Bring On the Night (22 page)

Disobeying my brain, my thumb tabbed the screen to bring up my gallery of photos. The first to come up was the last one I took. In it, I’m standing on the sidewalk across the street from my apartment. The sun glints off my hair, making the blond highlights gleam. Deep lines form around my eyes from squinting and bad sleep. One day they would have been wrinkles.

The doorknob turned, and I switched off the phone. Shane walked in carrying a red three-ring binder. I couldn’t even lift my head from the pillow.

“Still tired?” He sat beside me on the bed. “You’ve been drinking and sleeping all night and day.”

“Not real blood, though.”

“Bank blood is real blood.”

“It’s nutritionally deficient, right?”

“In the long run, if you drink nothing else. But for one day it should make you strong.”

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. “I want to go home.”

“You’re too dangerous. You could attack the neighbors as easily as Dexter could attack their shih tzus.”

“Ew, no. The Hendersons probably taste awful.”

Shane didn’t laugh. “Believe me, you wouldn’t care.”

“So when can I go home?”

“When we know you’re safe. Could be days… or weeks.”

“No way! You guys don’t even have high-def cable.” I hugged the extra pillow to my chest. “How can I prove I’m safe?”

“By controlling yourself around a human.”

“Then let’s go see one, and I’ll try not to eat him. Or her,” I added. “Can it be a him? Please? Just for starters?”

“That’s why I brought this.” He opened the binder so I could see the pages. “Donor directory.”

“Like a catalog?” I pointed to a photo of a handsome young Middle Eastern guy. “I want that one.”

“Hamed is one of Spencer’s, who might be willing to share.” Shane flipped the page to the other side, which contained a series of neatly printed dates and notes on the lined paper. It reminded me of the cards that used to be tucked into the back of library books. “But Hamed just donated two weeks ago, so that won’t work.”

“All the donor information is stuck in this binder?”

“It’s very organized.” He slid his finger over the color-coded divider tabs.

“This should be in a password-protected database, with
an offsite backup. What if it gets lost?”

“Nothing gets lost here.”

I decided to fight that battle later, when I had the energy. “Can I borrow one of your donors?”

“Probably not.” He flipped to the back of the binder. “Since I’m the youngest—or at least I was until last night—I have to drink most often. My donors are on a tight rotation.” He paged backward through the sheets. “Nope. Nope. Nope.” He reached the front of his section, then turned to Regina’s.

I pointed to the donor on her last page.

Shane looked at me. “Fifty bucks says he tells you no.”

I thought he’d be afraid.

Maybe it was the two vampires holding me back. Maybe it was my continued fanglessness (God, how embarrassing). Maybe it was the fact that I looked tiny in Shane’s extra-large flannel shirt.

Regardless, Jeremy didn’t hesitate as he crossed the room toward me.

I sat on the couch between Noah and Spencer. I tried not to dwell on the fact that Monroe should have shared this experience with me.
He should be finding me fresh blood. He should be holding me the moment that first taste touches my tongue. He should be
here.

At least Jim was in the studio, not here watching. When I’d seen him earlier that evening, he’d looked at me like I was next in line to board his Love Train.

But the moment Jeremy stood before me, close enough I could hear his heart pound, everyone else faded from my mind. I breathed through my mouth so the scent of blood beneath his skin wouldn’t turn me into a quivering mass of
want.

He slid his gray long-sleeved Jimmy Eat World T-shirt over his head, revealing a pale chest that was more solid than I would have guessed.

Noah squeezed my arm. “How are you?”

“So far so good!” I chirped with more certainty than I felt.

“Go ahead,” Spencer said to Jeremy.

The nonvampire DJ went to the kitchen sink, where he scrubbed his left arm with soap and water. Steam rose around him, and I licked my lips as the thirst filled my throat.

Jeremy approached again, Shane at his side. I took long, deep breaths, trying to keep my muscles from tensing like I wanted to jump him.

Mind over matter.
That would be my vampire motto.
Mind over matter.
Concise, if not original.

Two feet away, Shane knelt and turned Jeremy’s bare forearm to face me. I stared at the familiar tattoo as if seeing it for the first time—a depiction of a slit wrist, complete with drops of blood flowing over the smooth white skin toward his elbow.

