Ensconced by the thick press of trees, Johnathan ran without a destination, seeding a trail of loops and false leads in his panic driven flight. Vic dangled over his shoulder, a dead weight due to the toxin on Luthor’s blade. He should have been faster, should have caught the blade, protected by his immunity. A successful intervention would have only staved off one trick from the mysterious duo; he knew in his heart flight was the correct call.
Johnathan forced a brutal pace, thigh muscles burning when the trees began to blur together. He knew how the Society’s Hunters tracked their targets and his false paths and red herrings should have been enough to buy them a lead. The problem was the two unknown players they fled on the train. What he really needed was a body of water to obscure their trail. The roar of a river called to him, a distant promise. Johnathan pushed forward, his speed nowhere near Vic’s, but he could feel the differences between his former and new self. There would be time to be unsettled by those changes later. The riverbank loomed up, sudden and fast, giving Johnathan a split second to tighten his grip around Vic’s legs and launch off the crumbling shore.
Johnathan sucked in a lungful of air, the dark churning surface of the water rushing up to meet them. They landed in icy water that knocked the beast back in its proverbial cage. Its rapid retreat left him gasping, consequently gulping a lungful of frigid water. The water performed a dual service, rinsing the toxin from Vic’s skin. He recovered quickly, regaining enough motion to roll off Johnathan’s shoulder while the latter thrashed toward the surface. Johnathan came up sputtering, glancing around wild eyed until he found Vic, treading water beside him.
“That could have gone better,” said Vic. “But nobody died.” His grin was all teeth, lengthened canines prominent in the moonlight glimmering off the water’s surface. The shadows framed the hollows of Vic’s face. A reminder Johnathan wasn’t the only one still recovering from their last encounter with Evans. Yet Vic managed that impressive show of mental strength on the train.
“I didn’t know you could do that, compel that many people at once,” said Johnathan, a thread of awe creeping into his voice. Waiting for his body to adjust to the cold was a special sort of agony, sapping his energy.
Vic shrugged in the water. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, stud.”
Johnathan wrinkled his nose. “Oh please, no, that is not a pet name I want attributed to me.”
“John, that merely suggests you do want a pet name,” said Vic. “What about darling dearest?”
“No,” Johnathan snapped.
“My trollop?”
“If I could drown you, I would,” said Johnathan. He tuned out the next ‘pet name’ Vic tossed at him, observing their surroundings. Once again, he found himself surrounded by wilds, the press of trunks closer than the forest he’d run through in Maine, chased by nightmares. The trees made his hackles raise.
“Are you even listening, my cherish?”
Difficult though it was, treading water through the heady rush of the river, Johnathan managed the proper glower that term of endearment deserved.
Vic chuckled, his expression sobering. “Did you recognize them, John?”
Worrying his lower lip, Johnathan shook his head. “Not in the slightest.” The Boston chapter of the Society was sizable, but without question, Johnathan knew the full roster of his former comrades on sight. It wasn’t a quirk, but part of a Prospective’s training to memorize the faces of those in their chapter house to prevent any undue violence toward one another in the field. “I’m not sure the woman was a member of the Society.”
The man certainly was, his use of toxins and masking earmarks of upper echelon Society training, but the woman’s startling red uniform was something he hadn’t encountered before. He swore he could still hear the chiming instrument she carried, a faint echo ringing through his ears. Johnathan shook his head, attempting to dislodge the phantom sound.
“We should keep moving,” he said.
Vic spat out a mouthful of water. “Should we stay in the river?”
“No, the river’s carried us enough to break our trail.” Remaining might be a wiser strategy. Johnathan didn’t think he could stand the freezing water much longer. The cold crept into his joints, creating a surprisingly sharp ache. He’d managed to lose the goggle-like glasses when he submerged; an inconvenience, much as he hated them, because they concealed his peculiar eyes.
“Thank god, I loathe swimming,” Vic muttered, powering through the current in deep smooth strokes for the shore. Johnathan was slower to follow, his limbs sluggish to obey, heavier than sacks of bricks when he finally crawled onto the muddy bank.
Vic tugged at the sleeve of his overcoat in disgust. “Ruined.” He grimaced, wringing water out of the sodden fabric. His fastidiousness almost made Johnathan smile from his position, shivering on all fours, when liquid fire ignited through his veins.
