Blood Rules (41 page)

Mariah didn't wait a moment longer. She roared, as if calling out 562.

Gabriel moved in front of her out of pure instinct and the heroism that had once defined him. . . .

562 looked up at Mariah, and Gabriel felt the link with her plunging through him, out his mind and through his eyes, into their origin.

In an explosion of consciousness, Gabriel went to another place: a red-tinged film on the screen of 562's mind, flashes of people and monsters bending in worship, flickers of love, happiness, dancing. Ecstatic new vampire children who shared in their parent's bliss.

And, then, 562 was strapped to that ash tree, and it wasn't the burning of the bark against its skin that hurt so much as the betrayal of creatures that wanted even more from it than it had already given....

Gabriel knew that this was his and Mariah's future as well as 562's past. Betrayal happened to all monsters at some point.

As if finally fighting back, 562 turned its mind to a screen of blood, juicy and thick, and Gabriel's appetite reared up again.

With a swatting flash, his consciousness was blasted aside, as if Mariah had swiped at his mind, depriving him of the temptation. Their link heated up even more, and he knew he had no choice but to take strength from her.

Then Mariah turned his mind outward, slamming into 562 as he'd done with his first mind freeze, and the creature reared away.

Mariah directed Gabriel's mind at 562 again, coming at it one more time, another,
another
, until the screen of 562's consciousness began to crack—

Gabriel couldn't move, and his head physically began to ache, sharp and dull at the same time, but Mariah wasn't allowing any weakness in either of them, and his consciousness punched forward again—

In a shattering spray of mental glass, 562's mind went to pieces, and Gabriel saw the sublime sparkle of rotating fragments, each reflecting a single memory for 562, before he was pulled back by Mariah and the link....

With a violent pop, he found himself back in his own mind, alone. His skull seemed to be on fire, but, worse, he smelled Taraline's blood, and it was close.

Too close to him.

He recovered from the mental onslaught, seeing 562 sitting so still in its Kali form, staring ahead with those shattered diamond eyes. It was still alive; he could hear its almost nonexistent pulse.

It was still a parent to all its children, even in the containment Mariah had invented for it.

Gabriel's slow gaze traveled to Taraline, who was in a pile next to 562. The origin hadn't been able to infuse Taraline with its own blood, so she was rasping, as if struggling for breath as she pressed one of her gloved hands to her neck. Blood seeped through her fingers.

Taraline would die if she didn't get an infusion, but as Gabriel hissed, his fangs erect, his sight red with need, he couldn't have cared less.

He zoomed toward Taraline, but just as he got there, Mariah screeched in front of him, arms spread, her claws extended, those huge teeth ready to defend her friend.

Feinting to the side, as if he could beat her, Gabriel jumped at Taraline, but Mariah was ready, crashing into him, jamming him to the ground with her four hands.

Stop it, Gabriel!
she thought as she pinned him, her gaze firing into his.

He hissed at her again, but he saw something else in her eyes, too.

A time from the Badlands, back when he'd been the one holding Mariah to the ground after she'd gone wild.

Now, he was the one under her.

But even with those humongous teeth and green eyes, she had enough grace to infuse him with the link that had first saved her, only to save him now.

Peace, and it seemed to be sewing him up pass by pass, containing him.

Don't, Gabriel,
she thought to him from deep inside that grotesque body.
562 didn't die, so we're still here. We're still stronger than ever, better than any cure we could've ever hoped for. We still have a chance.

To do what?
he wondered as she continued stitching him, their link like thread that hushed through his body.
To beat the bad guys?

Or did she think they still had an opportunity to conquer what they were becoming in this ever-changing world?

He tried hard to accept Mariah's aid, the stitches, the peace, but Taraline's blood kept luring him.

After Mariah was done, she backed off, as if feeling through their link that he was done attacking, and he was safe . . . for now.

The sounds of Civils came from the corridor, accompanied by the hint of shadow people, all brandishing crosses as they moved into the cell.

