“I caught a glimpse of them just as they broke the door in... They looked like stormtroopers or something, no lie.” He paused for breath, and Sam took the opportunity to scent the air again. There were hints of werewolves in the area, but nothing close, nothing defined...yet.
“What about the girl? Did she go with them?” Ben hesitated for a moment before answering Ronne.
“I don’t know. We went up the fire escape, because we could see them down below. We got to the roof, and I started running. I thought Alice was behind me, but when I turned to look for her, she was gone. I got to the fire escape at the end, on the last building on Chrystie, and I headed down. And now I’m here.”
“And they will be soon as well,” said Ronne, as he looked toward the Bowery, a frown creasing his brow. He turned back to Ben. “Where were you heading?”
“Uptown.” Ben reached in his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. He handed it to Ronne as he spoke. “Vincent gave me this, said if I ever ran into trouble and needed a safe place to go, to go here.” He turned to Sam. “Pretty fancy address for a guy who wears a patched coat.”
Sam craned her neck to see the paper Ronne held.
“Central Park South?” A puzzled frown descended on her pretty features, and she looked at Ronne, growing even more puzzled as she took in his reaction.
Ronne... smiled and shook his head slowly. “Alright, let’s find the closest train heading north. He’ll no doubt be expecting us.”
“You mean, Vincent?” Sam had to admit she was a bit anxious about seeing him, and anxious to see him as well... Her anxiety increased in another direction, though, with Ronne’s next words.
“Not... exactly.”
26
CENTRAL PARK SOUTH
“The Penthouse”
Hudson swung open the door, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face as he did.
“Well,” he said, and took in the disheveled appearance of Sam, Ronne, and Ben, in turn. Sam could see he was surprised they had appeared on his doorstep, but he didn’t appear to be upset about it. Hudson stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.
Sam stepped inside and tried not to gasp. The foyer was gorgeous, with artistic, geometric light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. There were a lot of doors, and Sam had a fleeting recollection of cartoon characters running back and forth through multiple doors while being chased by the bad guys. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh, and hoped that, at least for tonight, all the bad guys stayed out there, and didn’t come in here.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” Hudson said pointedly to Ronne, who seemed very at ease. Sam had suspected, based on Ronne’s reaction, that he had known about this place, but now she was convinced he’d not only known, but probably been here before as well.
“We weren’t expecting to be here either.” Ronne replied, gesturing toward Ben and Sam. “Stormtroopers hit the apartment, and Vincent gave Ben the address. So, here we are.”
Hudson frowned. “Of course. You did the right thing coming here. Let me lock up, and I’ll give you the grand tour.” He threw the deadbolt on the door, as well as swinging a bar lock into place. He then turned to the keypad beside the door and armed the security code. “Unless they’ve figured out a way to scale twenty-one floors to the terrace, we’re safe as houses in here.” Hudson smiled. “So, welcome.” He gestured to the doors in the room. “Three bedrooms down here, so plenty of room for everyone. You can stay here long as you like. Follow me.” And Hudson headed for the staircase to the right.
Sam slid her hand along the railing as they walked upstairs. She’d grown up with stairs, and always liked them, but there was just something about a wooden railing and balustrade that made a place feel like home... warm and welcoming...
The stairs continued upward, the dark wood curving around a landing before turning into more stairs... Hudson stopped on the second floor, though, and Sam and the others followed into the main living area. Sam slowed to appreciate the sheer scale of the place, for it was huge and loft-like. Bright white walls and recessed lighting balanced with the darkness of the wood throughout, and the gray and black furniture in the living room. But then Hudson turned right, and Sam realized this living room was actually just a sitting room, and the real living room... The gasp that had been smothered up to this point exploded from her.
The view of the park was the showpiece of the entire room, and now, with the sundown, the contrast of the bluish night sky with the neutral colors of the interior was spectacular. The thing was, as elegant as it looked, it still looked warm and cuddly, like sitting in front of the fire on a chilly night.
