Runaway Vampire

by Lynsay Sands

  Mary chuckled at the claim, and then fell silent for a moment before glancing at him curiously. "Can you really hear my heartbeat?"

  "Si."

  "How?" she asked curiously. "I mean the engine is humming, the windows are cracked open and a breeze is coming in, and everything is jingling and rattling in the back. How can you possibly hear my heart over all of that?"

  "The nanos--"

  "And where the hell did the fangs come from?" she burst out suddenly, bringing up something that had been nagging at the back of her mind since he'd bitten Dave. "You said the nanos kept your people at peak condition. Peak condition for humans does not include fangs for sucking blood."

  "They--"

  "Come to that," she interrupted again, growing a bit agitated. "Reading and controlling minds isn't a usual condition for humans either, at their peak condition or not."

  "Mary?" he said softly.

  "Yes?"

  "Sta'zitto," he suggested gently, and then added, "Per favore."

  Mary blinked. "What does that mean?"

  "Please, shut up," he translated, his tone affectionate. "I will explain if you just let me."

  Mary narrowed her eyes, but nodded, and waited for these explanations.

  "In Atlantis, the nanos kept their hosts at their peak condition. "But, as I mentioned, Atlantis fell and the survivors, the ones with the nanos, found themselves in a world much less advanced. There were no more transfusions. No more blood. But the nanos had work to do, and kept using the blood that was in their host." Dante paused briefly to narrow his eyes at the rear camera screen, and then continued, "Grandfather says it was a bad time. When the blood is low in the veins, the nanos seek it out in the organs. It is very painful. Many of the survivors died. Often killing themselves."

  "So you can die?" she asked. "You aren't really immortal?"

  "We can die, but it is hard to kill us. You must cut off the head and make sure it is kept away from the body for a certain amount of time. Or we can burn to death."

  "So these immortals that killed themselves . . . ?"

  "Set themselves on fire, usually. Or convinced someone to cut off their head for them."

  "Oh," Mary breathed, thinking the agony must have been extreme to drive those poor people to such a terrible end.

  "Those who survived did so because they did not give up. The nanos eventually forced a sort of evolution on their hosts to get the blood they needed to continue their job."

  "The fangs," she guessed solemnly.

  Dante nodded. "Our people developed fangs to gather the blood we needed. But they also developed increased speed and strength to help them in the hunt, as well as better hearing, better vision and even night vision."

  "Is that why your eyes glow silver?" Mary asked curiously. "The night vision, I mean? Cats' eyes kind of glow in light at night and they're supposed to have good night vision."

  "I am not sure," he admitted. "I know the silver has something to do with the nanos. All immortals have silver or gold flecks in their eyes that glow in certain circumstances."

  "What kind of circumstances?"

  "When we need blood," he answered. "Or when we feel . . . passionate."

  "Ah," Mary muttered and lifted her mug to her lips. Finding it empty, she set it in the holder, and clasped her hands in her lap, simply waiting.

  "We also suddenly had the ability to read minds and control people, which made hunting without being discovered much easier."

  "I imagine so," she said dryly, and then frowned and asked, "But how did the nanos do that? I mean, they weren't programmed to do that."

  "No, but their main directive was to keep their host at their peak condition," Dante pointed out.

  "Yes."

  "And they needed blood to do that."

  "But they use more blood than the human body can produce," Mary remembered his earlier words.

  "Si." He nodded. "So, I presume the nanos just added getting blood as part of their task to complete the original task."

  "You presume?" she asked. "Don't the scientists who developed this have some idea--?"

  "The scientists who developed the nanos did not survive the fall of Atlantis," he interrupted.

  Mary raised her eyebrows. "None of them had the nanos?"

  "Apparently not," he said with a shrug.

  "So, only the human guinea pigs survived Atlantis," she said slowly. "And they have no idea about how the stuff in their bodies works?"

