K. R. Treadway
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Blood and Lace: Chapter 4
🕑 Added 2023-11-26 18:45:22 +0000 UTC
Nicholas blinked and sat up, then immediately groaned. Every muscle in his arms and along his spine felt knotted and sore. Only grim determination kept him from falling back onto the bunched sheets. That, and the realization he might not be able to get up a second time.
Late morning sunlight was streaming through his blinds. Birds were chirping. He rubbed his eyes, vaguely grateful he'd been able to sleep at all. He’d thrashed around into the early morning hours, his body crying for rest but his mind racing and feverish. And now, in the bright light of day, things seemed more complicated than ever.
What did I do?
“What the hell did I do?” He echoed aloud. Last night's raid—his first—would have been an overwhelming experience even if it had gone according to plan. Assault teams…monsters with fangs…a flaming pyre that burned white hot while he and his guildmates cheered. It already seemed like a dream.
But the woman—
“The vampire,” he corrected aloud, “the vampire.”
The woman in the wedding dress with the sad pale eyes...
Nicholas cursed himself and crawled out of bed, suppressing another grunt of pain.
He made the shower as hot as he dared. Bracing his hands beneath the nozzle, he let the water run across his shoulders and arms until the heat began to penetrate and loosen the tension. He lifted his head and let the spray soak his scalp and face, but the soothing noise of cascading water failed to drown out the thoughts he shouldn't be thinking.
Maybe she had used the yoke. Could that explain why he had…done what he’d done? Those moments kneeling beside her had been fragile, balanced on a precarious thread of emotion stretched taut between them. Is that what the yoke felt like?
A harsh laugh escaped him. “Dream on, Nicholas.” He turned off the water and toweled off.
He had studied the reports obsessively, and not one described what he had felt. The yoke was harsh and unyielding, an assault on the mind and body. It stripped all control away and turned you into a puppet of the vampire, doing whatever they commanded while a part of you was left screaming on the inside. All of the sources had agreed on one point: you would know if one of them used it on you.
There was no sense denying the truth, not to himself. Everything last night had been done by choice. Nicholas had gazed into the eyes of a predator and seen emotions he’d been told vampires didn't feel. She had been crying, for God’s sake! He knew leeches could fake a full range of feelings—it was one of the ways they got close to their victims—but what he’d seen last night, that forlorn look in her eyes…it had been real. He knew it in his bones.
Mother wouldn’t buy it. She’d call it “juvenile sentimentality.”
“Maybe she’s right,” he told his bloodshot reflection in the bathroom mirror. His reflection set its jaw.
Nicholas finished his preparations but skipped the shave—taking part in the raid justified a little five o’clock shadow. He moved to the closet and quickly dressed in his other uniform: the khaki pants and brown button-up with “Bowers Landscaping” on the pocket. Stifling a yawn, he went out to his truck.
The drive to work didn’t make Nicholas feel better. With every mile the tension running through his core ratcheted higher until last night’s aches began to throb in earnest. Did he look guilty? Would someone realize how fast his heart was beating?
By the time he was past the outer suburbs he was nervous enough that he'd started practicing his poker face in the rearview. When his destination finally loomed into view there was an instant where he considered keeping the gas pedal pressed and letting the massive prefab warehouse slide by. Instead he turned in beside the Bowers Landscaping sign—topped by its eye-catching silver-painted lawnmower—and pulled into the employee lot. He flexed his hands on the steering wheel a few times, and got out.
A last-minute attack of nerves made him veer from the employee entrance. His feet carried him around to the front and he pushed open the door for customers. The bell jingled cheerily as Nicholas stepped into their deceptively ordinary showroom. He swept his gaze past the “No yard too small!" signage, the shelves teeming with lawn care supplies, and the pallets of stacked fertilizer bags.
“Nick! What are you doing up front? Come to sample the finest coffee in the building?” The Hispanic man behind the service counter was heavyset, with an open and friendly face.
“Morning, Ricky.” Nicholas smiled. “I don’t know if it’s the best, but I’m hoping it’s the strongest.”
It felt effortless to relax in Ricky’s cheerful presence. It was hard to believe the civilian face of their cell had once been a top hunter, but those who knew him said he’d been different before. Angrier. Everything changed when a ghoul took his leg. Instead of succumbing to despair or rage, Ricky had channeled his energy into managing the business that masked their Gilda Devota activities.
Over time his upbeat persona had just…stuck. Thanks to Ricky, Bowers Landscaping was turning a profit even as it continued scouting and gathering intelligence.
