Blackthorn [3] Blood Torn (38 page)

He stepped back over to the sofa chair. ‘Can I let you in on a little secret?’ He drew his trousers up his thighs slightly before perching on the edge of the seat. ‘That’s not why
I
want him at all. You see, I think
much
bigger than just the Higher Order’s blood. Because even if we did find the adhesive, what then? And there’s always that risk that we
are
dabbling in the sacrilegious. We’ve all got to meet our maker one day.
If
you believe in that. Personally, I’m not sure I want to run the risk. No, I don’t want to be like them, Caitlin, I want to be
more
. And then came Arana – the curse she inflicted on your family opening up a whole new possibility.’

The ache in her chest intensified under his gaze – a gaze that caused her to question the rationality behind those stony eyes.

‘I’ve always been fascinated by this whole soul and shadow difference,’ he continued, ‘ever since our psychics first picked it up as a core difference between our species. Then, when they read your parents’ dead bodies and claimed that their souls had been removed and held
alive
in some other dimension, I have to admit I was rather excited.’

Her stomach clenched, a little spark of anger igniting. But she held it inside, even if not from her tone. ‘I’m glad one of us was.’

She needed to hear him out. She needed to hear everything he had to say. Everything that could explain the maniacal look in his eyes as he dared to utter such cruel words.

‘Whether you believe in faith or science, an afterlife or a dispersal of energy, the existence of the fourth species, what happened to your family, proved that soul removal can be
controlled.
More importantly, as I sit here looking at you, after what Kane did, I see the evidence that you can have your soul removed and
survive
on this plain. It was the link I was looking for, and here you are.’

Flashbacks of the monster that had killed her family, that had come after her, wrenched her gut. ‘You want to find a way to summon the fourth species?’

He laughed. ‘No, no, I’m not insane, dear girl. But I do want to know how Kane did it. Because I want to make use not of the Higher Order’s blood, but of what
we
have. Our bodies are weak, are our burdens, whereas our souls are our strength. A fact proven by the latter potentially outliving the former by centuries, even longer,
if
we can make it happen.’

‘You want to remove souls?’

‘I want to transfer them – just as Kane did for you. Imagine, the minute our bodies become weak or damaged, being able to transfer ourselves – every memory, every thought, every piece of knowledge – to a younger, fitter, healthier duplicate of ourselves.’

She frowned. ‘Clones?’

He nodded. ‘Clones. Clone after clone after clone until eventually we just fade into the ether – even avoiding the very concept of heaven and hell, should either exist. We have the science all worked out, Caitlin, but souls can’t be generated in a lab like bodies can. Yet what happened to you at Kane’s hands proved they
can
be transferred safely. Imagine being able to do that again and again and again. Imagine centuries of preserving the greatest minds of this globe.’

‘And not least the Global Council itself,’ she added, knowing exactly where he was going.

‘That too.’ He smiled again. ‘You,’ he added, leaning forward, his elbows on his casually splayed thighs, ‘are our walking miracle, Caitlin Parish. Kane is the key to that miracle. Who would have thought that he would be the one to show us how to save the human race once and for all?’

She stared at Sirius, at first unable to speak as the implications trickled through her mind. Trickles that became increasingly coagulated with unthinkable possibilities. ‘But this isn’t about saving the human race, is it, Dr Throme? The very system you have in place already shows us exactly how you would go about this.’

He leaned back in the chair again. ‘Obviously there would have to be some selection process,’ he said, with an indifferent flip of his hand. ‘This planet can only sustain so many human beings.’

She swallowed against her arid throat. ‘And you want me to get Kane to help with this insane idea?’

‘It’s either that or I give up. My dreams, my aspirations, my hopes.’

‘Then I suggest you do that, Dr Throme.’

He smiled. ‘You say that with such conviction.’ He leaned forwards again. ‘Tell me, does the conviction remain if I tell you that if I
do
give up those dreams, the third species are no longer of use. In fact, there are many who are looking for any excuse to return this world to how it was before.’

The blood rushed from her head, a subtle disassociation taking over. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning a mass cull, Caitlin. Meaning I send in the biggest, most powerful armies to wipe every single one of them out. Like rats under a house, we’ll cleanse Blackthorn and, of course, Lowtown, just to be sure. And every other locale across this globe will do exactly the same thing.’

She could barely breathe. He wasn’t just talking of war; he was talking of a Global Council-incited apocalypse. ‘You can’t do that!’

‘The chosen one, Caitlin. I only have to spread word that the prophesied chosen one has arisen and I will have every ounce of support I need from the residents of Summerton and Midtown and all their equivalents. I’ll make them believe what I
want
them to believe.’

