Lost Secret

by Emily Reed

  "Those are not my orders. I’m to keep you alive.”

  I looked up at him. "What does that mean? Can't you help me? Is it possible?"

  "Of course it's possible." He gave me a smug smile. “By getting you out of here.” He took a step closer, his body thrumming with energy. “Come now.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t follow orders from you.” I could see his influence trying to weasel into me. “I’m surprised you’d even try that crap on me after what we’ve been through together.” His eyes widened, and he stopped trying to control me. “Now, take me over there.”

  He shook his head. “You do not give me orders, human.” Those lines flowing off of him, fading into the distance, seemed to glow for a moment. I focused my gaze on his face. "Are you willing to bargain?" he asked.

  “Maybe. What do you want?”

  "I want you to be mine." His voice was a deep baritone, his smile predatory and hungry.

  "I don't even know what that means," I said, annoyed by his request. I was mine.

  "You must relinquish Megan and choose me." He drew me close, a hand on my lower back.

  "Choose you?" I threw up a hand. Because having sex with you on the roof isn’t good enough evidence that I’m into you, I guess.

  "Yes," he said, his voice dropping. "And then I could feed from you."

  Oh. “I don't think that's a good idea."

  Anger flashed in his eyes and thrummed through his aura, making it sparkle silver. "Why not?" he asked.

  "I just don't."

  "You've fed from me." He pointed to my leg. "Your injuries healed. How is that possible?"

  "I don't know. Maybe Dr. Tor can tell us."

  "Megan fed from you," he said, his voice cold. “Why not me?"

  I looked up at him, holding his gaze. "I'm not letting anyone feed from me anymore," I said.

  He laughed, throwing his head back, exposing his elegant throat. "You pretend as if you have a choice."

  "You wouldn't—not against my will," I said.

  "The only reason I have not taken from you," he said, his voice turning serious, "is because of Megan's claim on you."

  "You tried. You asked."

  "Yes. If you choose me, I could."

  "So, that's my point. You can't unless I choose you."

  "Ah," he said with a smile. "But what about Megan? Do you think she will not feed from you?" He pulled me closer and dropped his voice. "She will drain you of every drop."

  "She would never hurt me,” I said, defiant.

  "Megan is not human. She is like me, hungry and cold." He crashed his lips against mine, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. "I will have every part of you," he promised. “I will take you to the hospital and then I will have everything I want from you.”

  I opened, absorbing his energy. I will have all of you!

  The snipers did not miss our leap—they fired several shots. Dimitri covered me with his body until we reached the safety of the stairwell leading down to the rest of the hospital. I flew down the steps, taking them two at a time, my hand gliding along the smooth railing.

  When we got to the third floor, I peeked through the glass window in the door. Blood was smeared across the wall by the nurses' station. I pushed open the door slowly, listening. The whir of the computers, buzz of electric lights, my own breath...

  I crossed to the nurse's station, hairs on my arms tingling, Dimitri close behind. Harriet lay on her side, blood pooling around her. A gruesome wound ravaged her neck and one shoulder.

  The TV was knocked off its perch, the screen cracked and blackened—the wiring inside fried when it hit the ground. Files were spilled around the small space behind the counter. Harriet's chair was turned over. She fought but it didn’t do her any good.

  My fingers gripped the end of the counter, eyes riveted to her still form. She wasn't seizing or moving. But she would start soon. I walked around to crouch by her side. I’d never been back there before, never had a reason until today. "We need to find a way to restrain her," I said to Dimitri, "so that when she wakes up she won't hurt anyone."

  Dimitri bent down beside her and placed his hand on her head. "No!" I yelled. "Don't kill her."

  He looked up at me. "She is already dead."

  "But if I'm immune then maybe we can come up with a vaccine."

  Dimitri shook his head. "There is no vaccine for bleeding out, Darling." Then with what looked like no pressure at all, he crushed her skull, her brains squirting out like a ketchup packet. I gasped and turned away, covering my eyes. "It is for the best," Dimitri said to my back. I nodded, swiping at the tears sneaking out of my eyes. How much more of this could I take?