“There’s another sitting room down there,” Hudson said, pointing to the left. “I use it as an office, although I’m considering a move to the sitting room off the kitchen. I need more shelf space.” He chuckled at that and gestured back toward the stairs. “The master bedroom and bathrooms are upstairs, as is the terrace. You can sleep there, Sam.”
“Oh, no, I can’t take your room,” Sam replied. I’d be perfectly content to sleep on a few pillows in this living room!
“You’re not sleeping on the floor anywhere, pillows or no pillows,” Hudson said, with a smile. “And you’re not taking my room.” He turned to Ronne and Ben. “You gentleman can grab rooms downstairs. I’ll see about dinner. Make yourselves comfortable. The bar is fully stocked, but if you make yourselves drinks, you have to make one for me.”
“Let me guess,” Sam smirked. “Vodka martini, shaken, not stirred.”
Hudson winked. “Sounds good. Bring it out to the kitchen.” And he quickly exited.
Sam carried the martini glass into the kitchen and set it on the expansive black counter that comprised the center island. Hudson had his back to her as he stirred a large pan of something on the stove and didn’t turn as she pulled out a bar chair and sat down at the counter.
“Thank you. I was beginning to wonder where my drink had gotten to.” He tapped the wooden spoon on the edge of the pan and placed it on a dish beside the stove. He turned and smiled as he reached for his drink.
“Hope it’s okay,” Sam said, as she watched him take a sip.
“Ah, yes. Perfect!” He set the glass back down and looked at Sam closely. “It’s been...a while.”
“Since?”
“Since I’ve seen you.” Hudson gave her an appraising once-over. “You look well, all things considered. Vincent’s taking care of you.”
“Uh... yeah,” Sam replied, and kept her eyes lowered as her eyes teared at the thoughts of Vincent flashing through her mind. I’m glad he can’t hear what I’m thinking...
“And why would you be glad of that?” Sam looked up, her eyes wide and startled at his question. He could...
“Hear that? Yes, of course I could.” Hudson took another sip of his martini, savoring the flavor before he swallowed.
“But... how?” Sam frowned, her initial fear and surprise turning into curiosity and puzzlement. “Even Vincent can’t hear everything I think, and we’re... close.” She paused. “Frank can only get feelings, the occasional word... how can you hear me?”
Hudson drained his glass. “Tell you what... Help me get this food on the table, and I’ll tell you everything while we eat.”
27
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, the four were sitting down to plates of rice and chicken tikka masala. Hudson had Ronne get beers from the refrigerator, as he said it was the best drink to have with the meal... Brought out the flavor, or something.
“I prefer making it from scratch,” Hudson said as he dished out the mixture on the rice and handed it back to each in turn. “But this particular brand is pretty damn close.” The last plate placed in front of himself, he raised his bottle of beer. “Cheers.” Everyone raised theirs as well, and the bottles clinked cheerily before the group commenced eating.
Sam got a few bites in her stomach before she asked, “Alright, Jack... how could you hear me?” Ronne’s chewing slowed a bit, but Ben kept eating, seemingly o
blivious to the conversation beginning, although Sam knew him well-enough to know he was listening, even if it seemed like he wasn’t.
Hudson smiled as he chewed, and finished chewing the bite in his mouth, and swallowed. He took a sip of beer, swallowed that, too.
“I guess the short answer on that,” Hudson began, “is that I am the Ravenmaster.”
“Is that kind of like the Beastmaster?” Ben chimed in, and Sam almost choked as she stifled her laugh. Leave it to Ben...
“Not...really...” Hudson replied, looking askance at Ben a couple of times before continuing. “The Ravenmaster is... well, I am... an anomaly. Like Vincent is an anomaly. Most Ravens, like Frank here, can sense feeling, even hear some thoughts, that belong to one Wolf, the Wolf they have bonded to. In my case, I have the ability to hear Wolves other than my own.”
