Book Read Free

The Thirst Within

Page 14

by Johi Jenkins


  “For me it’s not normal, but it’s not rare either. For the most part there’s always something to hear or get off somebody’s head. The ones whose minds I can’t read are the exceptions,” he says, and looks at me as if trying to figure out whether he’s spotted a unicorn.

  I smile at him. I like that he can’t read my mind.

  We move outside and he takes me to his garage. The entrance is on the first floor, through the courtyard. As we pass the hot tub downstairs I dream of putting some of the satiny oil Thierry used in my bath in it, and of dipping in… with him. Warmth spreads over my body, and then I remember he won’t even kiss me. Why?

  We’re walking through the door right below his room balcony and into his garage, and I wonder, when I’m not here, does he just jump out his balcony to reach his car? Possibly.

  Inside the garage he opens his car passenger door for me, and after I’m seated he walks around at regular speed to his side, which disappoints me a little. I want to see some preternatural speed. When he moved me to his bedroom from the roof, that was the first time that I truly experienced the supernatural, and I want to experience it again. But no, he walks like a human would. Once inside he presses a button in his car and the garage door opposite of the entrance we came in rumbles to life.

  On the way to my house I think back about what he originally said about the Harrises.

  “So what did you mean, the Harrises care about me?”

  “They like you more than they let on,” he repeats.

  “You can’t tell me that June likes me. She’s so mean. I got the smallest room and a hand-me-down bed and covers. I know my uncle wouldn’t do that on purpose; it’s her going out of her way to be evil.”

  “Oh, trust me, I know. I’ve had to refrain a few times from showing her the error of her ways. But lately, now that you’ve been with them for a month and a half, she’s now tired of antagonizing you, and can now see you for what you are. You don’t yell at her like your cousins do. You don’t constantly harass her for money. And you stay out of trouble. Or so she thinks.”

  “Oh. That’s interesting to know. I’ll make sure to stay out of her way and keep working so that I never have to ask for a penny. What about Uncle Roland and Fiona?”

  “Those two I wouldn’t even have to read their minds. I can tell by observation. Fiona wants to be like you, orphan and all. And your uncle really wants you to be part of the family. I can tell when he talks to you.”

  I smile. “No way.”

  “They do,” he insists.

  “So how do you know all of this? What, you’ve observed me at home?”

  “Um. Yes. For a little while after I’ve brought you back this week. I just listen in. I make sure you come in alright and that no one gives you a hard time for me driving you, which they don’t. I quickly realized it’s because they don’t know that I’m bringing you home every night.”

  “And they’re okay not knowing.”

  “As the lady wishes,” he says with a slight bow.

  “What about Jack? Is there anything interesting at all I should know about him?”

  “Jack… yeah. I’m keeping an eye on him in case he turns psycho as he grows older. He’s a little introverted, but he’s not yet seven. He may grow out of it. I think his mother’s to blame, though. She’s always hovering. He wants her to leave him alone.”

  “I thought he hated anyone.”

  “No, he just doesn’t like her. If you talked to him, you might like him.”

  Total insight into my family. This is surreal. Vampires are surreal.

  “Thanks for the info,” I say.

  “Anytime.”

  Later, after he has dropped me off at home and I notice that, indeed, June hasn’t been her usual bitchy self, I smile to myself. I try yelling in my mind. I love you Thierry! And wonder if he can hear if I yell loud enough.

  As I get ready to pass out on my own bed, for some reason I move to the window and pull the curtain off to the side, something I never do. And there he is, across the lawn by the side road. Thierry bows. Then he disappears.

  I get under the covers and smile. There’s nothing else to discuss with my brain. I’m in love with Thierry, and I don’t care that he’s a vampire. In fact, now we can be even closer, since he doesn’t have to protect his secret from me anymore.

  I smile in the darkness. My newfound friends, silence and sleep, claim me once more.

