Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Charlie stood outside Brent's apartment door, his too large clothes hanging loose on his frame, his hand raised but not quite connecting with the wood.
"You going to knock or just admire his door all day?" Viktor leaned against the wall, arms crossed. The former hunter looked almost casual, but Charlie noticed how his gaze constantly swept the hallway, how he positioned himself to see both the stairwell and the elevator.
"What if he's not home? What if they already got to him?" Charlie's hand remained suspended.
"Then we'll deal with that. But standing here isn't helping your friend."
Right. Charlie swallowed and knocked.
Shuffling sounds came from inside and then the door swung open.
"Charlie?" Brent blinked, sleep-rumpled in basketball shorts and no shirt. His broad chest and impressive bedhead would normally have made Charlie feel inadequate, but today he barely registered it. "Dude, where have you been? I've been blowing up your phone!"
"Can we come in?" Charlie glanced over his shoulder. The hallway remained empty, but it felt exposed.
"We?" Brent leaned out to spot Viktor. "Oh. Yeah, sure."
He stepped back, holding the door wider. Charlie brushed past him to be hit with the familiar scent of Brent's apartment. Protein powder, clean laundry, and that fancy air freshener that didn't fit the rest of Brent's aesthetic.
"What's going on?" Brent shut the door, studying Charlie's borrowed clothes and Viktor's tense posture.
Charlie met his friend's concerned gaze. Where to even begin?
"Remember when I told you I was a vampire?"
Brent's expression shifted to exasperated fondness. "The method acting thing. Yeah, I remember. Still committed to the bit, huh?"
"It's not—" Charlie stopped, frustration building. "Brent, I need you to listen. Really listen this time."
"I'm listening," Brent said, but his tone held the patience of someone humoring a child.
Viktor made a noise that might have been a laugh. "This should be interesting."
Charlie ignored him. "There's an organization. They hunt vampires. But they also..." He took a breath. "They wanted you, Brent. They wanted a vampire to turn you, but they got me instead. By mistake."
Brent's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"I got turned by a vampire who was drunk and thought it would be funny." Charlie stepped closer. "But he was supposed to turn you. You were the target. You're still the target."
Brent's expression remained neutral. "Okay."
"Not okay. You don't believe me."
"I believe you believe it," Brent said carefully. "And I'm worried about you."
Charlie turned to Viktor in frustration. "See what I'm dealing with?"
Viktor leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Show him."
"Show him what?"
"Your fangs? Super strength? That rabbit trick you do?"
Brent's eyebrows shot up. "Rabbit trick?"
Charlie licked his lips. That might not be the worst idea. He turned to Brent again. "I'm going to show you something," he said. "And after I show you, I need you to believe everything else I tell you. Because you're in danger."
"Charlie—"
"Just... watch."
He focused inward, searching for the strange shimmer that preceded transformation. He could do it. He had to do it.
Nothing.
Charlie groaned.
Of course his powers would fail him now. How fucking predictable.
"I can't do it," he complained. "I don't know how to control it."
Viktor sighed. "Try thinking about being scared. That might help you turn into prey."
Brent looked between them. "What exactly are you trying to do?"
Charlie ran a hand through his hair. "Turn into a rabbit."
A beat of silence, then Brent laughed. "A rabbit? That's what you're going with? Vampires turn into bats, dude."
"Not this vampire," Charlie muttered.
"Charlie," Brent said, his voice taking on the same tone he used when explaining proper gym form. "I think you need help. Professional help. This whole vampire thing was fun at first, but you're taking it too—"
Charlie closed his eyes and ignored the rest of Brent's little speech. He thought of Simon, of the muffled bond, of the danger Brent faced. Of the Organization coming for them all.
The tingling started in his fingertips, spreading up his arms. His bones began to shift, consciousness compressing, and—
Pop.
When Charlie opened his eyes again, the world had changed. Everything loomed larger. Colors dulled while scents sharpened. He sat on the floor among a puddle of clothes, his powerful back legs tucked beneath him.
Brent's mouth hung open. He blinked once, twice.
"What the actual fuck," he whispered.
Charlie's nose twitched.
