Wraith's Awakening (Para-Ops)

by DePaul, Virna

  “What about vampires? Are there many of you?”

  He hesitates, then nods. “Used to be thousands, but now we're in the hundreds, at least in the United States. Most of us congregate here and in Oregon.”

  “So, you live together?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the open?”

  His mouth twists. “Not so much anymore. But we did for a while. We had. . . hope.”

  Had hope. As in: no longer did. My stomach clenches, which only results in me feeling more confused.

  “If I'm dead, how come I can feel? Why can I think? Talk? Why can I remember things-the color my hair should be, what movies I've seen, who the first President was-but not who I am?”

  “I can't tell you that. I don't know. I'm sorry.”

  And he is. I can hear it in his voice. I can see it in his eyes. This man-this vampire-is something I should fear, but no more than I fear myself.

  He glances at his watch, then back at me. “I need to get back. The police should be gone by now and I need to check on Jonah. . . .”

  His voice trails off and it's as if I can read his mind. He's wondering what to do with me, I realize, and suddenly I want to throw myself at his feet and beg him not to leave me. He's all I have. The only person who can answer my questions and who, as a vampire, just might have any chance of relating to me. But once again, I learn something about myself.

  I'm a proud creature and begging isn't something I'm willing to do. Not even if it means being left utterly alone. _

  Raising my chin, I stand, refusing to let my gaze waver from his. “Before you go, would you please answer a few more questions?” I'm thankful for the steadiness in my voice.

  “Are you sure you want to know?” he responds quietly.

  My shoulders slump. Of course. I'd forgotten he could read my mind. Given that, pride seems to be a useless commodity.

  Even so, I raise my chin once more. “Yes,” I say, bracing myself.

  He hesitates, then nods. “Okay. Then I'll tell you. I'm a vampire. You're a wraith. We're known to humans as Otherborn, as are werewolves, felines, mages, shape shifters, and probably a few other sundry creatures that I'm not yet acquainted with. For the past three years, Otherborn have been trying to live peacefully with humans but that time has come to an end. Our nation is experiencing its second civil war. The question you need to ask yourself is whose side you'll be fighting on.”

  *****

  The vampire is looking at me expectantly. Maybe he thinks I'm going to deny what he said or protest the idea of fighting anyone. I'm past denial at this point and I'm obviously not a pacifist. Apparently, the idea of fighting is a given when my survival is involved. As to whose side I'll be on? That's easy.

  Mine.

  “Where do you want me to take you?”

  I look up at him, hoping I manage to hide my sudden panic. “What are my choices?” Maybe he can blip me overseas. That would be one way to avoid fighting, wouldn't it? After all, while I'll do what I have to in order to survive, I need to regroup. To find out exactly what and who I'm dealing with, and that includes myself.

  “Unfortunately, your choices are limited. I don't have the strength to 'blip' you overseas even if I could.”

  His gaunt appearance had ceased to impact me, but I look him over again. He would have been handsome at one time. “You're sick?”

  “To a degree.”

  Can I catch it? The thought briefly flashes through my mind, but I quickly dismiss it. I'm dead. I feel terrible pain whenever someone touches me. What could be worse than that? “If you weren't sick, why couldn't you take me overseas?”

  “Because I've never been there. I can only teleport someplace I've been before. Since I need my strength to get back to Charleston, I can take you someplace close. Anyplace along the Western coast. You like the beach? You look like you could use a tan.”

  I lift a hand to my jacked-up hair and smile slightly, surprised it's even possible. Talk about the pot and kettle.

  “Yes,” Colt murmurs. “Well, unlike you, I still require sustenance. A couple of pints of pure blood would bring back my rosy glow but it's a little rare at the moment.”

  I frown, suddenly focusing on the hollow feeling in my stomach that hadn't gone away but didn't seem to be getting any worse either. “So I can't eat?”

  Watching her closely, he shrugs. “You can eat. There's just no point. It won't curb the gnaw of hunger in your belly and it won't even taste good. You might as well eat dirt.”

