A flash of yellow beckoned my stare to the DOA tag dangling from Micah’s toe. Such a sunny color in the dank, dreary morgue. “Did they find him? The shooter?”
“Turned his gun on himself.” The officer cast his stare in one direction then the other, checking for anyone listening in. In a room full of dead bodies, the gesture reeked of irony. One hand smoothed over his thick mustache. “I guess he wanted to finish himself off before the vampires he had been targeting could get ahold of him for a little retribution. That’s a pity, if you ask me. I can’t support vigilante justice, but that guy had it coming in spades.”
Dragging the back of my knuckle down the side of Micah’s face, I gently traced her jawline to the point of her chin. She was cold. Ice cold. “They would have torn him apart without even dropping fang.”
“Probably.” The officer’s chin dipped in a brief nod. Peering down at Micah, his bushy eyebrows knitted together with something that resembled compassion. “Will she rise? As a vampress, I mean?”
I could feel the heat of Carter’s intense gaze burning into me at the question posed and couldn’t bring myself to meet his stare.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly, my mind clicking through the formulas and equations in the same fashion my mother had taught me. Consider all obstacles, factor all variables. “There are too many components for me to even make an educated guess. I gave her blood, but was it enough? If it was adequate, did it get into her system in time?”
Swallowing hard, the officer’s voice dropped to a whisper. “And if it didn’t? What happens then?”
My head lifted with the reluctance of rusted metal. “If she was already brain dead when the blood reached her, she would rise as one of the Nosferatu our world is too terrified to speak of—those that live only to feed. They feel nothing. Fear nothing. From the moment they rise, the clock is ticking. The only thing vampires and humans agree upon is that these beasts have to be put down immediately. They will kill without discrimination, or mercy. Every second they are allowed to exist, gives them further chance to increase the body count of their slaughter.”
Adjusting his hat, the officer whistled through his teeth and took a few cautious steps back. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You both have my card. If you can think of anything else that could be useful, please give me a call. I know our cultures believe in different things, but my prayers are with you and your friend.”
“Thank you,” Carter said, wiping at a tear with the back of his hand, his cheeks gaunt with sorrow.
A shroud of silence fell, broken only by the sharp clap of the officer’s shoes against the cement floor and the clank of the door banging shut behind him.
The void I found myself in threatened to swallow me whole, plunging me to a purgatory of endless torment that a beast like me deserved.
Clearing his throat, Carter disturbed the heavy hush of my melancholy. “You did what you had to for Micah, Vinx. Whether this works or not, you’re a hero.”
“This wasn’t for Micah.” Tilting my head, I stared down at her, wishing her eyes would open just one more time in that critical glare I had come to count on. “It was for me. She would have wanted the chance to finally find peace.”
“You have no way of knowing that.”
“Oh, I do,” I countered, my eyebrows lifting to my hairline. “She told me. She flat out said that she would rather die than be a vampire. But I was too selfish to let her go. I put my own foolish needs first and ignored her wishes. I’m a lot of things, Carter. A hero isn’t one of them.”
“Awkward, this is. Knocked, I should have,” someone muttered from behind us, doing a pretty convincing Yoda impression.
Carter and I turned to find a newcomer whose small stature was strikingly reminiscent to the infamous green Jedi. Awkwardly shifting his weight, he shoved his hands into the pocket of the lab coat that hung down to his shins. His bald head was perfectly spherical, as were the spectacles balanced on the bridge of his nose.
“Holy shit,” Carter muttered under his breath, “it’s Bunsen Honeydew.”
“It’s Gordy, actually.” Nose crinkling to correct his slipping glasses, he shoved his hand forward only to immediately pull back. “No,” he quietly coached himself, “you are a doctor now. If you don’t honor your own accomplishments, no one will.” Pulling himself to his full height—which I guessed to be about four-foot-three—he offered his hand again with notable conviction. “I am Dr. Gordon Ringle, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
I didn’t take his hand, but pressed my lips into a thin line and let my stare fall to Micah.
