by R. E. Carr
“Yeah, definitely stupid. Let me educate you on last night. He sneaks you out here, drains you, dumps you in this hole, and then makes out with my boss who turns into you. He was all but twirling his scraggly-ass mustache. Now I’m left babysitting your good-as-dead ass while they get to go out and have all the fun. I only got to behead one stupid rent-a-cop and drain his ass while Sugar gets to do all the real errands. It’s fucking ridiculous. Then again, we do have such a lovely history, and I’m not that picky when it comes to girls with big mouths and tight little asses.”
“I’d rather starve to death than drink from you,” Gail said flatly.
“Oh, you say that, but you’re not some tasty little human anymore, babe,” he said, sizing her up. “You’re a lean, mean hunting machine, just like me. That monster inside you has an all-powerful drive to survive, and in the end, it will make you do anything . . . even me, and I’m gonna enjoy it so much.”
“Never!”
He laughed and wandered back to his chair, playing with his phone for a bit. Soon he began playing loud hip-hop on speaker, and obliviously tapping away on some app while loud swearing poured from his phone. Gail, in the meantime, steadied her breathing and kneaded the sides of her neck until she was able to spit again. This time she was able to spray just her caustic spittle onto some of the particularly rusted sections. After two more sprays, her throat dried out and she coughed. Unfortunately, this got Kevin’s attention again, so she quickly hid her choking as sobs. He killed the music and gave her another mocking pout.
“You know, joining Team Lung isn’t so bad, babe,” he offered. “Sure, we’re all assholes, but we are at least honest about it – except maybe Sugar, but he’s just our lady’s big bitch.”
“Team Lung?” she asked, trying her best to give Kevin a curious glance rather than a sneer.
“Yeah, the Lungs are back on the council. I bet by the end of the year the sheriff is gonna reveal her true identity, and, bam, shove it up the ass of those uppity nobles. I mean, we have dirt on everyone. Everyone! Between her, and the two-timing rats like Javier that she pays off, she has every layout of every lair, every bank account, and every password. We are a motherfucking blackmail machine! Pretty soon we’ll get that asshole Steve back, and we will be unstoppable.”
“And if I don’t want to join Team Lung?”
“You will, or else you’ll end up like everyone else that has stood against us. This is a family willing to start a war just to weaken the council and put spies in every damn family,” Kevin said proudly. “I mean, from what I managed to get out of Sugar last time he was all drunk and his crazy side came out, the sheriff can take over anyone’s life. There was this vampire in Rome named Livia who was a real uppity bitch, but she had mad cash and influence, so our mistress took over her life. She locked Livia in a deep, dark hole just like this one, but more Ancient Roman, so there were like, mosaics and shit.”
“So, she killed a vampire. Isn’t that breaking her own law?” Gail asked, while her saliva continued to weaken the old metal. Kevin laughed.
“Hah, she left the old broad with a spoon so she could dig through the rock. I mean, a vampire as old as that bitch takes a long time to fully starve. Apparently, the mistress said, ‘if you have the will, I’ve left you a way out of this cell. If you actually die, it was your weakness that killed you’. Now that is hardcore.”
“Is that what’s going to happen to me?” Gail asked.
“Oh, I guess I was supposed to give you this,” Kevin said, fishing a little plastic spork out of a fast food bag. “I’m sure you can dig through a foot of solid concrete . . . unless, of course, you want option number two.”
“Let me guess,” Gail said, barely containing her disdain.
“I mean, I suppose we will need to infiltrate this new Harker family,” Kevin sighed. “And no one else wants your sloppy seconds. The mistress said if I take one for the team, I can do whatever I like to you, and keep whatever we can milk out of that pansy-ass bitch, Mina. I mean if you’re lovesick and stupid, she’s just a pure, thirsty-as-hell whore. Hell, I’ll be surprised if she’s not after your ex’s traitorous dick as we speak.”
Gail bit her tongue. “A tool, huh?” she asked. Kevin tossed the spork at her and laughed.
“She’s apparently done this before. If you have the will—”
“What happened to Livia?” Gail interrupted.
“Oh yeah, Pompeii erupted and she ended up buried alive. Fucking dried-up bitch.”
