by Peter Dawes
“Fuck,” I said, shifting to bury my face into a pillow. While I knew becoming accustomed to a diminished diet would take some time, the way my head swam and fingers twitched led me to realize this would only get worse. My fangs ached to descend, and though I fought against it, I could still hear the drumbeat of a pulse echoing in my ears. Yes, vampire, it said. It was time for us to feed.
“Monica, if you could please get away from the door, I would appreciate it greatly,” I said.
A floorboard creaked as she shifted her weight on the other side. When her pulse failed to move any further away, I frowned, thinking she might not have heard me and lifting my head to repeat the request. “Are you okay?” she asked first, before I could do so.
“I will be fine.” My emphasis on the final word betrayed the sentiment of the expression. With a sigh, I sat upright in bed, lifting a hand to comb through the messy locks of my hair. “I need to concentrate. I think right now I am only more consumed with the thought of food than in actual need of it.”
“The whole distracting pulse thing aside, would talking to someone help?”
Taking a moment to evaluate myself, I found some comfort in the place my thoughts immediately strayed toward. My clothing was disheveled, shirt cuffs unbuttoned and tails hanging loose with my pants wrinkled from two days of being worn. Despite looking every bit the worthless piece of refuse that I felt like, a part of me wondered if engaging my mind might be a good idea. “Open the door,” I said, “but do not come in. I cannot vouch for how long my mental faculties will remain intact.”
The lock turned and door creaked open. Scooting my legs into a bent position, I rested my head on my knees, telling myself I was not allowed to move from the bed while her tempting pulse resonated in my ears. Monica paused in front of the threshold and settled onto the floor, mirroring my position on the safe side of the doorway. “Rough night?” she asked.
I nodded, still able to keep my fangs retracted, but only barely. “I think I underestimated the mental toll this would take,” I said. “I would be fine if I did not know I would not be eating at all tonight.”
“We could try weaning you instead. Especially if this whole ‘cold turkey’ thing is going to make you go mental.”
“No.” I shook my head and shut my eyes. “It is best that I break myself of the worst of it before we establish a new feeding ritual.”
“Closet masochist, huh?”
“It certainly feels that way.”
Opening my eyes, I flashed a wan smile at her. Monica chuckled, resting her head against the door frame while her fingers played with the fabric of her skirt. The scarf around her wrist had been replaced by a bandage and undoubtedly washed before it found its way onto her neck again. She exchanged the small smile before sighing, the moment of levity fading. “Well, I can’t do anything to take the edge off the hunger, but if you have any questions, maybe we can talk about that,” she said.
I nodded, staring at the bed for a moment before glancing back at her. The question most prominent on my mind became the one I voiced. “How close were you to Lydia?”
Monica chuckled, the sound humorless. “So, we’re going to open that can of worms?” As I smirked, she nodded and gathered her thoughts. “Close. I’d known her all my life.”
“And you could still find it in your heart to find some mercy for me?”
“Well, I’ll admit, at first I didn’t mind the thought of dragging you into headquarters kicking and screaming, but I got over that.” Her expression softened. “But then, I kept hearing Lydia’s voice in my head, telling me that this bloodthirsty prick wasn’t you. She used to talk about you like you were some Romeo and even though I couldn’t see it, she wouldn’t let me forget it.”
“What do you mean?” I raised an eyebrow. “Did you dream about her, too?”
She blinked. “You, too, huh?”
“Yes. She used to torture me with guilt over what I had done to her.” I sighed. “Well, if I am going to be honest, I tortured myself with it. Her presence reminding me of it simply made me angry. In truth, she was trying to find a way to reach me.”
“Yeah, she said that you were beyond her reach. That was right around the time you took her necklace back from me. Which, for the record, had me pissed until she explained that everything was happening the way it was supposed to. ‘Everything has a purpose,’ she said.” Monica rolled her eyes. “Annoyed me almost as much as that damn Helen Keller quote she loved.”
“Sight, but no vision.”
