The Bloodline Series Box Set

by Gabriella Messina

  “She’s the one we met, Alice and me. Her name is Jade.” Sam watched the girl closely, noting the pallor beneath her caramel skin, the dark circles under her eyes. The girl wasn’t feeling well. Sam inhaled deeply, taking in her scent, and had to resist the urge to turn and vomit at the horror that she smelled.

  This little girl was infected with LV.

  Sam could feel the flush coming into her cheeks, and she thanked God for the hundredth time that she could control the change, or she’d be wolfing out to rescue these kids.

  “How many are in the brownstone?”

  “When we talked to her, Jade said there are eight of them, all from the Bronx.”

  Little Jack started getting restless, and suddenly bolted, dashing through the hedge and into the backyard where Jade was. Sam and Ben froze, listening as the dog reached the little girl. Sam could hear her cooing and talking to the dog, then all grew quiet. She glanced at Ben, and was about to ask him if they should go, when –

  “Who are you?”

  Sam looked up at the voice, small and quiet with a slight accent... Albanian, she surmised... Jade looked fearful on the surface, her posture guarded, her eyes wide. But in those large brown eyes, Sam saw something else... Hope.

  Jade looked at Ben, and her lips twitched in a smile. “I remember you. You came before, with the blonde lady.” She turned back to Sam. “But you feel different. Who are you?”

  Sam fought back the tears that had welled when the girl spoke. “My name is Sam. You’re Jade, right?” The girl nodded, and carefully positioned the dog in front of her.

  “I have to put Reggie in front of me. That way, if they see me talking, they’ll thinking I’m talking to him.”

  Sam smiled. “Smart girl. Ben here tells me there are eight of you in the house. Is that right?” Jade nodded. “You used to live in the Bronx?” Another nod. “Do you remember what happened, honey? Do you know how you got here?”

  Jade hesitated, then looked down at the dog as she spoke. “I remember everyone started getting sick. It was like getting the flu, but everybody had it. And then policemen came and made us leave. They took us all to the subway station, and a train came in, and all of us kids had to get on that one. And they said our families would be on the next one, but they had to care for us first. So, we went.” The little girl looked up, her eyes full and tears running down her cheeks. “But they didn’t come.”

  Sam felt frozen. Standing here in 90-degree weather, she felt like she was made of ice. My God, they didn’t even change the script... The similarity to what Ivan had told her was said to him, all those many years ago in Bucharest, was chilling. She tried to get control of her emotions. She didn’t want to scare the child...

  “Are they taking care of you? Have they hurt you?” Jade shook her head solemnly. “Alright, honey. We’re going to go, but I promise you something... look at me.” Jade looked at her, those big brown eyes soft and vulnerable, but there was strength in there, too... Sam could see it... “We’re going to get you guys out of here, okay? I’m not sure how, or when, but it’s going to happen. Be careful, and don’t tell anyone about us, okay?” Jade nodded firmly, her eyes lighting at the prospect of home and family... if she even had them anymore. “Alright, push the dog back through like you would. We’ll get him back home. You take care, honey. Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  The trip back through the hedge tunnel felt faster, as trips home so often do, and Sam found herself back on the street with Ben and headed for the nearest subway station in minutes. They were quiet as they walked along, weaving around the after-lunch foot traffic heading back to work, or off to an afternoon of shopping or errands.

  “Ben?” Ben pulled up quickly, startled by Sam suddenly saying his name. Sam stopped, too, and backtracked to his side. “When was the last time you saw Alice Kremer?”

  Ben lowered his eyes, and rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture Sam remembered well from their youth together. Ben had always been prone to anxiety, not surprising given his living circumstances. When you don’t know where the next blow will be coming from, you tend to be especially sensitive and perceptive, tapping into the mood and atmosphere of a situation and adapting to suit. The anxiety never went away, though, because you knew it could all change in a moment. No, Ben’s nervousness wasn’t surprising, but Sam was surprised to see it triggered around her. She was usually a calming presence for him.

  “What’s the matter, Benny?”

  Ben sighed and shrugged. “Nothing wrong really. I haven’t seen her recently, but I did talk to her through the Underland chat.”

