Thirst (Ava Delaney #1)

by Claire Farrell

  Chapter Five

  The first thing I did when I woke the next morning was to reach for the chain around my neck to make sure the cross was still there. As soon as my fingers touched it, a sense of security eased the tension in my muscles. For the first time since Carl showed up, I felt really relaxed in bed and ended up dozing off again. A loud knock on my bedroom door a while later woke me properly.

  Bleary eyed, I practically fell out of bed trying to see what was going on. Peter stood outside my bedroom door, eyeing me with a smug grin.

  "Thought you wanted to be early?" he said, clearly delighted he caught me unawares.

  "Shut up," I croaked as I shoved past him. "Lemme shower. Put on the kettle."

  "Face is better I see," he called after me.

  I checked in the bathroom mirror and sure enough my face was almost totally healed. A shadow of a bruise remained, but it was so light that a touch of concealer would cover it.

  "Who is that guy?" I muttered, wondering what else Eddie could come up with.

  I took a quick shower before heading into the kitchen. Peter and Carl were both sitting on the sofa eating sloppy breakfast rolls in silence.

  "One on the counter for you," Peter said, his mouth full.

  I glared at him suspiciously, but he seemed in good form, so I figured it was worth trying out the food. I was pretty hungry, even with the chain around my neck. The food looked greasy but tasted delicious. Peter raised an eyebrow as I wolfed it down.

  "Quick metabolism," I told him, my cheeks heating up. I had always had a huge appetite. When I was a kid, my grandmother went through a phase of trying to starve the demon out of me. It didn't work. I got so hungry that I bit a kid in school. My fangs hadn't grown yet, but it scared her, and she went back to feeding me properly.

  "Why you here so early, anyhow?" I asked Peter after a few minutes, breaking the awkward silence.

  Peter crushed the greasy wrapper from his food and stood to throw it into the bin.

  "Figured we need some sort of plan before we go storming vampire bars," he replied.

  "So how are we working the bar?"

  He sat back down next to Carl, who had fallen asleep again.

  "Think he's okay?" Peter asked in concern.

  I shrugged. "Can't be great. He nods off a lot. I sort of ordered him to take care of his needs, didn't mean it quite like this."

  To my surprise, Peter laughed out loud. "What?" I asked.

  "If he starts taking care of all of his needs in public, I'm holding you responsible," he said, waiting for me to catch on.

  My cheeks burned with embarrassment as it dawned on me what kind of needs he was talking about. Peter laughed heartily again at my expression.

  "Don't be twelve," I said, trying to look serious.

  "Okay, okay," he said, making an attempt at sobering up. "So, he does whatever you tell him?"

  "Just about," I said.

  "I wonder if he understands what's going on. Must be awful to have no say in anything you do." Peter grimaced in disgust. Then he caught my stare, and a glimmer of regret flashed across his face.

  "So, yeah, the bar," he said. "I know a girl who works there. Where did you find Carl?"

  "An alleyway off Herbert Street." I could never forget that detail.

  "We can ask her who hunts there. It would help if you can describe the vamp."

  "That's it? We ask some girl and go home?" I said, unconvinced that counted as a plan.

  "Pretty much. If we let it be known we're looking for him then he might not be as pissed off at us when we confront him," Peter said.

  "Seriously, is that all we're doing? Doesn't seem like much of an effort. I mean, she might not even know who we're on about." It sounded like he was looking for an easy, happy ending. I couldn't see that happening. Not with my luck.

  "Who knows? It's possible she might not know who we're talking about, 'cept this chick knows everyone."

  "Can she be trusted?" I didn't like the sound of a human who knew so much about vampires.

  "Nah." Peter relaxed; talking about things he knew for certain seemed to make him more comfortable around me. "She works with vampires and lives; she's gotta be up to something dodgy somewhere. She's no worse than anyone else, but she's a little too fond of vamps, if you know what I mean."

  I didn't. "Don't you trust anyone?"

  "Not even for a second."

