Olivia

by Genevieve McCluer

  “What do you mean it made it worse? What happened?”

  “Nothing, just more bad dreams.” Can I go back to sleep? I haven’t even been dreaming. It’s been amazing. It’s like there’s nothing in my head, when normally, there’s far too much in there to deal with. I love the silence.

  “About the Hunt?”

  No. It wasn’t about the Hunt, was it? What was it about again? My eyes widen. Oh. Right. “No.”

  “Then what was it about?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Her fingers tap her armrest. “I think you might need to. I don’t know you that well, but you sound like you’re in a really bad place right now. In order for me to help you, you need to tell me what’s going on.”

  Gnashing my teeth, I glare at the TV, finally finding the energy to turn it off. I can still see the look on her face, the pain in her eyes, the fear. Fuck, I want to be numb again. “I can’t.”

  “Ms. Crocetti—”

  “I killed my wife. Because of…” I shake my head. No one else is to blame. It was my fangs in her neck. “I’d just been turned, and I ate her. I thought she was having an affair, and she smelled like food, and I didn’t know what was happening.”

  Her teeth grind, and her chair stops swiveling. “It happens. You don’t have to hate yourself for it.”

  I want to spit back that she hasn’t done it or that it shouldn’t happen, but even in my current state, I’m aware enough to know that her wife likely did something similar. It’s not as much to spare her feelings as my own that I bite my tongue. I don’t want to have it rubbed in my face that other people deal with this shit too. Let me suffer alone. “Well, it still shouldn’t have happened. I still have to live with it.”

  “When was this?”

  I sigh. “You want the exact date?”

  “Sure.”

  “March 29th, 1508.”

  “Oh.” She pauses, taking a deep breath.

  “Yeah, I know that was a long time ago.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “I’m old. I get it.” I stare up at the stucco ceiling. Her death has haunted me for over five centuries. I don’t know how humans do it. Some of them move past their loves so quickly. I can’t even imagine it. “She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I killed her.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’ve talked to a lot of vampires. When you’re first turned, those cravings, that hunger…it’s more than anyone can resist.”

  “Then I should’ve found someone else to eat. Someone who deserved it.” Or eaten myself if I was so damn hungry. I’m the one who deserved to die.

  “You didn’t know what was happening. Did you want to be a vampire?”

  “No,” I admit.

  “Someone turned you, without your consent, and when you were so desperately hungry that you couldn’t think clearly, you found someone and ate her? I’m sorry for your loss, but that wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of whoever turned you.”

  “It is my fault. I shouldn’t have trusted him.”

  “You knew the man—”

  “I’ve relived quite enough without having to think of him. Forgive me, but we can talk about him another time. I’ve little desire to picture that smug mug of his anymore than I have to.”

  She falters. “Okay.” She seems to be searching for words, her lips smack as she opens and closes her mouth. “You’ve really never loved anyone since her?”

  “Not a soul.”

  “I can certainly relate, but I mean, it’s been five hundred years. Don’t you think you deserve to find someone new?”

  “No. No one who would kill her own wife deserves someone new.” Shaking, I wrap my arms about myself, scrutinizing my knees. “I can’t do that to her…to anyone.” It’s a stupid little crush. I barely know the girl. What is going through my mind?

  “You make it sound like you have a particular woman in mind.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Maybe that’s why you had that dream. You’re trying to guilt yourself out of moving past your ex-wife.”

  Is that what this is? Is that the only reason I’m feeling like this? “No. It’s not just that. Maybe this dream, but that was days ago. I’m fine. I’m over it. I don’t want to be with anyone.”

  “Then what is it?”

  I hesitate, but if it will get her to drop the subject of my finding a new paramour, perhaps it’s worth discussing what brought on this recent bout of depression and dissociation. “Fine.” She’ll think I’m such a fool. “I took those pills, and I still had that dream, and I decided I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “You—”

  “No. Not like that. Never like that, not since the night I killed her. I decided I needed a more drastic take at desensitization.” Merely thinking about it again is almost too much. “I went to the mall. Not the Honeydale Mall, the real one. I decided that if I made it through, I’d be fine. It’s been one hundred and twenty-one years, and I am sick of it. I can’t deal with being afraid anymore. I went where I thought the most people would be. I walked past them. I tried shopping. I even talked to someone. I thought I was managing it…well, almost.”

  “What happened?”

  I sigh. I don’t know why I let myself do it. I’ve read enough books on psychology to know that it doesn’t work like that. Why am I so damn stubborn? “I had a bit of a breakdown.”

  She sighs. Now she must think I’m even more in need of her care. “I’m sorry.”

  “I really thought I would be okay. Now I’m not even sure how many days it’s been. What’s today?”

  “Tuesday.”

  “Shit. I went out on Wednesday.”

  “Do you have any memory of the past week?”

  I shake my head, staring at the floor. “Flashes here and there. I wasn’t out killing people, if that’s what you’re worried about. I think I was just on the couch watching television. That might be why I have the strange urge to bake a cake.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t hurt anyone. Is Harvey okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I made sure to feed him. At least I remember that.”

  “You care a lot about him. Not a question…you’ve made it abundantly clear.”

