Chapter 49

Vigil

Intro Song: I'll Follow You Into The Dark, Death Cab for Cutie

"Here, Gabrielle. It's been a long night and you look like you need this." Josef pressed a goblet of freshie blood on the New York visitor who had wandered into the study that had become the informal headquarters for the group of people trying to save Mick.

"Good call, Josef." The younger vampire accepted the glass gratefully, draining it almost immediately, and holding it out for a refill with a smile. She studied him closely. "Although, from the way you look, I think you need it worse than me."

On his pale face, the dark circles shadowing Josef's brown eyes gave him a tired, haunted look. He grimaced at her words. "What was your first clue?"

"Oh, I'd say knowing you had to watch your best friend being sliced and diced all night." Gabby's words were deliberately inflammatory. She was seething, furious to the core of her being, over what had been done to Mick. The sight of him, lying there on that table almost cut in two by the vicious attack, had made the hair stand up on the back of her neck and her fangs descend spontaneously. Gabby found herself literally aching for someone to punish. She intended to exact revenge and she wanted Josef on her side.

Her words had the desired effect.

"Goddammit!" Josef raged, "It's bad enough going through this without you saying crap like that! Do you have any idea what it was like before you got here?!" He didn't wait for a reply, but continued bitterly, "Well, let me describe it for you - I'll give you just a few of the graphic details. Mick was screaming in pain. Guillermo was digging into his guts with both hands and he was screaming. Oh. Wait. That's not accurate. Guillermo was digging into Mick's stomach, not his guts, because his guts were out all over the fucking table! And he was screaming. I could hear him no matter where I went in this place. There wasn't a damn thing I could do to help him."

He raised anguished eyes to her. "It got so bad, Guillermo wanted to let him die. He thought it would be kinder. And you know what? He was right. But I wouldn't let him do that!" Josef paused in his tirade, breathing hard. He stared at the hand-blown goblet in his hand as if he were seeing it for the first time, then abruptly wheeled and threw it across the room with all the force he could muster. It shattered on the far wall into tiny, multi-colored shards that caught the light as they flew through the air, a somehow satisfying punctuation to his words. Sinking into a nearby chair, he dropped his head into his hands. "God help me, I wouldn't let him do that - but, not because it was the right thing for Mick. It was because I didn't want to lose him. What does that make me?" Kostan's voice was choked, his anger buried in the wake of his pain and remorse.

Gabrielle got up and walked over to his bowed form. Carefully placing her hand on his shoulder, she squeezed it reassuringly. "It makes you his friend, Josef. Mick is a survivor; he would want to fight, no matter what. I know you would have done what Guillermo suggested if it was really the right thing for him. I don't know you that well, but I know enough about the relationship you two have to be sure about that. It would have been incredibly hard...but you would have done it. For Mick, you would have done it."

She bent down toward him, her glossy black hair swinging down on either side of her face. "Mick wants to live, he wants to build a life with Beth. He wouldn't want to give up and leave her. You know him better than anyone and that's why you made that decision. It was the right one - the one he would want. I admire you for that, Josef, because, regardless of what you say, that couldn't have been easy."

Kostan nodded almost imperceptibly, acknowledging the truth in her words, but remained hunched over, head in hands, as if the weight of the world were on his back.

Straightening, Gabrielle moved purposefully over to the bar. Producing a fresh goblet, she poured a generous quantity of blood from the decanter, and took the glass back over to the suffering vampire. "Here, Josef. You need your strength - because I plan to rip the heads off the sons of bitches that did this and use them for soccer balls, and I want you to help me do it."

Josef looked up at the lovely vampire as she smiled wickedly and held out the goblet. "Now, I don't know about you, Mr. Kostan, but just the thought of that makes me feel better. And don't throw this one – you're running out of glasses."

Josef took the glass from her hand with the first hint of a smile on his face in the long night. "To revenge, then, Gabby."

"To revenge." Gabrielle touched her glass to Josef's, her fangs bared.

Beth jerked awake, catching herself just before she pitched off the bench next to Mick. "Wake up!" she told herself irritably. She had to admit that the constant exposure to the cold – and the stress of worry – were taking a toll.

