by Lisa Olsen
“That was beautiful. I didn’t recognize it though, was it Tchaikovsky?” I smiled when the last pure note faded.
“No, it’s mine, I wrote it for you. I haven’t got a name for it yet, I’ve been calling it Anja’s song,” his shoulders shrugged self-deprecatingly.
“You wrote that for me?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Anja. I don’t know what it is, but you’re the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning and my last thoughts before I fall asleep. I keep thinking back to that kiss.”
Oh no… “The kiss?”
“Tell me I didn’t dream that up too?” his face clouded. “I have the strangest dreams about you.” Evan took a step closer, reaching up to touch my cheek in wonder as though he almost doubted I was real.
“You’d better come inside,” I pulled away, leading him into my apartment. If he remembered even half of what transpired between us I was in serious trouble. Evan dutifully followed me inside, carefully setting his violin and bow down before joining me on the couch.
“Did what I wrote touch you?”
“It did. More than I can say.” No one had ever dedicated anything so beautiful to me before and I was at a complete loss for words to describe how it felt. I could see the hope on his face though, and I braced myself to watch it fade. “Evan, I told you, I can’t start something with you right now. I’m sorry if I led you on.”
“But what I felt pass between us… I’ve never felt anything like that before. You felt it too, I know you did.”
“It was just a kiss, Evan.” Even as I said the words, I knew what he meant. His face was so earnest, so full of passion… it was hard not to get caught up in it. Maybe it was because I’d given him some of my blood, but there was something there. Something I might have wanted to explore if I wasn’t so sure it would end in disaster.
“No… it was as though our souls touched. All I can do is think about feeling that way again.” Evan edged closer, picking up my hand in his. “Anja… I remember more than the kiss we shared,” his voice dropped to a whisper.
“Um… like what? You remember falling and cracking your head open?” That did not sound good at all.
“No, I remember…” he scooted a fraction closer, our knees touching. “I remember what you are.”
I pulled my hand from his, backing away to the far end of the couch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Not good at all…
“Anja, it’s alright. I know what you are and I don’t care. More than that, I want to be a part of it again. I want… I want you to bite me again.”
“Bite you?” My try for a laugh fell flat. “That’s ridiculous, why would I bite you?”
“To drink my blood, of course. I remember it all, it was… it was amazing.” His face shone with rapture at the recollection. If memory served, he had enjoyed it, I just hadn’t thought he’d retained any of it.
“Evan look at me, that’s crazy. What kind of a person would drink your blood?” I maintained, wondering if I should try to compel him again, or if I needed someone stronger to do it since mine wore off. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he’d been nearly unconscious at the time I’d done it?
“A vampire,” his eyes fairly glowed as he said the word. “I told you, I know what you are, and I want you to bite me again.”
“You’re nuts,” I rose to my feet, desperate for a moment to figure out what to do.
“I’m willing to risk my life on it.” From somewhere he produced a knife, making a shallow cut to the side of his throat.
“Qingwa cào de liúmáng… you are crazy,” I gasped as bright blood instantly welled from the wound. What kind of a person opened a vein in front of a vampire? Grabbing a dish towel from the kitchen, I threw it at him from across the room, trying desperately not to look at the blood disappearing down the front of his throat. “Take this and get out!”
Evan caught the towel and set it aside, calmly opening the top buttons of his shirt to enlarge the opening at his neck. “Please, do this. I want you to.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking me. If I start, I might not be able to stop in time. You ended up in the hospital last time, or don’t you remember that part?”
“I don’t care. If I die, then you can bring me back and we’ll be together forever.”
“It’s not that simple,” I murmured, transfixed by the scent of the blood more than anything else. My feet carried me closer to him of their own volition, and the next thing I knew I’d sunk onto the couch beside him.
“Nothing worthwhile ever is,” Evan watched me with rapt attention, neck craning to one side as he practically begged me to end his life.
It was wrong.
