The shadows stretched into the late afternoon when Vic stirred in his arms. Johnathan unwrapped his hold, noting the angles of Vic’s face were more prominent than before. Sleep provided little in the way of nourishment for a vampire, though the hungrier they were, the more their bodies craved it, reserving what energy they could, where they could. The fact he’d hadn’t noticed his companion was slowly starving filled Johnathan with searing, raw shame. Vic groaned and stretched his arms above his head before he noticed Johnathan’s stare.
His gaze widened, flitting over Johnathan’s features. “Goodness, did you sleep at all?”
Johnathan snorted. “No. Do I look as bad as you do?”
“Not exactly,” said Vic. “Wait, what do you mean?” His hands rose to his face, touching the corner of his eyes, revealing the state of his hands. Deep purplish blue bruised the underside of his fingernails.
“You should feed before we go.” Johnathan scrutinized him for his reaction.
Vic’s mouth drew into a thin line. “I assure you, I’ll be fine.”
Damn the man! “I know you left your valise on the train,” said Johnathan, unable to completely hide the anger in his tone.
“I did indeed, which is why I keep a spare set of instruments on my person,” said Vic without missing a beat. He patted his chest, hinting at a concealed pocket. The rebuttal was smooth, and Johnathan wanted to believe him, yet doubt remained.
“Did you happen to save some blood as well? I could leave if you’d prefer—”
“Leave it, John!” Vic braced his hands on his knees, irritation lacing his words with the sharpness of a whip. He exhaled, glancing at the sinking sun overhead. “Aren’t you the one who insisted we’re being pursued? We should have left hours ago.”
Johnathan shrugged. “You needed the rest.”
Vic stared at him. “There it is again. Look me in the eye.”
The request puzzled him, but Johnathan acquiesced. He startled when Vic gripped his chin, his cool fingertips gently scraping through his unshaven growth, thumb tracing the length of his jaw.
“Your pupils keep dilating and retracting,” Vic murmured. “What’s wrong?” His touch made Johnathan forget his frustrations with the man. Heat began a lazy dance, low in his belly.
“I’m not sure,” he breathed. The moment deepened. Vic’s face drew closer when the faintest chiming sound reached his ears. “Damn.”
“Have an epiphany, my tender blossom?” Vic grinned.
“I did,” said Johnathan. He stood, pulling Vic to his feet. Though he hadn’t slept, his body seemed to have regained some energy while resting. “It’s them, the Agents from the train.”
Vic blanched. “That’s impossible. It should have taken them days to catch our trail.”
“Why the devil are they so persistent?” Johnathan tipped his head, straining his hearing for the sound. The focus was untried and unpracticed, his attempt to use his heightened senses akin to using an unfamiliar weapon. The quiet of the forest cracked open, the flood of noise a torrent in his skull; the soft scratch of paws padding over a carpet of pine needles, the huff of deer, crunching bracken between flat teeth, the flit of wings and periodic chirps, the crackle and flutter of disturbed branches, the subtle breath of hundreds of living creatures, and the quiet steady tread of those that didn’t belong. All of it poured in until Johnathan clapped his hands over his ears to cut it off.
He'd spent so much time trying to actively suppress the scents and sounds it never occurred to him that he would naturally dim them to function.
Cool hands settled on top of his hands. Vic’s worried gaze filled his field of vision. “Easy, John. Breathe.”
He clung to the command and sucked in a deep breath, focusing on the sound of his own breathing to shut out the cacophony of noise. Slowly, he regained his equilibrium.
“They are several miles away,” he said, proud his voice remained steady.
Vic’s eyebrows rose. “Far too close for comfort.” His nostrils flared. “If we intend to lose them, we need to procure another conveyance.”
There were trees as far as the eye could see. “Could be difficult in our current position,” said Johnathan.
“We have to hit a town eventually,” countered Vic, clapping a hand against Johnathan’s arm. “Think you can keep up this time, my turtledove?”
“I will if you stop that right now.”