  "We have some knowledge now," Dante assured her. "We have scientists among our ranks who have discovered much and are always working to discover more. However, as I say, technology in the new world our people found themselves in was far behind Atlantis. And none of them were scientists. They had to wait for science to catch up a bit. Most of the discoveries about our nanos have been made in only the last century."

  "So your people wandered around for centuries with no clue about what they had in their own bodies," Mary muttered. "Weird."

  "How much do you think most people with a pacemaker know about the mechanism inside their chest?" Dante asked with amusement. "Or the people who have been given artificial hearts until a transplant is found, how much to you think they know of the mechanics of it?"

  "Probably not much," she admitted wryly.

  "Hmm." He nodded.

  They fell silent for a moment and Mary was comfortable enough with him to allow it until she noted the worry on his face. She suspected it was because of the black van that had started tailing them some miles back. It was probably the kidnappers, and she had no doubt they would probably try something. The problem was they didn't know where or when or what it might be.

  "Tell me about your childhood," Mary said abruptly to distract them both. "What was it like growing up a vampire in 1905?"

  Dante winced, and his voice was pained when he said, "We prefer the term immortal."

  "But you can die, so you aren't immortal," she pointed out. "You do, however, have fangs and drink blood like a vampire."

  "Si, but we were around before the English invented the vampire. Before even the Dacians and their strigoi. We are Atlanteans, and immortals," he ended with finality.

  Since he was so touchy on the subject, Mary decided to let it lie for now, and said, "So? 1905? Italy? I imagine it was beautiful? No pollution, no cars, no--"

  "No," he said dryly.

  "No?" she asked with surprise.

  "Mary, I was a baby in 1905. I don't remember much," he pointed out gently. "But I do know pollution was no better than it is now. In fact, it may have been worse."

  "Really?" she asked with surprise. "I always thought it was a more modern problem."

  Dante shook his head. "From what my grandmother says, pollution has been a problem for quite some time. Especially in more populated areas. She said it was a problem even in Roman times."

  "Well," Mary murmured, "That's depressing."

  Dante smiled faintly.

  "So, tell me about growing up then, instead," Mary suggested.

  He glanced from the rear camera view to the road and shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

  Mary considered the question. She almost asked what it was like being a twin, but didn't want to make him think of his missing brother, so instead asked, "Did you like school growing up?"

  "Tomasso and I were homeschooled," Dante said sadly.

  So much for not making him think of his brother, Mary thought wryly.

  "Most born immortals are," he added. "It is safer."

  "Safer how?" she asked curiously.

  "Well, children are not known for their self-control or consideration of consequences," he pointed out.

  "And they might fang out and attack another student in a school?" she suggested, trying to follow his reasoning.

  "They might," Dante acknowledged. "Or they might get injured on the playground, which could be equally dangerous. A serious injury could land them at a hospital before adult immortals could get there to prevent it, which might lead to blood te
sts or something else that might reveal the nanos in their blood," he pointed out, and then added, "But even small injuries could cause problems because they would heal so quickly, which would draw attention."

  "Yeah, I guess it would," Mary agreed thoughtfully.

  "And then there is the risk of a young immortal sharing the knowledge of what they are with a mortal friend, thinking they may never betray them," Dante went on. "Unfortunately, friendships do not always last a lifetime, and even if they do, friends have falling-outs and the mortal might reveal that secret in a moment of spite."

  "So, basically immortal children are . . . what?" she asked. "They keep you only among other immortal children?"

  Dante shook his head. "Usually immortal children lead very solitary lives. At least, in regard to other children. They have their families of course, but in the past, immortals were very spread out and they rarely had friends their own age. Unless they were lucky and had a twin like I did," he added quietly.

  "Like you do," Mary said firmly, afraid he was giving up on his brother. To get his mind off Tomasso, she asked, "Why were immortals spread out?"

  "Having too many hunters in the same area was risky."

  "How?" she asked at once.

  Dante hesitated, and then said, "Life for us was different before blood banks were started. We had to hunt."

