Shadow Guardians: The Key

Uriah called several more times during the hunt, giving up street names and times. Each time, he proved to be spot on. When the night was over, the four of them went back home. The men felt twitchy. Katherine could tell, though it was hard to say why. While they could’ve stayed in town for a drink or so, they were more keen to go home. She figured it might be because they wanted to put the last piece of the relic in a safe place. Apparently it had to be placed back together when it was full moon, which was two nights off.

After cleaning the filth of them, they sat around the dining table, feasting on roast lamb, peas, rice and potatoes. Uriah didn’t join them, which was nothing new.

“Why does it have to happen under a full moon though?” Katherine asked.

“It’s about the energy. The relic’s power isn’t so potent in this realm. It needs the help.” Zachiel explained. He glanced at Ophelia. “She’s probably awake now, I can almost hear her squirming in my head.”

Ophelia giggled. “I’ll go get her, excuse me.”

Ophelia left the conversation in the dining room and made her way to the elevators. Upstairs, she walked through the corridors, thinking Amielle was probably going to want some warm milk. She’d been feeding every hour and a half on the clock, and was probably squirming around in her cot right now, antsy and hungry, wanting the bonding scent of her father’s skin. Ophelia remembered how she craved her own father’s smell. That big male vampire fragrance was safety and love and I’m gonna coffin you if you come near her vibes.

She smiled nostalgically as she rounded the corner. She paused for a moment to admire an old painting on the wall of a meadow and people happily sprawled out on the grass in the sun. Some sort of famous artist had created it, but she didn’t care for the name of the person.

She wondered if it was even authentic at all. Many of the works of art in the house was so old, she had no idea of their origins. Some were worth a fortune, others worth less than a rusty nail. The scene was lovely however, dreamy and tranquil. It reminded her often of what they were fighting for - and would never fully gain.

Leaving the object of her attention, she continued through the corridors to her and Z’s living pad, when she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Oh hell,” she ran to the slumped slight body against the wall outside his digs, crouched down. “Uriah?”

His eyes opened at half-mast, his skin was flushed and misted with sweat, hair wet at the ends. She put the back of her hand to his forehead. He had a raging fever. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbled, “I was going to go apologize to D...for leaving...Can’t move...”

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” she put her arm underneath his shoulder and lifted him like he weighed nothing.

He flinched and groaned. Everything hurt. His bones, his skin, even his hair. Laying on the bed was agony. And he craved...something. He didn’t know what. Something like metal, yeah, iron. He wanted to lick something iron, or eat a boatload of chocolate, which was nuts because he didn’t even like the stuff.

After she’d successfully lowered him onto his bed, she took the mobile receiver from the phone on his bedside table. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Once outside his door, she dialed Thomas’s number. His receptionist answered in the professional manner you’d expect of medical personnel. Ophelia demanded to speak with Thomas directly, and at first the female refused, until she told her where she was calling from. The call was put through to the doctor’s personal number immediately.

“Thomas? It’s Ophelia. You need to get over here ASAP,” she peered in through the small opening in the door. Uriah was kicking at the sheets and squirming around, unable to get comfortable. “We have a male that’s going into transition.”

Once she finished the call with the doctor, she went back downstairs to the dining room, where the three brothers and Katherine were still talking about the fights that had gone down earlier in the evening.

“Ah guys,” everyone’s eyes fell on her at once, as if the tone in her voice told them that she had something important to say. “It’s Uriah.”

A look of concern grew on everyone’s face, more so on Draven’s.

“It’s time, isn’t it?” He said.

She nodded. “He’s perilously close. I’ve already called Thomas.”

“We can’t all go in there. We’ll crowd him,” Zachiel suggested, “Better if there’s just one of us and the doctor. Who wants to-”

“I’ll do it...” Draven said quickly.

“You sure?” Z asked.

“Yeah,” Draven rose from his chair, feeling a little bit like he was going into a maternity ward to watch a birth take place, awkward and panicked and...well...excited. He looked at Magnus, who’d helped him through his own transition. “I remember what to do.”

Magnus gave him a side-smile and a nod. The fact that he’d helped Draven through it, was the reason their bond was stronger than his and Zachiel’s.

