by Jan McDonald
He approached her, arms open and a smile that hid nothing of his elongated canine teeth.
“Davina, I see you have made yourself at home. How pleasant to see you. I trust you took care of the matter at the hotel?”
“You know I did. Otherwise, you would not be so welcoming, Vasile. It was a shame about Christian, poor thing. He served his purpose, bringing the girl to my attention.” She gave a cruel laugh. “At least he did it before I had to marry him. I trust you have what you wanted?”
Vasile smiled. “I have, thank you – at least, in part. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” His manner was urbane, but Davina knew him well enough to know that underneath his demeanour was a ruthless and savage killer. It excited her and she smiled back at him, her eyes seductive and her movement feline.
“Do I need a reason? I thought we were friends, Vasile. More than friends.”
She stood in front of him, a full glass of absinth in her hand, and offered it to him. He watched her from under heavy-lidded eyes as he took the proffered glass from her. She ran her tongue over her sharp, elongated teeth and put her hand around his neck to draw him to her, but stopped as she suddenly sensed his resistance. Davina was used to his mercurial moods and knew she would have to work harder to please him.
She lifted her wrist to her mouth and sank her sharp teeth into a vein, then held the wound over the glass of absinth, allowing the blood to flow into the spirit. But he was in no mood for subtlety. He grabbed her wrist and sucked hard on it, savouring the vampire blood freely given.
She waited for him to return the gesture, but it didn’t happen. He let her arm drop to her side and sat in front of the fire, deliberately taking an armchair and not the couch which she had vacated.
She frowned momentarily, but persisted. After all, to be the chosen companion of the head of the House of Tepes was a goal worth working for, and Vasile Tepes had his eyes set on even bigger prospects.
She sat directly opposite him, aware that he was looking at her white neck and prominent vein, so she tilted her head slightly in order to distend the blood vessel into an offering. He had never refused it in the past. He leaned towards her, tempted to pierce the vein and drain her before leaving her corpse for Nicolae to dispose of. And then he had another thought.
She had been a faithful follower and useful into the bargain; she may still be such in the upcoming discussions with the other Houses – he had seen the way that Alexis Vasilakis had looked at her on the previous occasion and Davina was one asset that he wouldn’t mind passing on now that he had Lucy.
Lucy – the thought of her entranced him. What was it that had drawn her to him in that way? Driven him to do what he censured and abhorred in others – to possess her and turn her?
As if he had conjured her, he sensed Lucy waking – sensed her rising and coming to him.
He had to act swiftly – Davina couldn’t know about her; she would have believed he had used her and disposed of her, as was his usual practice, and as she was the only one who could recognise Lucy as once having been human, he would have to sacrifice her usefulness. He regretted the loss of an asset but he had to protect his position among the Born.
His eyes fell on the iron poker at the fireplace as he lifted her from the couch and pulled her close to him. She nuzzled his neck, happy in the belief that she had finally won him and, drunk on the absinth and his proximity, she remained unaware of his true intention until he thrust the poker through her rib-cage.
He let her fall to the floor and yanked on the bell-pull that summoned Nicolae, who appeared almost instantly.
“Get rid of that!” he snapped as he calmly climbed the stairs to his obsession – to Lucy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: OF THE BLOOD
Nicolae cradled Davina in his arms, his loyalty to his master at breaking point as he looked down into the face of his granddaughter.
Countess times he had carried out Vasile’s instructions without question but this time – this time it was different; this time it was family.
Instinctively, he pulled the poker from her chest with a loud sucking sound. Miraculously, it had missed her heart and Nicolae watched as her vampire body began to heal the terrible wound. He had to take her away from there before Vasile discovered his treachery, and to give her time to heal. His mind raced, searching for a solution.
Her eyes flickered open and she gasped as she sucked air in greedily. She caught his wrist and whispered, “Alexis. He will help me. Call him.”
Possible scenarios flew through his head if Vasile discovered his secret and his actions – none of them ended well. He had been a trusted and faithful servant to the House of Tepes since he was a boy, when Vasile had taken him in as an orphan, giving him a home, a job, an income, and hope. But now he could see that coming to an end as all he wanted to do was to hold his granddaughter, take her away from there, away from Vasile who had no idea who she was.
“Hush,” he whispered. “Hush. He thinks you’re dead. I have to get you away from here.
He carried her outside and into the newly falling snow. It drifted around his head in tiny white specks that threatened to fulfil their potential and become large fluffy flakes which would quickly blanket the Carpathians in a white shroud. He glanced behind him but there was no sign of Vasile as he placed Davina in the back of the four-by-four and drove down the winding mountain road to the valley below.
The town of Curtea Des Arges, on the right bank of the Argeş River where it flows through the valley of the lower Carpathian mountains, came into view through the thickening snow. Nicolae pulled up outside the white-walled, iron-balconied hotel Casa Curtea and quickly carried Davina inside.
The receptionist was startled at the sight but was quickly calmed and sent away by the owner.
“Nicolae, you had better not have brought trouble to my door. I know I owe you, but this is asking a lot. Is he looking for her?”
