Mixed Blessing (Mixed Blessing Mystery, Book 1)

by Nicola Claire

  Tears had joined the shower water, racking sobs shook my body as it continued to chatter with the cold. My jaws clenched, my fangs digging painfully into my lower lip, the smell of my own blood making me hunger further. A vicious circle that I had no hope of escaping.

  Suddenly the shower door was yanked opened and a large shadow blocked out the light from the bathroom halogens. I couldn't hear what the person was saying, but I knew instinctively they were human. Food. Prey. A growl emitted from the back of my throat, my hands clenched into claws at my side. The Dark Shadow was awake and waiting for me to pounce.

  The shower water stopped, a towel was wrapped around me and I have no idea how, but the human managed to get me out of the stall and started to dry me, all the while talking non-stop. I couldn't decipher a word. The vampire in me wanted to feed, to take advantage of this good Samaritan and drink his blood until there was no more, but somehow there was still something of me within, because I fought it. I tried so hard to determine what was happening, who this was, what they were saying. It was all so hazy, so confusing.

  Too much.

  I'd been stripped and wrapped in a towelling robe and brought out to the lounge to sit in front of my space heater. The human was in the kitchen - still talking, still an indecipherable garble of noise - making a cup of tea. The thought that I could discern what he was doing was a relief, the idea that he was going to offer me tea instead of a vein was annoying.

  The annoying won.

  The Dark Shadow won.

  I lost.

  The human lost.

  I don't remember him handing me the tea, but he must have got close enough as I could see the mug on the floor at my feet, the brown liquid soaking into my cream carpet. I watched it slowly sink in further, spread out in a warped circle, little tendrils of tea reaching outwards. I studied it, perplexed at how it had got there. I was always so careful not to drop a thing on the pristine cream carpet in my flat. A spillover from my childhood and a father who couldn't abide any mess at all. But I had made a mistake today, I had made a mess.

  The small child in me cringed at what my father would say when he got home. Then a bubble of laughter worked its way up my throat at the absurdity of that fact. I hadn't seen my father in over two years. This wasn't his home, but mine.

  The laughter lodged in my throat, it took a moment to realise why. I couldn't laugh, because I was drinking. But not the tea, that was still on the floor, staining my carpet. I was drinking something much more appealing than tea. A fine wine, the ambrosia of life, power, warmth, light. Blood. The Dark Shadow purred, I joined her. This was what I had been hungering for. This is what I denied myself. Why?

  It didn't make any sense to me right at that moment. Why deny yourself what is essential to survive? Survive at all costs. That was all that mattered and I needed this blood to survive. It was my right to take it, to consume it and if I took too much and the donor was depleted, then so be it. I am vampyre. This is what I do.

  The slowing beat of a heart interrupted my thoughts. The Dark Shadow snarled at my mental retreat from her. Sounds returned. Colours invaded my eyelids. I flicked them open and took in the scene in a instant. My apartment. Tea from a spilled cup on the floor. The whimper of the human beneath my fangs, gripped by my hands mercilessly on his shoulders. The crumpled light grey suit, the press of a gun in my side. Not my gun, his. Short, spiky, brown hair - a military style cut. Broad shoulders quaking beneath my hold.

  My fangs withdrew and retracted, I licked the wound closed automatically, without thought and then I stilled. My breath as rapid as Mark's.

  Oh fuck.

  He didn't move, just a small sound of pain and fear on each exhaled breath. He'd stopped shaking, but his heartbeat was still too slow, too irregular. How much had I drunk? Too much, that was clear. In a split second I had extricated myself from beneath him and had him lying on his back on the couch. I stood over him and took in his pallor. So pale. I bit my bottom lip and contemplated my options. I could call someone. Samson? Lucinda maybe? But how much trouble would I get into and how could I face the shame? I had lost control, fed from an unwilling donor. Almost killed him.

  And he is a cop.