Shane gave me one last cautionary look. His fangs were out.

Jeremy closed his eyes and let his head fall back. When his skin was pierced, he released a half sigh, half moan. He sounded like prey.

The scent of his blood swamped my sinuses, and my throat uttered an answering moan. The vampires’ grips tightened.

“Easy there,” Spencer murmured in my right ear. “Wait your turn.”

My turn came. When the blood was flowing down
Jeremy’s arm, real drops over the inked ones, he stepped forward, offering. I kept my eyes on his, marveling at the trust within.

“Remember, don’t suck,” Shane said. “Just lick.”

I closed my eyes and drank.

To say it was better than bank blood is like saying a glass of Châteauneuf du Pape is better than a swig of Thunderbird. The moment my tongue touched his skin, it adhered like a magnet to iron. I didn’t know how to pull away, and I soon ceased to care.

Even after dying and going to that… place, I still hadn’t believed in heaven. Until the moment I tasted Jeremy’s blood.

Then I believed. Believed that there was a reason for everything, that some loving, divine hand had guided me to this moment. How else to explain this union of body, mind, and soul that made the best sex of my life seem as mundane as preparing my taxes?

And then, I pictured myself drinking him, lips and tongue chasing every drop. Like Dexter cleaning his dog bowl. If they hadn’t held me back, I’d have been on my knees before Jeremy, hands everywhere, so crazed with bloodlust I’d have signed away my last possession to become his eternal slave.

I hated it.

(Not
it
, of course. I could never hate the blood.)

I hated what it made me. Helpless. Needy. It wasn’t sexy or trippy or sacred. It was pathetic.

I pulled away, but Jeremy didn’t step back. He opened his eyes and held out his arm to my lips.

“Go on,” he said. “You hardly had any.”

“I’m done. Thank you.” I tilted my chin to avoid his eyes. “Thank you very much.”

“You sure?”

“I need to lie down.”
Under a rock. And die.
“I’m really tired.”

“If you’re tired,” Shane said, “you should drink more.”

“I don’t want to.” I lowered my head further, letting my hair veil my burning face. “Please let me stop.”

Jeremy held up his arm. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Hang on.” Shane knelt in front of me. “Ciara, what’s wrong?”

I tried to move my tongue to speak without re-tasting the blood in my mouth. “I just. Don’t. Want to.”

“Okay. I’ll take you back to our room.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“You sure?” When I nodded, he said, “Guys, let her go.”

They released me, and I stood slowly, looking away from everyone, especially Jeremy. One false move and I’d be tackled.

In Shane’s room I crawled into bed and tugged the covers up to my nose. The radio was playing at a low volume, something Beethoveny. I stared at the brand name on the front of the display and mentally rearranged it to make words of at least four letters.

SPAN

SPIN

COIN

COINS (if adding an
s
wasn’t cheating)

SCAN

CANS

NIPS

SOAP

And of course, SONIC, but that was definitely cheating. Zero points.

I groaned as I realized that I’d never had thoughts like this before, anything that could remotely be considered obsessive. It was starting already.

I rolled on my back so I couldn’t see the clock and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes.
I will not cry.
The water dribbled out my nose instead.

A soft knock came at the door, which then creaked open.

“I’m fine,” I told Shane before he could ask. “Situation normal.”

“Situation the polar opposite of normal.” He sat at the end of the bed, after feeling for my feet so he wouldn’t crush them. “I’ve never seen a vampire react like that to their first taste of a human.”

“Clearly I suck at this.” I was too depressed to acknowledge the unintentional pun. “I have no fangs, no bloodlust.”

“You had the bloodlust. I saw you shudder.”

“Ugh.” I yanked the covers up over my head, creating a seal against the outside world like I did when was a kid, to make a fortress against monsters. But now the only monster was under the covers.

“It’s not unusual to feel ambivalent,” Shane went on. “It’s a big change.”

“I like change.” The blanket cave flattened my tone. “Change is fun.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“I hate myself.” Words I thought I’d never say.

“Ciara…” He put a hand on my knee through the blanket. “You’re not hurting anyone. Jeremy was happy to do it.”

