by C. T. Adams
She was right, and I hated myself in that moment. Tom—and Joe. I’d risked them both. My head spun as my safe world collapsed around me.
“Kate? Are you there? What’s happening?” I’d forgotten about Dr. MacDougal.
“Miles, this is very important. I’m not allowed to ask for medical assistance . . .”
“Kate, what . . . Oh God! Do you mea—”
“I’m going somewhere safe, Miles. I’ve gone where I feel safe.”
There was silence on the line for a moment, and I breathed a sigh of relief when he responded softly. “I understand. Tell Father Michael I said hello.”
I closed my eyes and handed the phone back to Mary. Miles MacDougal would swim through shark-infested waters to find a way to get a doctor to the church. Mary hit the end button and tossed it over the seat to Rob, who was grinning as he put it back into the glove box.
The vampire was seething. His handsome face had taken on an ugly, mottled flush. “You—”
“I did not go to him. I am not going to him. I have not broken the truce.”
I watched his eyes go blank as he consulted with the rest of the nest. After a long moment he reluctantly admitted. “You have not broken the truce.”
22
By the time we pulled into the parking lot of Our Lady of Perpetual Hope, my arm was red and cold from the ice. I had forced down almost half of one bottle of Jack Daniels that Brooks had picked up at the liquor store. It’s illegal to have an open bottle in a car—but the cop wasn’t complaining and I wasn’t about to wait. The problem, however, was that the soon-to-be hatchling in my arm had started fighting back. She was using every ounce of her will to try to have the liquor not stay down, and convince me to remove the tourniquet for more than just the couple of seconds necessary to save the arm. So far I was winning. I hadn’t thrown up and the tourniquet was in place. But each time the struggle was harder. Either she was growing stronger, I was getting weaker, or both.
“Oh my God.” Mary’s voice was awestruck and horrified. “Would you look at them all.”
I opened eyes I hadn’t realized I’d closed and saw what she meant. Standing in the bright afternoon sunlight were well over a hundred of people. Every Host and nearly every member of the Herd had encircled the church—trampling Michael’s carefully-tended flower beds. They were blocking the sidewalks so that no one could get into, or out of, the church.
“They can’t interfere with us.” Brooks glared at the Host to his right.
“No.” Rob agreed with a low growl, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “But they can stop the doctors from getting here. That’s why they’re here, isn’t it?” The vamp flinched under the intensity of the werewolf’s gaze.
His voice was calm but pleased. “We are not breaking truce.”
My internal curse was met with a chuckle from Monica and her egg.
My voice sounded tired, weak. “Mary, call Miles at St. Elizabeth’s. Tell him not to come—and why. He’s so damned stubborn he’ll try to get here and get himself killed in the process.”
Rob retrieved the phone again. He was still growling. So was Mary. The tension in the car was thick enough to cut. Mary’s voice on the phone was calm as she gave MacDougal the news. His response wasn’t. Everyone in the car could hear him swear.
“Mary.”
She turned to face me, phone extended. “Tell him I said thanks. Ask him not to do anything stupid. Somebody has to take care of Bryan if Joe and I don’t make it.”
She interrupted his tirade and told him. The silence in the car was deafening. After a long moment, I heard him answer. “I understand.”
Mary ended the call. There wasn’t anything more to say. We were at one hour, fifty-seven minutes. I glanced down at the growing string of pearls under my skin. The skin was becoming purple as the structure of the vein broke down under the constant feeding. “Mary. If this goes badly—take off the arm. I know you can.”
“Somebody will take care of it.” She gave me a confident look.
“I’ll do it.” Rob met my gaze over the car seat with calm surety. “You have my word.”
The vampire hissed. Rob whirled to face the Host and snarled. It was all he could do not to rip out his throat. Mary was likewise having a difficult time controlling her emotions.
“You shut the fuck up!” Rob pointed a finger into the vamp’s chest. “The agreement says she can’t kill herself. It doesn’t say a thing about amputation.”
“I really hope it doesn’t come to that.” Mary whispered as she squeezed my good hand.
Her and me both.
