by Jaye Wells
Grabbing a pillow, I hugged it to me, burying my face in its softness. Even though I struggled to keep my emotions together, they got the better of me.
What the hell, I thought. Might as well get it out now since no one would ever know.
My quiet tears quickly turned into gasping sobs as I thought about my life. My father hated me; Callum and his family hated me; everyone thought I was some misguided misfit, and for the next three months I’d have to endure goddess knew what kind of tortures. And if I failed, it was two hundred years of solitary confinement in a frozen wasteland.
Thankful for the pillow, I allowed myself to really let it all out. The cotton pillowcase was soggy under my face, but I didn’t care.
Suddenly, I heard a click. My head jerked up. It was hard to see through my swollen, tear-soaked eyes. Wiping them quickly with the back of my hands, I looked around. Not seeing the source, I jumped up, thinking it sounded suspiciously like a door closing.
Moving fast, I went to the door and eased it open. Just down the hall, I saw a foot clad in a very cute pair of brown boots disappear around the corner.
Sydney.
Well, shit, I thought, closing the door. Letting myself get all weak and cry was bad enough, but Sydney seeing the display was mortifying.
I only hoped she wouldn’t run and report what she’d seen to everyone else. Cringing, I imagined them all laughing at me.
All feelings of sadness evaporated at the thought. That was it, I thought. No one would ever see me be that frail again.
From that moment on, I was going to be Raven, ice queen and all-around bitch.
Chapter Six
“Bullshit!” I yelled, coming out of my chair.
Callum laughed. “If I recall correctly, we discussed community service as part of your rehabilitation.”
We were sitting in Kira’s study. Logan and Sydney had left an hour before, promising to come back the next day. Now, I was finally learning the rest of the Raven Rehabilitation Program. And I didn’t like what I was hearing.
“But . . . but . . . can’t I just hand out magazines at a hospital or something? Like one of those, what do you call them . . . candy strippers?”
Kira chuckled. “I think you mean candy stripers.”
“Whatever.”
“Look, in order for you to pay your debt and learn your lesson, you can’t do something easy. It has to be uncomfortable for it to mean something,” Callum explained.
“A blood bank, though? Are you crazy?”
“It makes sense. You’ll be doing something to benefit mortals as well as learning to overcome your weakness for fresh blood,” he said. “Besides, we are shorthanded right now in one of the Murdoch Biotech blood banks. The timing is perfect.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll go crazy and eat some of the blood donors?”
“First of all, we’ll make sure you feed well before you go to the clinic, and second, you’ll be watched very closely. Besides, you won’t actually be drawing blood. You’ll be handing out cookies and juice.”
“I am a goddamned vampire! I do not hand out cookies and juice to mortals!”
“You do now,” Callum said quietly.
I clenched my fists to resist knocking the smug look off his face.
“Raven, I know you don’t like it, but I’m afraid we’re quite determined on this. Or perhaps you would like to call your father and tell him you’re ready for your extended vacation?”
I sat back down, feeling impotent. The emotion didn’t sit well with me, but what choice did I have? Handing out refreshments to humans was much better than a two-hundred-year isolation.
The phone rang, interrupting my brooding.
Kira answered, and her eyes shot to me. I knew immediately who was on the other end.
“Callum, it’s for you,” she said. Her words surprised me; I was expecting to be called to the phone for a lecture. At Callum’s questioning look, she mouthed, “Orpheus.”
He looked at me briefly and went to take the phone. After listening for a few moments, he said, “Yes, sir. We were just discussing the terms of her punishment.”
I tried not to squirm, wishing I could hear both sides of the conversation.
“Actually, she may want to speak with you about our plan for community service,” Callum said and raised his eyebrows. I couldn’t tell if he was issuing a challenge or calling my bluff.
We stared at each other for a moment. I battled with myself. Part of me wanted to throw in the towel and avoid all the humiliation, but the other part of me said “screw that.”
I shook my head at Callum, signaling my decision to stick it out. My choice wasn’t as noble as I'd like to believe. In all honesty, the thought of admitting defeat to my father made me feel physically ill. I would just have to suck it up and see this through. It pissed me off that my father would win no matter what I did—gloat if I gave up, take credit if I succeeded. But at least if I passed these tests, I could throw it in his face the next time he tried to call me a quitter.
“Actually, sir, she says she is fine with our plan. I must have been mistaken,” Callum said into the phone, but he kept his gaze on mine. Perhaps that was a tinge of approval I saw in his eyes, but it could just have easily been a trick of the light.
“Yes, sir, I’ll tell her. Are you sure you don’t wish to speak with— Okay, then. Good-bye.”
A few moments passed after he returned the receiver to its cradle. My impatience got the better of me. I couldn’t stand the suspense.
“Well?” I demanded.
Callum frowned. “He said to give Mother his regards and to congratulate Logan and Sydney on their engagement.”
I shouldn’t have felt anything. But I did. When would I learn that my father didn’t give two shits about me?
“How did he know about Logan and Sydney?” Kira asked.
I laughed, hearing my own bitterness echo in the sound. “Believe me, you can’t hide anything from him.”
