by Cas Martin
'Why?'
'I just do.'
'Is this about the blood?' When Monica's eyes darted to the corner of the room to avoid her own, it told her all she needed to know. 'Is blood in a bag not enough?'
'You have to know I don't normally do this,' said Monica, still avoiding her eyes. Her breathing was becoming shallower again the more distressed she became.
'What, drink blood? I know that you do.'
'Not that. The, using, the calculated…'
'After everything we've talked about I would've thought you would know better than to underestimate me like this.' Elizabeth stood up and walked to the other side of the room, turning her back on Monica. Her insides were churning with emotions she couldn't separate or fully comprehend.
'Please, Elizabeth, don't be like this. I don't have the strength to argue with you.' Behind her, Monica struggled to put the sentence together. Elizabeth turned around and saw that once again Monica was struggling to remain conscious.
'I know what you're saying. I really don't judge you. I really don't. But I can't promise that Dennis will be back any time soon. Or that he will be bringing anyone back with him when he does. Please let me get you something in the meantime.'
'Fine.' Monica turned away, admitting defeat. Elizabeth thought she could see shame in her eyes.
Elizabeth left the room before either of them could change their minds. She had a moment of doubt when she opened the freezer and began to dig around past the standard microwave meals to the frozen bags of blood. In its frozen state it seemed fine, but her mind leapt forward to what it would be like once it had been warmed. There would be no denying pretending about what it was then.
She tried her best to shake the fears and doubts from her mind as she popped the bag into the microwave and adjusted the settings. She had a moment of confusion when she realised she had no idea what she would do with the blood when it was heated to the right temperature, but then logic kicked in and she realised that a mug would be the best option.
While the digital timer on the microwave counted down, Elizabeth dug her phone out of her pocket. She had promised Dennis she would look after Monica, but she was more aware now of just how little she would be able to do. Dennis would need to feed first, but now Monica was awake, Elizabeth felt she had no choice. She scrolled through the stored numbers until she found his, then hit dial. She silently willed Dennis to answer and let out a sigh of disappointment when she was put through to his mailbox. She hung up without leaving a message. Dennis would know all he needed to when he saw he had a missed call.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket as the ping of the microwave finishing its cycle brought her back to the room and the reality of what she was doing. There was no way of avoiding what came next, so she grabbed the kitchen scissors, cut off the corner of the bag and tipped the lukewarm contents into a mug, trying to ignore the rolling revulsion in her stomach. She gagged twice at the tangy iron smell, but managed to get herself back under control.
She walked back into the master bedroom, holding the mug at arm's length. She wasn't sure if it was the smell of the blood that made Monica open her eyes, but Elizabeth was relieved to see she was still conscious.
She gently placed her hand behind Monica's neck and helped to support her head as she began to drink from the mug. She drank so quickly and deeply that Elizabeth was simultaneously concerned and trying not to start gagging all over again. She shuddered.
'Hey, take it easy.'
'Sorry,' gasped Monica.
'You'll be sick.'
'It coagulates really fast. Then it's horrible. Sorry.'
'That's okay,' lied Elizabeth, trying to put the thoughts of lumpy blood out of her head. For some reason, thoughts of her grandmother's gravy came to mind. She held the mug a little higher and allowed Monica to drink the last of it. When Monica was done, her head sank back on the pillow and she closed her eyes.
'Feel better?'
'A little.' An obvious lie.
'How long will it take to work?'
'I don't know,' whispered Monica, trying to lick any remaining blood from her lips. In the silence, the ticking of the clock counted down the seconds. If Monica was healing, then Elizabeth could see no sign of it.
42
'It's not going to work is it?' Elizabeth was deflated. Monica's eyes shot open and followed her as she walked to the other side of the room and looked out at the night cityscape through the window. 'You have to remember where I come from Monica, the same way that you expect me to remember your bloodline. My father spent his life trying to understand you and your people. I may have only read the condensed version, but I've picked up the salient points.'
'And?' Monica took a ragged breath and the rest of the sentence was lost.
'Microwave meals are pretty much rubbish, regardless of which flavour they come in. They'll keep you going in a pinch, but they're no substitute for a proper meal. Am I right?'
'Maybe.'
'I saw the way they beat you tonight Monica.' For the first time Elizabeth turned back from the window and looked the other woman directly in the eyes. 'I would have been dead from internal bleeding hours ago. Even as it is, you have god knows how many injuries. There was a time when even Dennis thought we'd lost you and he knows how much you can take better than I do. You need more than some who-knows-how-old reheated blood.'
'You said you didn't know when Dennis would be back. Could you call him?' Monica stuttered as her teeth began to chatter.
'Are you okay?'
'I need…'
'What?'
'I need Dennis to bring me someone. Someone willing to… I'm not feeling so good.'
Elizabeth moved over to the bed, concern and fear rising in equal measure. There was a sheen of sweat lacing Monica's forehead, and she knew it could not be a good sign. She pulled the covers down and looked over Monica's body. There were more bruises and swellings than there was untouched skin. No wonder the other woman was in so much pain.
