by Jan McDonald
Lane went into the en suite bathroom and unlocked a small cabinet on the wall. She took out another syringe and a phial. There was no way that any drug was going to kill the pain that Kat would feel but the morphine may deaden the worst of it.
A piercing scream jolted her into swift movement. She was at Kat’s side in less than a second.
Kat arched her back and her face contorted into a terrible expression of torment. The perspiration ran freely from her brow now and her hair was lank with sweat. Lane put her hands on her shoulders in an effort to control the tortuous thrashing that had overtaken her and even with her vampiric strength, she struggled to keep a hold on her.
Kat was snarling and spitting like a demented animal and every now and then a stream of foul language issued forth from her lips, sometimes in English but more often in some long dead tongue.
Lane paled. This was the confirmation she dreaded. Kat had been turned all right, but it was obvious to Lane now that she’d been turned by one of the dark Undead. Andrei Marinescu. Not only was Kat in the throes of a tortuous transformation in her body at cellular level, changing her physiology into that of a vampire but she too was in danger of joining the species of vampire most feared and hated by the Council and the hunters.
Kat screamed again, a high-pitched keening that chilled the marrow and Lane took the opportunity to jab the syringe home and pump the morphine into her.
She was on her knees then, bent over double, clutching her abdomen and wailing.
“Help me. Someone help me. Beckett!”
Lane gripped her forearms tightly. “Kat, it’s me, Lane. You’ll be all right. I know it hurts like hell. It will, like nothing ever before, but it will pass. Do you hear me? It will pass.”
Kat looked at Lane and there was no recognition.
She straightened up and threw her head back, arching her spine again in agony. Her cries were pitiful, and varied from deafening shrieks to pathetic whimpering. This cycle continued for twenty minutes. It didn’t matter how many times Lane witnessed this, it never failed to tear at her heart.
This time there was a deep anger boiling inside her alongside her compassion. Andrei Marinescu had his coming and she would relish bringing about his destruction.
The bedroom door banged open and smashed against the wall. Beckett stood framed in the doorway. He was pale under the bruising that had spread to cover the entire left side of his face. The cuts and grazes were angry red marks in a sea of purple.
He stood like a marble statue, staring at the frail and tortured Kat. He had failed again, letting her down in the same way he’d abandoned Grace to her dire fate.
He strode to the bed and pushed Lane out of the way, grabbing hold of Kat and pulling her to him. His arms were around her in a death lock and he rocked her back and forth as she wept and screamed alternately as his tears mingled with hers.
“Shhh. Shhh,” he soothed. “Shhh. Kat, angel. Shhh.”
He stared at Lane, his eyes narrow channels of pent up fury, his rage needing to find a target. He didn’t trust himself to speak straight away, his cheek muscles twitching as he clamped his teeth together in an effort to control his rising rage.
When he could eventually trust himself, he asked, “Isn’t there anything you can give her? Jesus Christ, Lane, do something.”
Lane put her hand on his arm, “Easy Handsome. I already did. It may work but there’s no easy way. She’ll either make it or not.”
Beckett snapped his head around to face her again. “What in the name of God does that mean? She’ll either make it or not? What?” He was white from his beating and his anger.
“Just that. She’s strong Beckett and the fact that she was a Latent for so long will go in her favour. Her systems have been making ready for this for a long time. She was halfway there. We just have to wait.”
“Who did this, Lane? Tell me.”
Lane didn’t answer him
“So, what’s this? All the vampires sticking together, is that it? Protecting your own. You’d better tell me who did this, because I’m going to kill the bastard and I’m going to kill him tonight.”
Lane closed her eyes against the hurt and onslaught of Beckett’s rage. She sighed, “I suspect that he’s long gone, at least for a while. His arrogance will bring him back eventually, but for now you may as well try to find a speck of dust in the Sahara. Trust me, Beckett.”
“I did trust you. I trusted you to help her, to look after her. This is the result.”