Gail took her spork and started furiously chipping away at a crumbled section of concrete by the access door. She ignored Kevin’s mocking laughter, instead focusing on the soft background sizzle and the rhythmic tapping of cutlery against the wall.
“I think he’s finally waking up,” Paige said, as she saw a tiny flicker of green. Jonathan groaned and rubbed his eyes. He stared in horror at the IV dripping into his wrist. The red liquid quickly bleached his face to a stark white.
“Hey - eyes over here,” Paige said, tilting his head away. She rolled her eyes, as his gaze settled on her low-cut T-shirt.
“Much better,” Jonathan murmured.
“You are doing quite a bit better,” Kyle added, as he checked the IV. “But we are really going to have to work on your diet, dude.”
“You still piss me off, dude,” Jonathan fired back. “You’re lucky I’ve got Erin here to mellow me out.”
“Paige.”
“Um sorry, yeah . . . Paige,” the patient corrected quickly. He let out a deep breath and twiddled his thumbs while simultaneously tapping his toes. “Why do I hate you on sight again, Red?”
“Because I look like your asshole father who stabbed your first host,” Kyle sighed. “I’m apparently one scar and a ponytail away from being King Arthur – the ginger scourge of Britain.”
“You seriously weren’t just shitting me on that, ‘cause I kinda thought you guys just had a crazy sense of humor. You’re really not kidding . . . seriously?”
“Nope, still not kidding,” Paige said. She grabbed a protein shake off the little rolling cart that served as her table. “Drink this.”
Jonathan sniffed it warily. “You don’t have chocolate?” he asked, before taking a drink of chalky vanilla.
“Chocolate has caffeine, which doesn’t always mix well with werewolves,” Paige explained. “Kyle has a bit of a tolerance, but even he turns nasty when he has too much.”
“Wait . . . no chocolate? No coffee?” Jonathan’s eyes widened in pure horror.
Paige shook her head. “I sometimes have a little bit of decaf in tiramisu, but that’s about it.”
“No, I can’t live without coffee—”
“You can’t live without blood,” Kyle corrected. “Your, ahem, inner self is cannibalizing your own blood to feed itself. Transfusions are helping, but it would be much safer for you to feed. . .”
“Whoa, you want me to actually drink blood like some vampire?”
Both Kyle and Paige buried their faces in their palms. Kyle finally flipped his laptop around so that Jonathan could see pictures of his bare chest – including the nasty gash across his abdomen. He winced at the sight of his own dried blood.
“This is where the vampire crawled into you,” Kyle explained, not bothering to hide his condescension. He flipped to a shot of Jonathan’s mouth. “And these are your fangs when they are extended.”
“Wow, those are big,” Paige said.
“Why, thank you,” Jonathan replied with a grin.
Both Paige and Jonathan listened for a while as Kyle went on and on, trying to explain the dietary needs of an ancient parasite. Eventually though, Paige had to smile as Jonathan began performing exaggerated facial expressions to match Kyle’s pontificating. He barely managed to return to a straight face as Kyle finally looked up from his screen. The redhead raised a brow at the twinkle in Paige’s eye.
“You know what, Lorcan hated listening to medical advice too. That’s probably why he ended up in a carry-on. Paige
, try to talk some sense into him while I get some vitamin shots ready.”
“Aye-aye, captain,” Paige replied with a little salute.
“I’m not drinking blood . . . just no,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. “I know I must be a big headache and a disappointment, but my head is clearing up more and more. I’m really not this Lorcan guy. I mean, I may have fangs and stuff, but I’m not dead. I just don’t feel all Bela Lugosi and all that. I’m sorry.”
“You are a vampire though,” Paige said. “I can . . . smell it on you.”
“Really, is that a werewolf thing?”
“It’s a werewolf thing.”
He smiled a little at that and dutifully slurped his shake. A little color returned to his cheeks. “I’m really the worst vampire ever, aren’t I? I just can’t stand the sight of blood, especially my own.”
“Why?” Paige asked.
Jonathan shrugged and stared at the diamond pattern on the curtain that separated his little bed from the rest of the exam room.
