Bite Me

by Bella Street

  Seffy jerked her head back. “Medical professionals sure ask a lot of questions but never seem to give any answers of their own.” At Olga's stern look, she sighed. “Don't worry...unless there's something in his patient records you know about and I don't?”

  The nurse got up and pulled off first her face shield, then her gloves. “I've seen everyone's records, but as I'm not precisely sure whom you're referring to...”

  “You know who, Olga. And there was something he didn't want me to see.”

  She untied her scrubs in the back and slid them from her shoulders before stuffing them into a nearby bin. “What did he tell you?”

  Seffy chewed the inside of her cheek. “Well, I already know about his past heroin addiction—”

  “Then it looks like I have nothing to reveal, which of course I wouldn't, since that's privileged information.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, but everyone knows about my information.”

  Olga returned to the table. “How did you find out? About Trent's addiction?”

  Seffy thought back to the sunlit morning in tangent West Hollywood. “I saw the scars.”

  The nurse offered a sad smile. “He was very ashamed and didn't want you to know. He didn't think he was good enough for you.”

  She swallowed back a lump in her throat. One thinks he's not good enough, the other apparently thinks...no, don't go there. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment to block dark thoughts “It's kind of ironic that Trent would think that. I'm the diseased one, after all.”

  “See, now I've gone and upset you. My apologies. Go find your Trent and you'll feel better soon.”

  Seffy scooted away from the table, grateful to leave, then paused. “I'm not...contagious or anything? I mean I'm not a danger to Trent?”

  She paused. “I believe any transmission would be blood to blood—not through casual contact.”

  “So...what about...not-so-casual contact?” She held her breath, sick at the notion she could've infected Trent. He'd been exposed to her blood several times—many of her wounds were still fresh, pink scars. And did blood borne mean just blood or all bodily fluids? She gulped.

  “As I said, there's no identifying pathogen. Just anomalies. I'll let you know if anything changes.”

  “Oh. Okay, then.” She cleared her throat. “Um, bye, Olga.”

  The nurse waved distractedly and went back to making notes on a medical chart.

  Seffy rubbed her arms and strode quickly down the short hall of the 'psychonautics' ward. Even with the lights on and a friendly face nearby, she hurried on her way. Too many bad things had happened in this hall.

  She hoped Trent had returned from his talk with Fenn. Fenn with his vague generalities and the bee-yatchy Fiona. No doubt Trent would come away less illuminated than ever from all their usual prevarications. Yes, we did get you to 1980 from 2006, we just can't get you back. Oh, I know we got you back once, but woops—a tangent universe detour! Honest, we're doing everything we can.

  At least thinking about the dodgy executive branch of the compound was better than dwelling on what lurked in her bloodstream.

  The long hall past Trent's room and beyond the corner to her own was silent as usual. Was 'psychonautics' worse than 'psychiatric'? Why was one a hall and the other a ward? What did it say about your establishment when you needed an entire warren of hallways to keep the disturbed separate from the rest of the compound residents?

  Fugere. What a misnomer. What was Latin for 'nut house'?

  Seffy's heart kicked up a notch as she approached her room. Her world had tunneled down to her moments with Trent. He'd become more important than getting home, than figuring out her friends' issues...even her own issues. And she could almost admit she was happy—happier than she'd ever been perhaps. But there were always stubborn black clouds hovering overhead, always threatening rain, but mostly just shadowing, blotting out the light.

  Like being stuck in the wrong time.

  Mysterious blood pathology issues.

  Gareth.

  Seffy could hardly believe she thought of Gareth in such a way. He used to be her world. His dark good looks and protective nature made him the hero. She always imagined he'd be her happy ending. But he'd changed...because she had—apparently for the worst.

  Seffy didn't look forward to their next conversation. She hastened the last steps to her room, knowing that after a few hours in Trent's arms, she could face Gareth. She could face anything.

