“Stop it.” I pulled away from his touch, feeling my cheeks heat with more than sunburn.
“Stop what? Telling you the truth?”
“Stop trying to…I don’t know.” I shook my head. “We just…we can’t be doing this. I can’t let myself feel…”
“That’s the problem. You can’t let yourself feel, can you?” Michael looked at me and his eyes were drowning deep. “You know, you told me you were interested in me the first time I asked you out,” he said.
I looked down at my hands. “That was before.”
“Before I was… what do you call it? Turned?”
“Look, it’s nothing personal,” I said. “I just don’t…do vampires.”
“Then why did you turn me down when I was still human?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” I looked out the window where it was beginning to get dark. “I guess because everyone human I get close to gets killed by the vamps.”
“So you don’t do vampires and you don’t do humans either. What do you do, Kate?” He sounded slightly bitter.
“I do the best I can,” I said, staring him straight in the eyes. “That’s all I’ve ever done, Michael. And if that’s not good enough for you then it’s too goddamn bad.”
He sighed. “Fine.” Then he reached out and dabbed a last bit of gel on the bridge of my nose. “There, all done.”
“I feel all done—well done like a steak,” I muttered, but I had the feeling of a conflict avoided and that was good. I’ll fight vamps and monsters all night long, no problem, but please don’t ask me to discuss my emotions. Guns and blades are something I understand. The human heart is an uncharted wilderness that scares the ever-living crap out of me.
I picked up a menu of my own and looked at it without seeing a thing. I had been kind of hungry having only eaten a pack of crackers and two cups of black coffee all day—one of which I didn’t get to keep. But the touchy-feely conversation with Michael seemed to have killed my appetite.
“You know what you want?” Michael asked, putting his own menu down. “I think we’re supposed to order and pay at the window and they bring it out to you.”
“French fries,” I said, even though I hadn’t seen any on the menu.
He frowned. “Not exactly a well-rounded meal.”
“Have you seen their bathrooms?” I asked. “In place of the sign that says, ‘Employees must wash hands,’ it ought to read, ‘Why bother?’ Anything deep-fried is also disinfected. And see if they have ketchup in the little packets. I don’t want to touch the bottles.” I gave a sidelong glance at the bottle of ketchup sitting by the metal napkin holder. It had dried maroon streaks running down its sides and the paper label was brown and peeling.
“French fries and ketchup in packets. Gotcha.” Michael slid out of the booth and went to place our order at the metal service window at the back of the restaurant. I wondered what he was ordering for himself. Tomato soup? Steak Tartar? Or maybe just a really rare T-bone.
He seemed to take a long time and when he finally got back, I noticed that his face was unusually pale.
“Hope you don’t mind eating hush puppies instead of French fries,” he said, trying to smile at me. “That’s all they had that was deep fried besides chicken. Didn’t even have onion rings.”
“Hush puppies are fine,” I said, even though I think hush puppies taste like deep fried pieces of shit. I leaned across the table. “Are you all right?”
He nodded. “Fine. It just…doesn’t smell so great back there.”
“So what did you order?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Uh, just some soup. Chicken noodle. Probably comes out of a can so I figured it had to be safe.”
“Mm-hmm.” I was going to be very surprised if he could eat a single bite of that chicken soup, canned or not.
Just then a waitress that looked to be about nineteen sashayed over to our table. She had curly red hair and a skirt so short it made my sundress look like a ball gown. On one shoulder she carried a tray that had more than just hush puppies and soup on it. Much more.
“Here ya’ll are.” She lowered the tray and started plunking the chipped china dishes down on our table. I saw ribs, chicken, coleslaw, pulled pork, and garlic toast arrive in quick succession along with my hush puppies and one small cup of chicken noodle soup.
“Uh, I think there’s been a mistake.” Michael tried to smile at her even though he was looking really green by now. “I only ordered the soup and the hush puppies. I didn’t pay for all this.”
