I thought about it for a moment, then dragged the notes of the virus's creator closer to read over again.
"God this guy's handwriting was terrible," I mutter.
"You're telling me," Arsen says with a snort. "I had to try and cure you reading that mess, remember?"
"Yes, and you did a great job sweetie," I tell him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He scowls at my patronizing tone but the kiss cheers him up. Jackson shakes his head, then picks up his cellphone as it buzzes with a text.
"Zoe's located some blood for you and your group," he says, reading the text and responding quickly. "She's got an address where someone will meet you with a couple of coolers full of blood packs. Enough to get you and your team here by for a week or so."
"Fantastic," I say, sitting up. "I can go and get it."
"No, I'll get it," Arsen says, sliding off the bed and grabbing his jacket. "I've been in this town before, I know the area better. And you need to stay here and help Jackson figure out what Niko's planning. I'll be right back."
"Be safe," I tell him and pull him down to kiss him, lingering a little longer than necessary.
"I'll text you the address," Jackson tells Arsen when he finally breaks the kiss. Arsen nods gratefully and heads out.
"You two are especially sappy today," Jackson casually as I watch Arsen go with a little sigh. "I'm guessing by that and the new jewelry you're showing off that he popped the question?"
I blush and clear my throat, fiddling with the engagement ring.
"Earlier this morning," I admit.
"Seems like a bad time for it," Jackson says, a sympathetic look in his eyes as he glances at me briefly. "There's a lot dying happening."
"That's why it's the perfect time," I countered. "If something happens to either of us, at least we can say we, you know, that it meant something. That for at least a couple of days we were..."
I trail off, flustered and unsure how to phrase it, tugging on my own hair in embarrassment and happiness as I remember Arsen's little speech. Jackson just shakes his head.
"Whatever floats your boat. Now, how hard would it be for him to make the virus transmittable by liquid?"
We go back and forth for a while and finally decided it's easier and more likely for him to go airborne. There's a big concert scheduled soon at the stadium, which seems ideal for a viral attack, and unlike the airport is more likely to concentrate infection here around the Draugur compound, which is what he wants. As we continue working out details I find my mind wandering back to the conversation with Niko over and over.
"What's on your mind?" Jackson asks, the third time I space out and miss what he was saying.
"Niko called earlier," I admit. Jackson stiffens.
"He knows where you are?"
"He called our last hotel too. I'm not sure how he keeps finding us."
"That's not good," Jackson says, uneasy. "Is he in the area?"
"I don't know," I say, shaking my head. "He didn't say. He just tried to convince me to give up and go back to him again. He said the plan is moving fast. He's worried I'll get caught in the crossfire and die and he won't have the chance to murder everyone I love and lock me in a cage for a hundred years until I agree to be his obedient pet again."
"Jeez," Jackson said, leaning away from me. "That guy's got some issues."
"Yeah," I agree. "And I'm worried they're getting worse. He said he's infected."
"Really?" Jackson says, intrigued. "Maybe our problem will take care of itself after all."
"I don't know about that," I say warily, leaning back on my hands, the mattress creaking under me. "He said... he thinks it's changing him. The virus. He thinks it's making him stronger."
"Sounds more like it's making him delusional to me," Jackson snorts. "We've both seen what that virus can do. It's not making anyone stronger."
"I don't know," I murmur, and reach for the half empty bottle of champagne, pouring myself another glass. "Viruses aren't my specialty. But the body can change trying to fight them off. Most of the symptoms people experience from illness are from the immune response. Fever from chemicals released by white blood cells, muscle aches as your body pulls out proteins to fight the virus, your throat and sinuses closing off and produce mucus to try to flush out and keep out allergens and germs..."
"None of those things turn you into a super vamp," Jackson points out. "They just make you tired and miserable."
