Defeated, I turned back to Patsy and Gabriel. Another person had joined them. I knew right away he was human. He smelled like one, and I heard the beat of his heart, the air in his lungs. I licked my lips, then realized I’d done it. I was starting to feel a little like Wile E. Coyote chasing after the Road Runner.
“This is Shawn,” said Patsy. “And this here’s Simone.” She pushed him toward me. (Way to be subtle, Patsy.) “He’s a new donor. I suggest you get acquainted.”
The idea of gnawing on Shawn’s neck squicked me. I mean, introducing your meal to your vampire was like that scene in Douglas Adams’ The Restaurant at the End of the Universe. You know, the one where the cow comes to the table and insists Arthur choose his cut of meat? Yech.
Shawn was tall (but then nearly everyone was compared to me) with sandy brown hair, kind brown eyes, and a lean build. He seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t too interested in his outsides. I wanted what was chugging through his insides.
“Is there somewhere private we can go?” asked Shawn.
I nodded. I was starving, but I was also nervous about taking a pint from this guy. First-date jitters, if you will.
“Simone?”
Shit. Brady had finally caught up with me. I looked over my shoulder, smiling widely. “Hi there.”
He held out his hand to Shawn. “Braddock Hayes.”
“Shawn Coburn.” He flinched a little at Brady’s hand squeezing.
Their hands dropped and then awkward silence ensued. Brady’s expression was thunderous. Oh, come on. Did he really think I was gonna go off and do something sexual with this guy?
“Shawn’s a donor,” I said, stopping short of adding, “And I’m really hungry, so go away.” I tilted my head at Mr. Don’t Ever Suck My Blood and raised my eyebrows in a do-you-mind gesture.
He relaxed a smidgen, but he still didn’t look happy.
“Okay, then. We gotta go.” I waggled my fingers in a wave that took in Brady, Patsy, and Gabriel and got my ass outta there. I headed toward the house. No, not there. Where else? The barn. I didn’t particularly like the place, but it was farther from the house and offered some privacy.
I walked through the backyard, Shawn following, and headed up the little hill toward the barn. My skin prickled the closer I got to the dilapidated building. It had once been red, but most of the paint had long ago chipped away. Here and there was a spot of color, like the damned thing had measles. The left door listed, hanging at an angle.
The dark gap looked like a monster’s grin.
“Here,” I said, going around the left side. We were still protected from everyone’s view without having to traverse the barn. The tree line was a few feet away, which added to the ominous Friday the 13th feel. You know, like Jason would jump out any minute and hack us to death.
Shawn looked around, obviously nervous. With vamp vision, dark wasn’t really dark. I realized to Shawn it appeared pitch-black. The kind of dark you didn’t want to be alone in with a vampire.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I said. I felt like I was cheating on Brady because my lips would be on Shawn’s flesh, and on Rick because I was sucking someone else’s blood. Good lord, Simone, you are a piece of work.
“What do we do?”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “Haven’t you done this before?”
“First time for real vampires. I used to be a donor for the wannabes.”
“Wannabes?”
“Yeah. You know the Vampyre Raige?” He pronounced it “vampire rage” and spelled out the words for me.
I shook my head.
“They used blades.” He held up his right arm and I saw thin white scars all over the pale flesh. “Anyway, it doesn’t geek me out or anything. Though I’ve never had anyone use their fangs before.” He thought about his own statement. “Real fangs. I’ve been punctured with the dental fakes.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” I didn’t want to pop this guy’s vampire cherry. I just wanted my pint, and then I wanted to avoid Brady until I felt better about what had happened between us earlier.
“No, no, it’s fine,” said Shawn. He bent his neck and lowered himself so he was fang level to me.
Well, how could I resist that invitation? I sank my fangs into his artery and blood gushed into my mouth.
Ugh!
I yanked away from him so fast, blood spurted. He slapped his hand over the wound and stared at me, wide-eyed.
I spit out as much as I could. It tasted so foul . . . like I was swallowing sewage. I wiped my mouth, then glanced at him. “What the hell did you eat?”