Your own being... Vincent?
“Yes, Sam... Vincent.”
“Okay,” Ronne said, glaring between the two of them. “Stop that, it’s unnerving.”
“Very well,” Hudson replied, and winked at Sam. “I fell in with what you would call ‘the Pack’ when I was at Cambridge. I wasn’t attracted by the political angles they preached, but the social ones... they had merit.” He took a bite of his food, chewing carefully as he continued.
“My scientific acumen was highly valued, and once the Wagner Pack discovered my natural ability to hear so many, they cultivated and encouraged all my abilities. As I was studying virology, I started to research the type of virus, the way it functioned. By then, I’d seen several infected individuals succumb to the virus most gruesomely, and yet others seemed to be able to coexist with it for a time, though usually not for a long time. John was exceptional in that regard... I believe he lived over fifteen years with it.” He took a sip of beer. “I began to study how the virus might be controlled and sustained. It’s a retrovirus, and people live with retroviruses every day. Live full, and fulfilling, lives.”
“So, your mission became saving people, not infecting them,” commented Sam.
“Yes...and no. You see, during my research, I encountered several people exposed to the virus who were chronically ill. People with ALS, multiple sclerosis, other neurological conditions, their conditions improved after exposure to the virus. And, in some cases, improved to such an extent that you could say they were... cured.”
“But the virus is too unstable,” Ronne said quietly.
Hudson nodded. “In individuals like Sam, or the Kremers, even John Prutzmann, the cellular structure is strong enough to accept the virus, adapt to its presence, and utilize it without collapsing in on itself. Now, in Sam’s case, that ability to sustain the virus is genetic. For Vincent and Alice, it appears to be a singularity that is not present in their family’s genetic line, even in satellite branches of the family.”
“What about Prutzmann?” Ben asked. “What made him so strong?”
“I don’t know.” Hudson said ruefully. “We were making progress... We’d traced his maternal line and found nothing, but he knew very little about his father or paternal family...Then his condition began to degrade, and we had to scale back any testing we were doing.”
“So...” Sam began, her fingers dancing around the mouth of her beer bottle. “What you’re trying to do is get control of a virus that turns people into monsters, so you can try and make them better humans.”
“Healthier, stronger... If I can find an individual, even one individual, who has been exposed to the virus, and it hasn’t killed them, then there’s nearly a one hundred percent chance that their DNA could be used to create a vaccine that would stabilize the virus, and allow people to receive it as a treatment for chronic illnesses, genetic illnesses. Cancer, Huntington’s, Tay-Sachs...”
“Jack...” Sam’s eyes flickered up to him. She felt half-frozen, not because the room was cold, but because the thoughts his words had conjured were. “I’m going to ask you a question, but I have to warn you... I already know the answer.” Sam paused a moment, fingering the mouth of the bottle, then quickly taking a drink. “The people that you infected with the virus... Did that include children?” Hudson met her gaze, and held it, as he answered.
“Children...” He hesitated, searched for the right words. “Children get sick... If you could stop that from happening, wouldn’t you try?”
Ronne and Ben kept their eyes down, neither one wanting to meet Hudson’s gaze, or, especially Sam’s. Sam sat quietly, and stared back at Hudson, her gaze so intense she could feel the tears forming from the strain. She suddenly dropped her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Jack, I believe your intentions in doing this have been good. I understand what you’re doing, and in so far as it involves adults who have consented to it, I say go with throttle up. But children...” Her voice caught, and she took a moment to contain her emotion before she continued. “Children cannot consent, cannot possibly understand what they are agreeing to if they are asked. This,” she pointed to herself, “this is... inexplicable. And until the day comes when I can explain it and understand it, I can never justify or accept it being deliberately given to a child.” Sam drained the last third of her beer, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and setting it down on the table a little harder than necessary. “Now, I’m going to go get cleaned up, and get some much-needed rest.” Sam gave them a little salute and headed for the staircase leading up to the third floor.