The Hosts and Herd pulled back to clear a path for us to the front door of the church. Monica stood at the front, slightly apart from the others. She was weak enough to be swaying on her feet but her eyes held the sheer power of the combined Thrall Nest. Her gaze was only for me. I returned the stare with one of my own and the things I said in my mind should never reach air. My watch started beeping on Rob’s wrist as the two-hour mark elapsed. It was time to get those damned things out of my arm.
The doors were locked. I was amazed. In my entire life, Our Lady Parish had never locked its doors before 9:00 p.m. Mind you, I didn’t blame Mike—considering the company. But I was still shocked. Rob pounded his fist on the painted wood and I raised my voice to call out. “Mike, it’s Katie. I’ve got friends with me. Let us in!”
I heard the key turn in the lock of the big doors. A moment later, Mike held it open as our motley party quickly stepped inside the brightly lit foyer of the church. He started to block the Thrall Host from coming in. Rob had to explain that he was part of the deal. Neither the vamp nor Mike looked particularly happy about it. That told me Mike’s opinion of the Thrall was changing pretty fast.
Mary, meanwhile, was staring at my brother Bryan. He was a breathing empty-eyed statue near the baptismal font. She knew what happened, but had never actually seen him this way. The last time Mary had seen him was as a bright, handsome football star at our graduation. I could see the moment she understood my request of Miles.
I heard the key turn to lock the door but my eyes were on the angels in the ceiling as I prayed for help and courage.
“Let’s do it.” My voice sounded stronger; more confident than I felt.
“But Joe—”
“Joe isn’t coming, Michael.” Mary said softly. “They took him. He’s a hostage until this is over. So is Tom.”
“Damn them! Damn them all to Hell!” Mike would probably need a stint in the confessional after this was over. I didn’t answer. There was no more time and nothing to say. I lay down on the cool, smooth marble of the foyer, placing my left wrist against one of the ribs of the railing overlooking the font. “Brooks, do you have your cuffs? I want to make sure I hold my arm really still.”
Brooks set down the paper bag with the bottles and retrieved his handcuffs from their holster on his belt. He cuffed my wrist to the nearest rib.
His eyes were fierce as they met mine. I was struggling to hold on, so I took some strength from his sheer determination. He took charge like the good cop he was.
“I need a sharp knife and a bowl. You,” he pointed to Mary. “Hold down her legs. You—Rob? You pin her wrists to the floor. Vampire—get the hell out of the way.” He pointed to the far end of the room. “Stand over by those far doors. If you even blink, you’re out of here and Monica can send someone else.” He looked around to see who hadn’t been assigned.
“Father—watch the Host as soon as we start. Make sure he doesn’t interfere.”
The Tom Cruise double nodded once but watched the eggs with eager eyes. “We will not break the truce.”
“Whatever.” I could tell that Brooks just wanted to shoot him to get him out of the way, but it wasn’t that easy.
“Here’s a knife.” Mary handed him the sheath that had fallen from my boot. “It’s sharp.”
Michael reappeared in the door of his office carrying the empty silver fruit bowl. At Brooks’s command, he poured whisk
ey into the bowl until it was almost a third full. He then knelt beside me between Rob and Mary. I could hear him murmuring a prayer of blessing over the whiskey before standing so he was between the four of us and the vampire.
I tried to ignore it as Brooks came at me with the knife drawn. I stared up at the pleasantly painted sky and felt them. My mind was dominated by the individual beings throbbing with life in my left arm. They were so alive, though still unhatched. But the strongest by far was her. I knew that in just a minute or two more she’d escape her shell and swim through my bloodstream in search of the nesting spot.
