Bag of Blood - Vampire Mystery Romance (5 page)

"Brothers and sisters, we are gathered here this day to mourn the death and celebrate the life of Rebekah Marie Knight. Rebekah was a bright young woman, loved by all; her untimely death leads many to ask, 'why, Lord, did she have to leave us so soon'? I invite you to remember the words of David in the book of Psalms: "though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me." Though Rebekah's death was an untimely tragedy, it must be remembered that the Lord is in control of all things; He has a plan, and He has a purpose for this young girl."

Clad in a thickly warm black dress, Lena lowered her head respectively as the Minister spoke at Rebekah's funeral. She felt somewhat like an imposter, but had felt restless; she couldn't miss it. She had no love for Rebekah in life, and even in death her opinion of the girl hadn't changed much, but she felt compelled to say goodbye, anyway. Trying to remain inconspicuous, she slipped into a pew near the back of the large, well-lit building.

Noticing that others had their eyes closed, some of them with their lips moving in a silent prayer, Lena hastened to do the same. Feeling a bit awkward, she crossed herself, murmuring forehead, chest, left, and right, to make sure she did it correctly. Wanting to be sincere, she tried to compose a prayer, which felt more like a note in her mind.

"Rebekah…" Lena spoke in her mind. "If you can hear me, I hope you find happiness." She received no response, but she hadn't expected one. However, a bit of peace settled over her.

Having asked her sister about funeral etiquette a while back, she had carefully purchased a small bundle of white roses and baby's breath, to be tied with a green ribbon, and had it sent to the service, unsigned. She was unable to see her particular purchase, however, what with the table alongside the coffin being absolutely covered with flowers of all different sizes and colors practically causing the table to sag underneath their combined weight. Pale blues and soft pinks, vibrant oranges and yellows… it seemed as if it were a rainbow sent for Rebekah's last goodbye.

The coffin itself was simple-looking, white with silver details. It was closed, presumably to conceal Rebekah's disfigured body, the disturbing postmortem bruises that spoke the tale of her violent death. Up front, a woman with Rebekah's fiery hair and delicate features sat next to a sobbing man in a dark suit. No tears touched the woman's face; she looked resigned, as if she knew she had to be the strong one. Rebekah's parents.

A presence at her side caused her to look around; Elliot Franz gave her a demure smile before sitting himself down.

"Mind if I join you?" he whispered once he was settled, in the annoying habit of his. He looked nice; a dark jacket and pants over a white button-down shirt and a black tie. For once there was no gel in his hair; it was combed down flat. "Wow, it looks like the whole school's here," he looked around idly.

Lena shrugged, not sure it was appropriate to talk during a funeral service, especially when a minister was speaking.

He ended with a prayer, and when he stepped aside, another man took his place.

"Rebekah is my darling niece," the man said, dry-eyed and red-haired as his sister. "I say is, because, to me, she is not gone. She is no longer living, but her soul continues into the eternities."

The man went on to explain experiences with Rebekah, and when he spoke of her love of riding horses, his stoic demeanor cracked, and one tear, quickly followed by several more, began to slide down his face.

"She's my girl," his voice began to crack. "My precious niece. I loved her like she was the daughter I never had, and to me, the world will not be as bright without her in it. To me, and to the horses, she was sunshine."

Huh, Lena mused, feeling moved for the man despite herself. I suppose everybody has somebody who loves them. She felt guilty at the thought. She's dead, you idiot! She berated herself. Try to be a bit nicer.

A nastier voice in her mind couldn't help but argue. She was a princess brat and you know it! Her being dead didn't change the things she did or said.

But looking at the now openly crying uncle, something in her heart tugged sharply. He sees her differently; she's wonderful to him. She was worth quite a good deal; all people are.

The tension in the room picked up the moment the strikingly beautiful woman took the stand. Her jaw was clenched tight, eyes blazing.

"Rebekah," she growled. "Rebekah was my only child. My baby is dead." Everybody's eyes shot to her face at her sharp tone; she was practically on fire, her fury was so tangible. "My teenage, cheerleading, horseback riding daughter is dead and there is nothing in the world that can bring her back."

Even her husband's face was squinting in confusion and alarm; clearly, this was not the planned speech.

"And you can say what you want about the Lord's plan and it being her time and whatever the hell you want, but that is complete and utter bullshit. My baby is still lying in that box with her eyes bugging out of her head because some monster tried to squeeze her head off."

The minister began to stand from his chair, but she stopped him by pointing a manicured finger sharply in his direction as if it were a dagger.

