Heart's Price

by Severitus

--Part 6--

Frank was still grinning like a fool when he pulled into his driveway the next evening. He hadn't intended to spend his day off at the mansion…but one thing had led to another and a few hours had become the entire night. It had felt…right to share a bed with someone again. Though they had behaved themselves after sharing a shower (an experience Frank was eager to repeat), Frank had reveled in being able to lay with the other man beneath the sheets, surrounded by the scent that was uniquely Julian. Not to mention waking in the other's arms seemed to soothe much of the ache Alexandra's death had left in his heart.

Emerging from the car, Frank leaned back against the cab and stared into the long shadows that bathed his front yard. To one side, the old kit bike that had once been his pride and joy lay wrapped beneath a blue tarp, surrounded by weeds. When his wife had still been alive, the bike had been his hobby. Over several months he had painstakingly built it from scratch, promising his wife a ride down the coast as soon as it was finished. She had committed suicide before he could give it a final coat of paint. Frank hadn't touched it since then, though sometimes he had sorted through his tools and thought about it. Idly, he wondered if Cash would know anyone who wanted a project bike.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Frank had taken only a step toward the house when he spotted something on the ground near the bike. Jogging the few steps to it, Frank crouched down for a closer look, only to jerk back in disgust. It was a dog. It's thin, matted body was soaked in fresh blood from the savage wound at its throat. The poor beast's neck had nearly been cracked backwards, leaving the dark, wet tunnel of its windpipe open to the air. Every instinct that had ever saved Frank's life suddenly came roaring to life, screaming that something was horribly wrong. The dog's blood hadn't even begun to dry; whatever had killed it was still nearby.

Frank rose slowly, his eyes darting across the yard and the street beyond. Nothing moved in the growing shadows, though the neighborhood, too, was quiet. Narrowing his eyes, Frank listened for the normal sounds of life in the neighborhood…but all he heard was silence. No dogs barking, no children crying, no televisions blaring. Frank nearly jerked as he noticed another thing….all the houses up and down the block were dark. No lights shone in any of the windows despite the fact that it was nearly dark. There were cars in driveways, but every window was dark and quiet. Terror surged up from the back of his brain, and it was only years of training that kept Frank from bolting on the spot.

Focusing on keeping his breathing calm, Frank began to move slowly back toward his car. From the car he could call for backup…or something…who did you call when you suspected something had happened to all of your neighbors, but you had no immediate proof?

"My, you do catch on quick," a woman's rough, hoarse voice spoke into his left ear. Frank leapt away, whirling in a complete circle and freeing his gun from its holster in a move that would have made any human assailant piss their pants. But the woman wasn't a human…not by any means. She stood in the middle of his yard, grinning at him with a mouth coated with blood. Her enlarged fangs overlapped her lips as she smiled, a strange, hungry light in her cold yellow eyes as she watched him. Her clothing was mere rags, but the entire front of her ragged shirt was plastered to her skeletal frame with wet blood. Her arms, too, were coated to her elbows. "I admit I had hoped that you would get to see my gift for Julian…I've been working on it all day. But no matter…" she said, cocking her head in a strangely birdlike way.

"Katerina Novolski…" Frank breathed. She barely resembled her picture as she was now, with hair wild and streaked with blood. Up close, she seemed even more inhuman. Her fingers were too long…tipped with hooked talons like a wildcat's. And her expression…it was too still, too alien to be confused for anything but a predator. Her lips quirked into an ugly smile at the sound of her name.

"And you are Frank Kahonek…the Prince's human soldier. I can see why he spared your life, mortal," her smile widened. "He owes me a mate…and I think you'll do just fine." She took a step forward, and Frank pulled the trigger.

Though he knew from experience that regular bullets wouldn't faze Kindred, he'd been hoping to gain himself enough time to run for it. Where he had intended to run didn't matter. Katerina, however, didn't as much as flinch. And then she pounced.

The gun bounced away into the grass as Frank hit the ground, his entire body screaming at the impact. And then he felt her teeth tear into his throat, and he screamed. Unlike Julian's bite, which was pure bliss…this was agony. She tore at his throat like an animal, barely sucking at his throat but gouging her fangs into his neck as if digging for his spine. The smell of his own hot blood was in the air…and Frank knew she'd killed him. Through the pain, he fought to see…the keep his vision from fading into black. It was the only thing he could still control. But the sky whirled as his brain starved, and the black crept in like a cancer.