Gordy’s hand fell to his side with a slap. “I said pleasure while your friend is on a slab in the morgue. This is going horribly. Maybe I can go out and come back in? We can start over?”
Carter rounded the slab by Micah’s feet, taking a protective stance beside me, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Excuse us for not being in a jovial mood. How about if you tell us what the hell you want?”
“I-I’m here for her,” Gordy squeaked, jabbing a finger in Micah’s direction.
Icy fear racing down my spine, my fingers gripped the end of the slab as if to anchor me to that spot. “No! You can’t have her! You can’t do an autopsy. Not yet.”
I wasn’t aware my fangs had extended until Gordy pulled back, palms raising to pump the conversational brakes. “Whoa! We just took a warp speed jump to the wrong conclusion! I was sent by one of the benefactors to your cause. I’m here to help! I’m here to bring her back!”
My incisors retracted with a sharp snap. “I gave her my blood,” I confessed, as if the success of his mission rested on that one piece of information.
“Yes, so I heard, and saw on every media stream available. You’re a bit of a celebrity now. If I could …” Gordy tried to fumble his way between Carter and I, before slamming into the impenetrable wall of our resistance. “I’ll just go around. As I was saying, I am aware you gave her your blood, and I think that may have bought us the time needed.”
Following Gordy with a critical gaze, Carter leaned his knuckles on the table next to Micah’s hip. “Time needed for what?”
In place of an answer, Gordy plucked a penlight from the pocket of his lab coat. Prying open one of Micah’s lids with the side of his thumb, he shined the light directly into her eye. My mouth fell open as her pupil dilated in response.
“Ah! Just as I thought!” Little legs scurrying across the floor, Gordy waddled as quickly as he could to a medical bag he dropped by the door when he came in. “Your blood can do many things, Miss Larow, but making a vampire is not one of them,” he explained in his toddle back to the slab. “However, its healing properties were able to delay what would have been her inevitable death. You bought us time. Ran defense, as it were. Now it’s time for me to run the ball in for a touchdown by giving her the serum.”
“You’re the quarterback? You strike me as more of a kicker.” A lilt of hope lightened Carter’s tone, still his posture remained stiff and tight with the fear of trusting too much.
Glaring up over the frames of his glasses, Gordy’s shoulders sagged in exasperation. “You wanna stand here and insult me, or get out of the way and let me Frankenstein your friend back to life? Your choice.”
My eyes locked with Carter’s, a million unspoken questions passing between us.
Seeing the blind leap of faith as our only option, I wet my lips to croak, “Let’s step outside and let the man work.”
The chill of the night air cooled my skin which scorched with regret. Raking my fingers through my hair, I tipped my face to the delicate snowflakes drifting down. The heavy iron door of the morgue banged shut behind Carter, gravel crunching under his feet as he closed the space between us.
“What do I do if she dies?” I asked the universe, understanding for the first time how much Mics had tethered me to some semblance of normalcy.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Carter lifting his hand to reach for me. Secon
d guessing himself, he retracted the wandering appendage and tucked it in the pockets of his slacks before it could betray him again. Despite the cold, his gore-splattered coat still hung over his forearm. “You’ll go on. You’ll stay the course, because that’s what Mics would have wanted.”
Chin trembling, bloody tears filled my eyes. My quaking lips parted, searching for some words to express the soul crushing anguish sawing through my gut with a dull blade.
There were none.
Language was inadequate in my spiral into eternal solitude.
What I needed, more than anything, was connection. Simple touch.
I spun without thinking, folding into Carter. Reveling in the thump of his heart beating against my cheek, I nestled into the warmth of his chest.
