Can Stacy bring change to her own life and heal the lonely vampire who has come to her rescue? Will her love be enough to save them both? Their journey starts with pain and misery but soon they are in love and life can get no better. Then John’s blood donors disappear and Stacy is faced with far too many choices. Donate blood to him, face her own death, or let him starve? Her decision will lead to greater questions, questions that do not have easy answers and could mean life or death for both Stacy and John. Can she heal her vampire? Can he heal her? Only time will tell.
1
Stacy Collins looked into the mirror over her bathroom sink and studied the features that stared back at her. A chinless face, hidden beneath a layer of fat; even her nose was almost hidden within the depths of the prison she had created for herself. Overweight, out of shape, her doctor had told her only a few hours ago that if she didn’t do something soon, she would be dead within a year.
Beneath the fat, she knew a pretty face was hiding. However, her warm brown eyes were drowning within folds of flesh, the fat so thick that her eyes were almost swollen shut. Hers was a face that had seen abuse and pain, a face that wanted to hide from the world and not be noticed anymore. At 28, her only relationships with men had been much regretted one night stands. They were usually regretted by the men; once they woke up and saw what they had drunkenly fallen into bed with. Usually they couldn’t get out of the door fast enough. Stacy hid in her home. In her body, people did not notice her and she liked that just fine. Huffing as she moved from the sink to retrieve her mobile in the kitchen, she passed empty takeaway boxes that fell over, unnoticed; blending in with the litter on the floor. Stacy would have a cleaner come in at the end of the week and the boxes and other debris would all disappear.
Stacy lived in her own world now, one where her father’s fists no longer existed. But the words, the memories still tormented her. The man had been dead for three years, yet she still remembered the ugly sting of the things he’d scream at her, unleashing his anger at her runaway mother on the daughter left behind. He’d been right, after all. She had amounted to nothing and she was no good; just like her mother.
Picking up the mobile, she called to order more food. The one thing that took the pain away; the pleasure of happy taste buds made her forget it all; only to be told the delivery driver hadn’t come in to work so she’d have to pick the food up herself. Stacy stood in her kitchen, considering whether it was worth half a mile of walking to pick up her favourite pizzas. It would be tough, but her doctor did tell her to start watching what she ate and to exercise.
Stacy justified the consumption of two extra-large pizzas by telling herself that she was going to burn it all off with the walk. Yes, the walk would do her some good; burn off a few calories before she replaced them. She ignored the logic that said she was just putting it straight back into her body and wasting her time. She struggled to the living room to get her coat and handbag.
Heading down to the shop she ignored the calls of three boys making pig noises at her. Stacy had stopped hearing the insults others threw at her long ago and continued to trundle through in her own little world. Her breath pumped out in tight little bursts; she was already worn out, but needed to feed the hunger within her, the urge to lose herself in her addiction. She went into the shop, paid for her pizzas and walked back out again; oblivious to the stares of the man in the shop, or that the young boys in hooded sweatshirts had followed her into the store and back out again.
She ignored their hurtful words but stopped when she felt something hit her in the back. She let out a yelp of pain and turned around to see what had happened.
“Look at the piggy squeal! Oink, oink, squeal piggy, squeal!” One of the boys shouted at her, releasing another rock, this one hitting her in her forehead.
“Hey, lardarse! Give us those pizzas; they’ll feed all three of us instead of just your salad-dodging arse, look at you! This could be your last meal you’re so fat! Hand it over! In fact, give us your handbag too, you cow!”
The boys lunged at her, tearing the pizza boxes from her hands and attempting to grab her handbag as well but she wouldn’t let go of it. Just as the strap broke and she fell backwards, a policeman on a motorcycle sped up, causing the boys to run off, throwing the boxes of pizza at her as they ran away. At least she could still have her food, she thought, as the policeman ran to help her up.
She got up awkwardly, the fat on her body making it too difficult just to stand up; she had to roll over to her knees and push herself off of the ground. Surely that could be considered a press up, she thought, as she finally staggered to her feet. Turning to the cop, brushing her curly dark brown hair out of her eyes, she started to thank the man for coming to her aid
She could see why the boys ran now. The boys’ fear wasn’t simply a manifestation of seeing a policeman: it was the man’s face. A feral, demon snarl twisted a pair of lips that had gone black, red eyes surrounded yellow pupils full of hate and between the black lips, two long fangs protruded, lethal and sharp prongs that curved out of his mouth. Then the face quickly changed, making her wonder if she’d actually seen or simply imagined the beast she’d first glimpsed. Pale blue eyes replaced the yellow and red instantly, the teeth were white and model straight and the skin went back to a tan shade that spoke of tropical beaches, or a good bottle of tanning spray.
Stacy was so shocked she stumbled again, falling back on her bum once more. At least she had some cushion she thought as she looked up at the man, his blonde hair gleaming in the street light. What had she just seen, she wondered to herself. Perhaps she was losing the plot?
“May I help you up, miss?” the man asked. His voice was deep and husky, a lilt that could not be defined edging into the words he spoke. He wasn’t British but she wasn’t sure where he was from.
