by Love, Clake
Matthew crossed his arms. That was interesting.
“He was always a handful,” Sam continued as if sensing Matthew’s curiosity. “We’re not very close. I mean, we grew up together and then I went into med school and moved here with my mum who isn’t overly fond of my dad’s hobbies , which you know, include, killing things.”
“Things,” said Matthew, scowling at him. “We are not things .”
“You know what I mean,” Sam said but he sounded apologetic. He bumped his shoulder into Matthew, a gesture that was far too familiar for Matthew to feel comfortable. “What about you? What’s your story?”
Matthew gave him a withering look. “Why are you being so nice to me? You do know the way you’re acting is highly suspect. And you’re a hunter. From a famous hunting family . None of this is making any sense. The way you’re behaving is highly abnormal. ”
Sam shrugged, rocking on the balls of his feet. He looked like a big puppy doing that, or a little kid, puffing out his cheeks as he thought of a proper response. “You think I’m nice?” he finally said, cheeks slightly red. Typical that that was what he was getting out of this whole conversation. “I’ll take that as a compliment. I thought I was just doing the decent thing by helping you off the streets.”
“I’m not homeless,” Matthew said, but put like that, it sounded as if he were. He glared at Sam who was too busy staring at his shoes to notice.
“Let’s not kid ourselves,” Sam said, then glanced up with one eyebrow raised. “How long have you been wearing those trousers, mate?”
“Fuck off.” But Matthew wasn’t really annoyed, and if he were honest with himself, Sam was starting to grow on him. He was kind, and Matthew felt humbled by it. He hadn’t met anyone like him in the last fifty years; even David hadn’t been as accommodating and David had mentored him and taken him under his wing. If Sam wanted to, he could kill Matthew easily, as they were evenly matched in strength – a gift bestowed to those born into the line of hunters. Matthew had the upper hand when it came to speed but Sam could drive a stake into his heart without so much as breaking a sweat.
“The sun’s going to be up soon,” said Sam after a while. He frowned at something he saw across the street before turning to face Matthew again, touching Matthew’s wrist. “You’ve got a place to stay, Matthew?”
Matthew thought about lying until Sam flashed him a knowing smile. His bravado melted away and he felt oddly warm in places he thought had long gone cold. If his heart still worked like it used to, it would’ve beat out of his ribs. There was still pain there, a dull soreness even though he’d peeled off the dressings several days ago. Matthew wasn’t sure if he was imagining it.
“No,” he said and Sam’s smile grew considerably wider.
Sam nodded, his expression growing soft. “You’re in luck,” he said with a fainter smile. “Because I happen to have a vacancy.”
***
It was a strange arrangement. In the days that followed Matthew found himself frequenting Sam’s flat, using the spare key that Sam hid on the doorsill that Matthew suspected was for him to find.
He hunted at night, going after muggers and lowlifes, with an absentminded interest that bordered on autopilot, and then he spent his mornings in Sam’s room, hid under the blankets, waiting until he returned. The sheets used to smell like Sam at first, of laundry detergent and his shampoo and the distinct odor of his skin, but now they smelled a little like Matthew too, a curious combination of evening wind and dried blood.
Sam’s shifts at the hospital were unpredictable: sometimes he was out all morning or all night which left Matthew to do whatever pleased around the flat. He ate Sam’s food, watched television to keep up with the latest news, and then used up all the hot water in the shower. It made him feel more normal than he had in a long time, clean, though he still reeked of something not of this world, but at least he could cover the smell with soap and shampoo. He’d just finished his shower and was in the middle of reading Sam’s mail when the front door opened. Matthew looked up from the envelope in his lap. He knew it would be Sam from the smell alone. He put a bag of takeaway on the counter before hanging his jacket behind the door.
