by Rob Cornell
“I'm sorry, my friend,” he said. “Perhaps it's time to accept your fate.”
That reminded me of my dream. The details were clouded, but hadn't Toft said something very similar?
I also remembered the taste of the blood that had carried for a second across the border from dream to reality. I could not accept that fate. I would not become something I used to hunt and destroy. I didn't care that many “tame” vamps walked the streets of the Motor City without breaking Ministry Law. Vampires were still monsters.
Have you told Odi that?
I curled my fingers into a fist and pounded the table.
Danesh jerked back. “I do not understand.”
I looked up at him as if he'd spoke in tongues. “What is there to understand? You want me to roll over and let myself turn? You really think that's a good option?”
“Mr. Light,” he said softly. “I believe it is your only option.”
“No.” I stood up shaking my head. “I can fight this.”
“For a while, perhaps. But—”
I grabbed at his shirt collar and yanked him so we came nose-to-nose. “I. Will. Fight this.”
All the twinkle left his eyes, replaced with sadness. “Okay. As you say.”
I shoved him away and stormed out.
Outside, my breath puffed in the air, but the cold night couldn't penetrate the heat burning inside of me. I didn't feel the cold. I didn't feel anything. Except the heat. The rage.
And the phantom taste of blood on my tongue.
Chapter Twenty
I arrived home to find Odi waiting for me on the porch steps. He sat with his feet propped on the step below so his knees stuck up and he could rest his arms on them.
I pulled into the driveway and got out of the car.
He watched me approach without a word, his expression unreadable in the night shadows.
When I reached the steps, he narrowed his eyes. “Nice threads.” His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. “Whoa, dude. And what is that?”
My stomach ached. I hadn't eaten anything since Slows. I needed to get some nourishment, build up my strength so I could keep fighting the infection.
“I'm sorry about last night,” I said, my voice raspy.
“Good thing, 'cause you were a grade-A tool.” He drew his eyebrows together. “What's going on with you? You look like shit, and you smell like…” He shook his head. “Still can't place it.”
“Let's go inside.”
I went straight for the kitchen and dug through the fridge. I pulled out a loaf of bread, some salami from the deli, and some mayo that didn't look like it had gone bad. Yet.
I dropped the stuff on the counter and started work on a sandwich, not bothering with a plate.
Odi watched me with his hands in his jeans pockets. He looked worried. I hated stringing him along like this, but I felt like I might pass out if I didn't eat. Explanations later.
The second I had a sandwich together, I chomped into it. I barely chewed before swallowing. But when the bite landed, my stomach revolted. I coughed and threw up onto the counter.
“Holy shit, dude.” Odi rushed over, then stood there gaping at me as if he didn't know what to do next.
I felt a second purge coming up. I rushed to the sink and puked into the drain. I had little more than bile to hack up after only the one bite of sandwich.
I clutched the kitchen counter and fought to keep from vomiting again. The peppery aftertaste of salami hung in my mouth. I wanted the taste off my tongue so badly, I would have licked sandpaper if I'd had some. I ran the sink and drank from the faucet, swished and spit. But the water alone wouldn't be enough. I needed to brush my teeth. About thirty times.
“What is going on with you?” Odi asked. “You come home dressed like my seventh-grade gym teacher, act like you haven't eaten in weeks, then blow chunks all over. And you still smell like…”
He clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” he said into his palm.
I turned off the faucet and wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist. “What?” My voice sounded like a toad's croak.
“You smell like vampire, dude.”
As if the mere mention of the word vampire triggered it, my brand sizzled. Literally. As if someone had dropped an egg on my shoulder, and my shoulder was a skillet.
Odi drew back, eyes bulging.
I ripped off my t-shirt. The brand burned. I clenched my teeth against the pain, tossed the shirt aside, and craned my neck to get a glimpse. In the corner of my eye I could see steam rising off my bubbling skin. “Gods damn it. No.” I kicked out blindly and crashed the toe of my boot through the cabinet door underneath the sink. More heat expanded around my hand. I looked down in time to see it burst into blue flame. My magic reacting to extreme emotion. If I wasn't careful, I could light up the kitchen.
I took a deep breath, but the more I concentrated on calming myself, the more I felt the infection taking hold. I'd thrown up the sandwich because it wasn't what my body wanted. I didn't hunger for food. I hungered for blood.
Just like in my dream.
I heard Odi's panicked voice, but not his actual words. My concentration was splintered between trying to center myself, put out the growing fire around my hand, and shove more magical energy into the path of the growing infection. I wouldn't last long at this rate.
“Talk to me, Sebastian. What should I do?”
Speaking wasn't even an option. I stared hard at my flaming hand, willing the fire to die. I imagined drawing that power in and redistributing it to help stave off the infection.
Slowly, the flames died. At the same time, my shoulder cooled, the sizzling stopped, but I could still feel my nerve endings sparking with pain.
Once the flame was out, I turned to Odi. His face had lost what little color remained of his undead pallor. His wide eyes shone in the kitchen light.
“Well?”
I swallowed, that damn salami aftertaste still coating my mouth. But it didn't feel as foreign. It tasted the way food should taste to a mortal.
