The Series that Just Plain Sucks: The Complete Trilogy

by Charissa Dufour

  I glanced around, searching the room for my bag of clothing. After a moment of concern, I remembered Josh dragging it out of the room to have its contents cleaned. I scrounged through the drawers until I found one containing sweatpants. I slipped into a pair, rolling the waistband until they fit a little better. It wasn't brilliant. The legs were still long enough to cover my feet, which was useful being that I didn't have any socks.

  I slipped out of the room, wondering where Nik had run off to. Then again, why was I even looking for him? It seemed logical to be overjoyed with an opportunity to do my own thing. From the restaurant upstairs I could hear the muffled voices of the cleaning crew, so it could be anywhere from two a.m. to four p.m. I turned down the hallway, heading away from the common room where I assumed Nik would be relaxing. At the end of the hallway, I found a set of wide stairs leading down into another layer of the concrete bunker. I descended the steps and discovered a similar corridor with evenly spaced doors dotting the walls. Though brightly lit, the hallway lacked any form of decoration or home-like touch. I walked halfway down the hallway and began to wonder what was behind the matching doors. I knew one of them was Josh's room, but it had been days since visiting his room and I hadn't been exactly with it at the time.

  I stopped and leaned against the nearest door. I couldn't hear anything and, after a moment's consideration, I realized it most likely meant the room was empty. After all, I now had super human hearing. I glanced down the hallway in both directions, making sure I was really alone, before gently turning the knob and opening the door. It led into a room with a similar lay out as Josh's, but very different decor.

  The walls were lined with brick. I reached out and touched the nearest wall, wondering if it was real brick or a really impressive paint job. Nope, actual brick. A strange queen-size bed lay against the left wall. Though technically considered a four-poster bed, it looked nothing like any bed I'd ever seen. The vertical posts were tree trunks that had been cleared of all bark and polished into a high sheen. At the top, branches jutted out, connecting to make a vaguely square frame around the top. Draped from the branches were green curtains pulled back into elegant swags. The bedspread was a dark forest green. It looked like something out of Lord of the Rings. On the other side of the bed, a spiral staircase led upwards. Across from the bed, a gas fireplace sat surrounded by oversized, hand carved chairs filled with many large pillows and cushions. Two enormous forest paintings covered the wall in place of windows.

  Beyond the bed and chair arrangement, the plush tan carpet changed into tiling. An enormous tub took up most of the far left corner, while the right corner held a glass-encased shower. In the center sat an antique-looking vanity. This room made Nikolai's modern look feel harsh and foreign.

  Without thinking, I walked to the fireplace, where framed charcoal sketches sat on the mantel on either side of a long row of books including: Lord of the Rings—no surprise there—Into the Wilde, Frankenstein, War and Peace, Gothic Tales, The Complete Works of Edger Allan Poe, and Le Morte D'Arthur, all in modern bindings. My head hurt just reading the titles. I spotted a small glass book shelf containing older looking books tucked in the corner, safely away from the heat of the fire.

  The first of the charcoal sketches resting beside the books was of a small child with plump cheeks and large dimples whose hands were reaching out toward the artist in a familiar way. I wondered who the child and artist had been. The style, paper, and frame all suggested the picture was very old and the child long dead. I moved on to the other picture before I could get weepy over someone I had never met. The next picture was of an elegant woman dressed in a 1920s costume. Belatedly, I realized the woman was likely not in costume at all, but wearing clothes from her own era. I stared into her eyes, wondering what color they had been.

  I had just begun to grow concerned about being caught in this pretty room when I heard footsteps. I froze by the fire, my fingers still resting against the smooth frame of the second picture. A second later, the handle turned and the door swung open. The man who entered was not what I had been expecting. Though tall and lean, like most of the other vampires I had seen, the similarities stopped there. His dark hair was liberally speckled with gray, his stubble length facial hair also gray. It never occurred to me that a person could be turned after his prime. In my books, all of the vampires were young and beautiful. Don't get me wrong, I'd already realized that less-than-attractive people might get turned, you know, by accident or something. But old people? The very idea of an old vampire was comical. In a different situation I would have struggled not to laugh.