And Draven was hoping the same would happen with him and Uriah. One tended to form a solid connection to the person who shared that deeply vulnerable time with you.

“Good luck, little bro.” Magnus said as Draven walked out of the dining room. He gave a nod without turning his head.

He went into the kitchen first, took three bags of blood out of the fridge.

When he entered Uriah’s room, he found him writhing around tangled green silk sheets on the bed, not making a peep, except for his breath grating the air like it was cheese. He went over, set the two bags of blood down on the bedside table and opened the third one.

“I’m gonna be with you through it, okay?” He sat down next to him on the bed. Jesus, the kid was burning up. And it was just starting.

“It’s not...that...bad...” he groaned.

Draven smirked. “Here, drink.” He brought the bag to his mouth. “Drink until I take it away, alright?” There was no more time left for Thomas to give him a transfusion. Drinking was the fastest way now.

Catching the scent of the blood, Uriah snatched at the thing with the desperation of a high-flyer heroin addict, his fingers attempting to squeeze out more blood than the opening would allow.

“Easy, there’s enough time to drink all of it. I’m not taking it away.” Draven said, hearing the door behind him open and close. He knew it was Thomas. “Doc’s here, okay? We’re gonna take care of you,”

The first spasm happened in Uriah’s gut, and he wanted to throw up the blood. He scrambled around on the bed. Draven climbed on top of him and held him down with his weight, and clamped his jaw shut with his hands.

“Keep it down...”

Uriah gagged and tried to fight against him, but he was too big. His eyes watered at the pain and the nausea.

“Keep it down, kid. Stop fighting,”

Suddenly the nausea vanished and his veins burned with fire like they had gas that had been set alight in them. He bit back the scream, went blind. The agony was a cosmic, all-consuming supernova.

“Listen to me Uriah, you have to let it wash over you. Allow yourself to be in pain, the more you fight it, the worse it’ll be. It’s just me and the doctor here. No one will see...”

He stilled somewhat beneath him, so Draven got off, and remained by his side with his one knee on the bed, so he could hold him down again if it was needed.

Uriah groaned and turned onto his belly, still kicking at the sheets. If Draven didn’t know pretransition vampires were sexual duds, he would’ve thought he was massaging a rock-hard erection against the mattress.

“Take a few deep breaths while you can, you’re gonna need them,”

Draven heard him harshly suck in a few rounds of air.

Then the first in a series of his bones snapped apart, others followed in a domino effect, sending electrical shock waves into his hammering heart. He lost all reasoning and control, and had no choice but to surrender. He spun onto his back, his spine jacked up to the ceiling and he screamed.

Uriah peeled open crusty eyes. He attempted to lift a hand, but found it too laborious. Draven was beside him, gently rubbing oversensitive skin with a soft sponge. Uriah blinked a couple of times, grateful that the candle was on the far side of the room. Even it’s dim light was too much.

“I’m naked.” Uriah mumbled. The taste of blood lingered on his tongue, and his voice sounded a lot deeper than it had been.

“You are. And very much alive thanks to Thomas.”

“What happened? Why am I so weak?” He exhaled long after speaking just those two questions.

“S’all normal. The weakness, that is. Your heart stopped once, though. Thomas had to bring you back from the brink.”

It washed over Uriah then... his transition...

With effort, he lifted a hand the size of his head.

“How big am I?”

“Six-foot-seven, Magnus’ size.” Draven smirked. “Oh, and you ought to jerk off later.”

Uriah’s eyes ogled. “I have to what?”

“Check if your new piping system is working properly.”

Uriah lifted the sheet and stared at the new addition to his body. He punched the sheet back down.

Draven snorted. “It's normal.”

“I don’t know how to touch that thing...”

Draven rose, having finished nursing him. “You’ll figure it out easy. I’m going to leave you to sleep.”

He went to the door, opened it and paused. “And I’ll bring everything in the fridge that’s edible.”

At the mention of food, Uriah’s stomach reminded him that he was ravenous. He shifted around uneasily. “Thanks for... for helping me.”

“S’all good, Brother.”

When he left, Uriah was left with the notion that he’d have to yank at the thing between his legs soon.

Awkwardly, he chose to dream about ice cream instead.