Parasite Life

by Victoria Dalpe

  I sat back, staring out the dirty windshield at the other patrons of the rest stop. Such variety and bustle. Unruly children, stuffing food in their mouths, arguing. Young couples hugging, not a care in the world. Each person a vibrant, glowing beacon of life and energy. And I just sucked it in, like a black hole, stealing the light. An empty vacuum in space.

  “He’ll like you, Jane. How could he not? Fancy man or no.” Sabrina said, squeezing my hand.

  “Thanks, I hope you’re right. I’ve always felt so alone. Shunned, even.”

  I nodded out at the parking lot. “Gazelles aren’t friends with lions after all.”

  The discomfort in my gut had escalated a bit, after the hours in the car, being so close to Sabrina. I felt the first claws of hunger. I think Sabrina saw the shift, my gaze sharpening like a predator’s.

  “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to just be like this forever, I want to just have a conversation with you without wanting to feed on you,” I whispered.

  Sabrina sipped her coffee and gave me a forced smile. I knew she didn’t want to feed me either.

  “That’s what this whole trip is about. Finding someone like you, trying to understand what your life can be.”

  She packed up the rest of her food and tossed it in the back seat. After checking the coast was clear, she rolled up the sleeve of her sweatshirt. I’d never admit to her that there was an element of danger on both sides. That every time it was a little harder to stop, that the act of taking her blood was one of the few things that brought me pleasure. And more shameful still, the power over her life, the knowledge I could hurt her, was exciting. Her skin was salty from the hours of driving and greasy food. There was a trace of her perfumed body wash too. And laundry detergent. Beneath all that was her real scent, unique as a fingerprint.

  I sank my teeth in. I could hear Sabrina’s breathing hitch as I began to suck. I was instantly miles away, deep beneath the earth. I was safe beneath the ground. Above, I felt her moving above me, rustling like leaves around my head. Pressure on my skin, pressure on my hair, but all of it easy to ignore. Finally, a sharp, mind-clearing pain. Like a bucket of ice water had hit me.

  I sat up, startled, and located the source of the pain. My hand throbbed. There was a perfectly round, pink circle, charred into it, and the stench of burnt meat filled the car. I looked at Sabrina, confused, my eyes watering from the pain.

  She was gasping, her body pressed into corner of her seat, as far from me as the space would allow. Her skin was a pasty white, hazel eyes round and rolling fearfully. She held the smoking car lighter in her hand.

  XXIII.

  “You . . .” Sabrina squeaked, her lip trembling. “You need to learn to stop. I almost fainted. I was punching you, screaming at you, but you wouldn’t stop. I got the cigarette lighter . . .”

  She gestured at my hand. The ache had subsided some, but was still there. A wave of sharp, black anger consumed me. I wanted to hurt her for hurting me. I think she saw it. Her eyes opened even wider and rounder than before. She swallowed audibly. I leaned toward her, just a fraction, could feel my lips pulling back from teeth.

  What are you doing? This is Sabrina, your friend. I forced myself back from her, as far as I could go. The taste of blood in my mouth turned from pleasure to something nauseating. What the hell was I doing? I would have killed her if she hadn’t stopped me. There was no part of me that had worried about her safety while I was greedily drinking her blood.

  I wiped my face on the rough wool of my sleeve and opened the car door. The gust of winter wind was welcome compared to the cloying, too-warm car. The smell of fast food, burnt skin, and blood was too thick.

  I stepped out into the parking lot. I couldn’t think of anything to say. Or do. I just started walking toward the rest stop. Through the automatic doors, the lights were overly bright and Christmas music blared. I squinted, my senses rebelling in this vulgar hub of human life.

  Inside the ladies room, I splashed my face with cold water and rinsed my mouth. My hands were shaking. I stared at the dripping face in the reflection, the eyes frenzied, the mouth cruel. My cheeks flushed with stolen life. I breathed deeply, in the nose, out the mouth, in again. Slowly, the rage dissipated. The burn on my hand throbbed, and I knew it would leave a scar. It only seemed fair, really, to wear the brand of my victim for once.