'Monica, look at me,' Elizabeth took the other woman's head in her hands in an attempt to make her focus.
'I'm still here. I'm not dead yet.' Monica tried a pained smile which Elizabeth assumed was an attempt at misplaced humour.
'How long do you have?'
'I think you need to call Dennis.'
'How long?' she demanded.
'I don't know. Really. I've never felt like this. I think I might be dying.' For the first time Monica actually sounded scared. She sounded like a woman who could see the end and did not want to face what lay ahead.
'Should I get you more blood? Another bag?'
'It's not working. Call Dennis.' Her whole body convulsed, arching off the bed against her will.
'Monica…'
'His number is in my phone. Call him. Tell him I need him. Now.'
Elizabeth didn't have the heart to tell Monica she had already tried him once and he hadn't called back. Instead, she took Monica's phone in the hope he would be more likely to respond to that number than any other incoming call in the world. Nevertheless, her worst fears were confirmed when it once again connected to his voicemail.
Elizabeth turned around and headed back to the bed. She paused for a moment and then sat down on the edge of the bed. Hesitantly, she began to unbutton her shirt.
'What are you doing?' croaked Monica.
'I'm trusting you.'
'No.'
'We don't have enough time.'
'Get Dennis.'
'I mean it. We don't have enough time. He's not answering and I don't know when he'll be back. You've saved my life. Consider this as making us even.'
'You don't understand what you're asking of me.'
'I'm asking you to stop. I'm asking you to stop when you have enough of me to live.'
'I can't promise that.' Monica could barely form the sentence, her voice cracking and faint.
'I think you can. You might think that you can't control yourself but I believe that you can. Take just enough to s
tay alive. To begin healing. But don't kill me. Don't drain me. Just take enough so that when Dennis gets here with someone else you will be able to take the rest and get better. I need you for this fight.'
'I can't risk you.'
'I said I trust you.'
'I don't trust myself. I need blood so badly right now.' Once again a shudder of pain racked through her body, more frequent now.
'I know that once you start to drink you'll get stronger. I'm not stupid. But I trust you. I trust you to not kill me.'
'You know that I can't make…those…promises…' Monica's eyes closed, and Elizabeth knew even if Dennis called back now there wouldn't be enough time. 'I can't.'
'You can,' whispered Elizabeth. 'You have to.'
Elizabeth reached forwards and ran her finger over Monica's bottom lip. She tugged it gently down, exposing her teeth. She had never believed she would be in the position where a vampire would feed on her, certainly not of her own free will. She knew there were people out there who did this every day. They knew all the right things to do. She had to find a way to make Monica ignore those boundaries that she had spent so many years constructing. Even if Monica admitted that she wanted the blood more than life itself, she might no longer have the strength to act on it.
She continued her thumb's trail along Monica's lower lip, but on the return journey lifted it up to brush against her teeth. Against Monica's will, her fangs started to descend and Elizabeth was unable to suppress a shiver of fear, even though she was the one who had caused the action. Seeing those teeth made it all so real somehow. She leapt up, convinced she was crazy for even trying.
Monica let out a moan of frustrated need, her body too weak to act on the temptation being put in front of her. Elizabeth knew she was torturing Monica, raising her fangs when she was already in so much pain.
This was the moment of no return. If Monica began to feed on her, she would start to get her strength back. At that point the vampire instinct would take over. Elizabeth knew once those teeth came into contact with her vein it wouldn't matter how much she talked about trust. Monica would either stop or she wouldn't, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
Elizabeth hastily walked away, trying to seek a moment of clarity. She heard the faint whimper of pain and frustration from Monica as she did so, and it made the whole thing even more confusing. Her logical mind was telling her one thing, but the reality was something else entirely.
She walked over to the dresser and picked up a scrunchie. Monica's teeth were still extended as she tied her hair back and made her way over to the bed. As she sat back down, she caught her own reflection in the mirror, her eyes instantly drawn to her exposed neck. No, there was no way she could do that. But if Monica died then she was dead anyway as well. During her time here she had managed to piss off enough powerful vampires to sign her own death warrant. Right now, that was something she was sure of.
The other thing she knew for certain was that this was not what her Daddy had in mind for her. She could fully understand now just what he had been trying to protect her from. It was impossible to stay detached, not once you knew.
Monica's eyes were closed and her teeth still distended as Elizabeth climbed onto the bed next to her. Her eyes were watering with the pain, so much so that they almost looked like tears. Elizabeth propped herself up on one arm and positioned her body half over Monica's.
'I trust you,' she half-whispered, more for her own benefit than Monica's, as she placed her neck gently against Monica's lips. She shuddered at the sudden coldness against her skin, but Monica still did not move underneath her. 'I trust you,' she said again, this time more forcefully, and with more conviction.
There was a moment when the air seemed to freeze and fracture around them.
Elizabeth felt Monica's hand slide up her back.
43
Despite her weakened state, Monica's hand was stronger than Elizabeth expected, and she knew it was only going to grow more powerful from this point on. Elizabeth tried not to get nervous, knowing that Monica would sense it. The added fear could spiral her blood lust out of control. It was going to be a hard task, and Elizabeth ended up swallowing nervously anyway.
