The Darkest Colors

by David M. Bachman

  “Almost done,” she said. “I don’t suppose you’d let me keep the extra half-tube…?”

  He chuckled softly. “I don’t think so. I don’t have a very clear telepathic bond with humans, but I can surely guess what you might have in mind. A sample of my blood would fetch a small fortune.”

  “It wasn’t the money I was thinking about, but … yeah, I guess that’s true, too,” Raina admitted, feeling her blush deepening. She hesitated. “Can I ask what you plan to do with the blood?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Quid pro quo.”

  “This for that?”

  “You speak Latin?” he asked with a surprised look.

  “Not exactly,” she said. “That phrase is about the extent of my knowledge.”

  “Ah … then, may I ask you something?”

  Raina smiled. “Anything.”

  “Do you know your blood type?”

  She blinked, still smiling. “I’m sorry?”

  “What is your blood type?” he asked again.

  Her grin broadened as she said, “Guess.”

  “Statistically … being that you are Hispanic, I’d say … Type O Positive?”

  “Good guess, but no. And who said I was Hispanic, anyway?”

  “You did. It’s in your name, and your features.”

  “I didn’t know it was that obvious. I’m half-Hispanic, really,” she confessed. “And please, don’t assume that I’m Mexican.”

  “Spanish?”

  “My father was, yes.”

  “And your mother?”

  Raina hesitated, then shrugged. “Native American, Irish, Finn … a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I never really thought to ask her about it back then.”

  He hesitated, then bowed his head slightly. “My condolences.”

  “For what?”

  “Your parents passed away, did they not?”

  She blinked again with surprise. “How’d you guess?”

  “The way you referred to them in past tense,” he said, reluctantly also admitting, “and because I heard how they died. The incident made headlines even in my country.”

  “Oh, great. So, I guess the whole world really does know, after all,” she grumbled.

  Raina automatically expected that he would continue discussing the death of her parents, since that was what nearly everyone did, especially if they happened to remember hearing about Raina in the news so long ago. Thankfully, he did not. Perhaps she had allowed her dread of the anticipated but unspoken questions to show upon her face. Or, perhaps being over one hundred years old had given Duke Sebastian Fallamhain plenty of years’ worth of practice in learning to read people. There was a bit of a pause before he spoke again.

  “Type A Positive, perhaps?”

  “Nope. Type O Negative,” she replied with a smirk. The way his eyebrows went up with almost welcomed surprise unsettled Raina slightly. Trying her best not to let it show, she added, “The blood banks are in love with me. They’re always nagging me to donate.”

  “I can see why,” he said with a sly smirk.

  “I bet I can probably guess your blood type, though.”

  “I bet not.”

  “Type V Negative?”

  He smiled. “Sorry. Guess again.”

  “Uh … Type V Positive?”

  “No. Wrong race of vampire for that, too. Only Sabertooths and Nosferatu vampires are Type V Positive … and a few Commoners, I suppose.”

  “Okay, I give.”

  “Type O Negative.”

  She blinked. “Say what?”

  “It’s unique to the High Court race.”

  “But … I thought all vampires were … y’know … just Type V Negative or Positive…?”

  “The Fallamhain bloodline is unique because it is among the oldest of all bloodlines. In some ways, we are even closer to being human than Commoners,” he explained. “All other races are descendents of the primary High Court bloodlines. A hereditary genetic mutation resulted in the first Commoners, which today are considered Type V Negative, and the Sabertooths, which are Type V Positive. They outnumber us largely because their Change is much easier to initiate and much more easily survived. The Change for a Fallamhain vampire is not only difficult because it usually requires a higher volume of blood consumption to take effect, but without proper supervision and assistance, it is oftentimes fatal. The fact that our blood is a Type O Negative strain is the reason it is difficult to begin, because it doesn’t have the same catalysts to begin the Change processes that Type V blood types use. It uses a pathogenic method of transmission that makes it more akin to Hepatitis C than HIV.” The Duke smiled a bit more. “You do realize that I am divulging some very closely-held secrets to you.”

  “Really?”

  “You now know something that only a handful of scientists in the world know, themselves.”

  “I’m … I’m honored,” Raina replied with raised eyebrows.

  “I trust that you will be discreet enough to keep this between us…?”

  “I’ll consider it to be confidential patient information,” she responded with a smirk. Raina paused for a moment, considering some of the things he had just revealed to her. “Wow. I never would have guessed that I had the same blood type as the Grand Duchess.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to donate.”

  “Aw, shucks,” she answered with mock disappointment.

  “Unless, of course, you’re offering…?” He shrugged and held up his hands in an almost pleading sort of gesture. Something low in Raina’s stomach clenched into a tight little knot as she realized her error.

  “Oh, no, no,” she said too quickly, too anxiously, as she waved her hands. Her fear ratcheted back up a notch. Hoping to sidestep that issue, Raina then pressed, “Okay, so what about my question?”

  “What do I plan to do with the blood you’ve drawn?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought that you had already guessed it.”

  “You mean … to make someone your bloodspawn?”

