Not Dead Yet

by Jenn Burke

  Eventually I worked my way into his home office. Unlike the rest of this house, this room was a mess, but a mess with a sense of purpose. No doubt he could find anything he wanted in this space, despite the haphazard piles of paper and multitude of sticky notes on everything. Up on one wall was a map of Canada, with a blown-up map of Ontario and one of the GTA—the Greater Toronto Area—tacked beside it. Each map sported a rash of red pushpins, with more sticky notes bearing vague references. Some were dates, some were names, and none of them meant anything to me.

  I stood in front of the maps and I tried to figure out what I was seeing. It looked like a detective’s tool from TV—which, duh. Of course it was. But what crimes was it tracking? A quick check of Meredith’s and Cyril’s neighborhoods confirmed neither bore a red pin, so whatever this was, it had nothing to do with their murders. I tilted my head as I eyed a sticky note bearing a cryptic message: Raver = Nash.

  It might as well have been written in Russian for all the sense it made to me.

  I decided not to search through the papers stacked on top of his desk. If his notes were anything like the map, I wouldn’t be able to interpret anything, and I risked fudging with his filing system.

  As the shadows grew long, I heard water rush through the pipes as someone used the toilet in the basement, followed by the constant susurrus of the shower. Once that shut off, I made my way downstairs and tapped lightly on the door.

  When Hudson opened it, I almost swallowed my tongue.

  Skin. So much light brown skin. His pecs were large and flat, with nipples a darker brown than the rest of him. His body rocked a barrel shape, most of it dusted with brown, wiry hair still damp from his shower. Silver glinted among the darker stuff here and there, and good Christ, I wanted to lick him. The urge rolled through me with the force of a tractor-trailer coming out of a fog bank. Unexpected, startling, devastating. I wanted to feel the texture on my tongue. Trace the muscles and learn their shapes. Dip below the waistband of his fitted boxer briefs and—

  This so wasn’t like me—at least, not like the me I’d gotten used to in the past thirty-three years. It was like Hudson had turned a key and unlocked feelings and wants and desires no one else could ever touch. It was astounding. Breathtaking. And it made me tremble on the edge of something I had so rarely experienced in my life, I didn’t know what to do with it.

  “My eyes are up here.”

  I jerked my gaze upward as my cheeks heated. “Yeah. Hi.”

  “Hi.” Hudson’s golden-brown eyes twinkled.

  I had to fight to keep my gaze from venturing downward again. Like, it was a real struggle. I hadn’t seen this body in thirty-three years and all I wanted to do was take it all in. Absorb it.

  He stepped back into his bedroom and held the door open for me in invitation. I glanced at the bed, but the young guy hadn’t so much as moved an arm.

  “Are you sure he’s alive?”

  “Getting there.”

  Right. Well, that was a weird thought. “I talked with Lexi. She already knew about vampires.”

  “She’s like her mom, right? A witch?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Makes sense, then.” Hudson started getting his shaving supplies together in front of the mirror in the bathroom.

  I leaned against the door. “I didn’t know.”

  Hudson shot me a look—one that could have meant anything from empathy to well, duh. “You didn’t have to know about fairies and demons and shifters and...everything else.”

  Truth. But that situation had changed. “Lexi’s going to loan me a book.”

  “That’s a place to start.”

  “Yeah. It’d be good to get operating instructions for you. Like, don’t feed your vampire after midnight. Keep them out of water. If they turn all scaly, run for the hills before they kill you...”

  Hudson snorted. “Just don’t call me Gizmo.”

  “Eh, you’re more a Gizmo than a Stripe.”

  He started his morning ritual as I watched, fascinated, that not a single thing had changed. Okay, that wasn’t quite true—a few things had, like the brand of razor and shaving cream he used, or the dollop of product he smoothed through his hair to help tame it. But the motions, the faces he pulled as he tried to get the closest shave possible, how he looked at himself in the mirror as he prepared for his day—hey, that was one vampiric legend disproved, wasn’t it?—they were all exactly as I remembered them.

