by A C Bell
“Get away from them!” Slade bellowed.
Gabriel cringed away. After a quick assessment of his odds, he turned and ran, crossing the park in a few long strides.
My breaths came raspy and frantic. I scurried over to Lorraine, who lay in a huddle on the ground cradling her injured leg.
"Lorraine!" I exclaimed, dropping the knife at her side. She seemed to be restraining whimpers and tears streaked her ashen face. Lifting Lorraine's pant leg, I saw the extent of the injury. Each large puncture wound was torn and bleeding badly. I pulled off my windbreaker and pressed the fleece underside to her leg and applied as much pressure as I could, muttering desperate apologies as she made pained sounds. Slade and Raiden both knelt beside her as well. While I held the jacket, Slade lifted her leg so Raiden could tie the sleeves around it to hold it firm. Then Slade scooped her up and marched away toward the car.
Words began to tumble out of my mouth and I raked my fingers through my hair. "He was waiting for me when I got off work and she tried to help! I shouldn’t have let her; I should have told her everything was fine and told her to leave, or—"
"Did he bite you? Even nick you with a tooth?" Raiden gripped my shoulders and held me still to meet my eye.
I gaped. “What does that matter? Lorraine—”
“I know, but answer me,” he insisted.
I shook my head and he visibly relaxed.
“You can never let a cynephi bite you, do you understand? Their virus is deadly to vampires.”
“Okay,” I murmured feebly.
Raiden picked up the pair of shotguns and I found Lorraine’s cell phone and my bloody knife and we sprinted after Slade. Slade jumped in the driver's seat and jerked the car into full gear as soon as we were all in.
"Go to the Manor. We can’t take her to a hospital," Raiden said from the back seat where he attempted to tend to Lorraine. He used to be a paramedic, right? That knowledge was comforting.
"I know," Slade snapped.
"Her temperature is rising. It's taking hold fast." Raiden whispered to Slade. I gripped my seat.
Lorraine started convulsing and Raiden held her down. My entire body clenched as I watched through the rear-view mirror. Slade adjusted the mirror with a sidelong glance at me and the scene vanished. He sped up, prompting many irritated honks as we crossed an intersection.
We reached Renenet's Manor in probably record time and Slade jerked the car to a stop in front of the main doors, honking repeatedly to alert Renenet that they had arrived. He’d had me call ahead. Raiden carried Lorraine up to the front door. Renenet and Hemway were already pulling it open to meet us.
Raiden began filling Hem in on her stats. He spoke quickly, keeping a quick pace as he headed for the infirmary. I started to follow, too, but a hand caught hold of my arm.
"Adeline," Slade said. "You should get cleaned up."
"What?" I said.
He pointed down and I looked at the dark mud that covered my clothes and skin and the spray patterns of blood that crisscrossed my shirt. Gabriel’s.
“It’s not mine,” I told him.
“It’ll give you a few minutes to calm down.”
“I don’t want to calm down, I want to help.”
“Hemway will take care of her. Right now, there’s nothing we can do,” he said.
I took a deep breath.
One.
Two.
Three.
He was right. At this point I would just be in the way. I nodded and he lead me down the hall to the far bathroom, away from the closer one near the infirmary. He ushered me inside.
The bathrooms in the manor were huge, almost like a bathroom in a recreation center except the stalls were bigger, nicer, and had more privacy. Half a dozen showers were clustered in the other half of the room. The furnishings were just as fancy as one would expect from a mansion bathroom. Fortunately, no one else was here since it was the middle of the night. I lifted my hands to wash them in one of the sinks and stopped, staring as my fingers began to tremble.
"I'll get you some clean clothes," Slade said.
He turned to leave but I saw him pause in my periphery. I barely noticed when he said my name. Dried crimson covered my hands and up my forearms. In this quiet room, away from everything, gripping fear seized me at the sight of Lorraine's blood all over me. I felt myself unable to move, felt my pulse in my ears and my breath became uneven, rattling out of my lungs in panicked waves.
