Kill Me

by Alex Owens

  Clive brought me out of my thoughts. “So you just need someone with a talent for violin.”

  Something about his smirk made my stomach recoil. I shook my head. “No. I’ll find someone else.”

  “There isn’t time Clara, the show starts in twenty minutes,” he countered.

  “Clive is right, Claire. You are out of options so I suggest that you go get ready, do the show and get it over with.” Gregor took the violin from my hands and placed it back on the shelf.

  He was right and I hated that. I didn’t want to share the same oxygen with Clive, let alone have to touch him for the length of the song, while in front of hundreds of people. But I’d promised the gang at SheRawks! I would help. I didn’t need the money from my job anymore, but I’d been raised better than to let the people that depended on me down.

  “Fine. I’m going to freshen up in the ladies room. Meet me beside the stage in fifteen minutes.” I addressed Gregor and ignored Clive.

  “Bring the violin and a stool.” I figured the easiest way to pull the whole thing off was to sit on the stool and have Clive stand behind me touching my back. I damn sure didn’t want any skin-to-skin contact with that lizard.

  I left the boys gawking as I swept out of the room with an air of indifference. Five minutes later, after preening in the mirror to psych myself up, I made my way to the big event. I found the men waiting for me stage left. I could see Joni running frantically between the wires and gear already set up behind the closed curtain. Any minute now, she’d spot me. My stomach rolled at the thought.

  Stage-fright or Clive-fright? I wasn’t sure.

  I decided to distract myself. I addressed Clive and Gregor simultaneously. “What’s up with Morgan? I think she’d do any damn thing I asked.”

  Clive sneered. “You bound her to you.”

  I shook my head violently. “No I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did. When you drank too much, we had to give her your blood. You were still high, so I’m not surprised that you don’t remember.”

  My eyes widened. “She’s a vampire? Oh, God.”

  I couldn’t have a vampire taking care of my child- that was absurd! Wait, I was a vampire. Shit.

  “No, wench.” Clive lowered his voice. “It takes a large blood exchange to turn someone. You just gave her a little of your essence to keep her living while her body replenished its blood supply.”

  “Oh.” I let the wench comment go. It probably wasn’t smart to piss Clive off further right before I had to lead him onstage. “So... will she always be like that? Like a puppy eager to please?”

  “Sadly, no.” Clive’s eyes twinkled, probably thinking about what he would do to an ever-complacent stripper.

  Gregor cut him off. “The effect will fade over time, so long as you don’t feed it again.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him, not sure what he meant.

  “Literally, feed it.” He flashed his fangs at me so quickly I didn’t worry about anyone else catching the peep show. I was actually kind of impressed.

  “Okay, got it—no snacking on the nanny.” I looked forward to the day where I didn’t feel like a complete imbecile at least thirty times per day. This Vamp stuff was complicated.

  “Claire! There you are!” Vera huffed and puffed as she headed our way. “Everything is set. We’ve rigged the lights with colored filters, so everyone on stage will look like they’ve just stepped out of an old black and white movie. The Siren is being played by an up-and-coming Stunner out of Portland—Lana something. Where’s your violinist?”

  I didn’t miss the way Vera’s mouth twisted at the near-mention of Bette. Jealousy did not become her at all.

  “Bette can’t be here...” I smiled and shot her my best I’m sorry look.

  Vera looked on the verge of a stroke. Sweat beaded up on her ruddy temples. “What do you mean...?”

  I touched her arm and she calmed— enough that it was clear to me at once. Gregor noticed it too, which was just peachy.

  “If it’s okay, I’ll play the violin instead?” I said to Vera, squeezing her hand.

  Vera perked. “You play?”

  I nodded and tried to do it convincingly.

  “If you can handle it like you did the guitar earlier, then we can still put on a great show.” She clapped her hands and bounced just a bit. “Now, please tell me you can wing this song.”

