by Karen Ranney
“But I don’t know that much about vampire health. I’m going to send the test results to a doctor who specializes in treatment of your species. I know of several esteemed physicians.”
Panic nearly sealed my throat shut. The last thing I wanted was to be outed to a vampire doctor.
“No,” I said, trying to calm myself. “I don’t want that. I’m fine, really.”
He capped his fountain pen and slid it into his pocket.
“I’m at a loss here, Miss Montgomery. I'd like you to see a specialist," he said. "Someone more familiar than I am with your physiology."
“I didn’t know there were vampire specialists.”
He nodded.
What about werewolf doctors? And other doctors for the rest of the Brethren?
I couldn't remember exactly what I'd read from the Eagle Lady’s notes, but were shape shifters capable of becoming something else at times other than the full moon? Could a strong emotion, such as anger, precipitate the change? Could they do it at will? Pardon me while I find a phone booth. Was Superman a shape shifter? Was the whole myth of Superman brought about to make the American public a little more amenable to super beings among us?
I was going a little far afield mentally, but I was doing everything in my power to avoid thinking about what Dr. Fernandez had just said.
Finally, however, the realistic Marcie surfaced and asked a question the childish Marcie couldn’t.
"Do you think I'm sick?" Really sick? As in some kind of vampire leukemia?
Wouldn't it be ironic if I had done everything in my power to make Maddock sick and I was the one who turned out to be ill?
At least he couldn't make me a brood mare, which was one good thing.
"I don't know what you are," Dr. Fernandez said.
“Do I have rabies?”
His eyes widened. At least he didn’t ask me if I had a reason to think I had rabies. For example, had I injected myself with the rabies vaccine recently? Or accidentally touched a syringe that held the rabies vaccine?
“No, you don’t have rabies.”
He evidently didn't bother working on his people skills, either because I was a vampire or he was being paid a princely sum to attend to the people at Arthur's Folly. He continued to look at me as if I were a living, breathing example of something very odd: a protozoa who had somehow learn to speak or an amoeba with a brain.
I decided I didn't like Dr. Fernandez very much.
Unfortunately, however abrasive Dr. Fernandez might be, what he said might be worthy of my attention. Damn it. Or, I could convince myself that because I didn’t like him, anything he said was crap.
Ergo, there was nothing wrong with me.
Convoluted thinking, but there you go. That was me. Being a vampire hadn't changed my brain. Or my personality all that much. I still have the same character flaws just layered on top of the physical issues. I've never read where vampires were supposed to be better than humans, unlike Maddock’s opinion. He believed that vampires were the best part of humans, transformed and transmuted to creatures that lived forever and sucked blood.
"Where do you suggest I go?" I heard myself asking. Evidently, the mature Marcie was also a hypochondriac.
He pulled out a prescription pad from his coat pocket, scrawled something on it and handed it to me.
To my surprise, I could read it.
I had heard of the diagnostic clinic before, but only in regard to human diseases. What I said as much, he smiled, the expression making him look more worried than amused.
"They're pioneers in the field of vampirology,” he said.
“Vampirology?”
He nodded. "The study of vampire blood."
I wasn't getting a good feeling about this. "Do they have anything to do with MEDOC?" I asked, staring down at the paper.
"I believe they’re affiliated. Why?"
"Nothing," I said. "Just curious."
I placed the paper on the table beside the bed, keeping my smile anchored on my face with difficulty. Niccolo Maddock owned MEDOC. I wasn’t going near the place.
Which meant, of course, that I was going to use the "let's ignore it and pretend it goes away," way of handling the situation. I’d already tried it with my mother and it was working so far.
Dr. Fernandez was a general practitioner. Maybe he had misinterpreted any blood tests he might've done on me.
Why had he done blood tests on me?
"How's my leg?" I asked.
“A very bad compound fracture,” he said, his bedside manner still needing work. “But vampires heal quickly. You should be back to normal in a matter of days.”
Another point in my favor. Whatever he thought I had, surely I would heal from it quickly.
Right now my leg was itching like mad. I wanted to reach down into the cast and scratch for a few thousand hours.
“Have you ever heard of a Dirugu?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It sounds like a sandwich. What is it?”
I wanted to flick my fingers at him and make him go away. Or maybe change him into a frog. No, that was the province of a witch, right? Could they really do things like that?
“Just something I heard,” I said.
I had to do something before he whipped out his phone and called somebody. The very last thing I wanted was a vampire doctor to know I was odd. A vampire physician would contact the Council. I wouldn’t be safe, even here in a fortified castle, if the Council wanted to get their hands on me. I didn’t know if they could use legal means or just send a murder of vampires to besiege Arthur’s Folly.
A moment ago I was having some residual guilt about using compulsion and now it didn’t bother me at all. I closed my eyes and sent my thoughts to the doctor. You won’t contact anyone. You will ignore any anomalies. I’m just fine as far as you’re concerned. You won’t tell anyone about meeting me. You’ll have to be reminded of who I am.
A moment later I opened my eyes, smiled brightly at him, and hoped to hell he was one of the few people at the castle I could compel.
