I pretended not to care. I just didn’t like the enclosed space with no escape route. “My paternal grandparents immigrated from France,” she explained. “They took us all back to visit one summer and while we were there, my grandfather introduced us to his friend.”

  “Did you know what he was?” I asked her.

  “Yes,” she nodded. When the elevator doors opened, she led the way in, then pressed the button for the main floor. “I knew as soon as I saw him.”

  “Were you afraid?”

  This intrigued me more. Marcella had told me most children knew and girls usually figured it out sooner than boys. I suspected as they grew into adults, society and their own minds told them it was only their imagination and we were filed back into myths and horror stories.

  She seemed to consider it for a moment, then shook her head as the doors closed. “No,” she replied. “He was very nice to us. I remember sitting on a sofa in his front parlor while he told us stories and snuck us cookies when my grandfather wasn’t watching.” Her voice was far off for a moment and I could tell it was a fond memory. “Before we left, he told me to watch for others like him, because there were more in the world.”

  “That there are,” I nodded, my tone quiet. “You knew as soon as you saw me?”

  “Absolutely,” she said.

  That explained why she never flinched.

  It didn’t, however, explain why she made me so nervous. I didn’t sense any ill intent from her at all.

  Best not to get too far into those thoughts, or I’d start sweating and fidgeting again.

  “What does your family think of knowing we exist?” I asked her. “I remember you have grandsons.”

  She chuckled quietly, pausing as the elevator doors opened and let us out. A sign directly across pointed to the right for the cafeteria. I could hear the sounds of dishes and voices from here and knew it was close.

  “My husband’s dead,” she said. “He died of cancer about four years ago. My son and daughter don’t know about your type outside what they’ve read in school, it was always something I kept to myself. I think it’s one of those personal life experiences that you either find on your own or never have.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your husband,” I told her, hoping it sounded sincere. That was another reason why I hadn’t gotten too close to anyone; it hurt too much when you lost them.

  That would all change with Dawn.

  Gayle led me into the cafeteria and over to where a coffee machine sat next to other drinks. I was happily surprised to see they had a carafe of hot water and assorted tea bags. I caught her hiding her grin when I poured hot water into a mug instead of coffee.

  Around the room, a few people were sitting and eating, an older orderly was reading the paper and a middle aged man was emptying one of the trash cans. A couple of cooks worked stirring food in the buffet line, replacing what had grown cold or stale. The room itself was a mash of smells, everything so overlapping it would take quite a while to pick individual scents out of it all. The tables and chairs were functional, if not comfortable.

  “I probably should have seen a preference for tea coming,” she said, waiting for me then leading the way over to a table by a window.

  “Us Victorian English gentleman do have our habits,” I told her.

  “You must have been one of the lucky ones who didn’t grow up having to work in a coal mine,” she noted as I sat down. I debated taking off my hat for propriety’s sake, but seeing the other people around, I left it on
and hoped she’d forgive me.

  “We weren’t the height of society, but we were comfortable,” I told her. “My grandfather built a good life for us and we were far more fortunate than others.”

  She stirred sugar and cream into her coffee, then sipped it.

  “So tell me about this ‘brother’ of yours,” she suggested.

  And there were those quotes in her speech to ruin my mood again.

  “To begin with, he’s in no way my actual brother,” I told her. “But he is an old acquaintance. His name’s Aleksander and when you said he seemed like he was up to no good, you were right.”

  She nodded. “He was asking far too many questions into things that weren’t his business to be on the up and up,” she said. She took a deep breath and I heard the rattle again, more prominent this time. I wondered if it was getting worse. I still doubted she realized it was there.

  “He’s a manipulator and schemer,” I continued. “But hopefully soon now, he’ll—” I paused, a flash of nervousness trying to throw my thoughts off track again. “—Be moving on to somewhere else,” I finally finished, but perhaps a bit too quickly. I supposed that could mean ‘is laying in a watery grave with his head ripped off’. I stirred my tea, lifting the tea bag in and out of the water a few times to circulate water around it.

  “Will he be coming back here?” she asked me.

  Now that was a good question.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “Hopefully not.” A thought occurred to me. I had to admit there was a very possible chance I wasn’t going to live through this. The odds were certainly stacked against us. What then? “Should anything happen to me in the next few days,” I began, choosing my words carefully. “That I’ll not be able to pursue custody of Dawn, there’s a priest at the church down by the shelter on twenty fifth. Go to him and he should be able to help find a family for her.”

  Yes, that would be good. Father Mallory would help. I trusted him to have good judgment in finding a suitable family for her.

  Besides, technically, he owed me one.

  Gayle studied me for a long moment.

  “Why do I get the feeling that’s more ominous than it sounds?” she asked, sipping her coffee again.

  “Aleksander and I have fought before,” I told her. “Let’s just say at the very least, I know I’m going to get hurt.”

  “Then why fight him?”

  Why indeed.

  “Because it’s the only way to stop him from doing something very bad,” I finally replied.

  Gayle studied me over the rim of her coffee mug.

  “How bad?”

  “It’s not much consequence to me,” I told her. “But if Dawn ever wants a chance to grow up safe, he needs to be stopped.” That sounded sufficient to me. Hopefully she wouldn’t ask too many more questions. It wasn’t really something I was willing to discuss in depth with someone who wasn’t directly involved.

  “So you’ve decided to pursue custody of her?”

  Oh good, she got the hint and wasn’t going to dig any deeper.

  I took a long, slow breath. “I will probably question that right up until the day any papers are signed,” I confessed. “My life would change dramatically and quite honestly, I don’t know that much about babies.”

  “No new parent does,” she smiled at me. I caught myself from shifting my weight in my chair before it became too obvious. “You can read every book on the planet and none of them will prepare you for the actual thing.”