  I shivered at the cold glint in his eye. I was supposed to be the monster, but Peter was scarily black and white. "What happened to you?" I blurted out, unable to help myself.

  He cleared his throat and stood up abruptly. "Wake up sleepyhead over there, and let's get going. I want to catch Becca when she opens the bar."

  That was it. Conversation over. Even on the way to the bar, Peter was deadly silent. It was across town, so we got a taxi. He decided he had to sit in the back, squashing me between himself and Carl. It was awkward, packed up that tightly with two men, particularly after being alone for so long.

  Now that the thirst itself was subdued, thanks to the cross Eddie had given me, other unwanted feelings came to the surface. Even the pressure from Peter's leg against mine made my entire body heat up. By the time we got out of the taxi, I was practically having hot flushes.

  A flood of traumatic memories hit me when I took in our surroundings. It had been a long time, but I had been there before. A fancy restaurant stood across the street, but I knew it had once been a small community hall. One frequented by a so-called cleanser who had encouraged my grandmother to let him beat the devil out of me. I hugged my arms close to me, trying to block out the past.

  "You know that place?" Peter asked when he noticed me staring.

  "Once upon a time. When it was something else."

  I couldn't take my eyes off the restaurant, but all I saw was my grandmother telling a strange man I had a demon in me. I begged her not to leave me with him, even then I could smell the badness coming from him, but she pushed me aside and walked away-even as I called her name.

  Carl linked my arm, distilling the memory and giving me an excuse to look away from a place that had haunted my early teens. As if he knew I needed reassurance, he smiled down at me, his eyes clear and focused for a change. I smiled back automatically, wondering when I had started looking people in the eye again. Peter caught my attention as if he wanted to say something but shrugged instead and led us to a decrepit looking building at the end of the street.

  "Doesn't look like a bar to me," I remarked.

  "It can't, or else every human in the area would be in there, plus all the under-aged kids. Nightmare. The only ones who are welcome are vamps and their volunteers, but Becca knows me, so we'll be okay as long as we don't start anything."

  I grimaced at the term volunteers. I might thirst after a bit of blood now and then, but the thought of regularly taking advantage of people like Carl made me feel ill.

  "The real entrance is down that side street," Peter continued, pointing ahead. "Let's go, and let me do the talking. I'm not exactly popular around here, but they'll listen to me. Keep the giant quiet."

  I took a tight hold of Carl's arm and followed Peter around a laneway that led to what should have been the back of the so-called bar. It smelled rank and was covered in colourful graffiti. I lingered behind, full of nerves, but Peter strode ahead with confidence. I couldn't help but watch him admiringly. I was sure he had once been charming, and I wondered what had happened to make him so cold.

  A short blonde exited a doorway and threw a black sack into one of the bins ahead of us. Peter headed directly to her, and I guessed she was the infamous Becca. She had the body of a teenager, but when she turned, I was shocked to see that her face hadn't aged nearly as well.

  "Hey, Petey," she squealed in a little girl's voice. "Haven't seen you for a while. Where you been?"

  She hugged him tightly, fitting easily under his chin. Glancing at Carl and me, she sent a dar
k look my way. I tensed up-she didn't smell entirely human.

  "How are you, Becca?" Peter asked.

  "I'm as fine as always, can't you see?" She giggled loudly at her own joke. I gripped Carl's arm tight, all of my instincts warning me to be cautious. Carl's body had tensed too, which only heightened my own wariness.

  "Of course I can, hot stuff. Listen, I need a favour," Peter told her. I hadn't seen this side of Peter before and wondered how sincere he was being.

  "Oh, yeah? Wanna come in and have a quick one? A drink, I mean," she said, her eyelashes fluttering like mad.

  "Yeah, I'm thirsty as hell. Listen, this is Ava and Carl. Okay if they join us?"

  Becca looked us over, her mouth widening into a smile that never reached her lips. "Double date? No problem. Come on, before the cleaners get here."

