Crimson: Secrets and Lies of a Living Vampire (Shades of Red Book 1)

by T L Christianson

  The old witch returned hours later with what looked like a milk pail. She removed the lid, and instantly, I woke to a smell that had my mouth watering.

  I scrambled to sit, and Isa pushed pillows behind me.

  In the dimness of the gas-lit room, I could scarcely tell what broth she had brought me, but I didn't care. I held my hands out for the bucket, but she swatted me away as she poured it into a tin cup.

  The liquid was warm and thick and lovely.

  I drank cup after cup, practically pouring it down my throat.

  When I finished the entire pail, I sighed in relief and allowed Isa to clean my face and hands like a little girl.

  I smiled with joy. I was cured!

  I felt brand new and was astonished at the transformation within my own skin. Laughing, I then realized that Isa looked pale and shaken. The old woman's mouth formed a thin line.

  "What?" Looking around at them, I pulled myself from the bed.

  Both women startled and backed away.

  "I feel better! I'm cured!" I pulled Isa into a firm embrace before dancing in circles in my nightgown.

  My smile faded, and my feelings of joy deflated as I sat back down on the bed. "What? What is it?"

  Isa's eyes were round. "It was blood, Mrs. Em. She gave you blood." I looked at the water basin that Isa had used to clean me up. The water was pink.

  We both turned to the witch, who shook her head and frowned at me. "You are Moroi. What done is done. You drink blood now."

  I sat there in shock, while Isa walked the old woman out and paid her.

  We never saw her again after that.

  She left the village.

  Isa kept my secret and procured blood for me until 1934.

  That afternoon, Alexander had intercepted my particular teapot and poured himself a cup of blood. Because of rationing, our tea was weak, and I guess he figured he'd drink mine as well.

  I was dressing for dinner with some friends when I heard the crash from the other room.

  "What the devil?" Alexander cried out and dropped the cup. It broke, spilling the contents onto my sitting room carpet.

  "What's wrong, darling?" I rushed into the room and took in the broken china and ruined oriental rug.

  "Some kind of foul prank has been played. Your tea kettle is full of pigs’ blood or some other nonsense." He rang the bell for the maid to clean up the mess.

  "Now, please do sit, I need to speak with you about something gravely important," I told him.

  But he wouldn't sit. Alexander was confident that someone had played a prank. He ranted for another moment before I finally got him to relax. He did so, but uneasily.

  "Emilie, I need to find the culprit."

  I rested my hand on his suit sleeve. "Dear, I drink the pigs' blood."

  "What?" He raised his arms, knocking my hand away.

  "Now, calm down."

  "Nobody in the history of the earth has ever calmed down when someone tells them that."

  "Yes, so it seems, but I need you to please listen to me."

  His gaze penetrated my own, his knee bouncing with impatience. Henrietta had come and began to scrub at the carpet.

  "Do you remember when we were first married, how I was gravely ill?"

  "Oh, yes, yes, but you're good English stock and came through like a champ."

  "Alexander, I did not. I got better because I began drinking animal blood. It must be some deficiency or other."

  "Hogwash!" His knee had stopped bouncing, and his expression changed.

  "No, it's true."

  "You're being dramatic. Just kick the disgusting habit, and you might be able to give me children."

  I argued with him at length, but it was no use. He merely got angrier and angrier. He blamed me for being stark raving crazy.

  He blamed me for being barren, evil, and weak.

  He told me he was glad that I’d never given him children, because it would've tainted the bloodline.

  My heart ached to remember him as he venomously accused me in hushed tones. He was, after all, a gentleman.

  The following day, Alexander had me committed to an institution.

  After I escaped, I found my way home and Isa helped me pack. I took my jewelry and my grandmother's silver. With the money from my valuables, we went to America. I should have been forty-one, but I looked exactly the same as the day I was turned.

  Isa and I lived in California as mother and daughter, then grandmother and granddaughter until Isabel Bisset died in 2006.