‘And those humans caught in the crossfire – what are they? Collateral damage?’

‘A side effect of every war, Caitlin. I guess how many we lose is down to Kane and how long it takes him to mull things over. Because either he surrenders himself to avoid or this or I will turn every resident of Blackthorn and Lowtown against him until he does. One flick of a switch and I can cut off their water supplies, their electricity supplies, their food supplies. I can have the whole place on lockdown
and
I’ll tell them why. We’ll see how loyal they are to him then. Especially the cons.’ He sucked air through his teeth before tutting. ‘No, those cons aren’t going to like it at all.’

Despite the amber dawn glow, the room became unnervingly dark. ‘You’re insane.’

His gaze didn’t flinch. ‘You’d better fucking believe it, little girl. If you think I’m bluffing, you keep a close eye on those lycans. They’ll let Kane know I do
anything
but bluff.’

Her chest clenched. ‘What have the lycans got to do with this?’

‘Jask Tao’s not too happy about Kane letting you off the hook, is he? I saw the footage outside the courtroom that day. And as I can’t have any threat to Kane or you now either, I thought the lycans would be as perfect a place to start as any. It’ll add a little time pressure. After all, I can’t have Kane mulling for too long. Besides, those hounds had it coming. They should have got on the right side when they could have.’

‘What the hell have you done?’

‘Be a good messenger. Go to Kane. Persuade him to hand himself in, because if you fail, or if you utter one word of this to anyone, you will personally be responsible for the mass slaughter of thousands of third species, let alone humans, that you so reverently claim to protect. You tell Kane it’s D-Day for him and his kind. You tell him it starts tonight and the clock is already ticking. I want him, Caitlin – and this is one mission you’re
not
going to want to fail.’

Chapter Thirty-One

T
hey made their way along the street, the puddles mirrors to the flashing neon lights that shone from shop frontages and bars.

Jask looked far from amused, his grip on her hand echoing his mood.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Somewhere we can talk properly,’ he said. ‘In private.’

He turned down a dark, dank, graffiti-emblazoned side alley. Ahead, a single fly-riddled light nestled above a door marking the stone steps that led up to it.

They ascended the steps into a tight vestibule before emerging into a lobby.

The low-wattage lighting, the threadbare rug, the worn armchairs in front of the windows that stared out onto the grimy alley, let alone the female groans that emanated from the sofa facing the wall to her left, told her exactly what kind of establishment it was.

Even more disturbing was the swollen-faced middle-aged male who sat in the armchair facing the sofa, his eyes snapping from whatever he was watching to look directly at her.

Her skin crawled, despite the connection being brief, and she stepped forward to be as close to Jask as she could.

The male receptionist stood behind a glass window – a reasonable precaution, she decided. Few words were spoken between him and Jask. The receptionist slipped the key off the hook and slid it through the gap beneath the glass without any exchange of payment, just a quick glance in Sophia’s direction, his wrinkled eyes narrowed behind his thin-rimmed glasses.

‘And a bottle of your good stuff,’ Jask added.

The guy reached under the counter and unlocked and slid open the glass panel between them to hand Jask a label-less bottle.

Taking the bottle by the neck, Jask led Sophia to the stairs immediately to their left, Sophia grateful for their exit as the groans from the sofa became louder.

‘You know this place?’ she asked as they turned the hairpin corner to face more narrow stairs.

‘I’ve done some business here.’

She kept her hands away from the peeling wallpaper, off the handrail, despite the steep incline. ‘When you say business…?’

‘Things that needed sorting.’

She knew it was the best she was going to get.

They stepped into another hallway, passed three doors on the left before he led her up another set of stairs. The place smelt of mould, of damp, of decades of cigarette smoke and moral decay to the point it seemed to be the only thing holding the place together.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Jask led her to the end of the dim hallway. The only hint of air came from the breeze leaking through the cracked window ahead – and she knew it came to something when even Blackthorn air smelt fresh in comparison.

He unlocked the door to the left and indicated for her to enter first.

She stepped inside the dark room, lit only by the neon lights flashing through the window in the far top left-hand corner. Lights that encompassed the bed jammed into the corner and against the wall beneath it.

If the wattage of the single shadeless bulb above bared any relation to the power of the rest in the building, it was pointless putting it on, which is why she guessed Jask didn’t bother.

At the foot of the bed, to her left, was an open door into a tiny bathroom. A small kitchenette was tucked in the corner to her right. Further along the wall and nestled in the narrow gap between the wall and bed was a small wooden table with two mismatched wooden chairs either side.

