The Thirst Within (17 page)

Seriously?

I felt like it was my first week here and Fiona
and her friends were talking over my head at the mall, except that there was no
meeting a cute guy that turned out to be a vampire later to cheer me up. I
tried to steer the conversation to non-nerdy things at one point where they
paused for a second; I asked them if they knew about Kerin being sick. Lynn
shrugged and said she hadn’t heard; that Kerin didn’t tell her anything
anymore. And then she went back to her geek talk, now served with a side of
bitch.

What’s her problem? My vanity suggests that Lynn
is angry at Kerin for picking me over her. But I dismiss it—they seemed to be
having problems since before I showed up. Whatever the case is, I’m not sitting
with Lynn anymore unless Kerin’s around. I won’t even count her as my friend.

So that is how I find myself scanning the
lunchroom for a table on day two of Kerin’s sickness—I’m looking for an empty
one preferably—to avoid sitting at Lynn’s table two days in a row.
Get
better already, Kerin
, I send her well-wishes that sound like more like
commands. Damn you, flu virus.

There are no empty Lynn-free tables. I see John
and consider sitting with him, but he’s with his friends Matt and Carlos. I
don’t want to sit with three guys. I’d probably bother them or they’d bother me.

Then I see her—Fiona is walking to her usual
table with Megan at her heels, to set their books down. I carry my tray to her.
She looks surprised when she sees me approaching.

“Hey guys.
Girls
,” I correct myself.
“Mind if I join you today?” I ask cheerfully, but I sit down before they answer
me.

Fiona says, “Sure, Tori. Where’s your pal Kerin
today?”

“Kerin’s sick. Lynn is being weird.”

Fiona and Megan exchange a look, possibly surprised
at my little piece of bitchiness, and then they smile, almost impressed.

“Okay, we’re gonna get some food,” Fiona says.

I decide to wait for them before I eat, to pretend
I’m polite, but it’s not a big sacrifice on my part—I just pull out my phone
and text Kerin to waste time. Kerin texts me back right away. She’s interested
to know that I’m in Fiona’s crowd, and reminds me that Lauren’s seeing a new
guy and I should ask about him.

Oooh will do, thanks
, I text her.

NP
, she replies.

When the girls return they chastise me for
waiting for them, but in a “you’re so cute” way that lets me know they
appreciate it, especially when I dismiss their weak protests with an eye roll.
I somehow convince them that there’s no point in sitting here if I’m not going
to enjoy my time fully by eating with them.

Lauren joins the group a few minutes later and
her only comment to the change is a casual, “Hey, Tori,” like nothing’s different
and I’m not sitting there when I never do this, ever. I think she likes me more
than Megan does. But compared to Lynn they all
love
me, including Darcy
and Kristen a little ways down the table. But we’ve all grabbed each other’s
boobs, and that type of sharing apparently bonds girls. I ask Lauren about her
new guy and she’s happy to gush, with the help of her friends. It really makes
me feel like an insider.

“So Kerin’s out again today, huh?” Lauren asks
after her story’s done. She knows about Kerin because she’s in a few of my
classes with Kerin. And unlike Fiona, she pays attention to other people. “How
come you’re not sitting with Lynn?”

“Oh yes, do tell,” Fiona says interested. She
turns to Lauren and explains, “She said Lynn was acting weird.”

They all want me to dish, so I explain. “She
just sounds like she’s angry with Kerin, like upset that Kerin isn’t best
friends with her. Or she just wants to have Jake all to herself and I was in
the way. But whatever the case, she was super bitchy yesterday.”

“Well, it’s probably both,” Fiona says. “She
likes Jake, but did you know that Jake liked Kerin?”

“Ohh,” I laugh. “Does Lynn know?”

“Oh yeah,” Megan chimes in. “We were all in
History together last year. And you know Tim? He’s friends with Jake. Tim and I
went out for, like, a minute last semester, and he used to tell me how he
thought it was obvious that Lynn liked Jake, but Jake only hung out with her
because of Kerin. What Jake, or Tim for the matter, didn’t know is that Kerin doesn’t
like boys that much to begin with.”

Fiona and Lauren laugh earnestly and even clap
their hands. I’m not amused, and I don’t believe her. “What do you mean? Like,
she’s gay? No; she was making out with a dude in Mardi Gras,” I remind them.

Megan cuts in. “No, she’s like bi or something.
She likes girls. I think she liked Fiona last year.”

