Promised By Blood_A Paranormal Vampire Romance

by Samantha Snow

  “We need to get out of here.” Holly grinds her teeth, suppressing her frustration.

  “What happened in there?” Carmen is suddenly aware of Holly’s mood.

  Holly shakes her head and picks up her pace, taking the steps to the main floor two at a time. Carmen keeps up and they burst into the night at the same time.

  “I’m being paired with a new professor for the rest of the term.”

  “So?” Carmen steps in front of her, effectively stopping Holly.

  “So? The new professor is Tristan,” Holly blurts.

  Carmen’s eyes fly wide. “Whoa. Did not see that one coming.”

  “Neither did I.” Holly stalks back and forth like a caged lion. “How the hell did this happen? Seriously? Professor Patrick? He isn’t even using his real name. What the hell is he up to? And that’s who Greg was working with? Coincidences?”

  Carmen grabs her by the arms. “Holly, stop, you’re not making any sense. Slow down.”

  “It’s Tristan. I have to be his TA for the rest of the term. How did he even get to be a professor here?” Holly pushes past her friend and heads toward home, trying to put as much distance between her and the Dean’s office as possible.

  “How is that possible?” Carmen jogs up beside her, struggling to keep pace with Holly’s longer stride.

  “I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to put together.” Holly runs her hands through her hair, pulling at it in frustration.

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Carmen soothes. She tugs on Holly’s arm to slow her down to a normal pace. “Holly, calm down, we will figure this out.”

  “I cannot spend the next few months pretending to be his TA. And what’s up with the night classes? I don’t want to be stuck here grading papers until eleven o’clock at night because he’s decided to become a night owl.”

  Holly growls her complaints as they cross campus and head for home. Carmen doesn’t get a word in edgewise but finds it better to just let Holly vent her frustration in hopes that she will calm down enough to see reason by the time the get home.

  “You can’t let your Mom see you like this,” Carmen warns as they hit Holly’s street. “You’ll only make things worse.”

  Holly stops and considers her friend’s suggestion. “How do I calm down? I mean, how do I just pretend like any of this is okay? My life is a train wreck and just when I think it can’t get any worse it does.”

  “I agree, things seem pretty messed up, but dragging your Mom into it isn’t going to help, is it?” Carmen appeals to her rational mind.

  Holly exhales. “You’re absolutely right. But how am I supposed to walk in there like everything is not a mess?”

  “Easy, I’ll just soothe you a bit, okay?” Carmen takes her hands lightly.

  “What? Here? In the middle of the street?” Holly tries to pull back but Carmen holds tight.

  “Just feel my words,” Carmen’s lips are barely moving but her hands feel warm on Holly’s skin. A sensation of calm passes between them and rolls through Holly’s body. All of the tension fades out, replaced by a feeling of peace. “There you go, now you can make it past your mom and up to your room.”

  “Thanks, that does feel better. Are you coming in?”

  “No, not tonight. I’m going to see what I can find out, okay?” Carmen walks Holly to her house and makes sure she reaches the porch before slipping away.

  Holly finds a package propped against the door, picks it up and carries it inside. “Mom, I’m home, going upstairs to get some work done.” She looks the package over, silver paper wrapped with a matching ribbon. Her name is written on the card in elegant calligraphy. Holly tucks it under her arm and heads up to her room. She tosses the box on her bed and changes clothes. Though she’s not really ready for bed, Holly is ready to curl up and watch a movie thanks to Carmen’s little relaxation trick.

  Most of her movies are still in boxes but her favorites are stacked on the floor in front of her small TV, the one she got for her eighteenth birthday in a bid to keep her living at home. It hadn’t worked then but now she’s grateful for the misguided attempt. Holly realizes she doesn’t have the DVD player hooked up and really doesn’t feel like searching for the cables to hook it up so she chucks the movie idea.

  Without cable or satellite hookup, Holly’s TV is rendered useless. If her laptop weren’t so outdated she could probably stream something on it. Holly crawls into bed, disappointed with her current life status, and decides to open the box.

  This might be the most elaborately wrapped gift she’s ever received. Holly runs her fingers over the paper, satiny smooth. She pulls one end open and slides the box out, preserving the lovely wrapper. The box once held a pair of size twelve Chucks, black. Clearly from the time before they started making them in every color of the rainbow. Holly flips the lid. On top is an envelope bearing her name in large block letters, each filled in with a colorful, intricate pattern, reminiscent of middle school doodles.

  Holly frowns at the envelope, removes it and sets it aside. She starts pulling items from the box, each piece propelling her further down memory lane – a dried flower, movie tickets, concert tickets, a stack of letters with her return address on them, and finally, an old copy of Catcher in the Rye.

  The pieces of the puzzle click into place. Shaking, Holly reaches for the envelope and peels it open. Inside, the card is covered with familiar handwriting, a string of apologies and promises culminating in a plea to Holly to just hear him out. She slides out of bed and crosses to the window she once used to communicate with Tristan. Peeking around the curtain to the neighboring house, Holly looks for signs of life in the place but not a light is on. She knows it has to be him, that it all has to be Tristan. But why all of the drama?

