Sucks to Be Me

by Painter, Kristen

  Claudette vanished. “Isn’t there?”

  Donna gasped and turned. Claudette was behind her now. “How did you do that?”

  “I am a very old vampire. My abilities are vast. Yours will develop over time as well. Your senses have already begun to heighten, as has the increase in your speed and strength, and you may develop a few other gifts as time passes.” She shrugged, still looking very much like they were having a conversation about the weather. “Also, you now heal with great speed. Some of these things you have already noticed.”

  Donna wanted none of this. She just wanted to be left alone to live her life. “None of this is real. You need to leave.”

  “It’s real all right,” Claudette said. “But you must still complete the transition. And soon. Your hunger, which I am sure you are feeling, based on the steaks in that bag, will only get worse until you do. Let it go too long, and you will lose your control.” Her eyes narrowed. “Bad things happen when vampires lose control.”

  Donna shoved past Claudette and went into the kitchen, flipping the light on, then dropping the bag of steaks on the counter. She turned, half expecting the woman to be gone. Hoping, actually.

  She wasn’t.

  Donna stared at her. Claudette was even more beautiful in the light. “How is this possible? Vampires aren’t real.”

  Claudette blinked. “Because it is possible. Am I not here in front of you?”

  Donna leaned against the counter, her arguments fading fast. Could this really be happening to her? Then a new thought came to her. “Wait a minute. I thought vampires had to be invited in.”

  “We do.”

  “Then how are you in my house?”

  “You are no longer human. You are in between right now, so that rule no longer applies to you.”

  Donna frowned. “How convenient.” Another thought popped into her head. She crossed her arms. “What about how vampires can’t go into churches? I was in a church today. A chapel, actually, but don’t tell me that’s some kind of exception.”

  Claudette’s forehead furrowed. “It isn’t. And that shouldn’t be—” Her gaze dropped to the crucifix around Donna’s neck. She pointed at it. “Were you wearing that when you were bitten?”

  Donna’s hand went to the necklace. “Yes. I always have it on.”

  Claudette’s right eyebrow arched. “Interesting. I’ve only heard of that happening, but I guess it’s true. Sacred places shouldn’t affect you, then. I’d still tread lightly once you’ve made the full transition.”

  “You keep talking about this transition. What does that mean?”

  “You need to drink properly to turn fully.” Claudette’s gaze took on a knowing gleam. “From a human.”

  “Yeah, I’m not doing that.” Donna’s lip curled. “Please, can we just leave this for another time?”

  Claudette sighed in obvious frustration. “You must.”

  “Or else what?”

  “You will succumb to the thirst. Or you will die.”

  Donna hated those kinds of threats. “Or maybe I’ll go back to being human.”

  Claudette stared at her. “That won’t happen.”

  “How do you know?”

  The vampire growled softly. “Why are you resisting this? Becoming immortal is something most people crave. They would give anything to achieve it. You act like you’re being punished.”

  “Hello! I didn’t ask for this.” She’d wanted freedom. Not more rules and regulations.

  Claudette held up her hands. “I acknowledge that. But there is nothing you can do about it now. Just let me help you get through this, and then you’ll see what a gift you’ve been given.”

  “Help me? So, like, you’re going to take me out to find a victim? I don’t think so.”

  A muscle in Claudette’s jaw twitched. “We have the ability to glamour our subjects, making them pliable and taking away their fear. Most humans find it a pleasurable experience, actually.”

  Donna crossed her arms again. “I find that incredibly hard to believe. Really, just go, I’ll be fine.”

  “You won’t be. But…” Claudette was silent for a long moment. “You are not ready for my help. When you are, call me.”

  “Sure. Using what? The number I don’t have?”

  “Not that kind of call. You reach out to me with your mind. I’m your sire, we’re linked. You call for me, and I’ll hear you and come.”