We said it in unison.
I laughed and nodded. Straightening my legs out in front of me, I rested my weight back on my palms. “Was that when she passed the torch to you to be my watcher?”
“You could say that.”
“Then perhaps you might explain what will be expected of me.”
“Immediately? To fix the mess that you created before the whole region goes up in flames, so let’s focus on that. The rest depends on a lot of things you shouldn’t worry about right now.” Slowly, she rose to a stand. “In the meantime, I’ll be teaching you how to use your powers. At least as much as I’m comfortable teaching you right off the bat. You already made enough of a mess out of reading people’s minds. Need to get you on the straight and narrow first.”
Monica gestured at the nightstand where my sunglasses still rested. “Using those must get annoying sometimes, huh?” she asked.
I sighed and glanced at them. “I am grateful for the times when the scant amount of light allows me not to wear them,” I said. Looking back at her, I frowned. “Do you have any idea why I have that infirmity?”
She shrugged. “Lots of theories, not a lot of answers. Maybe, one of these days, we can find the cure.” A slight curl of her lips preempted a change in the air around her, gaining a level of impishness. “Feel up to a little mental exercise?”
“Well, I can certainly give it a try.”
“You know, I hoped you would say that.” Her smile broadened. “Shut your eyes and reach for your glasses. Only, I don’t want you to fumble blind for them.”
“I do not understand.”
Straightening her posture, she held her hands by her sides. “Now, you can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do,” she said, “but you can crawl inside my mind for more than just reading my thoughts. You’re going to have your eyes shut, but you’re going to use my eyes to see where your glasses are.”
Before I could ask if such a thing was even possible, I remembered the night I first confronted Sabrina, after I had just realized my seer abilities. For a few seconds, I had seen her seating area through her eyes; had seen me through her eyes and knew her intent to stab me if I proved to be insane. Nodding, I finally said, “I did this once. On accident and briefly.”
“Then do it this time on purpose.”
“As you wish.” Shutting my eyes, I focused my thoughts on Monica and slipped into her head like I had dozens of other humans. Her mind felt different. Warded and secured from any further prying, beyond what I could skim from the surface. I directed my focus away from her thoughts to her sight and within seconds, the room in which I sat burst to life in front of me.
I saw myself, seated on the bed looking worse for the wear, and shifted into a more upright position. Holding enough concentration to keep hold of her vision, I reached to the side and as my hand hovered over my sunglasses, I slowly lowered it, attempting to move in the opposite direction from what I was seeing, vaguely remembering what it had been like when I had a reflection. Within a matter of moments, I had the glasses in hand and opened my eyes again.
“That is a handy trick,” I said, surrendering to a smile.
Monica laughed and this time, I heard genuine amusement in her voice. While the sense of accomplishment bolstered my spirits, shortly thereafter the hunger I had pushed back made a resurgence, prompting me to shoo Monica away. She locked the door behind her again, and though I plucked a book from the shelf with the intent of reading, I only managed to force mysel
f through one of its chapters. The night wore on, the hours marked by periodic glances at the timepiece in my pocket. Unable to think of anything else, my mind became consumed by the desire to plunge my teeth into someone’s neck.
At the time exhaustion pulled me under, I had started to unravel. The next evening found me completely unable to entertain a discussion with Monica, so I warned her away until I had achieved some measure of control. Rather than succeed in that mission, the moment I lost the war against exposing my fangs, I also surrendered what little self-control I had managed to cling onto. By the end of the night, I had punched one of the walls, leaving a gaping hole in the plaster.
So many different emotions spun through me during the following hours, one might have been convinced I went fully mad. I tossed and turned, clawing at the sheets and muttering obscenities at whatever gods might be listening. Rising to my feet, I dislodged what little furniture adorned the bedroom and broke a leg of the wooden chair. While the sight of the pointed wood tempted me with death for a fleeting moment, I turned my attention instead to the wall where I had already created a hole. Driving my fist through it again, I hit a wooden beam and hissed as the pain caused me to recoil.
