I crossed the room and knelt beside Bo’s head. I brushed the backs of my fingers over his clammy forehead and he stirred, wrinkling his brow and turning his face toward me. I saw his body tense and I stilled my hand.
Bo’s nostrils flared as he tested my scent, and then, as if he was satisfied, his frown disappeared and his tension eased. With a weary sigh, he relaxed back into the cushions.
Lucius returned quickly, carrying a bag of blood and an opaque half gallon jug.
“I don’t keep a very large supply of human blood on hand. I hope the one bag, coupled with the deer blood, will be enough to help him heal.”
Setting the blood down beside the couch, Lucius looked over his shoulder at me.
“Come, lass,” he said. “Lift his head.”
I hurried to Bo’s side, lifting his head while Lucius pierced the bag of human blood and waved it under Bo’s nose.
He held the plastic packet to Bo’s mouth and told Bo to drink. At first, Bo didn’t respond, so Lucius rubbed the bag back and forth across Bo’s lips until he finally opened his mouth and bit down on it.
Within seconds, Bo drained the bag. Beneath my hands, I could feel his body temperature warm a few degrees. I watched, fascinated, as life began to slowly seep back in to his features.
Next, Lucius held the sealed jug sideways against Bo’s mouth. With a loud pop, Bo obediently sank his teeth into the rigid plastic. I watched his throat work as he pulled large gulps of liquid down his throat. He frowned as if it wasn’t something he was enjoying.
When Bo had finished the animal blood, Lucius took the empty container and set it aside, turning to lean his back against the couch and stretch his legs out in front of him.
“Now, we wait,” he announced.
“Alright.” Though I agreed easily enough, I felt anxiety curl in my stomach, twisting it into a tight knot.
“I feel like I know you, Ridley, what with Bo talking about you so much.” Lucius rolled his head toward me, a pleasant smile on his lips. “And of course, I’d like nothing better than to use this time to get to know you better, but I would imagine that you have even more questions than I. Is there anything you would like to know?”
Was there ever! With nothing but time on our hands, I knew I’d have the opportunity to get a few answers, but not to the million or so questions that started clamoring for attention all at once in my head. One drifted to the top, however, taking the position of top priority.
“Can Bo be saved? From the poison, I mean?”
Lucius sighed, a sad look coming to settle on his face. “You would ask that,” he said. “No, lass, I’m afraid not.”
My heart broke a little bit more with his answer, like he’d been the final word on the matter, the one tiny thread of hope to which I’d been clinging.
“How long does he have?” I smoothed my hand over Bo’s brow, dreading the answer. Anything less than one hundred years was not enough.
“I can’t be sure. There aren’t very many vampires who try to kill themselves in this manner.”
“It’s not like that’s the only reason he’s doing it,” I snapped. Then, shaking my head regretfully, I apologized. “Sorry. I’m just- I’m just frustrated.”
“As am I, Ridley. As am I.” Lucius looked morosely into the flames licking greedily at the wood inside the fireplace. “He’s been like a son to me, a breath of fresh air in a long and lonely existence.”
“He said you’re four hundred years old.”
“The brat,” he chortled. “Telling a woman how old I am. And lying about it no less. I won’t be four hundred for another nine years.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “What was he thinking? I mean, nine years makes a world of difference when you’ve lived nearly half a millennium.”
Lucius smiled broadly up at me, apparently enjoying my sarcasm. “Oh, Ridley, what a joy you are.” When he sobered, he continued. “Yes, I’ve lived a long, full life, but now—after all these years—it seems it was full of loss and heartache more than anything else.”
I sat quietly for a moment, not knowing what to say to that. Finally, I asked, “Do you regret coming to America?”
“Good Lord, no! I love it here. It’s been like watching a child grow up. I only hate that now they’ve infiltrated this continent.”
“Who?”
“The Uccideres,” he answered, the “r” rolling off his tongue.
“Who are they?”
“To best explain them, I must first give you a short history lesson about the vampire. Do you mind?”
“No, no. Please.”
“It all started with the venom. It is said to have been given to man by the devil himself, a weapon through which he hoped to enslave the human race. According to legend, it nearly worked. But over time, as vampires learned to control themselves and learned the dangers of feeding off one human too often, we were able to settle down into a very peaceful existence.
“A code of sorts was adopted among that first small band of European vampires, who we now call the ‘Elders’. Humans were rarely turned, usually only for the purpose of preserving one’s mate. After all, it would be far too painful for a vampire to live without his mate, so not turning anyone was out of the question. Turning one’s mate is really the only option in such cases.”
Lucius paused, lost in thought, lost to something that took him from the present for a heartbeat. While he tarried elsewhere, a multitude of new questions rose to my mind. Before I could ask any one of them, however, he drifted back to the here and now to continue.
“Apologies, lass. I digress,” he said, clearing his throat. “What you saw tonight was an Uccidere. They are aberrations that arose from one elder many, many years ago. His name was Constantine.
“For centuries, Constantine had never been satisfied with the low-key way of life the vampires had adopted. Though he’d had his missteps every now and again, none of the elders ever expected that he might defy The Tribunal so completely. But, alas, he did. When he left Rome, no one could have anticipated the havoc, the destruction, the slaughter that he would wreak upon the human race. By himself, he was quite the scourge. Some say it is as vampires were intended to be.