Part 8 (2/2)
”If only a s.h.i.+ny red nose were the only problem,” Sam replied, his gaze grim.
Her worst fear rose to the surface, bubbling from her lips like the head of a beer. ”What if we find out that there is no hope for us, Sam? What if we end up like that woman?” She needed a time frame-something to go on so she could prepare Mark and ...
Sam's jaw tightened momentarily before his eyes warmed to deep chocolate pools, and his hand closed around hers. ”Then we find out together.”
A small measure of relief flooded her stomach, loosening the tight coil of fear in her belly.
However little hope those words gave them, suddenly, because Sam was holding her hand, everything seemed okay.
CHAPTER 6.
The word okay had officially been cruelly ripped from Phoebe's vocabulary and replaced by not one but two words. Never and again.
Who was anybody kidding here? Nothing was ever going to be okay again. Nothing. Never. Sitting on Sam's couch as the clock struck four A.M., they'd listened to Archibald, Wanda's husband Heath's manservant (who was once a vampire but was now a human again in some bizarre twist of fate involving sires and words Phoebe didn't even know existed anymore), and his friend Dmitri the Vampire explain their theories on what they thought had happened to Sam and Phoebe.
And there were but three utterly redonckculous thoughts Phoebe couldn't shake during the entire conversation-none of which had anything to do with her almost certainly deadly fate.
They were actually rather meaningless.
First meaningless thought? Who still had a manservant? No matter how endearing or adorably British?
Second meaningless thought? Wasn't every vampire since vampire romances had been invented named Dmitri? Or was it Declan? Wait. Maybe Hunter? Wasn't that just a little too vampire cliche?
Not that Dmitri was just any vampire. No. In fact, he was one of the oldest surviving vampires in the history of vampires, who'd found Archibald in, of all places, a botany club. They'd reunited after all these centuries over rare species of roses and lilies, and it felt so good.
Third, didn't all vampires named Dmitri look like they'd just stepped off the cover of some gothic horror novel, complete with swirling black cape, menacing eyebrows, and imposing stances? If some of those romance novelists could see this Dmitri, they'd have to reconsider the visual legend the name was supposed to bring to mind.
Because this Dmitri was anything but gothic or imposing. He was the kind of vampire who'd clearly decided the seventies was a decade that should be celebrated for eternity, if one were to judge him by his long, graying hair and rainbow headband. The only thing missing from his bell-bottom jean-clad body and his printed disco-s.h.i.+rt-wearing rail-thin chest was a big, big bong.
Hearing what they had to say made Phoebe wonder if tokin' on a big, big bong wouldn't be the solution to this mess. Who cared if you ended up a pile of ashes when you were stoned?
”So I want to be clear here,” Sam's luscious voice invaded her rambling, out-of-focus thoughts. ”You think we have some kind of vampire virus?”
Dmitri nodded, leaning his elbows on his k.n.o.bby knees and rolling an old toothpick between his lips. ”Yeah, man. I've seen it once. Way back in the seventeen hundreds. Can't remember the exact date, but it was bad. Righteous bad. Haven't seen nothin' like it since.”
Archibald gave a distinguished nod of agreement, his lined face riddled with unpleasant memories clearly best left buried. ”Oh, indeed, sir. It was dreadful. Just horrid. Vampires running amok, biting not just the innocent, but one another, too. This led to an outbreak of epic proportions.”
Sam s.h.i.+fted positions on the couch, his thigh grazing Phoebe's in the process. The strong line of his jaw was tight and sharp with tension. ”Do you know exactly what created the outbreak?”
Archibald cleared his throat, brus.h.i.+ng the wrinkles from the arm of his checkered bathrobe to settle back in Sam's overstuffed armchair. ”As was and still is the way, Master Samuel, fear of anyone or anything different was widespread, most certainly that was the case back then. It was neither hip nor tragically cool to be a vampire. If a vampire was somehow captured, he was served up the typical death, burned at dawn, or by wooden stake through the heart. However, not everyone's views on such matters were so black-and-white. One man in particular, a scientist of sorts, though mad, no doubt, thought a vampire was a thing to be studied, prodded, tested, and thus discarded when the researcher had no more use for what people called Lucifer's children.”
Phoebe's eyes closed in horror. If her intestines really were out of order forever, you couldn't tell by the fear that clenched her gut at Archibald's words.
Dmitri shook his head in rapid agreement, his gnarled finger poking at the air. ”d.a.m.n crazy was what that was! Fool scientist took a human waiting for the guillotine and did all sorts of things to him. Thought he could turn a human into a vampire with some kind of nonsense he'd hatched in his lab. Leastways I hear that was the goal.”
”So in essence, he was developing something that would create a synthetic, albeit crudely bioengineered vampire,” Sam muttered, dragging a hand over his chin.
