by Sloan Archer
But then I reminded myself that it wasn’t just about me anymore. I had a son and a husband. Without me, there would be no one to look after them, because nobody could ever love them half as much as I did.
I had to be strong.
I would have to die in order to live on as a vampire.
I knew it was not going to be pleasant. I’d been turned vampire before, and the suffering I’d undergone during the changeover was beyond comprehension. And that was at the hands of only one vampire. Now there were ten hovering above me.
I sure hoped the changeover was successful this time; there wasn’t enough life left in me to try more than once. And though I would have liked to claim that the anticipation was the worst part, it wasn’t. It was the pain. If they didn’t get a move on, the pain was going to kill me.
Unable to speak, I gave Robert a nod. Do it!
“Hold on, Mercy,” he whispered. “You hold on now, my love.”
I squeezed my eyes shut when he motioned to Liz: Now!
I knew what was coming next but was still taken by surprise when the awful crunch came from the center of my ribcage. All remaining air was depleted from my lungs, making a ghastly whooshing sound when I attempted to scream.
I began to fade when the shouting started up again.
—She’s seizing!
—Bite her! Bite her!
—We’re losing her!
I was barely aware of the mouths latching onto my body. But then it hit me all at once: the stinging, burning, freezing sensation of their teeth sinking into my flesh as they drank from my veins. To my great shame I began to wish for death, for the agony to end.
“I’ll go first,” said Robert.
Several cold fingers found their way into my mouth, prying my teeth apart to hold my jaw open. I was like a baby bird being force-fed a worm from its brawny mother. I tried not to cough when the thick metallic-tasting liquid began to gush down my throat.
“Drink it down, Mercy,” Robert was whispering. I felt no change as I sucked at his oozing wound.
Suddenly, Liz was above me. “Let me try,” she cried, easing her spurting wrist over my lips. Faraway in the distance, I could hear her: “I can’t tell if it’s working!”
I could tell: It wasn’t.
I continued drinking from my best friend, and then Marlena and Joseph . . . and then from many vamps whose names I did not know. We were running out of options.
I was going to perish, and it seemed unlikely that I was going to resurrect.
We tried, I thought sleepily. We tried.
The light above brightened to blinding proportions, its white-hot heat boiling my flesh. The voices faded into the distance, the words tangling into swirls of incomprehensible chatter. Blood was still being forced down my throat, though I lacked the conviction to continue swallowing.
I’m done. No more. I give up.
I allowed myself to let go, to relinquish my life force to whatever was waiting for me on the other side. I spiraled down, down, down into the darkness. The pain dulled and then ceased to exist altogether. Soon, so would I.
Luther!
Let Luther through!
Mercy, drink from me!
Drink!!!!!!!!!!
And then came a different light: soft, soothing . . . energizing.
It was bright.
So, so bright . . .
I sat up, blinking. The pain was gone. I felt good. Amazing.
The vamps went wild, cheering. All the vamps, that is, except for Robert and Liz, who were crushing me with their strong arms and sobbing into my hair.
She’s okay-she’s okay-she’s okay!
“Congratulations,” I heard Jerry tell the crowd of immortals encircling me. “It’s a girl.”
The vampires who’d fed me would later come to think of me as their daughter. What they didn’t know was that, in truth, it had been Luther’s blood that had finally made me immortal. But I never corrected my new squad of parents, many members of the VGO.
I figured that even vampires could use a little magic.
EPILOGUE
“Should I wear the gold or the silver?” I asked Andrew, holding up my two necklace options. I gave them a jiggle. The chains were nearly indistinguishable, barring their metallic tone. Both were identical in length, with a teeny, tiny round diamond pendant.
I liked to keep my jewelry simple at work, as to not rouse my patients. New vampires were easily distracted; this I knew firsthand. I’d had the attention span of a gnat for the first few months after I was changed. Thankfully, my old human mind came back once I’d gotten into the full swing of things, sharp as ever.
I was back at Dignitary and positively loving it, though my duties were entirely different from the last time I’d worked there. Marlena had created the position exclusively for me. My title was Vampire Transformation Specialist.
Fancy, right?
The conversion from human to vampire could be traumatic for many novice immortals, so it helped to have somebody to talk to. I was that somebody. It was my job at Dignitary to aid new vampires in adjusting to immortality. I reassured them that they weren’t on their own, and that lots of support was out there for them, should they require it.
As a therapist to vampires, I was finally getting to put my psychology degree to good use, which was precisely what I’d wanted since graduating from Dewhurst. I wasn’t utilizing my degree how I’d foreseen using it back when I was a student, but when does life ever turn out exactly as one expects? It didn’t matter to me as long as my work was gratifying, which it was. My clients seemed to like and trust me, too, since I walked the walk being vampire myself.
Andrew reached for the necklaces. Giggling, he said, “Pearls!”
“You don’t like the chains?” I asked with an exaggerated sad face.
“Pearls,” he repeated, grinning.
“But I like the chains!” I teased, pretending to cry. It was odd, but it was our thing—our kidding. My son was such a playful creature and we joked around a lot. He was my little buddy and I loved him so much. I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, all right.”
I clasped the pearls around my neck and showed them to Andrew for approval. “Better?”
“You’re so pretty, Mommy,” he replied.
Did I mention that my son was also generous with compliments? He’d taken after his father, no doubt about that. Jerry and Tim, who made sure Andrew got all the sunshine and fresh air a growing boy could need, told me the other day that Andrew was prone to picking daisies and presenting them to girls as gifts. Only three, and Andrew was already a hit with the playground ladies. Whatever was I going to do when he became a teenager?
About ten months ago, Jerry and Tim had finally gotten their adoption wish. They named their daughter Grace, after the late Princess of Monaco. She was so lovely, and she and Andrew were thick a thieves. Joseph and Liz, outrageously in love and now married, spoiled Grace and Andrew silly, since they didn’t desire children of their own. So did Sebastian, who was the greatest teenaged grandfather a girl could ever hope for.
Tim, Jerry, Grace, Liz, Joseph, Sebastian, Robert, Andrew, and I had become one big family. We were a motley bunch, but I wouldn’t change a thing about any of us. All we needed was love, and there was plenty of it to go around.
“You’d better get a move on, my sweet,” Robert said as he came into the bedroom. He scooped Andrew up off the bed and then blew a raspberry on his tummy, much to our son’s delight. Robert placed Andrew on his shoulders and smiled up at him. “Isn’t your mother gorgeous?”
“Yes!” Andrew cheered, clapping his hands.
Robert kissed my lips, and at the same time Andrew bent down and kissed the top of my head. I love you, each of us said.
Never had I been this content. This was something that occurred to me at the end of each day—that I’d never been so happy—but then the next would arrive and surpass the previous.
Sometimes I had to pinch myself.
It was hard to believe that o
nly a few years ago I was unemployed, lonely, and hopeless. I was a completely different woman back then, both physically and emotionally. Had I been told that this was how life would turn out, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Yet there I was, one blissful vampire. Destiny. . . .
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:
I wouldn’t be where I am today without the unwavering support of my friends and family, specifically: Mom, Amanda Caudwell, Jeralyn Pribyl, Sean McGill, Brandon Marlan, and Ashley Chase.
As always, a huge thanks goes out to the readers, who continue to inspire and encourage my work.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Sloan Archer has been writing fiction since childhood; her first works were dark short stories inspired by howling coyotes on her family's farm, penned while Sloan was in grammar school. When Sloan isn't creating novels, she enjoys world travel, painting, and live music. She resides in Los Angeles.
WHERE TO FIND SLOAN:
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/SloanArcher
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SloanArcher
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SloanArcherWriter