It's just a matter of strength.
Speaking of lighting, I feel about as strong as a forty-watt bulb when I see Alyssa lying in her hospital bed. And I nearly burn under the gaze of her mother, who's sitting at her bedside, holding her hand and willing her to wake up.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing here?" she says a little too loudly, drawing the attention of a nearby nurse, who asks if there's a problem.
"No; I'm just visiting a friend of mine."
"You are not," Mrs. Palmer says, rising to her feet. It's a joke; she's six inches shorter than me at least, wouldn't stand a chance against me if I decided to take her on, but I can't blame her. I really can't. She hates me because I'm undead, and clearly, someone undead is responsible for her daughter being here. And what sort of man wants to argue with an angry mother?
"I only need a few minutes."
"I want you out of here."
I raise my eyebrows, trying to look as if I'm saying try to stop me, but in reality, I'm nervous.
Nervous of upsetting her so much, she demands I be ejected from the premises. I could take on a woman who's five and a half feet tall, no more than nine stones soaking wet, but a couple of burly security guards might prove a problem.
"Has she said anything?"
"I ought to have you arrested."
"Really? And why is that?"
"Look at her. Look at her fucking neck."
"I see. Because she was attacked by a vampire, you assume that vampire was me?"
"Who else would it be?"
"I have my suspicions," I mutter, nearing the bed. Alyssa's dark hair is in stark contrast to the white of the pillow and throws her pale skin into horrific relief. A white bandage collars her neck, and thankfully, no blood shows through; there's a bulge on one side, which I assume is a dressing right next to the skin. "Did she receive stitches?"
"What do you care?"
"I fucking care all right," I throw at her in a stage-whisper. The nurse has left us alone, evidently deciding we're not going to cause any trouble. No other visitors pay us any mind; they're too busy tending to their own loved ones, showing how much they care with magazines, puzzle books, bottles of Lucozade, and paper bags full of bunches of grapes. "Stitches?"
A quick nod. "A few. Why? Feeling guilty?"
"More than you know." I stare down at Alyssa. Christ, she looks so pale. I glance at her mother, wary of turning to stone if I look at her too long. "But not for the reason you think. Like it or not, your daughter and I are friends."
"Your sort should never have been allowed out."
"Out or not, we still exist. Deal with it," I snap and take Alyssa's other hand in both of my own. She's still asleep; maybe it's chemical rather than restful sleep. The drip in her arm will be what's keeping her under. Painkillers do that to you. Sleep, O gentle sleep, nature's soft nurse.
Shakespeare had it right. I wish she was able to speak, but that wouldn't be likely if she were awake, depending on the severity of her wound, which would be why, earlier, she wrote down my name instead of saying it.
"I'll find out who did this," I vow, speaking half to Alyssa, half to her mother.
"I already know who did."
I make a snorting sound of derision, trying not to rise to the bait. "Would I honestly have done this to someone I care about?"
"I don't know with any of you lot, do I?"
The sense of déjà vu ripples my spine like icy fingers trailing up my back. Oh Adam, I want to say, if only he could hear me. Now I know what it feels like to be accused of hurting someone I love.
The difference being, of course, that Adam's guilty. He was guilty then, and he's guilty now.
And it's my job to make him pay.
I don't often use public transport, but the bus is waiting when I leave the hospital---I heard Mrs. Palmer's heavy sigh of relief as I turned my back and exited the ward---so I hop on. My closed-off body language and brow-furrowing scowl should keep people well away. If it doesn't, a flash of my fangs ought to.
There's always a taxi rank waiting outside the hospital too, but as I'm not in a particular hurry, the bus it is. It'll give me time to think. I need to track Adam down first of all, although more than likely, he'll be lying low. Lying so low, it'll take SatNav, Google Earth, and a psychic medium to find him.
Hmm, wonder if that would actually be possible? I stroke my chin, in deep thought while I stare sightlessly out of the bus window, now assaulted by the heavy rain that's just started up.
Technically, Adam's dead, so perhaps a medium would be able to... At least I haven't lost my sense of humour.
