Requiem for Blood

by Alexandra Hope

  “Yes, clearly you're entitled to be an idiot.”

  Olivia had slipped away while they went back and forth. The kitchen was spotless, white walls meeting the white tile above the counters. Everything was white, even the appliances and the countertops and the lack of contrast almost burned her eyes as she walked through it. She couldn't help but be taken back to the moment she splattered blood all over the walls, her sister lying quietly against them, and the anger in Troy's eyes when he tossed her away. She shook her head in an effort to throw the thoughts away but they were hard to escape. When she pulled the refrigerator door open, a bottle of dark red liquid was the only thing in the there. Pulling off the top and smelling it, she frowned at the scent but took it with her anyway. When she returned to the living room, she caught the tail end of their conversation.

  “I'm having a hard time....believing you want me to live...when you did this to me.”

  “Oxymoron, right?”

  Olivia was at Troy's side, shoving the plastic bottle in his face. “Here.”

  He pushed it away, “I told you, I don't want--”

  “It's cranberry juice,” she said. “I think.”

  He took the bottle from her, and forcing himself upright, he took a few sips of the liquid, wincing at the tang.

  “I don't know if cranberry juice expires,” she admitted.

  Troy tilted his head back, and let the cold liquid flow down his esophagus, not stopping until he had downed the whole drink. Immediately after, a tightness formed in his stomach and he wanted to spit it back up but managed to keep it down. He licked the excess liquid from his lips and turned on his stomach, tossing the bottle to the ground. He let out a moan and then there was silence.

  “I knew it,” said Erika. “You did want to kill him.”

  “I didn't poison the drink,” she replied.

  Erika poked and prodded at Troy, but he didn't react to her touch. It was when Olivia lay a hand to his shoulder that he shot up, his hand gripping her wrist tightly. His wounds were healing before their eyes and every ounce of energy had returned to him as his grip grew tighter on her wrist. She didn't wince because the pain was hardly as bad as it was when she was a frail human.

  “I told you, I didn't want your blood!”

  “Ah,” said Erika, rising to her feet, a finger tip at her chin. “Laced the cranberry juice with blood? Brilliant.”

  “It's not brilliant!” he yelled. “There's nothing brilliant about being force fed the blood of the vampire, who, hey, happened to have killed my girlfriend!”

  “Not even a teensy bit brilliant?” she asked, pinching her fingers together.

  “You're ridiculous!” he shouted. He directed his attention back to Olivia, “If you knew your blood could save someone from death, why didn't you use it on Alexa? Why didn't you save her?”

  He threw her arm away and stood up. “You didn't care enough to save your sister!”

  The words had cut her deeply but she remained resolute, quietly staring into his eyes. He berated her some more and she took the blunt of the verbal attack as it poured on her. When he had finally finished, she debated on whether to speak up but in the end she turned away silently.

  He fell back in the chair, physically rejuvenated but emotionally drained, his throat on fire. He forced saliva down his throat in an attempt to cool it down but was unsuccessful. Erika stood over him and he shot her a glare that she cheerfully ignored. “That was quite a scene.”

  “Get out,” he moaned as he said the words.

  “I thought you would want this,” she pulled her palms apart and a blue light filled the void. She stepped back, making space for the light to grow bigger and then it vanished, leaving Alexa sprawled on the floor. His eyes widened at the sight of her and he jumped down from the couch and was at her side, touching her, the warm back of his hands against her icy skin. It felt real enough, but he just couldn't understand how. He looked up at Erika.

  “I told you my promises are worth something. Now you can stand over her and brood or whatever it is eighteen year old boys do,” she said, waving her hand off. “Just keep the vampire here until I feel like retrieving her.”

  Just seeing Alexa's face had oddly brightened Troy's mood. It wouldn't bring her back from the dead, but it comforted him the way the picture of his mother had done when he was a child. He picked her up and brought her to the casket and closed it then he turned to Erika.

  “You just want me to keep her here?”

  “That's all.”

  “And what if she wants to go home?”