  Seffy twisted the knob of her door and strode into her room. Ignoring the beige walls, tan carpet, and narrow twin bed, she only noticed the singular lack of a boyfriend. Her eyes turned toward the closet where the secret passage linked her room to his, but she was arrested by a pair of strong arms sliding around her waist from behind.

  Catching her breath, Seffy leaned against him and closed her eyes when his embrace tightened. God, I needed this.

  Then her eyes snapped open.

  Something wasn't right—

  “So this is what it's like.”

  Seffy gasped at the sound of Gareth's voice.

  She jerked out of his arms and faced him, breathless.

  His brown eyes were hard—assessing, and finding her wanting, in the space of a heartbeat. “Or maybe you and Trent haven't gotten to the affection part of a relationship. Maybe you just went straight for the sex.”

  “Gareth,” she whispered. “Please don't.”

  He crossed his arms. “Don't what? Don't ask why you're defiling yourself with a guy who's human debris—with a guy who's treated you like the trash he is?” He walked closer. “So, is it just like last time?”

  “What do you mean?” she said, fearful of the harsh tone in his voice.

  “Someone who tells you what you want to hear so you give it up.”

  Seffy's mouth fell open as his words sunk in. Her hand swung out to slap him, but he caught her wrist in a merciless grip.

  His cruel smile was someone else's—not the Gareth she'd known since sixth grade.

  “How can you say this to me?”

  He stared at her, his face a stony mask. “So unless I miss my guess, you don't want to be saved this time.”

  Seffy watched his pinched profile, the muscle jumping in his jaw. “I guess not. At least by you.”

  Gareth snorted. “Oh, because Ellison is so in love with you. As if you knew what that meant.”

  “I know it means he doesn't treat me like damaged goods.”

  His features became etched in granite. “You don't know what you're saying.”

  “What do you expect, Gareth? Do you want me shelved somewhere, never having or deserving what everyone else wants?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment then took a deep breath. “Why him, Seffy? I could almost stand it if it was anyone else but him.”

  She stared at him, wondering why he didn't realize the obvious. Or maybe she was finally realizing Gareth never had considered her worthy of his love and never would. It just made what she and Trent had all the sweeter. “Is there anything I could say that would make sense to you?”

  “No.” He clenched his fists. “God, can't you see that he's just using you?”

  Seffy willed anger to replace heartache. He was out of line.

  Gareth snorted. “So you can't see that he's a thoughtless user who has wasted his life, hasn't earned anything, and just takes what he wants. You're going to put it all on the line for a guy who will break you and make a mockery of everything I thought you believed in.”

  Seffy forced herself to stay calm. “Is that everything? Are you done?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Bottom line, Gareth, I don't have to explain myself to you. You've made it clear how you feel about me. I'm with Trent now. That's the end of it.”

  He let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, okay. Is this your moment of self-actualization? Your little independence speech?” Gareth closed the gap between them. “I'm not going to stand by and let him use you up and spit you out. I'm not going to let you
throw everything away.”

  Seffy's blood heated. “Throw what away? A fake life in California? A dead-end acting dream? Knowing I'd never be good enough for you?”

  Gareth took a step back, his eyes wide. He firmed his lips. “You tell yourself whatever makes you feel better about hooking up with trash. He's not one of us, Seffy. He's an outsider.”

  “What I know is that this is my risk to take. What I know is that Trent loves me.”

  “How? Because he said it once to get you in the sack?”

  Tears stood out in her eyes, but she was determined not to let them fall. “Because I never have to wonder how he feels about me. I never have to doubt.”

  Gareth's face turned red. He spun around and slammed his way out of the room.

  Seffy struggled to reign in her runaway respiration. The tears she'd managed to keep at bay spilled down her cheeks. She brushed them angrily away, made more furious by her shaking hands.

  Seffy walked over the to bed and sat down.

  She needed Trent, but didn't want him to see her like this.

  Not like this.

  Chapter Three

  He'd heard enough.