  How many times had I watched him get ready? Getting in my last few minutes before he was out the door and off to confront potentially dangerous criminals. In the early days, I’d simply wanted a few extra minutes in his presence. Later, I’d been consumed by worry, trying to figure out how to express my fears in a way to make him listen.

  When Hudson turned to the door, ready to leave the bathroom, I didn’t move. He stepped close, closer, and still I held my ground. I was operating on instinct in that moment, instinct that was telling me to let him get close. Everything used to make more sense the closer he got to me.

  He didn’t tell me to move. He looked down at me, memories as fierce in his expression as they were in my mind. His toothpaste-scented breath caressed my nose, my cheeks, my lips.

  When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper. “What do you want, Wes?”

  You. But the simple answer was too complex to be voiced. Despite the way my body screamed at me to touch him, I couldn’t. Scratching the physical itch would plunge us into a deep, dark swamp with no discernible bottom. I longed for him—but I didn’t know if I had the guts to risk a second broken heart care of Hudson Rojas.

  Did he?

  I took too long to answer. Hudson shuttered his emotions and leaned back, breaking our intangible connection. “I need to get ready for work.”

  All I could do was nod and move aside.

  * * *

  Somehow I got wrangled into staying at Hudson’s for the night to babysit. I was pretty sure he used a vampire mind trick to convince me.

  There’s no such thing as a vampire mind trick, Lexi texted in response to my question about it.

  R U sure?

  Pretty sure.

  That’s not 100%.

  Okay, I am 100% sure vampires don’t have mind powers.

  I glanced up at the hockey game I’d turned on. I didn’t care about either team. It was something to have on so the unfamiliar house didn’t feel so ominous. I mean, there was a fucking vampire asleep in the basement who could wake up at any minute.

  I hoped he was a hockey fan.

  What else do I need 2 know?

  Ask Hudson.

  He’s @ work.

  So am I.

  Then stop texting me back!

  Sheesh. I tossed my phone on the table and focused on the game. I liked hockey, though my interest in the sport had waned after the amazing Edmonton Oilers dynasty years in the eighties. Wayne Gretzky, man. Wayne Freaking Gretzky. This match didn’t measure up, even if it was a playoff game. After a couple of minutes, I switched the channel, but channel surfing bore no entertaining fruit, so I turned off the TV.

  Now what?

  I could snoop some more. Maybe get up the guts to go through Hudson’s photos. Or I could carefully sort through the notes on his desk and try to puzzle out what a Raver was—

  A thump against the bedroom door in the basement derailed my thoughts.

  Oh shit. The kid was awake.

  I fumbled with my phone, unable to grab it in suddenly uncooperative fingers, but I took a breath and forced my hands to obey and call Hudson.

  He answered after only one ring. “Rojas.”

  “He’s awake.”

  “How do you—”

  “I heard thumping.”

  “He’s trying to break down the door.” His voice was oh so casual and I could hear keys typing in the backgr
ound. Like he dealt with newly made vampires every other day.

  Another thump, this one louder, and I swore I heard cursing. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “He won’t.”

  “So what, I have to listen to this until you’re off shift?” How fun was that gonna be? Good god.

  “No, I’ll take my dinner break soon and swing by, see if I can get him to calm down. In the meantime, do like I said.”

  “The mug of blood thing?” I whined.

  “Yeah, that.”

  I let out a long, drawn-out groan.

  “Oh my god, you’re like a toddler. Go help the guy out, and I’ll be home in less than an hour.”

  I raspberried Hudson and hung up.

  Right. Mug of blood. Blood mug. I could do this.

  Five minutes later, I was convinced no one but a vampire could do this. The blood out of the container that was in the fridge didn’t smell too bad, since it was cold—it emanated a vague metallic odor that teased the tongue—but heated up?

  I was gonna throw up all over Hudson’s floor, I swear to god.