  “Use your powers of lady slaying,” said Erika. “Speaking of vampires, and wanting to go home, where did little Olivia run off to?”

  “I have not run off,” said a voice from the kitchen.

  Troy and Erika were in there as soon as she had spoken. Olivia was sitting at the table, looking so natural as if she had always belonged there. Or maybe it was just the fact that she blended in so well with the white of the kitchen, he determined.

  “You have my sister?”

  When he didn't respond, she nodded slowly. “I don't want....I couldn't look at her...” she had trouble finding the words, “It is nice to know that someone looked after her in her death. You have my gratitude.”

  “I don't want your—” Troy began.

  Olivia's eyes were focused on Erika and she continued as if he had never said anything. “For preserving my sister's body, I owe you. I'll stay wherever you like me to stay so long as the human doesn't try to permanently kill me.” She didn't know if the girl had known how selfish her decision was. Olivia couldn't care less about Troy, but she figured hanging around a woman who knew as much about vampires as she did could help her figure out her mother's plan. She didn't wanted to thwart it, she would never challenge the Matriarch but she knew it would be nice to learn more about it without having to ask her.

  “That's great,” exclaimed Erika. “Because Troy's contractually obliged not to kill you.”

  He turned to her, confused.

  “Oh, anything you say to me legally binds you and to break it,” she pressed her finger tips together nervously, “means instant death. OK, lovely conversation,” she clapped her hands together, “you two have a nice day and I'll be off.”

  “Wait!” he shouted. “What are you talking about?”

  Erika sighed and took a few steps backwards then turned back to him. “Your dad must have not mentioned it but there's a reason your mother left and has never come back Troy. In our existence, a kitsune is bound by his or her words, likewise, any promise you make to a kitsune has to be kept or the mystic Gods or whatever governs us, will kill you,” her words came out of her mouth so quick he had to back track. “Someone told her to leave you and it's the same reason you need to keep that one safe.”

  Thirteen

  Alexa filled out her two piece, a blue plaid ruffled halter top and matching bikini bottom, her waist curved in sharply and her hips rounded outward into the perfect hourglass figure. Her skin was glowing a soft golden color as she shied away from someone, chuckling as they tried to touch her. Waves rushed onto the shore, grabbing at their ankles where a blue colored bird was embedded into her skin but they just stood there, unmoving. A girl waved to her from the water, signaling for her to come but she shook her head, shouting playfully, “You know I can't swim!”

  A voice whispered in her ear, “Go on, I'll always be here to rescue you.”

  He traced his soft lips across her earlobe and down her neck, planting barely there kisses along it. His hands were planted firmly on her shoulders as he stood behind her, “Or we could ditch the beach and go get some food or....” he trailed off.

  “Well I'm not ready to leave just yet, so I guess I'll go in,” she said and turned back to kiss his cheek. She walked into the water, briefly turning back to wave to him. Troy waved back then headed to the ledge behind him that separated the beach from the boardwalk. He pressed his palms against the concrete ledge and swung his legs over swiftly.
Alexa couldn't help but be amazed every time he took off like that, something about the way he moved seemed to keep everyone interested. He swung his arms back and sprung himself forward onto another ledge then jumped down and took off down the busy street. He couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he darted through the streets and came to an office building and scrambled up the short wall, eyes watching him in wonderment. He threw himself off the roof and onto the ledge of another, grasping onto it as he kicked his feet against the wall. Unable to scale the wall, he slid to the ground, in an alley between the building and then continued his run. He made it to Fabrizio's before they closed for the midday, but was still met with groans from the restaurant staff for coming in. Fabrizio knew Troy, he was the son of David, the man who invested in the restaurant and gave him his American dream, so he was never too hard on Troy. When he got his food, he thanked them and was off.

  He was back at the beach just as Alexa emerged from the water, her long, brown hair soaked. She twisted it around several times and wrung out the water as she laughed with her friend who was shaking the water out of her shrunken coils. Alexa looked so happy, so alive. Troy jogged over to the two who sat down in the warm sand next to some other teenagers who were setting up a volleyball net. He pulled out a Styrofoam box, the contents burning his finger tips and peeled back the lid. “Ta-da,” he said as he showed her the food.