“On the house, Sugar.” The redheaded waitress grinned and winked at him. “Big strappin’ boy like you can’t get by on a little ol’ cup of soup.”
Suddenly I realized what had taken him so long—she had probably been flirting with him. Or else he had been flirting with her. For a moment I felt like my eyes might turn as green as Michael’s, but then I reminded myself that he could do anything he wanted. It wasn’t like we were dating. And it wasn’t like I wanted us to be, either.
Michael was looking at the full platters of food in front of him like a man who had just been asked to climb a huge mountain on a sprained ankle.
“I just don’t know—” he began.
“Go on, Sug. Take a big bite of that pulled pork. Made it m’self.” The waitress patted him on the back, her blood-red fingernails playing around the longish hair that curled over his collar.
Michael looked at me appealingly but if he though I was getting him out of this, he was dead wrong. Okay, bad choice of words—he was just wrong. As far as I was concerned he had made his bed by flirting with Miss Southern Home Cooking here and he could damn well lie in it and wallow in the barbeque sauce while he was at it.
“Looks…delicious,” he said in a strangled tone. Picking up his fork, he stabbed it into the mountain of meat that was covered in bright red sauce. At least they got the color right.
As I said, I’m not much of a barbeque fan but aside from the lurid color, it didn’t smell half bad. Michael, however, looked like a contestant on one of those reality shows where they compete to see who can eat the most disgusting thing. Still, he got the first mouthful down, chewing and swallowing manfully to my great surprise. He ate another huge forkful and another. Except for the look on his face, I would have thought he was enjoying it the way he was putting it away.
He looked so sick as he put the fourth forkful to his mouth that I had to have pity on him.
“Michael,” I said. “You don’t have to—”
“Sorry!” He bolted up from the table and ran from the restaurant, almost knocking the red-haired waitress over in his hurry.
“Well!” She put her hands on her hips and frowned after him. “What was that all about?”
“Don’t know, hon,” I said, as I slid out of the booth and followed him. “Maybe you’re just a shitty cook.”
Chapter Fifteen
Michael was around the side of the Barbeque Shack losing his lunch in a big way. It looked pretty much the same coming up as it had going down and I wondered if it had even gotten to his stomach before his body rejected it.
“Oh, God,” he groaned, sinking to his knees with one hand gripping the brick outer wall.
“Here.” I handed him the bottle of water I’d snagged on the way out and watched him rinse out his mouth, then gulp it thirstily.
“Thanks.” He finished it off in no time and crumpled the empty plastic container in his fist. Then he tossed it in a near-by dumpster. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
I sighed. “Michael, it’s time you faced facts. You’re a vampire. There’s only one thing you can live on.”
“What, blood?” He glanced up at me, his eyes still streaming from the violent upheaval his body had just gone through.
I shrugged. “Sorry—vampire physiology 101—sleep during the day, allergic to silver, live on blood. I guess two out of three isn’t bad. In fact,” I leaned against the brick wall and crossed my arms over my chest. “When most vampires wake up for the firs
t time—what they call being ‘awakened to darkness’—they’re nothing but blood-sucking machines. Mindless beasts that will kill anything in their path to get that first drink.”
Michael sighed. “No wonder you chained me up and held a crossbow on me. You probably thought I was going to try and rip your throat out.”
“Bingo,” I said. “I’m so glad you’re beginning to get the picture.”
He tried to get up, stumbled, and would have fallen if I hadn’t caught him under one arm. In the glow from the street lights lining the Shack’s parking lot he looked alarmingly pale.
“Whoa,” I said, fitting my shoulder under his arm and helping him stand. “You need to take it slow. How long have you been feeling this weak?”
“A while,” he admitted. “I guess I thought…” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Guess I thought I’d feel better once I ate something. Thought I had low blood sugar or something.”