“My brand,” I said, “got damaged.”
“How? Where the hell have you been?”
“Kidnapped.” I stuck with short answers while my stomach settled. Cold sweat made me shiver. I shuffled out of the kitchen toward the dining room.
Odi followed close behind. “Kidnapped? By who?”
I eased into a chair at the table, leaned forward, and rested my forehead on my folded arms, eyes closed. “The new regime.”
“I'm sorry, you're going to have to repeat that.”
I lifted my heavy head. “The Ministry's new regime. The new prefect, to be exact.”
“Why the hell would he kidnap you?”
“He wanted me to join their new world order, or whatever the fuck they call it.” I rolled my eyes. “Everyone wants me to join their club.”
“Okay,” Odi said with tight apprehension. He sat at the table with me. “That sorta makes sense. Can you give me more?”
“Apparently, I am a symbol of great inspiration. The new prefect thinks I can tame the angry vampires and bring them back into the fold. This resistance Fiona is a part of wants me to join them because…reasons.” I offered Odi a blank look. “Honestly, kid, it doesn't make much sense to me, either.”
We both fell silent for a moment. I went back to resting my head on my arms. The nausea had finally passed. I couldn't tell how much magic I had left in me. Enough to fight back the infection for now. But long term? I'd rather not find out.
“So,” Odi said hesitantly. “You're turning into a vampire?”
I sat up. “No. I'm fighting the infection back with my magic. Only it's taking more magic than it should. I think, while the brand kept some of my power trapped aside to stop the infection from spreading, it somehow got stronger. I don't know. Or maybe I've grown so accustomed to not having to fight it, I don't know how to anymore. Whatever the case, I keep having to put more and more power into blocking it from finally
turning me.”
“What about the dude who did the brand in the first place. He should be able to help, right?”
“Already tried that. In fact, he let me know he expected the brand to wear off eventually on its own.”
“But…” He lowered his gaze to the table. “So there's nothing you can do?”
I laughed. It sounded hollow, maybe a little derisive. “Why so glum? We can be vampire buddies.”
He snapped his gaze back to me. “Dude, you do not want to be a vampire.”
His reaction shocked me. I cocked my head to one side.
“I'm serious.” He patted his chest. “This isn't cool. This sucks.”
I had no idea he felt that way about his vampire status. I mean, I knew he missed his old life. But I hadn't gotten the sense that was what he meant now.
“Do you know I don't have dreams?” he asked.
I shook my head, wordless.
“I never feel tired. Waking up in the morning used to be a chore for me, but I hated sleeping, too, because there was so much stuff I didn't want to miss out on. Skateboarding with Nick and Chris. Catching the latest flick. Trolling the mall looking for girls dumb enough to think we were cool.”
“You miss all that.”
“But that's not what I mean. I mean, now? I don't go to sleep because I'm tired. I do it because it's daytime, and I'll fry up if I get near sunlight. I just close my eyes and…a second later it's the next night.”
I must have looked confused.
He growled with frustration. “I'm not explaining it right. I can't explain it.” Then his eyes lit up, inspired. “Do you have any idea how fucked up it is not to have a heart beat?”
I didn't. I couldn't imagine it, either.
Odi sighed. Laughed. “See that? I can breathe in and out. I don't have to, but I still do it out of habit.”
“Every vampire I've known does the same thing.”
He slapped the table. “That doesn't make it normal.”
I had the urge to say something, something comforting or wise. I just didn't have the words. I couldn't relate to his situation at all.
At least, not yet.
But whether I fully grasped his experiences or not, he’d gotten his point across. “Thank you,” I said.
He screwed up his face. “For what?”
“Putting yourself out there like that. And inspiring me to keep fighting.”
He smirked. “You're welcome, I guess.”
“The question now,” I said, “is how to fight?”
“Can Sly help?”
“He would in a heartbeat if he could. Even if he is pissed at me. But if he had a potion that could cure vampirism, he'd have a house in Malibu by now.”
Odi laughed. Then we both fell silent.
I thought about Gladys next door. She had a massive library of texts on all manner of supernatural subject matter. We could research options. Maybe Gladys could conjure up something herself. She was a witch, after all. But the more I thought about it, the less the idea seemed feasible. I didn't think I had time to do the research. Especially if it didn't turn anything up. Then I'd be well and truly screwed. Also, I didn't think Gladys did that kind of work.
I needed someone with the knowledge already at hand. And someone with the power to pull it off.
I needed someone like…
Urvasi Sabio.
Chapter Twenty-One
I needed rest. As much as I feared waking up undead, if I didn't try to recharge my magical batteries, eventually I wouldn't have the energy to hold the infection back. Not at this rate.
I also needed a meal. Hopefully, this time without upchucking.
I'd be damned if I tried another salami sandwich. There was a twenty-four-hour market a few blocks away. I sent Odi out to get me a couple cans of chicken soup. Something mild, just in case my gag reflex acted up again.
Vampires can run pretty damn fast, so the kid was back in under ten minutes. He brought three cans. I went through them all. The warm broth soothed my stomach. The protein from the chicken sated my hunger. I was back to mortal tastes, thank the gods.
