Survivor (28 page)

I closed my eyes, thinking how I must have looked,
curled up on the floor in the fetal position, screaming.  “You think you had it
bad?  That
thing
was in
my
head!”

He pulled back, snorting with laughter.  “That?  You
think
that
was the worst thing you did tonight?”

I crossed my arms and frowned at him, wondering just
what the hell he thought was so funny.  He was still laughing.  “You think a
little headache was the worst part of the evening?”

I tapped my foot, agitated.  “Look, you didn’t have
that thing
in your head
!”  I tried to remember everything that had
happened.  It was just too much.  I jumped when Peter appeared in front of me. 
He backed me up until I was pressed against the trunk of a big tree.  He wasn’t
laughing anymore.

“If you ever share a blood bond with another vampire
again, I swear to God…”  He held my wrists, pinning my arms at my sides.  I
remembered the helplessness I had felt when I realized that everyone in the
room thought Haine was my mate. 
Oh.

I squirmed experimentally, trying to gauge just how
angry he was.  His hip dug into mine painfully, stopping my movement.  Pretty
pissed, I guess.  “You know that wasn’t what it looked like,” I said weakly. 
He growled. 

I slumped in defeat.  “Fine, fine.  I admit it.  I
secretly lust after him because he brought me comic books.  I’ve never really
cared for you.”  I sighed dramatically.  “You’re just so
terrible
in bed
that I couldn’t stand it.  I mean, honestly Peter, I just need something more
to satisfy me.”

He let his head fall to my shoulder and released my
arms.  He was vibrating with what I really hoped was laughter… maybe I’d gone
too far?  I brushed my fingers through his soft waves.  “You know that I love
you more than anything in the world. “

He lifted his head and his silvery eyes met mine. 
“I know,” he said tiredly.  “But the vampire in me wants to possess every part
of you- mind, body, and soul.”

I laughed softly.  “Well the vampire needs to shut
up and stop throwing such a fit then- because he already does.”

B
ig, fluffy snowflakes drifted down,
dusting my coat with white and clinging to my eyelashes.  They melted as they
touched the sidewalk, leaving everything wet.  It wouldn’t make the walkway
slippery, as it would if the snow were sticking.  I glanced sideways at Chelsea
to see how she was doing.  She still had a bit of limp, though she wasn’t using
her cane today.  It was surreal to be worrying about her mobility, while I
walked sedately at her side, knowing that even if it were treacherously icy, I
probably wouldn’t lose my balance, and if I were to fall, I wouldn’t be hurt.

“How did your appointment go?”  She had just come
from a check-up with her orthopaedic doctor.  Her leg had pretty much been
shattered in the accident.

She snorted.  “He still can’t believe I’ve healed so
fast.”  She gave me a look, but I avoided her eyes, watching the people passing
by.  We hadn’t ever openly discussed her rapid healing.  I was hoping she
didn’t remember exactly what happened when she was in the hospital, but from
the sounds of it, she knew
something
had.

She shook her head.  “He said it’s healing well. 
I’ll need surgery to take out the hardware, but only if it starts working its
way loose and causing pain.” 

I nodded.  That was good news.  I was sure she was
at the point where she never wanted to see another doctor again.  I knew that
feeling.  I watched my sister as we made our way toward the little downtown
shopping district.  Her hair was loosely woven into two messy braids.  She had
stopped highlighting it, and it was a darker blond now.  My mouth turned up at
one corner as I took in her holey jeans and the paint flecks that dotted her
hands.  There was a warm feeling about her aura, and she seemed genuinely
happy.

“So did you have anything in mind?”  I held the
coffee shop door open for her and she grimaced as she passed me.  We were
supposed to be finding Christmas gifts for Mom and Dad.

“Not a clue,” she said flatly.  It was hard to find
something for them when they had the means to just go out and buy whatever they
needed.

