No Boundaries - part five (PG13)

[Shadow]

Disclaimer: Moonlight is not mine and no copyright infringement is intended.









IN BETWEEN
sixteen and . . .





No Boundaries
part five





Mick reached the back door of the house, and paused there. There was no way he could see anything through the back windows; the blinds were shut and the heavy curtains were drawn tight, the way Elaine always kept them. He leaned against the door and listened as he worked with his lockpicks. He didn’t dare break the door down. It would be too noisy, and he needed the advantage of surprise. Inside, he could hear Elaine’s voice, her sobbing breaths. She sounded agonized, as she helplessly spilled out dates and names . . . and the way she was speaking was terribly familiar. She’s been given the truth drug. Mick’s body tensed; he remembered all too well just how dangerous it was. Not every vampire who was given it survived the experience. He longed to break the door down instantly, to attack the people who were tormenting her. Ben Talbot and . . . who? He didn’t recognize the woman’s voice. And there were two others there; he could hear them breathing and shifting their feet, though neither of them said a word. The lock slipped open under his tools, and he opened the door a fraction of an inch. He took a deep breath, and his eyes widened. His distress over Elaine had caused him to overlook something which was terribly obvious to him now: Elaine was not the only vampire in this house.













Ben’s memories of Sarah were too overwhelming for him to continue questioning the girl. He simply sat there, silent, and after a moment, Olivia took over the questions. “Who is Mick St. John’s sire?” she asked.

“Coraline DuVall.”

“When was he turned?”

“1952.”

“Who are some of his vampire friends?”

“Josef Kostan,” the girl said obediently. “Guillermo Gasal. Lo--” She seemed to try to stop herself, but the drug pressed her relentlessly. “Logan. Logan G-griffen.”

Ben recognized all the names. Damn, oh damn, apparently the list was legitimate.

“That enough for you?” Olivia asked, glancing sideways at him.

It was more than enough. Ben needed to get outside and breathe fresh air. What was he going to do? Olivia was at least half out of her mind, but she was right about this, and the other hunters wouldn’t back her unless he stood beside her. Even though he couldn’t help but feel sympathy for this particular girl, how could he let a whole list of known vampires go free? After what they’d done to Sarah . . . He turned on his heel and walked back through the kitchen to the front door, stepping out onto the porch. From the corner of his eye he saw Olivia gesture to her two henchmen, and then she followed him outside.

“Are you convinced now, Ben?”

He nodded, leaning against the outside wall of the house. Paint flaked off against his hands. He couldn’t afford weakness, couldn’t afford to feel sympathy for a vampire just because she looked young and pathetic. He couldn’t be taken in again by a sob story. But wait – this couldn’t be a sob story, not with the girl under truth serum. She’d told the truth. She’d had no control over the killing she’d done, and she regretted it terribly. She hadn’t killed anyone since the day she was turned. Even though she was a vampire, she surely didn’t deserve to die for it.

What had Olivia signaled her men to do? He reached for the door to open it, but she grabbed his arm and held him back.

“Stay outside,” she commanded.

"Let go of me."

“What’s the matter with you? You know what has to be done.”

Ben tried to yank himself free of her, but she hung on with an iron grip, despite her slight frame. “Let go!” he shouted. Her eyes widened suddenly and she abruptly released him, taking a few steps back. Ben rubbed his arm angrily and turned away from her. He opened the door and stepped back into the vampire’s kitchen.














Mick hovered just outside the back door, waiting for his chance. He didn’t dare move any farther yet, not when there were vampires inside who might be able to detect him. Very cautiously, he peered inside. Elaine was there on the living room floor, chained and helpless, the same way he and Josef had kept her chained when she was newly turned. Ben Talbot and the unknown woman were just exiting the room, and the woman made a sign to Elaine’s guards as they left. The two silent men – Mick took a deep breath; yes, they were both definitely vampires, damn this betrayal – had weapons in their hands, and they wore stakes in their belts. One of the guards had a gun, and the other carried something that looked like a Cleaner’s flamethrower, only smaller. Oh hell, it was a flamethrower, on a smaller scale, which wouldn’t be as likely to also burn down the house when they executed their victim. Mick closed his eyes for an instant, gathering himself, reaching out for scents and smells. Talbot and the woman had gone through the kitchen to the front yard, and he couldn’t really sense them any more. The two vampires were moving, and Mick opened his eyes again to watch them. If he shot them with silver they’d only be slowed down, not stopped, and Elaine was too close to them, too helpless and vulnerable. And he’d never be able to stake them both before one of them killed Elaine . . . but there was no time left, no time at all. The guard with the pistol stepped to the side, while the one with the flamethrower circled around Elaine, moving until he was facing her. She lifted her head, looking at him in a drugged daze. Slowly the vampire began to raise the weapon, and fire began to spurt from its muzzle, flaring across the linoleum of the living room floor as the blaze approached Elaine.