So, tracking down Adam it is. My first port of call should be Will. He'll be preoccupied at the moment, but that can't be helped. I'll have to interrupt his little honeymoon love-bubble, and I won't feel an iota of guilt about it.
Talk about history repeating itself. Adam hurts someone, and the group, the social circle, is blown wide open. This could work to my advantage. It's out in the open now that I'm still alive; I don't have that on my conscience. Neither do I have to keep looking over my shoulder. If Adam feels guilty enough about what he's done, he'll keep away from me, and I won't have to run.
I've purged my guilty little secret--- Hey, guess what? I'm not dead! ---and at the same time, ensured Adam will stay the hell away.
All at Alyssa's expense though. She's alive, not permanently harmed in any way. Her mother can't stand me, but then, she never could.
Nothing's changed in that regard and likely never will. I could find a cure for cancer, bring about world peace, and fix it so she won the lottery every weekend from now until Doomsday, and Mrs. Palmer would still think I was the devil incarnate.
Planning to call Will as soon as I'm back indoors and able to set out my plan of attack in comfort, I'm amazed to see Adam sitting on the steps outside my block, leading down to my flat.
Literally on my doorstep. A brief flashback again to that time only a couple of nights ago when he sat on those other steps and damn near cried, and instinct takes over. I haul him to his feet without any greeting, snarl some random insult at him, and drag him down the stairs.
I throw him up against the wall so forcefully, he actually winces in pain before sliding to the ground, and he manages to blurt out, "What the hell?"
"You." I kick him in the ribs, wondering if I really did feel something crack, knowing if that was the case, he'll heal in a few hours anyway.
"Fucking." Another kick. "Bastard."
"What? Wait, wait, wait, what is this all about?" He holds his hands up in a combination of surrender and supplication.
I drop to my haunches and glare at him, feeling more hate than I ever felt possible. I've been inside this man. I loved him once. And now, if he's responsible for this... If? Of course he is.
It's written all over his deceitful face. "Don't act the fucking innocent with me, Locke. You couldn't look innocent if you tried. So just don't waste your time." I tilt my head to one side, study him as he touches a hand to his side, trying to suppress a whimper. "Why did you come back?"
"What?"
I mutter something four-lettered under my breath. "Why did you come back? Did you think I'd welcome you with open arms after what you've done? Did you seriously think...?"
"What?"
"Don't keep repeating yourself, fuckwit. Or I'll get really angry. You're going to explain---"
"Wait, wait, wait, lemme..." Again, he winces, touches a hand to his possibly-broken rib.
"Let me speak. You think..." He makes a clumsy attempt to haul himself up into a more comfortable sitting position. "This is about Alyssa?"
"What the fuck else would it be about? I mean, what is wrong with you, Adam? Do you have to destroy everything you touch? What is your problem? Will was right, you know? If you'd found out about his affair with Kieran before we turned him, you'd have killed the poor bugger just to stop Will from being happy. You did Alyssa over simply because she's my best friend and you wanted to see me
miserable. And for why?
Because I'd dared to stay away from you all this time. I've told you enough times why I did it--- because you're poison. This is why I stayed away.
This. I only showed myself to be a distraction while Will and Kieran got themselves through the safe house and built a new life for themselves elsewhere, but you? You fucking poisonous---"
"I fucking saved her! I caught a guy making a nuisance of himself, and I was the one who fucking stopped him."
"Adam, you..." Losing my ability to speak, all I can do is shake my head.
"I came back to give you his name, idiot."
My head flicks up of its own volition. "What did you say?"
"Not that you're interested in anything approximating the truth, huh? But out of the goodness of my heart---"
"Ha!"
"I stopped him, and I've got his fucking ID. If you'd kindly cease kicking the shit out of me long enough for me to explain, I'd like to do so? Or, you know, you could call the police or some local hard-nut, and while the investigation's being conducted, I could tell them the truth, and you'll just look like a prize dick with a bad temper."
