Corrupting Alicia

by Tsoukalas, Evan

  Gisele waited for the distinctive probe against her shield, a concrete indicator that Jason was indeed aware of her presence, and she was slightly surprised that it did not come. In full command of his metaphysical powers, Jason could have touched her shield without alerting her, but as he was still recovering from a partial lead lobotomy, she doubted he could be so subtle.

  When he walked away, leaving the team of mortals to look after Alicia, she was convinced that his departure was strategic, but after reviewing the situation again, she began to realize that she might be giving him too much credit. It was possible that he was not aware of her presence, that it had been instinct alone governing his defensive action. Revenant instinct was surprisingly insightful, occasionally leaning toward precognitive, and it was easier for Gisele to accept that the assassination’s failure had nothing to do with her failure to mask herself.

  Jason might not have been aware of her presence, but he certainly suspected her involvement now, and Marley may well have confirmed that before his death. She had been unable to pick up anything from Marley except his chaotic distortions of her as the Devil. His panic and confusion had been an effective shield against her probes, and she did not possess the psychic skill to sift through them at this distance.

  Once Jason was gone, she closed in on the scene so she could watch without the assistance of the high-powered binoculars in her hand. Closer now, she watched as the remaining ten security people loaded Alicia into another SUV. Once settled, five loaded in with her and the rest loaded into a third. As both vehicles waited at the curb, Gisele thought through her predicament. She could not trust a mortal to do this job, and she could not think of a single revenant who would even consider it.

  Minutes later, both SUVs started up and lumbered away from the scene. Gisele took to the air, following the train from above. She had only one option left.

  It was now time for direct action.

  ◆◆◆

  DeShawn could not stop himself from pacing the length of the small apartment that he kept for his extracurricular activities. Yes, he held a profession that required a certain lack of conscience, but he was also a father, and he refused to allow the moral bankruptcy of his occupation, or its fringe benefits, to impact the raising of his daughter. Exposing his beautiful Keesha to any of the pathetic junkies who tended to his voluminous sexual appetites was utterly unthinkable, so a haven away from her home was required.

  DeShawn hated waiting in general, but the wait for Marley’s confirmation call was probably sapping years off his life, and at the moment, he had no way of knowing whether or not he had them to give. Marley was one of the best in the business, and he had everything going in his favor, but DeShawn knew it would be a mistake to count his chickens prematurely. If Marley had failed to kill Alicia’s guardian, DeShawn could probably count the rest of his life in hours.

  Immediate action had been required to seize the opportunity presented by Marley’s phone call, and DeShawn had reacted despite the inability to thoroughly consider the risk. Risk management was a necessity in his position, and while calculated risk paved the road to success, there was a very fine line between calculated risk and folly.

  Folly fills graves.

  Since hanging up with Marley, there had been plenty of time to study his move, and each time he assessed the risk, it grew. At this point, he had done enough assessment to place his actions beyond any hope of neutralization. If Marley did not succeed, then DeShawn was basically fucked; his name would be on a very short list of people to receive a visit from The Man.

  The Man. Capital T, capital M. That is how DeShawn saw it in his head. Without meaning to, he whispered it out loud, and as if it were an invitation, The Man answered.

  “Hello, DeShawn.”

  12 goodbyes

  It took Gisele about an hour to discern the patrol pattern and check-in intervals of the four-man security team currently guarding Alicia. She did not bother to examine her reasons for choosing surveillance over mindreading, but if she were honest with herself, it was to give her time to build up the courage necessary to carry out her final plan. Up to this point, she had made no overt attack against Jason. She had made threats, and she had hired mortals to do her attacking for her, but none of that would convince any other member of the Ekhaya to get involved. It was basically her word against his, and although most revenants would probably believe Jason, hearsay was not enough to justify their involvement.