  “When?”

  “Last night. She said she had a bunch of information about the Congresswoman. She’s probably in the city now... She wants to see John Prutzmann.”

  “She doesn’t know he’s dead, does she?”

  Ben shook his head quickly. “Oh, no, she knows, but... she wants to see him before Vincent... cleans up. What time is it?” He pulled out his mobile phone and checked the time. “One o’clock. Yeah. They’re probably at the mortuary now.”

  Sam frowned. “They?”

  19

  VINCENT WASN’T SURPRISED to find his sister amongst the dead when he arrived. He’d scented her as soon as he opened the front door of the OCME building, and while walking through the halls and down to “the Coolers”, the scent had only gotten stronger. He briefly considered turning around and leaving, with the thought this was a possible set-up never leaving his mind as he pushed forward.

  Hudson’s call hadn’t been unexpected. Vincent often received messages from him to clean-up a mess somewhere in the city. This one he’d been dreading, though, and, as the days passed on, Vincent had hoped perhaps this time he wouldn’t need to. A part of him didn’t want to do it... the same part of him that dreaded the day it would likely be done to him.

  Vincent arrived in the anteroom and felt a bit wistful as he looked at the counter where he had so often encountered Ben Lewis. He’d hoped all along the lad was alright, for Sam’s sake, but now he had to admit he missed the kid. He walked up to the doors and peeked carefully through the window.

  She stood with her back to the door, her body bent over the bagged body at rest in an open drawer. Vincent watched her for a while, his gaze soft as he saw her shoulders shake and her hands reach up periodically to wipe tears from her face. Again, Vincent thought it might be best to just turn around and leave... make his excuses to Hudson, trump up a story of some kind... he watched her hand reach out, and brush the hair back from Prutzmann’s forehead, an affectionate gesture... Something he knew Sam would have done to him if he’d been the one lying on the slab. Vincent swallowed hard, his own eyes growing moist, and he turned away for a moment to recover. It was the downside of loving someone... The happiness was beyond bliss, to be loved and to love, but it was tinged with this terrible darkness because when you’re that happy you have so much to lose.

  Vincent swallowed hard, wiping his own eyes quickly, and steeled himself as he quietly pushed open the door, the chill of the room hitting him like a wall. He saw her head turn slightly as he entered, the only acknowledgment of his presence, and then she continued to smooth Prutzmann’s hair, occasionally touching his cheek gently.

  Vincent crept forward, one slow step after another, and moved into position where he could see Prutzmann more clearly. They’d cleaned him up well, and he wondered what they must have thought as they beheld the horribly damaged man when he was brought in. Vincent’s keen eyesight could still pick out the tinge of bruising, the signs of damage in the face, neck, and shoulders. John Prutzmann had done... horrible things in his lifetime, but now, as Vincent looked at the man where he lay, in a mortuary drawer, finally at peace, and no longer a danger to anyone he loved... he almost felt pity for the man, and even a kind of grief.

  “I’m sorry, Alice.”

  Alice Kremer’s jaw clenched at the first notes of her brother’s voice, and the tension spread into the rest of her body. She tur
ned to look at him, her dark eyes filled with a grief that tore Vincent’s heart. His instinct was to embrace her... his little sister... His eyes moved over her quickly... the fine features, the blonde waves, the solemn expression she’d had even as a child.

  Perhaps she saw the emotion reflected in his face, because her gaze hardened somewhat before she looked back to the body.

  “You hated him.”

  “For what he did, to our family... to you.”

  Alice smirked. “He never hurt me, Vincent.” She stared at him, long enough to see the words hit home. She turned away from Vincent and took Prutzmann’s cold hand in hers. “He took care of me. He said... I had such potential in me.”

  “To be what? A killer?” Vincent murmured, and regretted it immediately as Alice whirled on him, her eyes flashing with anger.

  “No! As a woman...As a person... As a human-fucking-being!” She exhaled slowly, tears filling her eyes and spilling over onto her cheeks. “How did he die?”

  Vincent swallowed hard. “He was trying to protect Sam from the Pack.”

