Michael's Blood

by S S Bazinet

  The words were on his lips again when he opened his eyes and looked at Abrigail. But he felt too hot and flush to speak.

  Abrigail got up and sat down beside him. “It’s going to be okay, I promise you. But you have to let me help you.”

  He laid his head back. There was no fight left in him. After reliving Justina’s death, nothing mattered.

  “You matter,” Abrigail said. She put her hand on his brow.

  “No, I was foolish to believe Michael. I was foolish to think I should have another chance at life.”

  “Your guilt over Justina’s death isn’t right. Let me help you remember what really happened.”

  He sat up and pushed her hand away. “No.”

  “But why, Arel? Why are you doing this to yourself?”

  “I can’t explain it. I only know that what I’m doing is right. I won’t let you convince me otherwise. Is that clear?”

  Abrigail nodded. “Then let’s move on. If you can’t address Justina’s death, let’s try to understand why you’re still here. Perhaps you’re not getting the whole picture. If you didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, you wouldn’t still be on this earth.”

  “I never thought in those terms.”

  “All life is precious. Your life is precious. Michael wouldn’t be trying to help you if what I’m saying wasn’t true.”

  He stopped and stared at her. For a long moment neither one of them spoke, but Abrigail’s eyes were soothing blue pools of light. As they drew him in, he felt a little of the burning heat in his body begin to retreat.

  Abrigail gave him an encouraging smile. “I know you feel that Michael’s blood has been very difficult, but you’re not seeing its benefits.”

  He wanted to protest, but his mind was like his body, completely useless. He sat mutely, slowly rubbing his hand over the sofa fabric.

  “It’s true. Michael’s blood is helping you,” Abrigail insisted.

  He managed a weak laugh. “It’s destroying me.”

  Abrigail was unmoved, her steady presence not giving an inch. “It’s changing you, maybe slowly, but it is working.” She smiled again as her tone became animated. “How long has it been since you’ve had blood?”

  He took another deep breath as his brain flickered on and off like a faulty bulb. “I don’t know. I told you before, I’m too tired to think.” Yet a small part of him was inquisitive. “Why?” he asked in a dry, mocking voice. “Are you planning a little banquet for me, sending out for a rat?”

  Abrigail giggled. “Michael said that you can be funny.”

  He moaned. “The funny guy needs a padded cell.”

  Abrigail crouched down in front of him. Using her eyes again, she locked on to his, urging him on. “Please, think about when you fed last.”

  “I don’t no. I guess I haven’t had anything since that night in the alley.”

  “Really? That must be almost two months ago.”

  He blinked back, trying to validate her statement. “But I haven’t thought about . . . I haven’t needed—”

  Abrigail nodded. “Keep going with that thought.”

  As he absorbed the idea that his blood lust was coming to an end, he brightened. “I can’t believe it. Something good is happening.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  His relief, a tiny burst of euphoria, only lasted a brief moment before he felt a new burden replacing the old. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute!”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “After Justina, I didn’t let myself even think about love.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t. For all those years, I was able to forget about the whole subject. Now I hunger for love. That means that I’ve exchanged one misery for another.”

  “Wanting love isn’t supposed to be a misery. It’s—”

  “That’s why I had to go online, why I was so desperate. But what if it keeps getting worse? What if I can’t stop thinking about Carol?”

  “Arel, please, you told Michael that Carol is just a friend.”

  He couldn’t pay attention to what she was saying. “This could end so badly.”

  Abrigail reached up and put her hands on either side of his face. “Look at me. You don’t have to project that.”

  He was forced to bring his eyes in line with hers. His were golden, liquid fear. Hers were crystal blue expressions of comfort and reassurance. His projection of doom began to dissolve under her gaze. “Do you really think it’s going to be okay?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Because I don’t want to hurt anyone or be hurt again.”

  “I know.”

  “And what about what’s happening to me? Do you really think that I’ll survive?”

  “Yes, but you have to believe in Michael and how much he cares about you. Let him protect you. Stop shutting him out.”

  “Look at me, Abrigail. There’s not much left to protect. Soon I’ll be an immortal invalid.”

  Abrigail stood up. “If you can start to believe in yourself, the blood will nurture you. The whole process will turn around.”

  “You’re very convincing,” he said, still sounding a bit cynical, but he almost smiled.

  “I’m simply telling you the truth.”

  He stared back at her and noticed something strange. “I know you’re in human form, but I think I got a glimpse of your wings.”

  “Really?”

  This time he did smile. “I never saw wings before. Maybe something is turning around. And hell, if this process doesn’t work out, if I did become an immortal invalid, it might not be so bad. You and Michael would have to take care of me forever, right? Your side would owe me that much.”

  Abrigail’s smile widened. “I promise that I’ll always be there if you need anything. And I know Michael feels the same way. Just call on either one of us.” She offered her hand to him. “Now get up. Go back to bed and rest. Give the love that’s in that blood a chance.”