  15. Inhuman

  “What did Corben say?” I ask Thierry the next day. It’s Monday and I’ve just finished my shift at the theater. John was there, and he kept having to rouse me from my daydreaming. Andrea was not pleased, but I told her I was distracted because my boyfriend turned out to be totally different than I expected. She was sympathetic and left me to my musings.

  “What do you mean?” Thierry asks presently.

  “Last night you said you had to call him; so what did he say?”

  “Oh, nothing,” he says. “He has no problem with you knowing. I knew he’d be okay; I mean, he wouldn’t order the vampire mafia on you—no, there’s no vampire mafia”—he adds when I make a surprised face—“I just had to tell him to keep him in the loop.”

  “I see.” I’m terrified of Corben. His name equals misery to me. I just got Thierry back a week ago, and now I know his secret; I don’t want him to leave me again because his brother-slash-maker doesn’t like me.

  Thierry is taking me to dinner, which he claims he’s wanted to do all week, but didn’t, because I would have grown suspicious if he didn’t eat in front of me. Now that I know about his special diet, he feels more relaxed, and free to do things with me he never did before. Like dinner. This part of knowing I like. Also, knowing itself. It’s a huge relief to finally know what the hell was his big secret deal with his brother.

  However, I don’t like the not kissing part. He hasn’t kissed me since I found out he was a vampire. Not that we used to kiss all the time, but at least once per day I’d get a lingering, belly-melting smooch that would make me feel like I was finally doing life right. But that hasn’t happened since last Friday night. Almost three days. I’m counting.

  We walk in and the hostess’ eyes go wide when she looks at Thierry.

  “H-hi,” she says, stammering a little. She gathers herself and tries again. “Hello. Welcome to Roma. Two?”

  “Yes, please. And may we have sit over there in that corner booth?” He asks, pointing.

  “Certainly,” she acquiesces with a huge smile. Of course. No hostess in her right mind would ever deny Thierry a request.

  We get seated next to a window, and though the table isn’t too far away from the main restaurant traffic, the fact that we’re in a corner makes us somehow secluded. The main area has a large group of people whose loud conversations afford us some privacy. I’ve never been here before, but it looks like a nice place to go on a Monday night with a vampire boyfriend. I did look up the restaurant I lied about yesterday to the renting agent Lucy, but it seemed too fancy for me. It didn’t have what I consider regular comfort food, probably on account of it being so fancy. So I chose a more low-key restaurant instead.

  I’m excited to sit with Thierry, knowing his secret, while everyone around us has no clue. I want to know everything about him, about vampires. I realize I should have brought my journal with me to take notes. I have so many questions but I can’t think of a single one right now. I roll my eyes up looking for a question in my head, but at that moment a waitress interrupts to take our drink orders.

  I order iced tea, and she looks expectantly at Thierry.

  “And for you?” I could be imagining it, but she smiles too much at him when she asks him.

  Thierry looks up at her and says, “Just a water, thanks.”

  “Great. I’ll be right back with your drinks and some breadsticks,” she says enthusiastically, and leaves.

  Thierry looks at me and smiles conspiratorially. “I’m so sorry, I already ate,” he says, pretending to be apologetic.

>   I laugh at his pretense. That reminds me of a question. “So can I ask you a question about your… lifestyle?” I ask gingerly.

  “You can ask me anything,” he replies. “But I’m going to ask you a few questions, myself.”

  Oh. I sit back, interested. What could he possibly want to know about me? “Shoot,” I offer.

  “Well, for starters, how did you get in my apartment last night?”

  I blush but grin, because while I know trespassing was a bad thing to do, I know he’s forgiven me. I mean, I’m forgiving him for being a killer, for Christ’s sake.

  “It’s a long story,” I say.

  “I’m immortal,” he replies, and I laugh again. It’s not that funny, but I’m giddy.

  So I give him a brief summary.

  “You just wanted to see my apartment while I was out,” he repeats to me when I finish.

  “Yeah. I missed you,” I say, and finally feel some shame. “First I wanted to see the front apartment, but then, I dunno, I thought I could enter your place and… sit on your couch, or something. It was only once I was in that I felt like exploring.” I don’t really go into the I-must-open-every-door part.

