Authors: Catherine Winchester
Frankie had obviously landed beside her gun as she now stood in the doorway, gun raised, and fired the six remaining shots into the creature. It hardly even flinched as each shot tore into it. Frankie was once again thrown into the wall as it cast her aside and stumbled out into the night. This time she didn’t get up.
Dazed, Alex made his way over to her. She was unconscious, blood pooling under her head. One lung wasn’t inflating meaning a broken rib had probably punctured it and he could hear that her blood pressure was dropping, meaning she had internal bleeding. Her pulse was slowing at an alarming rate.
Frankie was dying.
Chapter Seven
Alex’s own injuries were serious and he would need all his blood to heal but Frankie’s need was greater. Alex could live with the pain of his injuries until he was able to feed; he couldn’t live with losing her. His fangs tore into his own wrist and he pressed it over her mouth. Her mouth filled up with his blood and he waited for her to swallow, praying her involuntary reflexes were still intact.
Moments later she did swallow and continued to as his blood poured sluggishly into her mouth. He wished she could suck and draw more blood into her but she’d probably fight him if she were awake anyway. He fed her as much as he dared and then licked his wound clean. It closed within seconds but didn’t heal over. It wouldn’t until he had a chance to feed.
He wanted nothing more than to get out of there as fast as possible but his instinct for hiding his true nature made him stop to pick up the gun and torch. He found Frankie’s bag just outside the door and put the gun and torch back inside but he left the shell casings as they would take too much time to hunt down.
He scooped her into his arms and ran as fast as he could for her car, fishing her keys out of her bag. He laid her gently on the back seat and drove as law abidingly as he could to the club. He carried her up the outside stairs, into his apartment and laid her on his bed before collapsing to his knees beside it.
He’d given her too much blood and needed to feed quickly. Knowing he’d never get moving again if he stayed still too long, he staggered to the bathroom. He looked a mess. Some of his cuts had begun healing but only partially. He washed his face, pulled off his bloody shirt and changed into a fresh one before heading downstairs.
His hunger was worse than he could remember in years and it took all his self control not to simply bite the first person he saw. All those bodies pressed together, all those heartbeats, it was intoxicating.
He first happened across Lisa, a young woman who had shared his bed a few times. She wanted to know what had happened to his face but he preferred to kiss her. Perhaps his injuries made her feel sorry for him; whatever the reason, she didn’t stop him. He steered her to a dark corner booth and fed from her. He needed more than he took and only the thought of what Frankie would think if he killed this woman gave him the strength to stop. He entered her mind and made her forget the encounter before leaving her in the booth.
Next he found Gail, or more accurately, she found him. He took her up to his office and fed from her there. The urge to kill was nowhere near as strong this time and he had little trouble stopping. When he was finished he altered her memories, telling her that he had come on too strong and she had stormed out in a huff.
Hunger finally sated, Alex went upstairs and returned to Frankie.
Her heart beat was stronger now and he thought it would probably only be minutes before she woke up.
He lay down on the bed beside her and closed his eyes. That had been the worst fight he’d had in perhaps 50 years. It had been reckless and foolish to blindly take on something he didn’t understand. Stupid.
Yet there was nothing quite like the thrill of a good fight and in his heart of hearts, he had loved every second of it. In his everyday life he was constantly holding himself in check lest he hurt someone; he hardly ever got to use his full strength, no holds barred. He felt alive again. Powerful. If only Frankie hadn't been hurt in the crossfire. Maybe next time she’d let him handle it.
Yeah, and maybe pigs would fly.
“
Ugh,” Frankie groaned and put her hands to her forehead. “How much did I have to drink and was it worth it?”
“
You don’t remember?” He asked.
“
The way I feel, I don’t think I want to remember.”
He smiled. “In that case, you had a shed load to drink and it was most definitely worth it.”
She opened her eyes and turned on her side. “Ow, shit!” she raised her head off the pillow and put her hand to the side of her head. When she looked at her hand it was spotted with blood. “I’m bleeding.” She put her hand back to her head and felt the area more thoroughly.
“
You were bleeding,” he tried to reassure her. “Now you’re clotting.”
Frankie sat up. “I feel like I’ve lost a fight with a freight train.” Her whole body hurt, her head was throbbing, her ribs felt bruised and judging from the size of her head wound- “I should be in hospital. Or dead.” She looked at Alex, worried and felt her neck for a pulse. “Am I-“
“
You’re not dead, or undead.”
She relaxed as she found her pulse. “Then how?”
Alex wasn’t looking forward to this part. “You were dying, I knew you’d be dead by the time an ambulance arrived so… I gave you my blood. The same force that makes me immortal saved your life.”
Her eyes were wide, scared. “But I’m not a vampire?”
“
No. You would have to be almost drained of your blood first.” When Frankie didn’t respond he continued. “You’re already much better. In another three or four hours you’ll be as good as new.”
Frankie was still processing everything. “I need a drink.” She staggered to her feet and went in search of alcohol.
Alex was behind her in a second, steadying her. “Take it slow. Come on, this way.” He led her through to the living room. “Sit here, I’ll get you a whisky.”
“
How do you know I like whisky?”
“
Everyone likes whisky.” He returned moments later with three fingers.
Frankie gulped the amber liquid, hoping it would stop the shivers she felt.
“
You’re going into shock,” Alex explained. “Hardly surprising. You will feel better soon.”
“
I already feel better.” She touched the side of her head again. It still hurt like a bitch but not as much as when she had woken up only minutes ago. “What the fuck was that thing?”
“
When you feel better, we’ll discuss it.”