  “How do you know? Is it that way for you?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Even though I don't get much nutrition from food, I get some and thankfully I still enjoy its flavor.”

  For the first time since he teleported me here, I feel more outrage than despair. Just what kind of fucked up situation have I landed myself in? I feel the urge to pee but can't. I feel hungry but can't eat? As if being dead wasn't bad enough, I don't get the comfort of food? No pizza? No chocolate? Lack of memory or not, I know I love these things and will definitely be more cranky without them. I'm obviously not one for deprivation. But maybe. . . I stiffen as a thought occurs.

  “Wait!” I rush up to Colt. Automatically, I reach out to grasp his arm, then freeze. Then I realize touching him doesn't hurt. Because his arms, unlike mine, are covered? I almost close my eyes in relief. I'm feeling enough mental pain at the moment without adding physical. Dropping my hand, I say excitedly, “You can read my mind! Can't you tell me who I am? What I'm doing-”

  But he's already shaking his head. “Maybe. If I was at my full strength and had been trained in such a thing. But I'm neither. Not strong. Not trained.”

  “Can you get stronger?”

  He presses his lips together.

  “Well?” I persist, planting my hands on my hips.

  Sighing, he nods. “I might be able to get my strength back. Temporarily. But I won't-”

  “Please,” I cry, all my fear and anxiety suddenly boiling out of me. “I can't go on like this, not knowing who I am.”

  “Others have,” he said gently. “For far longer than you. For years, in fact.”

  “I'm not others,” I say crossly, practically stomping my foot.

  “The pain could be debilitating for both of us, and that's assuming we don't die in the process.”

  “But I'm-” I stop. I'm dead. He's a vampire. An undead. So how-?

  “I'm not undead, but there are ways we can die,” he says bitterly. “It just takes more to kill us and believe me, the methods are not pleasant. Dying inside a wraith's mind is sure to rank high on that list. I'm not going to risk it.”

  My shoulders slump and I hang my head. I shouldn't blame him, but I do. He's the only one I can blame. The only one that can help me and he was refusing. Never mind that he was only protecting his own life. Still. . .

  I lift my head and study him. His own gaze doesn't falter. He'd said he could get stronger. Maybe she was just asking him at the wrong time. Maybe once he feels better, he'll change his mind.

  His mouth tilts up and he shakes his head. “You're optimistic. I'll give you that.”

  “So you'll take me back to Charleston with you?”

  He says nothing, but I take that as acquiescence.

  “You'll be able to get your pints of pure blood there?” I ask. “The ones that'll bring back your rosy glow-and your strength?”

  Instead of amusing him, his eyes blaze at her impudent question. “And you'd be okay with that? If I suck a human dry? So long as it helps you, of course.”

  I swallow hard. Would I? I guess I was envisioning a blood bank or something. I can't picture him drinking from some random person's vein-he seemed too fastidious for that. “Does it. . . You know.”

  Cocking a brow, he shook his head. “No. What?”

  Licking my lips, I whisper, “Does it kill the person? Does it hurt?”

  “Not unless I want it to.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, you're okay with it then? You want
to watch?” he sneers.

  My spine snaps straight. “Look, you're the one who feeds that way. Why are you jumping down my throat?”

  He clenches his fists and narrows his eyes. “Answer my question.”

  My hands mimic the movement of his. “Am I okay with it? I'm not okay with any of this, but we're talking about survival. Yours and mine. Since we're the only two people-” I stumble over the word, knowing it's not accurate but not knowing what else to call us. “Since we're the only two people I know about at the moment, I'm having a hard time looking past that. If drinking someone's blood is what it takes, I'll help you any way I can. You won't kill anyone. You won't hurt anyone. You get what you need and so do I. Okay?”

  His eye twitches before he curtly nods. He takes a step closer. “Put your arms around me. Over my jacket. It doesn't seem to hurt you that way, right?”