He knew it was unfair but he didn’t care. He wanted to lash out and hurt someone – anyone – and, it was simply unfortunate that Lane stood in the line of fire. His anguish was unbearable and Lane wanted to reach out to him but she resisted. There would be no reasoning with him in this state and any way she did feel guilty about how she’d handled it. She should have realised that Kat was strong willed enough to ignore advice and give into her instincts and go out into the night. Nothing could be done now except to watch and wait.
Fury, grief and desperation cancelled out the effects of the Lorazepam and whisky in Beckett and he was stone cold sober.
Lane turned away from him; she didn’t want him to see her tears.
“Thirsty,” whispered Kat. “So thirsty.”
Beckett kissed her cheek and laid her back against the soft pillow.
“Hey you, how’re you doing?” His voice was thick with emotion.
“Beckett? I’m so thirsty.”
Beckett stood up and made for the bathroom to get her water. Lane was beside him before he was aware of her movement. She restrained him gently.
“Where are you going, Handsome?”
She held him with her eyes and shook her head. He read the message in her steady gaze and dropped his head.
“She needs to feed,” Lane said gently. “Leave her to me, Beckett. I’ll take care of her. There’s a donor from the Sanctuary on the way.”
He walked slowly back to the bed, not wanting to leave her but knowing Lane was right, and he couldn’t bear to witness it. He sat on the bed and stroked her face.
“Lane is here for you. I’ll be just in the next room. You’re going to be fine. I’ll be back soon. Hear me?”
Kat frowned as she focussed on his face for the first time, “Beckett? What happened to you? Your face, your poor face.”
She tried to lift her hand to his face but didn’t have the energy and let it fall to the bed again.
“Don’t you fret about it. Hey, you should see the other guy.”
Kat managed a wan smile and closed her eyes as he closed the door softly behind him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nik stood in the shadows admiring the young girl through her open window.
“Take her,” crooned the voice behind the mask. “Use your inner nature to reach her. Remember you are no ordinary vampire.”
Nik was quiet and withdrawn as he centred himself on his will. At first nothing happened then, almost imperceptibly, he felt his body rise. Slowly at first, then inch by inch, defying gravity as he willed his body to become less and less dense, giving his body up to the vampire in him, he rose from the ground until he was level with the window.
He was inside and on her before she could comprehend what was happening to her.
She didn’t scream. There was no time.
The silence of the night was broken only by the wet sucking sounds as Nik feasted.
He drained her blood vessels easily of their precious cargo and as she fell limp in his arms he sensed Santo behind him.
“Careful Nik, no more. Why take a risk with a dead body to dispose of? Make her your own in every sense of the word. Make her, Nik.”
He lifted the girl from the boy’s arms and laid her down onto the bed.
“I don’t know how. Show me. Show me now,” he said.
Santo put a hand on his shoulder. “You do know. Close your mind to everything and just listen to what your true self tells you. What does it tell you, Nik?”
“Drain her
to the point of death, then make her drink from me.”
“Good. I knew I was right about you. Do it, Nik.”
Nik bent his head into the girl’s throat once more and sucked the blood, becoming aware of the fading heartbeat. He stopped drinking and lifted his wrist to his mouth.
Santo reached out to him and shook his head. “So crude, Nik. Here, take this. It’s yours, a gift.”
Nik looked down at the beautiful solid gold lancet in his hand, tiny and exquisitely crafted. Santo smiled at him.
“I have been waiting for one worthy to give it to. It’s yours Nik, use it well.”
The boy drew the tiny blade neatly across the vein in his wrist and watched, fascinated as his own blood, nourished by the rich claret of the dying girl’s, welled to the surface, a tiny scarlet pool against the deathly white of his flesh. He felt the powerful presence behind him and turned towards Santo and offered his wrist to his mentor.
“My gift to you in return,” he said.
The ice-cold eyes behind the mask glinted with pleasure. He lifted Nik’s wrist to his mouth and licked the wound then kissed the palm of his hand. He returned to the fount of nourishment and drank more deeply, sending waves of sensual pleasure through Nik.