  We followed her through a small door that led into a huge dark room. As my sight adjusted, I saw the walls were all dark wood panelling. The air was filled with must and dust, and the faint scent of blood-cleaned up blood. I shuddered and let Carl pull me toward the bar. Becca gave Peter a shot without asking before turning to Carl and me.

  "What can I get you two lovebirds?"

  "Uh, just juice for us," I said. "Please," I added, trying to smile sweetly. Her quizzical look convinced me I'd failed miserably.

  "So," she said as she poured a drink for me-completely ignoring Carl, as if she knew he wasn't all there. "What can I do for you today?"

  "We're looking for information on a vamp who hunts Herbert Street. You got any idea who's over there?" Peter asked.

  She bit her lip and looked thoughtful. I was certain she knew exactly who he meant, but Peter waited patiently while she pretended to think really hard.

  "I'd say that would have to be one of Max's boys. I think that's his territory. What do you want with one of them?" Her tone was breezy, but her body had tensed up, which made me suspicious. Her eyes drifted to mine and narrowed briefly.

  "Ah, that's complicated. I need to ask him something is all. Nothing major, no hassle. Any way I could find out who exactly I'm looking for?"

  "With no name? He'd have to be a regular here," she said with a sly smile.

  She was obviously stalling, which irritated me, so I butted in, hoping to annoy her into talking properly.

  "He's small, very thin, kinda pretty with chin-length dark hair. A little scruffy, looks like he could use a good meal. Ring any bells?"

  She glared at me, and the look in her eyes grew so intense that her irises seemed to darken and change before me. When she spoke again, her voice suddenly sounded a lot more grownup. "That could be anyone," she snapped. Turning back to Peter, she smiled. "But it might be Arthur; he's been in talking about a redhead he saw. She the one?" Her eyes turned greedy, and my stomach flipped over with worry.

  "Could be," Peter said with a shrug. "Any chance you could let Arthur know we need a favour from him? We'll be back around, once the place fills up a bit."

  "Of course, darling, anything for you. I'll let Arthur know all about you. As long as you aren't going to bother Max," Becca said, reaching out and placing her hand on Peter's arm.

  "Nah, it's nothing to do with Maximus. No need to get him involved," Peter said, stretching languidly away from Becca's touch. He seemed relaxed, but I could hear his heart beat racing. "We only need Arthur for ten minutes, tops."

  "Well, you take care of him, okay? I don't need Max to get angry and take it out on me." She gave a knowing laugh and touched her neck. It was covered with a scarf. I really didn't want to know what was under that scarf.

  "Don't worry, Bec. I'll make sure you're safe."

  "Oh, I don't want to be safe, darling. You know that." Her eyes darkened again until I was sure they glinted red. She gave Carl a hungry look, and I sincerely hoped I didn't stare at him like that. She focused on me again, and I involuntarily leaned backward, wanting to get out of the filthy pub and away from the freaky bartender.

  "Thanks a lot, Becca. Take care of yourself. We'll be back later, so don't forget to let Arthur know." He smiled at her, but as soon as he turned away, his face tightened, and he gestured toward the door.

  Becca waved us off and got back to work but gave me one last filthy look as we left. I gulped in fresh air outside, more than relieved to be out of that place.

  "What the hell is she?" I hissed at Peter.

  He gave me a condescending look. "You're one to talk."

  I felt a little jab of hurt at being compared to Becca, and then anger that I still hadn't proved myself in his eyes. Seeing my irritation, he carried on. "Okay, she's half gone. She was obsessed with being young and somehow persuaded an old vampire to try and change her. It didn't work, obviously. Looks like they're still trying."

  "How do you know all this?"

  "I ask."

  "Okay, fine. So she wants to be young or whatever. But what does the vampire get out of it? I mean, I know he gets her blood, but he also has to give his, right?"

  Peter cocked his head to the side. "That isn't how it happens," he said slowly. "Vampires were only ever created through the poison in their saliva and fangs. They don't need to exchange blood to do it."