“
So in the mean time I should just twiddle my thumbs until you feel like sharing?” Alex reached for her hand which she snatched away. “Piss off.”
“
Are you always so vulgar when stressed?”
Frankie gave a hollow laugh. “Stressed? You call this stress? And yes I am. I can’t help it.” She stared into her glass. “He hardly flinched when I shot him. How can… And those eyes… They were milky… Dead.” She bit her lip, not wanting to think about it any further.
Alex sighed. “You really want to discuss this?”
Frankie nodded.
“
Okay. He was a zombie.”
“
Like radioactive waste,
Night of the Living Dead
, zombie?”
“
Not quite. We were so busy focusing on the demonology side of the Grimoire that we forgot about its other subject. Necrophilia.”
“
Oh God, I think I’m gonna be sick.” She leaned forward and Alex gently rubbed her back.
“
Take deep breaths, you’ll be fine. Everything will be all right.”
Frankie answered him through clenched teeth. “The dead are walking, Alex, it is fucking
not
going to be all right.”
“
It will, Frankie. We’ll stop whoever’s controlling him, we’ll end this.”
When her nausea passed, Frankie sat back, leaned her head on the sofa and closed her eyes. “You would think, with all the weird shit I’ve seen, that… This crosses a line, Alex. That… It’s sick. He probably has a family somewhere that wants to bury him, to say goodbye and instead he’s…”
Alex took her hand. “Shhh.”
“
I need a cigarette.”
“
You smoke?” He was surprised, he had never detected the smell of cigarettes on her.
“
No, not really. I quit five years ago. Almost.”
“
I have cigars.”
“
That’ll do.”
Alex fetched her a cigar from a box under his coffee table. He snipped and lit it for her.
“
Vampires smoke?” she asked, inhaling deeply.
“
It doesn’t do anything for us physically but I like the aroma sometimes.”
Frankie nodded. “You know, it might be completely in my head but I already feel better.”
“
Then does it matter if it’s the cigar itself or the expectation of its effect.”
“
I suppose not.” She took another long drag before asking, “What now?”
“
Now you need a shower and some sleep.”
“
I only just woke up.”
“
Being unconscious isn’t the same as sleeping.” He stood up, still holding her hand. “Come on.”
Frankie left the cigar in an ashtray and followed unquestioningly. She needed a shower, not just because she was covered in blood but because she felt unclean, tainted. She doubted a shower would rid her of that feeling but it was a good place to start.
The bathroom was pure opulence. Bigger than Frankie’s living room, its centrepiece was a large art deco bath tub. The shower was in the corner, sectioned off from the room with glass bricks rather than a traditional shower stall. Above the sink a mirror ran the length of the wall and it was this that let Frankie know she was much more of a mess that she’d originally thought. Her face was smeared with blood and the right side of her head was matted with it. Her clothes were torn and dirty. She didn’t examine them too closely. The attack had obviously been much more brutal than she'd imagined and she tried not to think how close she must have come to dying. Alex had saved her life, literally.
“
I’ll find you something clean to sleep in,” Alex said, closing the door behind him.
She walked into the shower area, thinking how nice it was to have a spacious shower. The water was hot and powerful and she gasped as she stepped under it. It stung in a few places and she guessed they were injuries that were still healing. She was remarkably intact. In fact she almost felt good, physically at least.
She washed thoroughly until the water ran clear rather than pink, then she washed again. When she emerged she saw that Alex had lain a shirt and boxers out for her. I was a little early in the relationship to be swapping clothes, she thought, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Alex was leaning on the wall outside the bathroom door, his arms crossed over his chest. “Feel better?” he asked.
“
A bit. I’m not tired though.”
“
You will be.” He put his arm around her and guided her back into the bedroom.
Frankie got under the covers. “Will you stay with me?”
Alex smiled kindly, understanding how hard it was for her to ask that. “Of course.” He climbed into the opposite side and lay on his side, facing her. He took her hand under the covers and rubbed her palm with his thumb.
“
You’ve never had anyone else in this apartment, have you?” She hadn't picked up any psychic impressions since she’d been here.
“
Not many. And no humans, that’s what the bed downstairs is for.”
“
Why?”
“
The same reason you don’t have visitors in your home I suspect.”
Frankie frowned. “How do you know…?”
“
There were no other scents there. I don’t have many visitors up here because this is the one place I don’t have to hide. I know I’m completely safe here, there’s no direct sunlight in any room and I don’t have to move at a human pace, I can relax.”
“
I’m sorry I invaded your space.”
He reached out and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I don’t have to hide from you, remember?”
Frankie was beginning to feel sleepy, which was good because it stopped her thinking about his words too much. “What will you do after I go to sleep?”
“
Research. I no longer think vampirism is the reason you can’t detect Bradley but I’m still waiting to hear from the contact I called earlier. I also asked for information on the Grimoire. We need as much information as we can get.”
“
Use my phone, it’s in my bag. Don’t make those calls from your phone.”
“
Why?”
“
Because you’ll be discovered. All calls, texts and emails in this country are monitored for code words. We have a program and the GCHQ monitors all communications. They’re searched for certain words and combined with tone of voice, speech patterns, geographic area and recent intelligence info. Suspect communications are red flagged and listened to or read by a human. If you make a call and start talking about vampires, witchcraft, magic etcetera, it will red flag you and someone will read or listen to your call.”
“
No one queries that you search for those words?”
“
They think those words are a test system so we can check its effectiveness. If you place the call from an MI5 phone it will be red flagged but classed as a test call and quarantined. No one outside our department will be able to listen to it.”