"Sit!" she boomed powerfully. He sat. A child in the audience, looking no older than four years old and no doubt a cousin of some sort began wailing in alarm; her mother gathered the girl up in her arms, rocking her back and forth.

"And now he's out killing other people's babies. Don't pretend you don't know. He could be here right now! That girl on the news, Valarie Johnson? Yeah, he killed her, too. And you all know; it's a fucking vampire. We never should have let them in our world; we should have killed them the moment those abominations were born! We-!"

Her brother, Rebekah's uncle, hastened to his sisters side, wrapping his arms around her and trying to steer her away while whispering into her ear.

"Don't "calm down, Rose," me, Steven!" she screamed, raving now, into the microphone. "There's a killer out there. None of your babies are safe. Not at school, not at parties with their friends, nowhere. If we don't do something, this is death to all of your daughters."

Her brother lifted the shouting woman off her feet, carrying her from the room. Her words were reduced to mere howls as she pounded her small fists into his chest before dissolving completely and crying into his shirt. "My baby, my baby…" was all that could be heard as he exited the room with her in his arms, her husband and several other family members hastening to follow after them.

There was absolute silence in the building for several long moments, before loud whispering broke out through the room like the rustling of a forest's leaves; every person turning to those sitting beside them and gasping about what had happened.

Finally, appearing lost, the minister stood.

"Brothers and sisters, in light of these events I invite you to return to your homes. Family members are invited to stay for the personal wake; all others I leave with a blessing."

Lena hadn't realized that she was sitting on the edge of her seat, gripping her dress hem so tight her knuckles were turning white, until Elliot placed his hand over hers.

"You're shaking," he remarked. It was true; she was.

Slowly, she released her dress, her sweaty hands having crimped where she had held it in an odd, ruffled pattern. The two stared at the hem for a moment, before Elliot slipped an arm over her shoulders, a worried look on his face, as though concerned Lena might take a bite out of his arm for his audacity. She didn't, but merely looked at him, a dull expression in her normally bright eyes.

"Come on," he stood, dragging her to her feet. "Lets get you home. Did you drive yourself here?"

"No," she mumbled. "I don't have a car. Robert dropped me off. He didn't want to come in; said funerals made him feel sick." She laughed dryly. "Guess I see what he meant."

With a hand on her back, he steered her to the exit of the church, where the majority of the funeral's guests were also swarming.

"I'll drive you home," he told her, but remained silent as they made their way outside. Lena shivered as the frosty air hit her skin; November had barely started, but you could feel it; winter was but a few days away.

Taking her to a nondescript, beige car, he held the door open for her and waited until she had buckled herself in before getting in himself.

"Where do you live?" he asked, and she gave him instructions. Pulling her cell phone from her small black purse, she sent Robert a text message: Got a ride; don't need u 2 come here.

"Did what Mrs. Knight said upset you?" Elliot asked, glancing at her before returning his eyes to the road. "About nobody being safe?"

Lena nodded. "But it wasn't just that. It's everything; she's right, you know. The same guy must have killed that other lady; I mean, she looked just like Rebekah! And… she just lost it; she looked so professional, and then, boom, it was like her whole world changed."

She realized she was babbling and fell silent, remembering her awkwardness around Elliot. To her surprise, his hand slipped from the wheel, briefly curling around hers.

"Lena," he told her softly, "If I can help it, nobody will hurt you."

Lena stared at Elliot, calculating, her face hard as she studied his features. Then, as if something in her shifted, her eyes grew warmer. She spoke in a softer voice than she had ever used with him before.

"What she said, about vampires being an abomination?" Elliot winced, but nodded, listening. "She was wrong."

"Maybe not as wrong as you think," Elliot replied, his voice a bit dark. Then he smiled. "But thank you." Lena caught sight of his growing fangs; it had been over a week since he had drunk any blood; Donation Day was coming up soon.

They reached Lena's street and she told him the correct house number to pull up to. She unbuckled herself and stood, rooting in her purse for her keys. Elliot stopped her by grabbing her wrist.

"Lena," he said, and then paused, seeming to struggle for words. "I like talking to you. I like being around you. I know you don't like me much, but is it ok if you try?"

At Lena's confused stare, his cheeks flushed. "I mean, maybe be around me. Talk to me; treat me like I'm Robert or Megan. You know…"

"Friends?" Lena finished for him. He nodded vigorously.

"Yeah. Can we try that, please?"

Lena's heart felt as if it had flown up into her mouth for a moment; a surge of fear swept over her, memories of bra snapping, of being slammed against a wall and fondled, being called countless names simply because of a part of her anatomy she had no control over. And then the fear disappeared. She had been giving blood to Franz since junior high school, and not once had he glanced at her chest, teased her, insulted her. He had always been respectful, his eyes always squinting with a warm smile.

