by Mandy Lee
“What do we have?”
The smell of freshly-spilled blood assaulted her as she moved to get a better view of the vehicle’s occupant. Her stomach clenched and her gums tingled as her fangs threatened to erupt. Taking a deep breath, she muscled down her hunger, forcing it under control so she could focus on her newest patient.
The EMTs began to carefully manoeuver the gurney out of the ambulance. “Caucasian male, mid-to-late twenties, severe neck trauma, appears to be a class-four hemorrhage. Tons of blood at the scene…we’re not sure how he’s still hanging on. We’ve been applying pressure with lap pads.”
Mara’s breath caught in her throat as the gurney hit the ground and she saw the full extent of the man’s injuries. His face was ruined, his arms and legs had been broken, and bones peeked through his torn jeans and shirt. A bag of saline was delivering fluids to the patient through the IV tube that snaked on top of his body, the needle buried in his arm. The EMT holding gauze to the neck wound slipped as he stepped out of the ambulance, his grip on the patient faltered and Mara lunged forward, slapping her hand over the man’s ruined neck. With a sharp intake of breath, both EMTs took a step back and stared at her. Shit. She’d moved too quickly. Thinking fast, Mara re-focused their attention on the patient.
“Tell me about the rest of the injuries.” She hopped up on the gurney and straddled the patient to keep a firmer hold on his neck. The EMTs surged into action, pushing the gurney as quickly as they could through the hospital doors, everything else was forgotten.
“Lacerations and abrasions, multiple compound limb fractures, the patient was tachy, so a saline drip was administered in the field.” One of the EMTs shouted as they charged through the ER, nurses and orderlies jumped out of the path of the gurney.
“The cops will send someone over to interview him if he survives. They want his clothes for evidence; a knife was recovered at the scene. The woman who called 911 said he was beaten by another male before his throat was slashed. The attacker fled on foot.”
Tendrils of Mara’s fiery hair escaped her bun and whipped in front of her eyes as the gurney zipped through the ER. She shouted at a staff nurse as they passed. “I need OR 2, and page Doctor Stewart; I’m going to need all the help I can get.” The nurse nodded as she ran to the nearest phone to carry out the requests.
Orderlies ran forward, taking control of the gurney from the EMTs as they made their way to OR 2. Looking down at her patient, Mara took a deep breath and slid the edge of her latex glove down past her wrist. With a quick flick of her fingernail she scored her skin, allowing a thin stream of blood to flow onto the patient’s neck wound. She would never have made a conscious choice to become a vampire, but there were a lot of perks to having blood that sealed wounds. She’d been able to save countless patients that were deemed beyond help. Logically, Mara knew there was no great cosmic balance sheet, but with every person saved she still felt like she was making up for her past.
Mara mentally shook herself free from the horrifying memories of life after her turning. She gazed down at her wrist as it sealed itself, the skin knitting together, and the thin red line paling to match the surrounding tissue. It was as if the cut had never been. She peered at the patient’s neck and sucked in a sharp breath. Blood was still leaking out around her fingers. The wound had improved slightly to her highly focused vampire eyes, but the man was still dying. This shouldn’t be happening. His artery should have repaired itself, leaving the rest of his wounds to be tended by traditional medical care. Mara was frowning in confusion at the oozing blood as the gurney slammed through the doors of the OR. Alex came rushing out of the scrub room, hands in the air as a surgical nurse stepped forward to help him into a pair of gloves.
“What do we have here…and why are you on top of the patient?” he asked as the gloves were snapped onto his hands.
“This was the easiest way to maintain compression while we were on the move. I need you to take over while I scrub in.” Mara cast her eyes around the organized chaos of the OR as everyone scrambled to set up instrument trays and hung IV bags. “I need a central line started, let’s get him going on broad spectrum antibiotics and get some blood into him.”
