Pandemic Ch. 03

Sorry for the delay in this, I hit not one but two breaks in logic that I had no idea how to fix at first. I hope my solution works for all of you. Please let me know if you like it, don't like it, or if there are still places that get confusing. I think I've fixed it now, but I ran the risk of it seeming cut together. I answered some of the questions you all had, anyway. ~A

Kept waiting for more than twenty minutes by his father's bodyguards, David's patience frayed by the second until he finally picked up the unconscious Anna once more and bluntly ordered them away. Neither guard seemed ready to compete with the fury etched on his face, and stood aside. With a vicious kick, David forced the large double doors open, the echoing slam shocking the seven men seated around one end of the oval parlor table. Before David could speak, a man he did not recognize leapt to his feet. "How dare you enter these rooms uninvited! Who the hell do you think you are?"

David rested Anna's weight on the edge of the large table so he could pull back the hood of her sweatshirt, which revealed her bloody silver necklace, the sight of which ended the man's tirade abruptly. David glared at all the men around the table equally. "Since I doubt even your wives would chance this for you, perhaps my annoyance at being kept waiting has good reason." He spoke levelly, not even raising his voice, but that, coupled with his bloody burden, made more of a shockwave amongst the gathered men, not less. "I am through waiting." His eyes paused on each man, resting finally on the eldest. "The university campus you sent me to was the same as all the rest until the Depraved One visited and nearly bled my mortal assistant, here, dry. Completely passing me by, I might point out. But twenty-two hours later she is immune to my touch, and bears neither physical mark nor mental aberration." The metered rhythm of his words plodded onward in spite of the visible discomfort and shock of the seven men before him. "I am hoping you may have ideas where I do not, though from the look of your faces I'm wasting valuable time asking."

"You drugged her?" was the reply of one of the older men at last; the name Joshua was summoned from the depths of David's memory, but he did not really know the man. "You dared chance silver when this could be--"

"No," David interrupted. "I tried to take the necklace from her, hours ago. But I can't hold onto the clasp long enough to get it undone. If you think you could do better, please do." None of the men moved, so David continued. "She seems to have limited access to his mind when he looks into hers... this was her idea, without any mention by me, an attempt to keep him out of her head. It seems to have worked, but even this wears off sooner each time. She's stronger than I can hope to understand."

"Is it possible she's still mortal?" one of the younger men asked.

"With him in her head?" David replied, not needing to finish the thought.

"He's following you." The eldest man's words were not a question, so David did not waste time answering it as such, he just returned his attention to the center of the group. "Then we don't have much time."

David shook his head, agreeing with the conclusion. "He should still be at least eight hours behind us, last I checked." At their blank looks he added, "Anna kept tabs on him for awhile, before she started losing blood." He gingerly used the collar of her shirt to guard his fingers from the chain, pulling it away from her neck to survey the damage.

She stirred. "No..."

"Anna, leave it!" he cried, even as her fingers were heading for the chain once more.

"Can't. He... knows..."

He pulled her fingers away and gripped it as gently as he could while not letting her go. "We're safe, let him come. You're going to kill yourself if you keep this up."

She froze, trembling, and the noise that left her throat started as a whimper before getting strangled off. Her body went rigid in his arms and her eyes shot open, solid inky black pools beneath the reflective gleam. Unless he was very mistaken, her lips even started to curl back in a silent hiss, but her forehead furrowed and she forced her eyes shut, the expression of loathing lost. "Help me," she whispered, hands rising to clutch her forehead. "Help me... please..."

A pair of wrinkled, elderly hands reached in to clasp her head atop her own, and everything went black.

David woke up on the floor of his father's sitting room when smelling salts were waved under his nose by the only remaining member of the previous gathering.

"Anna?" He tried to sit up, but the world spun. If he was on the floor, he must have dropped her...

"Easy, cousin," the other told him, assisting him into a seated position after setting the vile bottle of salts on the edge of the table. "She's in bed, as is Grandfather. Both are fine, if unconscious and likely to remain so for some time."

