by Kate Hill
And there had been Dulcie. Matthew hadn’t fully realized how lucky he’d been to have her. All those hours he spent working and she never once complained. She waited for him when he came home, giving him kisses, blood and conversation. He wanted to see her, hear her again so badly it was a physical ache. He’d always thought he’d appreciated her, but now he realized he hadn’t appreciated her nearly enough.
“The watch and the ring. Give ‘em here,” an agitated voice spoke to Matthew’s left. He stopped, staring into the bloodshot eyes of a boy no more than eighteen. The youth reeked of several weeks’ worth of dirt, drugs and alcohol. His hand gripped a gun pointed at Matthew’s chest.
Matthew glanced at his gold watch and wedding band.
“Take ‘em off!” the youth hissed through gritted teeth, his dirty fingers tightening on the weapon.
Matthew sighed. He was not in the mood for this. He just wanted to rent a room and hide with his thoughts for a few days. The watch didn’t mean very much to him. He slipped it off and handed it to the boy, who snatched it.
“The ring. Come on! I’m not fucking kidding!”
Matthew’s hand shot out before the boy could blink. He grasped the gun in one hand and the youth’s chin in his other. Pinned to the side of the nearest building, the youth’s feet dangled several inches from the ground. Matthew squeezed the gun, warping the metal in front of his captive’s terrified eyes. Fangs lengthening, Matthew dropped the gun, took back his watch and snarled, “Go home.”
He dropped the boy, who raced down the street, leaving behind the thick scent of fear.
Instead of putting the watch back on his wrist, Matthew slipped it into his pocket. He dug through his duffel bag, removing the black lacing from one of his spare boots and threading it through his wedding ring. After tying the ends of the lace in a knot, he slipped the makeshift necklace over his head, dropping the ring beneath his shirt before he continued down the street.
He stopped at a building that looked about ready for a wrecking ball, though the sign outside advertised rooms for rent. Inside, the man he spoke to looked as seedy as his last landlord, except instead of sickly skin and bone, this man toted a potbelly and stubbled jowls. His greasy fingers practically ripped the money from Matthew’s hand before he passed him the key to a third-floor room and grunted out brief directions.
Matthew walked up the rickety steps and down a creaky hallway with peeling paint and a stained carpet. He unlocked the door to his room and turned on the light, not because his vampiric eyes required it but because he’d learned that light often frightened away most of the bugs that frequented old, run-down buildings. The light sputtered weakly, then flickered out. Matthew noticed several dark spots racing across the walls and floor.
“Great,” Matthew muttered. His bag still slung over his shoulder, he returned to the landlord and complained about the light.
The man growled. “I’ll put it on my list.”
“You can write?” Matthew snapped, aggravated and miserable enough to seek an argument with anyone, including that smelly Neanderthal.
“Look, wiseass, I’ll throw you the hell out of here—”
Matthew turned while the landlord was still talking and made his way to the nearest convenience store. He bought light bulbs, cleaning supplies and some basic groceries. In the apartment, he fixed the lights, sprayed every corner with bug killer, laid ant traps and began cleaning.
“Goddamn pig sty,” he snarled as he scrubbed out the refrigerator, stained from old food droppings. He opened the windows to air out the musty smell and the harsh odor of bug spray. The sound of popping tires and loud music from passing cars filtered inside. As he dusted, swept and scrubbed the toilet and shower, he smiled to himself, thinking about Dulcie. She’d always teased him for his neatness. He wondered what she’d say about him now. What was she doing? Usually at this time she’d be working on one of her paintings. Sometimes she’d paint in the nude. The thought of her voluptuous curves and toned muscles made his heartbeat quicken and his cock swell. Was she painting naked right now? Suddenly he froze. He hoped not. Vincent was in the house with her.
“Vincent!” Matthew said aloud, slamming one of his fists into his opposite palm. “Am I crazy leaving her alone with that fanged octopus?” He dragged on his jacket and headed for the door, about to run to the nearest pay phone, then stopped himself. Calling her would be too risky.