  "Humans you mean," Mary tried not to sound too angry as she said it, but knew some of her disgust at the thought of her fellow humans being hunted like animals showed in her voice.

  "We need blood to survive," he reminded her gently. "But we did not hunt willy-nilly. It was not necessary to take so much blood we killed the human, and immortals have been careful from the beginning not to do so."

  "Don't kill the cow that supplies the milk?" she suggested dryly.

  "Just so," Dante agreed calmly. "However, just taking blood from too many people in the same area can cause problems. It raises the possibility of discovery of our kind. We lived very carefully throughout history, everything we did meant to keep knowledge of our kind hidden."

  "So you basically wanted a big herd to feed from, like a whole city to one family?" Mary said, and then sighed to herself as she realized how bitchy that had come out when she hadn't really meant it to. She did understand their need to feed, and knew it wasn't even their fault that they had to. It was a matter of survival. Still, that didn't make it any easier to accept that she and every other human on the planet were basically cattle to them.

  Dante didn't react to her attitude. He merely said, "We did what we could to minimize our need for blood. In an effort to reduce the amount of blood we needed, immortals took to keeping mostly night hours and sleeping during the day to avoid sunlight and the extra damage. Most were careful about their diets and eschewed drinking as well. And despite the fact that we could easily win any battle, engaging in one was always a last resort, to avoid injuries that would need extra blood for repair."

  "So your people were a bunch of vegetarian pacifist night owls?" Mary asked dubiously.

  "Not exactly," Dante said on a laugh. "I said they were careful with their diets, not that they gave up every pleasure. And war was a last resort, not forsworn entirely."

  "Hmm," Mary murmured, frowning as she glanced to the side mirror and noted that the van that had been keeping back a bit was now moving up closer behind them. She glanced at the road around them, noting with some concern that other than a dark SUV almost on their front bumper, the traffic appeared to have cleared out almost entirely. It was a lonely stretch of highway with little in the way of witnesses.

  "Of course, war should always be a last resort," Dante added, regaining her attention. "But it was more so for our people."

  "Dante," Mary began worriedly as the van moved to the left, out of sight of her side mirror.

  "I know," he said quietly. "They are about to pass us. No doubt they plan to get in front of us and force us to stop or--" He broke off abruptly and cursed as something, no doubt the van, rammed into the left back end of the RV.

  Mary instinctively braced herself, pressing her right hand against the window next to her and grabbing at her armrest with her left as the RV jolted and swerved. Her gaze slid to the window. Spying the embankment along the side of the road, she knew without a doubt that they would be in serious trouble if Dante couldn't regain control of the RV, and nearly released a relieved sob when he did. However, he'd barely straightened them out when they were hit again. Harder.

  As the back end of the RV began to swing toward the side of the road, she glanced down to Bailey who was trying to straighten under the dashboard. Mary instinctively lifted her legs, blocking the dog in and then closed her eyes as the RV's back tires slid off the road and over the embankment. She felt them tipping, and then everything seemed to explode around her as the vehicle rolled. Mary thought she heard Dante shout her name, but never got the chance to respond before something slammed into her head and the lights suddenly went out.

  What sounded like a gunshot made Dante open his eyes and while he heard the squeal of tires and the scream of one engine, and then another, his attention was taken up with trying to make sense of the confused world around him. Everything was such a jumble that for one moment, he couldn't place where he was, and then his gaze landed on Mary, below, rather than beside him.

  He was hanging from his seatbelt in the driver's seat of the RV, he realized and recalled what had happened. The back tires had gone off the road and over the embankment, dragging the front end along for the ride before it had toppled. The vehicle had done at least one complete roll, before coming to a stop on its side, the passenger's side.

  Mary's side, Dante thought as he peered at her. She lay crumpled on her side with the lower half of her body still strapped into the passenger's seat, but her upper body having slid off to rest against the wall of the RV, which for all intents and purposes was now the floor of the RV if he stood up.