Initially, she had paced back and forth, too anxious to stand still. Then, as the time stretched out and the adrenaline gradually left her system, she tired, and came, first to stand, then to sit, by Mick, settling in on the bench next to him. That had clearly been a mistake but as her overtaxed system screamed for rest, she collapsed back onto the bench again, shifting so she could see his face. Compelled to touch the unconscious man and reassure herself that he was still with her - or perhaps to jolt herself out of this terrible dream, Beth extended her hand cautiously. At the sound of the door opening behind her, she jerked her arm back as if she were a child about to be caught handling a delicate, forbidden object. She relaxed slightly and plastered on an attempt at a smile when she saw a familiar face.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing, sweetie."

Those same words had been said so many times, in just that way, by her long-dead mother, who would poke her head into Beth's bedroom when she had been closeted in there too long. Her resolve to be strong and maintain her composure, crumbled in the face of those memories, like an ancient building turning to dust during an earthquake.

"Simone," she sobbed as she stood up by the side of the unresponsive vampire, her warm breath creating vapor clouds as she cried. Her shoulders were slumped and shaking with the force of her tears, the down sleeping bag dropping from her nerveless fingers to pool around her feet.

The attorney was shocked. This was Beth Turner, the feisty, exuberant young woman who had even Josef Kostan's admiration for her spunk and strong will. Simone had never seen her like this.

She had known that there was a crisis brewing when Josef called her in to help deal with any legal hurdles associated with acquiring large quantities of powerful animal tranquilizers and drugs, a task that had kept her busy for hours. He had been cryptic about what he was going to do with the supplies over the phone, saying only "Mick needs them." It had been Logan and Ryder who had filled her in about the situation and the extent of Mick's injuries.

Logan had described the tension-filled helicopter flight from L.A. with Beth. "I felt so badly for her, Simone. We didn't have any idea what to expect, but I kept telling her that he was fine, that this was just to get him out of view of the cops. Hell, I told her that we would get here & we'd just have a party because it would all be over with. I really believed it too, but somehow...she just knew. And then we got here, and...and I felt like such a liar." He had looked down at his hands, his youthful features twisted with remorse.

She'd tried to console the distraught vampire. "You didn't know, you couldn't know, Logan. None of us had any idea, not even Josef. He told me these plans were all just a precaution when I helped push through the paperwork to get that helicopter. Just a…a cover, a way to get Mick out of the sight of humans if he were injured so they wouldn't see him heal so quickly. I'm sure Josef would never have let him go if he'd realized the extent of the danger. I know Beth understands that."

Logan, however, would not be consoled and her heart had gone out to him. These men - these vampires - were such a contradiction. Anyone who might have the idea that they were monsters need only look at Griffen's face to know that supposition was wrong...

Simone had initially resisted Josef's request that she check in on Beth. "We aren't close, Josef. She'll just see me as an intruder."

Kostan had insisted, however. "She needs human support, Simone. This is going to be a long, tough road – and we still don't know if Mick will live. She's surrounded by vampires here. Please...do it for me."

Still, the only real connection between the two young women was each being in a relationship with a vampire. Vampires who were close friends. And Beth hadn't exactly been warm and fuzzy toward her since she had walked in on Mick indulging in a Kostan-encouraged tasting from Simone's wrist, despite her efforts to make peace. The lawyer had been skeptical about what comfort she could bring to Beth. Now, however, she understood why Josef had pushed her.

Simone was unprepared for what she saw when she stepped into the freezing cold room. Mick looked like someone had taken a chainsaw to him, so raw-looking was his flesh and so extensive the incision. He's not healing! Intellectually, she had known this, having heard conversations between Josef and Spector. The reality of seeing it, however, stopped her in her tracks. She had a fair amount of experience seeing Josef in his freezer space by now, but this was different. Even for a vampire, Mick looked lifeless. Sitting here, alone, in this cold, silent room with him must feel like holding a wake for a corpse in a morgue freezer.

Shivering as she stepped over to the young woman standing helplessly next to the quiet vampire, Simone picked up the sleeping bag and draped it around Beth's shoulders, juggling the thermos of hot chocolate and the mugs she had brought in with her. She thanked Ryder silently for the heavy coat and insulated gloves he had handed her.