He smiled back at me and then down at the clipboard in his hand.
“Well, then,” he said, “I’ll let you get some rest.”
I don’t know if it worked or if he was suddenly just bored with having a vampire patient, one whose fangs weren’t in evidence and who asked about having rabies.
Dr. Fernandez made a movement with his fingers, a halfhearted goodbye wave as he left the room.
I was alone, the windows closed against the night. I’d heard that an injury can summon depression. I was in the midst of a dark cloud as I lay on the fancy hospital bed. Finally, I clicked the button Dan had given me. Just as he said, he was there in minutes.
“I have to get Charlie.”
“He’s here, Marcie.”
I blinked a couple of times, trying to remember. I hadn’t picked him up, which meant that Dan had. Despite being zapped, despite my anger at him, he’d done the good Samaritan thing again. Was he trying out for sainthood?
How could my vampire, tacky, weaselly, cowardly self possibly compare to Dan?
"Is he all right?”
He nodded.
Dan wasn’t looking at me and he was one of those people who always looked in your eyes. Instead, he was studying the floor.
"Dan? Is he all right? What did the vet say?”
“The vet gave him a clean bill of health. No damage to his lungs. He shouldn’t suffer any ill effects from the plaster dust. We gave him a bath when he got back, just to make sure he didn’t have any more on his skin.”
Something was wrong.
“After the bath, he ate a whole bowl of food.”
The tight little bubble of anxiety didn’t dissipate.
“So, what’s the matter?”
Dan finally looked at me. “The vet ran a check on Charlie’s chip.”
Of all the things he might have said, I hadn't expected that.
“His chip?”
“He had a chip implanted.
They called the company and got the name of his owner.”
I hadn’t thought about that. Or, maybe I had and I just hadn’t done anything about it. After that first night, I’d given up hope of finding Charlie’s owners. No, I was hoping not to find them.
“I have his number," he said, holding out a business card for me.
I took it. On one side was the vet’s information. A man’s name and phone number was written on the back.
“His name is Stupid.”
“What?” I blinked at Dan.
“Your dog. His name is Stupid.”
“I’m not calling him Stupid. He’s a smart dog. A regal dog. He deserves a better name. Maybe even Charlie isn’t good enough. What kind of idiot names his dog Stupid?”
“The idiot who owns the dog.”
I wanted to cry. Maybe I was hungry. I always get weepy when I’m hungry.
“He’s going to have to wait until I’m better,” I said, seizing on an excuse. “Charlie is my responsibility and I’ll call him, but he’s waited this long, he can wait a little longer.”
“Would you feel the same if Charlie was your dog?”
No, but I sure as hell wouldn’t have named him Stupid, either.
“A few days, that’s all I ask.”
“I can call him for you, Marcie.”
I stared down at the card rather than at Dan, trying to quell my sudden and unexpected anger. Hadn’t he done enough? I hadn’t forgotten about my apartment.
"Where’s my stuff?"
"Your clothes are in your room. Your furniture is in one of the storage units on the property.” He fished out a key from his pocket and handed it to me. "Nobody else has a copy. Only you. I was trying to help."
Now was the perfect time for me to apologize for zapping him. Strange, that I didn't feel like apologizing as much as zapping him again.
To make matters worse, someone tapped on the door. Dan opened it and rolled in a cart containing a whole white chocolate cheesecake and two plates and forks.
He only smiled at me, cut me a piece of cheesecake and handed it to me.
Nobody would ever have to waterboard me. All they’d have to do was wave a slice of cheesecake under my nose and I would confess anything.
“Are my clothes over there?” I asked, pointing with my fork to the three lockers on the other side of the room.
Hopefully, my jeans were still there, rather than having been sent to the laundry.
I suspected Dan hired gnomes, if they were real, or invisible servants who crept around the castle and were rarely sighted. My dirty clothes were spirited out of the hamper and magically hung up in the walk in closet when washed, dried, and sometimes ironed. My dirty dishes just disappeared in a poof. Even the small refrigerator in the dressing area was re-stocked without me seeing anyone do it. As far as cleaning, I’d never yet heard a vacuum or seen a maid in my room, but everything was always spotless.
Were there invisible Brethren?
“Yes. Do you need anything?”
I shook my head. I’d get the fortune teller’s card later.
"I want a gun," I said. "I want a gun and I want to learn how to shoot it."
"Do you want to shoot me or Maddock?"
"At the moment, the jury’s out."
We shared a look. He knew I was only half kidding.
"A gun won't help you against Maddock. Besides, after that little demonstration at your apartment, you don’t need a gun, do you?”
I decided not to discuss my new talent.
"It'll give me a head start," I said. “If I shoot him in the head, it will take him a little while to regenerate."
He looked like he would like to smile, then thought better of it.
I wasn't in the smiling mood. I was confused, uncertain, and ready to cry. I didn’t want to give Charlie up, especially to someone who’d named him Stupid. I didn’t want to be totally dependent on Dan. I didn’t want to have witnessed someone dying today. I didn’t want to remember Maddock’s eyes when he stared at me. I didn’t want to be always afraid, like having a low grade, perpetual fever.
