“Greater good and all that.” Head on swivel, my gaze followed her out the creaking double doors of the ambulance.
“Whatever.” Micah scooped up Batdog and tucked him under her arm. “I’m taking the puppy and shutting the door. Your ex is in one piece again. If there’s nothing but ash and burn marks on that gurney when I come back, I won’t have a thing to say about it.”
The door slammed shut with the bang of a falling gavel.
Stretching my digits out, I wiggled my middle finger and ring finger to make the lights from outside dance across the file’s edge.
“This is the crew, huh?” Finn asked, most likely filling the pregnant pause before it hatched homicidal thoughts I longed to nurture. “I expected an unmarked van, hazmat suits, and a little creativity. This involves expertise and extensive planning. What is it that’s driving this escapade?”
“Because, there’s an entire underground vein that knows what a dick you are.”
Point of his tongue fiddling with his gum line where his fangs were beginning to grow back, Finn’s gaze wandered out the window. “And yet there are things out there far worse than me. Why didn’t you kill me, Vincenza? Or, leave me for dead? Vlad knows I deserve it.”
“Yes, you do,” I agreed, speaking in fact, not threat. “Fortunately for you, there’s a few things I need first.”
“Well,” propping himself up on his elbows, Finn’s head tilted expectantly, “I look like a patch-work quilt, and you’re blocking the only exit. Shoot!”
“Was anything between us real?” I hated myself for asking, but with the film strip of our first meeting playing in my mind, I had to know. That day, with his tousled hair and over-sized hoodie, I found him adorkably hot. Especially when, in the middle of his bumbled introduction, he tripped over his own foot and slammed down on one knee. I could still see the shy, embarrassed grin that graced his handsome face when he peered up at me from his crouch on the sidewalk. But vampires don’t trip. Even that had been part of the performance.
Staring down at his snow-white fingers, Finn dragged one thumbnail over the other simply to have something to do with his hands. “If I said I loved you, or that I was sorry—”
“Don’t.” Raising one hand, I halted him out of fear I would lose my last shred of control and embed my file into his eye socket. “Just … don’t.”
Lips pinched, Finn chanced death when he dared to push on. “I would say those things if I didn’t know they would be as effective as a thimble of water against a roaring inferno. Instead of admitting either, I will tell you this. During my time as a human, I was one of the Romani people that have come to be known as Gypsies. In 1749 the Spanish Monarch led what was dubbed as The Great Gypsy Round-up, arresting my people and forcing us into labor camps. To say they treated us harshly would be a vast understatement. Between the lashings and starvation, I soon found myself on the brink of death. Instead of caring for me, my captors loaded my body up with those of the dead and wheeled me off to a mass grave that was little more than a crater in the earth. That is where Rau found me and saved me by siring me. I learned under his tutelage the ways, customs, and laws of the Nosferatu. I owe that man everything and have never disobeyed a word of his instruction … until that night.”
“Why then? Why us?” Swallowing hard, I forced the words from my throat that was raw with emotion.
Pushing off the gurney, Finn sat up. The intensity of his silver-ice stare bore into mine. “I have no idea. I deciphered what I could from fragmented, foggy memories. Still, I don’t know how … or why. I hate myself for it. I need you to know that. I never intended to cause you an ounce of pain. Since then, I have tried over and over to recall the details, what happened beforehand, why I would ever do such a thing, and my mind is just … blank. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, Vinx, but when it comes to that night, I’m as lost for answers as you.”
Dragging my nail file over a blood-free spot on my pant leg, I buffed away the fingerprint smudges on it. I had no answers before, and I had none now. Nothing had changed, except for Finn being down a reason for me to keep him alive. “We aren’t going to be in touch after this. Being around you threatens my resolve, and I can’t allow that.”
“I wasn’t planning to invite you for coffee,” he said with a lopsided smirk.
“At some point,” I continued as if he hadn’t attempted to slather on the charm, “we will cross paths in the vampire world. When we do, I need you to have my back at all costs.”
Head listing, Finn measured me through narrowed eyes. “After everything that’s happened between us, why would you even think to trust me in a situation like that?”
