“Agh,” I cried, unable to stay silent as my muscles clenched with the long gulp. Searing throat, parched cells opening to life, rolling ecstasy washing through me. I took from Sherry and wallowed in sensation and fear laden blood and almost ceased to think.
But only four, mustn't forget that. I pulled back, shuddering at the release. Her wound was rough, savaged in my urgency. Her adrenaline mixed with mine and my lower body thrust in spasms against her. Four, Louie said. Not enough swallows left. Prolong. I only knew one way so I talked to her, holding myself off the way a man prolongs the passion of sex with irrelevant inanities.
Conversation, the elixir of prolongation. It would work, if I talked enough. But blood was all I could think of. What else was there, really?
“Delicious Sherry,” I gasped. “Four swallows. All I ever need, never all I want. So efficient our vampire bodies, betraying us, sweet Sherry - requiring so little yet driven to drain it all. Blood,” I said to her, “is the nurturer of life. Unbelievably potent. Our enhanced bodies use every aspect and each taste goes a long way. Nothing wasted, not even the dribbles coursing down your lovely neck.” I licked the seeping wounds and gritted my teeth to keep from stabbing again. Only three more. Talk, Brecken. Talk.
“Do you understand my need, Sherry? Of course not, or maybe yes, since you require the same blood as I do. I could tell you that I only take what I must have and cannot make for myself, but that wouldn't be the entire truth. I take because I love it, I crave and will always want to drain it all. Including now.”
But Louie could hear me, so I spat to heal the rough slashes then sliced my teeth down her arm creating new cuts that oozed. Licks don't count as swallows and are an absolute tease, but I relish them. I licked the cuts clean then lost control and with a deep groan, I dipped into the vein at her wrist and sucked until her fingers went pale. A second mighty swallow then, oh my God, oh my God - slow down, slow down with more inane chatter.
“Do you cook, Sherry? I wouldn't ask it of you.” The words came silky, but impossibly difficult to get out. “All you have to do is exist and I'd be fed. You might say that the first swallows are meat and potatoes, the required amount. The next swallows are dessert, not needed, but oh-so-good. A deeper truth is that it’s all dessert, all oh-so-good.”
I couldn't sit still so I squirmed and stroked and circled my hand on her butt, scraped teeth along her chest and licked, then moved her skirt. Louie, having the same proclivities as I, had surely influenced the skirt and bare thighs beneath.
Yes. Her veins and arteries were rich with life and I nudged her knee aside and struck deep into the tender thigh for the third swallow. She shook and I shook with her, liquid sparks flashing through me. My tongue rested on the heat of her flesh and I couldn't move. Could only gasp with my fangs buried and my insides hard then melting. My human part stirred and pushed, wanting to take over. Not going to let that happen. This is for us both, but I get to do the taking. And the slippery talking.
I swished saliva, spat and smeared and cleansed then moved my lips to her ear and whispered. “If we are circumspect, you people never notice the dazed moments of lost time and don't see the quickly healed holes. You respond to my voice because it charms, Sherry, but you won't remember any of this, nor note the ounces lost.” I closed my eyes and groaned a sloppy tune to ease the throbbing in my groin. Didn't work.
One last swallow and I wanted it from the softness of her neck. The first wounds were sealed over but the skin was still flushed, like a reddish pointer that says “Enter here.” I entered smoothly and drank the offered dessert, fantasizing darkly that Sherry could sing and had coppery hair and a magnetic power only I could capture. Bad thoughts, smacky, delicious thoughts.
Then I cheated.
A fifth gulp. A sixth, another and another and Louie was there, throwing me off then stooping to lick her wounds for healing while he glared where I lay, halfway across the room. My lower lip was bloodied and I swiped my tongue as he lifted Sherry from the couch.
Her head lolled back over his arm. Alive, but not good. “I couldn't help it, Louie.”
“I know, brother.” He carried her past me and down the hall to the guest bedroom.
