BloodWish Read online

  ‘Huh! Found you.’ I grinned like a schoolboy who’d just been told the holidays were starting early.

  ‘What’s it like?’ Jake’s voice dropped to an almost reverent whisper.

  ‘See for yourself.’ I stood aside to let him take a look. There was no point in projecting the image onto the computer screen. The camera wasn’t sensitive enough to capture anything in such darkness.

  ‘Can I look, too?’ Dominik hovered at my elbow, his own set of slides forgotten.

  ‘In a minute. After Jake.’

  Long seconds passed before Jake made any comment. ‘Like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Didn’t know what to expect, but seeing these things swimming around in here ... Seems fitting they’d look like vipers.’

  I glanced down at my hand. In the utter darkness of our blackened room, the eyes of the serpent ring glowed. Was it responding to the Ingenii blood?

  Jake glanced up and gave me a smile before slapping me on the back. ‘You should’ve gone for that fresh air weeks ago.’ I chuckled as Jake returned to the ’scope. ‘Sneaky little beggars! Hidden in plain sight like glow-worms in a cave.’

  ‘My turn now?’ Dominik practically hopped from foot to foot.

  ‘C’mon quick look.’ Jake rose and swapped places with him.

  I tinkered with the camera settings on the desktop for a way to lighten the image, when Dominik tugged at my coat. ‘Umm ... something’s happening. They’re like, disappearing. Is it supposed to do that?’

  The youngster squeaked when I yanked him from the chair. I peered down the ’scope. He was right. The serpent-like antigens were indeed disappearing—curling up and disintegrating. My stomach dropped. I increased the magnification, but it made no difference. It was gone. ‘What the...?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything! I only looked,’ Dominik wailed in my ear.

  ‘It’s okay, Dom. Not your fault.’ I stepped aside for Jake as I tried to figure out what the devil was going on.

  ‘Shit! We had them.’ He banged the bench top and lifted his head from the scope. His eyes practically glowed in the dark as he gazed at me. ‘Deliberate short lifespan outside its hosts medium so it can’t be transferred?’

  Made sense. ‘Except via sex? Then how does it stay alive in the vials?’

  ‘It’s still in its hosts medium, but the moment you remove it—’

  ‘—and it comes into contact with the air...’

  He nodded.

  There was our problem. The antigen could not be separated from the host’s blood. Exposure to air triggered its self-destruct mechanism.

  Our job just got a whole lot harder. ‘Well, we’ve finally identified it. Stage one down. Now for stage two: identify its components for replication.’

  ‘Got a feeling this thing’s gonna fight us all the way.’

  ‘Then we fight back ... and win.’ We had no choice. I pushed away from the bench and retrieved the last blood sample. ‘All that’s left.’

  With a grim smile, Jake snatched his discarded lab coat from the laundry basket. ‘Easy peasy. Let’s do it.’

  ‘“Easy peasy?”’ I laughed as I prepared the next slide. ‘You sound just like—’

  Jake elbowed me. ‘Yeah, yeah I know. What do you expect after living with her for several centuries?’

  ‘She rubs off on you.’ Laura was convinced Kari was in love with Jake, but how he felt about her was not my concern. Still, it was interesting how he was copying her words.

  ‘Yeah, she does. Ready to nick this thing?’

  Infused with new energy, we set about mapping the antigen’s DNA. Could we do it? Over the next few hours, we tried again and again with no success. The moment we came even close, the antigen would simply disintegrate.

  I hated to admit it, but perhaps Marcus had been right. We were tampering with unknown forces. It wasn’t that I feared some sort of retribution, but rather failure. The Principate was a direct consequence of the curse and its reliance on Ingenii blood. The Principate’s demise would signal the end of the advantage enjoyed by the princeps. If we failed to replicate the effects of the antigen, my position as princeps—and Laura’s guardian—would be in jeopardy. In vampire years, I was too young to enjoy the strength and speed I now rightfully claimed.

  Once the curse was lifted, my power would fade, for there was every chance Laura’s blood would revert to human.

