“Spencer!”
Thomas snapped his head up. Dr. West was still there.
“Get in there,” he said. “Now. We can’t have non-critical patients clogging up our ER space.”
Spinning, Thomas pulled on his medical mask and hurried through the doors. Dr. West wasn’t known for his patience, and the last thing Thomas needed tonight was a lecture.
Before the doors swung shut, fresh blood drowned Thomas’ senses. Although none of the injuries were severe, they still bled. Only some of the abrasions had clotted, and the fresh blood’s effect on Thomas’ sensitive sense of smell was catastrophic.
His heart thundered in his chest, matching the deep throbbing from his headache. Energy flooded his veins, and his hands and fingers tingled. His gums ached, and his fangs felt slick against his lips. He could already taste the tang of metallics in his mouth—Thomas was grateful for his mask.
Four patients sat or lay on stretchers, all of them more dazed than panicked. They suffered from nothing more serious than minor abrasions and lacerations. Shallow wounds that bled a lot. Bloodied wraps, bandages, and wipes piled in biohazard waste containers on moving carts of medical supplies. An older gentleman inspected the needle in his wrist from a morphine drip.
“Glad you joined the party. Get the gauze, will you? No need for the needle and thread on this one,” Gary said as he cleaned a long shoulder laceration.
Nodding, Thomas stepped over to the nearest medical cart.
His stomach growled again, and his pulse hummed by his temples. He hadn’t lost control yet, but he knew it was coming. It would take laser focus to keep his hunger under wraps.
“Today, Spencer. Today.” Gary tossed a bloodied cotton ball into the biohazard bin after cleaning the laceration with disinfectant.
“On it,” Thomas mumbled, reaching for the gauze.
A nurse bumped into his arm as she checked on the cart, and Thomas snapped his arm back to his side.
Time was moving too quickly. Surrounded by sensory chaos, Thomas struggled to focus. One of the patients plucked at sutures in his chest. His bleeding had stopped.
Why was he here again? A car crash during his shift. Gary needed gauze. Right. Thomas reached for the gauze again.
Gary’s patient coughed, his blood-stained shirt quivering with the motion.
A nurse checked on the morphine drip and bumped a cart. The short clank raised the hairs on the back of Thomas’ neck.
Pearls of blood shone like rubies as they ran down Gary’s latex glove and soaked into his sleeves.
Behind his medical mask, Thomas licked his lips.
“Thomas,” Gary repeated, this time sounding more urgent.
“Yeah, sorry.” Thomas shook his head and held up the gauze wraps.
Gary’s patient coughed again, and blood seeped from the wound Gary was applying pressure to. Thomas almost hissed.
Submerged in the heavy influx of sights, sounds, and smells, Thomas gradually lost his temper. Every slight cough, every miniscule flicker of the fluorescent lights grated on his nerves. And the blood. The blood . . .
Thomas licked his lips again. No time for distraction. He needed to focus.
The patient coughed a third time and Gary shouted Thomas’ name. Lost in his irritation, Thomas didn’t notice the nurse relocating the medical cart. His hand smacked against the cart as he passed it. The inhuman strength from his hunger was surging through him, and the medical cart tipped over, crashing to the floor and spilling its contents across the room.
Other than Gary, no one had seen what Thomas had done, but everyone had turned when the medical equipment clattered across the ER.
Thomas backed up a few steps, a lump stuck in his dry throat. He swallowed, trying not to panic as he caught the eyes of several surprised doctors.
It’d been such a causal gesture. He hadn’t meant to put any power into the swing of his hand. What if he’d been trying to apply pressure to a wound? He could have shattered someone’s bones. What if he’d needed to perform CPR? He could have crushed someone. He grew hungrier every second. Last time, drinking blood had stopped the strange surges of strength and replaced it with something more powerful but also more stable. Would that kind of power be easier to control, or harder?
“Spencer, what the hell?” Gary’s face was obscured by his mask, but his bewilderment was clear in his voice.
