Rayne sat up in her bed, her vision blurred in her sleep-fogged state, and was surprised to see that she was in her own room again. Her hand went to her forehead, and she closed her eyes to help her recall why she was here. Oh, that's right. Dr. Brennan.
The bed beside her was empty, and she felt a sinking in the pit of her stomach, as if whatever had filled it before had left with the occupier of the bed. Throwing back the comforter, she swung her legs over the bed and stretched before attempting to stand.
She felt well-rested, as if she'd been asleep for hours on end, but she found it odd that it was still dark outside. She pushed the sheer curtains aside and peered out. Pitch black. She was able to see nothing beyond the window, not even the streetlight that usually lit the corner nearby.
That's weird.
She shook her head and turned to make her way to the bathroom, only half-wondering where Camden had gone. She couldn't imagine that it would be very fun watching someone else sleep when you yourself didn't have to and assumed that he'd simply gone to do other things in the middle of the night.
It's still the middle of the night, she reminded herself.
Silently padding out into the hallway, she crept toward the living room area and paused, listening intently and straining her eyes to see through the darkness. She could see nothing, but she could hear something. It was an odd, rhythmic sound, like a muffled crunch, or possibly a thudding, even. Every so often she would hear labored breathing, or a grunt mixed in with it.
"What the..." she said quietly to herself.
There was a quick rustling, and the noise stopped all together. She froze, afraid to move. Her heart pounded almost painfully in her chest, and she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she backed up a few steps to ready herself for a quick getaway.
A few moments passed, and nothing happened. No more noises, no movement, just complete silence, and the blackest darkness that she'd ever seen.
She inched forward, craning her neck and peeking around the corner into the kitchen. Before she knew what was happening, a tall, gangly figure half-stumbled, half-bolted toward her. It gave off a putrid, disgusting smell, and it moaned or maybe growled as its rotting arms reached out to her.
Rayne stumbled backwards and hit the wall. The groaning tower of rotting flesh lunged forward. Her arms shot out and sunk into the putrid mush that once had been the thing's chest. It leaned forward, mouth open wide and snarling as it tried to sink its nonexistent teeth into anything it could reach.
She turned her head to the side and screamed, closing her eyes as she dug her fingers into the goo, clawing and scratching, trying anything to deter its onslaught. "Camden!" She gave a high-pitched screech.
"Rayne!"
She heard his deep voice, but she couldn't tell which direction it was coming from, and she was too afraid to open her eyes.
Her nails went deeper until she felt something hard and cylindrical. She wrapped her fingers around it and ripped it away. She could feel pieces of its flesh caked beneath her fingernails, and her stomach churned. The creature gave a snarling bite, completely unphased by anything she did.
"Rayne!" Camden's voice grew louder, and she could easily detect the worry laced within. "Rayne! Wake up!"
His words somehow registered through the horror before her. "Wake up!" she heard again.
Her eyes sprang open, and she realized that strong arms were restraining her. Gasping for air and with her heart pounding out of control, she pushed and struggled to get away as she screamed.
"Rayne! Stop! It's me!" The sound of Camden's voice made her stop fighting immediately. She looked at him with wide eyes that were full of fear.
She was on the verge of hyperventilating, and the fight-or-flight adrenaline was still pumping through her body, but she managed to still herself.
"Shh. It's ok. It's me. You were dreaming," Camden soothed, his strong arms embracing her and pulling her against his chest.
She was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and her auburn curls were a tangled mess, but she couldn't care any less. Rayne tried to focus on the feel of his arms wrapped tightly around her and willed herself to calm down. It felt as if they stayed that way forever, at least until she'd managed to stop panting enough to form actual words.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and sat up enough to look into his bright blue eyes. "I was dreaming about the stupid zombie from Madam Laurie's basement." She pushed away some of the hair that had plastered itself to her forehead and managed a soft laugh at herself. "The damn thing was trying to eat me."
Camden forced a small smile, but the worry was evident on his face. His hand came to rest on her jaw and the pad of his thumb gently rubbed the soft patch of skin there.
Rayne pushed herself up into a sitting position and leaned against her headboard, closing her eyes and trying to control her racing heart. She smiled when he mimicked her position.
They sat in silence, neither feeling the need to speak, only letting the moment of intense fear pass.
She wasn't sure what was happening to her. At first it was the nightmares about the creeper in her room watching her. However, those went away soon after spending time with Camden. Now it was zombies. What would she be haunted by next?
