The Beckett Vampire Trilogy: Midnight Wine, Lycan and Sanctuary

by Jan McDonald

  Nik shrugged off the help, pushing Luke away. “I can manage.” He snarled as he brushed himself down.

  The smile beneath the mask danced around a cruel, sensual mouth and there was a strange light in the icy eyes. “Oh Nik, it doesn’t have to be like this you know. You waste so much of your power and potential, you climb the hill backwards. I know how you are feeling. You are angry and quite rightly so. Tossed away at birth like last week’s garbage, adopted and orphaned, bounced around the system until you could take no more. You deserve better. You are so much bigger than all of them. They are nothing before you. Dust under your feet.”

  Nik tried to see behind the mask, but the sensual mouth and cold smile were all he could focus on.

  “Who are you? How do you know me?” he demanded.

  “I’m your future, Nik. I am the one who will take you out of the gutter and into a world where you belong. My name is Santorini in honour of my maker’s origins, but I am known as Santo. You have great potential, but no discipline, and your anger is erratic and wild. You are raw and undeveloped, crude and impulsive. So much wasted energy. I can help you.”

  Nik’s anger rose again, sticking in his throat like bile. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are but I don’t need your help. I’ll be leaving now.” It was a challenge rather than a statement.

  Santo laughed softly behind the mask and shook his head.

  “What? You want me to stop you? Now why would I do that? It’s a prime example of what I’ve been saying. A waste of energy.” His voice altered, becoming harsh and devoid of feeling. “I can snuff you out with a thought. Remember that. It’s not a good idea to irritate me, boy.”

  The word ‘boy’ enraged Nik further, as it was intended to, but from somewhere he found the sense to back down.

  The mask nodded towards the dead girl.

  “Oh dear, Nik. Rule number three. Still, we won’t tell Andrei. We don’t want to cause unnecessary trouble do we? And what about the Council? It wouldn’t go down well with them.”

  The mention of Andrei Marinescu and the man’s obvious superiority rankled and Nik began to feel helpless and lost in a world that he didn’t really understand. It was so unfair, he’d been feeling great, invincible, a god, and now he was nothing again in the company of this silken voiced powerhouse.

  “No, Nik. It isn’t fair. But I can change that. You can take your revenge on them all, and they will tremble at your feet. Yes, even Andrei will bow to you. I guarantee it. Your potential is astonishing.”

  He was right up close to Nik now, his face only inches away. He stood for a moment locking the boy’s eyes with his own, probing, feeling his way around the anger inside. He sensuous lips curved into a lazy smile displaying sharp white teeth. He raised his hand and ran his finger slowly down Nik’s face, tracing the outline of his cheekbones and around his chin.

  “You are truly beautiful. Such fine bone structure and such dormant power. I will teach you, Nik. I will teach you everything I know and you will become as I am.”

  He moved so quickly that it almost seemed a trick of the light as he kissed Nik softly on the cheek, leaving the impression of a butterfly’s wing and sending a shiver through Nik that left him confused and afraid.

  Nik said nothing but a spark lit his eyes as something fired inside him. Hope. And something that he was ashamed of.

  “Good. Come with me then.” He looked down at the dead girl again. “Get rid of that, Luke. I’ll take care of Nik.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Home, Nik. Home.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Pounding on the door of Kat’s cottage announced Beckett’s arrival and Kat hurled herself towards it and snatched it open, grabbing his arm and dragging him into the cottage.

  She turned on Lane, “Go on then. Tell him. Tell him what you told me,” she challenged.

  Lane shrugged, sending a significant glance at Beckett.

  “Lane?”

  “Hi, Handsome. I’ve been trying to explain to Kat what’s happening to her. She had a visit from her son last night. And guess what?”

  Beckett’s face was grim.

  “Bingo,” said Lane. “He’s a classic, no doubt about it. Already turned and feeding.”

