by Amanda Long
“True, but I'm impaired. At the moment, it doesn't matter that you don't possess my preferred genitalia,” Thomas smirked, his eyes wandering to Dorian's package.
“Bye, Thomas,” Dorian blurted, one foot out the door, anxious to be away from those groping eyes.
“Wait, don't leave. Aren't you curious as to how I got in my current predicament?”
“Not really,” Dorian grumbled.
“You sure? It's quite an entertaining story. I embarrass myself,” Thomas added, hoping to entice Dorian's continued audience.
“Fine,” Dorian relented, “but only if you cease the flirting.”
Waving his hand in agreement, Thomas wasted no time diving into his story. “Well, I happened upon a dive of a bar searching for a complementary chaser to my rather delicious meal. Ah, what a lovely young thing – another story for another time, perhaps. I was just about to order my old standby, when I heard some rowdy college kids cackling about how stout their drinks where. And if college students know anything, it's alcohol. So I order the entire stock. The bartender just stared at me until I started handing out one hundred dollar bills. Oh, how his eyes lit up with greed. He probably would have tasted scrumptious.” He stared longingly up at the ceiling.
“Ahem.” Dorian cleared his throat from his chair near the door.
“What? I'm drunk, remember? Kind of hard to focus,” Thomas snapped irritably. “You are no fun,” he added under his breath.
Dorian rolled his eyes, drunk or not, Thomas often had a difficult time staying on task.
“As I was saying...damn it!! I feel my cognitive ability returning far too rapidly!” Thomas hollered, beating the bed with his fist. After the mini tantrum, he continued as if nothing had happened. “I drank half the first bottle with the bartender screaming at me about diluting it with water. Fuck that, I thought. And then it hit me, oh, that wonderful green liquid knocked me on my ass, quite literally. It took me a fair amount of time to reposition my sweet ass back onto that bar stool.”
Dorian held back a laugh.
“Oh, you enjoy that visual?” Thomas grabbed a pillow and tossed it at his grinning friend.
Slapping the carelessly flung pillow easily away from his face, Dorian jabbed, “Awfully much. I also enjoy wondering if you've realized, in your drunken stupor, that your fangs are exposed.”
“No, I hadn't noticed.” Thomas ran his tongue along his upper gum, verifying Dorian's statement. “It wasn't intentional. I did notice, however, after I made my way back onto my stool, the other patrons evacuated the bar rather speedily. I had just assumed I was an annoying drunk.”
“That you are, and you don't even have to be drunk!” Dorian released the laugh he had been holding in.
“Ha-ha! I love your sorry attempts at humor,” Thomas smirked.
“I haven't had the best teacher,” Dorian teased.
“Since you insult me, to make amends, would you be a dear and retrieve the rest of my alcohol from my car? I just remembered I haven't consumed all the wonderful green liquid. As an extra bonus for the favor, I will refrain from beating you silly in the dojo today and just remain right here re-intoxicating myself until my well runs dry.”
*****
Dorian appreciated the distraction Thomas provided, but once he delivered the bottle to his drunk friend, his mind went back to his earlier thoughts.
Am I truly satisfied with my life in its present stage? Content, yes, but that's before knowing the possibility of another way.
He pondered as he paced the halls of his current home. Long had he given up on having a life remotely resembling his previous one since God had refused to answer any of his prayers. Now with Megan's assessment, that he wasn't a horrible abomination, did he have another option?
She seemed so sure of what she said, and confident I'm not a lost cause. Could I go back? Do I want to? I have everything I could ever want or need.
Indeed, life with his friend was far from lacking. Beauty surrounded him: Thomas, the mansion, and all its fine furnishings, but all of it was superficial.
Is all this truly what I want?
He shook his head, unsure of what he wanted. One thing he was sure of though. He hated himself and what he had become from the moment he tasted blood.
Could Megan help me remove this self-hatred? If it is possible, shouldn’t I at least give her a shot? What harm would it do?