Nicolae shook his head. “No. He believes her dead. It would be better for all of us if he continued to believe that. Please, just while she heals.”
Alarm was immediately apparent on the owner’s face. “Heals? Then she is vampyr? Nicolae … I dare not!” He crossed himself and turned away.
“Have you forgotten what I did for you? Have mercy, man – she is my granddaughter. Why else would I come to you? One night! Just one.”
A cloud passed over the owner’s face as the memory of his debt settled in his memory. He said nothing, but handed a key to Nicolae, who took it with a nod of gratitude.
“A quiet room at the back of the building. This clears my debt to you,” Nicolae.”
“This clears your debt to me.”
Minutes later, in the quietest room in the hotel, Nicolae dialled a telephone number and waited for it to be answered in Greece. When it was, it was a surly voice at the other end who denied Nicolae a conversation with Alexis Vasilakis.
“Tell him that Davina Marinescu has need of him – great need.”
“Wait,” came the curt reply.
Moments later a deep, rich voice, heavy with a Greek accent spoke. “This is Alexis Vasilakis. Who is this?”
“My name is Nicolae Marinescu, sir. You have made my acquaintance in the house of Vasile Tepes, though, as his manservant, I doubt you would have noticed me.”
“I remember you. What do you want of me?”
“I called you because I was asked to by my granddaughter, Davina Marinescu, whom I believe you have met on several occasions in the company of my employer. He has turned on her and left her for dead and instructed me to dispose of her body, but I have her safe – for now. If he finds out I have her, he will kill us both. My granddaughter asked for your help with her last breath before she fell asleep to heal. Please, help her.”
There was momentary silence at the other end, and then, “Where are you? I will send someone to you at once. When he arrives you can leave Davina safely in his hands. She will be brought to me, here in Greece. You know I have the resources. So, be as
sured you can trust me. In the meantime, I ask you to return to Vasile’s home and act as though you have carried out his instructions. Tell me – Davina, is she … of the Born?”
“Yes, and – before you ask me – no, I am not vampire. But there have been several in our lineage. My wife was ‘of the blood’ as you say. And my daughter. I neither know nor care how the genetics work, only that my granddaughter is safe. I thank you for that. I also know of Vasile’s forthcoming plans for another war and will be thankful if she is out of the way.”
“Stay with her, someone will be with you soon. I have a great many contacts in Tepes territory.”
Nicolae was satisfied. He believed Alexis Vasilakis, if for no other reason than he had seen the way Alexis had looked at Davina the last time they were together and also there had been an ill-concealed resentment of the head of the House of Tepes.
“I have her in Curtea Des Arges – a small hotel just on the outskirts, alongside the river – Casa Curtea. Room eighteen at the rear of the building. I would ask that whoever you send, comes quickly.”
He was answered by the distant click of a disconnected call.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: HUNGER AND HUNTING
Beckett was out of the front door and into the darkness – Darius was nowhere.
Lane and Roman had gone straight to Raven, and Lane had lifted her effortlessly onto the bed. She woke with a start.
“Darius!”
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Lane soothed.
Raven’s hand went gingerly to her head where there was the beginnings of an impressive lump. “It happened so quickly,” she said. “He was sleeping soundly, and then he sat up all of a sudden and went wild. I tried to grab him but fell in the process. I banged my head on the way down – he didn’t attack me, honestly.”
Beckett returned, his face set in a mask of fury that was largely aimed at himself. Lane read him from a mile off.
“Easy, Handsome. None of us could have foreseen this. I gave him enough sedative to knock out two horses for a whole day. I can only assume that his strength and rapid assimilation of his vampire traits means that, somehow, Darius was bitten and turned by a very powerful one of our kind.”
“Who?” Raven asked.
Beckett spoke through gritted teeth and it came out almost as a snarl. “I don’t know, but I’m willing to bet Vasile Tepes was behind it – behind everything. He just keeps adding to my list of scores to settle with him.”
Lane frowned. “He may have orchestrated it, but I would have sensed him if he was here. My instincts tell me he’s still in Transylvania.”
Beckett made a derisive sound. “Of course he is – he won’t get his hands dirty until he has to.”
He was interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He grabbed it and jabbed the answer button.”
“Beckett,” he snarled.
“It’s Helena,” said the soft voice at the other end. “Mihai told me about the Sanctuary – and my lab. He said I should come to you. Is everything all right?”
He put the call on speaker and gave her the abridged version of events but his tone was enough to paint a fuller picture.
“I’m on my way from Glen Lyon in Scotland. I … I’ll tell you more when I get to you, but Lane is right … this is genetic and if we are to come up with any cure, I need to find the right gene.”
Roman nodded in answer to Beckett’s unspoken question.
“Come to Linwood House – I’ll send you directions. I believe we have found you a new lab.”
“And Darius?” she asked. “It’s going to be too late to try the old serum on him, even if I could get any in a hurry.”
Beckett struggled with his emotions that were flying between anger, frustration and extreme anxiety over Darius. “I’m afraid you’re right, he’s gone and we’re about to go looking for him. Drive safe.” He cut off the call and made for the door with Lane and Raven right behind him.
