A Vampire's Thirst_Alaric

by Julia Mills

  “Aye, Clarence.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth before Mateo disconnected the call, stowed his phone back inside his jacket and looked directly at Alaric. “I’ll be back.” Without another word, the Enforcer-in-Training turned and left, nearly disappearing into thin air with the use of his preternatural speed.

  Barking with laughter, Ruari held his stomach as he guffawed, “Does that joker really think he’s Schwarzenegger?”

  “I’ll be back,” Sampson mocked, getting in on the joke, imitating the well-known Austrian-American actor’s unmistakable accent. “Dude better lay off the Terminator.”

  Unable to keep the smile from spreading across his face, Alaric strolled to the bar, poured three glasses of blood-laced port, picked his up and turned towards his still chuckling friends. Watching Ruari and Sampson, the ancient vampire tried to mentally focus on the two people of his Clan still walking the earth. Being a blood relative of Brygid, the Sire of Clan MacAngoran, he could touch the mind of every Vampire with her blood running through their veins.

  Quickly locating Thaddeus, the vampire who was still trying, all these centuries later, to atone for his actions as a young vampire, kneeling at the altar of St Moluag’s in Lismore in the county of Argyll, Alaric took an extra second to prepare to speak with his brethren.

  Dressed in the heavy, dark brown, woolen robes of the holy men of the third century B.C., his long red hair pulled back and held at the nape of his neck with a leather wrap, the ancient Vampire’s prayers of redemption and penance touched Alaric’s heart. It had been so long since they’d spoken that he’d forgotten how oppressive his brethren’s guilt was.

  “Thaddeus, brother, how are ye?” He spoke directly into the other Vampire’s mind. “Will you never accept the forgiveness I know you been granted time and again?”

  “I seek not the mercy from our Lord, but from my own soul, of this you well know, Brother.”

  And Alaric did. He had been there when Androu had brought a sobbing Thaddeus into the MacAngoran Castle. Crazed with hunger, refusing to feed, the newly turned Vampire’s mind had forsaken him. On the fifth night, the need to feed or perish came over Thad with the force of the devil himself. The young man jumped from the turret, some seventy-five feet atop the west side of the castle, raced into the village and drained nearly ten people before Alaric was able to stop him.

  Easily overpowering the young vampire, Alaric carried Thad back to the castle, locked him in the dungeon and spent the next hundred years keeping him alive with cow’s blood hidden in his food and drink. Thaddeus had never again taken food from a human neck. It was a tragic tale of what can come from turning the unwilling.

  “Aye, Thaddeus, someday you must find the way to forgive yourself. Live the life you have been given.”

  “You have not reached across the multitude of miles separating us to reiterate the words you have spoken for centuries,” Thaddeus sighed, still on his knees, head bent, hands on the elegantly carved wood altar rail. “Ask what you need to ask and let me be.”

  “As you wish.” Alaric hated that thousands of years later a man he thought of as a brother still suffered so, but there was more at stake than Thaddeus’ penance. That had been going on for several lifetimes and would have to wait.

  “Have you spoken to Androu?”

  “No, not since the day I left that dreadful place, and I pray to our gracious Lord that I never do.”

  Ignoring the depths of his own regret for the part he played in keeping Thad locked in the dungeon for all those years, Alaric asked his last question. “Have you seen any of the others? Any of our kind or any from the Clans or Covens? Any from the time of the Roman Invasion?”

  “No, I have not.” Thaddeus’ disgust for all things Vampire was palpable. “As you well know, you are the only one of our kind that I have any correspondence with, all others are banned from my mind, as well as this holy place.”

  Sorry for the toll his questions had taken on his brother, Alaric apologized, “Excuse my interruption of your prayers. Be well, Brother.”

  “You as well, Alaric.”

  The carefully constructed, incredibly strong walls within Thaddeus’ mind slammed shut just as Sampson, who had moved while Alaric was otherwise engaged, clapped his hands and teased, “Wake up, Sleepyhead. We’ve got business to attend to.”