  He sighs, and I’m spared the reproach by the waitress, bringing our drinks and a basket of breadsticks.

  “Are you ready to order?” She looks at Thierry for an answer, but he looks at me, deflecting the question.

  I nod.

  “Ladies first,” she smiles condescendingly at me. I know she wants my boyfriend. Bitch.

  I order pasta. She turns to Thierry with what I consider an unnecessarily wide smile.

  “Nothing for me, thanks,” he says, all charming. She blinks.

  “Oh,” the poor dazzled girl says. “Okay. I’ll go put that order right in.” When she leaves, she does a little shake of her head.

  He turns back to me.

  “Did you do something to her?” I ask him.

  His expression turns all impressed; his eyes narrow and he gives me the most beautiful unbelieving smile. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you mind-control her or something?”

  “Wow, Tori,” he says, then he sits back. “Maybe I did.”

  “Aha! What else can you do?”

  “I can do a lot of things. But I’m not going to name them all; it’d be like showing off.”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” I say too eagerly.

  “Eat some bread, Tori,” he says, pushing the basket towards me.

  Fine. I grab a breadstick. “So you drink… people,” I say, lowering my voice at the end.

  “I do,” is all he says, his voice low as well.

  “Do you… have to kill your victim?” I’m surprised how hard it is to ask the question out loud, even if I’m almost whispering it.

  “No, I don’t have to.”

  “But do you, ever?”

  “If he deserves it,” he says plainly.

  Oh. I was expecting him to say No way, never. Except yesterday.

  I pretend his answer doesn’t faze me. “He?”

  “Usually a he,” he says casually, like we’re talking about people that he goes out drinking with, not people that he kills. “I rarely drink from women or children. I’m afraid I’ll kill them because they’re so fragile. But guys, I don’t mind overdrinking from some guys. I have killed people, Tori. Never forget that.”

  “I know,” I say, and look down at the bread.

  “Lots of them.”

  “But you know if they deserved it or not, because you can read their minds,” I say, strangely having to defend myself from liking him despite the fact that he’s the one that kills people. Oh God. He really kills people. How many people, and where does he stash the bodies?

  “I can’t really know if they deserve it or not, Tori. I’m a killer, myself. If I read a guy’s mind and I think he deserves to die, I don’t feel bad about killing him. But really, what gives me the right? What do I know about the consequences of killing him? I don’t usually think about these things. Sometimes I’m surprised that I value their lives so little….”

  I’m getting scared against my will. I don’t like Thierry admitting that he kills just about anyone. “What criteria do you use?” I ask slowly.

  “I kill murderers, rapists, sadists… bad people. Evildoers. But not thieves or simple jackasses from high school.”

  “Oh! Okay, so it’s not just anyone.” I relax a little.

  “Right. First of all there’s no need. Like I said, I don’t have to kill to feed. I only kill when I think I’m doing humanity a favor.”

  “If that’s the people you kill, then you are doing the rest of us a favor.”

  He shakes his head. “But if I know a guy is a murderer and I don’t kill him, then what? Should I feel guilty I didn’t kill him? I don’t have time to kill people left and right. It takes a great deal of effort to get rid of the evidence. I have to be thorough; I can’t implicate myself.”

  “Why? What do you do with the bodies?”

  He pauses for a second before answering. “If I kill a murdering thug from a bad neighborhood, I dump him in his house. No one cares. But if it’s some jerk pretending to live a normal life in a nice neighborhood, it’s a lot harder. I have to make sure to unmask him before his death is discovered; unfortunately not everyone has evidence lying around. I could just kill him and forget about it, but if I do that again in a few weeks, then the police will think innocent people are getting killed on their watch. They’ll make a case and start a search for a serial killer, and nobody wants that.”

  “A few weeks? Wait. How often do you feed?”

  He takes a slow, deliberate breath as he thinks about it. Or about how to answer me. “I feed every few days, but I only need very little blood, so I can take from random people and let them go. They don’t even know it happened.”

