Blood for Breakfast (Sydney Newbern Book 1)

by Helen Bell

  Right, Daryl had said something about that. “Is it safe for vampires, for you, to drink from a human who has BFB in his or her system, like my blood?”

  Humor danced in his eyes. “Why? Considering offering yourself as my Donor? If so, don’t worry; drinking a vampire’s or Daywalker’s blood doesn’t affect other vampires in any way. Though it doesn’t nourish our body.”

  I shot him an annoyed look. “Be your Donor? You wish. I’d let fangs pierce my throat only if I absolutely have to.”

  He shrugged. “Pity. Humans find it rather pleasurable.”

  “I guarantee you, I won’t be one of them. In fact, after I give you my blood, I think I’ll start eating tons of raw garlic every day.” My social life would go extinct, but hey, at least the garlic would ward off vampires.

  A soft laugh broke free from his chest before he said, “We have no aversion to crosses, holy water, or garlic, and they’re not lethal to us. Same for wooden stakes, electrocution, poisons of any kind, drugs, and regular bullets. We are pretty hard to kill. Unless you stab, stake, or shoot us through the heart with silver, or decapitate us, we won’t die. Our eyes, though, are very susceptible to pain. If you stab a vampire there, it won’t kill him, but it’ll hurt long after it’s healed and regenerated.”

  “What about the sun?”

  “We won’t burst into flame, but we’ll contract the UV virus, and it’ll end our existence painfully.”

  “The UV virus?”

  “All vampires are born with a virus in a dormant state. Once the Change happens, it becomes active after exposure to sunlight for more than an hour, give or take. This is why direct rays from the sun cause excruciating pain to vampires. Like a reflex, it intends to protect our body, to force us away from sunlight.

  “The UV virus is the only disease vampires can be infected with, and it has a few stages. First, you feel weakness, then you experience more severe symptoms such as aggression and extreme bleeding from the nose and mouth. The final stage is when your internal organs melt as you beg for death to come.”

  “God, it sounds awful,” I said as I scratched my left palm.

  “Indeed, it’s a nasty disease.” His eyes slipped down to the tattoo. “Does it hurt?”

  “No. It sometimes itches, though.”

  “I’m astonished you survived the spell. Most humans wouldn’t have.”

  “Yeah, but now I have cancer, courtesy of the black magic on my hand. Does the witch, Amelia, happen to know how to take it off?”

  He put his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. “It cannot be removed. It’s a potent spell that even Amelia wouldn’t be able to undo. What I don’t understand is how you ended up with it in the first place.”

  “Someone kidnapped me,” I told him, “and I woke up alone in a small room with a number tattoo going down by one every twenty-four hours. Now that I’ve escaped, my family is my kidnapper’s leverage. If I try to contact them or the police, he’ll hurt them. Did Amelia say why I was kidnapped, or why the tattoo is counting down?”

  He shook his head. “The vision was limited. Her Voice didn’t reveal much.” At my confused frown, he said, “Every witch has an inner voice. It whispers whenever it senses things, especially during a vision. In your case, Amelia’s Voice whispered that you’d have no money, that you’d have nowhere to go, and that I’d need your blood.”

  “And my consent to take it,” I added. Why else would he strike a deal with me when he could just draw my blood without asking? He was way stronger than I was, and I doubted vampires had moral rectitude.

  “That too,” he reluctantly conceded. Yeah, we needed each other equally.

  “So I guess our deal is not a favor you’re doing for me,” I pointed out.

  “I guess it’s not,” he agreed with a tiny smile, then changed the subject. “Did you know your abductor?”

  “I didn’t,” I answered. “And I have no idea why he chose me. I mean, before all this crazy shit, I was a normal sophomore in college, living a boring life, nothing out of the ordinary, really.”

  “Not that I’m hinting you don’t have a … lovely personality,” a corner of his lips quirked up a little, “but perhaps you managed to piss off someone who later orchestrated your abduction.”

  Um, maybe he was on to something. Why hadn’t I thought of that during my time in captivity? Probably because my mind had been honed in on other things, like why the number on my hand was changing every twenty-four hours.