Mick moved, launching himself through the door, tackling the vampire with the flamethrower from behind, grabbing his arm to throw off his aim. The second vampire charged forward, just as he’d expected – Mick wrenched the first man’s arm aside in a broad arc, and the blazing flame struck the new attacker full in the chest. The man screamed only for an instant before he collapsed into ashes. But Mick lost hold then, and the man he was wrestling flung him aside. He crashed into the wall, bounced off, dodged the stream of fire as the vampire tried to burn him. Fire flared in Elaine’s chair as a pile of papers began to burn; more flames danced along the curtains, and the man swung the flamethrower back towards Elaine. Mick leaped at him, deflecting the flame from Elaine again – but this time there was no way for him to avoid it himself. Fire blazed across his arm, unbelievably agonizing, and the sleeve of his coat burst into flame.













As Ben moved through the kitchen, sounds began to reverberate through the house, coming from the living room. Snarling, growling, screaming, bodies smashing into walls. Ben was transported back into the nightmare time when he’d been kidnapped by Pierce Anders. He’d been certain his kidnappers were vampires, and he still wondered if they'd had any idea what he was, besides being a D.A. When St. John and his friend had shown up, it had sounded a lot like this. From all the weird noises, Ben hadn’t been able to guess whether St. John was a vampire, a normal human, or a lone hunter of some kind. The fact that he’d been fighting vampires had seemed like a good indication that he was human. Would a vampire really fight his own kind in order to save a human woman? Apparently he did exactly that. And it’s a little ironic that he saved a hunter’s life as well. If I am a hunter, any more . . . Ben shook himself, throwing off the memories. Only a second had passed while he’d been lost in them – he hurried to the kitchen door, leaned cautiously against the wall, and peered into the living room.













Time stopped, hanging suspended as Mick fell. He’d lost, oh God, he’d lost, and now there was no one to protect Elaine. She was still chained; she couldn’t get away. He felt himself hit the ground, his arm afire now, and he could barely turn his head far enough to see the man who’d killed him. Elaine was screaming, flinging herself madly against her chains, trying to reach him. The flamethrower was damped now, as the man caught his balance and prepared to aim again. The walls and floor were scorched, but it didn’t look like they were going to catch fire. Not like the chair and the curtains. Not like his arm. If he could only beat out these flames on his sleeve . . . he wasn’t dead yet, maybe if he could get the fire out he could fight again, at least for a moment . . . but he couldn’t even move enough to do that. The flames were eating through his skin, through his flesh, and bits of ash were beginning to drift away. Apparently he wasn’t going to be able to survive fire after all, the way Lance and Coraline had. It had only been a faint hope anyway. He was a generation removed from their sire’s blood. But if he couldn’t survive fire, then Elaine didn’t have a hope. She was too far down the bloodline. Oh, Elaine, I’m so sorry.

Only an instant had passed since he’d fallen, but the vampire with the flamethrower had almost regained his balance. Mick tried to turn his head to see Elaine, but he couldn’t; he could only hear her incoherent screams. She’s still alive, but not for much longer. She can’t do anything to defend herself . . . The vampire swung the flamethrower toward Mick again, and then suddenly, unexpectedly, the sound of a gunshot blasted through the air, and the vampire fell sideways. Beth was standing in the back doorway, her gun held ready in one hand, her stake in the other . . . but she didn’t need to fire again; the vampire fell against the chair, into the burning pile of papers, and when he caught fire he seemed to turn immediately into smoke and ash, which drifted through the air and fell in soft swirls to the floor. The flamethrower clattered to the floor more quickly, its fire extinguished.

Smoke and ash. Mick was burning too, just more slowly, but when he opened his eyes again he was still alive, and Beth was leaning over him, her coat in her hands, frantically beating out the flames that were engulfing him. Then her cool hand was caressing his face, her voice was calling his name. The fire was out, and she was looking down at him. “Beth,” he whispered.

She was pale as death, her cheeks tracked with soot and tears. “Mick, what do I do? How can I help you?”

The flames were gone, but he was still burning . . . still burning. Well, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t done this to others. What went around came around. He’d lived a long life, and much of it had been good; he’d known true friendship, and true love, and he’d slept, last night, in Beth’s arms. He’d made love to her, as he’d dreamed of doing. He didn’t want to leave her, but . . .

