Chapter 79
Fireworks
Author's Note: I promised to catch up as quickly as possible, so here you go - a little more time with our favorite couple, with an important development...Have a great weekend!
Intro Song: The Best of You, Noah Cyrus, PJ Harding
Mick climbed the stairs to the veranda, his keen eyes searching for Beth. He'd been caught up in the fun of betting on the cornhole games and the jeering and laughter that accompanied each toss. The stakes had gone up dramatically when Josef joined the group and he'd managed to relieve his friend of a substantial chunk of his cash with their bets. When Kostan complained, he had retorted, "I thought you knew by now not to bet against Gabrielle Sinclair." It had felt good – teasing and laughing in the waning moonlight, with no worries about their safety.
Since they'd returned from their tryst in the vineyard, he and Beth had been inseparable, sitting on the terrace, enjoying one another's company until Mick started to feel guilty for withdrawing from the party. Then, they had worked their way through the crowd hand-in-hand, talking to the guests, drinking, laughing, and kissing. When the cornhole games started, Beth had encouraged him to join his friends while she went back to the bar for more champagne. It had taken him a while to realize she hadn't come back to the group; when he did, he'd excused himself to find her.
The vampire spotted her vivid blue dress and Beth's blond hair, shimmering in the candlelight and his heart leapt. Seeing her was like a drink of cool water to his soul, parched from so many years alone. She was studiously refilling her glass with the expensive champagne she and Simone had been drinking all day. The bartender had long since called it a night, but had left a generous supply of alcohol - and blood – for the guests. He grinned as he watched her struggle to keep the magnum of champagne tilted enough to fill her glass without spilling. Creeping up behind his lover, he put one hand on her rear and squeezed gently.
Startled, Beth jumped and whirled around, bottle still in hand. "Mick!" she exclaimed delightedly, throwing her arms around his neck. His touch was a reminder that she was naked under the short, cobalt blue dress, courtesy of their earlier trip into the vineyards. Depositing a kiss on his cheek, she asked, "So, how'd you do? Pretty damn good, it looks like!" She nodded toward the wad of cash in his hand.
"Let's just say that I've learned I have a knack for betting on cornhole – especially when I'm betting against Josef. I might even be able to buy you another Stella McCartney dress with my winnings." He grinned wickedly. Taking the bottle from her, hepoured a glass for himself, then handed her the one she had worked to fill. He started to turn away from the bar, then stopped. "On second thought…" He leaned over the bar and snagged a carafe of blood and a fresh bottle of the excellent champagne - just in time. The gang from the cornhole tournament was rushing onto the patio, chattering about the games and comparing winnings. Their destination was the bar where alcohol and blood were scooped up with equal enthusiasm.
Draping his arm around Beth's shoulders, Mick started to move them toward a secluded corner of the terrace with their prize, far from the action at the bar.
"Hey!"
Startled, the couple pivoted as one to find their host walking up the stairs, hands in his pockets. "Don't wander off this time, you two," he commanded, sauntering over to them. Seeing them exchange guilty looks, he barked, "Yeah, I know you snuck off earlier. The whole party knows you did. Hell, I could smell it on you! Eau de Beth. Lovely." He rocked back on his heels, snickering at Beth's obvious mortification. "Far be it from me to remind you that our zipper friend here is on restrictions. I just want you both around for the little surprise I have coming."
"Say no more, Josef." Mick responded. As his friend grinned and opened his mouth, he said, "Really, Josef. I mean it. Don't say any more." Nuzzling Beth's hair, he turned back around and determinedly escorted her to the isolated corner, pulling her down on a plush settee with him.
The first explosion caught the couple off-guard.
As they shared the upholstered couch, Beth was sipping the champagne while Mick drank from a large glass of blood. Their heads were close together as they talked quietly and laughed frequently. The rest of the crowd kindly left the lovers alone, allowing them some measure of privacy.
The evening had been a complete success – until Josef's surprise. When the fireworks started, Mick tensed, his arm involuntarily tightening around Beth, protectively drawing her closer as the loud bang startled them both.
This must be what Josef was talking about, Beth thought, as fireworks filled the sky, showering the vineyard with glittering silver sparks that disappeared as they approached the earth. Worriedly, she huddled closer to Mick, wishing the billionaire had warned them of what was coming. As the next shell shot into the air, she carefully laid her hand on Mick's chest, wanting to reassure him but cautious about his still-healing wounds. Beth could feel his shuddering breath beneath her fingertips. "Do you want to go inside?" she asked quietly, her eyes filled with compassion and concern.
