The Darkest Colors

by David M. Bachman

  Fearing the worst even as she continued to hope for the best, Brenna finally removed the needle from Raina’s vein, sheathed it, and let it drop to the floor as she peeled away the small syringe she had taped to her forearm. Holding a piece of gauze over the tiny wound she’d caused, Brenna lifted Raina’s arm slightly and laid it at her side upon the bed. Her vision blurred with the threat of fresh tears.

  “Raina, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, my sweet,” she whispered. “I tried. I really tried. I did everything that I…”

  Something grabbed her arm, jerked her forward, and a sharp pain suddenly pierced the back of her wrist. Blinking away her tears, Brenna was alarmed to find Raina’s lips wrapped around her wrist, biting into her flesh with just the tips of two newly-developed fangs that were just barely protruding past the surface of her gums – sharp as a cat’s teeth, but not yet even half as long. Brenna was surprised by the strength that Raina exhibited as she struggled to free her wrist from this unforeseen attack. Raina was only halfway developed as a vampire, perhaps not even that far along, yet she clung to Brenna’s arm with enough tenacity that even her own fully-developed vampiric strength as a Commoner was put to the test. Allowing more damage than she likely would have endured by letting Raina chew on her with little more than her gums and two under-developed fangs, Brenna’s surprise and panic caused her to finally wrench her arm free. Raina flailed her arms about in the air briefly, her eyes still closed, but she did not pursue her any more than that. After a few seconds, Raina’s arms quickly became limp and still at her sides, and she appeared to return to her sleep-like state of rest.

  The momentary manifestation of bloodlust had left Brenna with two fairly deep gouges in her flesh across the back of her wrist that bled lightly. Rather than being frightened or angered by this injury, she instead found herself smiling with relief. If Raina had the strength to do that much, then she had been brought a long way away from death. Perhaps, for once, she had actually done something right. Maybe, just maybe, she really had succeeded in saving her.

  As though on cue, Duke Sebastian’s cell phone rang again. Answering it by the second ring, Brenna held the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she held a wad of gauze over the wound to her wrist. It was the Grand Duchess, again, requesting a report on Raina’s condition. Brenna explained that Raina’s body seemed to have calmed down and that she was perfectly mellow now, aside from the biting incident. This pleased the Grand Duchess enough to make her only half as bitchy as she had been in their previous conversation. Raina’s bloodlust, Duvessa explained, was simply due to her instinctive need to taste blood. Half of a vampire’s motivations were physical, and the other half were psychological; even though her body had just received a fair amount of sustenance, she would not have felt sated until the sharp flavor of blood had reached her tongue. It didn’t take much, just a taste. She just needed a quick “fix” to make her settle down.

  As Brenna explained to the Grand Duchess that she had given Raina at least one full measure of her own blood and that she seemed to be doing better, not specifically going into detail about how she had managed to do so, she exited the bedroom and paced into the kitchen area so as not to perhaps disturb Raina’s resting. Passing by the dining table, Brenna paused in mid-sentence as she overheard a strange humming, buzzing sound. The noise seemed to be coming from where Raina had deposited her purse earlier in the day upon her return. The first thing Brenna associated with the sound did make sense, technically, but she knew all too well that Raina was not the type to carry Mr. Purple around in her purse all day. She dug the cell phone out of Raina’s purse, flipped it open, and was alarmed to see that Raina had no less than ten missed calls, three voice mails, and five new text messages.

  “Is there a problem, Ms. Douglass?” the Grand Duchess asked with genuine concern.

  “Yeah, kinda,” she admitted. “Raina is suddenly Miss Popularity. Her cell phone’s been ringing off the hook all day, apparently.”

  “It would have been best to answer her calls to avoid arousing anyone’s suspicions.”

  “Well, she did have her phone set to vibrate…”

  “Never mind that. Right now, you will need to create some excuses for her before things become worse,” she said quickly. “The last thing you need at this point is a concerned family member notifying the authorities and exacerbating things.”