Alex leaned toward her and whispered so quietly that only she could pick up the sound of his voice. “Why didn’t you give him your blood? This is obviously an arterial dissection…”
Mara looked him dead in the eye. “I did.”
Alex gave a low whistle and raised his eyebrow. He reached down and took over compression as Mara slid off the gurney as carefully as she could to avoid jostling the patient. Alex began shouting instructions to the surgical team as she ran to the scrub room.
As Mara scrubbed, she heard the opening strains of Alex's favorite playlist. Mara smiled. They both liked listening to rock and alternative during surgery. Good thing this was one of her favorites too, ‘cause this surgery was going to be a doozy. She hit the nozzle on the sink with the back of her hand to shut off the water, and turned toward the scrub nurse who held out an operating gown. Mara stepped forward and slid her arms in. She took a deep breath as it was fastened around her.
Mara never lost patients. She’d always had the option of using her blood if the traditional surgical approach wasn’t working. She and Alex were both exceptional doctors, but this time they were flying without a safety net. Mara bumped open the OR door with her hip and headed in to do battle with death alongside her best friend.
“Where are we?” Mara asked as she took her position across the operating table from Alex.
He glanced up at her, his confusion with this patient evident. “I’m patching the carotid. Want to get working on the rest of the damage to the neck? Then we can get started on the breaks. There’s just so much damage...this guy shouldn’t be alive.”
Mara nodded as she looked at their patient. “I know.”
They worked for hours, mostly in silence. They had done this so often that they moved like a well-oiled machine, only occasionally stopping to consult each other on what surgical technique would be best. They switched out periodically as though they were heading for bathroom and water breaks like the rest of the surgical staff.
On his last trip, Alex stopped in front of each of the staff in the room and made slight hypnotic adjustments to their memory of events in the OR. As he finished with the last surgical nurse he turned toward Mara, his eyes still a swirling gold. She watched as the gold bled out and his eyes returned to their natural hue. Moving as a unit, the entire surgical staff left the operating room. They’d soon find themselves talking and laughing in the break room, having little memory of the surgery they’d just assisted on, and would chalk it up to fatigue. Mara and Alex stood and stared at each other in silence, the only noises in the room were the beeping of the heart monitor and the hiss of the respirator. The stress of this surgery had taken its toll. With their blood as a back-up plan, they’d never truly felt the weight of life and death pressing down on them as it had tonight.
“Well, that takes care of that.” Alex said, breaking the silence, as he stripped off his gloves, cracked his neck, and stretched his arms above his head.
Mara blew out a breath and yanked off her surgical mask. “This guy must have the constitution of an ox when he’s not sliced and diced. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
Alex walked over and untied the ribbons on Mara’s gown, allowing her to ball it up and toss it in the biohazard bin. “Wanna get mine?” he asked.
Mara spun him around and worked on the ties as she pondered the patient. “Why do you think our blood didn’t work on him? I saw you give it a try too…”
Alex stripped his gown off and turned to face her. “It didn’t do much.” He trailed off as Mara leaned over to peer down at the patient’s ruined face.
“I wonder what he looks like.” She murmured as she reached down to trail a finger over his crooked nose.
Mara needed to find out who this man was. She’d always cared about the health and welfare of
her patients, but beyond knowing their name and exchanging some basic post-op pleasantries, she’d never wanted to know who they were past the information in their charts. She didn’t know where this feeling was coming from, but instead of fighting it, she slowly brought her wrist up to her mouth, unsheathed her fangs, and bit down.
“What the hell are you doing?” Alex’s voice broke through from behind her.
“I just need to know who he is,” she said. The entire moment felt like a dream; her own voice sounded far away.
Mara pulled her wrist away from her mouth, the blood ran freely for a moment, warm and dark against her skin. The wounds closed up quickly as she knew they would. Reaching forward with her free hand she ran her fingers in the blood and began to spread it lightly over her patient’s mangled face. She held her breath and waited. It took longer than usual, but before her eyes, the patient’s skin soaked up the thin layer of blood.
