Without further warning, Missy sprung forward into the room, moving at the same uncanny speed that Two had seen before, in the forest. Samantha shrieked something incoherent, terror in her voice. Two felt adrenaline flood her body, felt it moving backward as if by some outside control. She leapt to her feet, shoving the sofa at Missy, backing away. Her hip bumped an end table, and she put it between herself and her oncoming attacker.
Missy vaulted the sofa with ease, came to rest on the carpet in front of it, and leapt again in one fluid motion. Her timing was nearly perfect, and Two was only able to dodge out of the way by fractions of a second. Missy hit the hard oak end table with the full force of her weight, and it shattered under the impact, vomiting pieces of itself in a spray around the room. Two dodged flying debris and moved behind the couch, looking around, looking for escape. The door led to the hall, but then what? Missy would catch her before she reached the mansion’s entrance.
The other vampire, the woman who shared the body with someone Two considered a friend, almost a sister, was back on her feet and raving.
“You stupid, useless whore! You disgust me. Your weakness disgusts me. Where is your protector? Your lover? Your Super Man? He is with Abraham. Abraham called to him, and he went, and left you helpless. I’m going to bring Abraham your heart on a plate, and he’ll laugh and laugh, and there’s nothing Theroen will be able to do about it!”
“Missy, Missy, wait! You don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be like that!” Two heard herself speaking, heard the fear in her voice, and could accept it. It was the tone that made her hate herself. It sounded like an empty promise, like a bad lie. The pleading tone sounded like old memories, like her time with Darren, like empty despair. This situation was out of Two’s control, with little hope for improvement. Theroen was not here to swoop in and save her.
Missy snarled, racing around one edge of the couch. Two moved swiftly to the other, keeping the sofa between herself and those claws, hooked into talons and looking to tear at flesh. Her foot caught on something: a leg from the table. It rolled under her weight, and even Two’s enhanced senses were unable to cope with the sudden shift in balance. She stumbled backward, fell to the carpet, and landed on her back with a thud. The plush softness of the material seemed somehow obscene in light of the situation.
Missy howled in triumph and flung herself again into the air, so fast that Two’s eyes could barely track her movement. It was too late to roll, too late to dodge, too late to do anything. Time seemed to stretch out. Missy was in the air above her, a vision of death and hate and horror unlike any Two had ever experienced. Two’s hands scrabbled at her sides, looking for purchase. Looking for anything. Her hands touched something cylindrical, grabbed it in a panic, brought it in front of her.
The table leg.
Twelve inches long, three in diameter, the leg had splintered into a sharp point when the table had disintegrated. Two held it out against the oncoming impact in desperation. Missy’s eyes had time to flare wide in surprise.
The sound the piece of oak made as it entered Missy’s abdomen was indescribable. Splitting flesh, cleaving through bone, it pierced her body, the weight of her landing driving it further and further in. Two felt a sudden liquid warmth gush across her hands. She shoved, using her own strength to add to Missy’s motion, flipping the girl over on her back. Missy somersaulted, flailed in the air, and crashed to the floor on her back. Two rolled away, blood on her hands, her clothes, the carpet, everywhere.
Missy was making strangled choking noises, clawing at the stake in her chest, unable to get a decent handhold through the blood and the pain. She writhed on the floor, unable to lie flat. The point of the table leg held her back in an arched position. She screamed, and the scream became wet and strangled, filling the air with red mist. Then she fell back against the stake, and was still.
* * *
Two lay on the ground, waiting for her limbs to stop shaking. It seemed an eternity, was in truth only moments. She pushed herself to a sitting position and looked at the body on the floor in front of her. She was vaguely aware of Samantha’s presence beside her. The half-vampire spoke, her voice taught and breathy with tension. “Holy shit!”
The body on the floor jerked at this sound, arms flailing, and clawed at the wood of the entertainment center to its left. Missy’s hands gripped into the wood, splintering it. With an effort, she hauled herself upward, leaning against the wood, coughing blood. She brought her feet around and slumped into a sitting position, leaning against the cabinet, looking at the stake in her chest.