“Honey,” he called out from the hall. “I’m home. ”
Matthew snorted and didn’t respond. Sam settled next to him on the sofa, and wisely didn’t comment on Matthew wearing his clothes though his smile belied his amusement. Matthew had an excuse for borrowing Sam’s clothes, but he’d long since stopped pretending he cared what Sam thought. He’d been alive for more than half a century and so few things embarrassed him. Mostly they were things that related to Sam, he realized, like Matthew shamelessly taking advantage of his hospitality, and Sam’s stupid smile that made Matthew feel as if he were back in boarding school again and fancying someone unattainable, like a teacher.
“You’re oddly warm,” said Sam, lolling his head across the back of the sofa and raising his eyebrows.
“Shower,” Matthew replied, running his tongue across the point of one fang.
“Did you leave me any hot water?”
Matthew shrugged.
“You’re the best,” said Sam and heaved himself up to his feet. He scratched his bare ass. Charming. “I’m going out tonight. A couple of friends invited me for drinks.” There was a pause somewhere in there that Matthew felt was significant, like maybe Sam was waiting for him to say something. The moment passed quickly, however, and Sam lumbered into his room and closed the door. The shower began running.
***
Sam came back before the sun had risen. Matthew had wanted to follow him to wherever he was headed but even he wasn’t that creepy . Besides, he wasn’t invested in Sam’s safety anyway. He just needed him for the bed. Sam was interesting for a human – a hunter – but that was it. Matthew didn’t even think he was funny and his attempts at humor were stale at best.
Sam’s heavy footsteps were loud in the silence of the hallway. Outside, there was the soft noise of traffic, cars idling by on the street, dogs barking, a bike skidding to a stop.
Matthew lay in Sam’s bed, the one he’d been occupying for the better part of the week, and listened to the comforting noise of Sam in the kitchen: pouring himself a glass of water, gulping it down, setting the glass on the sink with a clink. He padded, not into the spare bedroom, but into the one Matthew was in, toeing off his shoes, then his socks, shucking off his shirt. He turned the heater on full blast, burbled as he ran his hands up and down his arms, feeling cold. The sound of hands running over fabric made Matthew swallow a heavy lump in his throat. Sam’s blood was rank with alcohol and his skin was laced with sweat. There was a tinge of lust in there too, but it felt oddly misplaced, tightly controlled and hanging on the fringes.
Matthew clenched his eyes shut as Sam reached out across the bed and ran his fingers down Matthew’s neck. The touch was fleeting and soon Sam was tucking himself under the covers, the hair on his legs raspy against Matthew’s, brushing by accident.
“You’re cold,” said Sam quietly, shivering. “I know you’re awake. You can’t fool me.”
Matthew turned to face him. He could see everything clearly even though it was dark: the outline of Sam’s face, the shape his body made under the covers, firm and well-tended, his legs long and toned.
“Decided to tempt fate?” Matthew asked and bared his teeth.
“It’s cold in my room,” said Sam, tilting his head to the side. “And the walls are moving.”
Matthew found himself laughing.
“It’s so strange, hearing you laugh.”
“You’re drunk,” said Matthew, rolling his eyes. But he felt smug about the fact.
Sam groaned and rubbed his forehead and inclined his face closer. His hair fanned across the pillow, the ends scratching Matthew’s cheek. “Too much beer, probably,” Sam said with a sniff. “And I still have to go to work in five hours. Shit .”
“Your fault for drinking too much.”
“What’s too much anyw
ay?”
Matthew shrugged. Sam smiled and pulled away all of a sudden, sinking his head into the pillows. “Can you still get drunk?”
“Not really,” Matthew said. He missed the pain of hangovers, but then again he was never much of a drinker anyway.
“Can you…” Sam hesitated and then his arm fell with a thump on one side of the bed. “Still have sex?”
Matthew glanced at him sharply. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“It was an honest question. I can’t help it if I’m curious.” Sam shrugged. “Well?”
Sam was blushing, Matthew knew, and this gave him confidence. Lately he felt as if Sam had the upper hand and this was a nice reversal of roles. He turned on his side and looked Sam straight in the eye. “I can have sex,” he said. He’d tested that on more than a few occasions and was surprised when it happened. He thought desire had died along with his humanity but the fact remained he’d only lost the good parts. He was still vulnerable and alone on most days, caught adrift as the world turned and time went ever on. He still felt fear but now it was more amplified. A lot of people wanted vampires dead.