  Looking the tall Nordic Vampire directly in the eye, Alaric narrowed his eyes and nodded, “Indeed, we do. Tell me everything you know about the woman I saw you manhandling, starting with her name and leaving nothing out, lest you feel like losing your head on this night.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jumping out of the cab, Ashlynn ran through the huge, double, automatic, glass doors of the Emergency entrance of Children’s Medical, made an immediate left and sprinted for the stairs at the end of the hall. Crashing through the door, she hit the stairs like she’d been shot out of a cannon, before taking the steps three at a time and landing on the painted concrete floor of the basement in record time.

  Speeding towards the Surgical Suite, she was met by Tracy and Angela, the two nurse practitioners who were part of her surgical team. Hitting the double doors leading to the Scrub Room with her back, Ashlynn spun towards the huge, deep, stainless steel sinks and began scrubbing in as one nurse helped her out of her clothes and into scrubs while the other gave her vital information on her patient.

  “BP is Sixty-seven over thirty-two, hemoglobin at four and white count at fourteen-point-six as of fifteen minutes ago.”

  The emotion in Angela’s voice was controlled, but nonetheless still there. It was no secret that they’d all gotten close to Timmy. He was a good kid who’d been dealt a raw deal by genetics, Fate, Destiny or whatever bastard was responsible for kids with bad hearts and rare blood types.

  “Our boy’s got an infection,” Ash commented, unconsciously scrubbing her skin so hard her skin turned bright red. Pulling her hands from the water and bending her elbows upright so Tracy could slide the surgical gown onto her body, Ashlynn continued, “Liver functions, creatinine, and A1C are off the charts?”

  “They are,” Angela confirmed before Tracy added, “And his fluid retention is damn near more than an adult three times his size,” while stuffing Ashlynn’s long, light-brown braid into her pink, flowered surgical cap and tying it tightly at the base of the surgeon’s neck along with the strings to her surgical mask. Covering Ashlynn’s mouth with the thick cotton-like fabric, the nurse tied the second set of strings atop the crown of the young surgeon’s head and confirmed, “The shield for your eyes is on your tray next to your light and scope.”

  “Thanks, Trace.” Ash took her first deep breath since racing into the hospital and calmed the twinge of nerves she always felt right before surgery. At first, those uneasy feelings had worried her, made her think she wasn’t cut out to be a surgeon, but Dr. Higgenbotham, her professor, and mentor, was quick to reassure a then resident praying with words she still repeated before every procedure. “Nerves are good. They remind you that you are human. That you are about to hold another human’s life in your hands. As long as you have a conscience, you have a soul, and therefore, respect the sanctity of life. You, Ashlynn, will always give all that you have to your patients. Never fear the nerves, embrace them, let them fuel your desire to preserve the life you have sworn to protect. You are one of the good ones, Kiddo. Make me proud.”

  I plan to do just that, Dr. H. Wherever in Heaven you may be, I thank you.

  “He’s in multi-system failure. Get ready ladies, we’re about to replace the stent, hook him up with a pacemaker, and give our boy a few more weeks, so, we can find him a new heart.”

  “We’re right behind you,” the nurses answered in unison as Ashlynn once again used her back to open another set of doors. Turning, she looked at her patient, so young, frail and very much in danger of losing his life.

  Glancing up at Dr. Williams, the anesthesiologist Ash most liked to work with, she nodded, “You got our boy good and
asleep?”

  “He’s ready for your magic, Doc.”

  Giving the other doctor a wink and grinning even though she felt anything but jovial, Ash looked at the entire surgical team and shoving as much positive energy and good vibes into her voice as she could, instructed, “This one’s for all the marbles. Prayers, good thoughts, and healing energy along with everything Dr. Simmons and I can do is what’s gonna save Timmy. Thank you for being here. Let’s get to work.”

  Stepping up to the table supporting her young patient, Ashlynn’s eyes met Bob Simmons’, the assisting thoracic surgeon, and in unison, they gave each other a single nod before getting to work. Nine-and-a-half long, soul-sucking, energy-draining hours they worked to replace the stent on the anterior cardiac artery, place a new one on the posterior side and also implant a pacemaker to keep the boy’s heart beating at a regular, healthy rhythm.

