Spirit Sanguine (23 page)

“You’re holding something back,” Gabe said in a mild tone, letting only a shade of accusation sneak in.

She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Calmly returning their stares, she began to talk. “Yes, I have, for a very good reason, but it’s time you both learn the truth.” She paused as if collecting her thoughts. “Blood tastes different from person to person, but its effects are always the same. It’s nourishment, it has a unique flavor, but that’s all. Poisons, drugs and disease in the blood might leave an unpleasant taste but don’t do anything to us. However, there are rare exceptions. Occasionally, a very specific combination of factors may taint the blood so it has an unexpected effect on the vampire. Usually not a good one. Those three who attacked Harvey were high—the same as if they were on drugs.”

“How? The cancer?” Gabe asked.

“A particular combination of a certain kind of cancer and the medications given to treat it. The few who know about this call it
dirty blood
.”

“So it’s not common knowledge?”

“Goddess, no! You see what addicts will do to get a fix. Imagine the same with vampires—they’re as dangerous as ferals, and they need to be destroyed the same way.”

“These vamps, they aged,” Harvey said.

“Yes, heavy drugs will do that to you.”

Gabe sensed as much as saw the distress flooding Harvey, the muscles in his body tensing up. Instinctively Gabe began to move his hands in slow, circular motions on Harvey’s back.

“So that means I’m a vampire crack baby?” Harvey asked.

“It’s a crude way of putting it,” Syl said with a sigh.

“But it’s true?”

“Being turned by vampires high on dirty blood affected you, yes. It was the reason why you were so sickly at first, and why you couldn’t drink human blood. But you’re strong and healthy now.”

“So why’s Gabe’s blood doing weird things to me, then?”

Syl spread her hands. “The dirty blood might have had a few long-term effects. And Gabe is different himself, a descendant of a vampire. Honestly, I’ve never encountered anything of this sort before.”

“Do you think it’s something to be concerned about? Is it harmful to Harvey?” Gabe asked.

“I have no way of knowing for sure, but my instinct tells me it’s nothing but a harmless oddity. However, I want you both to let me know if anything changes. Are you on any medication?”

“No.”

“Yours can’t be dirty blood. Whatever is going on, it’s something else. Has Harvey felt different to you since he first drank your blood?”

“I can feel his craving, but it started before, and I can feel it from others too.”

“What about the addicted ones?”

“They feel different, repulsive, like worms crawling under my skin.”

“Hmm, interesting.” She scribbled something into her book.

“Aren’t you concerned the wrong person might read it?” Gabe asked her.

She looked up. “It’s written in Romani.”

“So?”

“Romani is chiefly an oral language. It doesn’t even have a unified alphabet. The Roma use different ones depending on where they live. I’ve lived all over and picked up bits and pieces. Nobody else but me can read this. Sometimes not even me. I have terrible handwriting.”

With a smile, she closed the book, put it aside and faced Harvey. “You should stop drinking Gabe’s blood for a time and have tonic or even cow’s blood instead. See if you have any withdrawal symptoms. You need to tell me right away if you do.”

Harvey sighed. “Okay, I will.”

“Don’t worry, it’s probably nothing. By the way, did you bring
it
?”

Harvey produced a small bottle full of red liquid. The secret ingredient of Sanguine, no doubt. Harvey and Syl began to talk shop, and as the tension drained from Harvey, so it did from Gabe. He leaned back on his cushions and relaxed. The conversation veered into chemistry—never his strong subject—so he watched them silently.

Later, as they were leaving, Gabe found an excuse to run back inside and have a few words with Syl alone.

“Does Augustine know about dirty blood?” he asked without preamble.

“Of course he does.”

“After Harvey was turned, did Augustine know about Harvey’s condition?”

“Yes. I told him myself.”

“Why?”

“It was too important for him not to know.” Her gaze went hard and cold, and she looked Gabe squarely in the eye. “I love Harvey, but if there was a chance he’d turn into something dangerous and uncontrollable, like a feral, I was going to stake him myself.”

Her words rubbed Gabe the wrong way. “Harvey isn’t some monster.”

“Have you always felt this way?”

Gabe clenched his jaws.

At least she didn’t gloat. “You two possess uncommon traits, and together you’re unique, and it’s bound to have effects on both of you.”

