42nd & Lex (45 page)

“We wanted to give you something to commemorate your
bonding,” Mark adds, as Sarah finishes rummaging around in her suitcase-sized
Louis Vuitton. “And our appreciation.”

Sarah produces a flat box wrapped in silver paper and a
white bow. She hands it to me with a huge smile. I carefully pry the end of the
paper up.

“Oh just rip it open!” Lucan exclaims next to me. 

Inside the box is a photo in a silver picture frame of
Lucan and me kissing after the ceremony. Sarah must have snapped it during the
reception because I am in my Cinderella dress. Tears are welling up in my eyes
now too. It had crossed my mind more than once over the past few weeks that,
unlike a wedding, there had been no photographer present to record the
festivities. 

“Thank you. This is the best gift ever,” I blubber.

“It was while you two were dancing at the reception. I
realized there was no photographer and I just happened to bring my digital
camera, so there you go. I figured you’d like one in that dress and not the
ceremony monstrosity.”

Lucan takes it from my hands and places it on the
shelves that hold the stereo system and massive music collection. “Thank you
both. We will cherish this always.”

We talk a while longer about how things are going with
the hunt for Serge. It’s been slow with Zaid gone but the Enclave still had a
search team active. Mark had tried calling Serge’s number but it was disconnected.
Zaid asked him to do it after he left town in the hopes that Serge would resurface. 

It is nice to spend the evening with friends that know
all about Lucan and me. I am already nervous about explaining all of this to
Lindsey when we start working together. There is no way I can keep her in the
dark if we are all going to be in the same office. There is time enough to
worry about that, for now I just enjoy Mark and Lucan’s debate on the upcoming
football draft.

I doze off at some point and come to as Lucan is picking
me up from the couch. Sarah and Mark are heading for the elevator.

“I'm sorry guys. I have been so tired lately. I guess
it’s because I’ve stopped moving being off work and all.”

“No worries,” Mark replies. “It’s pretty late. We can see
ourselves out.”

“We’ll do dinner next week,” Sarah offers.

I nod and wave sleepily as they shut the elevator grate.
I sense disappointment in Lucan as he turns towards the bed. He feels like a
jerk for evening thinking about messing around now that I’m half-asleep. I
force my eyes open and play with the buttons on his shirt as we cross the room.
I can perk myself up enough for that, can’t I?

“No, it’s okay,” he says, laying me down on the bed. My
shirt rides up in the front and his breath catches a little.

“No it’s not. You’re not going to be home tomorrow night
and I promised.”

“It’s not like we don’t have forever,” he murmurs. “We’ll
make up for lost time when I get back.”

He is leaving early for an Enclave meeting in D.C. I
can’t say I’m not a little miffed about staying home, but it’s only an
overnight trip and Lucan won’t have time to do any sightseeing with me. I want
to argue but another wave of exhaustion over takes me and I drift off to sleep
before I can even try.

Serge had mulled over the idea of calling Mark for a few weeks. He wanted
to kick the guy’s ass for leaving him to rot. If it hadn’t been for the lost
maintenance men coming to his aid that next morning, he might have dried up and
met his final end in that sorry ass apartment. Okay, so the apartment hadn’t
been bad. It was better than his shithole in Hell’s Kitchen. The very same
shithole that he’d had to abandon after that tracker had come looking for him.

After he was kicked out of the bar he’d gone back home with a six-pack
only to discover that the tracker had been there. Serge hadn’t even gone back
inside.

But, ever the opportunist, Serge had taken up residence with a very
obliging young woman he’d met in the park that night. He provided her with
drugs he took from a dealer he’d drained and she provided him with blood. Sure,
it tasted like heroin, but he couldn’t be choosey. His hand was nearly at full
function and his eyesight was almost back in vampire range thanks to her
selfless donations. 

Selfless was probably an overstatement, Serge laughed to himself as he
kicked her near lifeless body. She was face down on the bed in a pool of her
own vomit. “Wake up, bitch.” He shoved the toe of his boot into her side. “I’m
hungry.”

