Dire Straits (17 page)

‘That’s even if I survive this,’ I grunt.

‘Somehow I think you’re too stubborn to allow yourself not to make it through the turn. But,’ his face remains impassive, ‘ultimately it is your choice. If you’d rather have the jab, I can have someone come in here to administer it properly.’

My legs feel like jelly. Neither option is particularly desirable. The last thing I want is to feel ‘overly attached’ to him. But if I can sweat through the lunar month and become Sanguine…

‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Lets it do it your way.’

Montserrat inclines his head towards me. ‘As you wish.’ He extends his hand a little further. When I don’t move, exasperation fills his voice. ‘Bo, you’re going to need to come a bit closer.’

Shakily, I step forward. He smiles down at me. ‘You really are very short,’ he comments.

I scowl. ‘So?’

‘So nothing.’ His tone is mild. ‘If I can stoop down to kiss you, then I can certainly make it to your throat.’

‘Kiss?’ I half shriek.

‘I just meant that I can still do this, Bo. Nothing else.’ His eyes gleam. ‘Although I
will
bite even if you don’t.’

My entire spine is rigid with wariness, despite his amused reference to my faux-pas in his bedroom. So much for thinking that he’d not registered what I’d said.

He sighs. ‘It’ll go easier if you turn around.’ When I don’t immediately respond, he reaches out and brushes his thumb across my cheek. I flinch. ‘You can trust me.’

‘Said the spider to the fly,’ I mutter. However, I turn around so my back is to him.

I feel him step towards me until his entire body is warm against mine. He bends down until his breath is hot against the flushed skin of my neck. I feel his fingers gently pull away my hair and I stiffen involuntarily.

‘Relax,’ he whispers softly in my ear. Then his teeth graze my throat.

His tongue darts out and licks and I stop breathing. I can sense him shifting his weight behind me, one hand remaining at my head, fingers entwined in my hair to keep it back, and his other resting lightly on my hip. I feel more nervous than I’ve ever felt in my life.

‘Last chance to change your mind,’ he says.

‘I can’t,’ I begin, ‘I’ve already signed…’

I gasp as there’s a sharp nip of pain. His teeth sink into my flesh and I’m dimly aware of a rippling shudder running through his body behind me before a warm glow starts in my throat and begins to spread down my veins as he sucks. I lean against him, closing my eyes, while his fingers tighten their grip. My heart is thudding so loudly in my ears that I’m amazed Montserrat’s not deafened by it. There’s pain, but it’s not unpleasant and I can feel my toes tightening in an almost enjoyable response. I moan lightly.

His hand leaves my hip and moves upwards across my ribcage until it rests just under my breasts and pulls me tighter against him. Sparking pinpricks of light dance across my shuttered lids and I involuntarily reach behind and grab his body, my hands now gripping his hips. He makes an odd sound, almost like a purr and I can feel his fangs pushing deeper into my throat. My breath quickens.

Abruptly, and without warning, his mouth leaves my skin although his hard body remains in place. He removes his hand from my hair, letting it drop back into place, then shifts his arm upwards. He’s breathing as hard as I am.

‘Open your eyes, Bo.’

I do as he instructs. His exposed arm is now in front of my face and there’s a single trickle of blood travelling down his nut-brown skin from a small wound in his wrist.

‘You need to drink,’ he says, moving his wrist towards my hungry mouth.

Weakness attacks my legs and I’m sure I’d fall if he weren’t holding me. I clutch his arm and pull it closer, then begin to suck. Salty blood fills my mouth and my gag reflex automatically kicks in. I choke but he murmurs something in my ear and I relax and swallow the hot sticky liquid, mouthful after mouthful.

Just when I think I can’t take any more, he pulls his arm away and twists my body round. I look up into his dark, glittering eyes. His face is flushed red and he is staring at me. Then I’m overcome by a wave of dizziness and everything fades to black.

