Chapter 7
Logan sprang on the hunter's lackey, grabbing the muzzle of his semi-automatic and pointing it skyward. The teen fired madly, bullets shattering uncovered, fluorescent lighting tubes. At the clicking of an empty gun magazine, the vamp smirked satisfactorily before knocking the kid out with one punch.
Talbot took the distraction as an opportunity to rush McCullough and kick his legs out from under him. Angus pitched forward and fell, his gun knocking from his hands and sliding a distance away. He cursed and scuttled like a beetle over to Beth instead. Tugging her hair so viciously she yelped, he pressed a knife to her throat and wrapped his free arm firmly around her waist.
"Dean felt the world had a right to know about vampires! And you killed him, bitch!" He dug his blade into the skin under her chin.
Beth gasped at the sharp sting.
McCullough chuckled at her. "You brought us to this city, you know."
"He's trying to get you going. Stay still," Ben said to her. Standing five feet from Beth in a frozen stance, it might as well have been fifty.
"Aww, if you squirm, it'd be more fun. Remember your report on those college slayings, Turner. Could it be a vampire—wasn't that the pitch? When a story like that goes viral 'things' come out of the shadows to shut it down." He shot Logan a scornful look. "Foster was my eyes and ears. Figured out St. John wasn't human. Shying from sunlight is a dead giveaway. Dean wanted to recruit you and infiltrate the nest." Angus bent in close, his warm breath brushing against the back of Beth's ear. "When I heard about your marks after Victorville, I knew it was too late."
"You've got no idea about them at all!" she blurted, unable to stay silent.
"Maybe it's you that's in the dark. Did St. John mention his past?" said McCullough. He kicked Mick with the heavy heel of his boot.
The detective didn't stir.
Grinning, Angus slid his weapon lightly across Beth's skin causing scarlet beads to form and drip onto the collar of her cream, silk blouse.
He noticed Logan eye the gun nearby and his eyes narrowed. "Twitch…and she's dead! Blondie's leaving with me," he said, as he took three paces backward with his hostage towards the doorway.
Before he could pass the threshold, however, a shot rang out, the bullet hitting him in the side of the neck.
He tumbled into the hall, taking Beth as well. Panicked, McCullough attempted to stymie the bloody injury with both hands. Beth grimaced at the awful sight, pushing herself away.
Talbot lowered the pistol he'd pulled from an ankle belt, as he thanked the heavens silently for remembering to take it from his desk. "Thought I might have a use for this," he told her.
"How's your neck, Beth?" asked Logan. He spared a glance at the hunter, who finally lay still.
"Fine. J-Just a nick to add to the others. H-help me," she hiccupped. Tears had broken free, streaking her cheeks. Beside Beth was Mick, sheet-white and not moving. His breathing was loud and laboured like a steam engine on a mountain climb.
Griffen put his hands on either side of his chubby-cheeked face and groaned. "I don't know what to do. I can hear his heart failing. It can't heal around silver."
"We'll take the bullets out," said Beth, crawling over to pry the hunter's knife from his grasp. "It's not sterile," she declared, scanning for anything to clean it.
"Doesn't matter. Germs are nothing to us. But he can't heal from something like this. It'd kill the best of us. Look at him, he's so weak."
Mick's face had turned a godawful grey. Logan cracked his eyelid open. There was no pupil response to the taffy-hued beams of new morning sun poking through the broken, upper window.
"I-I'll give him my blood." Beth rolled up her sleeve.
Logan snatched the knife from her. "No. You've lost too much already. You're done."
"You can, Logan. Please, you'll heal," she begged.
"Sure, I will. But vamp blood is thin. It doesn't strengthen us like yours." He jabbed a thumb at Ben. "Maybe your friend cares to volunteer?"
Beth looked hopefully at her boss. "You can do this," she said.
Ben, who had holstered his weapon and was pulling down a pant leg, shook his head vigorously. "Absolutely not! They're vampires, Beth—like Dracula!"
"Dracula? Me?" Logan's bushy brown eyebrows shot up. "No way. Not even close. That guy's a barbarian—putting heads on spikes like bloody Pez dispensers."
Beth shot him a steaming look.
