“And your boss, do you know how long he’s been in the business?”
“No, I—“
“Two hundred and twenty eight years.”
Quinn couldn’t comprehend what Roman was saying to her.
Maybe I hit my head. She thought.
“Before there were blood banks there were places, secret places where people like me could go to find people like you.”
“What does that mean? People like me…” asked Quinn.
“You are what we call a carrier. Your blood type is O negative.”
“How could you know that?”
What kind of stalker finds out my blood type? Quinn inched away from Roman.
“People who possess an O negative blood type have a distinct smell, a certain aura about them. It just so happens that the type of blood coursing through your veins is the only kind of blood compatible with my kind.”
“And your kind is…what exactly?”
“I think you would call us vampires. Even though I have never really enjoyed that term.”
Quinn felt her head spinning. She couldn’t deny what her eyes had seen and what she had felt. There was something unnatural and animalistic about the strangers at the clinic and there was something strange about Roman that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“I don’t believe in vampires,” said Quinn.
“Neither do I,” Roman laughed lightly. “The vampires with the perfect smiles and dashing good looks, that’s not who we really are.”
“I think I saw that,” said Quinn. Flashes of Roman’s face changing, shifting into something fiercely more monstrous than anything she had ever seen flooded her mind.
“We can change our image to match what the people around us look like. It makes us fit in better.”
“So you’re wearing a mask right now?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s a good way to think of it.” He smiled. “So back to my point. Your boss Victor Aguire, is not a vampire but he is employed by one and he has been running a successful operation for a very long time.”
“If he’s not a vampire how could he have been in business for over two hundred years?” asked Quinn. She had a million and one questions.
“His employer keeps him alive by feeding him a bit of our blood every so often. It’s not enough to turn him and his employer never exchanges blood with him which is necessary for the change to occur.”
“So if his boss, a vampire, exchanges blood with him he would become one of you?” asked Quinn. She was completely enthralled. “Is it that easy?”
“Easy? No it’s not quite as simple as I’ve made it sound. The process itself is simple enough but sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes the human dies before the exchange is complete. Sometimes not enough blood is transfused and the result is a vampire so weak they are usually picked off by others of our kind.”
“Wait a minute,” Quinn said, holding up her hands. “This is too much. I don’t understand. I don’t believe in an ay of this.”
“Just because you don’t believe in something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” said Roman. He stared into Quinn’s eyes and she felt as if he were looking straight through her.
“I suppose that’s true. You’re sitting here, and unless I’ve hit my head or something…”
“You seem perfectly lucid to me. Would you like me to continue?”
Quinn nodded.
“Your boss has entered into an agreement with his employer by which he will supply us with O negative blood in the event that there is ever a shortage. As I’m sure you’re aware, O negative blood is exceedingly rare.”
“Is it rare because of your...people’s appetite for it?” Quinn asked. She was a little embarrassed about using food as a metaphor but it was the only thing she could think of.
“Yes. Unfortunately.”
“Why does it have to be O negative?”
“O negative blood contains no antigens. For whatever reason over the millennia, our bodies have become severely allergic to the antigens in other blood types. Drinking anything besides O negative can cause a fatal reaction for us.”
Quinn sat very still trying to process all of this new information.
“How is it that you are so calm right now?” asked Roman. He seemed genuinely confused. “These aren’t fairy tales I’m telling you.”
“I don’t know,” answered Quinn. It was the truth. She felt at ease with Roman and took what he said as fact. There was no reasonable explanation for the things she had seen and the answers he was giving her seemed and reasonable as anything she could come up with. “Please, go on.”
Roman smiled gently again and continued. “There is a shortage unlike there has ever been before. My kind are dying off in droves. Even the suppliers at blood banks cannot keep up with demand. It’s never happened on a scale such as this and I can’t help but feel as if I am missing something.”
“Were you going to kill me? That first night I saw you, were planning to kill me?”
Roman shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “I wasn’t going to kill you, no. I knew you were a carrier and so I wanted to drink from you but I wasn’t going to kill you. After I saw you I couldn’t bring myself to harm you in any way. I realized that the only thing keeping you safe was the fact that you worked at the clinic. The irony of that was enough to make me want to know more about you. The smell of your blood is mingled with all of the other blood, masking it. The scent clings to you even now.” He drew a long, deep breath and Quinn pressed her back the headboard. “I can understand how another of my kind may have been confused by your smell.”
Quinn remembered the strangers in the clinic saying something about how strong the smell was.
“Does Mr. Hammond work for you?” she asked. She wanted to change the subject.
“I don’t know anyone by that name. Who is he?”
“Every week Mr. Aguire packs up two quarts of O negative and gives it to a man named Hammond. He’s a doctor I think.”
“Is he a vampire? Can you tell?”
“No he’s not like you.” She looked down. Not like you at all.
“That’s very strange, especially considering the agreement he made with his employer. That blood is worth more than his life. Seems odd he would give it away to a human.” Roman looked thoughtful. “Do you have any contact information for this man, this Mr. Hammond?”
