“You’re Conor.”
“Yes, sir. Conor Olson.”
“I'm Brecken. You usually call someone your own age ‘sir’?”
“No, but I don’t get the feeling that you’re my age. You seem a lot older.”
At least there’s a grain of perception there. “Come with me, Conor.”
I led him down the street and sat on a picnic table with him standing to the side, shifting from leg to leg. I saw the tension and the readiness to fight, the readiness to violence if things turned that way. I didn’t see the willingness to incite that violence or I would have forced the issue right off.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just living. Playing music. Surviving.”
“Protocol says you seek me out if you’re in my territory.”
He made a strange face and babbled. “I don’t know anything about territories and protocol, sir. I don’t know what you’re talking about. To tell the truth, you’re the first person like me I’ve ever seen. I didn't believe it at first, but then you kept staring.” He swallowed. “Is it true?”
I was perplexed by his nonsensical answer. “Is what true?”
Another swallow. “That you're just like me.”
Good Lord. “How can I be the first one you’ve seen? What about when you were turned?”
“Turned? What do you mean?” More nervous babble. “Listen, I got sick, really sick and my folks were out here helping my sister move back to the University and I was taking care of the farm. I was so sick I just stayed in bed except when I had to feed the animals. No one ever came around.”
This was confusing. “You fed the animals?”
“Horses, goats, hogs, ducks, chickens. It's a farm and I was in charge.”
None of that made sense. “What happened when you got over being sick?”
“Uh, I think maybe you know.”
That made me smile, but I didn't let it show. “Tell me, Conor.”
His shoulders bent and he licked his lips, his gaze fixed, as though seeing a memory. A bad memory, apparently. “I was so sick I couldn’t eat or anything. And then one day I was feeling a lot better and a lot stronger and really hungry.” His eyes turned to the ground.
This was so pitiful it was funny. “And?”
“And, well, I grabbed up a hen and bit it.”
“A chicken?” I kept my face straight.
“A laying hen. I was feeding them and they were pecking and scratching like they do and suddenly that’s what I wanted. So, I did it. He looked at me. “I didn't really want to but I couldn’t help myself.”
“Yeah, but chicken?” The picture in my mind was ridiculous and I had to laugh. A chicken with flying feathers and flapping wings and squawks and more flying feathers. “What about when your parents came home? Were you still there?”
“Of course!” he yelled. His back straightened and a touch of defiance peeked out. “I was responsible for the farm. My Mom’s a nurse at the clinic and I told her about being sick. And how I couldn’t eat. She checked me over even though I was okay by then, except she said some things were off, like blood pressure and heart rate and things like that. I told her and my Dad everything. About that guy our dogs were barking at in the yard, about getting sick and the hen.”
I was deep into his strange tale. “What did they say?”
“They were totally freaked. You know? Especially when I showed them that I had grown these teeth.” He pointed glumly at his mouth while flicking his eyes at mine. My fangs had long since dropped in readiness and he'd noticed. “They weren’t scared though,” Conor said. “My dad said I should stay inside and even though I’m grown, I was like - restricted. He locked me in the basement.”
“That wouldn’t have held you.”
“No, but the thing was, I wanted it to. He was trying to help me and I was scared and needed their help. I didn’t know what happened to me so I just moved all my stuff from my bedroom and lived down there. It wasn’t so bad.”
“Come on. You had to have known what happened.”
He shook his head wildly. “What? You think I’m going to believe I was changed into an alien like in the tabloids or something? Everyone knows that's just made up stuff. I have some sort of virus, is all.”
“Umm hm. How long ago was all that?”
“Last August, but it didn't go away. And then my sister came home at Thanksgiving and I’d been living in the basement all those months, pretending I was out of town. Only ones I saw was my folks. I helped with the farm work after dark and we watched TV and talked, but they kept a distance so they wouldn’t catch the virus. At least we hoped not. Then my sister came down to the basement to see me.” Conor gave a low moan and looked away. “She hugged me and I bit her.”
“You drank from her?”
“No-o-o!” His eyes whipped back to mine. “Oh, my God, no. My folks had told her everything, and she just stood there shocked, watching me trying to suck at her arm and I got so ashamed. I love my sister. I love my folks too, and they love me. We’re a really close family. I bit her, but I made myself stop.”
I studied him, the horrified expression, the nervous twitch of his hands as he talked, “Is she okay? No effects?”
“You mean is she like me and, um - you? No. Not even after I bit her the second time.”
He ran his hand down his arm, distraught at the memory. “I stopped again and after that I wouldn’t let her get close to me. Then she went back to school and I started trying to be around people. I had to try or I’d be down there forever. My folks helped me.”
“You still lived in the basement?”
“Yes, until I came out here for the gig. I went places in the evening with my Dad, to practice being near neighbors and people in town.. I never bit anyone but her, even though it was pretty hard sometimes. A lot of times. I just couldn’t stand myself if I did it, though.”
I felt a touch of admiration for this newbie. He’d done well, considering the horrendous force of his instincts to feed, and the total lack of a guide. I was beginning to like him.
”Did you live on chicken all this while?” I resisted flinching.
