K. R. Treadway
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Blood and Lace: Chapter 5
🕑 Added 2023-12-10 18:15:46 +0000 UTC
Nicholas peered at the townhouse through the passenger-side window of his truck. It didn't look any better in daylight. He had parked in the alley right outside the walled-off yard, and everything seemed quiet.
He was officially a crazy person.
There could be police lurking, responding to a report of arsonists last night. Or perhaps there was a hunter team in the tenement across the street, keeping watch for unusual activity—like, say, a fellow hunter breaking every protocol that had ever been drilled into him because he had seen a woman in distress.
“A vampire in distress, Nicholas. A vampire. Fuck!” His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly his joints hurt. His fingers felt like ice as his body pulled blood to his core to crank the old fight-or-flight up to eleven. “Start up the car right now. Drive away. Tell the others. Or don’t. Just leave. That’s a respectable middle ground, right?” He cursed again.
He had to focus…treat this like an op. Could vampires use the yoke in the daytime? There were no records of it, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. They were sluggish in the extreme. Not quite the sleep of the dead, but very vulnerable. Nicholas drummed his fingers on the wheel.
“Okay, early hunters used to track leeches in the day, and we know some of them were successful.” He licked his too-dry lips. That probably meant they couldn’t use the yoke. Or it meant they’d been staked without being woken up. Shit. One canister of Compound-G wouldn’t last long. He had to make a decision.
“This is beyond stupid. I’m making the decision. Turn the key. Drive away.” Several seconds ticked by. He pulled the keys and opened the door.
Even in daylight the air remained cool and crisp. The smell of smoke could have been someone burning leaves—if there’d been a tree within five miles. Nicholas stood on the packed gravel of the alley and looked anywhere but the primary target of WHIRLWIND REAP. Finally he squinted up at the sun, silently begging it to give him protection.
“Screw it.”
Without hesitating he walked across the alley and entered the walled yard of the townhouse. A line had been crossed. If any eyes were watching him he had made his intentions more than clear.
The dirt in the backyard was so compressed he couldn’t even find footprints from last night. The only remnant of the raid was a large oval of shiny black soot spread across the cement patio. The smell of smoke was stronger here. He kept moving through the partially opened back door.
The interior looked different with all the light coming from boarded-up windows. Dust swirled through the beams, making Nicholas wonder if any of it were particles of vampire ash. He coughed reflexively, then pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket to show the way.
Musty air hung in the open well of the stairs, making it easy to detect the sour smells of abandonment along with coppery traces of the “garlic breath” gas. He walked up the steps, each creak sounding too loud.
The upper hallway was dim and still. He swept the light onto the russet patch in front of one doorway. Last night, just before leaving, he’d taken the time to scrub as much of Linden’s blood away as he could. Nicholas stepped carefully over the faint stain and entered the room beyond. He was breathing like a distance-runner, his heart hammering to match.
Everything was exactly as he’d left it. The broken loveseat was still on its side. More dark stains from the pieces of ghoul he had picked up. And the rolled-up carpet was still pressed against the wall.
He stared at it. The edges had drooped on either end, but the center remained solid. No staining, no…liquid…running out. That meant there had been no decay. Which meant…
“She’s still alive,” he breathed out, surprised at the feeling of relief that flooded his limbs. She was still alive—or whatever the hell vampires called it. He walked over slowly, braced for the wrenching sensation of the yoke, or even for the rug to suddenly explode in a cloud of fibers and disgorge an enraged predator. Nothing happened.
Nicolas crouched down and set a hesitant hand on the outside of the bundle. For a moment he considered saying something. I’m not going to hurt you, maybe. Or, I felt bad and couldn’t set you on fire. Sorry. Vampires could be super old. Maybe something formal? I come under flag of truce to save your life and foster understanding between our peoples. He snorted a quiet laugh and then had to suppress a sneeze. If she—the vampire—was asleep, he decided it was best she remain that way.
Nicolas carefully slid his hands underneath the carpet. He could just detect the gentle yield of a body through the layers. He lifted with his legs, but his back decided to spasm with agony anyway. He had definitely overdone it last night. Eventually he staggered upright, feeling his face set into a familiar rictus of pain. He just stood for a moment, breathing heavily, his limbs trembling.
Now he just had to get her downstairs, load her into his truck, drive her to his apartment, and carry her up three more flights of stairs.
“Easy-peasy,” he hissed.
The first set of stairs went at a glacial pace. First he had to gently lift her over the newel post, then awkwardly stump down one step at a time. He hesitated at the back door, but only for a moment. He’d already chosen to risk discovery. That bridge had been crossed. Or burned.
Not a good time to be thinking about burning. He stared at the bright sunlit yard and chewed his bottom lip. Would the carpet shield the woman from the sun? She had at least four layers wrapped around her. Nicholas cursed. They would just have to chance it.
