Blood Sugar

by Kat Turner

  He set down the picture and swept Eve into his arms. “I love you, Eve.”

  The words poured from his center, truths that paused the moment in a paradox of brevity and eternity.

  Time’s passage ceased to exist as the world flowed in a stream of perfection.

  She’d rested her head on his chest and nuzzled. Flow slowed to trickle as silence elapsed.

  Jonnie came back to himself as his awareness of past and future returned. The magic of being in the eternal present drained away. Eve wasn’t going to return the words.

  She didn’t share the sentiment. Jonnie stayed in this reality without resentment, though he’d be a liar if he failed to confess a smarting of humiliation. Being a vampire didn’t render him immune to the machinations of the ego.

  Eve’s breathing was audible over the air conditioner, the pall of her emotions palpable amidst a mellow room tailored to calm angst and lift spirits.

  “It’s really, really, hard for me to be happy.” She clutched the back of his tee shirt in two tight fists.

  He stroked her hair and neck, nonverbal assurances communicating his intention to listen without taking up space for his voice.

  “I want to say it back to you, I really do, because you’re amazing. And I have feelings for you. But it’s like…” She whimpered, her breath hitching.

  “What’s it like, darling? What’s it like?”

  “It’s like my heart is buried in a crypt. A mausoleum. I can feel it down there, but it’s covered with dirt. And it’s not healthy. It’s rotting.” A tragic sound, mirthless laughter mixed with pain. “See? I’m morbid. Other people have all these great feelings, and I have ghosts and dead bodies and a fucked-up spirit possessing me.”

  As the delicate situation presented itself, Jonnie gathered his thoughts. Eve was opening up, which was good. And he should offer help without condescension. Center her needs while adding something of value that she could use. But never patronize, never explain her feelings to her. That was rude, the purview of arrogant men who thought they knew everything, knew what was best for a woman. “Have you ever talked to anyone about these feelings?”

  “Like a therapist?”

  Jonnie hadn’t noticed the music until now, until the pauses stretching between their tender moment took command. Gentle classical music, soothing piano notes, drifted in through an unseen sound system. You didn’t notice it unless you tried to, giving the soundtrack the nuanced effect of subliminal messaging. “Yeah,” he whispered.

  “Oh yes, many of them over many years. But the lessons and advice never resonated. I suppose I’ve been too ashamed to internalize the therapy, too ashamed to take the initiative to try and be better. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I was drawn to Meg. Because of her career. Could be that on some subconscious level, I’ve always known I needed help but haven’t been capable of doing the self-work necessary to help myself heal.”

  “How can I help?”

  “Stay. Stay with me.”

  “You’ve got it.” Of course he remained on permanent call for his family, but his career afforded flexibility. Fyre wasn’t set to head back to the studio for a couple more weeks, meaning he had time. To hold Eve like he held her in her office, to hold her so that she understood he’d never let her go. Even if she couldn’t return his feelings, he’d still hold her.

  He’d love her while expecting nothing in return.

  “You deserve so much better than me.” Her tone flat and sad, she hung on to him.

  “Stop it.”

  With a thousand-pound exhale, she broke their press of bodies and took a step back. Eve brought her hands to rest right above his belly button.

  His dick thickened, and he bit his tongue in a failed effort to make it wilt. This wasn’t the time for those thoughts. The woman needed consoling.

  Three knocks pounded the door.

  “I ordered one hundred mint chocolate chip cookies for the funeral party,” a female voice shouted in a shrill tone. “There are basic ones mixed in there. Fix it.”

  The customer’s outburst killed his hard-on right and proper.

  Eve dashed toward the door shaking her head. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak Jonnie caught her wrist and put a finger to his lips.

  He strode to the door in her stead and opened it. A slim woman wearing a turtleneck and a pinched countenance glowered at him.

  Jonnie looked down at her, putting on his best rock star cool. “Is there a problem here?”

