by Diana Graves
“You don’t have to tell me. In fact, you shouldn’t,” I said and hung my head.
“Yesterday morning we got a call from one of Paul’s neighbors. They found their pet dead in their yard. It looked like human bit marks. It is not out of place for pets to become someone’s meal up here, but the animal was so viciously mangled that it alarmed me. I called Ruy to lead the investigation and then I went to my chamber for the day. When I awoke tonight, I was informed about all that has transpired.”
“How did you know it was Paul?” I asked.
“It is a small town. When you and your siblings described the vampire’s appearance the officers knew who it was,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Before I went to the clinic I talked with the officers that processed the house. They found nothing to explain how Paul contracted vampirism.”
“So he didn’t escape from the VCC then, which means it wasn’t a proper state approved infection.”
“Paul wanted to be a vampire and he was well off and well loved. He could have bribed any vampire here into infecting him, but that is illegal and an automatic death sentence for both parties. Paul would not do that. He would not have risked someone he loved,” Mato said.
I flinched with disgust in myself. Mato had told me stuff he probably shouldn’t have. I didn’t bat my eyes at him, or touch his leg, or even give him extended eye contact, yet he seemed willing enough to talk.
“I don’t think you should have told me that.”
“You asked—,” he began but I cut him off.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked, for your sake. It’s just that I want to know so badly. I want…,” I shook my head while I searched for the right words. “I want this to make sense. I want something better to tell Nick than, ‘shit happens.’ I want the person or people responsible to pay for this. Paul took our humanity—or what little we had. He took our lives and gave us something darker, full of pain and for eternity. I want to know why.”
Suddenly all the days horrors crashed down on me. I could hear Nick’s screams in my mind. I could see his wide eyes begging for help that I couldn’t give, pleading for me to save him. I had to watch him die in pain, helpless. I began to cry and Mato put his arm around my shoulders. He pulled me in toward him so that I was practically in his lap and I let him. I wrapped my arms around his chest and laid my head against his shoulder. His heart was beating fast too, fast with the blood of others. Vampires physiology is still so much a mystery, dead yet not, immortal yet not.
“If I help you it is my choice,” he said with his lips pressed lightly against the top of my head, so that I felt the warmth of his words. “Do not feel guilty for it. I will tell you what I feel you should know. If that makes me a bad cop, then so be it. I would rather be a good friend to you.”
I loosened my hold on him and looked up into his face. “But you don’t know me well enough to take risks like that.”
“In a way, I know you better than you know yourself.” We looked at each other for another long moment, as though we were daring the other to make the first move, to close that distance. I was still half lying in his lap with my arms loosely wrapped around him and his around me. What would happen if I closed that distance and pressed my lips against his? Would he kiss me back? Would it be soft and gentle, or fierce and passionate? Would he pull me close, explore my body with his hands until the heat between us became too much to bear and we—I practically jumped to the other end of the couch. I didn’t know what Mato’s face looked like because I was very focused on the brown carpet. I needed to cool down.
“I want to take a look around the house for myself before we go,” I heard Mato say.
I nodded without looked up from the carpet until a thought occurred to me. “Wait, how did you know where I was?” I asked.
Mato smiled and looked down at his worn boots. “I followed you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly before he got up and started looking around the room.
I watched him from my seat and thought about what Melvern had said. About how Mato liked me more than I like him, how he thought those wonderful things of me, and all I saw in him was a pretty vampire. I felt guilty for it. He’s picking out curtains, while I’m picking out condoms-metaphorically speaking.
Mato looked up at the ceiling, “Can you smell something odd with your new vampire senses?” he asked.
I took in a deep breath, and quickly regretted it, nauseating. I shouldn’t have done that, not in this place, not with this ability to smell. “I smell—rotting things, laundry, mold, and—blood?” I raised an eye brow.
