Bite Somebody

by Sara Dobie Bauer

  Celia gulped.

  “Get off me.” Danny shoved Imogene and Celia to the side and stood up. He stomped to Celia’s bedroom like a dejected ten-year-old.

  Imogene sat up and pushed her crooked sunglasses off her face. “What the fuck was that?”

  Ian dabbed at his head, but Celia crossed the table in time to lick the drops of blood before they made it into his eye.

  “Since when are you Dirty Harry?” Imogene asked.

  He leaned his head closer to Celia’s tongue. “You think I’ve never been in a fight before?”

  Imogene was silent for a moment. “Exactly. Yes. I think you’ve never been in a fight before.”

  Ian smiled. “You’re right, I haven’t, because I can do a scary voice.”

  “You really can,” Imogene said. “You’re totally full of awesome tonight.”

  Celia’s bedroom door crashed open. Vixen stomped out. She was in full going out gear—silver tube dress and matching silver heels. Her red hair was wild and free around her shoulders. Her perfect pout was outlined in red, and despite his bleeding head, she cast an angry glare at Ian before strutting her stuff across the living room.

  “We’re going out,” she shouted, which Celia felt wasn’t strictly necessary, seeing as they were five feet away from her.

  Danny came out in his seersucker suit. He looked dapper—and really pissed. “What are you doing here anyway?”

  “What are you doing here?” Celia asked.

  “Scatter before we get back.” He gave Vixen a push toward the front door.

  “She’ll think about it,” Imogene crooned.

  Halfway across the living room, Danny paused, and his dark eyes found Ian. “I’ll get you back.”

  Ian winked at him—the crazy man winked! “High noon. Tomorrow?”

  Danny huffed, and he and his whore left Celia’s apartment.

  Imogene stood to get, Celia assumed, another bag of blood, but instead she went to the bathroom and returned with a fluorescent Band-Aid. “Here.” She pushed the adhesive against Ian’s skull. “It already stopped bleeding, but we don’t need your scent floating around in the open air.”

  Celia nodded a surprised thanks. Then, she realized she felt very much not okay. She looked at the Band-Aid on Ian’s head, the shade of a highlighter pen. He seemed to be acquiring quite a few impressive injuries thanks to her, shredded wipeout shin not withstanding.

  Celia stood shakily and walked to the front door. As she stepped into the warm, sticky night, she heard Ian’s voice behind her, calling her name.

  She made her way to the beach, Ian close on her heels. He kept calling out to her, but Celia wouldn’t turn back. She needed to go where he couldn’t follow. She didn’t bother taking off her clothes; Ian was too close and would be able to stop her. She just waded into the welcoming waves and didn’t look back until she was in up to her waist.

  “Celia!” he shouted over the sound of crashing water.

  “Go away, Ian!”

  She could see him, pacing along the waterline. “What did I do? Tell me what I did.”

  “You didn’t do anything. You just…” It took all her resolve to say what she had to say and not start sobbing. “You need to get away from here. Get away from me.”

  Ian stopped moving. “What?”

  “I can’t protect you from Danny. You have to leave. Forever.”

  “Celia, what are you talking about?”

  “If you live through this, there’ll be another Danny someday. Someone else will want to hurt you. I can’t…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t deal with that.” She took a deep breath. “We need to break up.”

  Ian was backlit by the Sleeping Gull glow. His crazy black hair glowed red around the edges. He had his hands on his hips, and the way he stood above her on the beach made him look like a giant. He didn’t say anything, and Celia couldn’t see the expression on his face. She was too far away. He was like a half-drawn cartoon.

  “Shit, Celia,” he announced.

  She turned her back on him and stared into the darkness of the Gulf of Mexico. The sky was empty of stars, covered by a blanket of clouds. There were no boats on the horizon—no blinking green or red lights. Nothing. There was nothing out there, just like Celia felt there was nothing in her chest.

  She could still feel him. Ian was still with her outside. She could smell his blood over the salty sea and beachy bird poo. Behind her, she heard the sound of a jumping fish. Then she realized it wasn’t a jumping fish.