  She cocked her head, brushing a strand of blonde bob out of her eyes. “Holy crap. My cousin said there was a famous musician here. Are you Jonnie Tollens?” Green eyes widened in recognition.

  Jonnie nodded. He drew a nip of glamour magic up his spine and poured it into the woman’s star-struck eyes. “Run along and go eat a cookie. You’ll feel better.”

  “Yes, sir.” After drawling the words in hushed reverence, the mourner sprinted off in the direction of the refreshments.

  Jonnie closed the door with a nick of victory. Vampire powers came in handy when dealing with pesky people, he had to admit.

  Leaned against her desk, Eve offered him a slow clap. “Mint-flavored sweets gross me out. It’s like eating toothpaste. Why would you want an entire table of them, to boot? With none of the basic kind for balance? I was looking out for the other guests. But fuck me for being conscientious, right?”

  He sauntered up to her, drinking in the sight of her beautiful face and figure as he slid his hands around her slim waist. “What other culinary acts of war gross Eve out? Or better yet, what makes her moan in delight?”

  His cock swelled again as he stared at her sensuous mouth, remembering all of the things they’d already done. All the things they had yet to do. He hadn’t even tasted her yet. Jonnie licked his lips.

  “We, uh. We should.” Her own hungry gaze swept over his body, palms returning to his torso. She slid her hands up and down in a languid, teasing stroke that left him aching for more.

  He could smell the fleshy scent of her arousal. His nostrils flared, cock pulsing in the confines of his tight jeans. He fought temptation, fought the urge to quell this talk of “should” by slipping his fingers between her legs, where he’d wiggle them underneath her panties and slide them into her wet heat.

  Eve sucked air. “We need to talk about what happened yesterday.” The resignation behind her words shrank his rising desire. Because she was right. Now was not the time to play.

  “We do. You were going through your desk.”

  “I was.” She circled back to the desk in question and fired up a thin silver laptop sitting on the surface. Beside the computer lay a notebook, sticky notes, and three pens in an assortment of colors. “After yesterday, I have some information to add to your Scarab chart.”

  Sixteen

  After Eve ducked out to quickly fulfil an obligation to mingle with the funeral party, Jonnie studied the web of pens and yellow stickers and notebook paper stretched across the top of her desk. It mirrored many of his own Scarab-related findings and added to others. Such a loopy, precise thing merged his and Eve’s lives. If that didn’t signal they were meant for each other, what would?

  “Okay,” she said breathlessly upon re-entering the room. “Everyone’s gone.” Chair legs scraped against carpet as she pulled up a seat next to Jonnie in front of the computer. “Let’s do this.”

  Rearranging a grainy printout from a website so it sat beside a page of notes, Jonnie rubbed his chin. “So the endgame of this project, as I see it, was to create vampires using the treatment, then feed the toxic blood to these mutant creatures.”

  “Yeah.” Chewing her lip, she leaned in an inch from her computer screen. “They’re deep underground, rebranded. But its an offshoot of the same company on trial for war crimes. The one they mentioned in Peru.”

  “It’s the cult and demons element that I can’t quite place.” Skimming text from a conspiracy theory website, Jonnie remembered something Eve had said a moment ago. “What di
d the girl’s mother tell you?”

  She collapsed backward in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. “She was babbling incoherently. Hysterical, word salad kind of stuff. But there were bits and pieces.”

  “Such as?”

  “The mother intimated that Lacey didn’t actually commit suicide.”

  “She was killed?”

  “Voluntarily sacrificed.” Eve ejected the words like rotten food. “Some kind of botched spell, using insight she supposedly gleaned from her time in the Hollywood cult. The idea was to kill her, then bring her back as a vampire. They have to pay this company for the blood to feed those mutant monsters. It’s like a multilevel marketing pyramid scheme. So the idea was, if they have Lacey on deck as a vampire, they have a constant food source and can save a bundle on overhead.”

  “It all boils down to greed eventually.” Brian’s image popped into Jonnie’s mind. His bandmate had said as much, after going through some rubbish with Fyre’s former manager and his attempts to indoctrinate the man into a cult.

