Zane’s Redemption (26 page)

His own turning had been painful, but what was worse was the constant hunger for blood he experienced right after the turning. He’d thought the hunger he’d lived through in the first two years at the camp had been excruciating, but there were no words to describe the horrendous cravings his body went through, or the shame that came with it. He was an animal now, no longer the sophisticated son of a lawyer who wrote poetry and loved music. No longer the man whose name was once Zacharias Abraham Noah Eisenberg, but only a shell of it, a shell that no longer deserved that name. All that was left of his humanity was a fraction of what he’d once been: Z.A.N.E.

But if he’d thought he’d been through the worst, he was wrong.

One night, he overheard the guards saying that the camp was being partially evacuated and that the hospital and all its inmates were to be destroyed so the approaching allies would find no evidence of the research Müller was conducting. Desperate to save both himself and his sister, he asked the Czech vampire for help.

“Now you come to me,” the other vampire said weakly. “Too late now. We’re too weak. We both need blood.”

“Tell me what to do.” His survival instinct was still strong, and Rachel was suffering.

He stared into the hollow eyes of his cellmate.

“They drained me and bottled my blood. I think they’ll use it later to create more vampires. You want to escape? The silver will prevent it. And mind control is a skill that takes lots of energy.”

Z.A.N.E. shook his head. He couldn’t give up. Rachel depended on him. “Teach me. Tell me everything you know.”

“Remember the day they captured me?”

He nodded.

“You told me then you’re sorry. Your words gave me strength, and had one of them not worn a silver necklace, I would have escaped that night. I owe you for that.” He closed his eyes briefly, before continuing, his voice getting weaker by the minute. “Now listen, my friend, I don’t have much time left, but you can perhaps make it. A vampire’s blood is potent. They may be depriving you of human blood to keep you weak and easily controlled, but if you drain the last of mine, there is a chance you can garner sufficient strength to use mind control on the weakest of the guards to make him untie you. Once he loosens your silver chains you’ll have to drain him. Do it quickly. It’ll heal your body and strengthen you.”

Z.A.N.E. swallowed. The thought of stilling his hunger overwhelmed his scruples of killing. “And the mind control. How does it work?”

“You have to concentrate on what you want most. You’ll feel a warmth starting in your belly. It’ll engulf your entire body. When you feel the heat, focus your mind on the person you want to influence. Tell him what you want him to do, and he’ll do it. Never lose your concentration. Forget the pain the silver is inflicting. Only think of your goal.”

The breathing of the other vampire slowed.

“I’m sorry.”

As the vampire’s eyes flew open, a faint glint sparkled there. “It is time to die. Good-bye my friend, and promise me, you’ll kill them all, you’ll kill the men who did this to us.”

Z.A.N.E. nodded and lowered his head to the man’s neck. When his fangs sank into his flesh, he pulled on the vein and sucked the vessel until it was dry, until the heartbeat inside the shell disappeared. He felt his own body fill with the life giving liquid, his muscles strengthening, his mind thinking clearer now.

He was a killer now; nothing would ever change that.

The Czech vampire had been right. With his blood, he was feeling stronger, and his tenth attempt at mind control finally produced the expected result: he was able to control one of the guards and mentally forced him to free him of his silver chains while the second guard had nodded off.

He drained the guard who’d freed him and dropped his lifeless body to the ground. He felt a surge of strength and power in his new body, but before he could reach the second guard, he’d awakened and sounded the alarm. From everywhere, more guards came running.

In an effort to create confusion, Z.A.N.E. managed to open several cells so some of the inmates could escape. He used the uproar to search for his sister. Shots were fired, and a battle broke out between the released prisoners and the guards. Desperation, and the hope of a rumored rescue by the Allies, lent the human guinea pigs more strength than the guards expected, and more than they would have had before the rumors.