  I nodded, feeling stupid. The books I'd read had said a blood exchange was necessary to create a vampire.

  He looked at me, eyes full of curiosity. I waited for him to question me, but he let it go.

  "She's a volunteer. The vamp does it to keep her on side. If they do it regularly enough then she manages to carry some of the vampire poison in her body. It affects some parts of her and not others. You understand?"

  "Eh, no."

  "Look," Peter said, his tone impatient. "She's still human, obviously, but she's kept enough of the poison in her system to keep her body young, that's all. Vampires leave her alone because she's a volunteer. Her vamp likes having some guarantees around when he wants a quick snack. Plus, a volunteer lasts a lot longer than someone who's been enthralled. Or so I've been told."

  We both looked at Carl, who was shuffling his feet and lagging behind us, then exchanged worried glances.

  "All of this vampire stuff is too complicated for words." I was way out of my league and tired of having to have everything explained to me.

  Peter raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't you know more about it than me?"

  He still thought of me as a real vampire. Maybe a stupid one. I wasn't interested in filling him in, so I avoided the question.

  "Anyway, do you think she was telling the truth? About this Arthur vampire, I mean. Is it him and will she tell him?"

  "I reckon she thinks it's him, but whether she tells him or not... well, your guess is as good as mine. Becca does what works for her, and she's careful. That's why she's still alive. She didn't like you, by the way."

  "Yeah, there's a lot of that going around. I had a feeling she knew about me, like she was expecting me."

  Peter rubbed the cross on his wrist as he considered this. "Maybe. There's no telling with her. She's different when the poison is fresh in her system."

  "And did you see the way she looked at Carl?"

  Peter nodded. "Like he was dinner. She completely ignored him apart from that. I suppose she's used to entranced humans in her bar."

  I didn't want to see that woman down any dark alleyways, but I decided it was something best left to myself. I was unwilling to let Peter know I was a coward.

  "By the way, kinda pretty?" he said as we queued up at a taxi rank, raising his eyebrows quizzically. It took me a minute to realise he was referring to my description of Arthur.

  "Oh, shut up. I just meant he isn't as wretched looking as most vamps I've seen."

  I couldn't get a read from his expression, but I knew he had to be wondering about me. It was pretty obvious I was something very different to the creatures he was used to.

  "So, what next, we come back after dark?" I said, changing the subject.

&nb
sp; "Probably. You can see if you recognise your witness. Who knows? Maybe he'll approach us first."

  We got a taxi back to my place because it was well protected, although Peter informed me that most of the charms and spells I had purchased were junk made to rip people off.

  "I'm not exactly up on the latest witchcraft," I told him, feeling defensive as he tutted at yet another useless talisman.

  "Where on earth did you get all of this junk?"

  "Online." He gave me a 'you've got to be kidding me' look. "Really," I insisted. "I buy and sell things online, that's how I make money. Sometimes I come across this kind of thing, and I keep it instead of selling it on."

  "So, what, you're a vamp who makes her living on eBay? Now I've seen everything."

  I couldn't help blushing; I knew I made a pretty naff vampire. He wandered around the flat, immediately picking out all of the hidden talismans.

  "How do you know where they're hidden?" I said, cross he was so comfortable in my home when I was on the edge of my seat in his presence.

  "That's part of my job. Finding things. God, this really is crap," he scorned, picking up an alleged ancient artefact. "I'll have to recommend a few merchants to you. Although I admit the stuff that actually works is pretty good. Maybe Eddie would sell you a couple of things."

  I fingered the cross around my neck, possessive despite knowing it wasn't mine to keep. "I don't know whether to trust him or not."

  "Me either. But I've never known him to harm an innocent."

  "Guess I should stay innocent then," I said, before realising what it sounded like. My face grew hot. Peter moved away from me, looking as awkward as I felt, and continued his assessment of my protection spells. I was technically borderline innocent, but he really didn't need to know that. The more time I spent with Peter, the more of my naivety I accidentally revealed.