Hunter's Strike

Donovan Blackswell was a rarity, even among vampires. Saltwater was deadly to vampires, but he sailed every sea there was. He could imagine no other life without a boat, the sea, and of course pulling into new and exotic ports.

When was the last time he had weighed anchor at New York Harbor? A hundred years or more? Certainly it hadn’t been as bright the last time.

He surveyed the other boats around. His wooden ship stuck out dramatically among the sleek metal and plastic speed boats and yachts, and it was practically tiny compared to the huge metal barges and cruise ships.

Bah to all of them. There was no finer vessel than his own Mary, she could outrace and outhaul the lot of them.

He filled his lungs with the salty air, taking in the new smells from the city. “Nymph!” he bellowed. “Where are you? I need my papers!”

“I’m right here, Captain.” Of course Nymph was then at his side. Nymph always was, and when Nymph wasn’t, they weren’t far away.

Nymph was neither human nor vampire, nor man or woman. Nymph was Nymph. Donovan had found the poor creature when it was just a bairn, alone and abandoned in Wales. Like every lost soul Donovan encountered, Nymph was immediately enfolded into the crew.

As Nymph grew, they became quite a capable crewmember, with a mind like a steel trap and the brightest blue eyes that could see for miles. Within half a century, Nymph was First Mate.

“We are a ship of lost souls, are we not?” Donovan asked.

“Yes, Captain. The most loyal band of lost causes to sail the hidden seas,” Nymph agreed.

“Who am I today?”

Nymph opened the ledger in its hands. “Donald Blake, a wealthy eccentric that has a love for pirate ships.”

“Close enough,” Donovan assented. He took the papers and permits from Nymph. “Tell me, what does the air smell like to you?”

Nymph took a slow breath and scented the air. “Adventure, Sir. We will have many ordeals, but the rewards will be great.”

“What does the water tell you?”

Nymph leaned over the side, studying the seafoam as it splashed against the side. “You will meet an old friend here. A former crew member. Someone important to you.”

Donovan nodded, closing his eyes as he digested the information. “And behind us? How long until we leave port and set sail again?”

Nymph looked out onto the black water. “There is naught but darkness that follows. I cannot discern when the Mary will sail, if she ever will.”

Donovan opened his eyes. “She’ll sail. Nothing can ever stop Mary from going where she pleases.”

“We should be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, in case a dark tide does turn on us.” Nymph stated reasonably, going back to the ledger. “I will have the crew go ashore and acquire the necessary supplies at once.”

As Nymph scurried away Donovan stared at the city, his lips pulling back over his fangs. “Now, just which ‘old friend’ is hiding here?”

********

Angie sneezed loudly, scrambling hastily for the box of tissues.

“How on Earth did you get sick?” Gabriel asked from the kitchen.

She held a few tissues to her nose. “We’be been all over the ciddy, checking a bazillion abardmends,” she mumbled. “I was bound to cadch someding.” She blew her nose hard. “Oh God, my sinuses hurt....” she moaned.

“At least it has taken your mind off of complaining about your leg.” Gabriel said wryly.

“Not true. It hurts worse, too. It’s all swollen and sad looking.” Angie stretched out her injured leg, wincing.

“Are you sure it’s just a muscle tear?”

“I didn’t break it falling down the stairs, if that’s what you’re asking. I should be fine, right after this cold passes.”

Suddenly Gabriel was standing over her, holding out a glass of orange juice. “While you’re ill, I’ve discovered entirely new depths of irritation. Get better soon, so that I can salvage some semblance of peace.”

Angie took the juice, but sulkily. “It’s not fun for me, either,” she huffed.

He walked around to the front of the couch and knelt down on the floor by her injured leg. WIthout any warning he placed one hand under her knee and pushed the leg of her culottes up, exposing the bruised skin above her knee.

Angie choked on her juice and tried to pull away. “What are you doing?” she asked while coughing.

“Let me see, I’m not going to hurt you.” His fingertips touched the bruised skin and Angie winced. She picked up a throw pillow with her free hand and whacked him over the head with it.

