A Vampire's Thirst

by Bella Roccaforte

  Hunter speared her with a look. “Of course I’ve thought about that being a possibility. But the solution is unacceptable and there has to be a different way.”

  “You can only go a few hours without feeding or you’re in extreme agony. You can’t live like this,” she warned.

  “I have to figure this out. This kind of thing doesn’t happen, or there are no documented occurrences of this.”

  “How many vampires do you know that have lived thousands of years?” she countered.

  “I know a few,” he defended.

  “And how many of them refrain from some of the simplest pleasures in life?” She stood from the chair and crossed the lab to where he’s sitting. “Maybe this is your instinct rebelling against you. You are going against everything that you are and have been your whole life.”

  “Not my whole life.” Memories of the savage vampire he once was crossed his mind.

  “Still it’s been so long, maybe just try it,” she pleaded with him.

  Hunter’s eyes darkened and turned red with anger. “No, I will not feed from a human.”

  Camille threw her hands up in surrender. “You’re going to have to figure something out. Owen said they were trying to get more blood, but they’re having some trouble.” She glanced nervously at the clock on the wall. “And feeding time is fast approaching.”

  Hunter’s mind was racing a million miles an hour, he wanted more than ever to find a cure to stop the intense pain running through his body. His lack of focus wasn’t helping to find any solution long or short term. He picked up the computer monitor and threw it across the lab, smashing it into pieces.

  Claire sucked in a sharp breath, trying not to feel afraid, this was not the man she knew. “We’re going to find the answer.” She tried to calm him, keeping her distance.

  “But it seems the only solution presently is throwing away thousands of years of abstinence.” Grief riddled his expression. “Compromising everything I’ve worked so hard to become, for what? For survival? For sanity?”

  “Yes, for survival, for living.” Camille’s voice felt small. “You can’t find a solution if you’re crazed . . . or dead.” Her voice trailed off at the end.

  “For me it wouldn’t be living. It would be giving in to the beast, allowing it take over and make me into something I don’t want to be.” He closed his eyes, trying to staunch the pain growing in the pit of his belly.

  The elevator doors opened, and Owen appeared with another man. Hunter was relieved to see Owen, but there was no more blood, his throat was parched to the point of pain. “Did you bring more?” Hunter arrived at the door in a flash.

  “No, I’m working on it.” Owen was full of apprehension at having to disappoint Hunter.

  “Who’s this?” Hunter glared at the man.

  “Well, well, Henry Grimes.” Camille came to the door with a smile. “How the hell are you?”

  “I’m doing well, Camille, been busy,” he said with a friendly smile.

  “Who are you?” Hunter growled territorially.

  Camille put her hand on Hunter’s arm. “Calm down, he’s a friend.”

  “Smells like Directive to me, we aren’t due for an inspection for months.” He never took his eyes off Henry.

  Henry lowered his gaze. “Owen’s food request raised some red flags.”

  “What kind of red flags? When did The Directive start tracking our eating habits?” Hunter growled, getting closer to the door.

  “When a large laboratory known to be experimenting on vampire blood starts requesting large quantities.” Henry raised a brow. “But I’ve squelched it, I’m just here to see if I can help.”

  “Did you bring more blood?” Hunter’s stomach twisted with hunger. He was trying to control his anger.

  “We’re working on it,” Owen said. “I’m hoping to have something soon.”

  “How the hell can we be having a blood shortage?” Hunter paced the lab, hoping to maintain control. He considered Camille and didn’t want to do anything to hurt or frighten her.

  “We’re not having a shortage, it’s just that no one wants to give up what they have,” Owen explained.

  “I have to eat,” Hunter said simply.

  “Or we have to figure out what’s causing this,” Henry answered. “I have a few theories, but I want to talk about what’s been happening. When this started . . .”

  Hunter was losing it, he dragged his fingers through his blond hair, he could barely hear what Henry was saying through the distraction.

  “Hunter!” Camille snapped. “Henry asked you a question.”