Yvonne lay on a lounge outside, napping, I supposed. Not really present, in any case, so Louie and I could talk. But did I want to talk? Not at all, but I felt an inner shove. Oh, yeah - naturally my human side did. All I wanted to do was curl around a stomach warm with blood. We could both have our way. I relinquished and slithered inside myself to dream dreams of the dirty and dangerous nights when I used to damn the world and fling myself wet and wild on victims as wet and wild as I, drinking and draining them, every one.
Chapter 17
Louie and I didn't talk till evening as it turned out, and though Sherry and Yvonne stayed for Chinese, there was no dining for me. Not that I needed it. I was slightly peeved, but the women were high spirited and the wine superb, albeit a poor substitute for the dinner I expected to be drinking.
Sometimes Louie's guests stay over. Not this time. Sherry had work in the morning so the women hugged goodbye around 11:00 pm, carrying the remains of their Chinese take-out with them.
Louie closed the door with us on the outside. Uh huh. Time to talk and I was eager for it. “Where to, Louie?”
“La plage?”
“Sure. Beach is always good.”
We ambled towards the lodge. By the first curve he was at me. “Pourquoi? Why the switch to human blood? Not that I disagree. It's about time, but why now?”
I shrugged. “Get back to my roots maybe?”
“You’ve never left your roots, Brecken. Just contained them.”
“Not so contained. They broke free.”
“Naturellement. We are who we are.”
It was an old discussion. Canyon Lake Community Patrol drove past us and I waved, still grumpy over the missed dinner. Surprisingly, my vamp jumped to the fore. Fine. I argue better that way and Louie was obviously primed for a spat.
“I'm not surprised that you fell,” Louie said. “Surviving on animals? Pas normal.”
“Le sang est le sang. Any kind of blood works.”
“Oui, et non. Surrounded by gourmet you chose wild creatures.”
“Agreed, but I like people and one of me was tired of using them.” That made me laugh. “One of me didn't wish to be a monster.”
“But we are, in fact, very effective monsters. And I’m talking to yours, right now, my dark friend.”
I struggled briefly and failed to bring my human self back. Coward me? Or wise. Didn’t matter. I was singing either way. A loose cat skimmed across the road ahead. Foolish little cat. Stay safe, cat.
Louie was far from done. “Why are you on top, vampire? In control and getting your way.”
I didn't appreciate the implication that I lived imprisoned and went defensive. “So what? I chose to relax, to let go. Sherry and all.” We passed beside the lodge and down to the walk along the lake.
“Don’t lie to yourself. In point of fact, you let go when you reached for your phone to call me. Or perhaps it was not intended and you didn't mean to switch head guy in charge.”
I circled below Canyon Lake's swimming pool, stared at the Lighthouse in the water and tried to ignore him. He wouldn’t stand for it.
“Worthless to lie about it, Brecken, especially to yourself. Are you paying attention, mon frère? I say that when you chose to fall off the wagon, you threw yourself over in the process and let the dark side take the drink. Fine, except you might have drained Sherry. Rather inhospitable of you, when she was my offering.” He sneered at my sour look. “What, you considered draining her? Risk losing the sun? Are you listening, vampire?”“
Of course, I was listening, but his little attack was unexpected. Louie didn't know about Henna trailing me. He didn't understand how she had sucked in my dark blasts and unnerved me to the point where I had to flee my own home.
We walked onto the beach and I splashed waist deep into the
lake then looked back. Louie had plucked a rose from in front of the lodge. He sniffed it then deliberately pricked his thumb with one of the thorns. Curious, but he does odd things now and again. Oh, I realized, he's about to go poetical on me. Give me a philosophical lesson. Well, I liked the way he talked. I’ve listened to him wax poetical many times, and joined in myself. But now?
“The rose is beautiful,” Louie began. “It holds the softness, the perfume that delights, yet it has thorns that prick. To deny the thorn does not obviate the hurt. To deny a choice does not obviate the results of that choice. You chose to fall off your wagon of self denial, Brecken. At all levels it is choice that matters. You know that I choose to play clean, only small harms. But, la morte - yes, sometimes I choose death for our opponents. But I never pretend I wasn't in control of the choice.” He waded into the water, stirred up the muck, stood face to face with me and waited.