Katerina pulled back, her mouth smeared with his blood. Raising one clawed hand, she deeply slashed one wrist. Frank jerked, his body twitching as he fought to move. But his strength was gone…only a frightening numbness that crept up from his toes remained. She was grinning when she thrust her bleeding arm to his mouth, using her other hand to force his jaw open. Frank tried with the last ounce of his strength to keep his mouth shut, to meet true death rather than let the monster have her way with him…but he was no match. The blackness claimed the last of his vision, and in the darkness, Frank's last awareness was of the damning blood sliding across his tongue.

--

Sonny was getting worried. A few hours ago he had been pissed off, convinced that Frank hadn't been answering his calls because he was holed up with Julian, having a good time when there was work to be done. Then, as the hours ticked by, Sonny had gotten worried. It wasn't like Frank to miss work. Hell, even if he was sick he showed up (though it usually didn't take long for the Chief to send him home). Frank loved his job…there was no way he'd deliberately jeopardize it by pulling a no-show. Not long ago Sonny had given in and called the mansion, but the secretary had reported that Frank had left hours ago.

Grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair, Sonny made a decision. He would check Frank's house. Maybe nothing was wrong, and the man was passed out on his couch or something equally benign. If he was, Sonny would enjoy letting him have it. But if he wasn't…if there was something wrong…he didn't know if he'd be able to forgive himself if he didn't check to see.

Though their partnership had taken a serious blow when Frank had discovered Sonny's secret, they had mostly managed to patch things up. Frank was still quick to remind Sonny of how long he'd been lying to him, and Frank's trust in him was still very shaky…but they were friends again. The rest could be repaired with time and persistence, and Sonny had both to spare.

Frank lived relatively close to the station, and it didn't take long until Sonny was pulling his car up to the curb in front of Frank's house. His car was there, Sonny quickly noted, but the house itself was dark. Popping open the door, Sonny froze in the middle of rehearsing the speech he would give Frank if the man was drunk.

Blood…lots of blood. The air was thick with it. Quickly shutting the door again, Sonny sucked in a shuddering breath of the untainted air in the car. Never had he smelled such a bloodbath. He could not even begin to count the sheer number of people whose blood mingled in that cloying scent. Fumbling for his phone, Sonny called the only number that would be of any help in such a situation.

"This is Sonny…I need to speak to Julian immediately. It's an emergency," he said into the cell. Julian picked up after only a moment.

"Sonny? What's happened?" Julian asked.

"Julian…we need our people down here now, everyone who can be spared," Sonny began, dread creeping down his spine as he noticed just how completely dark the entire street was.

"Where are you?"

"In front of Frank's. Something is very wrong…I've never smelled so much blood in the air in my life. The houses are all dark, and I can't sense any humans or Kindred."

"Cash is getting the others. They're on their way," Julian said, then paused, and in a softer voice continued, "Sonny…is Frank…?"

"I don't know. I've been trying his phone for hours. His car is here, but I can't sense him."

The phone was silent. Then, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

---

Frank woke to pain. Pain throbbing from his throat, from his head, even from the cement floor beneath him digging into his hip. Frank tried to scream, but his body wouldn't cooperate. His throat felt as if it was filled with cotton, and he knew without even trying he wouldn't be able to turn his head. Opening his eyes, Frank blinked in the near dark, allowing his brain a moment to fight past the pain and remind him of what had happened.

Memory surged back in a wave, and Frank tensed, eyes flicking about in search of the mad vampire. But the room…some sort of small warehouse…was deserted. He was lying between two large wooden crates, and the dust and dirt on the ground beneath him proved it likely wasn't used often. Damn, but it was so cold…. Frank slowly rolled himself onto his front, gasping as his vision flared white when the movement pulled at his neck. A trickle of something warm down his shoulder reminded him he wasn't out of danger.

Katerina…the monster…had attacked him. Abandoned him…for what? By pure effort of will, Frank forced himself to his knees, gripping his bent thighs for support as the world spun and tilted, his breath coming in ragged, burning gasps. She had torn out his throat like a wild animal, he'd felt himself fading…and then….

Frank stopped, breath stalled in his lungs, the pain distant for a brief, horrific moment.