Stopping in his pacing, he stood still, momentarily hopeful. The feeling was fleeting however, rapidly replaced with more rational thought.
Don't be stupid, Dorian. What harm would it do? A lot, you idiot. You're not human anymore. You will never be human again. You're a vampire. You can't simply go back to the life you had before. Not even on the promise of a beautiful woman. You're a threat to Megan. You can't risk it.
He wondered aimlessly around the mansion, wishing for an escape. He stopped as he passed the pool. Thousands of stars reflected off the surface of the clear liquid. He thought there was no better place for a temporary escape than the bottom of the tranquil water. Diving in, fully clothed, he pushed himself to the bottom, drinking in the water to aid in the process. The chlorinated water burned his lungs as they filled up. Lying on the bottom with thousands of gallons between him and the world, blocking out all its confusion, he stared up at the stars, wishing to remain lost here forever.
The first beams of sunrise alerted him to the time, as well as a muffled voice. As he reluctantly rose from his solitude, he found Thomas standing a safe distance from the impending sunlight. “Are you insane?! Did you not learn your lesson in the dojo? Or have you forgotten that sunlight fucking hurts?!”
“No, Thomas, I haven't forgotten,” Dorian snapped, looking down at his arms now resting on the edge of the pool. The skin was smooth and flawless, free from the painful blisters covering them after the dojo incident.
“Well, I'm relieved to know you haven't completely lost your mind. What the hell were you doing on the bottom of the pool though?!”
Dorian pulled himself out; his waterlogged clothes making the process difficult. “Trying not to think,” he answered while standing in a puddle in front of Thomas.
“Guess I spoke to soon,” Thomas teased. “You should try murder. That always seems to clear my mind right up,” he smiled wickedly. “Go get dried off and join me in the dojo. I'm sober and bored,” he commanded as he exited the room.
Dorian joined Thomas in the dojo a few minutes later, dry and dressed in a gi.
“Finally,” Thomas huffed, standing in the middle of the dojo, leaning on his staff.
“You've barely had to wait five minutes,” Dorian retorted as he retrieved a matching staff from the wall of weaponry.
“Exactly,” Thomas barked.
Dorian met his friend in the center of the padded floor. After bowing to each other, they both stood ready. He had become fairly proficient at blocking his strikes and even landing a few of his own. Never one to initiate the fight, he waited for him to attack.
“We should remedy your naked lady problem tonight,” Thomas suggested.
Momentarily stunned by his statement, Dorian allowed Thomas to land his first blow across his left shoulder. “Ow!” He cried out as the bones broke and fused in mere seconds. “Are you attempting to distract me with your yammering?”
“Not at all. It isn't my fault you can't multitask.” Thomas smiled. He spoke the truth but was pleased by the unexpected consequence of his banter. “As I was saying, tonight could be your lucky night,” he continued as he and Dorian circled each other, looking for an opening.
Dorian groaned to himself, thinking Thomas would blab the entire fight.
“But who will be the lucky lady? That's the real question,” Thomas laughed
“I don't care,” Dorian lied.
“Well of course you do, or you wouldn't have run away at the tattoo parlor. You missed out, my boy. Ashley had quite a nice set of...” Thomas took his hand off of his staff to cup it over his chest.
Dori
an lunged, capitalizing on his gesturing. Thomas feinted to the right. Dorian stumbled and was struck across the back for his troubles.
“Nice try,” Thomas grinned. “If you hadn't been completely ignoring me and perhaps participated in the conversation during the ride home that night, I wouldn't feel the need to do so now.”
Dorian righted himself, turned back to Thomas, and rolled his eyes.
“I saw that,” Thomas snapped. “You should take this seriously.”
“What, the conversation or the fight?” Dorian asked sarcastically.
“Both, of course,” Thomas smiled. “Now, what are your preferences in the female gender. Or do you even have any besides not unnatural?” He waited for him to answer or strike. When he did neither, Thomas continued. “Okay, well, we could just do like you did with your first victim and choose the first plain Jane we come across. Although with such an important rite of passage, I had presumed you would want someone who would get your juices flowing.”
