Blood Run (49 page)

He wrapped his arm around her back, and she sagged against it. He had no trouble holding her because his own energy had begun to grow as the light passed out of the sky. The dark was soothing to his body but exciting to his mind. The deeper fires of the vampirism began to sizzle their way along his nerve endings, and he could almost feel his irises widen, taking in all available illumination. To Promise, the woods would now be fully dark, the trees mere shadows and the sky a leaden, purple mass. To him, each thing seemed to phosphoresce–each dead leaf, each thin limb, even the water as it flowed in the creek seemed to glow as if the rocks beneath it gave off light.

Somewhere distant, a deer stepped haltingly through a clearing, and Peter heard it. A nest of squirrels in a nearby tree gave off a pulse of heat that he could feel more than see. When the squirrels shifted, squeaking faintly, he heard that, too.

He had an awareness of the animals in these woods, but their scent, their movements, did not excite the vampiristic part of his sensibilities…but Promise’s did. Almost reluctantly, he listened to her heartbeat, the whoosh, whoosh of blood pounding faithfully through thick veins. With an effort, he turned his attention away from that pulse of life within her. It was somehow stronger than that of the animals–richer, louder, broadcasting through the air.

And he would not be the only one aware of it.

After a bit, he closed his own eyes to better hear the pattern of the night: the light rush of an owl on the wing, fish scales grating against sand where the fish had secreted themselves deep underwater, wind as it whistled and sighed through the trees and each small branch that fractured or broke before it.

It was all so exciting.

The essence of himself, his humanity, began to wane as the night worked on him. Memories of Trish and the baby, his life before, began to fade to the point where it seemed as though his first life had been the false one…the unbelievable thing. A fire burned in his mind, deep and small like a pilot light. The night was like fuel to that small flame, and it edged higher, spreading, fluttering excitedly as it pushed Peter’s essence–his humanity–before it. He moaned lightly, struggling with himself, but the flame jumped more, spreading as his feelings became more intense. He felt the body next to him, pulsing warmly, so close, within his grasp, his arm tightened across Promise’s back, pulling her tighter to him–

A branch broke sharply, and his eyes snapped open. Something was coming.

He glanced at Promise next to him and was surprised to see that her eyes were already open. She surveyed him with a long, careful glance and then turned her attention outward, to the woods.

“Did you hear that?” she said, whispering.

“Yes,” he said. “It came from the north.” Opposite the direction Chance would be coming from if he’d come from the development.

“Can you see anything yet?” she asked.

He shook his head, and they became still, listening.

Another small snap followed by a rustling, as of a sliding step through deep, dry leaves. Now Peter could just start to make out the figure approaching from behind them and on the opposite side of the stream. He squinted, and his arm tightened across her back.

“It’s a person…I can’t tell if it’s a vampire or a…small…it’s someone small…”

Promise tensed beside him.

“It’s a little boy, Promise, it might be him, but I can’t tell…”

She began to struggle, turning herself in preparation to climb down. “Wait,” Peter said, “Wait until we know for sure.”

“But if it’s–”

“He’s coming this way. We’ll know in a minute. Be patient. If it’s not him, then you don’t want to be down there.”

She took a deep breath and held it.

The figure drew closer, and now she could see him too. But he was in and out of the trees, it was too dark, she couldn’t make out if it was–

The moon glowed brighter as the clouds thinned, and Promise beheld her baby brother as he made his way down the small slope of the forest. It was still too dark to see him clearly, but she was at least sure that this was him. He shambled and stumbled, and her heart leapt painfully into her throat. She turned and lifted herself to the branch below.

“Wait here,” she said, but Peter shuffled over, preparatory to climbing down behind her.

“No, it’s not safe without me,” he said.

Promise put a shaking hand on his arm, and to his surprise, she smiled. “I’ll be fine. I know I will. Trust me.”

Then she slipped to the next branch and the next and finally her feet were on the forest floor. From this lower vantage point, she could no longer see Chance, but she knew where he was going. She turned to check that Peter was still in the tree. He was, but he’d come down two branches. She was warmed by his concern, but still her mind had filled with Chance.

She turned away toward the stream.

She hopped nimbly from rock to rock, and halfway over, she glanced up to check her progress.