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

  I rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Coke and then thought maybe some food would be good, so picked up the phone and ordered in take-out from an old flyer still lurking inside one of my kitchen drawers from before that day. Clutching the Coke and a blanket from my bedroom cupboard, I returned to the supine figure of Detective Mark Anderson on my couch. I covered him, checked his neck to make sure it no longer bled and then lifted his head and tried to make him drink the Coke. It was full of sugar and the best I could for now.

  He managed to drink a few sips and then finally his eyes opened and he stared directly at me. I held my breath for the tirade that was surely to come. There was fear there, not surprisingly, but also an understanding and a compassion that had no right to feature on his face right then.

  "So," he said, his voice sounding weaker than normal. He cleared his throat in attempt to strengthen it. "You greet all your guests like this?"

  I frowned. This was not how it was meant to happen. He should be screaming blue murder, or at the very least, scrabbling across the floor in an attempt to flee from the monster. I ducked my head down in shame, knowing full well that the blush I felt on my cheeks would be obvious now I had fed. I stood up awkwardly and backed away from the couch. I didn't stop until my body was pressed into a corner of the room, my arms wrapped securely around my stomach, my eyes anywhere but on Mark's face.

  "Your door was unlocked and you didn't answer the doorbell," he said from out of nowhere. "I knew you were expecting me, so I popped my head inside to call out, that's when I heard the shower and the sound of you sobbing." He went quiet for a moment, I still refused to look at him. "Gigi, what's going on?" His voice was stronger now, but his tone was soft.

  I shook my head. "I've got food coming, you should eat. Replenish... I..." I licked my lips, nervously. "As soon as you're well enough I can call a taxi for you. If you like, I can stay in the bedroom while you recover. Or I can just leave you here. Whatever you prefer."

  "I'd prefer it if you talk to me," he replied steadily. I could feel the weight of his gaze on my body, but I still refused to look at him. I heard him sigh.

  "Gigi," he commanded in an authoritative, policeman-like voice. "Look at me."

  I didn't want to, I was too afraid of what I would see, but he deserved that at least. I had used him to give myself strength, he had given me life-saving blood, even if it hadn't been given with consent, I owed him at least a look in the eyes. I lifted my head slowly and held his impassive gaze. I was guessing this was Mark's cop face, when presented with something he needed to show no response to, this was the face he used. It hurt a little that he felt the need to use it now, but that hurt made me feel better. I deserved to be in pain, I had caused him pain. I was sure I hadn't tempered that bite at all. Too far gone, to even contemplate his comfort. I felt sick to my stomach with that thought.

  "I... I'm sorry," I stuttered, my lips trembling with the effort not to cry.

  He sighed again and ran a hand through his short hair. He was sitting upright now, well enough to sit without falling over from lack of blood. He'd also continued to drink the Coke, it was empty, the bottle now sitting innocuously on the coffee table between us.

  "OK," he said as though coming to some decision. "If you're not going to talk, I will. Just nod if I'm right or shake your head if I get this wrong." He held my gaze for a long moment, I reluctantly nodded. Just where was he going with this? "Your eyes. That's not your normal eye colour. I remember it from school. And in the bar the other night, it was different, almost purple. Now it's dark blue. I'm guessing coloured contact lenses. Is that right?"

  I nodded, it was a simple enough conclusion.

  "So, you cover natural colour changes by wearing coloured lenses every now and then, but not
all the time. Right?"

  A nod. This was proving easier than talking, than admitting or confiding my secrets. But also somehow cathartic, as though I needed him to work this out. I needed another person other than Kara to know what I was. The more people who knew, the more dangerous and perhaps a part of me wanted to court danger. But it wasn't just that. The more humans who knew, the closer I was to humanity. Kara was my only link to what was left of my human side. Could Mark also be another to anchor me to the human world?

  I wasn't sure, but I was prepared to take the chance. Mark was one of the good guys, one of the few really decent souls out there. I knew it was a risk, an enormous risk. I couldn't glaze him to forget this if he chose to use it against me, but then, who would believe him? If he came out with any of this stuff his career would be over. Jett would see to that.

  I let a breath out at those thoughts. Not exactly human were they?