Was she all right? She’d been so upset when he’d left.
His mind focused on Dulcie, he spent the next several hours cleaning the room until it smelled only of furniture polish, wall and window cleaner and floor wax.
“Good luck to those little bastards if they can live through this,” he said of his crawling roommates. It was nearly dawn when he suddenly caught the scent of hybrids. The scent grew stronger as they moved closer. Matthew’s heart pounded and his teeth and claws lengthened as he prepared to fight. Had Adam and the Network found him already?
The vampires were close—in the same building. Stepping into the hall, he looked around anxiously.
A shadow moved against the wall as someone ascended the steps. Matthew stared, waiting. A girl who looked no more than thirteen years old stepped from the staircase into the hallway. Her scent and the glow of her eyes revealed her vampiric nature. She was slender, her straight, light brown hair tied in a ponytail down her narrow back. Freckles dusted her small, delicate face. Her large, dark eyes reminded Matthew of the deer he and Adam sometimes chased during a few weekend trips with their wives to the mountains. Chasing animals was a fun, challenging exercise, one that Adam openly enjoyed. Deep inside, Matthew also liked the thrill of the chase but felt too disgusted by its crudeness to admit it.
The girl’s slim lips parted, revealing the pointed tips of her tiny incisors. She beckoned Matthew with a tilt of her head.
“What?” he asked.
She lowered her chin and walked down the steps, her expression so forlorn that Matthew was compelled to follow in spite of a feeling deep inside telling him to return to his room, close his door and spend the night feeling sorry for himself. As Dulcie always told him, he should have gone with his gut, but he’d already walked halfway down the stairs after the girl.
Outside, she ran, but Matthew caught up to her with a brisk walk.
“What is it?” he asked.
She looked up at him and ran faster, dropping lightly down an uncovered manhole.
“Hey!” he shouted, squatting in the street and staring down the dingy hole. She gazed up at him and beckoned with her hand. The air reeked of hybrids. They were everywhere—up, down. One way or the other, he couldn’t avoid them.
Water splashed his pant legs as he dropped into the sewer. His teeth lengthened and his heartbeat quickened as his vampire side emerged. Surrounded by damp corridors, he found himself in another world. He’d heard stories about the sewers of New York but had never paid much attention to them. He hadn’t paid much attention to anything except his research and Dulcie.
The girl stood ahead. Her glowing eyes fixed on him before she darted to the left. He chased her, his steps so fast and light that even his boots made no sound. As he stalked deeper into the sewer, new scents bombarded him. Not the simple smells of waste and dampness, not only the aroma of hybrids but something completely unfamiliar…
The new odor was powerful, animal-like, wild.
The girl paused in front of a jagged archway. Dim light shone from within.
Growling deep in his throat, Matthew slowed his pace as he approached her.
He entered a long, wide room with such low ceilings that his hair brushed the wet brick. Hybrids and humans of every age and race imaginable filled the room. Most looked skeptical, used. They stared at him with harsh, glowing eyes, except for the girl. She took her place beside a man with a sturdy frame and long, dark brown hair tied at his nape. Like the girl, his large hazel eyes watched Matthew with benign curiosity.
“We’re wondering, why are you here?” the man asked.
&nbs
p; Matthew’s gaze scanned the room, lingering on every face. “What exactly is this place?”
“If someone walked into your house, wouldn’t you demand to know why before they began questioning you?”
“I followed her.” Matthew nodded toward the girl. “I thought she needed help.”
“And you want to help?” A hybrid female dressed in a bra, dusty shorts and scuffed boots curled her lip at him, revealing small, sharp fangs. “Since when does an Immaculate from the outside want to help?”
“The outside?” Matthew asked.
“You’re in our part of town,” explained the man with the hazel eyes. “We’ve watched you closely since you arrived.” The man pointed to a boy hidden in the shadows. Matthew recognized him as the youth who’d attacked him earlier that night. “Does he look familiar? You’re from the outside. We can sense it. Smell it. You smell of good fortune.”