Mato’s eyes narrowed. “It’s up stairs,” he said. He dashed to the stairs with that crazy vampire speed that made me dizzy, and I followed him, though, my progress was slower. Heaps of dirty cloths and garbage littered the stairs, making them hard to manage.
As I came to the top of the stairs I could see Mato standing in a door way. His glowing eyes were staring down at something small in his hand.
“This explains a great deal. I do not know how the others could have missed it,” he said.
The hallway looked just as treacherous as the rest of the house. I really didn’t want to attempt it, but what the hay. I climbed over the bean bag chair with white balls spilling out, dirty dishes, food and a sideways turned cabinet with too many books in it to get to Mato. He held his hand out to reveal what he had found.
“It’s a used syringe,” I said.
“There is a small amount of blood in the needle,” he said holding it higher. He smiled down at me while he placed the syringe in a plastic baggy from his coat pocket.
“What does this explain?” I asked.
He smirked. “If the blood in the needle is infected blood then it could mean that Paul injected himself with vampirism. It also means we can test it against any suspects.”
“Why did Paul want to be a vampire?”
“I need to get you to the clinic. Your parents will want to leave soon.” His face was very serious again.
“So I can’t know why Paul did this?” I shrugged.
“Are you fine with that?”
I sighed. “No, of course not, but it’s not my place to demand or even ask you to tell me.”
“I want to tell you.” That comment made me look at him and I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know anymore.
“I know you have an ability to see people, to know their true character.”
“Yes,” he nodded, but besides that slight movement he was completely motionless.
“I knew that about you before I asked you in the café. I don’t know why I asked. Melvern told me. He said that you care for me, that you think I’m awesome or whatever—,” I mumbled the last bit. I’ve never felt comfortable admitting my good qualities. Faults, not big deal, but you’ll never catch me admitting I’m anything near beautiful or smart. Weird, I know.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. His face gave nothing away. “Say something.”
“Melvern told you what I was thinking?”
“Yes,” and I had to look away. “He said that you thought I was honorable, and caring, but aren’t most peopling those things?”
“Look at me,” he said. He was smiling, and it was a heart stopping smile that made me feel like I was standing too far away from him. “You are not as jaded as you seem to be if that is what you truly believe. No, Raina, deep down most people are scared, lonely and selfish.”
“I’m those things too, especially right now—.”
“You are talking about emotions. Right now you feel alone, you feel scared and you feel selfish, but you are not those things. You are honorable, you are caring, and you are brave. These are things that do not change no matter the circumstances. No matter what is going on in your life you will always be brave. Even now, when your selfish feelings are telling you to demand from me what you want you simply care too much for my wellbeing to do so.”
I blushed and managed to mumble, “Thanks.”
#
He reached for my shoulder when I opened the clinic door, “Wait.”
“What?”
“I cannot tell you why Paul wanted to be a vampire because it is part of his personal file. All I can tell you is that he requested to become a vampire, and was turned down,” he looked at me.
“Oh.” I thought for a moment. “You said he was well off, is it possible that he bought a syringe full of vampire blood? I’ve never heard of such a thing, but if he wanted it and someone was selling it...”
“That was my conclusion as well. The selling of vampire blood is very uncommon. No vampire in their right mind would volunteer to give their blood for such a purpose. Doing so creates a psychic connection between vampire and customer…Not to mention the automatic death sentence if they got caught.” Mato shook his head, “Buying vampirism is unbelievably dangerous. There is a good reason America made vampire protocols, many in fact. The government recognizes that some people will want to become vampires. The policies put in place are there to ensure a safe turn, not only for the vampire in question, but for the general public. Do you know how to become a vampire, besides becoming infected?” He walked away from the door for more privacy and motioned for me to follow. I did and we ended up standing very close to one another beside a brick wall painted black.
I searched my memory for what Seth had told me. “I know you have to submit an application to a government agency or something. Then I think there are tests, and I know you have to be placed in a VCC for a few days after being infected. After that you have to take courses and see doctors and shrinks regularly to make sure you’re on the up and up.”