Slade now stood next to me and moved my hands into the sink and began rinsing them off for me, not saying a word. Once my hands were clean, he headed for the door again. "Take a shower while I get you something to wear. I'll be right back."
I gave a small nod as he slipped out of the room. Taking a quivering breath, I turned the sink back on and scrubbed my hands harshly, embarrassed and frustrated with myself. Then I took several deep breaths, forcing myself to calm down.
My reflection in the mirror was pale, disheveled. My sweat-dampened hair clung to my face and neck, my eyes were puffy and red from crying. I undressed and stepped into one of the showers and let the water warm my chilled bones. Time seemed to slow, each droplet hitting me in slow motion. I allowed the shower door to shield me from reality, concealed in a small sanctuary for a few minutes. Then I scrubbed myself clean until my skin was pink and opened the curtain to find sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a hoodie folded on a sink.
Clean and dressed, I found my way to the infirmary. Raiden stood leaning against the wall next to one of the rooms with his arms folded across his chest. He too, was wearing a clean change of clothes. He didn't say anything when I stood next to him. His gaze was focused on the floor.
"Where's Slade?"
"On the phone with Supernatural Affairs." Raiden stared at his shoes, which were messily tied in his haste to come find me.
"Raiden," I said quietly. He reluctantly looked at me. "I know you don't want to worry me, but, please, tell me what's happening in there."
He took a deep breath and uncrossed his arms and stuffed his hands into his pockets, removed them a moment later and crossed his arms again tensely. I touched his forearm and he stopped from repeating the motion again. I could tell he was biting the inside of his bottom lip from the way his lips were pursed.
"Raiden?"
"They got the seizures to stop and the bleeding is slowing, but her temperature is still rising." He said in a flurry. He met my eye and a muscle in his jaw tightened. I'd seen movies, even if they might be inaccurate. The seizures and fever were expected. Lorraine was infected.
“What else?” I asked.
“A lot of people... they don’t survive the change,” he said.
“Why did we bring her all the way out here instead of going to a doctor? Peter told me there are supernatural doctors.”
“Even if we did bring her to a supernatural doctor, they would end up leaving her by herself because the virus causes a lot of anger. Doctors just quarantine victims in the psych ward so no one else can get bitten, but Hem has experience helping people through this.”
Sadness welled in my heart. I closed my eyes so he wouldn’t see them well up and rested my head against the wall.
"You should sit." He insisted.
I nodded and used the wall for support to slide to the floor. An anxious silence took over, the dimly lit halls completely still around us. To break it, I changed the subject.
"I never get over how tall these ceilings are." I said.
His gaze lifted to the ceiling. "Sort of daunting isn't it? Makes the hallway seem very narrow.”
I looked up at him, noting his emphasis of the word "narrow". "Are you claustrophobic?" I blurted. He grinned at the look of self-flagellation on my face.
"Yeah. I worked in a mine when I was young and there was a cave in. Me and a few other guys were stuck for a few days until the rest of the crew got us out. I couldn't bring myself to work in the mine after that, so I went back to my family's farm and helped my older brother and sister with the work. M
om had passed the winter before and Dad drank too much anymore to get anything done. I was only home for a few months when...well." He gestured to himself and I realized he meant becoming a lamia. "Michelle works in the supernatural capital in Salem now, but Alex..." His glance flicked to the floor and he shook his head.
"Oh," I whispered. Anything I could say about his brother’s death sounded insignificant in my head, but I didn’t want to say nothing. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m glad you survived.”
The grief in his eyes softened and the corners of his mouth turned up when he glanced over. “Yeah?”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah.”
We fell silent. No word came about Lorraine. Despite how the awful events of the evening continued to weigh on my mind I felt myself grow tired. I leaned my head on his shoulder and my eyelids drooped heavily until I was in that funny state between being asleep and being awake. I was only vaguely aware that someone else sat beside me. Slade, no doubt. I fell asleep to the quiet hum of their voices as they spoke in soft tones.
