“Well, I’ll keep it in mind if he won’t stay still.”
“Harvey, stay still for me, okay? There will be some scary lights and sounds, but it’ll be okay, and I’ll be right there.” I point at the window I’d been looking through. “Okay?”
He doesn’t say or do anything to demonstrate that he understands, but he’s a very smart bird. We head back to the other room where she takes a few pictures. He holds still each time she needs to make an adjustment. “Obvious question first, has he ever been sick before? Anything at all?”
“He’s had a couple colds, and he had a vitamin D deficiency in the seventies. I was still new at this, but I changed his lighting setup and got him some calcium pills. It took care of it almost immediately.”
I try my best not to notice her surprisingly warm smile. I don’t need a goddamned human feeling bad for me. “Anything else?”
“Not really. He hasn’t had anything too bad until this.”
“That’s good. It seems like you really care about him.”
Of course I do. He’s my best friend. Hell, he’s my only friend. “I do.”
“I’m glad he’s in such good hands. You should see some of the horror stories that come in here during my normal hours. Humans are a lot worse at looking after animals than you are. I swear, sometimes it seems like they don’t care at all. If all they want is something cute to hang around, they should get a stuffed animal.”
I manage to meet her eyes. “Humans are terrible.”
“Yeah. They certainly are.”
I was not prepared for this. I’m not particularly keen on most vampires for a number of reasons, but hearing a human talk like that just sounds wrong. “You’re one too, you know. Or are you trying to claim that you’re the exception? Humans are disgusting things ruled by fear and their own pitiful desires.” I bare my fangs, maintaining eye contact. I’ll not have her try to escape from being the monster she is. We’re all doomed by our fates.
She shrugs. “Sounds like me.”
“You admit that you’re just like them.”
“You were one too, right? I’m sure it’s been a few decades, but it’s not like that makes you some saint or anything. Humans are monsters, and you’re both.”
If she wasn’t looking after Harvey, I’d rip out her throat where she stands.
Leaning against the wall, she smirks. She pulls a bottle of pills out of her pocket and pops one, swallowing it without a drink. Her playfully bitter expression falls as she stares at the computer, taking a step toward it. A few button-presses later, she swallows, staring at the ceiling, popping another pill. “I thought it might be. He has signs of aspergillosis. I’d like to run a couple more tests, but I should be able to fix him. At his age, it can be pretty risky. Depending on how he responds to the medication, he may need surgery.”
“Whatever it takes.”
“It won’t be cheap.”
“Like I said, whatever it takes.”
She gives an appreciative nod. “Glad to hear it. I think I still have some of the right antibiotics in my pharmacy. I just need to make sure it’s the right kind for him. He’s a Congo African gray, right?”
“He is.”
“All right. Get out of my hair for an hour while I check up on a few things. I’ll have the medication when you get back.”
I grit my teeth, doing my best to glare. “You want me to leave him alone with you?”
“It’s only an hour. I need to run my tests, and it’ll be easier without someone asking questions the entire time. I promise I’ll take good care of him.” Her gaze never leaves Harvey. She’s watching him through the window, all but ignoring me. I’m glad she has the right priorities.
“He’ll listen to me,” I insist. “He can be an ornery old bastard. I don’t want him struggling and ending up hurt because you didn’t feel like dealing with me for a little while.”
With a shrug, she drops the bottle back in her pocket and gestures toward Harvey. “Fine. You can stay. Go grab him. The machine’s in another room.”
I do as she says. The goddamn indignity of having to obey this pitiful creature. I really might eat her when this is all done. Nevertheless, I comply the entire time, and we run through all the tests that she needs to be satisfied. Whether she’s testing to make sure she gives him the right medication or just that we run enough tests to run up my bill, I can’t say for sure. When we’re done, she hands me a bottle of pills to give him once a day, and I give her the four hundred for her time and medication. This better work. I don’t want to have to deal with her again anytime soon.