"But this is a unique virus," I point out. "Made to attack the vampire immune system, which we know practically nothing about. All my first failed attempts to make a treatment or vaccine tried to treat vampire bodies like human bodies, and it didn't work. Vampires, biologically speaking, are as different from humans as humans are from apes. And that's probably understating it, honestly. Not to mention there's magic involved so any pretense of a scientific approach is kind of out the window! I'm basically re-inventing medicine from the ground up here. So who knows? Maybe it really could make some vampires stronger!"
I downed the champagne like a shot and threw my hands up, at a loss.
"... I'm going to call Zoe for you," Jackson says. "She might know a bit about vampire biology. Or know someone who does."
"It's worth a shot," I say with a shrug.
I spend another hour talking with hunters about the medical and anatomical info on vampires they've gathered over the years, and call a few coven vamps as well, but I don't get much of anywhere. Vampires aren't susceptible to most human diseases, but we can catch a few, and no one knows why or what the difference is or whether what Niko claims is a viable immune response. It's all basically a big shrug and a resounding maybe. I'm so caught up in it that I almost don't notice the sun going down.
"Hasn't Arsen been out a while?" I ask concerned. Jackson checks the time and frowns.
"Yeah," he agrees. "Shouldn't have taken this long just for a pick up. Maybe he got stuck in traffic?"
I send him a text, and my worry increases about a hundred-fold when he doesn't reply. I call him, but it just rings and eventually goes to voice mail. My heart is starting to beat too hard, my chest feeling tight and bruised. Jackson is making calls too, and looking increasingly worried. He hangs up a call suddenly and puts a hand over his face.
"What happened?" I ask, frozen, my voice too quiet for the panic rising inside of me.
"He's been attacked."
Chapter 16
Arsen stumbles in a little while later on the arm of a hunter I don't know, who turns out to be the contact Zoe sent to bring him the blood. Arsen never showed, and the hunter started to leave, when he found Arsen slumped over in an alley with a silver knife in his gut.
Arsen looks terrible, weak and barely coherent.
"That knife was in him for a while before I found him," the hunter says as I help him over to the bed, shaking with mixed relief and distress. He's alive, thank God, but seeing him like this is the worst thing I can imagine. "A weaker vampire would have died."
He brought up the coolers of blood he'd been supposed to give Arsen, and we popped open a bag, shoving the straw into Arsen's mouth. He sipped weakly, but I could see the color returning to his face.
"Thank you," I said, taking the hunter's hand in my shaking fingers. "You saved his life. I can't thank you enough. Anything you need, ever, let me know."
The intensity of my stare seems to unsettle the guy a little. I would kill people for this stranger right now, and I guess he can see that in my face. He laughs uneasily, pulling his hand away.
"It's no big deal," he says. "I mean, it's definitely a first for me, saving a vamp rather than killing him, but Rhett says you guys are alright and I trust him. You too Jackson."
"Thanks." Jackson seems a little miffed at having his trustworthiness rank under Rhett's.
"Did you get a look at who did it?" I ask the hunter, my fear beginning the slow burn into fury. "Any idea at all."
"No, it was over way before I found him," the guy says, shaking his head. "I didn't give up and try to
leave till a good hour past when he was supposed to meet me. But it had to have been another vamp. I'm no Sherlock Holmes, but I've seen a few knife wounds. Judging by the angle, whoever it was came up behind him. He would have noticed any human trying that, and no human would have been fast enough to knife him that way either. Whoever it was probably used that knife hoping it would get blamed on a hunter, break up the alliance."
"In which case, it was brave of you to mention the knife at all," I say.
"Machinations and double crosses are vampire shit," the hunter says with a shrug. "Hunters have figured out that being straightforward tends to cut right through that Machiavellian bullshit. They count on you being liars and shit communicators and making it all worse. But if you get out in front of it and yell the truth loud enough it stumps 'em."
"That's a good policy," I say thoughtfully, looking at Arsen lying on the bed. "I'll remember that. After I tear Niko's throat out."
I grab my jacket and storm towards the door.
"Whoa," Jackson steps in front of the door, forcing me to pull up short. "Hold your horses there."
"You're not going to stop me," I say, teeth bared.