“Erm, no, thank you. I can manage.” She went through the process again. Press up number two, she thought as her arms trembled, the weight almost too much. She struggled and she expected cruel laughter to meet her efforts, or a pitying sigh. People did not like to help the overweight; they saw it as a form of enabling. The policeman did neither, letting Stacy pull herself up, under her own steam, then he handed her the pizza boxes she’d dropped again when she fell back down.
“May I see you home, miss? I believe I know those boys and I’ll be visiting their parents in the morning. Never fear, they won’t be bothering you again.” He followed her as she waddled back up to her house.
Stacy didn’t even realize she’d started to walk. She was just eager to get back home so she could drown her latest humiliation in the cheesy pizzas, in the taste and gentle burn of jalapeno peppers. The man’s words penetrated but she continued to ignore him as she stomped back to her home, turning at the door to thank and dismiss him. She only wanted to eat; she didn’t care about punishments or justice, only getting food in her mouth and into her stomach. That was all that mattered. She’d learned long ago that men did not look at her with any kind of real interest, so it never even entered her mind to consider how handsome the man was, or that he was more kind than many police officers she’d come across before. She just wanted to block the world out again. She went to shut the door but his hand on the door stopped her movement.
“Miss? Are you alright?” He knew she wasn’t, he could hear her thoughts, the sporadic words that played through her mind, at least. The sounds coming from her mind, the deep screams of pain that he knew she was hiding even from herself tormented him. He wanted to ease the pain, to take it away. He looked at her and did not see the weight, he saw the beauty of the child hidden deep within and the pain that had locked that child in a prison. He knew she was unaware, her conscious mind was simply blank, but deep below that churned colours, emotions and a caged soul that wanted to be free, but was desperately longing for oblivion. She wanted to die, he knew. He wasn’t going to allow it.
Taking her hand he looked deep into her eyes, letting love flow from his fingertips to hers. In all of his years he�
�d never met anyone like her. He wanted to know more about her, he wanted to help her. Gasping she pulled her fingers away, looking at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity.
Finally, she spoke her first words to him, her breathing quick and laboured. “Who are you? What are you?”
“I will tell you tomorrow, if you’ll allow me to take you to dinner? I’ll explain it all to you.”
“Dinner, tomorrow? With me? Are you crazy?” She was confused, unsure what he was playing at. People did not like watching fat people eat after all, why would he want to take her out?
“I’d like to get to know you, check on you and make sure you’re alright, if nothing else. That was quite a fall you took. May I come back then? Will you go out with me?” He let a note of pleading come through, wanting her to agree.
“I, well, erm, I suppose you can come round, if you’d like, but I don’t really go out much. You could come back and we could order in, perhaps. I’m not sure. We’ll have to see. Come back tomorrow. Alright, what time?”
“Around 6 I should think. I don’t work tomorrow, is that too late?” He knew it likely wouldn’t be. It was after midnight now, so she wasn’t an early riser.
“Well, yes, that’s fine. I’ll see you then.” Stacy closed the door, quickly waddling away, not sure exactly what had just happened.
She set the pizza on an ottoman in front of her chair, saw that one of her favourite programmes was on and opened the boxes. The pizzas were smeared all over the box. The cheese was now cold and congealed, peppers and chicken no longer part of the mess that she now could not bring herself to eat. She looked at the pizzas, thinking about the events she’d just been through and pushed it all away. Perhaps it was time to make a change. Taking the pizza boxes to the kitchen she threw them in the bin. She then started cleaning the kitchen. She couldn’t stop once she’d started and ended up scrubbing everywhere, even going so far as to get down on her hands and knees to scrub the floor once she realized she couldn’t find a mop. She cleaned until the room gleamed, then sat down at the kitchen table. She pulled out some paper and started making lists, writing deep into the night, turning the television over to a music channel. She made lists of everything she ate in the day, health problems she was facing and ways she could change both.
Stacy kept the darkness in her brain at bay, humming along with a song that was on, a little smile playing across her lips as she wrote. For the first time in years she felt truly content. She realized she hadn’t been hungry at all when she went for those pizzas. Maybe it was time for a change.
2
A knock on the door roused Stacy from her cleaning frenzy and she went to answer it. She had no other family, no friends and wasn’t expecting anyone, so she was surprised to see the policeman standing there. She didn’t think he’d really show up, yet he had. Looking up at him, he was much taller than she was, she couldn’t keep the shock from showing.
“You actually showed up!” she repeated her thoughts aloud.
“Well, I said I would, so here I am. May I come in?” he asked, offering her the flowers in his hand and bottle of wine.
“Oh, erm, yes. Please do. May I take your coat for you?” The formality of her question sounded silly to her. Yet, she didn’t know the man; she didn’t even know his name!
“Ah, right, I forgot, we’ve not introduced ourselves, have we?” He knew her name, he’d caught it in her thoughts, but she didn’t know his. Walking into her home he turned back around to her.
“I’m John Andrews, at your service” he said with a rueful bow.
“Stacy Collins, pleased to meet you.” She held her hand out, expecting him to shake it. He did but his touch lingered, one of his fingers rubbing her palm. She felt a shiver of electricity in the trail of his finger, an awareness of another human being like she’d never felt before in her life.