  I wondered if Sabrina would drive away, strand me here at the rest stop. Realize that she had made a series of bad choices, starting with befriending a vampire. It would be better for everyone. This relationship wasn’t good for her. Here she was, always trying to help me and I was hurting her. I came to two depressing conclusions: I knew she’d keep letting me use her, and I lacked the fortitude to stop her. Pandora’s box was open, and now that I knew what feeling good was like, I didn’t want to stop.

  Unsure what to do with myself, but not ready to talk to Sabrina, I slid down onto the dingy floor and stared off at the tile pattern. Periodically, women would come by to wash their hands. One glance at me and they’d scurry out.

  A janitor entered with a trash barrel. As she changed the trash bag she met my eyes and smiled warmly, wished me happy holidays and started to leave. I was so surprised by her friendliness that I stood and called out to her.

  She had soft eyes and distinct laugh lines. I asked her to repeat what she’d said. She smiled incuriously and said, again, “Happy Holidays.” I nodded, astounded, and said it back.

  Even more remarkable was when she reached out and gave me a supportive, almost motherly squeeze on the arm. She touched me willingly, without an ounce of fear. I smiled back, genuinely, before backing out and leaving the gas station.

  So Sabrina wasn’t an anomaly.

  I knew, with my crocodile-predator brain, that if I forced that woman, she would have given me blood. I knew that I could have controlled her.

  The science of this was making me curious. Maybe in a bigger city, there would be others who’d be welcoming and want to be near someone like me. Suddenly I felt a surge of hope that maybe I wouldn’t have to be so alone, so loathed by everyone. The janitor’s simple greeting had opened the world up a little wider, given me new options. I felt cautiously optimistic.

  Sabrina’s car was still in the parking lot. The wipers weren’t on, so the windows were blanketed out with a layer of snow. I yanked open the door, trying to contain my new discovery and what it might mean. I had to remind myself I left this car after nearly killing her and getting myself burned for it. I was guilty and sorry, and needed to look the part. Sabrina sat slumped on her side still, head resting on her fist. Eyes staring out at nothing. The radio was on, and the car was overly warm. She didn’t so much as glance at me. I slowly reached over and turned the heat down before clearing my throat.

  “I’m so sorry. I hate that I hurt you again. I hate that we keep having to have this conversation. I will learn to control it.”

  She turned to me, eyes red-rimmed from crying, skin chalky. Even her lips beneath the gloss were pale.

  “I don’t know if we can keep doing this, Jane. I think you’re just going to kill me one day. Maybe soon. Even if you don’t mean to.”

  Sabrina pulled her sleeve back. The wound was bandaged with some gauze and tape. But her forearm was bruised, perfectly outlined handprints encircling her arm. I gingerly reached out and touched her. She flinched, but only a little.

  I thought of my mother’s journal, her complicated relationship with my father, how she loathed what he did to her body. But now I could see Hugh’s side so much clearer: sure, the victims got some scars, but without them we’d die. I needed to be better about controlling myself, but more than that, Sabrina needed to know it was worth the risk. She needed to be reminded that she was keeping me alive, that I needed her more than anyone else. I took her hand and held it to my chest where my heart was beating, healthy and vital.

  “You’re braver than I could ever be and I need you. Without you I would have literally died. I don’t know what else to s
ay. Please don’t lose faith in me.” Sabrina’s eyes teared up and she lifted her chin, breaking eye contact. “I don’t want to hurt you, but there’s something in me capable of killing you.” I paused, debating on finishing my thought, the truth in it leaving me queasy. “And enjoying it. Hopefully Hugh can help me control the hunger. Control myself. Sabrina, you’re more important to me than anyone else I know.”

  I willed her to understand, to believe me. Using that connection between us, I pushed. Her frown softened. She wanted to be needed by someone. But I knew she wanted more than that. I leaned forward and our lips touched. Sabrina released a sob and kissed me back furiously, her hands wrapping around me, pulling me close. I could feel the hot tears on her cheeks, on my own skin. Feel the conflicted emotion pouring out of her. We kissed deeply, the embrace becoming more intimate, all hidden away by the cover of snow in the parking lot.