  “True. So their attempt to turn Lacey failed, and she stayed dead. From what I could surmise, they reached out to me because they had this notion that they could merge whatever magic they were doing with my powers.”

  “So what’s up with the squirrel? And you said that Lacey is haunting you?”

  “They killed a squirrel as part of their ritual. If Susan is to be believed, the idea was to make a familiar for Lacey. To protect her, help her strengthen her powers. It’s so nuts, Jonnie.”

  “So what, she and the familiar are stuck in some limbo land? Purgatory? And they want to get to you?”

  She nodded in a resigned manner as if his words had really made landfall. “I think so. I think Susan still has designs on me. Like the idea all along has been to force me to use my powers to get Lacey to manifest in vampire form, which is impossible as I see it. So I can’t say for sure what they’re plotting, but I think they’re plotting. And I don’t think it’s a sound bet that you’re safe.”

  Jonnie’s stomach fluttered. His thoughts gummed. The agitation in his stomach hardened into a knot. After voicing her odd statement, Eve turned her attention to the papers. “Why would I be on their radar?”

  “They’ve stalked me in the past,” she said quickly. “Stands to reason that they might have learned about you.”

  His brow tightened as he tried to get his head around logic that didn’t add up. As usual, Eve held back. “Did she ask you about vampires, what you knew?” Perhaps the woman intimidated Eve into spilling some incriminating detail. He wouldn’t be upset, but he needed to know in order to determine how to best keep them safe.

  “No.” Fast movements of her hands. Hair in her face.

  “Eve.”

  She sighed, halting her busywork. “I feel so stupid. I thought Lacey needed my help, my council. But apparently not. I need to figure out how to get this spirit out of my head. Get rid of both of them and move on. If I knew what sort of magic they were messing with, what they supposedly picked up from this cult, that would help.”

  Jonnie shoved aside his lingering suspicions. This was a topsy-turvy state of affairs, was all, prompting him to doubt and question everything. Eve wasn’t hiding anything, and she certainly wasn’t up to something bad. She was a good person. He loved her. He trusted her. “We should talk to Brian and see what he knows. I have a strong hunch that we’ll be able to trace the debacle with my manager back to Scarab, or whatever they’re calling themselves now.”

  Eve picked up a sheet and read it. “Pentagroup Affiliates, Inc. God, talk about on nose.” She snorted.

  He scooted closer to get a look at what she held. The paper featured a graphic in the middle, a clean circle with five lines shooting from it. Each line had a bold-type heading accompanying it: private defense services, health care products and supports, entertainment and talent management, biotech and agriculture.

  “Here’s Scarab.” Eve drew a blue squiggle next to a teeny graphic of a black beetle hovering beneath the “private defense services” line.

  “I suppose creating vampires through shady drugs falls into the bucket of health care supports.” He squinted at the categories. Under each heading, numerous subsidiary company logos, fonts and symbols, attention-grabbing yet cryptic, peppered white space in bursts of color.

  “And the mutants I saw at the house must qualify as agriculture.”

  Eve tapped a pen in the middle of the blank circle. “Notice how this space is empty.”

  He circled a familiar name under the “entertainment and talent management” line. Aries, Inc., the conglomerate whose subsidiary had operated Fyre’s record label before the band broke from them and went indie. “I definitely notice.”

  She looked up. He did too. A current of recognition flowed between their eyes.

  “That’s where the magic happens,” Eve said.

  “Perhaps literally. The glue that holds it all together.”

  “You know what’s weird about this?” Eve held up the paper to the window, where waning daylight infiltrated the sheet with a translucent glow.

  “Everything?” Jonnie quipped.

  She proffered a whisper of a smile he now gathered was for his eyes only. “Touché. But no, seriously, look at how the lines are arranged. In a cross overlaying the circle. But the biotech line juts out from the top.”

