by Jan McDonald
Lane sighed. “I was afraid you’d take that view. Okay, let’s see if this helps.” She picked up her empty glass and smashed it against the edge of the table then, without a pause, she drew the jagged edges across her wrist.
Kate’s arm flew up to her face, shielding her eyes from the sight of flowing blood. She began to cry softly.
“Kat, look. It’s all right. I promise. Look.”
She could feel Lane’s hand on her arm, gently prising it away from her face. Eventually she looked at Lane’s wrist. There was just a faint red line where there should have been a fountain of dark red blood. The cut had already closed and almost healed. Images of Nik with no apparent injuries where he should have been nursing at least one fracture came unbidden. Lane let go of her arm.
“I apologise for the theatrics, but Hollywood did get that bit right – for some of us anyway.”
Kat shook her head, her disbelief written on her face as if carved on stone. “I don’t know how you did that, but I refuse to believe in vampires. They’re fiction, a figment of Bram Stoker’s imagination. Not real. Do you hear me? Not real!”
“I assure you I’m very real, and I am a vampire and have been for almost four and a half centuries. You are going to have to accept this Kat, because it is the truth. If you want me to help you, then you must start trusting me. I am telling you the complete and utter truth. Vampires have been documented throughout history; many, many hundreds of years before Mr. Stoker dipped his pen nib into the inkwell. We believe that the first of our kind was born in Ancient Egypt, the son of a pharaoh; a product of his incestuous practices and powerful magic that somehow distorted his DNA. It made it receptive to the infection by a virus that we now call the Human Vampiric Virus, or HVV. Our line has continued throughout the centuries, unbroken but not unadulterated. It soon became evident that this one vampire’s offspring carried the DNA, the blueprint of the vampire, and from that time forward, the virus has mutated. Now we are either born like this or were turned by others who need to feed and don’t understand how to control their hunger. The virus cannot be spread by any other means than ingesting the blood of an infected vampire but the virus can, and does, kill.
“Our history has been fairly well hidden over time; we have the ability to cloud minds – but there have always been those who were determined to discover the truth that was buried in myth. I’m afraid that Hollywood has somewhat glamorised and at the same time demonised our condition, helped along in good measure by modern literature. It’s of no matter. I mean … who would believe it?”
“I want Beckett,” Kat said in a small voice.
Lane shook her head. “Not yet. Not until you understand that I am trying to help you and that you need my help. There are more like you out there believe me and it’s my job to take care of you – or as many of you as I can. Besides, Beckett can’t help you. Not in the way I can.”
“I won’t listen to all this. I must be going mad. Is that it – am I insane?” she demanded.
Lane’s heart ached for her; there was nothing she could say or do to take away the disbelief and, eventually, the misery of the acceptance. She could only be there when the truth hit home and help her deal with it.
“Do you know how long you have been this way?” asked Lane.
“If you mean how long I have been sick, then that should prove you wrong. I was fine until I was pregnant. Don’t ask me why. So you see I’m not, what did you call it, a Latent? And I sure as hell would know if I’d been bitten by a goddamn vampire. You’re way off the mark. I wasn’t born sick.”
“You don’t have to be. If you were born a latent, then your condition will have lain dormant until such time as something triggered a reaction in you and your DNA profile actually began to change,” replied Lane.
Kat shook her head vigorously, “DNA can’t change. This conversation is over. I’m calling Beckett.”
Lane picked up the phone and handed it to her. “Go ahead, call him! But trust me, he’s not going to tell you anything you want to hear.”
Kat’s hand shook as she dialled the number. She fumbled it three times before it rang at the other end.
Beckett’s voice filled her with some comfort but that quickly turned to dismay as she realised she was listening to his answer phone. “Hi, this is Paul Beckett. Sorry I’m not at home. Leave a message. Bye.”
“He’s not there,” she said dismally.
“That’s because, if I know Beckett, he’s on his way here, even though I told him to stay away; actually, especially because I told him to stay away.”
“I can’t listen to you anymore.” She put her head in her hands. “I don’t understand. This is all too bizarre.”
“How else do you explain your fear of the night and blood? Why do you react the way you do when you see blood? Or worse, taste it? It’s the craving Kat. You crave it and therefore you fear it. You fear the loss of control that comes with the lust. Am I right? And what about Beckett?”
”What about him?”
“He’s falling for you. How long have you known him? Have you slept with him? Because, quite frankly, he’s quite delicious, and I can’t see any reason why not – unless of course you don’t trust yourself with him? Is that it?”
“It’s none of your damn business, but no, I haven’t slept with him, it’s not like that – Beckett’s … too nice, I guess.”
Lane gave a half smile, “Yes, he is, isn’t he? Look, I can help you but you have to listen to me.”
Kat shook her head. “No. Lots of people have phobias; it doesn’t make them vampires, even if there were such things. You won’t stop will you? Well, I’m not buying into it. Not any of it. Understand?”