  Brenna hesitated, raising an eyebrow. “Say what?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Did you just say … it’s masturbating things?”

  “No, I said exacerbating things.”

  “Exactly. ‘It’s masturbating things.’ What the hell does that mean?” Brenna asked, trying not to laugh. “I mean, I’m sorry, but I’m not all up on British slang terms…”

  “This is hardly the time for humor, Ms. Douglass.”

  Brenna shrugged innocently as she began scrolling through the list of Raina’s text messages. “What humor? I’m just trying to understand what you meant when you said it’s masturbating things. Are you trying to say that if someone calls the cops, then they’re going to jerk us around or something?”

  The Grand Duchess let out an annoyed huff. “Exacerbating! To make things worse!”

  “Oh, you mean exacerbating?”

  “Yes! Precisely!” she cried. “Something you’re doing right now by wasting time with this silliness!”

  “I’m sorry, your grace, but it’s this cell phone. The sound quality is total shit,” Brenna explained as she pulled it away from her ear momentarily to glance at it. “I mean, jeez, this phone looks like it’s at least five years old…”

  “Are you quite finished?” the Grand Duchess snapped.

  “Finished what?”

  “Being difficult?”

  Brenna laughed. “If you think I’m being difficult now, you should try actually getting me pissed off sometime. I’m being as polite as I can with you right now. And considering the circumstances, you’d better be damned grateful that I care as much as I do about Raina, or else I wouldn’t be putting up with you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty fucking so,” Brenna replied sourly. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I do respect you because you are who you are…”

  “Well, you certainly have a poor way of showing it!”

  “…and I do appreciate the fact that you’re apparently going through a lot of trouble to help my friend out,” she went on. “But don’t think for a second that you can talk down to me or boss me around like I’m one of your little royal peons. This isn’t the Dark Ages, lady, and I never signed up to be one of your servants. I’m an American, okay? Revolutionary War, Boston Tea Party, George Washington … any of those things ring a bell? We went to war over this kind of shit a couple hundred years ago.”

  “For your information, young lady,” she snarled, “I am over two hundred years old. You needn’t bother attempting to give me a lesson in history because I was already a high-ranking member of the IVC and in the process of writing the first draft of the Code before your great-great grandmother was even a wet spot on a bloody mattress!”

  That was enough of an unexpected remark to make Brenna hesitate, although only for a second. “Oh yeah? Well … yeah! So, then … if you know so much about history, then … like … you know what it means when you’re dealing with an American. All right? So, just chill with the bossy attitude, okay?”

  Disgusted with her own lack of wit, Brenna thought, Wow, did I really just say something that stupid? She usually had far better comebacks than that. She could only chalk it up to stress, sleep deprivation, and possibly the lingering effects of the blood she had recently tasted.

  “Bossy … attitude?” the Grand Duchess repeated mockingly. “Little girl, you clearly haven’t the slightest bloody idea at all with whom you are speaking. I am not merely some human government authority figure. I am not your schoolteacher. I am the spring of eternal life from which the blood in your veins originated. As Grand Duchess of the
International Vampiric Council, and as the eldest surviving member of the High Court, I am your queen. The human government of Great Britain will not allow me to bear that title officially, of course. But make no mistake, young Brenna, I am the supreme authority to which every vampire walking this world must answer. You became my servant on the same night that you accepted the Communion of Blood.”

  “For your information, your grace,” Brenna replied with sharp bitterness, “I was fucking raped and left for dead by a random chump with fangs. All right? I never asked to become a fucking vampire. The only thing I accepted was the fact that I can’t change what I’ve become, and that I’m just going to have to deal with it, the same way I’ve dealt with everything else in life. So frankly, I don’t owe you shit.”

  “Brenna Douglass?”

  “That’s my name.”

  “Do you wish to die?”