But there was no time for Z.A.N.E. to rejoice. He found Rachel in one of the treatment rooms, strapped onto a gurney. Her head thrashed wildly. Her body was broken: they had carved her womb open while she was still alive. He could only assume so they could examine if she had working reproductive organs.

His heart clenched. “Rachel.”

She opened her eyes then. At first, they didn’t focus, and she stared blankly, but then a flash of recognition lit in them. “Zacharias.”

“I’m here now. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Let me go.”

“Yes, we’re going. I’ll help you heal. Human blood,” he murmured. He would get one of the remaining humans and have her drink from him, so she could heal.

“No. Let me go. I can’t live like this. Let me go,” she begged, and he finally understood.

“NOOOO!” he wailed.

She stretched her hands toward him, her eyes repeating her wish. Then her eyes darted toward a table with instruments. He followed her gaze and saw the wooden stake the doctors had fashioned. Whenever they were done with one of the vampires they had created, or when they feared the creature would become too strong, they used it to be sure it would not.

His feet moved before he knew his brain had made the decision. When his palm wrapped around the smooth wooden surface, he felt as if somebody was ripping his still beating heart from his body.

But when he looked back at Rachel and saw her give him a faint smile, he knew it was the only solution.

“I love you, Zacharias.”

Then he did what he had to do. It was the last time tears streamed down his face.

Heavy sobs brought him back to the present. The tears weren’t Zane’s but Portia’s.

“Baby girl, why are you crying?”

“They hurt you so much.”

The chains around his heart loosened further. “Don’t cry for me. I’m a killer.”

She shook her head, her long hair caressing his chest in the process. “They're responsible. It’s not your fault. They're the monsters.”

“Most of them are dead now.”

He tipped her head up with his thumb and forefinger and wiped her tears.

“The assassin Quinn spoke of the other night. Is he one of them?” she asked.

“He was Brandt’s hybrid son.”

Shock widened her eyes. “But Brandt was human.”

“They used the blood they drained from the vampires they created and fled with it the same night I escaped. They knew how to turn a human into a vampire, so they performed the transformation on each other. It was what Müller always wanted: immortality and a master race. He had what he wanted.”

“How do you know that’s what they did?”

“I had my suspicions when they fled and all of the vampire blood was gone. And it was confirmed later when I found one of them. He was a vampire then. And I killed him. First Wolpers, then Arenberg, then Schmidt, then Brandt.”

“And Müller?”

“He’s still out there. He’s the one who sent Brandt’s son after me, I’m sure. He wants me dead. He knows I’m hunting him. And he knows I won’t stop.”

Portia’s hand came up to caress his cheek. “I hope he dies a horrible death.”

Zane put his finger to her lips to stop her from speaking. “Shh. I don’t want you to be infected by my hatred. This is my business.”

“You’ve been through so much. I want to support you.”

He sighed. “Oh, baby girl, you shouldn’t get entangled in this.”

“Too late,” she whispered and brushed her lips against his.

Her tempting scent washed away the memories of his past and reminded him why they’d come to his cabin. “God, you feel good,” he mumbled as he drew her closer.

“Can we make love again?”

“As often as you want to.” And even that wouldn’t be often enough. But at least for a few hours or maybe even a few days, he could forget that he had a past, and how uncertain his future was, and live only in the moment.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Daylight came and went, their time in bed only interrupted by short trips to let the dog out and feed him.

Portia rolled to her side and noticed that she was alone in bed. Zane’s scent still lingered. She must have fallen asleep sometime around sunset. Her eyes fell onto the clock on the bedside table. It was just past nine o’clock.

Stretching her pleasantly aching muscles, she slid out of bed and snatched one of Zane’s t-shirts from his closet. Dressed in only the shirt that reached almost to mid-thigh, she wandered into the living room.

Zane sat at a small desk with his back to her, dressed in a t-shirt and boxer shorts. On tip toes, she snuck up, but her silent approach was announced by the happy barking of the dog.

“Z!” she admonished. “You’re spoiling everything.”

