The Renfield Syndrome

  Marianne appeared before us, studying her son. She lifted a hand and sent it across his face, closing her eyes even as her fingers passed through his nose. When she rose and turned toward the wall, her eyes widened and her mouth gaped open. I didn’t ask what she was witnessing, because I remembered it all too well.

  The radiance of Heaven is something a person never forgets.

  Even if they are torn from it against their will.

  She traveled toward the light, one foot in front of the other, then suddenly, she stopped. I knew the willpower such a thing would take. I had been drawn toward those spiraling rays of white once. The songs of the angels had called to my soul like a freshly opened petal reaching for the sun, making it impossible to see or think about anything else. Were it not for Goose and Sonja tethering my soul and forcing me to remain in the mortal realm, I would have happily crossed over.

  “You will take care of him?” she whispered, so forlorn, gazing at her child.

  I wanted to give her the resolution she craved, but I didn’t want to lie.

  I didn’t know how much time I had left, or if I’d be around to do as she asked.

  “Don’t worry.” I brought Joshua closer to my chest. “I’ll tell them everything. He’ll be fine.”

  Her eyes clouded and she turned toward the blissful place I couldn’t see but recalled all too well. She strode forward with her arms extended. The peace etched across her features was beautiful, as if she was coming full circle. I watched as she walked to the wall and vanished. Pain radiated through my body then, as if a Band-Aid had been ripped from delicate, scabby tissue.

  I hissed, immediately gripped by absolute misery.

  The pendant thrummed once and then settled snugly between the scorched sweater and my blistered skin. I touched the charm. It was no longer hot, but cool.

  I sagged, grateful for the cushions and cotton-lined wood behind my back.

  Heavy footsteps and loud shouting were muffled by the walls, but I could hear a stampede coming from the hallway. The fight might have seemed to last forever, but I knew the first shot had been fired minutes earlier.

  The door exploded, torn from the hinges, and crashed into thick splinters and shards against the plaster and molding. A burly man rushed inside with Carter on his heels. When he saw Joshua cradled in my arms, he stepped forward, flashing his fangs. Then he saw Jackson’s broken body crumpled at our feet and froze.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Carter kneeled beside me with the larger man who was obviously the renowned pack beta, Quinn. “Did she bite you?”

  I relinquished my death grip on Joshua and handed him over to his worried father, grimacing as the dried blood on my skin peeled and caked free. My arms were dead weight, muscles drained from whatever the hell had given me strength while overtaking my body. I felt like I’d been hit by a train.

  “No, she didn’t bite me.” I laughed as I recalled the fight and the way I’d taken a mouthful out of her neck. “But I did get a piece of her ass. You’re not the only one with teeth.”

  “This isn’t funny,” Carter snapped. “You bit her?”

  And now, the moment of truth. “Sure did. Should I be worried?”

  “Lycanthropy is transmitted from our saliva, not our blood. If you were bitten, you’ll start the change soon. Do you feel sick? The first twenty-four hours are critical. I need to know if you’re going through the transition.”

  “She didn’t bite me,” I repeated and narrowed my eyes, glowering at him. “She didn’t get the chance. I hurt like a son of a bitch, but I don’t feel sick.”

  It was impossible to tell if he was relieved or let down by the news. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Jackson killed his wife.” I lifted my chin in Quinn’s direction. Then I closed my eyes. The pounding in my skull elicited a groan, and I allowed my head to tumble back and rest on a cushion. “She was a Renfield virus carrier and bit Marianne on purpose. Marianne’s spirit was in flux as a result. She’s been stuck in the apartment until vengeance was served. Jackson paid a visit while I was having a discussion with the departed and decided it was a good time to give me the same treatment.”

  “Why should I believe you?” Carter sounded more than annoyed—he sounded fed up. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since you got here.”

  “I warned you to let me go before the novelty wore off. I told you I shouldn’t stay here.” I lifted my head, opened my eyes, and met his steely gaze. “But if you need proof, track down Delores. Marianne said she heard Jackson discussing her plans with the bitch. I’m sure she can fill in all those empty blanks.”

  “He was telling the truth, then?” Quinn demanded with a note of hope in his voice, holding his son’s limp body tightly to his chest. “Marianne is still here?”

  “She was here.” I shook my head and winced at the throbbing in my temples that occurred as a result. “The tie has been severed. Marianne crossed shortly after she-bitch over there on the floor ate lead.” Their skeptical expressions pissed me off and I snapped, “I think if you take a good look around, you’ll see I’m not lying. Jackson tried to kill your son because he got in her way.”

  Carter studied me quietly before he yelled, “Cam! Collect Delores and escort her to the hold for questioning.”

  A distant, “You got it,” drifted from the doorway.

  “You look like shit,” Carter informed me in a brisk tone, swiping his fingers across my forehead. They came away streaked with blood and gunk. He lifted his hand to display the pink mess. “You’re covered in blood, brain and skull fragments.”

  My witty retort vanished when he shook his head, and cleaned the nastiness from my cheeks with tender passes of his fingers. I wasn’t in the mood to fight, not after I’d had my ass well and truly kicked. Every combatant in a fight to the death deserved time to recover if they made it out alive.