  I retched and swallowed it back, and focused on breathing through my mouth for a moment or two, until the worst of the urge passed. Yep. Totally under control. Maybe I could hold my nose...and...and not look at the thick, red, gooey liquid—

  Okay, so I ended up puking in the kitchen sink. Better than the floor.

  Take two. To be on the safe side, I stuck the mug back in the microwave for a few seconds. This time, when the micro beeped, I grabbed the damned thing and ran. Well, walked quickly. The thumps and bangs from the basement had intensified while I fought my blood battle, so Vamp Junior seemed to be losing patience with his situation.

  I paused a couple of feet from the door and called out shakily, “Hey.” Clearing my throat, I tried again. “I’ve got what you’re looking for right—” Good Christ, it sounded like I was hitting on him. “Uh, a snack. I’ve got you a snack.”

  Nothing collided with the door as I stood there with the icky gross mug, which had to be progress. Maybe he smelled the blood?

  “It’s—” I swallowed hard. “Uh, yummy. Real yummy. Ready?”

  Oh my god, I had to open the door before I drove myself nuts with the baby talk. Okay—punch in the code, open the door, shove in the mug, slam the door shut, re-engage the lock. I supposed I could do the otherplane thing and walk through the door, but I didn’t know if it would mess with the blood—and on top of that, I’d have to fully rematerialize in a locked room with a potentially animalistic creature. Not my idea of a good time. I could slip back into the otherplane fairly quickly, but there was always the chance I wouldn’t be quick enough.

  “Here goes,” I muttered, and entered the code.

  I half expected the door to get jerked wide open, but it didn’t. I was able to push it ajar—only to find Vamp Junior wasn’t in sight. Well, shit. My plan only worked if he was present to take the mug.

  “Hey. Here it is.” I wiggled the white mug and tried not to gag as the viscous liquid sloshed against the sides. “Yummy, yummy...” I sighed. “Do me a frickin’ favor and take the blood, damn it.”

  “B-blood?”

  I couldn’t see the kid, but his hesitant, thready voice was clear enough. I edged forward a smidge. “Yeah. It’s what you’re craving.”

  “Are you fucking insane?”

  “Look, you don’t know what I went through to get this ready for you. Take it.”

  “No! God, what is wrong with you?”

  I pushed the door open all the way and finally saw the kid huddled against the wall near the bathroom. He looked terrified—and why wouldn’t he be? He’d woken up locked in a strange bedroom and now some asshole was trying to force a mug of blood on him. I took a deep breath—and promptly gagged.

  “Ugh—just—here.” I held it out to him. “Smell.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Take a deep breath. Trust me.”

  My arm was starting to get tired when he finally sucked in a breath through his nose. His nostrils flared, and he breathed in again. “What is that?” he gasped in wonder.

  Good. Now the train was rolling. I gestured with the mug. “Blood.”

  The kid stepped away from the wall and moved closer. His eyes were half closed and his nostrils didn’t stop flaring with every breath he took. He swallowed, as though his mouth had filled with saliva. Gross, gross, gross. I moved the mug so it was directly in his path.

  And he brushed by it. Heading for me.

  “It’s you,” he murmured.

  His eyes flashed yellow—

  And suddenly his teeth were buried in my neck.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “‘Watch the new vampire for me, Wes,’” I muttered. “‘It’ll be fine, Wes.’” I lifted the bloodied gauze away from my neck. “This isn’t fine, Hudson!”

  Hudson turned his attention away from the young vampire sitting against the wall in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room, where he’d collapsed bonelessly when Hudson had dragged the two of us upstairs. Vamp Junior was still moaning about colors having smells or something. I wasn’t sure if that was a usual thing—I was going to go with not, since Hudson hadn’t seemed high after he’d snacked on Vamp Junior before he was Vamp Junior.

  Hudson stepped toward the kitchen table where I sat and angled his head to get a better look at the two puncture wounds in my neck. “It’s already healing.”

