by Jan McDonald
He was inflamed now, brought to it by the anticipation of the blood play. He held her with his deep eyes and calmed the rising panic in her, stroking the dark recesses of her mind into quiet submission by only the power of his thoughts.
Her agitation ebbed away and the raw sexual energy returned. His smile displayed the shining white points of the fangs that had not long ago been normal canine teeth. He was ready to enjoy her now. Now that he sensed the approach of the turning.
Their different needs were met in the same way, with a violent thrusting union that crossed the boundaries between man and beast.
She fought to regain her breath and all of the time her eyes remained fixed on his dilated pupils. The whites of his eyes were glazed with red, which darkened through crimson until they were almost black. Black holes in the exquisite frame of his face.
There was a subtle change in the atmosphere, a tangible change that defied description. He had a leaner, hungry look and the sensual mouth now appeared predatory.
Kat lay back on the pillows as he moved silently across the floor to retrieve the crystal goblet that still contained the bright emerald absinthe. He brought it to the bed and lay beside her.
Her mind was trying hard to tell her something but his hypnotic hold on her was too strong. And she wanted this. She wanted it more than anything in her life before.
Andrei dipped his finger into the liquid and put it to her lips, tracing the outline of her mouth with his elongated fingernail until she closed her eyes at the sheer bliss of the sensation. He drank from the priceless goblet and put it back to her moistened lips. She emptied the glass and reached out for him, kissing him hard on the mouth, searching for the sharpness of the fangs that she knew were the key to her freedom. Her tongue touched the tip of one of them and she pressed against it tasting at once the coppery tang of her own blood as it flowed into her waiting mouth. She pressed harder and deeper until the warm blood flowed freely, blending with his saliva and her own until she had no choice but to swallow the warm red fluid.
Andrei’s eyes were completely black now, and he leaned into her, finding her jugular vein with the deftness and experience and race memory. His teeth pierced it easily and he drank deeply.
She felt as though she were floating and drowning simultaneously, knowing nothing but the ecstasy of his mouth sucking and drinking and sucking at her throat.
Drink more, she wanted to say, drink it all, drink until there is nothing left.
Andrei heard her thoughts and drank all the deeper. He drank until he felt her pulse weakening as her failing heart fought valiantly to pump the precious red fluid around her body. He heard the heartbeat slow and finally become the fluttering of an injured bird. He sucked harder to draw the blood that now had no pressure behind it.
He watched her approaching death all the while stroking her hair and talking to her with the fascination that would never leave him.
“Katerini, I know you can hear me. I have taken the life force from you and now you must feed. You must drink from me or you will die. That is the way of it. You can feel the hunger above all else, above the pain and loneliness of death, you can feel the need in you to complete what was begun years ago. Turn, Katerini. Turn and live.”
He bit into his wrist and covered his finger with the rising gore. Once again he traced the outline of her lips, this time with his own blood. It stayed on her lips for some seconds and finally there was a minute movement of her tongue as it tasted the tiny red pool.
He laughed seductively, enjoying this moment as always. The moment when he could decide whether she would die or live as a vampire, reborn to darkness.
His blood was welling up fast now and he held his wrist high above her mouth, letting it fall between her parted lips and splash around her mouth and chin. She would make a truly magnificent vampire. And he had turned her.
She was swallowing harder now, hungry for the life force that flowed into her mouth. She drank deep, with the instinct of a child at the breast.
He took his hand away then and held it over the goblet allowing it to fill to the brim with blood: the forbidden wine of life. The midnight wine.
Again he staunched the blood flow with the tiniest of movements.
Kat sat up, her vision clouded in a sea of crimson. He held the goblet up to her lips, a communicant and her priest.
And she drank.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lane finished mopping up the cuts and grazes on Beckett’s face, frowning at the impressive bruising around his eye.
“Holy Mother, you’re a mess. What the hell were you thinking, Beckett?”