“No. Why?”
“I’d like to talk to him now that your boss is dead. You said he gets a package of the blood every week, maybe he has a stockpile of some sort.”
“Mr. Aguire kept everything locked up in his office. Hammond’s information is probably in there.”
Roman glanced at the window. A soft, hazy glow was beginning to seep through the shades.
“I have to go,” said Roman. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow night. Don’t leave your apartment, promise me?”
“I have to go to work, people will want to know what happened. I was there. I’m on camera.” Quinn knew that every room in the clinic was monitored by closed circuit TV as a security precaution. She had been right in the thick of the carnage.
“I’ve taken care of that,” said Roman. “I’ve disposed of the tapes and amended your time in the computer to show that you left a full twenty minutes before your boss. If anything the police will want to know what he was doing there. And considering the whole place is a crime scene now, I’m sure you’ll have the day off tomorrow.”
Quinn sat back and sighed. “Well I guess I’m house bound until you come back?” Quinn sat quietly studying his face. There was not a hint of the hideous creature that lay beneath.
“Yes,” he said. “Promise me you’ll stay put?”
“I promise.”
Roman was gone before Quinn could draw her next breath. She sat still for a long time after he left. She wondered if she might wake up to find it had all been a dream. But as the sun rose and bathed her room in a soft, pale light she knew that it was not a dream and that however beautifully terrif
ying Roman had seemed, he too was real.
She went to her kitchen and took a bottled water from the fridge. She guzzled it, and two Tylenol, before taking a seat at her kitchen table. She looked at the picture of her parents and her child-self and tried to remember. What was it her father had said to her? The memories were faded around the edges but she clearly recalled a very strange conversation she had when she was in middle school. An English assignment required her to read and report on Bram Stoker’s genre defining Dracula. She got an A and rushed home to tell her father who promptly crumpled up her paper and tossed it into the waste basket.
“Why did you do that?” she had asked him angrily.
“Because it’s rubbish!” he yelled.
“It’s just a story!” Quinn had argued.
“A story full of lies! That Dracula was the origin, the original vampire! That he’s afraid of a crucifix or can turn himself into a bat? Rubbish!”
Quinn had stormed off to her room and slammed the door. Her father spoke of vampires as if he knew something Stoker had not and it infuriated Quinn that he took it seriously enough to destroy her schoolwork.
Now as Quinn sat, replaying all of the things that had happened she wondered if her father had known something about these creatures long before this night when one had come calling.
UNINVITED
Quinn’s cellphone buzzed in her pocket. She slid her finger across the screen to answer it. Squealing into the other end was Mandy, telling her to stay home because something terrible had happened to Mr. Aguire. She tried to act as aloof as was possible, telling Mandy that she would be home all day if she needed her.
Quinn hung up the phone and tried to clear her head. Her father’s words haunted her as did everything she learned from Roman. She flipped on the TV and scrolled through the channels. She sat, mortified, as she realized that every channel was showing the same thing. Live news coverage of what was being called the Blood Bank Massacre. Quinn scowled at the title. The media always seemed to be sensationalizing things. She turned up the volume and listened as the reporter recounted all of the details that were known at the moment.
“All we know at this time is that there are three confirmed fatalities and the deaths are being ruled homicides. The Columbia County Sheriff’s department does not have a suspect at this time but they are urging the public to come forward with any information.”
She turned the TV off. She went to her room and sprawled out across the bed.
She awoke with a start. She glanced at the digital clock on her dresser. It flashed seven thirteen.... pm. Quinn sat up and looked around half expecting Roman to be sitting on her bed waiting for her. He was not. There was some disappointment in that. She got up and switched on her bluetooth speaker. She paired it with her phone and breathed in deeply as the sounds of Hozier’s “Cherry Wine” drifted though her room. She decided to take a shower and put on something a little more enticing than her dingy scrubs. She felt silly pondering the details that, in light of everything that had happened, seemed so insignificant.
She finished her shower and walked back into her room to see Roman sitting on the edge of her bed. She had to hold on to the dresser to steady herself as her heart did a summersault in her chest.
“You should probably knock or call or something,” stammered Quinn, pulling her towel tightly around her.
“What, and miss out on seeing you in a towel? Not a chance.” He smiled broadly and Quinn blushed.
“Can you give me a minute?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said. His tone was playful but Quinn had the distinct feeling that he would have stayed right where he was if she hadn’t made him leave. She wasn’t sure if she thought his actions were cute, or creepy. She was drawn to him, and she didn’t feel like hiding it. Before she could blink, she heard Roman’s voice ring out from the kitchen.
“You should stay away from legumes and grain,” he called.
“What? Are you looking in my pantry?”
“Yes, and your food choices are terrible, for your blood type I mean.”
Quinn slipped into a pair of fitted jeans and a simple white V-neck T shirt. She brushed out her hair and went to join Roman in the kitchen.
