Luke Irontree & the Last Vampire War (Books 8-10), page 73
“Hold on, Luke. We’ll get you to help,” Roxi said, pushing the sweat drenched hair from his forehead.
“Get the bodies off the street and get them ready for evac,” Sam called.
Pain surged through his body, and it quaked violently as he choked.
“Someone help me roll him over, fast.” Roxi slid to his side and, with the help of another set of hands, rolled him over.
And just in time. He heaved up what was left of his dinner onto the blood drenched street. Before he could gasp for air, he vomited again with wracking, heavy, body-clenching force. Soon, it was just dry heaves that got weaker as his strength faded.
“Is he going to be OK?” someone asked.
“I don’t know. Can someone get me some water? He’s going to need it,” Roxi replied.
His body relaxed now that he wasn’t heaving out his guts, allowing him to gasp in air with huge gulps.
“He…he just exploded all the vampires,” someone nearby murmured.
“It was the freakiest shit I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot,” someone else replied.
He couldn’t tell who was speaking. Every voice except for Roxi’s sounded distorted and distant.
“Dōšagīh, I want to move you. Are you done?”
He wobbled his head in what he thought was a nod. A weak groan fell from his lips as he was lifted into the air by his wrist and ankles.
“Careful, don’t slip in all this shite,” Roxi instructed. “Don’t drop him. Easy. Set him down carefully on the quilt.”
Nearby, tires screeched to a stop.
“We’re going to move the makeshift stretcher into the back of Pablo’s pickup,” Sam called.
Luke jostled as he was hoisted off the ground, the poles of their improvised stretcher smashing into his sides. He wanted to groan in pain but couldn’t spare the air or the energy.
The end of the stretcher thunked as it was dropped onto the tailgate of the pickup. They slid him in until all he could see was the blurry top of the inside of the canopy. The pickup jostled as someone climbed into the back with him before the tailgate was shut and the canopy door was lowered.
Roxi took his hand in hers. He’d know the feel of her hand in his anytime, and apparently in any condition. With the other hand, she brushed away sweaty hair once again and crooned a sad song to him as the truck rumbled down the road. He couldn’t tell how long or how fast they were traveling.
He couldn’t concentrate on anything except the song on Roxi’s lips. Focusing on staying conscious, he existed in a gray nothing where he could see nothing but the vague outline of Roxi next to him. Sound, sight, and sensation—she was all that was keeping him anchored to the here and now.
“Get him on the gurney,” Roxi said. “Careful.”
“Oh, God, what happened to him?” Maggie asked.
“It’s not his blood,” Roxi said.
“That’s a relief. I’ve got a room prepped for him. Let’s roll him inside.” Maggie held the door as he was pushed into the pack’s clinic. “Now, move him over to the bed.”
“Stay here. I’m going to need some help getting him out of his armor.” Roxi unzipped the hoodie then tugged on the leather thong keeping the front half of his armor closed.
“I’ve got some shears,” Maggie said, handing something to Roxi.
“No…” he mumbled.
“Luke, dōšagīh, the hoodie is ruined and you have plenty of leather thongs.” Not waiting for him to approve, she cut off his hoodie and clipped the leather cord. “Let’s roll him to his side.”
After Roxi cut the leather holding the back closed, she had the two who’d functioned as orderlies help her remove his armor. Then she clipped off his armor padding and t-shirt. He shivered hard.
“He’s burning up,” Maggie said. “What happened?”
“We got in a bad spot, and he pretty much single-handedly wiped out the vampires by draining them.”
“Like the last time?” Maggie asked.
“Yes.”
He struggled to breathe, his inhalations rasping in his throat. A cold instrument pressed into his chest in a few spots.
“His pulse is way too high and erratic. Lift his head for me.”
Maggie slipped an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Though it didn’t relieve the tightness in his chest, the oxygen eased his gasping slightly.
“What can we do?” Roxi asked.