He mumbled through his cracked and swollen lips.
“I knew she’d do something like this. The creep she was with gave me the shivers.”
Lane held up a hand, “Okay, I get the idea. I can’t be certain but it sounds like Andrei Marinescu.” Her face was serious.
“Should I be worried?”
“I think maybe so.”
Beckett was on his feet again. “I’m going back there.”
Lane pushed him back into the chair. “No, you’re not, I think you’ve done enough damage to yourself for one day. I’ll go, I’m kind of known there.”
Beckett frowned at her.
“Oh don’t fret yourself, Handsome. I haven’t changed the colour of my coat. I’ve been there a few times to help a couple of ‘infants’ that were out of their depth. They know I’m on the Council and they won’t want to call the Elders down on their heads.”
Lane’s function within the vampire community was as a member of the Vampire Council who made and policed the code of conduct of the vampires, her role to ensure the safety of all newly-turned, the ‘infants’ and to hear charges against those that transgressed. She was a Tribune within the Curia, the higher ranks of the Council Members acting directly under and with the authority of the Patriarch, the supreme head of the Council. Their edict was to ensure that no vampire would harm a human in obtaining their food and that all donors were volunteers. Also, no vampires should be created by turning. It was almost impossible to police the policy as more and more of the young vampires paid little heed to the Council or their authority and so Lane was there as a safety net for those not yet able to defend themselves against the inevitable predators. Theirs was not a pretty world.
Danse Macabre was known to be a harbour for those that flouted the rules. Beckett shook his head. “This is my fault. I should have brought her to you earlier.”
“Yes, well, too late now. Let’s just hope we can salvage the situation. Honestly Beckett, I could murder you sometimes.”
“Bite me.”
“Gladly, Handsome, I’ve always thought that you’d make a delicious vampire but rules are rules,” she teased.
“So what do you think you can do?”
“Well, I can’t kidnap her; if she doesn’t want to come with me, there’s not a lot I can do to get her away from there. It is still a free country you know, and if I go about causing trouble it won’t be long before there’s mass hysteria. I’ll need to be careful.”
Beckett suddenly felt very weary and put his head in his hands – then thought better of it, it hurt too much.
“Stay here tonight, Handsome. Oh, don’t look so alarmed, it’s not a proposition. You’re just too beat to go home. The guest room’s made up; all you have to do is crawl between the sheets and sleep. You’re in no condition to do anything for Kat tonight. Leave it to me. And don’t argue.”
Beckett tried to smile but it was too painful.
“Okay,” he mumbled.
Lane already had her car keys in her hand, she looked enlivened and her eyes glinted darkly. “Don’t wait up. I could be a long time.”
“I won’t sleep,” he mumbled.
“Oh, I think you will, I put some Lorazepam in your whisky. I’ll be surprised if you make it up the stairs.”
He tried to protest but could already feel the drug beginning its work.
Lane didn’t need to
tell Beckett that she was more than worried. He was in a bad enough state without knowing what she suspected to be true. That Andrei Marinescu was no ordinary vampire, not an Inheritor or a Born but one of the Undead. Dead once but reanimated by something dark and sinister; something that would take more than a string of garlic to finish it. If Kat was with Andrei in her condition then she was in a whole heap of trouble.
Time wasn’t her friend. It had taken Beckett almost an hour to get the strength to drive to her place and another thirty minutes for her to patch him up. If Andrei was intent on feeding off Kat and leaving her for dead then she would already be too late. If he had a different agenda, then she feared what she would find.
Luke was back at his post, looking pale but otherwise none the worse for wear. Should’ve kneed him harder, Handsome, she thought.
He approached her respectfully. “Doc,” he acknowledged. “There are no problems here tonight. Did someone call you?”
“Yes,” she lied. “A short time ago. A woman called and asked me to come get her. Know anything about it?”
“No. Probably someone jerking your chain. I’ll just check.”