  He held the arm of a thin, pale woman. She had a few different pairs of puncture marks on her arms and neck, all at different stages of healing. I quickly pulled my hand away from the picture and placed it behind my back. I felt like a child who had been caught playing “tea” with her grandmother's china. He eyed me for a moment, the grip on his victim’s arm tightening until she winced.

  “Go upstairs,” he whispered in the woman's ear.

  Either he didn't realize I was a vampire or he whispered in an effort to make me feel uncomfortable, intrusive. Mission accomplished! The woman nodded and scurried up the spiral staircase. Faster than I thought possible, she was out of sight.

  “And you are?” he asked in a voice that was beyond its prime, but attractive in a gravelly sort of way. Over all, his appearance of age was in direct contrast with his attractiveness—like George Clooney or Sean Connery. They could be your grandparent, but that doesn't mean you didn't fantasize about them.

  “Ashley,” I said in a breathy tone. You're safe within the seethe, I told myself in an effort to regain my courage. It didn't work.

  “Nikolai's little pet?” The man's serious face turned into a sudden smile that created laugh lines around his eyes and lips.

  I nodded, trying to swallow my disgust. I didn't trust the smile, considering how much I was in the wrong, not to mention his choice of words.

  Before the man could speak again, we heard footsteps on the stairs. The sound progressed down the hallway and stopped outside the doorway. The older man smiled, as if he were thoroughly enjoying himself despite the fact I had invaded his privacy. He stepped back to the door and opened it. As I expected, Nik stood on the other side, his face set in grim lines.

  “Nikolai,” the older man said by way of a greeting. “I believe you've lost something.” He waved a long-fingered hand toward me and stepped away from the doorway. Nik took one step into the room and stared at me. I recognized his poker face. “Perhaps in the future you could keep your flunky from snooping into other people’s rooms.”

  Despite the context, the man’s voice was as sweet as honey. Nik kept his face calm as he motioned me to his side. I stayed where I was near the fire, in part because I was terrified of his response but also because I didn't like the idea of him ordering me around. Nik waited a moment before crossing the room and dragging me to the door. The other man motioned for us to stop. Nik consented though his arms and shoulders showed just how tense he was if one knew what to look for.

  “Are you going to introduce us?” the other man asked in a voice—one that would fit better at a dinner party than a tense confrontation.

  “Ashley Hawn, may I introduce Samuel Bligh,” Nik said. He sounded as though he were trying to be just as sappy sweet as Samuel, and he failed miserably. Maybe it was the clamped teeth or the clenched fists.

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Samuel said before taking my hand and gently kissing it. A shudder ran up my spine which I failed to mask. Samuel's eyes gleamed as he enjoyed my discomfort.

  He opened the door and bowed me out as Nik dragged me into the hallway.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  We didn't stop until we were safely enclosed in his bedroom. With his free hand, Nik slammed the door shut while propelling me toward the couch. I slammed into the side and nearly flipped over the arm rest. Once back on my feet, I turned to gaze upon a furious Nik. His hands were tightened back
into fists—his tendons showing through his translucent skin—his shoulders tense and his brows wrinkled into a glare.

  “What. Were. You. Thinking?” he asked, intoning each word as if I might miss one. Or maybe he was worried his anger would bring forth his accent.

  I took two involuntary steps backwards, which was a mistake. He rushed to me at top speed and grabbed me by the shoulders, making sure I could not put any more distance between us. In a voice more like a growl, he asked me again, “What were you doing?”

  “I woke up,” I whispered. “And didn't know where you were.”

  “So naturally you went looking for me in Samuel's room?” he asked. “Tell me the truth!”

  “I woke up and knew you would be in the main room. So I went looking for Josh's room… ” I trailed off, realizing I had no excuse for my wandering. “What's the big deal?” I asked in a last ditch effort to save myself from his wrath. Mistake number two!

