Warnings: adult themes, language, and a sex scene.
This was a request from a charity fic auction in which I participated. The prompt came from tfm, so thank you for the prompt, and I hope you enjoy the story.
I revised, rewrote and edited this story up the wazoo, and I'm thrilled to finally post it. Thank you Sara Nublas for your concrit!
Further notes at the end.
Emily sighed. "None of these girls match the victimology. Our guy likes girls with dark hair, and fifteen pounds of extra weight. I've found two girls that weren't average or underweight. One was blonde, and the other had freckles and braces. You find anything promising?"
Morgan shook his head. "About the same. Just means that we got to him early. That's a good thing."
They were weeding through every person who'd gone missing from Orange County, New York in the last three months, trying to find anyone who matched their victimology. Of the three teenage girls to go missing from the county, one was taken from Newburgh, and another was spotted within the city limits. In a city of under 30,000 people, that was significant, and that's where they found themselves now.
"We haven't found bodies, Morgan. Either he keeps these girls, or he infects them. Either way, their lives are over."
"That's not necessarily true—"
She cut him off. "Darby Taylor has been missing for almost three months."
"I know that. With enough therapy though, she could be alright in time." As long as they were alive, these girls could be saved, he had to believe that.
"And, if he's infecting them? There is no cure, Derek. There's no treatment."
Her use of his first name was enough to tell him how upset she was, but why she was so distressed was still a mystery. Morgan reached across the table and laid his hands on hers. "You know as well as I do that vampirism isn't a guarantee of mental illness. Many people live full, happy lives with it."
"And some become raging psychotics that attack without thought or provocation," she said. "Or they become psychopaths, and no one and nothing means anything to them anymore."
He sighed, stood up and went to sit beside her, resting a hand on her arm. "I know vampires aren't your favorite unsubs to hunt, but it doesn't normally bother you this much. What's going on?"
Emily went quiet, but leaned into his touch.
"Hey, come on now, talk to me."
She sighed. "You remember I mentioned that feeling I had when we came into town?" He nodded. "I can't shake it."
"I'd say that's a sign for us to pay the hell attention. What's it saying to you?" Emily's feelings were more than intuition or hunches; they were warnings.
She scowled. "I left my Gut-to-English dictionary at home."
Morgan chuckled. "I wasn't requesting an exact translation."
"I don't know. Just that something isn't right." She bit her lip. "Last time it was this persistent, the ghost of that prostitute almost succeeded in luring Reid into her death-trap."
A death-trap was like a portal between worlds, except the physical body couldn't enter. Normally, a good witch could arrange a spirit-lifting for a live person that would give them a small window to go into the portal and back. Without that, a death-trap violently and painfully stripped the spirit of its physical body. Permanently.
The hooker ghost had been a revenge-based spirit, trying to punish the john who'd killed her over and over again. Apparently, he'd been a young, slight guy, not unlike their very own Dr. Reid.
"We'll all just have to be especially careful then." He grinned and leaned close to his girlfriend. "Maybe that gives us a good excuse to share a room tonight."
Emily raised a hand to his face, which was barely inches from hers. "That would be breaking one of our most important rules, wouldn't it?"
"Warning, Hotch is right behind me." They jumped apart at JJ's voice, Morgan rushing back to his side of the table, ignoring the blonde's smirk.
"Anything?" Hotch asked as he appeared.
"Nothing, except Prentiss's gut," he said.
The Unit Chief looked at Emily. "What is it?"
Emily glared at him, before looking at Hotch. "I just can't shake this feeling that something isn't right."
He didn't say anything for several minutes, but didn't move his focus from her either. When he began to speak, he finally looked away. "Tonight we take precautions for everything. No one goes anywhere alone as long as we're in town."
The three of them nodded. Then Hotch looked back at Emily. "When we get back to Quantico, I'm sending you to a tutor. You need to learn interpretation."
"What? No, I don't. I use my gut, like any other cop."
"Prentiss, you can argue and you can live in your bubble of denial, but since you've been on this team you're "gut" has been far too accurate to be intuition. It's supernatural. If you learn to read it, it could save the life of someone on this team one day."
She shook her head. "I'm not psychic, Hotch. My mother had me tested when I was fifteen."
"Testing was in it's infancy then, it could have been wrong." He paused, and sighed. "Reid goes regularly, in addition to his group meetings."
"Yes, that's because Reid is a medium. He has a reason to go."
"So do you. Why are you so determined against this?"
"Hotch…" Morgan shook his head at the other man, trying to get him to back off.
"Really, Hotch? You actually need to ask me that? Do you remember Gideon?" She demanded, full of venom and fire.
Hotch looked at the ground, silence reigning for seconds before he met her eyes again. "That's why most gifted people go to group meetings and therapy. Gideon chose not to do either, and reached his breaking point."
"There's no empirical evidence that any of that actually helps, Hotch. Psychic abilities are still a one-way ticket to psychosis."
"Guys," Morgan finally jumped in, drawing a line in the air between them. "Can we just chill for a minute. This isn't helping anyone, least of all these missing kids."
A phone gave a short trill then, and they all scrambled to check. His had nothing, so he looked at his colleagues. It was Emily reading her phone, and releasing a long sigh at the text.
She looked up. "I just got a lead. A source of mine is in the area, he may know who or what is abducting these girls. And, if he's contacting me, it's definitely a what."
"It's a lead, so why do you look annoyed?" JJ asked.
"Because, it's Viper."
Morgan backed up, hands in the air in a stop motion. "Whoa, whoa, the sleazy demon that has the hots for you, that Viper?"
"Yep." She blew air out of her mouth. "This is going to be fun."
"You're meeting him?" Hotch asked. Emily nodded. "Take back up," he said.
"No, not with Viper. It's more intimate when it's just the two of us, he likes the illusion."
She'd done herself up a bit before going to the bar. Viper liked to believe there was a chance that one day, she'd let him into her pants. There wasn't, but that illusion kept him eager to see her again and again, which meant he fed her information. That was the only way she'd bother to see him.
Emily found him at a secluded table in the back of the bar, sipping an amber liquor in a tumbler, and scrolling through his I-Phone. The corners of his mouth turned up. She slid into the opposite side of the booth, and he finally set his phone down, a smile blossoming wide on his face.
"It's been far too long, Emily."
"Really? I hadn't noticed."
"Cute," he said.
She smiled. "Did you call me here to tell me that it's been you disappearing these women? Conning them into your bed like so many others before them?"
"I don't do underage, and every woman that enters my bed gets home safe by the next morning."
"Right, only remembering that they had a steamy encounter the night before."
He leaned back, sliding his hands behind his head. "I aim to please."
"You date-rape via demon magic, Viper. You cloud their minds and steal their memories, same as if you'd given them GHB."
He straightened, smile falling. "I don't appreciate being called a rapist."
"But, you've never denied that you use magic to render them…pliable," she said. She hated the smarmy bastard, and wished they could arrest him. Laws hadn't caught up to the fairly recent appearance of magic in the world, so demons like Viper got to assault as many women as they pleased.
"Well, it's never worked on you." He reached across the table and settled his hand on top of hers, gently rubbing her skin with a finger. "I always wondered why."
She pulled her hand back. "Why am I here, Viper? What information do you have?"
He moved his hand, and cleared his throat. "Are you familiar with a vampire named Ian Doyle?"
"No. Should I be?"
"He's very powerful, and rather old. At least for a vamp, for a demon he's still just a baby."
She shook her head. "We don't handle many vampire cases, the task force usually handles them."
"And, they're your least favorite baddy to go after. Why is that, Emily?" His sleazy charm returned, and leaned close, smiling.
"Just tell me what about him, Viper. I'm running out of patience."
He smiled and spoke quietly. "God, the things I'd do to you…and get you to do to me."
"Viper," she snapped. "Focus, or I walk out, information or no."
He sighed and sobered. "Doyle has been in town for a few months, got in shortly before the girls started to disappear."
