Matters of the Blood (33 page)

Silence. No more shots. No. Wait. I could hear someone scrabbling down the side of the pit, loose gravel tumbling ahead of him or her. It wasn't Tucker. He didn't do guns. He'd just have shifted into wolf form and jumped Evan.

I scooted back a little and then lay still, hoping whoever it was couldn't see us in the pitch dark. The person kept moving, slowly, as if testing the ground ahead, a smart move, considering the slippery path.

The smell of blood began to seep into my nose, rich, fresh, recently spilled. Not mine. Evan was bleeding. A lot, I hoped. If I were lucky, he'd bleed out and I'd be safe, at least from him. I tried to avoid the thought that I could bleed out, too. At least I was still conscious.

A flash of light behind me made me cringe. I could barely move. Superior strength notwithstanding, I hurt and I could be hurting a heck of a lot more if my mystery savior turned out to be another bad guy. It was most definitely possible that Evan's enemies were not necessarily my friends.

"Miss Keira.” The words slid quietly across the gravel, riding the air as lightly as a piece of down fluff escaping a battered jacket. “Miss Keira?” The whisper came again, almost too soft to hear.

"Boris?” Thank goodness. He probably hadn't seen me when he was shooting.

"Yes, it's me,” he answered.

"Thank—” I started to say.

"Is he the only one?"

I nodded.

"How did you find me?"

"I followed you. I was at the ranch."

Boris set his flashlight down, tucked his rifle under his arm, took something out of his pocket and leaned over Evan. A flash of metal, a swift jab and the hypodermic needle sank into Evan's exposed throat. The vampire convulsed once, twice. A tortured groaning sound escaped, shuddering past his lips, then all was still. He was dead. True death. I held my breath, waiting for the disintegration, the dusting. It didn't happen. He didn't conveniently vanish in a cloud of dust with special sound effects. He just lay there, just another corpse. But I could tell he was gone. The energy that had been there, unnoticed until it didn't exist, left an empty space. Whatever animated the vampire was missing.

"Silver nitrate.” Boris watched me as I struggled to my knees with a gasp.

"Effective,” I said, not wasting time mourning for Evan. “Boris, I'm hurt. Can you help?"

"Not so fast,” he said.

"What?” I sank back down.

His expression never changed. His eyes, flat as the darkness behind him, reflected no light, no hint of compassion.

"Evil. All are evil. Your cousin, the other one, they betrayed me, my sister. They work with the evil ones."

"What the—?"

Boris’ head began to shake, slowly at first, back and forth, his body trembling. “Evil, they are evil...” His words faded to a soft mumble, the words unchanging.

"Boris,” I began, not sure if I should try to reason with him, to talk to him. But I had to. I needed him to cut my bonds, bandage me, to help me get out of here. I could worry later about his thinking Marty was evil.

"Boris. Please, help me.” I tried to make my tone even and reasonable, as if I were talking to someone who hadn't just obviously flipped his last lid.

He wasn't listening, or maybe he couldn't hear. He just kept trembling and muttering to himself.

I started to scoot a little closer, but froze as he swung the rifle in my direction.

"No. Don't move,” he said, his face suddenly clearing and his voice firm.

"Boris, why?"

"Be quiet.” He moved a step closer. “Do not move. I have something I need to do."

He seemed to be considering something, looking at me, then at Evan's body, then back at me. A moment later, he sighed loudly, then stepped a bit closer.

I let my own held breath escape, figuring he'd decided to do the kind thing and let me go. As the stock of the rifle connected with the side of my head, I knew I was wrong.

I was really beginning to hate this. I was alone now and my head felt like ten thousand monkeys were tossing coconuts at it. My thigh and side still burned from the bullet wounds. This was not what I'd had planned for tonight. A nice quiet dinner, a little snooping around, not confrontations with my ex-lover, being kidnapped by a rogue vampire and wait, there's more, being shot and then knocked unconscious and left in a pit by the kindly old store proprietor. What the hell was wrong with this picture? Or better yet, what the hell else could go wrong with this picture?