  His arms wrapped around her.

  “Ian!” She spun to face him.

  His eyes were wide and looked almost as bright as his Band-Aid. His jaw was clenched tight. When she put her hand on his chest, she realized he was literally trembling.

  “You’re shaking.”

  “I’m scared shitless.” His voice cracked, and he chuckled, once, eying the dark water that surrounded them on all sides.

  Celia wrapped her arms around him and shoved her face between his pecs. As their clothes soaked up saltwater, she ran her hands up and down his shivering back. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you out here.” She wished she could say the same for on land.

  “I’m not leaving you,” he whispered over the tide.

  “I can’t lose you,” she replied. “You’re my white knight.”

  “Then, I guess we only have one option,” he said, chin on the top of her head. “Danny has to die.”

  When they got back inside and explained, Imogene was fine with the idea. “Sure.” She smiled.

  “Of course you would say that.” Celia rolled her eyes.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She stood dripping on the carpet at Ian’s place. “That you’re a lunatic.” Celia turned to face Ian. “And since when are you a lunatic? Aren’t you all peace, love, and shit?”

  He tilted his head, calmly. “I was a surfer. Not a hippie.”

  “We can’t just—” She realized she was screaming. “Have people killed,” she whispered.

  “Danny’s not people,” Imogene said. “He’s an evil son of a bitch.”

  “Plus, is it really killing someone if he’s already undead?”

  The girls turned to stare at Ian.

  “I’m serious. Could you really, like, call someone in front of a jury for that?”

  “I…don’t know.” Celia turned to Imogene.

  She shrugged.

  “I’ve never thought of myself as undead before,” Celia said. “Uncool maybe.” She nodded then shook her head. “We’re not murderers!”

  Ian took hold of both Celia’s arms. “I don’t know what else to do. Annoying him only seems to piss him off, and you can’t follow me around forever. Frankly, it’ll be a little embarrassing going to the bathroom.”

  Imogene took Celia’s chin in her hand. “Vamps like Danny should be killed. Turning people and running off. Plus, I really do think Vixen is murdering humans. Eye for an eye.”

  Celia shoved her hand away. “You’re sure?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. I’m hoping, because I’d really like to slay that bitch.”

  Celia shook out of Ian’s grasp and stepped out of her salty puddle. “Didn’t you tell me once there are vampires who hunt vampires who kill humans?”

  She shrugged. “It’s what I’ve heard.”

  “Well, is it true?”

  “I don’t know. It’s like the boogeyman.”

  Celia chewed on her fingernail. “The boogeyman does not exist.”

  “Okay.” She fell down on Ian’s furniture. “So it’s not like the boogeyman. It’s like the ghost of Elvis.”

  Celia gawked at her.

  “What?” Imogene said. “You don’t know if Elvis’s ghost wanders Graceland.”

  “Ian!” Celia yelled.

  He stepped between them. “All right, Imogene, can you not talk for a while?”

  “Fine with me.” She got up and clomped in her combat boots to Ian’s kitchen.

  Celia sq
ueaked up at her boyfriend.

  “Celia, say what you’re thinking.”

  “I don’t want you involved in a murder plot. You’re sweet and innocent and you have a nice mouth.” She shook her head. “I’m not okay with this.”

  He kissed her nose. “What about these hunters Imogene’s talking about? This is what they do, right?”

  “She doesn’t even know if they’re real!”

  He touched his bottom lip, which was just what Celia needed to bring her back to Earth. The simple gesture reminded her of when they first met, before the first bite, the first orgasm, the life-altering sex. Before Vixen and Danny and, oh, homicide.

  Celia pulled Ian into a hug that literally forced all the air from his lungs. “I love you.”

  He gasped until she let up a little. “I love you, too.” With the influx of air, he gasped some more. He ran his open palm down the back of her hair and kissed the side of her head. He pulled back a couple inches so he could look at her. “Do you want to turn me?”

  “No.”

