The Thirst Within (20 page)

I’m so tired, though, I can’t even be sad for
my aunt. I pass out in the van, lying horizontally across the bench since I
have one all to myself. Today there are only two other passengers in the van.

I sleep almost the entire trip to Chicago. I wake
up as we drive by the city, because the van’s speed changes frequently as we
travel the busy interstate. I fish my glasses out of my pocket and look at the
skyline outside the window. It looks freaking scary; the sky is a bleak gray,
covered in ominous-looking clouds, and the city beneath is a distant clutter of
concrete and steel. But I welcome the sight. It signifies a step closer to
Thierry.

Since I’m up, might as well catch up with my email.

Before I got this phone, I used to check my
email so infrequently that people didn’t even bother to send me anything. My
old friends from Iowa never even sent me a chain email. Or a puppy video. Yet
now I have mail, text and phone calls all in one, but the only person that I
email or text is Kerin. Oh, and sometimes Fiona, but that’s mostly to
coordinate transportation, since she drives me to and from school. I mainly
communicate with Thierry by phone calls when I don’t see him.

I have an email from Kerin. Last night she
forwarded me news about a snow storm and wrote, “Hope you miss it! See you
Saturday.”

A snow storm in April! I look up weather
information.

Oh, man. There’s a snow storm coming to the
Midwest, and it’s starting later today. I’m glad I’m leaving tonight. I’m ready
to get rid of this jacket.

The shuttle drops me off at Chicago’s O’Hare
airport and after I’ve passed through security and found my gate, I have ten
hours to spare until my flight at 8:00 PM.
Ten
.

I call Thierry after I’ve settled in at the
gate to tell him about my woes.

He sounds half asleep. “Hey, Tor.”

“Oh Thierry! I’m sorry. I forgot you’re
nocturnal.”

“That’s alright. What’s up? Why are you up so
early? I thought your flight was at night, at eight.”

“It is, but I had to take the little shuttle
early…. I’m already at the airport. I’ll call you later. Everything’s okay; I
just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Ten hours?” He’s half asleep but he can do
math. And he’s appalled. I explain to him the twice-per-day trip to the airport
that BFE Shuttle Services offers. Once in the morning, once in the evening.

“Tori, you should’ve told me. I could’ve sent a
taxi to take you there at a more appropriate time.”

“To BFE? They’d charge an eye off the face.”

“What’s BFE?”

“Galena,” I say innocently.

“What’s BFE?” he repeats in the exact same
tone.

“Bum Fuck Egypt,” I say in low volume.

“What?
Tori
,” he pretends to chastise me,
laughing, and it sounds so cute because his voice is all groggy. “Anyway. Too
late now for a taxi. You’re there. So okay, see if you can catch an earlier
flight. That way I can see you sooner, and you escape the storm.”

“Do you think that’s going to be a problem?”

“It’s O’Hare. It’s
always
going to be a
problem.”

“What do you mean, it’s O’Hare?”

“When it snows, they always have delays. But
you’ll be fine, if you catch an earlier flight.”

“Mmm… okay. I’ll let you go back to sleep. I’ll
check out earlier flights.”

“Please call me when you reschedule, or if you
need anything, Tor.”

“Okay, will do,” I promise. “Hey Thierry?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for talking to me.”

He laughs sleepily. “Thanks for talking to me.”

We hang up and I devote the next half hour to
trying to switch my flight, but apparently the flights were full as it is,
maybe because it’s Spring Break, and everyone had the same idea I had to catch
an early flight and escape the snow storm. Now this is making me nervous.

So I have nothing. I don’t call Thierry to tell
him the bad news. I don’t really believe that the flights are going to get
cancelled. I have to believe that I’ll get out of here. Even if my flight gets
delayed a few hours.

I eat lunch at the food court, then I buy a
book and find an outlet for my phone. I read at the gate waiting the long hours
away.

Sometime in the afternoon the heavy winds of
the storm start to blow in, and I really start to get nervous. I didn’t put
myself on a waiting list for an earlier flight because the airline wouldn’t do
it for free, and I don’t want to spend the money.

And finally they announce it. My flight gets
delayed and then cancelled.

I’m stuck in Chicago, I’ve been stuck here for
five hours already, and I’m not sure what to do. I realize I’m shaking.

When in doubt, call Thierry.

“Why didn’t you call me earlier?” he chides me,
after I finish explaining the situation.