  Afterwards, she drank a large bottle of orange juice and took an iron supplement. We got back on the road, which was fairly clear as the snow was letting up. Sabrina was smiley again, trying to keep conversation light, but it felt forced. I worried that I was taking more than her blood.

  XXIV.

  The highways widened ahead of us, red taillights sparkling as night fell. I rolled the window down, my face pelted with needle stings of snow. My senses had become noticeably more acute as the weeks passed—my nose especially. I was in tune to the scents on the wind, even the sensation on my skin. My ears catalogued every sound.

  If I found Hugh, would we be able to talk about all this?

  Hugh. My father and a monster. Even the thought of him made my palms moist. Would he like me? Would he take me in? Would he try to kill me? There was no way to know the future and I needed to get a grip. Sabrina yawned loudly, the yawn turning into a groan. I welcomed the distraction. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet as she drove for the last few hours. I angled toward her, turning the music down a bit.

  “You okay?”

  Sabrina rubbed at her eyes and glanced my way. “Yeah. I’m just in the zone, focused on the road. Deep in thought.”

  “Any thoughts you want to share?”

  “I’m thinking about how we need to make a plan.”

  I regretted my playful tone instantly, knowing the thoughts were more than likely about the danger of my father killing us. I wasn’t ready to think about Hugh, whether he would welcome us, chase us away, or worse. So I just sat there in total silence, until Sabrina sighed, sounding annoyed.

  “We need to plan, Jane. More than just drive down there.”

  “I know. Okay. So, we drive to his gallery and confront him?”

  Sabrina sighed again and glanced at me. “It’s not some paternal reveal talk show, Jane. Confront seems a bit . . .” she floated her hand around looking for the word “. . . aggressive. For a vampire. I think going to the gallery is best, since there’ll be plenty of people around. And it’ll be safer.”

  “Safer,” I repeated.

  “My cousin, Isabelle, is expecting us to show up at her place late tonight. So, I figure you go into gallery, and I’ll hang back, stay out of sight, and be ready to dash if we need to. And who knows, he might be excited to see you.”

  I pressed my palms to my eyes. “I doubt it. You read that journal. He was not particularly pleased about having a baby.”

  “Oh, young, naïve Jane, your mom was what? Twenty? And they’d been dating for like two months. And she was essentially his bloodbag girlfriend. Why would he be excited about a baby vamp with some girl he was probably using?”

  I was unsure how to respond. My long pause earned a quick glance from her. “A lot of guys freak about pregnancy scares. Normal guys. But there’s a big difference between the idea of raising a baby, and a ready-made almost-grown daughter showing up. He might be happy to meet you even.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Granted, he may also freak out and try to kill you, like Highlander rules or something.” When I looked at her quizzically, she continued: “My dad is obsessed with Highlander. We even have the collectible swords. Anyways, they’re immortal. Have a whole ‘there can be only one’ thing, where they have to kill each other for territory or power. I don’t know what vampire society is like.”

  “Or if there even is one,” I said quietly. “Maybe they’re just loners. Like spiders.”

  “Maybe. We have to be smart either way. We know Hugh has been around and can be dangerous. So, we just need to be smart about everything. Trust our guts.”

  We fell into silence, both lost in our own thoughts. I tried to imagine Hugh raising me from a baby. Would he have brought in blood nurses for me? Put little blood bags with bottle nipples on them for me in a crib? It was a garish image. Would my life have been better with a vampire dad raising me? It was hard to say, since most normal childhoods would probably have been better than mine. The more I thought about the care and maintenance a baby vamp would have needed, the more I could understand why Hugh wouldn’t have wanted one.

  Time passed. I’d been staring at the tree line, entranced, when Sabrina blurted: “New subject. Let’s talk about us. Or I guess me. I was always suspicious that I liked girls more than boys. I never really gave it a name, you know? I think I was scared to. But with you, the second I saw you, I was drawn to you like a ship caught in a tractor beam. It was kind of scary.”