  He winked at her. “Clever girl.”

  “And may I ask whom the lucky person is?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” he said, his smile faltering. “Because of what’s happening, it’s imperative that the identity of the newest bloodspawn of the House of Fallamhain be kept a secret for as long as possible. The Countess will surely seek them out and cut them down. I doubt she would even have the honor to wait until their Change is completed before doing so.” He paused. “Raina … in all seriousness … it’s very important that you do not tell anyone about what we’ve done here. I have only shared this with you because you’re already involved in the matter. We cannot hide the fact that I came to you for your services, but we mustn’t tell anyone why. Do you understand?”

  “Absolutely,” she agreed with a nod. She placed a square of dry gauze over the puncture site as the last tube was nearly full. “If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them we did the opposite.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll tell them you paid me to draw my own blood and give it to you, because you were looking for a midnight snack,” she replied with a smile.

  “And what if they ask to see the mark I’ve left upon you?”

  She shrugged. “If it comes to that, I guess I could always let Brenna bite me or something. I’ve never done it before, but I’m sure she’d go for it.”

  “But then you would have to explain to her why…?”

  “Oh, hell no,” Raina chuckled as she finally withdrew the needle from his vein. “She’s been after me for ages. She wants me … y’know, for more than blood … but even if I just offered to be her steady blood, she’d jump at the chance and never ask questions.”

  He stared at her with a handsome smirk as she clicked the protective cover over the needle with one finger and pulled the last tube free of the hub. She gathered the tubes together and began to mix them gently as she dropped the needle and hub into her sharp
s container … and then realized, too late, that she should have kept it separate from the rest. She still could have taken the needle to the lab to see if anything from it could be used for testing, but now it would be difficult (and dangerous) to fetch it out of the plastic container filled with so many other used needles. It was probably akin to dropping a winning lottery ticket into a paper shredder.

  “You really would do that? You would sacrifice your own blood just to keep our deal a secret?” the Duke asked, sounding utterly incredulous.

  She shrugged as she held the tubes out for him, replying, “Patient confidentiality is the law. I treat my vampire clients the same as I would treat any human patient at the hospital.”

  “You’re a very rare individual, Ms. Delgado.”

  “Because of my blood type?” she joked.

  “Actually, yes … but also because your kindness is so admirable,” he said with a relieved smile as he accepted the tubes with his free hand. He grasped her hand briefly as he did so, giving her wrist a chaste kiss. Her heart was thudding hard in her chest, now. “I truly wish we had more time to get acquainted.”

  “Well, when this whole thing blows over,” she dared to say with a shrug, “you’re more than welcome to visit me any time you’d like … even if you don’t need any blood drawn. We could talk more about blood types and stuff.”

  The Duke let out a heavy sigh. “I sincerely doubt this will just ‘blow over,’ m’lady … but I sincerely appreciate the invitation. Regrettably, I will not likely have an opportunity to act upon your offer.”

  “Oh, c’mon. Think positive.”

  “I prefer to think realistically.” He looked down to where she continued to press the two folded squares of gauze over the puncture site. “Are we done?”

  “Almost. You’ve got huge veins, so I have to keep pressure on it until a clot forms. I don’t want you to walk out of here with blood running down your arm,” she said. Honestly, she only wanted an excuse to keep touching him. The warmth, glow, and softness of his skin seemed instantly addictive. It was easy to see how humans could fall so easily for these seductive creatures, especially someone like Duke Sebastian.

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine. You didn’t draw from an artery, so the wound should already be sealed by now.”

  “It might bruise.”

  Still smiling lightly, he folded back his arm and drew away from her. “I tend to wear long-sleeved shirts.”

  “And what if someone sees the bruise and asks questions about it?”

  He straightened his arm again for a moment, peeked at the wound, and saw only a tiny dot where she had pierced his flesh. Indeed, the puncture site had already clotted. Vampiric hematology was truly remarkable in many ways, especially when it came to the clotting of wound sites. Large wound sites formed a strange red gel-like layer to seal quickly within minutes, sometimes in seconds, before a more human-looking sort of scab would begin to form. Had the Duke been a human, the blood pressure in his veins would have required that pressure be applied for a minute or two, otherwise the wound would continue to bleed slightly above and below the surface of his skin, and a nasty-looking purple hematoma.

  “It won’t be an issue,” he said with utter calmness as he unrolled his sleeve and buttoned the cuff. “If Countess Wilhelmina arrives on schedule, I don’t expect I’ll be seeing another sunset, anyhow. I won’t be alive to answer anyone’s questions.”

  She sat and watched him for a few moments as he put on his suit jacket and dug out a cellular phone. How someone such as the Duke could look upon the prospect of his own death in such a way as being completely eminent without any hope for survival was beyond her. How he could seem so indifferent to the subject of his own demise, only concerned with the completion of his mission to preserve the Fallamhain bloodline, spoke volumes about his dedication and devotion to his Maker. It was touching, yet disturbing.

  “Is there anything more I can do to help?” she asked softly. “Anything at all?”

