Half Blood (19 page)

‘N-No,’ she stuttered, keeping her gaze on the cold ground. The blood from her nose and lip had stopped flowing, sticking to her skin in tacky red lines across her right cheek.

‘No?’ he asked softly. She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. He mimicked her refusal and pulled a small switchblade from the waistband of his jeans. He held the tip to her delicate, white throat. ‘Take. Them. Off,’ he growled, pressing the metal into her skin so there was no way that she thought he wasn’t serious.

Her body began shaking as she tried to hold back the tears. He wasn’t buying it. Against his nature, he waited patiently for the submission switch to be thrown. Bitches always gave it up after being threatened for a while, although usually a good beating did the trick most times. The sound of her belt buckle being undone signalled his victory. She slid the fabric down her legs, her hands automatically trying to cover herself.

‘Move your hands,’ he barked. When she didn’t comply, he pressed the blade a little harder to her throat. A new bead of blood surfaced and rolled down her skin. She whimpered a little before moving her hands. Buddy got a good look at the pre-wrapped spoils.

‘Now, take off your panties.’

The girl started to shake her head, but changed her mind when he drew the blade further down, across her skin to her collarbone.

‘I may slip down to cut off something important if you don’t hurry the fuck up,’ he hissed into her ear.

‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Don’t do this.’

‘It’s too late for that. Drop them,’ he demanded. She slipped her hands into the fabric at her hips and began pulling them down. Her compliance was accompanied by silent tears rolling down her cheeks. Flipping her around and with a hand between her shoulder blades, he forced her towards the wall.

‘Open your legs,’ he growled. Her head shook quickly, a muted moan escaping her throat. Buddy’s lip curled up a little. With the tip of the switchblade, he ran it along the length of her leg—starting at her ankle, over her undefined calves and behind her kneecap. He lingered there when a low moan escaped her lips. He smiled. There was nothing like the promise of her guilt in the future over what had happened to get him harder. He drew the blade up her thigh and when he reached the curve of her ass, he dug the blade in and drew fresh blood. She screamed through her tears.

‘Open them now, or the next thing I’m cutting will be between your legs.’

Another indiscriminate sound later, she inched her legs open a little wider. With his prize in sight, Buddy unzipped his own pants and sprang his cock. The tip was weeping with anticipation as he guided himself into her. She jerked against his body as he pushed further and further into her body. She was slick and ready for him. Whores were always the same. They said no, but their bodies always said yes.

With each thrust, he drove his body deeper and deeper into hers until the burn of an orgasm tightened his balls and filled up his body. His shaft burned with his release, travelling up the length of his sheathed cock and into her body. His seed was pumping into her and there was not a damn thing she could do about it. With that thought, he came again. As his body shook for the last time, he slid out of her, not wanting to be inside her for any longer than he had to be. She collapsed onto the frozen ground, curling herself into a shaking ball of shame. He pulled up his pants, redid the belt and threw his leather jacket back on. He pulled some green from his pocket, dropping it next to her head.

‘Thanks baby girl,’ he said before stalking away from their hiding place. Her sobbing followed him out of the alleyway, which only made him feel like he needed a drink more than he had ever needed one before. Without one last glance behind him, he pulled one of his hand-rolled cigs from his jacket pocket and lit up. Smoke trailed in his wake as he made his way over to the bar. He was hoping it was going to be quiet. All he wanted was a damn drink in peace. He shouldered his way into the bar a quarter of an hour later.

‘The usual Buddy?’ the bartender asked when he planted his ass on a stool at the bar.

‘Yeah,’ he replied, looking at his reflection in the glass behind the bar and hardly recognising the face staring back at him. Before depression dragged him down, a whisky with a beer chaser landed in front of him. ‘Thanks,’ he mumbled.

The bartender nodded as he began wiping down the top of the bar. Buddy threw the shot back and let it burn his tongue before swallowing it.

‘Did you get into another fight?’ the bartender asked.

