Bloodline by Joel Abernathy

11

At some pointin the night, I had migrated to the other side of the bed. The greater shock was that Daniel hadn’t pushed me away.

“Oh,” I said, backing away from him like the bed was on fire. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said, sitting up. “I take it you slept well?”

“I did,” I said, watching as he walked into the closet and dug around for a fresh shirt. By the time he came back out, I had managed to partially make the bed.

“Guess we should get you some clothes.”

I was surprised by the offer. He hadn’t given me the warmest reception, so I hadn’t assumed I would be treated any better in the future. “Am I to be allowed to leave this place?”

“Not yet. Not without supervision,” he answered.

“I don’t understand. How will I get new clothing if we aren’t going out?”

“We have a tailor,” he answered. “Everything we need is in this building, more or less. We try not to go outside these walls unless we have to.”

“Why not?”

“Like I said, it’s the end of the world. The aftermath, at any rate. It’s not pretty out there.”

“I see.” Morbid curiosity overwhelmed me, but I doubted that would keep me from going stir crazy forever.

“Come on. We can have coffee while we wait.”

That drew me out of my melancholy. I followed him into the kitchen and watched as he operated the strange machine, trying to keep track so I might recreate its magic at a later time.

“Things have progressed significantly,” I murmured.

He snorted. “That might be the understatement of the century.”

The coffee was delightful, just like before. There was froth at the top, and it was much smoother than the crude blends I was used to. I looked up and blushed when I realized Daniel was watching me closely. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

He just shook his head in that bewildered way and looked down at his scrying mirror. “So. How do you feel after drinking?”

My face grew even warmer at the mention of the intimate act we had shared. In his bed, of all things. “I feel fine, but I would greatly prefer animal blood in the future.”

“I’ll make a note of that, but in the future, we’ll have bagged blood for you to feed from.”

I frowned. “That’s hardly necessary.”

“I’ll decide what’s necessary.” His tone was clipped enough that I winced, but he seemed to try and soften it. “Just… try it. You’re not gonna go feral in one feeding.”

I was about to argue when the elevator doors opened and a man with hair the color of a blueberry strode in. It matched the color of his leather jacket, and the straps around his skin-tight pants. He wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath the jacket, either, leaving his muscular torso on full display.

“Hello, brother!” he called in a singsong voice, dropping his patchwork bag over the arm of a chair. He stopped and took one look at me, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. “You didn’t tell me we had company.”

“That’s because it’s none of your business,” Daniel shot back. “It’s top-level clearance only, but considering he needs new clothes, you’re temporarily granted access.”

The blue-haired man looked between the two of us, and I could see the wheels turning in his head. “And who is this delicious little—oh my God,” he cried, his voice lifting an octave as he clamped a hand over his mouth. “What happened to your face?”

Ah. So he’d noticed my scars. It wasn’t at all an unusual reaction, but I’d thought my hair was down enough to hide them a bit better. They were still noticeable, but less shocking that way.

“It happened a long time ago,” I said quietly. “You’re brothers?”

“Unfortunately,” Daniel muttered. “Pay no mind to Vern. He’s just going to take your measurements and leave.”

Vern blinked a few times and seemed to remember why he was there. “Sorry,” he said with a nervous laugh, pulling out a tape measure. “I’ve never really had a filter.”

“It’s alright,” I said, smiling a little. “It’s hardly the first time.”

Vern set to work immediately, and I felt a bit unnerved as he began to stretch his cloth measure all across my body at different angles. In all my years, I had never had clothes tailored, and it was hard to imagine this was a luxury to the wealthy.

The tailor kept peppering me for information, but I didn’t know how much he should know and didn’t want to end up on Daniel’s bad side as a result. Brothers or not, they didn’t seem very close.

I gave a startled cry as Vern suddenly started unbuttoning my shirt. “What are you doing?”

“It’s for the fitting,” he said innocently, wrapping the tape measure around my waist. “You’ve got a tight little body, don’t you?”

I didn’t know how to respond to that and looked at Daniel for help.

“Are you almost done?” he asked impatiently.

Vern shot him a dirty look, but he gathered up his things. “I’ve got what I need. Give me a few days and I’ll have something flawless for him to wear to the summoning.”

“The summoning?” I echoed.

Daniel grimaced. “He’s not going to the summoning, Vern. He just needs clothes. Regular, practical clothes, which means no fishnets.”

The fact that he had to specify that concerned me.

“He has to go. We haven’t had new blood in ages,” Vern protested.

