Blood Reaction Saga (Book 2): Blood Distraction

by Atha, DL

  “Oh, I never thought you killed them, but I think you know who did,” Langford replied, handing the watch back to me. The metal was warm where he’d been holding it in his hand. “But obstruction of justice,” he added, “is a serious charge. Not nearly as serious as accomplice to murder, but still a problem.”

  “Look, maybe my boyfriend did it. I don’t know, but I don’t know where he is. Rumsfield kept asking, and I honestly don’t know. He never confessed to me, except about Ms. McElhaney. I’d have come to the police, but I knew the man was dangerous, and he threatened my family. Threatened to kill all of us, so I buried his clothes out in the forest. So Rumsfield was more right about some things than I let on. He’s a good detective. As much as I hate to admit it.”

  At this point, I was trying to salvage whatever part of my innocence I could. If Langford thought I was only obstructing justice that had to be better than being consider an accomplice to murder. I just needed to get him off my front porch with the promise that I’d come down to the station tomorrow. Tomorrow wouldn’t come because I’d be long gone with Ellie.

  Langford nodded his head, the movement fanning the sickly sweet smell of jealousy towards me. “I wouldn’t waste my breath saying too many nice things about Rumsfield. He thinks you’re a real freak. And he’s not that smart, is he?”

  What’s he getting at? Something about Rumsfield brought out the protective side of me. And this sheriff truly brought out the irritable side of me also. “With all due respect, Sheriff, he figured out something wasn’t quite right about my story before any of you. You should really give him his position back.”

  Langford held his hand up like the Pope giving a decree. “Actually, I’ve always thought of it as luck. Luckier than most, I’d say, but this time not lucky enough that he’ll ever get his job back. And as far as smarts go, he couldn’t be that bright bringing all this evidence straight to me,” Langford said.

  “Okaaay. Shouldn’t he bring all the evidence to you?” I asked, my fingertips rubbing the engraving on the pocket watch as I mentally searched for his angle. “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m saying that I’ll give all this evidence back to you. Except that ridiculous stake. I told Rumsfield to keep that because that’s just hogwash, and any jury would laugh him under the table. Look, I’m sure you have a lot of money, you being a doctor and all. Accomplice to murder and obstruction of justice showing up in the paper would be very inconvenient for you, Dr. Creed. Very inconvenient for your daughter too and your mother. Now you need to understand that Rumsfield’s more concerned about justice. Me, on the other hand … I’m willing to overlook some minor infractions.”

  I rolled my eyes at the rich doctor comment—a common problem for me whether I was buying a new car or hiring a plumber. “I don’t have any money for you, Sheriff. Just enough for my daughter and I to live on. Especially now that I’ve developed this medical problem.”

  “And that problem is not my problem, Dr. Creed. This can end one of two ways tonight. You’ll either be sitting handcuffed in the back of a patrol car charged with accessory to first‐degree murder. Or the more pleasant option, I’ll stay with you tonight, to make sure you don’t skip town or anything, and tomorrow morning, I’ll follow you to the bank. And once you hand over a hundred grand, I’ll hand you back all the evidence Rumsfield gave me. And we can forget any of this ever happened.”

  I was staring at him, dumbfounded. How had I lived in this world this long and never noticed the corruption I was seeing tonight. I didn’t even resist when Langford reached over and pulled the watch out of my grasp.

  “What about Rumsfield?” I asked. “Isn’t he going to talk?” Langford pulled out another cigarette. The second one was still smoldering beside the first one in the flowerbed. “You mean the drug addict?” He laughed, smoke erupting from his lungs in staccato fashion. “Who’s going to listen?” He took another drag and grinned back at me.

  “And you might want to think a little more about your girl, Dr.

  Creed. With you gone, it’d be a real shame if your mother wasn’t allowed custody of her. A judge might find your mom too old or absentminded to care for her. It’s funny the excuses judges can come up with when someone make’s a few suggestions. Who knows, she might even end up in a group home.”

  “You would do that to an innocent child?” I asked aloud, but it was more of a statement of fact to myself.

