by R. E. Carr
“It’s about the best deal we can hope for,” Kyle said, now thoroughly absorbed in puttering with Paige’s IV and bandages. She glared at him. This time he glared back. “Look, Dr. Antonova caught you on tape, admitting that you’d killed vampires—”
“I know,” Paige snapped, but keeping her voice soft enough not to disturb the contented Lincoln.
“So, you know how screwed we are,” he growled.
“No more than we were before. At least now Arthur knows exactly who the killer is instead of chasing after all of us. Mina and the sheriff, they always think they have all the cards, and I’m sick of it.”
“But they do,” Jonathan piped up. “They do have all the cards. It sucks, but I’d rather go the next twenty years knowing—”
“Knowing that we are in a cage?” Paige asked.
“That you and the little guy are safe,” Jonathan countered.
Paige gulped the rest of her drink in silence. A terrible slurp echoed through her recovery room from her cup, followed a few minutes later by a thunderous burp from a sated baby. She raised a brow as Jonathan sat next to her, awestruck, as she managed a perfect one-armed swoop to move the baby off her shoulder and back into the crook of her extant elbow.
“Wow, you’re pretty good at that already,” Jonathan said, impressed.
“You could, you know, hold him—or even look at him.”
“I’ll go get your mom,” Kyle mumbled as he tried to make a hasty retreat.
“Delay that order,” Paige growled. She turned back to Jonathan. “You aren’t getting out of this so easily.”
Kyle took that as his moment to dart out of the room, leaving the only other male werewolf as the sole focus of Paige’s wrath. Jonathan visibly pulled away. Lincoln stared sleepily at both adults, then promptly spat up on his mom. “A little help here, please?” Paige asked desperately.
Jonathan rushed to grab an extra rag and blotted up the worst of it. Finally, he gave up and eased the squirmy little bundle into his arms. As soon as he locked his gaze with the baby’s, it was all over. He froze, holding Lincoln close to his chest, while Paige wiped off the last of the mess. Her face softened as she saw the wonder in both of their eyes.
“He’s now got one blue eye and one green eye,” Jonathan gasped. “Is that—?”
“Normal? No, it’s called heterochromia. Both his eyes were blue when he was born. That’s just new today, according to Kyle.”
“It’s the same green as . . .” he trailed off again as he studied Lincoln’s face a little more. “Am I crazy, or does he kinda look like me?”
“Well, if you did one of those Facebook games where they mixed two faces together to get a new person, then you would be the result of smooshing Lorcan and Morgan, so I guess it goes without saying that Link could kinda end up looking like you just because of crazy vampire genetic manipulation. For all I know, he’s the world’s tiniest shapeshifter, and he’s just copying you already.”
“Tiny little shapeshifter, huh?” Jonathan cooed as he let Lincoln grab onto one of his fingers. “Well, he can’t help it if he just wants to be as handsome as—”
Paige waited as Jonathan’s eyes glazed over. His countenance shifted slightly before he pulled the baby against his chest. A completely different expression passed over Jonathan’s face as he gave a pained look at Paige. “I am so sorry I haven’t been here for you, A rún.”
“Now you show up, Lorcan?”
“I have terrible timing, you know that. To think I almost consigned myself to an eternity without ever having this moment. I am a coward and a fool.”
Paige remained silent again as Lorcan smiled at Lincoln. His fangs glinted in the lights, but the baby only yawned and cuddled against him. Finally, the little guy passed out, and a tear rolled out of the corner of Lorcan’s eye.
“Are you ready to talk now? I mean really talk?”
“We need to talk, Steve—now,” Gail said, peeking furtively into the hall for any extra sets of ears. She dragged the confused and raccoon-eyed vampire to the breakroom table with her laptop.
“But it’s nearly dawn, Pumpkin. Even the undead need the occasional round of shut-eye. I feel like I’m nearly sober, damn it, and I totally need to sleep it off,” Steve whined, even as he reluctantly flopped into a chair.
“It’s just that I found some really disturbing things while trying to help you,” she said softly. She stopped to grab two fresh cups of blood and even took a moment to put a splash of vodka in Steve’s.