This time he let Vic set the pace, the other male clearly worried he wouldn't be unable to keep up. Johnathan proved to have the greater stamina, eventually over taking, and slowing to wait for Vic. Though he feared it wasn’t a renewal of his energy rather than the gradual deterioration of his companion. A fine sweat beaded Vic’s brow within the hour, a far more serious tell compared to the bruising beneath his fingers. God save him from stubborn, noble vampires. He bit his tongue to keep from broaching a clearly sensitive subject to Vic. Rather, he wondered what made Vic so touchy when it came to mention of feeding. Was he worried Johnathan would judge him for the means of his survival? Or perhaps there was a level of self-loathing in Vic’s refusal to acknowledge his needs, another issue Johnathan could empathize with. Better to keep his thoughts to himself. They crashed through the brush, giving little care to concealing their path. There seemed no point to subtly when it was clear their pursuers were undeterred.
Contemplating their circumstances left a bitter note in his thoughts. Johnathan had hoped for a much longer lull between life threatening encounters, if only to enjoy his present company. Worse, it bothered him how these two Agents caught up to them so quickly. He didn’t believe they would be able to avoid a second conflict. Foolishly, he’d hoped they would have a respite from the Society while they dealt with Dr. Evans failed operation and the loss of so many Agents. Their encounter on the train was a true puzzle, because these Agents didn’t appear to have any connection or affiliation with the Boston chapter. Who were they? When had they boarded the train and why?
He wasn’t sure which of the two unsettled him more. The man, Luthor, capable of masking their presence from both Vampire and Hellhound senses while he attacked with poisoned blades. Or the woman in red, Sister Wilhem, and her strange chiming instrument filling him with dread. Johnathan didn’t know either of them from Adam but couldn’t shake the feeling there was a connection waiting to be discovered.
He hated floundering in ignorance, a state he found himself in far too frequently.
“Ha, ah ha!” Vic shouted, putting on a sudden burst of speed that left Johnathan scrambling after him.
Panting by the time he caught up to Vic, Johnathan found him on a spit of dirt track, winding sinuously through the trees.
“Civilization,” Vic proclaimed. He spun around, his arms raised in victory.
“This is barely a foot path,” Johnathan protested.
Vic flapped a hand of him. “Begone, naysayer. This is a coach road. And where there’s a road, there are travelers.”
Johnathan peered down what Vic generously called a ‘road’, where the trees appeared to swallow up the opening in either direction. Not another soul to be seen in the gathering dark. “I doubt we’ll encounter anyone this time of night, so we’d best get walking.”
“Walking, yes, more walking, but now we have a direction,” said Vic, positively giddy. Johnathan wanted to push him into the dirt.
“Which direction shall we go? Trees.” Johnathan pointed one way then the other. “Or more trees?”
Vic didn’t rise to the bait, staring hard in the dark. “Neither; we are going to wait right here for the coach.”
“What coach?” As the question left his lips, he caught the unmistakable grind and squeal of wheels over axel, joined by the muffled clink of tack, and a quiet equine snort. The coach was still a good distance away, but an incredulous Johnathan blinked at Vic. “How exactly are we going to procure this conveyance?”
“I’m going to politely ask if they will allow us passage,” said Vic.
Johnathan made a face. “You’re going to compel them.” Not that he doubted Vic could, but it would be another unwelcome strain to the man’s already taxed body. He kept the mutinous thought to himself.
“Of course I’m going to compel them.” Vic snorted. “What sane individual would let two filthy, rough looking vagabonds into their company without supernatural persuasion?”
“Alyse,” said Johnathan, running a gloved hand through his tangled hair, cringing at the crumbly sensation of dried mud. Though hesitant to follow Vic’s plan, he would pay good money for a room and bath right now, if he had a cent to his name.
A fond smile tugged at Vic’s mouth, lessening the stark shadows under his eyes. “Touché. Now, let’s get out of the middle of the road before they spot us. They’ll probably think we are bandits set to accost them.”
“Close enough,” mumbled Johnathan, clambering into the tangled brush lining the dirt road in clumps. The brush snagged his already ravaged clothes but provided enough cover.
Vic settled in beside him, looking far more at ease than he had a right to. A frown pinched the man’s brows. “Do you still sense our pursuers?”
Johnathan closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound of those distant chimes rather than open himself to another deluge of noise. “I think so?”
“You don’t sound very convincing, John.”
He opened one eye to glare at his companion. “May I remind you I am painfully new at this?” Johnathan rolled his shoulders. “They aren’t in the incoming coach, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I believe you, though I am curious,” said Vic. “You look absolutely sure about that.”
