Wicked Game

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  Regina kneels to examine them. “They’ll be okay, unfortunately. I should have staked them while they were awake. Wouldn’t be sporting now.” A loud thup! comes from the bottom of the stairs. Regina looks down over the railing. “Hm. I guess Jim doesn’t agree.”

  In a few moments, Jim saunters up the stairs carrying the crossbow in one hand and a blood-tipped arrow in the other.

  He sees us staring at him. “What? I didn’t like the way that guy pushed me around. Sue me for having pride.” He reloads the crossbow at the top of the stairs and looks at Wallace and Jacob. “Should I waste these other two?”

  “No,” Shane says. “There’s been enough death for one day.”

  “Not quite.” Regina kneels next to Travis, who lies slumped on his side. “I don’t think our little friend is going to make it. He’s too young and weak to survive his maker’s death.”

  “Unless … ” Monroe lifts his dark gaze to me, then shifts it to Lori, who’s still crouched in the corner.

  I take a step forward. “Is there something we can do to save him? We should at least try.”

  Jim snickers. “You might change your mind when you hear what it is.”

  I look at Travis, gasping like a fish on dry land. “I know what it is.” I close my eyes. “I’ll do it.”

  The room is silent for a few moments, until Regina speaks. “You do realize it doesn’t exactly involve a smoothie and a foot massage?”

  “I know.” I look at Shane. “Although I wouldn’t mind that as a reward.”

  “Ciara, are you sure?” He comes to my side. “This is the guy who tried to kill you.”

  “He couldn’t help it. And he’s one of us now.”

  My words play back in my head. One of us. Am I one of us? It’s been eight years since I’ve been one of anything.

  “Just one condition,” I tell Shane. “It has to be you who makes the—you know.”

  He takes my hand. “We’ll do it in David’s room.” He looks at Travis. “Someone bring him. Hurry.”

  “I’ll get him,” Jim says.

  “Uh-uh.” I hold out my palm. “I’m never having so much as a hangnail in front of you.” I look at Monroe without meeting his gaze. “Please.”

  30

  Inside Out

  “Lights on or off?” Shane says.

  In reply, I pull the cord on David’s bedside lamp. It emits a muted glow through a smoked-glass shade.

  Shane lays a dark brown towel in place of one of the pillows. “To get the blood quickly enough to save Travis, I should do the neck. Is that okay?”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Sure.” He touches my throat. “I’ll nick the external jugular. It’s small, right near the surface so there won’t be much pain. No muscle to go through. It’s safe as long as you lie down.”

  I nod, hoping I don’t pass out. I lie down on my right side with my back to the center of the bed. “Gideon was going to bite my neck, but we were standing up.”

  “Really?” Shane stretches out facing me. “Interesting.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll explain later. You sure about this?” he asks again.

  Without gravity to keep it down, my heart has crept up into my esophagus. “No, but I’d be a real bitch to back out now.” I touch his mouth. “Will you be able to, you know—”

  “Get it up? Yeah. Fangs are like coughs—they can be voluntary as well as involuntary.”

  He draws back his lips, and there they are. I shrink back a few inches just as Monroe lays Travis on the bed behind me.

  “Don’t be afraid.” Shane tilts my chin up. “Just breathe deep and slow, and look in my eyes.”

  I obey, and feel myself start to fall. Shane turns loose the same hypnotic power he showed that first night outside the library, when he was trying to convince me of his monstrous nature. Every moment since then he’s been more than human with me. Now the blue of his irises holds an ocean that promises a trip to another world if I just dive in.

  My pulse slows. My muscles slacken. My mouth opens. Shane leans in and covers it with his own, lips soft and full, tongue soothing rather than demanding. My skin grows warm with a languid desire, my body melding into his.

  His lips leave my mouth, caress the edge of my jaw, and finally reach my throat. His tongue searches for the heat of my pulse, and I don’t even flinch. I’m not afraid. I can do this. I probably won’t even scream.

  A sudden pain pierces my throat. Its electric echo shoots down my spine and up into my skull.