"You know anything else about him?"
"Just that he has a hell of a temper, and if he isn't a psychopath, he's damn close. He's one of the most powerful vampires in the states, and he travels with a large group, infected and not. The latter is for food, I'd guess. He's dangerous, Emily. Be careful around him." Viper gave her a pointed look, and sipped his drink.
"Thanks for the warning, and the information." Emily slid out of the booth, and started out of the bar.
"One of these days," Viper called out. She turned. "One of these days, Emily Prentiss, I will get you into my bed!"
She rolled her eyes.
The second they got out of the SUV she felt it. It was like a chill, but it was warm.
Like an arm wrapping around her, and pulling her close. At least, that was how it felt. It didn't feel threatening. It felt like she was being welcomed home.
No wonder it was so unnerving, her mother's idea of a welcome home was a quick glance, and an admonition to keep quiet such and such important person was on their way over. She didn't like the feeling, and it must have shown, because Hotch and Morgan were both looking at her. Emily forced herself to shake it off.
"I'm fine. Let's do this."
Hotch glanced at Morgan, but didn't say anything. He turned toward the club and they followed. It was barely 10:30, too early for their to be much of a crowd, but late enough that some people had already arrived and started to drink. Hotch flashed his badge at the door, and Emily and Morgan did the same. The bouncer made a call, and then waved them inside.
"Agents?" A woman appeared. She had tight dark clothing, pouty lips, and the pale skin and predatory gaze of a vampire. She couldn't have been more tan 22 when she was infected.
"Yes, we're here to speak with Ian Doyle."
This club belonged to one of the area vampires, a vampire loyal too, and possibly created by Doyle. She was housing Doyle and his entourage while they were in town. Her name was a McKenna, and she was a baby in vampire terms, only 80 years old. Though, if their information was accurate, she was one of the first Doyle had created in the States.
"This way, please," the vampire directed gestured down a hallway that went away from the club floor.
She sashayed down the hallway, blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. When she stopped it was to knock on a door. She must have heard a response, because she pushed it open. "McKenna will see you now."
"We're here to see Ian Doyle," Morgan reminded.
She nodded. "Please."
Hotch led the way in, the scowl on his face deepening, and Emily followed, Morgan behind her.
"Agents, I'm McKenna. As soon as we're done here, Megan will take you to see Ian." She had dark red hair cropped close to her head, vibrant red lipstick, and big eyes that made her look young and vulnerable.
"Why bring us here first."
She batted her eyes, and her lips turned up in a cherub's smile. "This is my club and my home. You'll understand if I'm a bit protective of it."
Emily stepped forward, aware she was the least threatening of their threesome. "We aren't here to cause any trouble for you or your establishment here. We'd just like a few minutes with Ian Doyle."
"And, you'll have it, but you need to understand something first. This is a club for your kind, but it's a sanctuary for mine. Some of them are new and jittery, and some are still struggling with blood lust. None of them have committed illegal acts to my knowledge."
"Are you suggesting Ian Doyle is here for sanctuary?"
She smiled. "Of course not. Ian doesn't need sanctuary. I just want my people left out of whatever brought you here."
"You have our word," Hotch said. "As long as they don't interfere with our business with Doyle."
"Then head outside, Megan is waiting for you."
Emily glanced at Hotch, and followed him out, Morgan picking up the rear, and keeping his eyes on McKenna. Megan, the blonde, led them further down the hallway, to what appeared to be a private lounge. This time, she didn't bother knocking on the door, simply pushed it open.
In just that first moment, that warm feeling from earlier pulsed even stronger. It wrapped around her, and settled deep in her belly. Not déjà vu, but some not-so-distant relative.
"Ian," Megan said, "These FBI agents are here for you."
Megan addressed one of three men standing across the room. The two facing them glanced at her and the three of them, but the third didn't move immediately. Instead he turned around slowly and deliberately, his eyes instantly locking with Emily's.
She swallowed, the warm feeling pulsing inside her bones, and unable to look away from this man's light blue eyes. His hair was shaved close to his head, and he wore a thick layer of stubble on his chin. Ian Doyle, and she knew without a doubt that this was him, was well-dressed, but even expensive clothes couldn't hide the wear of wind and the sun on his skin. Wear earned during a time when people didn't work in office buildings, or use sunscreen and moisturizing lotion.
He smiled at her, and walked toward him, leaving his companions the wait his return. Like trained dogs, the two men didn't move. One was bulky, around fifty and with a mustache and a scowl, while the other was thinner and younger, clean shaven and a narcissist, easy to tell just from the smirk on his face.
Doyle stopped only feet from them, finally pulled his eyes away from hers, and spoke with a thick Irish accent. "And what can I do for the FBI?"
"Three girls have gone missing in the last three months, the same duration that you've been in town," Morgan said.
"Are you accusing me of something, Agent…?"
"Morgan." He pointed to her and then Hotch. "Prentiss and Hotchner. And, not yet."
Hotch shot him a warning look. "We want to know if you have any information on these girls." He turned to Emily.
She scrambled to pull the photos out of the folder she was carrying. She handed them to Doyle, and tensed when his hand brushed hers. He smiled at her, then turned to the photos.
He frowned. "These girls look very young."
Emily pointed to the photos in turn. "Bethany Feral is 16, she's from Newburg, and went missing two days ago. Amy Pierson is 15, she went missing 6 weeks ago. And, Claire Garletti is 17, she went missing 10 weeks ago, and she was spotted in Newburg five weeks ago."
He shuffled the photos back together, and handed them to her. "This is very tragic, but I can't help you. I don't know these girls, and have no reason to know them."
"Not even to expand your ranks?" She asked.
He sighed. "I'm sure you've heard many rumors about me, Agents, but let me put your mind to rest. I don't turn girls, I have no use or interest in them. I like women, adult, mature women, and I've no desire to find trouble with the authorities. I'm sorry about those girls, and for their parents, but I can't help you."
"Do you know anyone in the area that has a preference for girls like these?" Hotch asked.
"Surely Agent, this day and age, you're aware that predators are everywhere. There's demons, vampires and even humans in every city I've ever been in that could have taken those girls."
"Do any come to mind in this city?" Morgan pressed.
"No, can't say anyone does, but as you know, I'm not a resident of this city."
"Do you mind if I ask, why you're in Newburgh now?" Emily asked.
His lips curled up, and it was almost cold. "Well, you might say that I'm waiting for something."
"For what?" Hotch asked.
"Fate." He paused, and then gestured to the door. "Now, if that's all, I believe I've been more than cooperative."
He held her eyes again, and the contact was only broken when Morgan rested a hand on her arm. As they shuffled out, Morgan leaned toward Hotch. "There is something not right about this, he knows something."
"I agree," Hotch stated. He glanced at her. "Prentiss?"
"He makes me uncomfortable." It was so much more than that, but that was all she was willing to admit for now.
JJ was sitting in the dark room with Reid as he held his head, and took deep breaths in and out. She was pretty sure it was a storage closet, but hadn't gotten much of a look before following a frantic Reid inside. Tentatively, she raised a hand and set it on his back. When he didn't flinch, she moved her hand back and forth, trying to soothe him.
Something was trying to get an audience in his head, and Reid was fighting it. He'd explained to them once that the process was like a bad migraine. Usually it would be Emily in here with him, trying to soothe him. She was the one who understood, no matter how much she denied it.
After several minutes, Reid let his hand drop away from his head, but didn't immediately move. The only ghosts he let in were the ones involved in their cases. If he were to let them all in, they'd overwhelm and destroy him, or the guilt and stress from trying and failing to help them all would kill him.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
Reid nodded. "Yeah, I think he went away."
"Still nothing on any of the girls?"
"I don't think they're dead, JJ."
She nodded. "Yeah, me neither."
A knock on the door startled them both. "Guys? Reid?"
It was Emily's voice. JJ got up and pulled the door open to see the brunette, brows knit in worry. "How is he?"