  Trent had arrived at Seffy's closet entrance a moment before Gareth left. Now he pushed away from the closet door and slipped back to his room.

  He hated to leave when he knew Seffy was upset, but he couldn't let Gareth get away with the things he'd said to her.

  Adrenaline surged through his veins as he left his room.

  He hurried out into the hall to catch up with Gareth. When he rounded the corner, the empty corridor stretched for nearly twenty yards. Where the hell was he? Trent broke into a light jog, clenching his fists, determined to deal with Gareth for once and for all.

  As he passed the first corner, an explosion went off in his gut.

  Trent could only watch the floor tiles rush up to his face as he pitched forward, clutching his stomach.

  The side of his face smashed against the floor. But the pain was eclipsed by the agony in his midsection.

  As he struggled for breath, he forced his eyes open. Shoes appeared next to his head. It took him a moment to realize a baseball bat hung down alongside a pant leg.

  Trent slowly eased to one side and looked up through blurry eyes to see Gareth staring down at him.

  “I figured you were lurking around somewhere. Luckily I came prepared.” He tapped the bat against his leg.

  Despite the fact that he could strike again at any moment, Trent struggled to his feet and stood swaying, resolved to face him. “She's made her choice,” he rasped. “Respect it.”

  Gareth stared at him, lightly swinging the bat. “Respect and anything to do with you don't belong in the same sentence.”

  Gritting his teeth against the agony, Trent stood his ground. Barely.

  “I didn't protect her all these years,” Gareth continued, “just so she could squander herself on the first bad boy to come along. She's had enough filthy paws all over her, taking what wasn't theirs.”

  Trent concentrated on inhaling small breaths. “Well, there's taking and then there's giving. Apparently you've done neither.”

  Gareth's eyes narrowed. “You don't know anything.”

  I know you didn't protect her as well as you think you did, pal. “Seffy's made her choice. Me. Deal with it.”

  Gareth swung the bat, slamming Trent in the side. He crumpled to the ground.

  Pulling air into his lungs was sheer torment. It took him several excruciating minutes clawing at the wall for support to stagger back on his feet.

  Gareth's image wavered in front of him from the mix of sweat and blood running into his eyes. He swiped the blood away, his ribs screaming in protest.

  “If you do anything to hurt her,” Gareth said conversationally, “I'll kill you.”

  Trent saw a hand coming toward him, but was unable to move quick enough.

  White hot pain exploded across his cheek.

  He stumbled backward, hitting his head against the concrete block wall.

  He collapsed, sliding down the wall and slumping to one side as the world flickered between light and dark.

  ***

  Seffy had only just regained her equanimity after Gareth's little visit when she heard a thump on her door. Opening it with trepidation, she let out a gasp at the sight of Trent leaning against the jamb, his face bloody and swollen. “Oh my God, what happened?”

  She put her arm around him and helped him cross the room, his steps slowed by obvious pain.

  He lowered himself onto her bed, wincing. “You don't want to know.”

  She stared, unable to believe the state he was in—his cheek split open, one eye swollen shut, blood running down the side of his face, staining his shirt. He looked like he'd been hit by a car. “Uh, yes, I do.”

  He spoke slowly, carefully. “You're not gonna like it.”

  Seffy jumped up and went to the bathroom. She grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the tap. When she returned, she lightly blotted the blood over the purplish bruise on his face that seemed to be turning darker by the second.

  Shock warred with fear as she struggled to stem hysteria by keeping her voice light. “Did you walk into a door again?”

  Trent's mouth twitched. “Actually this time I ran into a fist. That and a baseball bat.”

  Seffy went very still. Her mind flinched from the obvious.

  Trent sent her a dark one-eyed look. “Gareth.”

  The washcloth fell from her hand. “What?”

  “He just wanted to let me know he didn't appreciate the current state of affairs.”

