Breed: Slayer

by Sandra Seymour

  “You vile, deceitful creature.”

  I feel the snap as my spirit departs from my body, and see Tilda, her features contorted into a snarl, fangs just beginning to show, standing before me. I feel a flood of revulsion. I am seeing her through Libby now, feeling my mother’s emotions as though they were my own. Libby steps forward to the cage bars, within reach of the vampire. Surely, she must realise they would be no protection if Tilda were to attack?

  “It takes one to know one.”

  Now the loathing is as clear in her voice as her enemy’s.

  I wonder if I am projecting my own reaction to Tilda through Libby and draw my awareness back, but when I scan Libby from the outside, the response is still there. Her whole body tense, her fists clenched, and her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her eyes, normally gentle teal, glittering like topaz in the violet light.

  Something within Libby responds to Tilda the same way I do. She’s ready to take on a foe there is no hope of beating, any concern for her own safety overridden by the compulsion to attack. My vision blurs and when it clears, I’m seeing through Libby again, drawn in against my will. The connection between us is strong. I have no idea how to control it. My consciousness is being dragged around all over the place.

  “That’s enough,” Howard’s voice breaks the silence, commanding and authoritative, a tone I have never heard from him before. It’s enough to break Libby’s concentration and the boiling rage subsides.

  Tilda turns to him, and opens her mouth, but Howard cuts her off before she can speak.

  “You will not get what you want that way, Tilda. Like it or not, Libby is my wife, my mate, and the mother of my child. The ties that bind me to her are a thousand times stronger than any that ever bound me to you. Be done and leave.”

  Tildla glares from Howard to Libby and back, her eyes luminescent with fury. Dismissing Libby with a toss of her head, she steps close to Howard and whispers into his ear, “Her blood will out, Howard. Mark my words, she will turn.”

  Howard shakes his head, and if I were in my own body, I would be through the bars and dismembering the bitch in a heartbeat. How dare she threaten my mother?

  I expect Howard to put her in her place again, but he just says, “Only time will tell.”

  Now it is Tilda who shakes her head, but she leaves, throwing a hateful glance over her shoulder as she goes.

  HOWARD MOVES TO the cell and opens it, drawing Libby out to him. He caresses her hair and croons gently to her. She holds herself stiff, rather than resting against his chest as she would normally do; she is struggling to reconcile her love with another emotion that is turning her stomach.

  Unable to believe my mother harbours this feeling, I am appalled, and the connection between us severed. How could she have lived for so long with a man whose very nature repulses her so strongly? How could she have hidden that from me all these years? I’m looking down at the two of them from outside again. After a few moments, Libby pulls back and smooths down her clothes.

  “So, this is what is to become of me?” She looks up at him and smiles, a sad smile.

  In my confusion, I’m not sure whether the sense of revulsion has passed, or whether her placid demeanour is nothing more than a façade.

  “I am to rot away in a godforsaken cell, watching my child suffer the worst cruelty at the hands of monsters, and my husband helpless to prevent it?”

  Howard winces as if she had slapped him, but lowers his head. It’s a while before he replies.

  “Dear one, I will not see you suffer this way. I will do whatever is in my power to prevent any pain to you, but the elders decree that you must join us, or die.”

  “Never!” Libby’s shrill reply is a shocked gasp, but her face is set, and her decision final. “If that were my choice, it would have been so long ago. You know it is not possible for me.”

  Howard looks sadly at Libby, but sighs and agrees, “I know my dear. I am working on it.”

  “And for Maxine?”

  Howard is unable to meet her eyes. He picks the dirt out from under his little fingernail with his thumbnail.

  “They have decided not to kill her, for now. They want her blood for their experiments. They want to use my work to create a weapon that will destroy the Cursa Moroi.”

  “And her?”

  “They will try to avoid it while they still need her. They want me to lead the research. They say it will be much easier for Maxi that way.”