  “I do. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” If I miss a single day of his pills, I’ll never forgive myself. He’s been doing so much better. I wonder if he’s asleep right now. I haven’t heard him squawking.

  “How are you doing now?”

  Leaning back in the couch, I let out a low groan. I’m glad I’m already dead, or else this couch would reek to hell right now. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re feeling a bit more present?”

  “I think I am. I remember this conversation.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  I hesitate. I know it’s what she’s there for, but my life has taught me to never admit weakness. It’s also taught me that I should never trust, and I seem to be starting to do that with her. Even if she is a human. Maybe we’ll change that at some point, as badly as she seems to want it.

  She seems to pick up on my hesitation. “Is there something on your mind?”

  Grinding my teeth, I reply, “I think I may have set myself back another few decades. I don’t know if I’ll even be able to go to Harvey’s follow-up appointment.”

  “If there’s one thing I can say about you, it’s that you’ll do whatever you have to for him.”

  Or maybe so I can see her again. I still can’t believe we were flirting. Maybe I’m simply desperate after such a long time without a partner. “I hope you’re right.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to leave for any other reason?”

  “To feed. I’m absolutely starving.” Have I eaten in the last week? There wasn’t much blood left in the fridge. I should buy more next time I’m at the Community Center.

  “What about to see your priest?”

  I bite my lip, trying to think if that’d be too much for me. It would invo
lve both sun and people, even if I’d be able to avoid the latter. “Probably.”

  “Please try. If it’s too much for you, I understand. I don’t want you to force yourself to do anything you’re not ready to do—especially after what happened the last time—but I don’t want you to lose all of the progress you’ve been making. You were able to talk to two different people who you weren’t viewing as food and without running away. That sounds like a massive change from where you had been, and it’s very impressive. You’re stronger than you know, Ms. Crocetti, and I don’t want you to let yourself think otherwise.”

  “Olivia,” I correct her. I’m already letting one human call me that. What’s the harm in another?

  “Olivia, then.” She pauses. “I normally like to have my clients refer to me as Ms. Rosseau-Lester, but I don’t want you to think your trust isn’t being reciprocated. It sounds like that’s a big thing for you. If you’d like, you can call me Elizabeth. Or Liz. Either’s fine.”

  “Thank you, Elizabeth.” Yeah, that doesn’t feel at all weird, whereas it absolutely does with Mia. Great, I do have a crush. I will have to do something about that.

  “How about we work on some more practice conversations? I’m still human, last time I checked.”

  “You needn’t sound so pained about it.”

  “I know last week was a setback, a bad one, but you can get through it, and I’ll help you the best I can.”

  I’m surprised to find myself smiling. Here I am, trusting my fate to a human once again. With considerable luck, it’ll go better this time. “All right, sure. Let’s do this.”

  We spend the next half hour going over practice conversations with her as Mia. I almost let it slip that she and I had been flirting the other day, but I manage to keep it to myself. Elizabeth suggested also trying with her as Father Gregory, but it would feel wrong. I can still talk to him fine, so it shouldn’t be an issue. It’s smelling and hearing the rest of the congregation that may be difficult, but I’ll manage.

  When we’re done, I head over to Harvey’s room to check on him. Please say I didn’t hallucinate feeding him.

  He blinks, waking up in the darkened room. I guess I haven’t had the lights on much. I wonder how much he’s been sleeping. Hopefully, that’ll help him fight off the last of the infection. “Morning,” he says, flapping at me from his perch.

  “Good morning.”

  “Feel better?”

  With a faint smile, I nod. I still can’t believe he actually worries about me. When I was researching buying an African gray, I read how selfish and jerkish they were, and that even if they showed affection, it would only be on their terms. Clearly, they haven’t been spending time with the right parrots. “I do. I’m going to give you your food and medicine, and I’ll make some tea. How’s that sound?”

  “Tea!”

  Apparently it sounds good. I give him his feed, as well as a nice treat for him to attack and tear apart for more food, and he takes his pill. Then I go to fix some tea, and a few minutes later, he flies after me. That bird loves his tea.

  * * *

  As loath as I am to admit it, I’m obviously starving for both blood and affection. I’ll be taking neither from Mia. She’s part of the community. We could too easily grow close. I won’t risk it. Besides, she’s the only vet I could have work on Harvey, and I’m not willing to compromise that.

  Being around humans is far less overwhelming when I’m planning on eating one. I know it seems silly, and it still sets me off sometimes, but when they’re prey, it doesn’t feel like they could also be a potential predator. Perhaps I’m single-minded that way.

  I don’t go to my normal place. I won’t find a good lay there, and that’s far more of what I’m after, if I’m honest. Fortunately, there are plenty of places where you can find a girl who’ll happily be eaten and eat you in return. Great, I’m making puns. I must be delirious from starvation.

  Sanctuary was a tad on the nose, but at least there, I knew precisely what people were expecting. With all of the clubs I knew gone—not that I ever frequented them—I have to do some searching. Hard to believe how much things change in a decade. I was never all that big on the scene. It always seemed like a bunch of posers trying to be something I was forced to be—and not always all that friendly to black people—but I don’t like using my powers if I’m going to be sharing a bed with them, and it’s the easiest way to find someone amenable to my needs.

