Lust for Life (33 page)

I could’ve prevented this. I could’ve turned him, like he begged me so many times,
like he begged all of us. And now he’s gone.

“Take me down there,” I whisper.

Adrian looks at the paramedic, who gives a hesitant sigh. “One minute,” she says.

He scoops me up and carries me downstairs. I draw in a sharp breath as his arms scrape
the burns on my back.

Adrian kneels in front of Shane, still holding me. Shane is cradling Jeremy’s body.
They’re both covered in so much blood, it’s hard to see where one ends and the other
begins.

Shane keeps singing, and the lounge is so silent, I can hear the soft piano in my
head. The melody’s serenity belies the lyrics’ unbearable pain, one that Shane and
Jeremy understand well, one that I’ve only just begun to grasp.

Behind me, four other Control paramedics are setting up three stretchers, for Jeremy,
Leon, and Billy, who’s lying on the blood-soaked floor, unconscious, a stake protruding
from his back.

Shane begins the last chorus, which will drift off into a repeated, “Sing to me.”
I try to watch Jeremy’s lifeless face, but it’s too hard. Instead I focus on the front
of his Dashboard Confessional T-shirt, remembering when he saw them in concert last
year, how excited he was to snag front-row seats. Afterward, he walked around starry-eyed
for days.

His T-shirt moves.

I hold my breath. That wasn’t what I think it was.

The
C
in “Confessional” twitches. But Jeremy can’t be moving. He can’t be alive. People
don’t come back to life—not people broken in half who are beyond the help of vampires
and defibrillators.

Shane reaches the last line, stretches it out.

I interrupt. “Keep singing.”

“What?”

“Just do it,” I tell him, never taking my eyes off Jeremy’s chest. “Start the song
over.”

Shane doesn’t question, just takes it from the top. I want to reach out and touch
him, but I know what I’m capable of now. I could kill his magic with one drop of doubt.

But right now I have no doubt. I remember how Shane pulled me out of the land of the
dead, twice. I remember the power of his voice.

Apparently it’s no longer just for me.

Jeremy heaves a choking breath, and everyone gasps.

“He’s alive!” Adrian sets me down carefully, then reaches for Jeremy’s wrist. “His
pulse is erratic but strong.” He pauses. “And getting stronger.”

“Keep singing, Shane. Just like you are.”

Shane nods at me and keeps going. His voice shakes a little, probably with the temptation
to go louder, bolder. But that’s not what this song is like.

Jeremy’s eyelashes flutter and he moans softly.

“Don’t move,” Adrian whispers, his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder.

When he finishes the song again, Shane gently lays Jeremy on one of the stretchers.
The paramedics go to work, strapping him down and putting a brace on his neck.

Adrian carries me back upstairs to my own stretcher.
Shane follows close behind. I feel a weird thrill, knowing I have nothing to hide
from human doctors.

As the EMTs lift me up, Shane bends over and whispers in my ear. “I saw Kashmir before
they took him away. Do you know what you did?”

I nod. “I guess I’ll be staying in the Immanence Corps.”

He glances downstairs toward Jeremy, whose raspy voice is telling the paramedic that
yes, he can feel it when his toes are squeezed. Then Shane looks back at me. “I guess
I’ll be joining you.”

•  •  •

Colonel Lanham agrees with that assessment. Not only did Shane save Jeremy, but he
also sang Billy back to life after one of the other Enforcement agents pulled out
his stake. Adrian recommended a Neil Young song, so Shane went with “After the Gold
Rush.”

“It says here you used to sing it to your childhood dog?” Colonel Lanham looks up
from the incident report, arching his eyebrow.

“When she had cancer, sir.” Shane sits in the chair next to me in front of Lanham’s
desk. His posture is straight, but not stake-up-his-butt Enforcement straight. “It
seemed to help her sleep.”

I hate when he makes me want to kiss him at highly inappropriate times.

Lanham finishes reading the incident report, or at least pretends to. I find it hard
to believe he didn’t have the thing memorized before we arrived. When he came to visit
me in the hospital Tuesday morning, we discussed how I’d overcome Kashmir by de-vamping
him.

Kashmir himself is now in Control custody, one of
their few human prisoners. Since he didn’t die per se, none of his progeny felt the
agony they normally would at a maker’s death. They may never feel it, since he’ll
eventually die as a human.