“Oh, God,” Two moaned. She scrambled backward on her hands, like a crab, away from the figure.
At this, the girl’s head jerked upward. Her eyes locked with Two’s. Not Missy’s eyes, Two realized. Melissa’s.
“Oh, God!” Two cried. “Oh, no! Melissa...” She moved back toward the woman, on hands and knees.
Melissa regarded her calmly, opened her mouth, tried to talk. A crimson bubble formed, burst at her lips, and the words came.
“Two. Two, stop. It hurts. Please stop.”
Two had been yanking at the stake, not knowing what else to do. The wood had pierced just below Melissa’s breastplate, traveling at an upward path, emerging just to the left of her spine, some six inches above the point of entry. Two wasn’t sure if the wound was fatal or not, but it seemed likely. She looked at Melissa, tried to say something supportive, and instead burst into tears.
Melissa took her hand.
“It’s okay, Two. Thank you. She’s gone. She’s dead, Two. You killed her. Thank you. I’m dying too, I guess, but that’s okay. I told you: I was going to die anyway.”
Two was making whimpering sounds, between her sobs. She wanted words to come. She wanted to apologize, to take it back somehow. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Her throat seemed incapable of forming articulate sound. She pressed her forehead against Melissa’s, pressed her lips against the bridge of Melissa’s nose.
“Sisters.” Melissa’s voice was weakening. She turned her head, coughed blood again, looked at Two in apology. Two reached out and smoothed Melissa’s hair away from her eyes.
“It’s not so bad. It’s all right. I don’t even feel it anymore. I’m all numb. It’s not so bad, Two. It’s not so bad, Theroen.”
Melissa’s eyes moved away from Two, focused on a point behind her. Theroen stood in the doorway, motionless. His expression was calm, almost peaceful, but there were tears in his eyes.
“Is it not, Melissa?” He asked.
“No. Theroen?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you... for the years. You gave me more than I deserved.”
“Melissa. My sister, you deserve far more than anything I could ever have given.”
Melissa closed her eyes for a moment, opened them, looked back at Two. Her voice was little more than the movement of air past her lips.
“You’re going to be a wonderful vampire. He loves you. An eternity of love, Two. Don’t cry.”
Two found her voice at last, a brittle croak that made her throat ache. “I’m sorry for this, Melissa. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m free. You’re free. Don’t be sorry.”
She looked again at Theroen, who had moved to kneel beside her, and opened her mouth to say something else. It never came. As she drew in breath, her chest hitched once. Twice. Settled. Melissa’s eyes grew wide and distant, distant and dark; like a glass reflecting eternity. Two made a low, sorrowful noise, closed her eyes, held Melissa’s hand. Theroen spoke, but his voice was distant. Distant and dark.
“Peace be with you, Melissa. If there is a God, and if he is just, he will bring you to a better place than this.”
Two felt herself rising, felt herself moving away, running away, as far away as she could go. She made six feet before she tripped, stumbled, fell to the floor. Her hands clenched at the carpet, as if to tear it from the floor. Death, despair, love. The love made it worse, somehow. An eternity of love.
Two put her face in the soft loops of fabric, sobbing.
* * *
It took nearly a minute of calling her name before Theroen was able to gain Two’s attention. She looked at him, blinking and unable to comprehend, then shook her head to clear it. Theroen watched as her eyes filled again with horror, with despair.
“Don’t.” A simple word, delivered in the same calm, strong manner in which he always spoke. Not a request, not a command. Almost a piece of advice, as in the car, the first night she had met him. Don’t.
Two clenched her fist, fought down the sorrow that wanted to engulf her, and looked again at her lover.
“We’re in danger, aren’t we?”
“Oh, yes. Very much so, I’d say. This has not gone according to plan. Anyone’s plan. Unbeknownst to me, there were many of those.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your death at Missy’s hands was meant to be Abraham’s parting gift to his son. Just a little, dark comedy. A way of thanking me for centuries of service, and a reminder of who truly holds the power, now and forever. It seems he underestimated your abilities.”