I can sit here and try to justify that he asked for it, or I was a newbie with poor self control, but that doesn’t make up for the fact that I still knew it was wrong as I leaned in, my fangs descending the closer I got to the fount of life. I didn’t love him, and Evan had somehow deluded himself into thinking the feeding was more intimate than the physical act. That knowledge didn’t stop me from laving my tongue up the side of his neck to catch the trail of blood. Evan moaned at the contact, his fingers tangling in the back of my hair.
“Maybe just a taste,” I murmured against his skin before my teeth punctured his flesh and my mouth filled with his essence. Without the sharp ache of hunger, I found it easier to control my thirst. Instead of frantic pulls at his flesh to satisfy a frenzied need, we pulsed together, the beat of his heart linking us sweeter than any music played. With his heart still beating fast and strong, I pulled away with steady determination, not wanting to take nearly as much that time and from his moan of disappointment at my withdrawal I think it might have been harder on him than it was on me.
Feeling proud of myself for overcoming the bloodlust, I pricked my finger to seal the wounds at his neck, but blood still pumped freely from the wound. Trying again, I smeared a larger blot of my own blood over the shallower cut, but it had no healing effect whatsoever.
Evan didn’t seem to notice or care, his head lolling against the back of the couch as he bled all over the cushions (Bridget was going to give me holy hell over that one later). “Will you give me some of your blood now?” he asked with a lazy smile.
“Evan, your neck won’t stop bleeding.” With the continued flow, I felt the pangs of thirst flicker back into existence, but I forced myself to ignore them, grabbing for the discarded towel to press against his neck.
“I don’t feel so hot,” he murmured, eyes half masted.
“You feel plenty warm to me,” I frowned, pressing my hand to his cheek and forehead. Unfortunately, I’d become a lousy judge of temperature since my own ran so much lower than humans.
“I think I’d better sit down.”
“You’re already sitting.” My frown deepened, was he slurring his speech? He hadn’t lost all that much blood yet. I pulled the towel away to find it more than half soaked with his blood and showing no signs of stopping. “We have to do something to stop that bleeding.” Leaving him on the couch, I went for the junk drawer in the kitchen, pawing through it until I came up with a tube of super glue with a cry of triumph.
“Hold still,” I admonished, doing my best to whisk away the blood and cover the mess with the glue before the blood ran all over again. It took a bit of doing, but I got the wound sealed up alright. “There,” I sat back with a sigh of relief.
“Did it work?” Evan craned his neck to look and I pulled back the shirt, dismayed to see a growing purple stain under the skin.
“Frak… it’s still bleeding, just on the inside now. I think I need to call a doctor.”
“I think…” he swallowed, his arm falling weakly by his side, “I think you’re right.”
I looked up, shocked to find more than half the white of his eye obscured red from a broken blood vessel. “Oh sweet Jesus, I think you need an ambulance.” I stood up too fast, something that shouldn’t have been a problem for a vampire, but the
room dipped and swayed as a wave of dizziness washed over me. As I took a step towards my room to find my phone, I felt… wrong. Another careful step and another brought more dizziness and a sharp pain in the pit of my stomach.
Something was definitely wrong.
I made it to the dresser, clutching at my phone with a tiny wave of triumph. Until I looked up in the mirror and saw my eye half filled with blood, just like Evan’s.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bishop glanced at the number on his phone, biting back a few choice expletives. What was it now? Couldn’t Anja go a single night without dragging him into some new disaster? Briefly he considered picking up the phone and reading her the riot act, but he knew the instant he heard her voice it’d all be over. He’d jump when she snapped her fingers like he always did, no matter much it devastated him in the end. Of course he could always ignore the call… His finger hovered over the red button. At the last second, he hit the green one instead, steeling himself for the sound of her voice.
“Bishop,” he said curtly.
