Chapter 9
1378 Words
The silence that followed their shared breath was fragile, a thin layer of ice over a deep, dark lake. Chloe remained frozen between Cassius’s knees, the scent of the antiseptic she’d used on his shoulder mingling with that strange, earthy smell that clung to him—like a forest floor after a heavy frost. In the small, cramped bathroom, bathed in the sickly yellow glow of a flickering bulb, the world outside her apartment felt like a distant, faded memory.
Cassius’s forehead was a shock of cold against hers. It wasn't the cold of a breeze or a refrigerated room; it was a deep, structural absence of heat that made her brain scream danger even as her heart felt a pull she couldn't explain. He was a widower of the 14th century, a man who had watched his world burn, and for a heartbeat, Chloe felt the sheer, agonizing weight of his nine hundred years.
"Thou art shivering," he murmured, his voice a low vibration that seemed to bypass her ears and settle directly in her chest.
"I’m... I’m fine," she whispered, though her teeth threatened to chatter. She pulled back slowly, breaking the contact. She needed distance. She needed to be the nurse again, not the girl staring into the abyss of a vampire’s eyes. She began to pack the suture kit back into its plastic bin with jerky, mechanical movements. "You need to rest. Your body is trying to heal, but you’re running on empty. I’ll get you what you need."
Cassius stood up, his height making the bathroom feel like a birdcage. He watched her every move with that unnerving, predatory stillness. To him, Chloe was a marvel—a creature of light and blood who moved with a frantic, beautiful energy he hadn't seen since the days before the great slumber.
"I cannot bide here, Chloe," he said, his gaze shifting to the bathroom door, then toward the living room where the shattered window let in the city’s roar. "I have brought the Fledglings to thy door. Others will come. They follow the scent of the Ancient like hounds follow a wounded stag. If I stay, thy life is forfeit."
"If you leave, you’ll collapse in an alley and end up in a government lab," Chloe countered, her voice rising with a spark of stubbornness. She turned to face him, clutching the bin to her chest like a shield. "You don't know this world, Cassius. You think it's just 'lanterns' and 'metal carriages,' but there are cameras on every street corner. There are people who track every heartbeat. You’re a ghost in a world that has perfected the art of haunting."
She pushed past him into the living room. The wind was whistling through the broken pane, carrying the smell of exhaust and the distant, rhythmic thumping of a bassline from a passing car. She walked to her kitchen, avoiding the shards of glass that sparkled on the linoleum like fallen stars.
From the top shelf of her refrigerator, behind a carton of almond milk and some wilting kale, she pulled out a small, insulated bag. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she unzipped it. Inside were three bags of Type O-negative blood, stolen from the hospital’s surplus two nights ago when the inventory system had flickered during a power surge. She had always been the one to follow the rules, the selfless daughter who never caused a stir, yet here she was, a thief harboring a fugitive from history.
"Here," she said, her voice trembling as she held one out.
Cassius appeared in the kitchen doorway. He didn't walk; he was simply there. Chloe flinched, the bag slipping slightly in her grip before she steadied it. Every time he moved like that, it felt like a slap to her equilibrium. It reminded her that no matter how vulnerable he looked, he was a creature built for the kill.
He looked at the plastic bag, his nostrils flaring. The veins beneath his eyes began to pulse, a dark, bruised violet against his marble skin.
"What is this sorcery?" he asked, his voice dropping into a guttural rasp. "Blood... in a bladder of transparent skin?"
"It’s medicine," Chloe said, her breath hitching as she saw his fangs begin to slide down. "It’s clean. It’s... it’s life."
He took the bag from her, his fingers brushing hers. The contrast was startling—her warm, pulse-driven skin against his static cold. He didn't use a glass or a cup. He simply tore into the plastic with a single, sharp incisor.
The change in him was instantaneous. As he drank, the greyish tint of his skin vanished, replaced by a terrifyingly healthy pallor. The jagged wounds on his shoulder, which Chloe had just stitched, began to knit together with a sickening, wet sound. His eyes flared a brilliant, terrifying crimson, reflecting the moonlight in a way that made him look like a god carved from rubies.
Chloe backed away, her hip hitting the counter. She was terrified. She was a nurse who had spent her life preserving the thin line between life and death, and she was currently watching a man leap across that line with a hungry grin.
Cassius finished the bag and dropped it. It hit the floor with a soft thwack. He looked at his hands, flexing them, his strength returning in a tide of dark energy.
"It is... cold," he remarked, his voice no longer raspy, but smooth and commanding. "The blood of this age tastes of metal and stagnant water. But it suffices."
He turned his gaze toward the window. The paranoia was still there, but it was now sharpened by power. "Who sent the message, Chloe? The one who mentioned thy sister?"
Chloe felt the blood drain from her face. She reached for her phone, which lay on the floor near the dining table. The screen was cracked, a spiderweb of lines obscuring the text, but the words were still visible.
I saw what went out the window, Chloe. You’re keeping secrets again. Just like your sister.
"I don't know," she whispered. "My sister... she’s in California. We haven't spoken in six months. She’s a lawyer, very successful, very... perfect. My parents always say I should be more like her. But the 'secret'... I don't know what it means."
"It means thou art being watched," Cassius said. He walked toward the window, stepping over the glass with effortless grace. He leaned out, his eyes scanning the rooftops across the street. "The one who sent this... they do not fear the night. They use it as a veil."
He turned back to her, and for a moment, the vampire was gone, replaced by the man who had lost his wife to the fire. "Thou hast saved me twice, Chloe of the Blue. But the debt I owe thee is a heavy one. I cannot leave thee to face this watcher alone."
"You can't stay," she said, though the thought of him leaving made her feel a sudden, sharp pang of loneliness. "The super will be here in the morning to fix the window. Mr. Henderson will be complaining. My life is supposed to be boring, Cassius. I’m supposed to go to work, come home, and listen to Sarah talk about her dating life."
"Thy life ended the moment thou touched my hand in the alley," Cassius said, his voice solemn. "Fate has woven a shroud for us both. We can either wear it, or we can tear it asunder."
A sudden flash of light from the street below caught his attention. A black SUV had pulled up to the curb, its engine idling with a low, predatory hum. The windows were tinted, reflecting nothing but the orange glow of the streetlights.
Cassius’s eyes darkened. "They are here."
"Who?" Chloe asked, joining him at the window.
"The ones who hunt the hunters," he whispered.
Before Chloe could react, the front door of her apartment building was kicked open with a force that echoed all the way up to the third floor.
- Writer
