by Lisa Olsen
“I want to test your blood.” He held his hand out for mine, sticking my finger into a little lead attached to the box. It reminded me of the thing they use to check the oxygen in your blood at the doctor’s office.
“Will it hurt? Ow!” I scowled at the prick of the needle; the machine at the doctor’s never did that.
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” he chuckled, releasing my hand. I snatched it back to inspect the damage, but my body had already healed the pinprick.
“What are you testing for?” I leaned closer to study the readout, but it was all Greek to me. “Bishop?” I prompted when he didn’t reply.
“That can’t be right. Give me your other hand.”
“I’m pretty sure the same blood is running through that hand as this one,” I frowned, handing over the other one, bracing myself for the sting. Once again, there wasn’t a trace of the wound as soon as I pulled my hand free. “What does it say?” I asked, when he frowned over the display.
Looking up, he studied my face carefully, searching for… I had no idea what he could be looking for. “Anja, I’m going to ask you this one more time, and I promise I won’t be mad if you suddenly remember something you forgot to tell me before. Do you have any idea who your Sire could possibly be?”
“No, of course not. Don’t you think I would have told you by now if I did?”
“And you have no clue at all, nothing that comes to mind, nothing odd that’s happened to you in the past few weeks or months that you think might possibly be related?”
“No, nothing. Bishop, you’re starting to scare me, what’s wrong?”
“According to this, you’ve been a vampire for closer to four hundred years rather than a fledgling less than a day old.”
My mouth dropped open as I stared back at him, at a loss for words. “How is that even possible?”
“It’s not an exact science, but it’s fairly accurate for anyone born in the last two hundred years. I’ve seen false readings before when a vampire’s been turned by an especially powerful vampire line but this…”
“What?”
“This means it’s very likely you could have been turned by an Ellri.”
I stared at Bishop blankly, waiting for him to explain what that meant, but he stood lost in thought. “Bishop?” I asked gently after a few minutes. “Pretend I don’t know anything about vampire culture or society. What’s an Ellri?”
“What?” he looked up, “Oh, sorry. It’s an old word for Elder, it’s the name for natural born vampires that created the vampires species we know today.”
“So my Sire is…”
“Possibly one of the oldest living beings on the planet.”
I let that marinate for a moment before a distinction came to my lips. “Well, not living, because we’re undead, right?”
“No, the surviving Ellri are alive. They were never reborn like you and I were, they’re immortal.”
“And they’re out there walking around, kidnapping women and turning them into vampires, abandoning them for you to clean up?” What kind of elders were they?
“No… you don’t get it. The Ellri are extremely reclusive, they haven’t embraced the modern age very well. I can count the surviving ones on one hand. It’s been easily a hundred years or more since I last saw one, and I can’t remember the last time one chose to turn a human. Something this monumental would be big news in the vampire community. When this gets out, you’ll be a celebrity of sorts.”
A celebrity in vampire society? Unbidden, visions of vampire paparazzi swam in my mind and I shook my head to clear it. “Why are they so reclusive?” If I was a centuries old vampire, there wouldn’t be much I’d be afraid of.
“I don’t know. Like I said, it’s rare they move around and they’re not very sneaky, they usually travel with a full court. None of them have set foot in the United States as far as I know. As a rule they don’t do well with change, they honor tradition. That’s what made me first suspect one was involved when I saw how you’d been turned, but I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t have taken you with him.”
That part didn’t bother me so much, I was glad I hadn’t been taken by an ancient vampire who feared change. There was another point that caught my interest though. “If he’s so old he would have been able to get a license to turn me if he wanted to, right?”
“Ellri are exempt from vampire law. They can do as they please.”
“Then… you won’t have to turn me in after all, right? You can let me go?”
Bishop hesitated and I wondered what he wasn’t telling me. “In theory no, but this is all based on speculation. There hasn’t been a precedent set like this before. Without your Sire to claim you, we don’t know for certain it was an Ellri that sired you.”