Matthew laughed at that statement.
“What are you doing here? Who sent you, or did you come on your own? What do you want from us?”
Matthew held up his hands. “I don’t want anything except to be left alone.”
He turned to leave, but the hybrids closest to the archway blocked his exit.
“Out of my way!” Matthew snarled, unsheathing his claws and drawing his lips back over his thick, wolfish fangs. He knew his teeth—like those of most Immaculates— looked far more intimidating than the hybrids’ pincers.
“What are your intentions?” asked the woman who had spoken before.
“Are you here to destroy us? Are you part of that Network?”
“What do you know about the Network?” Matthew demanded.
“You are!” A lanky hybrid who looked no more than sixteen reached for a pointed pole leaning against the wall. He jabbed it at Matthew’s heart. Matthew grasped the pole before it struck him and wrenched it from the boy’s hand.
“You want to hurt us!” cried an old, gray-haired woman. “You want to kill our protectors.”
“I don’t want to hurt anybody!”
“Wait!” The man who’d first questioned Matthew—apparently the leader—stepped forward. “Leave him alone for a moment.” He stared at Matthew. “I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Everything that goes on here is our business. Every vampire who lives here must prove himself, or else we drive him off. It’s not that we want to live this way, but we have to. No one cares about us, so we have to care about ourselves.”
“I don’t understand. Will someone either tell me what’s going on or let me pass? Don’t think about keeping me here, or you will regret it. You know what I am, what I do.”
“Feed off us.” The woman in the bra leered at him. “Let me tell you something, Immaculate, if you want to feed off me, I expect to be paid for it. From what we’ve learned from watching you, you have money.”
“Did you kill for it?” someone shouted.
Matthew glanced around. They were mad. The entire group of them. He knew all about crazy people living on the streets. He’d just never expected so many of them to be vampires. Other than some physical differences, his kind were very similar to human beings. Why wouldn’t they be affected by diseases of the mind?
“He looks strong.” The hybrid woman glanced at the leader.
“We should see how strong first,” the leader commented.
The little girl who’d led Matthew to the den of mad dogs stepped in front of him and shook her head vigorously, holding up her hands. Matthew wondered if she could speak at all.
He didn’t have a chance for any further questions because the hazel-eyed man reached out and jerked the girl into his arms, snarling. She shrieked and struggled, her claws drawing blood on the man’s hands.
“Let her go!” Matthew snarled, reaching for the man, who turned and fled down the corridor.
Matthew chased, knowing that the hybrid could no sooner outrun him than a tricycle could outdistance a ten-speed. Matthew had just stepped outside the corridor when the floor dropped out from under him and he fell long and hard, landing with a thud on his stomach.
“Oh, God,” he grunted, pushing himself to his knees, his body aching from a landing that had knocked the breath from him. Gazing up, he saw the girl and the leader staring at him, then looking at each other. He hadn’t been hurting her! It was a setup! But why?
Chapter Eighteen
Matthew stood, nearly choking on the stench of body waste and old blood. He heard heartbeats, slow, powerful, distant. Panting breaths and throaty growls even deeper than his own filled the dank room.
“What the hell?” he muttered as the heartbeats sounded stronger and the animal scent he’d been smelling flooded the chamber. His eyes darted upward as the man and the girl covered the hole he’d fallen through, leaving him in such blackness even his Immaculate eyes had trouble seeing clearly. His vision adjusted as howls echoed through the metal walls. Tense, his heart racing, he prepared to fight something that made the hair on his nape stand up.
Two hulking creatures, bipedal, covered with dark hair and flashing teeth and claws that dwarfed Matthew’s, stood in the open doorway at the far end of the cell.
Matthew cursed under his breath and leapt up the wall, digging into the sleek metal with his claws as he sought to reach the hole that had opened partway as the man and girl stared down at him again.
“Are you crazy?” Matthew bellowed.