"Er—so I've heard." He held up his palms in a peace gesture and mumbled, "Not my style, just saying."
At another glare from Beth, Griffen shut his mouth altogether. He promptly unbuttoned the remnants of Mick's shirt and dug a sharp point into his chest. The P.I. woke up immediately with a deep breath and thrashed in confusion. Beth tried to hold him down with little luck until Talbot stepped in and took over.
Logan opened the wound up as much as he dared, then probed delicately with his fingers.
"Gotcha, yuck!" he said, plucking out a lump of silver even though he felt like vomiting. He dug in again and retrieved the second bullet. Then, pressing a shiny, metal edge to his own wrist, he whispered, "Here goes nothing…"
"Stop!" shouted Ben. He glanced at Beth's miserable face then motioned for the knife. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered, pushing up his shirt cuff and taking the blade.
Hissing, he sliced his forearm deeply. Blood welled fast and thick. Hovering over Mick, Talbot splashed a couple of droplets onto his lips.
The reaction was immediate.
Colourless eyes opened suddenly. Without warning, Mick attacked.
Vicious teeth ripped into the attorney. He tried to jerk free, but hands clamped like iron bands around his arms, as Mick, in a fog, sucked desperately.
Ben's frightened heart jacked up—which only succeeded in spurring Mick on. The sucking motion ramped up until Talbot felt as if he was going to faint.
In seconds, he couldn't feel his hands or feet; ice had invaded his extremities. The room began to swirl, colours mixing as though he been hurled into a blender.
This bastard's going to kill me! Talbot thought, terrified.
Something elemental snapped inside. Molten rage spread like a grease fire, pumping him full of spiky adrenalin.
Ben was furious.
"Enough!" he hollered, punctuating it with a gruff roar. Newfound energy filled him, and he thrust Mick off.
The P.I. was thrown back. He landed roughly on the floor, panting as his canines ached. Sizzling blood coursing through his veins with electric snaps revitalized him instantly. Mick took in the situation with a clear head. Ten feet away sat the human man with extraordinary blood that tasted of earth and pines. It was like nothing he'd ever consumed.
The name of this donor came to him like a fist.
Mick gasped.
Epilogue:
It felt good to recuperate after yesterday.
Mick's freezer beckoned. He obliged, opening the lid and slipping inside. Cocooned in coldness, his eyes drooped. Within seconds, he was in a sub-zero slumber that lasted well into the next night.
Stretching upon waking, he pulled himself out, put on some jeans, and made his way to the kitchen. After some ruby refreshments, Mick jumped on his black leather couch and thumbed through his mail, shooting bills and advertisements onto a dark coffee table, until he reached a manila envelope. It had no return address. He ripped it open and spilled the contents over the tabletop.
There was a note that read:
If you have received this, I am gone. Coraline needs you. Please help her, Mick. My connections are yours. Call 765-555-0165. Ronald Dowd is an attorney who takes care of all my affairs. He'll have a package for you.
Celine
A knock at the front door tore his attention away. Before he could answer, Josef burst into the apartment.
"It's me," said Kostan, whooshing past before yanking the fridge door open and pouring a generous glass of O+. He rounded the kitchen island and took a seat opposite his pal in a royal blue lounge chair. "Why the serious face? I mean, it's not like there's a crazy vamp killer on the loose anymore. It's been taken care of by a—oh, tell me again—a human, wasn't it? You know A.D.A. Talbot. Is he particularly chatty?"
"I don't think so," Mick lied. I've got no idea, he said to himself. He didn't need Josef's security team tailing Beth's boss. She wouldn't appreciate that. "Let me follow up on it. What about St. Agnes? It's a mess."
"Not anymore. The Cleaners removed everything odd, swept up. Derek, Smithman…whatever you wanna call him, Prince of Darkness or just 'Prince' like the singer, has it under control. Convinced the police it was a serial arsonist…one of the FBI's most wanted," declared Kostan.
"Prince of Darkness?" Mick arched an eyebrow. "He's him, as in—"
"Don't call him that. Anything but that. He hates it." At his friend's dumbfounded face, Josef chuckled, adding, "I never told you?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Slipped my mind. Anyhoo, Derek's got a cabin in Carmel. He's chummy with Clint Eastwood, I hear. He and Eliza are tying up loose ends from there."
