Fang Girl (12 page)

It was my turn to miss a step. “Are you saying that I may already have made
Lorraine
into a vampire?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “If you had fed her your own blood, she would definitely become one of us, but merely feeding from her may have given her the gift.”

I could not be Lorraine’s sire. The possibility was
too horrible to contemplate. Lorraine, able to borrow my senses whenever she wanted?
Lorraine
, in my blood?

I looked again at that third Bloodline, though I didn’t try going down it. “Ebon? Let’s say, hypothetically speaking, that I
have
turned Lorraine. Would I feel, um, some sort of connection to her?”

“Yes,” Ebon said with a raised eyebrow at my look of horror. He continued, “But you might regardless, whether she has been infected or not. Depending on how much blood we consume, we can form weak, temporary mental links with anyone we feed from. It’s not comparable to a full Bloodline connection, and they fade very rapidly, but with practice we can use them to perform minor acts of influence. Another reason to return to your earlier victim—I can demonstrate how to glamour her into forgetfulness.”

“Huh.” My strange third link was
stronger
than the others, not weaker. And I couldn’t think of any reason why Lilith would want to protect Lorraine from Hakon, especially considering that he obviously knew about her anyway.

Well, at least going to Lorraine’s house would determine whether it
was
her. I realized that Ebon had changed our course, angling us farther inland. “Hey, you’re going
too far north. Lorraine lives in Angmering.”

“I know.” He pointed ahead, to where a tall hilltop rose against the starry sky. “I thought we might make a small diversion, to Cissbury Ring. I … want to show you something.”

“Well …” Ebon turned an earnestly angst-filled expression on me, like a very Goth puppy. I mentally shrugged. “Okay, if you want.” Heck, if he got too weird, at least I knew I was stronger and faster than him. And the height would give me a better view of the surroundings … ideal for the Bloodline experiment I had in mind.

We scrambled up the rising ground, plowed earth giving way to tussocks of grass and gorse as we ascended. Cissbury Ring was actually an Iron Age fort, though it didn’t look like much. Just a tall hill topped with a mile-long ring of grassy embankments, which had once enclosed a wooden fort. Now there was nothing more than long grasses and low, scrubby trees, growing where once Iron Age people had … done Iron Age things, I suppose. Presumably involving iron.

“I have always enjoyed it up here,” Ebon said, gazing down at the farmland spreading out below us. On the horizon, the lights of Worthing cast a dull red stain
into the sky, but up here the night air was cool and clear. A car engine rumbled on the other side of the hill, then stopped, leaving nothing but the sound of wind in the grass. “It makes me feel … young.”

“Hm? Um, yeah.” I had other things than the view in mind. As we started to stroll along the embankment, I reached inward, feeling the directions of my three links. By comparing the lines to what I’d felt from my house, I could triangulate on the other vampires. It would have been easier with a compass, but I could get a rough feel for their locations....

“Is not the moon beautiful tonight?” Ebon said, breaking my train of thought.

“Uh, sure.” It was the moon. I’d seen it before. Now, from the feel of it Lilith was somewhere to the north, maybe ten miles or so up the A24—

“It comforts me that there are some things that never change,” Ebon interrupted yet again. I resisted the urge to smack him. “The moon at least remains constant, as eternal as we are …
ma chérie
.” His pace slowed a bit. “May I share something with you? Something … personal?”

“If you want.” As long as he didn’t expect much response. It was an effort to hang on to my mental map, but I was pretty sure the source of that mysterious third
link had to be somewhere in Worthing....

“It’s only … do you remember when I said that I felt there was a connection between us?” Damn it, I was trying to concentrate!

Ebon continued. “I think it’s because we share similar origins, you and I.” He was gazing so earnestly into my eyes that I felt like a teleprompter. “Like you, I too am an orphan.”

“Oh my God!”

Ebon bowed his head solemnly. “Yes. I too am estranged from my Bloodline, alone in this world. You and I … we are not like the others. We are the progeny of beasts. The offspring of monsters. And … you will find that there are those who scorn us for it.”

