Blood To Blood (27 page)

How could I have a
relationship with Sawyer when I couldn't be honest about who, and what, I am?
How could I put him in constant danger of being killed if I had a moment of
weakness? My heart was breaking from the pain of knowing that I had to give up
something that I wanted with every fiber of my being.

“I can't. I’m sorry,” I said,
my voice breaking. I got up and walked out of the room, faster than I should
have, but it was the only way to keep going. Because even with the events at my
Mahá and the Garden, walking out on Sawyer at that moment was one of the
hardest things I'd ever done.

And I finally knew why. I
loved him.

I didn't know when it
happened. All I knew was that outside of my family, there was no one I wanted
to be around more, no one I wanted to know more, no one I thought about more
than Sawyer Creed. I shook my head at the irony. Didn't I hate him before I
even met him? Now I wanted him on every level imaginable. Including
instinctual. One taste of Sawyer would reveal all the music in his head. I
would be completely lost in him. And the urge to devour him would overwhelm my
reason. I couldn't allow that to happen, even though my very being cried out
for it. I had to protect him. From me.

I gave myself time to blink
back my tears and strengthen my resolve by slowly walking back to the studio.
Once there, I saw Markus had arrived. A group of guys were hanging out in the
far corner. All were mortals clad in black denim and goose down. Their pants
all hung below their butt cheeks despite the belts. “My crew,” Markus said. The
guys nodded toward all of us during the informal introduction. All shared that
distinct school-of-hard-knocks attitude that many street rappers wore like a
badge of honor.

“We're just taking a short
break right now,” I told Markus.

“I'm ready,” Jules said.
“Been ready. Is Sawyer coming back soon?” Her tone was loaded.

“Not sure,” I said casually.
I wanted, needed, to refocus on the work. “Let's practice harmony.”

We sang until Sawyer came
back a few minutes later. He exchanged fist pounds with the guys and a few
quick words with Markus. A covert glance told me he was fully concentrating on
the work, too. The unibrow had returned, but there was nothing I could, or
would, do about that.

Jules laid down her
harmonies. Then I went back in to lay down some filler harmonies. Next up was
LaLa. Her lyric delivery had all heads nodding; even Markus' motley crew.
Throughout it all, we encouraged and praised each other, but Sawyer kept his
back to me. When addressing me he was cold, detached and
ü
ber-professional.

One of Markus' big hands
gently pulled me to the side. “Outside of your Mahá,” he said, “we haven't
really caught up. Whaddya think?”

As if they had a mind of
their own, my eyes automatically slid in Sawyer’s direction. All I saw was his
back: tense, impenetrable, and…touchable. But, I had to be clear that it could
never work between us. I had to stick to my kind, and keep him glamour-free and
out of danger. Someday he might understand, but more than likely he would never
know that it was all for his own good.

I turned to Markus. “Sure.”
He smiled back in a benign, friendly way that hid the toothiness.

“Good. Movie and then the
Nest?”

“Sounds like fun. Tonight,
okay?” He looked doubly pleased. “Come get me,” I said before taking a swig
from my hot tea. He playfully looked at me sideways and we both laughed. He was
the only one in the room who understood the joke of me drinking tea. This was
what I needed, I told myself as I giggled a little too loudly. Someone who
really got it. Someone who got me.

“You seemed a little
perplexed earlier,” he whispered. “Are your friends acting strangely?”

“Yes, how did you know?”
Surprised, I relayed how LaLa and Julietta seemed to have almost traded roles,
although I didn't mention Sawyer's permanent frown, or the reason behind it.

“It's you,” he said casually
while pushing a stray lock of hair out of my face. “Your newborn energy is
affecting the mortals closest to you. Same thing happened to me. I had to lay
off hanging out with them so much until I got a little older, more stable.”

No one had mentioned this
bombshell information to me. Why would I hear it only from him? I asked him as
much.

“Your folks don't spend as
much time around mortals as we do. Trust me, the longer you're around, the
weirder they're gonna get. Someone might even get sick; depends on the person.”