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. Seffy stared at him in horror. “He was here when I got back from meeting with Olga just a few minutes ago. We had...a confrontation.”

  “I know,” Trent said quietly. “I saw what happened.”

  She caught her breath. “You saw?”

  “I was coming through the closet and heard his voice, so I listened.”

  “Oh.”

  “And apparently he waited around to see if I showed up afterwards, which I did. Probably should've seen that coming.”

  Tears burned in her eyes. “I...just...I can't believe he was so violent.”

  Trent released a weary breath. “Why? He's hit me several times before.”

  Seffy closed her eyes, wanting to throw up. Gareth must've left the bat out in the hall before coming inside.

  A baseball bat.

  This was her fault. She picked the rag up and touched Trent's face, wishing like hell she could turn back the clock.

  And here she was already in the past.

  Trent's labored breathing made her feel worse. “Back then I deserved it. But regardless, Sef, on some level, it's over.”

  She looked at him, aghast. “It's over because he beat the crap out of you?”

  “Yeah. You could say he's said his piece.”

  Seffy blinked back tears and twisted the washcloth in her hands. “I'm so sorry, Trent. This is my fault. I should've settled things with him a long time ago.”

  He leaned closer, his gaze steady. “It was worth it to hear what you said about me.”

  She met his eyes, feeling moisture on her cheeks despite her best efforts. “I meant it.”

  “I know.”

  Seffy reached up to unbutton his shirt, planning on getting him a fresh one. When she saw the bruising on his stomach, her hands began to shake.

  Marshalling her reserves, she went to Trent's room and brought back a clean shirt. As she helped him out of the stained one—cringing at his every wince—she desperately wondered how Gareth could do such a thing. It was beyond belief.

  “Jared found me and helped me up.”

  “Jared?” Seffy said. “Are you sure he wasn't helping Gareth?”

  He shook his head, then seemed to regret the movement.

  Once Trent's shirt was buttoned, she helped him ease down onto his back. His groan of pain doubled down on her guilt.

  Seffy took the washcloth to
the bathroom and rinsed it out. When she returned, Trent lay still, his eyes closed.

  She dabbed at his bloody cheek. As she watched the fibers of the washcloth soak up the blood, she remembered what Olga told her. Seffy glanced at Trent, and saw him watching her.

  “Where were you this morning?” he said. “When I got back from Fenn's, you were gone.”

  “Olga called me for another blood test.” She bit her lip. “I got my other test results back. It's bad news.”

  “Were you expecting good news?”

  She smiled without humor. “Not really.”

  “Tell me.”

  Seffy swallowed. “Due to 'anomalies,' I'm considered poisonous. As in volatile chemical poisonous.”

  “I thought they said the zombie stuff was gone.”

  “It is, but something about me is still wrong.” She lowered the washcloth. “So I think...maybe...we shouldn't touch anymore. I don't want you to be in more danger from me.”

  Trent studied her for a moment. “Lie down beside me.”

  Too soul-sick to argue, she crawled onto the bed next to him.

  “I want you to close your eyes and hold very still.”

  Seffy's eyes fluttered closed. She wasn't too surprised when she felt his lips brush against hers. She angled herself closer, so he wouldn't have to move, and gently touched his uninjured cheek, soaking up the preciousness of his kiss. When she tasted salt, she realized it was own tears.

  Trent continued to kiss her with a lazy abandon. Seffy gloried in the contact, in the warmth of his hand sliding under her shirt and lingering at her waist.

  Finally he raised his lips and rested his forehead against hers. “Looks like I'm doing pretty good,” he whispered. “So no more talk of not touching, okay?”

  She looked up at him, her eyelashes brushing against his, and nodded. Her heart burgeoned with a suffocating love for him, too profound to articulate.

  So she tipped her face up for another kiss.

  ***

  Trent watched Seffy absently stir a cup of soup where she sat at the desk. She wasn't eating, just staring down into the cup's depths as if she could find the answers to her worries there.