“I was reading a book,” I offer as an
explanation. I didn’t tell him that there
might
have been some flights I
could catch, but I had no money to pay the premium, because he’ll give me a
hard time about not asking him for money.

“It’s going to be impossible to get you back here
now. You’ll be snowed in. And apparently we’re going to get some bad weather
too; and if we get so much as
sleet
, the whole parish will shut down.”

“I don’t know what to do.” I really don’t.

He makes an exasperated sound. “Ugh! Stay put. I’ll
call Corben.”

The Vamp That Shall Not Be Mentioned? No!
“Don’t worry. The van returns in a few hours for the night trip back to Galena.
I’ll call the guy and tell him to pick me up….”

“No, Tori—stay put. Don’t go back to Galena!
You’ll be stuck there even worse. Corben will pick you up, and bring you to me.”

My flight is cancelled and I’m snowed in. I’m
stuck with nowhere to go. But the other vampire…
Corben
… will pick me up.
Or so Thierry says. I’m still waiting to hear back from Thierry. I’m half
hopeful, half afraid, that Corben will say he can’t pick me up. Hopeful because
the guy clearly dislikes me and I don’t want to see him; but afraid because
that’ll confirm that not only does he dislike me, he also isn’t willing to help
me in my time of need. That, and I’ll be stuck here alone.

So I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now. My
heart beats faster when I think of Corben coming to pick me up, but I haven’t
figured out why. I tell my idiot heart to can it; that I’m only interested in
seeing Corben because I want to win his affection—I don’t want Thierry’s
brother to hate me.

But first things first. I call home and try to
explain my situation.

“Your flight was cancelled?” Uncle Roland
sounds surprised. He probably didn’t even know anything about a storm that
could have possibly left his niece stranded in Illinois. In fact, I wonder if
he’d forgotten I was coming back tonight, and that’s why he sounds surprised.
“Um… what are you going to do?”

See, a real parental figure would have said
Don’t
worry—I’ll figure out what to do and fix this somehow
. But he’s asking
me
.
Luckily for him, I’m seeing a guy (behind his back) and this guy happens to
have everything under control. Or at least a solid Plan A.

“I’m going to stay at the airport Hilton,” I
lie easily, because that’s what I’ve heard some of my fellow passengers say.

“Oh, good. Do you need any money?”

I catch myself about to say
no, thanks
,
when I remember that he and his wife may have gypped me out of my inheritance.
So I don’t hesitate and answer, “Yes… please.”

“I’ll send you another transfer.” He kept good
to his word of sending me money to cover my week off. But after my conversation
with Aunt Marie, I see his charities in a whole different light.

Still, I’m grateful. “Thanks, Uncle.”

“No problem. Let me know when you have a flight
rescheduled.”

“Will do.”

I hang up and feel terrible that I want to hate
him but I can’t. Ugh! My phone vibrates and I jump. Oh. It’s Thierry.

“Hey, Thierry.”

“Tori. I talked to Corben. He says he’ll send a
limo driver over to pick you up.”

“A limo?!” I ask, horrified.

“No, no. It’s a black town car, one of those
pick up services. They just call themselves limo drivers.”

“Ah.” That doesn’t sound so bad. But I’m terrified.
I wonder if brainwaves travel through wireless calls and he can read my mind, despite
the many times that he’s said he can’t. And that therefore he’ll know how
afraid I am of being alone with Corben, for various reasons, some of which I
refuse to admit to myself. “So how am I getting to New Orleans?”

“The same way you were supposed to, but probably
tomorrow, or Sunday at the latest. The flights are delayed by about a day,
usually. Or maybe he’ll bring you by private jet over here, I don’t know.”

“Tomorrow’s not bad,” I say.

“You’ll be okay, Tor. He’s just a weird
vampire. But you know, not all of us are.”

“True.”

“I warned him to behave. Just remember he looks
young but he’s an old soul.”

“Like really old? How much older than you?”

“He’s—you know, why don’t you ask
him
that question? I’m sure he’ll answer you honestly.”

“I’m sure he would.” But like hell I’m going to
ask him.

“Kay, Tor. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll call you
again tonight.”

“Thanks, Thierry.”

Fifteen minutes later an unknown number calls
me, interrupting the millionth thought I was having about Corben. My phone
recognizes a Chicago number. My first thought is that it’s the limo service.
But then, I’m expecting them to take an
hour
to come pick me up.

“Hello?” I answer. I don’t introduce myself or
tell them who’s talking.

