chapter 20
Dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, Amber sat on the sofa with her laptop resting on her thighs. Gerard sat beside her wearing nothing but jeans. Beneath lowered lashes, she stole glances at his chest. He stared openly at her legs, remembering how it felt to have them straddling his hips.
As if aware of his fantasies, she cleared her throat. A flush stained her cheeks when she began another search of Urban Exploration sites for abandoned hospitals in North Carolina.
An image appeared on the screen, distracting him from his erotic daydreams. He leaned closer, studying the dark, oppressive photos taken at an abandoned hospital in Banner Elk, North Carolina.
“Cannon Memorial Hospital,” he said under his breath.
Amber seemed to be concentrating, reaching out with her mind to find his clone. “He’s not in Banner Elk. He’s further east.”
She scrolled down the page to another abandoned facility. When she opened the link, a warren of corridors with peeling green paint and warped doors appeared on the screen. Buckled floor tiles littered with years of dust and grime. Images he’d seen in his head—images he shared with his clone.
His throat went dry. “Piney Grove Sanatorium.”
Most of the windows were broken out or bordered up, but the grounds looked freshly mowed and despite an overgrowth of kudzu, the building looked sturdy.
Located outside of a small, sparsely populated mountain community northwest of Mount Airy near the Virginia border, it was the perfect location for Weldon’s experiments. Piney Grove was a dying town.
Besides the abandoned sanatorium, there was a country store, a church, a bed and breakfast, a gas station, and a handful of scattered houses. The internet pictures were taken by an urban explorer in 2009 who listed the mayor of Piney Grove as the owner of the facility. Although several paranormal investigators had rented the building in the past, the property was still available for sale or lease. Or, it had been available in ’09, at least.
“Why would anyone build a hospital in the middle of nowhere?” Amber asked as she scrolled through the images. “Even before Interstate 74 diverted traffic away from the town, there wasn’t much to it.”
“Isolation prevented the spread of consumption.” He leaned closer, staring at the haunting images, hoping to get a mental fix on the clone’s exact location in the building.
Amber looked at him. “Don’t you mean TB?”
“In my day, we called it consumption. Before antibiotics, it was the second leading cause of death in America and the leading cause of death in France. Sanatoriums provided rest, isolation, and fresh air. They also provided a food source for hungry vampires who needed to feed without taking blood from healthy, innocent mortals.”
Shame twisted his gut. He wasn’t proud of the lives he’d taken. Telling himself his victims were already dying did little to ease his conscience.
“When the sanatoriums closed,” he continued, unable to look at Amber and see the condemnation in her eyes, “vampires with a conscience found other food supplies. I stole from blood banks long before Vincent offered me the job at Lifeblood.”
The Red Cross was always running short on blood, no matter how much they collected from volunteers. The administrators remained unaware of the real reason for the shortage.
His stomach cramped. He closed his eyes, battling the guilt. The remorse. In France, he’d dined on soldiers mortally wounded in battle. He’d done the same during both world wars. In between wars, he’d found sustenance in sanatoriums and among burn victims after the Chicago fire and other disasters that befell his adopted country. But he had never murdered an innocent.
Still…
He opened his eyes and met Amber’s compassionate gaze.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
“Nothing.” He shook his head. She was mortal…a dhampir. Either way, she’d never understand.
Leaning over the laptop, she took his hands in hers. “You never took an innocent life. I know you. Even as a mortal soldier, you wouldn’t have shot unless forced to do so.”
He smiled, choking back the knot of emotion clogging his throat. “When I was a soldier, I fired a musket. I did most of my killing with the business end of my bayonet.”
And he still lived with the memories of every life he’d ever taken.
“You killed in defense of your country. Or to relieve the suffering of someone mortally wounded or terminally ill. You never murdered anyone.”
He swallowed thickly. “How can you be so sure?”
“I know you, Gerard. I know your heart, and it has nothing to do with being a dhampir.”
“So, you think I’m one of the good guys.” Despite his efforts to sound flippant, his voice cracked. “According to legend, vampires are evil.”