She'd Embraced him.

A high, keening moan filled the air, and Frank didn't realize at first that it was coming from him. Clutching his head between his hands, he screamed. The sound was hoarse and angry, and his vision turned white again at the pain of it.

She'd fucking Embraced him.

The scream turned into a self-deprecating laugh. His luck had finally run out. Even though he'd known in the back of his mind that he was playing with fire every time he worked with the Kindred, that eventually he'd be either killed or changed, he hadn't been able to stop himself. Like an addict, he kept his nose buried in their affairs, making friends with some and enemies of others, taking them all on as a new cause to serve and protect, even though he hadn't realized that at first. And now…Frank shuddered. Never, never had he wanted to join them…at least not unless he had no other choice. But he'd always assumed there would be a choice, and the idea that it would be up to him in the end had somehow made the prospect of becoming Kindred less horrifying.

But this…what had been done to him…Frank shivered, half from the cold and half from the fear and disgust conjured from his memories. He could still taste blood on his tongue, feel it dried and plastered to his skin…moaning, Frank used his fear and anger to surge to his feet. No matter what had or would happen, he could not stay here. Struggling to stay on his feet, he staggered forward, using the long row of crates as support. Whatever she wanted with him, the vampire bitch would not get it. No way in hell.

--

Sonny was still in his car when Julian and Cash arrived at Frank's house. Julian had barely been able to restrain himself from simply transforming into a bird and flying there, but the rational part of his brain had convinced him that driving would be faster, especially if Cash were at the wheel.

The car had barely stopped when Julian was out the door, staggering with a hand to his nose as the smell hit him. Blood…Sonny had not been exaggerating. Even as Archon's Enforcer, Julian had never smelled so much blood.

Cash staggered around the front of the car, his sharper sense of smell having shocked him off balance. "Holy hell Julian…what's happened here?" Cash muttered, his eyes flicking about nervously. Julian didn't pause as he jogged to meet Sonny in the driveway. If anything, the Ventrue Primogen looked just as terrified as he was.

"I don't know Cash…something terrible. When the others arrive, I want you to have them begin searching the houses. I have a feeling we may need the Nosferatu as well…" he said. Cash nodded and turned back to the car. The roar of motorcycles could already be heard in the distance. The Gangrel would be there soon.

"Sonny?" Julian asked as he met the younger Kindred.

"I…haven't gone inside yet. I wanted to wait, just in case…" he said, and Julian nodded.

"Let's go."

Apprehensively, the pair approached the front door. Sonny fished the spare key Frank had given him months ago out of his pocket and opened the door. Inside the house, the blood-scent was less overall, but the scent of dried canine blood was suddenly clearer. They had barely stepped into the living room when they saw the message smeared across the living room wall. MINE FOR YOURS, it said. Julian barely made it to the couch before his knees gave out. Sonny was staring in shock at the wall, though his brown eyes had begun to swirl with silver.

Frank wasn't in the house, dead or alive; his senses told him that much…but no more. What did the message mean? Was she going to kill Frank because the Brujah had slain her mate? Julian blinked, suddenly remembering Frank's argument from the previous day. Frank had been right…just as Julian should have realized from the start.

"Julian?" Sonny asked, finally turning away from the message.

"I think it's safe to say that Katerina Novolski has taken Frank…as repayment for Hadrian. What that means…I can't say." Sonny dropped to the couch beside him, his head in his hands. Then he looked up again, his expression determined.

"Frank will survive this, Julian. I know it. He hasn't made it this far on luck alone. We will find him," Sonny said.

"We have to," Julian said quietly, and hurriedly wiped a tear from his eyes. Now was not the time for grief…if they had any hope of saving Frank, it was time for action. Standing abruptly, Julian strode to the door, his posture a mix of fury and determination. Sonny came hurriedly after, whether for support or to keep him from doing anything rash, he couldn't tell.

"Cash?" the Gangrel had been waiting in the yard, and when he turned to them, his expression was pale and grim.

"Everyone here is dead, Julian. Every house for the entire block…every living thing is dead."

Julian nodded, already having expected as much. "Call in the Nosferatu…there is no more that can be done here."

"Is Frank…?" Cash asked cautiously, his eyes genuinely worried.