No, he couldn’t leave her, not yet. He had to warn her. He’d been drifting away, but it was all coming back to him now: she was in danger, terrible danger, and so was Elaine. “Take Elaine . . . get out of here . . . quickly . . .” He saw a blur of movement behind her. “Beth, behind you!”

Beth spun, but not fast enough, and she didn’t have a weapon in her hand any more. Someone grabbed her and flung her aside – it was the woman who’d been questioning Elaine. Mick fought to move, but he was back in a nightmare again, watching someone harm Beth and powerless to protect her. He might as well be mortal again, for all he could do to help her. Beth hit the wall and fell to the floor, moaning, and he heard Talbot’s voice. “Olivia, for God’s sake! She’s human! Leave her alone!”

Then Talbot was beside him, pushing aside the remnants of his charred sleeve and frowning. “What the hell? Look at this, Olivia! He’s burned. Vampires can’t survive being burned - we’ve got this wrong.”

“There are a few of them who can survive it,” the woman snapped. “At least for a while.”

“What?”

“I’ll show you,” Olivia said, staring grimly down at Mick. Then she had a stake in her hand, and she drove it into his chest. Stakes hurt, they always hurt, but they were only immobilization. A staked vampire always knew what was going on around him, even if he couldn’t move.

But Mick was already barely holding on to consciousness. When the stake penetrated his heart, the world turned black, and even the echoes of Elaine’s screams died away. He tried to remember Beth’s face as he slipped into the darkness, the way she’d looked leaning over him . . . now, and in the desert . . .

Like an angel.












The house had been empty when Josef arrived, and now even the scents were starting to fade – the scents of Mick, Beth, Elaine, and the strangers, both human and vampire. Logan’s scent was still strong because he’d come and gone only half an hour ago. Josef could still sense Logan’s utter panic, but he couldn’t read what had happened here before he’d arrived. When he breathed in, he only got the confused impression of a fight, of Mick grappling with two other vampires. Why the hell couldn’t Mick ever take on just one at a time? Logan had seen Elaine in chains, which fit what Mick had relayed over the phone, but that was all. Josef eyed the two piles of ashes on the floor, between the blackened curtains and the burned chair. He’d had fledglings die before, and he’d always felt it, wherever they were, however long it had been since he’d seen them. So if Mick had died, would he know it? Could Mick even be called his fledgling? Probably not. What they’d experienced hadn’t been a normal turning, and it hadn’t really changed anything about their long friendship. Mick had taken in Josef’s blood, but this hadn’t overcome his bond of blood with Coraline. He was a dear friend, but not truly a fledgling. And when friends died . . . even when they were far closer to Josef than his fledglings were . . . he’d never felt it happen.

He paced back and forth across the scorched living room floor, hoping a stray scent would give him a clue, but no such thing occurred. He needed someone who could smell the past far more clearly than he could – someone like Mick, who was gifted that way. Josef sighed. Or someone like Esme Morrison. He knew she was in town, and she had a reputation for being a sensitive. Maybe Logan would be able to track her down. Or else I need Coraline. Josef was almost sure Coraline was back in L.A., but his people hadn’t found her yet. Still . . . the most likely place to find her was, in fact, right here. He sat down on the couch and settled in for a wait.

Two hours passed slowly by, and he was starting to think he’d been wrong - and then he heard a sound, and saw a shadow enter the room. Coraline. She stepped out onto the floor, a slim woman in a dark coat, staring around the room in horror. Then she froze, sensing him, and said, “Josef?”

“Yes.”

“What happened here?”

“I don’t know. I got here too late. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“I felt something,” she murmured, staring at the ashes. “Something terrible.”

“Is Mick alive?”

“He must be. I haven’t felt him die. If it happened, I would feel that, wouldn’t I?” Coraline sounded terribly uncertain. She knelt near the ashes and put her hand to the floor, her eyes closed. Her breathing became harsh and labored, and she swayed, almost falling sideways. Josef quickly knelt beside her, steadying her.

“What do you see?” he asked.

“Elaine was in chains. They were going to kill her. With fire. Mick stopped them.”

“And then what?”

“He – he was burned.” Unconsciously she put her right hand to her left arm, her expression full of pain.

Burned. Josef’s heart sank, but Coraline had also said that Mick was still alive. He was speaking to a woman who’d survived a fire, after all – and she was Mick’s sire. “What does that mean for him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Coraline. I’ve heard the stories. Your bloodline is special. You’ve survived fire, and so has Lance. Can Mick do the same?”

“I don’t know!” she flared out. “The stories aren’t all true. Yes, my brothers and I can survive fire, though some can do it more easily, more efficiently, than – than others. But in the next generation, it’s not predictable.”

“What are the possibilities?”