Chance stood on the far bank, facing her. The skin of his arms glowed whitely, and he had no coat. His pajama pants were tattered, and she couldn’t see his feet where they disappeared into the leaves…but she knew that they were bare. He was not troubled by the cold. Beneath his tangle of hair, his eyes were black, glittering pits. He watched her intensely, soullessly.

Her foot slipped, and she nearly tumbled into the freezing water, her arms swinging violently, and Chance opened his mouth and hissed at her.

Her heart froze. Her chest seemed suddenly filled with cold, liquid lead, and she couldn’t breathe. Chance hissed again, and the hiss turned into a gibbering babble–signature language of the vampire.

He jumped lightly to the rock closest to him, his eyes never leaving hers.

Then to the next. Promise looked down. Only six rocks separated them. She looked up again as clouds muscled over the moon, smothering its light. In the sudden darkness, with the murderous intent of his eyes hidden, he was her baby brother again. She had to do something, anything.

“Chance,” she said, whispering. Then she raised her voice. “It’s me, honey, it’s Destiny. I know you know me, Chance. I know you can remember.”

He tilted his head.

“Chance, I’ve come back for you. This nightmare is over, and I know you know me. Think, honey. Remember me. It’s time to go home now, Chance. I’ve come to take you home.”

He whimpered softly and stepped one rock closer. Now she could see his face, even in the dark. A deep, troubling orange lit his eyes.

“Chance,” she said and held out her arms. “We have to go home now, honey. I love you, and I promised, remember? Remember what I promised you?”

“Ahhhhmmissssss,” he said, and his voice was the sound of the wind, idiot language, random noise…then the orange in his eyes guttered like a weak candle. “Deh–dehssstiny.” His voice was frail and rasping across his vocal cords, but it was
almost
his voice. Her little brother stood before her, shivering in the cold. He began to cry.

“Scuh-scuh-scared,” he said, and the lead drained from her all at once, and she jumped the last two rocks, and then Chance was in her arms. She rocked him as he cried. Satisfaction flooded her, and for a moment, she knew nothing save the boy in her arms, her beloved, her baby brother. But slowly, she became aware of the night that surrounded them.

“We have to go, Chance,” she whispered to him. “We have to–” His head was against her chest, and he was burrowing into the opening of her coat, burrowing like a cold animal seeking heat…seeking…

“Chance,” she said, and red alarm flared through her as she felt his mouth connect with the hollow at the base of her throat. His small hands found her arms and pinned them with nauseating strength. “Chance! NO!”

She took a panicked step back. And fell into the stream.

Chance fell too, still clinging to her, but when they hit the water, his hold broke. The steam was not deep–only about two feet at this part of it–but it was frigid, and the current caught at Promise’s coat and tugged, rolling her under, pulling like rough hands. In the dark, in the water, everything became a black panic. She reached out and braced her arms against the floor of the stream and then pushed herself up, her coat heavy around her. Her head broke the surface, and she heaved in a breath. A strong wave of lethargy buckled her straining arms, and she fell face first back into the water. She was going to drown in this icy creek.

It was better than being killed by her brother.

A hand at the nape of her neck yanked her up and back, dragging her to the bank. She tried to struggle, but her legs wouldn’t move, dragging unfeelingly behind her. She tried to throw her body to the side, to break contact with the hand at her back.

“Promise, don’t fight.” Peter. Saving her.

Once clear of the stream, he knelt beside her and stripped her of her soaked coat. He unlaced her boots and pulled them from her feet. “I have to build a fire. You’ll die if I don’t.”

Her teeth began to chatter. “N-n-no f-f-fire…vam-vam-vamp…”

“We have no choice,” he said. Then he lifted her and carried her to the base of the downed tree and laid her at the opening to the cave. She shivered uncontrollably.

“Wh-wh-where is Ch-Ch-Chance? F-f-find him f-f-first.”

He looked down at her, and his features were inscrutable. He shook his head, and his lips lifted in an admiring twist of a smile. He took her face gently in his hands and turned it. Chance was next to her, holding her icy, unfeeling hand. His eyes streamed with tears of misery. They steamed on his cheeks.

“Sorry…sorry…” he choked out, his voice still rough, still not a hundred percent him, but close…so close. “Love you.”