  Hunter shook his head, “I . . . need . . .”

  “Tell me exactly what you’re feeling,” Henry said.

  “An insatiable thirst that feels like it’s ripping my insides apart.” Sweat formed on Hunter’s brow.

  “What else?” Henry asked.

  Hunter was reticent to speak of the other effects he’d been feeling. He looked to Camille as though the details were too personal to reveal.

  “Heightened sexual urged,” Camille blurted out. “I’ve not ever seen him like this.”

  Henry nodded. “Interesting.”

  The thirst became so compelling, Hunter went on the hunt for even a small drop of blood. Anything to quench the thirst he’d been feeling.

  Henry addressed Camille directly, “Are you feeling anything like this?”

  Camille shook her head. “No, I fed two days ago, I’m fine. But if we don’t know when he was exposed, we don’t know the incubation period if this is some sort of virus.”

  “When did it start?”

  “This morning,” she answered.

  “Go through the motions this morning.” Henry glanced back at Hunter who was searching wildly for blood.

  “When I got here, he seemed to be in a better mood. We thought he had a breakthrough yesterday that turned out to be a big bust. He went home, fed, got some rest, but was here before I got here today,” she recalled.

  “Okay, then what?” Henry queried for her to go on.

  “I got to work. I got the batch of new samples and we started processing them.”

  A knowing smile crossed Henry’s lips. “I’ll be damned. I’m assuming you mean blood samples?”

  “Yes, human donors,” Camille said. “They are all paid donors.”

  “I think I know what’s happening,” Henry said with hesitation. “I need you to get the samples.”

  “And do what with them?” she asked.

  “Just get them and bring them out, let’s see how he reacts to them,” Henry ordered.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Camille said.

  “Are the samples hermetically sealed?” Henry asked.

  “Of course. They’re in the clean room.” She shrugged.

  “Just go get them.” Henry and Camille both watched Hunter pacing like an animal at the back of the lab. “And be careful, if I’m right, he’s going to have a reaction.”

  “What kind of reaction?” Worry rode in Camille’s tone.

  “Not sure, but it may calm him.” Henry looked to Owen. “We’re going to need to know where those samples came from. Do you have the names and addresses of the donors?”

  Owen shook his head. “No, only where they’re from. Everything’s anonymous and the donors are paid in cash.”

  “If we have the location, we’ll be okay.” Henry was working out a plan in head.

  Camille went to the clean room and brought out the box of samples. Hunter immediately appeared at Camille’s side, lurching forward toward the samples. “My God that smells good. I need to . . .” Hunter snatched the box out of her hand and started breaking open the tubes of blood and drinking them.

  “Hunter!” Camille snapped at his behavior. “You can’t drink those.”

  Hunter glared at her with a tiny drop of blood in the corner of his mouth. “Why?”

  “Because we need them.” Camille widened her eyes.

  “No, let him,” Henry said with
a knowing smile. He turned to Owen. “We’re going to need to know the location where those came from and enough bags of blood to get him there.”

  “What’s going on, Henry?” Camille demanded.

  “Let’s just watch. If my theory was correct, we’re about to see him calm down real fast.” They both watched as Hunter gulped down vial after vial.

  He broke one open and stopped. He took the time to smell the blood and let the aroma fill all his senses, thirst railed against his insides. But he wanted to savor the scent, this one was different. It had taken hold of him, sending a calming sensation through him.

  “What is it?” Camille asked.

  Henry drew closer to the glass, watching Hunter. “Drink it.”

  Hunter pressed the vial against his lips and let the liquid flow freely down his throat. His thirst momentarily sated, his sexual desire heightened, but targeted. He didn’t want Camille or any other woman, he wanted the woman this blood belonged to. “I have to have her,” he whispered.

  “What’s that?” Camille asked, unable to hear what he said.

  Hunter’s eyes glossed over in a trance, he was unable to speak or move.

  Henry let out a laugh from the other side of the door. “We’re going to need to know where that blood came from.”