  Alice nodded, more tears flowing freely. “Not as evil as you thought he was, huh?”

  Vincent shook his head. “No, darlin’, I never thought he was evil. A sadistic asshole, who got pleasure out of watching people squirm, and manipulating them to do what he wanted... Abso-fucking-lutely!” Vincent prepared himself for the eruption of anger he thought his words would generate. But the onslaught never came. Instead, Alice nodded her head slowly, a small, Mona Lisa smile spreading across her lips, and her words, when she did speak, quite honestly shocked him.

  “He was a sadistic asshole... but he was also kind, and wise, and damaged, and good to me. He really was good to me, Vincent.” She raised her eyes to look at him, the gaze of a little sister seeking comfort and reassurance from an older brother. For all the dead man’s faults, and they were many, Alice had loved John Prutzmann, and for no other reason than that, Vincent had to forgive him. He stepped forward and put an arm around her. Alice’s reaction was quick, and she nestled into his embrace as she sobbed. Vincent patted her head, smoothing her hair as he let her get it out. Grief can eat away inside of you if you hold it in... Can make you bitter, vengeful, and surprisingly easy to manipulate... He knew that from experience.

  He could feel her tears were abating, a first wave passed. There would be more, and they would have to watch her closely as she worked through this. The fact that the Pack had turned on him, and possibly her, could make Alice into a valuable asset... or a horrendous liability. It would all depend on how she handled things, and how she was handled.

  “I suppose...we all have our sadistic asshole moments, don’t we?” Alice’s shoulders started to shake again, and Vincent wondered if he’d tried to lighten the mood too soon. His answer came moments later, as his little sister looked up at him, her eyebrow arched as she smirked at him.

  “Do ye really want me to answer that, big brother?”

  “No.” Alice laughed, and wiped her eyes. Vincent’s smile faded... it was time.

  “Alice... I have to...” He gestured to Prutzmann’s body. Alice’s smile faded, too, and she nodded.

  “I know.” She went back to Prutzmann’s side, took his hand in one of hers, and placed the other on top. Her hands were so small compared to his... “Alright, Vincent. Do it.”

  “You shouldn’t stay for this, darlin’. You don’t need to see it.” Vincent wasn’t sure if she had ever seen a werewolf disintegrate, certainly not at his hand, and a part of Vincent really didn’t want her to. Especially now... especially John...

  “I want to stay with him... Until it’s over.” Alice’s jaw was set again, and Vincent knew arguing with her would be a lost cause. Her mind was made up, God help her... and him.

  “Alright.” He was going to need a cigarette after this... and a drink. Vincent reached into his interior coat pocket and took out the loaded syringe. The silver of the mercury caught the light, glistening like an iridescent vaccination ready to go. He felt a bit queasy as he looked at it, but he swallowed hard, fighting the nausea. He needed to guide Alice through this...

  “I’m going to inject him in the chest,” Vincent began, and came around to the opposite side so he would have a clear field to work with. “I’ll have to do it hard, so that it gets through to the heart. The process will begin almost immediately. Have you seen it happen before?” Alice shook her head, her bottom lip trembling slightly. “Are you sure you want to stay and see this?”

  “Until the end.”

  “He’ll probably shake, as the mercury begins to go through the system, destabilizing the cells. He’ll take on a... grayish cast, and you’ll probably have to let go soon after because he’ll get softer, like gelatin. Then he’ll dissolve completely.” Alice was blinking rapidly and looked pale. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to scare you.”

  “It’s alright, Vincent, I know.” Alice looked at him earnestly. “It can’t hurt him, right?”

  Vincent shook his head. “No, darlin’. He’s beyond any pain.”

  Alice nodded, her eyes welling with more tears. She clutched Prutzmann’s hand tightly and nodded her head more rapidly.

  “Do it. Do it now.”

  Vincent didn’t hesitate, focusing all the clinical mindset he’d developed over years of killing, years of disposals... With one smooth movement, the syringe came down, the needle piercing Prutzmann’s chest with a whoosh, and he pushed the plunger, forcing the mercury into the dead man’s body.

