K. R. Treadway
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Blood and Lace: Chapter 15
🕑 Added 2024-03-24 15:43:06 +0000 UTC
Somewhere below him water was roaring. Nicholas stumbled down the jogging trail in the dark. He was alone—Della had left despite her assurances. Without a guide, his foot slipped off the pavement and into open air. He fell, tumbling and rolling, down the dark wooded slope. The thundering sound of water grew until it was deafening.
He plunged into the terrifying torrent that had once been a peaceful creek, his body shocked and battered by the frigid depths. The current kept him spinning…spinning…until cool hands grabbed his own. Della wrenched him from the water's depths and suddenly he was standing on carpet.
They were in his bedroom, at the foot of his bed. This was what he wanted. Who he wanted. She looked up at him, a faint nervousness in her eyes. He bent his head and kissed her. Tasted her. Then he was drinking from her wrist, pleasure pulsing between them both.
Della broke away. “You took no liberties?” she asked.
“What?”
She picked him up, turned, and slammed him down—
Nicholas came awake with an incoherent protest. He blinked his eyes and coughed, then slumped back against the pillow, breathing heavily. At some point in the night his dreamless sleep had morphed into a jumble of chaotic and confusing imagery.
He groaned as new and unpleasant sensations made themselves known. Aggressive pins and needles—mixed with a few that felt real—were marching across his skin. He cracked his lids back open and squinted. Every visible edge was too defined, like someone had used an image-editor’s “sharpen” filter on reality. He pushed the heels of his palms against his eyes and cursed.
“Ugh…vampire blood hangover…”
Della hadn't been kidding. And true to her warning there were non-physical side-effects too. He was…flushed…with a kind of restless urgency that made him want to twitch. No coffee would be needed this morning.
Wait…morning? He could hear birds chirping outside the window, and though it was dim, there was enough light to see. Nicholas bolted upright, only vaguely aware that the pain plaguing him for days had vanished. Della hadn't woken him up. He slid one leg off the bed, but froze before his foot touched the floor. An unfamiliar shape under the blanket had caught the corner of his eye.
Della was lying next to him, arms flat along her sides, asleep.
For several seconds he was dumbfounded. Then his brain lurched into activity, most of it contradictory. A succession of emotions flowed through him, dragging his face along for the ride: elation…relief…apprehension. Did Della know he was—
Nicholas quickly pulled the blanket back over himself, fragments of his dreams returning. Calm down…be cool. Vampires at rest are practically in hibernation. You know this. Keeping himself very still, Nicholas turned to look down at her. The sight made him forget his fear. In sleep Della’s expression was tranquil, unmarred by strain, and the way her dark hair framed her face on the pillow made him think of maidens in fairy tales.
She had trusted him.
Nicholas had hoped for her trust, but nothing so intentional and absolute as this. She had made herself completely vulnerable to him—not by circumstance, like the night in the townhouse, but by choice. He had expected to feel gratified—and he did—but he hadn’t anticipated the profound sense of responsibility that now washed over him. Della’s act of courage practically demanded an equal commitment, and gazing at her serene face, he silently pledged it.
A new conviction seemed to crackle along his limbs, and the jittery agitation below his skin only fanned the flames. He spontaneously decided to change his plans for the day. If he was going to help keep Della safe while she recovered, he’d better be fully prepared. He would need his hunting kit.
Which meant going out.
Shit. There was no way he could leave Della in such a defenseless state. He’d have to wait till dusk…a daunting thought with nerves this skittish. It felt as if he could burst out of the apartment like the Kool-Aid Man. Stifling an impatient grumble, Nicholas reached for his phone—and was surprised to touch paper.
A sheet had been torn from the pad he kept in the kitchen. On it was a short message in ridiculously perfect cursive. The elegant feminine script was a surreal contrast to the cartoon cow at the top with a “My To-MOO List” word balloon. He forced himself to read it slowly.
Nicholas,
Do not feel constrained by my presence. Your security is less than ideal, but it will serve should you need to leave. As a man of your vocation certainly knows, I will awaken at dusk.
—D.
The word “security” triggered something in his memory. A new idea formed. Moving as quietly as he could, Nicholas climbed out of the bed. The motion revealed that Della was laying under the blanket but above the sheet, creating a thin but effective barrier. He grinned—maybe she knew he was an instinctive cuddler.
His pants were still on the floor where he’d dropped them in last night's stupor. He pulled them on quickly, then padded over to his dresser to retrieve clean clothes, noting with approval that Della had hung an additional blanket over the window. No…not just hung, but nailed—she’d clearly found his toolbox. Had he been so out of it that the hammering didn't wake him?
He ran his thumb over a few shallow divots near one of the nails and drew in a sharp breath. Try again…she pushed them into the wall by hand.
Nicholas couldn't resist another glance at Della. From this angle one shoulder was visible, crossed by a slipping spaghetti strap from her top. He immediately looked away. There was nothing overtly alluring about the sight—keep telling yourself that—but he knew Della’s sense of propriety would have been piqued. With a careful motion, he pulled the cover over her shoulder.