We settled at a small table, and I took a cautious
sip of my mocha.  It wasn’t the same, I thought sadly.  I had really enjoyed
coffee prior to my little lifestyle change.  It wasn’t terrible now, but it
didn’t taste like a mocha.  It tasted like milk, sugary syrup, and each
individual spice.  I set it down and used it as a hand warmer instead.  It felt
scalding against my cool hands, and I enjoyed the sensation.

Chelsea took a deep breath and I arched an eyebrow
at her, wondering if she was going to tell me what was bothering her now.  She
had been worrying about something since I picked her up this afternoon.  I
could smell sadness and a hint of fear.  “You…you still don’t remember your
wreck, do you?”

I kept my expression neutral, wondering where she
was going with this.  Was she having flashbacks?  Maybe post-traumatic stress
was causing her fear?  “No, I don’t.”

She nodded.  “What about before?  You used to say
that you couldn’t even remember that day… did you ever get that memory back?”

I shook my head.  Even after being turned- not that
I was going to tell
her
that- I still had retrograde and anterograde amnesia. 
The last memory I had was about a week before my crash, and the first memory
after was going to rehab, about a week or so after I woke up from my coma.  I
had lost more than a month.

Chelsea took another deep breath and I could feel
her emotions ramping up.  “Mel,” she said, so quietly I would have trouble
hearing her if I was still human.  “I think I caused your accident.”

I stared at her in surprised.  I had been driving
home from class when I was struck by a drunk driver- an older man that I had
never met before.  “How in the world could you have anything to do with my
accident?”

She looked down and nervously drummed her fingers on
the table.  “You don’t remember that day.  I talked to you on the phone right
when you got out of class.  I told you that I wanted to go to art school.  I
was hoping you would take my side and give me some help with Mom and Dad.”  She
shrugged depreciatingly.  “But you laughed at me.  I don’t think you realized
how much it meant to me.  You probably thought I was just being flaky.”

She sighed.  “Well, the thing is…I said some pretty
terrible things to you.  I told you you were too perfect and that someone
needed to take you down a notch.  I said that you had no life and that you were
nothing but a people pleaser.  You hung up on me.”  She covered her face with
her hands.  “And then we got the call from the hospital.  I said all of those
things to you and look what happened…”  Everything she had said about me had
been ripped from me and I was put in my place, just as she had wished. 

I reached out and pulled her hands from her face. 
“Chelsea,” I said with a soft smile.  “It’s not your fault.  You didn’t mean
all that crap, and you had no idea what was going to happen.”

She shook her head.  “I think you were mad.  If you hadn’t
been so upset, maybe you would have seen that other car coming and been able to
avoid him.  I never got the chance to apologize.  And then- then I was angry,
thinking it was all my fault, but never quite able to tell anyone what
happened.  Before I knew it, I had turned into all those things I accused you
of.  Like I had to make it up to Mom and Dad for taking you away.”

I squeezed her hands and blinked back tears.  “It’s
okay,” I said, my voice trembling.  “Everything is fine now.  You don’t have to
make up for anything.”

She nodded and pulled away.  She pulled herself
together and took a big gulp of her drink.  “I’m going to art school,” she
said, lifting her chin defiantly.  “I don’t care what anyone says, I’m going. 
I’ve already applied to the University of California, and they’ve accepted.”

I laughed, truly happy for her.  “Mom and Dad will
have a cow.”  I would miss her while she was so far away, but travel wasn’t
really a problem for me anymore.  I could go see her whenever I wanted.

Peter met us later, after he got out of work.  It
was only a short walk from his office to the shopping district.  We were in one
of those classy old lady stores, trying to find an accessory for Mom when he
met up with us.  He looked completely out of place, and I added to his
discomfort by wrapping a flowery, brightly colored scarf around his neck. 
“Gorgeous, darling, just gorgeous,” I laughed. Chelsea took out her phone and
snapped a picture of him wearing a wide-brimmed boating hat in a classy avocado
green.  He put up with our abuse stoically, winking at the old lady behind the
counter as he tried on a pair of big, ugly sunglasses.

