RYKER

 

Tiny crystals of snow fell in front of Mercy Medical Center, shimmering in the streetlights. Ryker pulled his long, brown hair aside and pretended to tighten his coat.

Guided by a cane, a woman walked past him on the sidewalk on her way into the hospital entrance. “Tighten it good. The northern air is blowing in.”

Throughout his hundreds of years, he knew passersby would stop if he didn’t at least pretend to be human, commenting such things as, ‘Brrr, you look chilly,’ ‘If you don’t button up, you’re gonna catch a cold,’ and other non-essential, caring comments.

He wasn’t cold, and he wasn’t going to get sick. In fact, he didn’t notice the temperature most times. Sometimes, his skin felt numb when it dropped below zero, but that was about it—the benefits of not being human.

Tucking his hands into the pockets of his long, black jacket, Ryker sat on a bench under a streetlight and waited for a particular sensation—a tingling that would tell him another of his kind was near.

His vibrating phone distracted him. Pulling it out from his breast pocket, he turned it over to see Zahra flashing on the screen.

“Yes?” Ryker held out his free hand and allowed a little snow to pile on his cool skin.

“I trust you made it to Dubuque okay?” Zahra’s voice was smooth, all signs of her middle-eastern accent gone.

“I landed earlier tonight, picked up the rental car, and already pulled together a bag of supplies.” Wooden stakes, holy water, and an assortment of knives filled the duffle in the back of his SUV.

“Good, good. Find anything yet?” The leader of the Blood Board didn’t check up on all the assignments personally. Typically, that was Ryker’s job, but either being her righthand man or the fact that he was different from the others came with more scrutiny.

He brushed the snow off his palm. “I’m down at Mercy Medical Center. All is quiet so far.” Just a few days ago, the Board’s cyber surveillance system picked up an increased incidence of blood loss deaths since the last full moon here in Dubuque. Of the eleven deaths, most were brought here, to Mercy Medical Center. Either it was a coincidence, or more likely, a hungry vampire that had fallen off the radar. Before he boarded the plane, Ryker reviewed each death, only noting a commonality that they were all male. Typically, a rogue vampire wasn’t that selective.

“Sorry you’re doing this one alone. I can free Frank up tomorrow to help.”

“No need. I’ve hunted down worse than this.” Ryker didn’t care for Frank’s ways. He was ruthless and selfish, always focusing on satisfying his hunger before taking care of business. Frank was a perfect example of why Ryker joined the Blood Board, but sometimes, it was easier not babysitting these vampires and just doing things himself.

“Okay, but I’ll check in on you again tomorrow. Remember, we’re on a strict population control. If it’s a new vampire, you’ll have to kill either that vampire or its maker. One cannot survive.”

Ryker didn’t disagree. Young vampires struggled to control their urges, many of them failed time and time again, bringing many human deaths. And then the vampire that created another of his kind deliberately broke the rules. Either way, the only way to save human lives was to end their existence. The Board’s preference was to kill the maker, as they were likely to make another child. The young vampire would be turned over to the Board to attempt control with a strict feeding schedule. This was usually unsuccessful.

Zahra added, “Discretion and speed are imperative. We cannot face what the wolves went through.” If humans realized what hunted them in the night, they would start a war against vampires like they’d done to the werewolves, forcing them nearly into extinction.

Ryker ended the call and glanced around at the hospital complex. It wasn’t humans finding out about vampires that was Ryker’s main concern. He knew that each moment he waited, another human could die. A death he could have prevented.

Dubuque had changed in the eighty-some years since he was last there. It had been right after the end of the Great Depression, but things weren’t so cheerful. The city had been in a state of crisis, hit by a huge snowstorm. The mountains of snow had provided the perfect distraction for Ryker to have his way with the city.

He had spent weeks here, hunting down and eventually killing his vampire lover after she had toyed with him and eventually gone too far, making an unauthorized vampire child for them. Once she was gone, he had attempted to soothe his pain by filling his stomach with a gluttony of blood.

Ryker’s stomach churned at the memory.