  “What’s going on?” Camille growled.

  “He’s not sick, he’s got the Thirst and the good news is, it’s not contagious.” Henry pinned her with a look. “Now, where’s the blood from?”

  Camille looked at the label on the packaging, “New Orleans.”

  “Looks like we’re going to New Orleans.”

  Hunter let out a cry of agony as his body seized.

  Camille caught him as he was about to fall to the floor. She rested his head on her lap, “What’s wrong?”

  Hunter couldn’t answer. His skin was taking on a greyish hue and his eyes became unresponsive. “What's happening?” Camille cried out.

  “Let me in there.” Henry looked to Owen with alarm.

  Owen mashed the button, opening the door to the lab. They both rushed in. Henry examined Hunter. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

  He picked up the vial and sniffs it. He hands it to Owen, “Smell that.”

  Owen sniffed at the empty vial. “I don’t smell anything.”

  Henry took the vial and handed it to Camille. “Can you smell anything?”

  She took in a deep whiff and shook her head, astounded, “No, I can’t even smell blood.”

  “This is going to be interesting,” Henry said, cocking his head to the side and kneeling beside Hunter. “His bloodmate is a rook.”

  “What do you mean by bloodmate? And what the hell is a rook?” Camille fought against the tears threatening at the corner of her eyes.

  She watched as Hunter became more lost in whatever trance he’s in.

  “Hunter has a bloodmate. Now that he’s caught her scent, he has to be with her.” Henry pulled his lips to the side.

  “I’ve heard of bloodmates, but I thought it was a myth.” Camille wrapped her arms around Hunter tighter. “But what do you mean that she’s a rook?”

  Henry’s expression was full of worry. “We’ve never seen a documented case of a rook being a bloodmate. A rook is a human whose blood is toxic to supernaturals.”

  “What?” Camille gasped and can no longer maintain her composure. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, “What’s going to happen to him?”

  “I don’t know,” Henry was trying to work out a solution. “Rooks are almost as rare as bloodmates.”

  “You’re a witch, do something magic.” She sobbed, watching more of his skin turning grey.

  “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.” Henry was at a loss, he felt Camille’s sadness.

  Camille took Hunter’s face in her hands. “Don’t you dare fucking die on me, not like this.” Her sorrow blanketed the room, her sobs echoed. The lost look in her eyes was haunting. “You can’t leave me, you can’t die, you won’t go to Valhalla and you’ll never find Runa.”

  Hunter didn’t move, his eyes were glossed over. “Fuck you, Hunter, don’t leave me.” She knelt beside him, “Wake up!”

  Camille balled his shirt in her hands and shook him. “Hunter!”

  Owen put his hands on her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Get off me, wolf,” she snapped at him uncharacteristically. “Look at him, this is not okay.”

  Camille felt a hand on her cheek. “Shh.”

  She turned to Hunter cupping her cheek. His hand slid back down to his chest, some of the color returned to his face, his eyes became more responsive.

  Camille’s tears intensified with the relief of his response. “Don’t you dare ever do this to me again.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Hunter was weak, and his speech was slurred.

  “You’d better.” She looked up to Henry. “What do we do?”

  “We need to get to New Orleans,” he said.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Her voice trembled with worry.

  “I don’t know.”

  Chapter 10

  Rook listened at the door, trying to discern the voices. She wished she could turn invisible like Alfrigg. She spied her backpack on the floor and dug out her pocket knife. She shrugged, thinking it’s better than lobbing toilet paper at whoever’s on the other side of the door.

  A soft tapping on the door startled her, “Hey, Rook, it’s Samuel.”

  Her body relaxed at hearing his voice. She opened the door, jumping into his arms, “Oh my God, I thought you were . . .”

  “Vamps can’t get in here,” Alfrigg said with an edge of irritation in his tone. “Wolves either, the only reason this one got in was because I let him.”