  I chewed on my bottom lip. Who could I have angered so badly that he or she would do this to me? A name popped into my head: Jared, my jerk ex-boyfriend from high school.

  It’d been an ugly breakup. We’d been together for two years. I believed he loved me. I loved him. Loved everything about him: his smile, his look, his patience.

  He never pressured me into having sex. As a matter of fact, kissing was all we ever did.

  When I was ready to have sex for the first time on the night of our senior prom, he insisted we keep waiting. Since he wasn’t a virgin, I’d thought it was weird, but I said nothing until last year when things exploded between us. His parents were out of town, and I went over to his empty house with a box of condoms in my purse. After we went up to his room, I initiated the first contact, as I always had, kissing him, taking off my shirt. He pushed me away from him. I was humiliated. Did my touch repulse him?

  “Are you even attracted to me?” I’d asked him, hurt.

  His answer had shattered my heart into tiny fragments. “Sorry, Syd, it’s not you I want; it’s Zoey. She’s the reason I started dating you. I’m in love with her, I always have been, but she turned me down. I had to make her fall in love with me. Being with you meant being close to her, but now you had to ruin everything. Zoey would never have me if I slept with her sister.”

  Anger flooded me. “Your chances with her dropped to zero the minute you started dating me, you moron. Zoey would never go out with her sister’s ex-boyfriends, especially the jerk ones.”

  I stomped out of his house and ran to mine, tears exploding in a hot rush. All night I’d cried as Zoey comforted me. It really threw her for a loop to hear what Jared did, and the next day she’d screamed at him, saying she wouldn’t date him even if he were the last guy on earth.

  I imagined he was mad at me, but enough to have me kidnapped and poisoned with powerful black magic? No, he wasn’t that crazy. Or sophisticated. So if not him, then who? I hadn’t gone out with anyone else since Jared, my first and only boyfriend, and there was no bad blood with any of my friends, no—

  “Must be a long list,” Gideon’s teasing voice said, earning him a roll of my eyes.

  “I don’t think it’s someone from my past, and I doubt anyone in my social circle developed a sudden desire to infect me with black magic that on the one hand weakens my immune system but on the other, turns me into a kick-ass fighter.”

  His brows drew together. “Hold on. You have never learned any martial arts before?”

  “No, never. Why?”

  “Remarkable,” he muttered, his gaze on the tattoo. “Black magic sometimes enhances physical strength, so that the host will protect it, but rarely does it affect the brain by sending it knowledge of fighting movements. Whoever cast the spell must be very powerful, even more so than Amelia. How did you escape him?”

  “There was someone there. I think his name was Oberon. He freed me.”

  “Oberon? The King of the Fae?” He leaned back, his head cocking to the side, no doubt wondering if he’d heard me correctly.

  “Yes. Him. The King of the Fae.”

  “Impossible. Mortals will die from fear if they look at a royal fae, not to mention that royal fae rarely bother themselves to cross over to our world.”

  “Cross over? Where do fae live?”

  “The realm of faerie is in another dimension,” he answered.

  The image of the girl with golden tears appeared in my mind. She’d called my rescuer Oberon, The King of the Fae. Had she b
een wrong?

  “I’m not sure if it was actually him who freed me, but whoever he was, he spoke in my head and got me out. A girl—do you have ice cream in your freezer?”

  What? Why had I just asked him that?

  A dark brow arched at me. “Ice cream? Now?”

  I shook my head and opened my mouth to try again. The words that should have—but didn’t—come out of my mouth were: I’m sorry, I meant to say that a girl with golden tears referred to him as Oberon, The King of the Fae. However, what Gideon heard was, “Yes, I really, really, really want ice cream.” What gives? He looked at me. Blinked. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I just lost it.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “When I buy the BFB, I’ll also pick up some—”

  I made another attempt. A failed attempt. “No, you don’t understand. I want ice cream like now. I crave it!” I gasped at my unintentional outburst, then heaved a big breath and tried once more. But four times, it was ice cream, ice cream, ice cream, ice cream. Son of a bitch! I couldn’t even ask why it was impossible for me to mention that girl. Dammit! She’d done something to me, maybe cast a spell or whatever, but why?