*
Darius’s senses were on fire; he had never felt so alive. Everything was sharp and magnified a thousand times. His instinct to hunt was driving him wild and he had had no option but to leave. If he stayed he feared what he may have done to Raven – to any of them. He was hearing sounds from a distance – a couple making love; another couple arguing; a child crying; an old woman dying – sounds that merged in his brain in a cacophony of noise. He could smell the scent of fallen leaves, of newly turned earth and all manner of human scents. But most of all he was hungry – and he knew he had to feed in the most primal way for a vampire – from a vein.
He ran through the darkness towards the village of Alderley, exhilarated by the speed with which he could travel, feeling the wind rushing through his hair and the blood pounding in his veins. His need to feed was greater than the instinct for survival and he knew that to satisfy his hunger he would have to disappoint Beckett. He didn’t know where this force was originating and he couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on it, though he knew deep down, that if he took the blood by force he would become what he had previously hunted. Was he to become like his brother, Andrei, had been?
The village appeared in a couple of minutes under his newly acquired speed and he wasted no time in obtaining a car – vampire speed alone wouldn’t put enough distance between him and Beckett and the last thing he wanted was for Beckett to witness what Darius knew to be inevitable.
He was driven by an insatiable hunger that was becoming an exquisite agony, but he wanted miles between him and the others and he knew he needed clothes to replace the scrubs he was still wearing. A customised motor-cycle in the driveway of a house made him pause and smile. The rear window gave under his strength without too much noise, and he was in the house and up the stairs with newly-found lightning speed. Inside the bedroom, the owner of the bike was sound asleep in the arms of a reefer, and his discarded tight, black leather pants and jacket were a temptation too big to leave. Darius had a new look.
A small, run-down cottage on the edge of the village showed no lights, but Darius’s night-vision was honing in on a small car in the driveway. He felt the bonnet – still warm – its owner was probably still awake.
He listened to the sounds of the night and then he suddenly took a step back.
He could hear a woman inside the cottage, whimpering and pleading, then the sound of heavy breathing and the dreadful sound of something hard coming into contact violently with soft flesh. The woman cried out. The sound came again, this time accompanied by expletives and a warning to shut her mouth. The sound of flesh taking a beating came again and now he could smell blood.
He kicked out at the cottage door and was upstairs before any human eye could have followed his movements.
She lay in a heap on a dirty mattress, covered in her own blood that was slicked over old wounds and bruises and Darius could sense her approaching death; could hear her heart struggling to survive. The brute stood over her, his fists coated in her blood, a look of surprise on his face at the young man that had suddenly appeared before him. He growled and balled his fists, lunging towards Darius who met him head on, canine teeth down and looking for a vein. He pushed the man backwards against the wall as if he had been flicking a feather, but the man went back with enough force to knock the wind from him. His expression changed from one of surprise to one of terror as Darius attacked him with full force, tearing flesh from his neck with his elongated, sharp teeth and drinking the fountain of blood that gushed from the severed blood vessels. He pushed the man back against the wall hard and drank his fill, gorged on him, sensing the man’s terrible crimes, seeing the faces of the women he had raped and killed. He drank the rest, feeling the heart losing strength as he sucked the life-blood from the murderer in his grip. He drank the last of it and allowed the body to fall onto the floor, empty, before rifling through his pockets for the car keys.
Bending over the woman he brushed the straggly hair away from her bruised face and looked down on her, feeling a pain so deep it made him weep. He picked her up,
filthy blanket and all and carried her out to the car, where he laid her on the back seat and covered her with the blanket.
He drove to the nearest town, conscious of her stirring; trying to speak.
“Hush, now. You’re all right; he can’t hurt you anymore. I’m taking you to where you can get help. Don’t try to talk.”
His voice was soft and reassuring and she settled back against the seat as he drove to the hospital. Once there, he lifted her gently from the car and moved with such speed, no-one even saw him enter the building. He laid her on a trolley, bent and kissed her forehead and left the same way as he had entered.
He was wired; full of blood coursing through him, tasting the fear and the death of the man who had, all through his mean, miserable life, done nothing but inflict it. He wondered if he should be feeling remorse; he had, after all, just killed a man, whether or not the bastard had it coming. He didn’t – he couldn’t. He drove faster towards the motorway that would take him home – knowing only that it was where he felt safe.
Then the hunger overcame him and the pain that accompanied it was unbearable. He cried out in torment; cried out for Beckett, for Lane, for salvation. He drove it into a tiny village just off the motorway as the dawn was breaking and headed for the square tower of the village church. Sanctuary. They had to give him sanctuary, didn’t they?
But the church was locked. In despair, he slumped against a tilted gravestone and wept.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: UNSETTLED OLD SCORES
Vasile Tepes had been correct in his assumption that Lucy would make a beautiful and stunning vampire; in truth, she had surpassed all his expectations. Her breath-taking beauty was eclipsed only by the emergence of her darker nature that had previously been held in check by her humanity. Nothing of that remained now, and in the ascendancy was her instantaneous understanding and embrace of her new abilities. Vasile was entranced.