“You mean there might be other symptoms?”

“Possibly. They might test your bond. I hope for Harvey’s sake it’s a strong one.”

Gabe said his good-byes and left. He thought it unwise to tell her he and Harvey had friendship and great sex, not a
bond
. He remembered Augustine using the same word too. Where did they all get this melodramatic crap from? They started to sound like movie vampires. Gabe quietly fumed over this the whole way home.

Gabe was on pins and needles by the time Victor Augustine was ready to see him. With great effort, he hid his impatience while they went through their usual ritual with the brandy and settling into chairs.

Apparently, his effort wasn’t great enough, as Augustine started with saying, “Patience is a virtue, Mr. Vadas.”

“It’s not my strong suit,” Gabe admitted.

“It would serve you well to practice it. I presume you’re eager to know what I’ve found out from the gentleman you had so obligingly apprehended for me.”

“I wouldn’t use the term ‘gentleman’, but yeah.”

“I’m afraid I’m not able to share most of the particulars with you. Now, don’t look so disgruntled. None of it has a direct bearing on you or Mr. Feng. However, there’s a piece of information I can part with, which will be of interest to you—the location of the third individual responsible for Mr. Feng’s premature and involuntary conversion.”

Gabe felt like a rock had just materialized in his stomach. “You know where that fucker is? Sorry about the language,” he added, seeing Augustine’s frown.

“The vampire calling himself James Hill currently resides in Las Vegas.”

“That’s…interesting.” All clues seemed to lead to Sin City these days.

“Interesting, yes, but not surprising. Las Vegas has always attracted shady characters of all kinds, but recently more so than usual. This unfortunate fact has been a concern of mine.”

“I want to go to Vegas and get the guy,” Gabe said, not all that interested in Augustine’s concerns.

“I’d love to indulge you; however, it’s not so simple. You see, in Vegas there’s a vampire who is in many ways my counterpart.”

“The boss?”

“If you wish. It would be improper for me to interfere with vampire business in his city. Consequently, if you went, I couldn’t provide you with the usual protection. I have local contacts to give you assistance, but for the most part you’d be on your own. Are you still interested?”

Gabe didn’t have to think about it. “Yes.”

“I assume Mr. Feng will be joining you as well?”

“I don’t think I could convince him to stay behind. When do we leave?”

“Patience. Proper preparations require time. My secretary, Ellie, found a suitable cover for your presence in Vegas. In early December, a gathering will be held for people who have a fondness for dressing up in costumes and pretending to be like us.”

“Vamp Con?”

“I believe that’s what it’s called. You know about it?”

“Harvey mentioned it. It’s still weeks away.”

“Scarcely enough time to make preparations. Have Mr. Feng contact Ellie to discuss details.”

Interpreting Augustine’s words as his clue to leave, Gabe stood, but he had one more question. “Where is the
gentleman
now?”

“I can’t tell with absolute certainty—it’s dependent on your philosophical convictions. At any rate, he won’t be bothering anyone ever again.”

It was a roundabout way of saying the fucker was dead, but Gabe was fine with it.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Augustine added. “He was most surprised about finding Mr. Feng alive and well. I got the impression James Hill too believes Mr. Feng had perished.”

“That’s odd. The one I killed not only knew about Harvey but was outright looking for him.”

“I gather they had a falling out, and parted ways sometime after the attack, Hill and Webb heading to Vegas, and Jensen to parts unknown to them.”

Chapter Three

Part of Gabe knew he was dreaming, yet the knowledge didn’t make the experience any less intense. He hurried through a dark catacomb, not sure he was trying to get away from or going toward something, only that he had to keep moving. He ran along damp walls, while mud squelched under his feet. He knew he’d been here before. He wasn’t alone—his uncle…no, his father was there too.

Gabe’s father handed Gabe a stake, but it was made out of plastic. Gabe tried to tell him it was no good, but he didn’t listen. He kept telling Gabe to find the ferals.

Turning a corner, Gabe found himself in an empty shopping mall. He went into a store to get a real stake, but he couldn’t find one, or anyone to help him. He left the store in frustration. The mall was filling up with people who at first looked normal, but Gabe knew they were all zombies. He carefully crept between them, trying not to attract attention, but he failed. A huge guy grabbed him by the neck and squeezed till Gabe couldn’t breathe. It was his cousin Joe. Joe also had huge fangs, and blood was dripping from them.

