Branded

by Rob Cornell

  “What the hell is going on?” I shouted.

  Anda twirled the blade again. “Payback time.”

  I shuffled backward, searching within myself for a scrap of power. I drew as much as I could from Dad’s watch, but I had leaned on that too much and its effectiveness was noticeably drained. Problem was, I came against that vague border I had marked between power I could spend and power I needed to keep the infection at bay.

  There wasn’t a lot of give there.

  I gritted my teeth and pulled as much as I dared.

  “Someone must have put a contract on my head,” I said. “Who was it?”

  She gave me a cockeyed smirk. “You really don’t know?”

  I shook my head.

  She snorted. “The Ministry, you idiot. You got bit by a vampire. You’re one of the undead now, and everyone knows a sorcerer with your power becoming a vampire is a recipe for disaster. They ain’t taking any chances with you.”

  She feinted moving in, whirled her blade around.

  I tensed, ready to throw up a shield and hope to hell I didn’t turn into a vampire in the moments afterward.

  “Don’t take another step,” Fiona shouted.

  Anda froze, she let the blade lower down to her side, her angry gaze aimed over my shoulder.

  Fiona stepped up to my side. She had a revolver in both hands, aimed at Anda. Apparently, that’s why she had brought her purse out of the nursing home. She’d been packing. “Don’t you dare move.”

  Anda’s gaze turned weary. She looked back and forth between Fiona and me. “Who is this, Sebastian?”

  I hated the quiver in my voice when I spoke. Adrenaline had turned me jittery. “A friend.”

  “A girlfriend?”

  “Shut it,” Fiona demanded. “Get out of here. Now.”

  The sound of police sirens rose in the distance. Someone had finally called the police. This couldn’t go on much longer. Either Anda would have to take out Fiona and then me in some flash of brilliance—she was quick, but not quicker than a bullet—or she would have to back off.

  I could see the same thoughts going through Anda’s mind. Her lip curled. She so desperately wanted to shove that sword straight through my gut, then watch me curl up on the ground and bleed out.

  “Look at me,” I said. “Do I look like a fucking vampire?”

  Anda narrowed her eyes. Her gaze touched at my neck. “You’re bit.”

  “Yes. But I haven’t turned.”

  She shrugged. “Contract’s still good.”

  “So, even though it’s wrong, you’d still kill me?”

  She smiled.

  “Enough,” Fiona said. “Go away or I’m going to shoot you. I have a lot of hours on the range. I won’t miss.”

  Anda rose her eyebrows and bobbled her head in mockery. “Well, aren’t you a big deal?”

  “Anda, please,” I said. “I know you hate my guts, but I am not turned.”

  “Did you drink from one of them?”

  I thought about lying. But I think she was testing to see if I would. If the Ministry had put out a contract on me, they must have somehow already known the infection was in me. And that raised a whole other question I would have to figure out later. How the hell did they know about what happened last night? The only people who knew were me, Sly, and the vampires who had attacked me, most of whom were dust at the moment.

  “I was forced to, yes. But I’m using my power to fight the infection until I can find a way to get it out of me.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “You can’t get it out of you. It doesn’t work like that.”

  “I haven’t turned,” I repeated.

  The police sirens were getting closer. My gut felt like a nest of knotted snakes. And hanging onto that reserve of power in case she made a move was causing that power to dissipate. It took energy to hold energy.

  “But you will,” Anda said. “You can only fight it for so long. I can already tell by looking at you it’s taking a toll.”

  I faked a smile and held my hands out in a who me? gesture. “We’re talking about me here. I have power to burn. You know that.”

  “I know you look like shit. I’ve never seen you so weak. If your girlfriend here didn’t have me at gun point, I wonder how easy it would be for me to lop off your head. Could you stop me, Sebastian? Could you?”

  I clenched my teeth. A raw dose of anger flowed through my system. I wanted to throw a fireball right at her face. But killing her would only put me in deeper shit with the Ministry, even if I did manage to straighten out their initial mistake.

  I backed up. Fiona clearly had Anda at a loss.

  “Let's go,” I said.

  Together, Fiona and I backed toward my car.

  Anda made a small huff, then backed away herself. She tossed down the katana, turned, and ran, disappearing around the far corner of the nursing home.

  “Holy shit,” Fiona said and lowered the gun. “I guess I’ll drive.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you have an arrow sticking out of your shoulder and I’d rather not crash if you pass out from pain or blood loss.”

  The second she mentioned the arrow, my body remembered the pain. I grimaced. Which, for some reason, made it hurt even more. The pain pulsed out in waves. I could feel it down to my toes. I staggered to the car and leaned against it while I took shallow breaths. Any heavier breathing only strengthened the pain.

  “Come on,” Fiona said and leaned against me for support. She guided me to the passenger side and helped me in.

  I cried out when the arrow hit against the seatback and woke up every nerve that knew how to feel pain in my body. I had to slump forward to keep from bumping it again.

  Fiona hurried around and got behind the wheel. I had left the keys in the ignition. She turned over the engine and squealed the tires much like the Dalton brothers had, only Fiona had the courtesy to use the driveway.