“There’s nothing new about his blood,” Daniel said, pushing his brother back toward the elevator. “Just the basics. Bye.”

“But—”

He slammed the down button a few times, and the doors slid shut on him. “Good riddance.”

“You don’t get along, do you?” I asked.

“How could you tell?”

I chuckled. “I wish I had a brother. Then again, maybe I did once upon a time.”

“Do you really not remember anything about your life before you became a vampire?”

“Not much,” I admitted. “What I do remember is perhaps unfit for civilized company.”

“Try me.”

I pursed my lips. “Perhaps another time.”

“Right,” he said with a heavy sigh. I was just relieved he didn’t push the matter. He didn’t seem like he was accustomed to being told no, however lightly.

“I know why you’re asking about my past,” I finally ventured.

“Do you now?”

“You want to know about my sire so you can turn others.”

Daniel’s expression didn’t change, but I could tell from the way he went silent, I’d hit the mark.

“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘fight fire with fire,’ Marcellus?”

“I am old, but I’m familiar with that quaint little colonial notion, yes.”

“It applies in this case. Enoch isn’t shy about turning half the damn world if it means getting what he wants: control. Absolute control that won’t leave a square inch of land on this hemisphere free.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, frowning. “He’s wicked, but he isn’t foolish. If he keeps going, there won’t be any humans left.”

“Oh, there will be. He’s just hoping to keep going long enough to overwhelm us and quash the human resistance to the point where they’ll have no choice but to be rounded up in his blood camps. From there, a well managed and authoritarian breeding program should do the rest.”

I chewed my bottom lip, glancing out the window at the city below. It was a far cry from what it once had been, I imagined.

“So if he gets his way, all those people…”

“Los Angeles will be just the beginning,” he said. “She ain’t what she used to be, that’s for damn sure. There aren’t enough VOICE patrols to cover every area, so huge portions of the city grid were cordoned off and left to decay. We call them dead zones, and it works on a couple different levels since that’s where most of the illegal shit goes down.”

He must have seen my confusion because he added, “Ever since they outlawed siring another vampire and put blood from the tap on prohibition, there’s been a thriving black market.”

“Blood slaves?” I asked, clearly horrified.

“Among other things. Most vamps are chipped so we can keep track of any who go rogue and have their fangs either removed or capped, depending on whether it’s a first offense, so they can’t infect anyone else with the pathogen.”

Now I felt ill. And confused. “Chipped?”

“New tech that lets us track anyone anywhere, long as they’ve got an implant.”

I shuddered. “Sounds like a privacy threat.”

Daniel laughed. “There is no privacy. Not anymore. Especially not for our kind.”

“What about you?” I asked, my gaze traveling down to his mouth. “Your fangs don’t look ‘capped.’”

“They’re not. I’m senior management with VOICE, which affords certain privileges. If I were to go rogue and bite a human, I’d be subject to the same punishment as anyone else.”

“I see. Such self-control.”

“Not really a matter of control as much as survival,” he confessed. “This is the world I was born into, first as a human, then as one of Enoch’s ‘children,’ as you put it.”

“I can see why you want to stop him,” I said, looking away. “I wish I could help you. Truly, I do.”

“You can,” he said firmly. “And you will. There’s too much at stake to put this mission in jeopardy over anyone’s feelings, but for what it’s worth, I’d rather not have to force you.”

I shook my head. “You would really condemn another to this life knowing what it’s like? To have your humanity ripped away and forgotten?”

“I remember just fine,” he answered. “And you make it sound like I’d be forcing some unwitting human to become a vampire. There’s a waiting list a mile long of humans desperate to join up. Ex-military, cops, you name it.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Being a vamp still has its allure.” He snorted. “Not being a food supply even more so. This job comes with perks, freedom being chief among them.”

“And if you’re asking them to go up against Enoch’s army, it also comes with a short shelf-life.”

“True enough, but they know what they’re in for.”

“No,” I insisted. “It’s wrong.”

“It’s necessary,” he countered. “We can’t afford to waste new recruits on common blood like mine. If we have any chance at fighting Enoch, it’ll be with vamps sired straight from the source. The Primus.”

“Primus?”

“That’s what you’re called,” he said, a hint of amusement in his hard expression. I supposed I didn’t match the picture he and the others had in their head of such an illustrious predecessor. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“I’d prefer Marcellus, if it’s all the same.”

Daniel laughed. I got the feeling it wasn’t something he did often, but given the subject of our conversation, I wouldn’t get my hopes up that it would soon be forgotten.