* * *
The door slams shut behind me, blocking out the outside world. Setting his travel cage on its stand by the door, I let Harvey out, hoping he’ll spread his wings for a little while. He only offers a pitiful squawk and hops onto my forearm. All right, I could do with the company. That vet gave him his first pill while we were there, so I won’t need to worry about that until tomorrow.
We walk to the kitchen where I put the kettle on for a cup of tea. I don’t need to drink, but after years in England, it became an unavoidable habit. I wish I could make it as good as Oscar always did. Maybe it was just the absinthe. I’ll have to look into that sometime now that it’s legal. Not that that’s ever stopped me, but it makes it cheaper.
I sit at the little table in the corner of my kitchen. My dining room sees so little use. Perhaps I should take someone here to eat sometime or maybe buy one of those delightful blood pastries I’ve seen in the market. Then I’d have an excuse to break out the fine china.
Harvey hops off my arm to wander around the table. I stand, and he starts to hop back toward me, stretching his wings to glide onto my arm. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m just going to the fridge.”
“Come back,” he manages to say. I’m so relieved I can almost feel my heartbeat. He hasn’t said a word in weeks. There’s no way the medication is already working, but perhaps it’s the placebo effect. I only hope it’s not him managing a second wind before he grows worse.
I return with a few carrots. There’s a bag of blood in the fridge for emergencies, but I need something fresh tonight. I’ll eat later. “Would you eat for me?” I ask. He’s had so little appetite of late. He barely even touched an apple yesterday when they’re normally one of his favorite foods.
“Carrots,” he states firmly, diving for the snack. I can barely contain my joy as I beam at him. He’s eating. All right, Dr. Sun, maybe I’ll let you live after all. He makes quick work of the first carrot but seems to think better of it and only half-heartedly pecks at the second. It’s not a miracle. I wasn’t expecting one, but it’s still an improvement.
“Was that good?”
“Carrots good.”
Sometimes I worry for my mental health when the only person I ever talk to is a parrot, but then I remember how awful everyone else is. The kettle sings its song, and I rise again. I can feel Harvey’s eyes on me as I walk over, taking my time. Normally, if he was this desperate for attention, he would fly over. I scoop some loose tea leaves into my old tin teapot and pour the boiling water in after it.
I grab a lemon and some cucumbers from the fridge and start chopping. Harvey squawks impatiently from his spot on the table. If he wants me that badly, he can fly over here. When I’m done, I take the two little cucumber sandwiches and carry them over with my teapot. He complains again as I grab my second favorite teacup—my favorite is still in the sink from earlier—but I don’t make him wait long.
I take a bite of the cucumber sandwich while I wait. It does nothing for my hunger, but I’m feeling particularly nostalgic today, and it seems appropriate. Plus, if I’m lucky… Harvey snatches a cucumber from one of my sandwiches. Setting it on the table, he munches on it, looking up at me between bites. That’s what I was hoping for.
When the tea’s done steeping, I pour a cup and add a slice of lemon and some honey. Harvey watches me patiently. “Tea?” he asks.
“Yes.” I take a sip. It
’s far too hot, but it hardly matters. Ever since I found out that tea’s safe for parrots, I’ve been buying the caffeine-free variety. Caffeine doesn’t do anything for me either way, but the taste is a bit off. It’s worth it to not risk poisoning him. There’s no way he’d not drink my tea just because it’s bad for him.
“Tea?” he asks. Maybe he really is dying. He’s actually being polite.
“It’s still too hot for you.”
He cocks his head, staring with those little yellow-brown eyes.
“Beg all you want. You’re not getting any until it’s cool.”
He kicks his cucumber and flaps his wings at me. I take another slice of cucumber from one of my sandwiches and hand it to him, taking a bite of the sandwich myself. I was never the best cook in life—I left that to my wife—but sometime over the years, either I’ve improved or I’ve adapted to my meager skills. He bites into the slice, more attacking it than eating it, but I’m pretty sure he swallows a few bites. I’ll deal with the mess later.