"I'm okay." Reid moved out of the closet, and JJ followed, shutting the door. "Did you get anything from Doyle?"
Emily shrugged, and bit her lip. JJ watched her refuse to meet Reid's eyes, as the genius studied her with a frown. "You felt something," he said.
Prentiss cleared her throat. "Hotch, Morgan and Rossi are waiting." Then she abruptly turned, and walked back toward the conference room.
She and Reid followed, finding the three men sipping coffee and waiting. Morgan passed a fresh cup to Emily and she smiled her thanks. They were kind of cute when they were trying to be subtle.
Hotch looked at them. "Anything Reid?"
He shook his head. "They aren't dead."
"It's not demons then. They use or they kill; they don't hang onto victims." Rossi rubbed a finger over his chin. In his time off from the BAU he'd become a certified demonologist as well as a best-selling author.
"Prentiss, what did you feel when we were with Doyle?" Hotch turned to her.
"I told you, he made me uncomfortable."
"Elaborate."
She sighed. "I don't know, he definitely wasn't saying something though. Something important."
"Emily?" Morgan asked, voice full of caution.
JJ looked between the two. Morgan had always been able to read Emily, and Emily him, ever since they'd met. There was something in the way that they looked at each other, they always seemed to know what the other was thinking. It was eerie, but it made them good partners.
Her tongue flicked over her top lip. "It felt safe, like coming home, as soon as we got out of the car. Near Doyle…I don't know, it was like I knew him, I could feel him like he was a part of me." She shook her head. "I didn't like it."
Hotch suddenly moved, hitting the speed dial on his phone, leaving it on speaker.
"Veni, vidi, vici. Bring me a problem, and I will conquer it like a warrior with a spear," Garcia answered.
"You're on speaker. I need everything you can get on a vampire named Ian Doyle. I want to know where he was born, where and when he was made, if he's gifted, and anything else you can dig up."
"Done. Are you thinking he's our unsub?"
"Possibly," Hotch said.
"Okay. Derek there?"
"Right here, babygirl." He answered.
"Hey hotstuff, I checked out that demon like you asked me to. There have been some complaints, but no formal charges filed. And, it doesn't look like he's particularly high up the demon food chain. I didn't find anything in his phone records or bank accounts to indicate that Viper is working with any demon bigwigs."
"You had her check Viper out?" Emily demanded.
"The smarmy little punk has been chasing you for years, and you said you had a bad feeling. I was being cautious." Arms folded over his chest, Morgan was not apologetic.
"Well, I could have told you all that. Viper isn't malicious. He doesn't even have the balls to flirt with a woman without dosing her."
"Except you."
"That's because his mind tricks don't work on me. He doesn't have a choice." Hands on her hips, Emily was not about to back down.
JJ wondered if the battle of wills they routinely engage in was a form of foreplay.
"Whoa, whoa," Garcia suddenly said. "Demon mojo doesn't work on you, Em? That's super bad-ass. That's practically a super power."
"Demon tricks don't work as well on gifted people," Rossi reminded.
"Yeah, it's something in the way the brains of gift people work. The connections aren't the same, so the demon mind-fogging and such has a harder time finding the right neural pathways. They're actually doing some very interesting fMRI studies at Hopkins and Princeton now. If you—"
"Reid," Hotch cut him off. "Later."
"Yeah, but that usually only applies to people who are very strongly gifted, like Reid. Emily shouldn't be able to do that with what she's got. No offense, Em," Garcia said.
"None taken. Can we please get back to the case?"
"Yes," Hotch said, but looked pointedly at her. "You're going for a full evaluation before tutoring. MRI studies, ability studies and all. Then you're going to tutoring."
"What?" She gaped. "Hotch, they'll keep me there for days like some damn lab rat!"
"You need to understand yourself."
"It isn't that bad, Emily. The doctors and researchers are actually quite nice," Reid tried to assure her. When he'd joined, Gideon had taken him for an eval, and stayed at the facility to the whole time.
"No, they're not," she mumbled so JJ could barely hear her. Then she spoke louder. "I'll go to the tutoring, Hotch, but not the eval."
"As your supervisor, it's my prerogative to direct you to undergo eval, or take your badge and gun until you go."
Her mouth fell open. "You'd do that?"
"I certainly don't want to." His voice was much softer, and JJ could see beneath the mask in his eyes. He was worried and very unhappy making the threat.
Emily turned her heel then, and walked out of the conference room, slamming the door behind her.
"That may not have been the best way to approach things, Aaron." Rossi said.
"Someone needs to push her out of denial. I should have done it when she first joined the team." Hotch shook his head, and stepped out.
Morgan found her behind the police station, staring off into the forest and bringing a cigarette to her mouth. Smoke poured out from between her lips, and she was still for a minute before taking another drag.
"Well there goes 10 years down the drain," he said.
She turned to look at him. "If I'm going to be locked up with the white coats when we get back to D.C. then I'm smoking as much as a damn well please."
"You make it sound like you'll be institutionalized, Em. They only had Reid for two days."
She took another drag and blew it out slowly.
Morgan sighed. "Alright, you need to start talking to me. This case has had you on edge since minute one, your spidey senses are more active than I've ever seen them, and I still don't know why vampires piss you off so much."
"Are you asking as my partner or my friend?"
Morgan turned her to face him, holding her arms. "Neither. I'm asking as the man who loves you."
Emily inhaled, and dropped the cigarette to the ground, rubbing the toe of one show over it. She started to pull another cancer stick from the pack, but shoved it back in and stowed the pack in her jacket.
She turned back to the forest, but started to speak. "I have had this, whatever it is, since I was a kid. I can't remember not having it. But I always kept it hidden. When I was fifteen in Rome, I went through a rough time. I was in a lot of emotional pain, and I dealt with it by not caring about anything. I was open about my," she gritted her teeth, "gift for the first time. I was even open with my mother, and it scared the hell out of her. She didn't want a freak for a child. She pulled me out of school, and took time off to bring me back to Washington."
"There was a facility in Virginia, outside the city. It was pretty secluded, but most of all they were private and discrete. My mother took me for an evaluation. For the first few days, they put me through the normal tests, but the results didn't make sense. I didn't have the markers in either brain or blood that gifted people have, and I scored high on some tests, but low on others." She shook her head. "Even among the weirdos, I was an anomaly. A freak."
"You are not a freak," he said. Morgan pulled her close, her back to his chest, and his arms loosely around her middle.
Emily rested her hands on his, and he heard a shaky breath travel down her throat. "The head doctor working with me, he was a vampire. He was nice at first, but the longer I was there, the meaner he became. They started to test everything. More blood, urine, fecal matter, spinal fluid, hair, saliva. I sat through a neuropsychological exam battery twice. It takes about two days to do it once. More MRIs, EKGs, psychological testing. He seemed to enjoy the most invasive tests. He always looked excited. One morning a nurse came into my room with an electric razor, but he showed up and said my mother hadn't consented to brain surgery. He looked annoyed, frustrated that he couldn't continue playing with his toy."
"Brain surgery? What the hell were they going to do?"
"Explore, I think."
"But your mother said no."
"Yeah, even she has her limits. She'd gone back to the city after dropping me off, but that day she came back. I saw and heard them through the glass window in the room I was in. He told her there was something there, I was some kind of gifted, but they had no idea what it was. She asked him if he could make it go away. He said he'd try. He put me on thorazine, but after only a few days the side effects were too severe. He tried hypnosis instead, and when that didn't help, aversion therapy. I spent two days throwing up. When that didn't work he did ECT. He didn't give me the anesthetic, so I was awake through it. It felt like I was suffocating. I thought I was going to die. And I can still…I can still remember his face. He was excited, almost smiling. I was terrified, and he actually enjoyed it." She took a deep breath in and out. Morgan held her tighter.
"After the second time, I told them I didn't sense anything. That it was gone. My mother came and got me the next morning, after 24 days of hell."
"I can't believe they were allowed to treat you that way," he said.