  Gideon’s cell rang, cutting me off. He answered it, still eyeing me warily, and a few seconds later, asked the person on the other end, “When and where?” He received a response and before hanging up, said, “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  He stood up, his attention on me. “Unfortunately your craving for ice cream will have to wait. That was Philippe, a vampire who sometimes sells me useful information. He wants to meet up, and you’re coming along.” He nodded to my left hand. “He may know something about the tattoo.”

  “Go with you now?” My gaze dropped to the bloodied dress and my bare feet.

  “We’ll leave after you’ve showered and changed clothes.”

  “What clothes? I don’t have any.”

  “Follow me.”

  As we moved to the second floor, he explained that after Amelia had estimated my size, from her vision, he’d purchased clothes and shoes for me in advance. I murmured a thank you as we reached upstairs. He pointed out a bathroom, his bedroom, and the room I’d be sleeping in for the next two weeks or so.

  He opened its door for me, not coming inside with me. “I’m heading out to buy a few things. I’ll be back before you finish getting ready. Philippe is having a party now, so put on something sexy. Wear one of the black dresses and the black heels.” It sounded more like an order than a suggestion.

  “I think I’ll …” My voice faded away as I turned and faced an empty doorway. “Jerk,” I said under my breath and studied my temporary bedroom.

  It had a twin-sized bed, a walnut nightstand next to it, a built-in closet, a mirror dresser, and a window with a view of the street. I stepped to it and stared up at the bright moon and stars, then at the neighborhood. I was far away from my home. A twinge of sadness crept into my heart. I wished I had a way to reach out to my family without risking their lives. On second thought, maybe not being able to go back home was for the best.

  After all, what would I say? “Hey, Mom, hey, Dad, I have cancer, final stage, caused by black magic. Yup, magic is real. Vampires, fae, and witches exist too.” I envisioned their reactions: my mom crying, my dad freaking out, Zoey hugging me. What a mess. No, they couldn’t know about my cancer and the supernatural world. Ignorance is sometimes bliss. Until I was cured for good, until I was sure they were safe from that man, I wouldn’t try finding a way to contact them. A gentle wind brushed my face, and I closed the window, heading outside the room with a clean towel.

  In the bathroom, under the hot spray of water, I felt the tightly knotted muscles give way to relaxation, arching my neck and soaping my hair and body. After I finished, I returned to the bedroom.

  In the first drawer of the dresser, I found bras and underwear, along with some cash. I pulled them on and went to open the closet door. I scanned the high-end clothes: several pairs of jeans, T-shirts, sweaters, blouses, pants, jackets, coats, and three black dresses. On the floor, sneakers, heels, and boots were lined up against the wall of the closet. I looked at the heels. There were six pairs in two different colors: silver and black. Which color of shoes had he ordered me to wear? Oh, right, black. I picked up a pair of silver heels and dragged out a classic black dress.

  I slipped them on and examined myself in the mirror, wondering how he could afford to buy designer clothes and shoes. And BFB pills, which were pricey as well. Nothing in his house, much less the neighborhood, indicated that someone wealthy lived here. I made a mental note to ask him about it later, pulled a gray jacket from the closet, and headed back to the living room.

  “Gideon? Are you here?” I whirled around when I felt him behind me.

  His eyes raked over me, face, dress, legs—a long pause at the silver heels. My lips curved into a satisfied smile. So did his. Wait. What?

  “Excellent. Perfect color combination,” he said. Pleased. He was pleased. My eyes narrowed, then widened. He’d tricked me. The silver Jimmy Choo heels had been precisely what he’d wanted me to wear all along.

  “Why the reverse psychology?” I asked angrily.

  “I had a feeling you wouldn’t like being told what to wear. Apparently, I was right.”

  I threw him a dirty look. “Oh, go to hell.”

  “Perhaps another time when we’re not in a hurry.” He chuckled softly, and I struggled not to strangle him, even though it wouldn’t kill him, before we took off.

