by Amy Cross
“I see,” I mutter, feeling distinctly uneasy, “and... Which book series would all of that be from, again?”
“Book series?” she asks.
“You're describing the plot of some lurid paranormal novel, aren't you?”
“If only. I'm describing the heart of the most decadent, most disgusting empire that ever existed in any of the known worlds, and do you want to know something even worse?” She pauses, and I can see from the fevered expression in her eyes that she means every word. Either that, or she's an extremely good actor. “They won,” she adds, almost spitting the words out. “Those foul, monstrous vampires actually triumphed over a species of pure, intelligent, wise...”
I wait for her to finish, but she seems momentarily overcome.
“So that's definitely from a book, right?” I ask finally. “I mean, it has to be, you can't...” Pausing, I realize that maybe she actually believes this stuff, in which case there must be serious questions about her mental health. “Um...”
“I'll prove it to you,” she says suddenly.
“I beg your -”
“You know the history of this city, don't you?”
“I'm no specialist,” I reply, “but I've read a fair amount, going all the way back to the precolonial era when the Lenapehoking region was home to -”
“What about the vampire catacombs?” she asks, interrupting me.
“The...” I pause again, before allowing myself a faint, embarrassed smile as I adjust my glasses again. “Well, no, I'm not so familiar with fictional accounts of the city's -”
“I'll take you to them.”
“I'm not sure whether -” Spotting something moving on the table, I look down and see a spider. Instinctively, I take my napkin and squash the creature, before flicking it away.
“Why did you do that?” Emilia asks.
“Sorry,” I reply. “Habit. I've never liked spiders. I suppose I should be more rational, though.”
“I see.” She pauses. “Well, then maybe we should dispense with dinner. I can take you to the catacombs right now and show you what's down there. To be honest, I think I just lost my appetite.”
“Emilia...”
“Are you scared?” she asks.
“That's not the point. Of course I'm not scared, it's just -”
“Then you're a fool,” she continues, fixing me with a determined stare, “because if you had any idea of what you're about to see and learn, not only about this city but also about your own identity, then you'd be wise to be very, very scared indeed. I've been trying to break it all to you gently, for your own sake, but -” She glances down at the floor, as if she's looking at the spider I killed. After a moment she gets to her feet, almost knocking the table over in her abruptness. “Let's blow this joint. Baby steps are boring. It's time to drop you in at the deep end.”
Abby Hart
“So let me get this straight,” I reply, leading Mark into my office. “The orphanage investigation was taken over by some kind of higher governmental agency, apparently to keep a scandal from exploding.”
“I already told you that,” Mark says, “but -”
“And presumably that agency took away any incriminating evidence.”
“Of course, but -”
“So,” I add, turning to him, “don't you find it a little unusual that when we turned up to take a look around, you just happened to find a trashcan containing a document that led us straight to Emilia's adoptive family? I mean, isn't that just too convenient?”
He opens his mouth to argue with me, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows I'm right. “There were some other forms in there as well,” he says finally. “It wasn't just the one about Emilia. There was also a partial list of names, of people who rented children from the orphanage all those years ago. Senator McAllister's name was on that list.”
“She wanted us to find that information,” I tell him. “She's been one step ahead of us the whole time, she knew we'd go to the orphanage and she wanted us to go to Elizabeth Vaughn. She must have also know that Elizabeth wouldn't be able to tell us anything that's useful -”
“Except for that stuff about a doctor named Keller.”
“Exactly,” I continue, “so we have to assume that Emilia wants us to have that part of the puzzle too. She's drip-feeding us just a few clues at a time.”
“So are you saying that we shouldn't try to track him down?”
“I'm saying that we'll most likely only find him if that's what Emilia wants us to do. My best guess is that this Keller guy is either involved somehow, perhaps even another member of her species, or he's someone she used and then tossed aside, in which case he's most likely dead. Either way, if we start investigating and we find traces of him, we need to be extremely cautious. We can't just go storming in at full speed like we did today, because at some point at the end of all this there's going to be a trap.”
“I know how to do my job,” he replies, clearly a little annoyed.
“With all due respect,” I reply, “you've never -”
Before I can finish, I hear footsteps nearby, and a moment later my lab assistant Katie comes through carrying a tray of plastic beakers. She has headphones in her ears and, having apparently not heard us come back, she lets out a startled yelp as soon as she sees us, and the tray of beakers crashes down to the floor.
“Hey, Katie,” I say with a faint smile.
“Oh God, I'm so sorry,” she stammers, dropping to her knees and immediately starting to pick up the beakers, “I had no idea anyone else was here. I was just going to put these away and go home.”
“It's fine,” I tell her. “Detective Gregory and I were just discussing a case.”
“Is it to do with that Hargreaves woman?”
“What have you heard?”
“Just that she's missing, and that she's the only suspect in the murder of Senator McAllister.” She glances up at me. “I mean, that's the rumor going around. The mainstream news channels are all staying well away from the story, it's like someone's nixed the whole thing.”