“Close,” I said. “You have a low blood count. The virus that infected you and made you a vamp in the first place lives on hemoglobin. Now that your body isn’t producing or circulating any blood of its own, it can’t get any. If you don’t feed soon you’ll go into a coma-like state that’s potentially fatal to a new vamp.”
He gave me a shaky smile. “I guess I probably don’t want to know how you know what’s ‘potentially fatal’ to a new vampire, do I?”
I shook my head. “Nope, you probably don’t. But the point is…” I took a deep breath. “We have to get you some blood.” God, I had never thought I’d be saying those words, especially not to a vampire. But we were partners on this weird quest. I couldn’t just let him die, could I?
“Okay, let’s see what we can find, then.” Michael scanned the darkness with eyes that were probably seeing much more than mine. Vampires have excellent night vision.
“What are you looking for?” I looked at the shadows behind the dumpster where he appeared to be staring.
“A rat. Or if I have to, a cat. I can’t, uh, do a dog, though. I love dogs. Couldn’t have that on my conscience.”
“Michael—” I said but before I could finish he had lunged into the shadows and grabbed something that wailed pitifully.
“Michael, no!” I ran after him, blundering around in the dark, banging my knees on the dumpsters before I found him sitting in the high grass at the edge of the parking lot with his legs splayed out in front of him. A small black and white spotted cat that was little more than a kitten was climbing his shirt and rubbing the top of its head under his chin affectionately.
He looked up at me, despair in his dark green eyes.
“I can’t do it, Kate. I just can’t. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“You don’t have to,” I told him. “You can’t ingest animal blood anymore than a human could tolerate an animal blood transfusion. It’s physiologically impossible.” I gave him a level stare. “The blood you drink has to be human.”
“God.” He put a hand up to stroke the kitten, then carefully untangled it from his shirt and set it free. It ran off silently into the night. He looked up at me and shook his head. “I’m going to go into a coma then, I guess.”
“No, you’re not.” I grabbed his arm and tried to help him get to his feet. But all his strength seemed to have been expended in chasing the cat— he was dead weight. It reminded me of the night before when he’d been going into the deep sleep. Finally I got him upright and led him slowly to the car.
“This is ridiculous,” he said as I maneuvered him into the passenger side of the Charger. “How can I be strong enough to lift a dumpster over my head earlier today and so weak I can barely walk now?”
“I told you,” I said, getting in and starting the engine. “You need blood. We’ll get you some.”
“And where am I supposed to get it?” he demanded. “Should I walk up to just anybody I meet on the street and ask if they want to be a donor?”
“If we had access to a blood bank we’d be able to get you some there,” I said. “That’s the way most vamps feed when they can’t get it fresh without attracting too much attention. They own banks all over the world.”
“Well, we don’t have access to a blood bank and I refuse to just take it from someone. That’s as bad as…as rape.” Michael leaned back against the head rest, his eyes closing in exhaustion. His skin was so pale now I thought I could almost see through it. “I took an oath not to harm anyone—I’m a doctor, I save lives, I don’t take them.”
“You don’t have to drain the person dry,” I pointed out. “You just need a little fresh blood circulation through your system.”
“But what if I pass this…this virus on to someone else? This is worse than if I had HIV.” He shook his head from side to side tiredly, his eyes still closed. “I can’t do that. Can’t risk it. The minute I bit them, they’d be infected.”
“Not if they had a genetic immunity to vampire venom.” My tongue felt numb as the words came out of my mouth. I was surprised I was able to say them without stuttering.
Michael’s eyes flew open and he looked at me uncertainly. “Look, I’m not asking you to—”
“I know you’re not,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road. “I’m offering. And don’t get all sentimental on me. I’m only doing this because you’re too damn heavy to carry if you go into a coma.”
“Very funny,” he said, but he wasn’t laughing. “Kate, you don’t have to do this. I know how you feel about…about being bitten.”
“Who said anything about biting?” I said, keeping my eyes peeled for a motel. We were going to have to stop for the night even though I hated like hell to do it. “I’m going to slit my wrist and let you drink.”