Fiona looks unabashed. “Nothing wrong with
that,” she says matter-of-factly.

I cock my head to the side as I consider it.
“Kerin, bisexual…. No. Not that it matters if she is; but she hasn’t said
anything to me.”

“That’s prolly because she told Lynn last year,
and Lynn didn’t take it so well. Lynn told a few people, but nobody believed
her at first,” Lauren explains. “So I can see why she wouldn’t tell you. Then
all this semester they’ve been fighting. And now this—she’s probably angry over
Jake, because we all think he still likes Kerin. Lynn is such a bitch.”

“Damn right,” I say, annoyed. If this is all
true—and I’m not assuming it is just because they told me, I’m going to
investigate—then Lynn
is
a bitch, and I need to be extra nice to Kerin
when she comes back.

“Are you kidding me? No…. That’s the worst
.
”

Thierry does not react well to my most recent request.
Considering the request… I don’t blame him.

For the last half hour he had been acting
suspicious, which let me know there was something he wanted to do. I thought he
might be meeting up with his maker again, and I wanted to confront the other
vampire, so I decided to ask him what he was up to. He gave me some generic
answer at first but I kept pressing the issue.
Why do I feel like you’re
kicking me out?
Is there anything you want to tell me?
Finally he
gave in and told me that he just needed to feed.

Feed!

All this time going out with him, knowing what
he is, I never saw him feed, or hear him say that he did. Not since that very
first night when I caught him atop his roof—and I don’t recall the details
perfectly because, oh, yeah, I had larger revelations to process. Ever since
then, it’s never really occurred to me that Thierry goes out at night and
chooses a victim, drinks their blood and sends them on their way after a little
mind wipe. I guess I never asked.
Hey, so who did you have for dinner
tonight?
No, it’s like I’ve been in denial about the whole thing.

We
have
talked about feeding, like how
does he choose his victims and what does he do afterwards with them, but the
concept is still just theory in my head. Today he finally said that he’s going
to do it, and only because I kept asking about him going out. I did notice he
was a little paler than usual, but I didn’t think he might be hungry; I thought
he was just nervous about meeting his maker. When he finally fessed up, I asked
if I could come with. The effect was that now before me stands a rather cross Thierry.

“Please?” I appeal to his ingrained desire to
please me. I want to go out with him to see him, to believe, even though of
course I already believe. But there’s something about
experiencing
the
supernatural—it whisks my insides like nothing else can. When Thierry moves
faster than my eyes can follow; when he jumps to and from his balcony; when he
holds me up like I weigh nothing, showing me but a tinge of his magical
prowess; it mesmerizes me in ways I can’t begin to describe or even comprehend.
Like something inside me is validated that I didn’t realize desperately needed
validation.

So naturally, I jump at the chance to watch him
tap someone’s vein and drink human blood.

“No, Tori, please,” he says, but his resolve
falters a little after I ask please. “Why on earth would you ask me that? It’s
dangerous.”

“I just want to see you in action. As a
vampire.”

“First of all, you’ve seen me
in action
before. Still counts”—he lifts his hand to shush me as I open my mouth to
protest—“and second, I don’t… want you to see me like that.”

“What? Why?”

We’re sitting on his couch, where we were
watching TV. He turns into the couch and fully faces me. “Tori, if you needed
to kiss people for a living—say, if you were an actress and had to film steamy
scenes with your fellow actors… would you want me standing there, watching you,
while you make out with someone else pretending you enjoy it?”

“Um… no,” I admit. That would be totally weird.
I try to think about feeding from his perspective. He did say that feeding was
a sensual experience. “Is it… the same if it’s a guy you’re feeding from?”

He surprises me by laughing. “It feels the same
to me, boy or girl. It feels good, even when I’m as detached as I can be.”

“And him? He probably likes it,” I murmur. The
straightest man would at least have to admit that Thierry is incredibly
good-looking.

“Oh, he does,” he says, a little smug. “I read
his thoughts. You can’t
not
like it. It’s….” He stops and looks away
sharply. He’s probably thinking about the
incident
that we don’t talk
about. How we discussed this very same topic, and what we had done before that….
I look away, too.

“Sorry,” he says.

“No, don’t worry,” I say, but I can’t keep the
hurt completely out of my voice. “But you know, even if you liked it, I
wouldn’t judge you if I saw you. I’m just curious….”