  During the long, treacherous procedure, Timmy went into cardiac arrest twice, had to be given ten pints of blood – which meant he lost not only the eight pints he’d come into surgery with, but also two additional units- and was on the razor’s edge of death more times than Ashlynn wanted to think about. Staying until Dr. Simmons had the boy’s chest closed and the nurses were taking him to recovery, the young surgeon held her head high, got out of her bloody clothes, changed into a new set of scrubs and headed out to talk to his parents.

  Walking into the waiting room, she was immediately met by Mr. and Mrs. James, along with Timmy’s grandparents, two aunts, and an uncle. Motioning for them to sit back down, Ash pulled up a chair and sat in front of the semi-circle the family had formed while waiting.

  Smiling at each person as she spoke, Ash assured them, “Timmy did a fantastic job. He’s a real fighter, super strong, you should be proud.” Taking Mrs. James’ hand as the mother with red-rimmed eyes and cheer-stained cheeks reached for her, Ashlynn continued, “You know that I’m always honest with you, so, here goes. Tim’s heart did stop twice, he did lose a lot of blood, and he’s still not out of the woods.” She watched as everyone held their breath waiting for the good news and hurried on. “All of that being said, he rallied back and held tight as we put in two stents and a pacemaker. He will be on daily dialysis until he’s off the ventilator as a precaution. We need to be sure he doesn’t retain any more fluids than absolutely necessary. We do not want his heart working any harder than it has to.” She squeezed Mrs. James’ hand and smiled at Mr. James. “I will be calling Houston, San Antonio, Seattle, Baltimore, and D.C. as soon as I can get to a phone and speak with the heads of their Transplant Units to see if they have any information on an AB negative match for Timmy.”

  Letting go of Mrs. James’ hand, Ash stood and made her way around to each relative, shaking their hands as she concluded, “I’ll be here until he wakes up. Tracy and Angela are with him in recovery, as well as, Barbara and Kristine, so, y’all know he’s in the best hands we’ve got.” Winking as she pointed at the coffee pot, she added, “I’ll call Culinary and have them come up with some brunch and drinks.”

  “Thank you so much,” Mr. James’ low, Texas drawl rang out right before the entire family echoed his appreciation. “If anyone can help our boy, it’s you, Dr. Ash.”

  Holding back the tears, Ashlynn smiled and nodded, “I’m sure gonna give it my best.”

  Walking out of the room, still maintaining her air of confidence, she made it into the elevator, up to the tenth floor and into the Chapel before letting her tears of sadness, fear, exhaustion, and utter confusion at a world where a boy like Timmy could suffer so much, fall. Glad the Sanctuary was empty, she slowly made her way to the front pew. Sitting on the end closest to the far wall, under the shroud of shadows caused by the glow of the electric candles perched in the golden candelabras, Ashlynn talked to God.

  “I know you were in the Operating Room with us. I could feel your guidance with every cut, every decision, every step of the way. I have asked a lot of you over the years, probably more than I had a right to, but I have to ask more. Please, if it is your will, help me help Timmy. Whatever way that may be, in whatever form you deem necessary, I am asking you to be with that amazing little boy and not let his suffering be in vain.”

  Unable to speak as her sobs continued to grow, Ashlynn continued her plea silently, letting go of her need to control and fix in favor of the Higher Power she knew with all her heart would lead her to the answers she needed to make sure Timmy had a long, healthy life. Thinking of her mom and dad and grandma Judy, she thought of all the times they’d prayed together as a family for one of her dad’s patients or her mother’s clients. Growing up with a father who was also a surgeon, a mother who was a social worker and a grandmother who was a retired nurse, all who had a strong faith in not only God but also in the inherent goodness of people, Ashlynn truly believed everything happened the way it was supposed to in its own time – and Timmy’s situation was no different.

  It was almost as if she could hear her father’s voice reassuring, “You’ve done all you can, Doodlebug. You gave it you’re all. The rest is up to God. Believe, and your answers will come.”