  Eleven

  AFTER ABRIGAIL LEFT, Arel knew she was right about his need to rest. Once he’d retreated to his bedroom, he lay under the soft bed covers feeling exhausted. Still, a glimmer of Abrigail’s lighthearted message of hope buoyed him up and offered him a brief respite from the heavy gloom that he usually carried around.

  And if she’s wrong about things working out?

  He even felt better about that scenario. He’d coined the phrase, immortal invalid. Now, it danced around in his mind, not as something morbid, but as a sort of ‘get out of jail free’ card. Would it be so bad if he was forced to stay in his bed forever? Would he care if his mind was stripped of everything, free from all worldly concerns with beautiful Abrigail smiling at him, holding his hand. And Michael? Plagued with guilt, he’d be Arel’s slave forever, reading to him, bringing him roses from the garden.

  “Not such a bad existence after the hell that I’ve endured.”

  His mind went to the one glitch that remained in his world. He’d have to find a way to keep Carol where he needed her to be, in the chat room, not in his life. But he could feel her desire wanting to thwart that plan.

  I’m not the only one who’s desperate. She likes me too much, like Justina.

  But how could he turn things around without hurting her? Abrigail had told him that love and pain didn’t have to mix. That was encouraging. Thinking about the angel made him remember how he’d seen her wings. He might have even heard her thoughts at one point. Plus, he didn’t have to drink blood anymore.

  My god, I am changing!

  It was a heady thought, one that brought up more questions. Did he have other powers that he wasn’t aware of? Was Michael’s blood giving him other capabilities?

  I wish I had some power that could help me with Carol.

  An amazing idea popped in.

  OBEs. I’ve read about out-of-body experiences. People can have them, even without angel blood.

  What if he could visit Carol in his astral body while she slept? He could reason with her subconsciou
s and give her a few suggestions while she was sleeping. He could tell her to forget about him. It seemed like a perfect solution. He started to make plans when he thought about his recent nightmare and scowled. Was he absolutely sure he’d never do anything to put Carol in harm’s way?

  Of course, I wouldn’t.

  He could understand why he’d had the nightmare now. Carol had frightened him, and the dream was his way of dealing with his fears. But he’d vomited out the blood in the dream. He’d punished himself. That showed his real character, didn’t it? Besides, both Michael and Abrigail told him to trust himself.

  By visiting Carol while she’s asleep, I’m actually doing what’s best for her. Even if I am trustworthy, I’m not dating material.

  He glanced at the clock. Three thirty in the morning. After his online chats, he knew they had to be in the same time zone. It could be the perfect time to visit her. There was just one problem, finding her.

  He smiled. Michael had talked about people having energy signatures. With his new powers, perhaps he could locate Carol by telling himself to seek out that signature.

  Once I find her, I’ll set some boundaries. I’ll make sure she knows that we can never meet. I’ll tell her that she needs to move on.

  He shut his eyes, feeling rather contented with himself. It was a great plan. Unfortunately, he fell asleep before he had a chance to try it out.

  * * * * *

  When Arel opened his eyes and realized that he’d dozed off, he thought about Carol and looked at the clock. Was it too late to try his OBE idea? He’d only been asleep for an hour. He knew enough about Carol’s schedule to think he still had time to do what needed to be done. Besides, he didn’t want to wait. He’d lied his way into his situation over time. But maybe he could “suggest” his way out of it very quickly.

  After Abrigail’s pep talk, he felt surprisingly confident about accomplishing his goal. He had Michael’s blood. He also remembered a past experience. When he was physically failing and at his worst, he’d naturally left his body. The experience was very brief. He’d quickly slipped back into his physical form just as naturally. Now, he’d take a purposeful journey. He shut his eyes and took several slow breaths to prepare himself. His body responded. As it began to calm down, he hesitated.

  Maybe I’m being too hasty.

  Was he crazy to try something as weird as astral travel? Except on rare occasions, he never ventured out of the house. Now he was trying to leave his body and go off into the ethers. What if his silver cord snapped? He’d read that it tethered him to the physical part of himself. If something happened to that cord, he’d be dead. It was a disturbing thought for about two seconds. Then he had one of the best thoughts he’d ever had. It was based on something Michael told him. The angel had been very insistent that Arel had done his best and would surely end up at the Pearly Gates when he died.

  Oh my god, if that cord snapped, I’d be free. It’d be my ticket off this planet. And if it didn’t snap, I could fix a potential catastrophe. Either way I can’t lose.

  He focused again. “Where are you, Carol? I need to find you.” He continued with the process for several minutes and almost gave up when he heard a crack. He was sure it meant that his spirit was rocketing out of his body. A moment of panic was followed by more determination.

  Crack away, my spirit! Because my next stop is either Carol’s house or I’ll have my wings!

  After the cracking sound, things shifted quickly. A sense of rapid movement disoriented him. For a moment, he couldn’t make his mind work. Rational thought stalled. On the positive side, he couldn’t manage worry or fear. There was an automatic quality to the experience. All that he felt was exhilaration and freedom.