  I never dared to find out what became of Alexander after I left.

  I think I finally understood what transpired between Alexander and me.

  Owen was right. It was no one's fault that we couldn't have a baby.

  I was beginning to feel a sense of relief and compassion for myself.

  It was time I absolve myself of all the guilt I'd carried from my marriage. I’d always felt that I acted in the wrong. I'd always blamed myself for hurting Alexander, for lying, for my barren womb, for leaving, for taking what was mine.

  But, I was hurt, too, and I was innocent.

  I didn't deserve the contempt Alex had for me, and I didn't earn the disdain I'd felt for myself all these years.

  My heart was beginning to heal, but this was a deep wound.

  While walking through the forest, looking up into the overcast sky and feeling random snowflakes land on my skin, I ran into Owen. He'd been trying to corner me for several days since our kiss, and I had been successful in avoiding him until that moment.

  I was going to nod and go on my way, but he blocked the path and held his hands out pleadingly.

  "Wait, please hear me out," he implored, his face pale.

  I looked at him from beneath my lashes. "Hey, what’s up?" I asked, feeling faint.

  “I’ve been looking for you. We should talk about the other day.” Pursing his lips, he let out a breath. "I thought we had a connection. I thought you felt the same way." At that moment, the snow began to fall heavier, and flakes landed on the bridge of his nose and cheeks, where they melted. "Are you upset about what happened? Just talk to me."

  "It's been a long time for me, and… I'm the one who's sorry." I was wearing my ski hat, and I tugged at the strings hanging down each side. "I just…" I wanted to say more, but I couldn't. I needed to figure out if he was human or not. If he was human, I needed to let him go… even if I didn’t want to.

  Owen held his hand out to me. "Friends then? For now?" His question caught me off guard.

  I clasped his glove with my bare hand, his face set in an inscrutable expression. Our fingers touched just a little too long.

  “Okay, is that what you want?” I asked. I didn't want to be just friends with him.

  He looked at me, his face set in stone. “No, but honestly, I don’t have time to play games.”

  “I’m not trying—”

  “It’s fine. I’m not mad, I’m just busy. It’s probably for the best.” He motioned between us. “I mean, you live in my house. It was unprofessional of me, and for that, I’m sorry.”

  “So, you’re sorry, not sorry?” I laughed, trying to make light of the heavy moment. Maybe I was watching too many teenage shows on television.

  His lips twisted wryly. “Something like that.”

  Being friends was for the best. Even though my chest ached with longing every time I thought of him, saw him, smelled his cologne, or heard his voice.

  It was wrong to feel this way for my employer, if he was a human, but I honestly couldn't stop thinking about him.

  Nonetheless, I would keep my promise to protect us both and stay away from him, for now.

  Still, I craved to be near him. When he walked away, I wanted to chase after him and tell him that our connection did go both ways.

  If he was a vampire, then we could be together, but if he was a human, I would need to leave.

  Chapter Nine

  Sitting in the classroom watching the kids as they worked on a project, I
thought about Owen. It had been two weeks since he'd been in this room and wrapped his arms around me. In my desperation to avoid him, my investigation into Chronos and his lab had virtually come to a halt.

  I was just not very motivated, and I kept wondering if I'd made a mistake by pushing him away. I'd lived longer than I had any right to, and I’d never felt chemistry like that with anyone else.

  Did it really matter what he was, human or vampire?

  I'd gone too long without blood.

  Leaning back in my chair, I put my feet up on my desk. I needed higher quality blood, on a regular basis, that was all. This whole moping around thing wasn't like me. When was the last time I fed? Hmm…. Three, oh no, four days ago.

  I'd go into town when we finished school.

  I could barely function normally, not having fed in so long.

  I was keeping my distance in the classroom and sucking down water and Coke Zero like there was no tomorrow, when Becca got a papercut on her finger.

