Disclaimer: I own none of the characters from either Blade 2 or Shivers/They Came From Within. I am not making any money off this.
Summary: A medical experiment runs amok at an exclusive residential island off the coast of Georgia. Only a pre-med graduate student and a vampire can save the day.
Author's Note: This story is a sequel to Roses Red as Blood, a story I posted on but I think it can stand alone. It came about because I watched Blade 2 and Shivers (the David Cronenberg film, but I like the alternate title better because it's less generic) back to back. The situation in Shivers set up an interesting resonance with the vampire movie, & I thought I could create an interesting story by throwing a vampire into the situation and showing how he might react to another type of parasite. Plus, since Reinhardt was my favorite character in Blade 2, I thought he should have his own story. The ideas about what happened after Reinhardt killed his father were inspired by Raven Silvers and her story "The Bloodpack," which is posted on and which I highly recommend.
Parasitic
Chapter 1–Arrival
Peachbloom Island, Georgia, 1990
The wind over the deck of the ferry had the autumnal bite of November to it, and night would fall in less than an hour. Carolyn Robideaux stood at the rail of the last ferry to Peachbloom Island, cursing the chair of her dissertation committee, Kevin Corby. Being a graduate assistant to Dr. Corby meant pretty much the same thing as being a servant–deliver his papers, send out for his food, pick up his dry cleaning. So it wasn't much of a surprise when he suddenly decided she had to fetch and carry for him some more. "There's a Fedex package on the desk in my office that has some very important research papers in it. I need those papers today, Carolyn," he'd told her when he called her at home, just before she left for a blind date that her best friend in the department, Lia Dugan, had set up, insisting that Carolyn go because she didn't get out nearly enough. She supposed it was true. Men mostly weren't interested in her romantically, since she had too laser-like a focus on her work and fell somewhat short of the girly-girl ideal as far as makeup, hair, and clothes went. Presentable, she knew, but no knockout by any standards. To further her career she downplayed her natural assets: the waist-length sable hair, the perfect alabaster-pale skin, and the huge blue-green eyes that would make her a raving beauty if she took any pains with her appearance. But makeup and hairstyle had nothing to do with virology, so she ignored it. If Lia hadn't strong-armed her into it, she wouldn't even be as dressed up as she was. And, given everything she'd heard and experienced about Corby, she thought she should have changed clothes before making the trip, but there wasn't time. So here she stood, freezing her ass off in a short-sleeved red silk top and black leather miniskirt with ridiculous, impractical black stiletto heels. Her black leather jacket did provide some warmth but didn't stop the draft going up her skirt. Damn fashion, she said to herself. Corby'd better keep his hands off.
He was the reigning genius of microbiology at Colquhoun University and, since she was going for a doctorate in that field, he had to be her chair. And she had to keep him happy, which didn't include, in her book, fucking him. From the evidence of his numerous passes, he didn't agree with that, but if he took any punitive measures against her, she could have him up on sexual harassment charges, so they maintained an uneasy truce and she did his shitwork for him. She resented it, but her hands were tied. Oh, she knew he thought she'd wind up sleeping with him tonight, since this ferry was the last boat off the island until eight a.m. tomorrow, but if worse came to worst, she'd sleep on one of the couches in the luxurious lobby of Peachbloom Towers. Leave it to him to live an hour's boat ride from the nearest city, just for sheer annoyance value.
The ferry docked and several cars drove off. The cars of the rich: Jaguars, Rolls Royces, even a Lamborghini. Pretty sparse load for a Friday night, but she didn't pay that much attention. From what she'd heard, the island had some pretty kickass nightclubs, which interested her even less than fashion. Carolyn walked down the dock, tucking the Fedex package with Dr. Corby's all-important papers under her arm as she made her way down the broad marble path to the Towers. This was the first time she'd ever been to Peachbloom Island, all her information about it coming from newspapers and society columns. It had been designed as a retreat for the richest of the American rich, a self-contained community with expensive stores, restaurants, everything a person needed without having to leave home. Corby had substantial family money behind him and seemed reclusive by temperament; Carolyn couldn't imagine a better place for him, in fact. Most of the time he gave her the creeps, but she didn't have to like him, just put up with him.
Peachbloom Towers' atrium was several stories high, glass-walled, with three huge chandeliers sparkling with golden light in the growing dusk. The dark green leaves of hardy tropical foliage cast shadows over the cream-colored walls, while graceful Edwardian chairs and loveseats dotted the white marble floor, upholstered in tasteful pastels. The loveseats didn't look comfortable enough for sleeping, but if the good doctor pressed hard enough she could curl up on one. Carolyn was only five feet three. She looked around, but her committee chair was nowhere in sight. With an internal sigh she settled down in one of the needlepoint chairs to wait. The longer she kept from seeing him, the happier she would be.
OOOOOOO
Dieter Reinhardt dragged the Cigarette boat ashore and concealed it in a clump of trees underneath camouflage netting. At night it was almost invisible, and the inhabitants of this island didn't make a habit of beachcombing after dark. No, if they wanted to do that, they'd hire somebody to do it for them. His partner for this job and nominal superior, a vampire named Cromwell, stood off to the side, smoking a Gauloise. "No, don't bother. I can get it myself."