Zane turned to her, revealing the computer screen that had been hidden by his body. “What were you trying to do? Wrestle me to the ground to have your way with me?”

Portia bent to pet the puppy as it excitedly moved around her legs. “Would I have to fight you for it?”

She stepped within Zane’s reach, and his arms instantly came around her waist, drawing her closer.

“I’d wrestle with you any day.” He buried his face in her stomach, audibly inhaling her scent.

Portia’s gaze fell onto the monitor where an email program was open. “What are you doing up?”

“I was checking messages.” He motioned his head toward the computer. “Can’t switch on my cell phone; otherwise my colleagues can trace me, and there’s no landline in the cabin. But I have a program that logs into my cell messages and transcribes them.”

“It sends them to your email?” she asked. “That’s useful. But can’t your colleagues trace from where you accessed your messages?”

“Chances are very low. Everything is encrypted and routed over several servers.” He pulled her onto his lap, his lips seeking her neck and nuzzling there. “But I needed to know what’s going on back in San Francisco.”

“Anything to worry about?”

He shook his head. “My colleagues are livid. Nothing new otherwise.”

Portia’s eyes honed in on a sentence of the message currently displayed on the screen and read it. “Quinn has a lead on the assassin? And you’re telling me there's no news?”

Zane didn’t even move his head and continued nibbling on her skin. “Quinn is lying. He’s got nothing. It’s a trap.”

“How can you be so sure?” She read more of the message where Quinn talked about a cell phone chip and several phone numbers that were programmed into it.

“He’s trying to trick me into coming back, and he’s using the one thing I want most to do it.”

“But what if he’s telling the truth?”

Zane lifted his head and looked at her. “Quinn was the one who ratted me out to my boss. He’s the one who told them about us. That’s why they pulled me off the assignment. Trust me, he’s trying to play me right now.”

“Oh, but he seemed such a nice guy.”

“Nice? That’s what everybody thinks because he has the angelic face of a college kid. Don’t let that fool you. He’s a dangerous man. And he’s no longer a friend.” There was a harsh undertone in Zane’s voice.

Portia pressed a soft kiss onto his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She shook her long locks. “It is. If I hadn’t pestered you to do this, you wouldn’t have lost your friend.”

“Pestered me?” He smiled softly. “I guess that’s a way of looking at it.” He slanted his mouth over hers.

“Then come back to bed,” she whispered, feeling his hunger physically. Her body instantly responded to him, her nipples tightening into hard points, hot lava shooting through her veins instead of blood.

“I can’t.” Zane pulled back.

His refusal jolted her. Had he already had enough of her? Disappointment stood at the gate, ready to enter.

“I have to go feed.” He lifted her from his lap and stood. “Let me get dressed. I promise you, I’ll be back within an hour.”

Dumbfounded, she stood there for a second as he walked toward the bedroom. Then her lips parted and words tumbled from them. “Why don’t you want my blood?”

Zane rocked to a dead stop.

Her eyes bored into his back, and she noticed his shoulders tense.

“Portia,” he started before his voice faltered.

“Why?”

In slow motion, he turned. His eyes were glowing red and his sharp fangs protruded from his lips. As her gaze swept lower, she noticed his boxer shorts tenting. Her mouth watered in response, and she realized that the thought of drinking her blood turned him on.

She took two determined steps in his direction, yet he still didn’t move.

“You do want my blood, don’t you,” she husked.

Her hand came up to stroke over the pulse on her neck, drawing his attention to it.

“Then why not take it? Why not sink your fangs into me and drink from me?”

She licked her lower lip, the image her words painted making her knees weak and her pulse pound against her skin.

Zane’s feet finally moved, his hesitant steps bringing him closer until he stood only a few inches from her.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I want your bite.”

Her hand dropped to his boxers, brushing against the hard shaft beneath. It jerked as she pulled the waistband down and freed it.

“And I want your cock inside me.”

She wrapped her hand around it, feeling the heat beneath her fingers. “Deep.”