“Or my luck.”
“Regardless, you are alive, and Missy is dead. It is regrettable that she took Melissa with her, but this was inevitable. Abraham will not be pleased with this. I think it best that we leave. Now.”
“Can I come?” The two vampires had forgotten Samantha, who had thrown herself behind the couch when Melissa’s body had initially jerked back to life.
Theroen sighed. He looked at Melissa’s body, looked at Samantha, looked at Two.
“You promised her, Theroen,” Two reminded him.
“I did, yes.”
“So let’s go.”
Theroen nodded. “Yes, Samantha, you may come.”
Two looked over at Melissa. “What do we do with... with the body?”
“Abraham will take care of it. No, don’t argue. I realize how preposterous it sounds, but you have to trust me. One of the few customs he seems to care about is giving dead vampires a proper funeral. He will conduct services, and then he will burn her, but he will do both with reverence. I do not know why he does this, but I have seen it more than once. It is the only thing in him that seems still human.”
“It feels wrong.”
“Everything is going to feel wrong for some times, I think. We must go, Two. You’ve done all you can for Melissa.”
Samantha came to join them. “So what now? Are you Theroen? You are, right?”
“Yes.”
She glanced at him cautiously. Two waved the sentiment away. “You’re as safe with him as you’ll ever be, Sam.”
“I guess?”
Theroen turned to Sam. “Where are your shoes?”
“What, no ‘nice to meet you’ or anything?”
“There is no time. Where are your shoes?”
“Dunno.”
“You’ll need them. And a coat. Go to the closet out in the hall and retrieve them.”
Sam looked at Two, unsure. She nodded. “Do what he says, Sam.”
She did. Theroen turned to Two. “Good. Let’s go.”
Two glanced once more at Melissa as they left the room. She wanted to apologize, to take it back somehow. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
There was no time.
* * *
No time. They found Samantha at the closet, pulling on her shoes and jacket. Two had brought no possessions to the mansion, and had none to take. Theroen cared very little for any of it, and had no desire to bring it with him. He held other apartments, in other places, had more than enough money in banks with which to begin their life. They left the mansion, packed full of art, trash, and everything in between, to Abraham.
The Ferrari wouldn’t fit three, nor would a motorcycle, of which there were four. A Jeep was parked behind two of them, and Theroen leapt on the first, moving it quickly out of the way and returning to move the second. He seemed agitated, an unusual state for him. Two thought it best not to question, but Theroen picked up on her curiosity.
“I am greatly concerned by what Abraham may do in the heat of the moment. He is undoubtedly aware of his daughter’s death, and I do not expect him to take it well. I hope he may allow us to escape, though I do not know if he will. If he decides to stop us, things will likely not go well.”
“I’d ask you to define that, but I think I already know.”
Theroen nodded, and let the second bike drop with a crash, not concerned with it. He moved back to the Jeep. Two reached over, hit the button for the electric door opener, and watched it rise. It was raining outside, dark and cold; December rain just barely too warm to freeze. The hunger raged in her, but now was not the time. She heard a howl.
“What about Tori?”
“No time, Two, and no choice. Abraham’s orders were to leave her. We’ve already killed his daughter and are stealing her fledgling. I’ll not risk angering him further.”
Two looked again out into the blackness, understanding but not yet ready to accept. Behind her, she heard car doors opening. One closed.
“Two.” Theroen was standing at his door, waiting. The passenger side was empty in the front. Samantha sat in the rear. Two bit her lip, fighting against her anger.
“Okay, Theroen. It’s not right. It’s not fair. It’s totally fucked up, but I think we crossed the line between right and wrong somewhere around the time I stabbed my friend to death with a fucking table leg, anyway.”
“That may well be true. We wait on you, my love. You must decide if you are ready to leave.”
Two sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing, this immortality shit. I’m going to need years of therapy from this.”
Two got into the car.
