Requiem for Blood (22 page)

“That would be your back trying to repair itself.”

Olivia recognized the sultry voice as the woman from who announced that she had all the answers but she didn't know much else about her. She leaned in closely to her, the scent emanating from her body, just inches from Olivia's lips. Olivia parted them in anticipation but was caught by the sting of one last bone folding back in place, no longer jutting out grotesquely. She bit down on her lip, fangs splitting the flesh open as she tried to stifle the scream that threatened to come out. Her head jerked back and a small whimper fell from her lips. Her face contorted as she shouldered the pain as silently as possible. Erika's head was turned away while Olivia suffered through the pain. When she turned back to her, a fleeting expression of concern crossed her face and then a small smile flashed upon it.

“Oh, you're finally done?” she asked. “It's something about bones breaking and repairing themselves that kinda creep me out.” She shuddered.

Olivia ignored her and sat up. The first thing her eyes caught were Troy's which were fixated on her, studying her every motion and leaving her with nowhere to hide under his bitter glare. She wasn't particularly thirsty but couldn't deny that the scent in the room had been especially intoxicating. Erika's was definitely the stronger presence but was masked by something that pushed Olivia away and toward Troy. He sat up straighter in the couch, breaking his stare with Olivia and yelled, “What the hell am I going to do with a vampire in my house?”

“Is it the fact that she's a vampire or a vampire who killed your girlfriend?”

His voice lowered but was still forceful. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

“I think I've taken all the supernatural crap I can stand,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Didn't you ask me to help you find your mother?” asked Erika. She had finally locked eyes with Troy, ignoring Olivia. “And don't forget what else I promised you.”

Troy was quiet as the words
fifty percent
whirled through his head. In the end it didn't mean anything because it wasn't a one hundred percent guarantee he'd get Alexa back. “Yeah, but...”

“But nothing,” she said. “The deal was that I would help you if you went along with my plan. And this vampire is at the center of my plan.”

“That was pre-slaughter my girlfriend! I can't look at her without wanting to kill her.”

Erika let out a groan as she placed her fingertips on her temples, exasperated. “You humans are so stupid! Why don't you look at the bigger picture?”

Olivia threw her legs over the casket and jumped out, stealing their attention for a moment. Troy rose to his feet but sat back down at the pain coursing through his body. Olivia finally noticed the dress shirt he wore was ripped at the sleeves, several long gashes and dried blood lined his arm as they met with the ink further up. His black pants were soiled with dirt and twigs and he had an aching expression on his face. In the few times she had seen him, he had never looked as bad as he did at this moment and she just couldn't understand why his body hadn't regenerated considering he was supernatural himself.

“Where are you going?” asked Erika.

“Home.”

“Afraid not—” she began, but was cut off by Olivia.

“I don't know you, and you do not own me.”

Then why did you come
, a voice spoke softly in her head.
Why are you here?

A confused expression crossed her face as she listened to the words, her eyes darting from Troy to Erika, who was smiling at her.
He can't hear us
, the voice continued. Olivia wasn't quite sure why she had come, she sensed he was in trouble but she didn't know why she didn't ignore it. Her eyes were focused on Erika as she thought about it and then they widened.

“It was you,” said Olivia quietly. “What are you?”

A kitsune with extraordinary powers
, said Erika, in her head.

Olivia was lost in the mental conversation she was having with Erika and didn't notice Troy had stood up. A hand rested on her shoulder and then her chest was thrust upward, a thick pointed stick protruding out the front. If Troy had expected her to fall to floor in an infinite death, he was sorely disappointed when she ripped the stick out and turned on him, angry. There was a small flash from Erika's finger tips as she pointed it to the stake and it ignited in Olivia's hands before it could be impaled into Troy. She dropped the stake and as if she were a blur of colors, she was out the door. A sigh of relief escaped him before he turned to Erika.

“You think I would make a vampire who could succumb to death by a stupid stake?” she asked, rolling her eyes and stepping on the burning stick. She then muttered, “Who even came up with that stupid idea?”

“It was worth a try,” said Troy. “Shouldn't you be going after your vampire?”

“No. You should.”

Troy's hands had folded into fists and his shoulders tightened in anger but his voice was remarkably calm, “I've given you what you want. No give me what I want and get out.”

Erika's smirk was back. “It doesn't work like that Troy. I want Olivia safe so you—”

There was a muffled cry coming from outside but they were both slow to turn their heads.

“Your vampire, I presume,” said Erika.

“Why are shoving this vampire on me, like it's my responsibility? I can't stand the sight of—”

A light glowed between them, a dome of shimmery blue growing wider and wider before them like a crystal ball emerging from the carpet. In it, lay Alexa, her body pieced together perfectly as if it had never been torn into. Her hair was pulled back into a braid that hung over her shoulders and flowed down her chest, dark brown against the white dress she was wearing. Her cheeks were rosy, they way they had always looked when she blushed and her lips were painted red, a stark contrast to her alabaster skin. She had only ever looked that pale the first time he met her. She looked perfect as she slept, or so he thought. Her chest was quiet and still and he finally noticed that she was dead. And then the light had faded, taking Alexa with it.

“What was that?”

“Something special,” she replied. “As I promised.”

“But she's dead.”

“Better dead than gone,” said Erika.

“Is there really a difference?”

Before Erika could answer, they heard another cry from outside and walked to the door. The sun had barely been in the sky for more than a few minutes, and yet the morning light had felt harsh in the cool, misty air. Olivia was resting against the bark of a tree, hiding from the sun's ray, her red skin paling back to white.