“Damn it,” I hissed. I looked at him and he looked back, no smiles, no lightness. “Yes, Louie, I chose. I didn’t just fall off of the wagon. I jumped off the wagon. And I'm in frickin' heaven over that jump. I wanted a person, not an animal. I wanted ....”
His wave stopped me. “You wanted what we crave, what we scrabble through life to find. Just no lying to yourself about it. I know you well and this trouble in you is not over. You may never return to that wagon of ill conceived abstinence. Jumping is easy, getting back on - why bother to try?”
“Like you've never fallen from anything,” I muttered.
He caught the reference to the aftermath of Sonja and took my arm. “Come on. Those days are gone. Lighten up a little. You spend too much time alone, brooding and pondering the mysteries of our lives. Or fretting over a missed dinner, which you deserved to miss. Sherry is delectable, I know. Not my personal type, but I like her. Enchant her however you wish, just do it with class. Taste, drink, do not abuse my guest again.”
Eventually, Louie always brings me to myself. We plopped down at the edge of the water. A few lights twinkled from houses across the lake. I took off my shoes. Damp sand splattered my sopping pants. A gentle night, parking lot lit behind, dim shopping center glow in the distant sky, an owl cruising for rodent. Peaceful - and I was filled with lust for more blood. And lust for female.
Louie sees everything. “It's the singer, no? Because of her you abandoned animals, yet you fled this far away to feel safe. N'est-ce pas? Right, aren't I?”
I dropped my head, wanting to talk, hating to talk. Let my human handle this, I decided. I was too weary from being reasonable when tearing and taking was what I wanted.
“Let me tell you about this musician, Henna.” Louie's voice was smooth in the night air, almost dreamlike as he surprised me with blatant facts. “She does seem to be unusual. Surely her ancestry is Celt like yours, with that hair she has. I saw a picture of her.”
My mouth dropped.
“The internet,” he said. “It’s quite thorough. At age four or so she was found traumatized, wandering the streets in Oakland. Parents never located and no relatives came forth to claim her. Didn't speak for nearly a year, not even her name. All she had was a bunch of photos in her pocket. No one identified.”
He checked to see how I was taking his words. “A series of unsuccessful foster homes, and then adopted by a well to do woman named Janelle Landau. Raised in Resden, north of San Francisco. Apparently a natural born musician, twenty two years old, three years college, no degree as yet. One spot of trouble when she was a teen. She's been performing at different clubs for the past two years, singing and moving on to a new place. No evidence of lovers, no participation in online social networks.” He quirked a smile. “Primed for you, I'd say.”
“You hacked.”
“And you didn't? Why not, Brecken?”
I dug my fingers through the sand, felt the grit under my nails and leaned my trust into Louie. “I've tried to meet her. It hasn't worked. She's suspicious, thinks I'm stalking her.”
“Aren't you?”
“Well, yes. Of course. She hasn't seen me, but she senses my presence. This morning, with people around, she followed me for blocks and knew where I was without visual confirmation. I hit her with vamp vibes and she was unfazed. Actually sucked them in and used them like they were part of her. Impossible, yet I felt the absorption as it happened. It shook me, brother, and I ran.”
His stillness spoke loud. Moments passed. “No one can absorb our energy,” he finally said. “It destroys or at the very least damages. People can't take it. Even a touch and they shy away, cower afraid. You're saying she did none of those things?”
“The first time, yes. She backed off the instant I hit. Ten minutes later I blasted her harder and she accepted. But she's not one of us, Louie. Henna is human - so how does she do that?”
“I don't know. Why did you blast her?”
“She was following my energy. I couldn't lose her and she gets under my skin, damn it. Pulls and tears at my gut and it hurts and draws me in at the same time. Worse when she's close, but I'm almost compelled to get close. I have to know her and she threatens to call the police on me. She thinks I followed her in Venice Beach, so one of us must have spooked her bad and she assumes it was I.”