He turned to pick up the intercom and Lane was past him before he even saw her move. The intercom buzzed in answer to his call. “The Doc’s here. She’s looking for trouble, I reckon. Where’s that new broad? Still upstairs with the boss?”
“The boss is here,” said Andrei from behind him.
Luke spun around, flustered. “I’m sorry Mr Marinescu. I didn’t hear you.”
“Obviously. What is the problem? I presume there is a problem. Or should I say another problem.”
Luke went pale at the expression on Andrei’s face. He would pay dearly for his incompetence that night. He swallowed hard.
“Uh, I … the Doc’s here. She says someone, a woman, called her to come and get her. I wondered if it was the um …woman that was here earlier. I mean …”
“I know what you mean, Luke. We need to speak later regarding your performance. I’m very disappointed with you.”
Luke felt the bile rising in his throat and prayed he wouldn’t vomit.
“Yes, sir. I’m very sorry.”
“I expect you are, Luke. Sorry doesn’t alter the fact that we’ve got the Council on our backs, does it? Where is she? Already inside, I take it?”
Luke nodded. He looked as wretched as he felt.
Andrei’s eyes darkened and narrowed, fixed on the unfortunate security guard until he passed out right there on the pavement. He turned and looked into the dark interior. If she was there for Katerini there was nothing he could do to prevent ‘the Doc’ finding her, but she was too late; Katerini was already turned and by now she’d be approaching the agonies and excruciating pain of the awakening. Dr Lane Dearing was welcome to whatever she could salvage. He was in the mood for hunting now and he knew that Lane wouldn’t make a fuss there and then but take matters directly to the Council. He’d soothe their complaints when that happened. It helped to have a close friend within their hierarchy who was grateful to him for keeping information to himself that would otherwise damage his standing in the Council, and for his allegiance in what was to come. According to his calculation the particular member of the Curia owed him. It wouldn’t be the first time he would call in a favour.
He stepped over the inert Luke and melted into the night.
Inside the club the music was still deafening and the mournful lyrics told of the Undead rising. Lane made her way easily through the crowd to the staircase and was at the top before another of Andrei’s men intercepted her.
No, he hadn’t seen anyone that looked as if they were in trouble. No, there hadn’t been any new guests in the club that night. And no, Mr Marinescu wasn’t in the club either.
Lane appraised the man carefully. She was reluctant to use her vampiric abilities but sometimes she just plain had to. She reached his subconscious mind in seconds and planted the idea that Andrei himself had called her to Kat.
“I’ll call the lift for you, Doc. She’s in the penthouse, we thought it best to keep her there; make sure she stayed safe, so to speak.”
“Thank you,” said Lane. A few more implanted suggestions and he was down the staircase and already he had forgotten her presence.
The lift doors opened into Andrei’s hallway. Everything looked normal and there was no sound from inside the penthouse. She centred herself and could sense Kat inside. And she could sense the pain and desolation of the turning.
She was too late.
The blaze in the fireplace was already dying to embers when Lane pushed open the door to the bedchamber. Kat was sitting on the bed, still naked, and bent over double. She was weeping quietly and Lane knew that this was the calm before the storm that would soon change to screams of agony.
She made a quick calculation about the time it would take to get her away from Danse Macabre and back to the safety of her home. Beckett would be in the drugged arms of sleep but she didn’t doubt that the terrible anguish that Kat was about to experience would be enough to wake an entire cemetery.
She was at Kat’s side almost by the power of her thoughts. She dropped her bag and keys onto the fur rug and crawled onto the bed to her side.
“Kat.”
Kat looked up at her, bemused, uncertain of who it was that had laid a gentle hand on her face that was still smeared with Andrei’s blood.
“Kat, look at me. Focus, Kat.” She pulled Kat’s head gently towards her, finding no resistance. Lane closed her eyes, probing her mind to see whether sanity remained or not. It wouldn’t be the first, or the last time, that a victim of turning had ended up in a padded room for a very, very long time.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she encountered confusion and terror but unimpaired reason. She reached for her bag and took out a loaded syringe. There was no stopping what was going to happen to Kat but a hefty whack of sedative would buy her the time to get her out of there.
