Thirst (Ava Delaney #1)

by Claire Farrell

  Chapter Three

  I shuffled up the driveway to Peter Brannigan's house warily, not knowing what to expect. My grandmother hadn't given me much information other than his name and address, and the assurance he could help me.

  Carl strolled along beside me; being outside in the fresh air made it much easier for me to avoid sniffing at him like a hungry wolf. I felt a lot more human in the daylight; the thirst was weakest in the afternoon. The sun wasn't particularly good for me, but I was pale skinned and red-headed; the same could be said for anyone with my complexion.

  Peter's house was in a nice area with lots of families, dogs, and unnecessary 7-seaters. Safe from the other world; the one most of his neighbours didn't believe in. Even safer than the world I lived in, with its dirt and crime. Going from my home to Peter's was like passing through a portal into another dimension. Strange, that the person who could help me lived in the middle of a suburb.

  Uncomfortable about suddenly welcoming so many humans into my life, I hesitated at the door. I glanced at Carl who stood too still, staring at me with emotionless eyes. I screwed up his life, so I had to fix it. I rang Peter Brannigan's doorbell before I could change my mind.

  A man answered the door, and I found myself appreciating his appearance. He wasn't pretty like Carl, or as tall, but something about him seemed so safe and solid that I wanted to tuck myself under his arm and be protected.

  He was young enough, maybe thirty, but his eyes were old and weary. Combined with the long scar across his chin, I just knew he'd seen more than his fair share of trouble. He had cropped sandy brown hair and hazel eyes that stared into mine until I flushed red. I realised I had been so busy crushing on him that I hadn't even heard his heartbeat or smelled his blood. I figured he must be Peter's son or something.

  "You looking for someone?" he said, his eyes flashing between myself and Carl. I was sure I didn't imagine his eyes lingering on me.

  "Uh, yeah, sorry," I said, getting my head together. "I'm Ava. I was given this address and told to look for a Peter Brannigan. I have a, uh, problem I need some help with." I hoped I didn't sound like too much of an idiot.

  He stared at us both for a couple more seconds, his eyes sweeping over me appraisingly once more before he nodded, his face unreadable.

  "I'm Peter, come on in."

  As soon as I stepped over the threshold, a bright light zeroed in on me, accompanied by a loud alarm.

  "What the...?"

  Peter's expression turned to horror and then rage as he lifted his arm. I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before realising he had hit me. Hard. My brain signals finally caught up, and white hot pain seared through my jaw. I tried to sit up, only to see Peter fling Carl off his back like he was possessed. He jumped on me before I could react. Pinning me to the ground, his face contorted with anger, making him look psychotic. I was too shocked to struggle. The siren stopped, but I was still seeing lights.

  "What did you do?" he snarled. "Force some sorcerer to make a talisman that lets you move around during the day?" He shifted until one knee held down my arm while the other leaned too hard on my throat.

  "What? No, what are you talking about?" I gasped for air, panicking when I realised his position was cutting off my air supply. "I can't breathe. Get off me!" I swatted at him ineffectively, unable to take a good swing.

  "Yeah, right, bloodsuckers don't breathe. Who sent you, bitch?"

  His eyes darkened, and I slowly realised he would be happy to see me die right there on his floor. I struggled against him, frantic, and grabbed at his shirt sleeve until it exposed Celtic symbols tattooed on his biceps. My eyesight blurred from the lack of oxygen; I was too panicked to find his weak spot. Just in time, Carl pulled him off me and tossed him aside easily, much to my relief. I sucked in air too quickly for my lungs to cope with, setting off a minor coughing fit.

  "Don't hit Ava again," Carl said sternly, pummelling Peter in the stomach repeatedly.

  Good minion.

  I managed to shut the hall door so none of the neighbours could see the scuffle then crawled over to the men, my head still spinning from being punched in the face.

  "Stop now, Carl," I said. He did, but Peter jumped toward me again. Carl grabbed his shirt and pulled him backward before he could reach me. I tried to act as if I hadn't just shrieked like a teenage girl.

  "Just hold him like that for a minute," I told Carl, my heart pounding hard. "I'm sorry Peter, but he's going to keep hitting you if you keep attacking me. It isn't his fault. Like I said, I have a problem I need help with."