  Why couldn’t he just tell her, call her, hell, write her a letter at any point in the last several years. And what about teaching at her college? How did he pull that off? Holly realizes that she’s going to have to face him, if for nothing else than to sate her curiosity about how he did all of this.

  She pulls on a hoodie and slips down the stairs to the front door. Her mom is watching an old movie in the living room so Holly sneaks out the front door, leaving it slightly ajar, and creeps across the lawn to the neighbor’s house. She raps on the door lightly at first, then harder but there is no answer. Holly reaches in her pocket and pulls out a pen. Using the mail on the stoop, Holly scribbles a message to her neighbor – Call me.

  Satisfied, Holly heads back home. A tea kettle is whistling in the kitchen and the TV is still. “Mom?” No answer. The kettle is still shrieking in the back of the house and Holly smells something burning. She peeks into the living room, no Mom. A feeling of horror fills Holly’s stomach as she picks up her pace, weaving toward the kitchen. “Mom?”

  Carrie Chamberlain is sprawled on the floor, halfway to the stove with a shattered tea cup near her hand. She’s unconscious. Holly falls to the floor beside her, struggling to recall her first aid training. She whips her phone out and dials 9-1-1 first. While it’s ringing through, Holly moves the pieces of the mug out of the way and assesses her Mom, pulse there but barely, breathing shallow at best. What comes next?

  “Hello?”

  Holly hadn’t realized the 9-1-1 operator had picked up. She struggles to find words. “Yes, I’m here, please send an ambulance, my mom is unconscious.” Holly’s heart beats fast as she gives her address and the operator asks her to stay on the line but she just wants to curl up and cry. Her mom can’t leave her now, not now. Tears stream down Holly’s cheeks but she does not make a sound other than to confirm she’s still on the line.

  She seems to float above her body, above the scene as the paramedics enter, ask her more questions, turn off the stove, and take her away. They offer her the chance to ride with them and zombie Holly takes it, following numbly behind, climbing in the back of the ambulance.

  Floating, Holly snaps back into her body when they reach the hospital, the surreal experien
ce ending in the heartbreaking reality of watching a team of doctors rush her mom through a pair of double doors leaving her alone. A nurse rushes over and wraps her arms around her. Initially, Holly isn’t sure what she’s saying, her brain cannot process the words, but she lets the woman lead her to a chair.

  “Can I call somebody for you?” The woman has a kind face, plump cheeks and bright eyes, maybe a bit too small but expressive. “Honey, talk to me.”

  “My family,” Holly sputters, “I need to call my family.”

  “Good, do you have their numbers?” The woman slides into the seat beside her but doesn’t relinquish Holly’s hand.

  “Yeah.” Holly fumbles in her hoodie pouch and withdraws her cell phone. She doesn’t remember how it got there but she’s glad to have it. “I’m okay. I can do it.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Holly is surrounded by most of her siblings by the time the doctor emerges to fill them in on their Mother’s status. They all clasp hands as the woman approaches, her blue scrubs crackling with each movement, almost too loud in the silence of the waiting room.

  “Your mother has been transferred to intensive care but you’ll be able to visit her two at a time.” The doctor continues but Holly only hears that her mother is alive, something about cardiac arrest, and rehab.

  She lets her siblings go first. Holly volunteers to stay with their mom so she’ll go in last. Her brothers don’t argue, take their turns and leave. Holly is alone in the waiting room when he strides up to her.

  “I thought it was you at first.” Tristan frowns. “I’m very sorry about your mother, will she be alright?”

  “I think so,” Holly answers absently, not really connecting that Tristan is standing before her.

  “What happened?” Tristan slides gracefully into the empty seat beside her.

  “Heart attack,” Holly mutters. She looks over at him, finally registering his presence. “Why are you here?”

  Tristan’s eyebrows shoot up. “I saw the ambulance.”

  “Oh.” Holly watches the door, wishing her brothers would walk through it so she can escape Tristan and sit with her mother. This is not where she wants to have this conversation.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Tristan asks, almost hopefully. “Coffee? Tea? Snickers?”

  She looks at him again. “Why are you here?”

  “To see if I can help.”

  “But why?” Holly presses.

  “I want to help,” Tristan answers stubbornly.

  “You’ve been gone for eight years,” Holly states, not necessarily an accusation but close.

  “Yes,” Tristan nods, “but we can talk about that later. Right now, I’m just here for you, if you need me.”

  “Okay.” Holly turns back toward the door. “You can stay for now.”

  Her brothers finally emerge, nod in her direction and abruptly head for the exit. She should be surprised but isn’t. Holly forces her body to stand and move toward her mother’s room. Tristan is instantly beside her, his hand in hers like when they were kids. She doesn’t fight it. Holly wants to ask the way to her mother’s room but words fail so Tristan takes over and leads the way. They pass empty rooms and a second nurse’s station, a few occupied rooms, and then finally Carrie Chamberlain’s room.