“For now,” I mutter, turning to Mark, “but a senator's death isn't going to stay out of the headlines for long. We need to make sure that no-one asks questions about how Emilia managed to -” I catch myself just in time, before I say too much. Looking down at her, I see that she's staring at me, obviously keen to overhear the next piece of gossip. “Why don't you go home?” I tell her. “It's late, I can finish up here.”
“But I just -”
“Go on,” I continue, helping her up and leading her to the door. “There are some sensitive case matters I need to discuss with Detective Gregory, and you don't have the right clearance level. Sorry.”
“Oh,” she replies, “no, it's fine, really.” She slips out of her lab coat and hangs it up, before grabbing her bag from one of the desks. As usual, she seems filled with nervous, neurotic energy. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”
“I might be out of the office,” I tell her, “but just come in as usual. I'm sure there'll be plenty for you to do.”
I wait in the doorway and watch as she heads out. As I listen to the sound of her footsteps heading toward the elevators, I can't help wincing slightly as I feel an immense cramping pain burning in the pit of my stomach. I've been in pain for weeks, of course, ever since I decided to cut the fresh blood from my diet, but tonight – when I'm tired and hungry – the discomfort is much harder to ignore. It's not dangerous, of course, but it's definitely something I could do without.
“Are you okay?” Mark asks.
“Fine,” I whisper, before forcing a smile to my face and turning to him. “I'm fine.”
“Are you in pain?”
“No,” I lie, “what makes you ask that?”
“It's just...” He watches as I head back to my desk. “I just thought I saw something in your eyes, that's all. I guess I can't make too many assumptions about you, though. After all, you're not even...”
His voice trails off.
>
I turn to him. “Not even human?”
He doesn't reply, but I know that's what he meant.
“I'm half human,” I point out. “I'm not like an alien that's landed in front of you from a galaxy far, far away.”
“You're still...” He pauses. “I guess I just don't know how to act around you,” he admits finally. “This time yesterday, I never would have guessed that you'd be trying to set out on some kind of one-woman vigilante campaign. Sure, Emilia Hargreaves needs to be brought in, and she needs to pay for her crimes if she committed any, but that doesn't mean you can just set off to track her down and kill her. I don't really know who you are anymore.”
“You know who I am. I'm the same -” Feeling another jolt of pain, I let out a gasp before quickly steadying myself. “Before you ask,” I say firmly, “I'm still fine. I'm just suffering from withdrawal symptoms. I'm sure I'll be able to push through it and come out the other side soon.” I want to tell him to go to hell, to leave me alone when I'm like this, but I'm just about able to hold my tongue. The last thing I need is to lose Mark's help.
“What are you withdrawing from?” he asks after a moment.
I shake my head.
“You've never smoked while I've known you,” he continues.
“Mark...”
“And I don't think you're an alcoholic or a junkie.” He pauses. “If you're a vampire, doesn't that mean you need to drink -”
“Hey!” Katie says suddenly, hurrying back into the office. “Sorry, I forgot my -”
“Get out!” I hiss.
“Sorry,” she continues, coming over to my desk, “I just left my cellphone here somewhere. I'll be gone as soon as I've found it.”
Sighing, I try to stay calm as she roots through the papers on the desk.
“Katie...” I start to say.
“It must be here somewhere,” she adds. As she turns to go over to one of the other desks, her bag catches some of the paperwork and she accidentally drags it all with her, sending hundreds of sheets sprawling all over the floor. “I'm so sorry!” she blurts out, turning to start picking the pieces up.
“Leave it,” I tell her through gritted teeth.
“I'll just -”
“Katie...”
“Two minutes, and then -”
“Get out!” I shout, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her over to the door. “You can damn well do without your phone for one night, okay?”
“But -”
“Get out!” I yell, physically shoving her out into the corridor. “Get the hell out of here and don't come back 'til the morning! Can you get that through your thick head?”
She stares at me, visibly shocked, before mumbling another apology as she turns and runs toward the elevators. This time, I watch until she's inside the chamber and the doors have closed, and then I let out a sigh of frustration. I shouldn't have snapped at her, but the pain in my gut is becoming more intense by the minute and I feel increasingly at a loss when it comes to Emilia. That goddamn spider creature is out there somewhere, running rings around me, and despite everything I've done today I'm no closer to finding her.
“Abby -”
“Don't say anything!” I snap, turning to Mark before realizing that I need to stay calm. “I think I need to be alone,” I continue. “I have a lot on my mind and I really just need to do some reading. There has to be something in the Book of Gothos that can help.”
“You're in agony, aren't you?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I nevertheless realize that there's no point lying to him.
“Why don't you just drink some blood?” he continues.
“That would mean giving in,” I point out.
“But if it's something you need -”
“And where am I supposed to get blood?” I ask, once again close to losing my temper. “Do they carry some in the local store?”
“Can't you drink, I don't know, rat's blood or something like that?”
I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
“Sorry,” he adds, “bad idea, but...” He pauses. “Does it have to be human?”
“Human's kind of the bare minimum.”
“Well, you need to get some from somewhere,” he continues, “because right now, you clearly can't function like this. The way you just shouted at Katie... That's not like you, Abby.”