  “Don’t force my hand, Dr. Creed. It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “And what if I tell everyone in the department about you blackmailing me?” I asked.

  He opened his hands in front of him like any good politician spreading the bullshit. “They’ll call you a liar and figure you went wild for a man. They’ll think you were a desperate, lonely woman and swallow everything I’m telling them. But no one has to know. No one knows I’m out here, and nobody ever has to find out. Rumsfield’s lost all credibility, only he’s too stupid to realize it. Else he wouldn’t have brought all those juicy pieces of evidence to me. He would’ve been standing here himself.”

  “I don’t think he was willing to believe that you could stoop to this level,” I answered.

  He laughed at my comment. “But everyone is willing to believe the worst about a woman, Dr. Creed. You should know that. Just look at Rumsfield.”

  For once, I wished I was still hallucinating and Asa was there telling me to kill him. I’m pretty sure I’d have listened. “But you’re not willing to believe the worst about me, Sheriff?” I asked. Obviously, he wasn’t or he wouldn’t be out here.

  I suppose he thought his smile was disarming because he cast another broad one at me now. “Of course not, Dr. Creed. I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Your mistake,” I said as I reached out and smacked his head against the porch post.

  He landed at my feet, his body crumpling to the porch floor like an accordion as his joints gave way. His knees hit first and then he fell forward at the waist, his head smacking the concrete with a sickening thud. I listened for his breathing and was only slightly relieved that his respiratory drive continued on at a steady rate. Not that I was likely to have started CPR if it hadn’t, but I was glad he was alive. Tomorrow morning, he’d have an unparalleled headache and hopefully some short‐term memory loss to boot.

  I talked to him as I dug through his pockets, pulling out the other two watches and the handful of jewelry Rumsfield had given him. A quick inventory showed it was all there—everything that Asa had taken from his most recent victims—the direct link to me of any specific crime.

  “Sorry about this, Sheriff. Although, I guess you weren’t that good of a cop, and I really shouldn’t be wasting any sympathy on you. As annoying as Rumsfield was, at least he was on the up and up. You know, he was trying to protect me when all of this started. I was in danger then. The mortal type. And he honestly tried to save me. Now I’m in danger of losing my family and everything else I hold dear. Not life or death necessarily, but still, important stuff to me. I can’t stay here with you all night, nor can I go to the station with you in the morning because Rumsfield was right. I am a vampire, and you shouldn’t have threatened my daughter.”

  I stood, leaning back against the front door as I slid the stolen jewelry into the pockets of my jacket and blue jeans. I was debating about grabbing my clothes out of the sheriff’s car when the first arrow slid through my belly, pinning me to the oak door at my back. The second one caught me in the sternoclavicular notch, the v shaped space at the bottom of the neck. And just as I realized what I’d been shot with, the third pierced my right lung. All three burned with an unexpected fire as they cut through me.

  I’d have screamed if I could have pulled air into my lungs, but the second arrow had sliced nearly through my trachea. All that came out was one prolonged syllable as what air I had remaining in my lungs whistled across the remains of my vocal cords. Even though I didn’t need to breathe, I reached for the arrow in my neck first. Th
e sensation of my own blood pouring down my throat was fear-provoking to say the least.

  I’d gotten so wrapped up in Sheriff Langford that I’d forgotten about the person in the woods. He’d been smart to bring backup, and I’d been stupid to have forgotten. The bad part was I couldn’t even drop my chin to see him better. I could hear the slap of pants‐legs against the tall grass at the edge of the forest, and I could just see the shadow of a man walking towards me. I couldn’t make him out until he was close enough that I could smell his arrogance. What little heart I had left dropped to my feet. Sheriff Langford had been telling the truth after all.

  Rumsfield stopped about fifty feet directly in front of me, a crossbow in one hand, the stake I’d used on Asa tucked into his waistband. He was breathing hard and leaning more towards one side, splinting to help himself breathe better. His skin was white ash, and the scruff he’d been wearing in the hospital was now a full‐on beard. If he’d slept, I couldn’t tell it. Sheer adrenaline must have been keeping him upright, but just barely. I gave him a handful of steps before he collapsed. Why had he wasted his shot?