17 Splinter Skill
Even after staring at the page for five minutes, I still hadn’t grasped the idea. The book on Vjesci I’d gotten from Worg turned out to be different than I thought it would be. It didn’t give a history like I’d hoped it would, but it did have an entry on every single member of the Vjesci. A drawn portrait was placed at the top of each individual’s section and I recognized one of them right away.
Apparently “Mason” wasn’t Slade’s real last name. “König” was. I hadn’t recognized the portrait at first, since his hair was longer in it, but those high cheekbones and pointed nose were hard to miss. Slade Mortimer König was the son of Xavier’s closest friend, Ademar König. The question was, why would he lie about it and let everyone believe he was a lamia instead of a Vjesci? Something akin to a prince for his clan, nonetheless? That’s a pretty big secret to keep.
“Everything okay over there?” Nikki asked. I glanced over at her bed, piled with open textbooks and a notebook that had been all but painted with different colors of highlighters. “You’re staring so hard I almost expect lasers to come out of your eyes.”
I laughed. “This is my focused face.”
“You should work on that. Maybe one that doesn’t look like you’re having an aneurysm.”
Someone knocked on the door. “Everybody decent?” Peter asked.
Nikki grinned and rolled her eyes. We’d propped the door open with a boot, expecting his arrival. “Come on in,” she called. I closed the book as Peter strolled in. Slade may have lied, but he must have had good reason. I wasn’t about to risk breaching his privacy by leaving the page open for Peter to see.
“Alright, Parker, time for some rehabilitation.” Peter was already dressed in his workout get-up, something I had forgotten to do. I rummaged through my side of the dresser for my sweats and retreated to the bathroom to change. I heard Nikki and Peter laughing about something, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. It was nice, anyway, hearing them getting along again. When I opened the door, I found them standing at the dresser analyzing the pictures displayed on top. I sat on my bed to tie my sneakers.
She was telling him about the time her dad had been away for business one Christmas back in middle school and she and I had stayed at my dad’s cabin with Maggie and my mom. We’d ended up getting snowed in and we watched comedies like “The Princess Bride” and a season of “I Love Lucy” on VHS. Nikki and I ended up eating so much holiday candy that we made ourselves sick.
Peter’s eyes were alight with amusement as she spoke with exaggerated hand gestures and before he noticed me there, I spotted something else behind his amusement; a warm adoration, I dare even say a sparkle. It was subtle and sweet and undoubtedly there. I was so caught off guard that I think my mouth fell open and before I knew it I was grinning like an idiot. Peter glanced over and tensed. He knew I’d seen it. Nikki followed his glance and bubbled with laughter.
“What’s with the smile, Adeline? You look absolutely giddy. I warned you not to eat the brownies from 208.”
Peter’s laugh came out awkward and he moved to usher me from the room. “Well, we should get going. I’ll return her in one piece if I can,” he said.
Nikki’s farewell was cut off when Peter shut the door behind us. He was obviously avoiding my gaze as he sped toward the lobby as if nothing had happened.
“Oh no you don’t.”
I scurried after him and caught hold of his wrist. He tilted his head back and pinched his lips together but stopped trying to escape.
Peter spoke in a fluster of nerves. “I’m sorry, okay. I know it’s stupid.”
“Peter, it’s okay.” I gripped his abnormally warm arms to calm him and realized his tanned skin was flushed. I’d never seen him flush before. “Why are you sorry?”
"She just got out of a violent relationship. It’s so not the time. Besides, she’s not interested in me." Peter threw his hands up.
"Isn't that up to her? You’re right, it might be too soon, but by the end she wasn’t exactly invested in the relationship—”
Peter fixed his gaze on me. “I kissed her, okay? That's why she was mad at me at the beginning of the semester. I know I shouldn’t have because she was with someone else and her reaction was clear enough.”
“That probably had more to do with Justin than you.”
Peter shook his head stubbornly. “Can we just drop it?”
I sighed and frowned at him. I hadn’t meant to make him so uncomfortable. “Sure.”