  Mary looked like a broken doll amid the debris surrounding her. She was pale and still, covered in blood, and Bailey lay in front of her, her back legs still tucked between the dash and the floorboard, but her upper body out. She was whimpering and licking her mistress's face, trying to wake her.

  The scent of gas reached Dante's nose then. It was followed by a waft of smoke and he glanced toward the back of the RV. It had pretty much crumbled under the impact of the roll, the walls collapsing. Dante couldn't see much of anything but a jumble of household items mixed in with the crumbled walls. He didn't see fire, but he could smell the smoke it was producing somewhere in that mess.

  Cursing, Dante started feeling for the buckle of his seat belt. He nearly undid it the moment he found it, but then realized that would let him drop on top of Mary and Bailey. Pausing, he glanced around, then braced his feet on the motor cover between the two seats, and tangled his arm in the upper strap of the seatbelt before releasing it. Much to his relief, while he dropped a bit and swung, Dante was able to keep himself from simply dropping onto the pair on the floor. Grabbing the belt with his free hand now, he quickly untangled his arm, and then carefully let one foot drop to the floor, positioning it behind the passenger seat at Mary's back. Then he lowered the other as well before releasing the belt to stand behind her.

  "It's okay, girl," Dante murmured to Bailey, as he bent to examine Mary. The amount of blood covering the pair of them was terrifying, but he could hear Mary's heartbeat, and while it was slow and weak, it was there. Spotting the nearby empty cooler that had held the blood; he glanced around and noted that the empty bags were all around them. It gave him hope that they were the source of most, if not all, of the blood he was seeing.

  Bailey whimpered again, this time licking his hand, and Dante turned back and gave the dog a quick, reassuring pet, then undid Mary's seat belt.

  "It's all right Bailey," he said as he scooped Mary into his arm. "Come on, let's get her out of here."

  Dante straightened slowly with Mary in his arms, and then paused. The RV was lying on the s
ide where the only door was situated. The only way out was through one of the windows. The front windshield was the obvious choice. It was huge. He'd guess about eight feet wide and five feet high. At least it was when the RV was upright. Right now, with the vehicle on its side, the opening was eight feet high and five wide. But there were shards of glass still in the frame, most of them small pieces, but a couple of larger ones that he had to be careful of.

  "Come on, Bailey," Dante murmured and carefully maneuvered his way through the opening, moving slowly to ensure he didn't scrape Mary up against any of the glass shards. Once outside, he paused to glance back, frowning with concern when he saw that while Bailey was following, she was moving very slowly, and limping and whimpering in pain as she did. She'd obviously not escaped unscathed, but she was still mobile, so he left her to follow at her own speed and carried Mary several feet away from the vehicle to lay her in the grass.

  Kneeling beside Mary, Dante began to run his hands over her, searching for injuries. His heart began to sink as he realized there were many of them. The blood was not all from the bags. She had cuts, bruises, broken bones, and a fearsome head wound, he saw as he turned her face to see both sides. What scared him most, however, was the jagged piece of glass he found protruding from her side. The blood was oozing out around the glass. Too much blood. Her weak heartbeat was growing slower with each beat.

  "Mary," he whispered helplessly, and then did the only thing he could; Dante slid one hand under her neck so that her head fell back and her mouth dropped open, then he raised his other wrist in front of his mouth, let his canines descend and bit viciously into his own flesh. Dante pressed the gushing wound to her open mouth, and kept it there, hunching over her protectively as the RV exploded behind him.

  Twelve

  Mary smiled sleepily and reached up to pet Bailey when the dog ran a wet tongue up her cheek. She frowned in confusion, however, when her hand encountered a curtain of long soft hair instead of short, dog fur. Blinking her eyes open, she peered blankly at Dante. He was leaning over her, but his head was presently turned away as he did something out of her line of vision. When he swung his head back, his eyes widened as he saw that she was awake, and then chagrin filled his expression.