“Of course he was. It gives him power.” I brushed back a lock of hair that was itching my cheek. “Now I get why some humans like to be bitten. They want to be needed.”

He sighed with what sounded like relief. “Okay, this is
making sense now. You hate to need anything.”

“I’m scared.” I curled back into the fetal position. “What if I can’t get blood? I’ll die slow and painful.”

“We’ll make sure you have blood.” He shifted to rest his hand on my hip. “This is why there are so few lone vampires. We take care of each other.”

The situation was wrapping around my throat like a fist. I was living the con artist’s worst nightmare—trapped in a place I could never leave, with people I would always need.

I tried to tell myself I hadn’t had such isolation and independence for years. I’d stuck around when things were tough—with the station, with school, with Shane. I no longer had a bag packed and ready to go with half a minute’s notice.

My mind knew this. But my soul clung to those old reflexes.
Get up!
it screamed at me.
Run!
My body started to shake, fighting the urge to flee.

Shane rubbed my back. “Can I get you anything?”

I searched my dimming memory and imagination for one thing that would make me happy. But my brain felt wrapped in cotton, with a new layer added every hour.

So I just shrugged.

“Never mind,” he said. “I know exactly what you need.”

The car keys jangled in his hand as he swept them off his dresser.

Were I still alive, I’d think he was on a quest for Ben & Jerry’s Chubby Hubby ice cream. But that would never taste like anything again.

The door closed behind him, and I let myself cry. I’d never seen any of the other vampires so much as sniffle, except when I died. They were all so tough.

Maybe I wasn’t a real vampire. I’d gone all the way into the light—maybe I’d left part of myself there. I certainly
felt half dead, half undead. Maybe I was incomplete. Maybe that’s why Monroe left. He could tell I was defective.

The void inside me widened as I thought of my maker. It spread from my gut, out into my limbs and my head until I was nothing but one gaping, gnawing emptiness.

Whatever I was, I hated it. Not out of bitterness over the life I’d lost. Because I hadn’t just lost my life. I’d lost myself.

I was still crying when the door opened. A
woof
boomed off the walls, then one hundred twenty pounds of fur and flesh landed atop my body.

I wiped my eyes as a huge black muzzle appeared under the covers, making frantic wuffling noises.

Dexter stopped, nostrils quivering, sensing the monumental change in me. I held my breath. Would he still want me to be his mom?

I threw back the blanket and stared up into my dog’s deep brown eyes. Cautiously he stretched his neck forward and licked my chin. Shane stood watching in the doorway.

Dexter cocked his head. His eyebrows popped up, giving him a look of scandalous surprise.

“Hey, boy, it’s me.”

He whined, then turned away. My heart thudded to a halt.

Then Dexter began to sniff me, head to toe. He lingered on my hands, wetting them with drool. I made no move to pet him.

Finally he grunted, then, without ceremony, plopped next to me on the edge of the single bed, as if we’d always lived here. He gave a wide yawn, then set his head on his paws, kicking out his back legs in an unsubtle hint for me to move my feet.

“See?” Shane crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. “You’re not the only one who needs.”

I curled my arm around Dexter and buried my face in the folds of furry skin at the back of his neck.

“If you’re thirsty,” he added, “Jeremy donated some blood.”

Leftovers. I nodded without looking at him. “Thanks.”

From a cup it would be just another drink. No intimacy, no connection, no need. I’d spent most of my life fooling others, so why not fool myself? I could pretend the blood was Hawaiian Punch. I could pretend I was driving around the Sonoma Valley sampling the latest Cabernets.

I could pretend I had a choice.

Pardon Me

That night, Shane and Regina took me home to collect my belongings, in preparation for a long recovery. Jeremy’s blood had given me the strength to walk in a straight line, at least temporarily.

Outside, the shadows had gained nuance and depth, as if yesterday the world had held only two and a half dimensions and was now appearing in true 3-D. I stared out the car window, eyes devouring the familiar new landscape with one burning new purpose: blood.

The Smoking Pig had become a hunting ground. In the bar’s dark, empty interior, the exit lights leaked red over a forest of upside-down chairs perched atop tables. As we passed the wide front window, I searched the chairs’ shiny wooden legs for reflected movement.