Without hesitation, his embrace enveloped me. Still, my despair screamed that he wasn’t close enough. The smothering walls of loneliness were closing in from all sides. Clawing at his arms, I drew his chest to mine—my fantastical hope being that his heart could prompt the indolent lump in my chest to beat, even once, in a reminder that I was more than a shell. That life hadn’t forsaken me. Tipping his chin, Carter’s forehead found mine. I heard his pulse catch in a stutter-beat, then launch through his veins in a raging current. The tip of my nose brushed his cheek, tempting his mouth to mine. With each wavering exhale, his breath on my skin sent cascades of warmth tingling through me. Lips parting in a breathy sigh, I tilted my face to his. His fingernails dragged down my back, seizing my waist with a firm, yet gentle, insistence. Pulling me to him, our bodies molding together, he paused to breathe me in deep. Nothing except a thin veil of sizzling desire separated us, our gazes locked in seductive invitation.
The buzz of my phone in my coat pocket injected a dose of reality into the fantasy I longed to lose myself in.
“Ignore it,” I encouraged, knowing already that—for him, at least—the spell of the moment had been broken.
Closing his eyes for a beat, Carter’s hands shifted to the curve of my hip bones to softly push me away. “When this happens, and it will,” he murmured in a throaty whisper, “it will be because it’s what we both want. Not a desperate act of losing ourselves in a moment of need.”
He reached down, fingers skimming my thigh, plucked my vibrating phone from my pocket, and dropped it in my hand.
“If that’s one of our benefactors, ask for two rooms for the night. I’ve exhausted the last of my willpower.” Primal craving darkening his cerulean stare to a stormy sapphire, he took a step back. His chin lifted in encouragement for me to answer the phone.
I blinked hard at the device in my palm, attempting to clear away the lusty pheromone haze enough to recall how the contraption I held worked. Turning my back to Carter, I thumbed the screen and pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Miss Larow.” Rau’s velvet timbre poured from the line like decadent melted chocolate. “I reached out to you the very second the circuits were clear. I feel simply dreadful about what happened to your friend. And for you, poor child, to have to sire someone for the first time in such a violent and abysmal situation.”
Nails of contempt scraped down my throat as I swallowed down his offered concern. My friend. My friend who would be alive and well had she not made the mistake of occupying the same space as the political poser on the other end of that line.
“I appreciate you taking the time to call.” Clearing my throat, I tried to keep abject loathing from dripping from my tone. “Today has been a nightmare, to say the least. I had never …”
Drank a friend’s blood while the world watched.
“… changed anyone before. It was a mad scramble to find a safe place for her rebirth.” As I stared out at the trees across the street, a ruffle of feathers caught my attention. Adjusting its position on a forking branch, a tar black crow tilted its head with an avian twitch, considering me with one beady eye.
The pause on the other end of the line dragged on, as if the vampire lord was devouring my words and savoring their taste. “Your love for Micah will transform into kindness and compassion for her as your progeny. From what I have gathered, that was a consideration you weren’t shown by your own maker.”
He knew so much about everyone, and everything. Was it possible he knew my truth? No. It couldn’t be. Micah had been so careful, down to the meticulous planning of every detail.
“None of us get to choose how we come into the world, Mr. Mihnea. All we can hope for is to do right by others, even when we weren’t shown that same consideration.” As if satisfied by my answer, the crow took to flight. Its wings beat a methodic chorus against the night sky.
“Too true, too true.” Ice clinked against a glass on Rau’s end of the line. “I’m sure you have much to do in preparation for the awakening of your newborn. It’s rude of me to keep you. Please, contact me when she’s settled. Put an old man’s mind to ease that all is well.”
“I absolutely will,” I lied. It was me that signed on to delve into the Nosferatu world. Not Mics. If I had my way, that would be the last time she was within throwing distance of a real vampire. Then again, I seldom got my way.
“Wonderful, and if you’re both feeling up for it, you could join me at the Afişare Mare next month.”
“Afişare Mare?” I repeated, trying to make sense of words that hit my ear in a muddled mess.
Head snapping in my direction, Carter’s eyes bulged.
