by C. L. Quinn
Eillia hated to compel her. She was the only friend Eillia had made since she came here, and Eillia considered compulsion to be a betrayal to those she cared about. But sometimes necessity overcame desire. So, she used it now because she wanted to get a blood meal from someone before she headed home for the night.
She lowered the lights and watched the darkened street. A few moments later a lone figure moved past and she leaned out to intercept him.
Ah. Easy. One of the fishermen they served earlier. Kind of sleazy. He’d looked at Starla and Eillia like they were on the menu. He was perfect.
“Hi, would you like to come in for a nightcap?” She said as he passed the door.
He stopped abruptly and looked around as if he expected she wasn’t speaking to him. Idiot. No one else was around at all.
“Yes, you,” Eillia clarified.
And there it was. The nasty grin that meant he thought he was going to get some tonight. No. But she was. Blood, and very needed blood. It had been too long and she was weakening from nutritional deficiency. As she closed the door she put her finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet, then led him to the back of the diner. She glanced back once to see that awful grin still on his face. When she turned to him a moment later, he had already dropped his parka. The belt buckle was next. Eillia rolled her eyes.
“Come here,” she said, and compelled him to sit on the floor. She got down beside him and pulled his shirt back.
“Hum,” she mumbled, “Not too clean. Oh, well, beggars and choosers…” And she struck quickly, the pierce fast and the draw quicker. It took only a few minutes to get what she needed. She sealed the wounds and had him redress for his journey outside.
“Continue to your destination, wherever you were heading. You will have no memory of me or this visit tonight. Go.” He nodded and went back out into the increasing snow.
Eillia turned, killing the rest of the lights and stretched. Better. She could feel the blood move through her body and repair physiological vampire processes that had slowed down and become impaired with starvation from blood meals. The high calories from normal food aided the extremely fast vampire mechanisms. She got all she needed here at the restaurant for that. This would keep her for around three to five days. She finished closing down the kitchen and took her little Ford home. Tonight, she would sleep well. And if the dreams came, well, they came.
Daniel downed his third double-shot of whiskey. His passion for the amber liquid was the only thing he’d kept from his old life. And his first name. He was the king of self-medication.
He looked around the tacky bar he found himself in almost every night before he made his way back to the shack he now called home. Everything was rough-hewn and harsh. Like his life here in the frozen north. Lots of snow, wind, and fish. Not much light, or sun, or comfort. Just what he had been looking for when he made his way to the top of the world a little over a year ago.
The locals here were pretty good at self-medication too. Most of them had been born and raised here…who the hell would come here on purpose? Other than someone like Daniel who had nowhere else to go? Up at the bar, Daniel watched two fishermen who had become as close to friends as he’d made since he’d been here. Joey and Joey D. Seriously, they had the same first names. Not related, just sons of two women who had a thing for the name or maybe a celebrity with that name…he didn’t know. But everyone just called them by their first name and added the D for the younger of the two who was smaller than the other and called “little dog.” Inupiats. Locals. Good boys.
“Hey, Danny, get your ass over here. Need a tie-breaker,” Joey D said, drunker than Daniel.
Daniel groaned. All he wanted after twelve hours on the ropes was to go home, shower, and collapse. Even drunk, he couldn’t stand his own body odor. He scowled at the eight men collected around the small bar. No one there, except Cay, the bartender and proprietor, was sober. That was the pastime in this frigid landscape where everyone you meet is someone you’ve known all your life. Drinking and fucking. In that order, too, from what he could tell after a year of self-imposed exile here. He was where he belonged.
“Hey, hey, hey...oh, Danny boy…”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Joey D, spit it out. It’s late and I’m fucking exhausted.”
“Hey, yeah. Joey says the hottest woman on earth is Angelina. I say it’s Reese Witherspoon. Like me those cute petite blondes. So. What do you like? Petite, blonde, and cute, or tall, dark and sultry?”