✽✽✽
Peter was grateful when Adeline changed the subject as they headed over to the campus fitness center to work her arm. He fastened the Velcro of his workout gloves and wove his fingers together, bending them backward to stretch them. He kept his face stern and focused as he would have before one of their matches. It was time to test his theory about Adeline’s splinter skill and for that she would need to get competitive. That wouldn’t be hard.
“Wow, you even make this seem like a contest,” Adeline teased.
Peter smirked. He started his stretches, more or less ignoring the woman giving instructions on proper stretch techniques from a tv in front of the stretch area.
“Have you heard any news about Lorraine?” He asked.
Adeline kept her gaze on the speckled carpet. “She made it through, but Hemway is having trouble helping her adjust.”
That would be the raging hormones flooding her body after such a dramatic change. Peter growled at himself.
“Peter?”
“I should have been there. You called four times and I completely missed it because my stupid phone was on silent.” It was the only way he could sleep. Even his roommate, Brandon, had to keep his phone on silent because any sound could wake him.
Adeline leaned closer to whisper, “No, I’m glad you didn’t come.” He met her conflicted gaze and she sighed. “He was looking for you.”
A jolt went through him. “For me?”
She nodded. “But now that we know that, we have an idea of what to expect and where he might go.” She resumed her stretching.
Peter frowned at his sneakers. Through all his attempts to catch this guy, he never would have guessed that he himself was the target. And now a girl had been hurt. “The SAU will have to get involved now.”
Adeline frowned “How are we even going to begin introducing her to this stuff?”
“Same way we did with you, I guess. Of course, it will be more complicated for her. People may not trust dhampirs, but they’re more outwardly biased against cynocephali because of their violent history. You can ignore a dhampir if you want to since their physiology is almost built for it, but cynephi are hard to miss. Especially the ones who don’t learn to get their anger in check.”
Adeline studied her knees morosely as she bent forward to stretch, basically folding in half. Peter shook his head at her flexibility.
“All stretched out?”
She nodded and accepted
the hand he held out. He hoisted her to her feet and they got started with their workout. Since it had only been a few weeks since she’d been shot, her arm wouldn’t be as weak from disuse as it would have been after the original healing period. She wouldn’t be at her full strength, but Peter was confident he could get her built back up after a few sessions.
He led her to the cardio section and spun to make his confession.
“Why are you laughing?” She asked suspiciously.
He switched to a Spanish accent to imitate Inigo Montoya from the Princess Bride, even going so far as to pretend to brandish his water bottle like a rapier. “Because I know something you don’t know. I am not left handed.”
She laughed. “Solid reference, but what are you talking about?”
“Remember how my highest bench press was 200? Well, that’s not actually true.”
“Oh? What is it, then?”
He lifted and lowered his hands like a scale. “On a fair day, somewhere between 280 and 300. On a good day, 350.”
“What?” Her eyebrows shot up and she gaped at him. “How many reps?”
“Seven to ten at a time, give or take.”
“You’ve been holding out on me, Dwayne.”
He grinned. They started on the cardio machines and he let himself show off a bit. He could see her rivalry rearing its ugly head by the time they moved to weightlifting. Half an hour later, she was still struggling to meet her regular arm lifts. She leaned forward on the seat of a rowing machine to catch her breath.
Regret scolded him for making such a show of his strength while he knew she was still healing. Perhaps she still needed more time to repair before he tried to get her splinter skill to flare up.
“I think that’s enough for today. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“No,” she protested. She ignored his pleas and stomped over to a reverse bench press machine.
“Let’s try 90.”
“75,” Peter offered.
“80,” She haggled.
Peter breathed a sigh and stooped down to set the weight on the machine, but deviously set it too high so she would give up and rest. Once the peg slid into place, she took a deep breath and tried to pull the bar toward her. Her muscles bulged and she grimaced from the effort, her face flushing red. Not an inch. She released. After a few seconds of rest, she refastened her grip and tried again. It pulled down an inch and Peter perked up. She made it halfway and had to let go.