  My head jerked up as if by force at the smell of blood.

  “Ahhheeeeee!” A loud, high-pitched cry came from Becca, along with fat tears streaming down her pink cheeks.

  I braced myself behind my desk and took in gulping breaths of air, forcing myself to not breathe through my nose.

  However, all of my attempts to keep away were for nothing, when Becca charged toward me, droplets of crimson liquid welling on her fingertip.

  There was no hesitation, I popped the little digit into my mouth.

  As soon as I did it, regret flooded me. Well, regret and the beautiful honey taste of her blood.

  When I came to my senses, Becca was standing before me, eyes round and glossy. She was mesmerized. I had enthralled her.

  At least I didn't bite her or anything as stupid as that.

  Stunned at what I'd done, I pulled her hand from my mouth, and the cut healed before our eyes.

  My little angel looked at me wide-eyed, saying nothing. Her blood sang to me, and I hid my fangs behind a closed-lip smile.

  Turning the small girl around, I compelled her, "Nothing happened. You thought you cut yourself, but you didn't. You're okay." My voice was soft. I smoothed down a few stray hairs on her head. "You don't want to come near me today. You don't know why but you are interested in whatever Flor and Elaine are doing, not me. Today, you're bored with me."

  I breathed in a shaky breath and had to force myself to let her go, my hands clenched, fingernails leaving half-moon impressions in my palms.

  Jack stood with his back to us, humming to himself.

  My mouth watering, I swallowed and looked at the ceiling where the fan rotated slowly.

  Maybe I should leave this place before I did something stupid. Where was my mind? It was like the doctor had put me under some kind of spell. I just couldn't get him out of my mind.

  After school ended, I sat in the classroom, grading the papers from the day and looking over the curriculum for tomorrow. When I was done, I was in my room gathering my supplies for collecting blood when I heard a commotion downstairs on the first floor.

  "I choose pizza!" Jack yelled.

  "No, I want a cheeseburger," called out Becca primly.

  Owen's baritone rose above the chatter. "We already agreed on Mexican food. Come on, get your coats on. Let's go."

  Sitting on the bed, I listened as they stormed out of the house, leaving an empty silence in their wake.

  This was my moment. I had the house to myself.

  Dropping everything on the bed, I flew down the stairs into Dr. Bennett's study. Listening to his SUV crunch on the gravel drive, I waited until I was sure they were gone.

  Tiptoeing to the bookshelf, I opened the secret passageway.

  The emergency lights lit the stairwell, and I made my way down, but the bloodlust came over me at the smell of hemoglobin, and I was drawn to the blood like a moth to the flame.

  I opened the door to the refrigerator, and the cold air seemed to swirl around me, enticing me with its offering of vital fluid.

  A smorgasbord lay before me. Some bags were on individual trays that swirled the contents, others were in separated forms and sat among the samples I’d seen before.

  My thoughts were a raging storm in the quiet room.

  I desperately needed what was before me. There would be consequences to face if I took something, but I struggled to think what they might be.

  Owen's voice rang in my mind, talking about diseases. I knew he worked with blood diseases. The note about uninfected blood made me hesitate, but only for a second.

  I needed it. I shouldn't be around anyone in this condition.

  There was so much blood here, a little wouldn't be missed.

  Besides, I didn't get sick. Human diseases didn't affect me.

  Vampires didn't get sick.

  It couldn't hurt me.

  Right? Right.

  I began uncorking the test tubes and drinking a little from each. I didn't want to contaminate the samples, so I carefully dripped them onto my tongue instead of drinking from them like I did before.

  There were so many that I was able to satiate myself with drops from the sample vials, so I didn't touch the bags of blood.

  Closing the clear refrigerator doors, I slumped to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest and laying my head on them.

  Sighing in contentment, a horrible, terrible thought sprang to my mind as the pieces began to click into place.

  Owen was working on Vampire blood diseases.