Slowly and even somewhat cautiously, Camden slid his hand across the small space between them and grabbed hers, interlocking their fingers.
Rayne's heart rate sped yet again, but this time, it had nothing to do with zombies or bad dreams. Her eyes drifted to their connection, then up to his face, which held a thin-lipped smile.
"You ok?" he asked.
She smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a bad dream."
A dream. A nightmare so real, she could still feel the rotting flesh beneath her fingernails. She glanced at her hand and immediately realized that there was something under her fingernails. It was dark red and strongly resembled blood.
She jerked upright and looked at Camden, noticing for the first time the three long scratches across his chest, but they didn't look fresh. They were faded and almost looked like scars with just a slight tint of red at the edges.
Her hands covered her mouth, and she gasped. "Did I do that?" she asked, fear lacing her voice.
Camden chuckled. "That's quite a grip you have."
Rayne backed away from him. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I...it was..."
Camden held up his hand to calm her and reached forward to pull her into his arms again. "It's ok. It's just a scratch," he said. "And besides, look. It's already almost gone."
Rayne looked at the marks on his amazingly beautiful chest. He was right. They barely were visible at all now.
She couldn't believe what had just happened. Nightmares themselves were not brand new to her, but now it was escalating to sleep attacks? What would happen next? Sleepwalking? Why? Why is this happening?
She shook her head, rather embarrassed by her actions, and sat up. "What time is it?" she asked.
Camden reluctantly let her slide out of his arms and watched the cute way her cheeks flushed with color. It really was only a scratch. A deep one, but just a scratch. His advanced rate of healing had already taken care of the problem, so he wasn't worried about it. However, she obviously was. He could see it on her face.
"Almost five," he said, and pushed himself up to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.
She nodded and scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to wipe away the remnants of her dream. That, and her embarrassment. "I'm going to go shower," she said, and stretched as she stood.
The tank top she was wearing rose with her arms and exposed her midriff. Camden smiled at the sight of the smooth, creamy skin, but quickly looked away. Though captivated by her, he was going to allow things to happen on her time. He wouldn't push the subject or try to make her uncomfortable. They'd already had their tongues down each other's throats, snuggled on more than one occasion, slept together twice now, and flirted constantly, but still, he was going to let her set the pace, no matter how much or how fast he wanted things to escalate.
Rayne yawned, pulling him from his thoughts, and moved around him to disappear into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
Camden stood and left the room. He had to drink his last bag of treated blood if they were planning on getting home later.
*****
The young, blonde-haired vampire sat in the driver's seat of the Camaro; his bulky companion scrunched into the seat next to him. He reached into the backseat, grabbed a small white bottle, and gulped down his third batch of treated blood in the last two hours.
The two of them stared out the windshield at the row of brick apartment buildings ahead.
"This shit is getting weaker and weaker," the burly vampire said with a grunt, and tossed his own bottle over his shoulder into the backseat.
Christophe gave him a side glance. His new partner was somewhat rough around the edges, and the six hours they'd been sitting together in the vehicle hadn't helped him grow accustomed to his crudeness.
However, his personality seemed to fit his whole outer look. While he somewhat resembled Mathias in build, his pitch-black hair and goatee was the opposite from the former's dirty blonde. Just looking at them, it would have been difficult to guess that they were brothers.
"Well, we're on our fourth host. If everyone had a little more self-control, we could still be on the first, and not have to drink every half hour."
Ed shrugged. "Ain't my fault. We were on two when I started, and three didn't go until after I came here."
There was a short silence before he spoke again. "I was watching this chick for a few weeks before she up and left to Louisiana. Nothing spectacular." His mouth widened into a sleazy grin. "She ain't too bad to watch in the shower, though."
Christophe rolled his eyes. There were about a million other things he could think of that he would rather be doing than sitting in the car with this ape. In fact, he would rather be doing ANYTHING other than being mixed up in the mess he was in now.
When Mathias had found him holed up in an abandoned warehouse in the heart of downtown Alexandria, he was in the process of getting his new life as a vampire together. The first eight years, he did as he supposed most new vampires did: He stayed hidden, fed when required, spent most of his time getting used to his new body and physical abilities, and all of his time despising his existence as an inhuman entity.
