42nd & Lex (32 page)

Nothing. 

“Lucan!” I shout. “Where are you? Are you okay?”
I try to disguise the fear in my voice with concern for his wellbeing. I know
he can’t hear my thoughts in here, which is good because they are filled with
images of splattered blood and broken souls. If he’s told me to run, it’s
because he can’t trust himself to keep his promise not to hurt me. Still, I’m
worried about him and I’m not sure how much longer I can stand to be locked in
this tiny ass elevator. I call out again, “It’s not that bad. Just a little cut.
Bring me the Band-Aids and peroxide and I’ll clean it up.”

Lucan’s face appears in the round window of
the outer door. His eyes are red and he is sweating. “Abri, don’t open the
door. I can’t trust myself right now. I was hoping Zaid would make it here
before you came home. I need to feed …er, eat, badly and I can’t be trusted,” he
says, sadness overwhelming his face. “I would never intentionally put you in
danger, you know that right?” The words are a little lispy from his overly
extended fangs. They reach below his lower lip and he struggles to keep them
concealed. 

“Sure, Lucan. I understand. But what
happened? You were okay this morning when I left.” I check the locks again. The
stereo is now blasting something with a lot of bass and I wish Lucan would turn
it down.

“Zaid texted me about Mark’s hotel this
morning and I went over to the Essex House to investigate. I had to wait a few
hours but I caught Serge as he was coming out of their room. I lost some blood,
but he lost more. I headed back here and called Zaid to bring me some blood but
his phone was off. Apparently he and Amelia were taking in a matinee.”

“Oh Lucan!” I exclaim. “Were you hurt bad?”

“Nothing that hasn’t healed itself already,
but Serge will be a little worse for wear for a few days. Mark wasn’t with him.”
He is absent-mindedly running his tongue over his elongated fangs. 

Ordinarily, his fangs were a turn on, but I had
never seen them in direct response to wanting my blood before, especially given
how anti-blood Lucan was with me. “Tell me Zaid is on his way.”

“Aye. He’s should be here any minute. I’m so
sorry. I should have called, told you to stay away.” Lucan steps back from the
window and I lose sight of him. I try to peek out of the tiny window on my
tiptoes, but I’m too short to get much of a view.

“It’s okay. Lucan, where are you going?” I
call out. This time I am unsuccessful in masking my panic. “I can’t see you.”
The stereo quiets, answering my question. The sudden silence reverberates
through the tiny elevator car and all I can hear is my breathing.

“I'm here. I just caught a draft coming out
of the elevator. I can smell you which is not a good idea right now.”

“Oh.” I move away from the door. “I think
from now on we should keep a supply of blood in the house. For emergencies, you
know. Just until we complete the ceremony and then you can use mine.”

I expect immediate protest to my suggestion
but he doesn’t say anything. Curious, I move back to the window just as he slumps
down against a pillar across from the elevator, resting his arms on his bent
knees. “I'm sorry, Abri. I’m sorry I'm such a monster.”

“Lucan, no. You’re not a monster. It will be
okay. Zaid will be here soon and it’ll all be okay,” I soothe. I mean every
word. It is not as if he has a choice in being this way. His reaction the other
night in the wine cellar proves he doesn’t want my blood. I try to find an
example of new relationship hiccups on par with this situation to prove it’s
something we can get past but I fail. This is most definitely a problem unique
to vampires and humans. “We’ll get through this.”

He doesn’t answer, just hangs his head. We sit
in silence for a few minutes. For the first time I wish Lucan could hear my
thoughts, just so he will know I mean what I’ve said. Just as I am about to ask
Lucan again if he’s is all right the elevator begins to shake violently. 

I grab the bars of the iron grate and try
not to freak out. The threat of Lucan’s hunger is the only thing keeping me
inside. “Lucan, what is that?” I scream.

Before he can answer, the door adjacent to
the stairwell bursts open and Zaid flies through with a black flask in hand. “I'm
sorry brother; I should not have ignored your calls. I came as soon as I could.”

He hands Lucan the flask. Lucan rips the lid
off. I turn away as he lifts it to his lips. Reflexively, I gag thinking about
what is to come next. “Oh shit! Abri, you’re here. I smell blood. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Zaid. I’m fine. It’s just a little
cut. I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible though,” I call through
the door. “You let me know when it’s okay.”