  "Let's find Issa." I didn’t look at her again—blocking the memory of the nurse I knew, the living, breathing woman. She was gone. There was nothing I could do for her. I had to stay focused on what I could accomplish.

  We went back out into the waiting room, and I led Dimitri toward the door to the exam rooms. Dimitri grabbed my bicep and held me back. "Wait," he said, a small smile on his lips. "Let me go first, the immortal vampire who can kill zombies, instead of the woman who was almost killed by zombies less than two hours ago."

  "Making jokes?" I asked, annoyed but at the same time grateful he was with me, worrying about me, helping me survive. I might be immune to zombie bites, but doubted I'd survive bleeding out like Harriet. Don’t think about it.

  "Do not worry," Dimitri said, his voice turning serious. "I will not allow you to be hurt in any way." He stared down at me, his eyes boring into mine.

  "Thank you,” I said, not breaking eye contact. Dimitri shook his head slowly. "What?"

  "I do not know," he said. "And that is...uncomfortable."

  "Welcome to my world," I said with a hiccup of a laugh that verged on a sob. “Let's find Dr. Tor so we can get some answers."

  "Stay here.” Dimitri blurred through the doors, leaving them swinging on their hinges. I listened intently for that strange strangled sound the zombies made. It was so pained I almost had sympathy for the death-hungry creatures. Were they so different from us? Weren't we all driven by our natures? Did any of us really have free will?

  I heard slamming and banging, a sickening skull-cracking sound that was becoming far too familiar. Standing in the waiting room, staring at the cracked TV, the overturned chairs, the smears of blood, I shook slightly, terrified by the absolutely overwhelming hordes of them. Standing there alone, my faith that I could help faltered. What could I possibly do against this disaster?

  Dimitri pushed open the door and motioned for me to come with him. "I checked the rooms," he said as I followed him.

  How long ago did I follow Dr. Tor down this same hall, with its watercolors of peaceful landscapes? The paintings were askew now—some knocked off the wall altogether. Broken glass crunched under our shoes.

  "I didn't find anyone living," Dimitri said. “Perhaps your Dr. Issa is dead.”

  I peered into the open doors: empty, empty, zombie sprawled across exam table, goopy blood dripping slowly from its crushed skull, brains splattered across the wall. The smell was sickening, and I swallowed bile. It wasn’t Dr. Tor.

  There was no spark of life anywhere. Just death. "He's probably down in the ER," I said, turning back toward the exit.

  Dimitri grabbed my arm again. "I go first, remember?" he said. "That is the only way I'll do this with you."

  "Okay," I said, "but let's hurry."

  He smiled, a twinkle coming into his eye. "In that case I should carry you."

  "I'll walk," I said. “I’m not totally helpless.”

  “No,” he agreed. “Just slow.”

  Whatever.

  We crossed back through the waiting room and into the stairwell. As we approached the ground floor, we heard shouting, rapid gunshots, and feet running. People began streaming up toward us.

  Men and women, some in plain clothes, others in scrubs, were sprinting up the stairs, their eyes wild with panic. Dimitri pulled me to the si
de and we slunk down the wall, people bumping against us. A woman, holding a baby in her arms, tripped up the steps. Dimitri caught her arm, steadying her. She yanked free, running for her life.

  "Where are they going?" I asked as I watched her disappear into the crowd.

  "Away from them," Dimitri answered. "We should, too."

  "Not until I find Issa," I said, pushing him forward.

  The gunshots grew louder, the crowd more frantic, the closer we got to the first floor and emergency room. Then there were soldiers coming up, facing backward, their guns aimed down.

  One elbowed me as he backed up the stairs, knocking me into Dimitri. "Get back!" he yelled as I fell into Dimitri's arms. The soldier looked over his shoulder, up at Dimitri, and his jaw went slack.

  Dimitri glared down at him, upset by the soldier’s rough treatment of me. The crowd quieted then parted for us as Dimitri's influence filled the stairwell, pressing into all the minds of the humans, controlling their thoughts and actions.

