-o-
She couldn't fight the exhaustion any more and finally she slept, on and off, falling into a light doze that left her aware on some level of King's movements. So when he stopped abruptly she was startled back into wakefulness, although it took an uncomfortably long period of time before she could focus on him properly.
He was standing in the middle of their makeshift cell, his face tilted up towards the ceiling above them.
"Someone's coming."
She blinked at him blearily for a second, her mind struggling to catch up, and then she slowly pushed herself to her feet, her bruised muscles protesting.
King had already headed towards the door and she followed him, struggling to keep some distance between them when she was still fighting the need to touch him, to reach out and make sure he was still with her, in every sense of the word.
"How many?" she asked, not sure whether he'd have an answer for her. While she knew that vampiric senses were enhanced, they'd never been able to determine by how much and she'd never wanted to ask King directly, knowing how much he hated talking about the specifics of his time with Danica. He much preferred painting it in broad - and coarse - brush strokes.
He paused for a second, listening intently, and then shook his head, making sure to keep his distance.
He was a lot better at it than she was.
She strained her ears, struggling to pick up what he'd already heard. She was about to give up and simply ask him when she finally caught it - the faint sound of footsteps outside their door. She moved back several paces, glancing around desperately for somewhere she could stay out of sight, just in case, but there was nowhere.
In the end, it didn't matter. The door was flung open before she could react.
She'd been hoping against hope for Caulder or Sullivan to pull a miracle out of the hat and actually track the pair of them down, satellite or no satellite, but today was just full of disappointment. She didn't recognise the man in front of her, but she knew the type, even if the gun in his hand hadn't already given him away.
Familiar. And he wasn't alone - another lurked behind him, hovering nervously as he eyed her and King. She shouldn't feel as weirdly satisfied about that as she did.
The first one took a step into the room, scowling and gesturing at her with his weapon, forcing her further back, away from the door. His eyes darted between her and King, and while he couldn't have missed the fact that King was now a vampire, he didn't look at all surprised. He must have expected it, which told her that he wasn't just any familiar, but one owned by the vampire who had turned King.
He should have been more careful, but perhaps he spent too much time in the presence of well-fed predators and had grown lax and fat on their leavings. He turned his back on King, and that was the last mistake he ever made.
She knew that some vampires were able to move a little faster than humans, but King moved faster than she'd ever seen him, grabbing hold of the first familiar as soon as his attention was distracted. He yanked the man's head to one side and Abby was already moving, heading towards the other familiar as he let out a yell and pointed his weapon at King, before she realised what King was going to do.
Stiff or not, her momentum knocked the second familiar down and she had the knife at his throat before he could get back up again, holding it there and keeping her eyes fixed on his face. It meant she didn't have to watch as King killed his companion, but it meant she saw every single, horrific second of it reflected on the face of her prisoner.
The first familiar kept screaming, his voice dying down to a gurgle as King continued to feed. And she could hear King, growling low in the back of his throat, the sound clear even over the death throes of his victim.
No. Not victim. She couldn't think of it in those terms, not and stay sane. He'd asked for it. Familiars never did have a very long life expectancy, no matter what they thought when they signed up.
The gurgles died off slowly, first to a low moan and then to silence, but she kept her focus on the man beneath her, pressing her knife into his neck hard enough to cause small beads of blood to well up, red against his skin. One drop grew big enough to slide across his throat and drip down towards the floor, and her skin felt tight, her head too big for her body, as she tried desperately not to think about what was happening only a few feet behind her.
The body hit the floor behind her and only then did she move, pushing herself slowly to her feet as she staggered away from the man now shaking and weeping on the floor, begging for the mercy his master hadn't shown Carruthers or Henderson. Or King.
"Please," he burbled, looking between Abby and King as though either of them was supposed to give a fuck. "Don't kill me."
She'd kicked his gun halfway across the room before she'd pinned him down, and she picked it up now, tucking it in the waistband of her pants before she turned back to face him. King had moved as well - he was now standing over the familiar she'd taken down. It was instinctual to take a few steps forward before she slowed, an automatic response to the equation of vampire plus human equals threat, but she couldn't bring herself to stop King, not if he needed this. Not if it was a choice between him and the bastard on the ground.
She just couldn't bring herself to watch.
But King didn't feed on him, not right away. He simply reached down and hauled the snivelling familiar to his feet, picking him up easily. He'd always been strong, even before he'd been turned, six foot two of sheer muscle. He slammed the familiar into the wall, holding him there while he stared at him, full of predatory intent.
"Where are we?" King growled, shaking the familiar when he didn't answer immediately. The threat was implicit in every move he made, not veiled behind good humour the way it always had been. "And why the fuck did you come back?"
The familiar was gibbering in terror, his teeth chattering together hard enough for Abby to hear it from where she stood, but King didn't let up, baring his fangs and snarling until the familiar finally caved.