  Alice seemed to be holding her breath, and Vincent realized, as he withdrew the syringe, that he must have been, too. He felt almost lightheaded as they waited and watched, Alice’s hands still clutching the dead man’s tightly. Vincent could hear the ticking of the second hand on the wall clock... the shallow breathing of Alice, and himself... Hudson had bought them a good chunk of time, it seemed, but it couldn’t last much longer... he hoped it started soon so they could get out—

  He caught the first movement, a twitch in the arm nearest him. Vincent glanced at Alice, searching her face for any signs of panic, but his little sister was unmoved. Her eyes were wide, staring at Prutzmann’s face, seemingly seeing nothing else. He could see her hands were clenching tighter as more tremors moved through the body.

  It was taking longer than usual, but that could be normal under the circumstances. Vincent had never cleaned up an individual dead for this length of time, which is why he thought he’d actually gotten out of it this time. But no luck there...

  Prutzmann’s skin was starting to take on a gray sheen, like a faded version of the mercury moving through him, and he appeared to be sinking into the drawer as the muscles and bones inside reacted with the quicksilver.

  Alice looked quickly over him, noting the slow collapse, and then at her hands, and how soft his was in hers. She sobbed, and quickly leaned in to kiss Prutzmann on the lips, soft and gentle.

  “Goodbye, John,” she whispered, and smoothed his hair once more before she released his hand and stepped back. Once she let go, the body seemed to completely give up, the process speeding up tremendously, though it was never as violent as they usually were. Less than half a minute, and there was little left on the slab but the silvery sheen of quicksilver, and an empty body bag.

  20

  SAM SET A GLASS WITH ice in it on the coffee table in front of Alice. The younger woman had been nearly silent since Vincent had arrived with her nearly an hour ago, only managing a mumbled, “Hello,” when she came in. Sam tried to cut her some slack... after all, she had just witnessed Prutzmann’s ultimate demise. Sam felt her eyes tearing again and hurried back to the kitchen. She still felt horrible about John... Funny, how comfortable it felt, now that he was gone, to call him that. Amidst her remorse and grief, however, Sam had to keep reminding herself to stay on guard. Prutzmann died protecting her, and Alice knew it. Her own grief could lead her to lash out at Sam, and Sam knew she had to be prepared for it, or risk them both dying. She wasn’t sensing any animosit
y from the girl, though... Only the stillness that comes with an unbearable sadness.

  Sam took up the wooden spoon and stirred the pot of spaghetti boiling on the stove. Ben had been all for pizza or the like, but Sam needed to think, and when she needed to think, she needed to be doing something. Cooking dinner was as likely a choice as any, so they’d finally settled on spaghetti as the best option. Lucky for them, she’d maintained her grandmother’s old practice of preparing in bulk and freezing good portions of it, which meant they would get homemade sauce and meatballs instead of barely-seasoned jar sauce.

  “Smells good,” Vincent whispered near her ear, his arms coming around her waist moments later as he nuzzled into her neck. Sam smiled, and leaned into his embrace. He’d been very touchy-feely since they returned, likely his own way of dealing with what had happened. Vincent’s relationship with John, the long-term rivalry and personal issues, had helped to define his life for the past decade. Sam could only imagine how he must be feeling now, having to do what he did, and wondered what she herself was going to have to deal with as he worked through it.

  “You want to taste,” Sam asked, and reached for a teaspoon on the counter. Vincent, however, pulled her closer, and started nibbling on her neck and ear.

  “Need more than a taste, put your spoon down.”

  “I have to watch the spaghetti...” Sam began, even as she set the wooden spoon down on the counter. The minute she did, Vincent spun her around, and his mouth was on hers, hungrily kissing her, his hands roaming over her. Sam felt fleeting thoughts run through her mind... she needed to watch the spaghetti... they weren’t alone in the apartment... She wanted to feel him in—

  “Hey, Sam? I – Oh!” Ben stopped in the doorway, his eyes laughing even as he made a show to cover them. “Sorry, I thought you were cooking in here.” Vincent chuckled, even as his hands drifted away from her.