  “Big deal?” he barked, pushing me back into the couch. “Do you have any idea who Samuel is?”

  I shook my head. How could I? I just met the guy. Nik sighed and sank to the couch pulling me down with him.

  “Like any organization, the seethe is built based on rank. Mikhail is our primus, his position is fairly firm. It is difficult to displace a primus. Beyond him, though, our ranks are based on our age and ability to fight. To climb in the ranks beyond what your age dictates, you have to fight and kill those above you. Samuel is just below me in the hierarchy. He has been looking for an opportunity to convince Mikhail that I am dangerous to the seethe or something like that, to get Mikhail to eliminate me for him, because he can't manage it himself.”

  “What does this have to do with me?” I asked in a quiet voice. It all suddenly felt very serious.

  Nik climbed to his feet in big huff—more out of frustration, I thought, than anger. “Mikhail put you in my charge. Until you become a part of the seethe, officially, you are under my protection and guidance. Meaning, if you get in trouble I reap the… benefits… the results. And your stunt today was exactly what could get me in trouble. Privacy is very important to most vampires.”

  “So just because I went into his room, he could get Mikhail to kill you?” I asked in disbelief.

  “I doubt Mikhail would kill due to that alone, but understand, Samuel has been working against me for decades. He's been gathering dirt on me for as long as he's been in this seethe and realized he couldn't take me in a fair fight.”

  “Wow! He sounds like a douche!” Nik glared at me. I was starting to realize Nik didn't like any foul language, especially from a girl. “Jerk… what a jerk!” He rolled his eyes, obviously not appeased by my sudden change of heart. “Why don't you just kill him?” I asked.

  “Samuel may be a… a jerk, but he has his uses. Besides, I try not to kill those in my seethe if it's not necessary. It is not a strategy I want others emulating. The point is I need you to stay next to me—not getting into trouble.”

  “You weren't here when I woke up,” I pointed out.

  Nik glared at me. “Then wait for me. Or do I need to stay at your side all the time?”

  I balked at the thought of him never leaving. “All right, all right, no more running away,” I lied.

  I wasn't sure he sensed my lie or not. Either way, he let the subject drop.

  “C’mon,” he began again. “I need to check your wounds.”

  “They're fine,” I insisted without getting up. Nik looked down at me.

  “Then it won't take me long to check them,” he responded, as though it should have been obvious to me.

  I stood up with a put-upon sigh, which he ignored, and followed him into the bathroom. Once there, I began stripping out of my top. I climbed up onto his counter and waited while he pulled out the first aid kit. Nik produced a pair of slim, sharp scissors and began removing the bandaging from my arm, leg, and shoulder. As I expected, the wounds were completely healed.

  “So what do you do when you're not stuck with a babysitting gig?” I asked.

  Nik glanced at me and quickly glanced away when he realized I was replacing the T-shirt. “What?” he asked, being sure to keep his eyes focused on the floor. I quickly pulled my borrowed pair of sweatpants on.

  “What do you do in your spare time… you know… for fun.”

  Nik frowned at me. “Why do you want to know?”

  I heaved a sigh of annoyance and headed for the bedroom. “Oh, never mind.”

  Before I could say anything else, a knock echoed off his door.

  “Come in,” Nik called.

  A man I didn't recognize entered with a basket full of my clean clothing and my empty duffel bag hung from his shoulder. He placed the items on the floor near the couch and backed out of the room. Before he closed the door he smiled and winked at me.

  I glanced up at Nik before going to the basket. His face had transformed into hard lines. I couldn't figure out what had happened to make him angry again. He turned around and secluded himself in the bathroom. I heard the water of his enormous shower and assumed the conversation was over. While Nik showered, I transferred my clothing from the neat piles in the basket back to my duffel bag. I didn’t want to feel like I was moving in. In a few days, I’d be back in my own apartment, I told myself. Hopefully I hadn’t missed my rent payment.