  Peter snarled at me, his face twisted with hate. He spoke a few words under his breath in a language I wasn't familiar with, smirking slightly. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but his face fell in surprise when nothing happened.

  "Look," I said, getting as close to him as I dared. "I don't know what just happened, but I'm guessing you think I'm a big, bad bag of scary. Well, I'm not. At least, not exactly. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to be left alone. But I need help with that. This big guy pinning you down? He's Carl. I think I accidentally made him my servant or something. I need it to stop. Like now."

  Peter's eyes pierced into mine. For a second, I was hopeful, but the hateful sneer he sent my way snapped me back down to earth.

  "Please," I said, my voice shaky.

  "Why would I help you?"

  "Because Carl here keeps offering me his neck, and I'm getting thirsty. If you have any kind of compassion, you'll help him out."

  "So drink then. That's what you do, right?" He sounded so scornful and cynical, I felt my hackles rise.

  "None of your business, is it? Point is, I don't want a servant. I want Carl gone. Can you help or not?"

  "Get off me," he told Carl, perhaps feeling his lack of macho at being held down in his own hallway.

  "It's okay, Carl. Let him go. He'll be good." I hoped.

  Carl nodded, and let go of Peter, who immediately stood up and tried to tower over us. I was still too wiped to even bother standing up.

  "I don't know who gave you my address or why you're really here, but you need to leave. Now."

  "You're not going to help," I said, seeing the look on Peter's face. I had no idea how to spend another hour with Carl, never mind another night.

  "Why the hell would I help out a vamp? I don't know how you're managing to get around during the day without frying, but the alarm doesn't lie. Get out before I blind you with holy water."

  "I've done nothing wrong, alright?" My panic made me defensive. He was supposed to help us, not freak out on me.

  "Yeah, except enslave this poor sod," he said, gesturing at Carl.

  "That was an accident!"

  "Leave." He clenched his fists, his jaw tautening with anger. I knew better than to waste my time reasoning with hatred. I was on my own. I couldn't believe he was ready to let Carl die. I had been so sure he would help me, I hadn't even imagined what I would do if he didn't.

  Carl and I walked home together in silence as I thought about Peter and wondered if I could have handled it better. I wiped away a few tears of frustration and tried to figure out my next move, but there was no Plan B-Peter Brannigan had been my only hope.

  As soon as we got back to my place, I dove into my freezer for some ice. My face hurt like hell. I winced as I held a towel full of ice cubes against my cheek, sorely regretting not getting a punch in. I heated up some leftovers in the microwave and once again made Carl sit as far away from me as possible. My jaw made it hard to eat, but I had to chew through the pain if I wanted Carl to survive the rest of the day.

  Carl kept looking at me anxiously. "It's okay," I said, sensing he was worried about me as part of the whole vampire-minion bond thing. "Everything's going to be okay," I told him, but I didn't believe it. I kept forcing food into my mouth, swallowing hard to get it past the lump in my throat, surprised by how emotional I felt.

>   A knock at the door soon interrupted our meal. I was so depressed I didn't even remember to look through the peephole. As soon as I opened the door and saw Peter Brannigan standing there, I backed away in horror lest he punch me again. His lips curved upward with a grim sort of amusement. I put on my game face and acted as snarly and vampire-like as I could. It was kind of hard with a swollen face.

  "What do you want?" I said, crossing my arms and letting my fangs show purposely for one of the few times in my entire life. He took a step backward in disgust. I retracted them hurriedly, not having the energy to keep scaring him. He waited a few seconds then came closer again.

  "I followed you home," he said, looking over my shoulder into my apartment. "Big lunk's still alive, I see."

  He brushed past me and came inside, glancing around the room and picking up a book I had left on the coffee table. Carl watched his every move.

  "Come on in then," I muttered, shutting the door.

  "Tiny place."

  "Yeah, well, we can't all live in a big house with a white picket fence. Wouldn't do my reputation any good. So, did you want something in particular? Or were you just passing through and felt like hitting something?"

  His eyes narrowed. "I wanted to see where you live so I could kill the whole nest. But I see you're a loner."

  "You came to kill the whole nest and decided to knock first?"

  "Well, I knew there had to be humans here too."