  So much at stake, and for all my scientific learning, I had to keep reminding myself that we weren’t dealing with science, but magic. I had but to look at myself, and the rings I wore, to know the truth of that. But, from my understanding, magic worked only within natural forces.

  This is what Jake and I focused on.

  As it got close to sunrise, I sent Dominik back to the chateau for his day sleep.

  Until he was out of his juvenile stage, Ingenii blood was off limits to him. At this early stage of his transformation, while his body was still adjusting, ingesting such powerful blood could even kill him. That I had been the only juvenile in Brethren history to feed from Ingenii blood attested to my lineage—a direct descendant of the witch Eithne, who had uttered the fateful curse condemning Marcus’s family line.

  For the next century, he would have to live in the dark. And unless we could create a synthetic version—once our own blood vials ran out—we would be joining him. But for the moment, and although there was still a day to go before the official end to the ninety days of mourning, Jake and I broke protocol and took our blood vials early.

  We needed the daylight hours.

  I gazed at the test tube I held. We were down to our last drop of Laura’s blood. If pressed, we could resort to the Ingenii blood vials. More and more, it appeared we may have to—and that this whole endeavour may fail.

  It was a prospect I dared not consider.

  We slogged on until well after sunset when the phone in my back pocket buzzed—a message from Karl.

  ‘Watch out. Heard from my contacts in Milan. Lamia’s headed your way all right. It’s killing our brethren and getting stronger. We’re too weak to fight it.’

  Holy mother of.... I tensed, closed my eyes and rubbed my brow. This was the last thing I needed. Damn lamia!

  Chapter 8 – Diaries

  LAURA

  The keys’ sharp edges cut into my hand as I stood outside the door to Luc and Judy’s suit, trying to suppress the rush of emotion. ‘C’mon, Laura. It’s been over three months. You can do this.’ My voice sounded nervous, and unconvincing, in that empty hallway.

  I could’ve asked either Alec or Kari along for moral support. But my heart told me I needed to face this on my own. Besides, Alec was busy in the lab with Jake trying to replicate the substance in my blood that allowed the Brethren to daywalk.

  ‘You’re not the only one who’s lost loved ones in tragic circumstances. And, you know they’re in heaven ... happy.’ I recalled Luc’s whispered words on the wind, and my heart lightened.

  I turned the key and pushed open the door. Pale crimson light seeped in through the partially draped window and crept along one wall, illuminating a portrait of Luc and Judy. Seated on a garden bench, she perched on his knees, both smiling, each captivated by the other.

  Judy’s perfume hung in the air—the sweet scent of tea rose and honeysuckle.

  Breathing deep, I let it fill my lungs. Such power in the sense of smell. A stream of happy memories assailed me. I’d sought out that garden bench after I’d learned the truth about my parentage, and it was there Alec and I had first kissed. He’d even sat me on his knee the same way Luc had done with Judy.

  Nothing in this suite had been disturbed since the day they’d died.

  A sprinkle of dust swirled about me as I drew back the heavy red velvet drapes. It tickled my nose. Light flooded the room and glinted on the damask roses on Judy’s chintz armchair, which gave a glorious view over the back garden. I ran my fingers along the firm cushioned seat, disbelieving that Judy would never sit here again. On the other sofa lay a paperback and Jud
y’s afghan throw rug, half of which trailed on the floor. Had Judy even finished the book? Sadness weighed down on me.

  My throat tightened. Her last hours in this room involved Madame Thierry knocking her unconscious and dragging her body down to the bloodvault. At least she hadn’t suffered—it was all so quick. I thanked God for that.

  I wandered into the bedroom. Her scent was stronger here, this time mingled with Luc’s cinnamon and sandalwood. The bed was untouched, covers pulled back ready for the night, her dressing gown draped over one corner. Blinking back tears, I tore my gaze away. The last few months had drained me emotionally. I was tired of the grief.

  I strode to the walk-in closet and opened it. ‘What to do with all this?’

