How fortuitous that he should find the next one so young.
He stood on the edge of the social area watching the group carefully for a minute or two, frowning when he couldn’t locate Poppy. When he moved forward to join those sitting on the sofas, Cassandra brightened up immediately. She smoothed her hair over one shoulder and smiled radiantly.
Casey O’Donnell was a very attractive young woman – no doubt why Patrick had told Dorian to leave her for him. Dorian still wasn’t sure if Patrick wanted to eat her or sleep with her. He didn’t have it in him to care right now.
He only had eyes for Poppy.
“Hey, Dorian,” Casey smiled. “You hungry? We just had dinner but there’s plenty left.”
Dorian shook his head. “I’m actually just about to have my own dinner, but it’s not the same as yours, admittedly.”
“You too good for the food you serve us, Kapros?” Nate threw over at him. Nate didn’t seem to view Dorian as a threat, probably because Poppy had neither spoken to nor looked at Dorian since the day they’d arrived.
He laughed. “Definitely not. I just didn’t want spaghetti bolognese.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Poppy,” Dorian replied, which both answered the question of what he wanted to eat and why he had joined the group in the first place. Nate flinched slightly at his answer; Casey looked put out. In the far corner of the social area Andrew looked up from the chess game he was playing with another club member Dorian was fairly certain was called Rich. “Where is she?”
Casey motioned over to the infinity pool reluctantly. “She’s standing out there. Watching the sunset. Though she could do that in here, given the fact the entire wall is made of glass.”
“Thanks, guys,” Dorian replied as he spied where Poppy stood, walked away from the group and exited the building. Poppy’s shoulders flinched when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Go away,” she muttered from her position languishing over the barrier that surrounded the decking and the hot tubs. She was staring out at the sunset, as Casey had said she would be, though her expression suggested Poppy was watching someone getting mauled to death rather than the blindingly beautiful colours of the sky as the sun slowly bowed below the horizon.
“Gladly, if you come with me,” Dorian said as he joined her at the wooden barrier. “I hardly think you want me to cut you open in front of everyone.”
A flash of horror crossed Poppy’s eyes. “Why does that have to be now? Why not later?”
“After you’ve eaten is probably the best time to do it. When your blood sugar is highest. It’ll make you less likely to faint.”
Poppy stared blankly at the sky once more. “That is stupidly logical. Sounds like something Andrew would say. Drink someone’s blood after they’ve eaten so they recover faster. Hilarious.”
“You get on very well with Andrew,” Dorian said. “I figured you had to, since you chose to save him first, but I admit I still don’t quite get it. Is it because he’s –”
“Don’t talk to me about Andrew,” Poppy glowered.
“Then let’s talk about who you’re saving and putting up to slaughter this week, then.”
She looked at him like he had…asked her to choose someone to die. Dorian almost laughed at the thought.
“How can you ask me that so casually?”
“Because I care little and less about who you save and who you give up.”
“You’re a –”
Poppy paused mid-sentence. It was obvious what she was going to say.
Dorian’s lips curled into a smile. “Go on; say it. You know you want to.”
Instead she walked away, making for the doors without another word. But she glanced back at Dorian as she did so, as if to say, ‘fine, let’s do this in private’.
Dorian paused for a moment to appreciate the way Poppy looked in the bleeding sunset, the solitary silver streak at the front of her hair shining like a dagger as it blew in the breeze. Her irises, so pale that they were usually almost colourless, contained every hue currently dancing in the sky.
Perhaps it was because of the twisted, tortured expression on her face. Perhaps it was because Dorian was the one that made her look like that. Either way, Dorian thought Poppy looked astoundingly beautiful in the sunset.
He followed her wordlessly back through the doors and straight to the left, ignoring the looks of her curious friends sitting in the social area. When they reached the infirmary he locked the door. Poppy turned around immediately, panic-stricken.
“Why did you do that?!”
“So nobody comes in and sees what we’re doing, clearly.”
Poppy let out a large gust of air when she saw the sense in Dorian’s comment.
“There’s no need to be so on-edge, Poppy,” he said breezily as he set up an IV drip. “It’s not like I’m going to kill you.”
She glanced at the IV warily. “What’s that for?”
“You really think I’d be so vicious as to rip open your arm again if I could avoid it?”
“Yes.” Her answer was flat with dead certainty. Dorian couldn’t help but laugh as he motioned for her to sit on the bed.
“If all my kind were really that violent then, trust me, humans would know of our existence. No, our eating habits are rather…refined, now.”
“Yes, because human trafficking is so refined.”
“Humans do that too.”
“Humans who are monsters.”
Dorian stared at Poppy pointedly. She seemed to work out what she’d said a second too late.
“Humans that are monsters and literal monsters are two different things.”
“Are they really?” Dorian mused as he removed the bandages from Poppy’s arm. As expected, her arm was entirely healed, the skin unblemished. There wasn’t even a scar. “Does anywhere still hurt?”
She shook her head. “Not since Tuesday.”
“Since four days ago? Interesting.”
“What is?”
