Moments later he whimpered and gritted his teeth in an effort not to scream as Edwin scooped him off the ground and into his arms. His throbbing head was cushioned in Edwin’s elbow and he could tell the man was trying to be careful with him, but everything hurt like fuck. Gethin gingerly raised his eyes to meet Edwin’s concerned gaze.
“What happened? I don’t feel so good. It feels like my head will fall off if I don’t hold it on.”
“Yeah.” Edwin looked sombre. “That tends to happen when you get your neck broken.” At Gethin’s horrified yelp, he hastened to assure him that being immortal really did mean he would be as good as new after some blood and rest. Gethin tried to believe him: it wasn’t like he had other options right then, and Edwin didn’t seem unduly worried. He repeated his question. Edwin clued him in. As he spoke, hurried but not so rushed that Gethin couldn’t follow, his mind filled in some blanks. He chuckled, then winced. Edwin paused in his explanation and raised his eyebrows in a question.
“Ah. I’m a vampire, aren’t I? That’s why I didn’t drown. I remember now. Dalziel turned me.”
Edwin snorted. “Blimey, you didn’t half get your clock cleaned, didn’t you? If you were human, I’d say you’ve got a concussion.” He smirked. “But you ain’t. And that’s why you survived having your neck snapped, pal. I think Cormack was trying to rip it clean off. The river’s the least of your worries. If you’d still been a wolf, or maybe solely a vamp, you’d be a dead one. I’m moving you to find a donor. You’re conscious, which is fantastic, but you’re as much use as a chocolate fire guard right now, and Sorley will be frantic until I can tell him you’re properly on the mend.” He chuckled. “Soft lad is so loved up. You’re good for him, Gethin. I’m sorry the transport’s a bit bumpy, but you’re a big lad. I’m strong, but vampire bodies are incredibly dense, and I think you put on weight when you were turned.”
As Edwin attempted to adjust Gethin more securely in his arms, Gethin puked. He managed to aim away from Edwin as his friend lowered him to the path, his stomach emptying itself of every last vestige of river water. It felt like gallons, but he knew it couldn’t be; it was pain magnifying every pathetic retch and heave. When he was done, he groaned feebly.
Edwin huffed. “Tells you all you need to know about the quality of city river water, eh? Right, you done? I want to get somewhere less obvious before I find you some blood. It’s fairly secluded down here, but anyone could see us if they bothered to look.” He bent down and again lifted Gethin in a princess carry, apologising when Gethin moaned in pain. Gethin closed his eyes once more, willing himself not to care about being soaked through, injured, and carted through the streets of Leeds like a child.
Edwin set him down in a dark corner and eased Gethin’s small backpack off his shoulders to use as a makeshift pillow. “The good news is you won’t get cold. The bad is you’re stuck in that wet clobber until we get back to the flat. You gonna be all right if I go hunting?”
Acknowledging it as a rhetorical question, Gethin gave him a thumbs up, then drifted into some kind of weird limbo where he wasn’t able to summon enough energy to even care about his surroundings. Fact was, it appeared he trusted Edwin. As he lay there in the dark, more missing pieces slotted back into place, and by the time Edwin returned, Gethin was confident his memory at least was intact.
Which was more than could be said for his body. Edwin crouched down, pulling a sturdy, nondescript young man to his knees alongside Gethin’s legs.
“This is going to help a lot,” he stated firmly. “You,” he addressed the young man. “Roll your shirt sleeves up please. Chop chop.” He bent over Gethin and adjusted the pack behind his head, then slipped off and bunched up his own lightweight sweater, adding it to raise Gethin up a little more. He guided the stranger’s wrist under Gethin’s nose and asked, “Can you manage at this angle?”
Gethin, about to say no, caught the warm, rusted-iron scent and elevated pulse rate of the human and his eyes snapped open. “Thirsty,” he whispered, his fangs descending as he spoke. Without any further thought he sank them into the flesh, piercing the vein cleanly. It hurt to suck, to swallow, but with every fresh mouthful he felt his body repairing itself. Tissues and sinew magically realigned and rejoined, his headache receded and his mind felt less foggy.