It wasn't natural. People weren't meant to become immortal and feed off of one another. However, he'd finally come to terms that this was who he was, and that there was no going back. He eventually figured out how to make money, in underground fighting, without anyone knowing his true state.
His small frame and young appearance had everyone betting against him. When he stepped into the ring and defeated everyone he went up against, it was a no-brainer that he'd found his claim to fame.
He had a fair amount of cash saved up and was thinking about purchasing a house instead of staying in the rotting warehouse, but that was when he met Mathias. He'd been given the scoop on an elixir that could change everything for vampires. It sounded like something he wanted to be a part of, so he agreed to sign on. It wasn't until six months after he'd been recruited that he found out the whole story.
Their "master," as he was to be called, was bent on world domination. There would be no peaceful existence between vampires and humans. He wanted vampires to be feared, hated, and ruling over anything that was not one of them.
By then, it was too late. He was in, and the only way out now, was death. Christophe sighed and stared ahead blankly; his blue eyes shielded by his dark shades. They both sat in silence, something that Christophe was thankful for. He wasn't too keen on listening to the filth that spewed from Ed's mouth.
"Here we go," Ed said, and leaned forward, squinting his eyes.
Christophe shifted in his seat and watched as a taxi pulled up outside of the first row of apartments. Just a few seconds later, the front door opened and two people stepped out.
The first, a tall male with black hair, he recognized as one of his kind. He wore a leather jacket and shades and glanced about cautiously before being followed by a slender woman.
He removed his shades and squinted to allow his advanced vision to zoom in. They looked oddly familiar. Where have I seen them? Then it hit him: They were the ones at Madame Laurie's a few nights ago when he was following one of the bodyguards.
Ed saw the look on his partner's face and immediately knew something wasn't right. "Something wrong?" he asked in his gruff voice.
Christophe sat back and exhaled forcefully. "I think the game plan just changed."
Ed cocked an eyebrow and glanced back at the two climbing into the back of the taxi. "What do you mean?"
He started the engine and put the Camaro in drive, slowly inching forward, so as to not arouse any suspicion. "I was following the bodyguard a few nights ago. Those two were there. I know they saw me; they looked right at me a few times. If we follow them out in the open, they'll know it's us coming."
Ed placed his dark sunglasses back on his face. "You think they knew it had something to do with them?"
Christophe shrugged and followed a good way behind the yellow car. "Probably. They showed up a little after their friend."
"Dipshit! Why didn't you try to grab them then?"
Christophe narrowed his eyes but stayed focused straight ahead. "Because, Dipshit," he said, emphasizing the word, "the only photos we had of them were with your brother when he went all gung-ho and got himself killed. I had no idea what they looked like."
He braced himself for an uproar at the mention of his brother, but it never came.
Ed shrugged. "The asshole should have known better."
The rest of the ride was in silence, Christophe staying a close distance behind the vehicle and watching its every move closely. They finally stopped outside of a large shopping outlet and watched as a short, round girl came bounding up to the vehicle, nearly tackling their target as she got out. Christophe killed the engine. "All right. Showtime."
*****
Marshall Brennan sat at his desk in the back room of his quaint little house and typed something into the computer. His large square glasses sat on the end of his nose, and he occasionally looked over them at the screen.
It may have been twenty-something years since he'd had anything to do with the project, but he'd been so engrossed in it, he was confident he could remember almost everything. He swiveled in his chair and rolled it over to a microscope on another table just behind him. Grabbing the vial of blood he'd taken from Rayne, he used a dropper and placed the tiniest drop onto a small, rectangular piece of glass. He placed another on top, sandwiching the sample between the two, and very carefully placed it under the microscope.
He took a deep breath and removed his glasses to look into the instrument. He remained motionless, studying the appearance of the individual cells. There it was, plain as day, and exactly how he'd remembered the original sample to look.
He laughed to himself and clapped his hands together as if in victory. "Aha!" he laughed. "Incredible!" He couldn't believe it. After twenty years in the host, the ancient, witch-doctor blood had to have completely rearranged the DNA in Rayne's blood cells. It was definitely still human, but the odd characteristics they'd only ever seen in the original samples were there.
Maybe the rumors, legends, and myths were all true. Maybe the Petonukili Tribe were a magical, holy species, or super-humans, or as some had called them, "gods among us."
Whatever they were, it was astonishing and unbelievable what one dose of their blood in the human body could do. If only Harry was there to see what they had managed to do all those years ago! He clapped his hands again and spun around excitedly before sitting and trying to calm himself. He returned to his computer and began typing furiously.