The door opened, readmitting three of the occupants David recalled from before he passed out. "How long have I been out?"

"Not long," replied a man with a distinctly German accent, the same man that had reacted so strongly to his entrance earlier. "We tended to your friend and to Grandfather first."

David tried not to react to the underlying message that what had just occurred was his fault, but the man kneeling next to him had no such qualms. "Shove it, Freddie," he snapped. "Don't you know who you're talking to?"

David could feel his cheeks flush at the calculating glare thrown his way by the German. "No. Who am I talking to?"

"My little brother," announced a voice across the room, entering from the elder's inner rooms. All present save David straightened up somewhat. "Though you may find it wise to assume anyone you meet here is your better, Friedrich. You are no longer in Bremen." The man so named sketched a shaky bow in the direction of David's brother, face a bit paler than before.

David enlisted the aid of his kneeling companion to achieve his feet, quickly taking the nearest chair before the world's spinning sent him out of control. He nodded at his stocky older brother, Edmund. "What brings you here, Ed? I thought you were living in London these days."

"I am, but when the virus broke out on multiple continents simultaneously, we needed a strategy." Ed joined him at the table, inviting the others to find seats with a glance. "You gave us all quite a scare with information like that. Was there anything you missed? I followed that your girl has no mark and no taint, but has the mental link. Is she otherwise like the rest of them?"

David considered a moment before shrugging. "If she hadn't healed fully and gained the link, I would have assumed she were still mortal. Not to mention she can handle my touch, or, er... my kiss." The men at the table hid smiles with varying degrees of success. "The mental link wasn't obvious until we were having a... private moment. Something alerted him, I'd guess. I don't know if it was there before that or not."

The man who had helped him off the floor was the first to break the silence. "You said she chanced silver like that for you," he said slowly, tasting each word as he spoke it. "Did you explain its full effects? Not to invade her privacy, or yours, but I'm wondering if she's trying to kill herself."

David forced himself to relax after hearing that idea. "Maybe early on that might've been true, but not now. Her curiosity was what led us to explore her immunity to me. The silver was never discussed, we were busy with more important things." He barely managed to keep a straight face as images of what exactly they had been involved in flashed past his mind's eye, making it hard to focus on the conversation at hand while his pants became uncomfortably tight. "She picked it out of his head, I believe. Has... do any of you recall a case where the victim had access to the master's thoughts?"

The door leading to his father's rooms had opened as he spoke, this time to admit a man easily as old. "They all do," he announced to the visible surprise of all present. "How did you think a mortal suddenly knew to target life?"

"When you put it that way..." David's brother replied, trading sheepish glances with the others.

"What we're not accustomed to," the older man continued, coming to join the seated group, "Is a sane patient."

David nodded slowly. "Not that I'm going to argue in favor of a change." He looked up to consider the older man, trying to place the man in his memory without luck. He appeared to be in his late sixties or early seventies by mortal reckoning, dressed neatly in a three piece suit with a decidedly Victorian flair, but that was not enough to pinpoint an age among David's species. He could assume the man was over four hundred years old, but by what margin was impossible to say, every Guardian aged differently. But that was enough to point to him as the most experienced person present. "Maybe you can explain the little explosion that knocked me unconscious?"

"Guardian and Depraved at war in a confined space," he answered simply.

David winced. "It knocked me out, I'd hate to know what it felt like... Anna!" He was halfway out of his chair when the world started spinning; his brother caught him and tried to force him back down, but when he resisted, Ed instead helped him steady himself on his feet.

"David, relax. She's fine." Ed looked to another, who quickly nodded confirmation.

David was rubbing his temple, but he quickly dropped his hand back to the table with a thump. "How do you know? We have no standard to compare her to. She could be brain-dead and better than the depraved we're used to."

Rather than argue, Ed just sighed. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I'll be right back."

With the assistance of his older brother, David was more or less able to get as far as Anna's room--which he vaguely recognized as his own, from his teenage years living in his father's house--and he seated himself on the edge of the bed.