“But your little machine…”
“It’s evidence in your favor, but it’s not enough to establish your line on its own. In fact, it’s more likely you were sired by a direct descendent than an Ellri himself, and he would still be subject to our laws.”
“So we’re right back where we started.”
“Almost. This tells us at least that whoever turned you is very old, very powerful, and not to be dealt with lightly. You know, that explains why I had so much trouble catching you tonight.”
“You said it was easy to catch me!” My eyes widened in surprise. And here I’d thought he had been toying with me!
“Yes, I did say that,” he grinned.
“You lied?” Somehow I hadn’t thought him capable of it, I have no idea why. Bishop shrugged, unconcerned as he turned to put the device back on the kitchen counter and I decided not to make an issue of it. “So what happens now?” I felt like I was constantly asking him that, but how else would I get the answers I needed to survive?
“I have no idea. I’m a vampire, not a psychic.” Ignoring me for the moment, he pulled a wicked looking knife out of his boot and a short pistol from the other, setting them to rest beside their brethren on the counter.
My teeth pressed against the inside of my lips as I fought the urge to scream at him for blowing me off. Like it or not I needed him at the moment, keenly feeling my own lack of experience in all things vampire. “I mean… to me. Will I fall into a coma as soon as the sun rises? Will I burn if I’m not in a coffin? I see I still have a reflection, what about holy water and garlic and silver?” The questions tumbled from my lips without end.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, one thing at a time before you have an aneurism.” His hands came up in a supplicating gesture, that trace of annoyance coming back to his eyes. Bishop looked like he wanted to disappear out the window. I forced myself to stem the flow of questions, but my eyes begged him silently to respond. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked like he was starting to get a migraine. Did vampires get migraines? My mouth opened to ask him but I snapped it shut again, thinking better of the question. “I knew I was going to regret this…” he muttered disgustedly.
* * *
It felt like hours later when we found ourselves sitting there looking at each other. Me sitting on his couch while Bishop slowly but surely edged his way closer and closer to the door. My head crammed full of information, I worried I wouldn’t be able to retain it all, because I surely couldn’t ask him again. It wasn’t that he was angry at me exactly; it felt more like he wasn’t used to so many questions at once and maybe just a bit angry with himself for letting me stay there in the first place. I was pretty sure I had the basics down though.
Beheading and fire were the surest way to kill a vampire, so I should avoid swords and bonfires like the plague. A wooden stake through the heart wouldn’t kill me, but it would send me into a torpor (it means a coma-like state, I had to look it up), which would render me particularly susceptible to being beheaded or set on fire. Any other wound would heal rapidly, and my blood could heal humans to some extent. Silver, garlic, holy water, none of those had any effect whatsoever. Sunlight wouldn’t make me burst into flames, but it’d be painful if I was in it for very long an
d it would sap my strength, making me slow and lethargic.
I could drink anything I wanted to, not just blood, but heavy food would make me feel sick until my body absorbed it. Bishop had no idea how often I’d need to feed. Most new vampires, or noobs as he called them, needed to feed nightly. But with my specially souped up blood, he didn’t know if I’d be able to hold out longer.
Bishop was right about the laws, there weren’t too many to remember. The number one rule was to defer to all Ellri. They were as gods among vampires, and no actions could be taken against them either officially or unofficially. If one wronged you… tough. Luckily, that didn’t come into play very often in the last century, except for my unusual circumstances.
The second most important law was to keep our presence hidden from humans. They pretty much didn’t care if vampires killed or maimed humans, or tried to survive on willing donors as long as they disposed of any evidence discreetly. It was forbidden to keep a human companion or ‘pet’ unless they were compelled to keep their silence.
Other than the licensed breeding being strictly controlled, the rest of it boiled down to an eye for an eye mentality, and they largely let vampires sort out their own disagreements.
