The Bloodline Series Box Set

by Gabriella Messina

  She found one of the main paths through the planned woodland and increased her pace. She could hear scuffing feet behind her and knew that Ronne had followed her. She could have stopped him, but Sam’s gut told her that she might need him... and the other loaded H&K he was carrying.

  The quiet of the Ramble felt good after the chaos of the past hour. Sam’s mind felt comfortably numb, just going through the motions as her brain continued to recover from the ordeal of transformation. Not so numb that she couldn’t remember what happened, though, and, more importantly, the significance of what had happened.

  Vincent had changed... Vincent was currently in werewolf form... And she was going to find him, with a loaded gun. The air was suddenly hard to breath, and Sam found herself gasping as the tears began to flow. She kept walking and hoped her emotional state didn’t trigger Ronne and push him to catch up with her, even try to strongarm her out of going to find Vincent. Because she needed to be the one who found him... She needed to hold onto that small hope that if she got there first, she might not need to use this giant gun to stop him.

  Sam wiped at her eyes and took in her surroundings. She had moved fast and had nearly reached the Ramble Archway. She’d been here before with Vincent, pursuing him as she was now, but for an entirely different reason. This was the place where they had argued... where they had kissed for the first time... where she found him...

  As soon as she stepped under the arch, Sam heard the growl, and she knew she’d found him once again. She inhaled slowly, and took in the scent of him... But the scent of cigarettes, and mint, and maleness were gone... It didn’t smell like Vincent anymore, and she couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in her eyes. She watched him carefully, and he kept his gaze fixed on her right hand, and the gun in it. Then, suddenly, his gaze flickered up to her face, and he stared. His eyes were very matte and black, and there was a glow in them, like somewhere behind all that black was volcanic fire or something. He was breathing faster than her, not unusual for a werewolf, and Sam could see his muscles moving with each breath, the wealth of black hair covering him giving the movement an undulating quality. His werewolf’s mane was massive, probably owing to the wealth of dark curly hair he had even in human form.

  He continued to stare at her, and Sam looked back at him, and hoped she could keep her emotions and pheromones in check... the last thing she needed was for him to smell that she was afraid... She glanced away from his face for a moment, and saw the body lying on the ground a few feet away from him... the torn and mangled body of his sister, Alice Kremer, was near the edge of the woods. She was in human form again, and as such the injuries he had inflicted on her before her merciful death were even more extreme, more savage. Sam almost made the sign of the cross, as she had learned when growing up, but then remembered she needed to stay still... at least until she knew Ronne was closer...

  SOMEWHERE...DEEP INSIDE... there’s a reason he knows that face, those eyes, that smell... she smelled good, not like a kill, but like warmth, and comfort, and sex, and laughter... there was something familiar, and that familiarity was soothing to his animal mind... he wanted to stay with it, wanted to touch it... but the animal was fierce... it wanted to infect, it wanted to kill... the struggle was making his head hurt, and it hadn’t hurt like that since the first time... the first time... he remembered their first time... the feel of her skin against his lips... the touch of her hands on his skin... the heat, and the pressure, and the heaven of release... he remembered looking at the stars... and seeing her face years and years before they met... maybe before he was born... he remembered... blood, and death, and pain... God, what was she called? If he could remember, she could make it all go away, stay away... her...her...she... Sam...

  Vincent... can you hear me?

  Wait...what? How did that happen? What did she do?

  The intrusion into his mind startled Vincent, startled him enough that the semblance of human logic, the thread that had been flowing so promisingly toward consciousness, pulling him out of the throes of his beastliness, was abruptly cut. Left without answers, without comfort, he reacted as any animal would when afraid and threatened... he growled ferociously, and lunged for Sam.

  The shots rang out, one after the other, all hitting Vincent hard in the chest and abdomen. He cried out in pain and fear as the shots kept coming...six...seven...eight... Vincent dropped to the ground, breathing heavily, but still not seizing.

  “Mother of God, how many is it going to take!?” Ronne exclaimed. He took a deep breath, and aimed the gun at Vincent’s fallen form, prepared to shoot again until the reversal began.

  “No!” Sam half-screamed, half-sobbed as she grabbed ahold of Ronne’s arm, and pushed him away. He looked at her, full of concern and caring. He understood what this was for her... the pain and sorrow of it... They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, then Ronne lowered the gun.

  Sam nodded, and turned to Vincent. She moved very slowly toward him, each step placed softly, almost tiptoeing. A wounded animal was even more dangerous, and Vincent... Sam could see he was still breathing, albeit shallowly, the wounds oozed mercury, the hair and skin around each wound burned by their contact with the substance. He wasn’t seizing, though Sam began mentally preparing herself for what could start to happen at any moment. She’d seen it enough, but seeing it happen to Vincent...