  “Jesus. You’re sure? … Yeah, stupid question. “ He ran his fingers through his silver hair and then, in one stride, was at Kat’s side. “You okay? I’m sorry Kat, I wasn’t sure, though God knows the signs were plain enough. Maybe I just didn’t want to believe it.”

  “Beckett? Don’t tell me you are even considering this? Did you know she thinks she’s a vampire too? That she’s the niece of the grand duke something or other and that she’s over four hundred years old? Jesus!” Her voice was getting shrill. “What? Am I the only sane one here?”

  Beckett put his hand on her arm and she shrugged him off.

  “It’s true Kat,” he said. “All of it. I wasn’t sure if you were a latent or not. It’s one of the reasons I asked you to see Lane. And because I have become fond of you. ”

  “Fond of me?” Kat yelled, “How can you have feelings for me when you can’t even tell me the truth? And how in God’s name, can you subscribe to this insanity? Vampires, for God’s sake. And you? What about you, Beckett? Do you believe you’re a vampire too?” She shook her head. ”Just listen to me, I sound as crazy as you two.”

  Beckett shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I’m not a vampire, although I’ve met a few. You must listen to Lane; she can help you. She can help all of us.”

  Kat’s voice rose to near hysteria and she began raving.

  “Okay, so if I’m a vampire, how come I haven’t turned to the contents of an egg timer because, hello, it’s daylight? And look, hey that’s me, right there in the mirror. How do you explain that then? And do you know, I think I’ve got a crucifix somewhere. Bet I can hold it without burning up! I’ll go and find it and prove it to you.” She opened her mouth in a mock snarl. “Surprise, surprise, no fangs.”

  Lane caught hold of her arm and pulled her, none too gently, into the chair. “Kat, listen, all those things, that’s the movies. None of that is true except for the Undead. And as I already told you, they are something else. Look, that’s me in the mirror, I can cast a reflection, I can cross running water, I am quite religious and go to church to pray when I feel the need, I can hold a crucifix, I don’t sleep in a coffin, and I can eat and drink, although I am allergic to garlic. Most of us are. Like me, you won’t age because all of your systems will change, whilst not exactly a selling point it’s fair to say that is one of the plusses. And you will have the ability to lay dormant, sleep if you like, for greatly extended periods if you turn completely. Your skin will become more sensitive to sunlight and as time goes on you will need to use sun block or you will suffer nasty ultra violet burns. Your energy levels will be depleted during daylight hours and you’ll be energised after dark. Silver drains our life force and will kill us if it gets inside us, and as for the fangs, they won’t appear until you feed for the first time. A stake through the heart will kill you, but then I think that would do for most anyone don’t you? Now come on, calm down. There’s still a whole load of stuff we need to talk about.”

  “Like what?” Kat was calm but sullen.

  “Like who is the father of your son? And before you tell me that it’s none of my damn business, I promise you I need to know for your sake.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you told me that until you got pregnant you weren’t sick, is that true?”

  “Yes. From the minute I was pregnant I felt something was wrong.”

  Lane was silent for a moment, then, “Your body became host to the vampire’s blood or DNA for you to turn, impregnation by a vampire is the only other way you can be turned as your DNA and the vampire DNA combine in the unborn baby. Sometimes the change is completed in a very short time; sometimes it can take longer, even years, as appears to be the case with you. But the first time you feed the process will speed
up and the turning will be completed. I’m guessing you haven’t so far drunk blood?” The look of horror on Kat’s face gave her the answer. “No, okay. Then I was right, you must have been feeding like a psi. Feeding on energy, other people’s life force and sometimes even through your dreams.”

  “Suppose, just suppose you’re telling me the truth, what has that to do with Nik’s father?”

  “I have no reason to lie to you Kat. What has it to do with him? Because he had to have been a vampire to have triggered this response in your DNA and brought out the latent in you.”

  Kat laughed. “Oh you’re so wrong. Greg Randall is Nik’s father, and no, he doesn’t know and you know what, anyone less like a vampire I have yet to meet. That’s the limit. Greg Randall a vampire.”