  She thrust a crumpled set of sheet music in my direction and I took it slowly, pretending to study it so that Clive would have a chance to get a decent look at it. I had no idea what I was looking at. It might as well have been Phoenician. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Clive nod. That was all I needed.

  “Sure, no problem. Just tell us where to go,” I said to Vera.

  “Us?” she stopped me.

  Crap, I hadn’t thought of an explanation for Clive. I scrambled for a reason and once it finally came to me I cringed at having to say it out loud. “Well, given the Hollywood-esque context, I thought it would be fun to tease my friend Clive here a little while I play.”

  I almost choked while referring to Clive as a friend. And after practically seducing him on stage, I’ll probably wish that I had.

  “Oh, sure then. Right this way.” I could sense the disappointment in her voice as she led us to the stage. Perhaps she thought we were an item?

  Over my undead-dead body.

  We followed Vera up to the stage, which was currently cloaked with a heavy curtain around the expansive rectangular platform. At the other end of the stage, a lone spotlight illuminated a single mic stand and I assumed that’s where the guitarist with the Siren was going to stand. On the opposite end of the platform I found our spot. And I was none too happy about it.

  Sitting there under the hot lights was an ornate damask chaise. The kind that I’d envision Bette reclined on when I pitched the campaign to the ladies.

  “Oh, so we are standing over there?” I said with a flicker of hope in my voice. Please say yes, please say yes.

  Vera shook her head. “We did have it set up that way, but your friend,” she nodded to Clive, “suggested that the guitarist stand and the violinist recline, since we’re unveiling the Siren. You know, so she has the room to kick it up a notch.”

  I tossed my best threatening stare in Clive’s direction. He returned the look with a smug smile before lowering himself onto the settee. He reclined back on the one arm with his feet dangling off the end. Clive patted the fabric and gave me a wicked grin.

  I shook my head. I was not cozying up to him on a couch. I leaned against the arm of the settee, resting my butt on it. I pulled one of Clive’s arms up and rested his hand on my lower back, shivering involuntarily.

  Vera scuttled off to brief the guitarist who walked up on the stage, a waif-thin dark haired girl in a long flowing white dress. Her hair was pinned up in a controlled mess of auburn curls, framing her porcelain face. She cradled the Siren like a baby and the light gleamed from the polished ebony and chrome finish.

  While we waited, I felt Clive’s hand descend down my back, grazing the top of my backside. My canine’s dropped at the perceived threat. I turned to him, growling, and got up in his face.

  “You are here for only one reason. So I can borrow your talent. After that, you are useless to me. Expendable. Think about that while we’re up here, because if you cross the line even the tiniest bit, I will claw your heart out as soon as we are off the stage.”

  Clive showed no emotion during my speech, so it was hard to tell if I scared him at all. Probably not, but I was beginning to scare myself. I’d turned into a badass overnight.

  I turned back to the curtained crowd, muttering for good measure. “Don’t think for a moment that I won’t enjoy the hell out of licking your blood off my fingers either.”

  I heard his distinct laugh behind me. Bastard thought I was joking.

  Vera headed our way. “Ready?”

  I nodded and gulped. Mostly to buy some time while my teeth went back to the human-acceptable pos
ition.

  “Don’t worry girl, you’ll do fine.” Vera squeezed my shoulder, a move meant to be comforting, but her hand lingered a little longer than necessary, taking the moment well into awkward territory.

  I did my best to give Vera a carefree smile while my teeth retracted. “Thanks.”

  Vera gave my shoulder another little squeeze and exited the stage.

  Chapter 24

  The lights dimmed and for the briefest second I found myself alone, in the dark, with Clive behind me and out of my sight line. I had the irrational (or maybe not so irrational) fear that he would take the chance while my back was turned, literally. I turned to reassure myself that he was not preparing to eat me.

  Only I couldn’t see him. That was a bad, bad feeling. Kind of like being a kid and certain that something was hiding in your closet—only it’s dark and you can’t be sure. It was like that, but much worse. I knew the monster existed and he was right there, getting ready to do god-knows what.