The force with which I motioned backward forced me onto my backside. Clutching my wrist, I looked at my knuckles and became mesmerized at the sight of blood oozing from the deep gashes, a stark contrast against my pale skin. Before I could stop myself, I lapped up what little stained my skin. As the wounds closed, I moaned with equal parts pleasure and pain and as the desire to feed became so pervasive, I drove my teeth into my own wrist. What little I drew from the wound only taunted me further. Falling onto my stomach, I eyed the enchanted doorway and nearly wept at the sight of it.
‘Tell her to fetch some blood. We cannot last much longer.’
‘No. No, I will be fine. This is all in my head. I can overcome it.’
The internal debate commenced while I crawled toward the door. Stripped of cogent speech, I groaned the entire way to the wooden barrier and howled when an invisible barrier stopped me from reaching the door. ‘We need it. This was a foolish exercise,’ the voice of my instincts cried out. ‘Call for her, damn it.’
‘No. I refuse.’ My nails dug into the carpet. My lungs drew in lusty breaths, my head swimming, but as I stared at the chipped, white paint and splintered wood, I thought of what I would do the moment she came anywhere near me. As much as I relished the thought of blood spurting all over me – pooling into the rug where I would gladly lick for whatever had not soaked into the fibers – I realized the disgustingly pitiful place where I had descended and frowned.
‘Not another life,’ I thought. ‘You have already killed too many. If you cannot control this, then you might as well find that broken chair leg.’ Shutting my eyes, I took a deep breath inward, holding onto it and releasing it slowly in some attempt to calm myself. When that succeeded, I focused on the next breath. And the one directly following that one. “I have to stop this,” I murmured, lifting onto my hands and knees. “I will not be a monster or an addict.” Swallowing hard, I managed to retract my fangs and lowered myself into a seated position.
My head felt dizzy, but the thirst had quieted enough for my belabored mind to find some peace. Even though my hands had developed a tremor, another deep breath kept my composure as intact as it would get this side of feeding. Memories of the man I had once been cheered me along. As I thought of Lydia, I swore I almost saw her ghost and grinned at softness in her eyes. “Not so much the hero now, am I?” I asked.
She did not answer, leaving me to wonder if she might be a figment of my imagination this time. As she sat beside me, I lowered myself back onto the carpet, like I was resting my head in her lap. “Do you remember that song I used to sing?” I asked, chuckling in a state of delirium after issuing the question. “Not that I sang it well, but you always tolerated me.” Softly, the lyrics tumbled past my lips, as if I was singing myself a lullaby. I felt her fingers comb through my hair, or imagined them so vividly, their soothing effect washed over me.
My hands gradually stopped trembling. My tense body began to relax and with that came a tremendous wave of fatigue. While my vampire nature had been lashing out with sound and fury, I began to realize just how hungry I truly was, but I resisted calling for help. The calm which crested within me felt too euphoric for me to disturb.
“Love… Love will tear us apart… again,” I muttered while my eyes fluttered shut. I relaxed further into the carpet while a morass of unconsciousness engulfed me in its abyss. Had I been any more lucid, I might have heard the door open or sensed Monica standing on the other side of the threshold. As it was, when she walked into the room, I did not stir, and as she crouched, I remained as still as a corpse.
She sighed and touched my forehead. “It’s about damn time, Peter,” I heard her faintly say before she crackled her knuckles. “I was beginning to think this would take all week.” Inside the liminal stage of hypnagogic sleep, I imagined her grin as she extended her hands, palms facing upward, and lifted my body using only a spell. I settled limply onto the mattress, my head resting on a pillow and eyes shut tight while the compulsion to sleep held me soundly in its throes. Monica snapped her fingers to release her spell, then brushed her hands together and glanced at the wall. “Wasn’t bad enough that you broke the chair, you had punch the wall, too.”