Dmitri's eyes grew dark, the lines of age around them deepening. ”Uh, yup. So anyways, he used this fella like some guinea pig, but instead of turning him into a vampire like you and me, he turned him into a monster. Somehow, this vampire escaped Dr. Nutball and went on a biting spree, turning a bunch of humans rabid and vicious. Vampires were turning to ashes everywhere-if they lasted long enough to escape us, anyway. It was an ugly, ugly time. No one bitten survived that.”
”So you don't think this is the work of some crazy centuries-old vampire who's still running around loose, do you?” Nina asked.
”Bah!” Dmitri balked, toying with the peace-sign necklace he wore around his neck. ”Even if the doc was stupid enough to test it on himself, he sure couldn't have survived it-and definitely not for this many centuries. No way, sister.”
”Okay, so anyone infected lost their minds first before they turned to ashes, Arch?” Nina asked from her perch on the edge of Sam's desk, her tone carrying a distinct tremor.
”I'm afraid so, Miss Nina. Those who didn't were ...” He let his balding head fall to his stately suit-covered chest.
”Were what?” Phoebe prodded, certain the answer would be as terrifying as everything else they'd retold, but not knowing had to be a worse fate.
Archibald reached out a weathered hand for hers and gave it a squeeze. ”Slain, miss. Expunged for fear there would be no end to the spread of the disease. If the infected night dwellers weren't killed by the humans, vampires themselves took on the dreadful task.”
”Did they display the kinds of symptoms Phoebe and I are displaying?”
Archibald's bushy eyebrows rose. ”No, Master Samuel. I don't recall them having the specific gifts that have been bestowed upon the both of you, but the description of the death that young woman suffered ...” He paused, composing himself. ”That does fit the bill. However, vampires have evolved over the years. With a little help from technology, who knows what monkey business could occur in this great day and age? Who knows what some madman in a laboratory with today's advances could create? Who's to say teleportation and walking through walls aren't a viable option with a petri dish and the single desire for eternal life? I only know that vampires-even the oldest, most powerfully endowed, the most feared of the lot do not walk through walls, sir. Ever.”
Phoebe's brow furrowed. She tucked her legs beneath her, letting her chin rest on her knees, fighting the continual rise of panic in order to sort through this rationally. ”So you think this is a result of modern-day technology? That someone's literally creating vampires-testing whatever this is out on humans and clearly failing?”
”It d.a.m.n well smacks of it, darlin',” Dmitri said, his voice somber, his green eyes capturing hers with his sympathy. ”Where they're gettin' the humans and what they're doing to 'em is anybody's guess.”
”So our deaths are inevitable,” Phoebe forced herself to say. ”But not before we let loose on whomever we can get our fangs into because we've gone vampire AWOL.” G.o.d. That she could spread this whatever it was to someone unsuspecting without even knowing made her want to chain herself to the top of the Andes mountains until she French fried at daybreak.
Archibald clucked his tongue, his eyes steely with determination. ”Now, miss, this looks grim, I'll admit. However, we've been in many a pickle and found our way to the other side with minimal harm to our persons. Haven't we, Miss Nina?”
Nina's hoodie had fallen off in their scuffle, and Phoebe wondered if she didn't always keep it on her head as a way to mask her emotions. Because her face said it all-even if the next words she spoke were to the contrary.
”You bet'cha, Arch. This wouldn't be the first time our backs have been against a wall. No one's dying on my watch.” She hopped off Sam's desk and cupped Archibald's chin with affection in her dark eyes, an emotion Phoebe didn't know she was capable of. It even stung a little. Somehow, as cantankerous as she was, Nina had managed to surround herself with all these people who clearly loved her.
She settled herself on the arm of the chair. Archibald patted her hand and smiled like he actually liked her. ”So what next, Miss Nina?”
This time, the grim look on Nina's face was apparent. ”I dunno, Arch, but my gut tells me this has to do with O-Tech-especially after Sam's place was trashed and his work comp was on. Maybe whatever was on that computer didn't seem important to Sam, but somebody thinks it is. Now, O-Tech would have the kind of resources to facilitate something like this, wouldn't they, Sammy? You know, labs and all those crazy Bunsen things you herd of nerds play with?”
Sam's lips thinned. ”But where, Nina? I've been in every lab in the place at one time or another, and I can't say I recall seeing anyone walking through walls. I think I'd know if they were testing humans.”
Nina brushed her hands together. ”Then you know what I say, Sammy?”
”What don't you say?” Phoebe couldn't help but quip to the tune of Archibald's delighted laughter.
She ignored Phoebe but gave Sam a sly smile. ”I say we poke around inside O-Tech.”
Phoebe detected a hint of discomfort in Sam's s.h.i.+ft of position on the couch. It was subtle, but his vibe had clearly changed to one of uneasiness.
Huh.
”And we do that how? I thought we'd burn to a crisp if we go out during daylight hours.”
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