  She wondered if she dared reach out with her mind again. It seemed as if that had triggered him before, but in that brief moment when she touched his, she felt him... beast though he was, her Vincent was still in there, and she felt his recognition.

  “Vincent?” Sam whispered aloud and hoped that he might hear her. Vincent didn’t stir, his breathing regular, but shallow. “Vincent... can you hear me?” She crept closer and crouched down a couple of feet away from him. The heat emanating off his body was intense, and Sam wondered if perhaps the mercury was taking effect and somehow burning him from the inside out. She could feel Ronne’s apprehension as she leaned closer and wished he would relax because he was making her nervous. After all, she did have the other H&K in her hand if she had to...

  Sam never finished the thought. She blinked once, and suddenly Vincent was looking at her, eyes wide open, matte and black and infuriated. His teeth flashed, and the growl rose to an almost lion-like roar as he lunged toward her. Instinct took over, and Sam propelled herself backward as she brought the gun up and fired twice.

  The bullets pounded into Vincent’s chest, and he dropped immediately. Sam scrambled away from him, encountering Ronne on the way, who helped get her clear. She looked back at Vincent, lying still on the ground, and searched his form for any sign of life, any movement, even one breath...

  There was nothing.

  Sam struggled to see him as her eyes filled with tears, and she wondered who was screaming... until she realized she was the one screaming, and sobbing, and that only made it worse. She wanted to crawl to him, to hold him until he was gone, but Ronne grabbed her and held her tightly against him. Vincent’s hair began to take on that silvery sheen, and Sam knew what was coming, and struggled against Ronne’s grip. She needed to get to him, to hold him, before it came for him... so he wouldn’t be alone...

  “Get her out of here.” A dark figure swept in... overdressed for such a hot summer day... and stooped over Vincent’s form.

  “No! Get away from him! Frank, let me go!” Sam struggled hard, and she was pretty sure she could add some bruises from Ronne’s grip on her to the mix of wounds she would be recovering from. The man, and he must be a man because he was so big, put his hands upon Vincent’s body, and clumps of the black hair started falling away. Sam started sobbing hard and pleaded incoherently to let go.

  “GET HER OUT OF HERE NOW!” The command was much sterner, and louder, this time. Ronne grabbed the other gun, and, using all his strength, got to his feet and dragged Sam with him. He threw her up over his shoulder, and headed for the Ramble Archway, and the park beyond.

  The last thing Sam saw
before she fainted was a glimpse of Vincent’s face, pale and lifeless, and the Man in Black bent over Vincent, pressing something shiny against his naked chest, as the last remnants of hair fell away.

  41

  SEVEN WEEKS LATER

  IT WAS UNUSUAL TO GET a call for anything this far downtown, but Sam had to admit she enjoyed any kind of work that took her down near the water. She was sure it came from growing up between two rivers, not to mention the streams that flowed beneath the island of Manhattan. They hadn’t called it Canal Street for nothing, after all.

  This call had taken her and Ronne to the Staten Island Ferry Terminal, not one of her favorite places down here, but ferry terminals meant water, and hopefully the chance to get some fresh air before heading back to the precinct.

  It’s has been almost seven weeks since... Sam shook herself, trying to clear the vivid memories from her mind, and focus on the problem at hand, which appeared to be four people trying to ride the ferry on one fare... which belonged to someone else. She chuckled quietly as she watched Ronne, who towered over the individuals trying to co-ride on the ferry, as he tried to calmly get everybody to shut up and listen, please. Someone passed by with a sandwich, and Sam’s smile faded as a wave of nausea crashed over her. Onions... she just couldn’t stomach the smell anymore. Lots of smells. Her stomach seemed to be on a constant state of agitate, like a washing machine sent off balance. Sam smirked at that... she was off balance, so...

  Ronne glanced at her with a look of frustrated desperation, and Sam took a deep mouth breath, wincing against the taste of onions. If she threw up on them, that would get their attention, wouldn’t it? She shook her head, and quickly put her thumb and index finger into position between her lips and blew. The shriek of the “taxi” whistle echoed through the terminal, the sheer scale of the space turning the volume up to eleven, as they say, and several people covered their ears. Everybody got quiet, though, and Ronne nodded a thank you as he proceeded to speak to the individuals in question.

  Twenty minutes, and a warning, later, Ronne and Sam were exiting the terminal, walking up the ramp to Battery Park. It had gotten dark while they were inside, and the lights of the promenade beckoned to her. She knew she needed to eat, to get back to the precinct, but something...

  “Hungry?” Ronne asked hopefully. Sam smiled wanly and shook her head.

  “Not really. My stomach’s still—”

  “Off?” Ronne finished, and looked at her closely. “You should go to the doctor. It’s been off for a while.”