She bit her lip, slowly getting to her feet. “They either heal quickly, die quickly or -- ”

“Or what?”

“Or they die slowly,” Coraline whispered, and Josef involuntarily looked at his watch. It had been over three hours since Beth’s call.

“Well, then maybe Mick has already healed,” he said firmly.

“No. He hasn’t. I can feel that much. I can feel the pain.” She was still cradling her left arm, her eyes haunted as if with memory. Of course, no matter how quickly she’d healed, she’d always remember what it had felt like. Josef was terribly certain she was telling the truth about this. But she could be wrong. Why shouldn’t someone from Mick’s generation also be able to heal slowly? Maybe no one ever had before, but there couldn’t be that many examples to draw data from.

And however truthful she seemed, Coraline could still be lying. This could all be part of some plot of hers to get Mick back for herself, or even just to pay him back for what he’d done to her. Josef couldn’t imagine any way that even she could have set this up, but he wasn’t going to rule it out. Either way, he simply had to believe that Mick still had a chance.

“We have to find him,” he said. “Did you get any sense of where he is?”

She shook her head helplessly. “No. Not even a direction. I just felt something was wrong, and I started looking in all the places I thought Mick might be. Josef, what can we do?”

“There’s a sensitive in town. As soon as I find her, I’m bringing her in. I think she’ll be able to see a lot more than we can.” Josef pulled out his phone. He needed to change his instructions for his people who were looking for Coraline, and have them search for Esme instead.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Coraline fade toward the door. He lunged to intercept her but she was too fast for him, and she was gone in a heartbeat, vanished into the night. Josef stared after her for a moment, then cursed and picked up his phone again. Maybe it didn’t matter – he was pretty sure she’d already given him all the information she had. But he’d wanted her to come into contact with Esme, so they could get Esme’s sense of Coraline’s sire-fledgling bond. It probably wouldn’t have worked anyway. And it was too late now.

He made calls, relaying his instructions, and got updates. Guillermo was now coordinating the warnings and evacuations, and Marguerite Gerard was safely on a private jet, which was nearing Los Angeles. Maybe she could help from the Cleaners’ end – he hadn’t contacted them about this yet, knowing there was someone in their ranks who couldn’t be trusted.

When he put his phone back in his pocket, he started pacing again. Was he really going to lose Mick? How was he going to bear that? He’d never let himself get so close to anyone before, except for Sarah, and he’d lost her long ago. He couldn’t lose Mick too. And what had happened to Elaine, to Beth? Somehow he’d gotten attached to both of them as well. He thought of the fierce way Elaine had cared for Mick after the disaster in New York, of the way Beth had refused to leave Mick alone when he’d been shot with silver, even though she’d just had the shock of her life. How the hell had he gotten so involved with these people’s lives? How was it that he now cared about them too?

Mick had nearly died both of those times, but he hadn’t. He was strong, resilient. Coraline said he was still alive now, which was a miracle in itself. But it was hard, this time, for Josef to hold on to hope. How could Mick possibly stay alive in captivity, with a burn, without blood or a freezer, for even long enough for Josef to find him? And if he did by some chance find Mick in time, what could he possibly do for him?

His phone rang and he grabbed it, answering instantly. It was good news for once; Logan had found Esme and was on his way to the house with her. With a deep sigh Josef put his phone away. Okay, Esme would be here shortly, and Marguerite would arrive soon after her. If only he still had Coraline. Why had he let her get away?

But before any of the others arrived, not more than an hour and a half after she’d left, Coraline slipped back into the house. Without a word she sat down beside Josef, her hands in the pockets of her coat, and waited with him.














The floor was hard and cold. Beth’s head was pounding and light was stabbing in through her closed eyelids, making her feel nauseated. Someone gently lifted her head and put something soft beneath it – a jacket, maybe. She tried to move, to open her eyes. “Just lie still . . . you’ll be okay,” a voice said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. It was Ben’s voice. What had happened? Where was Mick?

Ben moved away from her, his steps loud on the hard floor. “What is this place, anyway?” he asked.

“A holding facility,” a woman’s voice answered.

“Pretty impressive.” Ben paused for a moment. “Are you planning to explain why you were working with a pair of vampires?”

“I have a source in their Cleaners,” the woman said. “She gave me the names of those men. They were willing to betray their own for the right amount of money.”

“I see. And where did you get that kind of money?”

“You’ve been out of touch a long time, Ben,” the woman said coldly. “Things have changed.”

“Yeah, they have. Time was, Olivia, you wouldn’t have hurt a human woman.”

Beth tried to remember what had happened. Someone had grabbed her, had thrown her against the wall. Someone had torn her away from Mick’s side. Mick.