As Jask closed and locked the door behind them, Sophia headed over to the bed. Kneeling on the pillows, she slid the sash window up to let in some much-needed air.

The thin, worn curtains fluttered in the breeze as she pushed them as far back as she could before sitting side-on to the window, her forearms partially on the headboard, partially on the sill.

Groups passed on the street below, piling in and out of the bars along the stretch. The lit windows in the buildings opposite displayed what could only be described as peep shows – whether unintentionally or intentionally. She had the feeling it was the latter.

She unstrapped and kicked off her heels and nestled in the corner of the bed, her back against the wall. ‘I guess you don’t find this place in the travel guide.’

‘Not exactly.’ He placed the bottle and a glass he’d retrieved from the kitchenette on the single bedside table. He quarter filled the tumbler. ‘But it’s useful if you need to be left alone.’ He handed the drink across to her.

‘What is it?’ she asked, accepting it.

‘It’s drinkable,’ he said. ‘And good for shock.’

‘I’m not in shock.’

The look in his eyes told her he begged to differ. He pulled the chair out from the table and sat down, resting his feet on the edge of the bed not far from hers.

At least it was a drink in her hand, so she wasn’t going to argue. One way or another, she needed it. She knocked it back in one before wincing, the liquid burning all the way down to the pit of her stomach.

‘Wow,’ she said, momentarily widening her eyes. ‘That
is
good stuff.’ She leaned forward to hand the empty glass back to him. ‘Fill her up, barman.’

Jask filled it another quarter. ‘Sip it slowly,’ he said. ‘I want you in your right mind.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘but that opportunity passed by years ago.’ But this time she did take a steadier mouthful, the vapours already leaking into her senses. ‘Are you not joining me?’

He shook his head before leaning back in the chair, his elbow on the table, his jaw on his knuckle. ‘Tell me what’s
really
going on, Phia.’

She took another mouthful before drawing her knees to her chest. She brushed her hair back from her forehead and glanced back out of the window before looking back at Jask to see his attention was well and truly fixed solely on her.

‘I was picked up by Marid on the way over to the Dehains’ club,’ she said. ‘I was going there to get my sister, Alisha.’

‘What makes you think she’s with Caleb?’

‘I saw evidence. Photos.’

‘Go on.’

‘We thought we’d killed him: Jake. We sent two honeytraps into the club that night – one for him, one for Caleb. Only Caleb didn’t take the bait. But Jake did. And I
know
he did. We had Trudy all rigged up with the equipment we’d been given. We’re talking proper, high-tech stuff – scalp patches, tiny inbuilt receivers monitoring her heart rate, her respiration, her temperature. We watched her die. From a van outside, we watched Jake drink her last drop – something no vampire survives, as you know. But he
did
survive. The boss woke me in the early hours of the following morning. She came with photo evidence of Jake alive and well and partying it up in his club. And there, in the evidence, was my sister partying with him.’ She knocked back another mouthful.

‘When you say
partying
, clearly not against her will?’

‘Clearly.’

‘So what’s the issue?’

‘The issue is he should have been dead. But he goes and recovers.’

‘Vampires don’t recover from dying blood.’

‘Not unless you have a powerful witch at your disposal.’

Jask frowned. ‘Your sister’s a witch too?’

‘Not Alisha, no.’ She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as she glanced back out of the window. ‘As far as I know, she’s a regular human.’ She needed to tell him. To get his help, she had to. She looked back at him. ‘Our older sister, Leila, on the other hand, appears to have been harbouring a secret for a long time. The serryn line jumps down the age group, Jask, not up.’

‘You’re telling me Leila’s serrynity jumped to you? How?’

She shrugged. ‘There’s only two ways – falling in love with a vampire and consummating that love, or suicide. Neither are probable as far as Leila’s concerned. But it seems I’m walking evidence to the contrary.’

‘Go on.’

‘Which is what got me thinking – what could have saved Jake? What could have cured that bad blood? What kind of witch is powerful enough to break all the lores of nature?’

‘A serryn.’

‘And not just a serryn, but a gifted interpreter underneath it all – an art that’s as academic as it is skilled. My sister knew her stuff – spells, concoctions, medicines. Even if she didn’t practise, she sure studied enough to pull it out of the bag if she needed to.’

‘So you think Leila came to Blackthorn. That she saved Jake’s life. But serryns don’t save vampires; they kill them.’

‘You think I don’t know that? But don’t you also think it’s too coincidental that I see pictures of Alisha in that very club, her arms wrapped around Jake, whilst I fail to contact her, whilst I fail to contact Leila?’

‘You tried?’

