The Lair

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Mel

I do not know what bargain Sebastian struck with Sabrina, only that they spoke for a long time in privacy. Sebastian and I left a few hours after we had arrived. Sabrina herself escorted us to the gates of her compound. She gave me a motherly hug that almost felt benign, but she smiled cruelly as she pulled back. “I suppose it’s just as well, my dear. Enemies are so much more amusing than friends, non?”

Before I could respond, she darted back into the night and Sebastian ushered me into the driver’s seat. Again, I drove, since he was still worn thin from being on Sabrina’s territory. He merely told me to head east, so I drove toward the rising sun, unsure what my future would hold.

Sebastian slept for hours while I drove in silence, thinking of all I didn’t know about this new world. He wakes near dusk, hungry and strained.

“We just passed a town,” I tell him. “Amarillo, I think. I’m sure there will be Ticks there. Do you want me to go back, so you can hunt?”

“No,” he answers without even considering. “Let’s do something different this time.”

Dread tiptoes across my skin. I’ve had too much different. I would prefer routine.

“Circle back, but head just south of town. There’s a Farm in Canyon.”

“A Farm?” I ask stupidly. We have not yet hunted near a Farm.

“That makes you nervous?”

I shrug. Trying not to sound nervous, I say, “There will be many humans around.”

“You were much closer to far more humans last night. Your control can be trusted.”

“But is it smart?” I ask. Is it necessary?

But I don’t ask that aloud because I don’t want Sebastian to know that I’m afraid of being too near a Farm. Too near humans.

Yes, I was near humans last night at Sabrina’s but that was twelve hours of hunger ago. Besides, I’d been afraid of Sabrina and the rifles her guards held. Fear had restrained me. Since I don’t want to say any of this aloud, I ask Sebastian, “Why should we hunt near a Farm now, when we haven’t in the past?”

He gives a disinterested shrug. “Because I am hungry and tired. The Ticks who live near Farms are lazy. They’ll be easier to kill.”

I don’t question him, because his logic makes sense. Besides, he hasn’t once led me astray. He has berated me and pushed me. He has tested me and hurt me. But every trial has made me stronger. Every test has given me new focus. If I can’t trust his judgment, then what can I trust?

If he believes I’m ready to be near humans without losing control, then I believe him. If he is gearing up for a battle against Roberto and he believes I can help, then I will. I can be a force for good. I can turn the tide in this battle.

We park a few miles from the Farm and leave the car in the parking lot of a strip mall. Sebastian brings his Arkansas Toothpick, a wickedly sharp fourteen-inch dagger. He uses it to kill Ticks, neatly slicing off their heads before draining their blood. Before we leave the car, he pulls out another blade. It’s longer than his—about two feet long with a gently curving blade. Holding the blade on the flat of his palm, he extends the handle toward me.

“For me?”

“It’s a katana. Sabrina thought you might like it.”

“That’s . . . generous,” I say, automatically suspicious.

“Even doing as well as she is, she can see the benefit of thinning out the Ticks. Besides, I think she liked you.”

I shiver and I’m not sure if it’s trepidation at the thought of Sabrina’s fondness or if it’s excitement. The katana speaks to me. Murmuring my name. Almost singing to me in a way that no thing has done since I was turned. Everything sang to me when I was human. Now it’s only other vampires and Ticks. And this sword. In my palm it feels as if it was made for me. It is light and nimble and makes me feel like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, which my mother never let me watch. And now I’m the sleek assassin. For once, I feel powerful. And strong.

We run the Ticks to ground outside the Farm. The fences are silent and dark. I know there are people inside, because I can smell them, distantly. Behind the layer of ozone of the high-voltage fences. The fences smell like death and steel, but still I know why the Ticks can’t stay away. Also, there is the faint buzzing, which at first I think must be the thrum of electricity through the wires, but when I ask Sebastian he shakes his head.

“It’s the tracking chips.”

Each of the Greens inside the Farm has a chip implanted in his or her neck, which tracks their diet, their health, and their location. When we had first escaped from the Farm—back when I was human—Sebastian had said he thought the chips attracted the attention of the Ticks. I can see why he thought so. It’s a constant thrum, thrum, thrum in my ears. I can see why it would drive someone mad. The Ticks howl with rage when we corner them.

I kill them quickly, taking off their heads. I will drain them and feed later, just like Sebastian has taught me. Their muddied blood is an easy temptation to resist. Like eating catfish. It’s not bad if you don’t think about the mud and the muck the fish lived in all their lives. About the excrement they ate to survive.

I’m still waiting to feed when Sebastian calls my name. The wind shifts and I smell it at the same time. We are not alone out here.