Lane settled back in the chair and stretched out her long shapely legs, sipping at the brandy still in her glass. It wasn’t the vintage Armagnac that she was used to but right then she didn’t care. Over the centuries, born into the Medici family, a pampered favourite of Cossimo Medici, the powerful Grand Duke of Tuscany, she had acquired great wealth and the taste for all things good; after all, she’d had the luxury of time. Even so, the harsh spirit filled her with warmth but it failed to override the cold dread that was building inside her.
They sat in silence, their situation not conducive to small talk and Lane knew she’d need Beckett behind her if she were ever going to get Kat to even begin to understand what was happening to her. Because, however much she denied it, sooner or later she would have to face the truth.
She was a vampire.
CHAPTER SIX
Nik was strung out on hunger and rage. He needed to feed. Kat had taken him to the edge. He could go back and feed on her, cast her aside to either drink or die. He didn’t care which.
He had the psychological advantage; she knew he was her son now, and so she wouldn’t want to hurt him. It would be instinctive, despite the fact she’d turned her back on him all those years ago. There would be guilt, too, that would make her want to help, not injure, him. No. It wouldn’t be much fun; no challenge in that. He’d save her for another night.
The club would be different – packed with Goths and Lifestylers, and wannabe vampires. He grinned; maybe he’d oblige one of them. Besides, after the blood he’d be horny as hell and spoilt for choice at the club. It was a gathering place for kids with no place else to go; kids that nobody would miss, or would be forgotten after a week or so – drifters, prostitutes, teenagers that had left homes where no-one cared, drawn to the excitement and darkness of the club and his world.
Man, he had the power; he was practically a god! What the hell was he thinking about trying to get her to cure him? He didn’t want that now; he had what he wanted. He was calling the shots now, no longer at the mercy of the system that had failed him.
The club was bouncing, strobe lights throbbing in time with the dark rhythm of the music, and the only other lights were red and deliberately dim. It excited the wannabes and was easy on the eyes of the real vampires whose sight could cut through the darkest night but
whose retinas could be damaged by the glare of bright light, especially sunlight or any other form of ultra-violet light.
He was charged; he could feel his blood pumping through the walls of his arteries and veins, his heart racing as it always did before he fed. He was wired now and oblivious to everything except his need for blood, remaining unaware of the conversation taking place on the sofa right next to him.
Andrei Marinescu, the suave club owner, was in deep conversation with a senior member of the Vampire High Council. Talk had been heated and, although it had become relatively quiet, tension still crackled between them as Andrei’s easy arrogance was matched by the other’s clear authority.
The elder man spoke in a refined voice that still bore a hint of his Eastern European origins. “So I can count on your support, Andrei? When the time comes?”
“Yes, sir. Without question. I and my house are loyal to you and always will be.” Andrei’s tawny eyes darkened momentarily; it wouldn’t do for his guest to see the resentment.
“That is good to know. And, in return, your business enterprises – including this one – shall remain under my protection. It would of course, be prudent to avoid any clashes with my junior members, they do get somewhat carried away with enthusiasm for things which they don’t understand or appreciate. There are too many do-gooders on the Council these days that see humans as more than food. It comes from allowing other than pure blood as members. The Code has to be revised before we all end up feeding from plastic bags in sterile clinics and when I am elected Patriarch we shall soon be free to enjoy our instincts to the full. Make no mistake, Andrei, you will not regret your loyalty.” He stood to leave, nodding dismissal to his host.
Ignorant of what was playing out beside him, Nik allowed his sharp eyes to play with several possible prey, finally settling on a young girl sitting alone in a corner who looked as though she would give him a good time. He hoped she been doing drugs; he’d leave her there if so, he didn’t want any of that inside him, taking the edge off. He smiled at her and focused his will across the club, drawing her eyes.
She put down her drink and looked around, aware of him yet not seeing him. Not yet, he was in the mood to savour his blood lust and play with her mind. He deepened his concentration and smiled as she looked around again.
Stand up, he thought. Stand up, leave your drink and come over here.
The girl picked up her drink then put it back on the table and looked around her again before standing uncertainly. She walked towards him. That’s right sweetheart, this way. Keep coming. Come to Nik.
She was half way across the room when she saw him. She found his eyes, stopped and smiled at him. Easy.
He sensed the presence a split second before he felt the vice-like grip on his shoulder. Andrei Marinescu loomed behind him, dwarfing his own six feet, his grasp defying Nik to move. He lost his telepathic hold over the girl.
“Good Evening Nik. Having a good time? You’re hungry, oh and angry, I can feel it. You wouldn’t have your eye on her now would you?” He nodded towards the girl who still stood close by but appearing not to see either of them.
Nik shook his head. Not a god after all. Not while Andrei Marinescu was around. He was just a young punk on the prowl compared to this tall sophisticated man who had power even over his own kind. The vice didn’t slacken.
“There are certain things that you must learn, Nik, if you are to remain safe here. There are rules. I know you know that, because I’m the one who explained them to you, but I’ll remind you. Rule number one is, that you don’t take prey without permission. You have to be selective. No loose ends. We don’t want police poking around here because some young tart hasn’t shown home and Daddy has called them, do we? And we don’t want the Council down on our backs. Find your prey and then check with Luke, the Head of Security. It’s easy.