His sarcasm failed to register on the other man, who checked the luminous dial on his watch. "The jeweler's in apartment 1915. Mr. Golden's contact tells us he has heavy armament and isn't afraid to use it."
"Anything that could affect us?"
Cromwell shrugged. "Doubt it, but it pays to be careful. That's why you're my muscle on this job."
Reinhardt sighed and calculated the odds of killing Cromwell without suffering any retribution. They weren't in his favor. Fate was a bitch, no doubt. He had been in line to be the overlord of Vienna, but now he was reduced to serving as muscle for a vampire criminal. Hell, neither his boss nor his partner were even purebloods. He shook off the momentary surge of disgust and tried to get his mind back on the job. A jeweler named Lutz had a huge stash of South African diamonds hidden in his apartment, waiting for their purchaser to make the pickup tomorrow morning. Because he lived on this isolated, Godforsaken POS island, his boss had a window of opportunity to steal them and had sent Reinhardt and Cromwell to liberate the diamonds. Hey, it was a living.
When Stefan Reinhardt had killed his wife Liesl and died in the attempt to kill his son, the scandal had rocked the vampire world. Vampires simply did not kill each other in this sort of sordid, human way. In territorial disputes, yes, but not because of insanity. The council, in its infinite wisdom, had decided to sweep the scandal under the proverbial rug and, with it, the Reinhardts. Another noble family had been slotted to assume the overlordship of Vienna and Dieter had been banished from his home, the Reinhardt name in disgrace. Not that he minded so much, because the only thing that had ever held him there had been his mother. Now that she was gone, Vienna seethed with memories of the only person who had ever loved him. He was alone, and one place was as good as another.
The only good thing that had come out of the entire mess was that no more pressure to marry existed. Any noble female who would have been suitable for him by birth would refuse because of the scandal, and marrying beneath himself was inconceivable to him, so he was free to indulge himself with human females, his secret vice. He was still careful to keep this as private as possible, since vampires looked down on sex with humans as a minor perversion, but his appetite for them had increased with freedom. Every night he found human women with the thin white skin he was drawn to, the kind that colored easily with blood, and pleasured himself with them until his lust was satisfied. Reinhardt always left them alive. Killing them afterward, while customary in vampire circles, always seemed the height of ingratitude to him. His mama had taught him better manners than that. When he hunted, he took down men exclusively, not any of his lovely little females, warm and alive. They had other, better uses.
"Let's get moving. We've only got ten hours of darkness." Cromwell began walking across the beach toward Peachbloom Towers. Reinhardt recalled his last conversation with his mother then, when she urged him to go abroad to look for a mate, maybe in America. He bit back a bitter laugh, falling into step behind the half-blood vampire. A high-born woman was the last thing he wanted or needed. Sometimes he wondered what it was he stayed alive for and found no answer.
Both he and Cromwell were dressed casually in expensive jackets and slacks, the better to pass for residents of this exclusive community. Cromwell had that nondescript kind of face that could pull it off, but Reinhardt was a man observers would remember. Over six feet tall, he moved with a predator's lethal grace, and the dour expression on his face left no doubt that he was not a man to piss off. Add to that the shaved head and the mirrored sunglasses he affected, and that spelled trouble. His jacket was cut to hide the pistol in its shoulder holster, one of his customized weapons with a razor-sharp quarter-moon blade running from the underside of the gun's barrel to the base of the gunbutt. From all he'd been told, the jeweler was human, but he'd loaded the gun with silver bullets anyway. Who said Cromwell had told him everything? Maybe it was a simple smash-and-grab, maybe not. Caution had saved his life more than once.
He had to admit that Peachbloom Towers was beautiful, a place he could see Golden, the vampire mob boss he now worked for, living. In a way it reminded him of the Vienna compound, only much less secure. With a professional eye he appraised the lobby. Several security guards stood at their posts in the lobby, but they looked like rent-a-cops to him. They'd be of no use if anyone really determined to kill any of the complex's residents showed up. A red-haired woman at the information desk answered someone's questions, smiling pleasantly and gesturing down the corridor. Residents passed through the lobby on the way to the stores and the restaurants, but fewer than he'd expected. Maybe something good was on TV. A young woman sat in one of the chairs in the lobby, half-turned toward him, leafing through a copy of Town & Country, a package at her feet. Definitely human. Reinhardt spent a few moments admiring her. Gorgeous long legs in those spike-heeled shoes, exposed to mid-thigh by the miniskirt she wore. The bulky leather jacket she wore concealed her upper half from him, which he found something of a disappointment. Her long, straight hair fell forward, mostly veiling her face, but he could tell from those bare legs that she had glorious skin he'd love to lick while he fucked her.
"Stop staring at that bitch," Cromwell ordered. "We're here on business."
Irritated, he kept his eyes on her for a few seconds more, then turned to his partner. "Then let's get this shit on the road already. I'd like to be back in Atlanta before sunup."
"That won't be a problem as long as you do your part."
He snorted. "Then we won't have any problems. Let's go get those diamonds." The two men moved through the sluggish traffic in the lobby toward the bank of elevators at the end of the corridor. Reinhardt pushed fantasies of the dark-haired girl with the legs to the back of his mind. Time for action.