The religious items didn't seem to work on Mariah in her new form, but she was lucid enough to back away in surrender. There was no doubt that the holy objects worked on Gabriel, though, and he shuddered, turning away his gaze while hearing the shadow people telling the Civils to take it easy on Mariah, because they'd seen her defend them against 562.

When he next opened his eyes, he saw her bending over Taraline, the shadows and Civils circling the pair as others bound 562 with those probably useless crosses and silver chains.

It was the Mariah-enhanced mind freeze that had gotten 562, and he feared nothing else was ever going to work.

Mariah raised one of her four arms and, with a claw, opened her skin so blood dripped down onto Taraline's lips.

Who knew what would happen next. Wouldn't Taraline need 562's blood, not Mariah's, to become a vampire and be fully healed from dymorrdia, since 562 was the one who'd bitten her?

Or was there a chance Taraline would get some of 562's blood from Mariah?

It was only when Gabriel started shaking from the scent that the Civils flashed their crosses at him again, and he closed his eyes, naturally going toward the darkness instead.

A
fter the full moon phase ran its course, we hid 562.

We took our mind-broken origin to the boulder cave near Little Romania, far from where the humans still waited for that fictional mosquito threat to disappear. Here, where our group had first hidden, Pucci had built a nook way far back from the entrance. He'd merely moved some rocks away from a wall, and Gabriel had put 562 in a new resting place, arranging our origin in her/his favorite sitting position, legs crossed, gaze an eternal stare.

Yet now 562 and her/his shattered gaze stared at nothing. Or maybe at everything, for all we knew. With the dying of the full moon, 562's body had automatically reverted back to regular form, smaller, just as humanlike as she/he had been when I'd first seen her/him, with fewer teeth and arms and that long fall of hair to hide her/his face. Obviously, 562's body still worked, although the mind couldn't control it.

Only the lunar cycle could. That was what I figured, at least, and come the next full moon phase, there'd be old, strong vampires here to make sure 562 hadn't recovered from the damage Gabriel and I had visited on her/his brain.

We'd brought some unbreakable glass from the asylum with us, too. In the end, we planned to roll the rocks in front of the shield for camouflage. But I didn't like to think that we were putting 562 into a glass coffin, because the very thought made me think of the way I'd felt in my new body during a full moon. Instead, I justified 562's nook as more of a vault, where a treasure could be protected. She/he was our relic.

But 562 was also our secret.

Gabriel had seen to that last night, while the last of the full moon hovered and I was locked up under the tightest security possible while I was threatened with silver swords and told that I'd be chopped up if I misbehaved. All that time, Gabriel had been enlisting his friends, a bunch of old vampires—the ones who'd promised to look after 562 at the next full moon. They lied to the entire community about 562 having recovered from her/his mental affliction and run off, out of the hub. As far as we knew, no one but me and Gabriel, plus the dead Civils, had figured out that our origin had an appetite for the other monsters. If the shadow people knew, they hadn't said anything, so we assumed they'd been busy with the blood cleaning below, where the vampires had caused such havoc until controlled.

It was only when the full moon had waned and we Badlanders had left our lunacy behind that we'd discovered the vampires' subterfuge.

And we hadn't disagreed.

Maybe we were utterly selfish, but if the Civil community knew we were keeping 562 alive, they'd want to try and kill her/him, if they could, and all us were-creatures might end up turning into powerless regular animals . . . or something worse. The tik-tik women and gremlins would probably become what they originally were—corpses. Most important, the older vampires valued 562's existence—and how powerful she/he made them—just as much as the rest of us Reds, and they didn't want to destroy their origin, either.

Yes, we were ruthless for keeping 562 here, but we'd be stupid to possibly resign ourselves to a position of weakness in the world. I didn't mind lying in this instance.