Olivia said, “A woman who fights for vampires deserves what she gets.”

“She was just trying to help her friend! How was she supposed to know what he is? Vampires keep their secrets.”

Mick was burned. Oh God, had that really happened? Where was he? Terrified, Beth opened her eyes and struggled to push herself up. The room spun, then steadied, and she saw Ben’s pale face in front of her, felt his hands steadying her.

“Take it easy, Beth,” he said gently. “I’m sorry about this.”

“Mick,” she gasped, looking around in a panic. They weren’t at Elaine’s house any more; she was in a utilitarian room with a cement floor and block walls. The walls were lined with heavy-duty file cabinets, and in one corner, all in a heap, she saw her bag, her coat . . . and Mick’s coat. “Ben, where’s Mick? Is he – is he still alive?”

A cloud seemed to pass over Ben’s face, and he let go of her shoulders. “Beth, there are some things you need to know about him.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Just tell me if he’s alive!”

Ben sighed, looking away from her. “He’s in the next room. He was alive when we put him there.”

Alive. But how long had it been since they’d put him in this other room? She glanced at her watch in horror. It had been hours. Could a vampire even survive a burn like that? Mick had always said that fire was one of the few things that was sure to kill them . . .

Ben went on, “But there are things he’s kept from you, things you need to know. Mick isn’t who you think he is. He -- ”

“Hell, Ben, she knows perfectly well what he is,” Olivia interrupted, shouldering Ben to the side. She pushed Beth against the wall, held her face with one hand, and scrubbed roughly at her throat with the sleeve of the jacket that had been beneath her head. Ben’s jacket, Beth realized. She struggled as hard as she could, but Olivia was far too strong for her, and she found herself pinned, helpless to move. And Olivia was scrubbing the exact spot where Mick had bitten her. Had her makeup smeared or come off? She hadn’t had a chance to check.

The woman tossed aside the jacket and tilted Beth’s chin up, exposing the bite marks to Ben. “See?” she said to him.

Ben looked utterly shocked. Olivia let go of Beth and stalked away, and Beth put a hand to her throat. Ben grabbed her hand and moved it aside, staring mesmerized at the bite marks.

“Why, Beth?” he said in a choked voice. “That’s – that’s a clean bite. You weren’t attacked. Did you have any idea what you were doing? What St. John is?”

Beth yanked her hand free of his. “I knew exactly what I was doing, and I know exactly what he is,” she said, her voice trembling. “He told me. He never lied to me.”

“But you can’t have known! If you had, you would never have . . .”

“Come on, Ben, she said it herself. She does know.” Olivia sounded bored. “She chose her side. You know what that means.”

Beth looked at Ben imploringly, but when he looked back at her, his expression had gone cold and hard.

“I’ll do it if you want,” the woman said, and Beth shuddered at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. Was she reading this right; did Olivia really mean to kill her? And if Mick is dead, or dying, does it matter? “Or you can just throw her in with the others.”

“She’ll pull the stakes.”

“So? There’s nowhere they can go. And they’re in bad shape. If she releases them they’ll probably kill her, and that would solve at least one problem.”

“Yeah, it would.” Abruptly Ben grabbed Beth’s arm and pulled her roughly to her feet. She staggered a little, then caught her balance and let him lead her to a door, an odd door that was more of a hatchway. Still holding her arm painfully tightly, he threw open the latch and pushed her into the next room. She didn’t resist; this was where she wanted to go anyway, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the two prone figures on the floor in front of her. The door slammed behind her and latched, but Beth didn’t even hear the bolt fall home. She was mesmerized by the sight before her, the two figures lying motionless with stakes piercing their chests. She couldn’t tell if they were alive or dead.

She rushed to Mick’s side and fell to her knees beside him, remembering her terror the first time she’d found him staked, how horribly certain she’d been that he was dead. How could it feel even worse this time? Back then, when she’d shaken him, he’d opened his eyes at once, and she’d known he was alive. This time, he didn’t respond to her at all.

Trembling, she let go of his shoulders, grasped the stake, and yanked it out. It clattered to the floor as she dropped it, echoing in the silent room. Mick still didn’t move; he didn’t react at all, and she knew how painful it was to have a stake removed. If he couldn’t even feel that . . . She touched his face, called out his name, with desperate tears building in her throat. His skin was hot, terribly hot, even hotter than it had been in the desert. What did that mean? She couldn’t see him breathing, but she wasn’t sure he really needed to breathe. With a moan she leaned over him and pressed her ear to his chest. There had to be a heartbeat, had to be.

And there was. Faint, slow, hardly detectable, but there. Mick was still alive.

