Blood Guilt (5 page)

Maximilian regarded the child. He wore the same green anorak as yesterday, and he hadn’t washed his face.

“The lady said I shouldn’t come. She said you’re dangerous.”

“I am.”

“How?”

“I drink blood to exist.”

“Will you drink mine?” the boy asked uncertainly.

Maximilian shook his head, turned the page on his pad over, and began another drawing. Robbie drew nearer to see what was taking shape. “That’s me!” he exclaimed.

Maximilian tore a couple of pages from the pad and pushed them toward the boy with another pen.

Robbie took off his coat and sat down on the bed. Picking up the pen, he began to draw too. Oddly enough, he drew a wall, made up of varying-shaped stones that fitted together. As they worked, Maximilian began to ask questions, and Robbie to answer.

After a bit, Maximilian took him downstairs in search of breakfast. Maximilian found a table well away from any direct light drifting in through the blinds, and watched while the boy ate with ravenous efficiency. When his left sleeve rode up, it revealed a dark patch on his skin.

They walked back to the room, and once inside, Maximilian caught Robbie’s arm and pushed up the sleeve.

The bruising ran all the way up his arm from the wrist, where Maximilian had already glimpsed the purple edge, to his elbow.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Chinese burn,” Robbie said at once. “It’s a game.” For the first time, he looked frightened, but Maximilian didn’t let him go. “I can’t tell you,” the boy blurted. “I’m not allowed. I promised.”

The cruelties of modern human life, as compared with the more open abuses of his own day, had passed Maximilian by to a large extent. But he’d picked up enough.

“Keep your promise,” Maximilian said steadily. “Don’t use words.”

The child hesitated. Then, slowly, he showed Maximilian the picture from his memory. His foster father had held him by the arm and shaken him for running away, and when Robbie had fallen, the adult had simply yanked him to his feet. There were other blows, other bruises, mostly inflicted by his foster siblings.

“Who chose such foster parents for you?” Maximilian enquired, and for some reason the cool, emotionless tone of his question seemed to calm Robbie’s fears.

“They’d run out of options. I’m a troublesome child. I always run away.”

Looking for someone to talk to?
Maximilian asked telepathically.
Like this?

Robbie nodded.
Aye.

Find many?

No… Not until
they
came.

Maximilian received a clear picture of Gavril and his companion, and released the boy’s arm to turn his neck to one side and touch the vein. There were no signs, no residue of bites that he could determine.

“They didn’t hurt me,” Robbie said a shade anxiously.

Of course they didn’t. They’d have seen his foster parents’ mistreatment in the child’s head as easily as Maximilian had done and ensured his cooperation by being different.

“You know they’re like me?” Maximilian said.

“Vampires.” Robbie’s eyes gleamed. He looked away, then quickly back again. “Am I a vampire?”

Maximilian frowned. “Why should you think that?”

Robbie shrugged, moving restlessly away from him, picking up the pad with Maximilian’s drawings and flicking through them. “I’m different, ken?”

“You’re a telepathic human, that’s all. There are others like you who are also not vampires. What did those vampires want with you?”

“They wanted me to help them.” There was pride in the voice of the young, shunned child. “Said I was the only one who could.”

“Help them with what?”

“Dinae ken. It was meant to’ve been yesterday. Only, when I heard you, I wanted to talk to you, and they got angry because they had to chase me. And after what they did to you and the lady, I don’t think I like them anymore. I like
her
, though.”

Maximilian glanced down at the drawing Robbie was showing him. It was the one Maximilian had dashed off while waiting for Robbie to come to the door. The hunter, with her huge, tragic, dark eyes and defiant, sensual mouth. In such a drawing it had been impossible to catch the full, translucent effect of her taut, perfect skin drawn over those exquisite bones. Later, when he got back to stone, or paints, he’d capture her properly. This time… “I drew her too,” Robbie offered and rummaged in the discarded heap of paper for his own drawings.

It was childish, the strokes of his pen less sure, but he’d caught enough of her features to make her recognizable. Maximilian gazed at it, wondering if he should talk himself out of the plan forming in his head.