Unbidden, a face flashed in Daniel’s mind. Stunning, beyond either of the actresses Joey D. mentioned…exotic, sexy, and unforgettable. A face he had spent the entire year trying to purge from his memory. He downed the rest of his whiskey and looked at the two Joeys.
“I’m gonna go with petite, dark, and sultry. Sorry, no tie-breaker here, boys. You two be careful heading home tonight. Wind’s picked up and so has the snow. And you two are totally shit-faced again. Your mamas know you get toasted every night?”
Joey snorted. “Our mamas are just glad we got the hell out of the house.”
Joey D snorted. “Yeah, I cramp my mama’s style.”
Daniel shook his head and turned away. “Good night, boys.”
He slipped on his heavily lined parka and pulled the hood up, tying it in place as he headed for the door. Yeah, he thought, Joey D’s mama had some style, alright. He’d availed himself of it at least a few times over the past year. Bleached blonde, tall, not unattractive, except for the heavy makeup she insisted on lathing on her face that was starting to show the years. And there was the fact that there wasn’t a man in Wilkes-Barre she hadn’t been with except her son. She really was the horse that got rode hard and put away wet. People in town didn’t treat her very well, even the men who repeatedly showed up at her door to use her and shove her away when they were finished. The few times he’d been with her was partly out of need, and partly out of pity. He thought someone ought to be nice to her. She really was a sweet woman…just took some wrong turns and kept making the same wrong ones year after year. Anyway, he stayed out of it. It wasn’t his concern. He had no right to judge anyone else’s life choices.
Even the heavy winter gear barely held its own against the northern winds. It was brutal tonight and although it was night, the white snow beginning to cover the ground again and the snow-filled sky made everything pretty bright. He would have been able to see his way easily to his four wheel drive truck if the wind hadn’t forced him to keep his head down. Ass-end of the world in climates…and it was where he belonged. He didn’t like to think about what brought him here…and there was no atoning for his actions, no redemption. But he did want to try to find a way to move past it and have at least a tiny measure of peace in his life. He didn’t deserve it, true, but it was his one goal now. Stay up here, live some, die soon…and do no harm. Simple goals for a man who was living on time borrowed with the blood of others.
Her blood. Her face swam back into view as he started his truck. He shook his head. Not like he wasn’t going to be seeing it again when he finally fell into bed in about an hour. The dreams rarely let up. He never knew which one would haunt him before he fell into his usual drunken slumber.
CHAPTER TWO
The dreams came hard that night. The memories. Reminders that made sure he never forgot.
Daniel got back out of bed as he often did when the dreams assaulted him. And reached for the bottle that usually waited nearby. It was getting colder, the air sharper than it had been earlier, so he stoked the fire to warm his small living room as he waited for daylight, and dropped onto the hard bench that served as his couch.
He thought back over the past year since he’d come to Wilkes-Barre. As a young man years ago he could never have imagined himself in such a stunning landscape that was cold as ice and as unfriendly as the bowels of hell. And he loved it here.
It was where he belonged anyway. For the first six months or so, he’d kept to himself…drinking and sleeping eighty percent of the time. Ev
entually he’d taken a job on a fishing boat. Hard, brutal, punishing work that helped him feel a sense of some value again. Lately, though, he’d begun to join some colleagues at the local bar, the Wooly Bully for drinks and some masculine camaraderie. Some. He was still mostly reclusive. But he had been seeking companionship occasionally. Men, to drink with and bitch about the job. Women, to fuck and let himself feel like a man again for about thirty minutes.
He hadn’t forgotten her. If anything, in the past twelve months, the memory of her face had become more vivid, more real. He dreamed of her. A lot. Not every night, but most. And they weren’t always about her death. Sometimes they were so fucking hot he woke up with a hard-on and sweats. Alone. Drunk. With intense guilt that never left him. All he wanted in the world was to hold her and touch her and tell her it was all okay. But that would never happen.
Because he had killed her. Not personally, not with his own hands…but he was entirely responsible for her death. And he would never forgive himself. He’d fallen in love with a ghost.