  Mark went on, having let me have a moment to accept that last conclusion. "The question is, why?" I didn't move. "All right," he said in acknowledgement of my silence. "We'll come back to that." He sat still for a moment too, gathering his thoughts. "You seem different from school, but I put that down to maturity. You have grown up." His eyes did a quick scan of my body, making me realise I was still wrapped in nothing but a robe. "I seem to lose all train of thought around you. Not all the time, but suddenly I'll find myself focused on your eyes, or on your voice. As though nothing else in the world matters." He laughed a little. "Forgive me, Gigi, but I am not the sort of guy to get distracted. Even by a beautiful young woman such as yourself. I'm the youngest lead detective at Auckland Central Police, I didn't get there by not being single minded. But when I'm with you, it's as though I'm not myself anymore. It's... unnatural."

  He watched me for a reaction, I stayed deadly still. Part of me praying he'd figure it out, the rest of me dreading he would.

  "OK, add to that what happened tonight. Officer Denton was clearly not himself when he came to tell me my dinner had arrived. I thought perhaps he was on something, but his pupils weren't dilated, despite the fact that he was breathing rapidly and his eyes seemed vacant. Then as soon as we both approached you, him being way more forceful than I had ever witnessed before, he recovered. Like a flicked switch."

  I had stopped breathing, but forced myself to take in air. In, out, in, out. I held his gaze silently. This was going to be a mistake.

  He took a deep breath in, I think to fortify himself for the next conclusion. "I got a report from Albert Park after we left. The lights all blew, the transformer nearby burst into flames. The scene was coated in darkness for fifteen minutes. The body of the victim there left unattended by the forensic team during that time, but when they returned the sheet had been lowered down the body." I cringed internally at my error. My expression remained immobile on the outside. "They were adamant that the body had been covered before the lights went out, but was on display afterwards." He looked me in the eye, giving me what I can only assume was his cop stare. Daring me to lie. "Was that you?"

  Seconds ticked by and I knew this was the part in our little tête-à-tête where I chose which path to take. Denial and keep my secrets, or admit involvement and pray he'd accept me for what I am.

  I am not naive, I knew the dangers this presented. I am Nothus, I am hunted by my kind to be terminated on sight. Too many people know what I am already. But there was something about Mark that I trusted. I couldn't pin it down and I knew it could be a fatal mistake, but still there was a part of me that hoped. That wanted to confide, that wanted to be accepted, forgiven. I'm not sure why, but I thought perhaps Mark could help me. Save me from what I had become.

  I nodded slowly and stopped breathing altogether. I'd taken that step down this path, I now needed to know how far he would follow.

  He watched me for a second or two then let a breath of air out. "OK, we'll get back to that too. I have more questions, but I think the most important right now is what happened when I tried to give you a cup of tea just before." His eyes hadn't left me and I still hadn't breathed. Mark was an observant cop, sooner or later he'd realise I wasn't holding my breath. I waited as he went on. "This is the part I have trouble explaining away. The eyes," he shrugged, "I've found excuse upon excuse for those. Even Denton's bizarre robot-like behaviour I could explain away with some reason or other. And I have been telling myself that I simply am attracted to you to such a degree it is clouding my mind, that's why I feel like chunks of time with you are a haze, or why I seem so preoccupied with parts of your anatomy." His gaze swept over me again and he let a little almost hysterical bark of laughter out. "But tonight you attacked me. I could arrest you right now for what you did. But something tells me you had no idea you were doing it. And then... what you were doing." A rush of air out of his mouth, a hand through his hair. "Did you drink my blood?"

  This was it. Confessions of a blood sucker. To a cop. A human, Norm, cop. I could get into so much trouble for this. Forget about the trouble Mark could cause, I'm talking Nosferatu trouble. The Master of the City. The rules he has for how supernaturals interact with Norms. We live in secret, we hide who we are even as we live alongside them. Samson had never told me what he was when we dated before I was turned. I slept with him thinking he was human. I fell in love with him thinking he was human. He kept the secret like all good vampires should. He's told me since that he planned on letting me know and then I got attacked by that Rogue. But I don't believe him. He has too much of the good-little-vampire in him. He follows the rules.