“N-nothing,” he said. Blood was leaking from between the fingers covering his neck. He looked pale and scared.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just . . . you taste weird.”
“The Vampyre Raige loved my blood,” he said, sounding offended. His lips started to tremble and his skin went even whiter.
“Your neck’s still bleeding?” I asked. I grabbed at my hip to get my cell phone and realized I hadn’t clipped on my holster. I figured it would’ve ruined my dress. Stupid girly vanity.
“Where’s your phone?” I asked, panic rising. Jesus, he looked bad.
He shook his head.
“Okay. I’m gonna get help. You’ll be all right.” What was Shawn supposed to say? Yeah, I believe the vampire who injured me? I had to make it right. I stumbled around the corner. My dress and hands were spattered with blood. I was feeling nauseated and dizzy.
“Simone!”
I heard Brady’s voice coming from inside the barn. I really needed to put on the vamp speed and get to someone, anyone at the party.
“Brady,” I managed. “Why the hell are you in there? Shawn needs help.”
“So do I. Hurry!”
I stopped at the gaping doors.
Fear mamboed up my spine and did a soft-shoe on my scalp. I grabbed the right door and swung it open. I stepped inside, anxious. The dusty air was tinged with the scent of manure. It felt thick, too, like a slimy blanket dropped onto my skin. I saw moldy stacks of hay, leftover farm equipment, toppled boxes, and damaged crates.
No darting shadows, no maniacal laughter, no ectoplasm-coated walls. And no Brady.
I felt the feathery touch of evil. Light, teasing, deadly. I swallowed the knot in my throat, too afraid to move deeper into the barn. Something terrible had happened here—and I didn’t want to know the details.
Metal screeched. Then I heard crack . . . pop . . . whoosh.
The left door had been leaning on top of its companion. Without that support, it broke free of the rotted wood and rusted hinges. Had I remembered that I was a vampire with überspeed, I might’ve gotten out of the way. Instead, like an idiot, I threw my arms in front of my face as it came down on top of me.
When I awoke, I was on my side, the big wooden door pressing me into the hard-packed earth. Pain attacked me with the ferocity of hungry wolves, biting and tearing every inch of my battered self.
I shoved the door off me so hard it hit the wall of the barn and shattered. Wood flew everywhere, and I turned face-first into the dirt to avoid the shrapnel. Damn it! Was it even possible to make a good decision today? Dirt plumed in the air, disturbing the mustiness that lingered in here. If anything, I’d made it smell worse. Grit sandpapered my tongue and clung to my teeth. Yech.
Aching all the way to my pinky toes, I sat up. Vampires healed quickly, but I hadn’t had my pint yet tonight. Feeling better wouldn’t be instantaneous. At least I hadn’t broken anything, which was a miracle.
Obviously, my hearing was damaged because I’d sworn I heard Brady call me in here. Nausea still swished in my stomach and I felt off balance.
With my head throbbing and my stomach threatening the dry heaves, I got to my feet and brushed off my dress. Didn’t do much good, though. I was filthy. Dirt streaked my arms and stained my dress, right along with the blood. I could only imagine what my face looked like. My right hip throbbed and I pressed my fingers agai
nst the sore spot.
The aches and twinges were fading. Pain stabbed my knees and vibrated up my spine, but at least I could walk. The way that barn door hit me, I should’ve been dead.
Well, deader.
But even though the ol’ vampire corpse was healing itself, it wasn’t doing a damned thing about how sick I felt.
I heard a pain-filled groan and realized I’d forgotten all about Shawn. Damn it! What kind of thoughtless bloodsucker was I?
I scurried out of the barn and back to the young man. I fell to my knees and gave in to my stomach’s demands to vomit. Nothing came out except for spittle; leftovers from the blood still trapped in my mouth.
Shawn leaned against the barn, looking so gray I would’ve thought him dead if he hadn’t turned his terrified gaze to mine.
That’s when it occurred to me that I could pick him up and take him straight to the people who could help him. At least, I hoped I could. I felt weak and my head was spinning (figuratively, of course).
I squatted down, intending to scoop him into my arms. My vision started to blur.
What was going on here?
