by Cheree Alsop
I had thought that the blood staining his shirt was dark due to dirt from the river, but a closer look showed that it came from the wounds that way. It was the last vestiges of what was left after his body used what it could of the remaining blood. I could hear the sluggish beating of his heart as it did what it could. He was dying.
“Vicken, you need blood,” I said.
He gave me a tired half-smile. “I’m wishing you had…caught that rabbit.”
I slid the sleeve of the trench coat up. “Drink.”
Vicken looked from my proffered wrist to my face. “What?” Incomprehension made his yellow eyes dull.
“Drink,” I told him. “You just pulled me from the river. I owe you my life and I’m not about to see you die when I can do something about it. Drink what you need.”
He pushed himself away from me. “You-you don’t know what you’re asking.”
I nodded. “Yes, I do. If you don’t drink fresh blood, you’ll die. I could hunt for some animal, but between the two of us, I’ve never killed anything and I don’t even know the first thing about hunting. This is your best option.” I held out my hand again. “Take it.”
Vicken watched me closely. I studied him, noting that he was swaying slightly from side to side while he sat there. His skin was far paler than it should have been and the brightness of his yellow eyes had lessened to a dull mustard color. He was fading quickly.
“You’ll get sick.”
I nodded. “I know what I’m getting into.”
Professor Tripe had also taught that when a vampire bites his victim, willing or not, the vampire passes a pathogen into the victim’s bloodstream that can cause lethargy, dizziness, and sometimes even put the victim into a coma. He said that this was so the victim would be readily available if the vampire was unable to drink his or her fill, and something about this being an evolutionary trait that helped vampires survive in hiding during the massacres.
Vicken doubled over with both hands to his chest. I heard his heart give a loud thump, followed by several shallow ones. When Vicken straightened again, the blood that covered his hands was a sticky black color.
“I’m not giving you a choice,” I told him. I held the coat closed as I leaned toward him. “Drink, now, or we’re both dead out here.”
“Why’s that?” the vampire asked, his gaze on the wrist I held in front of him.
The fact that it was the wrist Sparrow usually slept around made my heart hurt. I welcomed the bite of fangs to dull that kind of pain.
“Because I’m not leaving you. Those demon cougars will probably find us if we stay here and neither of us is in any shape to fight them,” I said honestly.
I shoved my arm in his face. Just when I thought I would have to come up with yet another ironic argument as to why he should drink my blood, Vicken opened his mouth and bit my wrist.
It hurt. I hadn’t actually thought of the pain of having fangs sink through my skin. It felt like the time I had cut myself on a rusty bar while skateboarding and had to get stitches. The numbing injections were the worse part because the doctor put them inside the wound. I remembered telling Julianne I would rather have had the stitches without being numb than go through that again.
Having my blood drank by Vicken felt like what I imagined having the stitches without being numb would feel. Each gulp he drew in made my arm go even colder. While the vampire’s drinking fangs had elongated in order to draw the blood, his other teeth had also sharpened so that they cut into my arm on either side as well. I was sure Professor Tripe would say that it was so the victim couldn’t get away while the vampire drank his fill. I wondered if the professor would give himself up as a willing candidate in order to more correctly describe the effects of this type of blood donation.
The chill ran up my arm and along my chest. My head began to swim with strange thoughts. I wondered if I would have turned into a fish if I had stayed beneath the water long enough. I thought that if I had been a dragon, I could have carried the car to safety after it fell off the bridge. I thought of Dara’s lips on mine in a kiss that felt so far away and yet so important it lingered in the back of my mind even when I was on the verge of passing out.
I was going to pass out. The realization made me open my eyes. I had lost too much blood. Instincts pressed urgently at the back of my mind. If I let Vicken continue to drink, I would die.
“V-Vicken, you need to s-stop,” I said. My teeth chattered when I spoke. I had no idea whether it was from the chill of the night air against the wet coat I wore or the weakness I felt at the loss of blood.
Vicken continued to drink with his eyes closed and his hands on either side of my arm to hold it in place.
I cleared my burning throat and tried again. “V-Vicken. S-stop drinking.”
He acted as if he couldn’t hear me. Perhaps he was also animal in a way that made him fight for survival above all else. I knew the feeling when I had fought the bear in wolf form. No matter how hard I fought, survival was at the foremost of my instincts. Maybe we weren’t so different.
If I couldn’t reason with him in words, I had another route. I took a breath and let my instincts take over. The growl that rumbled from my chest didn’t sound as though it came from a human. Even the cougars would have thought twice about messing with me if they heard the sound. I was proud and a little bit frightened at the fact that I had made it.
Vicken’s head jerked up. He looked at me with wide eyes while blood, my blood, dripped down his chin. He stared as if he didn’t recognize me.
“You’ve had enough,” I said firmly.
He blinked and understanding surfaced in his gaze. He looked down at my arm and then back at my face.
“You let me drink your blood.”