"Gifted people were still just freaks back then, Derek. I don't think they really saw me as human."
"You were just a kid though. A child."
She was silent for several minutes, long enough that her voice startled him when she did speak again. "I thought they'd never let me out."
It took Emily a long time to fall asleep that night, her mind slogging through memories of her past, and the feelings Ian Doyle bred in her. Derek was in the room next to her, and she had seriously considered crawling into bed with him. But they were on a case, so she had to be a big girl and deal on her own. When she finally did drift off, it was to fitful dreams.
Those dreams were interrupted when Emily was jolted awake by the shiver rushing down her spine. She blinked into the darkness, and her heart raced at the sight of two light blue eyes staring back at her. She tried to move, get out from under the covers, but he was practically on top of her and holding her in place. Her pulse was thudding madly in her head, and her breathing was already quickened. She could cry out, but would it be enough time?
He lunged at the speed a human could never hope to achieve, and she felt two sharp pricks in her neck. The rush took hold immediately, encasing her head like a fog, sending tiny shocks through her body, filling her with a white hot heat, and making her dizzy. The last thing she felt before the darkness took hold was a feeling of weightlessness, like she was floating.
Sometime later, she had no idea when, light hit her eyes, and she struggled to force of stiff, heavy eyelids open. Her focus was off, she was still drowsy and light-headed, but she could make out a room. It wasn't her hotel room. It was lived in with personal touches, and expensive luxuries. After barely a minute, she had to close her eyes again, too exhausted to exert the effort of opening them for long.
She laid for only minutes when something wet hit her lips. Something wet and warm, sweet and salty. Emily tried to shake her head, but it was just too heavy to move. She closed her mouth, but it was easily pried open with a finger. She forced her eyelids open again, to find Ian Doyle hovering above her, one finger held the bottom half of her jaw open, and his bloody wrist was poised over her mouth.
"It's alright, love. Just a bit more." He ran a hand over her head, fingers slipping through her dark hair.
"No," she moaned. "Please, no."
"Shhh," he whispered, grabbing her chin again.
"I don't…don't wanna be…like you." She coughed on the blood, wincing as it slid down her throat. When she felt it hit her belly, felt the burn of the vampire blood, she gave up the fight.
It was too late now.
As her eyes slipped shut again, she heard him say, "I finally found you, love."
"Emily, baby, look at me," Morgan gently tapped her cheek. She was flushed, burning with fever, and practically unconscious.
"Morgan, get this in her mouth." Reid handed him a glass thermometer.
He shook it, and then carefully slid it between her lips. Emily reacted then, moaning and pushing him away.
"Em, we've got to take your temperature. You may need a hospital."
"Morgan…" She murmured.
"Yeah baby, it's me. I'm right here." He squeezed her hand.
"Hurts…cold." Morgan pulled the blankets tighter around her, and ran a hand over her head.
Reid leaned over and began to feel along her neck. "Her glands don't feel swollen. That's a good sign, but—" He cut himself off just as Emily yelped.
The younger man's face suddenly drained of color as he leaned close and his eyes searched her neck. "Um, Morgan. I, I…"
Morgan leaned over and looked at where he had been searching. When he saw them he felt his stomach hit his feet, and his heart begin to race. Two perfect, red puncture marks. "Oh god, no."
"I'll get Hotch and the others." Reid quickly rushed out of the room.
"Emily, Em, I need you to look at me. I need you to talk to me, and tell me who did this to you. I need to know if they infected you." He ran a hand feather light over her face.
"Derek…" Her eyelids fluttered.
He grabbed her hand. "Yeah, that's it. Come back to me. Did you drink blood? Did someone infect you?"
She groaned. "Doyle."
"Doyle infected you? He gave you his blood?"
Emily's head wobbled in a slow, deliberate nod, and she looked away, burrowing further into the covers.
Morgan sat there, holding her hand, and stroking her hair, his heart racing and mind whirring. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't lose her.
"Morgan," Hotch strode into the room, but came to a dead stop after only a few feet, his focus on the woman shivering under the covers. "She's infected?"
He nodded. "Doyle. She told me."
"Did he give her human blood?" Hotch turned briefly as Reid returned with JJ and Rossi.
"I didn't ask her yet." He turned back to his girlfriend. "Em, hey, did he give you human blood too, or just his?"
She groaned, then quickly turned away from him, leaned over the side of the bed and vomited. It was wet, painful retching, and he winced with it. When it was over, she hid further under the covers.
Morgan shifted closer to her, sitting on the bed, and stroked her face. "Emily, we need to know, did he give you uninfected blood?"
"No."
He looked up at Hotch.
Hotch turned to Reid. "How much time does she have?"
The younger man's face fell, straight into a look of devastation. Then he mimicked his boss, and focused on business. "Based on her symptoms, I'd say hours. She already has a fever, body aches, chills, vomiting…her body is trying to fight the virus, and failing. Her pulse is still strong though, and her breathing is normal, so probably not more than two hours before various organ systems begin failing, and after that another hour, two maybe if she's lucky before pseudo-death."
"And after that?" JJ asked.
"If she isn't given human blood before pseudo-death, then she'll have at best ten minutes before actual death."
Morgan squeezed her hand. "What if she is?"
Reid frowned. "Is what?"
"Given human blood."
"Out of the question," Hotch interrupted. "It's illegal to turn a federal law enforcement agent."
"I know the law, Hotch." He shifted his focus. "Reid?"
"Organ-failure will begin and progress more quickly, and about five minutes after pseudo-death, her pulse and breathing will increase to almost normal again. She'll wake-up a vampire."
"You can't do it, Morgan. She wouldn't want that," Hotch said.
"He's right. Emily wouldn't want to be a vampire." Rossi's face was vivid with pain as he looked at Emily.
"She wouldn't want to die either." He breathed in and shook his head. "Could you really stand there and watch Prentiss die?"
Hotch's expression didn't change. "We don't have a choice."
"Yeah, well I think we do. Hell with the damn laws. Doyle broke them to infect her, we can break them to save her." Even with what she'd told him yesterday, he wanted to turn her. She wouldn't be like that doctor, Emily Prentiss didn't have a cruel or sadistic bone in her body.
"Derek," JJ said softly, already fighting tears. "It's too late to save her."
He shook his head, disbelieving that they could so easily give up on Emily. It wasn't her fault she was infected, she shouldn't have to die because of it. Jaw tense, he looked back at the group. "Doyle needs to pay. We have to go after him."
Hotch nodded. "Someone should stay with her. Everyone else should say their goodbyes now."
Part of Morgan wanted to be the one to break into Doyle's little sanctuary, and drag his ass out. He wanted to throw the other man to the ground, and pound on him until his head became part of the concrete. But just as much, he wanted to spend the last few hours he had with Emily, holding her in his arms and begging god not to take her. He wanted at least the chance to save her.
"Dave," Hotch said, "I think you should stay with her."
"No." Morgan shook his head. "I'm staying with her."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"I don't give a damn what you think right now, Hotch. She's dying." He swallowed. "The woman I love is dying, the only place I'm going to be is right next to her."
Hotch studied him with that stern demeanor he'd perfected, but Morgan didn't falter. "Fine, but Reid stays with you."
Morgan didn't even attempt to argue. He slid off the bed, to give everyone privacy to say their goodbyes. Reid stood near a corner, out of the way, and staring at his shoes.
He picked up his cell and hit speed dial then.
"Mmm, I was just thinking about getting me some chocolate," she purred in greeting.
"Babygirl, what did you find out about Doyle?" He asked. Hotch heard and walked over, so Morgan hit speaker.
"Well, as you know, it's very hard to find records on really old vamps, and your boy, he's pretty old. In fact, he's old enough that I can't find him on any Irish census records before 1908, and yes, he was an adult then. He still primarily resides in Ireland, but he has properties here in the states, Tuscany, and in Nice, France. He's wealthy, has a massive power base, and no criminal record that I can find. There is some suggestions by a vampire genealogist that he was part of the original IRA, which was called the Irish Republican Brotherhood, and that he spent a large part of his vampire life fighting English control over Ireland. Best I can tell now is that he's a freelance organized crime type that runs things rather than get his hands dirty."