Mato stepped closer to me. My senses were better controlled now, but the scent of forest was so thick on Mato that I had to work against my impulse to close my eyes and breathe deep. Melvern was right, everything about Mato screamed sex to me. I wanted him.
“First you apply to become a vampire according to your local state regulations,” he began. “And you must pass a physical and mental examination to determine if you could handle becoming and living as a vampire. If you are approved you have ninety days to find a collective willing to take you in. If you cannot find one then there is almost no way the state will allow you to become a vampire. Collectives ensure a food source, supervision and accountability for their own. Americans do not want hungry monsters running around their streets at night without a leash. After that, you are right. They infect you and send you off to a state funded VCC or keep you in your new collective’s VCC.”
“But if someone is selling it, then none of that is in place,” I said.
“And people like Paul, who have dreamt about becoming one of the undead since they were kids, and everyone in his path become victims of greed.”
11:
I KNEW IT was a dream. I was wearing only my black bra and panties and lying on the thick underbelly of the forest. Scattered moonbeams broke free of the trees to offer a small amount of light to see by. My hand caressed the bark of a log that was lying beside me. Mint colored moss and amber sap crumbled at my touch. The smell of the forest reminded me of Mato. I smiled in anticipation of a passionate reunion with my new vampire crush, and there was no guilt in that thought because I knew it wasn’t real.
I rolled onto my stomach and looked out at the forest. This was my dream and I demanded to see Mato, so I wasn’t shocked when I saw a figure in the dark. It moved like a graceful bird, too fast to be human. Vampire! Mato? No, not him! Her?
She was on top of me before I could react, pinning me between her and the log, pressed her naked body into mine.
She spoke quietly, “I am Adia of Mort Villa.” Her accent was English.
I was frozen with fear. I could only see a halo of dense golden curls; her face was hidden by some trick of shadow.
“Please-,” I began, but she stopped me with a kiss, long and passionate. I fell into her lips. I kissed her with a fevered panic.
When she rose from me I whimpered. I wanted her to touch me; I craved it more than anything. She came back down to me, nuzzled my chin, kissed along my jaw until her lips found my neck. I made small noises of pleasure as she bit down and fed from me. I grabbed her then, held her to me. Her naked body was soft and curvy like my own. I would have been happy to die in her arms, but she stopped feeding and left me there, injured and confused.
I put my hand to my neck and felt the hot blood course through my fingers. I let her do this! She rendered me powerless. I would have let her drain me and loved every second of it. In the moonlight my blood was thick and red and I screamed at the site of it. When I woke in the dark of my room I was screaming still.
12:
MY FRIEND, ALICIA, and I were sitting in a cozy booth in a dark corner of Kamaria’s Café on seats of worn blue velvet. A Tiffany styled ceiling lamp sent yellow light to discolor our appearances. I had my hands wrapped around my usual fancy coffee: grande, soymilk, double shot, caramel, hazelnut macchiato. Can that still be called coffee?
I was waiting for it to get cool enough to drink, and thinking about the dream I had last night. What was Mort Villa’ and who was Adia? My eyes were half open, my mind half aware that Alicia was talking to me.
Alicia had arrived at my house early this morning to keep me company at Mom’s request. I didn’t think she should have to spend the day with my gloomy ass just because my mom told her to, so I told her to go home. To that she said, “Hey, you’re my best friend and your mom is my boss. What choice do I have?”
Mom left for work before Alicia arrived. I wanted to join her. Cleaning up the back stock would have done well to occupy my attentions. But Mom insisted I take it easy and it was probably for the best. Shortly after she left, Tristan called me. He said that he had something to give me and asked that I meet him at Kamaria’s Café, so there we sat.