  I didn’t look any better. Blood was pouring from my wounds, and it took both of my tremoring hands to haltingly inch the arrow out of my neck. A gush of blood slipped down my throat, and more dripped onto the porch at my feet. In a paroxysm of coughs, I cleared my airway of the blood that was stealing my speech so I could curse him properly, but something was wrong. I couldn’t force enough air to produce anything other than a rasp across my vocal cords. I choked out more blood and tried again. Oxygen isn’t important, but air is essential for communication.

  “That bad of a shot?” I whispered, struggling to make my voice loud enough that Rumsfield could hear me. The wound made a sucking, whistling noise while I talked, a slow ooze of blood dripping down the back of my throat.

  Rumsfield took a few unsteady steps towards me as he pulled a final arrow out of the rack on the crossbow. “If I’d wanted you dead right away, rest assured you would be,” he answered. “Feel funny, Annalice? I silver‐tipped the arrows. It’s a type of poison for vampires. But you probably already knew that.”

  I attempted to shake my head. “No. I didn’t know that,” I whispered. The wound wasn’t healing. Now I was getting nervous. Looks like he had more time than I thought for that kill shot.

  He nodded as he stepped closer, the crossbow held more or less level with my heart. “You’re pretty new at this, aren’t you? At least, that’s what I think. That man that you were with a couple weeks back. He was the real deal, and you’re his upstart. You been at this about two weeks the way I figure it.”

  I nodded my head as much as I could. The muscles of my neck were weakening, and I could barely lift my head up to look at him. “You’re really starting to feel it, huh?” Rumsfield said. It wasn’t so much of a question as an observation. He took another couple of nervous steps closer, still splinting for deeper breaths.

  I felt funny all right. Each movement was like pulling a tank through quicksand. My lips had cracked from the loss of blood. I was oozing from each hole he’d given me, and the one in my neck wasn’t healing at all. At least now I knew why. The arrow I’d pulled from my neck slipped from my hand and dropped at my feet. My vision was dulled from the silver. It was the arrows nailing me to the door that held me up.

  “Nice arrow. You make your own?” I asked. The serious bow hunters usually did. Their arrows were more distinctive that way. Rumsfield’s carried red and black striped feathers tipped in white.

  Rumsfield had made it nearly to the porch by this point. “The silver is a weakening agent, and I didn’t want you getting away from me. A little selfish, I know, but I wanted you to have time. Time to answer a few questions and, if I’m being honest, time to know that it was me that was putting an end to all of this.” Rumsfield notched the final bolt and loaded the crossbow. He struggled to do it. The poundage on an average crossbow is nearly eighty pounds, and he was on his last legs.

  I cleared my throat from the blood again. “So were you working with Langford or was he lying?” I whispered. My hands were scratching at the arrow in my belly. I could barely keep a grip on the shaft at all, I was so weak. It wasn’t any use, and I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to stop any more than a man couldn’t dance on the gallows.

  Rumsfield shook his head and inched closer. “No. I was playing him. I’ve been following him for a couple of days. Langford’s always been a little dirty. Never liked me much. And I never liked him at all.”

  “Is this a revenge killing, Mike, or a mercy killing?” I asked. “A revenge execution doesn’t truly befit a cop.” I guess I wanted answers, too.

  He looked over at Langford’s unconscious form. The man’s mouth was open, drool and blood mixing on the concrete under his head. “You’re forgetting, Annalice. I’m not an officer any more thanks to you. But we both know this killing is for the best, whatever the reason.”

  I choked at his words, flecks of blood spewing from my mouth and landing at my feet. I watched them drop as they fell in slow motion, riding the breeze on the way down. Hearing your own death talked about so nonchalantly is more than a little disturbing. “Everyone seems to know what’s best for me, and no one bothers to ask my opinion.”

  “I don’t think you can be trusted to decide,” Rumsfield answered. He lifted the crossbow up, my heart in the crosshairs. “I also wanted to make sure you had time to make your peace. Or whatever your kind does.”