Chapter Sixteen: Truth and Lies

When I finally come to, I’m lying on a single bed in a tiny room. I try to sit up but the effort is too much. Nausea fills my stomach and I’m covered in sweat. At least I’m alone. I twist onto my side, panting with effort. There’s a small wooden table next to me with a jug and an empty glass.

My mouth is painfully dry and my lips are cracked and sore. Just how long have I been here? I reach for the jug but it’s just out of my grasp. Bugger – I’m going to have sit up after all. I curl my fingers round the mattress and pull my feet up, take a deep breath and push myself up onto my elbows. The room spins.

Gritting my teeth, I force myself upwards until I’m almost sitting. I turn my head too sharply and my stomach lurches in response. I breathe in through my mouth, until I manage to regain a little equilibrium. I’m still wearing the clothes I arrived in, although my leather jacket is missing. My arms are bare and covered in goosebumps. I rub them up and down and try to reach the jug again.

I misjudge the distance and fall onto the cold tiled floor. I grimace in pain, cursing my stupidity. The effort to get back up seems too great so I lie there, cold, shaking and very much in need of a drink.

The door to the room opens. From the angle I’m lying at, all I can see is a pair of shoes so shiny that I can see my reflection in them. There’s a loud tut, then arms reach down and pull me back onto the bed. I hear the sound of liquid being poured and a glass is placed in my hands. I raise it gingerly to my lips, sniffing first. Fortunately it is just water. I sip it carefully then look up. My benefactor is Ursus. He’s standing there, watching me with his arms crossed.

‘So,’ he says, ‘you made it then.’

‘I’m a vampire?’ I croak, with equal measures of dismay and relief.

He laughs humourlessly. ‘Not yet. For that you need to drink.’ He gestures down at the cup in my hand. ‘And I don’t mean water.’

‘Blood.’

He nods. ‘Would you like some now?’

Hell no. I shake my head then wish I hadn’t as the room starts to spin again. Ursus raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

‘Did everyone make it?’ I ask.

He shakes his head. ‘We lost three.’ For a second, his impassive mask wavers. I realise he’s angry about it and he goes up in my estimation. I feel a flicker of sorrow at the deaths but I quash it. Whoever they were, they knew what they were getting themselves in to. But I can’t help hoping that nervy Peter Allen wasn’t one of them.

Ursus points to the door. ‘When you feel ready, you’ll find a shower room two doors to the right. There is clean clothing. Let me know if you change your mind about the blood.’

‘Thanks, Ursus.’

He stares at me and I kick myself mentally. I know his name from overhearing him at The Steam Team; he has never introduced himself to any of us. He must know who I am and be wondering how I went from running from the vampires to joining them. I’m too shaky to think of any good answers right now, so I’m grateful that he does nothing more than purse his lips before opening the door.

I watch him go. Clearly, he is unaware of my real reasons for being here. I’m glad. It seems obvious that there are traitors at the heart of the Montserrat Family. It’s good that Michael doesn’t trust anyone; that will make my job easier if any of the culprits turn out to be men he thought he was close to.

I touch my neck where Michael drank but there’s nothing there – not even a scab. It throbs under my fingers when I press down, although I can’t be sure whether that’s a real sensation or I’m imagining it. I suppose my new healing powers will prevent any awkward questions about why I have a fresh wound when I was meant to be injected. To test my theory about healing, I reach up with both hands and prod at my nose. It doesn’t hurt. Maybe there are benefits to being a vampire after all.

I stand up when I feel strong enough. I wobble slightly but maintain my balance. I feel grubby; a hot shower is definitely in order to make me feel more human again. So to speak. I slowly edge my way towards the door. The exertion is draining and seems to take an age but I finally reach the shower room.

It’s a large communal area with cubicles lining either side. On one wall there are hooks, each one holding a midnight-blue jumpsuit. I count ten in total, meaning that, with three already dead and gone, none of my fellow recruits have yet emerged from their own private hell of turning.

