Blood

by Kay Williams

  “Can I ask where you were?” I asked curiosity getting the better of me.

  “During the Pause?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “Colorado,” he answered. “The Dependant Council worked out of a planned community there offering protection to the Portal Guardian. The Guardian there broke faith as well and managed to smooth the line in a twenty-mile radius so we were almost completely untouched by the event itself. It was strange really, reading about the devastation while life was mainly normal within that safety net.”

  “Mainly normal?”

  “Power was a bit hit and miss at first especially with our Portal being permanently stable, and then our local power station was vandalised by Favlians so it was down completely for several months before they were caught and pushed back home, aside that we were very lucky.”

  “Do you still live there?”

  “No, the portal there was closed ten years ago in favour of a larger one in Phoenix. Where is home for you?”

  “Six streets from here.”

  “Strange how I thought that working for the PPS would see you living in one of the less restored boroughs.”

  “I like the access to Hyde Park, Exhibition Road and I work out of the offices in the British Museum.”

  “So Soho is central.”

  “It makes sense.”

  “There are other bars in Soho though.”

  “You're right,” I agreed, deciding to take the hint he had dropped for the third time. “I should go.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Carson protested.

  I gathered together my paper and pencil, dropping both of them into my shoulder bag.

  Like all modern bars, each customer was given a purchase pin when they arrived. Each pin had a unique number, which had to be scanned to the electronic menus built into the tables and bar before a purchase could be made. Rather than having to wait at a bar for a tender to notice you, your orders were stacked on a computer system and a waiter would deliver the order to the table where the order had been placed. Bills were paid either at the bar with cash or at any of the electronic menus by scanning the pin to bring up the purchases and then using the biometric reader and a four digit banking ID number for a direct payment.

  I scanned my pin and paid the bill on my chair.

  “It was nice to meet you, Mr Carson,” I said.

  “I just think it’s curious that you chose to be here, I didn’t mean to drive you off,” Carson mimicked me as I got up.

  “I have an early start in the morning anyway.”

  “It’s only half past seven,” he protested. “Maybe I can buy you doughnut and walk you home?”

  My instant refusal got stuck as I realised Carson had just made me more of an offer than my last date had. He had shaken my hand at the restaurant door and left me to walk back to my car alone, not that I needed the escort but I was female enough to enjoy a little masculine charm and over protection.

  “A doughnut?”

  “With chocolate icing and sugar sprinkles?”

  “Alright,” I laughed and he grinned.

  He hurried around the table like an over-eager school boy, as if he expected me to change my mind and guided me towards the door. I returned the purchase pin to the charger there as I passed. Outside and free of the enchantments as always left me feeling a little dazed and light-headed but it was nothing a few breaths of fresh air couldn’t clear.

  The evening was warm and bright with a soft breeze, Carson turned towards Mayfair and I fell into step with him, he wasn’t a tall man or overly muscular, but he was fit and strong in appearance. It made me wonder how old he was, what kind of work he did before he died, before he became reanimated and his appearance frozen in time.

  Carson led the way to a Blood Bar three doors down from Night Terrors, this place was called Blaze. It was a modern building and like all Blood Bars it was brightly lit because Dependants weren’t interested in what people looked like; only in what they tasted like.

  It didn’t sell alcohol as this thinned the blood and made people harder to Bespell, instead it sold snacks, light sandwiches and sweet treats, sodas, juices and ice-cream milkshakes. It was divided like a Pre-Pause American Diner with sheltered booths along one wall but there were stairs at one end of the room which led up into small rooms above that were there for those Dependants or people who preferred privacy during a Bespelling and a Bite. I had been in Blood Bars before with friends but I had always worn gloves, what once had been a necessity in winter or just a fashion accessory were now used as an advertisement of interest when dealing with Dependants.

  Carson held the door for me and once inside he picked up a purchase pin from a charger similar to the one in Night Terrors and led the way inside to a plush booth against one corner that contained a small table, a half circle of soft leather couch and two extra single chairs. He waited while I took off my bag and slipped into the couch, he surprised me by sliding in beside me rather than grabbing one of the chairs. He registered his pin and passed me a laminated menu.

  “Anything you like, Miss Roberts.”

  I quietened my little inner voice that whispered of his impeccable manners and his generosity. I reminded myself sternly that he had brought me to a Blood Bar rather than a restaurant or a takeaway and he would likely proposition me in a ‘I fed you, you feed me’ kind of way. Which made me wonder how I was going to tell him I had never been Bespelled or Bitten before, considering I had been sitting in a Dependant bar without gloves on Carson would probably see the admission as strange or backwards.

  “You promised me a doughnut,” I replied.

  “I did,” Carson agreed, using the electronic menu set into the table to order the treat. “What else?”

  “Else?”

  “Miss Roberts, you taste perfectly healthy so I know that you aren’t keeping a strict diet and that your build is natural for you, but I can also tell that you are wearing your work uniform and that means you likely haven’t had supper. So what would you like to eat?”

  I turned my attention back to the menu deciding not to dispute the fact he was right.