  If I were the cursing type, this would have been an excellent moment for an "F" bomb. Instead, I just covered my face with my hands.

  "What have I done?"

  Could I get a blood disease from drinking the samples?

  I hadn't been sick since I was turned, but what kind of illness was worked on in this lab?

  Stumbling to my feet, I grabbed some paperclips and began to carefully pick the lock on the filing cabinet.

  "Of all the stupid, brainless things to do!" I muttered to myself under my breath.

  In my haste, I dropped one of the paper clips and had to start again. When the lock turned, I tried to narrow down my search.

  I didn't have a lot of time, so I was skipping tabs that looked like they were for drugs. In the third drawer down, I found a curious label: Plague.

  "Oh, hell, no!" I pulled the sizeable green file folder out.

  I looked at the first page: OVC-284 is known as the Moroi Plague because of its similarity to the Black Death that took place in human populations in the mid-1300s. Although its similarities end there, while the Black Death is caused by bacterial, OVC is viral.

  Symptoms: nausea, stiffness in joints, high fever, auditory hallucinations, loss of appetite, swollen lymph nodes reminiscent of bulbous.

  Cause: Virus - M5228

  Course: Death within weeks if untreated

  Treatment: High-dose antivirals and transfusions have been found somewhat useful but not effective.

  My mouth went dry, and I licked my lips and swallowed. I would know soon if I'd gotten it.

  Flipping through the rest of the pages in the file, I found I couldn't concentrate. What had I stumbled upon? I'd lived over 125 years and never met another vampire, and now BAM! In my face, and by the way, there was a super deadly vampire virus.

  I closed up the filing cabinet and retraced my steps to my room in a haze.

  I lay awake into the night, my television blazing while my mind whirled with questions.

  This was ridiculous, wasn't it? Sitting around waiting to die or not die.

  I decided I couldn't sit and mope any longer.

  It was a little past one a.m., so I began to wander the house.

  In the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of beer and went out to the back screened-in porch. The cold didn't bother me, and I settled into the outdoor settee, feet on the coffee table.

  I took a long gulp of the micro draft. This was all speculation.

  Then the screen door from outside opened, and I n
early choked on my second swig.

  I was apparently a horrible vampire.

  All my senses were heightened, but I must've learned how to tune things out while living in the city.

  Owen turned to sit down and startled.

  "Shit!" he yelled. Realizing it was me, he sighed, "You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here, sitting in the dark?"

  I laughed at his stance. "Nice fighting pose."

  He raised his eyebrows at me. "Hey, I've been training since I was a kid."

  "Really? Like a special type or just street fighting?" I teased him.

  "Jujitsu." His mouth curved up into a smile. "I was an army brat with three older brothers."

  I noticed he was sweaty and in workout clothes.

  Squeezing his water bottle, he drank. "I was the smallest and got my ass handed to me, so I had to be faster, work harder."

  "And sneakier," I mentioned. "I didn't hear you come up to the house."

  "I was stretching next to the railing after my run." He scratched his chin with his water bottle.

  Who else other than vampires went for a midnight run, through the forest, in the mountains in November?

  He seemed to read my mind. "I couldn't sleep, my mind was churning," he confided.

  "What's got your mind churning?" I was prying, but I could feel the discordance coming off of him like an untuned guitar string.

  He shook his head. "I have a deadline that I'm not going to meet. I have suppliers that don't have what I need… and..." He threw his hands into the air. "My work has been shit. I’m missing some crucial detail that I need to make the formula work." He ran his fingers through his dark wavy hair.

  I furrowed my brow but didn’t speak as we sat there in our own bubble.

  He shook his head. "There's this disease that's going around. It's awful for some people, and they want an antidote or… or a vaccine… or just anything." Sighing, he seemed to stumble over the words, "I have… nothing. Nothing to show for all my time."

  "You've been working nonstop since New York." I began to peel the label off my bottle.