“You want the good stuff? Coming right up.” Ricky picked up a coffee-pot older than Nicholas and dripped a liquid-like substance into a styrofoam cup. He passed it over. Nicholas usually took a lot of cream, but he wasn’t sure if Ricky’s brew could even be categorized as coffee. He took a sip and grimaced.
“Perfect.”
“I know why you need a pick-me-up.” Ricky lowered his voice. “I heard we bagged eight. Six ghouls and two standard leeches.”
Nicholas nodded. His throat suddenly felt tight and the sludge was already turning to acid in his stomach. “Eight. That’s right.”
Ricky grabbed Nicholas’s shoulders and grinned. “That’s fantastic, man! Good work!”
“Well, I was only on clean-up…”
“Don’t say it like that.” Ricky straightened and pointed a finger. “You were an active team member who did his part.”
Most of his part, Nicholas thought, but he nodded. “I’ve got the sore back to prove I did something. Got a handful of pills you can toss me?”
Ricky laughed and handed over three aspirin from his stash behind the counter. Nicholas swallowed them with the dregs of whatever was in the cup. He coughed loudly.
“I appreciate the java, Ricky. Next time don’t water it down so much.” He waved and headed through the door marked “Staff Only.” The storeroom beyond contained everything you would expect a landscaping company to have. Nicholas made his way past shelves of industrial weed killer and replacement lawnmower blades and then swiped a keycard next to a security door marked “Break Room.” The lock disengaged with a muted chunk.
The hallway beyond was brightly lit and spotless, a thoroughfare for the building’s true purpose: the hunting and annihilation of vampires. Training rooms, an armory, a shooting range, and an intel center were all accessed from here, everything running like clockwork. If everyone wasn't wearing corporate casual or yardwork uniforms, a visitor might think they’d wandered into a military installation.
It was common knowledge that the Bowers Cell was one of the Guild’s strongest. It was the reason they’d been chosen to field test Compound-G. And after last night their reputation would be unassailable. Word would spread quickly about WHIRLWIND REAP’s success, and Guild leadership would rush a representative to gather data and make copious notes. Months from now, a slew of new manuals stamped “Gilda Devota - EYES ONLY” would be distributed throughout the organization, and Nicholas had no doubt that their cell’s techniques would be front and center.
Mother will be pleased.
He heard talking coming from the common area, and recognized Jessie’s throaty laugh. A mild twinge of regret ran through him. It had been weeks since he’d last seen her—he’d been careful to select different shifts. When he exited the hallway into the lounge, he saw Jessie, Mike, and Frank gathered together. The two men were regaling her with details about the raid.
“So for like the third time,” Mike was saying a bit too loudly, “I was all, ’I’m telling you, we should just use the C4!’ I think the Chief gave in just to shut me up!”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Frank added. He spotted Nicholas and gave him a friendly wave. Nicholas returned it and stepped closer. Jessie was looking at Mike and hadn't yet seen him. He took the opportunity to refresh his memory with an appraising glance. God that woman could fill out a pair of khakis.
”So then we rigged the door. I swear I used the standard amount.” Mike was standing close enough to Jessie that he could have put his arm around her. His body language wasn’t subtle.
“You were supposed to use less since we were in a basement,” Frank said.
“Wish you’d told me that last night!” Mike brayed laughter, his shaggy black hair flopping over his forehead. “That damn door blew outta the frame and went through the cinder blocks across the hall! You shoulda seen it, Jess.”
“I would have loved seeing it. Hearing it? Maybe not so much.”
Nicholas wondered if Mike had made a move yet. Or if Jessie had already slept with him. The twinge of regret threatened to turn into jealousy, and he mentally cursed.
You can’t get jealous. She's not your ex, because you were never official. She was very clear on that. You’ve got bigger problems. Way way bigger.
“Morning, Nick.” Jessie gave him a warm smile. She’d tied her Auburn hair back and the sprinkle of freckles across her nose was as cute as he’d remembered.
Repeat: The biggest fucking problem. “Hi, Jessie. Good to see you.”
“So I guess you're legit now. One raid under your belt. You’re a hunter.” She ran a teasing finger along his shoulder.
“Heh, I guess so.” Was his voice too high?
“Don’t pin a medal on him just yet.” Mike’s grin was friendly, but his eyes were feral. “Your boy was on the clean-up detail last night. Didn’t even go in the basement.”