  “Oh, how I want to,” Clive said, his lips grazing my ear as he spoke, before traveling down the length of my neck in warp speed.

  I jumped and almost dropped the violin. While fumbling to regain control of the errant instrument, Clive used the distraction against me. He pulled me down from my perch on the arm of the settee and enveloped me with strong arms and his solid torso. I struggled but it was like fighting a strait-jacket. Damn, he was strong.

  And excited. I heard his teeth clack near my head at the same time I felt his erection pressing into the small of my back.

  My vision clouded red. I was seriously past irritated.

  Easy. Stay calm. A duo of voices sounded in my head. That was a first. I’d become used to hearing my own thoughts and more recently to the voice I assumed was Bette’s, but who was the new voice? I didn’t have time to think about that further, as the curtain parted silently, revealing the stage to the audience. My heart thumped once, hard, but not because of Clive and his disgusting body parts.

  It was the crowd of people. There had to be several thousand attendees and they all looked directly at me. How had I not considered that? Oh, god, what if my power failed me? What if I bombed in front of everyone?

  The spotlight over my head flickered on, glowing brighter and brighter, until I couldn’t see much of the audience at all. I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. Not seeing them was good, but knowing they were out there unseen was almost worse. Even creepy, the more I thought about it.

  I calculated that I had less than thirty seconds to pull myself together before I was supposed to start. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes and relaxing into Clive. Erection be-dammed, I needed his talent more.

  For the first time I tried to borrow someone’s talent on purpose; I didn’t want to rely on pure dumb-luck. So I pictured my mental brick fortress and nudged a few bricks out of place, leaving a hole big enough to let Clive’s talent in. I tried to picture him playing the violin, to hear the notes. A melody came to me, somber and dark. Gooseflesh spread down my arms.

  I felt his hand stiffen on my back, telling me that I’d tapped into his talent just fine for my first official time. Bonus points that Clive didn’t seem to enjoy the connection. Clearly, he was used to being feared, not used. That thought brought a smile to my face as I lifted my eyes, pulled the violin under my chin and prepared to play.

  I tapped my foot on the scuffed black stage, counting in to my first note. As the time approached I let myself go, mentally drifting away as I heard myself making beautiful music. It was a slow and morose ballad and I’m not even sure I’d ever heard it before. Nonetheless, it felt familiar to my soul. Or maybe that was Clive’s soul?

  Yeah, right. Clive didn’t have a soul.

  The song stretched and peaked, undulating around me in a hazy aura of colors that only I could see. I reached my first lull in the song and rested the bow on my lap. Clive shifted ever-so slightly behind me and I could feel his lips brush my ear. I expected him to say something crass or irritating, but he remained silent.

  I was overcome with a feeling of sadness and loss. It was like my heart was breaking and I could literally feel it in my chest, cleaving in two. I closed my eyes, willing the pain to recede.

  Instead, I saw an image, a flickering still-frame from eons ago. A dark haired man cradled a limp child in his arms, wailing up to the gray sky as rain poured down around them. The cobbled street was dark, lit by dim gas lamps every hundred feet or so. There was no one else around to witness the man’s pain. But I witnessed it still.

  Clive nudged me and I came back to myself. I wasn’t sure what had just happened, but if my suspicions were correct, I’d just taken a trip down Clive’s memory lane. That’s the one thing that most people, including myself, forget—monsters are not just born, they are created and shaped by experiences.

  But enough of feeling sorry for Clive; I didn’t want to let my guard down any more as far as he was concerned. No matter what he’d experienced in the past or what he’d lost, he was dangerous in the here and now. I’d be smart to remember that.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts and rested the violin in my lap. The guitarist waited a beat after I paused and then stroked the Siren at the exact moment her spotlight came on. A collective gasp rose from the crowd and once the “oohs” and “ahhs” died down I readied myself to join back in. The two instruments played well together. My violin weeping while the Siren wailed. It was both extremely sad and amazingly beautiful at the same time.