I’d passed out earlier and now I was gonna do it again. Had Shawn poisoned me? My heart lurched. The Taint. Oh, my God. In my twirling thoughts I heard Doc Michaels say that humans couldn’t pass along the Taint.
Then what was wrong with me?
I heard rustling behind us, in the tree line. The woods curved around the property; the house and barn located in the crescent-shaped field that abutted the creek.
Even though I felt the edges of my vision blacken, I made myself turn around. “Hello?”
I heard a man’s low laugh. Fear rocketed through me and I fell to my knees, trying to hang on to consciousness. God, I was scared. So scared of what I’d done and what had been done to me. “Who’s there?” I whispered.
He laughed again. A shadow detached itself from the tree in front of me. Definitely a male. He retreated into the forest, whistling. Something about the tune bothered me. Familiar, that song. It made me feel even more frightened.
“Someone help us!” I cried. “Please!”
Moments later, I heard the soft thud of feet and looked up. Patrick stood there, and behind him Lorcan and Damian. God bless vampire hearing.
Patrick took in the scene and stared at me. “What the hell did you do?”
“Nothing.” I didn’t appreciate the looks I was getting. I didn’t mean to hurt Shawn or to get smacked by a barn door. I felt like I was sitting inside a freezer. My teeth chattered together like castanets. My insides were surely getting frostbite. It was June in Oklahoma, for Pete’s sake. The last thing I should be feeling is chilly.
Brady arrived seconds later. He must’ve run the whole way, but he didn’t sound or look winded at all.
“Simone!” He picked me up, ignoring the dirt and the blood and the guy who was dying. “Are you all right? Jesus H. Christ! What happened?”
He turned his gaze to Patrick, looking at him as if everything was his fault.
One black eyebrow winged upward in disbelief. “We heard her cry for help. We found them just as they are.” Patrick leaned down and scooped up Shawn. “He’s still bleedin’.”
Damian sniffed. “I smell death.”
“Noooooo,” moaned Shawn. “I don’t . . . wanna . . . die.”
“I’ll take him to Dr. Merrick.” Patrick sparkled away.
Damian hurried past us. Brady held me close. His heart was thudding and his muscles were tense, and not just from holding me. I knew the fight-or-flight response very well. Why in the world would Brady feel as if we were in danger?
“This is my fault,” he murmured. “Shit.”
I knew he was thinking about his blood, the blood I drank without his permission. He’d said it shouldn’t affect me, but maybe I wasn’t immune from his mysterious infection.
Damian returned. “There’s a body back there.” He held up a wallet. “I got his ID. Rick Delaney.”
“Rick’s my donor,” I said. Horror crawled through me. No, no, no. “But he never showed up.”
“Apparently he did. Someone drained him, Simone. There’s not a drop left in him.” His voice was neutral, but I saw suspicion in his jade eyes.
I felt too ill to defend myself. I sagged against Brady. My vision was getting worse, and so was the spinning. My stomach twisted again and I wanted to hurl. Stupid body! I was a vampire. None of my innards worked anymore.
“Simone?” Brady’s voice sounded far away. I grabbed on to his shoulders. A black pit had opened beneath me, and even though I tried to hold on, I had to let go.
I spiraled into the endless black.
Chapter 14
Tuesday, June 18
“Simone, you have to drink.”
Brady’s voice.
Weird. Eyes won’t open. My body felt heavy. ’Member that scene in X2: X-Men United when Wolverine shoved that hose into the girl’s mouth and filled her up with that metallic stuff? She floated doooooown into the water, and clunk . . . dead.
That’s how I felt. Clunky and dead.
I soooooo relate to movies, you know.
“Baby, you have to drink.”
Brady’s voice again. Memory flickered. I remembered the smell of his skin. The feel of it against my mouth.
No. Not right.
I was somewhere beep-y and ammonia-y. Now, where was a place like that? Been to one before, I think. Yeah.
“Drink.” Warm flesh pressed against my lips.
Ah. Yes. He’d made me do this before. Couldn’t open my eyes then, either. Something wrong, though.
Oh, that’s right.
Never drink from Brady.