  “There is,” he agreed with a nod as he dialed a number and placed the phone to one of his elongated ears, “but I can’t go into that right now. You’ll know soon enough, when the time comes.”

  She blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I can only give you my sincerest thanks for what you’ve done,” he told her with a nod as he placed the tubes of his own blood within his breast pocket, “and offer my deepest apologies for having involved you in this matter.”

  “I … I don’t understand. What’s…”

  He held up a finger to silence her as someone answered the call he’d placed. From the sound of his conversation, and the female voice she could barely hear from the cell phone, she could only assume that he was calling his Maker. This was as close to Grand Duchess Duvessa Fallamhain as she was certain that she would ever find herself. Her hands were shaking terribly now, even her chin trembling with anxiety and emotion as she began to gather her things, flip up the center armrest, and click off the overhead light.

  Raina listened as he explained to the Grand Duchess that the deed was almost done, and that he needed only to proceed with the Communion of Blood with his selected candidate. She told him something that made his shoulders slump and his eyes close. As he acknowledged it so grimly, she knew without asking that he’d just been informed that the Countess was in town. The clock was ticking, and the showdown was about to happen. The lengthy, sincere, yet almost formal goodbye that he bid the Grand Duchess was enough to break Raina’s heart. He was saying farewell to his love for the last time. He was resigning himself to death. By the time he snapped his phone shut, Raina found herself in tears.

  “Ms. Delgado, please … don’t,” he soothed, touching her shoulder lightly.

  She removed her glasses and covered her eyes with one hand, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I know, it’s none of my business, it’s just … oh, God…”

  He took his hand away from her shoulder after a moment as she struggled to control her emotions. Why, why of all the times that something like this had to happen, why did it have to be when she was at her worst? She couldn’t rightly place blame upon him, but he couldn’t have chosen a worse day of the month to bestow this kind of scenario upon her. Any other day, and other time, she could have held herself together, kept her emotional distance, minded her own business, and maybe become a bit misty-eyed when she was alone and away. Alas, her emotions were at the mercy of her hormones yet again, right at the peak of her “Wine and Whine Week,” as Brenna called it, where she tended to drink and wallow in self-pity far more than usual. The idea of Duke Sebastian Fallamhain, such a noble, selfless, and good gentleman – vampire or not – seemingly throwing away his life was sad enough to tug at her heartstrings; to allow herself to burst into tears now, though, in front of the most prominent client she’d ever served was, in itself, a humiliation that only threw fuel upon the fire of her tears.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m … I’m never like this, I swear,” she strained to say through her tears, fighting valiantly to control herself. She wiped away tears and found her fingers streaked with mascara. “It’s just … I wish you didn’t have to go through with this. I mean, it’s just not right! You’re so nice, and … and it’s just so sad…”

  “And I am quite sorry for you, Ms. Delgado,” he answered calmly. “I have no right to put you through this. I feel terrible that we’ll be parting ways under these circumstances. I feel even worse for how all of this will impact your life, as a whole. But … perhaps in time, you will understand why I must do this. I hope that you can someday forgive me.”

  Raina had only begun to sit up and turn to face him as she continued to wipe at her eyes with a wet sniffle. Through her tear-blurred vision, she saw him holding a white cloth, and she was immediately grateful for the gesture – a gentleman offering a tissue to a weeping lady, how sweet. She even began to reach for it as he moved it towards her. But the sudden force with which he applied it to her lower face was not what she had expected at all, nor the strange c
hemical smell that filled her nostrils as she inhaled sharply with surprise. He pushed her back into the corner of the back seat and trapped her there with the weight of his own body.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid! Raina cursed herself in her mind over and over again as she struggled not to inhale the chloroform any more than she already had with that first gasp. She had been stupid to trust him, stupid to go out here alone, and stupid to leave her garlic-pepper spray in the trunk with her purse. She couldn’t have placed herself in a more textbook-perfect “what not to do” scenario when it came to self-defense, especially when it involved a vampire. She had allowed herself to be placed in a secluded, enclosed environment where she had no room to maneuver, no weapons with which to defend herself, and nobody to help her.

  Unless someone noted the rocking of the car or barely overheard her muffled shriek of surprise, she couldn’t even begin to hope for a witness to report the attack. Aside from requiring shade from the desert sun, she’d had the windows of her Lincoln tinted darkly to add privacy to the times she would be performing blood draws in her car … and potentially getting raped and/or killed by a vampire, it would seem.

  It took her a full two seconds before her years of training came into play, but even that was too little and too late. Her right arm was pinned between their bodies, but with her left, she attempted to wrench about his wrist to remove the cloth and gain control of the situation. His hold upon her was like that of a marble statue, his muscles like soft steel. Even with the advantage of leverage by grasping his thumb and pulling toward the outside, she could not even begin to twist his limb. He was speaking to her, reciting a familiar line of some ceremony, but she was too preoccupied with holding her breath and trying to break his grip to make note of his words. The cloth had slipped away from her nose enough that she was able to catch a few watery and messy half-breaths through her nostrils to give her hope, but he readjusted the cloth to again try to smother her.