I'm the Vampire, That's Why

by Michele Bardsley

  "Eleven fucking people! And he did kill us!"

  "Drained you because he hadn't eaten in weeks. It wasn't his intention to kill any of you," said Patrick, his eyes blazing with fury. "Lor is a man of faith. A man of God. He has carried that devotion to the Almighty in his heart for centuries, even after—" Patrick's nostrils flared as he regained control of his emotions. "I tell you, Jessica, that he did not murder an innocent young woman!"

  I think Patrick loved his brother, but was too blind to see the truth about Lorćan. He wasn't a human. He wasn't a vampire. He was a beast. Whatever humanity he might've retained was surely gone.

  Besides, what else was running around Broken Heart that had the ability and the power to do what was done to Emily?

  It was a short list with only one name.

  Chapter 7

  I knew dawn was approaching because I felt weighed down. My body was shutting itself off without my permission. It sucked to feel this way. And it really sucked that I was going to spend another day without seeing or taking care of my children.

  I crawled onto the bed and debated whether or not I should use the last vestiges of willpower to undress. Nope. Not gonna happen. If I was lucky, Patrick would join me, de-clothe me, and… well… keep his mitts off me. I didn't need to have sex with him.

  But I wanted to.

  That night, I called a meeting. All the new vampire citizens of Broken Heart gathered in my living room. I tried to keep the meeting a secret from Stan and the vamps, but Patrick poked around in my head and found out. Having my friends milling around in my home reminded me of other social gatherings. Barbecues, Christmas parties, Easter egg hunts. We ate desserts and drank wine and laughed. Rich had been by my side, the perfect host, the perfect husband. I had been so happy being his wife. Maybe that's why his betrayal pierced me so deeply. I couldn't understand how or why he fell in love with another woman.

  After I caught Rich and Charlene banging each other stupid, Rich had pulled up his pants and admitted he was going to leave me. Right there. In the Motel 6. With his mistress splayed on the cheap comforter, still sweaty and half clothed and postorgasmic.

  He moved out that night. The next day, I drove to Tulsa crying and bitching and listening to sad love songs so I could buy myself new bedroom furniture.

  The wood was burnished cherrywood. I bought the king-sized four-poster bed, the dresser with its ornate mirror, two nightstands, and a rocking chair. Later, I added a red wingback—a garage sale find.

  It was necessary to recreate the space. To wipe out the memories that lingered. To know that Rich's clothes had never occupied space in that dresser. To know he had never slept in that bed or turned to me in the morning, his hands palming my breasts as he leaned down to kiss me. To know that I had changed what had been "ours" to what was now only "mine."

  The bitterness had faded. The pain had healed. Yet, my hatred for Charlene had always been too pure, too focused to free myself from it. I don't think I could forgive her for being the reason Rich left me. And the reason he died.

  I admit it. I debated for a full hour about whether or not to invite Charlene, but finally made the call. In typical fashion, she was alone, at the back of the room, observing. No matter where she went, it was like she had an invisible force field. Everyone gave her at least three feet of space. I felt a twang of conscience. And a sliver of respect. Charlene always held up her head, always smiled, always pretended like she didn't see the way people treated her like the town whore. Maybe falling in love with a married man was her only mistake, but she paid penance for it daily. I'll tell you, that stuck in my craw.

  But because I couldn't offer friendship to my husband's mistress, I turned to Patrick. "What are the Consortium's plans for us?"

  The buzz of conversation ceased and all eyes turned to him.

  "We have made financial arrangements for everyone," he said. "Notices have been given at jobs. The children are cared for during the day."

  "How am I supposed to raise my sons if I never see them?" asked Ralph. "And I worry about… about the need for blood. If that desire will make me…" His face grayed.

  "You are incapable of hurting your children," said Patrick. "It's physically impossible for a vampire to do harm to anyone he loves."

  I perked up at this news. I was incredibly relieved to know that my children were safe from my undead thirst. Now, Patrick, on the other hand… yum. Except he hadn't given me any yum tonight, the wanker.

  I asked, "What if the vampire doesn't love anyone?"