As I digested this
information, Jackie walked over. “Little Wolf, Sawyer's ready for you now.”

Markus disappeared into the
booth. There weren’t a lot of mainstream rappers that I liked, but he was an
exception. His dark lyrics were intelligent and spoke of being an outsider in a
world full of pain. His words came across as the truth and now I knew why.
There was nothing lonelier than making music with mortals.

As he spit his lyrics, his
crew started getting a little rowdy. Jackie came over to tell them to be quiet,
but her influence lasted all of two seconds. The noise increased again.

“Y'all need to chill,” LaLa
said in her strongest alpha-female voice. That squashed the din and even earned
a few muted apologies. Markus emerged from the booth to slaps on the back and
massive fist pounds from his crew.

“So I'll come to pick you up
later, Angel,” he said after his boys had already gone. “It's been a while, but
I think I remember how to get to your crib.”

LaLa and Jules simultaneously
gaped at us and then glanced, puzzled, at Sawyer. Markus slid a sly, quicker
than mortal look at Sawyer's cutting glance, before offering him his hand. It
hung in the air a second too long before Sawyer clapped it fiercely. Markus smiled
again, this time full out. I got the impression this rather scary sight was
something he rarely afforded mortals. But if he thought the sight of his sharp
canines would frighten Sawyer, he was wrong. Unfazed, Sawyer had moved onto the
next track as if Markus had already left. Markus, his jaw tight, took his
goodbyes from Jules and LaLa and headed out.

The rest of the session went
like that, with Sawyer in his own terse little bubble, spitting out orders and
keeping everybody on their toes. Musicians, artists, and industry people
continued to float in and out of the studio throughout the day. Some came to
work, like Joy, who laid down killer bass lines before heading out to a gig
later that evening; some who’d heard about the session through the grapevine
and came to chill and hang out. Camera phones and camcorders clicked steadily,
documenting the occasion.

Eventually, Nina came through
to check in on us, and she grew excited when she heard what we'd laid down.
“Very nice,” she cooed while scrolling through her Blackberry. She dialed.
“Listen to this,” she said into the phone. “Sawyer, turn it up!”

He complied. The studio took
on the ambience of a club: bass thumping, folks dancing. Nina talked excitedly
into the phone. LaLa, Jules, and I exchanged round-eyed glances. Nina rarely
got passionate over a song.

It felt like moths were
flying in the pit of my stomach. “I'm nervous,” LaLa said, echoing my thoughts.
We hugged, and it was a wordless acknowledgement that our work, the music we
had poured our hearts and souls into, made others excited. Jules grinned at the
two of us as she went back into the booth to lay harmonies for the next track.
Sawyer still frowned.

Eventually, the new moon was
high in the sky and we were done. LaLa was uncharacteristically wistful. “Our
first real studio recording session comes to a close,” she mused. We all hugged
again, taking a few last pics to mark the milestone. Don, surrounded by
fourteen empty coffee cups, went back outside to smoke what must have been his
fifth pack of cigarettes. Nina was marathon-texting in a corner. A few people,
including Raj and Jackie, lingered around the studio. Sawyer congratulated us
tersely, and then left.

“What did you do to him?”
Jules asked as she, LaLa and I made our way outside. Taking note of her
confrontational posture, I remembered what Markus told me. What I'd first
thought was residual fallout from my Garden-gig improv wasn’t that at all. My
girls were affected by my change. Sawyer wasn't the only one I'd have to
protect from me. 

“Sawyer's moody. We knew that
going in,” was all I said. I sounded as casual as I could while bidding them
both goodnight, knowing it would be the last time for a while that we’d spend
so much time together. Mom and Dad were right. I had to remove myself from the
mortals I loved, and the pain of this truth cut me to the core.

Raj came outside. “Julietta?”
he said before taking her hand. They wished us goodnight before climbing into
his Benz. How messed up was this? He wasn’t even her type. Shocked, I looked to
LaLa who just shrugged and giggled.