Callum and Kira exchanged a look, but I wasn’t feeling a compulsion to interpret it. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.
“So!” Kira said, breaking into the silence. “Raven, I am pleased you decided to give the community service a try.”
“Uh-huh,” I mumbled.
“Yes, well,” Callum said, looking at his watch. “I need to get into the office for a few hours.”
“That’s fine, dear. I thought Raven and I could spend some time discussing the history of the Brethren this afternoon.”
I snorted. “Are you forgetting who my father is? I could recite the Brethren code before I could walk.”
“Yes, but perhaps hearing it from another perspective might be helpful. Your father might have focused too much on the philosophy and not enough on the practical aspects behind the creation of the sect.”
“Whatever,” I said, knowing I had no choice. Kira could lecture me about the migratory patterns of lemmings, and I’d still have to listen.
Callum headed for the door. Just before he disappeared he said, “I forgot to mention—the blood bank gig begins tonight.”
Sweat beaded my brow as the phlebotomist set aside a vial filled with bright red blood fresh from the source. With shaky hands I accidentally threw the cookie at the donor—a plump, middle-aged grandma type. She looked startled as the cookie bounced off her forehead. It landed on her lap while she stared at me in shock.
“Sorry, it’s my first night,” I explained lamely.
“Oh, that’s all right, honey,” she said as she munched on the cookie. “You’ll get used to it. The first time I donated I almost fainted. Isn’t that right, Alvin?” She asked the twenty-something brunette who was applying a bandage to her arm.
Alvin laughed. “That’s right, Mrs. Jones. But now you’re a pro.” He looked at me, his smile dimming somewhat.
Alvin obviously wasn’t as forgiving as Mrs. Jones about tossing my cookie, so to speak.
“Mrs. Jones comes in every month to donate.”
T
he grey-haired woman, who smelled of roses and sugar cookies, beamed proudly. “I sure do. Happy to help. After all, my darling Frank never would have survived his double bypass a couple of years ago if some other generous soul hadn’t donated their blood. So I figure it’s just my little way of doing my part.”
“That’s nice,” I said absently, eyeing the tray next to her—my mouth watering and my fangs threatening to extend. Luckily, Callum had insisted I down three bags of blood before dropping me off at the clinic, or I’d be doing blood shooters right in front of Mrs. Jones.
The sound of a throat clearing broke my trance, and I drug my eyes away from the vials of blood and looked at Callum. He stood about ten feet away leaning against the white wall with his arms crossed. He shook his head and mouthed, “Don’t even think it.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and turned back to Mrs. Jones, who was chattering at Alvin about her grandchildren.
“Well, enjoy the cookie. Here’s your sticker.”
This time I managed not to throw it at her. Instead I gently handed her a red heart that identified her as a donor.
“Thank you, honey. And good luck.”
I mumbled my thanks and scurried over to the credenza next to Callum. Needlessly, I refilled my tray of cookies. I’d only handed out—okay thrown—one so far.
Callum chuckled.
“Smooth,” he said. I ignored him in favor of artfully arranging the cookies. Less than fifteen minutes into it and I’d already made an ass out of myself. Since it was my first night, though, I only had a two-hour shift.
“So you’re not talking to me now?” Callum tried to bait me again.
I stopped my arranging and speared him with a glare. “Don’t you have anything better to do right now?”
“No. Playing babysitter to a spoiled bitch is my idea of a fun time,” he retorted.
I snorted. “My heart bleeds for you. Need I remind you that this was all your idea? I wouldn’t need babysitting if you hadn’t insisted I do this in the first place.”
“Don’t worry. From now on Hannah or Alaric will be chaperoning you. I just wanted to be sure we could trust you in this environment.”
I focused on the tray again, not wanting to admit I wasn’t sure I could be trusted. “I have to admit, owning a blood bank is a smart move on your part. Easy access.”
He shrugged. “It started out that way, but only about fifty percent of our donations go for . . . personal use,” he said looking around to make sure we weren’t overheard.
We were the only two vamps in the room. When he saw no one was listening, he continued in a hushed tone. “Now that we have Lifeblood, though, we’ll give all of the blood to hospitals or charitable organizations like the Red Cross.”
I rolled my eyes. “You really are a do-gooder aren’t you?”
“Don’t you have some cookies to hand out?”
I turned my back on him and returned to the area where the blood was drawn. Mrs. Jones had already left, leaving a young-looking guy and girl as the only donors. They occupied two of the room’s four stations.
Each station held a recliner and a rolling tray for the person taking the blood. That night, Alvin was the only technician on hand.
To the mortals I guessed the room probably smelled of rubbing alcohol. But to me the scent of blood overpowered everything. It was so distracting I almost missed my name being called at first. But since the voice sounded like nails screeching down a chalkboard, I heard it loud and clear.
Nancy Simkins.
Nancy was in charge of the clinic. She was also in charge of me, a fact she made very clear when we were introduced.
In her sixties, she had a perfect silver helmet for hair and wore too many pearls. She also reeked of White Shoulders perfume. I didn’t think we were going to become best friends.
“Gabriella?” she said again, louder this time. I could have killed Callum when he introduced me to her with that blasted name. But it would have been a pain in the ass to correct him and then explain to Nancy why she needed to call me Raven.
