by Kate Hill
I’m a little angry he didn’t come to me right away, but I can’t be completely upset. Suddenly I’m truly not alone anymore, and I have Dulcie to thank. She’s given me a new life. I’m seeing her again tonight. I have tickets to Macbeth in Boston. She loves Shakespeare as much as I do. Still, I can’t wait for the play to be over so I can take her home and make love…
Dulcie touched the pages, remembering with painful clarity the moments Matthew described.
“Dulcie.” Adam interrupted her thoughts, and she glanced at him, blinking tears from her eyes. He held out a smaller book bound in red leather. It smelled of incense. “Look at this.”
She opened the book, reading pages of incantations, some original, others credited to various witches and warlocks. There were notes in the back about gods, goddesses, magical traditions and religions.
“It’s a grimoire,” Adam stated.
“Yes. I knew he was practicing magic a little. Who wouldn’t, with that kind of potential? However, I had no idea he was this involved.”
“Whoever would have thought Mr. Die-in-the-Name-of-Science would be a warlock?” Adam shook his head. “And he laughs at me because I’m a Baptist.”
“There’s a lot to Matthew. I always knew that. None of this really surprises me.”
“Damn it, Matthew! Where are you?” Adam clenched his fists, his worry apparent in his expression. “Dulcie! My God, I’m a fool!”
“What?” She stared at her brother-in-law, her eyes wide with hope. “Did you think of something?”
“The research hospital! Did he have any close friends there?”
“Only Nancy. Why?”
Adam headed for the door. “Come on.”
“Do you think he went there?”
“If he has the boy, he’ll need help. If I were him, it’s where I’d go.”
Together, they drove to the research hospital, where Dulcie asked for Nancy. The pudgy scientist met them in the lobby. As soon as Nancy saw Adam, both Immaculates felt her fear. Only one thing could justify such terror, and it was confirmed by Matthew’s scent wafting faintly through the hospital.
“Nancy, Matthew was here, wasn’t he?” Dulcie demanded.
Nancy glanced over her shoulder at an intern who passed through the lobby.
“Come with me,” she said. “We’ll go where we can talk privately.”
She led them to her empty lab.
“It’s so weird here without Matthew,” Nancy said. “Since he left, I’m the only one who comes here at this hour. He used to live in this lab—”
“You have to be honest with us,” Adam told her. “He’s in a lot of danger.”
Nancy snorted. “You’re telling me, but I really can’t tell you anything. Oh, God!” Nancy pressed a hand to her temples as Adam probed her mind.
Dulcie knew he invaded the scientist as gently as possible, but Adam was still perfecting his telepathic skills. He could communicate well with vampires, but not harming an inexperienced mortal still challenged him. He stopped quickly, fearful of doing Nancy serious damage.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but we have to know.”
“He told me everything,” Nancy whispered. “I know he’s a vampire. I know the two of you—”
“Thank you for not going to the police.” Dulcie embraced her friend.
“Hey, no problem.” Nancy shrugged, still trembling. “Matthew had a little boy with him. It’s disgusting how that child was treated.”
“How has he been controlling him?” Adam asked.
“I have to admit, I thought he was going to tear the place apart at first, but he likes Matthew. He listens to him.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “He does?”
Nancy nodded. “It’s amazing, but within moments Matthew had him learning to talk.”
“Talk?”
“He was right.” Dulcie met Adam’s eyes. “Matthew was right.”
“I don’t know everything that’s been happening,” Nancy told them, “and I know Matthew’s in a lot of trouble, but he’s done the right thing. That kid was being tortured, treated worse than a dog.”
Dulcie stared hard at Adam, and her brother-in-law drew a long breath. “I should have challenged The Jury.”
“Jury?” Nancy looked confused.
Dulcie sensed Matthew hadn’t discussed the Network with her. They’d betrayed him, but he’d remained loyal to a group he didn’t even belong to. Dulcie silently cursed the Network and The Jury.
“Nancy, there are other vampires looking for Matthew,” Adam told her. “I’m not saying you are in danger, but there is a possibility. I’m going to send someone here to protect you.”
“Protect me?” Nancy’s eyes widened beneath her round glasses. “Oh shit. I don’t need any of this. I just want to come here, do my job, go home, spend time with my girlfriend—”
“Nancy, it’ll be all right,” Dulcie reassured her. “And thank you so much for what you’ve done.”
“Hey—” Nancy, in spite of her fear, managed to flash a thumbs-up, “—you know I think Matthew’s the best.”
“If you need anything—I mean anything—call this number.” Adam wrote on a piece of paper from Nancy’s desk. “By morning, a man called Marcus will be contacting you about your protection. Thank you for everything.”
Nancy smiled weakly, her fingers fidgeting with the slip of paper as she watched the Immaculates walk toward the elevator.
“So where do we begin looking?” Dulcie asked as the doors slipped shut.
“I don’t know,” Adam sighed, “but I’m going to search every inch of this city until I learn something. Somewhere, he’s left a clue.”