“I don’t know. If this were a normal human malady, I’d be able to deal with it. But this is entirely new to my experience. And probably to anyone’s. They don’t teach you about vampire overdoses in med school.” Maggie sounded frustrated and scared.
Rasping for air, he started trembling. Then he shook until finally he couldn’t control his body as he violently spasmed. The beeping sound of the heart monitor speed up then shrieked. And then he knew no more.
Chapter
Eleven
The first thing that filtered into his awareness was the smell. It didn’t smell like Portland. Like the clinic. Or his home. It was a familiar one. It brought him a sense of peace and contentment. He basked in that aroma and sense of comfort, not wanting to open his eyes and find out he was either at the clinic, or—he wasn’t sure if it was a bad or good option—dead.
Next to him, someone flipped the page of a book, then set down a ceramic cup on a saucer. Cloth rubbed on cloth as they shifted position. In the background, a faint beeping disturbed the harmony of the other sounds he’d cataloged.
Forcing his eyes open, he slammed them shut immediately as light poured into them, sending sparks through his brain. This time, he opened them only a crack, letting them adjust. He was in his room at the farm.
“Welcome back to the world, dōšagīh.” Roxi appeared at his side and bent over, kissing his forehead. “You gave us a scare.”
“What?” His voice sounded dry and raspy.
“Here.” Roxi grabbed a glass of water and laid the straw across his lips. “Slowly.”
He followed her instructions, only sucking in a bit of liquid. The cold water felt refreshing as it slipped down his throat. He took another sip, taking more.
“How do you feel?” Roxi asked.
“I don’t know,” he rasped. “Alive?”
Roxi chuckled. “You are alive. If just barely.”
“How long?”
“Tonight would make it five days.” She bent over and kissed his cheek.
“Five?”
A wave of fear flashed across Roxi’s face before it settled back into gentle placidity, which almost worried him more than the fear. They’d faced plenty of near-death experiences together and journeyed closer to the line than most, even stepping over it a few times. But the calm façade was the face one saw when they were about to hear the news they were terminal.
“What’s my prognosis?” he asked.
“I don’t know. You’re in uncharted territory. I’ll go fetch Maggie so she can examine you.” She patted him on the arm, then turned and left without saying anything else.
While he waited, he flexed his muscles to ensure his body was still in working order, or at least that he wasn’t disabled in some way. All his limbs responded, though he had to be careful not to flex too long or too hard for fear of the cramps threatening his contractions. Overall, he felt alive, even if his body felt like it had been worked over with a baseball bat—or twenty.
He was halfway to standing when the door opened and Roxi and Maggie walked in. Pausing his motion, he felt as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His body trembled, unable to hold him in the in-between position, and he fell back onto the mattress.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Roxi asked, a scolding eyebrow raised.
He breathed heavily. “I needed to go to the bathroom.”
“You’re catheterized at the moment, so you don’t need to get out of bed,” Maggie said. “We didn’t know how long you’d be out.”
He’d been too out of it to feel the tug and pull of the catheter as he moved. Sighing, he unclenched his muscles, letting his body sag fully into the comfort of the bed and pillows. He was too tired and depleted to even feel embarrassed at his gaffe.
The last few years had been a series of events where he learned to deal with the humiliation of his circumstances, though this one felt rawer since it was in front of both of his girlfriends. Then he reminded himself that he needn’t worry about such things, not with them.
“I’ll wait outside, Maggie.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
Once the door closed, Maggie sagged onto the chair next to Luke’s bed. “You foolish man.”
“Wha—”
“What were you thinking?” Maggie interrupted.
“There wasn’t much of a choice.”
“I know. Roxi explained it, not that it helps.” She shook her said. “It seems like you’ve found a new way to abuse yourself with this power.” She held up a hand to forestall him. “I know. It was for the good of the pack. But what about those who love you? What about Gwen? Roxi?” She paused. “What about me?”
“I’m… I’m sorry, Magdalena.”