Lunging for him, I drove my knee into his chest. Back rounding in pain, a row of his stitches popped beneath my weight. I pressed the delicate point of my file to the tender skin under his chin, and dimpled his smoldering flesh with the lethal threat of silver. “You mean other than the fact you slaughtered my family, and I saved your miserable life? If that isn’t reason enough, how about if we up the stakes? The second you fail in your task to help me, or prove yourself worthless, that’s the day I kill you. It’s not a matter of if, Finn, but when. You can help me, or you can resign your right to life. Your choice.”
Chapter Seventeen
Experiment Day 413: Effect
Junk Science – Untested or unproven theories presented as scientific fact—often in a political context.
“I hate arriving to a vampire refugee camp in a limousine,” Rau muttered to the window, watching our posh ride glide under an overpass, past dilapidated houses. “It makes us look like ostentatious assholes.”
The handful of times I met the vampire lord, he was a pillar of poise and affluence. That day, his demeanor landed closer to the dark and brooding persona of typical vampire lore. Only, instead of the flowing cape and sharp red collar, he opted for a gray suit and salmon-colored button-down.
Adjusting the waistband of my burgundy pencil skirt, my elbow bumped Elodie, who didn’t register the contact or tear her stare from Micah’s waxen face. As it turned out, my progeny’s theatrical skills were sadly lacking. Guilt creased her face, tightening her posture to a tight rope of knots. Not that I could blame her—being seated between Duncan and Thomas was a potent lie detector of muscle and fangs. Lips trembling, Mics’ twitchy behavior had me worried she was moments from blurting out a full confession. If either of us were going to make it out of this limo, we needed to name the elephant in the room and calm that big boy with some peanuts.
Wetting my lips, I took a beat to choose my words carefully. “This is the first time I’ve seen you since Lockwood-Mathews, Rau. How are you doing since that unfortunate incident?”
“Unfortunate incident?” Rau parroted, his tone sharp and cutting. “Is that what the youth of today call a guest in my own home killing a woman and taunting me with it?”
I met his gaze, keeping my expression a stoic neutral, and went for the mother of all sarcastic Hail Mary’s. “No. We call that a BFB, a Big Fucking Bummer.”
My risk paid off in a milli-second chuckle. In a blink, Rau’s momentary reprieve from sorrow was over. Casting his stare back out the window, he resembled a forlorn music video from the eighties. “Working with my triplets to cover up the crime wasn’t even the worst part. Don’t get me wrong, it was horrible. Even so, it was that mask, Joselyn’s mask, which gutted me.” Attention shifting to Micah, he peered her way with the neutral indifference of a trained interrogator. “Tell me, Miss Walker, do you know of my lost queen, Joselyn?”
Lips pursed in a pinched white pucker, Micah shook her head. “Only what Vincenza has told me,” she peeped.
“My rescuing her from a band of thug vamps was the beginning of our tale. I assumed she would base her opinion of our kind on the attack. I never dreamed she would be so open minded as to view it as the poor representation of a complex culture that it was. I didn’t dare contact or pursue her after the whole sordid scene. It was she that sent cards and gifts of tha
nks, all containing requests that we meet so she may extend her appreciation in person. I relented only because I thought having her on my arm at a gala would be fantastic PR.” Shaking his head, he scoffed at the memory. “Always on, always looking for an angle. That particular event featured ballroom dancing. After being charmed by her grace and poise, I thought to treat her to my old-world knowledge and skill at the poetries of dance. If I’m being honest, I meant only to impress her. Out onto that polished wood floor, we glided. With me guiding her in a flurry of grand twirls and chasse’s. Despite years minus training or calling on my rusty skills, it went quite well. Right up until the point when I got a bit arrogant and attempted a Closed Change.”
“You should know,” I interrupted, “these terms you’re throwing around mean nothing to me. You could call the move a Gorilla Headband, and I would completely take it at face value.”
Micah looked moments from vomiting her ugly truth. My hope being that injecting a bit of wit would calm her nerves, or, at the very least, buy us some time before our grisly deaths.
