Accidentally Dead

by Dakota Cassidy

  His eyebrows knitted together, but his smile was smug, making his dimples stand out. Like he had the newest X-box 360 and she didn’t. “Tolerance. I’ve built up a tolerance to sunlight, and that day my tooth was driving me crazy. I couldn’t find anyone who’d take me as a walk-in, until I found Dr. Birkenstein. It bothered me enough that I was willing to risk traveling so far.”

  Her gaze in Greg’s direction was almost hopeful. “So what you’re saying is if I stay like this I’ll eventually be able to go outside when the sun’s up?”

  “It’ll be a long time before that happens, Nina. A long time. I can’t tolerate it for long, but it’s manageable. There are some small compensations for my immortality. But they take patience and time. Something it’s very clear you lack. Oh, and I can also eat a slice of pizza from time to time,” Greg said, showering her with another glib smile and cracking his knuckles back at her.

  Time. How much was the question? Never-the-fuck-mind. She didn’t want to know. No wait. Yeah, she did. She could take it. “What kind of time are we talkin’?”

  “Sometimes a couple of centuries.”

  Her stomach took another nosedive. “Centuries? Um, how old are You?” That research Wanda had done said vampires lived a loooong-ass time. But Greg had told her not to believe everything she’d read on Wikipedia. Still, she was sorry she’d asked.

  “I’ll be five hundred in a couple of months.”

  She snorted. “Oh, you so are not.”

  He snorted back. “On the contrary. I so am, too.”

  “Bullshit,” she shot back, then gave Svetlanna an apologetic look. “Sorry. I swear in tense situations.”

  Greg glared at her. “You swear in all situations, Nina, and it’s not bullshit. I’ve been around a very long time.”

  “Hookay, that’s enough crazy for me. I’m having a conversation with a man who thinks he’s five hundred years old. I want to go home, and I want to go home now. If you won’t take me, I’ll find my own way.” She sought the edge of the island countertop for support. That discombobulated feeling she’d had earlier was taking hold again.

  Greg’s eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened, but Svetlanna’s chuckle thwarted the response Nina was sure he was preparing to spew.

  Svetlanna’s laughter tinkled like a wind chime. “You’re a hoot, so full of fire. I like spirit, and you have plenty of that, but you’re not going anywhere until you drink. Now come sit with me and nourish yourself. I won’t take no for an answer.” Turning her eyes back to the wine glass, she poured the blood into it and then set her gaze patiently on Nina. “I can tell you’re slowing down. It isn’t good to delay feedings, Nina, and already it’s been several hours since you last fed. And it shows, by the way.”

  Yeah, it probably did. Nina could feel it in her sluggish responses, in the way she was kinda digging Greg’s mother and not fighting it tooth and nail. Her body felt boneless and so damned weary. Her eyes were grainy; the world had grown fuzzy and muted.

  But her hearing hadn’t. Sweet mother of God, just hearing the slosh of the blood pouring into the glass made her tremble with anticipation. Nina clenched her fists to her sides and bit the inside of her lip.

  Svetlanna patted the breakfast bar chair that sat beside her own. “I say we look at it this way. You want to figure out how to be human once more. If you’re going to do that, you’ll need your strength. You won’t find the path to mortality again if you turn to dust. I assume Greg told you what will happen if you don’t nurture your immortality?”

  “Yeah, he told me,” she said with tired reluctance, each word becoming a supreme effort.

  “Then it’s settled. You’ll drink.” Svetlanna tipped her glass toward Nina, grinning at her over the rim.

  Svetlanna couldn’t have made more sense, and while that bothered Nina, the truth of her statement couldn’t be ignored. Without any more hesitation and probably because her will of iron seemed to have turned to mush, Nina grabbed the glass and threw down, wiping her hand across her mouth to hide the burp bubbling in her throat.

  Instantly everything in the kitchen became crystal clear, textures were redefined, smells doubled in intensity, Greg got hotter.

  Niiiiiice. Way to want the freak, Nina.

  But she couldn’t deny how refreshed she felt.

  And ashamed that she was clearly unable to resist a little thing called blood. It was like handing a junkie crack and asking them to just hold on to it for you till they came back.

