Blood of a Werewolf (18 page)

She turned back to the old man.
 
“You better hope she’s still alive.
 
Maybe I should have one of the Bloomingtons turn you into a vampire and then inject you with werewolf blood. We can see how you like it. I’m sure your old body would have a heck of time fighting that off.”

His eyes were wide.
 
She kept just enough air permeating the bubble as necessary to keep Paine alive.
 
She paced back and forth, always looking at him, focused on the bubble that she wanted to collapse on him so badly.
 
Her jaw hurt from clenching it so hard in determination and rage.
 

“So tell me, Mr. Paine, what gave you the idea that injecting a vampire with werewolf blood would kill a vampire?”

“The book!” He glanced at a beautiful old book at the corner of his desk, bound in leather and more ancient than her book of shadows.
 
The cover was ornate, carved, and inlaid with what looked like jewels.
 
The page edges were gilded in gold and the pages inside were adorned with exquisite calligraphy – all hand done.
 
It was illustrated with both beautiful and grotesque pictures.
 
She couldn’t read any of it as she kept her focus on the mean old man behind the desk.

“And tell me, have you attempted these procedures on anyone else before?”
 

“No.”

“I didn’t know someone so old could be so dumb.
 
I know somewhere in there you must think you did the right thing, but how can someone become so deluded.
 
You didn’t care that it could kill her, did you?
 
This beautiful young woman, who had never done anything to you, and you kidnapped her. Not knowing the real extent of her relationship with the Bloomington’s, you started pumping her with needles of foreign, supernatural blood. Have you no conscience whatsoever? You talk about others making arrogant decisions, ignoring the consequences, and yet that’s all you do. You condemned an innocent and loving family to their death because they wouldn’t do what you asked of them. Now you are condemning my sister to death or a life foreign to her, and you don’t even know her.
 
She barely relates to you and your plan, yet you have no problem killing her off.
 
Tell me why should I let you live?
 
It is in my power, you know. All I have to do is clench my fist and let the bubble suffocate you.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I? You almost killed the man I love and you may have turned my sister into a werewolf or worse, killed her.
 
Plus, if I let you go, who is to say you won’t just come back and try to kill the Bloomingtons again?”

“You don’t have it in you to kill me.”

“You sure are cocky,” Darby said and then her phone rang.
 
“Devon, did you find her? Is she okay?” Darby asked.

“Ummm, we found her and we took care of the thugs, but Darby, she doesn’t look good.
 
I don’t know what to do.”

“This is what you’re going to do.
 
You are going to grab everything there, the blood, drugs, whatever. Then get her in the car and you get her to the hospital, now. Do you hear me?
 
Give them what you have. Show them what they put in her, but keep some of it, in case we have to do some research on our own.
 
Do whatever you have to, but get her to the hospital now.
 
Now, put your brother on the phone. Please!” Darby said.

“Darby, I don’t….”

“Please, Devon, just do it.”
 

“Darby? It’s Blake.”

“Blake, I want you to grab a syringe of the werewolf blood and I want you to bring it to me. Help your brother get Rowan to the hospital, then grab the car and come straight here.”

“On my way!” Blake said through his teeth.

“Seems you may have killed my sister, you stupid old fool.
 
I would suggest that if there is any way to cure her or fix this, you better start talking now, because your destiny is on its way.”

“But you can’t.”

“Why can’t I?
 
You had no problem killing innocent people, and you are certainly not innocent.”
 

“But.. I have money. I..I can help fund some research to help your sister.”

“Oh, please be quiet, you’re giving me a headache.”
 
In fact, this was the truth.
 
She hadn’t realized just how bad her headache was until then.
 

“Do you have any records on the werewolf you killed? A name? Something? Maybe we could get in contact with his or her family?”

“Yes, his wallet is in the safe over there,” he said and pointed to the painting near the bookcase.”
 
She went to it and like a cupboard, pulled it forward and to her right; the hinged pictured revealed a safe.
 

“What’s the combination?”

“R 10, L 19, R 44.”

She dialed in the numbers and opened the safe.
 
Inside there were stacks of money, maybe fifteen or twenty of them.
 
There was a wallet, some documents, and a leather-covered book.
 
She grabbed the wallet and looked in it.
 
She turned back towards Paine, raised the wallet in the air, and said, “Is this it?” He nodded.

“It says the man’s name was Benjamin Wolfe. How appropriate!
 
His address is in Colorado. Is that where you killed him?” she continued.

He nodded and said, “You’re bleeding.”

A tiny trickle of blood had started to run from her nose.
 
She walked to the desk where there was a box of tissues and grabbed a few.

“You should see a doctor,” he said.

“Well, you should see a psychiatrist, but that’s not going to happen now, is it?” She blotted her nose.
 
The headache was getting horrendous.
 

“So did you ever tell his family, this Benjamin, why you killed him?
 
Had he attacked you or did you just decide he was not normal so he must be killed?” Darby asked.

“No, I did not inform his family – that would have been suicide.”

“Too bad.”

“He surprised my men while they were staking out a house in Colorado where they thought the Bloomingtons might be staying.
 
He started to change when Olaf threw a knife at him.
 
Got him straight in the heart.
 
Just so happened the knife was silver, go figure.”

“Yeah, lucky break!” she said sarcastically.
 
The waiting seemed forever.
 
Where was Blake?
 
God, her head hurt.

“So how many people have you killed in the name of your stupid game?
 
At least three that I know of and a couple attempted murders. Seems like you’d probably spend the rest of your life, and then some, in prison if we turned you in.
 
But then again, it was two vampires and a werewolf and maybe a witch. Who would believe us, huh?
 