"We were told to collect you," he stammered, staring at King, half-hypnotised with fear. "Once you'd killed her." He didn't even spare Abby a glance, which didn't seem to sit well with King. "Bring you back if you..." He swallowed, hard and heavy. "If you survived the biological weapon."
He meant Daystar. It was strange to hear of it in those terms instead of as salvation, the way the Nightstalkers thought of it, but then it hadn't saved Carruthers or Henderson.
"Why?" she asked. He tore his attention away from King long enough to give her a blank look, his wits obviously shattered.
"She asked you a question," King said mildly, but his fingers dug more tightly into the man's throat, causing him to gasp and choke.
"It's killing vamps everywhere," he finally got out past the grip of King's fingers. "But not these ones. So if they turn anyone, there's a chance their offspring will survive. And they need the numbers."
King nodded thoughtfully, the look in his eyes growing distant as he puzzled it out, and then he twisted his fingers, snapping the familiar's neck as easily as Henderson's had snapped.
The sound went through Abby like a thunderbolt, and she watched wordlessly the familiar's corpse crumpled to the floor. When she met King's eyes again, his were defiant, just daring her to say something. She swallowed down the bile that had started to rise in her throat and stared at him for a long moment, picking her next words with the utmost care.
"Does he have a phone on him?" she asked.
-o-
Thank God for familiars and their expensive little toys - the phone she'd fished out of the dead familiar's pockets had come with a range of apps, including GPS. Whether that was because he'd got lost a lot or because his masters wanted to know where he was, twenty-four seven, she didn't know and cared even less, but at least it meant that Sullivan didn't have to do anything clever with cell phone towers to find out the location of this particular hellhole. He wasn't anywhere near the hacker that Hedges had been.
When she finally got hold of Caulder, she hadn't given him the chance to get a word in edgeways, talking over his relief tersely and with as few words as she could get away with. Her hands were shaking as she held the phone up to her ear, and she limited herself to telling him where they were, that King needed medical assistance and to bring a van, something with blacked out windows if he could get it. He hadn't asked any questions, not after she'd told him that Henderson and Carruthers were dead. He'd just gone quiet for a moment, and then told her that he'd be there.
Caulder was far from stupid and he certainly wasn't naive - he probably already had his suspicions about just how King was injured, but she couldn't bear to confirm them over the telephone. The questions would come later - there was no doubt about that - and there'd be plenty of time then to explain exactly how fucked up their op had gone.
She'd just have to make sure she was ready for it - as if she could ever be ready for something like this.
When she'd finished talking to Caulder she ventured upstairs, the familiar's gun a welcome weight in her hand as she searched all of the rooms one by one, limping slightly as she moved through the building on bruised and bloodied feet. She found a sink and drank straight from the faucet, gulping down the ice-cold water gratefully. She'd regret it later, when it sat in her stomach like lead, but for now she barely noticed the flat, metallic taste of it as it rushed through the ancient pipes. All she cared about was how it eased her throat, how it finally satisfied the thirst that roared through her, making it difficult to think.
Now they were both quenched, and that was a thought to shudder at.
The sun was already up when she finally made it to the ground floor, and she cursed the sight of it under her breath - as if she didn't have enough to deal with already. It meant that King had to stay downstairs, trapped in the dark, while she secured the perimeter, and he wasn't any happier about that than she was.
He was less happy, in fact. At least up here, she could stop for a moment and catch her breath, let the horror of their situation wash over her. Over her and then ebb away - she couldn't afford to cling to it, not when they were a hell of a long way from being out of the woods.
She focused on the practicalities, letting the act of planning push everything else back down again - the fear, the worry, the grief. Getting King into the truck was going to be fun. She should have told Caulder to bring blankets, something to cover King's head, hide him from view, and not just from the sun's rays. She should have warned Caulder what to expect, but how could she when she could barely find the words herself?
She should have... She should have...
First, clear the rooms, then fall apart. It sounded simpler than it was.
When she was sure that they were as safe as they could be, she settled down to watch for Caulder from the window. Maybe it was cowardice to leave King down there with two dead bodies, but then at least down there he was safe and she was...
She refused to think 'safe', but she'd never been that good at lying to herself. Instead she leaned against the window frame, positioning herself so that she could see out but stay hidden. Her body felt like lead, weighed down and uncooperative, and she was so punch-drunk with exhaustion that she almost missed the unfamiliar truck turning the corner. She tensed up, her finger tightening automatically on the trigger, but she should have realised that it was the cavalry - it was big, black and unsubtle, just the way King liked them.
Thinking about King just made the hurt flare through her again, like the numbness was wearing off. It prickled through her skin like frostbitten fingers and burned at the back of her eyes. She took in deep, shaky breath, letting it out slowly until her hands stopped shaking and her heart rate had slowed down to the point where it was just racing. Practicalities. She focused on those again, compiling a little list in her head. It was short and brutal, and not particularly comforting. First get King into the truck, then get him back to base, then get him cured. Easy as one, two, three.
The cure would work. It had to - the alternative was unthinkable, and so Abby wouldn't think it.