“The second rule is that you don’t take prey that is already spoken for. Understand? And she is spoken for. I have a taking for her myself. I had some business to take care of first and now … well, who knows? But one thing I do know is that she’s full of promise. And she’s promised to me. If you had obeyed the first rule you would have been aware of that. Look elsewhere. “And Nik, rule three. Don’t take more than you need, we don’t want any unexplained mishaps, do we? Are we clear?”
Nik was sullen and unresponsive.
“Are we clear?” Andrei persisted.
Nik nodded.
Andrei’s eyes flashed crimson at Nik; there would be no further warning. The grip slackened, Andrei was gone and so was the girl.
Directly above him on the viewing balcony a man stood in shadow, from where he had watched the exchange. Behind a black silk mask, his ice blue eyes danced with pleasure at Nik’s discomfort. Here was a young man with a chip on his shoulder the size of the Everest, and he was angry. Anger was such a powerful emotion, possessing the energy and power of a volcano, both of them ignited by heat and fire. The boy had potential. More than he’d seen in a long time.
He motioned to one of the security team and spoke quietly in his ear. The club’s tough guy nodded briefly and disappeared into the darkness of the upstairs rooms.
In a single fluid movement he emerged from shadow to stand at the edge of the balcony. The glow of the red lamps cast eerie lights across the black silk mask that covered the top half of his face.
He affected the dress of a Gothic, and his mask left only his thin, sensuous mouth and eyes visible. There was an air about him, something in his bearing that made it obvious that he was no ordinary patron of the club. The iceberg eyes flashed behind the black silk, the lazy lids closed and when they opened again those same eyes were aflame with crimson light as they followed Nik below.
Music pounded the walls, bounced off floor and ceiling, but Nik was in no mood to stay any longer. Andrei had made him feel like an insolent schoolboy caught playing truant. No longer a god. One day he’d show him, one day he’d get even with him.
His hunger was driving him now, fuelled by anger, humiliation and frustration. He needed to feed and feed soon. Already he knew that he wouldn’t be able to control himself once the blood was flowing. He knew he wouldn’t stop at just enough to satisfy his hunger.
He knew he would gorge himself until the veins that fed him bled dry. And he didn’t care about the implications of it.
Now he had to hunt out in the open and risk being caught. There was always the Sanctuary, but he was reluctant to go there unless he had no alternative. In his eyes it was nothing more than a Council run feeding station. He despised the Council and all it stood for with its Codes and restrictive rules. He wouldn’t be able to satisfy his savage needs there, even though he could guarantee a supply of fresh blood. Besides, he enjoyed the hunt.
At the door, their voices drowned by music, Luke, the Head of Security, and a pretty young Goth girl were arguing. He wasn’t allowing her in but she was being persistent.
“Problem?” Nik asked the girl.
“Yeah. Dickweed won’t let me in. You gonna get me in?”
He took in her heavy boots over fishnet tights, the black satin corset top and black leather mini skirt. He shook his head.
“No, I’m leaving. Want to come with me?”
He stared at her, using his will to remove reason from her mind, bending her will to comply with his own. He felt her give, felt her lose her grip on who and where she was. He smiled.
That’s more like it. Up yours Marinescu.
Godlike status restored, he put his arm around her barely listening as she told him that her name was Jasmine and he smiled when he picked up fragments of her thoughts and desires. She would give him a good time all right and at the same time satisfy another hunger.
She was docile now, but he was looking forward to releasing her mind just long enough for her to put up a struggle and make it more interesting.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Nik replied as he steered her into the depths of a d
ark alley adjacent to the club.
Blood filled his mouth and throat, and the power surged through him, sparking and arcing like liberated electricity. His chin was covered in gore and he allowed his head to fall back towards his shoulders. The whites of his eyes burned crimson and he saw everything through a scarlet veil. He laughed aloud and his teeth glistened with blood.
The girl lay inert in his arms and he let her drop to the floor. The blood had long since stopped flowing from the wound at her throat. Her heart too weak to pump it any more had fluttered like an injured butterfly and then slowly and finally succumbed to death. He turned to walk away.
Luke came from out of the shadows to stand in front of Nik, preventing him from leaving the alley.
Raw energy still powered through the boy, denying him of focus.
“Get the hell out of my way.”
He tried to push past the hulking man and then recognised him, the club heavy he’d seen arguing with his last meal.
“I said get out of my way. I’m warning you.” Nik felt the power seeking the darkness inside him. Amplifying it, charging him further.
Luke stood firm, one eyebrow arched in challenge. The guy was huge and looked exactly what he was, a hired thug in a suit.
Nik heaved himself at the man, snarling with rage at the intrusion. His breathing was erratic and rage fired through him like molten lava. He felt the now familiar tingle in his mouth as his vampire musculature began pushing his canines down, ready for more action.
It was the last thing he felt before passing out at Luke’s feet from the blow that landed on his neck.
A velvet voice floated somewhere between comprehension and oblivion. It warmed him and he felt his energy returning.
The alley was in darkness but Nik’s vampire eyes saw the masked man as though by daylight.
“Oh Nik, why must you do everything the hard way? Eh?”
He nodded to Luke. “Help him up.”