Johnathan hissed, gloved fingers digging into the ground while he burned from the inside out. His vision blanked, neck muscles straining. The heat spread through him, banishing the icy chill of the river with a vengeance. His legs abruptly gave out. Johnathan caught himself on his elbows before his face kissed the mud. The wave of heat finished its progression, receding back to his core. His vision refocused to find Vic kneeling in front of him, hands hovering as if he wasn’t sure whether he should touch Johnathan or not. Thankfully, whatever strange episode had seized him, he hadn’t transformed.
“Still me,” Johnathan rasped.
Vic’s worry remained. “That was…interesting.”
Johnathan frowned up at him, shifting back onto his legs to kneel in the mud. Attempting to wipe the mud off his leather gloves onto his already filthy trousers resulted in a smeared mess. “How so?”
“You were literally steaming,” said Vic, lifting a brow. “I wager Hellhounds do not enjoy the cold.”
The words made his shoulders tense. He hadn’t allowed himself to so much as think the term. Still, steaming? He assessed himself. Vic continued to drip water. Johnathan’s clothing was now unpleasantly damp, whatever warmth he’d summoned rapidly draining off in the chill night air. The cold mud beneath him continued to sap at his strength, an unwelcome confirmation of Vic’s theory.
“I reckon you’re right,” said Johnathan, his voice faint.
“You look exhausted,” said Vic. And he was. Sleep had evaded Johnathan since his transition. Given the opportunity, he could sleep for a week, though they didn’t have the luxury. Going still, he listened for a faint chiming that couldn’t possibly be there.
“We need to keep moving,” he murmured.
“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Vic’s expressive brows drew down. He swept an arm at the surrounding trees, flinging drops of muddy river water onto the grass. “Do you realize how much distance you’ve put between us and the train? You ran for miles, John.” Vic sighed, a note of distress in his expression. “I’m not sure I could find the train again if I tried, never mind those idiots finding us.”
Johnathan shook his head, uncertain why Vic’s logic did nothing to assure him. “I don’t think they’re tracking us by the usual means.” And they were being tracked. Johnathan scrubbed his face, uncaring if left more streaks of mud behind. It was an effort to keep his eyes open if not for the urgent inner alarm begging him to flee. “We need more miles between us.”
Vic swore. “You can barely stand.”
Johnathan waved him off. “I’ll keep up.”
“Or I take a turn carrying you,” said Vic, turning to offer his back. “Hop up, my dove.”
“Toss off, Vic,” Johnathan grumbled, staggering to his feet. He shook himself to regain the feeling in his limbs.
“Now you’re just being stubborn,” said Vic. He sighed at Johnathan’s mulish expression. “Really John, you look right haggard. Would it be so awful if I swept you off your feet for a while?”
It wouldn’t be the first time. The notion he needed to be carried irritated him, though he’d be damned if he could figure out why. “I’m sorry. It’s not awful, it’s just—” He paused, struggling to put his feelings into words. “I can’t protect you like that.” The words fell flat from his mouth, lame to his ears. Vic’s gaze widened, clearly finding the statement as absurd as Johnathan did.
“Protect me?” Vic’s brows knotted. “My dear John, I’m not sure you could protect me from a belligerent possum at present. You are weaving on your feet. Besides,” said Vic, stepping in to press his forehead against Johnathan’s, cupping his cool fingers over the back of his companion’s head. “You already did protect me tonight.”
He gave Johnathan’s nape a gentle squeeze. “We protect each other, remember? In this together.”
“Come Hell or high water,” breathed Johnathan.
Vic’s lips quirked up. “Quite accurate in our case.” He took the opportunity to wring a few drops of cold water from his sodden sleeve down Johnathan’s neck.
“Ack!” Johnathan jumped away from him, arms failing while the trickle of droplets slid down his back.
“There’s a bit of your energy back,” said Vic.
“Vile wretch,” Johnathan said through his teeth. He shook out his limbs in a gesture he realized midway through was too reminiscent of a dog, rocking to a stop.
Vic clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Now, now, I thought we were past name calling, my dew drop—”
“Absolutely not that one,” sputtered Johnathan.
“But you are the one who stressed the need for more distance between us and our unknown pursuant. I suggest we make use of your burst of energy.”
Johnathan nodded in silent agreement, resuming his previous punishing pace through the thickest clusters of trees. Vic followed without complaint, until Johnathan stumbled for the third time. Not giving him another chance to protest, he shoved Johnathan onto his back. The position wasn’t much more dignified than being carried in the man’s arms, and while Johnathan disliked being a burden once again, it was clear Vic wouldn’t allow him to run himself to the ground.