“Tori,” a voice says, and my stomach drops a
foot.

Corben.

I don’t reply to him because I’m shocked, but
he doesn’t ask me to speak up, for which I’m grateful. Or rather, I
would
be grateful. If I could only have feelings right now.

“I’m right outside,” he says.

What
!

“Oh. Okay. I’ll come out now.” I hang up
without saying anything else. That was probably a little impolite of me, but
I’m so nervous I don’t know what I’m doing.

Aaahhh. How does he even know where I am? The
arrivals area in this airport is long, three terminals long, and each terminal
has about four or five different exits marked A, B, C, etcetera. I was waiting
for the limo guys to call me and tell me something like, “Go to 3D, we’ll be
there in twenty minutes.”

But it’s not them, it’s Corben, and he knows
where I am, and he’s right outside. And I’m not ready yet to confront him. To
see him knowing he’s a vampire. That he made Thierry. That he has a problem
with me dating Thierry. That he’s hated me all along.

I take a deep breath, pick up my bag and leave the
safety of the airport. I’m terrified and I can’t really explain why.

I strain to see him in the lane designated for
picking up people. There are two parallel roads in front of Arrivals, divided
by a stretch of concrete like a median. They both go in the same direction, but
the one closest to me is designated for taxis only, while the far one past the median
is for regular traffic. Corben should be in the far lanes like a regular person.

So I’m looking across the taxi lane towards the
regular cars lane, searching for him, when he suddenly appears next to me by
the airport sliding doors. My eyes freeze on his face and his beauty blindsides
me. Our eyes meet, and everything stops. Oh, wow. His eyes—they’re green. A
deep, gorgeous jade; they lock with mine for a second that stretches on for a
small eternity. He blinks and I jump a little, but thankfully not that much
that he’d notice. Then I remember he’s a vampire, and he probably did notice.
Crap
.

Without a warning he takes my duffel bag.
Somehow his fingers don’t touch mine. He’s wearing jeans and a long sleeve
sweater that fits him oh-so-deliciously over his chest, and I’m instantly
jealous. I’m covered in a winter jacket because it’s freaking cold and windy.
Damn it damn it damn it. Why does he have to be so goddamn imposing? I’m
overwhelmed and assaulted by warring feelings of fear and attraction.

“Hello, Tori,” he says, bowing slightly.

My heart beats fast, reacting to his voice.
It’s strange, because I’m afraid of him, but I’m also curious about him. Curse
my shallowness—I hate to admit it, but I’m
attracted
to him, but only because
I think he’s the most beautiful creature that I’ll ever meet in my life. I
don’t exactly like him, and he clearly doesn’t approve of me, but I can’t help
but be fascinated by him.

“Hello,” I say, barely above a whisper, which
regular people wouldn’t be able to hear since it’s kind of loud outside. But he
hears me alright, acknowledges, and starts walking forward.

I notice that he walks a little ahead and to
the side, maintaining a safe distance of about five feet or so from me. My eyes
trace the edge of his sweater, the way it comes down from his broad shoulders and
draws in at the waist. The fabric doesn’t exactly cling to him, but follows his
shape loosely, and he still looks lovely. I blink to look away, and my eyes
fall on some guy nearby that’s wearing a long black winter coat. This guy is
safe and shapeless, the way we should all be in the winter. Vampires excluded,
apparently.

“Didn’t bother with a coat?” I hear myself
saying.

I don’t know where the words come from. I’m so
scared around him that I can’t possibly act normal, yet I ask the question like
it’s okay to tease him. I assume it’s some ancient survival instinct that makes
me talk to him, pretend to be friendly, so he doesn’t bite my head off.

“I should have, shouldn’t I?” he says, turning
his head a little towards me but not stopping. I think I see a little half
smile, but I may have imagined it. He keeps walking to a black car with hazard
lights on straight ahead of us. I feel a mixture of relief that he replied
casually to my nonsense, and desire to jump in front of an approaching hotel
shuttle van.

I walk looking down at my feet, shielding my
eyes from the wind. I wonder if there’s a driver inside the black car. I hope
not. I don’t want to be alone with him in the backseat. Although, if there’s no
driver in the car I’ll be
really
alone with him, all the way to his
house. Wherever that is. It occurs to me that I don’t know where I’m going. And
Thierry thinks a limo service is picking me up. But Corben could take me
anywhere
.
Oh God oh God. I can’t think properly.