Narrowing my eyes, as if this could help me work it out, I stare into his eyes. Trying to detect truth or lies in his words. "If this is just an excuse..."
"An excuse to what? Get into your house again? Your bed? Christ, I'm not that hard up for cock. If I was guilty, I'd have run off and stayed the hell away from you forever and just fucked some other guy who wasn't as much hard work as you are."
"Chance'd be a fine thing," I mutter, then say louder, "Okay."
"Okay? Okay what? Okay, you believe me?"
"I mean, okay; you've got five minutes from the moment you step into my house to explain your little fairy tale, and if it does turn out to be a fairy tale, you know what'll happen."
"Hmm." His Adam's apple bobs, giving him the air of someone who's still nervous, though now more confident of being able to talk himself out of this mess. "Before you kick my eleven other ribs in, any chance you could help me up? Then I'll be only too glad to enlighten you. And I've washed my arse today, which is just as well, as you'll be kissing it once my five minutes are up."
"And you swear this is the truth?" I tap the plastic pocket off my opposite palm a few times, staring at the photo it contains.
Adam groans, either in pain or frustration.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I saw that guy coming toward me, looking a bit shifty, and I got suspicious."
"Shifty? Define shifty."
"You know." Adam shrugs, tries not to make a face. It seems every move he makes hurts. Either he's laying it on thick or I've got a harder kick than I at first realised. "Shifty. Like me, I suppose."
"Takes one to know one?"
"Quite." He adjusts his posture on the settee; he's lying on it lengthwise, feet up on its arm at the opposite end, propped up on cushions. "You looked out to check I was walking in the opposite direction from your little friend, right?"
"Her name is Alyssa."
"I wasn't sure if I was allowed to sully her virginal perfection by saying it. Right. Alyssa, then. So, this guy walks past me, looking all dramatic. Like he was looking for trouble. He had a long coat on. Bit like yours, kind of. But more dramatic."
"More dramatic? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Trenchcoat with a storm flap at the back, and yes, I checked him out as he walked past. What? I'm only human. Kinda. Shit, this hurts. Feels like it'll take a good few hours to heal up. Again."
"You've experienced broken ribs before?"
"I attract trouble; what can I say?"
"Okay, so, suspicious character. Go on."
"I doubled back. Didn't you see?"
"No." I screw my eyes shut for a few seconds, wishing I had. If I'd seen something, I'd have been moved to get out there and do something. Prevent it.
A bit like Adam seems to have done.
"You doubled back on yourself. Then what?"
"He was hassling her."
I glare without saying anything, silently bidding him continue. Silently ordering him to do so.
"Giving it the old come on, darling shite. Went for her neck. I ran to catch up, stopped it, bosh, Bob's your uncle, and Adam saves the day."
"Bosh? Bosh? I'm sorry to break it to you, but this isn't an Eastenders audition."
"All right, all right. He was asserting his authority. She was struggling to get away from him. I stopped it."
"How?"
"How? Bloody how? What does it matter? I fucked him up good and proper; is that what you wanted to hear? Wait, no. Bit too Eastenders, isn't it? Okay, I gave him a bunch o' fives, guvnor."
Rolling my eyes, I turn away. He's enjoying this a little too much.
"I don't see the point in going over this again and again. Anyway, aren't my five minutes up? Shouldn't you be throwing me out by now?"
"Do you want me to do that?"
"Not really. Your place is cheaper than a vampire hotel, even if your DVD collection is shit."
"Don't start."
"Christ. All right. Where was I? Yeah; I punched the guy off her. I think he tore her neck when I did that, 'cause she was bleeding something rotten and just gurgled a bit before she fell where she stood."
"And you didn't do anything to help her?"
"What, you mean apart from do over the guy responsible and call an ambulance and bring you his fucking ID card? I'm sorry, Nathan---I've yet to master the art of walking on water, curing all sorts of disease and infirmity, and splitting myself in two. I wasn't able to tend to Alyssa while I was chasing down this other fuckwit, was I? Besides, would you advise me to hang around a bleeding, vulnerable woman with a neck as slender as that? Rather like putting temptation in my own way, wouldn't you agree? My arse might be gay, but my fangs sure ain't. I'll stick 'em in anything, male or female, if it's got a blood supply."