"She's a bit pale, but she's fine," Edmund assured him, waiting close at hand until his brother looked stable on the edge of the mattress,

"You said that already," David snapped. He stroked Anna's cheek, catching his fingers on a few stray hairs that were stuck to the tape holding a gauze pad to her neck. He carefully tugged the fine silk strands back into place, free of the bandage, and smoothed the tape back down. Her skin looked cleaner than it had, but there were still traces of the bloody smears from before which made it hard to pretend she was as fine as his brother suggested.

"How long have you known her?" Ed asked quietly. "I didn't know you'd found a girlfriend."

David's dry laugh sounded more like a wheeze. "She volunteered to assist during the quarantine. I should've thrown her out when my assistants were cleared." He could deny her nothing, even then, he knew, and cursed himself for three kinds of fool.

Edmund's voice distracted him from memories of Anna back at campus. "You never would have known she was something special..."

David's head flew up. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually thinking of her safety, not the chance for research." His voice sounded harsh, even to his own ears.

"I meant no offense, brother." Ed turned back towards the door. "I'll have someone standing by in case she wakes."

"Thank you," David replied, eyes still on Anna. Before his brother reached the door he thought to ask, "Was father injured?"

His brother turned slowly. "He's older than he used to be, but no Depraved will take him out, not even their eldest." It concerned David that Ed sounded worried, but his brother had always been a horrible liar so his words could be taken as true enough.

"Let me know if he wakes? I'm still hoping our elders may have answers I don't." David had a bad feeling that he was looking in the wrong place, but he could keep that to himself for the moment, he assumed Anna's condition was making him overly pessimistic.

"I can send Dr. Crowley in, if you'd like." At the blank look from David, Ed explained. "The older gentleman who told us that all depraved are linked to their masters. He's a medical doctor, specializing in biochemistry, and he's easily five times your age. He and father grew up together, I believe, a distant cousin of some sort."

"That would be great, Ed. At the very least I can pick his brain about his experience." David turned his head and tried a thin smile. "Sorry I didn't come with better news, brother." Until that moment he had ignored how his family must have taken this, though they would be almost as upset as he.

Ed took the steps needed to return to the bedside and laid a hand on David's shoulder. "Old news is no news. You've brought the first real development since the Depraved One got out of prison fifty years ago."

"You say that like it's a good thing. If the virus mutates and takes them beyond our reach, I doubt you'll enjoy it so much."

"You're far too cynical for your age," was Ed's quiet reply as he turned again to leave. He made it to the door this time and opened it before glancing back. "I hope she beats it out of you when she wakes."

There were voices above her, but Anna could not quite make out the words. "David?" The voices stopped. Then she felt a hand on her cheek, far too gentle to be anyone but he. "Where am I?"

She almost understood the reply, but she still saw only black. "Why can't I move?" Another stroke of her cheek hardly answered the question asked, but at least she knew he was right there with her.

"Anna, can you hear me?" This time his voice was indistinct, but she could understand it.

Just in case he understood her speech as poorly as she had his, she nodded. "What happened?" she asked as a face swam out of the slowly receding blackness.

"My father blew him out of your head, or at least that's how I understand it. How do you feel?"

"Not too bad," she replied, too tired to laugh.

Another voice called her bluff. "Hardly. How well can you hear me, miss?" It was a thinner tenor, and though her eyes were clearing up somewhat, she was unsure if she could make out someone standing a few feet beyond David.

"You're making more sense now than you did a moment ago," she replied truthfully, looking in the direction from which she thought the voice had come. "But my eyes don't want to focus. Everything is shades of mud." She blinked several times, just for good measure, and found more color variety but nothing more clearly delineated.

A quiet chuckle was her response, sure enough from the beige blur beyond David, which moved. "She'll be fine. Time will fix the wear and tear on your optic nerve, don't worry. We were afraid more damage may have been done to your brain, but your cognitive functions seem intact. You are to stay in bed until you can see perfectly," he continued on a sterner note. "And we will make sure your brain has come to no lasting harm. I'll leave you two alone." This conclusion was followed by another chuckle.