  On one long side hung Judy’s clothes. Her shoes, handbags and accessories were neatly arranged in drawers beneath. On the other side, were Luc’s. His jackets and trousers brushed against piles of folded sweaters, T-shirts and boxes of shoes—never to be worn again. They would all have to be removed, to fit my and Alec’s stuff.

  Deep breaths, Laura.

  I went in and trailed my fingers against the lines of fabric, brushing against soft satins, delicate silks and crisp cottons and linens. I tried to ignore the thousand little splinters of sorrow embedded between my shoulder blades as Judy’s delicate scent mingled with the spicy masculinity of Luc’s to waft from each piece of clothing I touched—each tiny molecule loaded with memories that flooded my mind.

  A glimpse of green and blue sprigs on a white background peeked at me from among the hanging garments. I recognised the print as the dress Judy wore in the painting in the living room; fifties style, with square neckline and belted waist. So beautiful. How could I possibly store it out of sight?

  I took it down and tried it against myself. Judy and I were—had been, I reminded myself – the same size. Several dresses of a similar style, each with a different print, hung along the same rack. Behind them, wrapped in a zipped plastic bag, hung a three-quarter length, creamy satin and spotted tulle gown with a heart-shaped neckline, a simple, white lace veil attached.

  My heart stopped.

  My mother’s wedding dress. Couldn’t be anything else. Directly below, in a long narrow carton, were a pair of silk elbow-length gloves. Instead of packing it away in a storage box, she’d kept it here, among her clothes. I couldn’t begin to guess why.

  Almost afraid to touch them, I hesitated then carefully slid the gloves on. Perfect fit. We even had the same size hands.

  No storage wardrobe for these precious things. I slid the wedding dress and the fifties-style dresses to one side, separating them from the clothes that would have to be moved.

  Now to find the matching accessories.

  As I searched through various drawers, my foot kicked against something solid. A black metal-rimmed trunk sat wedged between several pieces of luggage. It was heavy, and as I eased it out layers of dust plumed around me. I sneezed. That was good, as it meant the previous housekeeper, whose name I couldn’t bring myself to say, hadn’t been snooping into it. She’d taken my mother’s clothes before, so I wouldn’t have put it past her to have pried into all of my mother’s things.

  The trunk was locked.

  What was in there? What needed to be kept in a locked trunk?

  I glanced around for the key.

  Nothing.

  Dumb idea anyway, Laura. If you want something hidden, you don’t leave the key where everyone can find it! I’d carry it with me, with my set of house and car keys where they’d blend in with the rest.

  The house keys I had didn’t contain any extra keys—Kari and I had tested each one. That left only her handbag.

  Judy had always kept it in the middle drawer of her bedside table. I hurried over to it and hovered my hand above the handle. Could I be so lucky? I held my breath as I slid the drawer open. It was still there. I hugged the black bag and inhaled its sweet leather scent as image after image paraded through my memory.

  No more tears, Laura.

  I began my search, shunting aside the thought that I was intruding.

  For a relatively small bag, it contained so many compartments and pockets. Finally, my fingers grazed a small cold, metallic object.

  That had to be it.

  Attached was a black velvet ribbon, frayed at the edges. Traces of my mother’s perfume clung to it. Again I inhaled and momentarily let the memories assail me.

  Back in the closet, I knelt next to the trunk and inserted the key.

  It fit.

  Click. I shoved the lid open. Inside, lay a beautiful decoupage box. Had my mother made it herself?

  I lifted it out, grunting at the substantial weight. The sticky elastic band holding the lid in place snapping the moment I tried to prise it off.

  Arrgghh! A cockroach scurried across my hand. I flicked the horrid thing off and shuddered, the box toppling from my grip, the contents spilling onto the floor. The beast disappeared into the dark recesses of the closet. I waited a few seconds for my heartbeat to return to normal.

  Books ... journals ... diaries? Black, red, green leather bound notebooks of all sizes littered the floor. One had landed open, and I recognised Judy’s handwriting.

  ... August 10 1940 Luc had to leave suddenly for ‘D’Antonville. Chateau’s in danger of Nazi occupation ...