  I didn't tell him he would never have found my place if he meant to do me harm, thanks to some of the protection spells scattered around my home. Instead I shrugged and sat down to try to eat the rest of my food. Peter smelled really good, and I was hungry. Best thing for me to do was distract myself with human gluttony.

  "Lunch for two? How sweet," Peter said, but he was frowning. I wondered why until I realised that vampires probably couldn't eat human food. I waited for him to speak, but he was too busy inspecting the room like he wanted to buy the place. He came across as cocky, but I caught an underlying scent of fear. A couple of minutes later, he had calmed down significantly.

  "Listen, I don't know what your game is, but it isn't fair to leave the big fella in the middle of it, seeing as he has no control over his actions."

  I snapped my head up to meet his eyes, afraid to hope. He sounded deadly serious.

  "You're going to help me? Really?" I said, still cautious.

  "Not you. Carl. He's human. I help humans. They deserve it."

  I lowered my head. "Of course," I murmured. I didn't care about his attitude, helping Carl would in turn help me.

  "I have to warn you; any sign of you misbehaving, and you're dead. I've killed vamps before, so doing it again won't be a problem for me, all right?"

  I nodded, but I was thinking, who is this guy? "So do you know what I did? How I can fix it? Is there a spell I can do or something?"

  "I'm not sure how you managed to do it accidentally, but I have a friend who's in the know," Peter said.

  "What?" I couldn't believe it; he didn't have a clue either. "You're supposed to be the man in the know. What the hell is this? You trying to set me up or something? Got a buddy who wants to punch a girl too?"

  To his credit, he looked momentarily ashamed, but then shook himself out of it. "I'm a hunter. I go after bad things. I'm not all up on the facts on vampires, all right? I know a good bit, but it isn't like we have a friendly little chat before I stake them, you know? But the man I mean, he runs a bookshop. If he doesn't know then I'm betting one of his books will help. You want to see him or not?"

  I chewed for a few minutes. I had nothing to lose, not really. He thought I was a full-on vampire, sure. But he didn't know that things like holy water and silver crosses didn't affect me, so even if he did attack me again, he might do something that wouldn't hurt me. If I could run then he wouldn't catch me. Besides, I had to do something about Carl.

  "Okay," I said at last. "I'll see your friend. But remember, if you hurt me then Carl will hurt himself trying to help me out."

  Peter nodded, giving me a quick smile that jerked my insides upward. I was pretty disgusted with my reaction. Only I could be attracted to a man who hated my guts on sight.

  "Can we go today? I mean, now, so we can get back before dark?"

  "What's the rush?"

  I cleared my throat and glanced over at Carl who was on the edge of his seat and glaring at Peter. "I really need this to be sorted out as soon as possible. I'm having some... trouble, being around him."

  "You feel like you're gonna bite me?" Peter said, his eyes too bright as he rubbed his wrists, drawing my attention to the small crosses tattooed on them. I wondered if it was a form of protection but pretended not to notice.

  I shook my head. "Nah. Just him. Guess he must taste nicer than you or something."

  Peter wrinkled his nose in disdain. I almost felt bad for freaking him out.

  I remembered my manners and decided I should at least attempt to be hospitable, now that he was helping us. "Want some food? It's just leftovers."

  "No, thanks. I'll just sit and wait until you're both ready."

  He sat on the sofa next to Carl and tried to make small talk with him. Carl was not in a forgiving mood. I couldn't help smiling to myself as he rebuked any attempts at conversation. Not that he was able for a discussion now he was pretty much mind controlled by me.

  I crossed the room to get some milk out of the fridge and drank until I felt full. I had always turned to milk as a replacement for blood. Peter kept watching me until I was so nervous that I spilled some. Cleaning up, I willed my hands to stop shaking. I had to trust Peter, but I couldn't help wondering if I was about to run into a trap. I could only hope for the best. I wiped the counter in fourteen strokes. My normal routine helped me calm down.

  "You two ready to go?" I asked, as soon as I felt less rattled.

  They both stood, Carl towering above Peter. Even as my thirst-driven instincts screamed out for Carl, I couldn't help focusing on Peter instead. Apart from the punch he had given me, I was pretty sure he was my type. If I allowed myself to have a type, that is. He had nice lips too, but little reminders of another man with nice lips stopped me from staring at Peter too much. The ache in my jaw helped.

  "Okay, let's go see the wizard," I mumbled under my breath.