The more I thought about how 562 had gone about introducing us to her/his blood, the more I admired my origin. 562 had known that I would do anything to be a better monster. But she/he had chosen an ambassador for her/his ambitions while not realizing that I'd never give in to an appetite for Civils. Giving in would be like one type of human—say a distractoid—eating a shut-in; two of the same kind, yet different. Cannibalism.

In spite of everything, we'd wanted to honor 562, and with that came the acknowledgment of our other dead. So, in our hidden relic cave, we gathered. Hana went forward first, setting down Sammy's comm device next to 562's clear, upright coffin. The oldster lay down a stone on which he'd written Zel's name, since we'd kept nothing else of her.

Although Gabriel had nothing material of his own to offer, I felt him thinking of Abby and his own mosquito-victimized human family. I felt the heaviness of a promise being made inside him.

Was he musing that he'd make them proud by still trying to be better than his nature was leading him to be? Or was he mulling over experimenting with 562's vial-stored blood whenever someone finally identified it? Perhaps he wouldn't need to be bitten by 562 to be more powerful after all.

I could understand his temptation, since I was the strongest and most peaceful I'd ever been. I'd also proven that I could control my new self, and Gabriel only wanted the same thing.

In celebration of that, I made my own offering to 562, standing before the glass coffin, silently vowing that I'd protect her/ his children. They would all take the place of my own family, whom I'd lost to bad guys like the ones who'd first victimized 562 for her/his blood.

I'd find justice for us, because that was the only thing that held the world together.

Pucci had his hands clasped in front of him. Reverence from a man I hadn't thought capable of it before now.

“Where do you think 562 is?” he asked. “I mean, where's its consciousness, do you think?”

“Who knows?” I said. There were no explanations. 562 hadn't even known what had created her/him. For all we realized, 562's birther could've been some kind of entity that'd thought to exercise destruction on humanity.

I didn't expect to find any kind of answer, just consequences.

Taraline finally approached 562's coffin. Thanks to my blood, she'd survived, but that was the extent of it so far. I heard that her surface hadn't shown signs of healing in these first couple of nights, so she was back to wearing her veil again. It could be that 562 had been right, and an exchange was the only thing potent enough to fully mend a human dymorrdia victim. Besides, I wasn't the one who'd bitten her before feeding her my blood, so I was pretty sure she wouldn't become a monster, just by drinking from me.

Unless I was wrong.

I wanted to tear her veil off, just to be sure, but we all knew Taraline was a deliberate sort. Maybe my powerful blood
was
already working away on her, and she didn't want anyone to see her face and body until she'd fully healed. To me, she seemed just like a lady preparing herself in her boudoir and not coming out until she was dressed to the nines.

She bent to 562, leaving her/him a necklace of water that a monster had confiscated from a sleeping human.

As if overwhelmed by every sacrifice Taraline had made, whether she'd wanted that exchange from 562 or not, Gabriel walked away, taking a part of me with him. I'd been caged away from him since we'd last been together, and tonight was the first I'd seen him since the confrontation with 562.

Chaplin, who'd gone right back to avoiding me—maybe even worse now than before—nuzzled up to Taraline on one side as Hana hugged her from the other. As Pucci closed up 562's grave, then sat down to guard it, I began to follow Gabriel.

But I waited a moment, hoping Chaplin would come with me.

I glanced back at him, but he just slid a look to me, then turned away.

I didn't know what to do, how to show him that I wasn't as monstrous on the inside as I'd seemed on the outside when I'd turned into this new form.

But I'd think of a way to win my Chaplin back. He had to see that I hadn't changed so much.

My chest squeezing itself into oblivion, I walked all the way out after Gabriel, allowing him some distance while he exited the cave. Thanks to our link, he would know I was nearby, and he would slow down when he was ready for me.

But he kept going toward the hub. Miffed, I continued trailing him, even as he entered the asylum. Avoiding the other monsters who were walking round, he mounted some stairs, and I was about to, also, when I heard the oldster right behind me.