  “Would it?” Libby’s face says that she knows the chances of me complying are pretty much nil, but she is clutching at straws.

  Howard pauses before he answers, “Libby, dear, I could spare Maxi the worst of the pain if I led the experiments, and could have you both moved to more comfortable surroundings.” He looks pointedly around the cell.

  “Then do it.”

  I know without having to read her mind it’s concern for me and not for her own situation that prompts her to take Howard’s hands in hers and look up at him, pleading in her eyes.

  Howard clasps her hands to his chest, but lowers his head and closes his eyes. He sighs, then kisses her fingers.

  “It is not that simple, dear one. Just as you would not be spared on their terms, I doubt Maxi would either.”

  Too right, I wouldn’t. They can kill me if they want to, I’m not about to help them rip the world apart. Just as soon as I’ve figured out the best way to get all three of us out of here alive, we’re gone.

  “The atrocities they could perpetrate with these weapons. I would not have them on my conscience, and I believe Maxi would rather undergo the worst of these trials than voluntarily help the Moroi Romanesti carry out their plans. I can no more go against her wishes than I can yours.”

  “Perhaps,” Libby says, “you should give her the choice.”

  I ALLOW MY spirit to drift out of the building, into the deepening gloom of the evening. I’m in no rush to get back to my body. The scientists will be coming for me soon. The vampires are back on base in their numbers.

  I scan the whole compound, searching for truebloods, but the only ones I can find are the ones who were here before; Quidel, Faruk, Falk, and Alaric. They are all together in a large boardroom in the tower of the central building, beneath the command centre. It has huge windows looking down on the rest of the station on one side. On the other, it overlooks a rolling valley across to mountains.

  Before entering the room, I test the tamper alarm on the door. Nothing happens, so I figure if I keep my distance from Faruk, I should be safe. The haze around him means I can’t get a fix on any of their thoughts, but I don’t need to; I get a clear enough idea of what’s going on from their conversation. I stay close by the door in case I need to make a quick exit. I know my spirit can travel through the walls, but it wasn’t a pleasant sensation last time.

  “Her welfare is the least of my concerns right now, Quidel,” Falk says. “If you are worried about her, perhaps you should concentrate your energies on persuading Howard of the merits of our cause.”

  Quidel shakes his head, “I was merely suggesting she will be of no use to us in a weakened state.”

  “I would have thought that is how she would be of most use to us. At least that way she is less of a threat, should the rage take her,” Alaric says, leaning back in his chair. He rests a hand on his chin, and taps the side of his mouth with one finger

  “And I would have thought, the best way to ensure it does not take her, is not to provoke it,” Quidel leans forward, not to Alaric, but to Falk.

  “It takes them all in the end,” Falk says with no emotion.

  “Isn’t that why you call them Cursa Moroi? Because they are cursed?” Alaric’s eyes narrow as he spits out the words.

  “Ignoramus,” Faruk mumbles the word softly, but among present company even the quietest sound may as well be yelled at the top of his voice.

  Alaric bangs his fist on the table, but Quidel rests his hand on it, and Alaric remains seated. It reminds me of the way he placed his h
and on my shoulder back at home. Now I have a clearer understanding of his unique skills.

  “If that were the case, my Arian friend, we would call them Injura Moroi. No, they are de la Cursa Moroi, “of the Moroi race.” It’s merely a distinction between our living children and the Strigoi ghosts. A mistake which has been made before, much to our embarrassment, when the humans first became aware of our existence.”

  Alaric throws his head back and laughs, “Of course. The cursed land.”

  “The land of the race,” Quidel nods.

  Faruk touches Quidel’s shoulder, and Quidel looks up at him quizzically. Faruk nods towards the door, and again I get the feeling he is looking right at me. I brace myself, but nothing happens.

  Quidel coughs, “Cousins, you must excuse me,” he tips his head at them in turn, then stands, and he and Faruk leave.

  “Why didn’t you just condemn them on sight?”