  Brenna’s hostility suddenly evaporated. “What?”

  “You do realize that I am well within my rights as Grand Duchess to strike you down, do you not?”

  She was completely floored. “Are you for real? You’re actually threatening me with death?”

  “By law of The Code, Brenna Douglass, I may take your blood away as quickly and as completely as it was given to you,” the Grand Duchess informed her flatly.

  “Jeez, you sound like my mother,” Brenna replied with a nervous chuckle. I brought you into this world, young lady, and I can take you out of it.

  “As a matter of fact, as the eldest surviving vampire in the world with the largest number of bloodline descendents, it’s entirely possible that I am your mother,” the High Court vampire informed her.

  “Well then, with all those thousands of kiddies roaming the world, you must rake in an awful lot of child support.”

  “I would love to continue this enlightening conversation,” the Grand Duchess sighed sarcastically, “but I’m afraid I have quite a lot of other calls that need to be made, at the moment. I will be boarding a jet to fly from London to New York approximately ten hours from now. The flight from there to Phoenix will last several more hours, and it will be necessary for me to remain indoors for the remainder of the day upon my arrival. I expect that you will see to the safety of my bloodspawn during that time. Just as well, it would be in your best interests for you to also make use of that time to think of an appropriate and adequate apology for your rudeness. Depending upon your sincerity, I may choose to be merciful.”

  “You’re serious,” Brenna said more than asked. “You really would kill me just because you think I’m acting like a bitch.”

  “In the past, I have slain others for far, far less,” she replied coolly. “If this conversation had taken place in the flesh, I would have torn your heart from your ribcage by now with my bare hand.”

  Without hesitation or thought, Brenna immediately replied, “You mean like the Countess did to Sebastian?”

  There was a long, awkward pause.

  “I will be seeing you soon, Commoner,” Duvessa practically growled. “If you’ve any idea at all the sort of thoughts I am entertaining right now, you will greet me upon your knees, begging for forgiveness.”

  The other end of the line went dead as the Grand Duchess ended the call. Brenna snapped the phone shut and closed her eyes, shaking her head.

  “Absolute … total … fucking … bitch,” she muttered with disbelief.

  Feeling almost numb from head to toe with a mix of fear and excitement, Brenna resumed her interrupted task of browsing through Raina’s messages. All of the text messages were from Lisa, at almost hourly intervals throughout the day. The last three messages were close together in time. Brenna read all of the messages from earliest to latest.

  Call me as soon as you get this.

  Where are you? Call me.

  I’m sorry about this morning. I just wanted to help.

  Your car is still at work. Should I go get it?

  What gives? Did you go to the ER?

  This is crazy. Where are you? Are you still at home?

  I’m sorry, but I don’t trust Brenna. Please let me know you’re OK.

  I’m scared. This is serious. Where are you? I’m worried sick about you.

  I can’t take this anymore. Call me NOW.

  Police are on the way. Sorry. I just want to know that you’re OK.

  As she read the last text message, Brenna heard two car doors slamming shut outside. Seconds later, she heard someone stepping up to the front door.

  “Son of a bitch,” Brenna hissed as the doorbell rang and someone pounded on the front door.

  From outside, a man loudly called out, “Sheriff’s Office!”

  Tossing Raina’s cell phone back into her purse, Brenna quickly checked her own appearance. She moistened her fingers to wipe away the spot of blood that remained at the crook of her elbow from her blood donation, hurriedly attempted to straighten her hair, and then hurried over to the sink. She hastily rinsed off her hands and cleansed the two scratches across her right wrist from where Raina had bitten her. She yanked the dishtowel from its place above the sink and brought it with her as she finally answered the door. Two Maricopa County sheriff’s deputies stood outside, a tall Hispanic male with an average-sized but butch-looking blonde female. The female shined a flashlight almost directly in her face.

  “Can I help you?” Brenna asked, wincing at the brightness as she dried her hands with the black terrycloth towel.