  “You ran all the way to Fabrizio's? For moi?” she asked, coy.

  “Of course,” he said and leaned forward to kiss her.

  “And none for me?” asked her friend.

  He had a sheepish grin when he shrugged, “Yes, of course I have something for you Devin.”

  The girl smiled, thanking him as she grabbed her box and hastily dug into her Pesto Gnocchi. Devin's eyes widened and she sunk back as if experiencing euphoria. “Fabrizio is a genius!”

  “Yeah, he does have the best food,” Alexa added, spooning some pasta into her mouth. She turned to Troy, “You didn't have to get it for me. I could've waited.”

  “It's fine Alexa. It takes me a quarter of as long as it would take a regular person to get from here to there. So,” he said. “I'm good.”

  “You're so reckless. Reminds me of someone...”

  Troy looked up from his food. “Was he cuter than me?” he asked then smiled, sticking his index finger into his sole dimple.

  “He was a she.”

  “Was she cuter than me?”

  “She had blue eyes, sorta like yours...and blonde hair too. I guess you could say, she was your evil twin.”

  Felicity?

  Olivia wasn't aware of the scene before her. Her eyes rapidly moving against the backs of her lids in her sleep. Her sister looked different, she truly did look happy. And so alive.

  Alexa cheered up quickly, throwing the thoughts away. She scooped up some pasta sauce with her finger and dabbed it onto Troy's nose playfully. “Now you're the most adorable thing here.”

  Troy could hear the jeers of his classmates but as Olivia's eyes settled on them, they faded away, like ripples in a pool.

  Before her now was another scene, still unfamiliar yet somewhat familiar as she recognized her sister once again. It seemed like the backdrop to a depressing teenage romance film about never giving up on your first love, something Alexa would have loved and watched over and over again. And there she was, sitting in it as if she owned the scene. Alexa looked different from the previous one, much like she remembered her. She had to be seventeen now. She was tugging at some of the grass growing between the sand, sprinkling it through her fingers as a boy rolled across the boardwalk on his skateboard. His thin legs were stuffed into skinny jeans and he wore a hastily thrown on white dress shirt and navy blue blazer, his school emblem emblazoned on it He did an ollie over a rock but didn't see the second one, and tripped over it. Alexa flipped her head back, her thin and stringy hair whipping over her shoulder as she turned to see the boy falling over his skateboard. He cursed to himself, gripping the board angrily, and then caught her intrigued glance. She was frail, so small that her bones threatened to falter under the blow of the evening wind. The sky was a dark blue as clouds gathered in it and the sound of trees rustling grew louder. There was a familiar scent of rain as they stared, quietly taking each other in. As if being drawn to her, Troy walked to the girl and waved, a friendly gesture she didn't reciprocate as she eyed him suspiciously.

  He started with a simple 'hi', noting that girls liked it when you were straight forward and not creepy. She eventually lightened her mood after he rambled on about himself. As he poured his self-deprecation on her, she opened up to him as if she felt sorry for his bleak outlook. “Why do you hate yourself so much Troy?”

  He had forgotten that he told her his name and his eyes widened when it came off her tongue so naturally. He smiled. It was nice to have a girl even say his name without it being followed by you suck or obscenities he didn't want to repeat or even think about.

  “Did you get a good look at me?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting upward.

  “It's not about how you look,” she replied. “I mean, look at me. I'm no more better off than you but I don't hate myself.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, mulling over her words.

  She continued, “Who cares what those idiots at your school think, just be you.”

  The words made sense and it was something that he always strove to do, but in the realm of high school it wasn't so easy. He shook his head, ruffling his hair as another smile crept upon his face, this one unintentional. There was a rumble of thunder as the sky grew darker. “We should get out of this weather, it's looking pretty bad,” he said, looking up.