Before I can stop myself, I bound over the bodies of the Ticks and run. My mind is screaming. No! The other way! You know what’s there! Why are you going there?

I round the corner of the fence and stop cold. Despite my hunger. My hunger that is not a hunger but a bone-deep, craven need. A compulsion. Despite that, I stop when I see them.

Greens. And they are almost green in the moonlight, unnaturally pale and gaunt. There are three of them. Sebastian uses the tip of his Toothpick to break open the locks that keep them chained beside the fence. The two boys are free first and they bolt like frightened deer but with none of the grace. The girl, he grabs by the scruf of the neck.

“Come here,” he orders.

My mind and body war. I am less than ten feet away before my mind wins.

Sebastian has a hard grip on her shoulder, holding her in place. She cringes under the weight of his hands, too terrified to fight him.

“Please,” she begs, so softly the register of her voice is almost inaudible over the delicious beat of her heart.

He uses the tip of his Toothpick to flick her hair off her shoulder. To me, he says, “You’ve hunted vermin long enough. You deserve a real meal.”

My mind stumbles as clumsy as those Greens thrashing away in the darkness. He has told me over and over again that I can’t eat from a Tick. I can’t eat from a human. And yet he is offering one to me. I have learned to obey his every order, but which command do I follow—the one to abstain or the one to indulge?

I take another step closer. Then I hesitate. My mind catches and falls over itself.

I knew I was a monster, but until now I didn’t know how monstrous I was. I question his orders before I question whether or not I should eat. I think of him before I think of my own morals. He has become my compass. Have I lost true north forever?

I take a step back. I cannot let him control me. Not if I want to be me. To be Mel.

I am shaking my head, backing away. Not just one step, but several.

“No!” he barks. “You can’t deny your true nature. You want to drink her blood. You will drink her blood.”

His words finally pierce her shock. Her gaze darts to mine as terror grips her. She claws at his hand, trying to wrench herself free, but he simply lifts her up into the air so her feet kick uselessly. He is both right and wrong. I will not give in. I cannot lose so much of myself. Despite what he said back at Sabrina’s compound, I am determined to resist. Even if the rebellion succeeds, even if there are someday no more Ticks, I still won’t feed on humans. I cannot.

“No,” I say again, barely daring to say it aloud. I am sure he will retaliate. I am sure he will pounce on me and make me submit to his will again, with teeth and force.

Instead, he stalks toward me, dragging the Green behind him. He holds her in one hand and sheathes his dagger in order to grab me with the other. He gives me a shake.

“Look at her,” he orders. “What do you see?”

I make myself look. Not only because he orders it but because it’s impossible not to look. At first all I see is the lovely webbing of blue and red veins, brilliant against her fragile skin. Calling to me.

But then I force myself to look beyond her blood. She is young. Tender. Long, dark hair. High cheekbones. Eyes so frightened, she must be in shock. Her heart is beating so hard against her skin, I’m amazed it doesn’t burst right from her chest.

Suddenly, she isn’t food. She is fear. She is me. The me I was just a few weeks ago. The me I was my whole life.

My stomach turns. I am no longer hungry.

I look at Sebastian. Was this what he wanted me to realize? Was this what he wanted me to see? I am as shocked by his behavior as I am by my own. By his own unexpected display of humanity. He seems so cold and heartless, but he isn’t.

All the anger and resentment I’ve felt melts away. He is not my enemy. He is my mentor. My friend.

But when I meet his gaze, I don’t see that spark of humanity. I see brutal cruelty.

“No,” he says softly. “Look again. You made yourself see her as a girl. A living human. But look again.”

I do. This time I see both the blood and the girl. I see the fear and the food.

“She is not you,” he murmurs, his words as seductive as they are chilling. “She is not your sister. Not your friend. She is your food. The sooner you acknowledge that, the better.” He jerks her forward until she is right under my nose. I breathe through my mouth to make her less appealing, but I can feel her scent on the roof of my mouth. “She is veal. She is meat. She is the best steak you’ve ever eaten. She is a Kobe burger from the best restaurant. She is the hot dog from that childhood backyard barbecue. Your favorite ice cream melting on your tongue, an icy Popsicle on a scorching day. That last perfect day of summer. The last time your family was all together. She is the last meal you will ever eat. Once you taste her, all of those other flavors will pale in comparison. You will never want anything else again.”

I try to resist. I rub my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to scrub away the scent of her blood. I make myself look at her eyes. To see her pain. Her fear. Her anguish. I even remind myself of what Sebastian once said, back when I was still human. That those particular human emotions make the blood bitter. That she will not be as delicious as he has made her sound. She will be bitter with terror.