"Ok," she finally whispered, nodding, feeling tears prick her eyes as she quickly turned away. "Alright. I'll try."

She stood, closing the door behind her as she made her way to her house; it wasn't lost on her how Franz waited until her door was open before starting his car up again, making sure she got into her house alright. Turning to wave, she stepped back in alarm; it may have been a trick of the streetlamp, but just before he drove away it seemed his eyes were glowing red.

Gossip spread like wildfire through the halls of Chillhowie; those who hadn't been at the funeral were quickly told by everybody else how Mrs. Knight had lost it entirely at the funeral and had gone on a screaming rampage.

"It's stupid," Megan shook her head after Lena had told her what had happened. "She was upset; of course she's a mess. People should just shut up about her." Lena had to agree; calling a severely distraught woman a
psycho witch
taking things too far.

Now Lena reclined in what looked like a lawn chair, her eyes closed, in the center of the nurse's office. Mrs. Roundman was scrubbing at her right elbow crook with a rough sponge soaked in rubbing alcohol. Lena's skin tore open a little from the rapid motions from where it had been perforated with so many tiny holes, little dabs of blood slipping down her wrist.

She could hear more Donors, chatting or working on homework, or waiting in chairs like her for Mrs. Roundman to get to their arms. It was nearly an hour before school started and Lena felt as if she would drop with exhaustion.

She barely felt the sting as she was poked with the needle, being so used to it. She heard the steady
clunk
of the machine holding her blood bags as it tilted back and forth, mixing the blood so that it wouldn't congeal.

"Hey, all," Mrs. Roundman addressed the room. "Listen up. Most of you probably noticed Leslie Metcalf, Gabriel Metcalf's cousin. She's the only living female vampire in this world at this time."

Lena opened her eyes, interested. The nurse, also the head of the Donor's club, continued.

"There are 231 vampires in America at this time. There would be at least 300 more, but at the time the babies of the
vampdrug
were a complete mystery to their parents. About eighteen years ago, the mothers and fathers had no idea why their babies would cry constantly; steadily growing weaker and weaker no matter how much milk was fed to them. The infants would waste away completely and die in a matter of weeks, with the parents having no idea what was wrong."

Lena hadn't known this, and found it interesting. A glance around the other room told her most others were interested, too; Robert, in the chair next to her with a needle protruding from his arm, met her eyes.

"Then an anomaly occurred, one baby was born with several of her teeth. While being held by her father, she bit his hand and drank some of his blood. He was frightened by how long and sharp her tooth was, but felt so desperate about losing his only child that he allowed her to do this, noticing immediate improvements in her health. He didn't tell anybody about it, afraid she would be labeled a monster and killed, but he let her sip from him nightly."

Lena could picture it so clearly, an exhausted father with permanent stress lines between his eyes, trying to shield his darling daughter from the world, because he couldn't bear to let her come to harm. Afraid of her but loving her too much to tell his secret.

"And then his wife noticed the scars covering his hands and fingers," Mrs. Roundman continued. "She didn't say anything, but spied on her husband as he secretly held the girl; she saw her child's fangs extend, saw her bite and drink from her father, while he sat still and allowed it. Convinced she was going insane, the woman called the police, who came and took the baby, studying her.

"Certain similarities were drawn between this pale, sickly baby and those who had all died; after many blood tests, it was discovered that more and more of the babies born in that time were starved for blood. They needed it in their digestive system, and they needed it fairly often, or they would die."

Lena bit her lip, seeing where this story was going. She knew what happened next, and knew that it wasn't good.

"People were terrified. More infanticides occurred in America during that year than any other time, and not all of the babies killed were even vampires. If a baby looked ill or even just pale, they would be smothered in their cribs. But then, parents like that father fought back."

Some of the freshman Donors who had never heard this bit before gasped at the absolute horror of the thought, the darkest act committed by any human; the harming of a baby.

"Parents fought back tooth and nail. They may be vampires, but they were
their
vampires; their children. They would not allow panic-stricken people to harm their kids. Hundreds of appeals were sent to governors, insisting that vampires were just as human as any diabetic, cancerous, or otherwise afflicted person. Bills were passed, and although there was much resistance, vampires were by law accepted as any other special need's human in our society."

"But what does that have to do with Leslie?" Robert asked. Lena noticed that there were six bags attached to the tube in his arm, all being slowly filled. She had never seen more than two before; just how often did Leslie need the blood?