Leading Beth over to a lower mesh bench a few feet away and sitting her down, she huddled close beside her and rearranged the sleeping bag around both of them. "Here you go, Beth. Ghirardelli's finest." Simone poured hot chocolate into a stoneware mug, emblazoned with the vineyard logo. True to form, Josef had put his snarkiness on full display by choosing bared vampire fangs, dripping with red wine, as his trademark for this latest venture, a move that was applauded in advertising circles as a brilliant marketing ploy to cash in on the ever-present vampire popularity. What would they think if they knew Josef was the model? Talk about hiding in plain sight...The attorney could not help but shake her head at her lover's audacity as she shoved the mug into Beth's mittened hands. "Here. Drink up."

Beth looked at the cup for a moment as if she had no idea what it was, her tears slowing as she contemplated the drink. Then slowly, gingerly, she brought the heavy mug to her lips and sipped the steaming dark liquid. "Thank you, Simone," she whispered, her ragged breath hanging in the frosty air.

"Don't mention it." The brunette grasped her own cup of the hot, rich brew and pulled the sleeping bag tighter around both of them. There was silence for a moment, before Simone said, "Beth, you can't stay in here. You know that, don't you?"

Beth turned uncomprehending eyes on her. "Dr. Spector said I could do an hour in and an hour out to warm up, Simone. I've got fifteen minutes left. I'll be fine."

"No, Beth. You won't be fine. This is too much for anyone, to sit in here like this, in the cold. By yourself. It's like a..." Simone hesitated, then decided it needed to be said, regardless of the consequences. "It's like a death watch!"

Beth pinned her with her gaze, her eyes suddenly hard and glittering like diamonds, the tracks from the tears she had so recently shed, shining in the dim light as they froze on her cheeks. "He's not going to die, Simone - and I'm going to be here when he wakes up. If you can't support me, you should leave now." She turned back to watching Mick, clutching the mug tightly with both hands.

Simone was taken aback by the steel in Beth's voice and the cold look in her eye; she had never seen either from the young woman before. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that I thought Mick would die. I don't think that, Beth, I don't! Liar! I just meant that there's nothing you can do for him now. All we can do is keep hanging blood and wait for him to wake up. In the meantime, let us take care of you. It's been hard on you, being with him through all this. We can all take turns staying with Mick and you could trust us to let you know as soon as there was any change. What do you say?" She rubbed Beth's back comfortingly.

Continuing to sip her hot chocolate methodically while Simone talked, Beth never responded or took her eyes off the unmoving vampire. To Simone, she appeared to be in shock or, at the very least, traumatized by what she had gone through with Mick.

"Beth?"

"Simone, I appreciate your concern, I do." Beth's attention was finally drawn back to Josef's attorney. "And the hot chocolate - I love Ghirardelli hot chocolate." A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips, then quickly vanished. "But, I'm not leaving, not until my hour is up. I can't leave him, he needs me. I can feel it." She leaned toward the other woman as if to emphasize her point.

Simone sighed. "Okay, have it your way. I'm staying too, then." She put one slight arm around the shivering young woman and pulled her close, determined to offer what support she could during this grim vigil.

Jamie Sommers stirred to life in the darkened living room. Yawning broadly, she stretched carefully from her position on the sofa. Wincing, she rubbed at the crick in her neck, brought on by dozing with her head in an awkward position. It would help to stand, but she hampered by the man with his head on her lap, sleeping at last after hours of tossing, moaning & jerking awake. She straightened as best she could, then gently ran her hand over Carl's close-shaven hair, enjoying the bristly texture. Her forefinger traced the thin moustache he kept neatly trimmed, then paused in mid-air. You aren't here for fun or romance, she chided herself. In fact, the last several hours had been hellishly surreal.

When Davis had called her, obviously inebriated, he had awakened her out of a sound sleep. The fact that the reserved detective had to choke back a sob was unsettling, and, despite the late hour, she had not hesitated to respond to his unspoken plea for help.

When she'd arrived at his home, she'd had to pound on his door repeatedly, yelling his name - which, in turn, agitated his neighbors. Jamie had ignored the appeals and demands to "shut the fuck up", continuing her onslaught until the front door finally opened, and she was allowed inside. The stench of alcohol that wafted from Carl had hit her as she squeezed by him to pass through the entryway.