At some point he’d closed the shutters and I could feel the sun rising higher in the sky, stealing the energy from my body. I was tired, nearly nodding off, but I forced myself to stay awake. I wasn’t sure if I would get another chance like that again, or if he’d kick me to the curb after the way the night had gone.
“You’ll be stronger and faster than anyone else your age, so you’ll have to learn control. Not just around humans, but our kind as well. Other vampires will be curious about you, especially around here. We don’t get many vampires of your ‘age’ visiting the new world.”
“The new world?”
“Trust me, if you were born in the 1600’s, that’s how you’d think of America too.” The corner of his mouth tilted up in a half smile, and I wondered again how old he was. Physically he looked like he was in his mid-twenties, but that didn’t mean anything. I had the feeling he was a good deal older than I was going to be pretending to be.
We had agreed that for the time being, I would keep to myself, and if anyone asked, I’d been turned in the mid 1600’s since older vampires didn’t have to carry their papers on them at all times. It was fairly easy to prove your age with little gadgets like the one he’d used on me, and no one tried to pad their age by that much and expected to get away with it.
“When in doubt, don’t say a whole lot. The older you are, the less tolerant you are of bullshit. That doesn’t mean you should be reckless mind you, it means… you’ve earned the right to decide whether or not to answer anyone’s random questions. Do you understand the distinction?”
“I think so,” I nodded, feeling like my head might wobble off at the motion. At the time I didn’t feel strong, or powerful. I felt like a ten year old who’d stayed up all night at a sleepover and was forced to pay attention in class. “Should I do an accent?” Pretending to be someone else did appeal to me in a theatrical way.
“Can you do an accent?” His brows rose slightly. I tried a few words, and I thought I did pretty well, until I saw his face. “Keep it simple. Most of us living in the States have homogenized our speech over the years. You can’t tell where we originally came from.”
“Where are you originally from?” I couldn’t help but ask, given that opening, but he didn’t reply. Instead he took a larger step towards the door.
“I think that’s enough questions for the night and you should be on your way.”
Accepting that without argument, I stood, but underestimated the effect of the sun on my limbs. I nearly crashed to the ground as they wouldn’t obey me as quickly as I had anticipated. Bishop was there in a heartbeat to keep me from falling and I felt like the biggest clod. “I’m sorry, I’m just so tired. Do you think maybe I could lie down for a little while?” I could tell he wasn’t too thrilled with the question and I tried to look tired and pathetic. It wasn’t a difficult stretch.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I need to go out for a while.”
“During the day?”
“I can take it.” Further proof he was considerably older than I was. I felt like my legs were turning to jello.
“I promise, I won’t do anything but lay here on the couch, cross my heart and hope to die.” I crossed my heart and held my fingers up in a passable rendition of the Boy Scout salute. At least I think so. I could very well have been throwing down gang signs for all I knew. Bishop hesitated and I had the feeling he might be caving. “You can kick me out when you get back, I’m just not sure I can make it home under my own steam.” Not a lie. The couch looked better and better.
“I’d be more than happy to give you a ride.”
I could understand why he needed the break, and I couldn’t really ask him for more when he’d already been so helpful already. I nodded, shuffling towards the door. “I’m sorry. I’m not this needy all the time, I swear. I’ve just never died before, it takes getting used to I guess.” I gave him a half hearted smile. At the door I noticed he was still by the couch, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“You can stay until I get back, just this once.”
“Really? Thank you so much!” The relief was so sharp, I zipped across the room, moving faster that I thought I could, nearly crashing into him again. Instead I hit the coffee table with my shins. It didn’t hurt much, but the coffee table made an alarming creaking sound and a crack appeared along the edge of the trim. “I’m so sorry…” Here vampires are supposed to be these smooth, dark, sexy creatures, totally in control, and I was stumbling through the afterlife going Hulk smash…
“It’s fine.”