“Usually after I’ve fed, I could, you know ,” Matthew finished lamely.
Sam’s eyes lit up, and he drew a rapid intake of breath. He seemed very interested, his heart thumping wildly. “With other people? Or other vampires?”
“I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you,” Matthew said. He didn’t have sex often because it left him feeling empty and used afterwards. With other vampires, sex functioned more like a business transaction and he’d never tried it with humans before, too scared that he would break them. Human bones were fragile, and their blood was his weakness. He didn’t want to lose control. It was awkward thing having to explain this to Sam; he’d never been asked this before so Matthew tried to be as vague as possible when Sam asked him how it all worked.
“Sorry,” Sam said, as if he sensed Matthew’s distress. He blinked. “Do you want me to leave?”
“It’s your room,” Matthew said. “Your bed.”
“So I guess that’s a no then.”
Matthew had a feeling Sam hadn’t gone on many dates. “But that’s not exactly an invitation, either,” he said, fighting off the smile twitching at the corner of his lips.
Sam smiled into the dark. Matthew felt it more than saw it and didn’t pull away when Sam’s toes touched his ankle under the covers. “Neutral,” Sam said and laughed. “I like that.”
***
Matthew left the next evening while Sam was still at work. He didn’t pocket the spare key because he felt he owed it to Sam not to just barge in unannounced whenever he felt like it. He was getting far too comfortable, too close to Sam who, even though he was a hunter, was still human.
Matthew hadn’t tested his theory that Sam wasn’t as breakable as the next guy, but he didn’t want to either. In a strange way, Sam was his only friend though the term did little to describe the odd mix of annoyance and fondness Matthew felt around him sometimes. He was incorrigible, a terrible flirt. And he was an idiot to have fraternized with Matthew considering his family’s line of interest.
But before the week was over, Matthew found himself walking along familiar streets. He hadn’t fed in a few days but he’d been able to keep the hunger at bay. At The Red Room, there was always food but then he’d have to pay for it. And hunting seemed long and arduous and involved a great deal of stalking and he simply wasn’t in the mood. He saw Sam heading down the street hefting paper bags of groceries in his arms. He watched him for a while stop to scrape the bottom of his shoe against the sidewalk before going on his way. Matthew kept his distance, lurking in the shadows, hands pocketed and head ducked discreetly. He darted out of sight, blending into the crowd, whenever Sam stopped or seemed to sense someone tailing him. Hunter instincts, probably. It was in his blood. Sam had reached his door and was fumbling around for his keys when something whizzed in the air and hit Matthew square in the shoulder blade. It was meant for his heart but he’d wheeled around at the last second and now the stake had embedded into the skin, and had pushed through the bone.
“Fuck.” He glanced down with a frown. “Fuck!”
That seemed to get Sam’s attention. Matthew pulled out the stake with some difficulty – it was six inches long and expertly sharpened – and tossed it aside, hissing in pain. He curled his lips over his fangs, looking for the source but didn’t have to search very long because a man came barreling down the street and flung himself at Matthew.
Matthew’s vision swam as his head hit the wet concrete. He looked up to find the sharp end of a picket held above his eye. He growled, struggling, but the man was too strong. He recognized that scent: Perry.
“I thought I’d already killed you,” said Perry, face pinched red in anger. Probably for good reason: he hated all vampires with a vengeance. Matthew kicked him in the groin and Perry rolled off of him with a cry of pain, the picket released from his grip and clattering across the ground. Matthew was about to lunge at him when Sam gave him a gentle tug to stop him. “Perry,” he said softly, standing between Perry and Matthew, helping his brother up. “Perry, it’s all right. He’s harmless.”
“Harmless?” snorted Matthew. He winced and clutched at his shoulder: he was bleeding profusely.
“He’s my friend,” Sam explained.