Gabe woke up with his heart bouncing in his chest like a frightened rabbit. He wasn’t the only one. Next to him in bed, Harvey took a large gulp of air. He stared at Gabe, eyes big as saucers.

Harvey let the air out of his lungs and took a normal breath. “I had the strangest dream. I was in this underground tunnel with a man who was supposed to be my father, but he was all wrong, and then he gave me a plastic spike—”

“And then you were in a shopping mall and Joe attacked you?” Gabe said, interrupting Harvey. He pushed himself up too.

“Yes! How do you know?”

“Because it was my dream.”

“Well, that makes sense, because I haven’t dreamed since I’ve been turned.” Harvey rubbed his face. “Fuckity-fuck-fuck.”

Gabe rolled out of bed.

“Where are you going?” Harvey snapped after him.

“Getting some water.”

Thick curtains covered every window, so Gabe stumbled out into the kitchen in the dark. He didn’t feel like facing the harsh brightness of the overhead lamp. The light spilling out of the fridge through the open door was all the illumination he needed. He found a clean glass and filled it with cold water from the fridge—Harvey always made sure there was a jug of filtered water there for him. The dream had left him ruffled and with a dull headache. Learning that Harvey had shared his dream complicated things. It was exactly the kind of crap Syl had warned him about. He had no fucking idea what it meant and how worried he should be. Harvey hadn’t fed on him since that time in the hotel. He didn’t expect it to affect him this much later. Maybe it wasn’t even the blood but just the two of them being together.
Fucking hell.
He drank his water slowly, using the time to calm down and put his thoughts in order.

Back in the bedroom, he found Harvey sitting up and looking determined.

“I think—” Gabe started.

“We should—” Harvey said, at the same time.

They both abruptly stopped. “You go ahead,” Harvey said.

“I think you need to tell Syl about this, and we should test my blood too.”

Harvey heaved a defeated sigh. “I was gonna say the same thing. I’ll call Ray first thing at dusk.”

They gathered at the house at dawn. Stan and Dill had been easy to persuade to take part in the so-called blood test, but Ray had given the go-ahead only after a lengthy phone conversation with Syl. Harvey was adamant no biting should occur, and everyone else was fine with it. Harvey’s background as a nurse came in handy. Gabe barely felt the needle piercing his skin. Harvey drew two syringes full of Gabe’s blood—one each for Stan’s and Ray’s consumption. Next he took blood from Dill for himself.

“Well then…” Harvey looked rather awkward and self-conscious holding the syringe of blood. So did the other two vampires.

“Dill, you think I could get some coffee?” Gabe asked.

“Oh yes! Of course.”

Dill bounded out of the room, and Gabe followed him.

“What do you think will happen?” Dill asked in the kitchen while busying himself.

“Hopefully nothing special.”

Dill twirled around, gesturing threateningly with a teaspoon. “You know, I don’t mind them tasting your blood in the name of science, but don’t plan to make a habit of it.”

The sight of Dill threatening him with cutlery was so absurd it destroyed all the somberness of the moment. Gabe chuckled. “You’re jealous of me?”

Dill deflated and lowered the hostile spoon. “Stupid, isn’t it?” He flipped the coffeemaker on and grinned back at Gabe. “Okay, not really, but this whole blood thing’s whacked as hell. Crazy scenarios keep popping into my head, like the guys get addicted to you, and we all end up living in a commune in Nebraska.”

That scenario had never crossed Gabe’s mind. “You’re barking mad. How do you come up with this stuff?”

“I have an unhealthy imagination.”

“You and Harvey both.”

In truth, Gabe didn’t like the idea of Harvey drinking Dill’s blood either, but it had to be done. He didn’t think of what-ifs—like what if Harvey liked the taste of Dill more. That would’ve been ridiculous.

Dill poured two cups of coffee, putting plenty of sugar and milk into his own, leaving Gabe’s black. They spent a few minutes discussing the challenges of a mixed-type relationship. They both agreed vamps and regular people were the same species but different subgroups.