"Where's his property here?" Hotch asked.
"Oh, uh just outside Boston. Not that that's a surprise, that's kind of the Irish capital of the US."
"You found any evidence that he has a preference for teenagers? And brunettes?" Morgan said.
"Oh, on the contrary. Ian Doyle is very fond of the ladies according to Bureau intel, but they're all of legal age. In fact, they're usually his age. I didn't find a single woman that was younger than him by more than five years." She took a breath. "As for brunettes. Oui. All his girlfriends have dark red hair, or brown, which also tends to be of darker shades. Clearly, he's got a type."
Morgan looked at Hotch. He frowned deeply and said. "That fits Prentiss."
"Whoa? Emily? What?" Garcia said.
He exchanged a look with his boss, took Garcia off speaker, and moved outside. "Bad news babygirl."
"Derek, what's going on?" The flirty demeanor was gone.
He sighed and began to explain the situation to her. Garcia began to cry. If that wasn't bad enough, JJ came out of the room with tears pouring down her face, and Rossi and Hotch followed, both glassy-eyed. Morgan walked back into the room, and brought the phone to Emily, he held it to her ear, so Garcia could say goodbye. He knew she was done when all he could hear was great sobs on the other end of the phone.
Then he sat. He sat and waited for his girlfriend to die.
JJ was still wiping tears from her face as they drove to the club. Hotch refused to look anywhere, except the road he was driving down. Dave just stared out a window.
It all felt so surreal. They just left Reid and Morgan back at the hotel to sit with Emily as she died. The spunky, funny woman with nerves of steel and no qualms about putting even a legend like him in his place…she would be gone by the time they got back to the hotel. She'd probably be on her way to the morgue in a body bag, red not the usual black, to designate her as infected.
She'd get her wish though. Every vampirism-infected corpse was cremated. It was national law as of 1994.
He just couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that she was dying. Rossi was so preoccupied trying to do just that, he was surprised when Hotch squealed to a stop at the club. The locals arrived with them, the cacophony of sirens stopping abruptly as they each killed their engines.
Dave jumped out of the SUV, and accepted the crossbow JJ handed him. He was the most accurate with the weapon, which while a bit old-fashioned, was the only thing that assured a kill for vampires. Hotch and JJ both armed themselves with slim, pointed metal spikes. Made from titanium, they were lighter and more easily wielded and more portable than older models.
Hotch strode ahead first, his face tense and the crevices in his skin deep with anger. JJ followed behind, her eyes dry now, and her hand tense on her weapon. Dave followed, the crossbow slung over his shoulder like he was Robin Hood. He wished life was that simple.
They burst inside, Hotch already shouting, demanding. "I need to see Ian Doyle, right now. Where is he?"
"I can't let you in with all those weapons, it's McKenna's rules." The blonde leaned away from them, and spoke quickly, eyes wide.
"We're federal agents, and we're here to bring Ian Doyle in for suspicion of aggravated assault of a federal agent at the very least."
"What's going on here?" A young woman suddenly appeared, older than the blonde, with short, red hair. McKenna, he guessed, from his colleagues' descriptions of her.
"Last night, Ian Doyle attacked one of my agents. She'll be dead in hours. Where is he?" Hotch was practically snarling now.
She sighed. "Doyle left. Last night he gathered his people, and took off. He seemed pissed, so I didn't attempt to make conversation. And before you ask, I don't know where he went."
"We also suspect him to be involved in abducting three young women, if you're hiding him, or information about him, you can be charged as an accessory."
Her head shifted slightly, her mouth twitching. "These young women, how young are they?"
"Teenagers," JJ said. "Ages 15-17."
"Brunettes?"
"You know something about these girls?" Rossi asked.
She nodded. "Please follow me."
They followed the woman Rossi assumed to be McKenna down and through several hallways, complex enough to match any hospital. She stopped at a stairwell, and started down it. Before following, Rossi pulled the crossbow off his back, and readied it in his hands.
The first thing he noticed was all the doors, probably six. The second thing was the deadbolts locking them from the outside.
"You have a dungeon," Hotch said
McKenna glanced at them, and actually smiled. "Hardly. These rooms are quite comfortable, I assure you. We try not to use them, but sometimes they're necessary with the newly affected. Blood lust is very strong, and most vampires have to learn control. Some have a harder time than others." She waved them toward a window.
He peered inside and saw three dark-hair teenagers inside. The girls were half-naked, their eyes unfocused and sunken into their pale skin, their hair unwashed and hanging in messy strings. They were fallen all over each other, seemingly without the interest or energy to move.
"Bethany, Amy and Claire. They're here," JJ said. "They're alive."
McKenna shook her head. "Not quite."
"They've been infected," he said.
She bit her lip and nodded. "After Ian left, I found them in one of the rooms he and his people used. They're blood-drunk. I assume they've been feeding off each other, and probably whoever infected them."
Once ingested, vampire blood infected humans with the vampirism virus. For vampires, it sent a temporary power charge to the virus that had already completely taken over their bodies. It was rush, but dizzying and disorienting, like mixing cocaine and ketamine.
By the looks of them, the girls had probably been like that since they'd been abducted.
"Doyle did this?" JJ held a hand over her mouth, and her eyes were soft with empathy.
"No," McKenna said. "It was one of his people. He didn't know."
"You sound very certain." Hotch eyed her.
"I know Ian, he despises drug use, believes it shows weakness. If he saw his people engaging in this, he'd kill them." She paused, and then focused her gaze on them. "And if the girls were his creations, he wouldn't have left them."
"Tell me what to expect, Reid." The team had left, and the two of them were alone, watching over a dying woman.
"I already told you." He spoke softly from the corner of the room with the table and chairs. If he didn't get close to her, maybe it would make it less true.
"No, I mean everything. All the details, kid."
Reid sighed, but nodded. "Her fever will get higher, she might seizure if it gets high enough. She'll continue vomiting, even after there's nothing left in her stomach. There will be stomach pain, and a lot of it. When the virus gets into her other organs, her heart will start working faster against it. Her breathing will become rapid as her lungs struggle to work. There will be muscle aches and weakness, as the virus alters their chemistry. When it gets into her nervous system, she'll be in a lot of pain, and if she's awake and alert enough, she'll appear to have dementia. Nothing she says will make sense, she'll have trouble remembering things, she won't be able to focus on anything…"
Morgan snorted. "Oh, is that all then?"
"It's a nasty virus, Morgan. It attacks every bodily system and alters them profoundly."
"And after all this?"
"It will all stop, quickly. The vomiting will stop, the fever will drop rapidly, then the pain will stop, and her pulse and respiration rate will slow until they're undetectable. That's pseudo-death. For no more than twenty minutes, probably far less, she'll appear dead without really being dead." He swallowed. "Then she'll be dead."
That was less than two hours ago. Emily was already deep into organ failure. She barely conscious, and her respiration rate was so fast, she sounded like she was hyperventilating. She moaned again, writhing as the nerve pain surged through her body. Reid watched Morgan dip the washcloth in the melted ice, wring it out, and use it to wipe away the sweat from her face.
He was laying beside her, holding her close. Emily went back and forth from clinging to him, and pushing him away as the pain came and went. Her firsts were tight around his t-shirt now, her head pressed to his chest. Morgan pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and ran his fingers over her head. It was an intimate moment. It had been nothing but intimate moments between them since the team had left. Moments Reid had no desire to intrude upon, but Hotch had made his concerns clear.
Reid agreed with him. Emily would not want to live as a vampire. At the same time, he understood Morgan's desperation. If it could save her, would it really be so bad? He shook his head of those thoughts.
It didn't matter. Emily didn't have long now.