“Why is there vodka in the freezer, and no one told me?”
“Because then it would be gone in a matter of minutes,” Gail sighed, still focused on her screen. She looked up just in time to see Steve nod in acquiescence to her logic. “Steve, there is a lot of interesting information about the mechanics and the side effects of shapeshifting in this Arce Monstrorum database.”
Steve gulped. “Side effects?”
“Yes, side effects. There is a surprising amount of data on berserkers . . . specifically on what happens to them the more they change. I honestly thought I would find a way to help you, but it looks like the data on vampire shapeshifting is spotty to say the least. It’s all focused on werewolves—”
“Gail!”
“It’s bad—the mix of hormones and the compression of the skull starts to drive them insane. The shorter the time between changes, the worse the effect. Eventually, all werewolves go mad as the line between the berserker and the human blurs.”
“Well, those are the bad werewolves,” Steve said with a little laugh. “I mean, those are the ones that tried to kill us . . . I mean, tried to kill all vampires. Pip and the rest of her crew are different.”
“The virus is the same, Steve. It doesn’t pick and choose how it affects people. The more the victim changes—”
“But Paige isn’t some slavering, psycho rage monster . . . all the time. She—”
“I’m just saying that there might be a reason that the sheriff and Mina want to isolate them all. Even the baby, if he’s infected—”
“Just stop.”
“Steve—”
He grabbed her arm. “Just stop talking!” he commanded. Even with gloves on, the words reverberated in Gail’s skull. He gnawed at his lip and tugged at his hair while Gail watched helplessly and silently. He shoved away from the table and stormed towards the door. “Damn it! I didn’t mean to do that. You can talk, OK. Do you hear me, you can talk!”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Gail spat out before leaving him hanging. She went instead to the other infirmary room where a sunken figure lay still unconscious in bed with tubes in his nose and throat. “Oh, Williams,” she whispered, looking sadly at her former coworker.
She moved up beside him, carefully easing the new tablet the sheriff had left in her frenzy of upgrades out of its cradle. Her face fell as she scrolled through the patient’s progress notes.
“Can you hear me at all, big guy?” she asked softly, before taking his hand. “Hey, if you promise to wake up, I’ll finally go see the new Avengers movie with you or Batman versus anyone. Whatever you want, Tom.”
She waited a while in silence. “I feel bad that I never gave you a real chance. I do appreciate the effort, but you have to know—”
“That your kind and our kind don’t mix, Nurseferatu,” a nasally voice finished behind her. Gail bristled but did her best to remain calm even as a shadow approached.
“Bernard, if you shove a toothpick in my back, it will not be pretty,” Gail growled as pleasantly as she could. “I’m just trying to visit with an old friend.”
“And how do I know you won’t get peckish?” Bernard countered as he limped into view. Sure enough, he was holding his improvised mini-stake-thrower in one hand and a cross in the other. Gail rolled her eyes.
“Because werewolf blood is toxic, Bernard,” a new voice sighed from the door. “Give the poor girl a break, and let her say goodbye.”
“Billy,” Gail mouthed as relief washed over h
er. The shorter, more sensible half of the Black brothers shooed the paranoid werewolf away and took a seat on the other side of Williams.
“I’ve got this,” Billy reassured, waving the reluctant Bernard away again. Once they were alone, Billy leaned forward. The shadows in the room enhanced every line on his face—drawing out his hawkish nose and heavy brow. His eyes turned raven-black to match his hair, and the red undertone of his skin shone through.
“Thank you,” Gail mouthed over the comatose patient.
“Thank you for remembering him,” Billy replied softly. “You know, the change can take so much out of us. Not everyone comes back after shedding their skin. When there were more of us . . . we lost so many on the first change.”
“More?”
“Our old alpha, Irvine. He wanted to rebuild the werewolf race. He went from town to town recruiting boys from orphanages, foster homes, you name it. Most of the time, the bite didn’t work—it either just made them sick or nothing happened because they were vaccinated. The so-called lucky few ended up following him to his compound in Kansas. One by one, something would happen. Usually, it was one of the first changes. We didn’t have Kyle to patch us up. We didn’t have Nadia to teach us mindfulness tricks to limit our change. Irvine believed that the strong would survive, and the weak would take care of themselves.”