“That name is a mouthful, I know. Blame my sentimental heart for feeling the need to fall back on Romanian from time to time. It translates to the grand display, and I am using it as an opportunity to introduce some of the beauty of our culture to mainstream society. It’s a black-tie event, by invitation only, which I am hosting at the Lockwood-Mathews Mansion I recently acquired. If you’d like, I would be honored to send you an invitation.”
“An invitation?” I parroted, spinning on the ball of my foot in search of Carter’s coaching.
Lips pursed tight, he nodded his exuberance.
“Yes, I would love to be a part of that. How better to further our cause than to show people what we are truly all about?” Or in my case, what we pretend to be so magnificently that we even have ourselves fooled.
“Fantastic. I’ll have Duncan drop an invitation by. May the strength of Vlad be with you and your progeny, Miss Larow. Be well.”
Thumbing the call to an end, I chucked my phone into my pocket and raked blood-encrusted fingers through my hair, tugging at the strands with more force than necessary. This was just beginning, and look how far askew our axis had slipped.
Chapter Ten
Experiment Day 126: Cause
Credibility – Refers to the quality or trustworthiness or a piece of qualitive research.
With more excitement than was really warranted or necessary, I carefully arranged the giant bowl of fresh and fluffy popcorn on the coffee table. Then, situated myself on the couch with my legs crossed under me. Wriggling into the cushions, I found my perfect level of bootie comfort. That night was one to commemorate. After more than four months of nonstop physical and mental training, Micah invited me to a night in and a movie. The simple idea of it rang in my ears with the promise of nirvana. I even dug through the bins of my boxed up human life in search of my favorite sassy gnome pajamas. Yanking the hair-tie off my wrist, I knotted my short strands in a ridiculous sprout of a high ponytail and let my gaze travel over the rarely used living room. Micah’s work files tucked away? Check. A plentiful bounty of snacks? Check. All I needed was Mics and her film selection. I was hoping for something classic 80s. Bonus points if it starred any member of the Brat Pack. Scooping my drink off the coffee table, I settled in to wait, my fingernails tapping against the side of the ceramic Scientists do it … periodically mug.
Normalcy, however fleeting it may be, had been accomplished.
For an instant, at least, life seemed blissfully mundane.
Like those hideous sweaters grandma used to make at Christmas: itchy, ill-fitting, a
nd yet somehow comforting to the soul.
“Oh, good. You’re already here.” Micah’s clipped tone was all business as she strode straight for the flat screen, disc in hand. Clad in her usual attire of drab scrubs, she could have been coming home from work or getting ready for bed. To her, scrubs were all purpose.
Practically giggling with delight, I hugged my mug to my chest and prepared for the opening credits. None came. Instead, the screen flickered to life on a fuzzy, black and white image. Bodies milled on a dance floor: people sipping drinks and writhing to silent music. There was no sound. The footage was seemingly shot from one camera angle. Chewing on my lower lip, I tilted my head and tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
“Is this supposed to look like a small budget film? Like Blair Witch?” I ventured, hunting for plot amongst the popping and locking forms.
“No.” Micah pulled her chin to her neck, seemingly taken aback by the question. “It’s a security tape from a club.”
Only then did she notice the stage I set. Pressing pause on the remote, her posture straightened, arms falling slack to her sides. My face would’ve burned with a hot blush if my sluggish pulse allowed such a thing. The whole thing reeked of the kind of painfully awkward moment when a girl realizes a guy she friend-zoned arranged an elaborate date.
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Mics wet her lips and laced her fingers in front of her. “What … did you think we were doing tonight?”
“Movie night?” Shoulders sagging, my lingering hope deflated.
Blinking my way, Micah’s mouth fell open. “I, uh … lined up an informant. He’s a reporter hired by the vampire coalition to, basically, make them look as beneficial to mankind as Habitat for Humanity. I got this disc from him today. It’s linked to a missing persons case.”
Veiled (Veiled Book 1) Page 8