  I scream, but just a little.

  Shane’s hand tightens on my hip to hold me still, while the other strokes the back of my neck. I focus on the touch of his fingers, letting my awareness shrink to those inches of skin, rather than those that are protesting this violation of flesh.

  He groans deep in his throat, as he did when he bit Deirdre. I remember wishing I could make him make that noise.

  His fangs withdraw. The pain subsides slightly. A trickle of warm liquid travels down my neck. Shane catches it with his tongue and gives a long, heavy exhale.

  “You don’t have to enjoy this quite so much,” I remind him.

  He glances at my face. “Sorry.” He places his hand against my neck, below the wound—catching the blood, I assume. Then he reaches over me toward Travis. “Come on, drink.” He sighs and pulls back. “He’s too out of it.” He nods to Monroe. “Sit him up.”

  Shane bends over my neck again. “I have to get it in him directly, like with a baby bird. Once he wakes up, he can drink on his own.”

  He puts his mouth to my throat and this time manages to hold back sounds of ecstasy. I notice he doesn’t touch the wound itself, only the trickle of blood as it flows away.

  Without swallowing, he sits up and leans across me, where Monroe holds Travis. He takes the semiconscious vampire’s face in his hands and kisses him. His tongue moves in the other man’s mouth, delivering the life-giving blood.

  If it weren’t my blood, it would be totally hot.

  A few moments later, Shane breaks the kiss, then tilts Travis’s chin up and strokes his throat. “Swallow, damn it.”

  Travis’s lashes flutter, and his lips smack ever so slightly. He swallows, then draws in a sharp breath. Monroe and Shane share a sigh of relief.

  Shane tilts me to lie almost on my back. I feel the weight of Travis next to me on the mattress.

  “Easy, son,” Monroe murmurs. Cold lips touch the side of my neck, where the blood is dribbling slowly, like a broken water fountain. I wince at the pain the new pressure brings.

  Shane squeezes my knee. “Back in a sec.” He hurries to the bathroom, where sounds of mouth-rinsing ensue. I close my eyes and wait for his return.

  “That was considerate,” I say when he sits beside me again.

  He shrugs. “I like to think of myself as a Sensitive New Age vampire.” He checks Travis’s progress, then says to Monroe, “You should probably go check on the others, make sure Regina and Jim haven’t dismembered anyone.”

  Monroe leaves without a word. “It’s weird,” I tell Shane. “The two guys who saved me from Travis are helping him drink from me now.”

  “Oh, the irony.”

  I feel a strong desire for small talk. “So how’s Deirdre?”

  “Good, or so I hear. She’s with Jim now. I told you last month I wasn’t going to drink any more women.”

  “Only if I agreed to be your girlfriend.”

  “I preempted you.”

  “Oh.” I would feel warm and toasty inside if a vampire weren’t slurping my collarbone. “Did you get any good men out of your trades?”

  “There’s one really cool guy from Pittsburgh. We’ve scheduled a couple of visits when the Steelers play Monday Night Football. He’s got cable.”

  “Is he cute?”

  “He’s sixty-three.”

  “Eww. I mean, oh.”

  The pain spikes, making my eyes water. I cry out.

  “Hey!” Shane’s hand flashes out and eas
es Travis’s head away from my throat. “What did we teach you about sucking?”

  “Sorry,” Travis croaks, then goes back to licking my neck.

  I wipe my eyes, resisting the urge to jump up and run away. “What’s wrong with sucking?”

  “It can damage the wound and make it more in-fectible.”

  My stomach flips over and my head goes sloshy. “Quick, tell me a story so I don’t hork.”

  Shane lies beside me. I can’t see him now without turning my head, which hurts to do, so I just look at the ceiling.

  “I’ll tell you about April 5, 1995.”

  My eyes widen. “I didn’t mean the story.”

  “Do you want to hear it or not?”

  I touch his chest. “If you want to tell me.”

  He takes a few deep breaths. “I didn’t want to live,” he says finally. “The reasons aren’t important. Basically, my life sucked, and I was on the wrong medication. Same sad story of a million depressives.”