“Apologies, child. In my day, those terms were as commonplace as today’s Wi-Fi and tweet-book, or whatever the blazes it’s called.” Rau batted the concepts away with a flick of his wrist, his understated gold cufflink gleaming red as it caught the glow from a stoplight. “Anyhow, I fumbled with the footwork. The music played on, and I found myself utterly lost. That is when Joselyn picked up the lead and steered me back on track. The moment I caught up, she relinquished the role without missing a beat. Only when the song ended did she admit to being a trained dancer who studied at Julliard. Her eyes, the lush green of the Emerald Isle, gleamed as she explained that in a true partnership each in the pairing knows when to lead and when to follow. That is when I fell in love with her. To answer your earlier question about the ‘unfortunate incident,’ I would like nothing more than to find the filthy worm who dared to shed blood on my threshold and disgrace Joselyn’s memory. However, now is my time to lead. I must be the pillar of stability the vampire coalition needs. That is how I honor Joselyn: my love, my queen … my partner.”
Seeing a door of opportunity open, I was damned sure going to shove my foot in it. “There are five vamps in this car who will take the lead if you stumble today. You’re not alone in this.”
The so-called monster covered my hand with his, a paternal smile lifting the corners of his lips. “Thank you, my dear child. Truly.”
Across the aisle, Micah’s shoulders sagged with relief.
Mentions of a vampire refugee camp conjured images of crypts and mausoleums lit by dusty candelabras and furnished with all things red velvet. That romanticized melodrama version was a far cry from the war-torn setting I found myself in. As the sapphire cloak of night settled in, lights were positioned around the vacant junkyard that had been cleaned out to make room for what appeared to be a plethora of displaced vampires. Rows of ripped and tattered tents lined the space, the only shelter the Nosferatu had from the sun that would scorch their skin on contact. I couldn’t help but picture them huddled in the corners, trying to sleep when even the slightest slip into the light would char their skin into agonizing blisters.
Parked behind one of the stocked tables, Micah and I handed out supplies to the seemingly never-ending line of vamps shuffling through. Each rose of vampiric beauty was a wilted, faded version of their once proud bloom. The look in each set of sunken eyes pleaded for a harsh world to show them mercy and kindness.
“Please, take a UV blanket,” I offered the packaged bundles to each vamp that past, “a gallon of water, a personal hygiene pack, and one vial of blood.”
“Thank you.”
“Vlad bless you.”
“Rau found good ones in you two,” the steady stream of the displaced murmured as they collected their essentials.
Pausing to stretch out her back, Micah’s stare traveled the length of the line still anxious for their turn. “There’s so many of them.”
“The slower we move, the longer it will take to get through them all,” I pointed out, offering a polite smile and a hygiene pack to a waifish vamp with blue hair and enormous doe eyes.
Gaze flicking my way, Micah inserted herself back in the assembly line. “Thank you,” she murmured, dropping her voice to a whisper meant for my ears only. A pointless act in a football-sized area filled with beings with superhuman hearing. “For what you did in the car. You didn’t have to. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you threw me to the—”
“Shut up,” I snapped, cutting her off. “Did you turn your back on me after what happened to a certain father in the suburbs?”
“No,” Micah uttered, her face shadowed by a storm cloud of bitter understanding and self-loathing.
“Then, why would you think I would do any different?”
Lapsing into silence, we focused our attentions on the task at hand.
A few feet behind us, Rau and a vampress with bird-like bone structure stood under the portable lights of a local news station, preparing for their on-air spot. The freshly pressed blouse the vampress wore hung off her slight frame, as if it had been donated and buttoned on to her specifically for the occasion.