She straightened slowly and forced herself to look at the burn on his arm. His coat was gone, bundled up in the corner of the room next door, and his shirt sleeve was half burned away, hanging in blackened tatters. Fire killed vampires. She’d seen the two vampires at Elaine’s house go up in flames, burning to death at the very moment they were touched by fire. Why was Mick still alive, and how could she keep him that way? She touched his arm very gently, and black flecks of ash fell away from the wound. She jerked her hand away. No, please no. She stroked Mick’s face again, holding her wrist to his mouth – could blood save him? – but he still made no response at all.

Beth staggered to her feet, hurried to Elaine’s side, and reached for the stake in her chest. She hesitated for an instant, remembering what Olivia had said. They’re in bad shape. If she releases them they’ll probably kill her. Mick would never harm her, whatever happened, but she had no idea what Elaine might do. Looking down at the girl’s still face, Beth realized that she knew her. She’d never imagined that Mick’s Elaine was the same girl she’d met in the hospital waiting room months ago, when she’d been having those terrible nightmares about Coraline and Mick. Had Elaine known who Beth was, back then? Maybe, and that was disturbing, but it was certainly possible that Mick hadn’t gotten around to telling Elaine about Beth, either. It doesn’t matter. She’s the only one who can help me. She grasped the stake and yanked it out, and Elaine gave an agonized cry, her body in a spasm. Then she rolled onto her side, doubled over in pain, and looked up at Beth with terrified eyes.

“Mick?” she gasped, and when she saw him she sat up with a struggle and crawled to his side, collapsing beside him in a heap. She reached out as if to touch the burn, but then she pulled back, fearfully letting her hand hover over his arm. “Oh God, Mick, what have you done?”

“How can we help him?” Beth asked urgently. “I didn’t even know vampires could survive fire; I don’t know what to do . . .” But Coraline had survived somehow, hadn’t she? Beth had seen her in the fire, and she was still alive. Beth had thought her four-year-old memory must have been wrong, that she’d imagined things that hadn’t happened, but what if her memory had actually been true? And Coraline was Mick’s sire - if she had indeed somehow survived being burned, could he do so also?

Elaine moved her hand away from Mick’s arm, touched his face, and winced. “He needs cold,” she said, looking around hopelessly. “Ice, a freezer. Are we prisoners here?”

Beth nodded. “I don’t think there’s any way out. Even for vampires. Elaine, what about blood? Would that help?”

“I don’t know. It might.” Elaine looked up at her, looking suddenly much older than seventeen. “But he’s too far gone to bite you, Beth.”

“I know. But you could do it for him.”

“I – they drugged me, and I’m so – so thirsty. I need blood so much. I don’t know if I -- ”

Beth took the girl’s hands, held them tightly. “You can. You can stop after you bite me. You can let Mick have my blood. I know you can.”

She held her wrist out to Elaine without hesitation and the girl stared at it, her eyes immediately going white, sharp fangs appearing in her half-open mouth. She was breathing hard, obviously struggling to keep from attacking Beth immediately and violently. “Think of Mick,” Beth said in a low voice, and after a long moment, Elaine nodded stiffly. Then she grasped Beth’s arm in both hands, the same way Mick had taken her arm that first time, and struck.

It hurt, but Beth scarcely noticed the pain. Elaine was shaking, fighting with herself, her hands still holding Beth’s arm with an iron grip. Then she jerked away from Beth, blood on her fangs, and quickly turned her face away, shuddering with the effort. Beth curled her body close to Mick’s, cradled his head in her free hand, and held her bleeding wrist to his mouth. She forced his mouth open and let her blood drip into it, whispering to him, pleading to him. “Mick, please, take it. Please, oh God, please. You have to take this.” But he didn’t move, didn’t swallow, and blood ran down the side of his face, into his hair, onto the floor. “Please,” she sobbed. “You need this. I know it will help; I know it. Stay with me, Mick. Stay here with me . . .”














No one would tell him what had happened to Ray. Voices came and went, hands touched him and hurt him, but no one mentioned Ray’s name, and as hard as Mick tried, he couldn’t surface far enough to ask. The pain was terrible, endless, and now he was so hot he was burning, burning with a fire he didn’t know how to put out. He wanted to ask for water, to quench the fire, but no words would come to him. The darkness went on forever, and his eyes wouldn’t open.

Could Ray have survived? Mick had thrown himself across his friend’s body, trying to protect him, but Ray had already been so terribly wounded. The white flash of the mortar, the deafening explosion, kept replaying in Mick’s mind. The heat of the explosion . . . how could he still be burning? How long had this been going on? He moaned, trying to move far enough to get out of the flames, and a cool hand pressed against his forehead. The flames dampened and he sighed with relief, finally relaxing.