“And now you are all that’s left?” Gail asked, her voice breaking.
“The more you change, the more it changes you. The more I think about it, the more I laugh now. I mean, vampires think that we are the boogeymen that hunt them down—that we’re the ultimate weapon to save mankind. It’s such a joke.”
“I’ve seen—”
Billy narrowed his eyes. “We’re just . . . bombs, Gail. We cause a lot of destruction in a limited radius, and then we’re gone. Have you studied the whole concept of a berserker? We are diseased creatures, meant to be set free to do as much damage as we can and then burn away. This last pack is unnatural. We’re . . . defiant to our final days.”
“Williams isn’t going to wake up, is he?”
“You lose a part of yourself when you go too far. Look at my brother. There was a time when he was quiet and kind. He was the different kid who got picked on in school, but bit by bit, the bullied becomes the bully. When Paige came along, she helped him find outlets for all that anger . . . but now, I hear him mutter about how Irvine was right all along and that we need to grow in numbers again. He thinks we are a people . . . not just some poor victims of a disease.”
“I take it that he doesn’t want to run off to some reser—” Gail halted awkwardly before finishing the word. Billy burst into bitter laughter.
“You can say it, you know. It’s true. The vamps want to lock us away in some remote, easily forgotten place. I guarantee you that any human for five hundred miles in any direction will be vaccinated against chicken pox, and our sorry, sick asses will be the last of a doomed tribe. You see, vampires don’t need to kill us—they just have to wait us out. In the end, it’s probably for the best—a quiet, lonely end to this whole mess.”
“You sound like you want to go.”
Billy hung his head. “All stories must end, my friend.”
The door eased open. “Hey, Billy,” Toy said softly as she peeked into the room. She raised a brow as she saw Gail keeping watch on Williams as well. “Oh, it’s the Nurseferatu.”
“I’m never living down that name, am I?”
“Not if I have any say in the matter,” Toy quipped. “Hey, Shorty Spice is finally up to speed and wants to talk to each of us. I guess she’s a benevolent dictator after all. You’re up.”
Billy shrugged and shuffled around the bed. Gail cocked her head as Toy gave him a peck on the lips as he passed. “Huh,” Gail said softly. “Didn’t notice that before.”
Toy gave Gail a tiny salute. “Don’t cause any trouble,” she warned before escorting Billy out. Gail rolled her eyes and continued looking for any hope buried in Kyle’s notes while she kept watch until the early hour finally forced her to sleep.
She woke up with a start as the door opened hours later. The tablet lay at her feet and drool dribbled from the corner of her mouth. She groaned as she stretched and wobbled in a vain first attempt to get out of her chair. This time it was Kyle who greeted her in the never-ending wheel of werewolf game.
“I don’t know how anyone could sleep in one of those chairs,” the doctor said as he checked William’s vitals.
“Well, my body is technically dead—and boy do I feel it right now,” she said between yawns. She handed Kyle the tablet. “Any change in his condition?”
“His body is healing, but he’s still in a coma. We’re still gathering data, but without more advanced diagnostic equipment, I’m flying blind. No matter what, we are going to get him to a proper hospital soon. I just didn’t want to move him until all the bones were back in the right place. Usually, we wake up once the skull is normal, but he took quite a hit.”
Gail looked down. She felt a hand on her shoulder.
“You have to defend yourself too,” Kyle said softly. “You’d have no way of knowing what sort of blow would—”
“What about electricity?” she blurted out.
“There is even less data about electrocution available, but I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to help him, Gail.”
She gave him a sidelong glance. Deep circles surrounded his eyes, and new lines cut across his forehead. Even his freckles seemed a bit washed out as Kyle moved from checking Williams’ eyes to his drip line. Gail moved sluggishly to assist him, but he smiled a little as she dutifully noted the values for him on the tablet. “I will miss you, Nurseferatu.”