When I lean forward, I see names printed on small labels above each hook. Both Nicky’s and Peter’s names are there and I exhale in relief that they are among the survivors. Without knowing anyone else’s name, it’s difficult to tell who else has made it. I’m fairly certain that two of the men and one woman are the unlucky ones though. Three seems a high number considering Ursus’s statistics. I wonder if more people would have backed out had they known in advance how many would die.

I pull off the jumpsuit under my own name and frown. It’s certainly not an outfit I’d have chosen for myself but I suppose it’ll have to do. I take it and my tired body into the nearest shower and strip off. There’s already a towel hanging on the back of the door.

The water is hot, scalding my skin. I grab the bar of soap and scrub myself from head to toe before washing my hair. Then I simply stand immobile under the torrent of water for a long time.

When I finally emerge from the cubicle, another shower is running. I’m curious to see who else has made it so I check the names on the hooks. The missing jumpsuit belongs to someone called Matt. If he spends as long in the shower as I did, I’ll be waiting for quite some time to see who he is, so I decide to leave him to it.

As I step into the corridor, I jump in surprise. Clipboard Lady is standing there. She points to a basket on the floor; I’m sure it wasn’t there when I went into the shower room.

‘You can leave your old clothes in there,’ she tells me.

I hug my clothes to my chest. I don’t want to give them up. Right now, they’re all I have to remind me of who I really am. Her eyes narrow, however, and I know I can’t appear too eager to hang on to my old life so I drop them in.

‘You’ve been fast.’

I stare at her, not sure what she means. She explains, ‘Turning. You’ve recovered in record time. I think only Lord Montserrat himself managed to wake up more quickly.’

It’s probably because I went through the turning process by being bitten rather than injected but I can’t help feeling a flicker of pride.

‘I’m not the only one,’ I tell her. ‘Someone called Matt is in there too.’

She nods. ‘Yes. He’s been fast too.’

I wait for her to pass further comment but she doesn’t say anything, instead just points down the hall. Rather than following her directions, I get to work.

‘I didn’t catch your name,’ I say.

She appraises me coolly. ‘Ria.’

I smile at her. ‘It’s good to meet you. I’m Bo.’

‘I know who you are.’ She doesn’t return my smile. ‘Why are you here?’

I try to ignore the flash of panic and keep my amiable expression firmly in place. ‘Why does anyone become a vampire? Long life, ready-made family, lots of perks. It’s win-win.’

She leans towards me. ‘Lord Montserrat put me in one of the teams that looked for you after the daemon was attacked. You looked like someone who was trying to avoid having anything to do with us.’

‘I thought you were trying to kill me.’

‘Who says we weren’t?’ Her voice is low; there’s definitely a veiled threat in it.

‘I was being framed for the daemon.’ I deliberately don’t say whether O’Shea is dead or alive; I have no way of knowing what information Michael Montserrat has disseminated to his followers. ‘Everyone I worked with was slaughtered.’

‘By a vampire. And yet you choose to become a vampire yourself.’

I stare her down. ‘I realised that if I was going to survive, I needed to join you. Not fight you. Michael, I mean Lord Montserrat, assured me that the Montserrat Family had nothing to do with any of that. The boss I loved is dead. I’ve got no one else.’ I shrug. ‘I had no reason left not to join.’

Her pupils narrow to slits. ‘Revenge is a good reason.’

I have to tread very carefully. ‘Oh, I’m angry,’ I say, with conviction. ‘But revenge is a tricky thing. Without knowing for sure who is ultimately,’ I stress this last word, ‘
responsible
, revenge becomes meaningless. I hope that by joining the power of the Montserrat Family, I can prevent other innocents from being hurt.’

I pray that my answer is ambiguous enough for the traitors to believe I’d be willing to join their side. Theoretically, if they believe I can be persuaded into thinking that Michael Montserrat and the Montserrat clan are responsible for destroying my life, then I might be approached. It’s a long shot but if the traitors are desperate enough it may just work. I’ll need to ensure that if I come face to face with Michael in a public setting, I show enough dislike of him to be believed. Considering what he told me about the side effects of my turning, I’m hoping that’s not going to be too difficult.