When she walked into the living area Roman turned to look at her. He stopped his little inventory of her pantry and walked towards her very slowly.
“You look ravishing,” he said.
“Ravishing?” Quinn looked down at her outfit. She pushed the strands of her damp hair behind her ear.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked.
“Well, maybe on a good day but not right now.”
“Well I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” He looked her over from head to toe and she felt her cheeks flush.
“Shall we?” Roman gestured towards the couch and they sat down together. Quinn pulled her knee up and rested her chin on it while Roman sat on the couch’s edge. He reached into the folds of his jacket and pulled out a few sheets of folded paper.
“I got these from your boss’s office. It’s the only thing I could find that might be helpful.”
He unfolded the paper and handed it to Quinn. There was an address scrawled in ink at the top of the paper and the words “Dr. H” were printed underneath.
“Two-three-zero-seven West Columbia,” Quinn read aloud. She thought for a moment. “Do you think this is Dr. Hammond’s address?”
“Possibly.” He handed Quinn the rest of the papers.
They looked like hand written receipts. In the first column were numbers with the specification “QT” next to each one, and in the other column was a dollar amount.
“I don’t think I’ll make this kind of money in my entire life,” said Quinn.
“Like I said before, Mr. Aguire is very good at what he does, or did,” Roman corrected himself. “He made a lot of money. But I can’t find any financial records for this Mr. Hammond.”
“Was he giving the blood away?” asked Quinn.
“I cannot fathom why he would do such a thing, but I want to find out.”
Quinn plugged the address into her phone.
“It says it’s only about an hour from here.”
“Will you accompany me?” asked Roman.
“There is no way I’m staying here alone,” said Quinn.
Roman stood up and waited by the front door while Quinn found her shoes, a comfy pair ballet flats and tan cardigan.
The drive to the address took less than an hour on account of Roman’s penchant for speeding.
“Are all vampire’s so reckless on the road?” Quinn asked, gripping the seat with her hands.
“I’m not reckless,” he said. “I actually slowed down a little just so I wouldn’t frighten you too much.”
“Well, you failed.”
When they arrived at their destination Quinn released her death grip on the leather seat.
“We’re here,” Roman said.
“Thank God.”
They pulled over at the head of a driveway that snaked up a sloping hill to a magnificent old colonial. Even in the dark Quinn could appreciate the beauty of the estate. She had a love of old houses that extended all the way back to her childhood. Newer homes seemed to lack all that wonderful detail that was common in older homes.
Roman exited the car and opened her door for her. She stepped out and they stood silently looking up at the house.
“There are two people inside,” he said.
“How do you know?” Quinn asked.
“I can smell them. Two very distinct scents. One is an older man the other is a woman. Both are sleeping.”
Roman took several steps up the driveway then turned back to Quinn.
“Coming?” he asked.
Quinn nodded and followed Roman up the winding driveway. It wasn’t paved but a thick layer of gravel coated the surface. When they got to the top of the hill Roman surveyed the house.
“There’s a rear entry,” he said. His voice was barely audible.
&n
bsp; “We’re just going to walk in?” asked Quinn. She was hesitant.
“It’s all right,” Roman said reassuringly.
Quinn followed him around to the rear of the home and they approached the backdoor.
“Wait,” said Quinn. “Don’t you have to be, you know, invited in?”
Roman stifled a laugh. “Superstitions my dear. Don’t believe everything you read.”
“I’m not even talking about the fact that you’re a, well, you know. I’m just saying, we can’t just walk into a stranger’s house.”
“Oh you’re a fabulously good liar.” Roman smiled at her, looking her over from top to bottom again.
She shrugged and followed him into the house. The lights had been put out and the smell of rosemary and thyme hung in the air.
“This way,” Roman whispered.
They made their way through the kitchen and down a set of stairs into the basement of the house. A familiar smell permeated the air. An irony, mineral smell. Blood. Quinn heard a small click and the entire basement was immediately flooded with a soft white light.
A long table stretched almost the entire length of the room. It was covered with test tubes and glass vials of every sort. Some were filled with blood, others were empty. In the corner a tall refrigeration unit, identical to the one in the blood storage room at the clinic, stood humming.
“What is he doing down here?” asked Quinn as she walked the length of the table looking at all of the equipment.
“All of the blood is O negative,” Roman said.
There were white-boards with names and what looked like geographical coordinates scrawled across them. There were piles of paper and folders on every available surface. Without warning the room was plunged into darkness.
“Ro—“ before she could utter his name a hand was clasped firmly over her mouth.
“He’s coming. Don’t make a sound,” Roman’s voice whispered in her ear. He pulled her backward as a shuffling set of footsteps made their way across the floorboards over their heads and down the basement steps. Roman released her but kept his hand protectively around her waist. The footsteps came into the room and the light flicked on. Before she could move, breath or think, Quinn saw that Roman was standing behind a man with hand on his withered throat. It was Mr. Hammond.
The Zero Antigen Theorem: Book 1 Page 3