  “I do, Daddy. I believe so much it hurts. I know with my heart and soul that Timmy is destined for great things. I just have to help him make it there.”

  Waiting for the reply she knew wasn’t coming, Ashlynn jumped to her feet when a voice called out over the loudspeaker, “Code Blue Recovery. Code Blue Recovery. Code Blue Recovery.”

  Racing out of the chapel, she collided with a tall, handsome man whose hands gently closed on her upper arms as he kept her from hitting the floor. Icy hot goose bumps rose on her flesh. Her own heart skipped a beat, and the air was forced from her lungs.

  Looking into his gunmetal-blue eyes, she felt something weird happen in the deep recesses of her soul. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere or the way one look made her want to jump into his arms and never leave.

  Not able or willing to examine what was going on as the terrifying words ‘Code Blue’ continued through the halls, Ash exclaimed, “Sorry. Thank you. So Sorry.”

  Racing towards Recovery, terrified at what she might find, for a split-second her steps faltered as the words, “My pleasure, Ashlynn. We shall meet again,” floated through her mind.

  Chapter Nine

  Watching Ashlynn sprint down the hall and not chasing after her took every ounce of control in Alaric’s body and soul. The tips of his fangs drew blood from his bottom lip. His nails, now claws, bit into his flesh. Sparks, quickly growing into small flames, danced in his palms, and skated over his wrists before he could force it down. A red haze eclipsed his vision. Searing pain, the twisting of his muscles, the cramping of his stomach, the throbbing of his cock, nearly forced the vampire to his knees.

  Thinking about what Sampson had told him just a few hours earlier, Alaric let the conversation replay in his mind, praying it would dampen the need roaring within him…

  “And when did you meet her?” Alaric demanded his tone deep and threatening.

  “Whoa, chill, Al,” Ruari stepped up to his side. “Sam is here for the bachelorette party I told you about. The one where the groom is a friend of Roarke’s and requested extra security?”

  At the mention of his fellow vampire’s name, Alaric asked, “And Roarke knows of this woman?” Stepping forward, he snarled, “She is not one of his thirty-day girls, is she?”

  “I’m not sure if Roarke knows Ash and let me assure you with a big ole HELL NO, she is not from the Service,” Sampson answered, taking up where Ruari had left off. “All I know is that Ashlynn knows Roarke’s wife, Katharine, and also Remy Newman’s wife, Bonnie. They went to the same high school or something like that. They didn’t sound like close friends, but she smiled when she talked about them, so, I guess they are still on good terms.”

  Hearing Ashlynn’s name, Alaric instinctually took another step forward, growling through gritted teeth, “Exactly how close did you get to Ashlynn? You seem to know more than
you are saying.” Poking the tall Nordic vampire in the chest, Alaric accused, “She is mine. I will have her, and no one will stop me. If you have so much as left a fingerprint on her person, I will make your death slow and painful.”

  Holding his hands up, palms out, showing his surrender, Sampson shook his head, “Dude, take a breath. I don’t want her for anything more than a friend. She is super smart, really easy to talk to and very nice.” With his hands still up but now grinning, he added, “She’s a heart surgeon for kids. Like one of the best in the whole world.” His awe was evident in the way his eyes danced, and the excitement lifted in his baritone voice. Pulling out his phone, quickly sliding his fingers over the screen, he handed the device to Alaric. “Look at that shit. That’s Ashlynn’s bio in Who’s Who in Medicine.” Shaking his head and chuckling, the Viking added, “Not only is she brilliant, but she’s also the youngest female to ever be at the top of her field in Cardiothoracic and Cardiovascular Surgery. It’s amazing. She is a rock star in her field.” He whistled through his teeth. “And she knew I was a Vampire, just from looking. Gave me all the signs then said it was because of her training. I thought it was cool as shit.”

  “And she wasn’t apprehensive or scared?” Ruari asked. “She didn’t think you were gonna overpower her, drag her into a dark corner and drain her.”

  “Hell no,” Sampson laughed. “She was totally cool. Interested in what makes us the way we are, but totally respectful and shit. I’m tellin’ ya’ Ru, Ashlynn is cool people.”