As Kashmir’s conspirator, Anca Codreanu-Petrea is also awaiting trial. Since Jeremy
technically died but was brought back to life, the Control hasn’t decided whether
to try her for accessory to murder or accessory to attempted murder. Such are the
dilemmas of law enforcement bureaucracies.

Lanham closes the report and turns to Shane. “You appear to have what the Immanence
Corps has termed the Orphic ability. You can call the dying back to life with your
voice.”

Shane sinks a little deeper into his chair. “So that’s a thing, then. I’m not the
only one who can do this?”

“You are the only, but not the first.” Lanham tilts his chin down. “The previous Orphic
agent had an accident on duty and is currently in a coma.”

“When you say ‘on duty’ ”—I give him the side-eye—“you mean trying to save someone?”

“Precisely. The subject was too far gone, and the Orphic agent tried too long and
too hard. They were drawn into a near death themselves.”

“Shit,” Shane says. “I mean, shit . . . sir.”

“Every ability has a cost and a trade-off.” Lanham looks at me. “As you well know,
Griffin.”

I fidget with the bandages on my palms, which still have second-degree burns from
the magic shock. “I don’t suppose whoever else has my power is still alive, huh? It’d
be nice to get some training.”

Lanham pauses, then says, “Agent Griffin, no one
has ever had your power of neutralization before. You must learn to control it.”

“I had to concentrate really hard to de-vamp Kashmir. I doubt I’d accidentally do
it by shaking hands.”

“You never know what you’re capable of until you develop your abilities.”

“Let me guess: the Immanence Corps will teach me.”

“I think you’ll teach them as much as they’ll teach you.”

“The fact that it literally stopped my heart is a good incentive not to use that power
ever again.”

“Removing someone’s vampire nature is an extreme example. Vampirism affects a person’s
entire being. It’s more than a supernatural ability. But if you were to interfere
with, say, a telepath trying to win money at the poker table, or a pyrokinetic agent
in the process of starting a fire—each a part-time ability—you would probably feel
a smaller shock.”

Somehow I am not comforted.

“We would start you off with something small,” he proposes, “like one of the IC’s
telekinetic agents trying to move a feather. Under full medical supervision, of course.”

I sigh, wondering if I actually have to believe in people’s alleged superpowers to
neutralize them, or if my disbelief will be my best weapon. “I suppose a transfer
to the Contemporary Awareness Department is out, huh?”

“Out of the question. They need both of you in the Immanence Corps.”

“When do we start?” Shane asks. “I’m suspended until mid-January.”

“The investigation into Project Blood Leash 2.0 is complete, and the committee will
present its findings on January second.”

I lean forward a little. “And?”

“I have it on good authority that they expect to accommodate all the vampire agents’
demands. Things will be back to normal soon thereafter.” He opens his calendar. “You
are both to report for duty on Tuesday, February first, for a year’s full-time service.”

“Wait—full time?” Shane looks angry. “What about WVMP?”

“You have over a month to find a suitable disc jockey replacement. Potentially you
could maintain your satellite radio duties, since that requires only a few hours per
week.”

Shane lets out a breath, relieved. “Just for a year. I’ll make it work.”

I hope he does. Even as a human, he needs music like most people need air. And with
his Orphic ability, his music will be like air to the dead and dying.

I’m just glad this power is in Shane’s hands and no one else’s.

•  •  •

It’s a good thing Shane and I, and our friends and family, are no longer being stalked
by psychotic vampires. Planning a wedding is stressful enough.

Lori’s maid-of-honor dress had to be refitted at the last minute, due to what she
calls a “baby bump” and what I call a “burrito bump.” Her morning sickness has ended,
replaced with an obsessive craving for Taco Bell.

In other bridal party news, a still-recovering Jeremy is now a groomsman instead of
an usher. After his run-in with Kashmir, we all decided it would be best if he had
a job that involved doing nothing but standing there, looking happy. Which he does
more often these days,
having finally lost his vampiric aspirations. “Nothing like dying to make you realize
death sucks,” he told me.

But now, with two minutes until I walk down the aisle, I am doubting that wisdom.
I can barely breathe from the nerves.