  He took my hand, keeping me close to his side. The soldiers raised their weapons as we passed, as though it was some sort of processional.

  When we reached the first floor, it was all soldiers wearing army fatigues meant for the desert; the sandy shades almost fit in with the scuffed white walls of the hospital stairwell, but not quite. Several men leaned against the door. Zombies pressed on the window.

  A gunshot on the far side exploded one of the zombie's faces, painting the glass with blood. Three more gunshots, then another two, followed by a knock at the door. "We're alive, let us in!" came a voice I thought was Issa's. The soldiers exchanged looks.

  “I think that’s him,” I said, holding onto Dimitri’s forearm with one hand, my fingers linked with his—the vampire’s influence a welcome balm.

  Dimitri nodded his head, and the three soldiers on the door stepped back. The overwhelming smell of blood filled the narrow stairwell. Issa and Basil fell through the opening, both of them spattered with blood and guts.

  Basil slammed the door and the three soldiers returned to their post. "We've lost the front of the building," he said, stating the obvious. The soldier looked at him with glassy eyes.

  Issa turned and spotted me. "Darling!" he yelled. "My God." He stepped forward as if to touch me and then, looking down at his gore-covered scrubs, stopped. "You're alive," he said, tears welling in his eyes.

  "Yes," I said, letting go of Dimitri to take Issa’s hand, wanting to make sure he was really there, that I'd found him. His skin was sticky with blood. He was so brave. Dr. Issa Tor risked his life to help people. That's the kind of human I wanted to be. "Come with me," he said, pushing up the stairs, our fingers still linked.

  Dimitri’s hand landed on Issa's shoulder. "Let go of her," he said, his eyes flashing gray, jealous and angry—almost human in their emotion.

  Issa raised his eyebrows as he looked at the vampire. They were about the same height, but that is where any resemblance ended. Dimitri's shoulders were broad, skin and hair pale, suit elegant…gaze deadly. Issa's narrow frame spoke of a wiry strength, his intelligent eyes sparked with life and purpose—he wasn’t a killer. Issa Tor saved lives and Dimitri took them…

  "I want her to be safe, too," he told the vampire. So they had that in common.

  Dimitri growled. "Do not touch her."

  "That's up to her," Issa said, his voice quiet…brave.

  “It’s fine,” I told Dimitri then squeezed Issa’s hand. “Let’s go,” I said, pushing up the stairs. We passed the soldiers and the frightened staff back up to the third floor. Issa led the way through the waiting room and down the hall to his office.

  Basil and Dimitri followed us. "Can we have some privacy?" I asked. Neither man moved. Issa nodded at Basil, who looked up at Dimitri. "Please," I said to him.

  His eyes flashed gray and he turned to Issa. "Do not harm her. Do not—" He pursed his lips but did not continue. Dimitri grunted in frustration before following Basil out of the room. I turned to Tor.

  “Now tell me, how can I save the world?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Issa's eyes ran over my body, stopping at the knives on my hips and chain around my waist. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

  "I'm fine," I said. "Better than fine." He made eye contact and then turned away, nodding. "Are you all right?" I asked. "You're covered in blood."

  "It's not mine," he said, looking down at himself.

  "Is it infected?"

  "Some," he answered. "I better change."

  I turned my back as he pulled off his shirt. I heard him rustling around in a cabinet, and when I peeked back, he was slipping on a clean shirt. His chest was smooth and hard. The doctor had a six pack, and a trail of dark hair running down the center of it.

  I turned my gaze away again as he began to pull off his pants, feeling that hunger crawl up my throat. I bit inside my cheek, pulling my focus to the pain, ignoring the urges inside of me.

  "I want you to tell me who you are," I said, not turning around. "Who you really are. Dimitri says that the address you gave me is a warlock society."

  "Yes," Issa said, his voice soft. "I guess you've learned a lot since I saw you last. Traveling with vampires. Basil told me your red-headed friend saved us."

  "Yes, she did," I answered, turning around. He was dressed in a fresh pair of aqua green scrubs and was using an antibacterial wipe to clean his face and neck. "There is something wrong with her, though."