"Reid, can you get us some coffee?" Morgan leaned up, his shoulders and head rising from the bed.
"Hotch said I wasn't supposed to—"
Morgan interrupted, "I just need a minute to say goodbye."
Reid hesitated. He watched Morgan's attention drift to Emily, and his eyes held such tenderness, so much pain, that it was suddenly a little hard to breathe in the room. He cleared his throat. "Sure. I'll grab coffee."
He got up, and part of him wanted to go over to Emily, and say goodbye again. She may very well be dead when he entered the room again. He didn't. It hurt too much to be near her.
He grabbed the keycard, and gently pulled the door shut. The lobby had coffee, and it couldn't be any worse than cop coffee, so Reid headed downstairs. He had seen many coffee stations in his life, but this one he knew he'd remember for the rest of his life.
He filled two red paper cups decorated in clipart coffee cups from the carafe marked as "Regular" with masking tape and a sharpie. He almost grabbed a third, but stopped himself. He left Morgan's black and put cream and sugar into his own, using a pale wooden stick to stir it. The smell of the fresh regular brew mixed with the burnt decaf, the sound the stirring stick made as it scrapped the bottom of the cup, the warmth pulsing threw his fingers when he held the cups, it was all burned into his brain.
Reid took his time heading upstairs. He tried not to think about every little detail about how Emily's body was failing her at that exact moment. He'd read so much of the research on vampirism that he could easily picture the virus as it attacked her cells. He could see her stressed heart as it stopped fighting and began to slow to a crawl. Reid wished he knew less about the disease. He wished he didn't know how much she was suffering.
He pushed open the door, but it stuck after only a couple of inches, causing him to nearly spill the coffee all over himself. Then he saw it. Morgan had put the chain on the door. His heart skipped a beat. "Morgan! Morgan don't do it!"
He received no response. "Morgan? Morgan, stop! Stop now! Please think about this!"
Reid pounded on the door with his free hand. He felt dizzy. Part of that was glee, knowing he might not lose his friend today. Part of it was fear, of what would become of Emily if he turned her.
"Morgan, I know you love her, but you can't do this!" He nearly fell forward when the door finally opened.
"Too late, kid." Morgan was holding a washcloth over his wrist, and Reid could see spots of red on it.
"You really turned her, didn't you?"
"I couldn't watch her die, Reid. I can't lose her."
She felt hot. Hot and sore and exhausted, like she'd run for miles through the desert. Her body felt different somehow, lighter and stronger, even through the weakness she was fighting. That would pass, Emily could tell, and leave that feeling of strength behind. Her fingers curled around fabric, sheets she guessed, as she pulled herself further into consciousness. Then she felt something else.
She was hungry. No famished. Her stomach clenched, and her throat was parched. The hunger settled on her so suddenly, enveloping her body and mind in the desperation of that one need.
Emily exhaled, and cracked her eyes open, wincing at the bright light. She saw Derek, felt his fingers stroking her hair as he took the thermos Reid handed him. He unscrewed the top, and held it toward her. She could smell it instantly, the salty-sweet tickled her nose, and sent a surge of lust through her. Emily pushed herself up in the bed, and grabbed for the thermos. Her hand clamped over Morgan's as she brought it to her lips.
The liquid was still warm, and the second it touched her lips, her whole body seemed to go into a tizzy. She took firmer hold of the thermos, and began to gulp it down. Salty-sweet, it ran over her tongue and down her throat, pouring into her stomach. The suck and swallow motions of her mouth and throat were as automatic as those of a nursing infant. She drank and gulped until she was full, the hunger fading out, and leaving her back in charge of her own brain.
Thermos to her lips, she finally tasted the liquid for what it was: blood.
Her stomach rolled, and Emily pushed it and Derek away, then scrambled out of bed. She raced to the bathroom, ignoring the looks from the two men in the room, and slammed the door shut. She barely made it to the toilet before her stomach rolled, cued her gag reflex, and sent her last meal erupting from her mouth. It was heavily red from the blood.
When she finally finished her head was pounding, and she slid tiredly to the floor. Her whole body was trembling violently, and she was struggling to hold back tears.
"Emily?" Derek asked, knocking on the door. "Emily, are you okay?"
Her body tensed at his words, and anger flooded through her. Emily pushed herself off the floor, and went to the door, pulling it open. "You did this to me."
His expression of worry melted into anguish. "I – "
She cut him off. "No, YOU DID THIS TO ME. You turned me into one of them! You made me a monster! How could you, Derek!"
"Em, I – " He went to grab her, but Emily tried to pull away.
"No! Don't you touch me! Don't you dare!"
He held her tighter. "Em, Emily…"
"Let me go!" She snarled, and squirmed and wiggled against him, hitting his chest and kicking at his shins trying to get loose.
"No, damn it, Em. Listen to me a minute!" He hollered. "Yeah, I did this! I finished the transformation Doyle started! Between making you a vampire and letting you die it was a no brainer! And you know what, Em? I'd choose saving you every damn time!"
"Vampirism doesn't save anyone, Derek! It creates something new! It creates monsters!"
"Not for you!"
"Stop being so fucking naïve! We've both seen what this disease does to people! It twists people, it destroys them! Good people!" Her chest was heaving as she hollered, the dams in her eyes threatening to snap at any moment.
"Naive! You think I'm being naïve? You know why I can say that, Emily? Because I know you! I know what you're a capable of, and you are not capable of becoming a monster!" His brown eyes burnt into hers, and he was so sincere, so confident in her, it actually hurt.
Emily didn't back down. "You know me as a human, Derek! I'm not human anymore!"
He was still and silent for seconds, before abruptly pushing her up against the door and pressing his mouth against hers. Emily whimpered and tried feebly to push him away, quickly giving in. She kissed him back, arms wrapping around him, fingers digging into his skin, trying to hold him closer, trying to forget herself. He broke it abruptly. "I love you, Em. Human or vampire, it doesn't matter."
She brushed off his words, and kissed him again, trying, hoping to melt into him. Then one of her new fangs nixed his tongue. She wasn't used to them yet, but the taste of blood that was second nature already.
Emily felt dizzy. The sound of his pulse pounded in her ears as loud as a jet engine, calling to her. She lapped up the blood in his mouth, and it tasted sweet.
Morgan pushed her away, and the horror in his eyes, the horror he couldn't mask fast enough, sobered her almost instantly. Emily pushed him out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut, flipping the lock.
She fell to her knees and a broken sob erupted from her mouth. The dams in her eyes finally broke.
The locals were still interviewing everyone that spent time at the club, which was a lot of people, and he'd instructed Garcia to search for traces of Doyle. Hotch had called the local Specialty Medical Service (SMS), and had them get the girls and take them to a secure medical facility. The locals had been left to call the parents, and with a promise to share information on Ian Doyle and his entourage.
There had been no winning in this case. The victims were alive in a sense, but had had their lives irrevocably shattered. Their assailant had gotten away, whether it was Doyle or one of his people. And they were pulling into the hotel parking lot, minutes away from confirmation that one of their own was dead.
The three of them trudged into the lobby and up the stairs, and Hotch knocked quietly on the door to Emily's room. It opened to reveal Reid, his hair sticking in all directions, his face drawn with exhaustion. Morgan was sitting beside the bed, his head in his hands.
The bed was empty.
"You already called the morgue?" He asked.
Nobody had time to respond. The door to the bathroom slowly creaked open, and a dead woman tentatively walked out. Her eyes were red and swollen, her skin a translucent pale, but she was standing of her own volition.
Hotch turned to Morgan. "Tell me you didn't."
There was pain, so much pain in his eyes, but no apology. That's when Hotch noticed the thermos on the nightstand, the thermos with red liquid dripped down its side. Probably pig's blood.
JJ suddenly rushed over to Emily, and held her tightly. It didn't seem to matter to her what her friend had become, only that she was still with them.
Emily just looked empty. She stepped back and looked at him. "You didn't get Doyle."
