"Home sweet home."  Marty's voice is brash in her ear, but after all this time, she has learned to hear the uncertainty behind his tone.

"It's a wreck."  She knows she sounds lost, and she shakes her head to clear it of the feeling of hopelessness. 

"Only above ground."

"How do you know?"  Her words are brusque, hard, no hopelessness there anymore.  Marty leans into her back, his hair tickling her neck.  His hand takes hers, and he steps around, leading her forward. 

"I just know, Merrill. Have a little faith. We should be safe for a while.  They won't expect us to come here."

She wonders when it is exactly that Marty started saying such things to her, when she stopped offering encouragement and hope to him.   Keeping her voice neutral, she says, "Let's go inside, then."

****

Marty is right, the rooms below ground fared much better than those above.  Three of them are even relatively intact, and Merrill sighs with relief, even as she sinks deeper into sadness.

"We need blood."  She stares at the wall as she speaks.  It's grey with smoke damage, and some of the panelling is peeling.  Underneath is cold concrete, featureless and hard.

"Yeah."

"We need it soon, Marty."  She can already feel the hunger clawing at the edges of her awareness.

"I know."  He reaches out to cup the back of her neck.  "I'll go out tomorrow night.  There must be sources we can tap." 

Stepping around in front of her, he smiles at her.   Something is behind his back.  "In the meantime, try this."  He holds out a rat, and she hisses.  Still, she's learned to take what she can get.  Sinking her teeth into the furred flesh, she drinks.  The taste is awful, but it dulls the hunger pangs somewhat.

When she's finished, she lets the carcass drop to the floor. 

"It wasn't Bella."  His hand is on her neck.

As she looks around what is left of the Mansbridge Academy, Merrill says, "Of course not."

****

If she closes her eyes, she can remember exactly how it all happened.

The rogue vampire, her hair trashy and her eyes wild, paced in her cage until she got away and they replaced her with Karl.  Karl, who had been so strong and determined when Drew was facing expulsion.  Merrill had felt like her heart was breaking.

After, he'd watched them make their pledge.  He was an outsider, but not entirely shut out.  They'd all seen the bloody collar held by the Elder, and internally she'd sighed in relief that the vampire hadn't made it to the Fury.

Things had calmed down over the next few days.  Karl had stayed away from Drew, but he'd let her near sometimes.  They'd talked.  Merrill had realised how hard it was for Karl, constantly being told of their weaknesses and predatory instincts, but never truly having had the chance to experience them.

Merrill, Essie, Marty, Drew -- they all understood what they could be.  Karl couldn't truly know.  It was no wonder he balked at the dictates of the academy and the Elders.

Things got better in some ways, worse in others.   Karl started to heal.   Drew turned away from them to think of the day schooler, Dillan. Yet another human he'd saved.  Merrill remembers her bitterness.  Drew, saviour of human girls, but too good to truly look at her.

She'd been sitting with Marty, amused and oddly charmed by his crass and obvious attempts at flirting.  He'd been only slightly more subtle than the night they'd spent alone in the school.   She'd been laughing at a joke when Murdoch had run into the room.  She'd never seen him run before.

"The Elders have been attacked.  The Fury know about the experiment." 

They'd all turned to him. 

"You need to leave.  Now.  They're on their way."  His face had been tense, anxious.

Essie ran to her clothes, Karl watched her go.  Drew pulled himself up, and Merrill asked, "What about you?  What about the day school?"

Murdoch had placed his hand on her shoulder, his face grave.  "I'll protect the day schoolers.  But if they find you, none of you will survive.  You need to go.  You're the future."  He'd paused, looking over them with an unreadable expression on his face.  Even his thoughts had been shuttered from Merrill.  Then, "There's a car waiting.  It will take you to a stronghold of the Elders."

Merrill remembers Drew arguing that they should stay to help protect the humans.   Murdoch wouldn't be swayed, and before she knew it, she'd been getting in the car with the others.  She remembers turning to look at the academy as they drove away.  Murdoch stood in the pale light of the doorway.

She'd wondered how he would protect the day schoolers from the hunger of the Fury.

****

Marty still has his long leather coat, the one he wore on his first night at the school.  He's wearing it now as he wanders the ruined room.  Some of the metal studs decorating the coat are missing now, and it's battered and torn, but he has clung to it.   She smiles a little.  It's the same way he clings to her, even as she gets worn and thinned to a shred of her old self.

She watches as he walks, short, measured paces.  They're so unlike the uncontrolled, expansive movements he had the first night they met him.  She remembers him jumping down from the piano, the coat flying behind him.  He'd been the perfect picture of vampire arrogance and predation.

"What?"

She frowns.  "Excuse me?"

He has stopped walking and has turned towards her.  "You were staring."

"Oh."  She smiles again, and his eyes widen in anticipation.   They've done this many times before, he knows what her smiles mean.  "You're worth staring at."  She stands as she says it, and moves closer.   Her boots are already undone and she toes them off as she walks.  Slowly, she backs him against the wall.  Slipping her hands inside the jacket, she pushes it off his shoulders.  It slides to the ground with a soft rustle.