“Thank you Nik, I’m touched.”
Nik smiled at him, amazed at the feelings that would previously have brought shame; now they seemed natural and somehow a part of what it was that he had become. He put his wrist over the girl’s mouth and squeezed hard, watching his lifeblood coat her lips then drip onto her tongue, pooling there until she swallowed. She opened her eyes to him.
‘No,” she said. “Never.”
Nik felt the anger rise inside him like a flood tide. He slapped her and she began to fight back against him as Santo watched from behind the silk mask, laughing quietly.
‘Finish her, Nik. Take it all.”
Images came into his head, images of the pale thin woman who had tried to care for him even though he had attacked her. She smiled at him in his mind and shook her head.
“No.”
Santo frowned and his ice flow eyes hardened to cold diamonds. He read Nik easily.
“Don’t forget, Nik. She abandoned you, gave you away to a life of misery, to fend for yourself and find out for yourself what you are. Don’t listen to her now. You are powerful, Nik. You have the potential to be one of the greatest amongst us, but you mustn’t give into weakness. They are our nourishment, Nik, nothing more. Like beasts in the field. Listen to me.”
The dark velvet voice caressed his mind, soothing his doubts, filling him with power. He’d done it before, carelessly and not in control; he could do it again, consciously this time, coldly, in full knowledge of his actions. He opened his mind to the flow of crimson that filled his being and drank from her again. Not gorging in a feeding frenzy, but slowly, savouring every drop. He drank until there was no more. Until she was dead.
“I’m proud of you, Nik. You truly are incredible. Stay with me, I’ll take you where you belong, I’ll take you to where your destiny will become so clear that you’ll wonder how you ever existed before.”
“Where?”
“I’m going to take you to your father.”
Nik’s face was flushed from the feeding and he was high on the energy taken from the lifeless girl stretched out on the bed before him, but he felt himself pale at the words.
“My father? Even my mother doesn’t know who he is. I’m the result of nothing more than a whore who slept around until she couldn’t tell who fathered the child in her belly. How can you know my father?”
“I know many things, Nik. More than you can imagine. Yes, I know your father. He is in Greece, Nik. We shall go there and you will be together and I will be the one who made it possible. Remember that. You will be reunited with a father that will love you and teach you things that only he is capable of. He is the greatest vampire alive on the earth at this moment. He is the fountainhead. And he is waiting for you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
At Lane’s house, the donor, a young medical student named Jill, arrived.
Kat lay quietly, unsure of what was about to happen but trusting in Lane. Jill was a fresh-faced blonde with green eyes and freckles, attired student fashion in threadbare and frayed jeans and obligatory faded T-shirt. She carried two hefty books under her arm.
“Hi,” she said disarmingly as though there was nothing out of the ordinary in the proceedings.
Lane nodded at the books, “I see you’ve brought some studying with you.”
Jill pulled a face, “Yeah. Mid term papers are due in next week. I thought that while I was just sitting here, I might as well bone up on my bacteriology.”
Lane laughed, “As I recall, bacteriology is why I specialised in psychology.”
The girl made herself comfortable in a reclining chair in the corner of Lane’s room with a familiarity that came from regular practice.
“Thanks for coming so quickly, Jill. You’re a gem,” said Lane. “This is Kat, and as you can see she is in need of your help in rather a hurry.”
Jill smiled at Kat, “It’s a bummer, isn’t it? Don’t worry; you’re in good hands with Doc Dearing. And no need to worry about the red stuff, I’m certified free of HIV and anything else undesirable, right Doc?”
“Right. And you’re O negative so it’s the universal donor group.” Lane was connecting the transfusion kit to Jill’s arm as she spoke. She was worried about Kat; she wasn’t out of the woods yet. This was the beginning of a long and lonely road for her.
The blood ran from Jill’s arm into a standard collecting bag laced with an anticoagulation agent to stop it clotting before Kat could drink it.