“He’s right about the Original, Adam. More than anything, I want to see Matthew again, but I almost hope we don’t find him. Your Network is on Jay’s side. God knows what they’ll do to Matthew and the Original if you find them.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to either of them.”
“You’re not the only authority figure. They can unseat you as the First Father. You said yourself they want to send Matthew to trial for the deaths at Jay’s center. Even if he was only trying to free the Original, the deaths must be accounted for. I just don’t believe he killed anyone.”
“Neither do I.”
“But how will we convince The Jury?”
“Without Matthew, we can’t.”
In her heart, Dulcie knew that even with Matthew, The Jury would be difficult, if not impossible, to convince. And she hated the thought of what punishment those supposedly just and upstanding vampires would pass on an Immaculate as young and passionate as Matthew.
Chapter Fifteen
Two weeks later
Somewhere in Boston
Matthew sat on a chair in front of a television set with a broken antenna and a fuzzy screen, his gaze fixed on the anchorwoman. A folded newspaper propped the broken back leg of his chair. Still, each time he bent to point out words in the book Sage was learning to read, the chair tilted. He gazed around the room, spotting two roaches racing across the wall. At least they kept their distance.
“Marie said she would take a trip to An…And…” Sage narrowed his chocolate-colored eyes at the unfamiliar word.
“Andalusia.” Matthew pointed at the book.
“Andalusia,” Sage repeated, and continued reading. “She would discover the boy’s secret.”
“That’s good, Sage.” Matthew rested a hand on the Original’s shoulder. The child’s intelligence amazed him. Though Matthew was a genius, the Original might even surpass him, but not stuck in a filthy rented room in a part of town where no one cared enough to ask any questions.
A photo of Matthew flashed across the screen, and the anchorwoman said, “The search continues for Dr. Matthew Winter, who vandalized the research center where he had recently been employed. Winter is responsible for the deaths of three employees, theft of files crucial to the center’s hematology research and damage to millions of dollars worth of equipment.�
�
Matthew smiled wryly. It seemed the story got worse with each news report. Next they’ll say he had plans to murder the president.
Sage glanced at Matthew and pointed toward the screen. “It’s you.”
Matthew switched off the television. “Don’t worry about that.”
“But you didn’t hurt anyone.”
“You and I know the truth. That’s all that matters.”
Matthew stood and glanced at himself in the cracked mirror above the bathroom sink. A ring of rust from a dripping faucet stained the basin yellow. Matthew had fixed the sink after one annoying day of listening to the water slap the porcelain.
As he looked at himself, he already noticed changes. He scarcely resembled that clean-cut, well-groomed man on the news. Vampires’ hair grew much faster than mortals’, and with Matthew’s dark coloring, his beard was already full after two weeks without shaving. His hair nearly brushed his shoulders, and in a couple more weeks, it would hang halfway down his back. That was good. The less he resembled his preferred appearance, the less likely he would be caught. Dark smudges rimmed his eyes. Though he’d scarcely slept, it wasn’t lack of sleep that bothered him. He was accustomed to that. Feeding Sage exhausted him. The Original required large amounts of blood, more than Matthew should supply on his own, particularly when he had no access to hybrid blood himself. Though only two weeks had passed, already he was starving. He hadn’t felt so weak—or so desperate—since before he’d met Dulcie, during those horrible years when he hadn’t known what he was.
He glanced at Sage, who sat on the edge of the bed, looking at a picture Matthew had pulled from his wallet early that morning while Sage slept.
He gazed down at the photo in Sage’s small hand. It was of him and Dulcie sitting on a large rock on a beach in Maine. Dulcie wore a sleeveless flowered dress, her thick, beautiful hair wind tossed. Matthew sat behind her, his arms around her waist, his chin brushing her head. Both were smiling.
If he closed his eyes, he could feel her body in his arms. They’d been so happy that night. They had been at a party with her family. Her aunt had snapped the picture.
“Who is she?” Sage pointed to Dulcie.
“My wife.”
Sage glanced at him with dark, innocent eyes. “You look happy there.”
“I was.”
“You’re not with her because of me.”
Matthew stooped so he was at eye level with the boy. “Sage, nothing that’s happened is your fault.”
“The people from the lab are after us, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
Tears sprang into Sage’s eyes. “They’re going to take me back.”
“No. I will not let that happen. I promise.” In the back of his mind, he thought, But I’m really going to need help. Where could he get it? He couldn’t go to Dulcie or his mortal family. Not only would he endanger them, but certainly Jay had people watching them, hoping Matthew would try to make contact. He couldn’t go to Adam because his brother was so deeply involved in the Network. To the Network, an old vampire such as Jay could do no wrong. Asking Nancy for any more help was also out of the question. He had no one to go to, no one he could trust. Or did he?
A sharp knock sounded on the door. Matthew tensed, his fangs and claws lengthening. Why didn’t he simply keep his physical weapons out at all times? He felt so on edge. Every movement, every sound, he thought it was the Network, Jay’s guards or the mortal police coming for him.
Repressing a growl, he made his way toward the door. Fear also shone upon Sage’s face as Matthew motioned for him to keep back.
The knock sounded again.