For the year since he’d carefully buried her body in a hidden place in the woods to protect her remains from people who would desecrate them, he had never had one day he didn’t think of her. He’d hoped, somehow, to make amends. But how do you do that when she was gone forever and robbed of her life? No. He’d made his way here to this harsh life and he would die here. His only comfort was that damn whiskey bottle that was never far away. He’d already discovered he couldn’t sleep without the blur of alcohol. He wasn’t sure he ever would again.
He had only seen her in death. And she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Long sleek black hair surrounding the face of a goddess. An Asian heritage, creamy skin, perfect classic features. Long dark eyelashes covering eyes he would never get to see looking into his.
He’d held her for a while before he committed her to the deep resting place he’d dug quickly in Canadian soil. Her body remained warm and soft. It hadn’t been his intention when he took her from the mission site, but he found he needed to touch her and beg her forgiveness. He’d caressed her cheeks and held her head, his hands curling into the satin strands of her hair as he told her his life story. She couldn’t hear him, of course, but he felt compelled to confess his sins before he buried her.
Daniel had been a soldier in a special forces unit for eight years of his life. Eight years where the very abnormal became normal to him. When he’d left the military, he’d found he couldn’t fit in with ordinary people in ordinary lives. He thought he was a monster. He’d spent eight years, his entire adulthood, efficiently killing people who he’d been told needed to be killed. So, after three years of trying to be average Joe and working in a huge warehouse stacking boxes, he knew he wasn’t that man. Then an old buddy he’d served with hooked him up with a mercenary soldier team. He fit right in. And that was how he made a very lucrative living for the past ten years. And that was how he came to be at a large compound in Canada, charged with eliminating what he assumed were drug suppliers or worse. It was going to be his final job.
The client had instructed his team to destroy the building and kill anyone who emerged. And one other odd order that hadn’t really bothered him at first. The client had required his team to gun down survivors that emerged after dark…and then behead them. It was a gruesome task, but Daniel had convinced himself they could do this. After all, he killed people for a living. And they would already be dead at that point, what did it matter what happened to their corpse? Only he had seen her crumpled on the ground, riddled with bullet holes that, amazingly, had missed her lovely face. Beside her lay a man who had already been decapitated, and it made him sick to his soul.
He wasn’t a sentimental man. Death didn’t bother him. Hers did. So he’d ordered his team to cease the beheadings. He’d told them to finish the job, but leave the bodies intact. And he’d left the site with the body of the beautiful Asian woman. At that moment, he had no idea what he was doing with her. He just knew he couldn’t leave her there with that carnage. And he knew he was done with the life.
So he wrapped his flak jacket around her beautiful face, buried her and headed north. Because he also knew he would never forgive himself and he didn’t deserve his original retirement location in Bali. Warm, sexy, tropical Bali, where he’d planned to drink, party, and fuck for the rest of his life in leisure. He certainly had enough money to do so. It was ironic that this job was going to be his last. Yeah, he’d stayed too long at the fair.
So here he was in polar bear country, yanking on heavy rope nets in freezing wet conditions with the godawful smell of fish all around him…and drinking himself to sleep every night. Yeah. He was well and truly fucked up.
The dreams. The fucking dreams! Eillia had no idea why they refused to go away and stay away. But she woke breathing hard and sweating again.
It had been a year, and they were less often now, it was true, but they still ripped her out of her rest during daytime when a vampire automatically became tired and needed to seek rest. It usually left her confused for a few moments until she realized she was here in her bed and okay. These dreams were not like the ones of Hamid that came to haunt her and remind her of his loss.
Her eyes shot to a broken chair beside her bed. She crawled over to it and pulled something from beneath a pillow that covered the top of the wicker seat. It was a crumpled army green jacket and she slid back against the wall to hold it to her face. Pressed against her nose, she breathed deeply and tried to inhale the scent. It was so faint now she could almost believe it had been part of the dream. The vagueness of his scent was slipping away like Hamid’s image.