“Whoa, Gethin, enough. Leave him alone now.” Edwin’s sharp tone penetrated the blissful bubble he was in. Gethin side-eyed him resentfully, but sealed the wound and sagged back onto his temporary pillow. He watched with detachment as Edwin gave the man another hefty dose of thrall and sent him on his way, presumably back to wherever he’d come from.
Edwin crouched down. He ran surprisingly gentle hands over Gethin, then pronounced him fit enough to try standing up. “We need to keep moving anyway, and Sorley might need our help. Yeah, even yours,” he grinned when Gethin looked doubtfully at him. “Seeing you returned to health will go a long way to bolster him emotionally, as well as fuck with Cormack. You’re an imposing size, even if you’re not up to fighting yet.”
Gethin stood with minimal help, then tested his head and neck, pronouncing them healed. “Not that I’m an expert, but everything feels normal,” he said when Edwin pressed him to clarify. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go. Not sure if I can run yet but I can walk.”
As they set off, slowly in deference to Gethin’s limbs feeling a bit ‘tingly’ — he couldn’t be more specific — Edwin checked in with Baxter, who told them to head in a south-westerly direction where they should pick up the scents of the others. She asked to be passed to Gethin, who took the handset and said hello.
“You shocked the shit out of Eddie getting yourself clobbered like that. Make sure he keeps you topped up with blood, babes. You’re a baby vamp and this will have done a number on you. Very glad you’re back on your feet.” There was a kissy noise, which he surely couldn’t have heard right, before she demanded Edwin again.
When a police car on patrol parked up a few yards from them as they went to zigzag through yet another industrial estate car park, Gethin felt a prickle of alarm. He wasn’t sure anything he could say would sound convincing, what with him being soaking wet and wandering the streets in the dead of night.
Edwin, though, found it highly amusing to enthrall the female police officer for Gethin to feed from, taking care to make sure she locked herself back in her vehicle ‘for a power nap’ when he’d done. His grin was wide and mischievous as they walked away.
“Never did like coppers much.”
“Hmm.” Gethin, feeling much improved since the second feed, urged Edwin to a jog. “Were you by any chance a bit of a sod as a child?”
“Maybe,” Edwin conceded. “All right, I was a proper little shit. One of those nippers that got into everything. Nothing evil, but enough that Ma was almost relieved when the war came along and they needed conscripts. For all she bawled like a baby when I moved away, she thought it might keep me out of trouble.”
“And did it?”
“Yeah, I guess it did. Well, until later, but that’s another story.” Edwin’s emotions, which had been fairly open to read, clamped down. Gethin wasn’t anxious to push, not when there was the far more pressing matter of one Connor Cormack.
51
SORLEY
Baxter’s ringtonechirped in Sorley’s ear. He answered, “Bit busy right now!” He’d been running full tilt parallel to the motorway, covering the same patch of ground back and forth, waiting for a signal from Alec he should move in to cut Cormack off, or let his own instinct drive him.
“I know, love. I’ve got you on camera. Give me a moment and I’ll tell you where to turn. Tommy finally has a fix on your target on some sort of scrub land. We know Alec’s gone wide to prevent him heading further west.” There was a pause when all he heard was muted typing, then, “Take the next right, then fucking bomb it. You’ll see where the ground opens onto a field of some kind. Big fancy red brick building at the corner. If you cross the railway tracks, you’ve overshot. Gotta go, Eddie’s on the other line.”
It wasn’t far. Sorley found the building, and after a quick check, vaulted the iron fencing to the right of it. He landed in a small gap between a straggly tree and a buddleia bush, cursing as some low-growing brambles ripped at his ankles. He tapped his earpiece to call Alec. But before it could connect, the distinctive whiff of the enemy pierced his nostrils. Cormack was here! But where, exactly?
Shutting off the phone and shoving his earpiece in a pocket, Sorley froze. Where was Alec? And where the hell was that murderous fuck Cormack? If he could smell him, he couldn’t be far. Not if Alec had corralled him here. He edged sideways along the perimeter, a foot at a time, absolutely silent, eyes and ears primed. He suddenly heard muffled footsteps which suggested someone was approaching over the rough grass, but there were too many bushes in this stretch to see exactly where from.