"Is that why Derek looks so strange at times? He's cursed like they say," asked Mick.
"Takes after his dad," explained Josef
"Who's the baby daddy?" probed the P.I.
"You don't want to know," answered Josef.
"How do you know Derek?"
"He was the life of the party once upon a time. We ripped up the Renaissance together."
"I'll believe it when I see it. You still have a job?"
"I'm not a scout leader anymore, no. You're looking at the newest councilman." Kostan ran his thumbs down his purple suspenders proudly. "Things are changing fast. Everyone's reinventing themselves. We need a new leader. Someone who knows the city and can work with the Cleaners."
"Who's the lucky shmo?"
"You, of course."
Mick shook his head. "No way. I don't want that."
"It wasn't my decision. If you want to piss off Derek, go ahead. We both know he's uber understanding."
"Josef."
"Look, Mick. You'll be great. Trust me."
"Marceline said I shouldn't—trust you that is. She said you told Lance where to find Coraline."
Josef heaved a great sigh. "It's not what you think."
"You did it? She's being tortured!"
"Sylvain was going to kill you for staking her back in the eighties. I followed you that night decades ago and pulled that stick out. The fire in that shack wouldn't have been fatal, just left her vulnerable for some human to find. Cora was foolish to run to the window for one last snarl at you. That place was plenty toasty for me, by the way. I risked my immortal life for your sorry behind."
Mick was shocked once more. "I never knew," he said.
Kostan grinned. "You're welcome. Sylvie granted you a second chance. I wasn't able to tell you, part of the deal."
Mick stared at the blue flames of his open, crystal fireplace. "I owe you even more than I realized," he said, glancing up. "That was the end of it, right? Tell me you didn't have more arrangements."
Josef frowned. "Wish I could, buddy. When Cora stole the cure, he outlawed her, and her only turn. There was a bounty on her head—and yours. I promised I'd call when that harpy popped up if Sylvie let you go once and for all."
Anger swelled hotly, and Mick shouted, "You lied all the time she was posing as Morgan! You let them take her knowing what an asshole her father is!"
"I did." Kostan nodded. "I knew she'd be back. I did what I had to do, her life for yours. I've got no regrets—except one."
"That you didn't stake her yourself?!" growled Mick.
"That's rich from a guy that tried to burn Coraline alive," Josef retorted.
"I had good reason at the time," countered Mick. "But touché, I suppose," he admitted reluctantly. "What was your regret?"
"That I didn't get my hands on the cure. It might have helped my Sarah recover. Now I'll never know."
Sadness blanketed Josef's face abruptly dousing the flames of Mick's fury. He bent forward and put a hand on his pal's knee. "You gave up a lot for me and I'm thankful. There's more of it, you know. The cure is hidden somewhere. And I'm going to find it…right after I save Coraline."
"Whoa, now. Don't tell me you're going after her?" Kostan said, stunned.
"Have to. She stole the cure for me. Now she's being hurt. And…I promised Marceline that I would. I need your help."
"Hell, no!" uttered Josef, recoiling as if he'd been hit with a cattle prod. He pointed at Mick, saying, "You've wrapped yourself around the finger of another Du Vall—a dead one at that. After I risked my life for you! After I gave up a chance to hope!"
"I know. I'm grateful."
"I don't think you know the meaning! If you did, you'd know what a slap in the face your stupid idea is!" he exclaimed, getting up. "Why do I bother?" he muttered before stalking out of the apartment.
I'd rather be staked and roasted right now, Kostan moaned inwardly. He was beyond bored and terribly sleepy. Sylvain was yapping on speakerphone blaming Josef for all of last night's debacle. After an hour of barking, the bulldog's fury finally bubbled over. "When my granddaughter died, our pact died too!"
"I'll tell everyone about the cure if you lay a hand on Mick." I'm still mad at that dumbass, but, dammit, I'd still die for him. "Imagine how they'd react to something that negates vampirism."