“The blood bank. My mom helped me out and no one knew.” He flushed and looked at the ground again. “But when my Dad wasn't close by, I bit some of the hogs because I’ve always loved bacon and pork chops. And the blood bank stuff tastes gross.”
I remember trying that myself, on a whim, and he was right. Gross is a weak word for that stale, blood bank taste. Dead blood. Impossible to survive long on that and I'd bet he bit all the hogs and more chickens, too. Maybe a goat, which I actually found fairly tasty, the one time I tried.
I looked at him, young, strong and strangely innocent. And one hundred percent dangerous. “Where you staying, Conor?”
“I rent a motel room by the week in San Dimas. I have my car, some clothes and stuff and my guitar.” He opened his arms wide. “That's it.”
“Why not stay in South Dakota where you were safe?”
“I couldn’t go on living in the basement. You know? I had to deal with this on my own. I used to sing here and there so I had the idea to come out here and see if I could find a job. My sister talked to Jeff and here I am.”
“And the big question?” I said.
His face wrinkled. “You mean, am I going to bite anyone?” He gulped, then stood straighter. “No. I can control that or I wouldn’t have left the basement. But how about you?” His voice was flat, his question direct.
He was asking me what I eat? Thinking of his sister, probably. I avoided a straight answer, since falling off the wagon was my business. But I had decided to let him stay for now.
“Here’s the rules,” I said. “Don't kill. Don't endanger the life of anyone in my territory and no flaunting your abilities in public. You can stay for now, but I’ll be watching you. And don’t you go trying to watch me. Mind your own business and we’ll get along fine. I can give you a few pointers, but we're not buddies. No hanging around me and no
hanging around the other singer at the Tavern.”
“You mean Henna.” His eyes sparked a little and I felt my chest rumble.
“Henna is forever off limits. She's mine and we don’t touch each other’s people. I won’t tolerate even a hint of anything from you. Nothing.”
“Are you biting her?” His eyes were bright, but his lips turned down in disgust.
“None of your damned business, newbie. I’m not, but I won’t accept questions about what I do. Clear?”
I saw him swallow again. “Conor, I won’t get in your way, unless you step out of line with me. We have strict lines and rules but they can vary some from one territory to the next. I’m telling you how it is with me here. Understood?”
He leaned against the trunk of a tree. “You know, I get it. Just like in the books. Rules and all.”
‘Right. Like in the books.” I had to laugh again at that. He was so naive for a vampire, it almost made me want to weep - or lop his head and get it over with. But I kind of enjoyed him. “You know anything about hiding in public, Conor?”
“You mean not letting anyone know about me?” He tested a large branch and it bent under his hand.
I snorted. “Yeah, and no mentioning me, either. No mention of this talk or anything whatsoever about me. Not even my name. When you see me, keep your cool, just like you did at the Tavern. You kept your face straight, and didn’t do anything stupid. What are doing?”
“This limb is strong enough. Watch.” He pulled himself up and hung like a sloth then curled his arms to his chest, bat-like. “Will I ever do this for real?”
I burst into laughter. “I was going to say watch out how you act in public, but too late.”
“Room for two,” he laughed and spun in the air, landing on his feet. “My sister likes that trick.”
I shouldn't be amused, but the guy was so likeable. “Conor Olson.” His name sounded like white bread. “Who all knows you’re a vampire?”
His eyes widened. “It's just a virus of some kind.”
“Knock it off and answer me. You know it not a virus.”
His body slumped. “My sister. We don’t use that word, but I told her everything.”
“Is she the kind who talks?”
“She knows she has to keep me safe. Anyway, who’d believe that?”
“Crystal, right? You were talking to her in the Tavern. Did you tell her about me?”
“Uhh ….” He flicked his eyes at me then to the grass beyond.
I growled. “You did.”
“Not exactly. I just told her I might have seen someone else like me. I told her you were outside and I had to go talk to you and I didn't tell her your name cause I didn't know it.”
Damn. “If you ever point me out to her or to anyone, you’re finished. I'm serious about that, Conor.”
“Look, I don’t want to be pointed out either. I’ll keep your secret and you keep mine.” I was glad to see his temper rise a little. A 'wimpy' vamp has little long term chance for survival.
I made myself settle into calm. “Good. I’ll give you a hand if you need. Just don’t need too often.”
“I may not even stay, you know. Jeff may not want me to. If I can’t find work I can do at night, I’ll have to go somewhere else.”
“Ever tried going out during the day?”
He looked aghast and stammered. Answer enough and I was itchy anxious for the slope and release of Silver. Try not to crawl through Henna's window and into her bed. Tomorrow, face to face.
I dismissed Conor. “That’s it. You're on probation for now.”
“Yes, sir.” he said.
Half a year or so vamped, his energy level still developing. I thought Conor would manage okay, and I’m an excellent judge of my own kind. Although, neither of us had discussed where to get more blood bags. And with my itch to get to Henna, I forgot to talk about hunting.
Chapter 41
Friday morning I got home from Henna's slopejust in time to change and drive to the track. I had zippo desire to go running, but part of my plan with Louie was to resume normal life, plus be more all around friendly.