  “I’d rather be wearing it than displaying it, thank you very fucking much.” I sighed and closed my eyes again.

  “Why did she do it?” he asked. “Did you provoke her?”

  “Provoke her? Please. I’m not standing in line to be a breeder. Could you imagine? Me as a mommy? That wouldn’t be too warm or fuzzy. I don’t think so.” I chuckled at the utterly ridiculous statement, but stopped when the amulet shifted over a blistered portion of skin on my chest, causing me to wince.

  “You’re not making sense,” he grumbled as he carefully inspected the wounds on my thigh.

  “Sure I am. You’ve got yourself one hell of a male drought, and Jackson didn’t want to share. It’s a fundamental flaw of Mother Nature. Apparently, she didn’t deem it fit to make enough males to go around. That’s why we have Heinz 57s of all kinds in the world.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Are you intentionally being stupid?” I clucked my tongue and slowly rotated my head from side to side. “I’m talking about breeding—the natural process by which similar creatures mate and procreate. You know. It’s that whole circle of life thing.”

  His hands went still. “She fought you because you wanted to mate with me?”

  “No, Mr. Ego.” I moved my head from side to side, although doing so hurt like a bitch. “She fought me because she wanted to mate with you. Huge difference.”

  “Denying the attraction that exists between us doesn’t matter. Eventually, you’ll have to face the truth.”

  The words—though entirely ridiculous in comparison—were shockingly similar to ones Disco said to me in a time not so long ago. The reminder of those words—and of our lost time together—created grief to go along with my physical misery.

  That alone kept me silent. I planted my lips together.

  Memories of Disco were too painful.

  Especially when I realized I would never see him again.

  Channeling my inner Scarlett, I decided I didn’t want to think about tha
t shit today. I’d think about it tomorrow.

  “Jax could have killed you,” Carter informed me, tugging at the thin pants to get a better look at my wounds. He cursed at what he found and ripped apart the material.

  “She gave it her best shot.” I waved my hand dismissively. It had been a death match, but I’d faced worse. “I guess it just wasn’t her day.”

  His hand stilled, and I knew he was gawking at me again. “This isn’t funny. Jax trained for decades with the pack. She’s stronger and quicker than a human, especially when she calls on her wolf. You’re incredibly frail compared to us. Like vintage china inside an armory.”

  I cracked my lids just enough that I could see and stared at him. “Is that so?”

  His irises flashed silver. “Yes, that’s so.”

  The wonderful emotion called anger energized me, generating a familiar and missed wave of heat in my sternum. I might not be as fast as a preternatural being, but goddamn it, I wasn’t helpless.

  The truth was Jackson died because she was stupid.

  A smart person would have snapped my neck in front of Joshua and faced the firing squad after. Sure, there might have been the obvious questions and repercussions, but I was certain the bitch was well aware she was bound to get caught in the scuffle regardless.

  Making the attempt to stand hurt. Each individual muscle protested the movement, a million pinpricks under my skin screaming at me for forcing them to work so soon after such torturous treatment. But I couldn’t stay on my ass. What I had to say required being on my feet. For a moment, I swayed like a rickety rocking horse on rusty springs. When the room stopped rotating, I planted my feet. I regained my balance and slapped off Carter’s attempt to assist me.

  Then I walked to Jackson and peered down at her very dead body.

  She was a mess.

  The front of her face was now concave. Her once-full lips had become a part of gummy teeth in the back of her jaw. The top of her skull was completely gone, short chunks of hair bordering the mushy, Hostess Twinkie-like center. Her right ear dangled from the side of her head like a ghastly piece of jewelry.

  “She should have killed me, huh?” I nudged Jackson’s body with my ruined Nikes and glared at Carter. “Why don’t you tell her that?”

  I turned on my heel and limped past the werewolves in my path. They observed me silently as I walked past them. When I exited the apartment through the shattered entranceway with my brain-splattered head held high, I listened gleefully to the sharp squeaks of my blood-covered sneakers as they gripped the expensive ceramic tile and left a trail of red tread marks behind me.

  I didn’t like being underestimated.

  Carter had no idea what I was capable of.

  Chapter Seven

  Holy fucking God.

  As we drove through the deserted city streets with Carter taking command behind the wheel, I gawked at the absolute devastation along the way. It was as if the heart of the city had stopped beating right along with the residents. Dorothy had once said “there’s no place like home,” and after viewing what had become of mine, I couldn’t help but agree. Versus bumper-to-bumper traffic with people congesting the streets, there was an emptiness that reminded me of Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend.

  We’d left on our mission five days after I’d killed Jackson—just after high noon—and were given hours to locate Goose. Carter wanted to get the information I needed and return to base. Of course, he wasn’t aware I had absolutely no intention of returning anywhere with him.

  Once I found Goose, I was sticking to him like glue. Despite my efforts to stay calm and think positive, nerves and a sense of doom had started shaking my composure. He was quite possibly my only chance to settle my debt with Zagan. I wasn’t going to let the man out of my sight.

  I said a silent prayer that, with his assistance, I still had a chance.