“Vampires exiled from their homes without just cause.” The glossy-haired reporter stated into the camera, her expression stern and stoic. “Landlords and hotels refusing to rent to them. Title companies denying them purchasing rights on property, because they are viewed as criminals who would present a risk to residents and lower property values. Ridiculed and banished, they are forced into camps just like this one, set up by political activists like Rau Mihnea, as their only safe haven. For many, the banks have even frozen their assets. Their punishment simply for being vampires in our current political landscape. Joining me today are Mr. Mihnea and Joyce Vos. Joyce was the CEO of VIN-Tech Engineering until her status as a Vampire-American was discovered. Forced from her corporate-owned home, she now relies on the kindness of the Vampire Coalition as she waits, with countless others, for the results of the voting on the NPI Bill. Joyce, you’ve admitted to being on the brink of starvation, yet you have refused to feed on humans. Where do you find the strength and will-power during these trying times?” Pivoting to face her guests, the reporter jammed the microphone in Joyce’s face.
The former CEO’s mouth pinched tight, the hitch of one brow hinting her displeasure. “If I was human, I’m fairly positive you wouldn’t ask me where I found the strength not to eat my neighbor, but I digress. Through the kindness of Rau and his volunteers, our supply needs have continued to be met, thus far anyway, making a miserable situation slightly more bearable.”
A twist of her wrist and the reporter redirected the mic. “Mr. Mihnea, some call you a hero. Do you feel that’s a title you’ve earned?”
Another sharp jab of the mic transferred the power of free-speech.
A humble smile warmed Rau’s colorless face, all traces of his earlier melancholy carefully tucked away. “I’m no hero. I am merely a man who believes in the importance of being a good Samaritan. If a vampire goes more than a month without feeding, they begin to suffer hallucinations. That is when dangerous accidents can happen. Through our No Vamp Hungry campaign, we work with local butchers and slaughterhouses to gather enough animal blood to provide a pint to each Nosferatu in need every two weeks. Organizations like this have been set up across the country, not by heroes, but by those that care to strive and make a difference.”
“There you have it, vampires and humans pulling together in hopes of relief from a stifling oppression. This is Ariana Tole of Channel Eleven News, now back to Rod in the studio for sports.”
Lip-service over, Rau gave a nod to the triplets to help the camera crew load up their equipment, said a polite good-bye, and inserted himself between Micah and myself. Much to my relief, my progeny managed to keep her posture relaxed and casual even with the vampire lord’s elbow brushing hers. Any panic or unease was kept internally checked, for the moment at least.
“How are we doing on s
upplies?” he asked, clapping his hands together in enthusiasm to dig in. “We have more boxes in the trucks.”
Glancing at the table, I did a quick scan of inventory. “We could use some more UV blankets, if you have them. I’ve been doubling up. Some of them need all the help they can get with those tattered tents.”
Weirdest part of that statement? I meant it. These were the same beasts I had been training and plotting to bring down. Yet seeing them like this, as a downtrodden mass, slapped me with an obvious truth. These were creatures capable of violence potent enough to overthrow the government as we knew it. Even so, they were opting for the struggle today in hopes of a brighter tomorrow. That was a mentality I could get behind … even if I did believe the whole thing to be a staged load of crap.
With a resolute nod, Rau rose on tiptoe to catch Thomas’ eye across the milling crowd. “More blankets, if you would, please!”
As Thomas trotted off to fill the request, the flexing muscles of his back evident through the fabric of his cotton button-down, a caravan of limos and Lincoln Town Cars crunched across the gravel parking area. Paparazzi came out of nowhere. Bodies, I thought were there to help, suddenly pulled out cameras and phones to click away at the opening car doors. Outside the heart of the welfare center, the blatant propaganda arrived in full regale. Political officials stepped out of their vehicles like heroes returning from war, smiling and waving over their heads to each and every camera.
Rounding the table to greet the new arrivals, Rau squared his shoulders and fixed on a mask of humble sincerity that seemed a tight fit. “Brace yourselves,” he muttered over his shoulder. “The show is about to start.”
Pulling another box of hygiene packs out from under the table, Micah balanced it on her hip to restock our supply. “Too bad Carter isn’t here. He could put names to the faces.”
“We don’t need Carter,” I snapped with more force than was intended or necessary. Noting Micah’s eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline, I cleared my throat and tried for a softer, less homicidal tone. “I recognize most of these people from Lockwood-Mathews.”
Veiled (Veiled Book 1) Page 15