She had no idea who he was. But last year when she awoke after the attack, she’d been buried beneath the ground. Her confusion had cleared quickly when her memory rushed back. That night, while attempting to protect her friend’s stronghold from attack, she’d been shot to death. And her lover Hamid had been shot and beheaded. Why they hadn’t beheaded her too, she did not understand. But whoever had brought her here and buried her body could not have known she was vampire. He would never have wasted the time to dig a proper deep grave.
The only clue had been the large flak jacket he’d wrapped around her face. And a sense of sorrow. Kindness. Someone touching her lovingly. Caressing her hair. A memory?
His earthy scent had comforted her for some reason. But she would never know who he was. She reburied the jacket under the pillow on the chair and rolled back to hug her own. Sleep eluded her the rest of the day.
CHAPTER THREE
Eillia was shaking her head. “No, no, no,” she said, to back up her negative head movement.
“Come on. I hate going alone. A lot of the time I’m the only girl there. Please.” Starla moved to right in front of Eillia, who had to step back. But Starla was relentless.
“Please! There’s nothing else to do in this stupid ice-locked town. Please? Look, if you really hate it, I won’t ask you again. But you gotta come. Just this once.”
Eillia felt like it was time to compel the insistent young woman. But she promised herself she would use that on her only in case of emergency. And besides, it really did seem to mean a lot to her. She supposed she could go, just this once.
Starla knew the second Eillia caved. She launched herself at the stiff woman and hugged her.
“Thank you, thank you! We’ll have such a good time. Even if there aren’t any interesting men there, you and I will get shit-faced and dance until morning.”
No, I won’t, Eillia thought. So, it looked like she was going to join her friend at the local bar slash nightclub, the Wooly Bully, after work tonight. Even before she trapped herself here in ice-world, she rarely visited those type of establishments. The alcohol sounded nice, though. And maybe she would enjoy it. Either way, she was committed now. It was nice to see the excitement in Starla’s eyes.
After they’d served the last couple, around midnight, Starla led Eillia to her small apartment not far from the Blue Star.
Eillia shook her head again. “No. I’m fine in this, thanks.”
Starla stared at her. “This” was a thick charcoal gray sweatshirt hoodie and simple black jeans with heavy snow boots. Starla wrinkled her nose. “But what if there is someone attractive there tonight? That’s what you wear to work. Not out to a bar. You’re so beautiful, Lia. Let me dress you up.”
“No, I’m happy like this. I’ll wait here while you get all dolled up, though. I’ll just melt into this comfy couch. See? I’m happy. Go get dressed.”
Starla knew better than to push her a second time tonight. She’d already won the first battle in getting Lia to come with her. Best let it be, and be happy she would not be the only woman amongst several drunken men. It’s just life was so dull here in winter. It was too dangerous to try to journey too far this time of year. So everyone mostly stayed local. The only people that came through town were fishermen, oil platform workers, and the guys that worked for the weather station.
She glanced into her living room from the “bedroom” concealed behind only a folding screen. It was nice to have a female friend for once. Lia was so stunning, though. Starla knew if any interesting men were there tonight, they wouldn’t be looking at her. She shrugged as she picked out a cute silvery top. It was okay. She hoped Lia would stick around. There was something about her. Starla didn’t know exactly what, but something special. Someday, she hoped Lia would confide in her. What Starla did know, for certain, was that Lia was much more than a small town fry-cook.
Daniel pulled in the rigging, soaking wet from melting ice, his muscles struggling against the frigid heavy rope that didn’t want to give an inch. He grunted and wondered, not for the first time, what the hell was wrong with him. He had nearly two million dollars in two banks waiting for him. And here he was in a land of impossible cold doing harder work than anyone on the planet for pay that barely covered his bar tab. And all because he felt personally responsible for the death of a woman he’d never known and would give anything to have stopped her brutal murder. But that wasn’t possible, she was gone forever, her lovely life ended in a barrage of bullets that, while he hadn’t pulled the trigger, he might as well have.