"Course not," Jackson agrees. "I'm going with you. I want a piece of that bastard too. Just tap the brakes for a minute while I grab my weapons, why don't you?"
I back down, however reluctantly, and he relaxes.
"Good," he says. "Plus, someone's gotta watch your ass if you're going up against Niko. Guy's nuttier than a fruitcake."
"He won't hurt me," I say impatiently, pacing back to Arsen's bedside while Jackson checks his crossbow and straps on his knives. "He's still convinced I'll go back to him."
"From what you were saying earlier it sounds like the virus has got to his brain," Jackson reminds me. "He may not recognize you for all you know."
He has a point, but I don't like it. I take Arsen's hand and he looks up at me, blurry eyed, and squeezes.
"Be careful," he whispers. No doubt, no trying to stop me. He knows I can handle it. I half expected feeble protests that I let him come with me. He must be in bad shape to not even try. I smile at him. The engagement ring glitters between our joined hands.
"Just heal up fast so you can come and help me," I tell him, and lean down to kiss him.
"I love you," he says, the words soft as his lips against mine.
"I love you too."
Before I can get any more emotional and lose the edge of my anger I pull away and shrug my coat on.
"Let's go."
Jackson and I make our way to the address Zoe gave Arsen for the pick-up. It's an industrial neighborhood, not far from the water. I find the alley where it happened without even trying. I can smell Arsen's blood half a mile away. The sight of it splashed over the asphalt makes my stomach twist itself into knots.
I force myself to block it out, testing the air for a different sent. It isn't Niko, but it is something. A splash of darker color near Arsen's blood.
"He hit whoever attacked him," I tell Jackson, kneeling to point out the splash. "Not much, but enough for me to get a scent."
"Lead on, Lassie," Jackson says. "I'll follow you."
I point a threatening finger at him.
"Make another hunting dog joke and I'll eat you."
Jackson just grins.
"Guess it'd be bad idea to call you a bitch then."
I fake a swing at him and feel a moment of satisfaction when he ducks.
I lead him deeper into the maze of old warehouses and factories, most shut down and abandoned decades ago when shipping moved further down the coast and production moved overseas. But I'm starting to have trouble keeping the scent, and it's difficult to narrow it down to a point of origin. I'm not a bloodhound.
"There," Jackson says, pointing to a low storage building ahead of us. "The windows are painted over but the structure is collapsing so there won't be any squatters unless they're real desperate. Perfect place for a vampire to lay low."
"Knew I brought you along for a reason," I say, and together we head towards the warehouse, staying out of the moonlight.
We slip in through a side door that's warped so badly it won't fit in the frame. Inside it's pitch black. I can still see, in the weird flat shades of gray of my vampire night vision, but Jackson is blind, and putting on a light would reveal us to whoever's in here. He grabs the back of my shirt instead as we move silently deeper into the cavernous room. He knows he can't ask anything or risk revealing us, and I can only imagine how nerve-wracking that must be for him. Especially when I stop abruptly.
"You got a light?" I ask in a bare whisper as the sound of strange hissing and growling begins ahead of us.
"Cover your eyes," he answers, and chucks a UV grenade into the center of the room. It explodes in a burst of searing white light that dazzles me even with my arm shielding my eyes. It burns the skin off a pack of feral infected that had emerged from the garbage ahead of us. But all it does is piss them off.
Jackson and I leap into action. He pulls his crossbow, firing by the still fizzing light of the grenade, which casts everything in stark black and white shadow. I take a knife in each hand and focus on keeping the mindless vampires from getting too close to him. I move like somebody taught a blender how to dance ballet, dodging claws and teeth as I slash open throats and bellies. I aim for tendons whenever I can, trying to disable rather than kill. Not that I think these poor assholes can be saved, but when it comes to a vampire, even a disease ravaged zombie vampire, disabling is a lot easier than killing. I have to keep a cool head, not let myself get lost in the killing, the smell of blood. Staying rational is the only advantage I have over these things.