  It was disappointing when things slowed. His mind came back online, like a machine that had been on hold. He felt his edgy self again. He also realized that he had a body of sorts. When he glanced around, his surroundings were bathed in shadow, but a night light provided some illumination. As he adjusted to the space and the light, he noted that he was in a bedroom. He was sure that it belonged to Carol. His confusion turned to smiles.

  I am a talented bastard after all! From now on, I can travel anywhere without ever leaving home!

  Unlike the room in his nightmare, this bedroom didn’t have a white-on-white motif. Carol’s tastes, like her cheerful, online attitude, were very feminine. She’d chosen a homespun, French country look, with a little garage sale thrown in. A distressed dresser. Yellow and blue, floral bed linens. Rustic rattan accents. Not very elegant, but cute, sweet and typical of Carol from what Arel knew about her.

  Curiosity prompted him to approach Carol’s bed. He’d imagined what she looked like. Now was his chance to find out if she was as pretty as he thought. He leaned in, but he couldn’t get a good look at her face. She was snuggled down under the covers. But she had to be petite. She was lost under the flowery quilt.

  She looks like she’s sleeping soundly. That’s perfect for what I have in mind.

  He’d been thinking about the suggestions that he’d give her. Basically, he wanted her to forget any romantic ideas. He also wanted her to be less inquisitive. He’d decided they could still be friends, but he wanted to keep their communication on a very superficial level. As he decided on how to deliver his suggestions, he detected a slight movement. His astral body responded with a chill.

  What’s going on?

  He wasn’t alone with Carol. Someone or something else was also in the room. Before he understood who or what it was, he felt it. He was hit by an overpowering wave of energy. It slammed into his gut, making him instantly queasy.

  Great, even in my astral body, I can get sick!

  His next move was instinctive. He swung around fast and readied himself for what was stirring just out of his range of vision. When he got a full-on view, his breath caught. “Holy hell!” he yelled, jumping backwards. “What are you?”

  He’d never seen anything like the creature that stood in front of him. It was big, taller than a man. And it was terrifying. Green scales covered its body. Its small, leathery wings were slightly flared in his direction. It appeared solid and hard muscled, with no indication of being part of an illusion.

  He backed up, throwing his arms out protectively, putting himself between Carol and the creature. In spite of his legs wanting to buckle, he had to act as her shield.

  The beast took a step forward.

  Calm down! You’re in an astral body! You can’t die.

  It would have been a great argument if he was sitting around the kitchen table, discussing the astral state with Michael. However, his heart was pounding out an SOS. Obviously, his astral body had properties that matched its physical counterpart. It was telling him that the dragon-like reptile was dangerous. Its small, yellow-rimmed, green eyes were trained on him. It studied him with a ruthless glint of disgust. As it probed his mind, he could feel the powerful energy that fueled the beast. He could feel its assessment. It despised him.

  His own assessment was equally quick. A killing machine stood in front of him, and it was only a few feet away. He didn’t know if he was breathing or not, but there was no doubt about what his nerves were doing. He felt like he’d swallowed a bottle of amphetamines.

  His terror escalated when he heard a low, ominous sound. It came from the depths of the predator’s belly. It lit up his brain, activating primal memory. Vicious animals had roamed the earth when man was in his infancy, animals who hunted humans. This thing was a throwback to those times.

  Or maybe worse. This isn’t a ‘Prehistoric Park’ monster! It’s a lot worse than that. This thing has an intelligence that’s at least as expansive as mine.

  The intelligence that Arel sensed wasn’t the compromising kind. The creature wanted to destroy him with brute force. He knew it was true when the beast lowered its head, exposing its murderous fangs, showing him their true size and lethal capabilities.

  He dared to glance back at Carol, but she was still asleep, totally unawa
re of what he was battling. He was grateful for that. Then the unexpected happened. He heard the beast’s words, a telepathic warning that filled his mind.

  Get away from her!

  His response was immediate. Scared or not, he wasn’t going to abandon Carol to the monster. “You’re not going to hurt her!” he shouted back with as much courage as he could muster.

  I’m not planning on hurting her.

  Its reply was sincere, so sincere that Arel realized what was really happening. It all clicked.

  Oh holy hell! This thing belongs to Carol.

  He was in the middle of a nature film. The scaly monster was protecting its own, protecting Carol. It saw him as a threat.

  “I don’t mean her any harm,” he gasped with equal sincerity. He hoped his declaration was enough to make the damnable thing back off. It had the opposite effect. The creature began to advance again, to close the distance between them. He could feel its breath, hot and dry on his face.

  You’ve watched enough stuff about nature. Hold your ground, but soothe the beast.

  “I simply wanted to talk to her,” he whispered, quieting his tone.

  The reptile-like predator responded by spreading out its wings in an intimidating gesture.

  No! This can’t be happening.

  The creature was going into attack mode. It wanted to rid the world of a menace, him. The thought pushed him over the edge of reason. He hoped he still had his own monster within, some of the vampire that he’d been. He’d never really explored that part, never allowed it to show itself, but he had to try something. What followed was more like trying to act the part of an animal, but he gave it his best. He snarled back, bared his teeth, and did everything he could think of to show his attacker that he was tough too.