  "If he goes too long without companionship or friendship, without feeling compassion or love… a vampire loses his connection to his own humanity. When that happens, he becomes a droch fhola."

  "Dracula?"

  "Droch fhola is Gaelic for 'bad or evil blood.' A droch fhola serves his own needs and doesn't care who he hurts to fulfill those desires. Once a vampire becomes a droch fhola, the only kind thing to do is kill him." His eyes sparked for a second, a flicker of that mysterious emotion I'd seen in his gaze before. Then he turned to face the others.

  "What about sex?" asked Patsy Donahue. "I hear tell if we have sex with another vampire, we have to bind with 'em. And let me tell you, I ain't getting hitched to someone just 'cause I like his penis. So there better be a loophole because if I'm going live forever, it ain't gonna be without sex."

  "The binding ritual was created by the ancients for two reasons. One was to prevent a vampire from turning droch fhola and the second was to prevent a vampire from sexual misconduct during blood-taking. When the ancients created the binding," explained Patrick, "they used powerful magic and prayers to craft its ritual. It cannot be changed or broken. Three steps must be taken to make the binding a recognized union, which affords mates with certain protections. But… the sex act is the true binding and the other two steps aren't needed for it to work."

  Patsy looked at him, her eyes twinkling. "So, Einstein, what are the steps?"

  "First, the Claiming. Second, the Word-giving. Finally, the Mating."

  "Whoa," I said. "So the ancients were thinking it was better to bind a vampire for a hundred years, whether or not they wanted to, than to have 'em turn into a droch fhola?"

  "Are they all men?" interjected Linda. "Because this sounds like some guy's bright idea to make sure he'll get laid for a hundred years in a row."

  "Three of the seven ancients are women," said Patrick.

  "What about oral sex?" asked Patsy. Bless her heart. Her mouth just didn't have an off switch. "Or using things other than the regular working parts?"

  "Actual intercourse is required. The typical penetration with the… regular working parts," said Patrick. He didn't sound embarrassed. He sounded amused. I guess four thousand years of hearing every dirty joke in the world might inure a person to getting red-faced about a sex discussion. "The binding has other purposes, too. It's a protection for nonvampires, especially humans. Since the vampire will bind with his object of affection, no matter what species, he is less likely to attempt intercourse. Indeed, once he binds, he cannot have sex with anyone else—not for the next century."

  "You mean if a vampire has sex with a human, he's chained to her for hundred years?" asked Linda. She sounded as horrified as I felt. "No matter what?"

  "Unfortunately, many vampires have attempted such bindings and found themselves the caretakers of decomposing bodies and crumbling bones for the requisite number of years."

  "But there's no way for them to… uh, penetrate," I said. "Right?"

  "Once the binding sex has been completed, there are no other requisite sex acts between the bound couple."

  "I sure don't want to hear no stories about what else a vampire has hitched hisself to," said Patsy. Her eyes narrowed at Patrick. "Especially sheep. Don't want to hear about how some stupid dickhead got married to a farm animal. Sure as shit happened, though, I know it."

  "There was Claudius," said Patrick. "He was a Roman—"

  "Patrick," I screeched, "spare us the details."<
br />
  "Anything for you, love." Patrick leaned next to the brick fireplace and surveyed the room. "I know it's been difficult for everyone to deal with the new circumstances. The Consortium is moving its facilities to Broken Heart. We've already purchased land and will break ground tomorrow to begin building a compound to house our laboratories and offices."

  "Like a prison," said Linda.

  "You don't have to live in the compound that we're building, but we are going to insist that you remain in Broken Heart under our protection." Patrick met the gaze of each person sitting in the room, then he looked at me. "Give us time to show you how to protect yourselves, how to feed, how to set up your lives so that humans do not recognize you for who you are. Then you will be able to go anywhere."

  "How did you do that so fast?" I asked. "Usually it takes at least a month to close a sale for a residential property. Commercial properties take at least sixty days."

  Patrick's eyebrows winged upward. I shrugged. "I took a real estate course once."