The knife was keen and the ice had numbed my arm well. I barely felt the slice that opened my skin to expose a smooth string of eggs laying inside my largest vein. I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t help myself. Brooks had to use delicate movements to open the vein without nicking the eggs. The yolk from one egg hatching would hit my body like a drug. More than one would flood my system and kill me with the speed of a snake. He needed to remove the eggs intact to keep from killing me. He opened a small section of vein without severing it. There wasn’t much blood. The tourniquet was doing its job well, and the eggs themselves were absorbing most of the blood through their shells. Brooks used the tip of the knife to pry the egg through the hole he had created. It was the size of a seed pearl, rubbery and covered with thick blood. As I watched, the blood was absorbed through the shell and the egg rippled with interior movement. A wave of nausea hit me and a cold sweat broke out on my brow. I turned my head, fighting down the flow of bile. I heard a sizzle and a mental scream as it was dropped in the alcohol.
A small tug. Soft swearing as Brooks tried to remove the second egg, and found it stuck. “What I wouldn’t give for tweezers right now.” He muttered.
“Bryan.” Michael called my brother over. “Kneel here.” He knelt beside me where Mike had been. “Hold this steady.” He handed my brother the bowl and stood.
The vampire was suddenly in front of Mike. I had forgotten to explain that he couldn’t help. I was so wrapped up with watching Brooks and the eggs that I couldn’t even think of what to say. The Host’s lips pulled back to bare ivory fangs. He hissed in warning. “You may not aid! It is forbidden.”
The weight on my wrists lifted. I felt a wave of heat heard the sounds of struggle. I turned my head in time to see a pony-sized gray wolf leap at the vampire before he could strike at Michael. I saw fangs sink into the thick fur, heard the wolf scream. Mary reached over and did double duty by holding both of my feet. I opened my mouth to call out to Rob, but the hard crack of the vampire’s skull sounded against the marble floor. When Rob stepped back, the vampire wasn’t moving. She and Monica were horrified and furious. In less than an instant something began to happen outside. The doors of the church shuddered under rhythmic blows from many bodies.
Mike didn’t stay to watch the struggle. “I’ll be right back.” He sprinted through the archway and up the aisle. I knew he was going to cut through the basement and go to the rectory, but tried not to think about it. I didn’t want Monica or the hatchling to know.
The arched front doors shuddered again. There was no way the flimsy locks would hold under the assault. As if from a distance I heard Rob swear. He must have changed back to human. He ran naked into Mike’s office. I watched him grab the crucifix from Mike’s office and jam the long pole through the brass door handles.
Another tug at my arm brought me back to Brooks. The second egg was loose from my arm, balanced on the tip of the knife blade. I felt a wave of panic as the nestling realized what was happening. It was aware enough to understand death. I screamed then, long and loud. But over the screams I heard the sizzle of the egg hitting the alcohol. A flash of searing pain cut across my brain. Then it was over. Brooks moved on to the next victim.
Michael was back. He’d brought tweezers with him and the black bag he takes with him when he goes to the hospital to administer last rights. As if from a distance I saw Brooks take the tweezers, heard Michael begin the rites created by the church to aid the gravely ill.
I closed my eyes, unable even to think clearly enough to pray. All I could do was concentrate on keeping my body still—on not fighting, but as the process dragged on, my will was weakening.
The tweezers speeded the process. Egg after egg was removed to char in the silver bowl. I felt each death. Each individual personality silenced. More than that, I felt the rage of the thousands of Thrall throughout the world at the murder of their young.
Time slipped by as Monica enthralled me; called to me. I was nothing compared to her children. I must stop them. I tried to steel my will, but it was useless. My back arched and I struggled to free myself from the iron grip of the wolves who had to use all of their strength to keep me pinned to the floor. Brooks pulled back, unable to perform delicate work because of the thrashing of my body.
Minute after minute sped by as I fought. The children grew stronger. Their minds became mine as I joined the Nest. Brooks knelt on my pony tail to hold my head down. I swore at him, spat at him. I pulled against the handcuff until my wrist bled and the wood cracked. Mary was forced to kneel on my left shoulder—while Rob did the same to my right. I screamed from the pressure on my swollen arm, but he didn’t ease up. Completely pinned, unable to move, I watched in blind fury as another child was removed from me.
Monica fell to her knees as the eighth egg burned. She collapsed with the death of the ninth. I felt a white-hot explosion of pain as her Host died. I screamed in fear and pain. Nestlings and Herd around the church writhed and dropped to the ground in death throes and I couldn’t help them.