Kat tried to push her away. “No,” she wailed. “No.”
“It’s all right, Kat. It’s me, Lane. Look at me, sweetheart. Kat, look at me. It’s Lane. I’ve come to take you home.”
Kat began sobbing aloud, “I’m so sorry, Beckett. Oh no, oh no. Oh Beckett. Beckett.”
Lane took her by the shoulders and shook her none too gently; time for sympathy later. “Kat. Listen to me. I’m going to take you out of here and we’ll go find Beckett.”
At the mention of his name Kat looked horrified. “Oh no. I can’t, I can’t. I’ve done something terrible, I can’t face him.”
“You’ve only done what was inevitable and no doubt under the control of a powerful influence you could not possibly resist. Beckett will know that, when he’s had time to think about it. Now, I’m going to give you an injection, it will make you sleepy.”
Kat saw the syringe in Lane’s hand and tried to push her away again.
“Kat! Stop it!” Her words were nothing against the terror that was invading Kat’s mind.
This wasn’t the time for misplaced subtlety and before the first scream had left Kat’s lips, Lane had punched her neatly under the jaw and laid her out cold.
“Sorry, sweetie. But I had to do it. You’ll forgive me later. I hope.”
Lane found a vein with practiced art and emptied the syringe into it. She pulled the discarded dress on the unconscious Kat who was soon in her arms. She carried her like a child would carry a kitten and with just as much ease. Once again she used her natural abilities to cloak herself from the prying eyes of the throng downstairs.
When she reached the front door, Luke was still out for the count.
She hadn’t previously told Kat the truth about the Undead, not wanting to panic her. She was way past that now.
The Undead were few and far between thanks to the Council. They had been systematically despatched by burning, staking or decapitation and Lane had been a grisly part of that.
In the essence of folklore lay the grim truth. A vampire that had been
turned by the Undead would inevitably die and be fed by the other vampire’s blood at the moment of death. They would then rise again, animated by a part of the sire’s soul. Lane knew all about the Undead, for she had been turned by one of their rank all those centuries ago.
She dumped Kat into the passenger seat of her MG like a sack of barley and was driving away from Newport in minutes. Kat slept the whole way to Lane’s town house in Abergavenny moaning in troubled dreams occasionally, but moving very little.
The smart three-storey house close to the town centre was in darkness, a good sign that Beckett had succumbed to the Valium and whisky. The night for drugging people, thought Lane wryly.
She carried Kat effortlessly up the stairs and laid her onto her own bed with more care than she’d thrown her into the car. She took off her crumpled dress and gently covered her with the luxurious down quilt. She stroked her hair away from her face and laid her hand on her forehead. She was perspiring and burning up in the grip of a fever, tossing her head back and fore. Her breathing was laboured and she gasped every now then as she gasped for air.
The sedative was losing its battle with Kat’s transformation, which was advancing rapidly. Lane closed the window and the drapes; if this got noisy she didn’t want the neighbours alarmed. She turned off the main light and switched on the mellow glow of her bedside lamp. She quietly slipped out of the room, wanting to check on Beckett. His room was in total darkness and he was snoring like a pig, although once the torture took hold of Kat she had no doubt that he would wake.
She stepped over to the bed and looked down at his battered face framed by his tousled silver hair, a permanent reminder of the grisly night that he’d been dragged into it all. “You’re still a handsome bastard,” she whispered. “How in the name of all that’s holy did you deserve all this again? Sleep peacefully, Beckett, it may be a long time before you have the luxury again.”
She closed the door silently and returned to Kat. The sheet and quilt were kicked away and she lay in a contorted huddle in the middle of the bed whimpering softly like a child in the grip of a bad dream.