I didn’t tell Ebon that my exclamation had nothing to do with his history. I’d just tried reaching down that third Bloodline again … and now it wasn’t black.

Whoever was on the other end had stopped blocking me. Once again I could see through the other vampire’s eyes … which were looking at a website on a laptop screen. A very,
very
familiar website.

Fang-Girls.net.

Ebon was rambling on, something about darkness and blazing eyes and nightmares made flesh. I barely
heard him. His earnest voice was like a safety cord running back to my own body, keeping me a little bit back from the unknown vampire. I didn’t know if they could sense me, but someone more powerful than Lilith was not someone to risk pissing off. I stayed very still and small, watching as the vampire scanned the recent activity on the site, then clicked the log-in button. The screen updated itself, and what I saw in the top corner shocked me all the way back into my own body.

SIGNED IN: SUPERLUMINAL

“Xanthe?”

“Huh?” I was jerked back to my own senses. Ebon was gazing down at me as if his entire future happiness rested on whatever I said next. I desperately tried to remember what he’d been talking about. Something about being attacked by a beast and subsequently shunned by vampires? Still reeling from the Superluminal bombshell, all I could do was take a wild stab at an appropriate response. “Uh … that sucks, I guess?”

I was talking to thin air. Ebon had stopped abruptly, letting go of my arm. I turned back in confusion and was horrified to discover that he had both hands over his face. Was he
crying
? “Ebon? I’m sorry, I was thinking about something else—”

“Xanthe.” He raked both hands back through his hair. He wasn’t crying, to my relief, though he looked like he might be about to. That, or burst into hysterical laughter. “Am I doing something wrong?”

I blinked at him. “What?”

He flung his hands into the air. “I tell you my dark, secret past, and all you have to say is
that sucks
?” Words suddenly spilled out of him in a torrent, as if his angst had finally burst the dam of his control. “I tried wearing the right clothes, I tried the right accent, I tried saving your life, I even tried telling you my tragic history, but none of it has
worked
!” His shoulders slumped. “You still aren’t … impressed.”

I snickered.

I couldn’t help it. It was just too funny. My snicker grew into full, helpless, doubled-over laughter, as Ebon’s face slid from self-pity through confusion and then toward icily offended dignity.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I gasped, catching his sleeve before he could sweep away in outrage. “I’m sorry, I was distracted when you were talking before, I didn’t mean to insult you. But, Ebon … are you saying that all this angstastic drama-queen crap you’ve been pulling is an
act
?” I dissolved into giggles again. “Oh my God, you
utter dork. Why the heck would you do something like that?”

Ebon’s expression was veering toward confusion again. “But I … thought that was what you liked? With your website and, er, stories—”

“You read my fanfic?”

He went bright red. “Er, ah, I … I only wanted to learn what you liked.” He looked mortified, as if he’d been caught watching porn. Then again, if he’d been reading some of the spicier fanfic forums … “So I could make a good impression.”

“And you stumbled onto Fang-Girls?” Dear God, how many vampires
were
there in fandom? Though I bet Ebon hadn’t realized what he was getting into. Unlike Superluminal, who I
knew
was a long-term fan … I put that thought aside for now. I needed to get back to an internet connection to do some checking, but first I had to prevent Ebon from going into full-on meltdown. “Wow. I’m so sorry. I hope you weren’t too scarred by the slash section.”

Ebon had the slightly stunned expression of a man who was replaying the last five minutes in his head, trying to work out where it had all gone horribly wrong. Still chortling, I took his hand, tugging him along the
path again. “So you aren’t usually quite so … intense? I have to say, I’m kinda relieved. The hints of undying obsession were starting to get a bit freaky.”

“But I thought you liked undying obsession,” he said rather plaintively. “All of your books and TV shows are full of it. I thought you wanted a … a dark and tormented protector.”

“Ebon, that’s fiction. Everyone likes Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dead in fiction.” I shrugged. “But, y’know, brooding angstmuffins are like Majorca. Awesome fun for a holiday, but heck, you wouldn’t want to live there.”