"Leslie?" Mrs. Roundman commented. "I'd think it would be obvious. She was the baby who bit her father. She is known in science as the first vampire; although she was not the first actual vampire born, she was the first to survive, the first to make her needs known. However, Leslie is not mentally stable. She was more or less raised in a laboratory, doctor's constantly running test after test after her. Forcing her to lift things and run to see how strong her body was, burning her and freezing her to see how she reacted, if she healed at all. Nobody but Leslie and the doctors really know everything that went on in those labs."

Lena's eyes grew wide; the doctors had
tortured
her, treated her worse than a lab animal? When she was just a
child
? It seemed unthinkable to her; she was horrified.

"Her father sued, bringing in the authorities just to get custody of his daughter back; but she was eight years old before he managed to do so. By then, she had gone a bit rogue. She didn't understand the world; in fact, she still thinks she
is
the world. As much as she was abused, the focus was always entirely on her. She is not used to people paying attention to anybody else. I'm afraid her mind will never return to what it was before she was discovered."

Robert looked at the bags hanging from his arm. "Then why does she need so much more blood than other vampires?"

"Her body was so in shock from the near constant pain and suffering that it gave out a little. To this day her cells are forever being damaged and need near-immediate replacement; she eats more food than normal people, too; up to nine thousand calories a day. Her body simply can't produce
anything
on its own, unlike the other vampires."

"And why is she the only girl vampire?" A small freshman asked, with eyes wide. Mrs. Roundman nodded her head gravely.

"Because all of the rest were killed, honey."

…

For once in his life, Gabriel actually managed to be in the promised spot, Hannah by his side like usual. She had barely plunged her hand into her icy cooler for his half-pint when he was grabbing at her elbow, shoving her hand aside and digging the blood out himself. Before she had a chance to say
woah
, his fangs were ripping at the plastic at the neck of the bag, slurping rapidly. She felt a little sick watching her blood disappear down the throat of Gabriel, and turned away.

Hannah, too, seemed a little alarmed.

"What's wrong with you?" she hissed, looking a little green. But Lena knew; he had not had blood in nearly a month, having given Leslie his last bag. He was starving.

Knowing what she had learned this morning, she couldn't find it in her to be angry at him. Instead, she turned around to walk away, her battered tennis shoes patting gently on the tile as she made her way to Elliot.

"Lena!" Gabriel gasped behind her, finally taking a breath. She turned to face him and winced, seeing his lower jaw smeared with red. He ran the back of his fist across his face, licking off the blood that had collected on it, and Lena felt her breakfast threaten to come back up.

"What is it?" she asked him impatiently.

"Thanks," he wheezed, already looking better than he had just moments before, color blooming in his pasty skin before her eyes.

Lena cocked her head.
Does blood make one temporarily nutty
? She had never heard him refer to her as anything but Blood Whore or Stupid Idiot before. And a simple
thanks
was practically unheard of. She smiled, enjoying it while it lasted.

"Thank you for saying thank you."

He grunted a much more Gabriel-esque answer as he mopped up his face. Grinning to herself, she left in search of her new friend.

Elliot's whole face when he saw Lena padding to the electives building, and he walked towards her to meet her halfway.

"You're early today!" Lena could have rolled her eyes. You could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"What; really hungry, are you?" she asked, dipping into the cooler for his "vitamins".

"Well,
that
," he agreed, taking the bag from her hands and discretely slipping it into his pocket.
At least
he
doesn't chug it in front of me.
"And I just wanted to see you."

Feeling something warm flutter its tiny wings in her chest, tickling her heart, Lena tried to squash it.
Friends, remember?
She demanded herself.
Don't make this weird.

"Well, here I am!" she laughed uncomfortably, and he smiled, cheeks dimpling, before quickly slapping a hand over his mouth.

"Sorry! I know the fangs creep people out," he mumbled through his fingers. "Can't help it, though…"

Lena rolled her eyes. "Oh, please; I've been giving people my blood since I was thirteen. It's not like I've never seen a fang before."

"Well, in
that
case," Elliot removed his hand, bearing them in a fake snarl. Lena couldn't quell the small giggle, and inwardly smacking herself on the back of the head.
Did you just giggle? Dear
God
. Give yourself an inch and admit to friendship and you turn into a fluffy cheerleader. Stop taking the mile.

"Well, it's time for class," she told him, not wanting to let any other fuzz-brained girliness slip out. "I need to go finish my pajamas."

"Lucky you," he grunted. "I have to go watch a video on animal parasites in agriculture. Oh, the irony."

As Lena waved and stepped into her classroom, she couldn't quell the giant smile that made her cheeks ache.