Ria glares at me. ‘You think you can stop innocents from being hurt? What do you think the rest of us have been doing?’

I’ve clearly hit a nerve. I’m not surprised. If she’s got no part in the new Family, then she’ll feel threatened by the idea that vampires are going around willy-nilly and killing whoever gets in their way. I don’t get a chance to respond, however, as the shower room door opens and we both turn round.

Matt is the muscle-bound man who stepped up first to the table. He appears surprised and not particularly pleased to see me. ‘You recovered first?’

I try not to grin at the incredulity in his voice. I need to ingratiate myself with everyone, not piss them off, so I shrug and look baffled. ‘Yeah, I don’t know how that happened. I feel like shit though. Maybe I should have slept for a bit longer.’

He seems slightly mollified and flexes his muscles. It must be some kind of unconscious reaction. ‘I feel fine,’ he informs me.

‘I wish I was that lucky.’ Ria is looking at me suspiciously so I smile at her. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide. I just want to fit in and make a new life for myself.’

She makes a noncommittal noise but I feel that I’ve pacified her – for now. I drop my head just a touch to appear subordinate to the pair of them and leave them to it. Keeping this front up is going to be bloody hard.

***

A few hours later, there are four of us. Matt and I spend the first hour sitting on comfortable sofas, shooting the breeze. Well, to be more accurate, he talks and I listen. He is full of bravado and wastes no time in telling me that he is going to ‘shake things up in the vampire world’. He asserts that he’ll be able to hold off drinking blood until the final day of the lunar month. I wish I shared his optimism.

We are joined by Nell, the woman who was so affronted by the idea that she might be summarily executed for stealing and, surprise, surprise, a now upright and walking Nicky. Her steps as she enters the room are shaky, but she gives us a tremulous smile and refuses to sit down. Half an hour later she is still standing, an expression of wonder on her face every time she glances down at her legs. I feel happy for her.

The door opens again and Ria comes in. She’s carrying a tray of crystal goblets filled with what looks like blood. I swallow hard, my eyes tracking her every movement as she places the tray down in front of us.

‘You are all welcome to partake,’ she says, gesturing to the glasses.

No one moves. A tiny, knowing smile curves at the edges of her mouth. ‘In that case, Lord Montserrat is ready for you.’

‘What about the others?’ Nell asks.

‘They’re not ready yet. I imagine they will join you tomorrow.’ She eyes us all. ‘Turning is harder for some than others. Remember, the process is not fully complete until you take your first drink.’

We all know she’s not referring to water. She walks out, holding open the door, so we trail after her. Matt is in the lead, then Nell, Nicky and me. We go back down the corridor, past the bedrooms and out to a vast sweeping staircase that even Scarlett O’Hara would be proud of. There’s a huge ornate mirror at the top. Matt stops and glances at his reflection.

‘I can still see myself!’ he exclaims. He touches his hair then, satisfied that it’s looking good, opens his mouth and examines his teeth.

Ria rolls her eyes and I grin at her. We share an amused glance before she remembers that she’s supposed to be suspicious of me. ‘We wouldn’t always look this good if we didn’t have reflections,’ she says, brusquely.

I realise she’s not boasting, merely telling the truth. And she’s right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a vampire who’s not perfectly turned out. My thoughts turn involuntarily to Michael and his elegant suit. Then I force him out of my mind. I run my tongue over my teeth and turn back to Ria. ‘Our fangs…’

‘Will start growing after your first drink.’

Matt continues to admire his reflection. ‘Mine are going to be huge.’

Nell nudges me. ‘You know what they say – big fangs, small…’ Matt frowns at her in the mirror ‘…feet,’ she finishes.

I smirk.

We follow Ria down the staircase and into an atrium. I realise with a jolt that it’s night time. Stars twinkle at us from far above the glass roof.