Then, another thought popped into his mind.
If anyone else finds out, Rayne is as good as dead. If not worse.
His fingers stopped their tapping, and he sat back. If the wrong people found out about it, it wouldn't be just her who was in trouble. He ran his hands through his greying hair and sighed. "Not good."
*****
Camden followed closely behind Rayne and her best friend, occasionally rolling his eyes at their chatter and girlish habits. His shades and leather jacket in place, he kept his head on a swivel and continuously scanned the area.
The girls walked arm-in-arm just a few steps ahead of him, giggling and talking animatedly. It was such a relief to have at least a little time to spend with Layla. Maybe this would be the decompression that she needed to keep her going strong for the next round of whatever the world had to throw at her.
Layla gasped and pointed at a window with the free hand that wasn't loaded with bags. "That one!" she said excitedly and steered her friend through the door of the store.
Camden laughed to himself and followed. He wasn't a big fan of shopping, but it was nice to see Rayne enjoying herself. So, for whatever pain it caused him, it was a price worth paying. The girls zigged and zagged through the aisles of clothes, inspecting this and grimacing at that. He stayed close, but out of the way.
"What about this one, Rayne?" Layla asked, holding up a black halter dress that looked as though it fit like a second skin.
"Ooh. I like that!" she said and held it against her.
The black-haired girl nodded her approval and pulled it from the rack.
Camden rolled his eyes again for what felt like the thousandth time since their little outing began a few hours ago. He didn't want to break up the fun, but it was getting close to time for heading back to Louisiana.
He moved a little closer to the duo and was about to speak when his cell phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he furrowed his brows at he studied the unrecognizable number. Cautiously, he answered and glanced around nervously. "Hello?"
"Camden! It's Marsh..."
The last part of his sentence was all jumbled with signal interference. "Dr. Brennan?" he asked.
Rayne's head jerked toward him at the mention of the scientist's name.
"Ye..." another garbled statement came through.
"Dr. Brennan, I can't understand you. Hold on."
Rayne watched as her vampire companion moved closer to the door. She turned back to Layla and forced a smile, not wanting to give away that anything was amiss. But it has to be, right? Why else is he calling Camden? She doubted it was for a leisurely chat, seeing as to how he reacted to the two of them yesterday.
Camden stood at the all glass front of the store and strained his advanced hearing to see if he could make out more of what was being said. "Dr. Brennan?" he asked again.
"Camden!"
This time, it was a little clearer. "I can hear you now."
A sigh of relief came from the other end. "Good. Camden, listen to me," he began. "I looked at the samples of Rayne's blood."
Camden nodded, even though Dr. Brennan could not see him. "Ok."
"It's incredible! Her body has bonded with the serum she was given as a child."
He shook his head. "I'm not following you."
"It's her, Camden!" the scientist nearly yelled. "She IS the formula! It's running through her veins right this very second!"
His eyes widened. "You mean..." his voice trailed off as his brain ran circles around a million different possibilities.
"Yes!" he yelled, his voice somewhere between excited and fearful. "You have to keep her safe! You know what this means if the wrong people find out."
Camden jerked his head to where the two were previously standing, only to find nothing but their bags on the floor. His heart felt as though it had dropped out of his chest, and the phone fell to the floor. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move.
"Rayne!" He yelled out. Using his inhuman speed, he raced around the small department store, searching every nook and cranny, only to come up empty-handed.
In seconds, he was picking his phone up off the floor. "They've got her. Pack your bags and leave now. They'll be coming for you, too. I'll be in touch," he said, trying to catch his breath as he hung up the phone.
His stomach did flip-flops, and he felt as though he were going to be sick.
"What have I done? How did I let this happen?" he asked himself, pacing the space and frustratedly running his hands through his hair.
Thinking quickly, he dialed a number and waited until it was answered on the second ring. "Connor. Get the jet and get here now. They've got her."
He replaced the device into his pocket and left the building, not caring if anyone noticed his speed. He had to find her. He had to get her back. Not just for the sake of the human world, but for himself. He couldn't live without her, not now. He knew then that he'd fallen in love with Rayne Slade, and he would get her back if he died trying.
Somewhere along the way, whether it began from the stories of her grandfather or a week ago when they were tossed together in a hurricane of turmoil, it didn't matter. He now belonged to her.