He raised his gaze to Robbie’s face. “If I took you to her, would you promise not to run away?”

Chapter Four

Mihaela was almost surprised when she found herself at St. Andrews Cathedral. She’d spent most of the day walking around the town and thinking. Perhaps it was inevitable she should end up here, in the dark, where she’d first seen
him
step out of the mist to stand with her enemies.

That had been more than a year ago, when the mission was to trap and kill Saloman. It had been a spectacular failure.

Mihaela grimaced at the memory. Impulsively, she walked into the grounds. Elizabeth, her closest female friend, loved this place, and Mihaela could understand why. Walking from one arch with its distinctive, ruined single tower to the twin-towered one on the other side, she at last felt a kind of peace settle over her.

It had been a difficult day. She’d woken late after her late return from Edinburgh and subsequent huge supper, and although she meant to rest to recover her strength after Maximilian’s bloodletting, she’d been too restless to sit still. She’d walked on the beaches, around the bustling town, and along the road to Largo and back. In between time, she sat in cafés among the students, as if their youthful optimism might rub off on her, and thought about the vampire Gavril and the psychic child, Robbie, and about what she’d done in preserving Maximilian’s existence.

Now at last, under the sharp, cold moonlight, she accepted what she couldn’t change, and resolved to return to Edinburgh tomorrow to find Gavril, with or without Maximilian’s help. On the whole, she rather thought without. If she took the detector with her this time, she was sure she could track Gavril eventually.

Memory—distant memory—was at least partly responsible for her restlessness. Even now, walking among the tumbled stones of this once great edifice, she got random flashes of that childhood vampire attack, of the slaughter, of the vampire’s back vanishing out of the window as the hunters broke through the door. Almost worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about her parents and her sister who’d died.

She hated that she couldn’t remember them properly. They were only veiled flashes: a smiling face; a teasing grin; a hand holding hers in the street; indistinct faces around a table, eating and chattering; the unique scent of her mother’s perfume. But the important things, the details, the features, the actual sounds of their voices, what they did with their lives, were all blurred. In self-defense, she seemed to have blocked them along with the horror of the attack, just to survive. No one wanted to remember their loved ones screaming. It was better not to remember them at all.

Only she
should
be thinking of them now; she
wanted
to be thinking of them with clarity, when at last she had the possibility of giving them vengeance. It broke her heart that she couldn’t.

Katalin and Joseph, the hunters who’d saved her life, had tried to keep her parents’ memory alive by talking to her about them. Unable to bear the pain, she’d resisted, but they’d persevered whenever they visited her in the Romanian orphanage, and later on when she’d come to Budapest to live with Katalin while she attended university there, she’d met other hunters who reinforced Katalin’s efforts. As if they’d known she’d need it one day.

Her heart warmed all over again to Katalin and Joseph, who’d taught her how to survive and made her strong and always done their best for her. It just seemed wrong that now she could remember them and not her own family.

But perhaps if she killed Gavril, her parents and Anna would finally rest in peace. She couldn’t bear the thought of them
not
being at peace all these years. And as a side-benefit, vengeance might even bring her, Mihaela, the peace she’d never known.

She planned to break rules. She shouldn’t hunt without backup, but she had every intention of doing so. Nor should she hunt without the knowledge of the local British hunters, but again, she’d do it. This wasn’t hunter business; it was personal.

Turning inside the arch, she leaned against the stone and gazed at the tall square tower of St. Rule, black against the dark navy of the sky, then back over the distance she’d covered to the odd shape of the ruined gable and single spire at the far end. A monument to human endeavor and neglect, to constantly changing ideals and beliefs. This ruin had once been a great cathedral, the center of Scottish Christianity and treasure trove of religious art, before Reformation had swept away the art and the worshippers alike, and the magnificent building had been left to rot for centuries. Whatever the cost, sometimes things simply had to move on.

With a deprecating smile, she straightened and began to walk back, remembering with sudden unease how the surrounding graves had once opened up to emit zombies. They’d fought on the hunters’ side, summoned by their temporary ally, the vampire leader Zoltán, but Mihaela rather thought Saloman had been right about that one at least. The true-dead, as he called them, should be left to rest in peace.