  “A toasted club sandwich with fries and a strawberry ice-cream milkshake.”

  “With onion rings and chocolate mints.”

  “And the doughnut? How many of me are you feeding?” I complained but it came out on a laugh.

  The joke would be on him if he felt I wouldn’t cope, I could eat twice as much and not put on weight and be more than capable of eating the same over again, by regularly using my abilities the extra calories would just be broken down by it.

  “You lingered over them on the menu,” Carson replied, sending the order to the kitchen while I coloured a little at his keen observation.

  Blushing was the most attractive thing anyone could do in the company of a Dependant. It caused blood to run fresh and tempting right up to the surface of the skin in a way that was as visually pleasing to a Dependant as the scent and taste was. While Carson fussed with the order I tried to rub the stain off my cheeks.

  “I don’t think I enjoy being so transparent.”

  “Nothing about you is easy, Miss Roberts,” Carson laughed. “Why do you think I am paying such close attention?”

  “You have nothing better to do?”

  “You are worth far more positive attention than you think you are,” Carson frowned at me now unimpressed with my little attempt at deflective humour. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

  I consoled myself that I couldn’t bore him to death.

  “Like what?”

  “Anything. Favourite comfort food.”

  “Toasted bagels and cream cheese.”

  “How are you so thin?”

  “I have an incredible metabolism,” I answered truthfully.

  “You are being serious, aren’t you?”

  “It can be a bit of a problem if I don’t watch what I’m eating.”

  “Why would your body produce so much energy?”
r />   “It’s over active,” now I was lying. “It just has a fantastic work ethic.”

  He smiled but kept his comments to himself while the waitress delivered my meal, cutlery and condiments, I thanked her and she moved on without disturbing us.

  “I forgot to ask,” Carson apologised. “You don’t have a problem eating while I’m not?”

  “So long as you aren’t going to watch every mouthful, it won’t be a problem. Do you miss food?”

  “I don’t have to miss food, I can still eat I just can’t survive on it.”

  “So what is your favourite comfort food?”

  “O negative,” he teased. “With a hit of exercise, and a healthy taint of good humour.”

  “You can tell the blood type in a taste?”

  “Of course,” Carson helpfully rolled my cutlery out of the napkin and as I took them off him he deftly laid the soft blue coloured paper in my lap. “But you meant actual food in which case I do occasionally treat myself to BBQ ribs.”

  “How occasionally?”

  “Once or twice every few years.”

  “I wish I only needed comforting from the troubles in life every few years.”

  “I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was trouble free,” Carson shrugged a little self-consciously.

  I added salt and ketchup to my fries and took a bite, strangely it felt as though as I had to enjoy them for the both of us.

  “What do you do for fun Miss Roberts?”

  “I hang out in Dependant bars.”

  His return smile was wan and unimpressed.

  “Were you this evasive on your date on Wednesday? Because I think I know why he only wanted to be friends.”

  I laughed at the same time as feeling surprised that his dig was gentle rather than an aggressive complaint.

  “I like going to auctions, I like picnics in the park, I like reading, crossword puzzles, ice-cream, playing interactive game shows with friends, and cross stitch.”

  “Cross stitch?” Carson wrinkled his nose. “I didn’t realise you could still buy those.”

  “It is not as popular a pastime as it once was, especially not when you can get magazines that teach week by week potion crafting and things like that,” I agreed. “But there are plenty of designers and artists online who sell their work as a pattern and they’ll dye you skeins for a price as well.”

  “How did you get into it?”

  “My grandmother, she died when I was twelve, she had an unfinished project which I decided to complete and frame to remember her by.”

  “And you found that you enjoyed it.”

  “Yeah, it doesn’t change, so you can pick it up and put it down. Half a dozen stitches here and there soon add up and at the end you have something to show for all the effort. I find it peaceful.”

  And, more importantly, it had helped me hone my telekinetic talent. Cross-stitch had so many different components to it, thread, needle, pattern, fabric, it had been a challenge at first trying to balance my talent between all the different aspects of the hobby but the results both on the fabric and with the control I learnt had been worth it.

  “Let's have another look at that crossword shall we?”

  I dug around in my bag for it accepting the invitation of his company and we spent a comfortable half an hour arguing over it while I finished my sandwich and sides, took pleasure in demolishing the doughnut and licking the sugar off my fingers. The waitress came to take the plates away leaving me with the chocolate mint bites while Carson rather smugly filled in the last word and completed the puzzle.

  “We make a good team, Miss Roberts.”

  “Hannah,” I corrected him.

  Everyone knew that since the Pause people had become more formal in acceptance of

  the social manner. Practice on Favlas, and the insistence of magic users, stated that strangers should not refer to each other by first names, but I had a habit of encouraging informality and offering my name to almost anyone I got along with for more than a couple of hours.

  “How was your supper?”

  I nearly flinched, I had been enjoying his company so much I had almost forgotten what he was.

  “Very nice, thank you.”

  “Your tempo has changed,” he commented. “And your scent has gone all cold, what’s wrong?”