  Normally, I would use some of my power to dull the pain from my injury. I didn’t want to waste a single spark, though. For once in my life, I would have to suffer like any regular mortal.

  It didn’t take long for me to pass out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I woke to Fiona giving me a gentle shake. I fluttered my eyes open and stared at her for a dumb moment as I tried to piece my thoughts together. I had had the strangest dream. That Fiona had saved my ass from getting chopped up by Anda.

  Oh.

  Not a dream.

  “Let's get you inside.”

  I looked out the windshield and saw a half-dozen identical apartment buildings in a row. We were parked in a carport facing the apartments. “Where are we?”

  “My place.” She got out of the car and came around to my side.

  I didn’t respond when she first opened the door. I felt too woozy and was still stuck on the phrase My place. Our first date and she had already taken me home.

  Fiona furled her brow at me. “What’s with the goofy smile?”

  “Oh?” I didn’t feel all that much in control of myself. In fact, I felt a little drunk.

  Fiona smirked then waved her hands at me. “Come on. I’d try to help pull you out, but I think I’d hurt you more than help. Can you get out on your own?”

  “Certainly, ma’am.”

  Wow. My voice sounded like I was talking with marbles tucked in my cheeks.

  Fiona didn’t judge, though. She waited patiently for my motor skills to reassert themselves. I got out. There was a lot of pain involved, but somehow I managed. Then I leaned on her as she guided me toward the apartment building. I had a little luck that day—Fiona lived on the ground floor. The stairwell in the lobby looked frightening to me as we passed it, went down a short hall, turned the corner into another longer hall, and finally arrived in front of Fiona’s door.

  I had to lean against the wall while she dug her keys out of her tiny purse, which seemed to have room only for the keys and the gun. Maybe a tube of lipstick. Not that I thought Fiona needed li
pstick. She really was pretty. So very pretty.

  Fiona threw the door open and turned to me. “You have that dopey grin again.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes and helped me inside. I hurt all the way, yet still appreciated the feel of Fiona’s body against mine as she supported me across the living room and onto a beige leather couch. I slumped into a sitting position, but didn’t stay that way long. All I wanted was to doze off, get back to the darkness and away from the pain. I slid sideways and curled up into a fetal position.

  From the corner of my eye—before I closed them—I saw I had smeared a streak of blood across her nice couch. What an asshole move. I mumbled something that was supposed to be an apology.

  Fiona knelt beside me. She touched my cheek and roused me from the slumber I so desperately craved. “I need you to take off your shirt.

  She sure was forward. I liked it.

  I tried to sit up again. A fresh stab of pain went through me. Damn you, Anda, you sure did a number on me with one stupid arrow.

  Then I realized something. I had leaned back against her couch without jamming the arrow in or bumping it like I had in the car. “What happened to the arrow?”

  One corner of Fiona’s mouth curled up. “I yanked it out.”

  A sudden burst of wakefulness hit me. “You what? I thought you weren’t supposed to do that? You’re supposed to leave it in.”

  “Don’t worry.” She held up her hand. She had the damn arrow in it. She pointed to the tip. “See. A straight tip. So no big deal. Besides, I wanted to do it while you were passed out.”

  “You did that in the car?”

  “Right before I woke you.”

  I couldn’t help it. Despite having a hole in my shoulder leaking blood all over this nice woman’s couch, I laughed. And, damn, did laughing hurt. The laugh devolved into an uneven and hacking cough.

  Fiona patted my arm gently. “Easy, Tiger. Shirt off, okay?”

  With her help, I managed to unbutton and shed my shirt. She took it from me, wadded it up, and set it aside.

  She had me sit up on the edge of the couch, much as I wanted to curl back up on my side again. Then she got to work. I faded in and out, never totally losing consciousness, but all my memories from this time were gray and fuzzy. The most memorable moment was when she disinfected the wound with alcohol.

  I screamed.

  “Okay,” she said, as she finished tapping a bandage to my shoulder. “You should be fine.”

  “Lucky me,” I said through my marble mouth, “I was on a date with a nurse.”

  Her expression darkened.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not a nurse, is all. I kinda flunked out of nursing school. I’m just one of the orderlies.”

  I guess I had known that. But I had always gotten such a caring vibe from her. She should have been a nurse.

  “Sorry.”

  She shrugged. “Not your fault. Anyway, you need some rest. I’ll help you to my bed.”

  Based on the funny feeling on my face, I figured I had again evoked the dopey grin.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea, cowboy,” she said. “Not that I think you’d be up to much in your condition.”

  “I feel better already,” I said, then was hit with a wave of nausea. I almost spewed on her floor. Thankfully, I held it in. I had already ruined her couch. I was glad I could spare her carpet.

  “You look terrible.”

  “Thanks.”

  She tried to help me up. My vision dilated inward the moment I put pressure on my legs. How much blood had I lost?

  In any case, I was not getting to my feet. “Mind if I stay on the couch?”

  She stood and frowned down at me, hands on her hips. I noticed some blood on her dress. Crap. I really was messing things up for her. Yet she was still helping me. And still had not asked any awkward questions.

  “I suppose that’s best. You sure you’ll be comfortable enough?”