We walked in silence for a few steps more, before Ebon burst out, “Xanthe—”

“Before you ask, yes.” I squeezed his hand. I wasn’t sure I
trusted
him, but I did know one thing. “I do actually like you. Though more when you’re geeking out over
Rock Band
than when you’re getting your Goth on.”

For the first time, I saw Ebon’s real smile. It was nice, shy and sweet and kinda awkward. And also very brief, because at that moment someone jumped out of the bushes and cut his head off.

E
bon!”
I screamed as his body toppled. Metal flashed in the corner of my eye; I jumped back just in time to avoid losing my own head to the return swing of the ax. The guy on the other end of it let out a short hiss of frustration. He was redheaded and broad-shouldered, wearing a long, black leather trench coat and a determined expression. His green eyes met my own, and narrowed.

It was the vampire hunter. The really hot one with the paper-clip obsession. Guess he’d upgraded his weaponry.

There was nothing I could do for Ebon; I’d seen his head go flying into the bushes. I whipped around—but before I had fled more than three steps, a soft hail of paper
clips fell around me, glittering. Although I knew I had to run, that this was
insane
, I slid to a helpless stop, dragged back as though connected to the paper clips by invisible steel cords. As I ducked to snatch at them, I felt the ax slice through the air where my head had just been.

I dodged backward, avoiding a second powerful blow. The paper clips winked at me. I wasn’t abandoning them, I told the crazy part of myself as I flung myself to one side, snatching up a paper clip as the blade whistled past again. I was going to pick them up
gradually
. When I could. Without being bisected. In fact, maybe I could come back to get the paper clips later …?

The spark of an imminent migraine stopped me from any further attempt to ignore this stupid compulsion. Still, this wasn’t too bad. The hunter might be fast for a human, but I was still faster. And I could run all night, whereas he was already panting. All I had to do was evade him until I’d picked up all the paper clips, and then I could escape. Or, even better, avenge Ebon. White-hot rage filled my chest. Leaping over the vampire hunter’s head, I managed to scoop up an entire handful before he’d had time to turn. Oh, he was going
down
.

The vampire hunter backed off for a moment, chest heaving, his ax held defensively across his body. I smiled
sweetly at him, showing my fangs. “Bring it, Van Helsing,” I told him. “I can keep this up all night.”

He scowled at me. Flipping his ax to one hand, he plunged the other into his pocket. The scowl morphed into an evil grin, and another hundred or so paper clips hit the ground.

“Okay,” I said, dropping into a crouch. “Now you are really getting on my nerves. I am
so
taking you out.”

“Die, foul fiend,” he snarled, charging once more.

“Foul fiend?”
I said, nearly getting clipped by the blade due to disbelief. I rolled to pick up a few more paper clips. “Did you
actually
just say that, like, non-ironically?”

His mouth shut with a snap, and his next few blows seemed to have rather more feeling behind them. On second thought, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to wind up the huge, ripped guy holding the ax. “Look,” I said, deciding to try reason. “You don’t really want to do this. I’m a good vampire—I mean, like, a vampire with a soul, not that I’m really good at, you know, vamp-stuff. I’m not some monster. Heck, I’ve only been a vampire for less than a week! I’ve never even sucked anyone’s blood!” I ducked under the blade and backflipped away. “Really! You can ask my parents! My
mum’s a university professor, she’s a very trustworthy character reference!”

The hunter paused for breath, resting the tip of his ax on the ground but never taking his eyes off me. Sweat stuck his T-shirt to his broad chest. “Please be quiet and die,” he wheezed, sounding somewhat plaintive.

“No way, you Blade wannabe—
AIIIIEEEE
!”

My scream scared the hunter so badly he fumbled the ax, but I couldn’t take advantage of the opening to attack. I was too busy trying to flail away from whatever had just grabbed me.
Oh God, there’s the werecat and now I’m dead
was the rather ignoble last thought that ran through my head—but whoever it was released my arms. I leaped aside, and it blundered past me, hands outstretched blindly.