  “Because, my unforgiving friend, they have their uses. Howard, despite his recent weakness, has the sharpest mind I have ever seen in a Strigoi, and the witch would make a fine grandchild, if her obstinacy can be overcome. The rasa whelp, I fear, is beyond us, but her blood will teach us much.”

  “I’m sure,” Alaric’s gaze is level and untroubled, “eight pints would be enough.”

  Falk laughs. “Perhaps it would.”

  “There is more than obstinacy to overcome in the witch, too. You must overcome her Strigele nature, if you hope to welcome that one into the fold. And we have Howard’s research. We don’t need them.”

  “Ah, but we do. If we’re to achieve all that we desire in time, we need the mind that created the research. Did you know his vaccine has an almost one hundred percent kill rate in the crossbreeds?”

  Alaric smiles a humourless smile, “If only we could get them to sit still while we injected them.”

  It’s Falk’s turn to smile.

  “But who said anything about injection? No, cousin, this is why we need Howard’s mind. He has theories that could be put to more effective use.”

  “Such as?” Alaric sits forward now, his interest piqued.

  “Later,” Falk stands to leave. “I do not want to be presumptuous. I need to see the outcome of a few more experiments first.”

  He walks to the door, but turns before he leaves. “Let us just say, if I am correct, he will deliver us the greatest weapon we have ever had at our disposal.”

  That’s what they want to do with Howard’s attempts to find a cure? Turn it into a biological weapon to use on their own children? Howard is right. I would rather die than help them.

  Pushing Back

  I WAKE ON THE floor of my cell to the click of the key in the lock. I’m freezing, hungry, and tired of being pushed around. I figure it’s time to do a little pushing back.

  When the vampires come for me, I rip the throat out of the first before he’s even got the door open, grab the second by the hair and smash his skull against it, and punch through the sternum of the third, squeezing his heart in my fist like an overripe pear, before they force me back in the stone cell and get the door shut again. I should have waited a few more seconds until I was clear of the doorway, but the rage has hold of me now.

  I tear at the stone around the hinges in frenzy, digging chunks out of the wall as if it were soft mud. When I see chinks of light, I start kicking until the wall starts to crumble. It doesn’t take long before I have created a hole big enough to climb through.

  When I straighten up on the other side, panting but ready to wreak havoc, Howard is standing there with eight other vampires. Four are in white coats, three of them with the electric collar and cuffs. The other four are dressed in black, and carrying cattle prods; they have underestimated me.

  They spread out, trying to surround me, but I keep my back to the wall. As one of the white coats moves towards me, the pole raised, poised to try and snare my neck, I take a step forward and raise my arm ready to strike. I bare my fangs at him and he recoils. They are not getting that thing back on me.

  Two of the vamps in black grab Howard’s arms, and the unarmed one in the white coat looks at him pointedly, then back at me. It’s the skinny one who rejected my blood yesterday.

  ‘Howard?’ I project the thought at him. ‘Let’s get Libby and get out of here.’

  ‘Maxi,’he lowers his head to his hand, rubbing his thumb and forefinger across from the corners of his eyes to the bridge of his nose and back out again. ‘I wish we could, but you must remember what your mother said - you must bite your tongue and bide your time.’

  ‘I did. I have. Now it’s time to go.’

  ‘We can’t. Not yet.’

  ‘Why not? What do you mean “not yet?” We can’t let them use your vaccine as a weapon, and I’m getting a bit sick of being their guinea pig.’

  Surely, he can’t mean to stay here?

  He is guarding his thoughts, holding something back. I look past him further into the lab and see more of the vampire soldiers.

  ‘We can take them.’ I tell him.

  ‘I’m sure we could, but not before they got to Libby. We have to make sure she is safe first.’

  I sigh and narrow my eyes, but lower my arm. He’s right. Nothing’s changed. We can’t leave yet, but that doesn’t mean I can’t slow them down a little.