  My heart sank. “What if it’s what I am and not who I am that draws you to me? What if this is more than liking another girl?” I paused, trying to shape the theory. “What if I’m doing something to you?”

  I couldn’t help but wonder where the line between attraction and biological imperative was with us. I could control Sabrina and make her do things, after all. Maybe I compelled her from the very beginning? The hungry and desperate thing inside me manipulating her from the start.

  Sabrina scrunched up her face. “No, I don’t buy it. I was the one pursuing you. I was the one who sat next to you. I was the one who offered you the ride. I practically forced myself into your house. I brought out the booze and made you dance with me. You might think you have this whole supernatural Dracula thing, but if we’re being honest, I was very willing, very forceful. Hell, I might be the Edward here.”

  “Edward?”

  “From Twilight, you know, stalkerish boyfriend, watches Bella sleep? Follows her around? Have you ever read a vampire book before?”

  I could feel my cheeks flush. “Dracula, for school.”

  Sabrina released a braying laugh. “You are really bad at this! I’ll give you a reading list when we get home. Catch you up. Twilight can be last on that list, since it’s basically about creepy old virgins who go to high school forever.”

  I poked my finger through a hole in my sweater. “Deal. But let’s be serious for a second, because I’m still worried that I’m making you like me. I guess . . . maybe it’s easier for me to think I’ve compelled you to be with me. I don’t see any reason anyone would like me otherwise. Seems like I’m a lot of trouble.”

  “Jane, enough already. You keep saying shit like that. You need to give yourself more credit. Seriously. So what about me? Were you into me right away like that?”

  I knew I couldn’t be completely honest and tell her the truth, that the thing in me used sex to get to her blood. I worked the thought like a piece of clay. “I never thought much about love or boyfriends. Or girlfriends. But the first time we touched, I liked it. Didn’t know what it meant, maybe?”

  “It’s probably more complicated for you. Food and sex. Since you need to get close to your food, and the easiest way would be if everyone was naked and distracted.” Sabrina waggled her eyebrows suggestively and my face felt hot, like she’d pulled the thoughts from my head.

  “Yeah. Though I don’t like thinking of you as food.”

  Sabrina’s face grew a little more serious. “Do you think you could kill someone? Drink them dry?”

  I’d had a feeling we’d be heading this way again sooner rather than later. I sighed. “Do you wa
nt an honest answer?” She nodded. “Yes. I think I could. It’s why I can’t think of you as food. I can’t forget that people are . . . people. That you matter. I get lost in the blood—it’s so nice there, like an oasis in the desert. I’ve spent my life starving, subsisting, and the temptation is very strong. Even though I care about you and respect you. The thing in me, it doesn’t care.”

  “Guess that’s the price of being what you are. It’s not your fault though. And besides, it’s my fault for being too delectable.” She grinned, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  I was curious about how much Sabrina believed what she was saying, and how much she wanted to believe it. How many times would this happen before she got sick or died? Was my mother an anomaly for leaving my father?

  “You think you would have figured out what you were if I hadn’t moved here?” asked Sabrina.

  “Honestly? I would have killed my mother without a doubt . . . but after that? I guess I would’ve just died. I wouldn’t have thought I would need . . . what I need.” I scratched at my scalp, my bun suddenly feeling tight.

  “Would it have been better?” Sabrina asked. “To waste away? You and your mom dead in that old house? That’s pretty bleak, Jane.”

  I shrugged. “My conscience would have been clear. I would have died thinking of myself as an innocent and tragic victim of bad luck. . . .” My voice cracked and I swallowed. “I have to live with myself, now. It’s a horrible trade-off. If I want to feel good, feel alive, then I have to get what I need. There’s no winning: do I stay sick but innocent, or healthy and a monster?”

  “That’s all pretty dramatic, Jane. People aren’t as innocent as you make them out to be.”

  “Maybe. I think that’s what’s most terrifying about actually meeting my father. Does he even like people? Or does he think of them as food only?”