He looked up at her through his mussed hair, his eyes red.

Angie stared him down, her cheeks flushed and tears at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t touch me without my permission,” she said shakily.

He released her leg, but didn’t get up. He placed his hands on his legs. After a long moment he said “May I touch your leg?”

“Why?”

“The healing muscle has become stiff. It may not heal properly if you don’t take care of it. If you let me massage it, it might loosen up and heal better.”

Angie stared at him. His eyes were still bright red. She waited for them to turn back to their usual dark brown, but they didn’t. He was angry with her but his expression was blank, only his eyes showed it.

She continued drinking her orange juice, using it as an excuse to look away. “Do whatever you want.” she said quietly between sips.

She didn’t care if he was mad at her. She’d let him get over himself and leave her alone. She didn’t need someone hovering over her, telling her what to do. That’s why she’d moved out of her mother’s house when she got the chance anyway, right?

Still, Gabriel wasn’t overbearing. When they had first met, he hadn’t cared at all about what she did. Over time as they got to know each other, he was still content to watch how her actions played out. It wasn’t until she had been injured in the final fight with Vampire Katrina, that he’d started focusing on what she did and how she did them.

Why was that? Well, he blamed himself for Angie getting hurt while finishing a battle that he’d been too weak to overcome. He’d been defeated by Katrina, leaving Angie to face her alone. Since then his keen eyes were on her almost always, counting her steps before she started limping, watching how heavily she leaned on her cane.

Gabriel rubbed the stubborn muscle till the tension eased. The bruise under his fingers was new. Angie had been overexerting herself the past few days and had not mentioned any additional discomfort. She complained the same as she always did, so he had ignored it.

“You’ll heal faster while you sleep.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep with my sinuses this clogged,” Angie insisted. Even as she said it, her eyelids were starting to droop.

“I know, that’s why I drugged your juice.” He looked up at her, and her head was leaning forward. He took the glass from her loosening grip and placed it on the coffee table. Then he pushed her elbow gently till she leaned back, her head resting on the couch.

“After this, you’re never going to trust anything I give you again. You won’t rest otherwise, so just forgive me, even if you don’t forget.”

He continued to rub her leg. “Why are you so flabby?” he asked in confusion. How could she run around the way she did while her flesh was so soft and squishy?

She was warm as well, warm like the water from the shower. The water filtered by the city was cleaner than even the rain, and it did not burn his skin the way seawater did. It was addictingly warm, seeping into his whole body.

It was like humans eating spicy peppers. There was a chance it would hurt or harm, but they did it anyway.

He glanced at Angie’s face, checking that she was still asleep, then he pressed the side of his face against her leg, absorbing her warmth into his cheek. Yes, it was just like the shower.

Only this was far more dangerous.

********

Hours later, Angie stirred and opened her eyes. Her head was pounding and her nose was stuffed. She grabbed a handful of tissues from the box quickly.

After she had cleared her nose she looked down at Gabriel. He was sitting on the floor, his head on the couch seat, his cheek resting against her leg. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open slightly.

She hadn’t expected him to look so normal while sleeping. He looked almost human. Well, a dead human.

His pale skin was white in the moonlight coming from the large window. The veins in his neck were blue. He was as still as death.

Angie looked over at the empty glass on the coffee table and frowned. “That’s the second time you’ve drugged me. I’m not going to let you do it a third time. I’m won’t even take a piece of gum from you.”

She sighed as she looked down at him. “I kinda miss the old Gabriel. I guess losing most of your memories changes a vampire.” She reached a hand out and touched the top of his head with the tips of her fingers.

She waited a moment, in case he awoke and tried to bite her, or snarl with his fangs showing, or worse if he glared at her with those red eyes.

His dark hair was soft, sleek like a cat’s fur, but finer and longer. She let the rest of the weight in her hand go and rubbed the top of his head a little. For some reason, her heart was pounding.

“What am I going to do about you?” she asked the silent room.