Blood Claim Laura Mykles (best classic novels txt) 📖

pillows that put him at the perfect angle. Luke was admiring the arrangement in one second, and then inside Cory the next, and they found a rhythm that worked, though there was still a glassed-in feeling, like at least a part of Luke was just watching the sex and not completely a participant.

Cory flexed his hands. “It's enough,” he said. “Please. Let it be enough."

But it wasn't. The aware part began buzzing in his head like a wasp. He grabbed onto Cory's hip, willing himself to stay, but he couldn't. His body was waking, and the dream broke around him. He was alone, in his bed, hot and hard, and Cory's blindfold was beside him.

He lay back, panting, though he really didn't need to. It was dark out again; the dream had taken all day. It was time. He got up, considered whacking off, but decided he'd rather keep the energy.

He dressed stiffly and drove to the restaurant. Lathe waited for him, arms crossed over his chest. Luke reluctantly shut off his lights and got out of the car, expecting to feel Brutus's ice-cold teeth sinking into his ankle. It never came. Brutus was really gone.

Lathe looked more himself. He'd fed after Cory. His color was back, but his core strength, the ability he had to push his thoughts into Luke, was muzzled. As Luke walked up he felt Lathe trying, but the attempts were leaden and easily avoidable. “What happened to you?” he asked.

"I don't know,” Lathe said.

"How do we find him?” Luke asked.

"Feel."

"Feel what?” Luke snapped, not liking being toyed with.

"Just feel, Luke. You have to trust me."

Luke snorted, but bowed his head for a second. Then he felt it. Cory, or whatever it was inside Cory, was pulling energy from the rivers and the people. It was a yellow light, shining across the bridge from the downtown area. “So that's one concern. What do we do when we find him?"

"Hold him down, drive the vortex from him."

Lathe kicked the door behind him open. The chains coiled up on the inside were wrong; even where he stood he could feel the burning from them. “What are they?"

"Iron,” Lathe said.

"That's not just iron.” It wasn't. Luke could feel the pain in it. He didn't want it anywhere near him. “What is it?"

"It's melted-down iron. Iron from a dozen different abandoned places of worship. Temples, churches, mosques. It took me years to gather them.” Lathe smiled. It was an ugly thing. “They'll keep anything chained down."

"How do we get it down to begin with?” Luke asked.

"Well, that's up to you."

"Me?"

"It has a hard-on for you, Luke, my boy. And let's just hope it has a bit of your little bird's proclivities necessary for it to submit to you."

"And then?” Luke asked.

Lathe took out a hypodermic needle, wicked sharp and murky.

"What is that?"

"A tranquilizer. Enough to knock out a horse. When the little bird is on his knees, stick him, and he'll wake up in chains. After that, you leave it to me."

"You're barking mad, aren't you?” Luke asked. Lathe ignored him completely.

"Your gloves are inside. Help me carry it to your car."

Luke stepped over the chains just inside the door. The old man on the staircase stared at him hollowly. He was fraying along the edges, dispersing right in front of Luke. The woman crying in the bathroom was reduced to soft sobs, and there was nothing from the attic. Their power source had been taken, and they were losing their grip. “I'm sorry,” he told them, then slipped on the common pair of gardening gloves. Even through the suede, he felt the chains burn. The dead were angry, even with their loss, and Luke was glad he hadn't spent more than a couple moments in the house.

"I'll drive,” Luke said, once the chain was in the trunk of the car. Lathe held his hands up. “Wouldn't have it any other way."

Luke nodded. He found Cory's gloves by the driver's door. He scooped them up, got in, and waited for Lathe to get in behind him before slamming his door shut and driving away. This close, and in the enclosed space, Luke could smell the insanity that tinged Lathe's skin. “Why are you doing this?” Luke asked, staring at the road.

"Doing what?"

"Trying to channel something that shouldn't be channeled. What did you hope at best would happen?"

"You have no idea what that thing is, do you?” Lathe asked. Even in the dead of night, there was still traffic, and Luke pulled up to a red light. “You think there's nothing to this life but eating and fornicating."

"There's more?” Luke asked.

"Oh, for all that is unholy, you poor, pathetic fool. You've never tasted real power, have you?” He put his hand out, touching Luke's knee. Luke pushed it off like it stung him.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Your ghosts, you don't think that's unusual? What about your Cory's feathered act? You have your talents, and the lines, what little there is here in Calgary, fuel them. It's the reason there is no one else here other than you. No one else could use what little power had escaped the vortex, and the fact that you'd made such a powerful vampire is quite remarkable."

"Leave us alone. We were good here."

"You were sitting on a geyser of power, stopped up by a single entity. It is our right to use that power, not that thing. You've never known the power, but you will."

"We're getting Cory back,” Luke said. “And you're getting the hell out of Dodge. That's about as far as I want to plan with you right now."

"You're a fool,” Lathe snarled.

Luke hit the gas a little harder than he meant to.

They found Cory on the top of the Centennial Parking Garage. He was naked, as usual, and sprawled spread-eagle on one of the cars abandoned overnight. He was hungry, without even knowing it, but having that thing in him was probably taking more strength than it thought. The thing sat up