The three men sat quietly for a moment before Ben spoke.
“Maybe I should go talk to her.”
“Why?” Ronne asked, frowning.
“I don’t feel good about her being alone.”
“No need.” Hudson smirked. “She won’t be.”
28
SAM LAID BACK ON THE bed, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. The room, like the rest of the penthouse, was rather breath-taking. The furniture and décor were simple enough in design, but the softness of the fabrics... the clean lines and balance of textures from the plush royal blue rug, to the silky pillowcases, to the geometrics of the light fixture over the bed... She sighed. For a girl like her, who grew up on the Lower East Side, using mismatched sheets and patched blankets, this was a kind of heaven.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d laid there. The room smelled of frankincense, and she could feel every muscle in her body relaxing. The voices of the men downstairs had continued after she left, but she willed herself not to listen. She’d had enough of ethics and morality and medicine for one night... She wanted a bit of quiet...a bit of peace...a piece of...
Vincent.
Sam’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up. The light in the room was dim, but not so dim she couldn’t see, especially with her eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure what had rousted her, other than thinking of him, but now she had a strange feeling, like she wasn’t alone. She parted her lips, allowing the air to wash over her tongue as she inhaled through her nose. It always sounded complicated when she thought about it, but it was a lot easier than one would think and had become so second nature in such a short span of time that she often caught herself doing it at inopportune moments.
Only frankincense, though. Sam wilted a little, her shoulders slumped, her head bowed. She hated to admit it, but she’d hoped she’d thought of him because he was there. How long had it been since she’d seen him? Talked to him? It felt like eternity, yet it had barely been twenty-four hours. She moved her head from side to side... there was a bit of stiffness setting into her neck and shoulders. Even with the Lycanthropic Virus, Sam was far from immune to aches and pains, unfortunately. She stood slowly, rolling her shoulders a bit to loosen the kinks that were forming. It had been a rough day... lots of running, jumping... plus it had been a late night because of...
Vincent.
She closed her eyes again, willing herself not to cry. The absence was palpable, like a wound gaping in her psyche. It wasn’t because they were always with each other... it was the mental bond, the link they had built so thoroughly in those months up north...
Now, she felt like what they’d built had suddenly been blown away, leaving her with the foundation and no idea how to rebuild.
Sam wiped her eyes and headed toward the bathroom... or one of them. This master bedroom had two bathrooms, complete with closets. She couldn’t even imagine having enough stuff to make that worthwhile, but, of course, this place wasn’t built for the likes of her. It sure was nice, though.
She flipped the light switch and peeked in. Bathtub, check. Shower, check. She’d have to save the bath for tomorrow, when she was less likely to fall asleep and drown herself or something. She grabbed the robe hanging on the back of the door... that was heaven itself, all soft and fluffy, then froze.
Fresh air.
The windows in the room were like the ones downstairs, only these opened onto a terrace. Sam ran through her mind the plausibility that a werewolf could have scaled the side of the building and gotten to the terrace. Not likely, but... She sniffed again, and this time the familiar smell of cigarette smoke reached her nose. Sam tossed the robe on the bed and quickly looked for something, anything she could use to defend herself. She’d have to move close to the windows to reach the stairs... Not super close, but if someone chose to come in off the terrace and grab her, she would definitely be within easier reach. She kept looking for something... a lamp... a vase... something...
A cough. Whoever was out there coughed, and suddenly the door was sliding open and the curtains were moving, and someone was coming inside... and Sam inhaled, and knew, at the same instant he stepped into sight.
“Vincent.”
Vincent’s eyes went wide, and his shock was obvious... he hadn’t scented her either. Sam made a mental note to remember that frankincense evidently disrupted werewolf scenting abilities... and Jack Hudson was way overdue to be punched in the face.
The Bloodline Series Box Set Page 59