The vampire shook his head. "No, I'm fine." His hand groped for hers, however, grasping it tightly as another muffled bang sounded and a shell arched into the air, the trajectory almost impossible for human eyes to track in the dark sky. His vampire eyesight followed it easily as it rose higher and higher, finally bursting, sending a rainbow of colors arcing down toward earth. "It's just fireworks." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
With each subsequent explosion, Mick found himself holding his breath, growing more and more jittery. Dammit, Josef! It wasn't Kostan he was really mad at, though… it was himself. You need to get a grip on yourself! He lowered his face to Beth and concentrated on breathing in her sweet scent, his lips pressed against her hair.
Beth could hear the others in their small group cheering and applauding in the dark, enjoying the pyrotechnic display. She ignored them - and the fireworks overhead - concentrating on the increasingly agitated vampire beside her. With each explosion, he grew more tense, clutching her tighter and tighter.
As had been the case so often of late, she seemed able to sense what he needed. Straightening on the settee, she reached up to run her fingers through his hair, massaging his head gently, then allowing her hand to make its way down to his neck, kneading the tense muscles there. Her lips against his cheek, she whispered, "I'm right here. I love you. It's just fireworks." Mick nodded and seemed to relax against her for a moment, the sounds of laughter and conversation from the group on the terrace washing over them during a lull in the show.
He could pick out the murmured moment of closeness between Josef and Simone, Gabrielle teasing Logan and Ryder, Guilia sloshing more wine into a glass, spilling some over the side as she was distracted by another burst of fireworks. Desperately, he held onto that reality. I'm here with friends. I'm with Beth.
The sky lit up with a barrage of light and sound, signaling the climax of the display. The ignited fireworks sent their distinctive sulfuric scent wafting on the gentle breeze toward the couple. That smell, combined with the crack and boom of the discharging explosives thrust Mick into a nightmare.
He was no longer on the terrace of the beautiful vineyard - instead, the barren landscape of the Campo desert surrounded him. Mick could feel the pain of the bullet wound in his shoulder...the sensation of his fangs cutting into his lip as he snarled with rage...the dead weight of the shooter he had just killed with a vicious blow to the neck, crushing the man's larynx. As he dropped the body unrepentantly to the sand at his feet, a red sniper light caught his attention and he instantly tracked it to its destination. Carl! His quick mind told him he couldn't reach the shooter in time, but he might make it to the detective…
He sprinted across the sand as fast as he'd ever run, frantically trying to reach the doomed man. His acute hearing picked up the sound of the rifle discharging and he propelled himself forward, launching his body through the air to intercept the bullets.
Mick had experienced being shot dozens of times since he became a vampire and braced himself for the momentary pain. Nothing, however, had prepared him for the agony caused by these bullets tearing through his body, exploding as they made contact with his flesh. The moment he was hit, he knew he was in trouble…
Silver! There was no mistaking the burning torment that accompanied exposure to that element. Oh, fuck! He hit the ground hard, rocks cutting into his cheek as he curled his body into a ball, and clutched at his shredded abdomen, desperately seeking relief from the agony that enveloped him. He tried unsuccessfully to get up, but collapsed face down, paralyzed by the poison and the excruciating pain that accompanied it.
I'm going to die.
The thought hammered at him as his pulse pounded in his ears, keeping time with the rivulets of blood that flowed over the hands he had pressed to his stomach. He could feel his intestines slipping through his fingers. The agony that caused was indescribable... unbearable... His vision darkened.
No! Not now! Not now that I have Beth. I'm not ready!
Carl dropped down beside him, reaching out to carefully roll him over. Mick saw concern change to horror on the detective's face as he took in the extent of the injuries. There were no issues about explaining unnaturally rapid healing to Davis or to anyone else - he knew he wasn't healing. Must be the silver. Had he said that out loud? He couldn't be sure - the poison was already preventing him from thinking clearly.
As Davis cradled him, the grievously injured vampire heard him say, "Mick, goddammit! Nobody told you to go all cowboy out here!"
Believe me, I didn't plan on it… He tried to laugh but choked on a mouthful of blood as he struggled to push out the words, "Bad idea... silver..." In the dim recesses of his mind, he realized that it was probably ill-advised to mention silver to a police detective, but the fiery anguish swallowing him made it impossible to focus, to think. He could feel himself vamping, his fangs elongating as his life ebbed away. He didn't care – and couldn't have stopped it if he did. Too weak to even lift his head, he was no danger to Davis - and he was no longer worried about preserving his identity.
I'm dying.
"Mick, what? What about silver?" Carl's frantic voice broke through the fog caused by the poison.
Before he could summon the strength to try to answer, he heard the detective scream at someone. "Thompson! Get help, NOW!" Strong hands pressed down over his, trying to help hold him together. It wasn't working.