Seconds later, an Escalade
pulled up with one of Markus’ boys inside. He opened the car door, and we
acknowledged each other with a lift of the chin while LaLa jumped inside. LaLa
driving off with a guy she just met was something I never thought I’d see. She
waved at me happily through the window as I backed away slowly, head reeling
with what I’d just witnessed. The elation of our successful recording session
now seemed way in the past as I swallowed tears.

My friends were no longer
themselves, and it was because of me.

L
ater, back at home, I glided through the
closed front door and heard Cici's laughter tinkling in the family room.
Satchel, Markus, Mom, and Dad were in there with her.

Markus rose to his feet.
“We've got a half hour before the movie starts,” he said while taking my coat.
Mom and Dad looked at each other with small smiles.

I sniffed the blood Cici was
sipping and my stomach growled. I was so caught up in the energy and rush of
the recording session I'd forgotten I’d gone through all the thermoses and
hadn’t eaten for a while. A long, involuntary hiss emitted from between my lips
before I raced to the kitchen and brought back a few goblets.

The doorbell rang. Cici
opened the door to find Justin. Mom and Dad discretely retired to another part
of the house. Markus eyed Justin like a side of beef, and Cici and Satchel
couldn't seem to stop giggling as they went upstairs.

“You haven't eaten for a
while, Angel,” Justin said, casting an accusing eye on Markus.

My head swiveled between the
two of them. Fresh blood was always the best option, but it seemed downright
rude to feed with Markus sitting here waiting to get our date started. Justin's
blood throbbed in his veins while I regarded the goblet still in my hand...

“Thank you Justin, but we
were just about to step out,” I said as neutrally as possible. I gestured to
the goblet. “I'll be right very soon. No worries.”

Justin winced as I quickly
downed the contents of the remaining glasses before wiping my mouth with the
back of my hand. Markus, seemingly bored, removed lint from his sweater. “Let's
go,” he said, “before the movie starts.”

For a brief second, I
wondered what Justin had been doing before he sensed my hunger. He was dressed
in black leather pants, black boots, and a mid-length black leather trench,
quite a different look from the blue-collar apparel he usually wore. “See you
later, Justin?”

“Yeah,” he muttered before I
closed the door behind him.

Markus reached around to the
back of the couch and pulled out two helmets. He offered one to me. “Mind
riding my Ducati?”

The sleek, red and black
motorcycle, listed by
Rolling Stone
as a favorite in his collection, was
illegally parked in front of the house. Fast bikes like that scared the heck
out of me, but I wasn’t going to let him know that. “Can’t wait,” I answered,
taking the helmet.

He also handed me a shopping
bag. “Thought you might like it.”

Inside was an Avirex
motorcycle jacket; red leather with fleece lining. He held it for me, but I
hesitated briefly, wondering if the coat represented a little more than a gift
between friends. Deciding to go with the flow and stop over-analyzing
everything, I put it on as he nodded with approval.

Later, after the movie
(starring one of Markus’ rapper-turned-actor colleagues, it was a “drama” that
had us laughing in all the wrong places because it was so bad), we lounged in
the part of The Nest that was a bar/lounge/nightclub catering to the mortal
public. The immortal section, where I had met Justin, was in an area of the
building only accessible to folks with immortal DNA or a donor pass. In the midst
of mortals and all types of immortals, I sipped from a bottled blood that was
kept in a separate section behind the bar and served with a secret code. The
bottle looked like a beer bottle; I wondered what would happen if some
inebriated mortal accidentally drank from it.

“I remember making little
songs with you when we were kids,” Markus said, after finishing an extra-rare
turkey burger. He placed a leather-clad arm along the back of the couch where
we sat. “It felt good working together today.”

I had to agree, but the arm
made me a little nervous. Did Markus have more than friendship on his mind? I'd
just decided to clear the air when a few fans came by to get his autograph.
Once word got out about who was behind his sunglasses, a small herd of people stood
in line. Markus signed and posed for pictures. “Soon it'll be you,” he said to
me. I shivered at the thought of being mobbed by groups of people.