Jackson keeps backing up, trying to keep the ferals from getting behind him and circling us. There's so goddamn many.
"There!" I shout, pointing behind us at a crane operator's booth. It's got four walls, one solid with a heavy security door, two set with thick industrial plate glass. The front wall had the same glass at some point, but it's been knocked out or removed, leaving a perfect half wall for hunkering down behind. Jackson's grenade is sputtering its last, but he books it by the last of the light to the safety of the booth. I cover his retreat, and vault in a second after he lights a flare. He pops back up over the wall a second later with his shotgun, spraying the pursuing ferals with silver birdshot.
"You know," he says as he reloads the shot gun while I knife anything stupid enough to try and get over the wall. "Just because Arsen nearly got himself killed on a milk run doesn't mean you needed to do him one better."
He pops up again, unloading another two barrels of silver shot into the crowd of ferals. It's loud as hell in the empty, echoing warehouse and it leaves my ears ringing.
"What's a relationship if not taking turns putting yourself in mortal peril for each other?" I shoot back, nearly taking off the head of a feral trying to leap over the wall. I kick it back out, knocking over another two in the process. "How much of that silver shot do you have?"
"Few more rounds," Jackson says. "Then it's back to crossbow bolts."
"Better make this fast then," I say, and move out of the way for him to blast another hole in the crowd with the shotgun before I jump out and begin mowing them down with my knives again. Their teeth rake me, opening bloody wounds on my arms and legs and I feel a terrible pulse of worry at the thought of catching the virus again. I've had it once, I've had the cure. I should be fine. And even if I'm not, I'm sure as hell going to take as many of these fuckers with me as I can. For what they did to Arsen, I'll kill every one of them.
I taste blood, and rage boils in me. I move faster than I ever have. My vision becomes a series of vulnerable spots, the flash of my knives. I hear nothing but my ears ringing and the heart beats of the things of killing. Time slows down and stops existing.
And then, finally, I turn to face the next enemy, and there's no one there. I don't believe it for a moment, whipping around, certain I've missed something, but there's no one there.
&nb
sp; "Sasha."
I jerk towards the sound, knives raised, my nerves still on edge, but Jackson holds up his hands to show he's not a threat, though he's still holding the shotgun in one of those hands. My heart is racing and breathing hurts. I'm drenched in blood, and most of it isn't mine. There's dead ferals two inches deep everywhere Jackson's light reaches.
"You got 'em all," Jackson says, staring at me. His eyes are wide. He almost seems a little scared. "You can relax."
I drop the knives rather than put them away. My fingers hurt from gripping them so tightly.
"You alright?" I ask Jackson, my voice a little hoarse as I shuffle towards him.
"Yeah, not a scratch on me," he says, still sounding worried. "You?"
"Took a few chunks out of me," I admit. "Nothing that won't heal soon."
"I've never seen anything like that," he says, and I realize where that fear is coming from. It's me. He's scared of me. I must look like a monster. But Jackson shakes it off. He climbs out of the booth and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Hey. I'm a certified badass, alright? Vampire killing machine. But I definitely would have died if you weren't here. So, thanks."
It's pretty awkward as far as thank you’d go, but I'll take it.
"Jesus," Jackson says, looking down at all the bodies. "How did we not know there was a nest like this out here? They're all fully gone. Maybe… a bunch of covenless infected holed up here? Tried to wait it out? Or lock themselves in so they couldn't hurt anyone else?"
I shake my head.
"No," I say, and I begin looking closer at the bodies, a sinking feeling sending my gut down to my shoes. "Too many. And the doors weren't even sealed. They were brought here from somewhere else."
I kneel, pulling up the sleeve of a dead feral to confirm my suspicions. Jackson hurries to retrieve the flare from the control booth so he can see too.
"Niko isn't going for the water supply," I say as he comes back. "He's going to unleash a horde of feral."
Jackson leans closer with the flare to see the Baetal tattoo on the dead feral's arm.
Girl, Immortal (Girl, Vampire Book 3) Page 12