  I've never been a rule follower, at least not someone else's. This might have been breaking my own rules, but I could allow myself that prerogative from time to time. I decided now was one of those times.

  God help me.

  I nodded. Mark sighed.

  "This case," he said abstractly, "it's unusual, it doesn't fit the normal parameters of a serial killer. Of any murder I have come across in fact. I've been racking my brains about it. The guy we're holding doesn't fit the bill, but the instructions from high above are to continue to hold him. But more and more murders keep happening, so why hold him? It doesn't make sense."

  I wasn't faking the no breathing thing now, this was the most Mark had admitted about Stu so far. Finally I was getting somewhere and the part of me that was hoping confiding in Mark was a good idea, suddenly expanded.

  Mark's gaze flicked over my face absent-mindedly, then sharpened. He cocked his head to the side. "You've not breathed for over two minutes, you're not even straining."

  I nodded, despite the fact he hadn't asked a question. We were getting closer to the final admission, but I wasn't entirely sure he was ready for the reveal just yet. Still, I wanted to push him, to make him come to the conclusion and not have to be told. I lifted my hands to my eyes and removed my contacts, letting my cerulean blue back into the room.

  Mark sucked in a breath. "That's the colour I know." I nodded and then let my Dark Shadow out of her box. My eyes changed from bright blue to red-tinged purple, then quickly back to the familiar blue he knew as I locked her away again.

  Mark swallowed visibly. "Gigi, what exactly are you?"

  "I think you know what I am, Mark," I said softly, then added. "I won't hurt you again, that was a mistake. I was weakened, I didn't know what I was doing. I won't let it happen again." Even if I had to embrace what I have become, feed every other night, I would not place another human in that danger.

  "Your eyes change colour, you have some sort of control over people I can't explain, you're involved in these murders in some way, murders that are seeming more and more unnatural as each new one presents itself. You fed off my blood." He swallowed again. "What else can you do?"

  I took a quick flash around the room, returning to my corner in under a second. He blinked, stunned. Then I lifted the armchair beside me and twirled it in one hand, replacing it softly back on the carpet. Speed, strength, all normal Nosferatu skills. Shadowing and scenting would remain mine, for now. I still didn
't completely believe this was a good idea, but I was hoping more and more that I'd been right to trust him.

  The last thing I did, as he continued to sit mesmerized on the couch, was to let my fangs down slowly. A flick, down and out, then a lengthened to half their biggest size. I didn't want to give him nightmares, it was enough to see them at all after I had fed so recently from his neck. His hand came up to my fading bite marks and rubbed slowly.

  I returned my fangs to their dormant state and waited.

  "Vampire," he whispered.

  I took a slow breath in through my nose and sifted through his emotional scents. Bitter sweet dark chocolate, apple mixed with lime, but also calming chamomile tea. He was scared, rightly so, and confused, but also he felt compassion.

  "When did this happen?" he asked, quietly.

  "Two months ago, I was attacked coming home from work." I watched as his fists clenched at his sides.

  "How many are out there?" As long as he was asking questions, he wasn't running, so I answered as best I could.

  "Tens of thousands, only a hundred or so in Auckland though."

  "What else is out there?"

  I hesitated. He frowned. "I'm not sure knowing would help you," I said in reply.

  "More than just vampires though?"

  "Yes."

  He took a deep breath in. "Is this serial killer human or other?" Other. I hadn't heard us called that before, I guess that's what I am now. Other. It was better than a freak of nature, but then we're not natural. He'd said this case was unnatural, and it was. We are. I am. Unnatural. My shoulders slumped and I frowned for a moment, then straightened my back and met his gaze. He was cop-faced again, hiding.

  "I believe it is... other."

  We sat there immobile, staring at each other and I had no idea what he was thinking, what he would do with this piece of information. I willed him to talk to me, I prayed he wouldn't run and I hadn't made a mistake. I dreaded Jett finding out what had transpired here tonight. I was in so much trouble, but still I believed Mark would not betray me. Maybe I was foolish, maybe I am naive, but I clung to that belief fiercely and waited for him to speak.