Jamie had spent the first half hour of her stay cajoling the detective to give her what was left of the Maker's Mark that he'd been drinking as if it were his job. Finally convincing him to hand it over, she had grabbed the bottle, marched into his kitchen and placed it on a high shelf in the rear of the pantry to symbolically - if not literally - put it out of his reach.

Eyeing the coffee maker on the counter, Jamie had rummaged through the cabinets above it. Ten minutes later, a fresh pot of desperately-needed caffeine was ready and she'd brought two steaming mugs to the sofa where Carl had plopped down, head in hands.

"Here, drink," she'd ordered firmly, holding out the large cup until Carl took it, unsteadily lifting it to his lips for a long gulp. Jamie had held no illusions that the coffee would sober the detective up. That was a myth. Only time could sober him, time needed for the alcohol to metabolize out of his system. She had hoped, however, that the caffeine might perk him up enough for him to tell her what had happened. And, god knows, she certainly needed it. In her head, she was already resigned to the fact that this was going to be a very long and troubling night.

Once he was a little steadier, Carl had begun to talk, still slurring his words slightly. The cause of his condition - or rather the reason behind it - became clear once he'd begun. "It was... it started out normal - borin' actually. Yeah, borin'. Really, really boring."

"Okay, Carl," Jamie had said patiently. "I get it. It was a boring trip. So what happened?

An unexpected smile had illuminated the man's face. "'cept St. John - he was really the most interestin' part of the... the trip, Jamie." He'd stared into the blackness of his mug, weaving slightly on the couch. "Funny, ya know. I've known the guy - known of him - for a while, but, ya know what? I only really jest met him. You know. You know how it is, Jamie. You shee, I mean, see somebody all the time, and then finally start talkin'. Then you realize you never knew 'em at all. You go, whoa, that's a cool dude. Real cool dude."

You don't know the half of it, Carl, Jamie had thought, quietly waiting the detective out.

Davis had shrugged his shoulders, realizing he was stalling to keep from reliving the horror of the evening just passed. Mentally fortifying himself, he had continued. "The 'tectives were assholes–" He caught himself and apologized in his drunken fashion. "Sorry Jamie. A-holes. Din't know why but one o' them really hated Mick as soon as he laid eyes on him. I mean, really hated him. Weird." He trailed off and seemed to lose his train of thought until Jamie prompted him.

"So the detective hated Mick. But what happened next, Carl?" A note of desperation crept into her voice.

Davis started again. "Yeah, hated him, was nasty to him for no reason. But Mick's a cool dude, he din't do anything. Me? I woulda wanted to take the guy's ever-lovin' head off. But everything's okay, jest hunky-dory... 'til... 'til we go to Campo..."

Jamie had squinted in confusion. "Campo... wait, weren't you guys in San Ysidro?"

He'd shaken his head. "Nah. That's just the name of the area. Campo. Thas the real place where they found the bodies. Where the border agents took us." A heavy sigh followed. "Man, thought the morgue was bad enough..."

"Carl, what happened?" She'd hated pressing him, but she had to find out. Too much was at stake, and his drunken ramblings were getting them nowhere fast.

The detective had taken another deep draw of coffee, his hands shaking so much that he'd needed to wrap both of them around the mug to steady it. "Ambushed," he'd finally stated flatly.

Then, without warning, the rest had poured out of him in a torrent of words. "Barely got outta the cars when shootin' started... Mick... I thought he was hit at first, but then he jest... took off... took off, Jamie. I- I couldn' stop him."

His bloodshot eyes had searched hers, begging for understanding and the forgiveness he could not grant himself. "It was crazy. Gettin' dark. Gunfire ev'rywhere. I heard yelling, but don't think it was Mick. One agent got hisself killed, and me and the other returned fire. I killed - I killed one of the gunmen. Saw him go down, shot in the neck. Then, I heard Mick hollerin' at me - and next thing I know, I got this red beam on my chest..."

A gasp had slipped from her lips, her brown eyes full of shock and fear. "Oh my god..."

"Thought I was a gonner, 'specially when I was knocked down. Then... I re'lized. - sorry, realized - I wasn't hit. But... there was all this... blood..." He'd screwed his eyes tightly shut against the memory.

"Go on, Carl," Jamie had prompted again when the detective didn't seem able to continue. She had to know what had happened. "Tell me the rest."