  “That’s not the point!”

  “Drink some more water.”

  “Fuck you!” I stood up, determined to ignore how the room started spinning. “I’m going home, and you can’t—you can’t—”

  Gentle hands guided me back into the kitchen chair and pushed my head between my knees. “Take it easy.”

  I slapped at Hudson’s hands. “Don’t help me. I’m pissed at you.”

  “I can tell.” Hudson sighed and gave me an apologetic grimace. “I miscalculated.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “There are stars in my skin,” Vamp Junior whispered.

  Hudson cast a glance at him, but the kid was still fascinated by something neither of us could see. “I thought the container of blood would overpower your natural, uh, aroma.”

  I frowned. “Think real hard about how you clarify that statement.”

  “I can smell your magic, okay? And it—” His eyes fell to half-mast as he inhaled deeply. The look was disturbingly similar to the one Vamp Junior laid on me right before turning me into his midnight snack. “It smells good.”

  A shiver raced through me, and I wasn’t sure if it was fear—or another emotion. Because the near-ecstatic expression on Hudson’s face was definitely doing something to my lower regions, despite the pain in my neck and blood-loss-induced dizziness. “I’m not food.”

  “You’re going to be fine. I’m more worried about him.” Hudson jerked his chin at Vamp Junior.

  Oh sure, I was the one who got injured but yeah, let’s worry about him.

  Hudson pulled out a chair, swung it around, and straddled it. It was a familiar move—he’d once confessed that he didn’t know what to do with his hands when he was sitting in a chair, having a conversation, so that position gave him something to hang on to. “The kid got a stomachful of magic for his first meal as a vampire. I’m not sure what that’s going to do to him.”

  “Other than make him high as fuck?”

  “My blood is singing!” Vamp Junior proceeded to hum along with the harmony. I could only assume that his blood was a poor singer, since it was wildly off-key.

  I waved a hand at him. “Exhibit A.”

  Hudson leaned his chin on the chair. “I don’t know. He was a lot stronger than he should have been after drinking from you. I had trouble pulling him off.”

  “Great. So my blood is like...whatsit, PCP?”
/>   Hudson tilted his head, which I took to mean “Maybe—chances are good.”

  I removed the gauze from my neck and examined it. Finding no fresh blood, I tossed it on the table with a sigh and tentatively investigated the wounds with my fingers. They were mostly closed already. By morning, they’d probably look like nothing more than a pair of hickeys. “So why haven’t you tried to bite me, if I smell so good?”

  “Same reason I’m not going to steal someone’s hot dog on the street, no matter how much I might be craving one. It’s not mine.”

  My brow furrowed as I tried to figure out if I should be offended that he compared me to street meat.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “You—What?”

  He scowled. “Don’t give me that look. I can apologize when it’s necessary.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Wipe that smug look off your face.”

  “No way. I need to enjoy this rare apology from Hudson ‘I’m never wrong’ Rojas.”

  “I wasn’t that bad.”

  It was my turn to tilt my head.

  “Really? I was?”

  I leaned back in my chair. “You sure didn’t want to consider any other points of view.”

  “Because you wanted me to quit.”

  “See? That’s a good illustration. I never wanted you to quit. Did I ever ask you to stop being a cop?”

  He glared at me. “Yes.”

  I pointed a finger at him. “No.”

  “Uh, yes. You did.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Wesley—”

  “I asked you to cut back on the undercover. I asked you to put me down as next of kin. That’s what I asked. What you heard was ‘tell everyone you’re gay’ and ‘find another job.’”

  “And what you didn’t understand was that if I wanted to move up—and I did—I couldn’t even hint that I was gay and I had to take the opportunities when they came up.”

  “All of them? Did you have to be gone more than you were home?”

  “Yes.”

  I nodded, watching my finger as it traced the grain of wood in the kitchen table. “Was it worth it?” I asked, my voice more than a little choked.