  Sam smiled. “I have been... I know what it is. Just, um... don’t say anything yet. They’ll take me off the street if they know, and I need the distraction.”

  Ronne nodded. “You won’t be able to hide it for long.”

  “I know. Listen, I’m going to walk a bit. I need the fresh air. I’ll meet you back at the Nine, okay?” Ronne frowned, but nodded.

  “Alright. You’ve got your radio?” She held it up in answer and started down the Promenade toward the Hudson. Ronne watched her for a minute, a worried frown creasing his brow. “Hey Sam?” She turned around, expectantly. Ronne grinned. “Congratulations.” She smiled, and nodded, then walked away.

  Congratulations... it was hard hearing that. Sam leaned on the railing, and looked out over the Hudson, toward the lit hotels, and apartments, and the Goldman Sachs tower across the river. She knew why she was sick, alright, and it hurt to even think of it... it hurt, and yet it was comforting. “He’ll always be here, always be with you...” That’s what Ben had said when she told him, the only one who knew, other than Ronne now. Sam had tried to see Hudson, alarmed that the condition of the parents could influence the child, but Hudson had disappeared, taking a leave of absence unexpectedly and heading upstate to who knew where. Ronne had been cagey about it when she confronted him, but said that she didn’t have to worry, and that he was probably just trying to perfect his vaccine or something.

  Sam sighed, then inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of the Hudson... and froze. It was impossible... She glanced around, suddenly fearful... Prutzmann was gone, Alice was gone... who could be cruel enough to put his scent on the wind, here of all places?

  She looked around, noting the Merchant Marine statue nearby, Castle Clinton... this was where it all started, that night nearly a year ago... as she walked here, looking for clues to the attack on Ivan... Sam shook herself, trying to get rid of the feeling of déjà vu, as memories of that night washed over her... the sounds, the smells, Franco’s attack... Vincent... what was the first thing he said to her?

  That was a little close, wasn’t it?

  Sam could feel her heart drop, the knot in her stomach growing to epic proportions. The nausea ebbed as the adrenaline started flowing, and her eyes scanned the darkness... It had sounded so real in her mind, but it wasn’t possible... it just wasn’t possible...

  It’s alright, darlin’... Don’t be scared...

  There was no one around, and Sam was beginning to feel very scared, until a movement by the Merchant Marine Statue caught her eye. She turned quickly, her hand on her sidearm, ready to shoot, if necessary.

  A tall, dark figure stepped around from the back of the statue, the shadows cast by a passing boat making him appear larger, broader, more intimidating. Sam paled as she watched him leap across to the mainland and walk towards her. She narrowed her eyes... his gait was...familiar. He stopped in the light of a streetlamp that illuminated the path between them and pushed back the hood of the sweatshirt he was wearing... and stepped more fully into the light. Deep brown eyes... roguish smirk of a smile... black curls, though shorter now and streaked here and there with a silvery gray like... mercury...

  “But... but I...” Sam’s lips moved, and she struggled to get any kind of coherent wordage to come together. She swallowed hard. “You were dead... I saw... and you were... how...” He nodded, dropping his gaze for a moment, and looked almost sheepish as he replied.

  “That vaccine Hudson came up with. He took a chance... didn’t know what it would do... Still not entirely sure what it did do, but here I am.”

  “You’re... okay?” Sam asked tentatively. She felt a bit weak, and must have swayed, because in an instant he’d crossed the space between them. His embrace was firm, holding her up, and yet so gentle. Sam dared to inhale, to search for his scent and hope that this wasn’t some horrible, cruel dream... The scent washed over her, those familiar smells of cigarettes, and mint, and HIM.

  Sam nestled into his arms, clutching him tightly to her. She felt the tears come, and his own tears were moistening her forehead as well. as she whispered two words that would sanctify the moment, and every moment thereafter...

  “My Vincent.”

  The End

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  About the Author

  Always a spinner of tales, Gabriella Messina’s journey as an author began in the realm of screenwriting. Whether writing fantasy or crime fiction, short stories or full-length novels, Ms. Messina brings a fresh point of view and a snarky wisdom to her work, exploring science, justice, faith and feeling in equal measure.

  In addition to her creative writing, Ms. Messina helps other authors reach their goals, designing book covers and graphics, and providing proofreading and editing services. When not writing, she enjoys indulging in her favorite “guilty pleasures”: coffee and chocolate, watching car racing with her son, and spending too much time looking at music videos online.

  You can find more information about Gabriella Messina and her writing at her website, www.gabriellamessinawrites.wordpress.com, where she maintains a blog and features her writing and graphics.

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  Gabriella Messina, The Bloodline Series Box Set