“Don't tell me how I can and can't function,” I reply, even though I know he's right. I need to clear my head so I can think properly, but at the moment I'm in so much pain, I can barely even remember my own name.
“What about transfusion blood?” he asks. “Wouldn't that do the job?”
“It'd be old,” I mutter, as a sense of hopelessness starts to fill my chest. I've always sworn to hold back, to resist the urge for blood, but right now I'm starting to think I might have to go out into the city, find some homeless guy who no-one'll miss, and drain him dry. Of course, if I do that, I'll become the kind of monster I hate so much, but at least I'll no longer be in pain. Maybe it's time to face the truth about what I am. My human side can only hold back my vampire side for so long. I need fresh blood.
“What about mine?” he asks suddenly.
“Your what?”
“My blood.”
I turn to him.
“Couldn't you take some, just a small amount, just enough to get rid of the pain, or just to dull it a little?” He waits for me to answer, and I can tell that he's scared. “I mean, I'm not offering to die or anything like that,” he continues, “and I definitely don't want to get changed in any way, but...” He pauses. “If it's the only way to help you, and if you can take it without causing any lasting damage, then I don't see there are any alternatives, because I know one thing for certain. You definitely can't carry on like this.”
I open my mouth to reply, and to be honest I'm tempted by the offer. I could drink some of his blood without hurting him, and I'd at least be able to take the edge off my pain, but at the same time I'm not sure I can handle getting so close to anyone. Drinking his blood, especially if it's offered like this, would be almost too intimate.
“I can't ask you to do that,” I tell him finally.
“You're not asking. I'm offering.”
“Still...” I shake my head. “Thanks for the thought, but -”
“Why not?”
“You wouldn't understand.”
“People keep saying that to me lately,” he replies. “I wish someone'd at least give me the chance.”
“Mark -” I take a deep breath, and I can feel my resolve crumbling. I know I'd regret it, but right now all I can think about is the taste of blood, and the idea of feeling that sweet, intoxicating warmth flowing into my body.
“I want to do this for you,” he says finally. “I don't like seeing you in pain.”
I pause, before finally realizing that I can't hold back. I need blood, so I take a step toward him. “If -”
Before I can say another word, there's a loud explosion from nearby, causing the entire office to shake. At the same time, the lights go out, leaving us in darkness. Hearing screams, I run to the window and look down, just in time to see smoke belching from the front of the building as panicked pedestrians scream and sirens fill the air.
“Was that here?” Mark asks, hurrying over to join me. “Was that inside the building?”
“It was right inside the building,” I reply, as I start to feel a sense of fear creeping through the edge of my senses, pushing out the pain. “I think it was down in the main hall.” Turning, I look toward the door as I feel the fear growing in my belly, and with each passing second I'm more and more certain that I'm right. “It's one of them,” I whisper. “I can feel it in the air.”
“One of who?” Mark replies.
I take a step toward the door, as more screams can be heard from the lower levels of the building.
“It's like the feeling I got when I first met Emilia,” I continue, “but... It's not exactly the same. It must be another spider.”
Grab
bing his gun from his jacket, Mark heads toward the door. “Wait here.”
“I was about to say the same thing to you,” I reply, hurrying after him as he gets out into the dark corridor. As well as the cries of people from downstairs, there's also another voice calling out from much closer, and a moment later we both turn and look toward the stairwell. Seconds later, a figure stumbles out through the double doors and then slips, landing hard on the polished floor as she slips in her own blood.
“Miriam!” I shout, recognizing one of the security officers from the main hall downstairs. Running over, I drop to my knees and reach out to put a hand on her shoulder, only to hold back when I see that her whole body is tense and shaking. “Miriam, what happened?”
“Spiders,” she whispers, trembling so much that her teeth are chattering. “They're everywhere.”
Looking over toward the nearby doors, I see smoke starting to curl up through from the stairwell.
“They want you, Abby,” Miriam continues.
I turn to her.
“Where's Abby Hart?” she adds, her eyes wide with horror. “That's what he said right after the explosion... And then the spiders came, thousands of spiders crawling everywhere, and their legs...” She looks down for a moment at her hands, which are covered with tiny scratches. “Their legs are like razors.”
“We need to evacuate,” Mark says, with his gun drawn as he comes over to join us. “Miriam, can you walk?”
She stares at me, her mouth open but with only a faint guttural growl emerging.
“Come on,” I tell her, taking her by the arm, “we're getting you out of here.” I wait for her to stand, but she seems frozen, as if she's paralyzed by fear. “Miriam,” I continue, pulling on her arm in an attempt to get her to her feet, “you're going to be okay, but you have to come with us right now or -”
Suddenly I see it. Something small and dark is wriggling in the corner of her left eye, and a moment later I see the legs of a spider poking into view, slicing through the eyeball. I pull back, but I can't help staring as a trickle of blood starts to run from Miriam's nose. The spider is still struggling at the corner of her eye, as if it's trapped, but finally it climbs free and walks across the eyeball, its legs leaving little red cuts with every step.