* * *
They made it halfway down the driveway before Theroen was forced to jam on the brakes, bringing the Jeep to a sudden, skidding halt on the wet asphalt. Two, not wearing a seatbelt, caught her weight on her arms. Vampire arms. Human bones would have broken. Two barely felt the impact. Samantha, behind her, thudded against the back of Two’s seat with a squawking cry.
“Theroen! Jesus, what are you...” Two didn’t need to finish. The sweeping sense of dread that engulfed her, starting at the base of her spine and working its way up, spoke everything she needed to know. Abraham. Outside. Two looked out the windshield, and into the eyes of hell.
“Run him over!” It took Two a moment to recognize her own voice. It sounded like a scared little girl.
“He could pick up the car.” Theroen’s voice was flat, bereft of emotion, accepting, and Two understood in that moment what was to happen. This would be the end, likely, for all three of them. Frustration, hate, and rage rose up inside her. Melissa died for this?
Theroen picked up on these thoughts, and turned to her “I am out of ideas, Two. I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I brought you into any of this.”
Before Two could respond to this, they heard the rear door unlatch. Two glanced back. Samantha’s eyes were fixated on the figure standing before the car. Glazed, unseeing, Samantha pushed with her arm, opened the door, stepped out of the car. Two felt the tug as well, a gentle push. Get out. Get out, and all will be well. It grew like the tide, surging over her thoughts, compelling her. Get out, and all will be well.
Two felt Theroen’s own mind drive suddenly into hers like a spike. It acted as a harsh slap, a mental shock so great that she reeled back at the force of it. Abraham’s grip on her thoughts was lost.
“All will not be well. I’m sorry, Two. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I could think of nothing else to do.”
“S’okay.” Two felt groggy, like she had just been pulled from a deep sleep. “What do we do, Theroen?”
“We get out. All will not be well. Be ready to run when I tell you.”
“Run where?”
Theroen shrugged. “Run in whatever direction Abraham is not.”
He exited the car and went to stand beside Samantha in the rain. Two followe
d. Abraham towered in front of them, massive, grim and silent, his face a mask of fury. Two felt rooted to the ground, legs stiff and numb from fear. Run? She wondered if she could move.
“Father.” Theroen’s voice was quiet. Cautious. Abraham’s eyes moved to his son, seemed to bore into him. Theroen stood firm, staring back at the elder vampire.
“Leaving so soon, Theroen?” He asked. His voice was light, mocking, but behind it two heard anger, and an ageless, depthless hate.
“I thought it best. I can only assume you wish to be rid of me, and of Two, as soon as possible.”
“Rid of you. Yes. Yes, my headstrong son, I wish to be rid of you. And so, you may go. You will leave me Samantha, and you will leave me Tori, and since I am now short a daughter, you will leave me Two. In doing this, you release yourself from my bond, forever.”
Theroen took a breath, set himself, looked off to the side and back at Abraham. “No, father. I will not.”
“Oh no? And tell me, boy... how would you have this encounter end? Shall I allow you and your lover to run off into the darkness? No, I think not. Shall I instead slaughter her, and this half-vampire cow, right where we stand? My child is dead, Theroen, because of your fledgling. Her life is forfeit.”
“Your daughter murdered herself, Abraham. There is nothing Two wanted less, but I do not make poor choices. Two proved superior to Missy.”
“Did she?” Abraham’s voice was raw in its malice. “Did she indeed? What will she do now, Theroen? She is a quaking little girl, trembling at the darkness. See how she stares? She stands in the face of eternity, a candle before the blackness of the storm. What will she do?”
Theroen closed his eyes. “She will run, and when you try to pursue her, I will stop you.”
Abraham seemed taken aback by this. He paused for a brief moment, cocked his head, and then howled his horrible laughter. Two felt goose bumps ripple up and down her arms. Samantha cried out, and took a step backwards, her trance dissolving. Abraham put his hand out, and she stilled, but the glazed look did not return to her eyes.
The Blood That Bonds Page 20