  "We bought private land. With cash. The owner was thrilled. I believe you're familiar with the Barley and Boob Barn?"

  "You're shitting me!"

  "Certainly not."

  "What about the strippers?"

  "I brought them into my harem."

  My mouth went slack. "You what?"

  Patrick rolled his eyes. "We paid them, love. A great deal, in fact, to pack up and go elsewhere." No, he shot into my mind, I don't really have a harem.

  Good. Then I won't have to stake you. "Sounds like you know what you're doing," I said begradgingly.

  "We've also been buying out the businesses and residences of the other townspeople."

  My nape tingled. "Why?"

  "The town is small and it's isolated enough that the Consortium will be able to finally implement our long-term goal for a parakind safety zone. A permanent community, rather than pockets created within human cities."

  The tingling traveled down my spine and spun a cold circle in my stomach. "You're getting rid of the humans so you can invite other vampires to live here."

  Patrick nodded. "Not just vampires, but other non-humans who want to settle down in a community where they don't have to hide their true natures."

  "You can't just run our citizens out of their own town," said Linda, outrage vibrating in her voice.

  "No one has turned down our offers, which are more than generous compensation." Patrick's gaze softened with empathy. "I know you've been struggling to keep Broken Heart alive. But it's a dying town. At least with the Consortium's plan, it will thrive again… just in a different way."

  It was hard to believe that a few days ago my biggest concern was balancing my checkbook and counting the carbs in a Ben & Jerry's pint. Now, I was not only one of the eternal undead, I was just one kind of creature that most people believed were Hollywood creations.

  "Has everyone in town sold out to the Consortium?" asked Ralph.

  "Yes."

  "You're kidding me," I said. "You got to everyone in a day?"

  Patrick looked at me strangely. I couldn't interpret that glance, but it made my stomach dip. .

  "We've been buying out the businesses and houses in town for the last six months," he confessed.

  Stunned silence followed his announcement. Then voices started up all at once. After getting my own emotions in order, not an easy thing to do in the middle of a crowded, noisy room, I whistled shrilly and everyone shut up again. It occurred to me that Patrick might be pulling our chains. Maybe we were getting hazed—you know, teased and tormented before being allowed to join the vampire fraternity.

  "As I said, we've been looking for a place to create a community for non-humans. We realized that a small town in Oklahoma would be perfect. No one would think of looking for our citizens in the Midwest."

  Guess I hadn't done too good a job getting my emotions packed up. Shock had me sinking to the floor. I thumped down on my ass like a drunk who'd lost his balance and tried to comprehend that Patrick and his Consortium had been on the way here from where-the-hell-ever with every intention of taking over Broken Heart.

  "We were forced to vacate our previous location," said Patrick. "Unfortunately, not all parakind are interested in a kinder, gentler future. We've had problems with a group of vampires who call themselves Wraiths. They destroyed our other facility and forced us to accelerate the timetable for our Broken Heart venture."

  "Wow. You're just full of good news," I muttered.

  "It doesn't seem real," said Linda. "None of this. It's like we're all dreaming or something. Or maybe we really are dead."

  "Nah," said Patsy, fluffing her bleach-blond curls. "If this was heaven there'd be more naked men."

  "Stop glaring at me," said Patrick.

  Since I had refused to hold his hand, to accept his kiss, and to take his suggestion that we fly to the gymnasium, he was in a snit. Maybe he didn't like walking. It's not like he needed the exercise.

  I, however, had gone way past "snit." I was monumentally pissed off.

  "You've been buying out the town for months. When you said you meant to come to Broken Heart, you failed to mention that you had your minions already here, buying up property."

  "I don't have minions." He looked at me. "How long are you going to stay angry?"

  "Years." I pursed my lips. "Maybe a century."

  His mouth twitched, but he apparently managed to quell the laugh that threatened. Instead he said, "Fine."

  And I said, "Fine."

  Then we both shut up and let our silence chill the auto below zero.

  After the meeting at my house had ended, I checked on my babies. Stan told me they weren't buying the flu story anymore. Three days was too long to go without seeing their mother, even with all the cool new distractions provided by Stan. If he kept up his gift giving, Santa Claus was gonna have a tough time coming up with appropriate gifts in December.