  That thought smacked of past instances best left in the dark recesses of her childhood memories, making Nina’s feet anxious to hit the bricks.

  Backing away from the island countertop, Nina gave Svetlanna a distracted nod. “Well, fellow night dwellers, it’s been real.”

  “Ahhh,” Greg drawled with chocolate tones as silken as midnight. “Look, Mother, Nina’s back to her old sarcastic self. See how a little blood’ll do ya?”

  Nina clutched her fists together to keep from giving him a good right hook. “I’m going home now.”

  “And you plan to get there how?” Greg’s “I’ve got something you don’t have” tone rankled her.

  “Maybe I’ll click my wings three times and fly home,” she quipped, moving to exit his fancy-schmancy kitchen.

  Svetlanna’s laughter filled her ears, but it wasn’t mocking her. It was just warm and friendly, and that made Nina even more anxious to get the hell out. She was uncomfortable actually warming to her perp’s familial relations, because it could be nothing more than an evil ploy. “We don’t have wings, dear. Flying is simply mind over matter for us. A skill you’ll no doubt acquire—in time, that is. Greg will take you home for now.”

  What-the-fuck-ever. “Um, yeah. Hookay, well, it was nice to meet you, but I have to figure out a way to earn a living without roasting like a rotisserie chicken, and it isn’t going to be easy on just a couple of hours’ sleep.” Nina nodded her head in the direction of the stove’s clock. “It’s four in the morning, and I have to be up at six. So let’s get this show on the road, Greg.” The last she sneered as she made her way to the front door. “Better warm up your wings.”

  Svetlanna commented that she’d see her soon, but the look on her face was the last thing Nina saw before she went out the door. It was a mixture of confusion and sympathy she read, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t need anyone’s pity.

  Stopping at the end of Greg’s decorative stone pathway, she waited on jittery feet for him to get his wings a-whirring.

  His dark figure, large and tall, exited his big front door, making Nina gulp. Just seeing him was enough to give her now nonexistent intestines a good yank. Whatever it was about him that made her feel all wishy-washy was burning her hide.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Her impatience to grab some shut-eye grew, while he diddled around.

  Greg held up a finger to his lips to hush her, cocking his head as he did, swiveling it to the left and to the right. His nostrils flared momentarily, while his eyes scanned his massive grounds.

  Nina sensed his uneasiness, his discomfort, capturing it in her nostrils, but not understanding it one iota. How odd that she could feel what he was feeling. And what the hell kind of vampire was he if he was uneasy? Seemed sorta pansy-assed to her, but that didn’t strike her as the right label for him either. His discomfort became hers suddenly, and it left her disturbed on a million levels. Was this like some kind of Patty Hearst syndrome, where you identified with your assailant? How fucking loony tunes.

  The atmosphere grew thick, hovering for what seemed interminable hours, then let go like air from a compressor when he shrugged his shoulders and approached her.

  Two hands planted themselves on her waist, and for the merest of moments Nina experienced a giddy, light-headed ripple of excitement, then mentally cursed it.

  “Let’s go,” he said curtly. He’d dismissed whatever was troubling him when he’d first come outside in favor of ditching her difficult ass, she guessed.

  Her fin
gers brushed his away, and it wasn’t just because she didn’t want to be hurled over his shoulder again while he flew her home. Suddenly, the very thought of his hands on her, his shoulder pressed to her breasts became intolerable and not in the bad kind of intolerable way. “There must be an easier way…”

  “I suppose you know an easier way to get from Long Island to Hackensack that doesn’t take long hours on some filthy public transportation? Though, come to think of it, you could run. You have the ability—you just don’t have the strength.”

  She faltered. Running was out of the question, when she still felt a bit weak and holy sheeit—she could run from here to Hackensack? No. That was just too much to absorb right now. Instead, she gave in. “Uh, no. But can we not throw me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes this time?”

  Greg’s eyes flashed in the dark, glittering with accusation. “Only if you promise not to squirm around again or open your yap. God save me from your mouth. This flying, as you call it, takes concentration, and your constant carrying on could break even a man like me.”

