The Nightling: Darkness Within

by Danae Ayusso

  “Please don’t be filled with bodies waiting to be drained,” I whispered before pressing the light switch just inside the door on.

  The inside of the large closet illuminated with light. Many wood built-in shelves were filled with polished dress shoes, European style boots, and a few pairs of sneakers that look fresh out of the box. Rows upon rows of perfectly hung suits took up most of the far wall; black, black, charcoal, black, black, dark grey, blackish grey, black, and more black.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he has something against color.

  As much as I wanted to play in his closet, because there was no denying this was Andrei’s room now, I couldn’t.

  I found the source of the blood, and it hit me like a fist to the gut and nearly dropped me where I stood.

  “No, no, no,” I stammered and hurried over to him.

  Carefully I rolled Andrei over and my eyes widened and tears stained my cheeks.

  Andrei was attempting to take his jacket off and collapsed in the process; one arm was freed, the other was stuck in the sleeve still. The white dress shirt he wore was completely saturated with blood on one side, his tan skin ghostly pale, lips slightly blue in pallor, and his eyes were partially opened but their intense coloring was dull and lifeless.

  I checked his pulse.

  There wasn’t one.

  I rested my head on his chest, over his heart and listened, silently praying to the Goddess that his heart was still beating.

  There was nothing.

  “Dang it! Do vampires even have heartbeats?!” I asked in a panic, looking up at him.

  The breath that broke past his lurid blue lips made me smile.

  “So you aren’t that easy to kill,” I said, caressing the blood from his lips with my thumb. “Good to know. You promised not to let the monsters get me, remember?” I scolded, trying to maintain a strong front, but I was seriously on the verge of completely losing it.

  A soft groan came from him, but I could tell even that was near impossible to get out.

  “You say that often,” I pointed out. “You can’t leave me, not like this. I won’t let you!”

  Again, a soft groan followed my scolding.

  “I’m not a doctor, and Luka refused to come home after her got his butt handed to him by a Necromancer, but I’m all you got right now since the sun is up. Let’s see what the damage is then you can tell me in your overbearing, mind-intrusive way, how to fix you. Agreed?” I asked.

  With shaking hands I freed his necktie before I unbuttoned his vest then his dress shirt.

  “We’ll need to use some diluted ammonia to get this out, if at all possible,” I scolded, trying to keep from freaking out by rambling.

  When I pulled his shirt open that sliver of composure was lost.

  Andrei’s impressively chiseled body made my mouth go dry and my fingers trembled with what could only be explained as a deep longing to caress each plane of his broad chest and defined abs.

  That longing was, by far, more troubling than the two deep gashes across his chest over his heart.

  “You must work out,” I mumbled under my breath, fighting the urge to caress him more than I already had.

  There was only so many times you could caress a half-naked vampire and play it off as if you’re checking his wounds and it being concern for his well-being before he catches on.

  And the small smirk that was suddenly pulling at the corners of his chapped lips strongly suggested he knew what my problem was and he found amusement in it.

  “What do you need? Why aren’t you healing? You should be healing, right?” I asked.

  Again, when he tried to talk it came out as a gurgle before darkened blood rolled from his parted lips.

  From experience I knew he needed to sit up, it’d be easier to breathe that way and he wouldn’t choke to death on his own fluids.

  “I’m going to sit you up,” I said, pulling his legs straight then hurried to the bedroom. “You might have to get new pillows but it’s a risk I’m willing to take if it means keeping you from drowning while I figure out how to fix you,” I called out from the bedroom before returning with his pillows in my arms. “This better be enough because I’m not going to ruin the one I’m borrowing without the intent of returning.”

  Again, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

  “Okay, this might be awkward for more than one of us,” I warned once the pillows were behind his head then I straddled him.

  I tried pulling him up by his shoulders, but my hands couldn’t hold onto him without possibly ripping his shirt and he fell back to the floor.

  Not my finest work.