  I close my eyes and listen. It’s like hearing his voice on the radio again, except this time his words really are just for me. Even Travis seems to swallow more quietly out of respect.

  “Then I met Regina,” Shane continues. “She understood how much I wanted to be released from this shitty world, from the pain that had become the only thing I knew. The same darkness was in her.” He scoffs. “Or so I thought. She was a vampire, she had to be dark, right?”

  “One would assume.”

  “I struggled with it. I hadn’t been to mass in years, but I prayed for the strength to live, for a sign that I belonged here. I never got either. So I asked Regina to kill me.” He runs his fingers through my hair, soothing the muscles at my temple. “Guess I should’ve picked a more reliable method.”

  “But as suicides go, it’s kinda cool.”

  “And useful. Since I didn’t need my blood anymore, why not give it to someone who did? Better than spilling it all over my living room and waiting for the old lady next door to complain about the smell.” He pauses. “Besides, Regina had bitten me before. It felt incredible. I thought, what a magnificent way to die.”

  I wonder why vampire bites don’t have the same effect on me. Maybe they’re like any other drug—some people get high and others just get nauseous.

  “That night,” he continues, “Regina drank me deeper than ever. My heart felt like it was playing the drum solo to ‘Wipe Out.’ But I didn’t care, because I was leaving my body behind. I was happy.

  “Next thing I knew, her blood was gushing into my mouth. I tried to turn away, spit it out, because I knew what it meant. When I finally swallowed, everything changed. There was bright light instead of darkness, hunger instead of emptiness. I grabbed her, and I drank.”

  “Why’d you do it, if you wanted to die?”

  His fingertips stroke the back of my arm. “Bodies want to live. Stomachs vomit poison. Wrists close up. It takes a lot to make the machine turn itself off.”

  I wonder how many times he tried. My life hasn’t always been happy, but I never thought the alternative could be better.

  “Maybe Regina planned all along to turn me, but she won’t admit it. She claims she couldn’t bear to watch me die.”

  I understand her impulse. After seeing Elizabeth and Gideon die, I plan to dress Shane in a Kevlar turtleneck. “She saved your life.”

  “I wanted death,” he says bitterly. “She wanted a pet.”

  God, I fucking love this man. I’d do anything to keep him from entering that dark place again.

  I open my mouth to tell him so, but Travis chooses this poignant moment to start snoring.

  Shane looks over my shoulder. “His color’s a lot better now. I think he’ll make it after all.” He reaches for the packet of gauze on the nightstand. “Thank you for your kind donation, ma’am. Please help yourself to juice and cookies before you leave.”

  “So what happened after you were turned?”

  “Regina took me to a veteran donor, and I drank a human for the first time.” He sits up, then tears open the gauze and presses it gently against my neck. “I felt better.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “It was like I’d found everything I was ever looking for. Blood’s a lot like drugs, but it makes you strong instead of weak. All the other vampire crap—never seeing the sun, not enjoying food, having to find, flatter, and fuck donors you don’t even like—blood makes it all worthwhile.”

  I move his hand so I can hold the gauze myself and press more firmly than he would dare. “So you were happy, then, after you turned.”

  “Hell, no. Regina and her friends had to put me on suicide watch. They’d force-feed me blood, then nail me into a coffin before sunrise. A coffin, for Christ’s sake.” Still holding my hand, he stretches out beside me again, closer than before. “Finally the Control stuck me in one of their nursing homes for rehab. Two years later, David visited and offered me this job. They wouldn’t let me leave, said I wasn’t ready. So I escaped and refused to go back, because I finally had something to live for.”

  I tighten my fingers around his. “I’m glad Regina gave you another life.”

  Shane touches his forehead to my temple. “Me, too,” he whispers. “Now.”

  He kisses my cheek softly. I slide my hand up his arm, then remove it quickly as I remember his burns. I look down and gasp.

  “You’re healed.”

  He sits up and rotates his smooth, unmarked arm in the lamplight. “Whoa.”