Thomas spun on his heels and fled the ER.
He burst through the doors of the prep area, nearly knocking off the hinges, and yanked at his medical gear. It was restrictive, suffocating him, making him sweat. That had to be it. That had to be why he felt so hot. Why he couldn’t breathe.
Thomas leaned over a sink, drawing in shallow, rasping breaths. Calm down. He had to calm down.
He tore off his gloves and mask, throwing them into the trash. He turned on the cold water for a drink but froze when he saw his reflection in the mirror.
Long, wicked canines extended over his bottom lip.
In a panic, Thomas grabbed a new mask from a nearby drawer, hastily pulling it over his face.
He needed to leave. Away from the blood, the hospital, the people. Away from the temptation.
He rushed out of the prep room, stumbling out into the hallway. What to do? Where to go? He was in a hospital for God’s sake. Blood was everywhere. He—
“What the hell is going on?”
A heavy hand clasped his shoulder. Thomas spun around, discovering a reddening Dr. West. The vein in his temple throbbed, about to burst.
“Did you wreck that cart?” Dr. West demanded, finger jabbing into Thomas’ chest.
Thomas jumped at his touch, and some inner predatory instinct put him on a defensive edge.
“It was an accident,” Thomas growled, glaring at the man who had stopped him.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” Dr. West demanded. “Listen, I swear I will have you screened, and if you’re on anything, the next person you’ll be talking to is a cop.”
“It’s not like that,” Thomas snapped.
“We’ll see about that,” said Dr. West, taking a step forward.
Thomas reacted immediately, raising both his hands and shoving Dr. West.
Dr. West flew backward into the wall. He stared at Thomas in surprise and fury, lifting his hand to massage the spot Thomas’ hands had made contact. Thomas stared blankly back, unable to move. Why had he done that? He hadn’t meant to.
Dr. West grunted, wincing as he stepped away from the wall.
Realizing what his actions meant, Thomas raised his hands, placating, “Dr. West, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I swear.”
“Thomas?”
For the hundredth time it seemed, someone was vying for his attention. Thomas’ heart beat faster as he jumped. Someone must have covered for Gary because there he was, following Thomas from the ER.
Numbness overcame Thomas and he just stood there, glancing between Dr. West and Gary. The former looked about two seconds away from giving Thomas a piece of his mind and maybe a couple of punches. Gary didn’t say a word but frowned with worry as he watched Dr. West.
Thomas stepped back. All those years at medical school. His internship, his first residency, his second residency after getting board certified. All the hard work he’d put into getting here. All the effort he’d spent to become a respected surgeon. It was all wasted if he couldn’t control his inhuman, bloodthirsty nature.
“This isn’t working,” Thomas said in a low voice.
He took another step back, glancing down the hallway.
Gary watched him, aghast. “Hey, where are you going?”
Thomas made eye contact with Dr. West. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Gary, the man who had showed him the ropes at the hospital and had taken him under his wing. He couldn’t say it if he looked at Gary.
“I’m done,” Thomas said, taking off his hospital watch and dropping it on the ground. He turned to stalk away down the hall. “I quit.”
“W
hoa. Hey, Thomas,” Gary called and rushed after Thomas.
Six strides.
Six strides were all it took for Thomas to reach the end of the hallway and turn the corner. By the time Gary turned the same corner, Thomas was gone.
◆◆◆
The brandy glass clattered against the countertop, and Thomas felt little emotion as he watched red liquid slosh and settle back into a smooth circle. The pull of hunger struggled within him, reminding him about the hospital and his failure.
“Throw back some of the red stuff, kid. It’ll make you feel better. Or at least help you forget for a night.”
Thomas wasn’t sure how or why he ended up back at the Red Lightning Pub. He’d left the hospital in a daze, furious with himself, at life, and at the universe for making him do what he’d done. He’d wanted to return to Artemis’ place and talk to her, but in this state? How could he?