Once he had the recalcitrant Johnathan on his back, Vic flew through the forest, boots barely touching the ground. Travel by train had nothing on vampires. Awareness sizzled through Johnathan; the fluid shift of Vic’s legs, his gait even and strong despite carrying the additional weight. As the miles slid along, Johnathan tucked his head against Vic’s shoulder, silently calling himself an idiot. Why hadn’t he simply let Vic carry him? Instead, he’d pushed harder, further exhausting himself. Even now, the drive to be at Vic’s side, guarding him, remained a stinging shame.
The reasoning connected in his thoughts. Of course, Evans told him Hellhounds were servants by nature. Did he really wish to serve Vic? The idea made his throat tight. They knew so little of the bargain they struck to keep him on this plane. What if—
“John, it’s almost dawn. We should stop. At least to figure out a plan and to rest,” said Vic. There was the slightest strain in the man’s voice, the only giveaway his endless stamina flagged.
Johnathan peeked over Vic’s shoulder, scanning their surroundings. They were still deep in the forest, without a relief to the endless tree trunks. Not ideal conditions, but better some cover than stranded in an open field. There was an overgrowth of low trees nearby, the curved hollow a natural shelter. He hesitated only a moment, remembering the last time he was deep in a forest.
He cleared his throat. “Are there any fairies out this way?”
Vic chuckled. “Possibly, but they’ll stay well away from us.” That’s right, the Other had no love for vampires, and they wanted nothing to do with Johnathan’s kind.
“Let’s tuck in there for a few hours then,” said Johnathan, attempting to slide off Vic’s back. His mutinous legs wobbled but held until he made it to the shelter, where he collapsed in a graceless heap.
Vic didn’t join him immediately, staring off into the surrounding forest. His long fingers flexed against his thighs, a distant expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
The distance receded, shifting to a wan smile. “Nothing. We could both use a rest.” Vic joined him on the ground, shoring up against Johnathan’s warmth. His clothes were still damp despite their lengthy flight and cold. Johnathan pulled Vic into the circle of his arms, the restless need finally subsiding.
“You really are a walking oven,” said Vic, leaning his head into Johnathan’s shoulder with a delighted sigh. “My backside was toasty warm the whole run here.”
Johnathan huffed. Though their temporary shelter was a far cry from the alluring comfort of a mattress, he was satisfied, holding Vic in his arms. He closed his eyes, willing sleep to come, the weight of exhaustion sucking at his consciousness.
The relief of true slumber continued to dance beyond his reach. He let his head fall back with a soft thud against a thin tree trunk. The quiet of night allowed other worries to creep in. Grateful he held Vic in his arms, he wondered and feared how their missing companion fared. Alyse was the most vulnerable member of their trio, though Vic insisted she could take care of herself. Rocky start aside, Johnathan did care about the woman, wishing he possessed the same faith Vic had for her capability.
“Do you think Alyse is safe?”
There was a long pause; he was certain Vic had fallen asleep when his companion let out a breath. “My god, man, aren’t you tired?”
“Yes. Do you think the Society will go after her?” He worried how much information Dr. Evans passed on about his companions before his demise.
“She’ll run circles around them. Trust me, John, without two idiots to worry over, she’ll be safe,” Vic murmured.
An unsatisfactory explanation, though Johnathan believed him. “How did you and Alyse meet?”
“John,” Vic griped. “Rest!”
“Lull me to sleep with your riveting conversation,” said Johnathan.
“I can’t decide if that was charming or insulting.” Vic chuckled. Resigned to a longer conversation, he tapped his fingers against the forearm wrapped around his chest.
“You know, I had no idea how to ingratiate myself to the people of Cress Haven when I got there. I could charm my way into any party or gathering in Europe, but the sensibilities here are different. People were more guarded, wary of outsiders. More so in those roughshod pioneer towns; the smaller community, the lower the trust.”
“Why even pick a place like Cress Haven?” Johnathan hadn’t meant to interrupt. It was a detail he’d wondered about often since his revelation about Vic. Vampires generally kept to cities or larger settlements, not only to conceal their feeding habits but to disguise their peculiarities. Small communities were a difficult challenge for the vampire trying to blend, and though Vic’s feeding habits were far from the norm, there was other peculiarities to set him apart.
Vic was silent for another long pause. Johnathan worried he’d breached an old wound. “I wanted something that was mine,” said Vic, his voice soft. “A home, a place of my own making, by my choice. A community I didn’t have to compel my way into but welcomed me as one of their own. I wouldn’t have that without Alyse.”
A home and companion he’d left without hesitation. Johnathan’s hold tightened. Vic patted his arm. “Enough of that. The town still exists, and she is alive thanks to you.” He tilted his head, glancing through the interwoven branches overhead at the hues of dawn creeping across the sky. “Maybe someday we’ll make it back there.”