“L-l-love you t-t-too, b-b-baby br-brother,” Promise said, and then a cold gray curtain flapped wetly closed over her eyes. She’d fainted.

Warmth and a crackling fire. Camping. Camping with her parents and Chance. She could almost smell melting chocolate and lightly scorched marshmallows. Her brother giggled, and she smiled. But then she felt a shock of cold confusion. Why could she hear Chance but not see him?

Her eyes cracked open.

Chance was next to Peter, their backs to her (why was Peter camping with them? She didn’t even know him yet) and they seemed to be consumed in flames. Her heart lurched roughly in her chest. Then Chance giggled again, his face turned up to Peter, and she realized she was looking at them across a fire. The fire Peter had said needed to be built because…because…she remembered all at once the stream and falling. Chance. Chance trying to…trying to…

Peter turned, and his eyes found hers. He smiled. “You’re awake,” he said, whispering.

Chance scrambled around the fire to kneel at her side. In her peripheral vision, she saw Peter turn away again, facing the deep empty of the black woods. Keeping watch.

Chance pushed the hair off her forehead. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. She shifted and sat up. A cascade of dry leaves showered down around her. She leaned against the canopy of roots that swung up and out over them like an awning. Her clothes were still damp, but the heat from the fire captured in the small, hollowed out space was warm enough to keep her from shivering.

She looked at Chance carefully, and he glanced at her and away. New tears sparkled in his eyes. She took his hands in hers.

“It’s not your fault, honey, okay?” she said. “You hear me, Chance? I’m not mad. I love you.”

His eyes came to hers, slowly, reluctantly. “Love you, too, Promise,” he said, and his voice was raspy; the candle flame still guttered deep in his irises.

“Hey, you called me Promise,” she said. “Why did–”

He grinned, and the tears swerved across his cheeks. “Peter…Peter said…it’s your name.”

She smiled. She wanted to pull him to her, but not yet. Not until he’d been cured. Even as she sat with him now, she could sense the struggle within him as his eyes slid to the pulse at her throat. She put her hand to her chest. The vial was still there. Should she give him the shot or wait?

He smiled at her again, and she decided to wait. She would watch him, she would be cautious. She glanced across to Peter, who still had his back to them.

“Let’s kill the fire,” she said.

He turned to face her. “You’ll be cold,” he said.

Panic began to seep along her nerves. “Yes, I know, but…” She trailed off as something keened far off in the woods. Peter’s head swiveled toward the noise. “Chance, help me,” she said and began to push sand and dirt over the fire. Her stomach churned with tension. She glanced at Chance and saw his head lifted, nose wrinkling as he scented the air. Like an animal.

“Chance!” she said, sharply, but still keeping her voice low. Chance turned to her, and his eyes flared angrily. She tightened her lips but didn’t flinch. “Help me cover the fire, Chance. Help me, okay?”

The flare died from his eyes, and he began to throw double handfuls of the thick, loamy dirt onto the fire. It guttered, smothering.

The keening came again, closer. Peter stood abruptly, his face trained toward the sound. Promise could just make out the edge of his profile. His eyes were closed, and he, too, seemed to be scenting the wind. She shivered as the last of the fire died out, plunging them into cold darkness.

“Promise,” he said, without turning his head, his voice a bare murmur. “Get in that hollow. Take Chance.”

She slid backward at once, and her feet encountered the opening. She took Chance’s hand, pulling him back with her. “Come on, Chance, let’s hide. Just like we used to, remember, honey?”

His eyes on hers became more little boy than monster, but she still felt a stirring of reservation. If he were to lose control of himself while they were in that tight space, she might not be able to do anything about it. She paused at the edge and transferred the bundled vial carefully from her shirt to her hand. Then she slipped back and down into the pitch black, drawing Chance down with her.

Once the fire was out, the ambient glow of the forest sprang back to life, and Peter’s eyes dilated, drawing in all available light. Everything shimmered with a cold, gray corona. He would miss this part, he admitted to himself. He would miss having the heightened senses of an animal…of a vampire. He was aware of Promise behind him, sunk into the earth. Her heart, her blood. Others would be aware of it, too. They would come. They were already coming.