NO! A voice roared it in my mind. It was her. The strongest egg. I felt the rubbery skin of the shell split as she tore against it with all of her strength. They would live. She would make the Nest live!
I came to myself for an instant. “Shit! One of them’s hatched.”
I turned my head to look at Brooks. It was the last move I made before the toxin from the egg yolk hit. I couldn’t move; I was suddenly numb and completely paralyzed. But my mind . . . my mind slipped the bonds of my body. I was free. The Host’s awareness was pushed aside. She was nothing. I could look out from inside any human. I knew their thoughts, could feel their simple emotions. I felt the other queens all over the world. They waited for my birth; they offered me their strength of will.
I struggled to attack the humans’ minds. Brooks was first. His mind blazed with intense determination. The Thrall, my people, were things to be defeated. To him, Kate, the Host—the inferior shell—was what mattered. He would save her. Try as I might, I could not break through. There was not enough talent yet to reach him. Bryan, the Host’s nestmate, held the bowl of infernal alcohol. My mind lingered behind his empty eyes, wandering through darkened passages. I searched for the spark of life, for something I could control. I found it trapped, closed off by burnt out and scarred tissue. He could be useful if I restored his mind. I probed and called to the spark. As if a door opened, I felt his mind start to awaken, but it was taking too long.
I looked out of the Host’s eyes and saw the wolf who hurt my child. I tried to slide inside his mind, but the way was barred. The magic of his beast burned with hot orange fury and a strength of will that matched that of my warring Host.
I heard the thump of a body on the roof and it distracted me.
Kate’s will pushed against mine, our twinned consciousness flew outward and I felt her thrill of recognition. Tom!
I fought for control, but the Host was stubborn. Together we watched as he backed up, ran with all his strength to the edge of the building and leapt onto the roof of the church. He staggered on landing, nearly losing his footing and dropping the medical bag he was carrying. He saved himself by throwing his arms around the steeple. The Host’s surge of joy and pride made me snarl with rage. He would die for his interference.
No! I won’t LET YOU! The Host fought for dominance, screaming in rage and defiance.
Once the wolf named Tom had
steadied himself on the steeple, he held on with one arm and used one booted foot to kick through the shutters that closed off the bell tower. I heard his bellow of rage as his leg punched through the rotted floor of the bell tower. We all looked up at the sound.
“Father Michael! Get the door!” Tom’s voice was a scream of rage, panic, and burning loyalty.
Mike rushed to the locked interior door, keys in hand.
“Katie—”
With a cry of fury the hatchling was pushed aside and I was once again Kate. I felt moisture on my face and my mind was again in my body. My mind, not the hatchling’s. Tom knelt naked beside me. His hand stroked my face. His neck was a torn mess that was still dripping blood. He was crying. “You have to fight. You have to. I—I love you so much.”
The pounding on the front doors continued. They were holding up better than I would have expected. Thank the Lord for craftsmen with pride in their work.
I couldn’t speak. I could only look out at him with sad, haunted eyes. God help me, I was trying. But She was born and I was fading fast. I could feel her will pounding at my mind, ready to pounce and take over again at the first sign of weakness.
Tom brushed Brooks aside as I slipped away again. “Get out of the way. I need to get the ones that haven’t hatched yet.”
Tom took over with quick but steady determination. With a loud hissing and mental scream, the last eggs hit the bowl. She, however, was already swimming through the vein of my arm. The lack of circulation weakened her body. But nothing could weaken her will.
The hatchling hit the barrier formed by the tourniquet. She struggled, her panic increasing as the last of her siblings died.
I heard Mary speak as though from a distance. “Can you get the one that hatched?” Her voice was strangely calm as she addressed Tom.
There was a tense silence that spoke volumes. “No.”
I watched as Mary nodded. She gave Tom a pitying look before calling out Rob’s name. I knew what he would do. I knew it had to be done. But the look on Tom’s face was horrified as he realized what was about to happen. He squeezed my hand and repeatedly kissed my forehead while tears streamed.