“Get her and I will give you Alexa.”

Troy sucked in air and nodded once. “Your promise is worth something, right?”

“Always.”

He jumped off the steps, the pain jolting up his legs from the impact and reminding him of how battered his body remained. He powered through the pain, wincing with each step he took until he was in front of Olivia. Olivia's eyes, which were shut tightly, opened when she recognized his scent coming in close. He extended his arm to her but she didn't take his hand.

“You can't help me,” she said. “You're hurt,” she practically spat the word out, her tone accusatory.

“It shouldn't be surprising to hear this, but I hate you. And, I couldn't think of a better way for you to get what you deserve....but...ugh, just take my hand,” he forced it forward, too annoyed to continue.

She grabbed onto his hand and thought to herself.
It wouldn't be surprising to hear that I hate myself too.
He shouldered the excruciating pain as he swung her into his arms, her head tucked against his chest. He bit down on his lip to quiet the grunts in his throat and began running to the door. He tripped up the steps and Olivia tumbled out of his arms and into the house, just before Erika. His shin collided with one of the steps and he shook his head fiercely half at the pain and half at how stupid it was to fall just before getting inside. Erika stepped over Olivia and held out her hand to Troy. He took it and was yanked into the house, the door kicked close behind him. He hobbled on one foot to the couch, sinking into it and gripping his ribs tightly, his eyes shut.

Erika and Olivia followed him and stood before him.

“You look awful,” said Erika. Then quickly adding, “No offense.”

He barely peeled his eyelids back and nodded thoughtfully, “Thanks. I feel like shit.”

“Why haven't your wounds healed?” asked Olivia. The words came out coldly and she was once again reminded of how much she sounded like her mother at times.

His shoulders heaved upward, barely visible.

“Are you dying?” she asked without even a hint of warmth.

“Yeah.”

The eyelids had fallen back over his eyes and she turned to Erika, who had answered her question. She continued, “He's dying alright.”

“Shouldn't we....”

“Try to save him?” asked Erika. “Do you really want to?”

Olivia looked from Erika to Troy, her eyes narrowed as she contemplated. Did she really want to help him? To save his life? His existence only served as a reminder of all the guilt she felt, of the life she so selfishly took. Her own sister's. It was something in his humanity and compassion that suddenly didn't make her as impervious to human emotions as she had been, even when she was human. She recognized that it was easier to be the monster that she was if she didn't have a human conscience bogging her down. Of course, she knew she didn't have to stay here, even if she were welcomed, but there was something about here that was different.

“It'd be great if you could make up your mind a little faster.”

“It does not matter, you're not going to let me kill him.”

She shrugged her shoulders and let out a laugh, “I was thinking about it.”

“So what will you do to save him?”

Erika knelt in front of Troy, his breathing slow and stifled, and his eyes struggling to open. “I won't do anything, you will. Your..”

“Blood?” asked Olivia, wrapping her hand around her wrist and thumbing the veins. “But what about your own?”

“My blood is good for the dead, not for the dying,” she said. “Troy's regenerative powers kinda come and go as they please, and right now they are loooong gone,” she sailed her hand into obscurity in an attempt to demonstrate how gone his powers were.

Olivia walked to him and peeled his eyelids back like a curious child. With the little energy he had left, he swatted her hand away and groaned. “Get away, vampire.”

She bit down on her wrist and put it up to his mouth. “Drink.”

“I don't...want...your blood,” he spat through weak breaths.

“Drink or you'll die.”

“I guess I'd rather be dead.” He opened his eyes as wide as he could and settled on Olivia with a look that very closely resembled hatred, but not completely as if he were incapable of truly hating someone, regardless of what he said.

“You annoying, whiny, pathetic martyr,” Erika groaned. “Just drink.”

“The funny thing is, you can't make me,” he countered, not taking his eyes off of Olivia and hardly amused.

“You sound like a bratty teenager.”

“I'm eighteen. I guess I'm still legally entitled to be as bratty...” he winced, his lips tightening as a jolt of pain ran up his leg.

“Yes, clearly you're entitled to be an idiot.”

Olivia had slipped away while they went back and forth. The kitchen was spotless, white walls meeting the white tile above the counters. Everything was white, even the appliances and the countertops and the lack of contrast almost burned her eyes as she walked through it. She couldn't help but be taken back to the moment she splattered blood all over the walls, her sister lying quietly against them, and the anger in Troy's eyes when he tossed her away. She shook her head in an effort to throw the thoughts away but they were hard to escape. When she pulled the refrigerator door open, a bottle of dark red liquid was the only thing in the there. Pulling off the top and smelling it, she frowned at the scent but took it with her anyway. When she returned to the living room, she caught the tail end of their conversation.

“I'm having a hard time....believing you want me to live...when you did this to me.”

“Oxymoron, right?”

Olivia was at Troy's side, shoving the plastic bottle in his face. “Here.”

He pushed it away, “I told you, I don't want--”

“It's cranberry juice,” she said. “I think.”

He took the bottle from her, and forcing himself upright, he took a few sips of the liquid, wincing at the tang.

“I don't know if cranberry juice expires,” she admitted.

Troy tilted his head back, and let the cold liquid flow down his esophagus, not stopping until he had downed the whole drink. Immediately after, a tightness formed in his stomach and he wanted to spit it back up but managed to keep it down. He licked the excess liquid from his lips and turned on his stomach, tossing the bottle to the ground. He let out a moan and then there was silence.

“I knew it,” said Erika. “You did want to kill him.”