“It’s okay, Mick,” a woman’s voice said. “I’m a nurse. I’m going to stay with you, and I’ll look after you. I’ll always be here to look after you.” The woman’s hand was so wonderfully cold . . . it felt blissful against his skin, just as his mother’s hand had felt when he’d been sick as a child, when he’d run a high fever. Her hand moved away and he moaned a protest, but she came back to him with a wet cloth and gently sponged his face, his neck, his chest. “You’re so hot,” she murmured, “but they’re doing everything they can to get the infection under control. And then the fever will go away, and you’ll feel so much better. And even if it doesn’t . . .” Her voice trailed off for a moment, but then she said firmly, “You’ll be safe with me. Here, try to drink this.” A fresh cloth soaked in water touched his lips, and he longed to feel the water in his parched throat, but he couldn’t swallow. The woman squeezed the cloth gently and water slowly filled his mouth. Oh, he wanted it, but it was slipping out the side of his mouth, dripping in a cool waterfall down his face, into his hair, onto the sheets. “Please, Mick, take this,” the woman said, sounding desperate now, and her voice seemed to be changing. A different nurse? “You need it. Please, take it . . .”

Somehow, at long last he swallowed, and water trickled down his throat, feeling like pure heaven. More, he wanted more, and he gulped at the water, his body finally remembering how to drink. “Good, Mick, that’s good. Just keep going. Don’t stop.”

Whose voice was it; who was this woman? Her voice had changed, becoming familiar and beloved, becoming Beth’s voice. “Stay with me, Mick. Just keep drinking, please keep drinking, you need more, don’t stop . . .”

The water had a different taste now, and it was thicker, but he wanted it even more desperately than he had before. He pulled at the cloth . . . but it wasn’t a cloth, not any more; it was Beth’s wrist. Her wrist was in his mouth, her blood was in his mouth, and he was drinking it down in swallow after swallow. But he was still so hot, burning so fiercely; he needed so much more or he would die, he would turn to flame and ash, and disappear. The blood was as cold as if it had just come from a refrigerator, and Beth’s wrist was even colder against his lips. It felt good, so terribly good, better than anything had ever felt before. He could feel her other hand at the back of his head, steadying him, holding him against her. My Beth, my Beth . . .

Beth!

God, what was he doing? What was happening? How much of her blood had he already drunk? He couldn’t feel her, couldn’t feel what she was feeling, couldn’t feel their connection . . . he gasped and flung his head back, pulling away from her wrist, and desperately turned his face away. She grasped his head and tried to pull him back to her, bringing her wrist back to his mouth, but he fought away from her, frantic. “No, Beth! No!”

He could see her now. Her face was blurred in his vision, but he knew it was her. “Mick, it’s okay! You need this; you need blood. You’ve hardly taken any so far . . . you need more, much more.”

“Can’t. Beth, I can’t . . .” He hadn’t been nearly this far gone in the desert; he’d managed, mostly, to stay under control then, and he’d been so aware of her it was uncanny. This time he’d been hallucinating, believing he was in another time, another place, with another woman. He still wasn’t sure where he was or what was happening - he was losing track again, drifting into and out of the past. What had happened to Ray? What had happened to Elaine?

“You have to!” Beth sobbed. “Please, Mick, you have to.” She was clutching her wrist, trying to stop the bleeding, to keep from wasting her blood on the cement floor beneath them. Mick closed his eyes, trying to remember what was happening. The pain in his arm brought it back . . . he’d been burned. Could blood even save him from that? It would be terrible for Beth, having to watch him die, and she might not be able to bear it - but if he fed from her now, there was every chance he’d end up killing her. He couldn’t feel what she felt, and he’d never be able to stop.

“Not this time, Beth,” he whispered. “Won’t be able to stop . . .”

“You won’t have to,” she said, very clearly. “Mick, there’s another vampire here. She’ll stop you. Okay? You can do this. It’s safe. You can let yourself go.”

Another vampire? Someone who could stop him? Slowly Mick turned his head and looked at Beth again. Beautiful Beth, his Beth, but this time there was someone beside her, a lovely girl with long dark hair, and at the sight of her Mick’s heart almost melted with relief. Elaine was here beside him . . . she was alive. He was looking up at two angels, now . . .

“Beth’s right, Mick,” Elaine said softly. “You can drink. I’ll stop you when it’s time. I promise you, I won’t let you hurt Beth. I promise you it’ll be safe.”

