Blood Hunt (10 page)

“
Hey, buddy, you okay?” the cabbie asked.

Oh, God. The cabbie smelled of blood, too, though with the reek of sweat and cigar nearly overwhelming it. The combination sent waves of nausea through him. “I’m fine.”

The ride home seemed interminable. Keeping the cab waiting, he unlocked the door with his hidden spare key and changed clothes. A sweater with a turtleneck reaching almost to his ears hid the bandage on his throat.

He went to the gun safe for the Charter Undercover revolver he liked carrying off-duty and strapped the .38 to his ankle, then dropped the extra set of car keys, his ATM card, and cash from his desk drawer into the pocket of a sport jacket. He had to endure another ride in the cab to an ATM, then to the lot where he parked the ZX.

It was with relief that he paid off the cabbie, adding a twenty for him and tucking a couple of twenties into the orderly’s clothes. “See that these reach an orderly named Pechanec at General will you?”

Then he was free, on his own. He started the car. But he hesitated before backing out of the parking slot. Where did he go now? “On his own” it occurred to him, this time meant alone...very, very alone.

3

Garreth drove blindly, not caring where he went. Some place would feel right, and there he would stop, and think. Rational answers he had overlooked before would become apparent. Then perhaps he could make the terrified child within him realize there was nothing to run from, nothing to be frightened of.

Eventually he found himself in a deserted parking lot, but it was with shock that he looked up and recognized Mount Davidson. The white cross atop the hill loomed above him, his strange new night vision seeing it luminous with icy fire against the night sky. Relief and triumph followed surprise. This proved his imaginings false. How could he possibly have come to a place like this if he had...changed.

Climbing out of the car, he made his way up to the cross. No lightning struck him. No terrible agony engulfed him. If anything, each step made him feel better. Sitting on the ground at the base brought sheer relief, all the aches of the past several days draining away. Garreth stretched out full length and buried his face in the grass. The earth felt delicious, so cool, so clean and sweet-smelling. Funny. He had never liked sleeping on the ground as a kid on scouting camp-outs, but now it felt better than any bed, certainly better than that torture rack at the hospital. What a joy it would be to just to continue lying here, to pull the earth over him and —

He sat bolt upright, shaking, horror and gut-wrenching fear flooding back.
What the hell are you thinking, man
! He really was going wacko. He had better take himself back to the hospital before his delusions had him jumping some unsuspecting jogger. But Garreth could not make himself move, even though his presence defiled the hill. The earth drew him. It even soothed the thirst growing more ravenous by the hour.

The sun, he decided. He would wait for the sun. If nothing happened when it rose, there was nothing wrong with him except that he had gone bananas and needed a room at the funny farm. And if — well, it would be a clean end with no one having to know what a foul, damned thing he had become.

Garreth crossed his legs, folded his hands in his lap, and waited. Eventually the sky lightened. His heart pounded. Feeling it, he scolded himself.
Don’t be a fool. Nothing’s going to happen
. But his heart continued to slam against the wall of his chest while the sky grew brighter. Pulses throbbed in his aching, burning throat, in his arms, legs, temples.

The upper rim of the sun appeared over the horizon. Garreth braced himself. A beam of light lanced westward to the great white cross above him. He fought an urge to bury his face in his hands and made himself lift his chin to meet the sun.

It brought no agony, no searing dissolution. The light burned through his eyes, however, turning the throb in his temples to a pounding headache. A great weight pressed down on him, draining his strength, dragging at his limbs. The earth beckoned to him, called him to the sweet coolness that would shut out this miserable, blinding, exhausting sun —

“
No!” He lurched to his feet. “Damn you!” he shouted at the sun. “Kill me! You’re supposed to kill me. Please! I won’t be...this...what Lane is!” He screamed into the gold and pink sky of dawn. “No! No!
NO
!”

Screamed in fury and despair, over and over and over.

Garreth did not recall running down Mount Davidson or fishing trooper glasses from the glove compartment of the car and gunning the ZX out of the parking lot, but he found himself driving again, with mirror lenses hiding the eyes of his image in the rearview mirror. Driving where, though? He slowed down, groping for orientation. And slowed still more as a patrol car passed him going the other direction. He carried no driver’s license; that sat in the Property Room along with the rest of his billfold contents, state’s exhibits.

A street sign finally told him where he was. The Sunset district. His reflexes were taking him to Harry and Lien’s place...to Lien, who had kept him sane the last time his life crashed down around him.

Garreth parked the car around the corner at the end of the block Harry did not pass on the way to work and climbed over the fences separating the yards behind the neighborhood houses until he reached the Takananda’s. There he sat down behind the big oak tree shading the flag-stoned patio and settled against the trunk to wait.

From inside the house came the sounds of morning: a shrill electronic beeping of the alarm clock, running water, the murmur of voices. The telephone rang. Harry’s voice rose. Moments later the front door slammed and the motor of the car roared to life. Tires squealed around the corner at the far end of the block.

Garreth pushed to his feet and came around the tree onto the patio.

Lien saw him from the kitchen. Her almond eyes went wide.

“
Garreth!” She ran out of the house to him. “What on earth are you doing?”

He managed a wry smile. “Visiting.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t lie to me, Garreth Doyle Mikaelian! Harry just had a call about you. Come in this minute and sit down! You look ready to fall on your face.”

He followed her gladly and dropped into the closest chair.

She sat on the hassock in front of him, frowning in exasperation and concern. Her nearness brought a warm wash of bath-talcum scent overlying that of blood. “Why did you run away from the hospital?”

He could give a half-truthful answer. “I couldn’t eat their food or sleep in their bed. I wanted out.”