  Ugh. This man. “What-everrr. Let’s just do it. I need sleep.” She turned her back to him and held up her arms, hoping his chest pressed to her spine would be somehow less—less sinful than her ass in his face and his in hers.

  He met her request with silence, lifting her off her feet with ease. Their landing in front of her apartment was just as smooth and the trip was over in the blink of an eye.

  “You’re like the Concorde,” she joked, feeling much more affable after feeding.

  “Indeed” was his only response, dry and without a hint of the chuckle she’d expected to illicit from him.

  Okay, so he’d had enough of her. She wouldn’t blame him if it weren’t for the fact that he’d done this to her in the first place. She knew she could be a lot—especially if she was stressed. Greg not being able to deal with her made him no different than the majority of the opposite sex who’d come long before him. Most men found her difficult and abrasive at best, and she’d smiled secretly while mentally agreeing.

  And who gave a Flying Dutchman if he’d had enough? She was of the mind he’d intentionally bitten her, and she was worried he’d find her difficult?

  Hellllooooo, in there. Nut who wants to take over the world here.

  Yet the sense of Greg’s impending exit left her feeling very alone. It almost made her want to tentatively ask if she’d see him again—ever. He was the keeper of all things plasma, and if what Svetlanna and Greg said was true, she’d need more to survive. What stopped her from asking if he’d be back was her pride.

  Which she totally planned to hang on to like a bargain bridal gown at Filene’s Basement.

  And her fear that he’d turned her with malice.

  Nina folded her hands together in front of her, letting them dangle at her waist, twisting her head from side to side.

  So was this it? Maybe if she left quietly, he’d let her be and not make her join his kooky clan. In fact, that’d be just fine. He might be pretty sweet to look at, and her only known source of blood, but he wasn’t exactly remorseful for snatching her mortality. That would keep her warm tonight when she blew him off and help her to forget she’d had a weak moment, thinking he was all hot and not some twisted psychopath.

  Might as well get this over with and be clear as day while she did it. “Well, thanks for trashing my life. Guess I’ll be seeing you.”

  Greg stared at her for a long moment, his feet firmly planted on the pavement, his expression hard and unyielding. The wind picked up, dragging her long hair across her face, gluing it to her mouth. Clouds gathered above, swooshing to mash together, then bounce away like bumper cars.

  Spooooky.

  A chill coursed along her spine.

  Enough with the glare of death already. She refused to let him intimidate her, but you sure wouldn’t have known that from her lame, shaky parting shot. “Um, b-bye.”

  His smile was as sly as his response. “I’ll be seeing you.” His words rippled along the evening air almost seductively, making her turn and fly up the stairs to her apartment without saying another word.

  When she pushed open her door, she just as quickly slammed it with a solid thunk, leaning against it for support. Like she was locking out the bogeyman. Jesus, he exhausted her, she thought, stumbling to her bedroom to the tune of cool sheets and a soft pillow.

  The red light of her answering machine blinked angrily. Wanda…she’d promised to call at one-thirty and check on her. Pressing the button, Nina didn’t even bother to undress. Dragging the comforter up over her, she listened as Wanda asked if she knew where her blood was.

  She’d laugh if she had the energy, but she only had enough left in her to make a quick call to Wanda’s voice mail and reassure her she’d fed before she slumped over her fluffy pillows and literally passed out—the pungent scent of Greg still in her nose.

  GREG approached Svetlanna from behind with caution. She sat in her favorite chair, facing the trio of windows in the library. The vibes she sent out were complex, but one emotion was infinitely clear.

  She was tweaked.

  “Don’t skulk, Gregori. It’s not terribly commanding in presence.”

  He chuckled, placing his hands on the back of the recliner and dropping his head around the corner of it. His mother only called him by his full name when she was irritated. Over the years they’d learned to blend with others, paying close attention to popular slang, television, and news, so as not to arouse suspicion. She rarely used Gregori because of it. “I’m not skulking. I’m treading lightly.”

  She shifted positions, peering over the arm of the La-Z-Boy. “Well, if you’re not, then you should be. You do know what you’ve done, don’t you?”