The hunger he’d felt and the power and strength the hunger had given him was more than he could handle. His panic attack at the hospital had proved it.
How could he possibly trust himself around anyone he cared about when he was like that?
“Forget what?” Thomas spat, reaching for the glass. “That I’ve thrown away everything I’ve worked toward? That I can’t become the surgeon I’ve wanted to be? Or should I try to forget I become a goddamn monster when someone gets a paper cut?”
Tipping back the glass, Thomas drank deep, his disgust with his new diet buried under his self-pitying. Like a muscle suddenly relaxing, the craving for blood was immediately satisfied. But before he could enjoy feeling nothing for once, his lips burned, as did his throat. He spluttered and coughed.
Lawrence laughed.
“Just because we need very red wine to keep our tickers tickin’ doesn’t mean we can’t liven things up a bit with what’s in the glass.” Lawrence winked. “Believe it or not, kid, I wasn’t always the law-abidin’ businessman you see before you. I used to run booze for a pretty penny back in the prohibition days. Got my hands on a pretty good recipe for white lightning moonshine, too. Well, the stuff goes down easy with blood, and thus the Red Lightning Pub was born.”
After the initial bite of the unexpected moonshine, Thomas decided it wasn’t that bad and took another swig. He wasn’t sure he believed Lawrence; this was his second pub origin story.
“I appreciate the drink, Lawrence, but I think it’ll take more than booze to forget my life is over. I’ve wasted my entire life on a profession I can’t practice anymore. Years I spent on this. I have no job. I’m gonna be broke by the end of the month then homeless. Student loans will destroy me. My life is wrecked, and I can’t do anything about it.” Without an outlet for his frustration, his every word was coated in it.
Immune to Thomas’ dark mood, Lawrence released a good-natured chuckle. He started to say something but paused as the door to his bar swung open. A couple stepped through, and Lawrence nodded. Like the other handful of patrons, the couple headed over to the tables nearest to the stage.
“Listen, kid, I know you don’t know anythin’ ‘bout how your life’s gonna pan out, but you gotta understand your life ain’t over. You’re runnin’ with a different crowd now is all. You play by different rules, but that don’t mean you’re barred from any old games you used to play. You’ll soon get a handle on your animal side, learn how to keep it under wraps, even if blood is around. Adaptin’ to the strength that ebbs and flows will get a little easier with age, but now there are things you can do to ease the process along. You just gotta grease up the ol’ pistons so’s they’re firin’ nice and pretty for the race, if you know what I mean. Then you can go back to bein’ a sawbones all you want.”
“Really?” Thomas said, a twinge of hope in his chest.
Lawrence smiled. “Of course. But until then, why don’t you come and work for good ol’ Lawrence? I can always use an extra pair of hands around this place.”
If he could control the savage urges deep within him, he might be able to continue his residency. Excitement, hope, and disbelief gripped his insides, and once he could breathe properly again, he realized the practical side of Lawrence’s comment. He’d been offered a job. He would be able to make a living while he sorted everything out, albeit a small one. Even better, it was at an establishment that would be understanding of any problems from his new lifestyle. It wasn’t his dream job, but a job at a vampire pub was still a job, right?
“An extra pair of hands, huh?” Thomas asked, glancing around and seeing how few people were around. He had no idea if all the patrons were vampires or a mix of the supernatural and human. Was there a way to tell the difference?
“Oh, I have a very dedicated clientele, Tommy Boy. And a dance card that can fill up rather quickly.” He winked as if a busy social life was a given. “I wouldn’t mind someone around here who could pour a few drinks while I’m out on the town. And the fact you know how to work the equipment downstairs is a plus. You know how to tap a vein, don’tcha, sawbones?”
“Yeah, I can draw blood.” Thomas choked. “I mean, with a needle.”
“Great. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you’re also competent enough to mix some hooch with the red stuff and serve it to anyone who puts green on the counter. You can start tomorrow. I’d say bright and early, but we both know that’d be a lie, eh, kid?”