  Tentatively, I wrap my arms around his waist, feeling a swift jolt of pain but one that's no where near the pain I'd suffered when he'd touched me. My cheek brushes his shirt and I catch a faint smell of mint. For a dizzying second, I long to lay my head against his chest and cling more tightly. Instead, I clear my throat. “Do you know any wraiths I can talk to when we get there?”

  He sighs. “Maybe.”

  I smile, the relief almost heady. His muscles remain relaxed. I feel no swoosh of air. No sense of zipping across the country at warp speed.

  “Why are you-?”

  “You're wrong,” he says.

  My smile disappears. “About what?”

  “About you and I being the only two people you know about. You're forgetting Jonah and Candy. You know about them, and getting what you and I needed from them might have been to their detriment. They might have been killed. Hurt. You might want to remember that before you encourage me to drink the blood of some unsuspecting human.”

  I close my eyes and nod. I take a swift breath just as the pain rippling over my skin explodes.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  My legs buckle when we land, but I keep my arms wrapped around Colt so I don't fall. I lean against him for several seconds as my mind spins dizzily, then I force myself to let go and retreat several steps. We're back in the storage room, only the door's wide open. Shelves lay on their sides, with Colt's sheet and pillows hanging haphazardly over them or next to boxes and random items littering the floor.

  The sight isn't reassuring. Not where Jonah and Candy's wellbeing are concerned, anyway. A vision of the old lady in red, white, and blue, flashes through my head and I curse the fact that I'd called out to her. She'd led the police to the head shop. To me. To Colt and Jonah and Candy. . .

  I'm ashamed to admit it, but the thought suddenly occurs to me.

  Jonah and Candy are human. They can feed Colt. They can make him stronger so he can try and tell me who I am!

  Please don't let them be dead, I pray. If they are, just let me get my hands on that old lady. I'd show her the same-

  I close my eyes in horror.

  Apparently, Colt is right.

  I am even more blood thirsty than he is and it has nothing to do with needing to feed. I am self-centered to the max, willing to use anyone and anything for my benefit. Shit, I'm willing to have Colt risk his own life just to try-

  “Don't worry about it,” Colt says as he steps past me. “We're all guilty of it at one time or another.” He glances at me. “Maybe it's our minds clinging to that part of us that once was human.”

  I swallow hard, wanting to disagree. At that moment, I view my opportunistic streak as another sign-just like my lack of blood or pulse-that I'm no longer human. Colt's back recedes as he walks out the storage room. I scamper after him. He takes a few turns down a long narrow corridor. We pass the bathroom that Jonah let me use.

  I feel apprehensive.

  I want Jonah to be okay.

  I'd even be happy to see crazy Goth girl.

  I know I'll feel guilty if they're hurt. Angrily, I ask myself why. How could I know just walking in this store would bring some crazy militia down on them? _

  I bump into Colt's back when he stops suddenly. I glance around but see nothing.

  Slapping the air by his shoulder, I hiss, “What?”

  He twists his head to look at me. His eyes are clouded with confusion, but then he shakes his head and they clear. “Nothing.” He begins walking again.

  We round the corner. The store's been trashed. The table with the tees that Jonah had been folding is tipped over. Many of the tees are crumpled on the floor and covered with muddy footprints. The outer door's shut and through the glass I see the security gate's been rolled down.

  “What now?” I whisper.

  He shrugs. “Now I find someplace else to stay.”

  I spot the red t-shirt I'd read earlier and crouch down to pick it up. It's ripped, as if it was violently wrenched from someone's hands. The longer I stare at it, the more apparent it becomes that Colt isn't going to say more. I glance up at him. “That's it? You're not going to try to find Jonah? Candy?”

  His face remains impassive. “Why? Are you?”

  “Well, no, but-”

  “I didn't think so.”

  I jolt to my feet. “I meant I wouldn't know where to start. And I don't think I'd be very helpful given that I don't even know why they were taken.”_

  “That's convenient for you. Unfortunately, while I might be one up on you as far as knowledge goes, I have my own disadvantages.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning, I'm pretty recognizable as a vampire.”

  “And I just blend into a crowd?”