  “Ugh! You are so fat!” I complained, pulling harder, wrapping my arms around his neck then pulled as hard as I could. “Even teetering on the edge of death you are stubborn. Aren’t vampires supposed to be strong or something?” I whined before I got him up enough that I could position his pillows behind him and got him propped up some. “Stop smiling against my small boobs, it’s weird,” I complained, getting him situated then sat back on my heels. “I’m having a weird case of déjà vu, only our positions are reversed.”

  His brows furrowed slightly.

  “When you did this to me,” I whispered, caressing his hair back from his forehead, “and nearly drained me of all blood… I wanted nothing more than to die at that moment, to finally be able to join my brother in death. But when you held me in your arms, for the first time in longer than I care to admit I felt safe and I didn’t want to die. All I wanted was to be in your arms, having you hold me and protect me from the monsters… Instead you made me into one. Thanks, Butt-munch.”

  Hastily I wiped away the tear that rolled down my cheek.

  I really shouldn’t have told him that.

  “What kind of trouble did you find this evening? Why aren’t you healing? Do you need something?” I asked, changing the subject from my admittance I should have kept to myself. “When I was pinned to the fence you called a healer. Do I need to call the doctor? I don’t have her number, but I have Alder’s and he might be able to reach the doctor or know what to do… That’s a good idea!” I beamed.

  Andrei continued to look at me, his eyes unmoving, but I could tell by the sense of irritation that suddenly flooded me that he didn’t like the idea of me calling someone to help tend to him.

  “Get over it,” I said, pulling the business card and cellphone from my pocket and dialed. “Alder?” I asked when the other line picked up without an introduction.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Shawn, the weird baby vampire-turned against her will Child of Light. We met earlier,” I said in a rush.

  “I remember. Did Mercy get you home before the sun?” he asked, panicked. “Are you okay?”

  It was nice to know that sweet, caring guys still existed.

  “I’m home, okay for now,” I admitted. “Luka isn’t here and I found Andrei unresponsive in his room. He’s clawed up pretty bad and bleeding. What do I do? Why isn’t he healing? Aren’t vampires supposed to heal?” I asked in a rush.

  Alder hissed out a breath. “Shawn, this really isn’t my area of expertise. Have you given him any blood?”

  No, why didn’t I think of that since I’m a vampire and all?!

  “Where do I get blood? Do I give him mine?” I asked.

  He gagged. “Ew. Is that what you’ve been doing?” he asked, appallingly.

  “No, they force fed me blood through a nasogastric tube after I got my butt kicked by a fence at the cemetery, but I wasn’t conscious for it.”

  Surprisingly enough, Alder chuckled.

  “I’m on the opposite spectrum, Shawn, so I can’t speak for vampires or tell you what to do to fix your Maker,” he said. “But, in my limited understanding, those reliant on blood always have a backup source on site just in case. Have you looked around for any?” he asked the obvious.

  No, I hadn’t.

  And yes, I was the worst vampire ever.

  “No,�
� I mumbled, getting off Andrei. “I’ll be right back,” I promised then hurried from the room and back downstairs. “Where would they keep blood?”

  “Kitchen is where I’d keep it if I were reliant on it,” Alder said. “That’s where I keep my food.”

  “Blood isn’t food,” I argued, heading through the doorway off to the side of the nave. “I’ve come to the conclusion that vampires are nothing more than cannibals on a juice cleanse.”

  Alder laughed. “You and your brother are something else, Shawn.”

  Compliments were always appreciated.

  Reasonable deduction would suggest the kitchen, if there was one, would be on the other side of the church. The side with the bedrooms had prayer rooms and a classroom designed for Sunday school lessons under them. Priests needed to eat, and the bedrooms were once Priest quarters, only fancied up to Andrei’s taste, I presumed, so it was safe to assume the kitchen would be where a vampire would eat or, at the very least, store something to eat.

  Again, I’m the worst vampire in history.

  “In theory,” Alder said, “getting fresh blood into his system should help with remodeling of the tissue and bone. Do you know what happened?”