  “And I appreciate that,” Samuel said, stepping back from Rook. “I figured you were halfway to Biloxi by now, then Percy called me.”

  Rook’s heart warmed at thought that Percy really didn’t want to betray her, but he was caught between a rock and a set of fangs. “I’m thankful for that. I need to get out of here, they’re really pissed about Jeziah.” She swallowed hard, “It’s not my fault . . .”

  “I know it isn’t.” Samuel offered her a kind smile, “I’ve put in a call to the home office.”

  “You think those dirty vamps in The Directive are going to help? They’ll put her down in no time at all.” Alfrigg protested Samuel’s decision.

  “No, I’ve called the home office.” He tilted his head downward, “I know that I can’t trust Bryson to do the right thing. But I’m hoping that getting Clarence here might be able to save her.”

  Alfrigg let out a sarcastic laugh. “That’s even worse. The less they know about her existence the better. If you’ve already called Clarence, we’ve got to move fast to get her out of here. You know what they’ll do.” The alarm in Alfrigg’s voice was contagious.

  Rook’s eyes darted between them. “Who the hell is Clarence and what are they going to do to me?”

  “Clarence is a higher up in the Directive. He’s going to make sure you stay safe.” Samuel believed his own words.

  “What do they usually do with rooks?” she asked in a small voice.

  “It depends, that’s like asking what they do with vampires, werewolves or mages.” Samuel shrugged. “Until I met you, I thought rooks were a fairy tale.”

  Rook chuckled, “Same about you.”

  “Yeah, we’re pretty good about keeping things on the DL, but in New Orleans it’s a whole different ball game.” He rolled his eyes. “Do yourself a favor and stay out of Vegas.”

  Rook ticked her brow. “Noted.”

  “It’s going to be okay. If you abide by the law, you’ll be fine.”

  “What law?” she asked, wondering what her affliction had gotten her into. “Is it against the law to piss off a vampire? How about a vampire dying when he tried to kill you?”

  “I’ve not dealt with this, but I’m sure as long as you don’t use your power for evil, you’l
l be protected,” Samuel said, walking down the hallway. “You’re technically a supernatural and fall under the same laws and protections.”

  Rook clicked her tongue and donned a disbelieving smile. “I wouldn’t call this a power.”

  “Everyone else would,” Alfrigg said as he hurried to hide something on his alchemy table.

  “You’re powerful, you can’t be tracked or scented and if they drink your blood, they’re dead. That’s a lot of power,” Samuel said, sitting on the love seat.

  Rook felt a sense of disorientation realizing that Samuel wasn’t having to crouch, it’s was as though the ceiling was higher. She shot Alfrigg a questioning look.

  Alfrigg shrugged. “My home is far more hospitable than I am.”

  Rook shook her head. “If I live to a hundred I’ll never get used to all the magic that exists in this world.”

  “You’re not going to live to see your next birthday if you allow The Directive to get involved. If they find you, they’ll take you out if too many vamps die.” Alfrigg’s prejudice against The Directive was palpable. “I’m telling you, you can’t trust any of ‘em.”

  Samuel flashed Alfrigg a disapproving look and turned to Rook, softening his expression. “Do you trust me?”

  Rook thought about it for a good long minute. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Then trust that it’s going to be okay,” he said, leaning forward. “I’m not sure when Clarence will get here, but you sit tight here with Alfrigg until I come back. You’ll be safe here and he makes a hell of a meatloaf.”

  Rook crinkled her nose. “Ew, meatloaf?”

  “What? You don’t like meatloaf?” Samuel seemed surprised.

  “No, I do not,” she answered with certainty. “I always made it a point to stay at my best friend’s house on meatloaf night.”

  Alfrigg interjected with confidence, “That’s because–”

  Rook stopped him. “Because I’ve never had your meatloaf? Yeah, I’ve heard that shit before, too. I’m not a meatloaf person.”

  “Suit yourself.” Samuel gave Alfrigg an expectant glance. “But I’ll have some anytime he wants to offer it up.”