Some sixth sense developed over the years of hunting prickled the tiny hairs at the back of her neck, and she shivered. Glancing around her, she saw shadows advancing from the gate. Not shadows. A man and a child. And something about the way the man walked, almost like a graceful glide while the kid skipped along at his side, made her distinctly uneasy. It couldn’t be…

Heart racing, she felt for the stake in her pocket and kept walking. A gust of wind blew her hair across her face and she pushed it impatiently to one side. Moonlight glinted on the child’s white-blond head, allowed her a glimpse of the man’s even, angelic features, half-hidden by his windblown hair.

I don’t eat children…

The blood sang in her ears. For an instant, she thought she would faint under the weight of this.

Jesus Christ, what have you done? What have
I
done?

Why the hell was he here? Had he come to kill her now he had the strength? Or just to keep his promise about the vampire Gavril? Mihaela felt sick. Perhaps Elizabeth was right about the bizarre nature of vampire honor. Well, there was only one course open to her now, the one she should have taken last night. She just had to pray she wasn’t too late.

She kept walking as if she hadn’t recognized them, gathered all her energy, and tensed for speed. Robbie dived from side to side, touching bits of the building as if he were feeling the shape and texture of the stone. Bizarrely, he seemed as happy as any other child in a sweet shop.

As they drew almost even, the child waved and bolted to her, away from the vampire. Mihaela used the distraction, smiling at Robbie even as she lashed out at Maximilian with foot and stake.

She didn’t see what happened. Her foot never made contact, but abruptly the vampire’s hand was over hers on the stake, controlling it, and he stood so close to her she was afraid he’d feel the battering of her heart.

“You move like the Ancients,” she blurted.

“No.” He sounded regretful. “But I learned from one.” From Saloman, obviously, last of the pure, Ancient vampire race which was older than humanity. Maximilian and all the other vampires of the world were hybrids of Ancient and human.

With shameful ease, Maximilian plucked the stake from her hand. It didn’t matter; she had another. But before she could use it, he presented her again with the first, politely, the blunt end toward her. “You have no need of that.”

She wanted to step back, away from him, away from the memory of his teeth in her neck and her overwhelmingly sexual response. Pride forbade it. “What are you doing with Robbie?” she demanded.

“I brought him to you.”

Frowning, she scanned his strange, silver-glinting eyes, then dropped her gaze to the expectant, upturned face of the boy. He smiled at her as if they were old friends. “Why?” she asked helplessly.

“Because your enemy and his followers want to use him for their own purpose. And I don’t think we should let them.”

****

It felt weird opening the front door of her temporary home, Elizabeth’s home, and inviting the vampire inside. She wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t felt it necessary to bring Robbie out of the cold and feed him.

“It’s Elizabeth’s flat,” she warned Maximilian, as if the invocation of the owner’s name, Saloman’s acknowledged companion, would confer some kind of protection on its present occupants.

“I know,” the vampire said mildly. And when she cast him a quick glance, he said, “I can smell her.”

“And Saloman?”

He inclined his head. Robbie had wandered into the living room, looking around him with open curiosity. Mihaela walked into the kitchen to find him something to eat and drink, and was very aware of the shadow that filled the doorway, watching her.

She found a can of beans in the cupboard and opened it, shaking the contents into a pan with unnecessary force before switching on the gas and shoving two pieces of bread into the toaster.

As if he’d been mulling it over, Maximilian said, “You don’t like Elizabeth being with him.”

“With Saloman? She’s my friend. Why would I want her to spend her life with a monster even other vampires are terrified of?”

“She isn’t afraid of him.”

“That’s my other reason.” She took a carton from the fridge and poured juice into a glass.

In silence, he watched her prepare the simple meal and make coffee for herself. She said, “When he’s eaten this, I’ll take him back to Edinburgh.”

“No.”

She rounded on him. “Look, you can’t just abduct a child from his home, for whatever reason—”

“I didn’t abduct him. He came to me.”

She grabbed the plate of beans and toast in one hand and the glass in the other and brushed past him. “So you brought him here? Now I’m in on it. Do you know what the penalties are for this crime?”