  Eve was right. The graph consisted of the empty circle and its four-pointed arms arranged into clean ninety-degree angles, but the biotech line wrecked the symmetry. It sat between the health care and agriculture lines, sticking out like a vestigial limb. “Perhaps it was added last, after they’d settled on their original design. Like an afterthought.”

  “Could be.” She tossed the scrap back onto the desk. “At least I know a little more now. What’s happening. Can you get your plane here tonight? I want to get over to Minneapolis as soon as possible and meet with the witch you were telling me about. You could talk to Brian then, too. Two birds and a stone and all.”

  With a clipped moan, Eve slipped off her heels and rubbed her feet together. Sheer black stockings shrouded her painted toes. The glimpse of her skin under see-through fabric was as erotic as looking at someone else’s breasts.

  “Let’s take a night off.” He took one of her hands in his and kissed the top.

  “What?” She blinked, face and voice registering so much confusion, he wondered for a moment if he’d spoken in tongues.

  “I want to spend time with you. Just for the rest of today, tonight. Relax.” They could pretend to be a regular, happy pair getting to know each other. Laughing and flirting and, heaven forbid, having fun.

  “I suppose it would help to recharge.”

  “Yes.” And if he played this right, he could stretch their day of down time into two or three. Days where they could enjoy a break, where he could get to know Eve’s city, her favorite things in it, her friends and family.

  She toed a pair of running shoes out from under her desk, slid them on, and laced them up. Jonnie smiled at this, this Eve detail. Every tidbit he scooped up whetted his hunger for more. “You run?”

  “I used to. But I ruined my left knee. So now I just walk as much as I can. It’s a solid two miles each way to work. You up for it?” The question came out a bit pointed, as if she lobbed a dare. Eve crossed her legs while she waited, teasing him with a glimpse of her firm thighs.

  He adored those legs of hers. Defined, with lean lines of muscle delineating calves, quadriceps. Plenty of feminine softness balanced out her tone. His balls tightened as he admired her sculpted stems under that prim outfit of hers.

  “You bike, too.” Jonnie glanced at the cycling picture, where her full bottom was pressed against the lucky seat.

  “It’s been a while, but yeah. There’s something so freeing and empowering about becoming one with an instrument. The first time I bought those clip-in shoes—they actually snap your feet into the pedals—I was terrified. Of the loss of control. But then when I got us
ed to it, it was like I was flying. Down the highway, nothing but the hum of the wheels in my mind. Pure bliss.”

  And there it was. What Eve needed. Escape. Liberation. Freedom, like she’d said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She rocked on her rubber heels, the effect adorable in its playful innocence. Finally, she let her guard down. “What do you want to do?”

  “Lead the way. Show me your favorite places.” He popped out an elbow in invitation for her to link his arm.

  Her face relaxed into a visage of lightness. She looped her arm through his. “Let’s do this.”

  Jonnie enjoyed the silence with Eve as they strolled through the dark parlor. She locked up, the click of key in door a comforting bit of closure to their research session. She led him on a short walk through her historic residential neighborhood. Three-story, narrow brick mansions towered on both sides of the street.

  The turning of leaves had accelerated, a brush stroke of decay painting trees in palates of red, gold, yellow, and brown. Their perfume, earthen and crisp, imbued the air with the essence of fall. Carved pumpkins grinned at them from stoops.

  When was the last time he’d stopped to smell the proverbial roses?

  They came up on a quaint Italian eatery at the end of a city block. It wasn’t quite six, though the place was decently populated. Eve giggled a little as they approached the entryway.

  “What?” He stooped to murmur his question into her ear and tickle her side. These little gestures of happiness on her part amounted to priceless treasures.

  “It’s silly.” She bit her bottom lip, a display almost girlish in its goofiness.

  “Tell me.” He opened the door with a tinkle of hanging metal chimes. A brief clench of worry set in as the invisible, energetic wall pushed him out. But a host behind a podium said “Come on in, guys,” neutralizing the unseen barrier. Whew. Vampire problems.