I feel his cool fingers pressing gently on my
face, turning me to him. His gray eyes are full of emotion as he looks into
mine, then at my lips. He leans in slowly, and I hold my breath in suspense.
“I’m afraid, Tori. When you first saw me that night on the roof… you looked…
you looked like you didn’t like what you saw. I believe you when you say you’re
okay with me being what I am, but you didn’t see your face that night. I did,”
he whispers. He is so close to me. His eyes scan my face, as if remembering
exactly how I looked. A pained expression mars his beautiful features.

“But Thierry,” I protest quietly, “That day—I
was trying to come to terms with the fact that you were drinking a man’s blood
because you’re a vampire. Changing my views of the
world
. I don’t know
how I looked, but I can tell you how I
felt
—I was scared that my world
was suddenly not at all what I thought it was. That you were a mythical
creature, and that you would leave me because I found out your secret.” I reach
up gently and touch his face. “The truth is, I was in awe. I still am.”

His expression softens and he closes his eyes.
He kisses me briefly on the lips. “Tori,” he says, and it’s all he says.

I’m not sure what’s going on in his head, but
he sounds like he believes me. I take advantage of his openness. “You make my
world special, Thierry. You remind me that there is still magic in the world
that I don’t know about. I’m not scared of watching you drink blood… I’m scared
of one day waking up and finding out that none of this ever happened.”

He opens his eyes and smiles, showing me his
perfect teeth. “Okay, Tori. But you have to do exactly as I tell you to.”

***

I sit in the car under a broken street lamp,
where Thierry has stashed me, presumably because no one will see me. My seat is
slightly inclined so that the frame of my door hides me a little. Thierry is on
the other side of the very empty, warehouse-lined street, walking on the
pavement like he’s a lost drunken yuppie. He looks down at his phone like he’s searching
for something, then he lifts his head and looks around, as if lost.

He is a crook thief’s fantasy.

He chose this place because he already picked
the guy—the victim—and the guy is coming here to steal a car. Thierry drove to
this general area, a bad spot east of the city, then he pulled over and closed
his eyes to
hear
, both with his ears and with his mind. He didn’t wait
long until he found his victim, read his mind and found out where to wait him
out. I’m allowed to watch, but not get out of the car or even cross to the
driver’s seat next to me, no matter how badly I want to get closer to see
better.

I see movement behind Thierry and my heart
starts beating faster. I know that Thierry is safe but I can’t help but wonder
what the guy wants to do to him. It’s not every day that I witness ruthless
people in action. This guy here who thinks he’s sneaking up on Thierry has no
morals—he would probably rob me without thinking twice about it. It makes me
feel vulnerable, seeing this side of the world while sitting alone in the car,
even though I know I’m perfectly safe.

The guy pulls out a gun and points at Thierry,
while Thierry pretends he hasn’t noticed. I’m expecting the crook to yell out
“Hands up!” or something, when without a warning he fires at Thierry’s head,
the shot booming in the night like a cannon.

I jump back, inhaling sharply.
Thierry
!
He disappears and I’m about to get out of the car to get him, when I see him
sink his teeth in the guy’s neck from behind. He moved too fast for my eyes,
and for the eyes of the guy too, apparently. The guy jolts backwards into
Thierry and drops the gun. Holy shit.

The guy appears to fall limp in Thierry’s
embrace. He is facing me, and I see his face change from a look of surprised
terror to sleepy contentment. Now I see that he’s trying to twist in his
captivity, but it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere; Thierry must have him
in a strong grip. He struggles for another few seconds, and to my surprise,
Thierry releases him.

But instead of trying to escape or attack
Thierry like I assumed he would, the guy turns around and brings his arms
around Thierry’s back. Thierry’s lips are creepily bloodstained, but he manages
to look normal as he smiles. Then he readjusts and bends down once more on the
guy’s neck. It’s morbid to watch.

After a few minutes, Thierry lifts his head a
few inches and licks the guy’s neck, putting his tongue in the wound. I think
about the times I’ve kissed Thierry, when his tongue has been in my mouth, and
I’m a little disgusted. Gross. He brings his mouth over the guy’s wound again,
and when he finally lifts his head the gash is just a red line I can barely
make out, and Thierry’s lips are clean.