The sound of gravel skittering made me perk up. Someone was coming. Someone—

I sighed in relief as I saw the store van pull up, headlights off, running only on parking lights. Greta must have figured out where her brother was and come looking for him. Not that I knew where he was right now, but that didn't matter. She could untie me, get me back to town. Both Boris and I needed help and here it was.

Boris opened the car door, the inside light flashing on. Oh fuck. So much for the rescuing. He must have gone to get his sister.

He climbed out of the van and fumbled with the latch on the sliding door.

"I'm sorry you had to get dragged into this, Keira,” he said, not looking at me, not sounding at all like he meant it. “But you're here now and we can't leave any of you."

"What do you mean, ‘any of you'?"

Boris opened the sliding door, never letting loose his gun.

The overhead light in the van flashed on and I could see two huddled forms inside. All I could see was part of two men's backs, arms tied together with some sort of wire. Their heads were hidden in the depths of the van.

A second later, I knew it was Adam. Possibly Niko, but definitely Adam. I'm not sure how I was so certain.

The old man moved slowly, but with purpose. In a few minutes, he'd dragged the two men onto the ground. I was right. Adam and Niko.

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Both vampires were unconscious—at least I hoped they were when I saw their limp forms thump to the ground like so many pounds of potatoes. A breath, then two. Shallow, distant as a cool breeze in a Texas summer, but they were still alive. The wire around their wrists and ankles looked like silver, like that cheap by-the-inch type that you can buy at any flea market or jewelry kiosk at the mall. Cheap or not, it seemed to be doing the trick.

"What did you do to them?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady. I could feel my blood pressure rising as anger flooded me.

"Nothing that shouldn't have been done sooner.” Boris’ expression grew hard. I'd never seen him like this before. So determined. So harsh.

He dragged both vampires toward me, first Adam, then Niko, depositing each of them next to me, up against the memorial marker. Great. Here I was with two dead humans, a dead—really dead—vampire and two unconscious vampires. Somewhere in the surrounding woods, my werewolf brother was still prowling around, looking for clues. If it weren't so damned serious, I'd be laughing at the whole ridiculous scene.

"Now what?” I asked. “More deaths?"

"It started with death, it will end with death.” He looked at me, then away. “I didn't want to involve you. You've always been..."

His voice trailed off, his head slowly shaking from side to side as if in denial. He looked at me again, the sadness in his eyes evident. “You shouldn't have. I never meant..."

"Then let me go, Boris,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and soothing. “I promise to help—"

"No. It is too late."

"I don't understand, Boris. Can you explain?” I hoped that by keeping him talking, I could buy time and figure out a way to get us out of this. How, I wasn't sure. This whole thing was resembling some really bad movie-of-the-week plot. This old man had managed to subdue two powerful vampires, kill a third and wound me.

"It was easy, really,” he said. “Told them Andrea was in the van, hurt. That I'd found her. No one ever paid attention to me at the ranch. No one cared.” He smiled a little then. “I knew they'd never...” His eyes narrowed. “Cattle prods work on two-legged beasts just as well."

Oh, Christ. That's how he'd done it. His ultra-special modified cattle prod/stun gun—625,000 volts of electricity. Useful for self-defense in more ways than one. He was damned resourceful, all right.

"It was easy to bind them, then. Silver wire, duct tape. Bring them here."

Why?” I needed to know. Why not just kill them if he'd meant to rid the world of vampires?

"Here.” He motioned with the rifle, indicating the small white cross. “A place of sanctity. Too far to take to the church. Too public. Here is holy enough. A girl died here. There is a cross.” He looked directly at me. “I only wanted the one, you know. Not the other. But they both came and now they both die. Like you."

His matter-of-fact delivery chilled me. This was Boris 2.0, no longer the quiet, haunted man I'd known. This man had a mission and was ready to carry it out. I had to do something, but what? I wasn't in much better shape than the two vampires. The bullets had gone through me, and my healing ability should take care of the wounds, but it wasn't instantaneous. I was weak, tired from all the stress my body had taken over the past few days.

"Why, Boris, why kill us?"

"They are soulless creatures, already dead,” Greta climbed out of the back of the van, wiping her hands on a small towel. Yep. Definitely not going to be the one rescuing us. She stepped closer to me. “It is just a matter of degree."