When I’ve almost finished the cup, I blow on it and right his cup where it lies on the table. I pour the last few drops into it and top off my cup. He leaps upon the shallow cup and shoves his face in it, tilting his head back to drink. His happy little dance is gratitude enough for me. He’d never be so proper as to actually thank me. I scratch his head when he’s done, and he gives me a merry squawk before taking a second sip. I decide to join him, and we enjoy our tea in peace.
Once he’s done, I let him hop back on me, and we walk around the house. The parlor has grown grander in recent years since I replaced my old rabbit-eared television with one of the newfangled flat ones. The same brown leather couch still manages, somehow, despite Harvey’s best efforts. He makes me happy I have tile floors. We pass my bedroom and head toward his, the massive cage and pile of toys standing against their own walls. The doctor said he needs his sleep, and while I’m certain he’ll fight me, I intend to make sure it happens.
“Not bedtime,” he mutters. He sounds like a petulant child, yet he’s older than that vet.
“You’re sick, and it is bedtime.”
He bites my finger.
I’m too strong to give him any response without crippling him, so I ignore him. I set him in the cage, turning off the automatic light attached to it. I try to keep him on a consistent schedule, but not if it might impact his recovery. He begrudgingly jumps off my finger onto his perch, turning back and fixing me with the most pitiful expression he can manage. It’s almost enough to get me to leave his door open.
“Get some sleep,” I say, draping the cover over his cage. I hate using it if I don’t have to. It feels oddly rude. His curtains are normally enough.
He lets out an annoyed chirp but offers no further protests. Perfect. Now I can go have an actual meal.
* * *
I take a seat at the bar, leaning back on the torn leather stool as I sip my mai tai. I hate this. It’s not what a bar is meant to be like. Even when I let my men have shore leave it was never this bad. It is, however, the easiest way to find a meal that’s as unappetizing as it is morally unquestionable to eat. It’ll only take a few minutes. Someone always gives me cause before long.
“You know, you’re kinda hot for a black girl,” a man behind me slurs, stumbling into the stool next to me.
Ask and ye shall receive. “Well, that’s just the nicest thing I’ve heard all night.”
He leans against the counter, leering, his putrid breath puffing on my neck. I’d be doing the world a favor if I killed him. “How’s abouts I buy you a drink?”
That is what I’m here for. “Sure, another mai tai sounds great.”
“Two whiskeys,” he shouts over me, waving for the bartender’s attention.
Him raising his arm almost sends me hurling. He smells like he washed up from the sea after a few days of rotting. I’ve been in battlefields that didn’t smell this bad. Granted, I was human then, so my nose wasn’t quite as strong, but it still hardly speaks well of him. I’m not entirely certain that his blood won’t corrode my stomach.
The bartender, Carl, returns to glower at him. He’s a tall thin man with a bushy beard, who must suspect something of me by now—though perhaps just that I’ve a thing for terrible men. That would’ve solved so many of my issues. “You said two whiskeys?” He picks up a bottle from under the bar, looking to me for approval.
It hardly matters to me. I give him a nod.
He pours the two drinks and slides them over to us. “That’ll be eight bucks.”
“You’re a damn thief. I don’t know why I come here,” my prey grumbles, ripping his wallet from his coat. “These prices for the swill you serve.” With a heavy groan, he tosses a ten at the bartender, who snatches it out of the air without a word. Normally, I’d have to really work to find someone quite this reprehensible. It’s far from necessary. I’ve eaten plenty of good people, but it’s easy, and I have some aggression to work off. I wish he would put up a fight.
Giving me an apologetic look, Carl walks back to the other end of the bar, leaving me alone with this bag of filth. “Drink up,” the drunk insists.
What a gentleman. I throw back the shot and give him the most lascivious grin I can manage without throwing up. It takes some work, but I’ve had centuries of practice. “You want to get out of here?” I ask, throwing my hair over my shoulder. Hell, it’d probably work on me. He doesn’t have a chance. I don’t even have to use my powers.