"He's been taken, as revenge for the death of her mate," Julian paused, unsure of his next action. He wanted to command every Kindred in the city to look for Frank, to tear apart every building until he'd been found…but he couldn't. Though the rest of the Kindred would view Frank's kidnapping as tragic, it was not a Kindred matter. He couldn't use his power as Prince for his own personal problems. But he could not abandon Frank! Cash, however, offered him the solution he was looking for.

"I'll have the Gangrel hit the streets immediately. We like Frank, Julian…he's a good friend. We will find him," Cash assured. "I'll call Lillie too…she'll want to know what's happened. I bet you anything she'll put the word out amongst the Toreador as well." And with that, Cash was dashing off toward the car, cell phone already in hand.

"Would you like me to involve the police?" Sonny asked carefully, and Julian pondered for a moment.

"Yes…but don't call them yet. Wait until the Nosferatu arrive. There is no way that we can hide this…massacre from the mortals. Daedalus will have a solution that will help us on both counts." I'm learning, Frank, he thought to himself. The more eyes there are to find you, the better.

--

Cameron was nervous as he left the office he kept near the docks. He'd spent all night buried in stacks of paperwork and shipping reports, and far too many forms that needed his signature. He was proud of the Brujah's shipping empire…all carefully assembled through centuries of planning, but it was nights like this that made him wish he'd let the honor of Primogen go to someone else. His patience for paperwork and idleness was fragile. And now…now, he was getting phone calls from Brujah across the city telling him that the other clans were on the move. Gangrel were combing the streets, Toreador were surging through clubs and theatres, coffee shops and museums. Even the Nosferatu had been spotted every now and then, poking their pale heads above ground in shadowy corners. Something was going on…and Cameron was not happy about being left out of it. If Julian was planning something…Cameron sighed, shaking his head. Though he disdained the Ventrue Prince, he was coming to realize that Julian was not a manipulator. He did not plot and plan, did not search to gain more power. Indeed, though Cameron had accused him of otherwise, Julian was fine with what power he had. The man was honorable to a fault, and Cameron's only real grievance with him anymore (aside from the fact that he was Prince) was Julian's dealings with mortals.

Turning his car onto a side road that was a shortcut to Julian's mansion, Cameron was pondering whether he should call the Prince first or arrive unannounced, when he spotted a figure collapsed on the side of the road. Curios, the Brujah pulled the car to the curb and stopped, stepping out for a closer look. Half-expecting a drunk or a vagrant, Cameron was startled by what he saw. A man laid face-down on the wet pavement, a trail of blood spots leading off between two warehouses behind him. His shaggy brown hair was matted with blood, and his leather jacket was stained and ripped. He wasn't dead, his slow, labored heartbeat proved that, but he wasn't far from it. Something about the jacket seemed familiar, and Cameron used the toe of one shoe to flip the prone body over.

"Shit!" he cursed, having jerked back as if struck. It was the detective, Frank Kahonek! The detective's skin, or at least that not painted with blood, was pale as death. His torn clothing was soaked with blood, both dried and fresh. The worst, however, the sight that made even Cameron nearly gag, was the man's throat. Almost the entire left side of his neck, to the junction of shoulder and throat, had been savaged. Deep, ragged gouges revealed the red meat beneath, and even the gleam of tendon. It looked as if a wild, rabid beast had gnawed on his throat, torn the skin away and chewed some more. It was nothing short of a miracle that the man was even alive! Leaning closer, a creeping suspicion made Cameron sniff carefully at the blood still trickling from the open wound. Rocking back on his heels, Cameron stared at the detective in pity. He'd been Embraced. Savaged, Embraced, and from the look of things, abandoned to find life or death on his own. Cameron couldn't help but pity the ruined body before him. It was true he hadn't liked the detective (though he admitted that he did trust him, and admired his skill and loyalty), and he had wanted to see the man Embraced, he would never have wished such a savage attack on anyone. This was no way to be introduced to the Kindred world….

Snapping himself out of his ponderings, Cameron carefully lifted the man from the ground and turned to his car. No matter that the detective had been Embraced, the severity of the wound at his throat could still mean true death if not tended soon. Laying the man gently in the back seat, Cameron shook his head. The Prince was not going to be happy. By daring to touch the Prince's mate, whatever Kindred had done the deed had guaranteed themselves a very long and painful death. And Cameron would be all for it.