'I'm sorry,' Monica whispered and then Elizabeth felt it, the sharp sting of teeth piercing her skin. She let out a gasp of pain and fought against the primal instinct to push herself away, to tear the teeth out of her neck while she still had the advantage and strength to do so.
She wondered why people voluntarily allowed themselves to do this all the time. Why people actively sought it out, when it was nothing more than pain. Monica hadn't the strength to do any of their usual tricks yet, nothing to soothe her pain and ease her mind.
Then she felt it, the moment when the last drop of Monica's willpower and reservation melted away, and the first tug of blood being sucked from her body. Monica's lips were still cold as they began to move, almost like a caress if you could forget how deadly they could be. Once more Elizabeth forced herself to relax into the movements, knowing that she needed to keep as calm as possible to control her blood flow. Horror filled her senses, but somehow she couldn't pull away.
The sucking sensation became stronger, but without the violent fervour that she had been expecting. She had assumed that Monica would drink like a thirsty man in the desert on first finding water, but it was nothing of the sort. Instead it was gentle. Persuasive.
Elizabeth realised that her mind was beginning to wonder. She tried to gauge how many minutes had passed and how much blood she could have lost in that time. It was an impossible task. It was as if she had become cut off from reality the moment Monica had taken that first blood. Somewhere, distantly, she realised that Monica's hand on her back was much firmer now than it had been when all this first started. Or perhaps she was just considerably weaker?
She should probably try to break the connection, force Monica away. Her lulled mind whispered that she really did not want to. Ignoring it, she placed her free hand against Monica's shoulders and gave a gentle push. As forceful as possible, without risking pushing too hard and ripping Monica's teeth from her body. Strong enough to break them both from the reverie that they had found themselves in.
Monica let out a moan, low and deep in the back of her throat as she stopped feeding. They were both still, so still, and then Elizabeth could feel it, the sensation of Monica's teeth being gently withdrawn from her skin, and the final slide of her tongue over the open wound.
And then…nothing.
It was the strangest sensation as a void descended on her neck. Suddenly all the strength in her body was gone. She collapsed completely, not realising that it was only Monica's arms keeping her in place. The sudden movement jarred her shoulder and she distantly remembered the pain she had been in earlier. Now her whole body felt detached from it. A strangely elated kind of numbness, which was certainly much better than the pain, right?
'Wha…' she tried to speak but the words somehow became strangled in her throat.
'Shhh,' whispered Monica. 'You're okay. I've got you.'
44
Monica clung tightly to Elizabeth's body, feeling stronger than she had done for a long time. Proper blood, given freely. Powerful blood too, she could feel that, like she had drunk a fine wine. Something notable about it, although she didn't know what and for now it didn't matter. She hadn't taken much, yet the effects were as though she'd consumed to the point of draining. It was a taste she would be reluctant to give it up.
Elizabeth felt light in her arms as she eased her down on the bed, roles reversed with the change in their strength. The blood flow, mixed with her own saliva, was little more than a trickle now, oozing ruby into the hollow of Elizabeth's shoulder. She leaned over and gently wiped it with the tip of her finger, and Elizabeth's eyes opened.
'Am I okay?'
'You will be. You just need to take some time to recover. Thank you.' Monica sucked the blood off the tip of her finger. She glanced down and noticed that it had alread
y been replaced on Elizabeth's neck. That was worrying. 'Did I hurt you too much?'
'No. I just feel, like, kind of sleepy.' She stifled a yawn as if to prove a point.
'That's normal.'
'I expected it to be more painful.'
'I'm glad it wasn't. But you're still bleeding a little.'
'I can't feel it.' A lazy wave of the hand and Monica couldn't help but smile.
'Under normal circumstances, you're not meant to.'
'Towards the end, it felt almost nice.' Elizabeth muttered, then realised what she had just said. Her eyes fluttered open. 'God, I can't believe I said that.'
'It felt nice for me too,' Monica confessed before she had time to think about the words. 'You saved my life, you know.'
'Like I said, it makes us even now.'
'No, there is nothing that I could do that would make us even after that.' Monica reached down and wiped the fresh trickle of blood from Elizabeth's wound as gently as she could, keeping her eyes on Elizabeth's. 'Does that hurt?' she whispered again, hoping her face showed no emotion.
'No.'
Monica realised that she was holding herself rigid, tense with the desire to feed some more. This was what she had always feared would take over her, make her the very worst of everything that she thought of her kind. The need to feed growing stronger than her humanity. She knew that it wasn't, not really, but it scared her how powerful it was. It didn't help that Elizabeth was still bleeding, and Monica knew it should have stopped completely by now.
'What's the matter?' asked Elizabeth quietly, studying her face.
'You're still bleeding. You're not meant to be.'
'Why?' Elizabeth sounded fuzzy and unconcerned. A far cry from the pragmatic woman Monica had begun to know.
'My saliva is supposed to stop the bleeding. It slows it down so you don't bleed to death after, I've, um…' she trailed off, unable to find the right words.
'After you've fed from me?'
'Yes.'