Despite that, when I look in her eyes, all I see are the tiny blood veins clutching her irises in their grasp. All I see is that ephemeral pulse against the white.

I make myself close my eyes. I blot out the reality of this girl and imagine she is Lily. She is my sister. My mirror image.

Slowly, torturously, I move away. I pull myself from his grasp. He holds tight, but he is holding her and me. I slam my arms down on his hand and he lets go.

“No!” he barks again and I find myself frozen by his words. “You will drain her. You will kill her. If not her, then someone else like her. You are trying too hard to think like a human. You are still denying who you are, but someday you will snap and you will kill.”

“I didn’t at Sabrina’s. I was strong enough to resist then. You don’t know that I won’t always be this strong. Just because you weakened and gave in to your baser instincts. That doesn’t mean I will.”

He doesn’t even flinch at the insult. “Back at Sabrina’s you’d fed recently. You weren’t hungry. Besides, you were too frightened of Sabrina. You have to train yourself. You have to learn to keep your instincts in check. You do that by giving in now.”

“I will not do this.”

“You will. The question is, who do you want your first kill to be? This girl? Or some other girl? Lily, maybe? Or even Carter. Which would be worse for her? Dying or losing that whelp of a boy she adores? Which would be worse for you?”

I look at the girl again, trying to make myself see the girl and not the blood.

“Please,” she whimpers, her thrasing still now. “Let me go.”

I back away a step. “No,” I say, shaking my head.

“You will drain her,” Sebastian repeats.

I am sure he is wrong. I am sure I can resist. As delicious as she smells, I am sure I will not devour her. Just as I am sure I would never devour my sister.

But he does the unthinkable. He draws his dagger and slices open her arm from shoulder to elbow. A long, curvy slice down her bicep. Her blood leaps through her skin and she screams in pain.

I lunge for her, managing—just barely—to dart out of the way at the last instant. I follow my body’s momentum. I run. I flee from Sebastian and the girl and all that delicious blood seeping onto the ground. The air is thick with it. I taste her on every breath. I feel her death creeping into my nostrils. Through the pores of my skin.

Even as I run, I fear it will not be far enough or fast enough. It will never be enough. Because I can’t run from my own gut. I will never outrun my hunger. I am not fast enough to outrun him.

And I am right.

He is on me before I even reach the woods. He knocks me to the ground only to pick me up again. He throws me over his shoulder and carries me back to her. She is scrambling away, clutching at her arm. Her movements are slow and jerky, like stop-motion animation.

He thrusts me at her and we both tumble to the ground. I try to use the movement to roll right off her, but her blood covers her body. It’s on my hands. And before I can stop myself, it’s in my mouth. Just a drop. Then a gulp. A pint. A gallon. I can’t stop. I don’t want to. My whole body sings with the delight. Feeding on her is rapturous. Intoxicating.

I drink her fear and it is heady on my tongue. It is bitter, but not unpalatable. Like Granny’s mustard greens and vinegar. Like Swiss cheese drizzled on broccoli. Her blood is soul food.

It nourishes me. Feeding from her with Sebastian, I am more powerful than I have ever been. I am more powerful than a mountain lion. Deadlier than an orca. A predator like no other on earth. And my whole body sings with the joy of it. More than that, my world sings. The music, which I missed so sorely, so achingly, vibrates in the air around me.

Sebastian and I are one in our hunger. It is a frenzy of feeding by immersion, to satiation and completion. To a state of total insentience.

When I am myself again, when the euphoria fades and the endorphins peter out, when the reality returns, I am full as I have never been before, but my soul is empty. What is left of my clothes is bloodied and tattered. I am unclean and impure. The girl is not the only human who died here, for I am gone as surely as she is.

I back away from her corpse. She lays on the ground, her body all awkward angles. Her dead eyes stare at the heavens, unseeing. But I see. I see her body sprinkled with bloody wounds. I am terrified by myself. But the blood that has been spilled tonight is everywhere. Yet, it is not until I see Sebastian unsheathing my own katana and handing it over to me, that I understand the last violation I must commit. I have killed this girl. Now I must guarantee she remains dead.

It is done with one clean slice. Then I clean the blade on the grass and return to the bodies of the Ticks and do the same to them, making sure her blood does not mingle with theirs. I don’t know if this is respect for the dead or protection of the living. My venom is in her blood. Perhaps they could regenerate as vampires. Perhaps I am merely being superstitious.