  “How? Do you hypnotize them?”

  “Yes, it’s a form of mind-control.”

  “And the wound?”

  He shrugs. “Disappears with a little bit of our blood.”

  “So your blood heals?”

  “No, the human body heals itself; it just heals a lot quicker using our blood.”

  I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. But anyway, back to you letting murderers roam free….”

  “Tori, I’m not some goddamn vigilante,” he says, leaning forward, speaking in hushed tones. “You just can’t kill everyone that ever raped or killed anyone. The public would go crazy thinking there’s a serial killer on the loose.”

  “Not if you show the evidence!”

  He sighs exasperatedly. “The evidence is sometimes the bones of someone they killed. What do I do then? I read his mind, figure out where he buried the body, dig it up, leave a note for the cops?”

  “Why can’t you just kill them and hide their body? Like that guy yesterday.”

  “But that takes a lot of time and effort.”

  “You did it in fifteen minutes!” I counter.

  “No, I moved his body to the trunk of my car. I buried him after I’d dropped you off.”

  I jump back a little in disbelief, making a repulsed face. “He was in the trunk when you drove me?” I whisper, and it comes out angrily.

  He leans forward again and grabs my hands. His cool touch makes me think of the dead guy in the trunk, and I shiver. “Tori, listen. Let’s take a break. This is too much at once.”

  I get anxious at the thought of taking a break. I’m afraid that he won’t continue if he stops now. “No… please. It’s fine. I’m fine. I just want to know everything at once. But I understand, really. I can see it would take you a while to do what you needed to do, if you were to do it right.”

  He sighs and looks at me like he wants to tell me I’m being childish and I’m not going to get dessert for this. “Okay,” he says. “And you’re right. I can’t spend hours arranging a perfect murder every time I get hungry. So I only drink a little bit.”

  “So you let them live because you’re lazy?” I say, almost
making fun of him.

  “You can’t blame me for being lazy,” he says, still a little annoyed, but he definitely sounds less somber.

  I don’t know if I’m relieved that he doesn’t kill as many people as I originally thought, or concerned that there are murderers out there still roaming the dark alleys of New Orleans. Which reminds me….

  “Thierry?”

  “Yes, Tori?” He so doesn’t want to go on. But I do.

  “Did you kill the two guys outside the theater the night you first saw me there? In the back alley….”

  He straightens up and looks at me. I could be wrong, but he looks embarrassed, or afraid. Or both. “Yes,” he says slowly, deliberately. “I did.”

  So it’s true. It chills my blood, because these were two guys that I saw alive once, not just guys in stories of dead people. “I knew it,” I whisper.

  “You did? What made you think I did?”

  “Well, I knew they died. I mean, that they were killed. One of the guys I work with went to their funeral. I looked up the story online and recognized the big guy. But I’m not upset,” I add quickly, because he’s looking more and more like he’s afraid of my reaction.

  “Tori…. I’ve got to tell you something. Those guys weren’t murderers or rapists. They were just punk thieves….” He’s getting more and more apprehensive at the confession. “They were planning on robbing whomever came out of there, which they had done before plenty of times. However, when they saw you, they both thought about taking you… having their way with you. They both imagined what it would be like. I didn’t like that, so I went back that night, found them, and killed them.”

  ***

  My food sits untouched in front of me. Well, not untouched; uneaten. I’ve been stabbing the penne like it killed my father.

  Thierry sits in front of me looking worried. But he doesn’t need to be. I don’t think I care about what he did.

  I remember that night in the alley. I had been so afraid. My only means of protection had been keys stashed between my knuckles. If the guy tried something, I was ready to attack him. That was, of course, before I saw there were two guys, and I realized I was in deep trouble. If Thierry hadn’t been there, and they had attacked me…. I would’ve been raped, according to him. And if they had, if during the attack some higher power had magicked a gun in my hand, I would have shot them. Of course I would have. I wouldn’t have said, “Leave me alone; I have a gun.” I would’ve shot those two assholes in the head, multiple times, until they were dead.

 

‹ Prev