"Wassn't mine... was Mick's! Can't believe how fast he got ta me... really fast. Fas' enough to knock me out of the way... took the bullets himself. They shoulda hit me."

Her eyes had widened. "How badly was he hurt?"

"Be shocked if he's still alive," Carl had announced grimly, the surge of adrenaline triggered by reliving the shootout seeming to help sober him, his words becoming more precise. "It was bad, Jamie. The guy was blasted open. Those bullets almos' cut him in two. Musta been hollow points from an assault rifle. 'Most everything that shoulda been inside his body was comin' out..." Davis had to put his head down and catch his breath before continuing. "When I got to him, he was…" He'd hesitated, swallowing hard. "He was already goin' cold... he was so pale... an' his eyes..." Here he'd stopped, staring blankly at the silent images on the television screen, a look of fear on his face. "His eyes...blue...pale blue...freaky color like...like..."

Like a vampire, she'd added mentally, transferring her hand from his knee to his forearm to distract him. "Carl... listen to me... Mick is still alive. You'd have heard otherwise by now-"

"How can you say that?! Didn't you hear anything I said?!" the anguished man had shouted. "The man's guts - they were blown clear the hell out of his body... if he isn't dead yet, he will be soon!" He'd hung his head again, shaking it forcefully. "He can't recover from that. No one can. I'm surprised he din't die right there. Strong guy. And he–" The detective stopped again, his eyes filling with tears as he tried to get the words out around the lump in his throat. "He asked me to tell Beth that he…that he was…sorry." With that, Davis broke down sobbing, one hand over his eyes, his shoulders heaving.

"Carl Davis, listen to me. Until you hear that, Carl... CARL, YOU LISTEN TO ME!" Jamie had waited until he had stopped shaking his head. She pulled his hand away from his eyes and raised his chin with her fingers. "Look at me. Until someone tells you something definite, don't say that! Don't even think it! If that had happened, you'd have heard something from Talbot or Beth, I'm sure-"

The detective's head had jerked back, his features suffused with a new fury as he started shouting again. "TALBOT?! THAT asshole?! He's the reason Mick 'n I were both almost killed! This fucked up trip was 'cause HE insisted. He forced Mick into this. Hell, he blackmailed him! He threatened to send Beth!"

An unwanted vision of Beth being there in Mick's stead had shot to the forefront of his mind. He saw the small woman being hit with a volley of shots... Carl had furiously shaken the image off. Bastard! "The less I hear his name, the better off I'll be." He sighed, the anger seeming to leave his body at the mention of Beth Turner's name. "God, I hope she knows... I tried to call her. Kept gettin' voicemail."

"She knows, Carl," Jamie had reassured the distraught man with more conviction than she felt. "You always know when the ones you love are in trouble. You always figure it out somehow. She's probably with him right now. When there's news, she'll call, I know she will. Just...just give her a little time." You don't know that. Inwardly, she'd kicked herself for not calling Beth - but her guilt over all that had transpired had rendered her mute... yeah, so you let her suffer alone... you let all this happen because you were too much of a fucking coward to tell these people the truth. Mick's blood and Beth's pain are on your head...

"Yeah...time," he had repeated sorrowfully. "Something Mick is out of. Dammit! For Beth to go through this twice...and so soon after Josh..."

"We have to keep faith, Carl Davis!" Jamie exclaimed in her soft southern accent. "It's all we can do for now. That, and be there for Beth when she does reach out. She'll need people on her side, people who can help. And I plan on being one of them." I need to make up for this mess.

"Sorry for snapping, Jamie... an' for being a damn drunk." He'd placed one hand on hers, entwining their fingers. "Real glad you're here. I- I like you a lot, you know. Ever since I first saw you."

Remembering the electricity that had shot through her when he'd held her hand, Jamie closed her eyes and dropped her head back, thinking about the warm feeling his confession of affection had engendered, even if it was under the influence of alcohol. There was no denying the attraction that she'd felt when she met the man. But that just made things even more complicated. Getting to know him as a good and honorable man - and now being the person he called on when in need...

This was definitely not the time to fall for someone.