His statement was filled with shock. I realized that with the dullness of his eyes before and the way his speech slurred, he hadn’t even been aware enough of what was going on to know what he did. But the bright yellow had returned to his irises and the pallor of his cheeks had lessened. He sat back, his eyes wide as he looked down at my bloody wrist.
“You saved my life,” he said.
“You saved mine first,” I told him.
His eyebrows pulled together.
I gestured toward the river with my burned hand. “You pulled me out of that mess. I was tangled in a tree stump and caught in some sort of PTSD. I would have drowned if it wasn’t for you.”
He blinked again and then said. “The mountain lions.”
I nodded. “They were possessed by demons. Jumping in the river was the only way we could escape them.”
With a grim expression, Vicken pulled up the hem of his shirt and tore a thick strip free. He motioned for the hand I held cradled in my lap.
“You shouldn’t have let me drink from you. You’re going to be sick,” he said levelly as he wrapped my wrist.
“I’d rather be sick than have you dead,” I replied. “You need to take better care of yourself.”
I realized it was true the moment the words left my mouth. Vicken had been pining after his missing sister and mother. I thought back to the last few days. His clothes hung from a frame that was even more gaunt than usual. His hair was a mess when he usually took a prodigious amount of care about the way he looked. He barely spoke except to snap at me, and even Lorne and Jean had left their coven during lunch to sit with us.
“You need to take care of yourself so we can find your sister,” I told him. “And you know your dad is doing everything he can to find your mother. They’re going to be alright.”
He let out a breath, lowering his walls. “How can you be so sure.” He looked forlorn sitting there with my blood staining his chin, his eyes filled with tears, and his clothes still soaking wet from the river.
I gave him what he needed to hear. “Because I won’t stop until they are safe.”
That brought a slight smile to his lips. “Now you plan to rescue my mother, too?”
“If need be,” I replied. I rose and held out a
hand. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep our team safe.”
He accepted my hand and stood. It filled me with relief to see him steady again.
“I will, too,” he replied. “We’d better go make sure they made it to the Academy.”
I buttoned the trench coat to keep out the draft and give me at least some semblance of modesty as we hurried through the forest. The dawn light guided us until we could see the spires of the Academy above the trees.
“It’s about time,” Vicken breathed.
At my questioning look, he said, “I thought we would be stuck out here forever.”
“I could track us back to Haunted High, you know,” I reminded him.
He glanced at me. “I just didn’t want to wait for whenever the moonlight felt like making you a wolf again.”
I didn’t think he meant it as a jab, but my inability to control my phasing was a sore point. I brooded about it in silence as we made our way back to the school.
I sucked in a breath when I stepped on yet another twig.
“Hold on,” I called out.
Vicken watched me pulled the stick out of the bottom of my foot.
“You really shouldn’t go into a forest without shoes on,” Vicken pointed out.
I rolled my eyes at him and started walking again. “You must be feeling better if you’re making jokes.”
He nodded. “I told my coven that werewolf blood was like drinking from a dog, but I was wrong. I feel great.”
I refrained from asking him how he knew what drinking from a dog was like and went with, “I’m glad to hear it.”
He glanced at me. “But you look terrible. How are you feeling?”
“I’ll survive,” I replied. I could feel the effects of giving him blood taking hold. Along with the lightheadedness, chills were running up and down my body. I pushed myself with the knowledge that if I stopped, we would be stuck in the forest until I recovered. The thought of the cougars happening upon us was enough to keep me placing one foot in front of the other.
Relief filled me when we reached the Academy. Vicken shoved the door with his shoulder, but it didn’t budge. He tried the doorknob. “It’s not locked,” he said with confusion.
We looked at each other and at the same time said, “Brack.”
Chapter Twelve
“He must have been worried the cougars would reach the door,” Vicken said. He pounded on it with his fists. “Brack, let us in!” he shouted.
I gave a few weak pounds and then leaned against the wall.
Vicken paused and asked, “Finn, are you alright?”
“I don’t feel so good,” I admitted.
Vicken increased his pounding until dents showed in the metal door.
“Coming!” a voice called.
“They’re coming,” I told the vampire.
I leaned my head back against the cool bricks and closed my eyes. If I concentrated, I found that standing that way didn’t take much effort.
“Brack-warlock, remove the spell,” I heard Lyris say from the other side of the door.
“It’s gone,” Brack replied.
I swore his deep voice reverberated through the bricks into my skull.
The door swung open and would have hit me if Vicken didn’t grab it.
“Are you guys alright?” Dara asked. “Professor Briggs told us to seal the door and then went to help with Mercer….”
Her voice faded away when Vicken ducked under my arm and helped me inside.
“What happened?” Lyris demanded.
“He gave me blood,” Vicken replied.
“You drank his blood?” Dara said in dismay. I felt her cool hand touch my forehead. “His body’s in shock. He needs to rest or it’ll start shutting down.” She touched my wrist. “It hurts.”
“I know it hurts,” Vicken snapped. “I did it to him, remember?”