  “Would you say I look like one?” Lane asked.

  “Oh, we’re back to that again are we? Hell, I might as well play your stupid game.”

  Lane became deadly serious, a steely edge creeping into her normally silky voice.

  “I can assure you, Kat, that one thing this is not, is a game. It’s not Dungeons and Dragons and there is no one to break the curse but you. The one thing you can be sure of is that if you feed, you will finally complete the transformation that has been taking place in you since you were born. You will become a vampire and feed on fresh blood from living people. Now it’s time you stopped this and started to pay attention to me. I can make you, but I really would rather you do this of your own free will. Kat, there are some big bad blood suckers out there, and they’ll wipe they’re asses with you and throw what’s left of you to the rats. So, do you want me to help you or not?”

  Beckett had been quiet whilst Lane had been talking. She watched as Kat, visibly shaking, looked on his solemn face and her own reflected the cold hit of truth somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach. Latent or otherwise, she was a vampire and so was her son.

  “Oh God,” she whispered. “Please help me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kat’s voice was a whisper. “How can you be so sure?”

  “There is an easy way of telling, and a blood test will confirm it, but it’s a catch twenty two situation. A normal human being cannot physically drink blood in any quantity without vomiting. Blood is a very powerful emetic, as soon as it goes down, it’ll come right back up again. If your DNA has changed to the vampire DNA then your digestive system will have changed too, the blood won’t make you sick. But if you haven’t turned and you drink the blood, well then …” she shrugged in order to emphasise the predicament.

  Kat flinched. “Why the dreams? Why am I so afraid in the dark? I thought vampires loved the night.”

  “Because your body is craving blood. Your subconscious knows this and you are afraid of what you may do during the hours of the night.”

  Kat dropped her head. She didn’t want Beckett to see the shame in her eyes, he’d remained ominously quiet throughout and if she had dared to look at him she would have seen the pain in his dark grey eyes. If it were possible, he was hurting almost as much as she was.

  Visions rose in Kat’s head of the last time she’d slept with a man. She could still see the terror on his face when, near to climax, she lost control of the beast that lived deep in her soul and had bitten him savagely until the blood flowed in a crimson river from the ragged wound on his neck. She saw herself spitting the gouts of blood and tiny pieces of flesh from her mouth, rushing to the bathroom and washing her mouth over and over, crying and cursing. She left him in shock mopping the blood from his throat and the bed. An assault charge would surely have followed had he not lied about being married. He’d had a hard enough time explaining the blood and the wound to the Accident and Emergency staff let alone his wife, so his infidelity had proved her saviour.

  Lane read her. “I can help you to control it,” she said. “There is so much for you to learn but I will help you. So will Beckett.”

  Beckett’s eyes told her the truth of her situation as he put his arm around her. She didn’t push him away this time but leaned against him as her tears fell silently.

  “I thought you said you weren’t a vampire.”

  His hand hovered instinctively over the long diagonal scar on his chest. “I’m not,” he said. “But let’s say I’ve had dealings with them before. I know a lot about them.”

  Sharp painful memories flooded him as his thoughts turned to the night his sister, Grace, had died in his arms. The night she’d become the victim of a masked vampire. How she’d tried to tell him over the preceding months, asked him for help, and he hadn’t listened.

  Until it was too late.

  The image of Grace dying and the horror of what happened after that had conceived the demons that plagued him nightly.

  That was the night five years earlier that he’d met Lane for the first time. It was also the night that as Father Paul Beckett, he had lost his faith and walked away from the church, away from God and away from his life and into a quest that had become an obsession: to find the vampire that had robbed her of her life and repay him in kind.

  Lane had been tracking the silken-masked vampire for years and had arrived too late to save Grace. She’d pulled Beckett together and done what had to be done for his sister. He hadn’t believed her then either, when she told him Grace was the victim of a vampire, and worse, a victim of an undead vampire. What followed that night was the stuff of bad B movies.