Dorian stared at him blankly.
“You know, someone who ignites your engine.” Thomas laughed, knowing Dorian probably had no idea what he was referring to, “someone you'd like to fuck, Dorian, in case it goes that far. If it doesn't, someone I'd like to fuck,” he added more to himself. “In that case, the decision is easy. It might take a little more effort, but I propose a natural redhead – can't get more 'natural' than that. And we can both get what we want and need,” Thomas winked.
Already irritated by his bantering, Dorian snapped when he heard the words redhead. He might not have understood the initial sexual references, but no one ever survived a visit from Thomas. With his instinct to protect Megan kicking in, he charged, bringing his staff down hard across Thomas' right. The staff collided with Thomas' jaw. He stumbled backwards a step.
Taking advantage of his loss in balance, Dorian swept his staff across the floor, knocking Thomas off his feet and onto the ground. Standing over him, Dorian raised his staff over his head, bringing in straight down with all his strength, aiming for Thomas' face. He saw only red. Over and over, he bashed.
“Dorian! Dorian!”
He heard someone screaming from behind. Turning, he swung his staff at the unknown, barely missing. Thomas ducked just in time.
Confused, Dorian turned back to the place of his rage to find not Thomas lying there brains smashed in but just a dent. He heard clapping and once again turned and swung his staff. Thomas again dodged the blow. Dorian dropped his staff as Thomas walked to the hole. “Wow, I am impressed.”
“How?” Dorian stammered looking from an unharmed Thomas to the damage he had done to the dojo floor.
“Exactly,” Thomas answered. “I'm not sure what triggered that beautiful outburst but you bested me. Knocking me clean on my ass and nearly redecorating the dojo with my brains. If I had been a second slower you would have,” he added wiping a trickle of blood from the side of his face.
“But,” Dorian stuttered repeating the glance between Thomas and the floor.
“I'll leave you alone to work through it, buddy,” Thomas patted Dorian on the shoulder before exiting the dojo.
Dorian stood there dumbfounded, trying to comprehend what had transpired. He swore he bashed in Thomas' head. And according to Thomas he almost had. Looking at the damage he had done filled him with a sense of accomplishment. Maybe he hadn't beat him to a pulp but he had knocked him down. That was a first.
Just the thought of Megan affects me greatly, enabling me to do extraordinary things. And it seems I'll not likely rid her from my mind. Maybe I don't have to be a threat to her. Maybe she can save both of us from me.
Chapter 12
Withdrawal
As he waited for sunset to allow him a visit with his potential savior, Dorian's thirst sent him to the stockpile. Rows of containers holding a wide variety of different bloods arranged by type, age, and sex, filled the giant refrigerator. Thomas had blood ready to quench every craving imaginable. Seeing only human blood, Dorian panicked.
If I'm going to give Megan a chance to save me, I need to do my part. No more human blood in any form, either directly from the source or conveniently packaged in containers.
He frantically searched the stockpile once again, hoping to find some leftovers from his first days with Thomas. Half a jar, way in the back, caught his eye. The quantity and ease of so much blood at his disposal became hard to resist. Grabbing the container, he intended to consume the blood in one gulp. Bringing the container up to his lips, the stench of the animal it once belonged to assailed his nose.
Cow…it could be worse.
As the cold liquid slid over his tongue, he gagged, barely resisting the reflex to spew the horrid red substance all over the spotless white kitchen. He forced himself to swallow and then repeat until the container was empty. A thankful sigh, followed by the container crashing into the bottom of the trash ended this less than spectacular step down the path of salvation.
*****
Megan's heart skipped as she peered through the peephole of her apartment door. Standing outside was someone she wasn't sure she would ever see again. After undoing the locks, she opened the door wide. “Hello,” she greeted, smiling cheerfully.
“Still interested in being my cure?” Dorian asked hopefully, getting directly to the point of his visit.
Blushing slightly, she stammered, “Yyess...please, come in.” She held up her hand to stop him. “Wait, I need to put Blaze up.”