  “Then we have to consider this.”

  Celia sighed.

  “Would your shrink know anything about covert assassins?”

  “I’m going to see her tomorrow night. Or I guess we’re going to see her tomorrow night.”

  “Couple’s therapy?” He raised an eyebrow.

  His smirk made her smile. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Excuse me, is there a rogue group of vampires good at execution?’ Or better yet, ‘How do I kill my jerk of an ex?’”

  “That’s right, we still don’t know for sure about that.” He turned to the kitchen. “Imogene, how do you kill a vampire?”

  “Sunshine, bitch,” she shouted from where Celia presumed she was perched on Ian’s counter like a purple-haired gargoyle.

  “We won’t get Danny in the sun,” Celia said. “He’s old enough to know better.”

  “How old is he?”

  “I don’t know. Old. Have you seen the way he dresses?”

  Ian glanced at the ceiling. “His vernacular is very antiquated.”

  “You use the weirdest words sometimes…”

  Ian stuck his head around the corner to the kitchen. “Imogene, do you know another way to kill a vampire?”

  “Dunno. It’s not something we usually discuss, because, you know, it makes it sound like you want to kill somebody.”

  Celia glared at her pretzel-bent form on Ian’s counter.

  “What?” She looked at Celia over the top of her glasses. “It’s like asking someone how to get blood stains out of car seats. Shit.”

  “We are not cut out for this,” Celia muttered.

  “Look, we’ll go see Dr. Savage tomorrow night, and we’ll go from there.”

  “Fine.” She pointed her finger in his face. “But you’re not killing anyone. If we can’t find these mysterious vampire hunters, I’ll kill Danny.” She choked a little. “I guess.”

  “But I don’t want you killing anyone.”

  “I don’t want you killing anyone.”

  “Shut up, you pussies!”

  They both turned their heads toward Imogene.

  She pushed buttons on her hip-side cassette player. “I’ll kill a bitch if I have to. Or two.”

  “Oh, God,” Celia said. “Imogene, do you have a yellow pill?”

  “Nope. Sorry, dude.” She tucked her cassette player back in her jeans and hopped off the counter.

  “Yellow pill?” Ian glanced at Imogene.

  “Klonopin.” She put her hands in her tight jean pockets. “I stole my last stash. Ran out. Might have some Xanax back at my place.”

  “It’s fine,” Celia said.

  “Imogene, how about you let us have a date night, huh?”

  “We just decided to have somebody killed, and you’re in the mood for love?”

  “Please.” He gave her puppy dog eyes and a pouted bottom lip.

  Imogene made a noise like a hiccup and gave him a hug. “God, you’re cute. Hope your head feels okay in the morning.”

  Ian said his bathtub was maybe a little too dirty for an actual bath, but he had another idea. After cleaning a handful of his shaggy black hair from the drain, he started the shower and peeled off his damp clothes. “It’ll be like sitting in a rainstorm.” He smiled.

  Celia followed him naked into the shower. He sat with his back against the tub, opposite the faucet side, and she laid with her back against him. His long, tan arms wrapped around her. He doused her shoulder in kisses as the lukewarm water rinsed the salt from their bodies. He was right; Celia thought it did feel like a rainstorm.

  “You’re not shaking anymore.”

  “Hunh?” He said into her hair.

  “Like you were in the ocean.”

  He made a fractured happy noise. “I was terrified.”

  She rubbed her thumb over his forearm. “How did it feel?”

  He paused. “Familiar.”

  “Will you do it again?”

  He kissed the side of her head. “Only if you’re with me.”

  Celia felt tingly. “That makes me very happy.”

  He held her tighter.

  “I don’t think I was ever very happy…until I met you.”

  “I’m sorry I took so long. But I’m glad you had David Bowie.”

  She chuckled. “I’ve hidden in movies all my life. Reality just sucked too much, so I watched all my movies and pretended the movies were my life. I was Vivian. I was Leia—”

  “Especially in Return of the Jedi.”