  “Aren’t you the gentleman? But it’s probably a little too late for that. The one who made me said my kind go to hell.”

  The bow was starting to shake as his muscles fatigued. He realized it and tried to still the trembles. “I hate that for you, Annalice, I really do. I never wanted it to end this way. But it did, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little personal. It didn’t start out that way though. I want you to know that.” He re‐leveled the bow. The tip had started to drift downwards.

  Bloody tears were beginning to track down my cheeks. I could taste them at the corners of my mouth, a metallic twinge that burned my tongue.

  “Don’t start that. You’re not some helpless damsel in distress.

  It won’t help. You’re not walking away from this.”

  “I’m not crying for your benefit, Mike. It’s the silver. But while there’s breath in my body, there’s a few things I need you to know. I didn’t kill Ms. McElhaney. I knew who did, but I didn’t call the cops because you guys wouldn’t have believed me. And Asa, the vampire who attacked her, warned me he’d kill anyone I had any contact with, and that included your nosy, busybody self. I couldn’t help the dead, but I did keep him from coming after you the night you doubled back to my house. I saved you that night, and a couple other times as well. You just didn’t realize it. I didn’t kill that man in the woods, but I couldn’t protect him either.”

  “Saved me? You? You ruined me!” Rumsfield nearly shouted, pulling the crossbow back up again. “And it was your spit in my blood stream that got me fired. You ruined my life.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I tried to protect you.”

  He was shaking his head, a man in disbelief. “And that man at the bar? Were you protecting him, too?”

  “I’m learning, Mike. To be something I was never meant to be.”

  The crossbow came up again, the trembling taken away by his anger. “You say you saved me, but it was you that almost killed me! You put me in the hospital on a ventilator with a collapsed lung and lacerated spleen. I nearly bled to death in your pasture. The only thing that kept me alive was the lead bullets I put in you. You didn’t save me. You’re dangerous, a menace to our society, and I won’t let you live to do it again.”

  “I’m not dangerous. I’m not like Asa. Nothing like him. I can learn to not hurt people.”

  He laughed at that. “Wake up, Annie. If you need to learn to not hurt people, then you need to be put down. You can’t teach that. You should know better. You were a doctor once. Psychopaths can�
��t be fixed.”

  “I’m not a psychopath.”

  “No, you’re worse. You’re a vampire. And you eat people.” “But I don’t have to kill them. Can’t you see? I just need their blood to live. Not their death.”

  The wheels were turning in his mind, the crossbow faltered for a few seconds, the arrow tip falling to my mid‐abdomen. “Shit, Annie, seriously,” Rumsfield said, taking a few steps back. I could see the mental distance he was putting between us as well. “Humans don’t have to eat the whole fricking chocolate cake. But they do. So your expecting me to let you live on the off chance that you can stay on the vampire diet wagon? Listen to yourself. If you have any human left in you at all, think about what you’re saying.”

  He’d called me Annie. That had to be a good sign. I started to argue more points.

  “Shut up! No more. Your daughter and mother don’t have to know. I won’t tell them, but they would thank me if they knew what you really are.” He took a step closer, the crossbow lining up with my heart. Resolve turning his face to stone.

  It was over, and I knew it. “Just look in on Ellie some. Please. Would you do that?” I asked before he shut me out completely.

  He nodded a grudging yes, and I let my hands slip off the arrow I’d been struggling with and fall to my sides, my fingers digging into the brick of the porch for support. Support to keep my hands from reaching towards Rumsfield and begging for mercy. I will not beg. I will not beg. The end had finally come. I knew there would be no mercy from Rumsfield.

  “You want to say some kind of prayer or something?” he asked. “Last chance.”

  I wanted to pray for Ellie, but I wanted to ask God for revenge, too. To cut Michael Rumsfield down in a fiery blast. “It’s probably wrong to pray for peace and revenge at the same time,” I answered.

  “Have it your way,” he said.

  I will not beg. Not God or Rumsfield. I stared into Michael Rumsfield’s cool, blue-eyed gaze for the last time with my own resolve. Every last ounce of strength I had left, I used to hold my head up straight. I will not beg. “Just get it over with.”