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Maddox was reluctant to hand Lorien over, but at the same time, having Gideon distracted for a few hours might just give him a chance to organize his resistance. He at least trusted Gideon not to hurt Lorien, and refusing his maker was not in his best interest.
“FUCK!”
Lorien opened his eyes and screamed. He did not know what made him shout, only that there was a fear trapped in him that demanded vocal escape.
“Shhh… easy. You’re safe.”
He didn’t know the voice that soothed him. He felt arms wrapped around him, and in his waking confusion he expected to find himself held by Henry, but it was not his lover who had him in a tender grip. It was the monster who had burst out of the ruins of the Library and demanded he interrupt Maddox’s vacation. There was something about the way two sets of fangs looked looming above him that made him react like the most pitiful of prey.
“Shhh…” Gideon soothed. “I am going to help you. Open your mouth. There’s a good boy. Yes. That’s right. Drink.”
A wooden bowl was held to Lorien’s lips, filled with much needed nourishment. He was starving. Hungry enough to take succor from anyone or anything that offered it.
Lorien felt the pain of his face ease with the first sip. The healing was already beginning. He knew it would take some time for his looks to return. Sun damage was the worst kind of damage a vampire could take, and he had taken a direct hit.
“This is good blood,” he said, gratefully. “Thank you. I feel better already.”
“Very good. That is a nasty wound. Sun damage can be lethal to a little vampire like you.”
“Mmm,” he agreed. His thoughts immediately went to the outside world, to the strangeness of the city, and to how little like coming home felt like coming home.
“What is going on out there? Why are they all masked?”
“It’s a mild plague,” Gideon said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“A mild plague? Seems like a contradiction.”
“Humans are much more adept at dealing with these things now than they used to be. They don’t know that, of course. To many of them, this feels like the first time anything has ever gone wrong, but their kind has survived worse, and it will survive this too.”
“Is that what you aim to be?” Lorien asked the question. “Survivable?”
Gideon smiled. “Rarely,” he said. “If ever.”
He patted Lorien’s head with quiet affection of a kind that made Lorien feel quite special. It was something to be in this creature’s presence, and something else again for the ancient to show kindness and interest.
“How is Will?” Gideon asked the question casually.
“He’s fine. Thriving, actually. Loves the woods. Can’t get enough of hunting. Rolls in the dirt all day long…” Lorien suddenly realized just who he was talking to, and what he wasn’t supposed to know. “I, uh, mean… I mean I don’t know. Haven’t seen him.”
“Your impulse not to lie to me is a good one, baby vampire,” Gideon purred, running his clawed fingers through Lorien’s hair. It had grown all the way to his shoulders, and with every pass of the monster’s digits, little bits of twig and leaf escaped.
Lorien opened his mouth to say he was no baby, but compared to an ancient like Gideon, he very much was.
“I don’t want to say too much. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I got anybody hurt. And I owe Maddox my everything. So. If you don’t mind. I might not say anything else?”
Gideon’s smile grew broader still, two sharp sets of fangs flashing. He moved the bowl back to Lorien’s lips. “Drink,” he bade. “You need your strength.”
11
Finally able to escape the house while Gideon was distracted, Maddox could not quite believe what he was about to do. It was a desperate time, and it called for a desperate measure, but still he hesitated before descending into the crypt-like concrete silo buried beneath the ground, a private place he had purchased in order to keep that which could not be kept anywhere else. It was protected by barbed wire, surveillance, all manner of warnings, and an air of foreboding that even the dullest of humans would inevitably sense. This was not a place anybody wanted to be. Even Maddox felt repelled with every step he took toward his most secure prison. A capsule elevator delivered him down the side of the shaft, clanking and groaning on old pulleys and levers. It was a death trap.
He emerged at the bottom of a benighted hole. There were two prisoners here, a wolf and a vampire. Funny how often that specifically twisted and — Gideon would have said — unnatural pairing appeared in Maddox’s life. It was almost as though the universe was trying to tell him something.
There were grunts and groans coming from the dark depths. He heard them before he saw them. His prisoner, Ivan, was forced to reckon with a very cruel captivity, bound not in iron, but moonsilver, a cursed material that caused extreme pain to those of wolf blood and sapped their preternatural strength. Ivan had managed to press little odds and ends between the silver and his skin, preventing the worst of the burns, but the sheer proximity of the material left him weak and likely in constant pain. Maddox did not concern himself with Ivan’s pain. The man had been given many opportunities to make good on his evil past, and at every turn he had made the wrong choice.
Ivan was Will’s father, so Maddox could not kill him outright. He was also of a very old and powerful lineage, so they had that in common. If Ivan were a better man, he would have made an excellent ally, but his insistence on choosing base instinct and cruel acts over any wise or kind course of action had led him inexorably to this point.
Maddox took his time descending the last round row of stairs and crossing the rancid, stinking floor to stand over his captive. Ivan looked a lot like Will in some respects. He had not only given his son the gift of powerful blood. He had given him the same striking eyes, wild hair, and handsome features. Ivan’s were more brutish and wily, though maybe he had looked like Will as a younger man, before the cruelty of the world and his own acts shaped him.