  If she killed Alicia with her bare hands, however, that was an entirely different story. When Jason declared Alicia untouchable during Octavian’s rampage, he had placed her in the same protected category as Jeffrey and Cassia, and no matter how the Ekhaya felt about it, they were expected to uphold that protection or face the consequences. Direct action against Alicia would constitute an open declaration of war on the Ekhaya, not to mention having the bonus of implicating her in tonight’s shooting, which would be yet another nail in the coffin (please forgive the shameless pun).

  Aside from being horribly tacky, using a mortal to slay an immortal had long ago become a cardinal sin called the Unholy Alliance thanks to the mad revenant Samantha. Proving just how effective it could be to use mortal assassins on Slumbering revenants, she trained a small group of mortals and turned them loose on her own Bloodline sometime around the 15th century.

  Armed with knowledge no mortal should ever possess, they managed to kill thirty-four revenants before anyone could figure out what was happening and twenty-nine more before someone discovered that Samantha was behind it all. That someone was Philippe de Montagne, and he led a group of four revenants, known only as The Martyrs, to lure Samantha into a trap and hold her, kicking and screaming, as the sun rose and incinerated them all, a maneuver aptly named “The Martyrs’ Gambit.”

  After Samantha’s disappearance, the assassins took it upon themselves to continue her work, but without their mistress to guide them, they were never as effective again. Because Samantha had them target only members of her Bloodline, whom she referred to as her Kindred, they called themselves the Kindred Slayers, and that is why revenants are sometimes referred to as Kindred.

  How is that for a history lesson?

  Even though Marley had not tried to use daylight as an advantage, it would still piss everyone off that Gisele had involved him, and it would not make any difference that she had not enlisted Marley to target Jason, if they even believed her on that account. Just the fact that she had formed an Unholy Alliance would have every member of the Ekhaya calling for her death, and Octavian would probably volunteer to lead the hunt, not only because of what Gisele had done to him, but because Samantha had descended from his Bloodline.

  Truth be told, both she and Jason had acted irresponsibly during the course of all this, but Jason had not been using Alicia to attack Gisele, and that would make all the difference in the world to the Ekhaya. Jason had simply been trying to navigate revenant life and desires the best he could, and though he might not have made all the right choices, every member of the Ekhaya was guilty of the same at some point (or many) during their own revenant lives. Many might disagree with his actions, but not a one of them would condemn him for them.

  Crouched in a dark corner of an empty room down the hall from Alicia, Gisele returned from her inward reflection, and now that she had at least identified the trouble she was about to bring down on herself, she was ready.

  ◆◆◆

  To his credit, DeShawn said nothing after getting over the initial shock of my arrival. He thought of going for his gun, but the bloodstains on my clothing told him that if Marley couldn’t kill me, then he probably couldn’t either. He stood in charged silence, accepting that his gamble had failed, ready to face the consequences. It’s too bad that he did not truly understand the consequences of his stupidity, but that would come soon enough.

  As if on cue, I felt Martin’s presence and a minute later, there was a knock on the door. DeShawn’s eyes shot to it, and a glimmer of hope bloomed before my resp
onse played rock to his canoe. “Come in, Mr. Jones,” I said, and as I anticipated, just hearing the name had quite an effect on DeShawn. Curiosity and fear flooded his face, more of the latter than the former. He couldn’t understand why I would let Martin share in the fun, but when Martin stepped through the door carrying DeShawn’s 7-year-old daughter, Keesha, it all became clear.

  Unmitigated horror carved out a wild expression on his face, and he went for his gun immediately. I slapped it out of his hand just as it cleared his waistband, and I wrapped my other hand around his throat to restrain him as he tried to lunge at Martin. He grunted and strained like a man possessed, but even the wild panic of a loving father could not give him the strength to break my grip.

  Eventually, both energy and hope fled him, and he began to beg. I could tell Martin was enjoying it, so I let DeShawn ramble on for a couple minutes before giving him a gentle shake that made him fall silent. “You chose this path, DeShawn, and you’re going to walk it all the way to the bitter end.”