  His dark eyes narrowed meanly. “I'm not saying you should do anything either.”

  “So he wasn't a friend of yours? You don't care that he might have-what did you say? Suffered some detriment-because he helped you?”

  “I didn't say I didn't care. But there's nothing I can do. He's likely being questioned by the police, but when they realize he can't tell them anything about me or my people, they'll probably let him go.”

  “You never told him anything about yourself?”

  “No. He had a sensitive heart-a desire to help simply because he feels what the government is doing is wrong.”

  “And they're going to believe him when he tells them that?”

  “No. They're going to believe me.”

  My eyes round. “You're going to talk with the police?”

  “I already am.” He jerks his head toward the front door. “Look up.”

  I do. That's when I see the mounted security camera with its little blinking light.

  I frown. “So we're being taped. So what? Why are they going to believe you just because you say it?”

  “Because they know vampires and dharmires can't lie.”

  My head slowly turns toward him. “Won't or can't?”

  “Can't.”

  “What happens if you do?”

  He shrugs. “Moot question. It's never happened. It never will.”

  I remain silent, stunned by his revelation.

  “See, I told you being a vampire has its disadvantages.”

  *****

  “Why are we walking?” I ask as I scramble to keep up with Colt's much longer strides. “Wouldn't it be smarter to teleport wherever we're going?”

  “Smarter, yes, but impossible. I'm out of juice, so to speak.”

  “Oh.” I cross my arms over my chest and try not to shiver. It's cold and there's moisture in the air, even with the black hooded sweatshirts we'd taken from Jonah's store. The sweatshirts shield our body and faces from the few people we pass on the street. We look like a couple of wanna-be skate punks.

  “We couldn't risk staying at the store but I'm hoping to impose on someone who lives nearby.”

  “A friend?”

  “There's really no such thing, wraith. You'd best get that through your head now.”

  I frowned at the condescension in his tone. I don't like others thinking they're better than me. Not the old lady. Not Candy. And not
this vampire. Yet, I don't know this world. Not anymore. Not now. I need to heed this male's advice until he proves otherwise.

  “That's good, remember that, would you. It'll make my life easier,” he said. “Don't trust anyone, especially me.”

  He said it so convincingly. “Why? Do you want to hurt me?”

  “No.”

  Remembering what he'd said about being unable to lie, I choose my next words carefully. “Will you hurt me if you have to?”

  He glances down at me. “Yes. But I hope I won't have to.”

  I nod. “Same for me,” I bite out, making him smile.

  At least I'm offering him some amusement.

  “Will this person have access to the blood you need?”

  “Unlikely, but I can always hope.”

  “What is pure blood exactly? And why is it so hard to come by?”

  “That's a long story, one that can wait until we're someplace safe. Right now, just stay with me and keep your eyes open.”

  I glance around and do just that. I take in the urban, highbrow neighborhood we've wandered into. The crowd looks young. Moneyed. Affluent. Instead of looking at us as potential enemies crossing into their territory, they ignore us. I begin to wonder just how true Colt's story about a civil war is. Perhaps he was being dramatic. Perhaps the government is preaching anti-Breed dogma, but it hasn't quite settled in with the masses. Perhaps. . . .

  “Shit,” Colt mutters an instant before I hear it.

  Hissing. Murmurs. Whispers.

  A finger points.

  A head turns.

  Faces scowl.

  But no one calls out. No one takes a step toward us. A quick glance at Colt tells me why.

  He's pushed his hood back. His fangs are bared and his eyes filled with a murderous intent.

  I stumble and freeze, but almost simultaneously he grabs the sleeve of my sweatshirt-something that doesn't hurt me, I notice again-and jerks me along.

  When we're blocks away and it doesn't look like anyone is following us, something he repeatedly checks for, he releases his grip on my shirt. “Do that again and I'll leave you to the mob.”

  “Your eyes,” I mumble. “They scared me.”

  “Seeing that crowd try to rip out my heart and burn it would have scared you even more, I bet.”