  "If you hadn't called that ridiculous meeting to plan a mutiny—"

  "It wasn't a mutiny," I interrupted. "I didn't get to plan anything with all those information bombs you dropped on us. Jerk."

  "This is a strange situation for everyone. Vampires cannot have children and it's been centuries since a parent has been Turned."

  "Let me guess. Part of the Consortium Code?"

  He nodded.

  "Lorćan totally blew that rule."

  "He's not in his right mind. When he's cured, I guarantee you he'll say penance for centuries. He abhors the idea of hurting innocents."

  I stopped walking. "He's changed, Patrick. Maybe the werewolf blood cured the Taint, but he won't ever be the same."

  Patrick stopped, too. Then he turned around slowly to face me. We were standing on the soccer field on the left side of the high school. The rich scents of earth and fresh-cut grass weaved through night air. Summertime in Oklahoma. I felt a pang of loss… of unbearable sadness. I was never going to see the sun again. Ever.

  "No one knows better than I what my brother has suffered," he said. "You're hungry and you need to feed."

  I was hungry. Since Patrick hadn't offered me a thigh, I was worried about where I was supposed to get my new icky sustenance. I didn't want to think about a "donor." I crossed my arms and gave Patrick the Look.

  "You're being stubborn, Jessica." He scooped me into his arms and rose into the air, the show-off, and we flew over the roof of the gymnasium. He set us down in the back parking lot. I glanced at the area where Emily had been found. Poor sweet thing. Linda was planning a special night memorial for her little sis.

  Patrick led me around the huge, white RV. We crossed the lot to a pink camper parked near a copse of pine trees.

  "It looks like a big pink Twinkie," I said as Patrick knocked on the metal door.

  The door opened and a brassy red head poked out. "It's a 1956 Safari Airstream, honey," said the woman in a sultry Southern twang. "It's been refurbished and customized to my specifications. Hello, Paddy. Here for a nibble?"

&nb
sp; Patrick drew me forward and ushered me up the two metal stairs. The lady moved back into the Airstream and sat on a long couch that was made out of pink fuzzy material. A flatscreen TV was suspended on the opposite side. It looked like it could be raised or lowered into the ceiling.

  "It's like walking into a room made of cotton candy," I said. Everything was pink. What wasn't pink was… well, no, everything was pink. Except me. Patrick. And the lady. But she was dressed in a pink muumuu.

  "I like pink," said Red. She plucked a chocolate from a ceramic pink bowl and plopped it into her mouth.

  "This is Sharon," said Patrick. "She's a donor."

  "A donor." I smiled wanly. Then I turned around and headed for the door.

  "Love," said Patrick gently, his arm shooting out to stop me. "You must learn to take blood from donors."

  "Why do I need a donor?" I asked, knowing I sounded petulant. "I have you."

  "I won't always be around."

  What? Why the hell not? The very idea that Patrick wouldn't be my… uh, whatever-he-was made anguish wrap around me.

  He rolled his eyes. "I meant that I will sometimes be temporarily unavailable to you—not that I will leave you to pine for me forever."

  "Your ego is the size of Montana," I said. "Pine for you? Not likely."

  "She's just nervous, Paddy. Don't worry, hon," said Sharon, her lips pulled into a generous smile. Her eyes sparkled with warmth and sincerity. "I'm used to these neck nibblers."

  "No offense, Sharon. But I'd rather have the chocolate," I said.

  She laughed and slapped her thigh. "Hell's bells, Patrick! She's the reason you've had me eating these Godiva truffles all day?"

  I looked at Patrick. "You're mean."

  His black brows formed question marks. Then his lips curled into a smile.

  "No, not just mean. Cruel."

  "I had her eat truffles for you," he said.

  "Are you insane? How is her eating my chocolate in any way helpful?"

  Sharon chortled. "You might not be able to eat the truffle, sweetie, but you'll taste it. Prob'ly be the best chocolate you ever eat, too."