“I’m fine, love. Please come out… if you
want,” Lucan answers. “I’m done.”

No need to tell me twice. I throw back the
lock and fling open the grate and the wooden door. “It’s going to be a while
before I go back in there,” I exclaim. “An elevator is the last place I need to
call a panic room.”

Lucan embraces me and I can smell the
metallic tang of blood. I try to hold my breath but he feels me tense up and
lets go. “I'm so sorry, love. I will never let that happen again. I should have
gone straight to the Enclave but I was bloody and couldn’t risk the Council
seeing me. I don’t have permission to use deadly force yet.”

“I'm sure I'm going to have to say this a
few more times, but it’s really okay. I know you didn’t want to hurt me or
anything—”

Lucan cuts me off. “No, but I could have. Even
if you hadn’t cut your foot, I could have hurt you. Wanting to wouldn’t really
have played into the equation either. I can’t control the blood lust when I get
that low. I haven’t let myself get that way in a long, long time.” Lucan’s
thoughts seem to drift to a distant, unpleasant memory. 

“Speaking of your foot, Mitra, we should get
that taken care of,” Zaid interjects. “In spite of what Lucan’s willpower wants
to believe, he’s not entirely out of the woods yet. That blood will take a few
minutes to kick in.”

Lucan shoots Zaid a look that says he’s
right but not happy about it and goes to find his first aid kit. I hobble over
to one of the dining room chairs to take off my shoe and sock. It is a deep cut
but not enough to need stitches. Lucan lets Zaid tend to it while he paces back
and forth by the stairs, ready to make a quick exit if necessary. He is still
clutching the black flask even though it’s empty.   

“Did Zaid tell you I won in court today?” I
call out to Lucan. “Sarah gets to keep the apartment. I don’t think Hicks was
very pleased either.”

Lucan stops pacing to look at me. “What if
I’d tasted your blood today, Abri? What if I’d ruined my chances…”

“Well, it didn’t happen. No use in worrying
over it.”

“Agreed,” Zaid says as he finishes putting
the bandage on my foot. “Not that I don’t think you shouldn’t complete it as
soon as possible. I just think we should be glad we dodged a major bullet today.”

Lucan glares at Zaid and then me. His eyes
turn almost black. “You think I could go through with it now?” he yells. “There
is no way. What if I killed her? Abri, I'm never going to forget how badly I
wanted to take your blood tonight, how I knew I wouldn’t want to stop.”

“Wait a minute, not going through with the
ceremony? Lucan, that’s ridiculous.”

“You don’t know how close you came to death
tonight. How very close,” he replies, softer this time.

“And I probably come close every time I use
a Manhattan subway or step off a curb down there, but there is no use worrying
about it every morning. Otherwise I’d never leave my bed,” I spit back. “I
completely understand the seriousness of the situation Lucan, but I can’t spend
the rest of my life worrying if you’re going to kill me or not. Hell, I can’t
even spend it worrying if Serge’s going to take another crack at it. Not to
mention, didn’t you tell me that one of the benefits to being Sodali is being invincible
to a vampire attack? You’re a vampire; he’s a vampire. Ceremony performed. Problem
solved.”

Zaid tries to cover his laugh and fails. “Brother,
I seriously love this woman. She’s the antithesis of you. For all your careful
worry and planning, she’s ready to go balls to the wall, damn the torpedoes,
and any other euphemism you Americans can think of. She’s right you know, the
bond will keep her safe from you and Serge alike.” He laughs some more. “I love
it. Good for you, Mitra. Shake his world up a bit, he needs it.”

Lucan is not amused in the slightest but he has
calmed down enough to release his death grip on the flask. It falls with a
hollow clang to the marble floor.

“I just worry for you. You are breakable
compared to the other members of this happy little saga, so very fragile.” There
is no anger in his voice, only a resolved sadness.  

“Enough of about me and my mortality,” I order.
I put my shoe back on and toss the sock in the kitchen trashcan hoping that will
mask the smell of blood. “What happened with Serge?”