  “Lady, I could sleep on a bed of nails at this point.”

  She looked at me very seriously. “Or in a coffin? Like a vampire?”

  Uh oh. Awkwardness ahead!

  “So you heard all that, huh?”

  “We’ll talk more after you rest. But I want to make sure you’re going to wake up alive.”

  Man, she had accepted the vampire stuff and my magic exceptionally well. It occurred to me that I might not be the only one with a few secrets.

  “No,” I said. “I won’t.” I dug into my pocket and pulled out my Dad’s watch. “Just make sure this stays with me.”

  She moved to touch it, then stopped. “What is it? I mean, besides a watch.”

  “It belonged to my father. It’s…” How much did I want to share? How much had she already guessed? I didn’t know how far I could push her bizarre and unexpected comfort level with what she had heard and witnessed so far. And I did not have the energy for lengthy explanations. “It’s important,” I said and left it at that.

  Fiona seemed to think about this for a moment, then nodded, again accepting something she should have questioned like crazy. I really needed to ask her some questions of my own when I had my head on straight again and every breath didn’t feel like a firebrand pushed right through my skin and into my chest.

  She stroked my hair off of my forehead, leaned down, and kissed me on the cheek. “Get some rest. Plenty of time to talk later.”

  Only there really wasn’t much time at all. The power from the watch was draining by the minute. I needed to hurry up and find a permanent solution to my problem before I ended up undead.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I woke up in exactly the same position I had fallen asleep in. Fiona had rolled up a blanket to prop my head and give me a little cushion. But I woke up with a terrible crick in my neck and a taste like old gunpowder in my mouth. My vision started off blurry. I took a few shallow breaths—hoping not to reawaken the pain from my arrow wound—and gave myself time to drain the sleepiness out of my cotton filled head.

  I chanced sitting up after a few seconds. The movement made my stomach do a back flip, but I didn’t hurl, which was a bonus. I’d take any kind of good news at the moment. I noticed the blood I had smeared on the couch earlier was wiped clean. I guess it was a good thing Fiona had a leather couch. Would have been a hell of a clean-up on upholstery.

  I blinked away the last bits of sleep and looked around.

  No sign of Fiona. I had the living room to myself. I took the time to notice things, get a sense of Fiona from her natural environment. First thing I noted was the lack of a television. She had two floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined up along the wall opposite the couch. The shelves were stuffed with books. Paperbacks, hardcovers, all sizes and shades of age. If I squinted, I could see some of the titles on the larger books. A lot of popular fiction, but also some classics. She had a thick paperback edition of Moby Dick with a spine so broken, I had to wonder if the pages could stay in place if the book were opened.

  So, she was a reader, not a TV watcher. But not a snob, considering right next to Melville was a James Patterson novel. Classics and beach reads living together like cats and dogs.

  I decided to test my legs and see if I could do some more exploring into Fiona Templeman’s life. Unlike sitting up, I had a few more problems with this one. I couldn’t get my ass much further than a foot above the couch when the whole room spun and I had to flop back down. With the flopping came the pain. With the spike in pain came a twisted cry from me.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain to subside. Thankfully, it did. It didn’t disappear, but it lowered to a tolerable level.

  So much for standing, never mind walking.

  I couldn’t stay in this condition for much longer. I couldn’t wait for my body to heal naturally. Hell, it didn’t have any practice healing naturally. My natural magical energy always worked behind the scenes so that I could physically repair myself more quickly than the
average man. Unfortunately, that power was now focused on fighting a vampire infection. Stitching together flesh and closing up torn ligaments was not a current priority.

  I needed to see Sly. He could cook something up to heal the wound. With that out of the way, I could lay low until dusk, go visit this Toft Kitchens vampire, have him tell me how to get this infection out of me, and go back to my normal life.

  As I sat there thinking all of this through, I became aware of the extreme silence. When I had tried to stand, I had cried out like a whiney baby. Wouldn’t Fiona have heard that? The apartment wasn’t exactly huge.

  “Fiona?” I called.

  No answer.

  “Fiona.”

  Silence.

  My heartbeat quickened. After all that had gone on the past twenty-four hours or so, I had picked up a little paranoia. All sorts of wicked scenarios passed through my mind. I envisioned a league of vampires surrounding her, getting ready to feed on her, and maybe force feed her like they had me.

  I have an overactive imagination. Mom always said so when I was growing up. Dad thought I’d grow up to make movies or write novels. Wouldn’t they be proud to know I had decided to go into demon hunting? I had started hunting before the incident that took them from me. But I hadn’t worked up the courage to tell them about it. They were scholars. They definitely would not have approved. Now I would never get the chance to come clean.

  Fiona’s doorknob rattled.

  I glanced around for a weapon. Nothing at all in reach. Which was a good thing, because I would have looked really stupid brandishing a vase or a fireplace poker when Fiona walked in the door.

  She came in with a paper sack in one hand and her keys in the other. She froze just inside when she spotted me, a confused look on her face. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I said, feeling my face flush.

  “Why are you looking at me like I have a knife through my skull?”

  I swallowed. “I didn’t know where you were.”