  So much for being able to break the news gently.

  “You are going to think it's strange.”

  “Don’t be nervous, just be honest.”

  “I have never been Bitten before.”

  The blank look I expected never even flicked in Carson’s eyes.

  “I know.”

  “How?”

  “You know what I am doing, and you are letting me manoeuvre you into it, but there is a delightful innocence to your responses that tells me you haven’t done it before.”

  “And that’s attractive?”

  “You trust Dependants, you sit in their bar without gloves on, I don’t know how you think you can defend yourself but you have an unflinching confidence in it that is attractive. I like people who have tested themselves and know their limits and enjoy living on the edge of them. I would guess that you have been in places like this before maybe even been propositioned but you have never accepted.”

  “I knew I didn’t need to tell you about myself.”

  “I don’t know the first thing about you, Hannah, but when other people are evasive, I can shrug it off, when you are evasive I want to know why,” Carson smiled.

  “That’s unusual isn’t it?”

  “For me very much so. I’m sorry to have to admit it but after so many years people tend just to be walking meals and the fact they can talk is usually more off-putting than interesting.”

  “Off-putting?”

  “What would you do if bagels could talk back? If it was quite looking forward to being eaten but only if you flattered it beforehand.”

  “Probably want to eat something else,” I confessed.

  “Now imagine you have to eat bagels, nothing else will sustain you.”

  “I see your point.”

  “Luckily for me when I find an entertaining meal I can ask for its number and call for a second helping.”

  “Like a takeaway menu?” I grinned. “Do you keep your list under a magnet on your fridge?”

  “No,” Carson laughed.

  “Pity,” I teased. “I can see the layout. A name, a number, room underneath for their taste and then what they prefer in payment.”

  “Payment?” Carson hadn’t stopped grinning, as if he felt that his confession would

  insult me and was delighted I was playing along.

  “Yeah, like a box of fresh cookies, or a bottle of their favourite wine.”

  “After my Bite all they want is another,” he answered sitting up to his full height and putting on an air of smug superiority.

  “I knew you were over exaggerating when you said you didn’t have an ego.”

  “What would you accept as payment?”

  “I collect porcelain dolls.”

  “Really?” Genuine surprise lit up Carson’s face. “What kind?”

  “Any really, modern or Pre-Pause but I like the ones wearing realist fashion of their era, and I like the ones in costume dress like masquerade ball.”

  “Sounds like an expensive hobby.”

  “Sometimes,” I agreed. “But being as they are Pre-Pause artefacts once I own them I can usually get sponsored by the PPS for any restoration work and then they often request for them to be on show in the toy museum.”

  “So you still own them but you can make money back by allowing the PPS to advertise them.”

  “I just think they are pretty,” I replied.

  “Can I owe you a doll, Hannah?”

  I was nervous, he probably knew it, and it was stupid to ask him to be gentle with me; unless Carson wanted to kill me he had very little choice but to be attentive and careful.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

 
Carson smiled, offering me both of his hands.

  “I have years and years of experience, you are in good hands, Hannah.”

  I didn’t doubt that for a minute, which was the reason I willingly put both my hands into his and let him pull me to my feet.

  Carson entwined the fingers on one hand with mine while letting go of the other to scan his pin back into the menu. He chose a time limit and it brought up a set of room options and frowned a little at it before picking one. Scooping up the plate with the mints on it he led the way out of the booth and to the door in the back, he frowned again when he was forced to let go of my hand to scan his pin and open the door.

  I ducked under his arm and to show him that I was willing to be there, despite my nerves, when he led the way along the corridor I slipped my hand back into his, which earned me a smile and a squeeze.

  Carson led the way along the quiet corridor when he reached his chosen door he scanned his pin again to open it and let me enter first. It was a standard hotel double sized set-up, nothing high class, just clean and comfortable. There was a small bathroom to one side, they wouldn’t need to use the toilet and a Bite wasn’t messy but a Dependant could still be hit with the same lethargy as a normal person after a heavy meal and could easily sleep for several hours to begin to digest it.

  I challenged anyone to wake up after a heavy meal followed by a deep sleep and not want to shower the cobwebs away.

  The main portion of the room was a desk with a television set and next to it was a small bar and fridge beneath with water, juice and teas and coffees. Rather than have a bed, there was a double lounger, it was long enough to stretch out on but had a mountain of cushions and pillows to lean against rather than lay down.

  The only other thing was an intercom mounted into the wall by the door; Carson

  swiped it with his pin, which activated the timer for however long he had booked the suite for.

  Carson shut the door and even I became aware of the way my heart rate picked up.

  Carson just smiled and offered me a mint, his confidence was soothing and I took one, biting into the dark chocolate treat releasing the flavour as the soft centre melted on my tongue. Carson put down the plate and turned on the television, dialling it to a classical station. There wasn’t enough room to dance properly, so we ended up just swaying in time to the music while his thumb began to stroke softly over my hand. He was gentle again, letting me sense the Bespelling as it worked its magic to bring down the nervous fluttering of my heart and sooth my pulse rate.