She had a point, but not one I was willing to concede. I knew death—the real version, the I'm-never-coming-back version—and vampires weren't that. Whether or not they had souls, or whatever, was a subject for theological debate. I didn't care. What I did care about was the fact that Adam and Niko were about to die.

"I am sorry,” she said. “I did not want to involve you.” Greta squatted down, eyes seeking mine. “I hoped that Boris had warned you away, kept you away from these people."

"Why are you doing this? Maybe they hunted animals, but the ranch is private property. What they do there is none of your business. They weren't involved with—"

"It has always been my business,” she spat at me as she stood up. “It is not for what they do now, but for what they have done and will do."

"What did we do?"

Adam's voice was hoarse, a croak of a sound. I turned my head. He'd managed to sit up; his mouth was raw, cracked. It should have been bleeding and evidently, it had a little, but only a trace of dried blood showed at the corners. A scrabbling sound behind me made me turn the other way, Niko had also struggled to a sitting position.

"You, move over there.” Greta pulled out a small pistol from her pocket and waved it at Niko. “Do not speak. Move over there with the other monster."

Niko glared at her, his eyes speaking the words he didn't utter. His lips were as cracked as Adam's, blood dripping slowly from the corner of his mouth. He slid across the gravel, ending up on Adam's right. Except for the difference in hair and eye color, the vampires looked more alike than ever. Glittering eyes stared daggers in Greta's direction, finely-chiseled lips pressed together, holding back words I knew they needed to say.

"You, Keira, please move over there.” Greta motioned to her left. “You do not need to be near them."

So she didn't automatically class me in with the monsters. That was a mistake I might be able to use—if I could figure out how. I wasn't good at this. I was still a changeling, not fully empowered. Damn. I needed my brother to show up. But neither of us was telepathic.

I could, however, work on loosening the duct tape on my wrists. Muscle against the miracle of polyethylene-coated cloth and adhesives. It might work. My strength was more than that of a human. Suddenly, I realized my wounds weren't as bad as they should have been. I still hurt, but not as if I'd just gotten shot. I sneaked a glance at my thigh. The bullet had only grazed the top of my leg and the deep scrape was filling in. Hooray for super healing.

"What did we do?” Adam asked again.

"You ask? You dare to ask?” Greta snorted and pointed the pistol at Niko's head. “Why don't you ask your man there? Ask him what he did during the war."

I stopped working my wrists at this and looked over at Niko, then back at Greta. What was she talking about?

"Why Niko? It was Evan who was a Nazi,” I said.

Greta laughed, a curt bitter sound. A small smile danced across her lips like a ghost, then the solemn look reappeared. Boris stood quietly behind her, looking at the ground.

"He was a Nazi? How appropriate.” She laughed again, this time with a bit more humor.

"You didn't know?” I was puzzled. “I thought that's why ... Boris said he recognized someone at the ranch, someone from the camps."

"Not him.” Boris began to shake again.

Adam slowly turned his head.

The silence grew thick with the waiting, but Niko remained silent, his head bowed to his knees.

"Niko?"

"He is a coward,” Greta said. “As much of a coward as always. So much the lord of the mountains, the caretaker of his people—this monster sold our village to the Nazis. Sold us to the death camp."

"I only came to the ranch in the daytime,” Boris said. “One day, I was delayed. A flat tire. I came after dark and I saw him there, with a group of others. I knew him.” Boris turned to look at me, eyes brimming with tears. “Then you saw him. They walked in front of your car. You asked if I saw people. They are not people."

My “vision” that wasn't.

Boris turned to Greta. “Keira saw. She knows. She had a vision and saw the day we were brought to the camps."

I gasped as the memory came flooding back—the vision I'd had when I'd touched Boris’ hand. The man in the cloth coat and the hat was Niko. Niko had been their betrayer.

"Why, Niko?"

Tears rolled down my cheeks as the memories I'd tapped into that night returned, all thousand and more days spent in the confines of the camp. Knowing that tomorrow, my sister and I might be the next ones to be tortured, raped. Watching as day after hellish day, the unrelenting hell of every night began; hunters crawling through the fences, aided by the Germans, coming for their nightly feast of blood and horror. Even our dreams weren't safe. The dreams came back night after night to haunt us.