Chapter 35

“I need the strongest dose you have ever administered.” He didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“But Jon that is just insane!” the old man glanced over Jon’s shoulder, waiting for Richie to join his refusal. He was met with shining, brown eyes and a stiff upper lip.

“Do it doc. I’m asking nicely only once.” His eyes were glittering already.

He turned on his heel, preparing the injection.

“You are playing with fire Jon. You were so violently sick from the first dose. I don’t think jumping the gun will prove to be in your favor. I tell you what, I’ll up the strength a few notches but that’s it.”

He poised above Jon’s outstretched arm.

“Well, well the professor is scared he might kill me after all?” his smile was sarcastic.

“You are the best subject I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. I’m not about to destroy it.”

The barbed wire were at it again, scraping his veins raw, slamming into his gut like a powerful fist, doubling him until he was a moaning, cringing bundle of growling creature.

Richie’s statue liked figure was something new to the professor and he brushed a questioning look towards the man. His face was blank but the fists were balled, shaking as he fought to stay calm.

Jon’s arms suddenly flung to his sides, his back arching from the bed, his head dug into the bed.

Thick, bulging veins mapped down his arched neck, white fangs flashed in the electrical light. Howls of agony came in hurried gasps from his throat. He suddenly went slack and just as Richie thought it was over, he started trembling, his frame thrown into a violent thrashing.

“It’s a fit!” The professor tried as he might but the immense strength of the vampire smashed him into a nearby table.

Richie didn’t know what he was thinking but the next moment he was staring down at Jon’s ghostly face, his body firmly pinned down by his own body. Confusion overrode the shock but he held down for dear life, feeling the ripple of muscle opposing his own. He could worry about his sudden strength later. For now he had to stop Jon from throwing himself all over the place.

“Prof, we gotta do something his mouth…its bleeding man! He bit himself!”

Nothing could be done but to wait it out. It took a agonizing minute or two before the violent quaking subsided.

“Wipe his face but be careful I don’t know how he will react if he wakes up. He could be violent.”

It’s ok Jon. You are ok.

Luminous blue eyes stared at him.

“What happened Rich?”

“You had a fit bro’. A fucking bad one, you bit yourself, dunno what you bit into. I’m not gonna stick my fingers in to find out.” Keeping it light, he sent a quick prayer heavenwards.

“Damn! Its my tongue.” He shuddered, sticking out the pink wetness.

“Well shit, you almost split it in half!” he shook his head, fighting down the nausea forcing its way up his throat.

A snicker slipped from the patient on the bed, followed by a wink.

“It’ll be fine, don’t get your panties in a bunch now.”  

“Talking about fine, Jon you’ve had quite a violent convulsion. Your body isn’t ready for stronger doses. I would feel better if you stay here so I can monitor you. You might experience another fit and…”

He knew his offer would be futile, but he had to try.

“I will be just fine. Richie here can look after me. If anything goes wrong, he’ll call you.”

Jon was already struggling to get up, staggering a bit as his head suddenly swam dangerously.

“Whhoooaaaaa easy bro’.” Steadying him firmly to his body, Richie nodded.

“We’ll see you in two days again? This will be the last one before we need to head back. What are we going to do, change the strength again or keep it like is for now?”

“Let me know how he reacts. Eating, general condition, bloodlust…you know what to look out for but to be honest I think we need to stay with this one for a while.”

Jon wasn’t talking, he was fighting to keep his eyes open and himself on his feet.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a few hours?”

“We’ll be fine.” Blue and brown stared at him.

“Tsk…tsk…hardheaded men!” He passed them to open the door.

~~

Richie managed to get the dead weight onto the bed before his knees gave way. His energy of a few hours ago was waning rapidly and he slammed down onto the bed next to Jon, trying to shake the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The handprints were starting to throb like hell too!

Staring at the ceiling for lord knows how long, he tried to organize his thoughts, working through the jumble of events of the day.  His hand instinctively moved to his chest and he hissed as the material scraped against raw flesh.

Turning his face he stared at the unconscious face of his friend. His breathing was once again erratic, his chest heaving, tiny growls rasping from his half open mouth.  Pearls of sweat covered his forehead; his face was a ghostly grey, heat radiating from him, confirming the fever Richie imagined he might have after the treatment.

Dragging himself upright, Richie undressed the soaked clothes clinging to Jon. Wiping his face with a cool cloth, he covered him with a single sheet. Deciding to take cool shower himself, he made his way towards the bathroom, thinking of warm water on his chest made him cringe.

After a few blissful minutes under the spray of cool water, he heard a thunderous bang. Swinging the tap close he leaped from the shower, the towel quickly wrapped around his hips.

Jon was on the floor, sitting on his haunches, his arms outstretched to his sides, his face upturned, praying and staring at a god only he could see.

“Jon?” His gaze dropped, meeting Richie’s. The coldness of death shone in those predator eyes and Richie gasped, stepping back.

The deep, foreign voice coming from the man on the floor had Richie’s hair stood up in alarm.

“I need blood.”

“Jon…you are too weak to hunt. You need your rest. Let me help you onto the bed, ok?”

Every instinct in his body told him to run like hell but he knew, the moment he turns and runs, Jon would be on him and with the hunt awakened in him, Richie might not be as lucky as earlier today.

Approaching him slowly, he kept his eyes locked with the now inhuman eyes, refusing to acknowledge the protruding fangs.

Kneeling down, he held his hand out, waiting for Jon to make the first move. The hand met his halfway and that was enough for Richie to react.

“Lets get you to bed bro’.” Turning his face he found Jon’s nose almost touching his neck. His sniffs were alarming.

“You smell good.” Richie could almost feel those damn fangs, he gulped.

“Yeah well I think you had as much as you could get this morning, remember?” his laugh was something between hysterics and forced humor.

He waited for the crunch but it never came. He felt Jon’s body swinging his way and he grabbed at the limbless body.

“Oh fuck, how long is this going to last? Your not just killing yourself, I’m dying too, slowly but fucking surely.” Life was leaking from his soul. How much more could he take? How much longer could he bear watching his brother suffer, hoping for some miracle cure?

As answer he received a snarl from the unconscious man on the bed.