Heather nodded. “Will you teach me?”
“Tonight, briefly,” Devlin said, checking his watch. “Then I have to feed. But I’ve set you up at the hospital to work the night shift. There are several vampires that work there. I’ll introduce you. They’ll arrange blood for you as needed, until you make other arrangements.”
“Are we robbing the blood bank?” Heather quipped.
Devlin gave her an aloof look. “You’ll be working for me, after a fashion. So you won’t need to do any thievery, young one.”
Anger flared up in her at his sudden condescending attitude. “That’s correct, oh Vampire King,” Heather said mockingly. “I’m here to serve.”
Devlin whipped around, then grasped her by the throat, lifting her off her feet. Heather struggled, but to no avail, fear coursing through her.
“That is wholly correct, that you are to serve me,” he said icily. “Remember you wanted it this way, Bright Eyes. You wouldn’t take no for an answer, even with all the reasons I gave you.”
“Let me go!” Heather hissed, her own eyes bleeding to red.
“I will do with you however I want, if you put one foot out of line,” Devlin said darkly. “And bear in mind that my discipline is usually harsh.” He shoved her back, making her stumble.
“You bastard,” she screeched. “How could you do this to me and walk away?”
“Because I don’t suffer fools,” Devlin said frostily. “And I can see you are one, in spite of all your learning. I wish you luck in your new life. Adieu.” He placed a book on her table, then turned and walked away, followed by Heather’s curses.
Heather spent the rest of the night reading the paperback book, which purported to be a vampire handbook. Devlin was listed as one of the authors. Angry as she was, Heather wanted to know her rights.
But dawn had her halfway through and seeing no help. She was not an oathed one—something like a vampire spouse complete with signature jewelry to denote their station—nor was she a Ruler—a vampire that oversaw a territory like a city, state, or country—and vampires aside from those groups seemed to have few rights. The book was more a list of what they were not allowed to do, which was pretty much call attention to themselves in any way.
There was a knock at the door. Heather knew suddenly it was her brother. She could smell his cologne. Heading to the window, she slipped out. She couldn’t let him know what she’d become.
Heather wandered the night, wondering at how vivid everything looked. Much as she felt wonderful, she also felt empty and alone. Who could she turn to? She didn’t know any other vampires except Devlin. Maybe the job at the hospital would provide some relief. She would take Devlin’s offer, at least for now.
* * * *
While Jason and the other orderlies at the hospital were nice enough, they had all made it clear that Heather was on her own. She’d hoped to learn the vampire ropes from them, but they pretty much worked their shift and went home after. How was that a fun way to spend forever? It felt to Heather like she was back in school, except there would be no reprieve this time. She hadn’t finished her nursing schooling, so had to make do with janitorial work and medical technician duties. Even with her new speed, there was no way to finish her degree and work her job in the few hours that night lasted.
That first month Heather went faithfully to her job each night out of fear—the other vampires had told her stories of Devlin, and what it meant for vamps that crossed him. But less than a month after she turned, Heather reached her limit. Friday night she went to Hayden, remaining before the gates until Devlin came out to see her.
“What is it?” he snapped.
“I want you,” she whispered.
His eyes narrowed. “We are not oathed, Heather. You can demand nothing of me.”
“But you always use sex as part of the turning process,” Heather replied. “Jason swore to it. I demand that right, to share that with you as vampire.”
Devlin eyed her, then slowly nodded once. “Come in then, and receive your due.”
Devlin led her to his bed, removing their clothes. As he always did, he was gentle as he made love to her. But as she climaxed, he bit into her. Instead of orgasmic pleasure, there was only a sudden feeling of terror, then pain.
Heather broke his hold on her, moving away. Devlin watched her, then inclined his head. “You see how it is? That sensitivity you had does not survive the turning, just as I knew it would not.” He got up and began to dress.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Heather yelled.
“Would you have believed me?” he scoffed. “No. When you’ve only had pleasure, you couldn’t fathom feeling fear and pain. But vampires have instinctive fear of being drained. It’s one of the few ways they can die. So they seldom drink from one another.” He finished dressing. “Please get dressed, and one of my men will show you out.”
As he left, Heather collapsed into tears.
* * * *
The next week was a blur of days of work, feeding from cold, bagged blood, and studying the damned vampire handbook. But there was no help for Heather in it. She felt cursed and rejected, the seed of anger festering within her until it became full-blown rage. That night after her shift, she followed a teen into a dark alley. When he turned on her with a gun and a grin of surprise, demanding money, she slaughtered him ruthlessly, finding a fleeting relief from her pain in his blood.
Heather killed all that next week, determined that if nothing else it should bring Devlin again to her door. She wanted out of this life, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, Ulysses found her, blood from her fourth victim still staining her hands.
“What happened to you?” he whispered in horror, as she let the corpse drop from her arms.
“A vampire named Devlin Dalcon,” she said emptily. Then she was crying in his arms. Yet even as he comforted her, she wanted his blood, the rush of it in his veins deafening. Heather fled that night to her apartment, not answering her brother’s pleas through the locked door to let him in.