“Eh! I know you’re in there. The friggin’ rent is due!”
Matthew’s pulse slowed as he took money from his wallet, glancing at the bills he’d withdrawn from the bank a few days before abducting Sage. He’d taken several thousand dollars, but over a length of time it wouldn’t be much, and there was no way to withdraw more. He was sure to be recognized. Even an ATM withdrawal would ensure a picture of him on the video monitor and reveal his changed appearance.
He opened the door and passed money into the cigarette-stained fingers of the skinny, sickly looking landlord. Coughing puffs of stinking smoke, the man counted the money.
“Would you stop that?” Matthew held up his hand against the smoke and spittle. To the Immaculate’s finely tuned senses, cigarette smoke was almost intolerable.
For spite, the man exploded in an extra-loud coughing fit and croaked out, “You worried about a little smoke? You look like you’re strung out on crack and everything else. Fucking scum. Makes me sick what I have to put up with around here.”
The man muttered and wheezed his way down the hall.
Matthew shook his head as he closed the door. “Moron. Ignorant. Walking disease factory. Breeding ground for venereal disease in his youth, beer-swigging son of a—” Matthew glanced at Sage and stopped himself before swearing. Not that it mattered. With all the fucks and friggs echoing through the halls, Sage had most likely accumulated more curses than King Tut’s tomb.
“Let’s have lunch, Sage.”
Sage poured milk while Matthew made two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He’d have to do some shopping soon. They were nearly out of food. For fear of being recognized, he went out as seldom as possible.
While they sat at the scratched, round table by the window shielded by a moth-eaten blanket draped over the torn shades, Matthew wrote math problems in a notebook. When he’d finished, he passed them to Sage.
“I have to go out for a little while. You do these problems, and I’ll be back very soon.”
Sage looked fearful. “You’re not coming back.”
“Of course I’m coming back.” Matthew stood, tugging a plaid shirt over his T-shirt. He didn’t bother with the buttons, but let the fabric hang over his jeans.
As he approached the door, Sage leapt from the table and grasped his waist. “Don’t go, Matthew.”
“I promise I’ll be back.” He gently took Sage’s chin in his hand. The terror in those chocolate-colored eyes broke his heart. He nudged him toward the table. “Go do your problems.”
Matthew slipped out of the apartment into the dark streets. A glance at his watch told him it was close to eleven o’clock. The telephone in his rented room hadn’t been working for days, and he needed to dial long distance.
He climbed the side of a building blocks away and entered through the roof, sneaking into a dark office and picking up the phone. As he dialed a number he’d been given years ago but had rarely called, he murmured silent thanks for his incredible memory. The phone rang, and he muttered, “Pick up, damn it. Just pick up.”
“Hola,” came a groggy voice, for in Spain, the sun was up and most hybrids were asleep. His biological father was obviously no different.
“Brett?”
“Matthew?” All sleepiness left Brett’s voice, and he immediately switched to English. “Where the hell are you? Are you all right?”
“Brett.” Matthew sounded tense. He wasn’t accustomed to pleading with anyone, but he was desperate. “I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I need your help. There’s no one else I can go to.”
“What do you need?” Brett asked without hesitation.
“You know about the trial with the Original?”
“Adam has told me everything.”
“Adam,” Matthew murmured. Adam was also Brett’s son, and much closer to him than Matthew. How could he ask Brett not to inform Adam of their contact, particularly since Brett worked for the Network? Though on a year’s sabbatical, he was still a Network member.
“Talk to me, Matthew.”
“I have to trust you not to reveal my whereabouts to Adam or the Network.”
“Adam is desperate to find you. So are Dulcie and your mortal family. Matthew, I don’t know what you did at that research center, but—”
“I didn’t kill anyone. I swear it.”
“I believe
you.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. But you did steal the Original.”
“I had no other choice. If you’ll only help me, you’ll understand. I need someone to take Sage. This is no life for him. He deserves better.”
“Sage?”
“The Original child. I can’t do this alone. He needs more than I can give while running.”
“Can’t you go to the Network and explain?”
Matthew closed his eyes, his stomach twisting with frustration. “The Jury trusts Jay. They don’t trust me. I’m too young, according to them. Jay has—”
“I know how they can be.” Brett sighed. “The Network is necessary to keep some control over our kind, but they’re not always right. And the older a vampire is, the more stubborn he can be.”
“Will you take Sage and protect him? Please? I’m running out of time.” Matthew glanced at his bandaged wrist. He hadn’t yet fed Sage today, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. “I don’t know how much longer we can survive without help. I can’t go to Dulcie or my family because I’m sure Jay is watching them. Adam will bring us both to trial.”
“Adam cares for you.”
“But he has to do what he feels is right, and that means passing through the Network’s channels. I have no right to ask for your help. I’ve never been very accepting of you as my father. I know I—”
“Where are you? I’ll come for you.”
“I’m still in Boston.”
“Right under their noses. Good move. They probably think you fled Massachusetts long ago. I’ll call for a ticket to the United States, book a room and tell you where to meet me.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I call you back as soon as I have the details?”