“Working out how quickly you can make fresh blood and heal like before. Even you must see how that’s an interesting topic.”
“Not if you’re using the information to work out how frequently you can drain me, it isn’t.”
“Smart girl. Right, keep your arm out. I don’t know how easy it’ll be to get a needle through. You’ve had immunisations before, right?”
Poppy paused. “Yes, but that was when I was younger. Like before thirteen. I didn’t heal quite as quickly back then.”
Dorian hadn’t thought about puberty being linked to the full onset of a human’s innate nutritional value before. He supposed it made sense, when he considered none of his kind would ever eat underdeveloped muscles and organs. Poppy’s blood was clearly no different.
Frowning slightly in concentration, Dorian located a vein in Poppy’s arm and tried to push the needle through. Just like with the scalpel, Poppy’s skin resisted the metal. He tried again with more pressure, glancing up at Poppy as she winced at the sensation.
“It’s not going through,” he said simply. “I’m going to have to push deeper. It’s going to hurt. Talk to distract yourself.”
“Talk about – ow! – what?”
“Tell me who you’re saving and giving up.”
“Rachelle,” Poppy replied immediately. She flinched away from Dorian’s increasingly rougher attempts at breaking her skin. Whenever he managed to just barely push through, the wound healed immediately.
“That one was obvious”, Dorian replied. “What about the tougher choice?”
There was a moment’s hesitation this time. Poppy sighed heavily. “Ross Bridges.”
“Huh.”
Poppy narrowed her eyes at Dorian. “What does that mean?”
“I didn’t expect you to actually give me a name so easily. You didn’t even try and reason with me to spare your whole group again.”
“What’s the point? You wouldn’t.”
Poppy stared impassively at him. There was
something rather dead and defeatist about her expression, as if she’d mulled over the deal Dorian had forced on her all week. It satisfied him to no end that, though Poppy hadn’t spoken a word to him since he’d first drained her blood, he’d clearly been the only thing on her mind.
“No,” Dorian said as he dug the needle so harshly into Poppy’s arm that it broke in two, “but it would be highly enjoyable for me to listen to you beg.”
“You’re sick.”
“Maybe a little. This isn’t working, Poppy.”
“Evidently!”
“Why Ross?”
Poppy sighed. “Does it matter?”
“I suppose it does. What does someone have to do for a decent human being to sacrifice them? I somehow doubt anyone in your group is guilty of murder. It’s a fascinating question.”
Poppy stared at Dorian seriously. “I caught him trying to creep into Casey’s room. He wasn’t planning anything nice. And he clearly plans to try again when he’s sure he won’t get caught. I want him the hell away from her.”
“And that’s enough for you to sacrifice his life?”
“Who else can I choose?!” Poppy exclaimed, growing steadily more emotional.
Dorian chuckled. “Fred, for starters.”
“I hate him because he’s Fred,” she replied shortly, “not because he’s a bad person.”
“But you saved Rachelle and Andrew because they’re your friends. Seems like nepotism if you ask me.”
“They also happen to be two of the most honest, hard-working, lovely people in the club. That I’m friends with them is a coincidence.”
Dorian raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to try and be unbiased with your choices?”
“…maybe. I don’t know. I’m working it out. Either way, Ross goes first.”
“Fine by me. I’ll take him next week when your two week ‘trip’ is officially up – when you have to tell the group why they absolutely have to stay.”
To Dorian’s surprise, Poppy stared at him in horror. “No. He has to go now.”
“So quick to throw his life away. I’m appalled.”
She glowered at him. “I’m tired of staying up all night just in case he tries to sneak into Casey’s room.”
Dorian considered this for a few seconds. “Is he the one with the crazy upper-arm strength?” he asked, thinking about an arm wrestling competition the club had indulged in the night before.
Poppy nodded.
“Will your club believe it if I say I kicked him out and called the police after I found him trying to get into Casey’s room?”
“It’s not like anyone has phone signal to find out otherwise,” Poppy replied, her voice strangely calm considering the topic of conversation. “And that’s what I caught him doing, anyway. If I say you caught him at it a second time then people will understand why you did what you did. It’ll work.”
“Then consider your problem taken care of.”
Poppy made a face. “Don’t talk about it like that.”
“I like you much better when you’re not ignoring me and looking like someone died every second of the day.”
“Hell if I care if you like me!” she exclaimed, raising her arm as if she wanted to hit him. Dorian grabbed it.
“Getting physical is never the answer, Poppy King,” he murmured with false seriousness. “Well, not in a hospital, anyway. In a bedroom –”
“Don’t touch me,” Poppy bit out, disgusted.
Dorian laughed before calming back down. “I still have to cut you open.”
“I know. I was procrastinating.”
“I’m going to have to do something similar to last time.”
“I know. Hence the procrastination.”
He lessened the grip on her arm. “I’ll try and keep it cleaner this time.”
Poppy’s face grew uncertain as Dorian retrieved a knife. It was much larger than the scalpel he had used before.
“Please don’t take as much blood this time,” Poppy said, her voice small and quiet. It took Dorian aback – both her tone of voice and the fact she said please.