It is nearly dawn and when I see Sebastian watching me, I take off, bolting for the tree line and running through the woods. I don’t care if he follows me. I don’t even care if he catches me. I don’t know what I’m looking for until I find a stream with icy water. Even that doesn’t wash away all the blood. I scrub with sand and dirt until the last traces of it are gone. And still I am not clean.

Sebastian finds me. He stands on the bank of the stream and watches. If I didn’t know better, I might imagine there is regret on his face. But it is the distance and the play of light that make it seem so. Vampires regret nothing.

Only my ire exceeds my disgust.

“Why?” I scream.

He watches for a moment, stoic and silent. “Why what?”

“Why did you make me do that? Why?”

“I didn’t make you do that. You were made to do it.”

But I am in no mood for his irritating sophistries. “Were you trying to prove how weak I am?”

He cocks his head, looking baffled for a moment. “How weak you are? If I thought you were weak, I would have left you with Sabrina. I would not have given you the choice to come with me at all. No, my dear, of course not. I didn’t prove you are weak.” He stalks down the bank until he is standing before me. I shiver in the cold, but have no clothes to hide beneath. “She was weak. She was vulnerable and defenseless. Yet you resisted. She was bleeding and you resisted. It was not until her blood was in your mouth that you broke. I didn’t do this to show you how weak you are. I did it to show you how strong you are. You know that you can be around a human without feeding and killing. Even one who is defenseless. Now you know where your breaking point is. Some vampires are hundreds of years old before they know that. Now you know yourself. Knowledge is strength. And you will need every ounce of your strength.”

“So you keep saying. But what exactly am I supposed to use this strength for? To hunt Ticks? To kill other monsters? Because I was doing that before now.”

“The Ticks are not the monsters I’ve been priming you to kill. You’re going to kill Bob.”

“You’re crazy.” I bark with laughter. Or is it hysteria? Or Posttraumatic Eating Disorder?

“No,” he says softly. His normal sneer is completely gone. There is no bitter derision. No barely contained amusement. “I am not joking. I am not crazy. He has to be stopped, and you are the only one who can do it. No one but a vampire is strong enough. You are the only vampire young enough to walk onto his compound unnoticed. It must be you.”

My legs wobble beneath me. My mind races back through the past weeks and I know he is right. I have known all along that he wanted revenge against Roberto. I have even agreed to help him bring down Roberto. And he was cunning enough to let me think that was my own decision.

I know this is the real reason he made me. Not because Carter and Lily asked him to do it, but because it would help him kill Roberto. I was always part of his plan to kill Roberto.

“I will not be your puppet.”

“You will. Because your sister has been infected with the Tick virus.”

Shock roars through me and my knees go out from under me. No! Not Lily!

“You know what this means,” Sebastian says softly. “She is your twin. She, too, has the regenerative gene. She will not merely die from this infection. She will become a Tick.”

Instantly I think of the Ticks I’ve killed. Of their dumb eyes and their flaccid, drooling mouths. Of their rough hands. Hands that break ribs and grab hearts.

This is what Lily will become. Lily, who has always been quick-witted and strong-willed. Lily, who was always my lode stone—before Sebastian, that is. How can this be? How can I let this be? My own death would be preferable. If my own death were even possible.

Sebastian grabs me and pulls me back to my feet. His touch is gentle but firm. “Listen to me. Wailing in grief will not save your sister.”

I blink in surprise, because I realize I have been wailing, making that low keening noise I’ve always made when I’m distressed.

“Roberto has the cure. She and Carter are on their way to his compound right now. Once they are there, I am sure he will not let them leave. As long as Roberto is alive, his abductura will guarantee they don’t even want to leave. Which means if you ever want to see your sister again, you have to go there and kill him.”

Hope bursts through me—there is a cure! Lily may yet be saved. And then hot on its heels is another realization. Sebastian is right. Of course I will go to Roberto’s compound. I will do it to save my sister. If I need to, I will kill Roberto. I will probably even enjoy doing it. The bastard who has destroyed civilization as we know it deserves to die. If I’m the only one who can do it, then I will do it.

But the personal cost will be huge.

This is why Sebastian made me feed from this girl. So that I will never forget what I’m capable of. I have taken a life, but it was the by-product of my hunger. It wasn’t deliberate or planned out. It was not something I intended.

Killing Roberto is different. It will be premeditated. Calculated. Roberto will have surrounded himself with his human kine as well. And some of them may die when I go to rescue my sister. To pull this off, I must be smart and strong. I must be as manipulative and cunning as Sebastian has always been. I return to the girl’s body and perform one last violation. This time when I bring the katana to her neck, I don’t even flinch.

Sebastian turned me into a vampire eight weeks ago, but tonight he turned me into a monster.