She stared. “Have you lost — “ She broke off to resume in a patient voice, “Garreth, you almost died. You’re in no condition to be going anywhere. You need medical care. Come on; I’ll drive you back.”

She started to rise.

Garreth reached out to catch her wrist. “No! I can’t go back. I — I’m — ” But the words caught in his throat. He could not tell her what a monster he had become. Hell...he could not even say the words to himself. Thank god for the glasses so she could not see the animal glow of his eyes. “Lien, I have to sleep and I haven’t been able to since I went into that place. Let me stay here today, and promise you won’t tell anyone where I am, not even Harry. Please!”

She stared from his face to her wrist and said softly, “Garreth, you’re hurting me.”

He let go as though stung. Shit. “Damn! I’m sorry.”

Lien rubbed the marks left on her wrist by his fingers. “I never knew you were so strong.”

He swore at himself. How could he be so thoughtless? He had seen some of his strength when wrestling the orderly. “I didn’t realize — I never meant — I’m sorry,” he said miserably.

“
Garreth!”

He looked at her.

She patted his arm. “You can stay on one condition. That you do nothing but rest. Do you promise?”

He nodded.

She smiled. “Fortunately it’s Saturday and I don’t have to work, so you won’t be alone. Harry went off without breakfast. Would you like his waffles?”

His throat burned with hunger but the thought of waffles brought a spasm of nausea. He grimaced. “I’m not hungry.”

Lien frowned at him “Garreth, you — ” She sighed. “All right. Now get yourself into bed in the guest room.”

A bed. He would never be able to sleep on a bed. “I’d rather sleep out on the patio.”

“
Patio!” she said in horror. “It’s chilly out there.”

“
Please. I can’t breathe in here.”

His desperation reached her. While her forehead furrowed, she made no further protests...even when he passed the lounge chair to lie down on the grass well in the shade of the tree. His last conscious sensation was of Lien covering him with something.

4

He slept, but not in oblivion. Garreth dreamed...frantic, terrifying dreams...of the alley and Lane tearing out his throat, of being Gerald Mossman, split open and shelled out on an autopsy table, of chasing joggers through Golden Gale Park and tearing out their throats to gulp down the salty fire of their blood.

He fled from the murders, running back through the park to the Conservatory. Inside, though, it had become a library. Titles of the books glared from the spines in pulsating red lettering:
Dracula
,
The Rise and Fall of the Roman Vampire
,
Foundation and Vampire
,
The Vampire Strikes Back
.

Spinning away from the stacks in revulsion, he found himself among a group of children sketching bats and wolves under Lien’s direction. He started to back away but Lien caught his arm and, pushing him down in a chair, cradled his head against her chest.

“
Hush, Garreth, hush.” She rocked slightly, stroking his hair as he remembered her doing once after Marti died. “The superior man doesn’t panic. Let’s try studying this thing calmly. Look.” She released him and began two lists on her sketch pad. “It’s obvious that everything legends say about vampires isn’t true. Yes, you rest best on earth, you smell and crave blood, and something is happening to your teeth. On the other hand, while daylight is miserably uncomfortable it doesn’t kill you. There’s no nonsense with mirrors, either. The subject needs more research, but perhaps most of the legend is false. Maybe you don’t have to stop being the person you are, the person Harry and I love. Once your basic needs of rest and food are met, why can’t you go on living your life as you always have? Lane passed as human.”

True, but... “She’s still a monster.”

“
Because she’s chosen to be. She didn’t
have
to kill those men. I don’t believe anyone or anything is inherently evil.”

That sounded like Lien, always seeing the good.

“
You can chose what
you
want to be. Do you understand, Garreth?” Her voice rose, became more insistent. “Garreth?”

That was a real voice, not a dream. He clawed his way to consciousness and opened his eyes. The sun hung low in the west. Lien knelt at his side with an expression of relief.

“
You’re the soundest sleeper I’ve ever seen,” she said. “I don’t think you moved all day. I couldn’t even see you breathe. I kept coming out to make sure you were still alive.” She paused. “Did you know it’s almost impossible to feel your pulse? Your skin is cold, too. Garreth, please, please, let me take you back to the hospital. They’re turning the city upside down looking for you.”

He flinched at the reproach in her voice and sat up stiffly, groping for the dream. Had the dream Lien been right? Could he go on being the same person? “Thanks for not giving me away.”

“
You needed the rest.” She stood. “Come inside. It’s freezing out here.”

It did not seem so to him.

“
What do you think you can stomach For supper?”

His throat burned. A cramp contracted his stomach. He let it pass before answering. “Maybe just tea.”

She turned around sharply. “This is ridiculous. You have to eat! Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Maybe that would be best. Dreams were often just dreams. He did not want to think about eating. “Please, Lien.”

She fixed the tea and stood with arms folded, watching him sip it. “At least show up at the Hall to let them know you’re alive so they can go back to hunting people who deserve it.”

He hated lying to her. He did it anyway. “All right. I’ll turn myself in to Harry.”

She hissed in exasperation. “Don’t be childish. It isn’t like that and you know it.”

“
I’m sorry.”

The tea curbed none of his thirst, but at least its warmth soothed his throat and the cramps. He stood and put on his coat.

Lien followed him to the door. “Please take care of yourself.”

He hugged her. “I will. Thanks for everything. You’re a super lady.”

Picking up the car from around the corner, he drove to the public library in the Civic Center.

The subject needed research, his dream Lien had said. Racing to beat closing time, he hurriedly picked out books about the vampire legend, and after skimming them, copied pages to study more closely over multiple cups of tea in a near-by cafe.