“Can’t,” I murmured hoarsely.
“Please, Simone.”
“Brady said no! Won’t hurt him.” Ouch. It actually hurt to speak. I willed my eyelids to lift. Nope. No cooperation there.
“You’ve been feeding from me for the last couple of days. You have to, baby. Or you’re not gonna make it.”
Well, that didn’t make any sense.
“We did this yesterday. Why doesn’t she remember?” Brady sounded tired. Worried.
“I don’t know.” Hmm. Woman’s voice. Not Jessica. Or Patsy. Heard that patient, soothing tone before. Couldn’t remember her face. Her name. “Given the data and the evidence thus far, our theory is correct. One more day and she should be done with the process.”
Process? I couldn’t wrap my brain around all the words. Hungry. Very hungry. Weren’t you supposed to get pudding or something when you were in this place?
Hospital.
Yeah. Hospital. Wait. I hated hospitals.
“Simone.” Brady’s voice was low, so smooth and sexy. “Drink.”
Once again, warm flesh tempted my lips. Beneath that lovely skin pulsated the very thing I wanted. Life.
I drank.
Chapter 15
I woke up during the seizure.
My whole body shook and twisted.
“What’s wrong with her?” yelled a man’s voice.
“She’s convulsing,” said a woman. “Hold her down.”
I felt hands pressing on my shoulders and grabbing my legs. Trying to keep me still. Thoughts spun away. Panic clawed.
Help me, God. Please, help me.
Band-Aid prayers, said Gran. God don’t work that way, child.
You shouldn’t stay with him, girly, said Lyle. Nobody deserves that kind life. Especially not you.
Nobody wants a whiny, stupid, selfish little girl like you, Simone. I’m the one who loves you, said Jacob. You’re mine, honey. All mine.
“She might be rejecting the change, Brady.”
“No,” he cried. “No! Stay with me, Simone. Stay with me, goddamn it!”
“Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear. . . .”
Bobby Darin singing, and twining with him the deep tone of another voice.
Jacob.
I knew the words to the song. “Mack the Knife.” Jacob
sang it all the time. His father had taught it to him. His father taught him how to do many things: build a doghouse, shoot a rifle, punch a wife.
He was not a nice man.
Jacob spoke fondly of him, as though he were the perfect dad. By the time I’d found out about Jacob’s true nature, about the drug-addict father who’d helped create the monster I married, it was too late.
Jacob’s voice was louder now.
He’d turned the CD player to ear-busting volume. I heard cabinet doors and drawers opening. Slamming. Things falling, crashing. Idiot. How could I hide in the silverware drawer?
We lived in a two-bedroom ranch house about a half hour away from Nellis Air Force Base. It wasn’t a large house and it was older, not as insulated as newer homes, which was why I could hear everything he was doing. He did it on purpose, to terrify me and to create multiple messes. Messes I would be expected to clean up. And it didn’t matter how much my ribs hurt or if my eyes were swollen or my hands were bruised and sore.
“Mama.”
“Ssshhh, Glory.” My baby sat on my lap, her tiny arms clinging to me. She trembled, sniffling. We’d fallen asleep in the bed, watching A Bug’s Life.
Jacob had come home unexpectedly. He was supposed be doing hush-hush training. Supposed to be gone a blessed week. So I’d relaxed. In the past couple of days, Glory and I had gone to the park, had dinner at Lyle’s house, went to the mall, and bought Dippin’ Dots. It had almost felt like a normal life.
The door had crashed open and Jacob had yelled, “Honey, I’m ho-ome.”
I’d grabbed Glory and hidden in the bedroom closet. At dinner the night before, Lyle gave me a cell phone and told me it was a gift. We had a land line, but Jacob didn’t allow any phones to be plugged in unless he was home. When he left, he took the phones with him. He wasn’t worried that I might need a way to call for help in case something bad happened.
He was the bad.
I had no one. Not until our elderly neighbor Lyle had taken an interest in me, and despite my constant rebuffs, finally befriended me. He was a nice old man. Someone I could talk to, someone who listened, someone who cared.
Over My Dead Body Page 10