“I took too much by accident last time,” Dorian explained as he positioned the blade above Poppy’s arm. “I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
Poppy clenched her eyes shut as she prepared for the knife to go through her skin, but Dorian had paused. She glanced at him. “What are you doing?”
“I could give you a painkiller, you know,” Dorian suggested. It had never crossed his mind before; then again, he’d never anticipated being in this situation in the first place.
But Poppy shook her head. “Just fucking do it, Dorian.”
It was the first time Poppy had uttered his name since her discovery of his true nature. For some reason it unnerved him.
He plunged the blade into Poppy’s arm, holding her down in order to prevent her from squirming away. She let out a wordless cry of pain as Dorian quickly brought the heavily bleeding limb to his mouth, once more revelling in the sensation of literally drinking in more life.
It filled up every crevice of his body, making him feel fuller and stronger than ever before. He felt an unbearable, tingling sensation behind his ears that told him his human form was mere moments away from crumbling down around him. But he didn’t want to transform in front of Poppy again. He didn’t think she’d be able to handle it, somehow; part of him knew that she likely hadn’t even processed him having done it the week before.
Dorian had to force himself to pull away from Poppy’s arm before he took too much. He stared up at her, knowing that his face likely looked plenty monstrous even without transforming, given the blood that was dripping from his teeth and tongue and lips.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said, in lieu of anything else to say. Poppy didn’t respond as Dorian first cleaned himself up and then her arm, wrapping it up with a satisfied smile on his face before adding, “It was far less messy this time.”
But Poppy wasn’t looking at him. It made Dorian wildly frustrated; he felt tempted to forcibly make her look – to push her back against the bed and –
And then what? Dorian shoved the feeling to the side. He was deliriously high on Poppy’s blood. No doubt that had something to do with his thoughts. He stepped away from the bed to let Poppy get back to her feet.
She was far less pale than last time, which relieved Dorian. Poppy barely even wobbled on her feet as she walked towards the door.
“Don’t forget about Ross,” she muttered, and then she was gone.
“I definitely won’t,” he said under his breath, already keenly aware of how much he wanted more of Poppy’s blood.
*
Dorian couldn’t believe it when he literally caught the doomed man, Ross Bridges, in the act of skulking outside Casey’s bedroom door hours later, when everyone was asleep.
“Well aren’t you a worthless son of a bitch,” Dorian laughed, immediately injecting a sedative into him before hefting the unconscious club member over to a locked room in the west wing.
One of his clients was going to be very, very happy indeed.
INTERLUDE I
When Ross Bridges woke up his first instinct was to take a swing at the fucker who had crept up on him.
But he couldn’t. It wasn’t because he was strapped to a bed, though indeed that was also the case.
His right arm was gone.
Ross started to scream in horror, the sound louder and more guttural than anything he’d ever uttered in his entire life.
Nobody heard him.
ANGELICA FISHER
Andrew
Poppy was acting weird. Which was odd, because Andrew Martin Forbes was used to being the weird one. Not that he thought any of his behaviour was weird, of course. But other people thought he was, so he supposed he must be.
The Outdoors Sports Society was halfway through its second week at the Highland Adrenaline Sports Facility. Andrew had, on the grand scheme of things, had a thoroughly enjoyable time. Most people wouldn’t think
this was immediately apparent, given his demeanour, but those who counted knew.
Andrew didn’t want the trip to end, all things considered. Ever since Poppy had asked him if he wanted to join her on her ‘escape adulthood’ trip abroad, he had decided to use the two week club getaway as a test to see if he truly would be able to go. So that Poppy wouldn’t have to ‘babysit’ him, as she’d put it.
Though Andrew wanted nothing more than to be seen as an adult by those around him – especially his parents – Poppy’s plan of simply never having to care about being one was even better. And Andrew felt most comfortable when he was outdoors, surrounded by water and rocks and boats and trees and as few people as possible.
Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Andrew very much enjoyed being part of the club, even though there were many people he did not like. But he liked being part of something and genuinely making friends on his own for the first time in his life. It was his biggest achievement.
He thought back to his first week at university, four years ago, when a hyper-active, keen-to-help Poppy King had somehow convinced Andrew to come along to a freshers’ course on climbing at a nearby centre. Gangly, soft Andrew thought there was no way he could do something that required so much coordination, let alone the fact that he’d have to talk to lots of loud, obnoxious people.
But Poppy had been so eager to get him involved and was somehow even happier when Andrew had actually shown up for the course. She’d taught him first-hand how to climb. Andrew had discovered that, to his shock and delight, he loved it.
Four years later he was no longer soft and uncoordinated. Andrew knew he probably had one of the physically fittest bodies in the club, since he didn’t drink or smoke and he made sure to only eat exactly what he should. Andrew enjoyed how good being healthy actually felt; no longer did he spend his days trapped inside with nobody to go out exploring with him as he had done as a child and teenager. His parents didn’t like the outdoors, after all.
Now he spent all the time he could outside. The next natural step for him to take was to move out of his parents’ house and become truly independent, but Andrew knew this was the most difficult step of all.
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