Hotch shook his head. "We didn't."
"What?" Morgan stood up, the veins in his neck tightening, and the pain in his eyes vanished to pure hatred and fury.
"He was gone by the time we got there," Dave said. "We did find the victims though. He or one of his people turned them."
"Not him." At their curious looks Emily continued. "He's selective with who he turns."
"You know why he turned you?" Hotch asked.
Her gaze shifted to the floor, and she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "No, I don't."
She wasn't being entirely truthful, but Hotch let it go. He cleared his throat. "We have a problem."
"I'll take whatever heat's coming my way," Morgan said.
"It won't be heat, it'll be federal prison. Cops don't do well in prison." Dave cocked his head, and shot a look at Morgan.
"I will take whatever heat or prison time is comin' my way," Morgan repeated.
Dave shook his head. "I don't think any of us want to see you in prison."
"I don't see that we have another option."
Dave smiled. "Sure we do. Doyle began it, we just say he finished it."
"Lie in our reports?" Reid asked.
"We can't do that," Hotch said.
"Sure we can. No one outside of this room knows what Derek did, except Doyle, and we can't even find him."
Morgan shook his head. "That's too risky. We get found out, and you all lose your careers."
Hotch breathed in, and tried to stop his head from spinning. It was all far too much, and composed as he always was, sometimes he just wanted to throw his hands out and say enough. Like when Haley left. Haley. He sighed. "Dave's right. If anyone is uncomfortable with this, we'll need to know now, it won't work unless we all do it."
"Hotch, you can't be serious."
"Morgan…" He stopped, struggled to get his words right. "I don't agree with what you did, and this won't excuse it, but what's done is done, and," he glanced at Emily, "And, I can't say that I'm not a little happy that you did it, or that I don't understand your reasons for doing it."
"Derek, let them do this for you," Emily said. "I don't want to see you put in prison."
"Them?" JJ asked.
"I stopped being a cop the minute Doyle's blood hit my mouth." Emily looked at him then. "I'll give you my weapon and credentials."
"It's decided then," Rossi said. "Doyle abducted Emily last night, and performed the transmission procedure before returning her to her hotel room."
"Why did he return her?" It was the first time Reid had spoken since they'd arrived. He looked at Emily. "Why did he return you?"
The others had left, but Morgan was still in her room. He was sitting dejectedly in the chair by the bed, head angled down, and silent.
"Morgan-"
"I won't say sorry, Emily," he interrupted. "I can't and won't apologize for it. Because of what I did, I get to sit here and talk to you now. Even if you're pissed at me, it's more than worth it. Even if you hate me, I wouldn't take it back."
"I don't hate you." She walked over, and sat on the bed facing him, her right leg flush against his right leg. "I just hate what you did, what Doyle forced you to do."
"I'd do it again."
"I know." After having a minor meltdown in the bathroom, she'd gotten control of herself again. She'd called up the skills she'd been taught as a politician's child, and buried her feelings.
He inhaled sharply. "Would you have done different, if it had been me dying instead?"
"You mean, would I have made you a monster?" Anger still tinged her words. She tried harder to suppress it.
Morgan's mouth opened, then abruptly shut. "I would do it again."
She inhaled. "I accidentally cut your tongue, and then starting lapping up your blood. How does that not bother you?"
"It doesn't make you a monster. You can learn to control the blood-lust, people do it all the time."
She offered a bitter laugh. "Why do you have so much damn faith in me?"
He lifted a hand to her face, one index finger traveling slowly down the side. His voice shook as he spoke. "Because, you don't give up on the people you love."
Emily inhaled and felt is tremble down her throat. She rested her hand on top of his, and let her lips brush his mouth.
Morgan responded, and his kiss was intense. He must have gargled mouthwash while she was in the bathroom, because he tasted like mint. It helped. She'd retracted her fangs earlier, and kept them safely away from his flesh.
He was suddenly out of the chair, leaning over her, his arms around her waist, tugging her back on the bed. He clearly needed this as badly as she did, and Emily needed it so badly. Derek trailed kisses down her neck, and Emily pulled him close, so his erection was pressing between her legs. Heat was flooding her body, and with it a desperation to be close to him. Skin to skin.
It wasn't long before they were both nude, and their hands were running all over each other's bodies, finding all the most sensitive spots. In their seven months together, they'd achieved a level of intimacy she'd never experienced with anyone. They'd already known each other so well, and there was a connection between them. It wasn't in her head, it was real, one that she could feel. She knew when he was close, when he was hurting, and when he was scared.
And Derek, he somehow showed up whenever she really needed him. He never knew, never realized, but he must have felt it too. He must have felt her need.
When he slid inside her, Emily thought her head was going to explode. It must have been the vampirism, it had heightened her senses, and every sensation was stronger. Especially the sensations only she could feel.
The intensity of that connection caused her to grip him tightly, as if she was afraid she'd fall. Emily held him desperately to her, and rocked her body with his movements. She stroked his back, and angled her body so he could go deeper. Morgan moaned into her skin, and the reverberations sent tiny chills through her.
The momentum built, and she struggled to keep her head above the flood of sensations. His sweat-slicked skin sliding over hers, the taste of his mouth, his calloused fingers running over her skin, the sound of both their hearts beating, not quite in sync, and the smell of his cologne, barely lingering now. He moved in and out of her, his body brushing her clit and sending fireworks to her brain. Emily gripped him tighter, and shut her eyes in an effort to control even one of hers senses. When she couldn't take it anymore, the orgasm rolled over her, and her walls locked around him. Derek lost it then, erupting inside her, and then collapsing on top her.
He didn't immediately move or even pull out, and Emily held him tightly against her body, trying to soak up the moment. He was completely spent, his body limp against hers, and his guard lowered. That's why it hurt so much.
Emily kissed his neck, lips brushing over his carotid, her rewired senses keenly attuned to his pulse. She opened her mouth, and let her newly fangs slide out from their hiding place, pressing them against his skin. She had never done it before, but found that she knew exactly what to do anyway.
It wasn't like she imagined, his skin stretched until she increased the pressure, and then gave with a wet pop, her fangs sliding into his flesh. She didn't drink, she'd finished the thermos of pig's blood, and with the bloodlust satisfied, she kept control. He struggled against her, suddenly confused and panicking, but his resistance was no match for her virus-bolstered strength. She salivated, letting her sedative-laced saliva sink into his bloodstream. Only for seconds though, just enough to knock him out for a couple hours, if that long. Enough to test her control though. Her hands trembled.
He scrambled away when she released him, and sat and stared at her with wide-eyes for only seconds before collapsing back on the bed. Emily ran her shaking fingers down his back, and admired his beauty for the last time.
She dragged her eyes away from him, pulled clothing on, and jotted a quick note to him. Less than ten words. Emily grabbed her go bag, and allowed herself one long lingering look before walking out of the hotel room. She took the stairs and exited through the lobby, taking one of the SUVs and heading away from the hotel and into the more secluded part of town.
Her body tensed and twitched, and filled like a furnace, so she sweat like she was on fire. Emily's heart was pounding, and after only a few minutes, her fingers could barely hold the wheel. She pulled over next to an sprawling cornfield, turned off the engine, and let her control drop.
Emily screamed.
Morgan groaned as the drug wore off, and he was pulled from slumber. The light was harsh on his eyes, but he indulged that weakness only for seconds. Then his mind seemed to switch suddenly on. Emily.
Eyes still adjusting, he glanced around the room. There was no sign of her anywhere. Her clothes were gone from the floor, and her go-bag wasn't where it had been by the bathroom. His eyes found a clock. Two hours give or take, he'd been out for two hours. He pushed himself more fully to a sitting position, and a crinkling of paper caught his attention. He traced the sound to the other pillow. The sheet had brushed the folded paper.
Morgan snatched it quickly. It was hotel stationary with a shaky, almost messy version of his girlfriend's careful print. There were two short and incredibly painful sentences.
There's no place for me here anymore. I'm sorry.