  My blood chilled—it was her diary.

  Were all these her diaries? Should I, shouldn’t I? It was such a private thing, yet there was so much about my parents’ early lives together I knew nothing about. The time we should’ve had, had been stolen from us.

  Heart hammering, I perused one after the other, flipping through the pages to see the inside dates ... this green one 1960; the black one was dated 1952; some of the brown ones—their covers frayed—were dated in the early 1930s.

  June 2 1932 – Father spoke to me today. That doesn’t happen often. Called me into his study. Informed me I’m to be married to his creditor – a man I’ve never met! If I don’t consent he told me his life would be in danger. This man is a gangster who, he says, uses violence to retrieve his money, but he’s willing to waive it if I consent to marry him. I WILL NEVER CONSENT! How did Father become involved with this man? I’m only 20 and my father’s selling me to pay his debts!

  Oh my stars! This was about my grandfather, Owen Dantonville. I remembered him as a cold, distant man, but never in my wildest dreams could I have believed him capable of such cruelty.

  The shaky handwriting and blotted words revealed my mother had cried when she wrote this.

  My legs buckled. I slid to the floor and leant back against the closet’s built-in drawers. Why had I never been told this? Was it referring to her first husband? A man, I recalled, my dad had disliked.

  Like a moth to a flame, I was drawn back to the handwritten page in my lap.

  I told him, pleaded with him, I could work to help him pay off whatever he owed. But he won’t hear of it. Can I run away and teach music, support myself, live ... live where? I could try. But he’d probably find me and bring me back. And father said this man’s cronies would kill him, he owed so much money!

  I’m too much of a coward to take my own life. God help me! I have no choice!

  Beneath, she had drawn the image of a decayed rose, its petals falling and turning into tears as they reached the bottom of the page.

  No amount of swallowing and blinking up at the ceiling kept my own tears from falling—my poor mother.

  The next entry was dated a month later.

  July 3 1932 – I’m a married woman.

  No mention of her wedding. She probably couldn’t bear to write about it, and that was borne out by the next entry.

  July 41932 – I’m wed to a monster – a gangster. Begged him ... but he took me roughly. Struck me because I was unwilling. My whole body hurts. His touch turns my stomach. I want to go home ... as far away from this man as I can. Oh God!

  I was queasy and had to cover my mouth as I read the next section.

 
July 61932 – Lied and said I’m in my monthly. Relieved he won’t touch me for at least a week.

  July 7 1932 – Father had the audacity to phone me, to ask me to drive him to a friend’s place. I was sure his “friend” would be just another huckster or gangster like the beast he sold me to.

  But he’s not.

  ... His name is Lucien Lebrettan, a tall, strikingly handsome man – blonde hair and the same lavender eyes as mine. Uncanny. I’ve never come across another individual with the same colour eyes as myself. He approached me in the garden of his house while I was waiting for father. Even now, all these hours later, I can’t stop thinking about him.

  ... A note just arrived – from him. Can we meet? I must hide it from William.

  If a heart could physically soar, mine did. It was like the thrill one gets when reading a fairy tale and you reach the part where the prince and princess meet. I leafed through a few more pages, skimming as I went, eager to see how their romance developed.

  July 20 1932 – I let Luc kiss me, and how eagerly I kissed him back. How gentle, how patient he is – I’m overcoming my fear of a man’s touch. We try and meet secretly every second day. Thank goodness for my work at the YWCA and the Ladies League. It’s my excuse to escape. William suspects, and I catch him watching me closely but how can I help myself? Do I love Luc? Yes! If only we had met earlier. I know he would have saved me from this loathsome marriage and even paid off my father’s debts. I feel no compunction to remain faithful. Luc is my love and my life.

  My heart thrummed as I hastily turned more pages.

  Aug 27 1932 – I’m struggling to believe what Luc told me is true. Tonight I learnt his true nature. Heaven’s above, he is a vampire! He feeds from my father – my family! How can I accept this? I ran from him ... can still hear his voice calling after me. If the phone rings I won’t answer it. I can’t.