  His teeth clamped together. The sharp sting of the tooth that had brought him this shitload of trouble was all but gone, yet the phantom pain remained. It nagged him with irritating pangs. “Of course I know what I’ve done. It certainly wasn’t intentional.”

  Shit. Did he ever know what he’d done. Turned a mouthy, opinionated, smart-assed, difficult woman into one of his own. His brilliance astonished even him. “I had a chipped tooth that needed filing. I still don’t know why it wouldn’t heal like any other ailment we come across, but it didn’t. If I had known I’d react the way I did to something as simple as anesthesia, I’d have yanked it out with rusty pliers myself, before I’d have gotten mixed up with that woman.” He couldn’t hide the scathing tone lacing his words. Nina Blackman was a pain in the ass. A loud one.

  Svetlanna’s look of understanding met his heated one. “I realize it was an accident, but we have things to deal with, and this development with poor Nina won’t help an already tense situation.”

  Greg’s eyebrows flew upward in indignation, his jaw grinding down to clamp the twinge in his tooth he knew logically was gone, but was, in his mind anyway, a pain by association. He made his way to his desk, pulling the chair out and dropping into it before he asked, “Did you just say poor Nina? You’re kidding, right?”

  Svetlanna rose, facing her son with an amused look in her eyes, as she made her way to his desk, bracing her hands on it for support and leaning in toward him. The twinkle in her eyes caught his attention. “Yes, poor Nina. Her anger is justified, or are you forgetting yours after all this time?”

  “Have you heard the mouth on her, Mother? It’s big.” He held up his hands, widening them for emphasis, then grinned at her to soften his words. Yeah, he knew where Nina was, but it’d been a long time, and acceptance hadn’t been nearly as hard for him as it appeared to be for her. Of course, he hadn’t had Wikipedia and the Internet to fill his head with crap back then, either.

  The admonishing cluck of Svetlanna’s tongue grated on his nerves. “It’s feisty and that’s not something you’re used to, I imagine. The women you dabble with don’t have enough comprehension to converse in complete sentences.”

  Oh, for Christ’s sake. He should have known he wasn’t going to g
et off with just an apology to Nina, if Svetlanna had anything to say about it. If his mother had her way, she’d move Nina in here, nurture the hell out of her, teach her how to be a vampire, and that just wasn’t going to happen. No matter how sweet her ass was.

  Fuck. Had he just given her ass a label? Sweet, no less. What a contradiction.

  “So you’ll help her.” It wasn’t a request, it was a statement.

  “I tried to help her, or didn’t you hear how little she wants my help?”

  Her face grew sympathetic. The few lines she’d accumulated over the centuries stood out, reminding him of the kind of woman his mother was. A bleeding heart. A good one, but one nonetheless. “She’s in shock, Greg. She’s frightened.”

  Right. “I doubt much frightens Nina.”

  “Then you’d be wrong. All that smart talk is a way to disguise her fear. Yesterday she was a human, today she’s a vampire. Had words like the ones she uses existed back when we were turned, I’d have used them, too. Fucktard has such impact.” She followed that with a chuckle.

  Greg shook his head, ignoring her attempt to lighten the situation. “I can only help her as much as she lets me, and she obviously isn’t in it to win it. I dragged her back here literally kicking and screaming, so I could see to it she fed. And she did. And then she yapped with that out of control mouth of hers some more. So I’m done.” He rose from the waist and leaned over his desk to kiss her cheek goodnight, ending their conversation. Sleep, deep and dreamless, called to him. The nagging guilt he felt over Nina would wash away with some solid snoozing.

  Svetlanna ducked, avoiding his lips and chucking him under the chin. “You know, Nina’s showing up might work in our favor.”

  He squinted for a moment, and then Svetlanna’s intentions dawned on him. “Um, no. I know exactly what you’re thinking, and you can forget it. Not a chance in hell will that ever happen.” No way. Period. End of. Not when eternity was at stake.

  Svetlanna’s slender shoulders shrugged, the worry returning to her face. “She beats the alternative. This won’t just go away, Greg, and I don’t just mean Nina and her issues.”