  Chapter 6

  Gideon parked his bike at a street corner, and we walked a few blocks, passing two homeless men, a few hookers, some sketchy-looking people, and liquor bottles and beer cans scattered along the sidewalk. We turned down a dark moonlit alley, and a chill skittered up my spine. The smell of piss and garbage surrounded us as we moved down the alleyway. He halted in front of a metal gate flanked by two large Dumpsters and opened it. We went down a few steps leading to a door. Gideon turned to a corner-mounted security camera and extended his fangs. Five seconds passed, and a male vampire opened the door, music blaring out. He sized me up.

  “She’s with me,” Gideon told him.

  The vampire bobbed his head once. “Come on in.” He moved aside, and we stepped into a large, loft-style basement with exposed ductwork and brickwork, concrete floors, and brick columns. In the living room, people were dancing, some socializing, others relaxing in a love seat and chairs while drinking from glasses with red liquid. Two girls in bikinis carrying usherette trays filled with red Popsicles stood near a small bar tucked away in a corner.

  “Ew, is that frozen blood those girls are offering?” I asked Gideon over the music, following him across the room. He nodded as we turned down a short hallway and stopped in front of a vampire with a sleeve tattoo going up his neckline.

  The vampire jerked his head at the door behind him. “Can’t enter. Philippe’s busy.”

  “Not anymore,” Gideon said in a curt tone as he moved around the vampire to get to the door. When a hand landed on his chest to stop him, Gideon grabbed it and twisted, almost breaking the vampire’s wrist.

  “Ahhhhgh!” The tattooed bloodsucker jerked his hand back. “Fuck this, I’m out of here,” he grumbled and moved out of our way.

  Gideon flung the door open, barging in. I walked inside after him and gasped at the sight across from me. A large, muscled man stood behind a smaller guy bent over a desk, both of their pants shoved down to their knees. As the big one pumped into his partner at a steady rhythm, they moaned with pleasure until they noticed us. I pivoted around to step out of the office, wanting to give them privacy. Unlike me, though, Gideon didn’t seem uncomfortable with the situation at all.

  Eyes on the couple, he caught my arm and pulled me back to his side. “No need to leave. We’re not interrupting. They were just finishing up. Isn’t that right, Philippe?” Impatience colored Gideon’s voice, yet his lips curved into a smile.

  Chestnut hair falling past his collar, his eyes a bril
liant emerald green, the smaller vampire said, “Gideon, you’ve arrived, and as always have a knack for ruining a good time. Henry, please, leave us.” I detected a slight French accent in his voice.

  The vampire behind him pulled his pants up, stare trained on Gideon, clearly assessing whether he was a threat to his partner. “You sure you want me to go?”

  Philippe worked his pants back up too and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yes, mon cher, it’s okay. He’s a friend.”

  “I’m a lot of things, Philippe, but your friend is not one of them.” Gideon moved his gaze to Henry. “But he’s not my enemy either, so you’ll get him back in one piece when we’re done here.”

  Henry passed by us and closed the door behind him.

  As if noticing my presence for the first time, Philippe surveyed me. “So young.” His focus shifted to Gideon. “You finally decided to adopt a pet?”

  A pet? A pet? I was about to give him a piece of my mind when Gideon spoke. “Careful there. I wouldn’t underestimate her. She only looks harmless.”

  A condescending grin spread across Philippe’s chiseled face. “Warning me? Your pet is a mere breather.”

  He suddenly stood a few inches away from me. Startled, I backed off, but he gripped my arm tightly, pulling me close to him. He sniffed my hair. “Mmmm, heaven,” he whispered. His fangs slid free, telling me he wasn’t an Ancient. “And you’re not his. I don’t smell his mark in your blood, only a faint smell of illness, which means I can have a taste of you, ma belle.” He brushed my hair to the side, lowering his head to my neck.

  I quickly maneuvered out of his hold, elbowed his face, and flipped him to the ground, his mouth landing on the dusty rug. “Taste that, asshole.”

  He was back on his feet in a blink, but not to hit me. He stood still with a disbelieving expression on his face. “She’s strong, much more than a human, yet she is one.” He looked at Gideon. “My God, you were right.”