  I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail about what happened next. Suffice it to say that, before he left this world, just about every non-sexual nightmare DeShawn had ever had about his daughter came true, as well as some he could never have imagined. Mengele, Chikatilo and Gein would have no better company than Martin as he indulged himself, and even I had to turn away toward the end.

  My role in the torture of an innocent mortal child gave me no pleasure, but it didn’t bother me as much as I would have hoped, either. The murder of Lucian, the loss of Alicia and the actions of Gisele and DeShawn had all combined to carve away a remnant of humanity that I did not realize still lingered. It would not have surprised me to learn that Alicia’s mania was contagious, either, but since that was really my fault, too, there was no solace to be found in that thought.

  Her words rattled around inside my head, but they could not do any more damage to the carnage that had been made of my soul. As much as you tend to think otherwise, you don’t really see yourself as human. You recognize that you’re different... No, recognize isn’t the right word. You embrace it.

  Well, I had just embraced my vampirism with a completely new mindset, utterly devoid of humanity and so disturbing that I had some doubt as to whether I would ultimately be able to live with it.

  And that didn’t bother me much, either.

  When it was finished, Martin gave me a gleeful smile that sealed his fate. I knew he would enjoy himself, but I hadn’t expected him to be so obvious about it. I told myself that the revulsion carving out wide swaths of nausea in my intestines was for him, and as I allowed it to turn outward, igniting his Blood, I did my absolute best to swallow that lie.

  Watching him burn, however, made it impossible to deny who had really earned the fuel that I supplied to the Fire Sound. By the time Martin was ash, the flames had spread to the walls, and it was obvious that my cleansing effort had not fully succeeded.

  That was fine; it just meant that there was enough left for one last person.

  ◆◆◆

  Gisele waited for the next radio check, using her preternatural awareness to monitor the three roaming guards in the halls surrounding Alicia’s room. Their movements were coordinated so that one of them was near the entrance to her room at all times during the patrol, and though they cleverly switched up at seemingly random points, there was a pattern that could be exploited.

  At the right moment, Gisele left her nook and exited the room, avoiding the patrolling guards with the skill and precision of a ninja. As she approached Alicia’s room, she extended her mind to pinpoint the guard stationed within. He was alert but not expecting anyone to enter the room without warning. In this case, his faith in the rest of his team’s surveillance abilities was unfounded and served only to diminish his own ability to respond to a threat. He barely registered the door swinging open before Gisele laid a mother of a vampire mind trick on him. It was not exactly her strong suit, but he never stood a chance.

  “Hello,” she said very softly, and anyone with any sort of metaphysical gift would have seen the power shimmer between them. “I need you to leave the room while I examine the patient, please.”

  The guard stared blankly for a few moments as his brain subtly fought the compulsion. When it finally surrendered, he blinked and shook his head as if to clear some cobwebs. He smiled at the doctor in front of him and started to move toward the door. “For the privacy of the patient, please do not let anyone else in until I am done.”

  “Roger that,” he said stiffly without looking back.

  That complication dealt with, she turned her attention to the bed where Alicia lay, and a jolt of electricity surged through her when she realized that Alicia was awake and looking at her. She had been so occupied with the guards that she had not bothered to scan Alicia’s mind, and when she tried now, she encountered a smooth, powerful and familiar wall blocking her access. A deep stab of panic rifled through her.

  Jason!

  So his departure had been calculated, a brilliant snare into which she had jumped with both feet. She whirled toward the door, waiting for it to explode off its hinges and consume her, every muscle in her body tensing painfully.

  “He’s not here, Gisele,” Alicia stated softly, confusing her visitor. Her words did not mesh with what Gisele was sensing. It was impossible for Alicia to be ignorant of Jason protecting her mind, and it was unlikely that she was naive enough to believe that Gisele did not know that fact.

  “He shields your mind; he is near.”