Maggie sighed and ran a hand over her face. “I’m sorry for scolding you.”
He looked up at her, pleading with his eyes. “I just didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t watch them butcher their prisoners—our packmates.”
“I know. But does it always have to be you?”
“If not me, then who?”
She rubbed her eyes. They had dark rings under them and looked red. “I’m sorry. I was scared for you. I love you. I’d be devastated if I lost you.”
He reached out, untangling the blanket from the IV in his arm, and grabbed her hand. “I am sorry for making you worry and for causing you pain. You’ve been so good to me. But I couldn’t look you in the eye or myself if I let anyone else suffer on my account. It’s not who I am.”
“I know. Your sense of justice is one of the first things that attracted me to you.” She caressed his cheek and jaw. “I just sometime wish you were a little less zealous about it, but you’re right. It’s not who you are. And I can’t ask you to stop being who you are on my account. You’re more than just mine. You’re Roxi’s. Gwen’s. The pack’s.”
He blushed, his breathing shallow as he tried to fight off the tears that wanted to form in his eyes. Pablo and Delilah had been the first to draw him out into the world of the living with their friendship, but it had been Maggie’s love that had reminded him just how sweet life could be.
The old Luke would have tried to talk himself into fleeing from her for her own good and so he wouldn’t have to feel the pain…or feel at all. But that Luke was dead and he wouldn’t let himself resurrect him.
He didn’t fight for an ancient god or some nearly intangible mission. He fought for love. For the love of his extended family of the pack. For the love of his dearest friends. For the love of his adopted daughter. For the love of the women he loved. For the love of life.
It was a terrible responsibility. But he was right about one thing. Who else could do what he could do? He stood as a bulwark against the encroaching darkness. Not gods. Not governments. Not nations. He’d raised up a powerful army that could continue the fight long after he was gone. But he didn’t want them to fight an indefinite war.
He was the only one who could bring down the dark god of the vampires. The god who only saw his creation as a road to power—to corruption. The destination Saubarag had in mind was chaos and pain.
Luke didn’t know if Saubarag wanted to rule the world. He didn’t care. The only route to peace and to end the predation of humanity was through Saubarag’s body, such as it was. Something had shifted. He didn’t know if it was his mindset or his new power, if he could use it without destroying himself before he achieved his goal… All the parts had to be brought together. They all must serve him.
Saubarag brought undeath.
Luke would bring true death.
He just didn’t know if he’d live to enjoy a world free from the dark god.
Chapter
Twelve
Maggie had been unhappy about his vital signs, though they’d been better than when he’d been brought in. His heart rate was still erratic and his oxygen levels were below optimum. She wanted to run more thorough tests after they moved him back to Portland, but he was well enough to get out of bed and move about the farm as long as he didn’t exert himself too much.
Gwen insisted on playing cards with him whenever he sat in the sitting room, which he didn’t mind. He knew it was her way of reassuring herself that he was still alive. Though he appreciated it, he did get tired of seeing the worried looks on everyone’s faces and fearful glances every time he so much as sneezed or stumbled. He couldn’t tell if he was annoyed with everyone else or at his own frailty.
After the kid had beat him at another round of cribbage, he called it quits, removed the IV bag from the downstairs stand, and headed upstairs for a nap. The stairs only added to his exhaustion, though he wouldn’t let anyone else know. He couldn’t handle any more pity.
Opening the door, he paused when he saw Roxi sitting in the chair by the head of the bed.
“Luke, we need to talk before you take your afternoon nap.”
“OK. Give me a moment first.”
Roxi nodded.
He sauntered into the bathroom to take care of business then returned to the bedroom, hanging his IV bag, then slipping under the covers. Sighing contentedly, he wiggled to get comfortable. “What about?”
“I spoke with Selene last night. I think you need to talk with her and let her examine you.”