What happened next was pure, mortifying instinct.
Nicholas leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She stirred, minutely tilting her face towards him, then resumed her customary stillness. Amazing. I'm not dead. Maybe I should confess when she wakes up. Face my fate like a man. He hastily left before he did something else he'd regret, like write a sappy poem underneath her note.
In the bathroom he found more Della handiwork laid out neatly beside the sink. Nicholas eyed the collection of moisturizers, cleansers and…more inscrutable products. A new toothbrush—fangbrush?—nestled in one of the built-in holders. It was all so…ordinary, grounding Della’s presence in his life in a tantalizing way.
He showered quickly, unable to resist using the new citrus-scented body wash he found there, then dressed in cargo pants and his unofficial good luck charm: a faded long-sleeved shirt featuring horror host Svengoolie. After another quick check on Della, he pulled the bedroom door closed and paced the living room floor. No matter how much he moved, the jagged energy arcing through his frame never lessoned; he felt like an overloaded circuit.
“First up,” he muttered, “additional security.”
A few months back he’d bought a doorbell camera on sale at Stuf-Town, but never got around to installing it. Now he had the perfect excuse. He retrieved the box from the closet and went hunting for his tools.
Della had left the toolbox on the coffee table with half of its contents removed, but not haphazardly. Everything was carefully laid out as if she’d been cataloging it. Noting potential weapons? Either way, there was nothing missing. He sat on the couch to gather what he needed and return the remaining tools. To satisfy a hunch, he grabbed the controller and turned on the TV. The channel had been changed to the home improvement network. He grinned and got busy.
The doorbell camera wasn't top-of-the-line, but it had what was needed. After the install was done, he set-up the corresponding app on his phone and synced it. Now if someone rang the bell or stood in front of his door, an alert would be sent. He could activate the camera and even talk through it.
Satisfied that Della was reasonably safe, Nicholas headed out.
Even through sunglasses the daylight glinting off passing windshields was like salt tossed into Nicholas’s eyes. Another wonderful side effect of Della’s blood. He’d driven the entire route with his lids slitted against the glare, but the shine off the Bowers Landscaping sign was so bad he almost cried out.
Just a few days ago, that bizarre silver-painted lawnmower had represented a friendly beacon. Now the sight sent a curl of dread through his stomach. His oasis of safety had become an obstacle course. He would have to always be on alert now, ready to lie and misdirect—not only to protect Della, but to ferret out the mole she’d warned him about.
She's not the only one who lost a sanctuary.
Nicholas pulled into the employee lot, skipping his usual space to park in the merciful shade thrown by trees along the edge. He turned off the truck, but kept his hands on the wheel a bit longer, clenching and unclenching his fingers in what was becoming a habit. It made him think of his recent past, sitting outside a crumbling townhouse questioning his sanity…before he’d gone in to rescue a vampire.
Grab the gear. Poke around for the mole. Keep your head down.
“Fuck,” he said to no one in particular, and got out.
Halfway to the door, Nicholas paused. He closed his eyes and let the sun shine down on his face. Despite his vulnerability to its brightness, the autumn rays felt warm and pleasant on his skin. Reassured that he wasn’t becoming a creature of the night, he walked inside.
It was quiet in the central corridor. Almost everyone would be out on yardwork calls—or surveilling potential lairs in the guise of yardwork—so he expected only a handful of staffers and hunters. He set a pace just short of hurrying and kept his eyes on the ground.
“Hey, there he is!” The familiar voice made Nicholas’s head snap up. Ricky was closing the door leading to the customer area. The former hunter waved and started down the hall towards him. His gait was near-perfect, barely hinting at the prosthetic leg he relied on.
“Hey, Ricky.” Nicholas hoped his smile didn’t look as sickly as it felt.
“How’s the back, Nick?”
As good as it’s ever been, Nicholas thought. But he grimaced and made a show of putting a hand on it. “Still sore, though a lot better than yesterday. Doc Yun put me on rest today and tomorrow. After that I should be a hundred percent.”
“And ready for the weekend. Good timing.” Ricky grinned, then looked puzzled. “So what the hell are you doing here?”
“Grabbing my gear,” Nicholas answered truthfully—just not the whole truth. “Figured I’d use the downtime to give it a deep clean.”
Ricky nodded. “Good hustle.” Something came over his face then, a flicker of hardness in the eyes that reflected the hunter he’d once been. “It’s good to stay prepared, compadre. Think we’re gonna need some able bodies real soon.”
The way he said it made Nicholas uneasy. “Why? You heard something?”
Ricky crossed his arms and glowered at the floor. “The missing reports…they aren’t good. Six since the raid, from all over the city.”
Nicholas cursed quietly. While it wasn’t exactly accurate, the Gilda Devota had long relied on missing persons reports to gauge vampire activity. Most kidnappings and disappearances had nothing to do with vampires, but focusing on statistical aberrations and spikes was often the best way to uncover new nests.