We made our way back to the car in a light mood.  I
don’t think she would have said anything otherwise.  We had just pulled out into
traffic when Chelsea leaned forward between the two front seats to address Peter
and myself.  “When will the dreams stop?  Does whatever you did wear off
eventually?”

I gaped at her and Peter braked just a little too
hard as the light changed.  She laughed at our shocked expressions.  “You have
dreams?”  I kept my voice flat and even.

She shrugged.  “Nothing too bad, but I dream about
blood sometimes.  And I see your face a lot in my dreams.”

I swallowed, not knowing what to say.  I had hoped
she didn’t recall anything from her first night in the hospital.  I barely
remembered anything because Peter had put me under his sway to keep me from
hurting anyone.  But he told me later that he had commanded me to heal
Chelsea.  He had bit my wrist, and fed my blood to her while the nurses were
busy elsewhere.  He said he was careful to give her only a little.  My blood
had still been weak, since I was fresh from the turn, but it was enough to
speed her healing.

Peter took a right at the light and accelerated
smoothly, flicking a glance at Chelsea.  “It will fade with time.”

She turned her blue eyes on me.  “This is how you
got better, right?  Peter did that to you too?”  When I didn’t say anything,
but looked to Peter for help, she continued with an exasperated sigh.  “I know
you guys aren’t normal.  And… look, I really don’t want to know
what
you
are.  I just want to make sure I’ll still be me.”

Peter grinned at her words and I rolled my eyes. 
How very Chelsea of her to only care about how this was going to affect her. 
“You’ll just be you,” I said, shaking my head.  “One monster in the family is
enough.”

She gave Peter a serious look.  “You’re kind of
responsible for her, aren’t you?  I’ve seen how you watch her.  You’re always
making sure she’s okay.”

He nodded slowly and she smiled.  “That’s good
then.  I know you’ll take good care of her.”  I banged my head against my
window with a series of soft thumps.  She still thought I needed someone to
take care of me.

*****

I swiped slick, peachy polish across my nails with
sure movements.  The color was bright, cheerful, confident.  My hands were
steady, steadier than they had been even before my car accident, and the shiny
polish was flawless.

Peter had apologized early on.  He had asked my
forgiveness for making the decision to turn me without regard for the things I
would lose.  I understood his feelings, but really, what had I lost?  The sun
would come back, and I would gain more than I had ever lost.  That’s not to say
I was all saintly patience.  I smirked at the thought, glancing out from
beneath the brim of my gargantuan hat.  I pushed my darker-than-dark sunglasses
up and shook out the sleeves of my long, UV resistant shirt.  A breeze picked
up and it ruffled the edges of the huge beach umbrella that shaded me even
though I had set up my lawn chair in the deepest shadows of a big tree. 

So I’m stubborn.  But I was outside. 

I smiled and gingerly picked up the slobbery ball
that had appeared in my lap.  Careful not to smudge my polish, I tossed it into
the yard, laughing when Taz pounced on it with glee, and trotted back to me,
his long legs as graceful as a show horse’s.  He loved Peter’s house, where he
had a yard to play in and lots of space to roam.  “Well boy, what do we do
now?”

Life had settled down and I was feeling more
adjusted now, but I felt rusty, as if I had been sitting still for too long.  I
needed to move, to do something.

*****

I hefted a pile of two by fours and headed to where
Peter and another dark-haired man were standing by a saw.  The other vampire
was one of Leah’s, and it turned out he had been a carpenter most of his one
hundred and fiftyish years of life.  Cynthia followed behind me, brushing by
with a sneer.  “Out of the way slowpoke.”

I smiled at her grousing and dropped the pile of
wood.  Then I turned to look back at the skeleton of the house behind us.  It
was beginning to take shape and resemble an actual structure.  Leah was
engrossed in conversation with the masonry guy, but she headed my way when she caught
my gaze.  “Look what you’ve done,” she said, her voice lacking a convincing
tone.  “I put an entire coven at your disposal, and you use them for this?”