The woman, frail and dirty, rolled over to stare at him with lifeless
eyes. The fight had gone out of her a few days ago, either from the drugs Serge
regularly dosed into her veins or from the lack of blood. Maybe both.

Disgusted by her weakness, Serge launched himself at her neck and within minutes,
he’d drained her of the last drops of life. Sated for the moment, he sat back
and looked her over. He toyed briefly with giving her some of his blood and
turning her. No, she was skinny with no breasts, brown eyes and dirty blonde
hair. Nothing like his beautiful Abri.

Serge had tried, without success, to infiltrate O’Reilly’s apartment
since he’d regained most of his strength. He’d stalked the main lobby of the
Chrysler until the human security detail banned him, but Abri never left the
building that way. He was actually shocked the Enclave didn’t have guards
posted at every entrance waiting to bring him in given.

 It was so strange in fact, that Serge wondered if O’Reilly had lost his
hold on Abri. Maybe she had balked when he wanted to drink from her and run
away. No, that couldn’t be it; even that wouldn’t stop Lucan from keeping her
safe.

“Abri, I do wish you’d come out and play,” he mused aloud. “One day. One
day your prince will leave you in his castle unguarded.”

Serge was bored. He’d have to find a new place to live before long as
someone was bound to come looking for his now lifeless meal ticket. Not to
mention that eventually she was going to start to smell.

He flexed the nearly formed fingers on his “new” hand and contemplated
his next move. He was tired of hiding out in Brooklyn in a shitty walk up. He
deserved better digs. Hell, Mark Ainsworth owed him better digs after all he’d
given that miserable fuck. How did he repay him? By going back to his human
wife. According to Hicks, that bitch had dropped her divorce case and they were
living together again.

Serge took out his phone and scrolled for Mark’s number. Ainsworth was a
sniveling shit and Serge planned to extort enough cash out of him to live
comfortably until he had his chance to go after Abri Cole. A few hundred
thousand should do it and he knew Mark was more than good for it. He’d pay if
Serge made a threat against his wife—better yet, his wife and Abri. Serge was
almost certain the women were still in touch with one another now that they
were both living in the supernatural.

Smiling at his genius, Serge waited for the idiot to answer.

The sound of an unfamiliar ringtone blaring across the
apartment wakes me up. My newly acute hearing locates the sound as coming from
between two couch cushions. The caller is insistent because they hang up and immediately
dial again. It must be Sarah or Mark’s phone since they were the last people to
sit on the sofa. There is no number displayed, only the words “Unknown Caller.”

“Hello.”

“Well, well, well,” comes the voice at the
other end. “I did not expect this.”

“What do you want, shithead?” I don’t stop
to identify the caller. I know who it is. 

“I guess your tracker has given up on
finding me,” he continues.

Logic tells me to text Lucan immediately. Instinct
tells me to get to Serge any way I can, that this is my only chance, our only
chance, to catch him. I waste no time.  

“Meet me. Now.” My voice has a steely tenor
I’ve never heard before. 

“How sweet of you. I was just going to
suggest the same thing. Grand Central Station. Five minutes,” he replies without
pause.

“Too public,” I bite back. “Why involve
others when it’s just me you want?”

“True. So true, Abri. You
are
the
smart one. Why don’t I just come see the little nest you and O’Reilly have
created together? I think that’s fitting, don’t you? He’ll never be able to
come back to that place once you’re gone. I like that.”

“Take the main elevator to sixty-six. You’ll
be able to find your way from there. You better hurry before I change my mind.”

I hang up and spring from the couch. I have
to disable the security system before he tries to use the elevator. If anyone accesses
the system without the proper credentials the elevator will lock down and only
Zaid and Lucan can open it after that. It would still end with Serge being
dead, but I want my own revenge. A chill runs down my spine and I feel my
senses grow even more acute as adrenaline courses through my veins.