"Thank you, doctor," David said, waiting until the door had closed with a faint click. "Anna, I've been worried sick!" His grasp on her hand grew tighter.

"What? Why?" Without clear vision she could only guess where his eyes were, but she tried to meet them anyway.

"It's been nearly fifteen hours since you were coherent. Twelve since my father and I hit the floor. I was getting to the point where I thought you might be slipping." So saying, he bent down and slid his arms around her stomach, clinging just as tightly as he had gripped her hand the moment before, his face buried in her shoulder.

Her hand unerringly found the back of his head, cuddling him to her and stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. Whatever your father did stings, even now."

"He didn't seem to do much at all," he told her, voice muffled in her shirt. "He put his hands on your head and the world went black. I woke up soon after, and he a short while ago, though he's still in bed." His arms around her tightened to an almost painful level, until she had to stop him.

"Breathing might be handy just now."

His arm slackened immediately. "Sorry."

"It's alright, love," she murmured into his hair. Only when his body stiffened did she realize what endearment she had used.

"I'm not usually one to rush things," he began, and her heart sank. "But in these past few days we've had a lifetime's worth of trouble on our hands." He straightened to look her in the face, sliding his arms out from beneath her, but she could see only well enough to make out his face, not his expression. "I was raised to ask a father's permission to court his daughter," he murmured, chin resting gently on her breastbone. "But I assume that'd be a fair ways away at this point."

There was a pleasant knot in her throat she had to swallow before she could smile or answer. "If you tell me where we are, I'd know for certain, but yeah, my parents live near Miami."

His eyes were clearer to her now, but she wished she could read all the nuances in his expression she was accustomed to. "Well, Miss Anna Mayfield, I would very much like the pleasure of spending more time in your lovely company. If that's all right with you."

The formal way he presented it produced the knot in her throat once more. "I'd very much like that, David."

"Especially since Dr. Crowley confined you to this bed," he murmured, chuckling briefly before he nuzzled her neck.

She could feel heat rising in her cheeks as he kissed them, then her eyes, and finally her mouth. His body told her what her fuzzy vision of his expression could not, and she found herself drowning in a good deal more emotion than she had expected given his hedging. The idea of formalized courting clashed in her head with his avid indulgence in kissing her, but she could not focus on rational thought when his hands gently slid around her once more, pulling her effortlessly closer to him. When she finally needed to catch her breath, he returned to kissing her neck, seemingly unwilling to remove his lips from her skin; his arms remained locked around her as well. Sighing over the unexpected tug at her heartstrings, Anna held her lover, trying to put into words her fears. "David, how do we keep him out of my head? Anything I know, he has access to."

A sigh blew hot against the curve of her neck. "I know, love. He won't respect our claim to you. It's not enough to keep him from trying to hurt you."

She frowned. "How do you know?"

He lay his head back down, adjusting his arms around her for a more comfortable hug. "I was to be married forty years ago," he admitted quietly into her chest. "He tore her unborn child from her, leaving her barren and broken, and completely insane from the loss."

Anna hugged him closer to her, shocked at the cruelty he discussed. "Why you?" she asked at last. "Why does he go out of his way to harm you?"

He was silent for a long time, so long that she was beginning to wonder if he had fallen asleep in her arms. But at last he sighed. "I explained how we're a patriarchal culture. I didn't mention that the one we call Grandfather is actually my father."

"You're the heir to all this?" Anna was shocked, a gut-wrench making her very aware of the unspoken depth of emotion between them already, but she was not sure she wanted to be deeper in this strange world than she was already.

"Hardly. I'm the youngest of his children. But that doesn't mean I'm not a target. In fact, I'm an easier target than my brothers, since I have the knowledge to go out into the field and actively try and cut back the damage the Depraved does." His voice sounded dead, devoid of any emotion, and being muffled in her sweatshirt helped nothing.

"You've said that before," she began, trying to choose her words. "When you say 'the depraved', sometimes you mean the victims, sometimes you mean the source of the virus. What do they have to do with being depraved, exactly?"