Brent's mouth opened and closed without producing sound. Then, finally: "You're a fucking rabbit."
Viktor nodded. "He is indeed. A vampire rabbit."
"That's—" Brent shook his head violently. "That's not a thing. Vampires aren't rabbits. Rabbits aren't real. I mean, vampires aren't real. I mean—"
Charlie concentrated, focusing on his human form again. The terror that had triggered the shift had ebbed, allowing him to control the transformation back. His limbs stretched, fur receded, and a moment later he was crouched naked on Brent's carpet.
"Gah!" Brent covered his eyes. "Dude!"
"Sorry." Charlie quickly pulled on some clothes. "I didn't exactly plan that."
When Brent finally lowered his hands, his face had gone pale. "You're actually a vampire."
"Yes."
Brent's expression transformed from skepticism to awe. "My best friend is a bunny with fangs."
That… wasn't exactly what Charlie had wanted Brent to take away from this, but it was a start.
"So," Brent said. "All those times I thought you were just... you were telling the truth."
"Yeah." Charlie buttoned his pants. "I've been trying to tell you."
Brent scratched his head. "So that stuff about an organization that wants to turn me…"
"Is also true." Viktor moved to the window, peering through the blinds. "They hunt vampires, but they also create enhanced hunters from half-turned humans."
"They've been selecting certain people to be attacked," Charlie added. "Then they swoop in at the last minute to 'save' them. But really, they're creating loyal soldiers for themselves. They wanted you for their program."
Brent absorbed this. "Why would they want me instead of you?"
Charlie shrugged. "Probably because you can bench press a small car while I can barely lift my own anxiety."
"Sort of," Viktor said. "It's to do with physical attributes. You're strong and healthy. Good genetic material to work with."
Brent shot Charlie a confused look.
"I got bitten by a drunk vampire who thought it was fun to turn the wrong target." Charlie shrugged. "Lucky me."
Brent began to pace, muscles tensing beneath his skin like a caged animal. "So these people are still after me? And they're... what? Government? Military?"
"Technically, it's a private organization," Viktor said. "But they have connections everywhere."
"And they have Simon," Charlie added. The hollow feeling in his chest pulsed with a dull ache. "He's a hunter. Was a hunter. It's complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"He was supposed to kill me." Charlie swallowed around the lump in his throat. "But he didn't. He protected me instead. And now they've taken him back to... recondition him or something."
Brent stopped pacing. "Back up. This Simon guy, he hunts vampires for a living?"
"Yes."
"And he was supposed to kill you?"
"Yes."
"But instead you guys..." Brent gestured vaguely.
Charlie felt heat rise to his face. "It's complicated," he repeated.
Brent stared at him for a long moment. "Charlie, what the actual hell happened to your life?"
"I ask myself that every day."
A soft ping came from Viktor's pocket. He pulled out his phone, expression darkening as he read the screen.
"We need to move. Now."
"What is it?" Charlie moved closer.
"I have another contact at the Organization. Simon's been taken to the sub-basement level. That's where they do the correctional training."
A shiver ran through Charlie. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing good." Viktor pocketed his phone. "And it means we're out of time for explanations. Brent, pack a bag."
Brent's eyes widened. "For real?"
"Yes, for real," Charlie said. "If they get you, they'll turn you into something you're not. Something that kills for them." His voice cracked. "Like they did to Simon."
The bond in his chest throbbed, a distant pain that wasn't his own. Something was happening to Simon. Right now.
Simon came to consciousness in stages. First: darkness. Then the bite of restraints around his wrists and ankles. The familiar smell of antiseptic and metal. The hum of equipment.
The sub-basement.
He kept his eyes closed, assessing. His head throbbed from the tranquilizers. His mouth tasted like copper. The bond with Charlie felt stretched thin, vibrating like a plucked string.
"I know you're awake."
Reuben's voice. He sounded calm, almost kind. The same way he had when he'd guided Simon through his transformation from terrified, half-turned teenager to the Organization's perfect hunter.
Simon opened his eyes.
He was strapped to a chair, exactly the way he was in his nightmares.
As if he was fifteen again.