  She hid her smile in his bicep. “Now, I realize I was just living other people’s lives. And they weren’t even real people.”

  Ian cleared his throat. “Why did you really quit school?”

  She’d blamed it on her parents’ death—that was what she told people, and they seemed to understand. Right after the funeral, she was so accustomed to “poor you” faces. When she said she was quitting the University of Miami, those faces turned to “we understand.”

  “I quit school because I didn’t fit. Not with the other students. Not in the classrooms. It was just like high school all over again, except I was paying to be tortured.”

  “But you wanted to be a marine biologist.”

  “Maybe.” She sighed. “Or maybe I just picked that because it meant I got to be close to the sea. I’ve never really wanted to be anything.”

  “Except loved.”

  She tilted her head up at Ian. “I didn’t say that out loud.”

  “You didn’t need to.”

  She rolled over on top of him. Their bodies squelched and smacked beneath their faux rainfall, and she kissed him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Celia needed to focus. She needed to solve the Danny situation, and yet, her mind was filled with fantasies about her new favorite feature of Ian’s.

  Hint: it wasn’t his bellybutton.

  Following their makeshift shower rainstorm/make out session-turned sex, she barely slept all day. Neither did Ian, to the point where he finally said, “Celia, I can’t feel my legs.” Still, she couldn’t sleep, so she just pet him and watched him sleep and considered all the additional things she wanted to do with his body. The girl had it bad.

  That evening, they arrived at Dr. Savage’s office a little early to give themselves time to regroup. Ian looked like a walking zombie due to not only Celia’s daytime ministrations but also to a jumping that occurred right before they left his apartment.

  The waiting room wasn’t empty as usual. No, in fact, Dr. Savage’s human was there, sitting cross-legged in a corner chair. He smiled up at them over a copy of Garden and Gun. He was probably late twenties and maybe a little young for a two-hundred-year-old vampire. Celia thought Dr. Savage’s human was almost too good-looking—or maybe just boring good-looking, too traditional. He had nothing on her Ian.

  The pretty boy didn’t speak but went back to reading his magazine.

  Ian and Celia sat on the couch opposite him. She put her hand on Ian’s knee,
and he jumped, having dozed off already.

  “Hey,” she whispered.

  “Mm,” he replied.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

  “For keeping you awake all day.”

  “No, it was…” He smirked. “Yeah.”

  She squeezed his leg, hard. “See, you’re not even coherent. I need you coherent.”

  “I’m coherent.” He raised his voice to talk to the other human. “Excuse me. Do you know if there’s any coffee around here?”

  Pretty Boy chuckled. “Rayna doesn’t believe in caffeine.”

  “Huh.”

  “She’s got tea.”

  “That works,” Ian said through a stifled yawn.

  “No.” The other human smiled. “It’s, like, herbal.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m Dean.”

  “Ian.” He paused. “This is Celia.”

  “I know.” Dean nodded at her and went back to reading.

  Ian looked at Celia and shrugged.

  A minute later, Dr. Savage’s office door opened, and it was that hot chick, Katarina, crying…again. Celia wondered, what was with all the crying? What the hell did a girl who looked like her have to cry about anyway? Then again, with Celia’s new clothes and Ian on her arm, she probably looked like she had it all together, too, when point of fact, she was planning to have someone murdered. Celia realized beauty didn’t get you anywhere.

  Katarina didn’t lunge for Ian again, at least, although Celia did notice Dean in the corner. He put his magazine down and watched her pass and didn’t start reading again until the pretty blonde vamp had left the building. Then, he whistled a little.

  The doc smiled when she saw Ian and Celia on her couch. “How nice to see you both.”

  Ian stood up first and circled the table to shake her hand. Celia was impressed by the forcefulness of his movements, considering he’d been asleep three minutes prior.

  Dr. Savage took his hand. They were the same height what with her five-inch-heel Louboutins. “Couple’s session tonight?” She glanced at Celia.

  “If that’s all right.” Celia stood in her light green baby doll dress and ran her hands over the fabric.