Perry wiped his palms across his trousers and scowled at Matthew. “He’s a vampire, Sam. You don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s been following you home. ”
“I know,” said Sam, sounding both embarrassed and pleased about it. “He does that sometimes. It’s all right.”
But Perry remained unconvinced. His eyes roamed Sam’s face for a moment, and then he checked Sam’s neck. “Did he bite you?”
“Perry,” said Sam, holding up his hand.
Perry look disgusted. “You let him,” he murmured. “I knew it.” He turned to Matthew with such fury in his eyes that Matthew recoiled in sudden fear. Then Perry was charging at him with his picket and Matthew found himself on the ground again, pinned underneath Perry’s considerable weight. He kicked frantically but Perry held him down with one hand pressed to his injured shoulder, his grip tight enough it made Matthew howl. It felt like Perry had broken something. He was just a blur of movement above Matthew and Matthew was sure he was going to die from a stake to the heart until Perry was suddenly hauled off of him and tossed aside.
Matthew looked up and there Sam was, pulling him up to his feet. Matthew could hear his frantic heartbeat like an animal caged: worry and fear and concern. Sam slipped an arm around his waist.
“You’re choosing that thing over family?” said Perry from his sprawl on the floor. Matthew could see that his picket had broken. Had Sam done that? He glanced at Sam in awe.
“He’s not a thing,” Sam said. “He’s a person. ”
“He kills people.”
“I told you, he’s harmless.”
“Is that what he led you to believe?” Perry scoffed.
Sam kept tight-lipped. There was anger, rolling off in waves. The smell was terrifying and enthralling at the same time. “If you want to kill him, you’re going to have to go through me first,” he said, voice lowering dangerously.
“Is that a threat?” Perry rolled his shoulders back and crossed his arms.
“Only if you want to see it that way.”
“Sam,” said Perry. He pointed at Matthew not without disdain. “He’s a vampire. You know that right?”
Sam glanced down at Matthew as if he realized the truth for the first time. “Yeah,” he said, then shrugged. “But what am I going to do about it?”
***
Matthew all but stumbled through the door. Perry had left them alone after that little stand-off but the problem remained: Matthew had dislocated his shoulder and if Sam didn’t do anything about it it was going to heal incorrectly.
Matthew was also losing blood - fast. It oozed down his shirt, a dark stain that became increasin
gly difficult to ignore the longer he left the wound unattended. He’d never bled like this before. What was that stake made of anyway? he thought angrily.
Sam helped ferry him into the bedroom where he turned on all the lights. Too bright. Matthew hissed, blinking, and batted his hand at Sam who leaned over him on the bed.
“Hold still,” Sam complained. “I need to fix your shoulder! Stop moving around!”
“It hurts too much,” said Matthew, aware he sounded like a kid, but he couldn’t help it. He flailed and kicked but Sam was stronger, and slapped his hands away when Matthew made to wring his neck.
“Suck it up,” Sam said, and Matthew glared at him through tears of pain.
Sam said, a little more gently, “Hold still,” and that was the only warning he gave before he put pressure on Matthew’s shoulder and pushed.
Matthew curled into ball, hissing, his fangs bared as he shrieked out loud. Tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes and he wanted to kill Sam slowly and with a lot of sharp objects.
“There’s something wrong with your wound,” Sam said, frowning as he touched his fingers to the wound to assess the damage. “You shouldn’t be bleeding like this. Are you healing?”
Matthew took a moment to check. Nothing was happening. His body hurt. His shoulder throbbed and his vision was starting to swim. “Not enough strength,” he replied, and tried to remember the last time he’d been on a successful hunt. He’d never been a good vampire anyway, and always felt bad after every meal, remembering his victims’ cries of pain.
Sam heaved him up to a sitting position, and the awkward angle upset Matthew’s shoulder. He slumped forward into Sam, trembling all over, and Sam tipped him back to look into his face and brush aside his hair. He cupped the back of Matthew’s head, and tugged him forward, against his neck. “Come on,” he said, jostling Matthew into action. “Drink.”