  Sure, that made perfect sense. Now vampires were psychic. Donna’s face probably showed her skepticism, but she didn’t care. This was weird. Anyone in her situation would have thought so. “Right. Can you go now? I really want to be alone.”

  Claudette reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a business card and put it on the counter. “In the meantime, there is a group you might try.”

  Donna glanced at the card. “Thanks, but I’m already in therapy.”

  “It’s not therapy. It’s a support group for newly turned vampires. It’s run by a third-level empath. She’s very good.” Claudette pushed the card a little closer to Donna. “I will leave you now, but there are a few things you should know, whether or not you choose to believe them.”

  “Such as?”

  “The thirst will win out, but if it gets to that point, you will lose control. Better to drink now while you are the one in charge. Listen for the heartbeat. Don’t take too much.”

  Whatever that meant. “Noted.”

  “Secondly, you need to surround your house with iron to protect yourself from the fae. They are a vampire’s natural enemy.”

  “Fae? Like, fairies?”

  “Yes. And if you think they’re like Tinker Bell, you’re wrong. They will find you, and they will—”

  “I thought werewolves were the natural enemy of vampires.”

  Claudette let out a low growl. “Do not believe everything you see in movies. There are good and bad werewolves, but they are mostly good and certainly not our enemy. You’ll have to figure the rest out for yourself.”

  “Are you saying werewolves are real too?”

  Claudette rolled her eyes. “Surround your house with iron or don’t. I’m not sure I care.”

  She turned to go, then stopped and stared up at the ceiling. “No. I do care. I am your sire, and you are my responsibility. I wish you no ill will, even if you are the most difficult creature I have encountered in the last two hundred years.” She glanced back. “Once you transition, stay out of the sun.”

  “Got it.”

  Claudette sighed. “You may not believe any of this yet, but you will soon enough. You won’t have a choice. When you get there, call me.”

  Donna nodded, but couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “You’ll be the first.”

  Then Claudette was gone.

  That was a trick Donna wouldn’t mind learning. But that was all it was, right? A trick. Some kind of close-up magic.

  Because this couldn’t be real life. Vampires were a myth. So were werewolves and fairies. Or fae. Whatever they were called. None of those things were real. They couldn’t be. Because that was crazy.

  And yet, Donna was struggling to convince herself otherwise.

  She picked up the card Claudette had put on the counter.

  The First Fangs Club. A Women’s Support Group.

  A phone number was listed, along with an address and a meeting time. Friday nights at ten.

  That was tomorrow night. Maybe she’d check it out. Or not. Donna didn’t feel like she was in any kind of headspace to make a decision like that.

  All she knew was that she wanted another steak and a glass of wine.

  The run could wait until tomorrow, too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sleep eluded Donna until almost four in the morning. She finally drifted off, only to be woken up a couple hours later by a throbbing headache and a body racked with pain. The TV was still on and was playing an infomercial for the only frying pan “you’ll ever need for the rest of your life.”

  She groaned a
s she rolled over toward Joe’s side of the bed. What had happened to her? Why did she feel like this? Was this some kind of delayed reaction to the fight at the drop-off? Or was this a brand-new kind of stress reaction?

  Lucky, who’d been sleeping in Joe’s spot, stretched and looked at her, blinking sleepily.

  She scratched his head. “I hope you feel better than I do.”

  He hissed and jumped off the bed.

  “Thanks. Good morning to you too.” But she understood why he’d done that. The second she’d started speaking, she’d felt the reason. The fangs were back. She ran her tongue over her teeth. How fun. She stumbled to the bathroom and turned the light on, squinting against the sudden brightness.

  The image looking back at her in the mirror was horrifying. Her face was a wash of dark shadows and deep hollows. She looked malnourished. Worse. She looked like she was dying.

  Everything Claudette had said came rushing back.

  “No.” Donna shook her head. “I refuse to believe anything she said. It can’t be real.”

  Then she curled her lips back to look at the fangs. She pinched one between her fingers and tried to wiggle it. Didn’t budge. Okay, so the fangs were real. There was no denying that. But did they mean she was turning into something else?