I stopped before I reached the teenagers and turned, pasting a smile to my face. I didn’t want to give Callum any more enjoyment by showing how pissed off I was.
“Yes, Nancy?” I asked sweetly as I made my way to her desk, which stood next to the front door.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
I didn’t for a minute think she was asking out of concern. She had a glint in her eye that indicated she hadn’t called me over just to shoot the shit.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said casually. “I’ve only been on shift for fifteen minutes, though.”
She nodded and wiped an invisible speck of dirt from her pristine blotter.
“I notice you aren’t wearing your apron,” she said.
The words were casual, but we both knew it wasn’t a random observation.
“Yeah, about that, I was hoping you were kidding. It’s not like handing out cookies is all that messy.” Plus, the damn thing was butt ugly.
“Gabriella,” she said, looking me in the eye. “I know you are new here, so some leeway can be given for your ignorance. But every volunteer wears an apron.”
“You’re not wearing one,” I said before I could stop myself.
Her eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared. “Young lady, I am the director of this clinic. If you don’t want to wear the apron, you can find another place to work off your community service.”
Yeah, that was the other thing. Callum told Nancy I was working off court-ordered community service hours. I didn’t necessarily care about what this lady thought of me, but I knew he was trying to make this ordeal as difficult as possible for me. So not only did I have to adjust to being around blood and not indulging, I also had to deal with people thinking I was a petty criminal. I chose to ignore the fact that kidnapping a mortal was a felony in the mortal world. Whatever, it didn’t really matter, because I knew Callum was just trying to make this difficult so I’d quit and he could happily get back to his life.
“Fine,” I said, thrusting my hand out for the apron.
Nancy smiled and handed it over. I probably imagined that it burned my hand, but it sure felt that way. It could also have been that the pink monstrosity was the most embarrassing garment I had ever been forced to wear. Made of bubble-gum-colored cotton, it had white ruffles along the edges and embroidered darker pink hearts all over it. The damned thing looked like Cupid had puked all over it.
“See, that is much better,” Nancy said, her smile bordering on malicious. “Now, run along and give those kids some cookies. After they leave it should be pretty quiet, so we can go over the paperwork procedure.”
“Great,” I said without feeling and turned back toward the room. That was my first mistake. My second mistake was glancing at Callum.
I can only imagine what I looked like to him—a Goth goddess in Betty Crocker couture. But the knee slapping seemed a bit much.
“Bite me,” I said to him as I passed. He wiped the tears from his eyes and took a breath. He looked like he had calmed enough to respond, but then he just started laughing all over again. I didn’t have time to pay him back for that. I had cookies to deliver.
The sound of Callum’s chuckles echoed behind me as I approached the remaining donors. The girl needed a fashion lesson. The baggy jeans and baby blue T-shirt did nothing to hide her chunky frame. She wasn’t fat, but she definitely wasn’t skinny either.
Serious but pretty blue eyes peered from behind blue-framed glasses. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was a combination of tomboy and nerd. She already had a bandage on her arm.
Her companion looked a couple years older, twenty maybe. Alvin had just finished up with him when I arrived. A navy T-shirt stretched over his broad athletic shoulders. Fashionably shaggy brown hair fell around his face.
I’m not into younger men—and definitely not mortals—but this kid was a hottie. He had heartbreaker written all over him.
First I a
pproached the girl, who regarded me curiously. I’m pretty sure the apron was to blame for the smile she tried to hide. Holding up the tray, I asked her if she wanted a cookie.
“Yeah, thanks,” she said quietly and took one. She seemed so earnest for someone so young. I wondered what brought her here.
“Hey, sis, maybe you should have some juice or something instead,” the heartbreaker said.
The girl looked at her brother guiltily and then glanced at me. With pink cheeks, she put the cookie back.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Is there any juice?”
Her eyes never left the cookie as she spoke.
I watched the whole thing with my mouth hanging open. This girl was not fat. She just looked as if she hadn’t grown out of her baby chub yet. How dare her brother embarrass her like that? I wanted to throw a cookie at him, but this time it wouldn’t be an accident.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “One cookie won’t kill you.”
She looked unsure for a second. Just when I thought she was going to go for it and eat the cookie, her brother jumped in again.
“Jenn, think about how proud mom will be after her surgery if you’ve lost some weight.”
I felt my eyes widen as I looked at him. Despite his handsome features, he suddenly looked very ugly to me.
Jenn’s chin wobbled. “Just juice, please.”
“Fine,” I said, my tone clipped. It took everything I had not to stand up for this girl. But then I reminded myself that these were mortals. If that girl wanted to let her brother bully her, then what business of it was mine?
Despite my resolve to stay out of it, my temper continued to grow as I marched to the minifridge next to the credenza for some juice.
“Calm down,” Callum said as I slammed the door to the fridge. I poured a glass of orange juice before I glanced at him.
“He’s an asshole,” I whispered.
“Yeah, he is,” he said, glancing at the kids. “But do you really want to end up exiled because you lost your temper? Imagine what your father would say if he found out you couldn’t last one night.”