  “Are you Raina Delgado?” the female cop asked.

  “No, but I’m her friend. What’s going on?”

  “Someone called in a report that she might be having a medical emergency,” the male replied. “We’d just like to make sure she’s all right.”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. She’s just sleeping right now,” Brenna said. It was easy to lie about it when the full truth of Raina’s condition was still unknown to her.

  “Is it okay if we see her for just a moment?” asked the woman. “We just want to make sure she’s doing all right, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Brenna hesitated. She couldn’t help it. The cops saw it. They looked at each other with a quick, knowing glance that said everything in a blink. Right away, she knew that this could only go badly.

  “Well … like I said, she’s sleeping right now,” Brenna insisted as the female cop shined her flashlight past her into the darkened living room. “I think she’s just got a really bad case of the flu. She’s been throwing up all day, and I’ve been taking care of her. Y’know, giving her fluids and stuff so that she doesn’t dehydrate.”

  “Mind if we come inside and see her? We just want to be sure she’s okay,” the male cop asked. “It’ll only take a minute.”

  Again, Brenna hesitated. She wasn’t simply worried about what the deputies would think when they saw Raina’s sorry state of being. Rather, she was more concerned with how Raina might react to them. Although the Grand Duchess had told her that Raina’s bloodlust should be sated, now that she had tasted blood and been “fed,” Brenna feared what might happen if she had been wrong. What if Raina was still on the edge of bloodlust? If Raina attacked one of the deputies, they would shoot her to death without hesitation. Even if they did not, Brenna simply did not want anyone getting unnecessarily hurt. She didn’t like cops, but she didn’t wish bodily harm or death upon any of them, either.

  The male clicked on his own flashlight and gave her a quick look-over. “You’re a vampire?”

  “Yes,” Brenna answered almost shyly. This, she knew, was when the cops would cease to be friendly.

  “Got your VIC on you?”

  “Right here in my purse.” Brenna began to reach for her purse on the coffee table nearby, when the male deputy opened the screen door. “Excuse me, but I never said you could come in.”

  “Probable cause,” the female answered for him, drawing her pistol and holding it at her side. “Just don’t make any sudden moves, okay?”

  “What, like breathing?” Brenna muttered as she shook her h
ead sadly, retrieving her ID card from her purse.

  The male cop entered first and calmly babbled some coded number-talk into the shoulder mic of his radio before requesting a supervisor for backup. While he wandered about the living room, shining his flashlight every which way, the female cop kept an armed watch over Brenna. She didn’t aim her pistol at her, but she looked more than ready and willing to step back and pump a few rounds into her face if Brenna so much as blinked at her the wrong way.

  The male deputy seemed like an okay guy, but Brenna could tell that the female was one of those gung-ho dyke sorts of cops. Rather than getting a lot of tacky tattoos, cursing a lot, and driving a big rig, this woman was apparently one of those types that preferred to satisfy her drive to be “one of the boys” and prove her toughness by getting a short spiky haircut and acting tough from behind the safety of a badge and a bulletproof vest. Women like her were one of the reasons Brenna had been so reluctant to admit to her attraction to other women for so many years, for fear of being lumped together with the likes of these types. If anything, she would have considered herself to be more of a “lipstick lesbo” … well, except for the fact that she still absolutely loved sex with men. Worse still, she had a weakness for hot guys that usually turned out to be selfish, immature jerks. Technically, Brenna was bisexual, but Raina had long preferred to either call her “indecisive” or “confused.”

  Brenna held up her VIC card for the female deputy to see, holding up her other hand to show that it was empty. She kept the towel laid over her wrist to hide her wounds, hoping not to give them cause for any further questions. The male deputy began searching to the east end of the house, towards the office and spare room on the opposite end of the house from Raina’s bedroom.

  “Brenna Douglass,” the woman read from the ID card.

  “That’s me.”

  “You know, I think I remember you from someplace.”