“Then I guess that means his ears aren’t ringing,” Frank said with a chuckle. “Go easy, Mike. We all started somewhere.” He turned to Nicholas. “Congrats, man.”
“Thanks, but Mike has a point. Didn’t you guys bag a full leech down there?” It was a calculated peace offering, and Mike took the bait. He grinned and nodded.
“Damn straight. He was in the room behind the door. Wasn't able to put up much of a fight after that explosion.”
“Score one for the good guys,” Nicholas said. “Well, as much as I’d love to recount my exciting adventures lugging bodies up and down steps, I’ve got to run. Later, guys.” He waved and re-entered the hall.
His back was still hurting, and now a headache had started up just behind his eyes. He also felt decidedly queasy, but he couldn't blame Ricky's coffee—or seeing Jessie—for why he felt ill.
“Nick!”
Speak of the devil.
He turned to see Jessie follow him out of the doorway. She gave him another dazzling smile that scrambled his brain and sent an all-too-clear signal to a different part of his anatomy. Before he could react she had pulled him into a gentle hug. He was very aware of her breasts pressing into his chest.
“Like Frank said, congratulations.” Her voice was low and hot in his ear. “Call me if you want to celebrate.” She let go and took a step back, grinning. Nicholas mustered all the blood left in his brain and managed to nod dumbly. She winked and went back into the break room, leaving him completely bewildered. Had she…missed him?
With an abrupt movement he shook his head, pushing all of it away. He didn't have time to think about Jessie. His next stop was to get to the armory. He took a step and grimaced. After a cool-down period. Standing in front of the water fountain wasn't a cold shower, but after a minute of pretending to drink he was able to walk without embarrassment.
Ruth was behind the gear counter when he arrived. Lucky break. He hadn't had a chance to check the roster, but he’d much rather talk to the cell’s resident “den mother” than Clayton and his permanent scowl. Nicholas took a deep breath of the gun-oil scented air and put on his best “carefree attitude” face.
“Morning, Ruth.”
“And a fine good morning to you, hunter.” Ruth had honest-to-God rosy cheeks and she employed them to great effect when she smiled. It was a face that said “I’ll bring cookies tomorrow,” which was true enough. It was not a face that said “I can field strip a staker while blindfolded,” but that was true too.
He acknowledged her use of his new title with a self-conscious shrug. “Everyone’s making too big a deal out of it. I was only on—”
“One question,” she interrupted. “Did you or did you not come face-to-face with a leech?”
Nicholas rubbed his chin and swallowed, thinking about red tears and last requests. “Yeah.” The word came out more strained than he’d intended.
Ruth spread her hands. “There you go. That took courage, Nicholas, whether or not they were alive or dead. We’ve seen how hard you worked for this. A lot of us are real happy for you.”
Nicholas wondered if his mother was happy for him. Maybe “relieved” would describe it better.
“Thanks. I truly appreciate it, Ruth. I'm just tired, which makes it harder to swagger around and gloat.”
She chuckled. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
This was the best opening he would get. Lowering his voice, he leaned forward. “The truth is, I’m here because of last night.”
Ruth’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s up?”
“I’m still having trouble with my Compound-G ratio.” He shook his head. “I don't think they would have cleared me if I’d been on the front line. I need to keep training my system to tolerate it, but after a while it makes me light-headed. When I do it here I'm no good for anything else.”
Ruth crossed her arms. “What are you asking?”
“Could I check out a canister and mask? Then I can do the saturation work at home, and not wander around here in a daze.”
“That’s against regs, Nicholas.” She frowned.
“I know.” He ducked his head. “But it’s embarrassing, Ruth. It’s just one canister, and I’ll bring back the empty when I'm done. Please?” He was worried she would hear his telltale heart in the silence that followed. He risked looking up.
Ruth’s frown had turned into a grudging smile. “Well…I suppose official hunters deserve a little more leeway. One canister. But I’ll need authorization from your mom if you want to make it a regular thing.”
Nicholas tried to mask the extent of his relief. “Thanks so much, Ruth. You’re really helping this official hunter preserve his dashing rep.”
A few minutes later he was back in the hallway, the olive-drab canister cold under one arm. He took a moment to stare down the corridor opposite the armory entrance, the one leading to the cell leader’s office.
You should stop by, he told himself. Don't be a coward. If you skip out early without visiting her there’ll be hell to pay. He chewed his bottom lip, then turned on his heel and headed towards the rear exit.
He could handle the fallout from his mother. He had a lot of practice.