Busybody Ev was jogging in place. And Mark was late, cuss him.
“Morning,” I said cheerfully.
“Hey, you're here. And looking better. Not so, um, distracted.”
Ev’s constant observations were annoying and I threw my towel on the ground. “Stop watching me. You always have something to say about what I do and how I look. It’s getting a little weird. I’m not your boyfriend.”
He grinned at that. “No offense, but I’m intrigued, not sweet on you.”
“Well, you’re overdoing it. I’m not a case study.”
“Can’t help it, Brecken. I watch everyone. Anyway, I thought maybe you had problems or something, you've missed so much.”
“I don't, but if I did?” Hmm, seems I'm having trouble with the being friendly.
Ev's response was sincere. “You know I’d offer to help out, if there was anything you needed.”
“Thanks, but what would I need from you?” Lovely thoughts of genius DNA in his blood floated through my head. No way he remembered that feeding, but every bit of me certainly did. I started the usual stretches, playing the warm up game.
“I don’t know,” Ev said. “Maybe computer help or someone to load off on. Maybe Henna stuff. Just trying to be a friend, Brecken.” He bent to touch his toes.
I spotted Mark parking his car. What was I doing pushing at my running buddy? Wasn’t I supposed to be the easy going guy? “Ev, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It was Henna stuff, like you said, but everything’s okay now.” I hoped.
He glanced at me, speaking quickly. “I guess I’m bugging you, but don’t be pissed. I know there’s some kind of link between us.”
I interrupted him. “No link. Running buddies, that’s all.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is. We don’t hang around. No classes together, no projects. We run, nothing else.”
“That’s wrong,” he said. “There’s something else and I know it, even if you don’t. I just don't know what, but I intend to find out.”
I tried to make it light. “Get lost, Ev. I'm done with that crap.”
Mark ran up. “You guys fighting? That’s a first.”
“Not fighting. Brecken thinks I watch him too much and maybe I’m getting sweet on him or something.” He snuffed and shook his head, cheerful in the face of my annoyance.
“Hell, you watch everyone too much. Ignore him, Brecken. The guy’s got a serious curiosity problem.” He began his warm up.
I was handling this wrong. Ev was one of the more interesting people I knew. Maybe I should cultivate that, rather than shoving him away. With Louie in Canyon Lake, it’d be good to have a guy to talk guy stuff with now and then. I decided to ease off on the rejection.
“Just forget it, okay?” Ev mumbled. “I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.” Mark started towards the street and Ev ran after him.
I raised my voice, filling it with running buddy pleasantness. “Changed my mind, Ev. Go ahead and say what you want. Watch me all you like. It won’t bother me anymore.”
“Yeah, right. You think I’m going to believe that?”
I ran alongside and suddenly found myself talking him into it. Uhh, what? “Look, I get testy sometimes, like anyone else. Tell me about that game you mentioned last week.”
His good nature immediately reasserted itself. “Do you play chess, Brecken?” Typical for him - right out of left field.
“Yes.”
We hit the street, still trailing Mark. “Care to play chess with me?” Ev said.
“What?” I groaned. “Go sit in the park with the retired guys and play on a picnic table?”
“Not physical chess,” he countered. “Mental chess. You move a pawn, I move one, then you take mine or maybe I take yours. But the moves are mental, in the form of points. Every time I best you by learning something new, I get a pawn, or a bishop. If I
blow it, you take the chess piece of your choice. But no important ones unless I blow it bad.”
I checked out his expression. The guy was serious. “And how do we determine when one has bested the other?”
“Oh, I think we’ll both recognize that part. We can let each other know.”
“Sounds pretty stupid.” We both laughed and pumped faster, since Mark was way ahead. “Why should I go along with you busting your gut trying to figure me out? What’s in it for me, smart guy?”
“The challenge - and I know you like challenge, just as I do.” He glanced over at me. “I won’t be easy on you. We have to play it straight, though. Only way it'll work.”
The idea was quirky, but mental chess with a brain like his did sound amusing. And he was watching me all the time anyway. “Okay, you're on. A private match, though.”
“I knew that already. You're the most secretive person I’ve ever met.”
“Perhaps there’s a reason,” I drawled. “Besides, most people don’t go around spewing out their private life to every putz who’s curious.”
He glanced at me. “I’m not looking for reasons. No deep psychology here.”
“Nah, you’re looking for reasons, all right.” I dropped behind him.
He kicked it and passed Mark as we turned a corner. So, there would be a little sparring match. Thrust, block, go for checkmate. All that.
“Ev,” I called. “You leaving after finals?”
He yelled back. “Nope. I’m taking summer classes.”
Good, I thought. Mark was returning home end of May. I have hours of available time - twenty four hours of time - when Henna was wasn't available, of course. The mental chess idea could be long term and should prove to be interesting. I might even not cheat.
Ev surged farther ahead, but instead of picking up speed Mark dropped back to me. “Still PO ed?’
“Not now, but I may be if you keep picking at it.” I clicked my tongue. “Looks like Ev’s come out of his shell. Acting all frisky.”
“Yep. I think he’s working on getting a girlfriend. I'm going to take him out with me some night.”
Silver Page 24