Most of all, I didn’t want to be a special vampire.
Good luck with that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
My libido escapes its cage
“You have to cut it off,” I said two days later.
Dan was standing at the foot of my hospital bed with his arms folded across his chest, his handsome face thunderous.
“Not until you tell me what you did to Dr. Fernandez,” he said.
I put on my best look of innocence, wide blue eyes, and a tremulous smile.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Marcie.”
Somehow, he’d borrowed my grandmother’s ability to shame me with my own name. Or maybe it was the look he was giving me, intense, focused, and not accepting anything but the truth.
“Every time he’s scheduled to see you, I have to remind him who you are. What did you do to him?”
“I don’t particularly like your Dr. Fernandez,” I said. “I think he has a thing about vampires.”
“Most people do,” he said.
“I never did.”
It was the truth. I wasn’t all that fond of them, especially Paul, my stepfather, but I wasn’t actively anti-vampire. Nor was Dr. Fernandez, in all honesty.
“I told him not to remember anything about me.”
“Why?”
“If I tell you, will you help me cut this thing off?”
The itching was unbearable. I suspected that my vampire physiology, as Dr. Fernandez would put it, had healed me completely. I was willing to give it a shot. I couldn’t stand the feeling of the cast any longer.
“Come on, Dan.”
I was almost at the point of begging. Besides, I was bored out of my mind. Dan hadn’t returned my phone and I could only watch so much TV. Trust me, all the judge shows and baby daddy shows didn’t leave me with a warm and fuzzy thought about the country’s collective IQ. And, although the nurse who helped me attend to my bodily functions was a very nice woman, I was tired of peeing in front of strangers.
“Dr. Fernandez will have to make the decision.”
“He’ll say no. He doesn’t know what I am.”
Dan made a point of staring fixedly out the window. It was daylight. If I let Dr. Fernandez examine me now, he’d understand that I wasn’t a normal vampire.
That’s the last thing I wanted.
I lay back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.
“The fewer people who know about me, the better.”
“What about me?”
I lowered my head and looked at him directly.
“That goes for you, too. I don’t think it’s a good idea if any one person knows everything about me.”
That idea hadn’t come to me in a burst of wisdom in the middle of the night. I’d always realized that my safety lay in ignorance. Unfortunately, the circle of those in the know was widening. Maddock and his mistress knew about me. Dan and Mike did, too. So did my grandmother and now probably her coven. How many other people were aware of the vampire who could get a suntan?
“He wanted me to go to a diagnostic clinic, one that’s affiliated with MEDOC, Maddock’s company. I’m not going within a foot of that place.”
“I don’t blame you,” he said, earning a smile from me.
“Plus, the minute a vampire doctor knows about me, the Council will find out. That’s not a good idea, either. So you understand why I gave him a forget me command?”
He nodded.
Well, that was too easy. I was prepared for a fight.
“If you don’t help me cut this off,” I said, “I’ll do it myself.”
That was going to be a little difficult since the end of the cast was strung on a wire to a metal brace at the foot of the bed, but I was desperate.
If he wanted me to beg a little more, I would.
I doubted flirting would work. I hadn’t looked at myself in the
mirror for days. My hair was brushed, at least, because the nurse had retrieved some of my things from my suite. I was still wearing a hospital gown with little teddy bears on it because my other nightgowns were either too revealing or full length.
“Please.”
He nodded just once, turned and left the room. Great, he probably went to fetch Dr. Fernandez.
I was ninety nine percent sure I was healed. As the hours had passed, I felt better and better. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I’d finished taking my grandmother’s potion.
What was I going to do if Dan brought Dr. Fernandez back into the room? Could I wipe his memory clean? If I could, was I willing to assume the responsibility for doing that?
I’d never been a proponent of the adage of “looking out for number one”, but I was being forced to feel that way since so many people seemed to want me dead or chained somewhere.
What would Maddock have done if Dan hadn’t there to save me? Probably spirit me off to his house once more and keep me in shackles until he was certain I was pregnant. Or he might even take me to the Council, plead his case and have me declared a vampire’s best friend. Maybe I would’ve become their universal blood donor, a way of curing vampirism, or at least giving them the same abilities I now possessed.
My blood would probably go for a lot of money. How much? A couple of million per vial? Maddock would become a billionaire, if he wasn’t already. Maybe they’d be able to duplicate whatever weird DNA I possessed. Vampires, as we currently knew them, would be a thing of the past, a horror story to tell misbehaving children.
Maybe I’d even be known as St. Marcie. Or Maddock would create a race of super vampires. Only the most intelligent or beautiful or talented would be able to procreate and live during the day.
He would create a master race with my blood.
How many humans would he exterminate or turn in the process?
The door opened. Dan entered, followed by Mike. Dr. Fernandez wasn’t with them. Mike was carrying something that looked like a mini chainsaw, plugged it into a wall outlet, and approached me.
My eyes widened. I hope to God he knew what he was doing, but I didn’t get a chance to ask.