“They need him. He can’t help them from here. And he’s safer with you while I track them.”

In the living room, Robbie had taken off his coat and was gazing at Elizabeth’s antique print of the cathedral, which hung on the wall.

“Something to eat, Robbie,” she said, laying the plate down on the coffee table, and the boy ran over with alacrity. Probably the vampire had forgotten to give him food all day. Robbie knelt in front of the table and began shoveling in his beans on toast.

Since Maximilian stood now in the living room doorway, she said, “You’re missing the point. You can’t just kidnap children from their parents. I’ll take him back and contact the local hunters to protect him. And hope I don’t get arrested in the process. You—”

“They beat him,” Maximilian said casually. “He has bruises all up his arms and chest.”

Mihaela spun round to stare at him. She dragged her hand through her hair, pulling convulsively. “Oh shit.” She found herself tying her hair back up in its severe knot behind her head, while she tried to squash emotional responses to his revelation—which she didn’t disbelieve. It was too easy to check, and besides, her instincts yesterday had all been against Jim and Peg. At the same time, she was aware he was using the undoubted tragedy to manipulate her into doing what he wanted.

Robbie’s bruises had to be shown to the social services, and he had to be removed from Jim and Peg’s care. Unless she herself was accused of abducting him and beating him, in which case, she’d go to jail and Robbie would be sent back to Jim and Peg. And he’d run back to the vampires—Maximilian or worse.

“This is impossible,” she said in frustration, throwing herself onto the sofa.

“No, it isn’t. You can protect him.”

“Me? I don’t know how to look after a child! I’m not even a national of this country!”

“There will be no difficulty. If you travel with me, you’ll find you have all the correct documents.”

Much to her discomfort, the vampire crossed the room and sat down beside her. Instantly, her body leapt to full alert. How could she be so aware of him when he gave off no heat, no breath?

She glared at him. “You expect me to believe your top priority is the safety of one human child?”

“Right now, it is.”

She frowned. “Because you want to know what his value is?”

Maximilian nodded.

Without breaking his gaze, she said, “You wanted me to tell Dmitriu about him. Why?”

“Dmitriu is looking for humans who bear the Ancient gene, who are open to supernatural experience.”

That made sense. Some Ancient genes had been passed on from the live members of Saloman’s race who’d never become vampires themselves but who’d coupled with humans. Their descendants were believed to be those who showed some kind of genuine supernatural gift, like Elizabeth, Cyn Venolia in New York, and the telepathic Scots soldier John Ramsay. And, surely, Robbie.

“Because Saloman told him to?” Mihaela guessed. “Part of his gradual educating- humans-to-the-existence-of-vampires campaign?”

Maximilian nodded again. “It makes sense to begin with the humans who already have inklings of the supernatural.”

Mihaela drew in her breath. “And if Dmitriu’s looking for such people, why shouldn’t other vampires be doing the same thing? Either to thwart Dmitriu and therefore Saloman… Or because they’ve discovered some use for psychic humans?”

Maximilian didn’t answer, but she guessed from his lack of reaction that her reasoning mirrored his own. However, too many questions were left unanswered. Something elusive tugged at her memory, something important that refused to show itself.

She leaned back, at least with the pretense of ease. “And you, Maximilian,” she asked. “Where are you in all of this? Why were you in Edinburgh?”

“I was going home.”

“To whatever island you isolate yourself on? Don’t get me wrong, isolation is a good thing for a vampire, but where were you returning from?”

“Budapest.”

“You left Budapest three months ago.”

“It’s a long walk.”

“It would be,” Mihaela said slowly. “Perhaps you found company. Perhaps a Romanian vampire called Gavril. What did you fall out about? Your proclivity for the bottle?”

Maximilian regarded her as if she were some particularly rare insect.

“What are you up to, Maximilian?” she asked, pushing harder. “Are you just betraying Saloman again?”

That was an unexpected hit. His eyelids dropped, but not before she’d glimpsed some darkness that swamped his eyes. It could have been pain or guilt or simple anger. Whatever it looked bleak and corroding, and in a vampire, she had little hope of interpreting it. But at least she’d struck something.