  She nodded but didn't get up, her eyes still watching the waves intently.

  “It was nice to meet you Troy.”

  He stood up and waited for her to get up, eventually gesturing to her with an outstretched arm. Alexa shook her head, a soft smile on her face. “I'm going to stay here.”

  “But it's about to rain.”

  “Well, I'm not going to melt.”

  He felt the urge to sit back down but there was a buzz in his pants pocket he had to attend to. He flipped open the cellphone after retrieving it from his pocket, “Yeah? Hey dad. I'm right outside...well not, right outside, but I'm really close....yeah, I'm coming up around the corner right now. OK, I have to get off the phone. Why? Cause you're running up my minutes dad...OK, bye.”

  Troy stuffed the phone back in his pocket, slightly embarrassed by his dad's incessant need to worry and treat him like a child, despite being sixteen. “Dads,” he muttered. “You know how they are...”

  “I don't actually,” she said so quietly that he had to repeat the words again in his head.

  “Oh,” said Troy. “Sorry.”

  “He's not dead,” she offered up to ease the awkwardness. “Just gone.”

  Troy ended up talking with her for another twenty minutes and finally left when his cellphone went off again, but not before asking her name and where she went to school. She remained quiet, looking uncomfortable for the first time. “You have to love yourself Troy.”

  He was taken aback by her words, which he didn't expect and when he opened his mouth to speak, she continued. “I'll tell you my name then...”

  “OK! I'll hold you to it!” he shouted back as he took off on his skateboard.

  And then it all faded to black.

  Olivia jumped up from the floor, the covers to the side of her and took an unnecessary breath as her chest heaved up and down, reeling from her dream. Her arms were stretched forward, her fingers clenching into a fist as she fought to bring the images back. The room was dark and heavy sheets were tacked to the wall, covering the blinds. In the corner of the room, she saw a figure perched against the wall, arms folded over his knees and his chin resting on top of them. His eyes went from soft and longing to baleful as he focused on her, even in the darkness. She knew he could see her as well as she could see him, since she was now half of what he was and in fac
t, inherited his powers. It had been like that for the past five nights, strange dreams of her sister and Troy, intimate thoughts as if someone were recalling a memory of the two. Erika stopped by on the second night to drop several barrels of blood off, but remained tight lipped on her plan, which Troy got increasingly agitated with.

  He stood up and walked to the window and ripped the sheet from the wall. Olivia tucked her face away, her arm shielding it from the light. But it didn't come. She turned to see light streaming through the folds of the blinds, stripes of white light running across Troy's face. Night had fallen, but she didn't realize it, expecting it to still be day time. She knew the dreams were getting to her, causing her to lose sleep and drain her of her energy. Troy remained quiet as he stared down at her and under his gaze, she didn't move an inch. Ringing broke their silence and he pulled the phone out of his pocket.

  “Hello?” he said into it, his voice hoarse. “Slow down Kristin...are you serious?” he asked as his voice fell into a whisper. “But I thought....” he choked on his words, “I'm so sorry...I'm really...” he said as he eyed Olivia.

  He was on the brink of tears by the time he had gotten off the phone but all traces of sadness were burned by anger as his eyes bore into her. His hand was curled into a fist, shaking at his side and it took all of his strength to keep from irrationally lunging at her with the intent of killing. He knew it was almost impossible for her to not be the monster that he believed her to be but had to question before he could act. “How many people have you killed?”

  “I don't keep a list,” she said and Felicity briefly came to mind.

  “In all your killings,” his chest heaved up and down as his heart beat sporadically, “did you kill a man named Vic?”

  Vic Pulaski. Images of the man scrolled through her mind but her face remained stoic. She felt something inside of her but not enough to change her unmoving face.

  “Did you kill him or not!? Brown hair, kinda round....does it paint a picture?” he shouted. When she refused to speak he continued, “You know I can't kill you so would you just....” his voice wavered, “tell me if you killed him. His wife was hysterical after the police found what little of his body was left. You owe him—”