  “It’s his shield, but it’s no longer a part of his mind. It’s mine now.”

  Gisele wanted to laugh at Alicia’s naiveté, but she was too uncomfortable to manage it. “What you are saying is impossible, Alicia,” she replied, dismissing Alicia as if she were a child telling fairy tales.

  “Obviously not, Gisele,” Alicia shot back, equally dismissive. “My mind is permanently shielded, and neither Jason nor I have any control over it.”

  “How?” Gisele whispered before she could stop herself.

  Alicia shrugged. “Got me. Jason couldn’t really explain it either. Something happened at the restaurant, something that split our minds while he shielded both of them, and a piece of his shield stayed with me. That’s the best I understand it, anyway.”

  Gisele’s brow crinkled as she sought to wrap her mind around the impossible, and everything that it meant, until her suspicious nature took over. “Why tell me this?”

  Alicia did not look away even though her mind was screaming for her to do so. “Because I’m hoping if you understand what that means, you won’t feel the need to kill me anymore.”

  Alicia’s insight caught Gisele unawares, and her response was as automatic as it was defensive. “What makes you think that is why I am here?”

  Both realized the ridiculousness of that statement and neither chose to comment on it any further.

  “I’m glad, in a way, that it’s you,” Alicia said after a time.

  “Why is that?” Gisele responded, genuinely curious of words that she had certainly not expected to hear.

  “Because then he won’t have anything to do with my death,” Alicia answered softly, and her desire to spare Jason that burden poked at Gisele like something sharp and jagged. She could not help the envy that sprang up and struck her in the face.

  “Well, it is only fitting as your destruction will lead to my own.” And there it was, hanging in the air between them. That she could say it out loud meant she had accepted it.

  “What happened to the vampire’s sense of self-preservation?” Alicia’s tone irritated Gisele; it was not deferential enough for someone in her position. Her overall reaction to this conversation was slowly chipping away at the satisfaction that Gisele would be able to derive from her death, and the realization made Gisele wistful rather than petulant, her gaze growing distant.

  “You have stolen my desire to live, and this is all that is left.”

  “Ohh, God,” Alicia moaned. “Please
kill me now so I don’t have to listen to any more of this melodramatic crap.”

  Anger flashed, illuminating obsidian orbs as Gisele’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, her despondency vanishing under the incinerating rage. “I can do that,” she growled, the blunt and ugly sound paving her advancement on Alicia.

  “Gisele,” came the sharp whisper from behind her, cutting the heavy air like a razor. The voice halted her immediately, and she spun toward the speaker, time seeming to stand still as they had their own little version of an old Western standoff.

  ◆◆◆

  “You’ve apparently forgotten all your promises,” I said, my words somber and resigned. It was incredibly difficult to fight the bone-deep exhaustion that seeped into the smallest nooks and crannies of my being. I could feel the precognitive messenger watching like an avid spectator in a Roman coliseum, rooting for blood, bashing and dismemberment, and as tired as I felt, I was almost ready to let it be me.

  Then my rage entered the arena, and even the lions backed away.

  I was on her before she could react, one hand closing on her throat and lifting her off the floor. “I haven’t forgotten mine,” I bit out in quiet fury as Gisele put both her hands over mine, not in an attempt to dislodge but in an attempt to support some of her body weight and take pressure off of her throat. Now that the initial surprise of my abrupt arrival had faded, her face was strangely calm, as if she was ready to face her fate.

  Do it! End my suffering, she pleaded, speaking mind-to-mind because she could not bring herself to say such things aloud in front of Alicia. I am dead inside, and I can no longer live like that. With Blood tears streaking down her face, it took considerable will not to use my free hand to wipe them away.

  I was torn.

  In order to respond in kind, I would have to drop my shield as she did, and a part of me still believed that she was waiting for just such an action to make her move. She could not kill me with a single mental attack, but she could do enough damage with a preemptive strike to make me think twice about inviting it.