When she kisses him, their teeth clack together.  They never really did learn how to kiss with gentleness, at least not during this part.  There's never any seduction at the beginning, no subtlety, and it suits her.

Marty's hands tangle in her hair, hers frame his face.  Her teeth, then tongue travel across his lip and then she's licking the inside of his mouth, tracing the by-now familiar contours.

He pulls away from her slightly, his hands still in her hair.  "Merrill --"

"Shh."

His shirt is soft and is a button down, curiously formal in its own way.  She remembers when he'd stolen it, smashing his fist through a window in a deserted street in some human city.  He'd cut himself, and she'd tended the wounds, then gone out and found human blood for him. 

She's tempted to just rip the shirt open, but they don't carry extra clothes with them.   So she carefully undoes the buttons one by one, licking at the patches of skin that appear as the shirt falls away.   He tastes like blood and sweat and the flavours mingle on her tongue.  His hands stroke down her back, sending small shivers through her.

When his hand slips inside her shirt, she grins.  A few moments later, she's naked from the waist up, and so is Marty.  His mouth is on her neck and his fingers are kneading the small of her back.  She lets the sensations wash over her for a few minutes, then pulls back slightly, working at the opening of his pants.

Black leather, smoother and more supple than his rapidly aging coat.  He'd stolen them from the same place he'd found the shirt.  He'd grabbed a pair for her too.  She hasn't worn a dress in months.   The sturdy, dark leather is more practical for the life they're living.

The button and zipper open easily and she steps away.   Bending down, she lays out his jacket and pulls him down onto it.  The floor is gritty and rough, even through the leather, but they've been in worse places.  He kisses her again, and then his mouth is following a familiar trail down her neck and across her shoulder. 

She lets herself get lost in the feelings.  Bright sparks of pleasure as teeth rake against her nipples.  The slide of his skin under her hands, a little rough with dirt and old sweat.   One nipple covered in the slick wetness of his mouth, the other warm under the heaviness of his hand and the play of his fingers.

He slides down her, his mouth moving to her navel in slow circles.  She arches into him, his head cradled on her belly as he undoes her pants and then slides them off her hips.  When he looks up, she smiles at him, wide and a little wild.

He smirks.  "I never would have guessed back then, Merrill, that you'd get like this for it.  I knew there was something underneath that good-girl smile, but I wouldn't have guessed this."

"You know now."  She smiles wider, but something makes him pause.  He pushes himself up. 

"Merrill, maybe we --"

She shoves him to the side, and he rolls onto his back.  Moving as fast as she can, she pulls his pants down and straddles his hips.  "No more talking, Marty."  He shifts underneath her, pressing into her.   His body loves it when she gets like this.

Bracing her arms on either side of his head, she moves her hips slightly, teasing him until he puts her in the right position and slides up into her.  They find a synchronous rhythm, his hands urging her hips to move faster, her lips brushing against his.

It's perfect.

Afterwards, still shaking with pleasure, she collapses against him, her head pressed tight to his chest.  Winding her hands in his hair, she sighs.  "The others aren't here."  She speaks the words into his skin, licking at the salt and copper sweat that is slowly drying.

"Nope."

"Do you think --"  She can't quite finish the sentence.

She feels him shrug slightly.  "We'll wait.  It's not like we have anywhere else to be."

No, she thinks.  There's no where else.

****

When their car had arrived at the elder's stronghold, they'd been greeted by chaos.  Some of the buildings were smoking, and some of the Elders were gathered in loose groups outside.  She hadn't looked to closely to see if there were bodies. 

It hadn't been the safe spot Murdoch had promised.  The Elders could offer only minimal protection and no guarantees.  They stayed for a few days, helping to rebuild and prepare for the next fight, but eventually news of another incoming wave of Fury caused the Elders to tell them to leave.

Again, Drew had argued, but to no avail.

A week into running, they'd decided to split up.  Truly, Drew had decided to leave the group, making the decision fast and leaving no room for argument.  He'd simply walked away after saying they should all try to meet in a year at the Mansbridge Academy. 

As she'd watched him go, Marty had moved close to her.  "He never could have loved you."

She'd turned to him, angry and hurt.  He'd gripped her arm, his expression intense.

"You know it's true.  He wants someone he can save."  He'd let go of her.  "He can't save you, Merrill.  You've done that for yourself."

Marty said unexpectedly kind things sometimes.  Taking a deep breath, she'd turned to the others.  "Drew was right.  We make too obvious a target together.  We should split up.  Two pairs."

Essie had taken Karl, saying something about knowing a place to hide.  Merrill and Marty ran together.

A year.  They'd meet in a year.

****

She wonders if the Elders ever knew how well their experiment had worked, at least for most of them.

Drew had put his bloodlust aside in favour of his burgeoning obsession with rescuing human girls from themselves and from others.

Merrill herself had fallen into the program as though it had been made expressly for her.  Essie, possibly the most self-absorbed of them all, had played by the rules and even tried to put Karl's needs over her own.