The next night, Heather left early, avoiding her brother’s sleeping form with her newfound stealth. Skipping work, she instead went to stalk a victim. As she was closing down on the woman to snap her neck, the mark turned. Heather recognized a familiar face a split second before the crossbow bolt pierced her heart and she fell, paralyzed. The machete blow descended, severing her head a moment later.
* * * *
“Your nurse is dead,” the man in black reported. “The Van Helsing Group sent their usual gross notice. I burned it and scattered the ashes.”
Devlin let out a sigh, looking out over his deck into the silent and dark woods of his estate. “I know, Lash. I felt her die through the bloodbond.”
“Probably best,” Lash answered. “She was killing randomly and I’d have had to put her down this week.”
Devlin didn’t answer.
“You did what you could,” Lash said gruffly. “There’s no point feeling bad about women who won’t face reality.”
“You’re right,” Devlin said softly. “But I can’t help feeling that I corrupted her. She could have done some good with her life.”
“Maybe,” Lash allowed. “But she probably would have found something else to obsess over.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” Devlin said with a faint smile.
“No, that is what state carnivals are for,” Lash said, handing Devlin a ticket. “There’s bound to be some song mistresses at this Stones concert. We’re going Saturday.”
Devlin looked over the ticket, his expression brightening. “This looks great. Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Lash replied with a grin. “I also wanted to tell you that your new girl Delilah is here. I’ve got her waiting for you in one of the guest rooms. And I told her that you’ve recently suffered a loss, and need some serious help to take your mind off it.” He winked. “I wouldn’t keep her waiting long, if I were you.”
Devlin’s expression turned to one of lust. “
I won’t,” he said, pocketing the ticket as he strode inside.
* * * *
“Is this her?”
Ulysses nodded stoically, looking down at his sister’s disemboweled body. She was at peace now, maybe. But he was going to get the bastard that had done this to her, no matter what it took. “Can I have a moment?”
The coroner nodded, then left.
Ulysses touched Heather’s pale hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I love you.” He dropped her hand, then plucked a card out of his pocket, the silver lettering gleaming in the harsh light. “Devlin Dalcon, you’re going to pay for this, pay with everything you have. You won’t see me coming.”
Night Shift
(Previously published in Frightmares anthology 11-2011)
“Pass the scalpel, please.”
Becky blinked at the gray haze over her eyes. Why wouldn’t they open?
“Is she under? Her eyelids fluttered.”
“She’s under. It’s just a reflex, Doctor. You should know that by now—”
Her surgery. God, she’d woken up in the middle! Frantically, Becky tried to move her limbs, to stretch her lips in a scream.
“Up the anesthesia slightly, anyway, Nurse Jordan. Now.”
Becky tensed, fighting, then relaxed, the grey haze becoming black nothingness.
A moment later the black lightened to grey again.
“Only take out three vials.”
That was Dr. Miller. Becky opened her eyes a crack.
“She’s strong enough for four—”
“No, Jordan. We need her alive.”
Jordan leaned over her, empty vial in hand. “We can’t survive on just ten vials a piece—”
“And I can’t have another of my patients die,” Dr. Miller hissed, baring fangs. “You’re going to blow our cover here—”
Nurse Jordan snarled, his own fangs bone white. “Some patients die in surgery. It’s routine—”
Becky managed a squeak, her panicked eyes darting madly. Both vampires looked down at her.
“She saw us,” Jordan said, smiling wickedly. He connected the vial. “Now we have to.”
Please don’t, God, please, please, Becky thought wildly, her heart beating like a trip hammer as she watched the vial fill.
“You’re right, Jordan. She won’t remember anything, anyway,” Dr. Miller assured, tapping a syringe. He slid it into Becky’s arm, then depressed the plunger.
Their leering faces dissolved back into grey black night. Then the night lightened steadily, becoming grayish-white.
Becky blinked and then moaned softly.
“She’s coming out of it, Doctor.”
Becky opened her eyes wide, then struggled to sit up. “It’s over?” she asked weakly.
“Yes,” Dr. Miller said, patting her arm. “You did fine. We got the tumor out, but you did lose a lot of blood.”
Becky squeezed his hand gratefully, her face breaking into a relieved smile. “Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, then turned to his nurse standing nearby. “Nurse Heather, please see she gets a transfusion as soon as possible.”
Nurse Heather nodded. “Of course. We’ll take care of it right away.”
As Dr. Miller watched her wheel Becky away, Nurse Jordan came up to him. “You’re needed in emergency surgery, Doctor, stat.”
Dr. Miller took the proffered chart, walking quickly toward emergency. “Brief me, please.”
“Accident victim, male, mid-twenties. Severe neck injuries. Emergency personnel had to cut him out of the wreck.”
“Is his family here?”
Nurse Jordan smiled. “They were all in the car, sadly. All DOA.”
“Is he conscious?” Dr. Miller asked, his eyes glimmering as he began to walk faster.
Nurse Jordan shook his head. “No. And it’s just you and me for this surgery, Doctor. Everyone else is busy with other emergency patients tonight.”
“Then my prognosis is he won’t wake,” Dr. Miller said, the tips of his fangs showing in his smile. “Let’s go to work.”