“God.” He shivered convulsively. “I don’t know.”
“You better know,” I said sharply. “And you better drink. If you don’t, you could die.” I gave him a glance. “I hope you know I don’t go around slitting my wrists for guys every day.”
He smiled weakly. “Yeah, I got that.” He put his hand on my leg and I shivered myself as I felt his warm skin against mine. “Thanks,” he said softly.
“Sure.” I bit my lip against the fire that raced through me at his touch. “No problem.”
There was a Holiday Inn coming up on the right. I put on my blinker and pulled the Charger over to get a room for the night.
Chapter Sixteen
There was one room left—a king single on the bottom floor. It was a damn good thing too, because I never could have dragged Michael up a flight of steps. By this time he was so weak he could barely stand. I half carried him into the shabby little room, lit by one weak flickering lamp, and dumped him on the bed. He was damn heavy and my lower back was singing Ave Maria but there was no time to worry about that.
I ran back and grabbed my kit and his bag from the trunk of the Charger, then slammed and locked the door. I didn’t like being out at night without my suit on and my weapons ready. Of course, I kept the Glock handy the whole time and I was sure I could defend myself if The Monsignor’s men had managed to find me, but I had Michael to think about now. He was weak—sick almost to the point of death or what passes for death in vamps. He couldn’t run so I couldn’t run either. I just hoped we’d put enough distance between us and the vampires that were after us to buy a night of peace.
“Kate?” Michael’s voice was little more than a whisper. He’d managed to get himself into a semi-sitting position, propped up on the pillows at the head of the bed but he was looking worse every second. I knew that if he didn’t get blood soon, he’s start to actually disintegrate. I had seen it happen once or twice to vamps who were awakened to darkness and not allowed to feed. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
“I’m coming,” I said. I grabbed a knife from my pack—my favorite knife actually, a slim steel and silver blade about six inches long with a black leather grip and good balance. It had been a gift from Uncle Harry the first time he took me out vamp hunting and I still felt his presence whenever I held it. I didn�
�t like to think about his reaction if he could see the use I was about to put the knife to now.
I went over and sat on the edge of the bed beside Michael and examined my wrists. The right one was out. I still had stitches from my last little vampire adventure—stitches that Michael had put in himself. Could it really have been only the night before? It seemed like a year ago that I had walked into the ER and met him.
I pulled my mind back to the present. I knew what I was doing—trying to put off the inevitable. I’m a big chicken about needles and slitting my own wrist also wasn’t high on my list of fun things to do. Still, it had to be done.
I grabbed the knife in my right hand, positioned it above my left wrist…and stopped. In the dim light of the single lamp I could still see the silver nitrate stain on my left palm. It was faint but very definitely there. I didn’t think it was in my blood stream, but I couldn’t give him blood from an area even slightly contaminated by silver. In his weakened state it might kill him.
I sat staring at my wrists for a minute. What the hell was I supposed to do? I raised the knife higher, letting it hover over the inside bend of my elbow for a moment, then let it drop. There were tendons in there—close to the surface too—and I wasn’t exactly a surgeon. I didn’t think I was skilled enough to cut the vein and leave the tendon intact. I didn’t like the idea of trying to fight off the pursuing vamps one handed because I had crippled myself with my own knife. If I was that stupid, I deserved to get killed.
I shot a quick glace at Michael who was lying very still on the bed. His breathing had stopped altogether and I was willing to bet he didn’t have a heartbeat right then either. Every once in a while his eyelids would twitch but that was all the indication I got that he was still with me.
I remembered how I had felt when I saw him roll out into the sunlight while he was grappling with the big vampire by the burned out church. How I had seen the cloud of ash and assumed it was him—what else was I supposed to think? My eyes had been full of tears and it wasn’t just from the irritation of the ash flying around in the air. It had been because I’d thought I’d lost him. Lost him before I even got to know him.
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