She smiled, dispelling the sadness in her eyes. “Yeah, and dhampirs are supposed to be hideous. I hope that legend isn’t true either.”
“You’re far from hideous,” he said, a catch in his voice. “You’re beautiful, down to your soul.”
A blush stained her cheeks. Tugging her hand free, she turned back to the computer. “And apparently, there’s more to being a dhampir than a desire to hunt and kill vampires.”
“No,” he said softly, “There’s more to you.”
The look she gave him set his heart to pounding at a rate that couldn’t be healthy—not even for a vampire.
Sheer determination kept him from pulling her into his arms and making love to her again. But the clock was ticking. And the clone—his clone—G-2 was getting hungry.
His stomach twisted. “Scroll through the pictures. See if you get the same vibe I do. See if you can pinpoint his location inside the building.”
Fear flashed behind her eyes. “Okay.”
Bending over the laptop, she scrolled through the pictures. Darkened hallways, shadowy rooms containing rusted bed frames and decades of debris. After the third image in a set of nine, Amber gasped and looked up.
“He’s in the cafeteria—in the basement. My earlier impression was right. Weldon keeps him locked in a walk-in freezer when he isn’t needed.”
Gerard closed his eyes, reaching out to his clone. A sudden craving jolted him. A foreign hunger. He opened his eyes and looked at Amber. “He’s getting impatient. And hungry.”
“There’s another vampire,” Amber said, fear straining her voice. “I sense him, but I can’t—get a reading. Is it Axle?”
Amber had never met Axle. She’d be unable to get any sort of reading on him other than identifying him as a vampire through her connection with the clone. But he knew Axel. And Weldon had created the clone from Gerard’s DNA. If the clone’s blood was used to convert Axle Travers, Gerard should be able to get some sort of reading from him too.
He closed his eyes again, seeking a separate connection—a connection to Axle. His body swayed as he stretched his mind further, trying to find a second genetic link.
An image flashed in his head—a figure strapped to a morgue slab—a sedated, still breathing body.
“Axle.” His heart slammed against his ribs. The connection was weak, but it existed. Axle Travers was a vampire.
“We’re too late. Aren’t we?” Her voice shook.
He wanted to deny the truth. He wanted to tell her they could still save him. But she was right. It was too late to save Axle or his soul.
Gerard felt the young man’s pain—his struggle to resist his new nature. Had he taken the life of an innocent yet? He’d been Weldon’s hostage for months—had he endured the same agony Gerard had suffered at Weldon’s hands?
Pain tightened his throat. “He’s weak. Weldon’s using him as a guinea pig—testing his theories—testing the truth of every vampire legend known to man. I know the pain he suffers. I’ve been there. A vampire’s body heals—but not the soul.”
“Dear God.” Amber’s voice was a raspy whisper. “We have to save Axel before it’s too late. Before Weldon kills him.”
“It may be too late already.” Gerard closed his eyes, reliving the pain—the terror. Not once while he was a prisoner in Weldon’s lab had he questioned his ability to physically heal from the torture. He’d feared losing his mind—and losing touch with what little remained of his humanity.
Amber touched his thigh, jolting him. “Your soul isn’t damaged. You’ve survived unspeakable horrors without losing your compassion. That makes you heroic—like so many of the soldiers I served with in Iraq.”
He looked into her eyes, seeing more than he knew she wanted to reveal. His throat closed. His heart hardened. He’d dragged Amber into his dark world and she was no longer fighting it. He wouldn’t allow her to embrace it. Not for her job and certainly not for him.
“I’m no knight in shining armor.”
She jerked as if slapped and removed her hand from his leg. “I never suggested you were. So, don’t flatter yourself. I don’t need rescuing.”
Merde. That was one way to put distance between them. Piss her off. Or suggest she was fragile or needy. Amber hated feeling vulnerable. She saw it as a weakness rather than a connection to the humanity he’d lost centuries ago. Mortals needed one another. Vampires were destined to live alone—whether they liked it or not.