Sinking onto the couch before he changed his mind, I tucked my feet up under me. “I won’t budge from this spot, I promise.”
“Take the bed, you’ll be more comfortable.”
“No, this is fine, really.” I didn’t want to put him any more out than I already had.
“Take the bed,” he bit out, and I nodded, a little bewildered by his tone.
“Alright, I will, thanks.”
“So… we’re good?” Bishop looked as eager to get away as I was to fall asleep. He looked longingly towards the freedom lying on the other side of the metal door.
I nodded slowly, in a bit of a mental fog now that I was curled up comfortably on the couch. He might have offered his bed, but I didn’t think I had the energy to make it that far, the couch would do me fine. I thought of another question and my mouth opened to ask him, but he was already gone. “Yeah… we’re good,” I murmured, sinking into blissful oblivion.
Chapter Eight
The room was pitch black when I opened my eyes. It felt like only a few minutes had elapsed from the time I’d fallen asleep, but the clock on the bedside table showed it was after five p.m.
Bedside table…
Though I’d fallen asleep on the couch, I was now in Bishop’s bedroom. Even with the shutters closed, my vision was adequate, and I could clearly see it matched the décor in the rest of the apartment. Masculine and tasteful, one wall lined with bookshelves. The question was, when had he put me into his bed, and did it mean he still wanted me to go?
As comfy as it was, I knew I shouldn’t overstay my welcome. I’d promised to be on my way as soon as he came back. “Hello?” I called out softly, slipping out of the bed, trying in vain to find my shoes. The apartment was quiet, too quiet. With all the shutters closed up tight, it felt like an oversized mausoleum with me the only resident.
“Bishop?” I said to the empty room, feeling so alone… so disconnected from the rest of the world. On silent feet, I strode to the windows to press the button for the shutters, letting in the remains of the setting sun. Foolishly, I looked to the streets below, having some idea that maybe I’d spot Bishop’s car, but there was no sign of it. I wondered if he was hiding out somewhere, waiting for me to leave. Did he cons
ider his duties discharged in explaining the vampire facts of life to me? Was that a good or a bad thing?
My thoughts returned to the disjointed images of Bishop comforting me through my transition. The memories were swiftly becoming soft and hazy, with the filter of pain already starting to lose its hold on my mind. How much of that had been real and how much the result of my fevered imagination? I was grateful - more grateful than I could express to Bishop for being there for me - but I could hardly keep imposing on him, especially when it seemed to make him so uncomfortable.
And yet… I couldn’t make myself leave, not without seeing him again. Left to my own devices, I took a deeper look at his apartment. The kitchen was especially bare; it looked like the refrigerator and the microwave were the only appliances that saw any regular use. There were three different kinds of juice in the fridge, and I helped myself to a glass of cranberry, finding both the taste and color pleasing.
The cupboards held a few snack type items and some clean glasses, but little else. Mister tall, dark and handsome vampire cop seemed to have the occasional craving for popcorn, or maybe he liked to entertain humans that did? That sparked all manner of images of his entertaining ladies in the apartment, and I found I didn’t like that train of thought at all. For some reason I didn’t enjoy thinking about Bishop feeding on random women while they watched movies on his flat screen TV and snacked on Jiffy Pop.
The grand piano tucked away in the corner caught my interest. It was a beautiful instrument, not something I usually saw outside of school. He certainly had the space for it. There was no sheet music on the stand or in the bench, and I wondered if it was only for show? There wasn’t a speck of dust on it, but I couldn’t help but feel like it saw little use. A test of the keys found it to be in perfect pitch though. I had enough training to accompany myself when learning a new piece, but it never came easily to me and my sight reading was terrible. I had to puzzle out each song the first time through a piece, and my efforts were always plodding at best. Maybe it’s the perfectionist in me, I always thought piano should be smooth, with one note flowing seamlessly into the next. Something I could do with my voice easily enough when my nerves didn’t get the better of me.