By now we’re almost to the car and he stops and
turns towards me. I almost run into him, but stop abruptly.

“Tori. It’s okay.”

My eyes widen. Holy shit, he can read my mind. He
knows what I’m feeling; he can tell I’m a mess.
Swallow me, ground
. I’m
looking up at him, and I can’t look away. I realize I’m trembling. I can’t look
in his eyes, so I’m staring at his lips, and I really shouldn’t do that. My own
lips part slightly.

“Come on. It’s cold out here,” he says
abruptly, not exactly unkindly, and turns to open the back door of the car for
me. As he moves, I blink, and I’m finally free. And I’m so truly, awfully,
totally embarrassed. I try to mumble thanks but nothing intelligible comes out,
so I just get in the car. He closes the door behind me.

He walks around to the back, pops open the
trunk and stashes my bag inside. Then he gets in and drives away in silence. I
hate that he’s so polite all the goddamn time, even when he’s being mean. Too
late I wish I’d kept my bag in the backseat with me. My purse is inside it, and
I think I have tissues there that I’ll need because I may start crying.

It only occurs to me that it
hurts
, so
bad, when he doesn’t look at me or when he does things that show he doesn’t
like me. I tell myself that it’s because I’m with Thierry—if you could call it
being
with Thierry, whatever it is that we do—and that I want Corben’s approval as
Thierry’s only family. Maker, whatever.

But I’m lying to myself. It hurts that he
doesn’t like me because I
want
him to, I desperately want him to, and I
don’t know why. Or rather, I don’t ever want to admit why. When he put me in
the backseat as if he was my driver, not in the front seat like a friend, or an
equal, or like a regular person, I wanted to get out and sit at the front, but
of course I couldn’t move.

Oh shit. He could be reading my mind right now.
I force myself to think of something else—
puppies, kittens, horses
—but
of course I’m still thinking about his actions and how much they hurt me.

Now I feel a horribly familiar pressure in the
bridge of my nose right before I feel it burning up, and my eyes well up with
tears. Oh my God this is excruciating. I cower in the backseat so that he can’t
see me in the rearview mirror.

“Tori,” he says.

I don’t answer—I can’t—and he doesn’t say
anything else.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” he says after
a little while, probably giving me a heads up to keep it under control, because
he totally knows I don’t have it under control.

I notice something that sobers me up. I have
the feeling that about ten or fifteen minutes have gone by, and he says we have
ten more to go. Yet he showed up at the airport in less than fifteen minutes
after I hung up with Thierry. Even if they had a superfast conversation that
lasted only a few seconds, I still don’t know how he got to the airport so fast.
He must have been speeding. Maybe it’s a vampire thing, and he likes to speed,
but he’s not speeding now because he’s carrying a human.

“Hey,” I start lightly, in an attempt to
pretend I’m normal and I didn’t freak out the entire time I’ve been with him. I
sit up straight and catch his bright green eyes in the rearview mirror. “How
come….” But his eyes distract me and nothing comes out. I look down. Damn it, what
the hell’s wrong with me! Why can’t I speak?

“Yes?” Corben prompts me.

I take a deep breath. Okay. Words. You put them
together and sentences come out. I can do this. “How come… it only took you
fifteen minutes to get to the airport, but it’ll take that much longer to get
to your house?”

“I didn’t come from my house,” he says simply.

Oh. Of course. Why did I have to assume
anything? He’ll think accusing him of speeding or something. Or that I’m nosy. And
what’s up with his reply? I want to die. Right now.

“I was nearby,” he adds out of the blue, a few
seconds later when I don’t say anything. “I don’t mind that you ask me
questions.”

Oh.
Oh
. He’s trying to make me feel
better. Which means he knows how I feel. Which means… my suspicions are true.
Oh no.

“You can read my mind?” I ask him. I’m
mortified exponentially, because when I think about him knowing how mortified I
am, it’s just that much mortifying.

“No,” he says, a little surprised at my
question. “No, I can’t. And… even if I could read it, or somebody else could,
you don’t have to be embarrassed, you know. Mind readers have already heard it
all.”

Oh, wow. That’s the most words he’s ever said
to me,
ever
. I’m surprised, but still curious enough to ask him more.

“But you can get glimpses of my mind or
something?”

“No, not even a glimpse.”

“Then how could you tell I was embarrassed?” I
ask him.

“I….” He falters for a second. I must’ve caught
him off guard. “I can hear your heartbeat, for one.”