I'm dying.
"Help's coming, Mick! Just hang on. It'll be alright!"
He didn't believe it for a second.
"Beth..."
I'm dying.
He longed to see her one more time, inhale her scent, feel her fingers running through his hair, taste her... He didn't deserve it, he hadn't kept his promise to come back to her, but he wanted to die in her arms just the same.
"What... what, Mick?" Davis leaned down, putting his ear close to his mouth. The injured man fought the relentless, burning torture overwhelming him with all the strength he had left. He desperately wanted Beth to know that his last thoughts were of her. She deserved that much. The mortally-wounded vampire drew in what air he could around a throat closing off with blood and whispered, "...Tell Beth... I'm sorry."
"Mick. Mick! What's wrong? What is it?! Where do you hurt?!"
Beth's terrified voice broke through the injured man's nightmare, bringing him back to the present. He realized that he was hunched over, clutching at his stomach, just as he had been that horrible night. He would have fallen off the couch if Beth hadn't maintained a death grip on him. He was panting; sweat, mingled with tears of agony, rolled down his face. Her hand was over his, their fingers still intertwined.
Slowly, Mick straightened and leaned back on the couch he'd been relaxing on just a few short minutes before. He was panting, desperately sucking in air, but he felt like he couldn't fill his lungs. With an almost superhuman effort, he summoned a smile for Beth, hating the frightened look on her face, hating that he'd put it there.
"It's– I'm fine. It was nothing."
Beth's expression showed that she didn't believe him. Worriedly, she brushed the hair back off his face where it had fallen when he had lunged forward, grabbing at his midsection. "Mick, you're not fine. This is not fine - and that was most certainly not nothing!" She raised her head, looking around for Dr. Spector.
Mick squeezed the hand still holding his, drawing her attention back to him. "Beth, I'm okay. I just had another flashback to when I was shot. The noise from the fireworks must have triggered it. Spector told me that might happen - he told you that too. It's over now. I'm fine."
When he saw her hesitate, he added, pleadingly, "Please let it go. I don't want to spoil things for everyone. They are all having such a good time." He nodded toward the group, still huddled around the bar after the fireworks finale. "We are having a good time. Aren't we?" When she nodded doubtfully, he pulled out what he hoped was his most compelling argument. "Besides... what if Spector says I have to stay here?! I want to go home... with you."
Beth reluctantly capitulated. "As long as you don't have any more episodes like that. That was frightening, Mick. It wasn't just a memory. You were back there, weren't you? Back when you were shot." Her blue eyes bored into his.
He nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I won't lie, it wasn't fun. But there's nothing physically wrong with me. I had PTSD after I came back from the war and it was a lot like this. This was just a little more...intense." Way too intense. In truth, it had been much worse and more real than anything he had ever experienced after the war. The pain had been real, but he had no intention of confessing that to Beth. "It'll pass. I just need time…and you. That's what will heal me. Okay?"
She nodded hesitantly. "Okay. For now. But if you have any more episodes like that, I'm telling Dr. Spector. Deal?"
What is it with everyone wanting to cut deals with me today? "Deal. Thank you." Mick leaned over to kiss her, his fingers brushing her neck, stroking her. Why did he have this sudden vision of sinking his fangs into the pale skin over her carotid artery? This wasn't a flashback, it was a... hunger. You're hungry for her. Disturbed, he pushed the vision away and concentrated on the feel of her mouth on his. The fangs that had begun to descend involuntarily, retracted again. He prayed that she hadn't noticed.
One final rocket bigger than all the rest, streaked into the air, the solo shell exploding with an immense boom, in a halo of white light that surrounded the red outline of a vampire's mouth - the stylized logo of Kostan Vineyards. The group on the terrace broke into laughter and applause.
Josef glanced over toward the dark corner where Mick and Beth had retreated, to gauge his friend's reaction to the entertainment. His eyes widened and he broke into a run when he saw Mick stiffen and sit bolt upright, Beth falling away from him at the sudden movement. His friend's face was stark white, his eyes wide and unseeing.
Josef reached his side and, exchanging worried looks with Beth, touched his arm. "Mick," he said gently, "it's okay, you're here with us. Beth and I are here. We're all here."
Mick turned his head slowly toward the billionaire. He was so tense that the tendons in his neck creaked audibly with the movement. For the first time, he seemed to focus on Kostan.
"McGowan," Mick whispered.
Josef squatted down next to his friend, his forehead creased in a frown. "Mick, you aren't making any sense. What about the guy?"
"Josef, I remember now. The man who shot me - it was Detective McGowan."
End: Fireworks, Katy Perry (sorry, I had to)