  She didn’t want to answer that question.

  Her stomach growled, long and low. She was hungry. And she had all that steak in the refrigerator. That’s what she needed. Some red meat. A good source of iron. That would perk her up. That and some coffee. But then she was going back to bed. Rico wasn’t due to arrive until three.

  She set the alarm for two, which would give her plenty of time to sleep her way back to normalcy. If not, there was always the hope of a hot shower and a lot of makeup.

  She pulled on her robe and took the back steps down to the kitchen. With the light on under the microwave, there was no need to turn any others on, which suited her just fine.

  The card Claudette had given her was still on the counter. She picked it up and stared at it for a moment, then tucked it into the pocket of her robe. She got a cup of coffee brewing.

  With that started, she turned on the grill section of the Wolf range so it could heat up. Steak for breakfast might be a little odd when it wasn’t accompanied by eggs, but it would be the least-odd thing in her life right now.

  The fridge was her next stop. She got out a package of ribeyes. Two of the biggest ones Wegmans had had in the case. A liberal sprinkling of salt and on the grill they went. The instant sizzle and aroma made her stop and inhale.

  She turned on the exhaust so the house wouldn’t fill with smoke, then leaned in to sniff the steaks again.

  Every fiber of her being ached for sustenance. Was this the hunger Claudette had talked about? If so, Donna prayed the steaks would do the trick.

  The Keurig sputtered out the last few drops of coffee. She added some cream and real sugar, then took a sip. It was good, but did nothing to assuage the growing urge inside her for something more substantial.

  She found the long-handled tongs and flipped the steaks after two minutes. Another two minutes and she pulled them off onto a plate. She wanted them rare and juicy.

  She turned off the grill, and while the steaks rested, she fixed Lucky some breakfast. Poor cat. She hadn’t meant to spook him with her fangs.

  Or had he freaked out because he’d sensed she was…different?

  “Lucky boy. Breakfast,” she called out. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  He appeared at the edge of the kitchen, more likely drawn by the scent of meat than his canned tuna surprise.

  Joe had insisted they give the cat a gangster’s name. Lucky Luciano had been Donna’s suggestion, and the kids had clung to it, beating out Joe’s suggestion of Scarface. As if. What kind of name was that for a sweet kitty?

  As a gesture of apology, she cut some steak up for Lucky and put it on a little dish. “There you go, baby.” She kept the fangs hidden as best she could while she talked to him. “Mama’s sorry I scared you. Friends?”

  He gave her a wary glance, then went straight for the food.

  Maybe not friends yet, but close enough. She went to her own plate, forgoing the knife and fork and picking up the meat with her hands. She ate over the sink, juice dripping off her chin and fingers.

  In minutes, both steaks were gone.

  She rinsed her hands and face. She did feel better. And her fangs had retracted. She took that as a sign that, at least for now, things were under control.

  How long would it last, though?

  She went into the half bath off the powder room and took a look in the mirror to confirm all was well.

  It was. The shadows and hollows were gone. So was her headache and the pain in her body. She looked awake and vibrant. And she wasn’t tired anymore.

  Suddenly, the run she’d put off last night seemed like a great idea. Normally, she’d never attempt such a thing after eating, but then, normally, she wouldn’t have downed two ribeyes like they were delicious meaty cupcakes.

  Another sip of coffee and she ran upstairs, changed into her cool-weather running gear of leggings and a long-sleeved compression top, pulled her hair through a ball cap, and tied on her sneakers. With her iPhone strapped to her arm and earbuds in, she went downstairs, turned off the alarm, and left through the garage.

  The sun wasn’t up yet, but the sky wasn’t pitch-black either. She had about an hour before the sun breached the horizon. She’d be back home in forty minutes. There was no danger of sun exposure.

  Of course, if she believed what Claudette had said, there was no danger until she transitioned anyway. Which she hadn’t done yet and apparently wouldn’t until she drank from her first human.