Just Business
Angelica sauntered down the sterile hallway, wrinkling her nose as the strong disinfectant smell permeating the air. Why did hospitals always have to smell so awful? God, let me not die in a hospital...
“Can I help you?” a passing nurse said, stopping in mid-stride to block her way.
Angelica gave the nurse a once over, as she did every woman she met. Plain blonde pageboy, non-descript mud-brown eyes, at least five pounds overweight. The nurse’s nametag had her name with no prefix at all. Not any threat. But don’t waste the smile. It’ll be lost on this one. “I’m looking for Nurse Jordan. I think that’s his name? He’s an EMT.”
The woman smiled, but her eyes were still cool as she looked at the buxom blue-eyed temptress in the formfitting simple black dress. “I’ll tell him you’re here. He’s likely with a patient. Please go back and wait in the visitor’s lounge.”
Angelica resisted her urge to tell the woman she needed a better concealer, as well as clothes that weren’t from Wal-Mart. “Of course.”
Angelica headed back to the lounge, irritated but also glad she wasn’t going to have to go looking for Jordan in her 2” heels. It was much better for him to come to her. If she crossed her legs just as he approached, he’d be putty in her hands.
She paused as she passed a ladies room, then hurried inside. It had been raining hard outside. Her hair could use a quick fluff with some hairspray.
After primping for a few minutes, Angelica emerged. As she turned to head for the lounge, she caught site of a familiar waxen face walking down the hall. Jordan! Eagerly she hobbled after him, slipping slightly on the tile floor. “Jordan! Hey, wait!”
Jordan didn’t seem to hear her as he continued to wheel the sheet-draped gurney towards two double doors. Angelica followed him, still calling.
It took a distance of a hundred yards and Angelica taking off her shoes to be able to run, but she finally caught up to Jordan at the elevator. He was nearly through the elevator door when Angelica’s hand shot out to grab hold of the gurney. “Hey!”
Jordan turned, his expression one of surprise. “Angelica! What are you doing back here? This area is off limits to patients.” He looked down and laughed. “At least the living ones.”
“I’m not a patient, I’m a visitor,” Angelica said with coy deliberateness, stepping onto the elevator and slipping her heels back on. “And I wanted to see you. You broke our date for tonight.”
Jordan looked uncomfortable, then pressed the button for the basement. “Because I can’t be what you want me to be. We’ve been over this, Angel.”
Angelica’s beautiful blue eyes narrowed angrily. “You mean you still won’t make me a vampire.”
The door opened with a metallic bing. Jordan wheeled the body out into a basement hallway, Angelica following. As he tried to leave, she grabbed hold of the gurney again.
“Answer me, Jordan!”
“Believe me, it’s no fun being a vampire,” Jordan said tiredly, even as his gaze flicked back and forth, watching anxiously in opposite directions. “Count yourself lucky you can still eat butterscotch crumpets.” His expression turned wistful. “It is stuff like that I miss the most.”
Jordan always gave me this speech, ever since the first time I asked him to turn me. Sure, that he couldn’t make vampires was believable. He didn’t have the right Old World charm to be an influential vampire. But someone made him. And I want an introduction to that someone, no matter what I have to do. “You said the more powerful vampires had donors. Can’t you take me to the one who turned you? I could offer myself as a donor.”
Jordan shook his head. “They don’t bother with vampires like me, as long as I keep my head down.” He gave her a smile. “And as much as I enjoyed your warm skin that night we spent together, I’m not changing that for you.” He headed away with the dead body without a backward look.
&nbs
p; “You bastard!” Angelica yelled after him, stamping her foot. Then she grimaced, taking off her shoe to see a large new nick in the heel. “Stupid concrete floor.”
Angelica reluctantly pressed the elevator for the first floor. But when the doors opened, there was another vampire there waiting, his expression tired and grumpy. “Are you lost?” he asked gruffly. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Yes,” Angelica stammered, taken aback. “Um, I mean no, I’m not lost. But I meant to go to the first floor and came down here instead—”
The vampire pushed her into the elevator, then hit the 1st floor button.
“Thank you, um—?”
The vampire didn’t reply, just gave her a pitying look as the elevator doors whispered shut.
Angelica’s resolve weakened, then promptly solidified into steel. I’ll go back down to the ground floor and wait. There was a little cul-de-sac to the side of the elevators near a drinking fountain. Sooner or later that other vampire would have to come back through, so he could go back up wherever the hell he’d come from. And when he did, she’d follow him.
* * * *
Angelica’s alarm on her watch went off, startling her. She straightened, then looked at her wrist in disbelief. It was six in the morning! She’d waited all night and the vampire hadn’t come back...and she’d given in to exhaustion and fallen asleep.
Cursing aloud, Angelica straightened her now dirty dress and staggered to the elevator. She was going to be late for work. Tony didn’t like that, or to have her look anything but perfect.
“Who said working for a mobster was easy?” she muttered, stabbing the button for the first floor.
* * * *
“You know better,” Tony sneered into the phone. “So don’t be making that mistake again, Richard. Or you’re fired.”
Promise Me Anthology Page 9