Our wedding is being held at the Sherwood fire hall. Not the most glamorous location,
but with our history of special events involving explosives, we figured it was the
safest place to be. It was also cheap.

Noah, who replaced Jeremy as usher, offers my mother his arm. She takes it, then spies
me peeking out from the hallway beyond the coatroom. Mom gives me a mischievous wave,
then proceeds, looking happier than I’ve ever seen her.

“You ready?” Monroe asks me. He’s wearing a white tux with a black shirt and tie,
which looks amazing. For once, he left the hat at home. I’m sure many people will
wonder why I’m being walked down the aisle by someone who is not only clearly not
my relative but is also the same age as I am. Whatever. He’s the closest thing I have
to a father, even now.

I take a deep breath, focusing on the scent of the red roses in my bouquet, then step
forward toward the closed doors leading to the hall. “I’m ready.”

“Yay!” Lori scoots over to take her place in front of me. Regina, my only bridesmaid,
glides in front of her. Inside the hall, the prelude music continues. When the song
changes, that’s our cue for Spencer to open the hall door so we can enter.

Behind us, the outside doors crash open, letting in a cold blast of December night
air.

I’m ready for another ambush, and
not
ready to have
my wedding ruined by more rogue vampires. In a flash I lift the right side of my skirt,
yank out the small holy-water pistol from my garter belt, then aim for the three men
coming through the door.

“Hallelujah, I’m just in time!”

I lower the pistol slowly, staring at the white-haired man in a tux flanked by a pair
of U.S. marshals. “Daddy?”

“Surprise, pumpkin!” Ronan O’Riley spreads his arms for a hug. “They gave me twenty-four-hour
leave to attend my only daughter’s wedding. Isn’t that fabulous?”

I shake my head with disbelief, then nod. “Fabulous . . .” Every emotion pinballs
inside of me at once. I don’t dare move, due to the competing instincts to embrace
and slap him. “But you know I hate surprises.”

He takes a step back and puts his hands up. “Hey, don’t do to me what you did to that
birthday clown.” The laugh lines around his eyes straighten and droop as he realizes
I might actually kick him in the kneecaps. “I thought you’d be happy.”

Lori puts her hand on my arm. “We can add a father-daughter dance.”

That’s what breaks me. I lower my head and blink hard so the tears can fall from my
lashes to the floor instead of streaking my face with mascara. Every time I imagined
my wedding, this was what I secretly wished for.

“Ciara.” My father steps forward. “I’d be honored if you would let me walk you down
the aisle.”

Behind me, Monroe clears his throat. When I turn to him, he bows his head and steps
back, conceding his place at my side.

I blink away the last tear, straighten my posture, then speak to the two guards.

“Take him to the side entrance. He can sit in the back.”

Ronan’s eyes widen as they lead him away. “But, sweet pea, I’m your father.”

“Which is why I’m letting you stay. Enjoy the show.” I watch them lead him toward
a door on the side of the fire hall. “Regina, tell them we’re ready.”

She salutes me as she passes. “That. Was totally awesome.”

I smile, knowing what the word means coming from a child of the eighties, when it
was more than just a default description for anything remotely cool.

Regina cracks open the door and flashes a thumbs-up to Rick, Shane’s former donor
and front man for Vital Fluid. I hear his acoustic guitar begin the procession music.

I’m still shaking from the encounter with my father, yet somehow calmer about the
wedding itself than I was ten minutes ago.

On cue, Spencer opens the doors. I stand off to the left so no one can see me. Regina
sweeps forward, provoking gasps of admiration verging on worship from the crowd inside.

Lori gives me a wink and a smile before she sets off. The audience sighs with a series
of “Awws” at the sight of her cuteness, enhanced by the little bulge in her belly,
so obvious on her tiny frame.

Monroe offers me his arm and I meet his eyes. We’re almost the same height, with me
in my four-inch heels, but I will forever and always look up to him. For giving me
life, then saving that life months ago, even if he can only be a small part of it.
I know he’s trying, and this right here, walking me down the aisle? Huge.

The music changes, and we step into the doorway. Everyone stands.

For a moment I hesitate, intimidated by the attention. I’ve spent my life slipping
through the shadows, playing behind-the-scenes manager/puppet-master to this hodgepodge
set of vampires. Now everyone’s watching me.