  I felt a tear escape from my eye and Clive did the first selfless thing I’d witnessed. He’d smelled my bloodied tear and turned my face away from the crowd so they wouldn’t notice the violinist who cried pink. I’d like to say the man had at least one redeeming quality, but even that was probably a stretch.

  Clive’s idea to remove the errant blood-tear? Why the bastard kissed me, of course. I can only assume he wiped my face at the same time, but I was beyond surprised and in no shape to do anything other than continue to play through the end of the song.

  What stood out most about the kiss was the fact that I did not enjoy it. That might sound strange, but it was actually comforting. With vampire talents running amuck lately, it surprised me that Clive hadn’t tried to glamour me or put me under some sort of spell. I couldn’t say the same for Bette or Gregor, at least not with a hundred percent certainty.

  My lone thought for the last few bars of the song? If I was so psychically gifted, why the hell hadn’t I seen that one coming?

  Chapter 25

  As soon as the curtain fell I scrambled off stage. I felt claustrophobic and needed a moment to get my bearings. Gregor looked surprised when I passed by him without stopping. I heard him call my name, followed by Clive telling him to leave me alone.

  Everything felt tilted, like the earth was suddenly upside down. In the span of five minutes I was ready to reverse my opinion of Clive. Based on what? That he’d suffered loss and pain ages ago and that he’d not tried to bespell me before he’d kissed me?

  I was losing it. I had to be. The rational part of me knew that a handful of normal human interactions did not a good-guy make. I’ll bet even Dahmer did something redeeming every now and again. No, Clive was not a good guy— and I needed to remember that.

  I practically ran back to Bette’s booth, hoping that if she was at the conference, she’d come looking for me there. Of course, the booth was empty and dark. I entered anyway, lighting one sconce by the door and leaving the others dark. I huddled in the back corner and let myself calm down before trying to think my way through everything.

  My mind was a jumbled mass of thoughts that writhed like snakes in a pit. My marriage was over. I was a blood-sucker. Who could I snack on once I was back at home? Can a vampire raise a child? Did I have feelings for Bette or had she just charmed me, literally, out of my pants? Ditto for Gregor.

  Vampire talents notwithstanding, had I ever made a decision that wasn’t based on the emotions or desires of someone else? The know
ledge of my empathic abilities tainted my entire life. Had I even loved Pete at all, or had I felt love only because he did?

  Oh, my-saints. I was getting dizzy from all the thought-spinning. And further depressed.

  “Hey there, fair Claire. Why are you hiding? You should be out catching some glory.” Cassidy strolled into the booth like there was nothing in the world wrong with me sitting there in the dark, huddled in the corner like a scared child. “That was amazing!”

  “I just needed a minute. I don’t do well with crowds.” I made up something that at least was based in truth. I ignored the compliment. Those made me uncomfortable and I never knew how to respond, so usually I changed the subject.

  “I’ll bet. Most empaths don’t handle a lot of people very well. It’s like getting bombarded with all their junk at once. “ She plopped down on the floor beside me, crossed her legs and leaned up against the wall.

  I nodded. “That makes sense. And that’s probably why kid’s birthday parties leave me with migraines. All that chaos and energy must be like an Upper to me.”

  Cassidy laughed and shifted her position to face me better. Her expression faded quickly from amusement and into a more serious countenance.

  “So, you know these violin people well? Don’t take this the wrong way, but they seem a little odd,” she said.

  I wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but the question gnawed at me. I was almost sure it wasn’t just making conversation. Of course, I was seeing demons where there weren’t any, and angels where the devil stood, so who was I to get defensive over one little question?

  “A little while.” I brushed some lint from my dress and stretched my legs out. “Why?”

  She shrugged and shook her head slightly. “No reason. Just curious.”

  “They’re certainly interesting,” I said for lack of anything positive to say regarding Bette, Clive and Gregor. Since figuring out that I’d been be-spelled on more than one occasion, I had a harder time coming up with something positive that I also knew to be true about them.