  She grimaced. The idea was flat-out gross. Drinking blood? From another person? Nope.

  Her stomach rumbled, sending a cold chill down her spine. Part of her didn’t think it sounded gross at all.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and grasped her crucifix. Please don’t let me turn into a vampire. It wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t going to let it. She opened her eyes, turned on her tunes and her running app, and took off on her usual route.

  She started slow, like she usually did, settling into a rhythm and getting her breathing right. Then she picked up her pace and decided to test what Claudette had said about getting faster.

  The forty-minute round trip through the neighborhood took her seven minutes and twelve seconds, according to her running app, which was now flashing a Personal Best badge.

  That wasn’t possible. And yet, she’d just done it. She wasn’t even sweating.

  She ran the loop one more time, really pushing herself on the second go.

  Five minutes, thirty-seven seconds, and she was just slightly winded. She stood in her driveway, staring at the time on her app.

  She didn’t want it to be true. But there was no denying what her phone was showing her.

  She swallowed down the sick feeling rising up in her throat. How much longer could she deny what was happening to her?

  This wasn’t stress. Stress didn’t make your skin glow and improve your running time. It didn’t make you crave raw meat and give you a surgery-free boob lift.

  But she still couldn’t wrap her head around the word vampire. She didn’t want to. It was so foreign a concept, so far off and filled with make-believe, that accepting it felt like admitting she’d lost her grasp on reality.

  That wasn’t how she wanted to start this new chapter of her life.

  More than that, it was unfair. She’d finally gotten the freedom she’d craved for years, and now she had to deal with this new twist? She didn’t want it. Didn’t want any part of it.

  She took a deep breath of morning air, then went back inside feeling completely at sea.

  She made a second cup of coffee and took it upstairs, deciding on a quick shower before going back to bed. When she got out, she dried off, pulled on leggings and a big sweatshirt, then climbed under the covers to try to
sleep.

  Without expecting it to happen, she drifted off.

  Pounding woke her up. This time, it wasn’t in her head. She bolted upright, thinking she’d overslept and Rico was here. But the time on the cable box showed it was only a little after nine.

  Who could be here? She froze. Big Tony? Please don’t let it be Big Tony. But she could ignore him for only so long.

  She really needed one of those doorbell cameras. Joe had refused to let her have one installed, though, claiming it was just one more way for the feds to spy on him. Moron.

  With no other option, she grabbed her phone, the gun from the nightstand, and snuck downstairs to look through the peephole. It wasn’t Big Tony or Rico, but a man she didn’t recognize. His hair was closely cropped, leaving only a dusting of sandy blond on his giant head. The rest of him looked equally as big. And wide. Like a lunk. But not one she recognized. He didn’t even look Italian.

  He was, however, carrying a big cello and ribbon-wrapped gift basket. The word sympathies was printed on the dark blue ribbon. The basket looked like it was full of sweets and wine.

  If he expected a tip, he wasn’t getting one. She wasn’t putting the gun away just yet, either.

  She finger-combed her hair so it wasn’t completely wild. Her phone was tucked into her leggings at her back, although she’d almost put the gun there. Instead, she clutched that in her right hand hoping there was no reason to use it.

  The alarm was off. She hadn’t turned it back on when she’d come in from her run, but there was a panic button on the panel next to the front door. She could tap that if something crazy happened. Well. Crazier.

  Or she could just outrun the guy. Or shoot him.

  The knocking started again, making her jump. “Coming.” She opened the door about two inches and peered out, but kept her foot braced against the door and the gun hidden at her side. “Yes?”

  The man smiled. Up close, he was even bigger than he’d looked through the peephole. Like a brick wall wearing a sport coat. “Mrs. Barrone?”

  “Yes?”

  “I am Yuri Lukin. I was an associate of your late husband’s. I am very sorry to hear of his passing.” He held out the basket. “I hope you will accept this as a token of my condolences.”