“It’s working.” She breathed. The black and purple bruising began to fade out slowly, and the cuts she and Alex had stitched knitted together, leaving only neat lines of black stitches behind. Reaching down, Mara snapped his nose back into place, wincing at the crunching noise. Alex came up the opposite side of the table and bit into his own wrist, drawing more blood to finish healing the patient’s face.
As the swelling came down and the crushed bones of his cheeks and jaw mended, Mara’s eyes grew wide. This was a face she recognized — with the defined jawline, the five o’clock shadow, and the sharp cheekbones. His hair was matted with blood, but she knew it would be light brown, and if he opened his eyes, they’d be a striking hazel. This patient was going to be a problem.
“Alex,” she said, unable to tear her eyes away from the unconscious form on the table. “We need to get him out of the hospital.”
“Why the hell would we do that?” Alex asked, baffled.
“Because this is Baal, the fallen angel I helped, and when he wakes up he’s going to heal so fast we won’t be able to scrub enough memories to keep this quiet.”
Chapter Four
The cool night wind whipped against his face as he stood staring at the glass doors of the hospital emergency bay. Keir clenched and unclenched his jaw in anger and frustration. Fuck. He balled his fists and his knuckles popped under the pressure. He’d been so close to killing Baal. If that damned human hadn’t gotten in his way, he’d have been able to finish the job. The coppery tang of blood had been in the air as the light faded from Baal’s eyes. Keir cracked his neck and took a few steps closer to the hospital. As he passed the cheery potted plants that lined the sidewalk, the flowers wilted and turned black, melting into a rotted heap. The evil that pulsed off his body in waves was enough to make any living thing wary of getting too close.
Keir felt his blood boil at the thought of having to start from scratch on this kill; that is, if you could call the black sludge that ran through his veins ‘blood.’ He whipped out his phone to send a message off to Nyx, his pretty little assistant. Satan’s baby sister was such a trip. She was drop dead gorgeous, and could tear a man to shreds in less than five minutes without breaking a nail. No conscience, no guilt, no remorse. Keir’s lips twitched into a sneering smile as he punched in his message. He’d need her services in order to draw his quarry out of hiding. The fallen angels had been holed up in The Devil's Advocate for days now, and the no-violence spell blanketing the tavern meant that Keir would be writhing on the floor in pain if he tried anything within its walls.
A voice broke through his dark musings. “Hey, you! What are you doing standing there? This is an emergency department. The main entrance is around the other side of the building.”
Keir shifted his eyes toward the approaching security guard, a sinister smile playing across his face. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t realize I couldn’t stand here.”
The rotund guard huffed and puffed as he hurried to chase Keir off. His round face was florid and beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. “No problem, son. You’d better move on though. Ambulances come tearing in here pretty quick. Wouldn’t want to see you get hit.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
Keir remained rooted to the spot as the security guard looked at him awkwardly, unsure how to press the issue of his departure.
“Time to go now. I have to keep this entryway clear,” he said, his eyes darting up to meet Keir’s. He sucked in a strangled yelp as their eyes met. Keir smiled and reached out to touch the guard on the shoulder.
“Don’t you worry about my eyes, it’s a medical condition.”
“But they weren’t red before,” the guard whispered as his body shook in fear.
Keir sighed. “No, I guess they weren’t, were they?” He stepped closer to the guard. “You humans. You’re all so…fragile.”
The guard swallowed hard; Keir could see his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. “Hu..hu..humans?”
“Yes.” Keir hissed. “Humans.” Reaching forward, he grabbed the pudgy guard under the chin and, with one violent jerk, snapped his neck. Keir tipped his head back as the thrill of the kill coursed through him. He released his hold on the guard, the body crumpled to the ground at Keir’s feet. He stared down at the discarded corpse. Something was off. Suddenly, he felt as though someone had lit a sparkler inside his skull. Keir twitched and shook his head violently but the feeling only became more intense. Doubling over, he clutched at both sides of his head, his face twisted in a mask of pain. Voices started to ring out in his mind, hammering at him from the inside — a man and a woman. They were relentless.