His claws slipped down the slick metal. One of the creatures grasped his ankle and jerked him to the ground. The shrieking beast pinned him to the floor, its fangs snapping at his throat. Matthew kicked, hurling the monster against the wall. The other leapt on him. Its claws slashed through Matthew’s jacket, drawing blood. Matthew’s hands clamped the creature’s jaw shut. He squeezed, his knee jabbing its hairy belly. Behind him, the other creature leapt. Matthew’s leg snapped out with a back kick, ramming his snarling opponent in the throat. His claws ripped at the eyes of the animal whose jaw he held. Matthew howled, a sound of rage and warning that rivaled the shrieks and howls of his animalistic opponents. The creature he’d blinded whimpered. When it turned to run, it smashed into a wall, knocking itself unconscious. The second beast, more furious than ever, swiped at Matthew’s face. Growling, Matthew dodged the hairy paw and lashed out with his own claws. His strike missed, but his kick didn’t. His foot snapped across the beast’s face. A second kick smashed the back of its head. It collapsed to the ground. Again Matthew tried clawing his way to safety. The man and girl were no longer staring down the hole, but as Matthew pulled himself up, the odd group surrounded him. This time, he smelled fear mixed with anger and apprehension. He hissed, his heart pounding from the fight, his breathing ragged. The group backed away slightly, except for two hybrids who dragged a slab of metal over the hole and bolted it down.
“He’s strong,” someone called from the back of the crowd, “but dangerous!”
“None of this means we can trust him!” someone else shouted.
A group of about ten hybrids advanced on Matthew, some holding guns, others clutching sharp-tipped poles and knives.
He growled, preparing to fight again, but the girl stepped in front of him. With incredible swiftness, she kicked the gun out of the hand of the hybrid nearest Matthew.
“No!” the girl snarled, her small voice carrying the authority of a combat general.
The group stopped moving but didn’t lower their weapons.
“I said leave him alone!” the girl ordered, glancing at the hazel-eyed man. “Gareth!”
The man stepped forward. “Put those weapons away and go about your business! This is not our way. He’s proven himself worthy.”
“But not trustworthy!” shouted one of the hybrids.
“That will come,” the man stated. “I’m sure of it.”
Matthew, his incisors still exposed, saliva dripping from his lips, watched cautiously as the group dispersed, except for the man and the girl.
“Welcome?” Matthew demanded. “I should eat your hybrid hearts! What the hell did I do to you that you should try to kill me? What are those things?”
The man smiled. “Those are complicated questions. Down here there are so many questions, so many answers, so many stories.”
“I’m listening.”
“You’re hurt.” The girl stood on tiptoe to better reach Matthew’s bleeding arm. He narrowed his eyes at her, but she ignored him and took his hand. “Come with us.”
“I don’t think so.” Matthew jerked away. “I’m leaving.”
“Aren’t you curious about us?” the man asked. “And you’ll not only need help caring for that arm, but you’ll need blood.”
“I can take care of myself.”
The girl laughed. “What are you, a doctor?”
“Yes,” Matthew said as he made his way out of the sewer, “I am.”
The girl and the man exchanged such curious looks that Matthew would have smiled had he not been angry and in pain.
The two followed him out of the sewer and onto the street.
“You still need help,” the man said. “Don’t be a fool.”
“Why should I stop now?”
As Matthew entered his building, the landlord stood in the hallway. He chuckled to the man and the girl. “He’s still alive. I didn’t think he’d make it.”
Matthew stared at him in shock.
“We’re all in this together,” the hazel-eyed man explained. “Are you sure you’re not ready to listen?”
Matthew sighed, his hand slippery with blood as he applied pressure to his wounded arm. He motioned for the girl and the man to follow him, thinking to himself, Looks like I haven’t got much choice but to listen.
In his room, he tugged off his jacket and cursed softly as he examined his torn arm. The wound had already begun to close, but it still needed to be cleaned and bandaged. If he took some hybrid blood, it would be nearly healed by morning.