Ricky was nodding in response to his expression. “Yeah, it’s a kick in the ass after the most successful raid we’ve ever notched.” He shrugged, but the tension in his frame belied the gesture. “Maybe we just got ‘em stirred up…”
“Maybe…but you don’t think so,” Nicholas said, watching the older man carefully.
Ricky sighed. “No. I don’t. Call it instinct, but I’ve got a feeling things are about to get bad. Like 2011 bad.”
Nicholas’s mouth went dry. That was the year that a tight-knit group of five leeches descended on the city and began a non-stop “party” where humans were the main course. It had taken weeks to burn them out of the warren of abandoned warehouses where they’d set up shop, and more than half of the cell’s hunters had died in the attempt.
“ ‘Course, I been outta the game awhile. Might just be jumpy.” Ricky held up his hands and chuckled, though it felt a bit forced.
Nicholas responded with a weak laugh of his own. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Ricky, but I hope this is one instance where you have lost your edge.”
“You and me both, man. Still…keep your gear ready.” He clapped Nicholas on the shoulder and headed towards the common area.
Nicholas silently watched him go. Della’s earlier words replayed in his mind: We fought to save this city from monsters. Whatever she’d been referring to, it was a fight she and her allies had lost. Maybe it was a coincidence…but Nicholas had his doubts. And Ricky’s sixth sense for vampire activity was legendary.
An oncoming headache was beginning in earnest behind his eyes, and the agitation from Della’s blood had ratcheted even higher, making his muscles feel itchy. Great. He wavered in indecision…then turned around and headed for the intel center. Maybe some proactive “mole hunting” would quell his sudden unease.
The intel center was named somewhat ambitiously. While the title suggested a large room filled with analysts and wall-mounted displays, the reality was a four-person cubicle farm off to one side of the employee entrance. Their cell only had one full-time staffer at the moment, but the clatter of her mechanical keyboard made enough commotion for four.
“Excuse me, ma’am, there’s been another noise complaint.”
“Nicholas!” Beverly was a pale woman in her mid-twenties whose bubbly personality and bright pink undercut made her seem much younger. She stood up from her cubicle, pushed her delicate glasses back up her nose, and approached with wide arms.
“Easy,” Nicholas said with a smile, “watch the back.”
She gently enveloped him in a sincere hug that he happily returned. “I heard it got super janked,” she murmured, then stepped away. “Is it better?”
“A lot better than yesterday.”
“Good!” She beamed and moved back towards her desk, but gave him a look of mild reproach. “You’ve been scarce in intel land lately.”
Nicholas spread his hands. “I was prepping for the raid. All my time was spent working out in the gym or doing Compound-G saturation training. If I’d visited, your choices would have been ‘sweaty Nicholas’ or ‘nauseous Nicholas.’ ” He leaned his arms along the top of her cubicle as she sat back down. “I was doing you a favor, Bev.”
“Mm.” Her crooked smile let him know he was forgiven. “I suppose I can also excuse your scarcity after the raid because it's obvious you don't know how to lift with your legs.”
He scoffed. “I should be offended, but since you’re being gracious…”
“I'm a gracious person,” she agreed loftily. “Plus, I’ve missed you around here.” Pause. “They haven't even mentioned hiring a replacement yet.”
“That’s because there's no one who could fill my shoes.”
“Aww, he already has the infamous hunter swagger.” She gave an overly wistful sigh. “My sweet baby bird has learned to fly.”
Nicholas chuckled. “I missed you, too. And even the job a little, if I'm being honest.”
“Say again?” Her eyebrows rose. “Never thought I'd hear those words from that mouth.”
He shrugged. “Field work makes you realize that the Guild’s knowledge base has even bigger gaps than we thought.”
“Do tell.” She leaned forward eagerly.
“Not yet. I have to…collect more data. I'm not quite ready to upend conventional thinking.” Also it would probably get me executed. It felt like a toddler had started gleefully pounding on his skull with a mallet, but he grimly forged on. “You could help me with some research, though.”
Beverly narrowed her eyes. “I love research. Especially quantitative analysis. Is it quantitative analysis?”
“It’s…human intelligence.” He made a pained expression. “Sorry.”
“Humint? Ugh.” She blew a half-hearted raspberry and sat back.
“I've been looking into WHIRLWIND REAP,” Nicholas continued without preamble, “and I want to make sure my analysis is comprehensive.” He was practically slumped over the divider in a ploy to look casual. “Has anyone else been collecting info about the raid? I'm eager to compare notes.”
Beverly shook her head with a smile. “Sorry, no one else matches you for nerdy devotion—not even me. We're all still in celebration mode.” She suddenly snapped her fingers and got a delighted glint in her eye. “Unless, of course, you’re studying vampires in dresses?”
Nicholas froze in shock. Everything around him dropped away until Bev’s amused face was all that remained.
Comments
K. R. Treadway
That's high praise. 😊
VeryFinePrint
Talk about cliffhanger!