Stacy had mostly put the events of last night out of her mind; another coping mechanism; but as the electricity flowed up her arm she remembered. Looking at him she couldn’t see any hint of the demon she’d seen there last night. Perhaps it was only a trick of the light? Pointing at a seat she waddled back to her own recliner and plopped down. There was nothing delicate about the way she moved, she thought to herself, feeling defiant about the weight still, but acknowledging that it was her own defensiveness that produced the thought. John hadn’t actually said anything.
“Do you want to order food now or do you want to wait? Or we could go out.” He’d like to get her out of the house if he could.
“No, people stare too much when I go out. What would you like to have? There are quite a few places that deliver now.” She handed him a list of menus she had in the pocket of her chair. She was determined that she was going to start eating better but she didn’t know how to cook anything healthy and the takeaway menus were for all unhealthy foods.
“Well, this place, it’s Italian, I know their menu, would you like me to order for us since you may not know it?” He’d heard her thoughts and almost let on, but he brushed it aside. She was so shocked at his words, that he thought he could get away with it.
“Oh, yes, that would be nice.” Not sure what she was going to end up with, Stacy moved through into the kitchen, getting her bottle opener out to pull the cork from the wine glass. She set plates on the table and silverware, looking at the glasses she’d set out for the wine. Should she have wine? She didn’t know this man and there was something very strange happening here. She’d only sip it.
“That’s the door, shall I get it?” John called through.
“Yes please, if you wouldn’t mind.” She walked in to hand him some money but he’d already paid the fellow and sent him on his way.
“Thank you” she said, looking up with a smile.
As she spread the food out, she saw a lot of vegetarian options, all healthy salads and fresh food. It looked incredibly edible. She directed John to a chair and took her own, taking a sip of wine. Taking a bite of one of the salads her eyes closed, her hand going to her mouth as the taste exploded.
“Oh my,” she said once she’d cleared the food, “that is delicious!”
“I hoped you’d like it. Takeaway doesn’t have to be unhealthy.” He ventured into dangerous waters, treading lightly, hoping not to offend but to inform.
“You’ll have to tell me what all of these are called. I love this!” She settled down to eating, watching as he ate his own. He seemed to enjoy his food as well so she didn’t feel like he was eating something special to keep her from feeling left out.
“Here try this one.” He used a spoon she’d placed beside his plate to hand her carrots coated with balsamic vinegar, with cilantro and fresh garlic. She hadn’t put any on her plate, unsure what it was.
Her eyes closed, again, actually enjoying the taste. Food had been her crutch for so long but nothing she’d eaten over the last few years had tasted like this.
“That is gorgeous!” she said, adding some to her own plate.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He smiled, going back to his own food.
She watched him eating, wondering what the game was. What he wanted from her. He made her feel strange, almost happy, simply with his presence and that made her feel unsafe. People always wanted something from you, from her, she thought and usually the thing they wanted meant she’d end up hurt or broken. She hadn’t had an easy life, especially when she started getting benefits. People could be so cruel, not understanding that their cruelty only made it worse. She didn’t run out and become productive and happy just because they called her a fat bitch and told her to stop feeling sorry for herself and get a job. That didn’t work well at all.
Taking her hand across the table John looked at her, gazing into her brown eyes with his blue ones. “I don’t want anything you don’t want to give Stacy. I just want to be a friend. That’s all I ask for. I don’t have a lot of friends of my own; the hours I keep prevent it. Maybe we could be friends?”
“You could change your hours though.
I’m stuck like this for a while. This is what my life is.” She gazed down at their hands, hers swollen from fluid, fat and the stress of activity that she wasn’t accustomed to. She found herself disgusting; she knew he had to as well. For a moment, as she ate and enjoyed the company, she’d forgotten what she looked like.
“Stacy, you have to stop worrying about what I think. You have to do what’s best for you. I’m here for you, not for what you look like. Besides, I’m far from perfect. Are you ready to hear the explanation for last night now, or would you like another glass of wine?”
“Is it that bad?” She asked, feeling trepidation tighten her throat.
“Well, it’s not your average tale, no. Whether it’s bad or not is up to you. But I want to be honest with you from the start, so you know what you’re getting into. You see, I have my own addictions, my own problems that make me an outcast.”
Taking a deep breath he looked at Stacy, staring at her neck, urging the feeling to make his fangs come out. Stacy watched, mesmerized and unable to look away as his fangs ejected from his gums. That was the only word she could think of to describe it, they ejected from his gums! The action scared her so much she almost broke the chair trying to scoot back.
“What the hell? What are those?” she screeched.
“Stacy, look in my eyes, I’m still John Andrews, do you hear me? Don’t run, please.” He pleaded with her.
“What are you?” She punctuated each word with a thump on the table.
“I’m a vampire.” He hung his head, waiting on the screams.
Instead Stacy started to laugh, deep in her belly. “A vampire? A vampire he says! Oh, okay, where’s the camera? More jokes on the fat chick, eh? This is some kind of trick, isn’t it? You aren’t even pale!”
Wruin (Brothers Of The Dark Places Book 1) Page 15