Stung by her words and the fear he thought they represented, he almost turned to leave, but hesitated long enough to question, “Are you afraid for his safety?”
Covering and uncovering her mouth with her hand, she apologized, “No, I'm sorry, of course not. It's just that last time you asked me too. I've already told you I don't fear you, the same goes for Blaze. Anyway, he seems to be quite fond of you,” she added with a reassuring smile.
“Then, no it isn't necessary,” he replied, making his way to her couch. “May I sit?” He asked politely.
“Yes, of course,” she answered, gesturing to the left end of her couch.
As soon as he graced her couch with his presence, Blaze leaped into his lap, making himself comfortable.
“It's amazing to see him so affectionate with someone other than myself. He never even warmed up to my parents and he's been in my family for years.” She sat on the couch beside them.
“Was he a present?” He asked, stroking Blaze as he purred loudly.
“Not exactly,” she admitted, scratching Blaze's ear. “Actually, I suckered my parents into letting me have him.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I can be very convincing,” she gloated, playfully tossing her hair with her hand.
“Yes, I can see that. You've definitely peaked my interest in a topic I had long abandoned.” Suddenly frowning, he grabbed his abdomen as his stomach cramped and churned. Feeling the urge to vomit, he jumped from the couch, knocking Blaze from his resting place. He glanced around frantically, searching for anything suitable for the task. “Where's your restroom?” He cringed, sure he was just seconds away from throwing up all over her living room.
“There.” She pointed to the closed door to the left of her bedroom.
Bent over in pain, he stumbled into the small space. Hovering over the toilet, he gagged repeatedly, however, there was nothing in his stomach to expel; there hadn't been for years. Still, the urge kept him bent over and failing for what seemed like an eternity.
Having followed him to the bathroom, Megan knocked softly on the door, after hearing his gagging subside. “Dorian, are you all right?”
“I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute.” He croaked; his throat raw from gagging. Finally, the cramping subsided, allowing him to stand straight and view himself in the mirror. His face was flushed, full of color – a stark contrast to his normal pale complexion.
“O... okay,” she stuttered, not having the slightest idea about how to deal with a sick vampire. Sitting herself back on the c
ouch, she anxiously waited for him to come out of the bathroom with an explanation.
When Dorian returned to his seat beside her, his appearance was vastly different than before. His furrowed brow and bent posture told her he was suffering.
“What's wrong?” She looked him over for symptoms she might recognize.
“My gguess would be thaaat my body isn't too happy with mmmy abrupt change in diet.” His chattering teeth made articulating nearly impossible. Leaning his head back on the couch, he attempted to regain control of his unruly body. In response to the attempt to be controlled, his body unleashed shivers, not only worsening his teeth chattering, but causing his entire body to shake.
Retrieving a blanket from her bed, Megan gently covered his shaking body, grazing his skin in the process. “You're burning hot.” Placing the back of her hand against his cheek to be certain, she questioned, “Is it common for vampires to run a fever?”
Through chattering teeth and panicked laughter, he stated, “You're tthee nurse.”
Forcing a smile, she blurted nervously, “Ha-ha! I must have been absent the day my professors discussed vampires.”
The blanket's warmth stifled his shakes, allowing him to speak without stuttering. “Great,” he joked. “I counted on you to nurse me back to health.” Seeing the concern for his wellbeing projected in her eyes, he continued with a smile, “Don't worry, I'm not dying. Vampires are quite resilient. Found that knowledge out the hard way long ago.”
His words calmed her slightly, but also perked her curiosity. Keeping herself focused on her current situation, she filed away her wonder for another time. “What did you mean earlier when you said abrupt change in diet?”
“I switched from ingesting human blood to animal blood,” he answered bluntly, lacking the energy to sugar coat his undesirable dependency.
“Oh,” she uttered, surprised by his bluntness. “So you can survive on either?” She questioned, knowing the answer already from his earlier statement about not dying, however she wondered how varied their definition of survive might be.