He grabbed his phone, hands clumsy in his desperation, and quickly dialed her number. When he heard it ringing in the room he snapped his phone shut, and bent over in despair, head in his hands. Three deep breaths before he sat up straight, and dialed another number, not caring the late hour.
"Morgan? What's wrong?" Normally cheerful Penelope was groggy from sleep.
"I need you to work your magic. Run a trace on Emily's credit cards, I need to know anything she did in the last two hours."
"What?" Garcia demanded. "Shouldn't she have been resting in bed the last two hours, you know recuperating from the virus that nearly killed her?"
"Vamps heal fast, and she's gone," he said. Morgan slid his eyes shut. "Help me, please, Garcia. I have to find her."
"I'm already at my computer." He pressed his lips together as he heard her fingers dancing across her keyboard. For several minutes, neither said anything as she worked.
"Derek?" She suddenly said.
"Yeah?"
"She hasn't used her cards, gone to an atm, made a wire transfer, rented a car, bought a plane ticket, or a traceable train or bus ticket, or made any kind of mark on the world that I can find."
He sighed loudly. "Come on, Babygirl, there has to be something."
"There's nothing. How do you know she didn't just head out for fresh air, or that's she's been gone for a full two hours?"
"Because, she knocked me out with her bite before she took off." He pressed his thumbs to his eyes, and tried to keep his emotions in check. "And, she left a note."
"A note? What did she say?"
Tears pricked his eyes, and he barely got the words out without his voice cracking. "That she has no place here anymore."
He'd changed her to save her, and lost her anyway.
She followed it - that feeling that danced along her spine. When she'd first met him, it had been there, faint, but still there. Now that she was infected it was far more intense, and it grew more intense as she grew near. Just as the warmth she felt at the hotel, being surrounded by the team, and the heat she felt when Morgan was near had gotten much stronger.
Emily had always felt something, had always sensed the team in a way. She knew when they were near, and if someone was missing, though not necessarily which person. Except for Derek. She'd always felt him more clearly, being that they were partners, and then when they became intimate, it was stronger, more distinct. She'd never paid much attention to any of these feelings, never wanted to acknowledge that they were real.
Now she used whatever gift she had to guide her to the man that changed her life forever. Emily needed answers. She needed to know why. Why she sensed him, even before he changed her. Why he had changed her. Why he had dropped her back at the hotel, when he could have kept her just as easily. Why he had destroyed her life.
She still trembled. Thanks to her little stunt with Morgan, her control was slipping. Thanks to her fury as well. And she was certain, her proximity to Doyle didn't help.
She found him several towns away, hidden with his entourage in a farm house. Emily didn't even waste her time with hiding. She was certain that he could sense her, just as she could sense him. She stopped in front of the vampire at the door, rested a hand on either hip. "Move."
He smirked, one of his white fangs reflecting the moonlight, and moved away from the door. He was one of those, she thought. Some vampires took great pride in what they were, and made no attempt to appear more human. Like this guard, some even refused to retract their fangs, purposely appearing less human. Emily shook her head in disgust, and passed through. She started at the stench of cigarette smoke.
There were people, no vampires, lounging on every piece of furniture and floor in the joint. Every single one of them had a cocktail or a tumbler of ambler liquid. Even at a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, they were all dressed to impress. Vanity was something that seemed to come with the virus; narcissism definitely came with it. It was all business casual, generally favoring dark colors, though there was one young woman in a baby pink and black corset top. Red curls flowed down her back as she perched on the arm of a chair, laughing at the young man sitting there. He had a black fedora on his head, slacks and a vest over a button down shirt, like he thought he was a twenties gangster.
Emily headed toward the stairs, baring her fangs at the blonde glaring at her and leaning on the banister, struggling to hide the tremors wracking her frame. She didn't bother to look to see where the woman headed to, but kept her focus on finding Doyle. She went to knock on the door, but stopped when she heard shouting. One voice was Doyle, the other also had an Irish accent, but sounded younger. The arguing stopped for only seconds, before the door was yanked open, and a young man strode out.
He was in his early twenties, with chestnut hair past his ears, his bangs fallen in his baby blue eyes, and dressed like the gangster want-to-be downstairs. The only difference was that his shirt was untucked, and he'd stashed two cigarettes in his hat. He smiled and winked at her as he passed, and it felt like worms were suddenly crawling all over her.
"Come in," Doyle instructed.
She did, and stood before him, her mouth firm in a scowl. "He abducted those girls."
"I'm handling him." He paused. "You don't look so well, Love."
Her tenuous control snapped, and she charged him. They tumbled to the floor, and Emily screamed as she attacked him, fists flying. Not for long though.
Doyle was older and stronger, and gained back control quickly. He pinned her to the floor, and held her arms to her chest.
Emily hollered, and fought against him. He held her easily, and leaned in then, so his lips brushed her ear as he spoke. "Shhh…don't fight me anymore. Don't fight yourself, Emily. You are so very special."
She continued to struggle. "You did this to me! You made me a monster! Why! Why me!"
"I only infected you. He turned you."
"Why! Why turn me into this thing! Why am I so damn special!"
"I only made you a vampire; you were already very…unique before I met you."
"What the hell does that mean!"
Doyle backed off her, and pulled her up to a sitting position. Emily sat still, except for the heaving of her chest and the tremors in her hands. He let two fingers slide down her face, soft as a butterfly's wings. "I can feel you. I can feel that your gift is very strong, very powerful."
"No, it isn't. I don't even get visions. I just feel things that I can hardly understand."
"You've been suppressing it for a very long time. If you let go, if you give over your control, your gift will blossom."
"And how the hell do you know that?"
"I've known many gifted people. A gifted person told me that I'd meet you here." He smirked at that, but continued. "The gift is always strongest when it's in control."
Emily pushed him off her. "Is that why you turned me? You want a shiny new weapon?"
"No." He sighed, but made no move toward her, leaving them both sitting on the floor like children. "Do you know how old I am, Emily?"
"No. Older than me, I'd guess."
He chuckled. "By more than four hundred years."
Her mouth fell open.
"I lived four lifetimes, Emily. I don't want more war or more power. I want a home, I want a family."
Her mouth opened again. "And you want me as what? Your wife?"
"Yes. As my mate. That is who we are to each other, I can feel it, and so can you." He inhaled deeply. "It has taken me so long to find you."
Her heart ticked up, and Emily swallowed. "What is it that you feel?"
"You feel like home, Love. Like you are a part of me, a part of my soul lost long ago."
The same she'd felt. Her mouth was dry as she shook her head, and said, "No. It means nothing."
"No," he repeated, "It means everything."
She ran her tongue over her top lip, and regarded him. "So, why did you even bring back? If you wanted me, why bring me back to the hotel?"
He turned very serious. "Something came up, and I couldn't give you the time and attention you needed during the change. I knew Agent Morgan would turn you, I could sense the bond between you."
"You knew?" She gaped.
He nodded slowly. "Yes."
"You bastard," she whispered. "You knew what Derek and I had, you knew and you still…" She trailed off, disbelieving. Then it vanished, and she snapped. "I already had a mate!" she yelled. "I had a family, and I had a life! You took that all from me, you selfish bastard!"
Emily broke away from him. She wanted to kill him, but knew he was far too strong for her to fight. Instead, she ran to the bedroom window, threw it open, and dove out, her new vampire strength and reflexes allowing her a safe landing two stories below. She took off into the night, running as fast as she could away from Ian Doyle.
She may not have a place with her team anymore, with Derek. But she refused to believe that her place was with Ian Doyle.
She had no place anymore. She was a monster.
Yes, this is a bit open-ended on purpose. As I started to develop the story, my imagination kind of ran away with me. I decided if enough people liked this one, I'd turn in into a new series. The stories would each contain a case (like this story), deal with Emily's vampire issues, and issues with Morgan and Doyle. Give a shout if you're interested, and keep an eye on my profile for updates.
Thanks for reading!