  Nik returned as I was cramming the last of my clothing into my duffel bag, not worrying about being able to find my underwear the next time I needed to change; I could always dump it back out onto the floor. He eyed my activity while drying his hair with a towel. I turned back to the bag, determined not to look at him while he wore nothing but a damp towel. The problem was I wanted to look. I'm only human, or at least I used to be, and vampires apparently had the same desires. Nik was a handsome man. Crazy, but handsome—like the hot guys on TV you want to watch but never meet in person.

  I fiddled with the draw-string on my bag before grabbing a pair of Nik's sweatpants from the nearby dresser and tossing them in his general direction. I heard him chuckle, pick them up off the floor, and slip them on.

  “So… totally random question,” I began. “How do you kill a vampire? Other than stake to the heart.”

  “Are you wondering because of your recent wounds? Or because you're uncomfortable with me being naked?” he asked, reading my mind—it was a tie between the two. I wanted to tell him to get out of my head, but decided to keep us on topic. I just nodded in a vague sort of way. After a moment's hesitation, I heard the bed creak under his weight. “Well, sunlight obviously isn't healthy. You can behead them or tear their heart out. Okay, well not you… but a strong vampire could.”

  I spun around and threw something at him. I didn't really know what I'd grabbed off the dresser until it was resting safely in his palm. It was a large, round candle. Evidently he'd caught it, though I hadn't seen the movement.

  “Someone's a little touchy today. I was just teasing.”

  I tried to ignore him as I continued to fidget with my clothing. “So. How else do you kill a vampire?”

  “Well, you can always light them on fire, but you have to burn them completely into ash or they will heal. Though silver isn't deadly, wounds caused by silver take longer to heal.”

  “I thought that was werewolves,” I responded in surprise. I'd been thinking of adding werewolves into my book.

  “Silver hurts them too. It's a pretty good weapon against mystical creatures in general. Now, any more questions, or can we get some sleep?”

  “I just woke up.”

  “True, but you only slept for two hours, and the sun is well into the sky now.”

  “Oh.”

  “So any more questions?” he sighed. He looked tired.

  “Just one more. Can a vampire bleed out?”

  I was glad he didn't tease me. I knew he knew what I was thinking about—the blood stains I'd left on my bed, my clothing, and his bathtub. I'd bled more than any human could have managed. “Yes,” Nik replied in a subdued voice, “If t
hey haven't drunk enough human blood, or if they are cut badly enough and often enough. To manage it, you have to injure them repeatedly for a very long time—torture them. It’s not very likely to happen. Now can we sleep?” he asked again after a long, uncomfortable pause.

  He didn't wait for my response and by the time I was settled under the blankets, he was sound asleep on the couch, despite the king size bed. Always the gentleman.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I woke feeling uneasy. Perhaps it was the last lingering effects of scary dreams featuring fangs, fur, and best friends. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to return to blissful oblivion. It didn't come. Finally, with a sigh, I opened my eyes and sat up.

  Nik was already dressed and ready for the day. He sat on the white couch reading a book. I moved to the couch and tipped his book so that I could see the title. Gold letters were embossed across the leather binding. They read “Little Women.”

  I stared at him for a few seconds, my eyebrows lost up in my swooping bangs. He finally noticed my look. “You run out of things to read in 300 years,” he murmured by way of explanation.

  “Wait, 300 years?”

  “I believe I am technically 301 years old, though I could have lost count along the way.” He didn’t even look up from his book.

  “Shit!” I exclaimed. It was the best response I could think of. This got him to look up. He frowned. He didn’t like women swearing. “That’s old.”

  “Indeed,” Nik said in a droll voice.

  We sat in silence while I tried to take in the centuries he had seen. I noticed a blood bag on the coffee table, snatched it up, and examined it while my brain ran to places I didn't want to go. I'd always thought my books were good… well, decent. But it seemed like each day produced more occasions for self-doubt. I knew nothing about being a vampire, and in the end my books were just a few piles of crap shaped into a vague plot. My vampire characters were sheer perfection. Almost gods. They were always beautiful, always fast, always flexible, and always talented.