We. Johnathan buried his face in Vic’s neck, giving in to the urge to breathe in the man’s scent, deep into his lungs. “Alyse?” He murmured her name, swathed in citrus and musk.
“She approached me, of course,” said Vic. “It was at a midwinter gathering, the whole town turned out to celebrate the passage of another year. She sashayed over to me in her home spun skirts, threaded her arm through mine, stole my beer, and whispered in my ear she knew what I was.”
“Sounds like her,” said Johnathan with a chuckle.
Vic echoed his laugh. “Exactly like her. Here was this brazen young woman, not only unmarried but the pastor’s daughter. When she made it clear she had no intention to out me to her fellow parishioners, I was intrigued.”
“How did she recognize you were a vampire?” Johnathan hadn’t spotted Vic for what he was until it was far too late, to his good fortune. Ignorance allowed him to see the man as something other than his enemy.
“She watched me, pieced it together during the first few weeks after my arrival,” said Vic.
“Least it took her weeks,” Johnathan grumbled. He could sense Vic’s amusement.
“I’ve had a lot of practice blending. More than most,” said Vic. “I like being around people. Being in the thick of humanity. To be seen and be known. To not be the wolf lurking at the edges of the night.”
Johnathan frowned. “Is that why you don’t feed from the vein?”
“Among other reasons,” Vic murmured. “Our connection ingratiated me to the others. She talked to everyone, kept tabs on them. If someone was sick or injured, she knew about it and she took care of them all. Astonishing when she hated most of them.”
The statement startled a laugh out of Johnathan. “Why would she hate them?”
“Her intelligence set her apart. And she was trapped there. There were expectations to be the obedient pastor’s daughter, to marry a man of her father’s choosing. To be docile and demure.” Vic smoothed a hand down Johnathan’s arm. “My arrival excited her because she finally had someone she could connect with, someone different.”
“You wish she’d come with us,” said Johnathan. He wished she had too.
“Of course.” Vic swallowed “I don’t understand why she didn’t.” There was a tinge of sadness in his tone. Her decision baffled Johnathan. He regretted leaving her so trapped and stifled. Would she truly be safe when the Society would come sniffing around, searching for Dr. Evans? They should have waited for her. They couldn’t go back for her, at least not yet.
“She’ll be okay, John,” said Vic. “Better without our presence making her a target or distracting her.”
There was little he could do aside from worry, a useless emotion he had more than enough of these days. “Without the train, how difficult will it be to reach our mysterious destination?”
“Very smooth topical transition, John,” teased Vic. “Our destination isn’t a mystery. We still need to get to further inland.”
Not a mystery, though Vic hadn’t clarified any details regarding the matter. Johnathan rolled his eyes; they’d passed into New York some time ago, though he had no idea where they were geographically other than woods. If Vic wanted to be cagey about their ultimate destination, he wouldn’t press him too hard. “Not by way of the city, I presume?”
“Perhaps. We are off the beaten track, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to find a new means of transportation,” said Vic, not quite answering the question. “Now, as much as I enjoy our scintillating conversation, both of us should rest while we can.”
An effective stop to Johnathan’s stream of questions, though he’d made scant headway into his companion’s history. It wasn’t that Vic held himself back, necessarily or intentionally avoided personal conversation, but Johnathan wondered if they would ever reach the same open vulnerability they shared after their disastrous encounter with the fairies. He itched to ask more questions, biting them back when Vic’s body relaxed in his arms, the tension draining from his body in sleep. The sun had fully risen by then, painting Vic’s pale skin in dappled shadows. In the daylight, the shadows under Vic’s eyes were more pronounced, twin bruised hollows, and Johnathan wondered if he’d managed to feed since they boarded the train. He would have to insist Vic do so before they went much further, except…except they’d left those supplies with the rest of their luggage back on the train.
Johnathan quietly swore, unwilling to wake Vic, though he wanted to shake the man. Why hadn’t he said anything? Of course, Johnathan answered his own question immediately. Why would he bother? They couldn’t retrieve their bags, nor could they do much else but move forward. Perhaps Vic was intending to restock his unusual equipment once they hit a city, where such items might be easier to come by. It bothered Johnathan he kept the loss to himself.
There was no use, continuing to dwell on the cyclical nature of his thoughts. Johnathan tried to relax, aiming for an internal stillness so the elusive phantom of sleep would visit him again. No matter how long he floated in that muted state, sleep never came. Johnathan wondered if it ever would.