“But—”
Roxi held up a hand, cutting him off. “Your malady isn’t medical, though it’s showing various medical-type symptoms. The cause is supernatural. Maggie can try to treat the symptoms, but there’s no human sickness causing your problems. And right now, our best source is Selene.”
He mulled over what she’d said for a moment. “You’re probably right. If I’m going to actually get on the mend so I can get back into the fight, it won’t be human medicine that’ll ‘cure’ me.”
Roxi relaxed, her shoulders dropping and her brow smoothing. “Good. I was worried you’d argue about it. You can occasionally be stubborn when it comes to your own health.”
He chuckled. “I’ve heard that before, but I’m trying to do better. I have plans, and I need to be healthy if I’m going to end this war.”
She raised an eyebrow. “End it?”
“What else are we fighting for?” He took in a shaky breath. “I can’t keep this up indefinitely. I can’t see people I lead be…” He paused, clenching his eyes shut. “I can’t witness what happened the other night again.”
Looking down, he saw his hands trembling, so he clenched them into fists and slid them under the blankets. Roxi stood and walked around the bed to the other side, slipping under the covers to snuggle up next to him.
“I know, dōšagīh. That was rough, even after all we’ve seen. You just scared us. I’ve been doing this as long as you have, and I’ve never seen anything like what you’re doing. It’s…” She exhaled, the air hissing between her teeth. “It’s exhilarating and profoundly terrifying. You could destroy the vampires, but the power is destroying you.”
He rolled over, resting his head on her shoulder. “I’m scared, too.”
“I hate to say this, but”—she kissed the top of his head—“I’d rather fight vampires forever than lose you. I’ve finally found you, and I’ll fight anyone to protect you. Including you.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I love you more than I can say.”
Roxi nodded, squeezing him tightly, and stroked his hair. “Just rest in my arms. Tonight, we’ll speak with Selene.”
Luke woke up from his nap in an empty bed, the other side cool with time. At some point, Maggie must have been in to remove the IV. Rolling out of bed, he stumbled into the bathroom to relieve himself, then returned to his bedroom and pulled on whatever was on top of the drawers he opened—shorts and a T-shirt. Because he was chilly, he pulled on a robe and slipped into a pair of slippers. If he had a pair of jelly sandals, he’d be all set for a Big Lebowski convention.
Since he was still weak and shaky, he was forced to grip the handrail tightly as he descended the stairs.
Roxi poked her head out of the kitchen, a smile spreading across her face. “Ah, good. You’re awake. I was about to get you. I made a run down to The Birk for burgers.”
His stomach grumbled at the thought of burgers. “Funnily enough, I’m a bit hungry. I feel like I haven’t eaten anything solid in weeks.”
“Then come sit down and dig in.” She beckoned him over and disappeared back into the kitchen.
When he rounded the corner, there were a few people already gathered around the table. Roxi was handing out burgers to Maggie and Tutyr, whose shorts, slippers, and robe matched Luke’s attire.
“Luke.” Tutyr nodded, and his beard shifted in such a way to indicate he might be smiling under it.
“Tutyr.” He pulled out a chair next to where Roxi set her burger down. “How are you doing? Up and about, I see.”
“Still weak, but better each day,” he said, his accent thick but understandable.
Luke was the reason for the god’s weakness. When they’d fought Saubarag, Tutyr had shifted into the shape of an Aralez—a winged hound-wolf whose lick could heal injuries and even revive the dead, if legends held true.
Tutyr had been a weak god even in Luke’s days in Rome’s legions. And the only reason he’d heard of him—beyond the tale Selene had told him about the creation of the werewolves which involved Saubarag tricking Tutyr—was the time he’d spent in the Caucus Mountains and later the steppes. He’d never even claimed the potential power base of being a god involved in the creation of the werewolf.
Somehow, through time, he’d become trapped in Saubarag’s prison-arena in the mountains of Wyoming. That’s where Luke had found them when he’d been freed from the prison. Though, the god had disguised himself as a dog and kept the shape until revealing himself a few weeks ago.