“Oh, thank God,” Anja breathed. “Something is wrong, really wrong. I can’t stop the bleeding and now it’s spreading all over inside and his eye is all bloody and gross and he’s passed out on my sofa and…”
“Is that all? It sounds like you got a hemophiliac.” She really could blow the smallest things out of proportion. So much for her staying on the bagged stuff. Bishop felt a small measure of smug satisfaction for guessing that wouldn’t last long.
“No, he’s not a hemophiliac, I healed him just fine before. This is bad, really bad. And the eye… that can’t be normal. I think he’s dying and I’m… ”
Bishop could hear the panic in her voice, but all he could think about was the fact that she had a regular feeder now. Some guy she’d fed on before was bleeding out on her couch and part of him was content to let him keep bleeding out of jealousy, knowing the intimate bond that could form between them. Still, he forced himself to offer a suggestion to ease her conscience. “Then call an ambulance for him if you’re so worried. I’m not sure what you’re expecting me to do unless it’s make a call to come and pick up the body.”
A thump sounded on her end of the phone and Bishop frowned as he pictured her scurrying around her apartment trying to fix the wounded bird. “Anja… do you want me to make that call or not?”
“Better tell them to pick up two.” Her voice sounded oddly distracted, as though she wasn’t paying particular attention to him anymore.
“Two bodies? What are you having a party over there? I’m not your disposal service,” he glowered, punishing her for moving on with her life when he was still such a wreck. It took him a few seconds to realize she hadn’t responded to his jibe. “Anja?”
“I don’t feel so good.”
In the space of a heartbeat his anger evaporated, replaced by a sharp note of fear. “What is it, what’s wrong?”
“I think it’s in me too.” Her voice faded. Bishop might not have been able to pick it up if not for his enhanced hearing.
“What’s in you? Anja?” The silence stretched on the other side of the line, the seconds ticking by lending a sour taste to his mouth. “Damn it, answer me!”
Not bothering with the motorcycle, Bishop set off for Anja’s apartment, a growing feeling of dread lodging beneath his heart as he held the phone to his ear with no response. Weaving through the streets faster than any car, he tore up the stairs and burst through Anja’s front door without knocking.
Years of training assessed the damage in mere seconds. Young male, Caucasian, six foot, medium build, very dead on Anja’s couch. No signs of a struggle, no sign of Anja either, until he saw the tip of a black boot sticking out of her bedroom door. Slumped against the end of the bed, her head lolling at an unnatural angle, Anja looked dead and gone, and for a heart stopping moment, Bishop thought he’d arrived too late. Then his common sense kicked in and he realized she wouldn’t look like that if she’d really been killed, her body would be well into decomposition by now.
Dropping to his knees, he gently touched her face, searching for signs of life. “Anja, can you hear me?” he asked softly at first and then louder when he got no response. A low moan left her lips, sounding like joyful music to his ears. In the same instant, Bishop noticed an ugly bruise forming on her jaw from his light touch, spreading with worrying speed down the side of her neck. “Shit… what the hell is going on?” He snatched his hand away to keep it from doing any more damage.
One thing became clear, he had to get her medical attention, and the only place that could possibly help her was the facility at the Order HQ. Fingers flying on the screen, Bishop called for a team to come and retrieve the feeder’s body and bring it to the lab for study, calling for a full quarantine until they knew how communicable the condition was. Not caring if he exposed himself, Bishop gathered Anja into his arms as carefully as he could, hating how the slightest touch seemed to cause her pain. Setting off as fast as he dared, Bishop made it there in record time, only to be held at the door while they scrambled inside.
He was a hair away from kicking the door in himself when a team arrived in full hazmat gear to bring her inside. Carefully laying her on the gurney, he could only watch from afar as they secured her in what looked only too much like a body bag at the morgue to wheel her into the heart of the lab. Chafing at having to go through decontamination protocol before Jenessa let him inside the lab, it felt like an eternity before he could come in and watch helplessly from behind thick glass while Jenessa worked on Anja.