Despite the gluttony back then, no humans had died at the mercy of his fangs. His last human kill had been twenty years earlier before he vowed to never allow another to die for his satisfaction. In fact, he joined the Blood Board to ensure ethics in their actions, to intervene when the blood got the best of them, and to provide them with a differing perspective. He thought it would make up for all the humans that had died because of him.

Ryker closed his eyes and listened to his body, hunting down the familiar, faint static charge that tingled through his skin when another vampire was close. If most the victims had come to Mercy Medical Center, that meant the rogue vampire had to be somewhere nearby.

Lub dub. Lub dub. LUB DUB!

The beating of human hearts was almost deafening. His fangs tingled, and his mouth salivated. It was unfortunate only human blood carried the nourishment he needed; always keeping his meal alive while he fed was torture enough.

Ryker tried to ignore the human heartbeats, the nurse that had just walked out of the hospital with a spot of blood on her scrubs, and the patient rushing through the doors with a bloody towel wrapped around his hands.

Focus. Listen.

Lub dub. Lub dub.

Time was of the essence before there were any more deaths, or the humans became suspicious.

Ryker held his hands over his ears, trying to block out the beating hearts and calm his desire for blood.

Feed, then return to your assignment.

He brushed the snow off his shoulders and shook it out of his hair, needing to find a place to grab a bite. As he rose from the bench and began heading toward the city, he licked his lips. The sweetness of O-positive would satisfy him for a while.

Not far out of the hospital complex, a sign flashed a neon-green clover above the words, Dublin Irish Pub.

Perfect.

Fifty percent of the Irish had type O blood, and, hopefully, some were out tonight.

ALIZA

 

The bright ceiling lights stung Aliza’s eyes. Her legs shook, and she didn’t want to remember why. Didn’t want to remember the familiar eyes that attacked her. Instead, she focused on the need to get out of this hospital—the need to get to the safety and comfort of her apartment.

From behind the curtain, the heavy, wooden door creaked open. Aliza slid from the table and straightened her hospital gown. When the aged nurse pulled the curtain aside, Aliza clenched her hands together over her waist. “Do you know where my clothes are?”

The nurse approached, silver hair reflecting the artificial lights. “Hey, hon. Sit down. You were just attacked, and we haven’t even drawn your blood yet.”

“Do we really need to do that? I need to get home.” She clasped her hand over the bandages on her wrist and fought back tears as she reached up to a matching bandage on her neck. “I’m sure everything is fine. I feel…good.” A lie. A clear lie, but she forced a smile. Maybe she could pull this off.

“Well, everything should go quickly, then.” The paper cover crinkled as the nurse patted the exam table behind Aliza. “Have a seat. We’ll draw some blood, take your blood pressure again, and probably give you a dose or two of antibiotics…and maybe a tetanus shot. You’re free to leave anytime, but you could get really sick. Who knows what germs you got from those cuts—especially since you don’t remember what happened.” The nurse cocked her head and raised her eyebrow.

Aliza bit her bottom lip, forcing different images into her head.

Think of your father. Think of your apartment. Think of your first kiss. Think of anything but her.

She caught herself against the table as a rush of dizziness made her sway. She scooted on top of the exam table, sticking to the paper beneath her, and held out her arm for the blood pressure cuff.

A few more minutes, then you can go home. You can forget and move on.

Say goodbye.

She wouldn’t let bad memories taint the good ones. Her old family home on the southwest side of Dubuque had always been her special spot. The place she still went to when she was lonely and wanted a reminder of the father she had lost almost ten years ago. When it gets demolished and converted to a park, would she lose the memories she struggled to keep?

Back when she was seventeen, Aliza’s dad had come up with a motto that he made her repeat whenever they had something difficult to face. It was simple, ‘Keep moving forward. One step at a time.’ And those few words got her through the pain he had been in before he passed, got her through the funeral and the burial, got her through many other tough times in her life, and now, those words would get her through this as well.

Keep moving forward. One step at a time.

The nurse turned around, holding a piece of tubing. “Now I need a few tubes of blood.”

Aliza relaxed her arm.

One step at a time.

Soon, she’d be out of here. Soon, she’d be back at her old family home to watch one more memory crumble.

She looked up to the ceiling and blinked away tears.

Keep moving forward.

She’d get through this, too.