She groaned in exasperation. Story of my life, she thought sourly. The strands of sunlight that crept past Carl's drawn blinds, hit her with the harsh reminder that this was another day - and, there were matters she had to attend to.

Absently stroking his head, her large brown eyes scanned the living room until she settled on his laptop. The prudent thing to do would be to excuse herself and go home to use her own computer. It wasn't wise to contact Auxilium using an unsecured computer. But, then again, the current circumstances didn't afford her many options, and truthfully, she didn't want to leave Carl just yet, for any number of reasons - some of which were actually logical.

Maneuvering herself carefully, Jamie managed to slide his head off her lap and onto the sofa cushions. She held her breath as he shifted in his sleep, but thankfully he was still again within moments, save for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. He looks so peaceful, she noted, unlike the guilt and agitation he'd displayed when she first arrived. It felt good to know she'd been able to help him.

The momentary glow faded. With glum determination, Jamie moved over to the desk where his laptop sat, bare feet padding quietly over the hardwood floors. She lifted the computer into position, the machine quietly humming to life. Almost immediately, the Windows start-up screen appeared, with two accounts listed. Jamie zeroed in on the Guest ID account and uttered a silent prayer as she attempted to access it. No password! "Thank god," she muttered. Encouraged, she tested a few keys to ensure that the sound was muted. The last thing she needed was to have Carl wake up and find her deep in discussion on his computer. Ignoring the alarms going off in her head, she launched the browser, initiating the chain of steps that would allow her into the Auxilium communications network.

She was relieved to see that Aleksa Andris was on-line; just the person Jamie needed. This is going to upset all the plans… Her fingers flew efficiently across the unfamiliar keyboard, typing her first message of the day:

Sorry for the unscheduled contact, Aleksa, but I need help... it's bad...

"I don't know if he's going to make it, V." Gabby closed her eyes, letting the stream of words from the older vampire flow over her. She tried to concentrate on them, hoping they would dispel the image of Mick lying unresponsive on that mesh bench, the incisions on his battered body seeming to throb with every beat of his heart.

She finally broke into the barrage of questions and comments. "No, that's not it, Victoria! I actually think John did an excellent job. It's just that he's so badly injured – it was way worse than either of us expected. And there was so much silver in his system that he's not healing. Not just pieces of silver, but silver dust everywh– What?"

Gabby listened for another moment, and then responded to the question posed to her. "It's either Crucis - or we have some other organized enemy." Her voice bitter, she added, "The way our luck runs, that wouldn't surprise me a bit." She rubbed her forehead irritably. God, she was tired.

After a long silence from Victoria, who did not tolerate or reward self-pity, Gabby sighed to herself and continued her assessment. "This was a premeditated assassination attempt, V - by someone who had to know Mick is a vampire. I've never seen bullets do this kind of damage. I mean, hollow points blow up, sure, but not full of silver! There were silver fragments and silver dust everywhere in his chest and abdomen. One of the vamps here dug around in him for several hours before we got here, then John operated on him for over seven hours - and we still couldn't get it all. If this kind of ammunition were widely distributed and used..." Fear gripped her throat like a cold hand, making it impossible to finish.

Gabrielle listened silently to Victoria's lengthy instructions. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly her mentor was able to grasp the nuances of a situation and formulate a plan. Thank god she's been around so long.

When Victoria stopped, she responded, "All right, I'll talk to Josef and let him know you want to have a video conference with him and Elijah Lucas. I'll let you know when I get it set up. Yes, I'll tell him... No, he's not doing too well right now. I think the possibility of Mick dying has hit him really hard."

Her insides churned. That very real likelihood hit her hard as well. "Oh, and V? When you start in on our prisoner again, I want you to break an extra bone or two for me - and be sure he knows it's from me."

Gabby disconnected the call and moved into the bathroom of the guest room Josef had assigned her in his spacious residence on the vineyard grounds. She studied herself in the mirror for a long moment. Was she becoming the very bloodthirsty monster that Crucis so despised and feared?

"They're forcing us to be this way to survive," she told her reflection. But they aren't forcing you to enjoy it. "So be it," she muttered bitterly. "They deserve it for what they've done." With a shake of her head, she splashed water on her face and left the bathroom, headed for the bedroom freezer and the oblivion she hoped to find there.

End song: Dark Night of the Soul, Loreena McKennitt