  “I don’t like this,” Carter grumbled for at least the fifth time since our departure, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his tanned knuckles turned white. Apparently, traveling into the burbs was something his people didn’t do. Seemed the vampires marked those areas as off-limits, as their servants and families resided there.

  He glanced from the road to the charm that had guided us in the direction of Brooklyn Heights. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to destroy the damned thing. The momentum of the car had jarred the little wooden cork more than once, causing us to travel in the wrong direction as a consequence, and burned up valuable time.

  Looking away from Carter’s apprehensive face, I stared through the dingy glass window. I got a glimpse of my reflection in the side mirror, and it freaked me out enough that I turned away. My nose was no longer swollen or bruised. The wounds I’d suffered from Jackson closed over as if I’d ingested vampire blood to heal. Even the deep gashes in my leg were on the mend. I didn’t understand it, and at the present, I didn’t want to be reminded of it or think about it. Things were fucked up enough without adding additional pressure to the situation. Right now, I could only focus on one thing at a time.

  We exited Prospect Park, drove past Union Street, and entered a place I’d known once upon a time. Apprehensive, I waited for the big reveal, to experience more of the weirdness I’d grown oddly accustomed to. Instead, the moment we drove into the populated area of Brooklyn Heights, it was as if we’d traveled back in time and I was home. People were out in force, chatting with each other as they pushed strollers, walked the streets and entered shops. The roads weren’t as busy as I recalled, but we did pass a few cars with passengers along the way.

  “What the hell is going on?” I asked, studying the people as they stopped to stare at our vehicle. “It’s like I’m back home. It’s normal here.”

  “It’s not normal. The humans are blood slaves,” Carter informed me and venom laced each word. “Every single one of them. That includes the children who have yet to consent to hand over their futures.”

  “Doesn’t look like they’re suffering to me.”

  “Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?”

  “Because you’re Mr. Negativity?”

  Carter growled and looked at me, his eyes glowing in the centers. “I’m not arguing with you.”

  “I have an even better idea,” I said, keeping my tone amicable. “Why don’t you drop me off and pretend we never met. It’s a win-win for both of us. You can go your way and I can go mine.”

  He didn’t respond and I sighed when I realized he wouldn’t.

  The charm glowed brighter, and my spirits lifted.

  It was apparent where our destination would be. As much as things had changed, something had remained the same. In all the years that had passed, Ethan McDaniel had chosen to reside in the same location.

  As soon as we pulled to the curb and Carter killed the engine, I stared at the Brownstone. Visions of a shared kiss with Disco at the base of the stairs hit me like a sucker punch to the gut, so unexpected I couldn’t breathe.

  Goddamn it. It wasn’t fair.

  Once, my memories were caustic, bitter and allowed me to detach myself from everything around me. Now that I’d fallen in love, my emotions were turning against me. I knew it was a part of the relationship train, even though I tried to deny it.

  Life really fucking sucked like that.

  I palmed the charm and gazed at the stone.

  It was shining brightly. With the brilliance of the aquamarine came a shard of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to get my ass out of this mess.

  A shadow in the side-mirror pulled my attention from the charm.

  Several enormous werewolves climbed out of the van that had followed us. There were six of them in total, still in human form, without their normal array of weapons. The few people on the sidewalk saw us and quickly hurried to the other side of the street or vanished into their apartments.

  “I expect you
to listen to me when we go inside,” Carter warned, gaining my attention. “Don’t fuck with me. Not today. I’m breaking several rules coming to this place. Our kind isn’t welcome across this side of the river unless we’re invited or we’ve been captured. By venturing here, we’re asking for trouble.”

  Turning from him, I muttered, “Hopefully I won’t be in this hellhole that long,” and opened the door. The pack members who had traveled behind us took places at the base of the stairs, their massive arms folded over their chests. I didn’t look at them as I walked toward the door. I took a deep breath and said a hasty prayer, hoping that for once my luck would hold out. Exhaling, I knocked on the door as Carter placed his intimidating form firmly beside me. I lowered my arm, scowled at him, and wondered how much trouble I’d get in for knocking his ass over the railing.

  “I’ve got it!” a voice called from the domicile.

  My breath caught when I heard the distinct rasp of the deadbolt sliding free from the bracket. Seconds separated me from my future. I would soon know if there was a snowball’s chance in hell I might make it out of this fucked-up nightmare alive.

  The door opened and I came face to face with a young woman my age.

  Her dark black hair was trimmed short, the pixie cut enhancing very lovely features. Her nose was small, her cheekbones high and evenly spaced, and her lips were bee-sting swollen. The smile she gave me matched her warm and beautiful, chocolate-brown eyes.

  “Who is it, Bells?”

  The phrase “my heart stopped” was one I always used figuratively.

  After all, your heart can’t stop, right?

  In that moment, I discovered not only could it stop, but the world could reverse on its axis and stand still. Perhaps it was the relief, or maybe it was a combination of the stress, grief and confusion, but when I heard Goose’s voice, I almost lost it.

  “I’m not sure,” the girl—Bells—answered. She lost her welcoming smile when she stared past me and got a glimpse at the wolves standing at the base of her stairway. “I’m not sure you can call them guests.”