Except that he wasn't, and he wasn't going to stand for this treatment.
Swallowing dryly, he looked at Reuben, who stood beside the chair, still in his pressed suit, as if they were just having a casual conversation about Simon's latest hunt.
"Back with us?" Reuben smiled. "The tranquilizers hit you rather hard."
"Where is Charlie?"
"Escaped, unfortunately. For now." Reuben adjusted something on an IV stand next to the chair. "He'll be found soon enough."
Simon tested the restraints. No give.
"You're angry with me." Reuben sounded almost disappointed. "I understand. Being captured by your own people feels like betrayal."
"It's not the capture I'm angry about."
"Ah." Reuben nodded. "Someone got in your head and fed you lies about the organization."
Simon glared. That explanation was way too cheap to convince him. "It's not all lies. I met my mother's killer at the retreat."
Reuben seemed to consider. "We made a deal with that one years ago. He's been a valuable asset in helping us identify potential candidates."
"So you admit it." Simon pulled at his restraints again.
"I admit we use every tool at our disposal to fight a war most humans don't even know exists." Reuben met his gaze. "The vampire world is vast and dangerous, Simon. We need every advantage we can get."
"Including traumatizing children?" The rage Simon had suppressed since waking bubbled closer to the surface. "Making them watch their mothers die?"
"Including creating the strongest, most effective hunters possible." Reuben's voice hardened. "And yes, that sometimes requires sacrifice."
Simon's hands curled into fists. "She was all I had."
"And her death made you the man you are today." Reuben reached for a tray covered with a sterile cloth. "Without that loss, would you have had the drive to become our best? The dedication to eliminate over a hundred threats to humanity?"
"They weren't all threats." Simon thought of Charlie, turned into a literal rabbit by fear. "Some of them were just trying to survive."
Reuben unveiled the tray. A syringe lay on the sterile surface, filled with dark red liquid.
"Ah yes. Your little fledgling." Reuben picked up the syringe, examining it against the light. "He's made quite an impression on you, hasn't he? Enough to make you question everything you know."
"He showed me the truth."
"He showed you what you wanted to see." Reuben tapped the syringe. "A vampire that doesn't need to kill. That can be tamed, domesticated. But it's a fantasy, Simon. One you indulged because of the blood bond between you."
Simon stared at the syringe. "What is that?"
"You already know." Reuben's smile didn't reach his eyes. "It's the same thing I've been giving you for years, just in a more concentrated form."
"It's blood."
"My blood." Reuben approached the chair.
"Every pill you've swallowed has contained a little bit of it, just enough to keep you tethered to me.
For half-turned vampires like you who've never had any other blood…
usually, that's all it takes. But since you've strayed from the path, I believe a concentrated dose is required. "
Simon struggled against the restraints as hard as he could. He'd known something was off about those pills but he'd never thought…
He was going to be sick.
"You've been drugging me."
"I've been helping you control your darker nature. The part of you that would have become exactly what killed your mother if not for my intervention." Reuben positioned the needle against Simon's arm. "Think of it as a leash. One that's kept you from hurting yourself and others for a decade."
"I don't need your leash."
"Recent events suggest otherwise." Reuben pressed the needle into Simon's vein. "You fed a vampire your blood. You protected him against your orders. You've been compromised in the worst way."
Simon felt the first drops of Reuben's blood enter his system—cold, then burning, spreading up his arm toward his heart.
"What I'm giving you now will eliminate your confusion," Reuben said softly. "It will burn away the influence of your pet vampire and return you to your purpose."
The burning reached Simon's chest. His vision blurred at the edges, darkness creeping in. He could feel Reuben's presence growing in his mind, a familiar, soothing weight that wanted him to give in to its command.
"When you wake up," Reuben continued, emptying the syringe, "you'll be yourself again. And your first mission will be to eliminate the vampire who nearly destroyed everything we've built."
Simon's back arched against the restraints as the blood circulated through his body and dulled his mind.
His last thought before darkness claimed him was of Charlie—brown eyes wide with trust, apologizing for existing, warm against him in that too-comfortable bed.
Then nothing.