Ignoring the pain tightening his throat, Gerard concentrated on the cloned vampire. The creature was awake. He prowled the tight confines of the freezer like a hungry wolf in a cage, thinking of nothing but food. Rage filled him, but he made no attempt to use his mind to unlock the freezer door.
Gerard finally understood his inability to mentally connect with the creature before. The creature wasn’t complete. He looked at Amber, his heart pounding in his chest. “Weldon created a physical replica. The clone looks like me, but his instincts are baser. His mind isn’t evolved.”
“He doesn’t have a soul.” Amber’s fingers covered her lips. Her eyes widened. “Weldon cloned a body, but he’s not God. He can’t clone the soul. That creature lives to eat. And Weldon has lost control of him.”
He met her gaze, breaking her connection to his clone. The terror slowly faded from her eyes.
“We have to go in tomorrow—before sunset," she said. "I can’t wait to see if the antivirus is going to allow you to awaken sooner or stay up longer. If Weldon unleashes that creature on the world or loses control of him—”
“Don’t try to be a hero, Amber.” He grabbed both her hands, knocking the computer off her lap. It slid between her thigh and the arm of the sofa. “Promise you won’t do anything stupid. Promise me you—”
****
The doorbell saved Amber from making any promises she knew she wouldn’t keep.
Pulling her hands free from Gerard’s she rose and headed for the door. He was hard on her heels, begging her not to go after the clone alone.
“Damn it, Amber. Promise me.”
How did he know he could trust her not to break a promise, even if she did make one? How had he gotten to know her so well in such a short amount of time?
Refusing to respond, she opened the door. An airport cab pulled away from the curb. Vincent and Megan stood on her doorstep. Megan had a pocketbook over her shoulder. Vincent held an overnight bag out to his side as if it were a bag of garbage.
“Where do I put this? Megan insisted we pack a bag and stay together tonight—like one big sleep over.” He scowled, as if being sociable physically pained him. “I assume you have a guest room.”
Amber nearly laughed aloud, the tension of the last few minutes with Gerard draining away, leaving only remnants of her previous fear. “As a matter of fact I have two guest rooms upstairs.”
Megan flushed. “I hope we’re not imposing.” She looked from Gerard to Amber, apparently noticing the tension between them. As if sensing at least part of the reason behind that tension, she added, “I don’t trust Vincent not to run off without us either.”
Amber put her arm around Megan and dragged her away from Vincent. “They think that because they’re vampires, they’re invincible.”
“They need us if they want to save Axel,” Megan agreed.
Vincent slammed the door, getting their attention. Megan and Amber turned together to face two angry vampires with similarly annoyed scowls standing between the front door and the foot of the stairs.
“Ask her who’s sleeping in the other guestroom,” Gerard said through clenched teeth.
Vincent glanced to his right and glared. "I don't think I have to ask."
"What the hell's going on?" Reid stepped off the stair landing and into the foyer. He'd taken the time to dress, but his feet were bare. "I'd say you were making enough noise to wake the dead, but that's kind of obvious since two of you are dead."
Gerard raised his brows, looking somewhat amused. Vincent's scowl deepened.
“You weren’t supposed to drag other mortals into this Detective Buckley,” he said, making her name sound like a threat.
She dropped her arm to her side, stepping away from Megan. “Before you go all vampire on me, perhaps you ought to get your facts straight. Reid shared some vital information that could save all our lives.”
Vincent and Gerard made eye contact, communicating without words. Amber hated when they did that.
“Damn.” Vincent raked a hand through his dark hair. “That complicates matters significantly.”
"What the hell?" Reid looked at Amber. "I didn't say anything."
“Care to share the information with those of us who can’t read minds?” Megan asked.
Reid bristled. "They didn't read my thoughts. Did they?"
If the situation hadn't been so dire, the panic-stricken look on Reid's face would have been amusing. But Amber wasn't laughing. "No. Vincent read Gerard's thoughts. It's this thing they do. And it's rude when they do it front of others."
Neither man looked the least bit apologetic. So, Amber and Reid told Megan about Surratt.