  That was the million dollar question, and knowing Andrei as I seemingly did, he wouldn’t be forthcoming in the least.

  “Not a clue. Mercy said that he was dealing with a Baba Yaga issue, but that doesn’t make sense,” I said, eventually finding a kitchen.

  The kitchenette was small, reminded me of the one in my drunk and crackhead infested apartment building, and was disappointing to say the least. The fridge in the corner was turned off, looked older than I was, the cabinets were a faded shade of yellow that was chipping in places, and the vinyl composite floor showed years of wear and tear.

  Unlike the rest of the renovations to the church, the kitchen hadn’t been touched since the 1950’s aside from the new medical refrigeration unit and an electric kettle on the aged melamine countertop next to the sink.

  “What doesn’t make sense?” Alder asked.

  “Baba Yaga isn’t inherently bad,” I absently said, using my finger to swing the door open; the door on the medical unit wasn’t closed all the way.

  The cold storage unit wasn’t to temperature, but the bags were cool to the touch so the door hadn’t been open long. I didn’t seen any in Andrei’s room, which suggested he may not have already attempted self-help, and that made me suspicious.

  I pulled three bags of blood out; there were only six in there. For a church full of vampires, with a newborn that couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble or not get herself impaled on wrought iron every other time she leaves the church, you’d think there would have been a lot more than six pints of blood in there.

  “You are familiar with Baba Yaga?” Alder asked, sounding amused.

  Absently I nodded, even though he couldn’t see, as I examined one of the bags of blood in my hand. “Those in my family, both sides of my family tree, told me stories that you’d never find in children’s books. I’m starting to suspect that they knew this would happen to me, or at the very least, I’d need their lessons just in case I got attacked by a infantile, rabies infested Russian vampire that jumped, bit, then buried me alive, assaulted, bit again, attacked again, and then taken hostage, before being forced to wear a crown that even the Queen didn’t want to bestow upon me.”

  Again, Alder chuckled.

  “Baba Yaga was one of those stories, those lessons. The sisters aren’t inherently bad. They never were. Christianity villainized them just like they did with everything they didn’t understand. It’s something else I think, and Andrei knew that, but in typical Andrei against the world fashion he went at it alone. Something kicked his butt bad. The two claw marks on his chest aren’t deep enough to kill him, but the risk of bleeding out is great…” my words trailed off when something in the bag of blood pulled my attention. “Something’s wrong with this blood,” I said, holding it up to the light.

  “What do you mean?” Alder asked. “How do you know?”

  “My brother died of a blood disorder, a very rare one that the doctors said shouldn’t have been possible, that it was impossible to present at the age he was when it did,” I explained, checking another bag. “Because of that, I saw way too much blood, learned way more than I ever thought possible about blood and disorders, and am no stranger to administering basic medical procedures like hooking someone up to an IV or threading a tube up their nose and down to their stomach for feeding. I can even stitch someone up if needed. They may not be the prettiest stitches, but they’ll work until proper medical attention is sought. None of this blood is any good,” I said, squeezing the contents from the bag in my hand into the sink.

  The dark blood slowly flowed towards the drain, painting the white enamel as it went, leaving streaks of diluted red. With the red, heavier sediment was sticking to the sink, and they sparkled like tiny grains of metallic sand.

  “Shawn?”

  “The blood is no good. There’s metal in it, silver I think,” I said.

  Alder gasped. “Are you certain?” he asked.

  I dumped another bag to be sure.

  “Positive. Silver is bad for vampires, isn’t it?” I asked the obvious.

  “If ingested, it is lethal,” he whispered. “It results in spontaneous combustion from the inside out.”

  Of course it was.

  Why wouldn’t it be?

  Why wouldn’t the one thing I might have had to save the pampered vampire prince that’s mother would kill me if anything happened to him would be tampered with and lethal to him?

  “This is bad,” I surmised, pulling open the drawers in search of supplies.