Upstairs in my room, I shed the over-sized sweatpants and climbed into bed.
I didn't wake up until after sunrise.
My mouth felt like I'd sucked on sand. I hadn't brushed my teeth the night before, and I still had a hint of that salami taste stuck on my tongue, even after all the chicken soup.
The sun streamed through my window. Thankfully, it didn't burn off my face. I was still human.
What a sad standard to have first thing in the morning.
I spent a long time with my toothbrush. Finally, my breath tasted clean. I made doubly sure it stayed that way for a while with mouthwash.
It felt good to wear my own clothes again. I put on a pair of relaxed fit Dockers and a black button-up shirt. I laced up my boots and looked myself over in my closet mirror. Hair styled. Threads hanging just right. Sebastian Light, back in action.
Before I left, I crept downstairs to check on Odi, not that I could tuck him in, or even see him for that matter. Still, a quick glance at his glossy black coffin set me at ease for some reason.
Then I was off to the cemetery.
At first, I just stood beside Mom's grave, staring down at her stone. The late March weather had decided to cling to the coolness from the night before. I had dug out an old jacket from the back of my coat closet with a quilted interior, and was thankful I had. The sun had some warmth to it, but the cold breeze didn't let it stick.
I wondered what Mom would think about all this shit with the Ministry. New regimes and resistances. Me caught in the middle, mostly because I had vampire blood in me. What a stupid mess.
I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath, and called out.
“Urvasi Sabio. I'd like to talk.”
“Hello, Sebastian.”
Her voice came from behind me, but I didn't start. I had expected the sudden appearance this time.
I turned. Her sari looked as if it was made from spun gold, and I suspected some kind of magic was in the weave. She had her black hair up in a bun. Her dark eyes were as bright as ever.
She frowned. “Your energy…”
“Yep,” I said. “Vampire incoming.”
“The brand has failed?”
“Some douche bag sliced it open and that pretty much was that.”
She strode toward me and pressed her hand against my cheek. Her skin felt soft and warm and smelled like sugar. “You're holding it back.”
“For now. It's getting a lot harder.”
“Your fight won't last much longer.”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
She moved her hand to my forehead as if feeling for a fever. Everything about her seemed motherly, from her tone, her expressions, and her touch. It made me miss my mom even more, and I wanted to swat Urvasi away as if she were an impostor. But I'd come for her help. Smacking her probably wouldn't earn me brownie points.
“I can feel it inside of you, roiling like a liquid devil.”
Her super apt description stunned me. I wished I had a way with words like that.
She lowered her hand from my forehead. The cold air made me miss her warmth.
“You need to accept it.”
I rubbed at one temple with my fingertips. “Ugh. Not you, too? I don't want to be a vampire, all right? I came to you because I hoped you could help me push it back again.”
“Holding it back is no longer an option.”
“So that's it, then?” I threw up my hands. “Great. Just fucking great.”
“Sebastian, you must trust me. I know it is hard, after all you've been through, but if you want my help, you have to trust me.”
“You just said you couldn't help. That the infection was going to do its work, too bad, so sad.”
She reached out and gripped my arm. “I said you had to accept it. I didn't say you should let it turn you.”
I drew my head back. “That doesn't make any sense.”
“You're a fighter,” she said. “For a long time, now.”
I hated that she presumed to know me. Especially when I knew so little about her. How much had Mom told her about me? And if they'd been so close, how come I'd never heard of her? No, this was all sorts of wrong. She couldn't help me. It was obvious.
“Forget it,” I said and started walking away.
“You can't fight anymore,” she called after me. “You need to learn acceptance. It's the only way.”
“Acceptance?” I whispered. “Acceptance?” I shouted.
I whirled around to face her.
“I refuse to accept this infection. I refuse to accept what those witches did to my mother. I refuse to accept that they still breathe when every last one of them should rot in the ground.”
“So much anger,” she said slowly, almost song-like.
“Yeah, and I have a right to every bit of it.”
She pursued her lips and nodded. “You do. But the rage has stopped serving you and become your master.”
“I don't have time for Zen bullshit. Can you stop this infection or not?”
“I cannot,” she said. But before I stormed off, she added, “But you can.”
I rolled my eyes. “How? By 'acceptance?'” I made air quotes.
“Indeed.”
I grunted with ten gallons of disgust. “You're crazy.”
“Where else will you go?” she asked.
I opened my mouth, but she caught me. I didn't have an answer. Not one clue.
“Trust me.” She held out her hand. “What more have you to lose when facing the loss of your soul?”
When she put it like that…
“What do you need me to do?”
“Take my hand. Come with me.”
I eyed her hand warily. Her soft, warm hand that smelled like sugar.
What more have you to lose when facing the loss of your soul?
Nothing. I had nothing left to lose.
I closed the distance between us and took her hand.
And then I felt myself turn inside out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The sensation was unlike anything I'd experienced before. Like every atom in my body exploded at once, turning me into pure light, pure energy, soaring through space and time. Then I felt that quick, stomach-clenching jolt you get when you snap awake from a falling dream.