“Why did you do this?” The man’s voice asked, despair lacing every word.
“I love you. You must stop.” The woman’s voice pleaded.
It went on and on as Keir dropped to his knees on the pavement. “STOP IT! STOP IT!” He screamed as he rocked back and forth, the voices continued like whispers from beyond the grave. He was losing his mind; Keir was convinced of it. He felt warmth on his cheek. Cracking his eyes open, he saw droplets of blood on the ground beneath him. Fury raced through him as he realized he was crying blood tears. “STOP!” He shouted one last time. Suddenly, everything became quiet and still. The pressure in his head vanished, taking the ghostly whispers with it. Keir slowly unclasped his ears and stumbled to his feet. What the fuck was that?
Breathing hard, he stared down at the body of the guard lying twisted on the ground. He felt the familiar coldness sneak back through his body, lodging somewhere near his heart. His breathing slowed; the frantic scrambling in his brain stopped. He was back to his cold and calculating self. Looking at the hospital where his elusive quarry lay, he cracked his neck and sneered. No great loss, he’d take care of this loose end another day. Keir held his hands out to his sides, palms up and closed his eyes in concentration. He hated travelling this way, it felt like being pulled inside out, and when you arrived at your destination you felt like hammered shit, but it was the fastest way of getting from point A to B. In his mind’s eye he focused on where he wanted to go. He felt a vibration begin in his body, as otherworldly energy coalesced, and uttered one phrase.
“In absentia luci, tenebrae vincunt.” In the absence of light, darkness prevails.
As the last word fell from his lips he was enveloped in a black fog that seeped out from his pores. The cloying mist reeked of death and decay as it settled around his body, making him disappear into a shadow state, his corporeal form breaking apart. The mist suddenly collapsed in upon itself like a dying star, leaving the pavement as empty as the soul of the man who’d been standing there.
Chapter Five
“Where the hell is he?” Gadreel grumbled as he looked down and tapped on the screen of his phone to make sure it was on. He’d been eyeing it compulsively every fifteen minutes for the past several hours, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. Everyone at the table was on edge. It was safe to say they were quietly shitting a collective brick. Newbie vampire Sergei was having a hard time keeping it together. He fidgeted and bounced
his knee as he nursed a pitcher of AB positive, his movements so fast and erratic they kept disappearing into a blur.
“He probably ran into one of his ‘special friends’ and forgot to hang up.” Samael said with a roll of his eyes. “You know how distracted he gets where women are concerned.”
Belial narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Nice try, Sam. You know as well as I do that he’d never leave us hanging this long without at least checking in…especially now.”
“I know. I know.” Sam nodded. “I’m just trying to stay positive here.”
Sergei burst into manic laughter, doubling over and grabbing his sides. Everyone at the table turned as a unit to look at him like he was an escaped lunatic.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, gasping as he tried to talk through fits of laughter. “It just struck me as really funny that the angel of death is the glass-half-full person here.”
Belial and Azazel exchanged a look. “Should you kill him Al, or should I?” Belial asked.
“Can’t do it, Bill. If we kill him, Katia will be really pissed, and if she’s pissed, then Luc will be pissed. I really don’t want to piss Luc off. He just got his wings back and seems to be happy for the first time in centuries. The vampire’s just not worth it.”
Sergei sobered at the mention of Katia’s name. They’d been friends for years, and he'd always wanted more. He’d lost her to Luc in the end, but her happiness and friendship still meant the world to him. “I’m sorry, guys. I have a tendency to laugh at totally inappropriate times. Stress reliever, I guess. I’m just as worried as you are...I swear.” He turned to look at Gadreel. “You’re sure there were no sounds in the background before the call disconnected that might give us a clue?”