  Alder snorted. “No, Shawn. This is beyond bad. Tampering with blood for consumption is one thing, and highly frowned upon, but using blood as a means to kill is sacrilege and is highly frowned upon and usually results in a handed down death sentence. But tampering with blood for a Prince is treason and an act of war. You just uncovered something that… Shawn, this is really bad. Andrei needs blood, but I’m not blood reliant. I don’t have any, not that I could bring it to you if I did!”

  “You have to know someone,” I argued, piling up on the counter the items I found in the drawers that I’d need.

  “It’s day time, Shawn. The sun is up,” he reminded me. “Most of those reliant on blood are nocturnal. Besides, the church is sealed until sunset. I can’t just open the doors. The royal seal on the outside restricts access to those without a crown.”

  This day could not get any worse if I tried.

  “Wait,” I said, something just occurring to me. “Any crown?”

  “In theory,” Alder said with trepidation in his tone. “Very rarely does a crown target another crown, and no crown would be stupid enough to target that particular Prince of the Night. Heralds of the Goddess are not considered royal, Shawn. We’re just powerful and chosen Children of Light without crowns or kingdoms.”

  Nice to know, but that wasn’t what I meant.

  “Is the son of an alpha considered a prince?” I asked with a smile, grabbing the medical supplies before hurrying back to Andrei.

  “I’m scared to ask,” he groaned.

  “Tybalt Lykourgos! Do you know him?” I asked, hurrying down the hall and ducked into Andrei’s room. “He’s a werewolf, son of an Alpha to my understanding, and has been called a Prince a few times. That wasn’t just because of his fantastic body and gorgeous eyes was it?”

  “No, it was not. And yes, he is considered a Prince. And yes, regrettably I know him by association,” Alder said. “I’ll make the call, but you owe me. Owe me greatly.”

  The way he worded it and his tone made me giggle.

  “Tell Tybalt it’s for Shawn of Forgotten Park Cemetery,” I instructed. “He’ll know who I am and why it’s important. Thank you so much. I’ll see you soon. Call when you get here and I’ll throw myself between you two and the clay things and hellhounds.”

&nbs
p; Alder groaned. “So owe me,” he reiterated before hanging up.

  Andrei was still slumped against the pillows I had propped him up with when I returned. Blood stained one side of his upper body, and there was more than before.

  “I have blood coming, clean blood,” I said, setting the NG tubes and IV cannula and tubing on the floor next to us. “I would have brought up the bagged blood in the kitchen, but there’s something wrong with it. Someone tampered with the blood, at least that’s what I think happened. The fridge was open but the blood was chilled, but knowing Andrei as I seemingly do at times, I know he’d never leave it open like that. After seeing your room, I understand your OCD. There was metal in the blood, but I don’t think it was meant for you or Luka. You would have known it wasn’t right. Vampires as old as you two would have known right away it was compromised… Huh,” I huffed, just realizing something. “That isn’t right. You would have known right away. One of the Princes of Vampires would have known the blood was laced. This baby vamp, on the other hand, if she were just any newborn and been blood crazed as she should be, would have sucked it down without giving it a second thought then went poof! Think I made someone mad and didn’t realize it? Mad enough to kill me?” I asked, pulling my hoodie off and used it to wipe away the blood staining his chest. “Vanni says that haters are going to hate, but I never really do anything to deserve their hating, that I’m aware of.”

  The breath that broke past his lips made me smile.

  “You say that often,” I pointed out, inspecting the wounds on his chest. “There were only two gashes before… Now there’s three. Did you do that?” I asked.

  Of course he had no answer.

  “This isn’t right,” I mumbled before heading back into his room and grabbed the book I had been looking at earlier. “You expected something to go sideways, didn’t you?” I asked, flipping through the book as I walked, joining him again then folded myself down to the floor next to him. Slowly I flipped through the book from the point of the bookmark forward. “What can put a powerful vampire in a catatonic state, block our silent communicating, and continue to inflict bodily injury?” I rhetorically asked, splitting my attention between Andrei and the pages. “We both know it isn’t the sisters. Baba Yaga didn’t do this to you. It isn’t possible. But what did?”