This is going to be a battle, an all out war
probably. My fight or flight reflex is instinctively set to flight but I override
it. If I try to hold him at bay until backup arrives, I rationalize; he will
come after me anyways or else disappear for good. I have to take the upper hand
and lure him in while he thinks I am vulnerable and alone. Serge has no idea I am
immune from his bite. I refuse to allow myself to think of the other ways he
can hurt me as I suspect he will once he figures out draining me won’t work. 

The panel for the security system is near
the main elevators several floors away. I take the stairs down, leaving the
elevator available upstairs to use as an escape pod. There is a good chance the
steel grate is strong enough to keep Serge out while I call for help if it comes
to that.  

A sick laugh escapes my throat. What the
fuck am I thinking? I have no help. No Lucan. No Zaid. No Enclave security
detail since I refused to be a guarded prisoner in my own home. An argument
Lucan fought valiantly but in the end lost. He reluctantly agreed to trust my
Sodalis protection and the security system Zaid had installed to protect me.

The same security system that I promised not
to disable as a condition of being left on my own today. The same system that I
am now disabling. Sure, I have my newly acquired speed and strength, but I am
still nowhere near as strong as a vampire.

I shake my head to clear it. This is the way
it has to be. It is between this asshole and me. He is ultimately the reason I
had to move out of my apartment and quit my job—not that I’m not completely
into living and working with Lucan, but keeping my old life a bit longer would
have been just fine too. And I am absolutely certain that Mark and Sarah’s old
lives would have been just fine with them as well. Serge is not deserving of
the justice that the Enclave would afford him. No matter what Zaid said, I know
that in the end he will try to bring Serge in alive. 

I enter the codes to override the security
system and turn to survey the terrain. While the main floor is spacious and full
of numerous hiding spots behind drop cloth covered antiques, Serge’s sense of
smell would out me in seconds. I am better off on my home turf upstairs where I
can see him coming. I run back up the rickety staircase making sure to touch
the walls every so often so he can track my scent. 

I stash my phone and the first aid kit in
the elevator, along with the biggest butcher knife I can find. The rationality
of those actions calms me. I can’t be crazy and on a death march if I am able
to think of that.

I hear the elevator ding two floors below. Something
I wouldn’t have been able to do before my bonding. He’s here. My heart is thumping
so hard that it drowns out his footsteps on the stairs. One final deep breath
to center myself.

“You get more beautiful every time I see you.”
He steps into the foyer and gives me a low whistle of approval. I am still
dressed in last night’s outfit because Lucan didn’t want to disturb me by
putting on my pajamas. My hair is messy and my makeup smeared. Not beautiful at
all.  

“Sorry I can’t same for you.” I shift my
body so that I am firmly on both feet. My hands feel empty without something to
weld in my defense. I remind myself that it won’t make a difference.

He stares at me for a few more seconds,
taking it all in. His breathing is erratic. From what I can tell, his eyesight is
fine. His hand has grown back but the fingers are short and weak looking. In
the human world, this would be an advantage. But unfortunately in the vampire
world, even deformed he is stronger than I am—even as a bonded Sodalis.   

Before I can open my mouth again, he lunges.
He wraps his arms around me, gripping the wrist of his lame arm with his good
hand, and traps my arms at my sides. A swift angling of his hips blocks my attempts
to knee him in the groin and stomp on his instep.

Rage flows through my body, squelching any
fear that might have been there. I feel something primordial unlock inside me. Power
is flowing through me from some unseen force. I imagine this is what it feels
like when someone channels superhuman strength to lift a car off their child. Flight
is no longer an option to be overridden. Fight is my only response.   

The Sodalis tattoo on my wrist begins to burn.
The more I push my anger outward the hotter it feels. Serge shifts his grip
just enough so that I am able to work my arms in between our bodies.

Naturally, he enjoys my perceived struggle
and moves to close the distance between my neck and his elongated fangs. I
smile at him, feeling the heat of the bonding mark rise up my arms, through my
chest and towards my neck. 

Serge strikes. His fangs, extended longer
than anything I’ve ever seen outside of a zoo exhibit, gnash at my neck but fail
to hit home. The Sodalis bond is holding him back. I can hear the air around me
crackling as I push out further with my mind.