Dimly aware of the fact that they brought in the man from Anja’s apartment under just as many protective layers, Bishop only had eyes for the woman who’d insinuated herself into his heart. Pacing behind the glass like a caged animal, Bishop watched for any sign of improvement or worsening of her condition, but it was impossible to tell what was going on. The intercom between the rooms brought little comfort, as he didn’t understand half the instructions Jenessa gave to her team.
One action became crystal clear when Jenessa picked up a scalpel and slashed across Anja’s wrist with cold precision, catching the blood in a metal basin.
“What are you doing?” Bishop demanded, pressing the black intercom button.
“I’ll be out to talk to you when I’m done, let me concentrate on my job for now, Bishop,” Jenessa replied without looking up at him, knowing he could hear her.
“Yeah, but…” Bishop ran a hand across back of his head, wincing when Jenessa made a fresh cut, deepening the wound and substituting a new basin to catch the blood. “You keep that up and she won’t have any blood left.”
“That’s the idea,” Jenessa murmured.
“What do you mean that’s the idea?” Bishop’s face darkened in anger as Anja grew paler, dark bruises forming under her eyes as her body desiccated. Jenessa ignored him, and Bishop put his shoulder to the door, contamination protocol be damned. He wasn’t about to stand idly by while Jenessa caused irreparable harm by draining Anja dry.
Jenessa looked up once when his body slammed against the door before returning to her task, allowing Anja’s wrist to dangle so gravity could assist. “Stand by with the IV on my mark,” she ordered, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall.
Hearing the word IV, Bishop stopped flinging himself at the door, watching as Jenessa gave the order to insert the needle, replacing the blood she’d taken. One, two, three… the bags of blood funneled into Anja’s veins faster than he’d thought possible, and only when a renewed trickle of blood from her wrist appeared did the process slow down. Even then, Jenessa allowed Anja’s wrist to drain into the basin, replacing the blood lost with fresh bagged blood.
One thing struck Bishop as particularly odd, Anja’s wrist wasn’t healing. Jenessa’s cuts should only last seconds or even minutes at the most if she cut deep, especially with the fresh influx of blood. Why didn’t Anja’s wounds heal? What had she said about not being able to get the guy’s blood to stop?
Lost to his
own thoughts, Bishop startled when he looked up to see Jenessa standing on the other side of the glass. “Are you done pounding on my door like a caveman or should I try talking to you later?” she asked with the hint of a smile and Bishop hung his head, hoping like hell he could take that faint smile as a good sign.
“I’m sorry. I’m going crazy out here trying to figure out what’s happening to her.”
“Meet me in my office, we’ll talk,” she jerked her head, stepping into the antechamber to remove her biohazard gear. Bishop nodded, forcing himself not to leap to any conclusions until she joined him in the small office. “You always bring me the interesting cases, Bishop,” Jenessa smiled, shutting the door behind her.
“Can you tell what’s wrong with her?” Bishop couldn’t respond in the light banter they usually exchanged, not when his heart was twisted in knots.
“The short answer is, she’s bleeding out.”
“That’s because you cut her,” he bit out, clamping down on his anger. She must have had her reasons.
“No, she was bleeding before I cut her, just on the inside. We’re talking about a total failure of her arterial system. The slightest touch caused ruptures to occur and her natural healing process has been suspended.”
“How does something like that happen?” He’d never heard of that before. Had someone figured out a way past a vampire’s normal defenses?
“I don’t know yet. We’ll analyze her blood and I’ll run an autopsy on the human you brought in, see if there’s anything else he can tell me.”
Bishop sat back against her desk, stunned. “Will it kill her?” he asked in a strangled voice, and Jenessa laid a comforting hand on his arm.
“I don’t know. For now we’ve drained her in case the blood was infected and given her fresh blood, I’m hoping that will stabilize her. But if her healing doesn’t kick in soon…”