“I won’t miss the nickname, but take care of yourselves, OK? I’ve got this feeling that you’ve all made up your minds, and—”
“Yeah, we’ve got a plan. I’m sure you’ve done some research on your own by now. Sis says the sheriff and House Harker have been digging around too. I think we’re all on the same page.”
“Speaking of Paige, um, how is she doing?”
“About as well as any new mom who’s been shot and blown up. I think she just wants to get out of bed more than anything, and if I have to pry one more pellet out of her shoulder . . . well, let’s just say, she won’t be the only werewolf missing an arm in the near future. I think, though, that she’s had a good talk with Grandpa, and it will all work out. I’ve got faith.”
“Faith is good,” Gail said as she took care of the catheter for him. “I mean, those two can figure out anything, right?”
Kyle grimaced and nodded. Once all fluids had been taken care of, Gail gave him her best smile. “It will all be fine, I’m sure,” before taking her leave to trade noxious werewolf fluids for far tastier ones in the breakroom fridge. Her phantom heart leapt in her chest as she saw the label to the donut shop blend askew again. The lights flickered overhead.
“Don’t you dare get my hopes up,” Gail whispered. Her gaze darted from corner to corner, looking for any shift in the shadows. However, the only sparks in the room seemed to be the tiny ones that darted between her own fingertips. Her phone buzzed, making her jump. She didn’t answer it and instead made a beeline for the array of single-serve coffee packets. A red vial labelled Drink Me and a fortune-cookie fortune filled an otherwise empty bin.
Gail gulped as she took in her fortune. “Para el Lung Pendejo,” filled the side with the lucky numbers, while the preprinted fortune read, “May you live in interesting times.”
She uncorked the vial and took in the heady, intoxicating aroma of vampire blood. Her lip quivered and whole body trembled as she tasted heartachingly familiar notes in the air. Sweat dripped from her forehead as she fought to slap the cap back on. “Javier,” she moaned. “How could you leave this if you’re already dead, hmm? Is this your sparkles and stardust bullshit again?”
The lights flickered. Her phone buzzed once more. “A new record has been tagged for you. What a fucking surprise.”
<
br /> Gail lost herself reading about miasma and its ability to alter human perception until the door opened and the familiar, saccharine aroma of the other regular vampire in their band of merry men drifted her way. Steve stopped cold as he took in Gail and her rumpled clothes.
“Did you sleep here?” Steve asked.
“Where did you sleep?” she retorted.
“At your place, of course. You’re out of blood, so I wouldn’t hit up your neighbors for a few days—anemia, you know. Hey, I wanted to apologize for last night. I never should have used the whammy voice like that. I thought with gloves, it wouldn’t do a number on you, but I seem to surprise myself sometimes.”
“The poison is already inside me, Steve. From what I can tell, you’re basically the herpes of vampires. I can’t get rid of you if I try. The fun side effect for me is that I can’t forget any of the stupid things you do or any of the terrible things that have happened so far.”
“Herpes? Really?”
“Annoying and spread by physical contact, yup. It’s a perfect reflection of you. But hey, if you want to become invisible or electrocute people with your mind, I may have just the ticket for you.” She twirled the vial on the table. Steve’s jaw dropped.
“How is that even possible? Are you saying that’s . . .?”
“First rule of any story—if you don’t see a body—”
Steve snatched the vial. For a moment they locked eyes. Steve raised a brow. “Are you sure this is his blood?”
“If there is one taste I can never forget,” she said sadly, “It’s his.”
“I’ve drunk from you, though, no acid spit or anything. Why should I risk adding to the cocktail? For all I know, I might end up with a ridiculous accent and a penchant for showing up at exactly the wrong time.”
“I’m pretty sure you already have that power, Steve, and I’ve heard your eurotrash bullshit. Hey—this was specifically left for you. Call me crazy, but at this point, we’re so far down the rabbit hole that maybe we do need an invisible, lightning-bolt-shooting vampire with a whammy voice and the kiss of oblivion, walking around looking like whomever he damn well pleases. You might as well shoot for the stars, right? I mean, for all we know, this will just cancel everything else out, and you’ll end up normal again.”