“Maybe you should remember that he’s your friend,” Alden pointed out.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have led us into a death trap in that demon lair in the first place,” Vicken shot back.
“Everyone remain calm,” Lyris said. “Let’s get him up to bed. Vicken-vampire, you look like you could use some rest, also.”
“Why are you wet?” Brack asked when he took Vicken’s place under my arm. Bandages covered his chest, but I was glad to see that the wounds from the cougars appeared superficial.
“It-it’s a long story,” I replied.
It took all of my focus to keep my head up enough that I could see where we were going. I stumbled on the stairs, but the warlock held me up easily. By the time we reached the dorms, I was leaning nearly all of my weight on him, but Brack didn’t act as though he felt it.
“Right in here,” Alden said.
I sunk gratefully onto my bed.
“Is Mercer going to be alright?” I asked.
“Professor Briggs told us that he had to have a lot of stitches. Dr. Six put him in a crystal coma to help him heal faster,” Lyris replied.
“Maybe you should take off that wet coat so you don’t freeze to death,” Dara said, her voice gentle. Her fingers worked at the buttons.
I put a hand on hers. “It’s all-all I’m wearing,” I replied through chattering teeth.
A blush of embarrassment ran across the empath’s face.
“I-I’ll get my pajamas on and climb in bed when you leave,” I told her to save her from further awkwardness.
She nodded quickly and moved to the door. “Get some sleep,” she said.
Lyris smiled at me. “I’ll be in with some salves later to help those bruises.”
I looked down to see angry black and purple marks across my chest from the stump in the water.
“Thanks,” I told her. “Your salves really help.”
She gave me a pleased look and joined Dara at the door.
As soon as they left, I reached for my pajama pants. My hand brushed something next to my bed. I looked down to see a corner of silver protruding from beneath the blanket. My heart slowed when I pulled it out to find that my phone was shattered.
“I’m so sorry!”
Alden stood next to me with his gaze on the phone.
“I was straightening up and heard something fall to the floor.” His head hung when he said, “I stepped on it by accident before I realized what it was. I didn’t mean to break it.”
I stared at the phone in my hand. With numb fingers, I opened it to find that the screen was completely broken and the numbers failed to light up when I pushed them. The cellphone didn’t respond when I pressed the power button.
“I really am sorry,” Alden apologized again.
I nodded wordlessly and slid beneath the blankets. The thought that my lifeline to Dad, Drake, and Julianne was gone hurt almost as badly as the achiness I felt from the vampire bite.
“It’s okay,” I mumbled. I closed my eyes with the intention of sleeping until the following week.
“Why do cats always land on their feet?”
My eyes flew open at the sound of Professor Briggs’ voice. I blinked blearily at the candlelight that filled the classroom. I glanced over to find Dara and Lyris watching me. Sympathy showed on Lyris’ face; I couldn’t read Dara’s expression.
“How did I get here?” I whispered.
“You were here when we got here,” Lyris replied in hushed tones.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Dara pointed out.
“Mr. Briscoe, you haven’t answered the question,” Professor Briggs said. I heard his limping steps as he made his way to the front of the classroom. “Why do cats always land on their feet?”
I wanted to ask the professor if he knew how I had gotten there, but one look at his face showed that he had no idea what Vicken and I had gone through before we reached the Academy. He apparently thought I was just attending seventh period class like usual at the end of the school day.
I hated the question he asked. It had tormented me since my first day at Haunted High. Black Cat Philosophies had
become the class where I was guaranteed to get laughed at no matter what my response. I had tried every answer from scientific to snarky and with the same result. He would tell me I was wrong and then move on with class only to ask me the same question the next day.
My hands balled into fists. I loosened them again immediately at the pain from both of them. I found myself studying the black rag made from Vicken’s shirt that was still wrapped where Sparrow should have been. I swallowed against the knot that rose in my throat.
“Mr. Briscoe, do you have an answer?” Professor Briggs pressed.
“Throw me off the roof and I’ll figure it out,” I replied.
The professor took a limping step forward. “And why is that?” he pressed.
“Because if I was a cat, I would have the instincts not to die,” I said.
Silence filled the room. It was broken by the professor’s clapping. Confused, I looked up to see him smiling at me. The effect of the candlelight along the scar that marred his cheek was chilling, but his smile softened his appearance.
“Well done, Mr. Briscoe. You gave the right answer.”
I stared at him. “You mean you’re not going to ask me anymore?”
Laughter sounded from several of the students.
“I’m not going to ask anymore,” the professor said. “Instinct is the right answer.”
I set my forehead on the table with a loud thump. “I thought it was more complicated than that,” I said, my voice muffled.
Professor Briggs gave a quiet chuckle before he replied, “Sometimes all we have to rely on is instinct. For those of us who learn to listen, it’s there if we need it, which leads us to our topic today. How do birds fly so close together without running into each other?”
“Instinct,” I mumbled.
Laughter rose again from the students around me.
“Yes,” Professor Briggs said, “But it goes even deeper than that. Animals have a connection we call….”
“He’s asleep.”