"No one will believe it! To them, the salve was lost long ago. McCullough killed forty-seven on your watch. Forty-seven! Who would take a word from you seriously anymore? Did Derek mention the council has fractured? His decision to make you part of the board has caused chaos!"
"Something tells me you stirred things up long before now."
"I'll enjoy seeing you wriggle under the scrutiny of our members. Your testimony is the first order of business at our next meeting. As for your friend…St. John is a dead man."
There was a click, then a dial tone.
Josef scowled, knowing what needed to be done.
There was simply no rest for the wicked.
She's keeping me sane, Beth thought of her mom busily helping with dinner. There was a clank of pots and pans in the kitchen close by as Harriet gabbed about international news with their house guest. She had shown up this morning. Her bubbly presence kept the visions of three days ago away.
Almost.
By herself in her bedroom, Beth kept flashing back to the carnage. She and the others had sprinted from the rubber room. The main corridor was engulfed in flames by that time, blocking access to the exits. They'd been lucky to have super strength on their side, as they'd found a patient room. Mick had broken a plywood-covered window easily, and they'd all escaped.
Outside, the courtyard was a sea of bodies. Humans and vampires fought in the midst, guns versus teeth with the Cleaners on the outskirts torching the unluckiest hunters. Beth had hidden in the bushes when two of McCullough's men charged their way. Talbot dispatched one with his gun and Mick one with his fangs. The battle had ceased shortly afterward with a handful of hunters retreating.
Clutching Mick's hand, she'd waded quietly through the mess, emotionally overloaded and numb.
Now, she pondered the horror of all.
A wrap at the glass patio door distracted her from heavy thoughts.
Mick stood there, looking very bat-like with his long jet-black jacket fluttering in the wind. Beth quickly unlatched the door.
"Hi," he said, coming in.
"Hi yourself," Beth replied, smiling.
"I came to see how you were. But you already have company." Mick tilted his head towards the distant chatter down the hall.
"My mom from El Paso."
"And?"
"And Ben. He's making pot roast."
"Ah, my hero. He cooks." Mick scoffed. "Honestly, Beth. What's going on with him?"
"Nothing. We're coworkers…and friends."
"Friends, really?" said Mick.
"It's complicated," answered Beth.
He shook his head. "Hardly. Ask your heart how it feels about him. It should be simple."
Beth sighed. "Nothing's clear anymore. Nothing's simple. So much has happened with the hunters—Foster. I'm not proud of what I did to that paparazzo. It haunts me. I'm afraid I'm changing into someone I don't recognize. Right and wrong are getting muddy. My feelings are on overdrive…and I-I don't understand them."
"Being in my world has changed you," Mick said quietly. His hazel eyes locked on her baby blues. "I want you to know I understand about Foster. I know why you called Josef. I need to know if you still feel the same about me. Tell the truth. Do you still love me?"
"Mick, I can't…" Beth began thickly, only to have an enthusiastic voice draw her attention.
"Dinner's ready!" shouted Ben.
She turned back. The sheer, white drapes rustled in the wind where the patio door gaped open.
Mick was gone.
"I can't live without you," she said, alone.
Ben stood behind his family home in Colorado. The woods were alive with birds and animals. He could hear everything and see it vividly despite the pitch darkness of the midnight hour. A lonely barn owl hooted a mating call on an old stump, whilst a disgruntled squirrel in a neighbouring evergreen chattered its disapproval. On the forest floor, a raccoon bushwhacked noisily through shrubbery in search of food.
He wanted to lose himself in the hum of this restless night, to run. But something larger and deadlier lurked out of reach, making him wary. Ben couldn't see it, but he sensed it.
An ugly growl sliced through the brush…
With a call to fight.
Shuddering, Ben bolted upright in his bed. He wiped his bleary eyes before scanning his hands. Thick bands of silver hair covered the backs of his now mottled skin. His nails were long, dull yellow with jagged tips.
Then, before his eyes, the weirdness receded.
"Shit," he cursed.
It was happening again.
He wouldn't let it, especially after San Francisco…and certainly not as he was falling in love with Beth Turner.
THE END...thanks for reading...if you liked this and want to continue it...feel free and drop me a message, I'd love to read it. - TOEZ