‘The night after Jake was saved – before Marid took me. I called at half four in the morning. Trust me, Leila would have been there and she would have answered. Somehow Alisha got Leila into Blackthorn. Somehow she persuaded her to save Jake. Or they were forced into doing it. Either way, I think Caleb’s not just after me because I work for The Alliance – I think there’s a chance he knows I’m a serryn too.’

‘But if you’re right, Alisha would have been signing your sister’s death warrant knowing what she is.’

‘I didn’t know. I had no idea. Why would she? My guess is Leila’s kept it secret from us both. But we both knew she was an interpreter – and something made Alisha spill that to the Dehains.’

‘You’re seriously telling me you didn’t have a clue about any of this?’

She shook her head.

‘How is that possible? Was she never active?’

‘Not that I know of. She never left Summerton except to go to Midtown. I don’t know whether she was avoiding temptation or was just scared.’

There was something in his eyes she couldn’t read. Something in his frown. ‘That must have taken quite some willpower.’

She exhaled tersely. ‘You don’t know my sister.’

‘Still, with what happened to your mother. It obviously evoked you into a vengeance tirade. Why not her?’

‘We deal with things differently.’

‘Like how you blame yourself, even though you were nothing more than a kid at the time.’

Sophia watched the rain sweeping horizontally past the window, the streets outside suddenly falling quiet except for the force of the storm. ‘I wouldn’t toe the line enough for Summerton school standards. Even as a six-year-old I was stroppy. They wanted my behaviour to improve and I couldn’t handle being told what to do. When they said they wanted me removed, that I’d have to be schooled in Midtown, my mother decided she wasn’t going to have that division between her daughters. So she made sure me and Leila went to the same school. Nine months later, she was coming home from Leila’s school performance when she was attacked.’

‘So you hold yourself responsible.’

She looked back at him, back into those calming eyes that watched her pensively. ‘She would never have been there if it wasn’t for me.’

‘She wouldn’t have been dead if it hadn’t been for the vampire that preyed on her.’

‘And it shouldn’t have had the opportunity in the first place.’

‘That’s quite the burden to carry, Phia.’

‘Deservedly so,’ she said, picking at something imaginary on her dress. She looked down at the covers at her feet as she dug her toes in deep. She knocked back another mouthful, finishing the contents. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘Now you know everything.’

When met only with his silence, his eyes downturned on the table, she reached forward for the bottle.

‘You’ve had enough,’ he said. His glance in her direction told her he meant it.

She had a feeling he was right. She placed her glass upside down beside the bottle and withdrew into the corner again, knees to her chest. A gang whistled and yelled outside. A strong breeze billowed through her hair.

‘Your turn,’ she said. ‘What really happened to your mate, Jask? Because I don’t believe you murdered her. You might have killed her, but I think it was an accident and for some reason you hold yourself responsible.’

The lights flashed on his skin, illuminating him in pink, red and amber before following the sequence again as his gaze remained unflinching. ‘You say that with such conviction.’

‘Because it’s what I believe.’

‘You don’t know me.’

‘I know honourable people don’t murder their mates. Was it like tonight, when you nearly lost it with me?’

‘What makes you think I’m honourable, Phia?’

‘I’ve been amongst your pack – I see the way they look at you, the way they talk about you, how they respond to you and respect you.
And because I’ve seen you keep making the honourable choice when you’ve every reason not to. Out on the wasteland, in the bathroom that first time, when I was goading you and Corbin, down in the cellars, in the alley earlier, let alone what happened less than half an hour ago. I know how badly they could have ended for me.’

He held her gaze, but only for a few seconds, before he rested his head back against the wall. ‘Well it wasn’t an accident, Phia – I
did
kill her, knowingly and willingly.’

* * *

Of all the times he wanted her to keep talking, she didn’t.

Phia stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, only the rain overflowing from the gutters breaking the silence.

He hadn’t spoken of it in as long as he could remember. He wasn’t sure why he was contemplating it. Why he should be considering sharing anything so intimate, so deeply personal – and with Phia of all people.

But from the troubled look in her eyes, the pensive furrow of her forehead, her unflinching gaze, it wasn’t a question motivated by power, one-upmanship or malice – she was interested in
him
.

And in the isolation of that room, of having seen her laid bare out in the alley, he wanted to do the same for her as much as for himself. He wanted her to not feel alone in her self-directed anger. He wanted her to know he understood.

More selfishly, he wanted her to delve into the deepest, darkest part of him just to see if that look in her eyes would still be the same when she came out the other side. Because, from the way she was looking at him then, her emotions for him were as mixed up as his for her.