He half chuckled. “Why haven't you taken her will to remove that idea?”
“Hunh.” My eyes closed. “I almost did, but I want to meet her the real way. Know her because she wants it, too.”
“Forget it, Brecken. Just take her enough to break through the ice. Why waste time playing around?” He flicked sand at me. What more do you want, friend?”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. “I want to know who she is and how she does what she does. Don't you think we should figure out why she affects me? And would she affect you and other vamps?”
“You want her as a woman too, non? For more than food.”
The thought made me shake. “Perhaps.”
“Oh, you do. Say it.”
I didn't say it. Attraction, yes. A need to understand, absolutely. More than that, no. My gut churned. I don't do relationships. I don't do loss and pain. I wiped sand from my feet, trying to look casual. “Louie, that's not it. Drink from her, yes, how could I not want that and her woman's body. But not yet. I want to know the real Henna first.”
“Um hmm. So where’s the problem? Take her mind enough to make her willing to meet you and talk.”
He was right and I can be reasonable, vamp or not. “All right, I'll control her enough to break the ice and make her feel secure with me. But you have to stay away for now.”
“I agree.” He stood and eyed our wet clothing. “Let's clean up and toss over some ideas about dealing with her. Yvonne will come in the morning with éclairs for all and we will share coffee and lovely Yvonne for breakfast, while she eats those lovely éclairs. Something to look forward to, non?”
We strolled back past houses where people slept unaware that a vampire lived in their midst. Equally unaware how safe they were for it. Louie would stave off all harm to his community and guard his security and theirs. I heard music coming from the second floor of one home and I swear there was music and the joy of homecoming in the depths of my eased soul.
My body had been parched soil, withered life, sustained on dregs and more dregs for so long and now…? Yes, music and bliss from Sherry and in the morning, Yvonne - and over the next days from a friendly old couple I met in nearby Fallbrook.
I met them by accident, not really looking for food. Holding hands for an evening stroll, the couple was. Faithfulness always charms me so I eased alongside and into their country decorated home. Frank and Babs, wine lovers and avid readers of history. They sipped white from old goblets, I sipped red from them. They dozed, I dined. And on the drive back to Canyon Lake, I detoured through Wine Country in Temecula and stopped at one of the wineries to send out a dozen bottles in anonymous thanks for their unremembered hospitality.
Yvonne came again with éclairs. No need in my gut, no desperate thirst, but Louie offered t
o share. Eternally wonderful swallows. I rose from the table meaning to speak, then stopped when I saw Louie stroke her short hair. He licked a tiny stain of chocolate from her lip and she relaxed into him, not knowing she was warmed by a tender and dangerous fire. Yvonne was attractive, cultured and, frankly, delicious. One had to like her.
I walked to Holiday Harbor and sat by the playground where a mother supervised her little boy learning to climb. How easy to just stay in Canyon Lake. Yes, I wanted answers and resolution. Equally true, I disliked the effort to retain control when in range of the vibes that spill from Henna. I also admitted to liking those vibes. The craving for intensity, of course. My monster smiled.
Full of nature's intended food, I felt ready, ready, ready. That singer had caught my attention and I wouldn't swerve. She'd be okay though. I honestly didn’t believe I would hurt her - and I honestly knew I could change my mind on that. But certainty is healthy so perhaps one more stuffing to top things off.
My circuitous walk back to Louie's house was pleasant. I paused on the causeway and gazed at houses with steep slopes and angled steps that led down to the lake. The sky was clouded over and the dismal gray made me feel sunny, so I nodded at a man working in his garden and two golfers in a golf cart. A woman jogged past and - heh - near the corner of Vacation, a couple of pugs on leashes barked at me from the other side of the road. So sorry, the owner was. I liked their pushed in faces, so a wave and genuine smile from well fed me.
My resolve was firm, plans set. I would deal with the Henna issue, not run from it. If she is dilemma, so be it. My very existence is dilemma. Dilemma is a challenge, but also a familiar companion.
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