Jill stuck her head into the mysteries of bacteriology, making no more comments or conversation and appearing to be unaware of Kat’s profuse sweating and growing agitation and lust for her life blood.
Lane took the usual pint, removed the needle from the girl’s arm, swabbed the puncture wound and taped some cotton wool over it.
“Don’t forget, go lie down on the couch downstairs for a little while, there’s a drink and some cookies on the table. Get plenty of rest for the next few hours and drink lots of fluids. The money is in an envelope next to the cookies. I won’t come down, Kat needs me here. Good luck with the bug exam.”
“So long, Kat. Glad to help.”
“Thanks,” Kat mumbled.
Lane was busy at the dressing table, transferring the precious blood into a small cup. Although there were other ways for Kat to feed, as she herself fed or gained the necessary blood, the first time was different; she was in a weakened state and would soon be driven mad with the hunger. She had to drink.
Lane helped her sit up against the soft pillows. She looked like a frightened child, a far cry from the powerful vampire that she had the potential to be.
Kat’s pallor was frightening, she was almost transparent and her emaciated frame looked dangerously close to skeletal. She made a sudden lunge towards the cup and Lane only just managed to keep it from spilling on the bed.
Kat’s eyes took on a blaze of crimson and she opened her mouth wide as the vampire muscles under her canine teeth pushed the sharp white fangs downwards in anticipation of the bite that would normally bring sustenance. She grabbed the cup with bony fingers and drank greedily, instantly feeling the energy coursing through her body. Cell by cell she could feel new life pervading her being.
She drained the cup and handed it back to Lane who watched her anxiously for any signs of adverse reaction.
As the minutes turned to an hour her pallor became less prominent and the crimson veil over her eyes faded until her amethyst eyes shone like brilliant jewels. Her hair lost its lankness and sprang back to its former ebony beauty. She listened as she heard sounds like never before, with an intensity and clarity that was almost deafening. She heard the ticking of the clock in Lane’s sitting room, the refrigerator humming in the kitchen. More sounds came flooding in now, the sound of quiet
lovemaking coming from the bedroom in the house next door, and the snoring of the elderly man two houses away. Her nostrils flared as scents and aromas came to tantalise her. She could feel the blood in Lane’s veins; smell the richness of the precious red fluid. She smiled, somewhere between saint and lost soul.
Something was wrong though. Something was missing. She concentrated hard and Lane picked up her thoughts instantly. They could both only sense each other in the house. Beckett had left.
“He left as soon as he was through that door,” Lane said. “The damn fool, I felt him leave but I had to stay with you. I know where he’s gone and if I’m not very much mistaken he’s in for another rough ride. I need to go to him, Kat. Are you alright?”
She nodded at Lane and jumped out of bed with unfamiliar energy. She made for the mirror, and then hesitated. What if she cast no reflection? Lane did, but what if she, Kat, didn’t?
She brushed aside the fear and went to the dressing table.
Her reflection looked back at her, healthy, invigorated, alive. She lifted her hair with her fingers and felt the luxurious softness, her skin was like down and her lips had a rosy hue that she hadn’t seen for eighteen years.
If vampires were the creation of the devil, then she thanked God for it. Whatever she was or had become, she was glad of it.
“Where is he? I’m coming with you. Wait for me to get dressed. Where did he go, Lane?”
Lane sighed, “I’m rather afraid he went swimming out of his depth.”
She saw Kat’s puzzled expression and put her arm around her shoulders. “There is so much to tell you, so much for you to learn, I hardly know where to begin.”
Kat’s eyes glinted, the vampire in her already assertive and confident. “Begin with Beckett,” she said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lane’s cell phone rang and made her hesitate, although she was tempted to ignore it. She turned sharply on her heels; it could be Beckett.
“Lane Dearing,” she said abruptly into the receiver.
“Lane, my dear, you seem somewhat agitated. Perhaps this is not a convenient time?” The silky, arrogant voice of Michael Rabb took her by surprise.