‘What?’

He gestured to his knuckles. Buddy looked down to find them grazed and bleeding. ‘Oh, yeah. Some cocksucker tried to start something with me at work,’ he drawled casually, patting down his pockets in search of another hand-rolled. When he finally found one, he balanced it between his lips and lit up.

‘I’m good,’ Buddy called back and began staggering back home again. When he finally made it back, the effects of the alcohol had started to wear off, leaving him with the stench of the whore all over his body. A shower, he decided, was what he needed. Stripping off, he began the hot water and stepped inside the cubicle.

The bitch had left three, huge scratches on the inside of each forearm, and when the hot water hit them, they stung like fire. ‘Goddamn—’ he muttered as he ran the bar of Solvol soap over the wounds, killing his buzz, ‘
bitch
,’ he finished with a hiss.

Indi’s eyes flickered open when she felt someone touching her hand. Sleep had sucked her in so completely that she couldn’t tell if she was really awake or if she was still dreaming. She’d been having strange dreams; dreams about vampires and drinking blood and battles. Her blurry eyes focussed on Doctor White. His warm fingers were at the pulse on her wrist, his brown eyes focusing on the second hand on his watch. With nothing but silence in that room, all Indi could hear was the seconds ticking by like a gun being fired next to her head, the sound of his breathing like sandpaper grating on her eardrums.

She squeezed her eyes shut—trying to block it all out—but when she did, a wet, slick thudding sound started to overtake the other two, filling the sun-filled room with a mouth-watering
thump, thump, thump
that made Indi look up at the good doc’s carotid artery pulsing along his neck. His skin looked so thin, almost as if she could just tear it open if she wanted to. She licked her lips, fighting the overwhelming urge to bite. It filled her up like a cup threatening to overflow. Swallowing down hard on her desert-dry throat, she forced her eyes to look away, but they soon found their way back to his throat. She visually marked where she would bite as if she’d always known that the sweet spot where the neck meets the shoulder was always there.

The sweet, heady smell of his blood was all that she smelt, heard and felt; her body humming with anticipation. Her desire was spilling over now, running down the side in a warm wash of fresh blood …

‘Oh, Indi. Good, you’re awake,’ Doctor White said. Her eyes shifted to his face reluctantly. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Thirsty,’ she replied with a rasping voice. He nodded once before leaning over to the trolley beside the bed and bringing the plastic cup to her mouth. Indi sucked up one mouthful of water—the desire to pierce flesh with her teeth subsiding a little.

‘I’ve called Jerry to come and take you home,’ Doctor White said, putting the cup down and turning back to her.

‘When will he get here?’

He checked his watch again. ‘He said he’d be here in the next half an hour or so. While you were sleeping last night, he came by to visit and left you some clothes in a suitcase. One of the orderlies placed it under your bed.’ He pointed at the end of the bed, giving her an unsteady smile. ‘Before you leave though, I’d just like to check your blood pressure again, if that’s alright with you.’

She shrugged. ‘If it gets me out of here faster …’

Sliding the cuff on with clumsy fingers, he pressed the pre-warmed stethoscope under the cuff and pumped up the black balloon. Shaking his head again and looking grim, he deflated the balloon and looped his stethoscope around his neck.

Fuck.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

‘It’s still quite low.’

‘Can I still go home?’ She didn’t like the sound of desperation in her voice. She swallowed down hard. ‘Well?’ she added with a sharp tongue when he didn’t answer fast enough.

He picked up the chart and flicked through a few pages before scribbling something down. ‘Sure. I think you’ll feel much better once you get home, but if you feel light-headed at all, I want you to come back in and see me, okay? I’ll leave you to get changed now.’

After a firm nod from the doctor, Indi was left alone to get dressed. Sliding the suitcase out from under the bed, she flipped the lid open and stared down at the immaculately-folded clothes. Glancing over her shoulder, she stood up from her crouch and went to her pillow; pulling out the dagger she’d hidden there. Taking the knife out of its sheath, she looked over the hilt and blade, checking for any signs that she’d used it before she’d ended up in hospital. Yet there was nothing. It was still as clean as it’d been the last time she’d seen it.