Safe. Mick let Beth take him back into her arms. Oh, yes, he was safe there, and she would be safe too. It was all right now. Beth drew his head into her lap and held her bloody wrist out to him, and he closed his eyes and fell into the rapture, taking in her blood, as much as he wanted, as much as he needed. They were connected, they would always be connected, whether he could feel it or not. And now he could feel her, just a little at first but more strongly every second – he could feel, emerging from terror and despair, her tremulous happiness and her newly dawning hope.












-

[r1015bill]

Hey Shadow,

I've just been reading the "No Boundaries" part of your In-Between series and I'm enjoying it. I have every intention of going back and reading everything in order because I don't have a full picture of how the other characters fit in.

In this part, I really liked the flashback to the war. It really fit.

[aolver]

What an amazing chapter Shadow. Ben has to help them. He just has to....somehow change his mind. Thank you.

[wpgrace]

I'm exhausted!

[seamus3333]

I agree with Grace, I'm exhausted too. Why do all the bad guys gang up on Mick? Why is Josef always a day late and a dollar short? And now Coraline's on scene and she's no help either! 600+ years of power between them and they're sitting on a couch waiting for a 'sensitive.' I hope Olivia gets it first; Ben too. He's gotta go.

[jen]

Shadow

This is mesmerizing! The effects of a vampire being burned and maybe even partly turned to ash, but not killed has gotten me thinking, too. What would the healing process involve, other than blood. Elaine is wonderful here. She had no control over the information she revealed under the influences of the drug.

Ben Talbot is making decisions, and I sense the right ones. It takes a while to recognize the good guys and the bad guys.

Thank you! Looking forward to more!

Jenna

[susieb]

I agree with Grace, I'm exhausted too. Why do all the bad guys gang up on Mick? Why is Josef always a day late and a dollar short? And now Coraline's on scene and she's no help either! 600+ years of power between them and they're sitting on a couch waiting for a 'sensitive.' I hope Olivia gets it first; Ben too. He's gotta go.

Completely agree! Plus... Shadow, you are even more sadistic than I suspected. To leave us here wondering.... And I am masochistic... because I'm thinking I never want this story to end. Bravo!

[wpgrace]

I agree with Grace, I'm exhausted too. Why do all the bad guys gang up on Mick? Why is Josef always a day late and a dollar short? And now Coraline's on scene and she's no help either! 600+ years of power between them and they're sitting on a couch waiting for a 'sensitive.' I hope Olivia gets it first; Ben too. He's gotta go.

Let's go help, seamus! To arms for Mick!

I'm ready!

[seamus3333]

Let's go, Grace. We'll blind 'em with footwork; wait till I get my cane....

[Shadow]

Hey Shadow,

I've just been reading the "No Boundaries" part of your In-Between series and I'm enjoying it. I have every intention of going back and reading everything in order because I don't have a full picture of how the other characters fit in.

In this part, I really liked the flashback to the war. It really fit.

hi Rhonda . . . so glad you've been reading this! Hopefully it's made some kind of sense even out of order. --though it's great to hear that you want to go back from the beginning.
The war flashback was my favorite bit in this part so I'm especially pleased you liked it!

[Shadow]

What an amazing chapter Shadow. Ben has to help them. He just has to....somehow change his mind. Thank you.

Thanks so much, aolver! Ben will have some more choices to make in the next part . . .

[Shadow]

You do the best smiley summaries ever, Grace!!

[Shadow]

I agree with Grace, I'm exhausted too. Why do all the bad guys gang up on Mick? Why is Josef always a day late and a dollar short? And now Coraline's on scene and she's no help either! 600+ years of power between them and they're sitting on a couch waiting for a 'sensitive.' I hope Olivia gets it first; Ben too. He's gotta go.

Good points, seamus! But well, you know these "old powerful vampires" . . . I kinda suspect vamps usually get to be old by being cautious, not by being like Mick. And considering Lola, I'm not sure if they really build up all that much power over the years!

[Shadow]

Shadow

This is mesmerizing! The effects of a vampire being burned and maybe even partly turned to ash, but not killed has gotten me thinking, too. What would the healing process involve, other than blood. Elaine is wonderful here. She had no control over the information she revealed under the influences of the drug.

Ben Talbot is making decisions, and I sense the right ones. It takes a while to recognize the good guys and the bad guys.

Thank you! Looking forward to more!

Jenna

Thanks ever so much, Jenna . . . I've always wondered, with his "family" history, just what would happen if Mick came into contact with fire . . . and it's been really interesting to get to explore that.
And Ben still has some more decisions coming up!

[Shadow]

Shadow, you are even more sadistic than I suspected. To leave us here wondering.... And I am masochistic... because I'm thinking I never want this story to end. Bravo!

Sorry . . .
Wow, Susie, it is so great that you don't want it to end! Thanks so much.