  They had hunted him together, Lane because of her overwhelming sense of duty and Beckett because it was all he could do for Grace, and all he could do to save his own sanity. His soul could take care of itself.

  The result was a massive gash across Beckett’s chest stopping only just short of his heart, courtesy of a run in with a particularly vicious vampire they’d crossed along the way. Now, he lived for the day when he could plunge a stake into the black heart of Grace’s killer and watch him die. Then take pleasure in the decapitation of the corpse. That one would be for Grace. All these thoughts he put away, it wasn’t the time to expose Kat to his own nightmares, she had enough to deal with without adding his burdens to her own.

  Oh yes, he knew about vampires. He rested his hand over the livid reminder across his chest of their existence and his failure.

  Kat hung her head and rubbed her temples as if to dislodge what was slowly taking a hold of her mind. The knowledge of who and what she was.

  “This will be hard for you, but I want you to go back to the beginning,” said Lane. “Back to where it started.”

  “I don’t know where it started,” she whispered.

  Lane nodded. “You do know. Your conscious mind has blocked out the memories but I can get them back for you.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, do it.”

  Lane captured and held Kat’s eyes while she bent and probed her subconscious to reveal its hidden secret.

  She was nineteen again, in her final year of medical training, examinations passed with credit, and she was dating the catch of a lifetime with the whole summer ahead of her.

  I’m dating Greg Randall, she’d thought, everyone wants a piece of him and out of all the others, he’s chosen me. I can’t believe it. His family has money, he’s good looking, good in the sack, and he wants to spend the summer with me. There must be a god.

  “Hippocrates was supposed to have died in Larissa,” she heard Greg saying, “and your grandparents’ village isn’t that far from there, it’ll be fun. What do you say?”

  He wanted her to go to Greece with him, backpacking their way through the central plain away from the tourists. What the hell else would she say?

  She had insisted on using her savings to pay for her flight to Athens, they would stay in cheap rooms and hitchhike their way across the country. She would pay her own way and the idea of slumming it obviously held a perverse appeal to Greg.

  Their journey had been uneventful except for Greg making a pass at the stewardess on the plane. Kat had forgiven him; he w
as very persuasive.

  Two weeks into their trip Greg had suggested that they make for Larissa, after all they were medical students and Larissa was where the father of medicine was supposed to have died.

  “Where did you say your grandparents lived? Kastanavos? It must be small; it’s not even on here.” He had his baby blonde head bent over a map, and she ran her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. She already knew how he would respond and she wanted to take his mind away from thoughts of finding her roots. There was no logic behind it, but she just knew that it was not a good idea. Probably just inverted snobbery, she thought, Greg’s from the elite, father and mother both barristers, living in what could only be described as a mansion. She didn’t want anything to spoil their trip, especially if it was because of her humble origins. The thought bothered her.

  Greg was nothing if not predictable. He threw the map aside and pulled her in close, his ice blue eyes alive and shining with lust. Kissing him was like opening a door to another world, a world of excitement that always hinted at danger. She lost herself in him totally, reaching the plateaux and peaks of pleasure that he was so capable of taking her to, mindful of the fact that she was pleasing his ego as much as his body but she didn’t care as her climax took her beyond all that.

  When her breathing returned to near normal she wanted to tell him she loved him, but something intangible prevented her.

  He reached across her and made a grab at the map. “So, we’ll head for Larissa tomorrow,” he said.

  Her misgivings grew wings and flew as her whole being filled with apprehension.

  They had visited the site where Hippocrates was reputed to have expired, tramped around numerous archaeological sites, drank copious amounts of local wine and now it was obvious that Greg was bored.

  Bored with Greece, bored with slumming it and, she thought, bored with her. Not with her body maybe, but with who she was, or more likely, who she wasn’t. But then, she thought, Greg was the type of person to get bored easily. It was fashionable.