“And the government knows we exist,” Gerard added.
“Maybe we need to work with Surratt,” Vincent said. “If he’s made contact with the FBI , then maybe he has a plan.”
“You can’t work with Surratt.” Just the thought of Gerard joining forces with the son-of-bitch who created the vampire that killed her mother and Andrew terrified her. How could he trust such a—creature? How could she trust Gerard if he did? Surratt had ordered Nicolas to erase her memories. She was a dhampir—a threat to vampires. Would Gerard see her as a threat if he worked with Surratt?
Sympathy shone in Gerard’s gaze when he met her eyes. “We can’t decide anything tonight. Let’s save Axel first. We’ll discuss the future tomorrow night when Vincent and I return from Piney Grove.”
“We can talk on the way to Piney Grove,” Amber said. “Megan and I won’t be staying here.”
"Neither will I," Reid said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Think you can keep up?” Vincent countered. “You and Megan are mortal. And Amber might be able to travel as fast as we do but she can’t travel that fast alone, and Gerard and I aren’t going to drag any of you into danger." He turned to Amber, dismissing Reid. "Now show me the guest room so I can get some rest. The higher the sun climbs, the weaker I feel.”
“Which is exactly my point,” Amber argued. “When you’re weak, the clone is weak. And when you feel strong and invincible, so will he. We need to go in at noon, when the sun is highest in the sky.”
"And that's something Amber and I can do without any help from vampires," Reid said.
"You're not taking Amber anywhere," Gerard snarled. Then he turned toward Amber, gentling his voice. “You need your rest too, chérie. You’ve been up all night. Even if you wanted to go to Piney Grove without us, it’s a 3-hour drive. And it’s after six now. The sun is up and we all need some rest. Even you, Sheridan.”
"I'm good," Reid said. "I'm ready to go if Amber is."
She yawned, feeling as if she hadn't slept in weeks. "I need to rest, Reid. And you look like you could use a bit more sleep yourself."
Gerard stepped forward and put his arm around her. “Let’s go to bed. We’ll discuss it tonight when we’re all fresh and well-rested.”
“It make sense,” Megan said, the voice of reason. “We’ll devise a plan in the morning—a plan that works for all of us. Tomorrow’s Saturday and we have until Monday morning before you have to go back to work. Right?”
“That’s true,” Amber said, not meeting Reid's gaze or agreeing to anything. She had no intention of waiting until the last minute to go after Axel.
Reid pointed a finger at her. "Don't even think of leaving this house without me. Got it, partner?"
The reprimand sent a guilty flush to her cheeks. "Got it."
With an emphatic nod, Reid turned and headed back up to his room.
After showing Vincent and Megan the other guest room, Megan took the quilt off the end of the bed and draped it over the curtain rod to prevent any random sunbeams from slipping through the blinds when the sun rose higher in the morning sky.
“Don’t forget to take your antivirus injection now instead of waiting until you wake up tonight,” she reminded Gerard. Before leaving New York last night, Megan had suggested the new dosing schedule. “We’re going to need the two of you to remain awake and functional for as long as possible Sunday morning. The liposome sunblock and protective clothing should protect your skin, and if we’re lucky, changing the dosing schedule of the antivirus should allow you to stay awake longer during the day.”
“Yes ma’am,” Gerard said with a smile in his voice.
“Goodnight,” Amber said, allowing Gerard to lead her from the room and back down the steps.
After injecting himself with the anti-virus, he crawled under the covers and patted the mattress. “Come to bed, ma bien-aimée. We can argue about it in the evening when we’re both awake and fresh."
Injecting himself before falling into the regenerative sleep had worked for Gerard once before, but was it a fluke?
Only time would tell. Time they may not have.
“Okay. Fine.”
Calling a truce, she double-checked the blinds and curtains to make sure they were tightly closed. Satisfied Gerard was safe from spontaneous combustion—or whatever vampires called it when sunlight touched their unprotected skin causing them to burst into flames—she slid under the covers and into his arms.