  "What do you mean?" he asked, tossing the towelette into the trash. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a string of black beads.

  "Her transformation was not complete. She still has one green eye," I said as Issa crossed in front of me toward the door.

  He stopped at my words, turning to me, his dark brows arched. "Really?" he said. "That is very unusual."

  I coughed another one of those laugh sobs. "That's the unusual thing?”

  He smiled shyly, almost embarrassed. Issa turned away from me and, facing the door, raised the beads and muttered under his breath for a moment.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  He did not answer. A power floated out of the beads, like smoke. It glowed yellow, seeming to be lit from within, and crept into the creases of the door, building some kind of barrier.

  Issa lowered the beads and the smoke stayed in place. "So that your vampire friend can't hear or smell us," he said.

  "You're a witch, a warlock...that's a spell?"

  Gunfire, close and loud, made me jump. "We don't have much time." He started back to his desk.

  "You need to tell me what you know about me," I said, grabbing his arm and stopping him.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Don't play with me, Issa," I said, my voice venomous, more angry than I expected. "You knew, when I kissed you—you knew what I was."

  "And what are you?" he asked, looking down at me, his voice almost breathless. Our bodies close, my hand on his arm tingling with current.

  "I don't know.” My voice cracked—the doubts and fears swirling in my mind trying to escape. I forced myself to step away from him. It was hard. I wanted to grab him, kiss him, suck the energy from between his lips. "Am I a monster? Like a vampire or something?"

  "What happened? Did you...with that vampire?"

  "His name is Dimitri, and he saved my life," I said. "I was bit. Twice."

  "You were?" He looked me up and down, saw the ripped leg of my pants and dropped to his knees, reaching for me.

  I stepped out of his grasp. "You shouldn't touch me," I warned.

  "I can take it," he said, not looking up at me. His dark hair was mussed, out of control, and that lack of perfection, the flaws of him, that was what I craved—the humanity inside of him. I could see it. I craved his weakness.

  "You're human," I said.

  "Yes," he answered, reaching for my leg again.

  I let him touch me. His fingers pushed the cloth away gently, revealing the smooth skin below. Not even a scratch where that zombie too
k a chunk out of me.

  As I looked down at him, I unfocused my eyes, searching for Issa's power—his spark. A weakness at the center of him granted him some kind of power. Some kind of connection to the natural world that Dimitri did not have… that I did not share, either. Mortality?

  "You're not a regular human, though," I said as his fingers explored my calf.

  "I'm a warlock. My family has been practicing for centuries."

  "But you can die. A zombie bite would kill you?"

  "Yes."

  "What can I do to stop it?" I asked. "You said I could save the world."

  "You're immune." He stood, his body close to mine now. "And I think that means we could use your blood to find a cure."

  "What do you need?"

  He crossed to a cabinet behind his desk. "I need to take some blood from you. Run tests, see what kind of antibodies you have."

  "It was after I had sex with Dimitri," I told Issa, his back still turned to me. He stopped shuffling in the cabinet and faced me. "I was bitten, he saved me, and then we...on a roof, and I felt myself healing. I knew what was happening. I was feeding from him."

  Issa nodded. "Yes, and you fed from me."

  "What about Megan? Did I feed from her? Is that why she got sick?" I asked, my voice catching again.

  "I don't know, Darling. I've never met one of your kind before."

  "My kind? What am I?"

  “I’m not totally sure.”

  “What does that mean?” My voice rose with anger and frustration.

  “If you are what I suspect, then you are very rare.” He approached me, a needle and several vials in his hand. “There are stories, but…”

  I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Tell me what you know about me, about my father?"

  "He was a warlock."

  "From your society?"

  "No." Issa motioned for my arm, and I held it out. He tied a tourniquet around my bicep. His fingers brushed against my skin, and heat rose in my cheeks, that hunger burning in my gut. "He was very powerful. Perhaps the most powerful warlock in all the worlds."

  "All the worlds?"

  Issa slid the needle into my skin.