  Tristan steps aside so Holly can enter first. A nurse is checking her mom’s vitals when they enter. She turns briefly to acknowledge Holly, dips her head respectfully, and leaves without a word. Holly approaches the bed slowly, tries to ignore the blips and beeps of the monitors. Her mom looks so small in the bed, so old. She’s not really that old, is she? When did her hair turn so white? Her breath is steady again, but wait, she’s on oxygen, that’s the tube to her nose. What medications is she on? Holly should have asked that.

  “Holly?” Tristan says her name softly, sweetly. He puts his hand at the small of her back and guides her to a chair near the bed. “I will be back, Holly. Stay with your mom but try to rest.”

  Then, he’s gone. Again. Or, maybe he was never with her at all. Maybe it was all in her head. She feels exhaustion set in. Holly curls up in the chair and watches her mom until she can’t keep her eyes open any longer.

  **

  “Miss Chamberlain?”

  Holly is aware of somebody shaking her lightly, calling her name. She jolts awake, scrambling to assess her surroundings. It all comes flooding back, her eyes snap open. “How’s my mom?” The words are slurred with sleepiness but Holly thinks she gets her point across.

  “She’s stable.” The voice belongs to a male nurse, more specifically, an attractive, male nurse. He’s standing near Holly but not too near to seem creepy. “Your brother called.”

  “Which one?” Holly rubs her eyes and sits upright.

  “You have more than one?” Cody asks. “I’m sorry, they didn’t tell me a name.”

  “It’s okay.” Holly stretches and massages her stiff neck. “At least one of them actually called this morning.”

  “Family.” Cody shakes his head and turns his attention back to her mom, tapping information into his tablet giving Holly a chance to study him. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t be rid of ‘em.”

  “Yeah, something like that,” Holly mutters. “Will a doctor being to check her out today? What do we do next? I mean, is there something I should be watching for?”

  Cody makes another note on the tablet before answering. “We need her to wake up. She’s stable but it doesn’t matter what comes next if she doesn’t wake up.”

  “Oh.” Holly considers this. “Is it possible that she won’t wake up?”

  “It happens, sometimes,” Cody says sympathetically, “but there’s really no way of knowing.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Holly asks, leaning forward in her chair to take her mom’s hand.

  “Talk to her, let her know you’re here,” Cody suggests. “I’ve seen it make a difference.”

  Holly nods and brushes her lips across her Mom’s knuckles. If she’s being honest with herself, guilt is weighing heavily on her. How many times has she complained about her mom, about the matchmaking and interference? Carmen constantly reminds her that her mom does it because she loves her but Holly has always dismissed it. Now, Holly would give anything to have her mom sit up and try to fix her up with Cody, the nurse. She chuckles to herself. Cody arches an eyebrow at her. Holly loses it, the image of her mom popping up and suggesting they go on a date to the cafeteria is just too much for her.

  “I’ll just leave you to it.” Cody backs away and slips out of the room.

  “Well, that one’s gone, Mom,” Holly manages between gasps. “Pretty sure he thinks I’m nuts now. Sorry to spoil another potential for you.”

  “Hol?” Beau, her oldest brother, fills the doorway. “You okay?”

  She wipes at her eyes and composes herself. “Yeah, hey, Beau.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” Beau approaches the bed cautiously, almost tip-toeing.

  “As good as I can be, right?” Holly admits. “It’s been a kinda rough patch lately.”

  “I know.” Beau holds out a coffee cup. “When I called, the nurse said you were still here so I figured you could use some.”

  “Thanks.” Holly takes the cup, still hot, and blows into the plastic lid. “Don’t let my boss know I’m drinking the competitor.”

  Beau laughs. “Deal.” He pulls up the other chair until he’s opposite her and sits. Beau studies her carefully. “Was that Tristan DuMonde sitting with you last night?”

  Holly blinks at her brother. She’d almost forgotten about that. “Yeah, I think it was.”

  “I thought he disappeared off the face of the Earth years ago.” Beau leans back and sips at his own coffee.

  “So did I,” Holly says. “He’s back, I guess.”

  “Where’s Greg?” Beau asks.

  “He’s gone. We broke up.” Holly sips at her coffee. It tastes good, but maybe it’s just because it’s the first things he’s had since dinner yesterday.
“I thought Mom would have told you. That’s why I moved back home.”

  “You’re back home!” Beau doesn’t even try to hide is shock. He really didn’t know.

  “Yeah.” Holly focuses a little too hard on the coffee stain on her lid. Shame wells in her chest.

  “I never liked him.” Beau sits back in his chair. “Always thought he was an asshole and never treated you well enough. I think it’s a good thing you moved back home. Take some time, sort your shit out. Maybe work things out with Tristan….” Beau trails off suggestively.

  “Wow,” Holly glares at her brother, “it took you all of two minutes to work Tristan back into my life.”

  “Hey, we all thought you two were going to get married, and that’s when you were sixteen,” Beau points out. “How different would your life be if he hadn’t left?”