  I nodded, taking the tea bag from my cup and setting it on the saucer, then stirring in a half spoonful of sugar.

  “Let’s just say it’s still under consideration.”

  Oh, would I just make up my mind already? I hated this indecisiveness. But I would have to move. I would have to change my hours. I would have to actually be involved in someone else’s life and have contact with the outside world.

  But, but, but.

  But maybe it was time.

  “Do you have any idea when she’ll be released yet?” I asked.

  “Maybe another couple of weeks,” Gayle said after thinking about it for a moment. “Her heart’s still a little weak, but her lungs sound good. I think as soon as her heartbeat is pretty regular, they’ll release her.”

  I nodded, then glanced at her. Do I tell her? Do I let life and fate play out their natural course with no interference from me? No, I owed her that much at least. She had lied to Aleksander’s face, after all. And lived.

  “There’s something you should know,” I began slowly. She set her coffee mug down and looked at me, noting my tone. She didn’t interrupt though. “You need to see a doctor.” I said it bluntly, but tried to keep any growl out of my voice. “There’s a slight rattle in the upper left part of your lung. Not like congestion, but there’s something there.”

  Her hand moved absently to the front of her left shoulder as her gaze locked on mine.

  Still not a flinch.

  But now I knew why.

  “My lung?” she asked, her brow creasing in concern.

  I nodded. “I can hear it whenever you breathe. But it’s quiet, barely there. It’s probably just starting, whatever it is.” I didn’t mention the tiny variation I saw in her pupil and eyelid. I was sure it was related.

  “I’ve—had some coughing fits at night,” she said, her tone trailing off as her face paled slightly. “My mother died of lung cancer.”

  “Then the sooner you get it checked, the better.” I took a swallow of my tea. Not quite hot enough, but it was passable.

  We sat for a few more minutes, not really discussing anything in particular beyond her mentioning one of the oncologists there owing her a favor so she’d talk to him about tests. By the time I left, I felt better about things. She knew to have her health checked and I knew if something happened to me, she’d make sure Father Mallory had a hand in finding Dawn a good family.

  I had to admit, it was rather pleasant to have a few minutes to just sit and visit with someone else. A calm before the storm, if you will.

  Part of me couldn’t help but feel like I was tying up loose ends. I also couldn’t shake the feeling that my next confrontation with Aleksander was going to be an end, but to what or whom, I didn’t know.

  I left the hospital after making a quick round of the area to make sure no one was lurking about who might cause trouble.

  I took a slightly wandering path to the hotel where Aleksander was staying. If anyone was following me, I wanted to know. I didn’t spot anyone, though and silently chided myself for my paranoia. I debated going in through the main entrance, but then decided I didn’t want anyone seeing me. I walked around the top of the hotel, getting my bearings and sorting scents. Finding which side his room was on, I walked to the edge, looking down at the balconies below. I extended my claws , gauged the length of the drop, then jumped off the edge.

  I caught the outer edge of the top balcony with my claws, using my momentum to swing inward and down a level, then landed on the balcony below. Rasmussen’s contact had been very thorough and had provided not only the address, but the room number and where it was located on the floor.

  I took a moment to adjust my hat and coat, then retracted my claws and walked over to knock on the door. I wasn’t worried about being at the wrong room, I could smell Aleksander inside. No sign of Gianna, though. Maybe she really did mean going back to wherever Aleksander had found her.

  A few seconds after I knocked, the curtains brushed aside and I saw him cautiously look out. His expression brightened when he saw it was me.

  I didn’t really buy it.

  “Using the back door, I see,” he said, opening the door and motioning for me to come inside.

  “I figured the fewer people who saw, the better,” I told him, coming into the room.

  The hotel room was as ostentatious as he was. Hand-carved wooden furniture, at least three rooms, expensive carpet and upholstery.

  “Please, sit down,” he motioned to the sofa as he w
alked to pour a glass of water. “Can I get you a drink?” he paused, sniffing slightly. “Orange tea?” he asked.

  I nodded, walking to the sofa, but not sitting. I don’t know why he felt the need to point out what kind of tea I’d had, I already knew. I took off my hat and coat, setting them on the side of the sofa.

  He poured a second glass of water, then added a lemon slice to it before bringing it over to me. I took it when he offered it, taking a swallow. I wasn’t worried about him having put anything in it. Poison wouldn’t work.

  “What was all that tonight?” I asked him, only sitting when he did. No doubt he’d think it was my traditional habits and manners.

  Aleksander leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over his other knee.

  “It’s how I make them believe they’re earning my trust and getting on my good side,” he replied, shrugging with one shoulder.

  I tilted my head to look at him with my white eye as I set the glass of water on the small table next to the sofa.

  “Why not just find people you know are worth infecting?”

  Aleksander chuckled. “I have to support this operation somehow,” he pointed out to me. “I forget, you’re an artist, you probably don’t consider such things.” His tone seemed a little too pointed to me.

  “If you think I’m going to give you my paintings to support this, you’re mistaken,” I told him bluntly. “You know why I agreed to help you.”

  “That I do,” he nodded. “And I appreciate it, Mikhos, I really do. You saw the people who are there. They aren’t going to be elite anything.”

  I was happy to see he still had a grasp of stating the obvious.

  “What about the ones who were infected already?”

  “Those have been with me a while,” he nodded. “Anywhere from a year to two.”

  “How long have you been doing this?!” I demanded. If he’d been infecting people for a couple of years, who knew how many there were by now. Damned foolish bastard.

  “There are only about a dozen or so of those,” he said, raising one eyebrow, obviously a little surprised at my tone.

  A dozen was certainly better than what I’d been afraid of. Still, though, it was quite a few for us to take on at once. I was very glad I had Marcella and now Jozef on my side.