“Memories still hazy?” Paige asked, taking his hand.
“I’m pretty sure I’m blocking them for good reason. Say, did y’all try to find me online?”
“Not much came up. Your driver’s license was a good fake, but still a fake. That Jonathan Dean from Ohio died in two-thousand-and-seven.”
“Yeah, it’s a common enough name,” he replied, looking away. “I was always J.D. when I was little, short for John Doe. This one foster mom I liked called me Jonathan. I got Dean off the milk carton, ‘cause they always joked I’d show up on one. I was a messed-up little brat.”
“You were a foster kid?”
“At times, mostly I grew up in this orphanage in Texas. I will say, nothing teaches you manners quite like an angry nun. Anyway, I had anger issues, and the shrinks said I had repressed trauma. When I was older, I started figuring it out that I was the survivor of a crime scene. I’m pretty sure they were watching me to see if I’d end up a serial killer, and my real name and family were just wiped off the face of the earth. Anyway, my brother and I ended up with a really bad crowd and before I knew it, I was cleaning up messes for vampires.”
“You have a brother?”
“Had,” he said, looking away.
“I’m so sorry.”
Jonathan now buried his face in his hands. “The worst part is, I don’t even know how many of these feelings are real, and how many are just lies the bloodsuckers shoved in my brain. After all, I was just their little rat in a maze – part of the same project that Gail belonged to. Oh yeah, we were a thing once, but she doesn’t remember it . . . and now she’s a bloodsucker too. Funny that.”
Paige took his hand again and squeezed it gently. Jonathan relaxed a little bit.
“I know it’s a bunch of lies, but they’re my lies, damn it! I am Jonathan Dean.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jonathan Dean. I’m Paige DeMarco.”
“OK, Paige DeMarco. I’ve told you all about me. Who are you when you aren’t some sadistic werewolf I’m supposed to hunt?”
“Sadistic werewolf?”
“OK, I think they may have called you a psycho killer instead the first time. No one bothered to tell me you were a werewolf. It’s so weird, I was ready to hunt you down, but then I get beaten half to death and, boom, I wake up and I’m a jumble. I remember this voice telling me that I had to kill you, but somehow, I just wanted to tell it to go to hell.”
“I can help you understand that,” Kyle interjected, peering around the curtain. Both Paige and Jonathan jumped a little in their seats.
“Damn it, Kyle!” Paige snapped, as she watched the good doctor approach Jonathan with a needle. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“Yes,” he replied without skipping a beat. He turned to Jonathan. “I finally got some data sent to me about Project Zero, data in English. You were in a fight, right?”
“Yeah with a crazy rage-zombie and a blonde bloodsucker,” Jonathan replied. “Why?”
“The rage zombie was you, Paige,” Kyle said sheepishly.
“No, the rage zombie was a lab tech named Lori,” Jonathan corrected.
“Maybe once, but she came into contact with pure cerebrospinal fluid from none other than our super-infected Paige here. The Project Zero sample was taken from an American werewolf . . . in London!”
“How long have you waited to make that joke?” Paige groaned.
“Far, far too long,” Kyle sighed. “Now, this girl Lori was a bondsman it seems, like half the help there, and your virus went nuts in her, basically turning her into a berserker. You, on the other hand, Mr. Milk-Carton, were a prime werewolf candidate who was totally exposed—”
“But he’s infected by me, shouldn’t Lorcan inside him be dying?” Paige gasped, hopping to her feet.
Kyle shook his head. “Your infection wasn’t really killing Lorcan before, it was trying to reanimate his host. A two-thousand-year-old corpse just doesn’t behave well with a supervirus like yours, Little Bit. I think, in fact, that your infection may be speeding up this whole integration process physically. In a way, he went from being in a perfect storm that would kill him, to the absolute perfect place to keep him alive.”
“So . . . he was a set-up?” Paige asked.
“Hello, I am in the room. What do you mean a set-up?”
“He was certainly sent after you. Think about it. You would beat him within an inch of his life and then—”
“Hey, I am still in the room.”
Jonathan sulked as Kyle finally gave him his vitamin shot. Once his vitals were checked one more time, the big red werewolf ducked behind the curtain with a flourish. Jonathan scowled and grabbed Paige’s hand.