Thierry whips his face towards me. I can see his
face is a mask of concern from where he stands about twenty feet away, and I
only have that one-second warning when suddenly there’s a shrill sound of
breaking glass to my right and I’m showered with small glass pieces from my
window. I scream and see a steel bar, possibly a crowbar, just receding through
the hole created in the tempered glass, and then a sleeved arm groping inside
looking for the door handle. I just sit there in shock, leaning as far back
into my chair as I possibly can. A second goes by, and just as the intruder’s
fingers find the handle, the hand retreats and he flies backwards. I hear the
hollow clank of the metal crowbar hitting the concrete sidewalk.

I follow the sound with my eyes, but I can’t
see much through the shattered remains of the window. I lean forward, breathing
raggedly, and look through the hole in the glass. Thierry is a few feet away
with his arms around a larger guy, presumably the guy that attacked my window. He
rips apart the guy’s throat, not a bit gentle or humorous this time. I see the
large figure thrash helplessly for a short moment before Thierry snaps his head
swiftly with a sickening thud that I hear where I sit ten feet away.

The man stops moving and falls limp, Thierry
holding him up by the neck. Thierry’s mouth is latched on to the dead guy’s
neck, and I can imagine from his eager movements that he’s sucking the guy’s
blood hurriedly. He finally lets go and I see more flesh and sinew than I
thought there would be, blood still pouring out of the wound and down the guy’s
throat. Thierry drops the body carelessly on the ground, and I notice that one
of the guy’s arms doesn’t quite line up with his shoulder, as though the arm is
off its socket, somewhere inside his jacket. It’s revolting to watch, more so
than seeing the open wounds and the blood, and I heave a little before I catch
myself. Thierry is walking my way and I need to look cool.

He presses his lips together. As he advances
towards me I see his lips look rosy, but I don’t see any blood on him.

“Are you okay, Tori?” the vampire asks me.

I nod, and look down at the sidewalk of this
empty street where now lies a man dead. “I’m sorry about your car,” is all I
can say at the moment.

“The car! Who cares about the car? Tori, I’m so
sorry—I only saw him at the last second.”

“What was he going to do?”

“Steal it. He wasn’t even in league with the
other one.” He looks up briefly towards where Victim One lies on the pavement,
not moving. The plan was to not kill the guy, so he may be alive, but I can’t
tell. “He saw you at the last minute, but figured he could just get rid of you
easily. In his mind I saw him pull you out of the car and attack you with the
crowbar; for a split second I thought he really did, and I went mad. Then I saw
you were okay, but he’d already pissed me off, so I….” He shrugs unhappily. “I’m
sorry I killed him. See, this happens every now and then. It’s hard to control
my emotions when I’m feeding. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s okay,” I say, probably lying. I don’t really
know how I feel right now.

“I hope you know that I’ll never bring you out
to see me feed again. Ever.”

And I think I’m okay with that. “I know. I’m
sorry I screwed things up.”

“No. What? You didn’t screw up anything. That
guy just happened to pick the wrong car.”

“I shouldn’t have come…” I say, ignoring him.
“I should’ve listened to you.”

He looks at me for a moment, seemingly at a
loss for words, and then looks back at Victim Two. “Tori, listen. Everything’s
okay. I need to take you home and take care of this guy. But first I’m going to
have to put him in the trunk. Is that alright?”

“What about the other guy?” I look over at
Victim One.

“Oh, he’s alive. He’ll wake up with a headache
and without his gun.”

“Okay,” I say, because I have nothing else to
say.

Thierry pops open the trunk and brings out a
heavy blanket that he uses to cover the body. When I feel the car dip down
slightly with the weight of the large guy, I feel a little sick. I contain it
before Thierry comes around. He drives to my home talking about other things,
carefully avoiding any subject vampire-related. When we get to my neighbor’s
house, I smile and leave the car like there’s no dead body in the trunk of the
car.

I don’t kiss him.

It’s only after I’m home and replaying the
entire scene in my head that something stirs within me. The crowbar-wielding
guy who only wanted to steal a car is dead. The gun-wielding guy who actually
shot Thierry point blank, surely aiming to kill, is
alive
.

But the dead guy had no trouble imagining how
he’d take me out with the crowbar, according to Thierry, which is why he’s now
dead. Oh God. Thierry killed a man in front of me, again, but this man wouldn’t
have died had I not begged to tag along. I feel responsible for this death. An
unwelcome sensation invades my chest—something like guilt, or the groundwork
for guilt. I push it away.