He set foot into the yard, sweat pouring off his limbs from the exertion. He walked as fast as he dared, dreading the tell-tale smell of blood from the start of the breakdown process. The strain of setting the carpet into the truck wrenched another pained exclamation from him. Still no sign of blood, just the hideous stench of the mouldering carpet. He leaned over and pulled a tarp over the roll, then slumped against the side of the truck and tried to remember what not-hurting felt like. He waited until his breathing returned halfway to normal, then waited some more.
The delay was part of his plan. Nicholas gave any watchers a full five minutes to burst out from hiding to arrest him, detain him, or kill him. If he’d sealed his fate with this bone-headed rescue, he wanted to avoid carrying the woman up those final three flights.
Nothing. Only silence and a refreshing breeze.
Finally he straightened, a bemused expression on his face. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured.
The trip home took twice as long. Nicholas drove well under the speed limit and took a circuitous route, checking the rearview constantly. He didn’t have any special training in spotting a tail, but it made him feel better. Amazingly, he made it to his apartment complex without incident.
His phone rang just as he was pulling into his parking spot. He checked the screen.
MOTHER
“Fuck.” Nicholas turned off the engine. He hesitated, thumb hovering. The phone kept ringing. He cursed again and answered it.
“Nicholas, where are you?” Her voice was cool, but he could sense the anger hiding in it.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m home.” He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the dazzling sunlight glittering off the cars in the lot.
“You left before the debriefing.”
“I know. I’m sorry. The truth is that I messed up my back last night. I was…overeager. I’m honestly in a lot of pain.” The best lies contained a kernel of truth.
“This isn’t professional behavior, Nicholas. You need to be present at the debriefings. Particularly if you took part.”
Congratulations, son. I’m so proud you’re finally a hunter, Nicholas thought to himself. I’m so relieved you’re safe. Nope. Sentiments like that were too much to hope for. He was surprised at the intensity of the bitterness that welled up inside him.
“Did you hear me, Nicholas?”
“I...yes, Mom, I heard you. You know how seriously I take this. If I wasn’t in excruciating pain right now, I would come back and make amends. I did my best to stay, but my back locked up right before I came to see you.” Pause. “I didn’t want to look hurt in front of the others.” There. Not wanting to show weakness was one explanation she might accept.
He waited nervously for several seconds. Finally he heard a faint exhale. “I see.” There was an emotion in her voice he couldn’t quite detect. Weariness? Disappointment? Was it too much of a stretch to hope for maternal concern?
“I should be fine tomorrow, Mother. I’ll read the notes and make my statement then, all right?”
“Don’t forget you have other duties as well.” She was referring to the landscaping work they all performed as cover. “You promised Ricky you would learn the new O’Donnell product line. They’ve doubled the number of weed killers this year.”
“Of course. Don’t worry. As soon as I can get up I’ll study the brochures.” As soon as Ricky gives them to me. “Again, I’m sorry. You know I hate to…disappoint.”
“Get some rest. Don’t forget to use heat.” There was another pause, even longer. “You did well. Your section chief was very pleased.” She ended the call without waiting for a reply. Nicholas stared at the screen in shock.
Faint praise. Maybe this is all a dream.
By the time he wrestled the carpet out of the truck and up the three flights of stairs, he was reasonably convinced he had permanently damaged something. At least it would help sell the story. He’d kept his keys in one hand and used them to awkwardly unlock the door without setting the carpet down.
Nicholas staggered inside, pausing only long enough to kick the door closed. His muscles put in their final notice as he stumbled across the living room towards the back hall. With an inarticulate cry of pain he managed to heave the filthy bundle onto his bed just before collapsing beside it.
The sound he made then wasn’t sobbing, exactly. Besides, who could be sure since he was doing it into the bedspread? He continued to not-sob quietly for a minute. Once the agony had lowered to a pronounced throb, he shifted his head to stare at the wall.
“More pills,” he mumbled.
Nicholas got upright long enough to get to the bathroom. He sat on the toilet seat and pulled off his clothes, then managed to take his second scalding shower of the day. After that came two oxycodone pills left over from a training accident.
On the way back to his bedroom, Nicholas paused in the doorway to check the carpet. It hadn’t moved. Hobbling like an old man with a cracked hip, he entered the room and quietly dressed in jeans and a plain gray tee. Then he went to the kitchen and drank half-a-gallon of water while he waited for the pills to start working.
That sense of unreality was descending again, and he kept finding himself staring at the bedroom doorway. Over and over he questioned the events that had led him—them—to this moment. Nicholas Howell, recently qualified as a full hunter in the Gilda Devota, had brought home a vampire.
A vampire bride at that.
It was all so preposterous. But she had triggered something in him. A shared moment. Whatever it was, it transcended their circumstances. Even if this insanity got him killed, Nicholas was positive he’d made the right choice to save her.
Nearly positive.
God he hoped he hadn’t fucked up.
He set down his cup and walked back to the bedroom. The daylight was running out and he wanted to get her out of there with plenty of time to prepare. He would need the Compound-G in his system before she woke up.