  Deciding an odd game-themed place is probably my best bet, despite it catering primarily to a different audience, I do some breathing exercises to calm my nerves and grab my car keys. Once there, the noise and muddle of people exasperate my anxiety, but some steady breathing and a predatory mind-set seem to help.

  Looking around, I have to resist the urge to head right back out the door. This is only partly due to the impressive crowd for a Tuesday night. The rest of it is simply because I have no idea what I’m looking at. Everything is neon, garish, and oversexualized. Why would anyone want this?

  Luckily, it doesn’t take long. I spot a woman wearing all black with some frills and an ankh necklace—because we all must be stereotypes—who seems to be giving me the look. With a few centuries’ experience, I suppose my gaydar has become something of an exact science. I barely need do more than flash my fangs to get her out of there, which is a welcome relief. The lights were bad enough, but the place was small and full. I could feel the walls closing in. Some of the crowd even brushed against me. I take a deep breath, focusing on the night ahead as I lead her back to my car. It was for a good cause. I can have a panic attack later if I must, but more pressing matters await.

  I don’t have to risk letting her know where I live, as she’s more than happy to return to her apartment. I circle the lot once to find guest parking. I’d rather not have to deal with my car being towed, and we make our way upstairs.

  She tastes delicious, both her blood and in less wholesome activities. She seems rather fond of my taste as well, though I don’t give her my blood. I’ve no interest in dragging more people into this life than I absolutely must. If I do Ms. Rosseau-Lester—Elizabeth—that favor, she knows what she’s getting into.

  We have a pleasant time, though it leaves me a bit hungry. I can’t have a proper meal if I intend on having her coherent enough for some fun afterward, and I’ve little interest in sending someone who’s done nothing wrong to the emergency room for a blood transfusion. I learned that the hard way when I first tried to give up killing. I know I could always go with pre-packaged blood, but it’s not the same. I prefer mine free-range.

  She tries to talk me out of leaving, to spending the night with her, even insisting that we can stay up and watch horror movies together since I’m nocturnal, but I insist. I’ve never been too fond of horror movies. I scare too easily. Perhaps it was because of how triggering the original Frankenstein movie was. I think that mob scene is actually the last time I dissociated, though I didn’t know the term back then.

  Back home, I sip some cold tea and contemplate my encounter. I had a set goal. I just needed her to be a good enough distraction to halt this newly blossoming crush in its tracks. She was cute. In her twenties. Far too young even if we take off a few of my centuries but sweet enough. Maybe it worked. It’s not as if I’ve been losing my mind over Mia, but this girl—she said her name was Esmeralda, but I highly doubt it—only wanted me because I’m a vampire. It’s like dealing with a whole other type of hunter. That pill-popping vet seems to have many issues, not that I even know her well enough that courting her should be anywhere near my mind, but she certainly doesn’t seem to care about my fangs.

  Chapter Six

  A Clean Bill of Health

  Harvey finished the last of his pills yesterday. Now I need to go see Mia. It’s my first time seeing her since we started addressing each other by our first names. That doesn’t mean as much these days, but when I was human, it was a sign of a good deal of familiarity, and that flirting she and I did only compound
s this feeling. I barely know the woman, and yet she expects me to act like her friend, if not more. That’s not the primary reason it’s bothering me, but it’s nice to pretend it is. That way, I don’t have to act like it’s anything more during the appointment.

  I head over around 11:00. She’s not that far away, and the appointment is for 11:30. The parking lot is, of course, empty, because it is a veterinary hospital at 11:30 at night, and no sane person would have any business there. When I walk through the doors, she leaps from her chair, an almost too-eager smile on her face. Harvey is pretty great. It makes sense. “Hey, there,” she says, her voice as blasé as ever. Perhaps I’m projecting.

  “Hey. Sorry for keeping you here late.”

  “It’s fine.” She shrugs, and I can hear a slight rattle from her coat. “Had a few clients come in earlier, so I wasn’t waiting up for you.”

  “Glad to hear it.” I hold up Harvey, setting him on the counter. He squawks indignantly. “He seems to be feeling a lot better. Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here…if there wasn’t a vet who could see him.”

  “You’d go in the day. All I’m doing is being convenient for your schedule and charging you a nice premium for it.”

  “What happened to this time being free?”

  She falters, and I swear her cheeks color. “I do owe you, don’t I? Thanks again. That guy was a real asshole.”

  “You helped me out too.”

  Her teeth flash in a quick smile before she turns to Harvey, who is looking between the two of us. “How you feeling, Harvey? The meds seem to have helped?”

  He flaps at her and just has to open his big beak. “Pretty.”

  I fumble for any sort of clarification.

  “You’re very pretty too, Harvey. I love your feathers.”

  Satisfied with that answer, he preens.

  “Let’s go get him tested. I’m sure he’ll hate me, and you can go back to being the only pretty woman in his life.”

  I blink. I swear I used to be far better at handling people flirting with me. My wife was quite forward, and it didn’t bother me at all. “Sounds like a plan,” I manage.