With a small grin, Thomas shrugged. “What the hell. After everything that has happened to me lately, working for you will be a breeze,” he said with a tired laugh. “Alright, I’m in. But only until I learn to control myself.”
“Good to hear, kid. Good to hear,” Lawrence said, raising his glass. “To new beginnings.”
Thomas raised his glass as well, the moonshine in his system lightening his mood and worries.
“To new beginnings.”
4 Secret Revealed
Thomas wandered the darkening streets of Colesbrooke lost in thought. Barring the incident at the hospital, it’d been a productive day. He’d spent most of it at the pub, and again Lawrence’s words had given him a sliver of hope and a lot to think about.
Would he really be able to return to the hospital?
After another couple of blocks, Thomas realized he was walking automatically to Artemis’ apartment instead of his own. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should turn back, but he didn’t. He’d told her he would drop by after his shift. He wasn’t sure if he was late or early; not having a phone made him uncertain of the exact time. Hopefully Artemis wouldn’t mind. She’d forgiven him for more in the past.
Thomas picked up his pace. He wasn’t ready to give up on his human life, not completely. With the hospital, he hadn’t had a choice. There was no way he could continue his residency when he lost control every time he smelled an open wound.
But it was different with his friends. It needed to be.
With each step he took, Thomas grew surer that after all he’d gone through in the past couple of days, he wouldn’t be able to cope with losing his friends, too. He was a terrible liar, and all of them but Sean could see right through him, so pretending he was still normal wouldn’t work.
His only option was to tell them the truth, or at least some of it.
Thomas’ mouth went dry thinking about how he would bring up the topic.
“Hey, guys, I’m a vampire now.”
The practice words scratched his throat. It wasn’t that simple. Artemis, he was sure, would believe him. He wasn’t so sure about the others.
It would be best to tell Artemis first. Help her believe so she could support him when he told the others.
Not wanting to lose his resolve, Thomas broke into a run. Better to get it over quickly.
He ran for three consecutive blocks without getting winded or tripping, two feats he’d never accomplished before. With each step, a blood bag from Lawrence thumped against his leg, reminding him of the source of his increased strength and durability. He wanted to keep running, to see how long he could last, but he’d already reached Artemis�
�� apartment.
Around the back of the house, the yellow light outside of Artemis’ door was still on, as was the light in her kitchen. Thomas jumped down the stairwell, almost landing on the last sliver of a melting ice patch. A small thrill ran through his legs, as if he was eager for more acrobatics. Thomas shivered, pushing away the feeling, before knocking. He knocked once, as was his custom, then twisted the knob and gave the door a shove.
It didn’t budge.
The unexpected resistance caught Thomas by surprise, and he ran headlong into the door. He thunked against the door and bounced back. Frowning, he stared at the doorknob. Had Artemis actually locked her door? She never did that, even when she was out. But the knob had twisted, and he thought she’d complained about her deadbolt being broken.
Seized by the faint notion he’d made a mistake in the dark, Thomas jogged up the stairs and looked around, making sure he’d arrived at the right apartment.
Several wicked looking lawn gnomes with mischievous expressions etched in their ceramic faces stared back at Thomas a few feet from the steps, each one holding a different musical instrument as if they were members of a rock band. They’d been a novelty gift Artemis had received years ago and was as much a marker for her location as her actual address.
Thomas walked back down the stairs, puzzled. He was at the right apartment. Had his recent brush with danger finally driven home to her leaving her door unlocked was a bad idea?
“Artemis,” Thomas called as he knocked again. “Hey, Artemis, you there?”
“Thomas, thank God. Come in.” Artemis’ light voice was muffled from inside the apartment. She was probably baking in the kitchen. “It isn’t locked.”
A sense of relief flooded through Thomas as he heard Artemis’ voice. He reached down, twisted the knob again, and gave the door a gentle push. This time it opened with ease, the warm scents of chocolate brownies and cookies blasting him.
Shadows of Colesbrooke Page 6