Laying her knife on the bed with a sigh, she went back to the suitcase to find some underwear. The black lacy bra and panties set screamed of Jerry. Indi ignored them, deciding it was better to go without if she had a choice. After pulling on her jeans and t-shirt, she sat on the bed to put her socks and boots on. As soon as she strapped her knife to her ankle, she felt complete again.

She’d left the small TV in the corner of the room on just for a little background noise while she changed, so when the breaking news story started, the headline caught her attention.

‘
I’m here outside Buxton General where another victim of the Buxton rapist was admitted last night. A police officer on duty in downtown Buxton found the woman staggering out of an alleyway with lacerations to her face and body at around eleven o’clock yesterday evening. The woman claimed that she’d been threatened with death before being beaten, raped and left in the alleyway.

‘
When the police cordoned off the backstreet to collect evidence, they discovered a sum of money that had been left for the woman. Forensic testing is underway to determine whether or not any fingerprints or any DNA evidence can be found to link the recent spate of rapes in the downtown area of Buxton to this newest attack. Police are still warning women not to walk alone at night, and to avoid going out at night completely. With the recent escalations in the attacks, they fear he may take bigger risks to get his victims.’

A small knock on the door couldn’t even drag Indi’s attention off the TV. They were showing a picture of the alleyway where the woman had been found, and it sent a chill down Indi’s spine as her own memories tried to break through the fog of her mind.

‘Come in,’ she called without looking.

She heard the door open then
hush
shut. Indi knew that it was Jerry without having to see him. He smelled just like he always did; mandarin, bergamot and orange, but this time the scent was stronger.

‘Hey Jer,’ she said as she fiddled with the straps on her ankle sheath until they were just right. But when he didn’t answer, her eyes locked on his. ‘Oh my God,’ she breathed.

Jerry looked as if he’d been dragged through Hell backwards. His strawberry-blond hair was wild around his face, sticking in matted clumps to his forehead and neck. His facial hair had comfortably moved from being a five o’clock shadow to the beginnings of a beard, and he smelled as if he hadn’t showered in a week.

Indi went to him. ‘Jer? What’s wrong? Tell me,’ she urged. He shook his head at her, not meeting her eyes yet. She could have sworn that she saw a tear roll down his cheek though. ‘Is it your mother? What’s happened?’

‘Can we go back to your place and talk?’ he asked in a gravelly voice, still refusing to meet her eyes.

‘Sure we can,’ she replied, scooting out from under his arm to close the suitcase. ‘I’m ready. Let’s go.’

‘Are you going to put your contacts in before we leave?’ Jerry asked as Indi hastily crammed things back into the suitcase he’d brought her the day before. She looked up, but he dropped his gaze to the floor. When her eyes were on him, he felt stripped bare––like she could see down into his soul. But it had always been like that with her, but today was worse. He was afraid to look her in the eyes because if he did, she would know, and he wouldn’t be able to keep his emotions contained. He had to be the strong one for her.

‘Fuck,’ she whispered under her breath and flipped the suitcase open again.

‘They’re in the top pocket,’ he said.

‘Thanks,’ she replied. There was a smile in her voice. He didn’t have to see it to know it was there. ‘I’ll just put them in quickly.’ The door to the small, private bathroom in the corner of her room opened and shut quietly.

When she was gone, he felt like he was drowning in his sorrow again. He’d been treading the black waters of his depression for too long, barely able to keep his head above the surface. But whenever he was around Indi, the feeling lifted and he felt better; felt like he could breathe again. But now the cloying sensation was creeping back over him again and he felt like breaking down.

‘Jer? Are you alright?’ Indi asked. He looked up into her blue eyes for a second and breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t even realised that he was clutching the side of the bed with one hand and his heart with the other.