“We fought. He certainly has it in his head
for you, fucking bastard. He admitted to creating Mark. He’s proud of it in a
sick way, even though he only got it half right. I wanted to kill him but I
couldn’t. As Indagator for the Council, I need their permission. Even though he
attacked you. I plan to seek it out immediately now that I have proof he’s Mark’s
creator.”

“Did you at least hurt him real bad?” I ask,
hoping the Essex House cleaning staff had a royal mess to clean up and charge
to Mark’s room.

“Aye. I got him pretty good. He was mostly
recovered from the other night, but I was able to cripple him again.” Lucan is being
vague so it must be bad.

“What did you do?” I ask, wanting to know
and yet not wanting the visual.

Lucan stays silent. I look to Zaid, who I
know won’t be able to resist telling me something bloody and disgusting.

“Let’s just say he won’t be giving anyone a
high five anytime soon,” Zaid interjects and then peels off into another round
of laughter.

Lucan gives him another perturbed look. Zaid
is not one to hold back on the details, especially the bloody, gory ones, so I
focus my interrogation on him. “What does that mean?”

Lucan mumbles something to Zaid that I can’t
understand. Zaid throws his hands up in surrender. “You know that our bodies
regenerate or heal themselves back to however they were at the time we were
turned, right?” Lucan asks.

“Basically like all the movies and stuff?”

“Yeah, well, if you—” he stops.

“If you cut something off it will grow back,”
Zaid finishes. “Unless you pour salt on it or burn it.”

“What did you cut off?” It probably wasn’t
exactly what I would have cut off, if I had been doing the cutting. Lucan hears
that thought and winces. 

“Hand,” Lucan says. “Right hand. Such
thoughts, Abri.”

“Cut off? More like he rip—” Zaid stops
himself. “Anyways, it’s going to grow back, just takes a while. Too bad no one
had ordered room service or there might have been a salt shaker lying around.”

“And he’s going to be über pissed about it
too, or didn’t you think about that? What am I going to do, be stuck under lock
and key until you get permission to off his ass? If you can even find him again.
I’d have damn sure done more than just piss him off, Council or no Council.
Fucking bastard has probably gone into hiding now and we’ll never find him.” I am
yelling now.

“That’s not all,” Lucan adds. “Know that violence
goes against my very nature, Abri. Both as a vampire and as a human, but I
needed to slow him down until the Council meets again and I can gain permission
to end his existence. I hated not being able to kill him as much as you do. This
is one place where our laws differ from human laws, however. Deadly force must
be authorized by the Council if there’s an investigation going on. Even after
all he’s done to you and to Mark.”

“Well,” I huff. “Spit it out. What else did
you do?” Zaid attempts to stifle a laugh again. Lucan and I both shoot him a
dirty look.

“What?” he replies. “I never get into this
much action anymore. It’s nice.” Zaid had been a trained killer and tracker,
even before becoming a vampire, working as a mercenary on North African trade
routes. The gory details were business as usual for him. “Oh all right, I’ll
tell her. I just wish I’d been there to do it myself. Damn Broadway shows Amelia
drags me to every time we’re within five hundred miles of New York… Anyway, Lucan
removed his eyes. They’ll grow back though like the hand. Bastard.” He spits
out the last word.

“I’m going to be sick,” I whisper just
before I pass out.

Mark returned to the Essex House around seven
o’clock that evening. He Serge would be at work by now and he’d be alone. He’d
spent the afternoon at work trying to focus on a new project rather than Sarah.
It was amazing that he kept the job in spite of his resent disabilities and a
rather undocumented leave of absence. His employer either hadn’t noticed or was
so in debt to Mark’s family for some reason or another that he couldn’t very
well fire him. Either way, work was a good distraction from his life now that
he was able to concentrate again.

Mark slid the cardkey into the lock and
opened the door. The smell of blood hit him in the face like a train, making
his fangs run out and the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Fuck. Mark
thought of the maid. How stupid was Serge? Didn’t he understand they’d have to
clean up the mess and deal with the cops when they came asking. Her supply cart
was no longer standing outside the bathroom; so maybe Serge had been at least smart
enough to destroy that piece of evidence.

“Serge, what the fuck did you do you stupid
bastard?” Mark called out, not wanting to go inside and risk further connecting
himself to the murder. “So help me if you killed someone in here… I am so
fucking screwed.”