  THERE ARE AROUND twenty of them, the Strigoi elite soldiers. They move with efficient force, working as a team. One moves in to strike, and as I hit out at him, two others dart in from the sides and deliver a quick sting with the cattle prod.

  They are patient, too. Although each sequence of attacks moves me only a few inches, before long they have manoeuvred me far enough into the lab to surround me, and then they close in en masse.

  I struggle enough to make progress slow and painful for them. But with Howard around I’m not going to kill anyone. They know that. Within minutes they have the electric cuffs around my wrists. They restrain me, three to each arm and leg, and carry me towards the chair with the electric manacles. I kick and scratch, and when one is stupid enough to get too close, I bite his ear off, but they manhandle me into the seat and fasten the clamp on my right leg. Before I can stop them, they have my left arm pinned down too.

  As they try to force my left leg into the iron holster, I kick out, catching one of them under the chin. He flies a few feet into the air, sailing backwards and landing in a spine crunching heap over a bench. I lash out with my free arm, gouging deep slashes across the cheek of another. With this many well-trained soldiers, though, I know all I’m doing is delaying the inevitable. A few moments later, the last of the restraints clangs into place and I feel the tingling jolt of the electrical current.

  They haven’t got the collar on, though, and none of them seems in any great rush to be the one to try it. Having done their job, the soldiers retreat to the edges of the lab, but I can still see some of them out of the corner of my eye, and I can sense the presence of the others. They may have orders not to leave, but they’re not what you would call reluctant observers.

  The skinny one in the white coat, who seems to be in charge, approaches with what looks like a modified pistol. He motions some of the soldiers to move in.

  “This will sting,” he tells them, motioning for them to be ready to restrain me if necessary, “but it should hold.”

  He pulls the trigger a few inches from my arm, and I feel a sharp stabbing pain. I look down to see a long needle protruding, with a valve attached to the end. The vampire sighs, and pushes on the needle, his face turning red with exertion. The needle rips through my flesh with a burning pain. I grit my teeth, not wanting to give them the pleasure of hearing me scream.

  When he is satisfied it’s in far enough, he attaches a tube to the valve, and fiddles with it. Clear liquid flows down the tube and into my arm.

  “I would tell you to try and relax, but I suspect that would be a waste of time,” he looks at me with dull unconcerned eyes. “Besides, the data will probably be of more value if you resist. It
will give us a truer reading.”

  The liquid itches in my veins and I wince despite myself. The other technicians move in and attach sticky pads to my temples and arms. The pads have small metal disks in them, and wires that lead to a machine, with a green screen. The screen flashes and starts cycling through a series of images, and the scientists start making notes. The one who injected me leans in, his face dangerously close to mine, and I’m tempted to bite his rat-like nose off.

  “Excuse the imposition,” he says, grabbing the top of my t-shirt with both hands, “but we need more data.”

  Standing back, he rips the material down the middle, dropping it aside, and attaches two more sensors to my breasts. The anger and embarrassment at laying half naked in front of them bothers me more than the stinging liquid. I’m sorry I didn’t take the opportunity to cause him pain.

  “When this is over, you had better keep out of my way, or I’m going to kill you.”

  He merely raises an eyebrow, and turns a dial, and the tingling turns into stinging, then scorching, as the liquid runs like molten lava through my veins.

  I yell, in anger and frustration as much as pain, and they turn up the electrical current. The experiments begin again in earnest, and I’m tempted to skip out of my body and take a mental trip around the facility, but I don’t want them to beat me. I stay and tough it out instead, wanting to slow them down as much as possible.

  As the current sears through me, I can’t prevent a small yelp escaping. It subsides, and I take a few breaths, gathering my senses.

  “Is that all you got?” I taunt the leader of the group. “You’re not going to kill anyone with that.”

  “Oh no,” he looks at me with no expression, “that was just to get a base reading.”

  He shuts off the valve and disconnects the tube, replacing it with another, this time with a blue liquid in it. Then he opens the valve again and stands back to observe the results.