Alicia’s drink looked more like desert than coffee: vente, skim milk, cinnamon, white chocolate mocha with a drizzle of chocolate syrup on a whipped cream top. She wasn’t waiting for hers to cool down either. She had asked for a small cup of ice. After eating the chocolate and cream topping, she slid ice cubes in ever so delicately, so that she could drink it faster. She had offered me her extra ice but I declined.
“I like the anticipation of the first nearly scalding but totally tolerable sip,” I said. For which she replied, “Not me,” and began taking large gulps.
The interior of Kamaria’s café was quant but beautiful with large Greek tapestries hanging from wrought iron bars. Behind the front counter were double doors that opened to Kamaria’s living room, as the café was also her home. From where Alicia and I sat we could see her sitting in an orange summer dress. My brothers and I were regulars here. Kamaria was like a grandmother to us, and she made one hell of a cup of coffee.
The bells on the door chimed as a customer came through. It wasn’t Tristan but it did mean that Alicia and I were no longer the only people here, besides Kamaria herself. The woman was wearing a dark blue business suit. Her perfume was strong, the kind that would linger on long after she’d gone. She walked directly up to the counter and made irritated noises, tapping fingers and heavy sighs, when Kamaria didn’t jump up at her arrival. When she looked our way I felt her dismiss us as none-human punks. She thought us unworthy of the air we breathed. A common feeling among humans I was sure. Alicia stuck her tongue out once the lady turned away from us, but in all honesty we probably did look strange to her. I was dressed in all black, black like my mood, with deathly pale skin, red hair and redder eyes. Alicia—well, Alicia’s an ogre, at least in part. She was well over six feet tall with thick earthy-brown skin. She had a handsome face with ridges along her jaw and forehead. Her hair was like spun gold and her large eyes were as green as the grass in the spring. She was wearing light blue jeans and a brown leather corset that gave her phenomenal cleavage.
“I think I felt more than an emotion just then,” I whispered to Alicia.
“Excuse me!” the lady yelled. Her perfectly p
ainted face turned into a fake smile as Kamaria’s weak bones lifted from the chair and walked over to the counter.
“What?” Alicia whispered back.
Kamaria’s face wrinkled sourly, “What will it be?” she asked.
“Uh—,” the lady stared up at the large chalk board menu on the wall behind the counter.
“I almost made out a thought I think. I felt her malice toward us but I could almost hear her inner voice in my head say that we don’t deserve the air we breathe.”
“Wow. Try it again,” said Alicia.
The door chimed again and this time Tristan walked through with the morning sun at his back. He had the top half of his long black-gold hair pulled back to expose all the sharp narrow bone structure of his face. He was wearing jeans and a gold silk button up shirt. He paused just in front of the door and scoped the room in search of us. So, Wild West. He took off his sun glasses, hung them from his collar and smiled our way before heading to the counter. Tristan felt calm, relaxed and nothing more, no thoughts came to me.
“Nothing,” I whispered to Alicia.
She shrugged, “It was a fluke then.”
“Hey, Grams,” he called out over the lady’s shoulder.
“Hello kiddo,” she said with a smile. “Your usual hun?” she asked. He nodded and she began to work on his usual sixteen ounce black coffee with a drizzle of chocolate syrup.
“Hey!” said the lady, “I was here first. Don’t you think its good business to serve customers as they come?” She wasn’t wrong, but this was Kamaria’s café, where the customer is never right.
Kamaria gave her a sour face, “You’re a mean bitch.”
Alicia’s eyes went wide, and she let out a curt laugh before she cupped her hands over her mouth. Tristan looked back at us with a wide smile. Kamaria was such a bad ass old chick. She took no crap. Not from anyone.
“You can’t talk to customers like that!” the lady shouted in outrage.
“I think you better just go get coffee elsewhere,” Tristan said politely. Tristan was right. Once Kamaria decided she didn’t like you she wouldn’t serve you. It wasn’t the best policy for a small business, but Kamaria never seemed too worried about money.