“One of the occupants is drenched in perfume,” said Johnathan. The odious floral scent was nothing but a whiff, and strong enough to wither his nose hair. He pinched his nostrils closed, trying to breathe through his mouth.
A clipped laugh suspiciously close to a giggle slipped from Vic’s mouth. “You’ll need to hang your head out the window for the ride into town.”
“Oh, do shut up,” snapped Johnathan, though a smile tugged at his lips. “I’d rather cling to the roof.”
“Better off wrapping a rag around your head,” snickered Vic. His expression sobered with anticipation. “Not too far off. Now be quiet.”
Johnathan bit back a retort, watching the blocky dark box meander along the dirt tract, weaving through ruts, and bumping over dips. Two placid horses kept a steady plodding pace, eating up the distance in painfully slow measures. Johnathan tried not to fidget beside the stock-still Vic. The coach was yet a fair distance away when the horses suddenly drew up short, dancing in place with parrying whinnies of distress.
Vic shared a look of confusion with him. The driver dismounted, attempting to calm the beasts. They listened to his soothing tones, though Johnathan could see the whites of their eyes from where he crouched in the brush. A mature feminine voice called out an inquiry from the confines of the coach.
“Stay here, I’m going to approach them,” Vic whispered to him. The man was gone before Johnathan could reply.
The muscle between his shoulders twitched. Vic was more than capable of defending himself and the two unfortunate occupants of the coach weren’t a danger, and yet an urge to follow pulled at him. Johnathan clenched his jaw and stayed put, knowing Vic would not appreciate his interference.
His fingers rapidly tapping the top of his thighs by the time Vic emerged from the cover of the trees, approaching the coach with an open smile. Johnathan could just make out the figure of the driver, who started when Vic appeared. His form quickly loosened at Vic’s easy greeting. Vic might have used a touch of compulsion to smooth the way, but his natural charm helped. The driver started chatting, an easy jovial tone rolling through the quiet woods. The tightness in Johnathan’s shoulders eased, Vic’s success obvious when his companion leaned in through the coach window, chatting it up with the occupant. A girlish giggle emerged from the coach. Vic turned and curled his fingers, suggestively beckoning Johnathan forward. Shaking off the last of his nerves, he stood.
He barely made it ten steps when the horses reacted violently, bucking, and backing away, their heads straining at the bits in their mouths. Johnathan froze, realization creeping in as Vic helped the driver reign them in. A hot prickling sensation played along the back of his neck while Vic soothed the two mares to a calmer state. He didn’t move until Vic jogged over to him.
“Something is spooking the horses,” said Vic. Johnathan fought not to snap at him for stating the obvious. “But Henry and Madame Luce are more than willing to share their coach with us.” He grinned. “Though you were right, John, her perfume makes the eyes water.”
The good humor left his face once he noticed John’s expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I think.” Johnathan licked his lips. “I’m spooking the horses.”
Vic glanced from the horses to Johnathan. “What? No—”
Johnathan took a couple steps forward. The horses shrieked.
A contemplative look cross Vic’s face. “You know, I don’t think we crossed so much as a mouse during our flight from Cress Haven.” They’d run to the train station just in case any leftover Society Hunters were watching the roads. And spent their time before the train’s arrival casing the station for unwanted surprises. Mulling it over, Johnathan hadn’t encountered another animal since his transformation. They’d spent the night in the woods, unbothered by any predators or nosy scavengers. He’d heard them from a distance, but none came close to their makeshift camp. Honestly, it was fair reasonable a herd animal might be unsettled by a demon hound in human skin.
He shifted from foot to foot, feeling unaccountably flustered. “What do we do now?”
“Hmmm.” Vic tapped his chin. “Wait here.” He left Johnathan, jogging back to the coach where he ducked his head inside. Whatever conversation he had with the occupant, he emerged a moment later, an unseen object in hand.
Johnathan’s nose itched. He had a sneaking suspicion what Vic carried when the man approached him like one would approach a wounded animal. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
Vic held up a fancy crystalline bottle of dark umber liquid. “How badly do we need a ride?”
The question caught him off guard. But Johnathan knew, the familiar prick of dread creeping over him the longer they delayed. The distance between them and their mystery pursuers grew shorter every moment they wasted.
“Do it.” Johnathan tried to hold his breath. There was nothing to prepare him when Vic uncapped the perfume and dumped it over his head.