Guess we’ll just have to handle this by ourselves.”

“You’re not going to do anything. If you were you would have done it by now,” Paine said pompously.
 

“You think so?
 
Hmmm.
 
I wouldn’t be so sure. Besides, I don’t think Blake would have any problem killing you after what you did to his parents and his girlfriend.
 
You seem to think I’m such an honorable woman. I’m not sure your old pal, Max, would agree with that.
 
Didn’t anyone tell you? It was me, not the Bloomingtons, that killed your Van Helsing wannabe.”

His eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head at this statement.

“That’s right, Mr. Paine. Your buddy, Max, shot my vampire boyfriend in the chest. I saw the whole thing play out in what seemed like slow motion; the arrow coming, hitting Devon, Devon dropping to my feet, and Max aiming for Blake.
 
He didn’t know Blake and Devon had hooked up with witches.
 
Heck, I didn’t know I had any power until that moment.
 
I lifted my hand and I threw him thirty feet away without touching him.
 
Too bad that nasty oak tree got in his way. His head split like a melon. I hadn’t really meant to do that, but now I can control the power much better, as you can see. Hmmm.”

The old man was definitely panicking now. That’s when Darby started to waver.
 
The headache had become so terrible that it blurred her vision now and she could barely stand.
 
The blood continued to trickle down from her nose, but now she thought she felt something wet from her ears too and raised a hand to one.
 

Yep! Blood there too. That can’t be good.
Wherever you are, Blake – please hurry!
she thought. Her vision became more blurred with a foggy grayness. She staggered a bit and tried to stabilize herself with a nearby chair.
Keep it together, Darby
, she told herself, but her knees buckled as a wave of nausea swept over her and she collapsed to the floor.
 

She heard the psychic bubble snap when she hit the floor and she knew that the old man, though weakened, was free of it. She could hear his labored breathing, but she also heard the sound of a desk drawer opening.
Crap. Blake, if you can hear me – I need you now!
She thought as hard as she could, causing the room to spin and yet another onset of nausea. She wanted to move but her body would not cooperate.

The old man was now pulling himself around the desk to get a full view of Darby, and in his hand was the gun she had suspected he had in the drawer. His other hand was planted firmly on the desk for support. “I told you that you should see a doctor.” He raised the revolver toward Darby and a figure emerged from the doorway. It was Blake.

There before Blake stood Paine aiming a gun at Darby. Her face, neck, and chest were bloodied and she looked up at Blake as he entered the room. Paine, sensing the threat in the doorway, swung the gun towards Blake and fired a round without taking aim.
 
The recoil of the revolver sent Paine stumbling back and the hand holding the gun travelled over his head. Blake’s eyes were now focused on Paine and the gun. An utterly consuming rage rose in him. His eyes turned crimson red and fangs appeared where there were none before.
 
Darby had never taken her eyes off of Blake. She was stunned and amazed by his emergence as a vampire, but it was his incredible fangs that fascinated her. They were magnificent instruments of Death, like no other fangs known to man. She did not fear him, but seeing the gun now pointed at him, she felt fear for the giant string bean vampire she had come to love like a little brother.

Paine, struggling to regain his balance, used both hands to re-aim the gun at Blake. In a flash of inhuman speed, Blake crossed the room and disarmed him. With a hand around Paine’s neck, Blake growled, “You don’t get a second shot, old man.” With one hand, Blake tossed him across the room, crashing him into the bookcase and behind the desk.
 
With the agility of a cat, he leapt over the desk and out of Darby’s sight. Darby tried to sit up, but she could barely move.
 

Blake knew the business of Death, as do all vampires. Though he tried to avoid it whenever possible, this was an attack on his family, a long awaited revenge. He was going to enjoy this. With that thought in his mind, he sank his fangs in Paine’s neck. In a manner of seconds he had drained the old man of most of his blood. He was careful not to kill him so that the old man would know what was to come.
 
Instead of unclenching his teeth to pull away, he bit down harder and pulled a chunk out of Paine as an animal might – not for the need of sustenance, but for the need of vengeance. The death of his parents, the near death of his brother, the incessant hunting of him and his brother, the attempt on Darby’s life, and the intolerable act of harming Rowan, all of this came to a head at that moment and he descended into a horrible, feral need for vengeance.
 
He ripped at the old man, until there was nothing recognizable about him.
 

Darby was stunned in horror and disbelief by the ghastly sounds coming from behind the desk.
 
To her, none of this was real; it was just some terrible, foggy dream. She just wanted it to stop and the pain in her head to go away.
 

Suddenly all went quiet behind the desk and the only thing Darby could hear was her own heartbeat. She tried to sit up as best she could, only to see Blake coming towards her, eyes red, completely covered in blood, and with her now in his sights.
 
He didn’t appear to be Blake at all. She had to remind herself that this was her loveable Blake, just to get her mind to lurch forward and out of its comatose state. He looked at her as if he didn’t know her at all.
Where are those beautiful brown eyes?
 
What a horrible dream this is.
With all the energy she could summon in her body, she said his name in the calm, sweet, protective way she had always said it, “Blake, please.” The gray fog of her mind went black and all coherence went with her into the blackness.

Hearing Darby’s sweet voice knocked Blake violently back into reality. She was out cold and there was blood all over her face and neck.

He grabbed the old tome of werewolves, the wallet in Darby’s hand, the contents of the open safe, and Darby, and ran for the car.
 
He had just been giving his brother grief about his maniacal driving to the hospital. Now headed for the hospital again, he was driving about the same.
 
He carried her in and got her admitted, then tried to find Devon.
 
Devon was not going to like this – not one bit.