“Do I? With a—” His face contorts into an ecstatic expression, as if I’ve made all of his debauched fantasies come true at once. “Hell yeah.” His yellowed teeth show in what must be a smile before he downs his own drink, wincing at the flavor, and leaps off his chair. He seems perfectly capable of walking now as he grabs at my hand, trying to lead me to the front door.
I gesture to the back, and we head out into a narrow alley that smells of urine and garbage. He smirks, already ripping off his belt. He holds it like a garrote as he turns to me. Was he hunting me too, or is he expecting something far more depraved than I’d led him to believe?
I pin his hands to the filthy wall, holding him in place as the belt slips from his fingers. “The hell you doing?” he asks.
Bless us, O Lord, and these, thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty. Through Christ our Lord, Amen. My teeth sink into his neck, my hand muffling his scream as he struggles against me. I was right, he does taste rancid. It is what’s on the inside that counts after all, and his insides are vile.
I manage a couple liters before I can’t stomach it anymore. He sinks bonelessly to the ground, his eyes slowly closing and opening, peering up at me in confusion. “Wha—”
“Go back inside and get some food and juice. What happened here was exactly what you wished.” I stare into his eyes, dragging him away from the truth into a world of my creation. “You came out here and had your way with me, and now you need a drink. So you’re going to go back inside and not say a word of the woman you met today. You wouldn’t want them to think that you’d been with a black woman, would you?”
He shakes his head, his eyes staring unblinking into mine.
“That’s what I thought. Now stand up, walk inside, and never bother me again.”
He rises as shakily as he collapsed, but his feet seem determined to carry his load. He turns without a word, opening the door we’d left through and shambling back inside. I used to kill them, but eventually, if exsanguinated bodies start piling up, people begin to grow suspicious. It’s far easier having a few confused drunks with bite marks they’d never be willing to show anyone.
I turn on my heel, alive again as I saunter through the dark alley back to my car. I needed this. I had to tolerate far too many humans for my liking today and yesterday. If I didn’t fill my belly with one, I would feel supremely robbed. Now I’m sated, and Harvey seems to be on the mend, so I’d say the day turned out pretty well. I pull out of the narrow parking spot in my Mercedes, flying back to my house. The stre
ets are all but empty. The bars won’t let out for another half an hour. Yesterday, I was terrified that my world would fall apart. Now everything seems to be coming up roses. Maybe I’ll order a new toy for Harvey when I get home.
Chapter Two
The Hunt
Thatch roofs burn unimaginably quickly. Between the smell and the handful of us who are already on fire, the air is thick with smoke and the stench of death. There’s nowhere to run. They’d claimed there was safety in numbers, that we could hide together, and we’d all be safe. One by one, they fall before me.
Sara is the first to go. In the light of the sun, bearing crosses, crossbows, stakes, and torches, they set upon us, destroying the roof and setting the place ablaze. They find her still sleeping. She screams as the shaft of wood pierces her heart, rousing the rest of us from our barely begun slumber. There is only one door. All they have to do is wait for us to burn up or run out to them, but it’s not enough. They want to satisfy their sick pleasure by shedding our blood with their own two hands.
I can give far better than I’ll receive. I rush them, trying to buy time for my friends, but the wretched curs invoke the God I’ve fallen so far from. As his word is a sword, they’ve made a bludgeon of the cross. Literally. It’s large, wooden, and sharpened at the bottom, but it’s full of their faith and fear and of every wretched sin he drove me to.
It burns, but I do my best to shrug it off, scrambling to my feet, my cheek still sizzling as I leap at one of them, fangs and claws bared. I rip out the throat of the man who hit me, but a crossbow bolt to the back sends me reeling again. A few inches to the left and it would’ve been my life.
Leonard collapses without a word as his head is cleaved from his body. I don’t see Mara anywhere, but it’s possible she escaped. Lord, I hope she did. Reginald and Arthur are both still fighting for their lives. Gunshots echo throughout the small chamber, and a few hunters fall. I grab a sword from one of them and set myself on another.
Olivia Page 2