His way with words is almost amusing.
Almost. I sink into the armchair across the room from Adam and rest my elbows on my knees.
"All I could do was pause between kicking this guy in the nuts and punching him in the face, to pull out my mobile and call for an ambulance."
"That was you, then," I murmur, still staring down at Alyssa's assailant's ID Just as well we show up on film. John Williams. I could swear his photo's staring back at me. I know this guy. We've met before. He's one hundred and seventy-three years old, according to this card, and he was the one I'd stopped from attacking that young woman in the school grounds half a lifetime ago. Seems Mr. Williams has developed himself a nasty habit of forcing himself on young women who don't want it. And now he's doing it out in the open, which means he's losing his inhibitions.
And a few teeth, thanks to Adam.
"I'd have preferred you to go back and see to Alyssa."
"And I'd prefer you to suck my big fat one, but that's not gonna happen anytime soon. Look, Nathan, if saying 'thank you' is too difficult for you, you could at least admit to yourself that I did the right thing. No way was I going to go back to Alyssa bleeding out on the pavement. I'd have been too tempted, and you would really have hated me for that. I know some vampires have this moral code about not sucking on someone else's food supply, but don't kid yourself. I'm not the bastion of any society's moral code, unless we're talking about the People's Republic of Adam; I just did what I did so you wouldn't hate me. I came back here to give you that---" he nods at the ID card "--- so you wouldn't hate me."
Fuck. My hands want to curl into fists, but I can't crush the card. I need it still. In fact, my entire body wants to curl up into one cringing ball of shame and guilt. Adam always knew how to lay it on thick, but when he's in the right, it's even worse.
"Here's what you need to do---"
"Apologise? I already feel bad enough for kicking you before I knew what happened; there's no need for you to---"
"Yeah, you can do that too if you want, but I won't hold my breath. I mean, if I breathed, I wouldn't hold m
y breath, but anyway. I was talking about you going to the hospital."
"What? Why? I need to go and find this guy."
I stand, waving the card in the air as if it's an instant photograph I'm trying to dry out. It's usually amusing to remember old-style tech that was thought of as innovative for a number of years before dying out and being superseded by something even better. Tonight though, it's just a passing simile.
"Speak to Alyssa first. Get her to confirm what I've said. Williams can wait."
"What if he tries it again with someone else?"
"I don't think one night will make much difference. I put him out of commission, don't you worry. One broken rib takes a few hours to heal, and he's got a lot more than that to worry about.
He's not going anywhere."
"What did you do with him?" That's one detail Adam still hasn't surrendered, and I don't know whether the thought of Williams lying outdoors, burning as the sun rises, fills me with horror or happiness.
"Dumped him on a local doorstep and rang the bell. Hid round the corner to make sure someone answered, legged it. Any more questions?"
"I..." I want to tell him there's no need for me to check out his story with Alyssa, but there's a part of me that can't stop being just the tiniest bit wary of things Adam says. Force of habit rather than genuine suspicion.
"You know you want to."
"I don't know. Visiting hours will be over soon, and Alyssa might not be awake yet."
"You'd better hurry up, then, hadn't you? Go on, go on." Adam makes a sweeping gesture with one hand, urging me out of the room. "I'll wait here. Till this knits itself back together." As if he needs to, he prods himself in the chest, wincing slightly less than he has before. Already it must be getting better, but it's clearly still painful. "Get a taxi to the hospital; it'll take less time. But take your time coming back; you'll need to compose a suitably grovelling apology."
Chapter 15
ALYSSA'S MOTHER ISN'T BY her bedside when I arrive; despite the fact that I'm a vampire and capable of striking fear into the hearts of many, there's something about an over-protective mother that sends a shiver up my spine. Ironic, as Alyssa's always complaining that I worry too much about her.
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