“Hey, do you guys really just think I’m nothing but a new human suit for your vampire friend?” he asked, a dreadfully serious look in his eyes. “I’m kinda a dumbass, I know, but I do see that sad look you get when you think I’m not looking at you. You’re not telling me something. I’m not that dense, even if I am just some experiment.”
“I’m sad because no matter what we do, we end up manipulated by vamps, OK?”
“Is it pity then?”
“Yeah, it is a little bit of pity,” Paige confessed. “Vampires have tried to experiment on all of us. They manipulate, and they don’t care who they destroy. The vampire that is in you, Lorcan, he was tricked and humiliated. He ended up getting sick because of my blood. He almost died, and part of me will never forgive myself for being so gullible that I got led into the trap with him, OK? I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t save him, and here you are . . . a second chance . . . Hell, I suppose you are a third chance.”
“You really care about what happens to me,” he said, cocking his head. “Huh, maybe that’s why I chose to go with you guys. I can’t explain it, but something deep in my gut is telling me to trust you, Paige. As for saving me, I don’t know. You could have just saved yourself and left me to die, so I’m starting to think that you’re just beating yourself up over something you couldn’t really control. Hey, there, is that a tiny smile I see – a tiny smile to go with those tiny fingers? Oh, they are getting bigger, just like your—”
She gave him her best werewolf stare. He smiled and finished with, “Curls. It’s nice to see your hair growing back. That a werewolf thing too?”
“Uh-huh,” she said with a rueful smile. “If we take our change too far, our hair falls out and fur takes its place. Thank goodness it grows pretty fast. I see you’ve already got a bit of shaving to do, scruffy.”
“You guys must buy a ton of razors,” he said, rubbing his stubble. “All right, well - since my memories are still a bag of cats, why don’t you tell me about you, Little Miss DeMarco? How did you end up as a badass werewolf leader?”
“I wouldn’t say I was—”
“I might not have the nose you do, but you definitely have this um . . . aroma . . . of don’t-mess-with-me coming off you. It’s pretty intense - and I won’t lie, it kinda makes me think some uncomforta
ble thoughts, considering that we are family.”
“I mean we aren’t like family, family,” Paige said, blushing. “You and Steve are vampire brothers.”
“And he’s your human brother?” Jonathan offered. Paige burst into giggles.
“He’s my great-grandfather actually.”
“And you’re my nine-times-great-Grandpa,” Kyle called from behind the curtain.
“By marriage, and by way of the vampire inside you.” Paige offered up. “Yeah, I’m starting to think that everyone around here is related in some way.”
“So, your human great-grandpa became a vampire and my vampire’s little brother; and you’re a werewolf; and we are—?”
“Learning about each other all over again,” she said, looking slightly away. “You asked what I am when I’m not a werewolf . . . well, I was a loser. I did expense reports for obnoxious salesmen, and I let my cheating ex-boyfriend walk all over me. My dad was a bit of a conspiracy nut. He was even on TV—”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Professor Dexter Carmichael—”
“Oh my god, I love that guy! I thought he was into aliens though, not vampires and werewolves.”
“He got wind that there was a bigger conspiracy afoot, a real one this time. Long story short, he got involved with some paranoid werewolves, my great-grandpa swooped in thinking he was gonna protect me, and much hilarity ensued. I bit this guy who attacked me and, well . . . the rest is history.”
“Wait, you bit the werewolf, and that’s how you became . . . you?”
“Yup,” she said, daring to smile a little. “Lorcan and his pack of werewolves found me first, when I was just starting to change. They took me in. Before I met them, I was painfully shy, and I never felt like I fit in. Now, I just belong. Before you ask—”
“Yes, it’s a werewolf thing!” Kyle called from beyond the curtain.
“Now I have the chance to offer you the same thing, Jonathan. You can be a part of our pack. It’s not because you have a vampire in you, it’s because you’re still like us. We all remember being lost at some point, but when we’re together—”
She trailed off as she realized her fingers were curled around his. He smiled at her and his green eyes flashed a familiar hue.