  “David said holy water always left scars.”

  “I know, but there’s nothing.” He stares at me. “It must’ve been your blood.”

  “But if blood could heal holy water burns, someone would’ve figured it out by now.”

  “I don’t mean any blood, Ciara. I mean your blood.”

  The awe in his eyes makes me shiver. “What’s so special about my blood?”

  “Good question.”

  I check the gauze pad. The red spot looks normal to me. “If I’d known it would heal you, I would’ve let you drink me right away.”

  “Thanks.” He marvels at his arm again. “I’ll remember that next time you shoot me with holy water.”

  “Besides, it would’ve been so romantic, very Buffy and Angel.” Now I know I’m delirious.

  “Very what?”

  “TV shows. After your life. We can rent the DVDs if you want to catch up.”

  “We’ll have lots of time once the nights get longer.”

  Suddenly I can imagine the time. Cuddling in front of the TV with Shane and a mug of apple cider. Hanging with the whole VMP gang around David’s fireplace—with the humans closest to the flames, of course—shooting the shit and arguing over who was the most talented Beatle.

  This time, such a future doesn’t feel like a vise or a straitjacket.

  A knock sounds at the door. Shane lies down and shoves his healed arm under the covers. “Who is it?”

  Regina opens it far enough to fit her face. “The Control’s here. A bit late, but at least they can help clean up. You almost done?”

  “We’re done, we’re just recovering.” Shane peeks at the sleeping Travis. “He’ll need to drink in another couple hours, but he’ll survive, barely.”

  “Poor bloke.” The sympathy in her voice sounds genuine. “How about the sunnyside? She make it?”

  “I’m right here,” I say, “and yes, I’m fine.”

  “Good. That colonel guy wants to see you.”

  In a few moments, Colonel Lanham’s voice comes from the door. “Ms. Griffin, your father called us.”

  I close my eyes against a wave of dizziness. “Where is he?”

  He hesitates. “I was hoping you’d know.”

  My eyes slam open. “He’s skipped town?”

  “I’m afraid so. When he phoned, we thought he was still with his guard, so we didn’t trace the call.” He moves next to the bed where I can see him without turning my head. “But we’ll find him. One of our agents was killed here tonight. M
ore humans might have died because of his treachery.”

  “Did he say why he did it?”

  “No. Near as we can figure, he was acting as a double agent for us and Gideon. At some point he switched loyalties. Maybe Gideon paid him more.”

  My eyes grow tight around the edges. “He never switched loyalties. He just stayed loyal to himself.” Nice game, Daddy.

  “What about the station?” Shane asks him.

  “As far as we’re concerned, Elizabeth can stay alive. The Control will continue to support the mission of WVMP in keeping the six of you off the streets, as it were.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him, wondering how long we can fool the IRS. “Can I go home now that Gideon’s dead?”

  “Certainly. With two of his top men in custody, we should be able to dismantle his compound.”

  “Don’t count on it. Those people want to be there. There’ll always be another Gideon.”

  “Nonetheless, we’ll do our best to ensure your lives return to normal.” He looks at the three of us sprawled on the bed and seems to hear his own words. “Relatively speaking.”

  31

  Come as You Are

  “You’re getting really good at that.”

  “I’m an excellent driver,” Shane says in his best Rain Man imitation as he shifts into first gear.

  I look back at David’s driveway, full of black vans belonging to the International Agency for the Control and Management of Undead Corporeal Entities. Luckily, out here in the country all this hubbub won’t attract attention. Then again, if David lived in town it would have been harder to attack him in the first place. Location really is everything in real estate.

  These thoughts, along with my lingering light-head-edness, fail to distract me from the day’s biggest devastation.

  “Thanks for not saying ‘I told you so.’”

  Shane concentrates on second gear before answering. “I didn’t have to tell you so. You knew.”

  “I thought I was being careful with my father, not giving away too much. But I never thought he’d take Gideon’s side. It explains everything—why Gideon was stalking me that first night I came to the station, why he didn’t turn me into a vampire.”