And, long after the experiment ended, Marty had fallen in love with Merrill.

He's never said the words, but he doesn't need to.  Merrill doesn't even need to read his mind to tell.  It's the little things he does that give it away, the way he pulls her out of herself when she can't help but feel hopeless and worn thin from running and fighting the Fury and her own instincts.

He's doing it now.  He's wrapped around her, his face in her hair.  His words are a little muffled.  "Remember that night?"  His fingers trace patterns across her thigh.

She can't help but smile. It's obvious which night he is referring to.  "My private evening.  I had so much planned."

He snorts a little.  "Those plans didn't involve me."

"No."  He knows that already, but it's a game they sometimes play, him teasing her into a better mood. She punches his arm lightly.  "You were so unbearable, so arrogant!"  She mimics his tone, "The smell of a vampire..."

He shifts so he's looking down at her.  "You were irresistible, so earnest and proper."  His grin is fierce, almost malicious, recalling the way he'd looked at her that night as he tried to bite her.

She's seen many versions of that smile since, including when they're fighting for their lives.  The Fury assassins sent after them never learn.  Marty loves the fight, he relishes the kill, but most of all, he's good at it.

Extraordinarily good.  Merrill can take care of herself in a fight, and she's had to many times in the last year.  But she doesn't love it like Marty does.  She gets a high after, but sometimes it takes Marty days to calm down, his eyes wild as he looks for more.  It's a glimpse of who he was before he came to the school.  Merrill thinks she understands now why he was so attracted to wars.  Wars had meant more than easy pickings.

Merrill thinks it's interesting how Marty doesn't let himself get too lost in the fighting, though.  How, when she starts to lose it, he struggles to pull himself together for her.

She wonders if the Elders ever knew how far their training would be pushed.

****

The first assassins had arrived in a pair.

She and Marty had been running through a forest, a cliche, but still true.  Two vampires had been tracking them for days, although Merrill had only been able to get flashes of thought from the trackers.   Bloodlust and closing in and anticipation for the fight.   All primitive, base thoughts.  It had never been enough to tell her how close they were.

They had come down from the trees, black-clad and fangs exposed. 

Merrill doesn't really remember the fight, but she remembers resting afterwards, fighting to push the bloodlust down. 

Her hands had trembled.  They'd dripped gore.

Raising them to her face, she'd made to lick them clean.  It had been instinct, the logical action after a fight. Before she could, Marty was pulling her off the ground, muttering about finding somewhere to sleep before sunrise.

****

They've been lurking in the basement of Mansbridge now for six days.  Marty found a source of blood, and it's the first time in weeks that they've been full and well-rested.

Still.  They can't stay here forever, even if time feels suspended.

She's found an old book, partly charred, but filled with her notations and thoughts.  It's the book about vampires and love, the one she'd lent Drew.  It seems like an eternity ago.   Part of her wants to slip it inside her jacket, carry it with her when they leave. 

The other part tells her to just finish what the Fury started, and toss it into the fire.   She caresses the worn binding and watches as Marty paces around the room.  He's moving his hand, randomly levitating and dropping objects as he approaches them. 

He's always been good with his abilities, but he's gotten better.  The last time she saw him doing this, it was with one of the Fury, twisting the vampire's body as he screamed in agony.

Marty had been grinning, a feral, fierce look that had made Merrill's blood sing.

She pushes the memory aside and tries to summon reminders of tamer times in the school.  Playing the piano as Marty sang old, raucous songs, his voice brash and amused.   Drew and Karl laughing with each other, while Essie watched in the background, a small, affectionate smile on her lips.   Murdoch's praises for her latest writing endeavour. 

The benign memories slip into others. 

Karl going wild.  Drew coming back from the Elders, cruel and bitter.  Essie sick and determined not to show it.  Drew pushing Merrill against her coffin, hurting her and snarling. 

She brushes the unpleasant memories away.  The school was about becoming human, not indulging in their whims.  It does her no good to dwell on such past actions.

"No one else is coming."  The words are almost hard to get out.  Merrill clings to that little bit of humanity and regret.

"No." 

Marty never wasted words. 

"Perhaps they couldn't make it. Or they forgot."

Marty stops pacing and just looks at her.  A broken table is suspended, floating in the air behind him.  She tries to imagine Essie and Karl fighting off the Fury.  Essie never had been the best fighter.  Karl didn't have the experience and knowledge of the brutalities of a fight for survival.

Drew probably went straight back to the Elders to help with the fight.  Even more likely, he returned to the Mansbridge Academy to help protect the day schoolers.  She knows neither fight went well.  They haven't heard word from the Elders for months.

There's a pause, and then Marty says, "Let's wait a few more days."  The table crashes down to the ground.

Merrill nods.  "All right."

END
 

read the sequel: Transit
 

Notes: I was feeling kind of grim, so I decided to write a somewhat bleak future for the Mansbridge Academy. 
The lovely Stacey beta read this for me, once again indulging my VH babbling.  Thanks!