Monica strolled closer to where I laid and sat beside me. The mattress dipped before her hand settled on my head and this time, I could not deny how real and inviting the touch felt. “I suppose I’ll worry about that later,” she said. “For now, you need some uninterrupted rest.” As she quieted herself to concentrate, she whispered something in an unfamiliar language, lifting her hand again once she was done. An indescribable calm washed over me, something I sensed from even the deepest recesses of my subconscious.
After weathering the storm, a dreamless sleep would carry me through another day of recovery.
Chapter 26
“I know this might not be the most welcomed thought, but you have to eat something. C’mon, tough guy, wake up. That was only round one.”
My eyes fluttered open in response, met with the pervasive darkness of the room surrounding me, which ensured I, at least, did not wake in pain. Reaching to scrub at my face, I lowered my hand onto the bed again afterward and struggled to regain my bearings. While the voice which had summoned me awake came from one side, I focused first on the far wall and blinked when I noticed my coat and full array of arms assembled there.
The sight forced me upright, though a dizzy spell ensured I did not do so swiftly. As I squinted at my sword, I pieced together the last few days, attempting to figure out how long I might have been asleep. While I felt rested, I could not deny my weakened state and remained skeptical I had only been unconscious for one evening. As such, being so close to my weapons unnerved me. “Monica, please take those out,” I said. “I could hurt –”
“Nonsense,” she said, drawing my attention toward her. She crossed the threshold and entered the room in the most quixotic fashion, behaving like she had forgotten what I was. “I’m fine and so are you.”
“I think I am anything but fine. Now, please, do not come any closer.”
“You’re not going to do anything to me. You know how I know?” When I shook my head, she sat on the edge of the bed and nodded toward the nightstand. “Because that’s been there the whole time and you haven’t pounced on it.”
Shifting my gaze to the side, I saw a glass filled near to the brim with blood, placed beside my sunglasses. My sharp teeth slid downward at the mere sight of it and while she was right, I had indeed not noticed it until then, becoming aware of the offering only whipped me into a frenzy. While I did not dive for the glass, I reached for it without further prompting and drank its contents in several gulps. A head rush immediately followed, lasting for several moments until I regained my bearings. Once I had, I almost felt guilty for the slight loss of control. “Where did you get
that?” I asked.
Monica laughed. “Not from me, if that’s what you’re asking. Told a guy down at the blood bank I’d make it worth his while to lose a few packets. He accepted twenty bucks and a fake phone number.”
I snorted, tipping the glass for its last remaining drops before placing it aside again. “Enchanting hapless workers will only get us so far,” I said. “But it is probably a good start.”
“We’ll have to figure out something more long-term, but we’ve got a week or two before that’s an issue.” She took the glass from me as I offered it to her, clasping it in both hands. “You breaking yourself of your bad habits will go a long way in helping. Maybe when we’re sure you’ve got your head on straight, we can switch to sipping and glamouring.”
“From a live host? Yes, I would not trust that just yet. I have not had much use for self-control in recent years.” Groaning, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, avoiding where Monica sat in favor of settling my feet on the carpet. As my eyes traced across the rest of the room, I saw she had patched the hole I created and glued the leg back onto the chair. Standing, I felt something heavy settle in my pocket and fishing it out only made me frown. “This has not stopped feeling surreal,” I said, turning the pocket watch around in my palm.
“Yeah, I’ll bet. Waking up to start your life over again.” Monica hopped off the bed in time to still see me holding the watch. I hid it from sight again and whatever my actions had managed to communicate, they at least indicated I did not want to talk about the timepiece. Instead, she drew in a deep breath and exhaled it noisily. “Well, we’ll figure out the feedings later. For now, you should freshen up. Put on a change of clothing. You’ll feel better and we can get down to brass tacks after that.”
She started for the hallway and I followed behind her. “I did not bring any clothing,” I said, pausing by the threshold only long enough to reason the spell must have been lifted. Stepping across, I verified this and continued with her toward the bathroom. “As you can imagine, I did not predict I would be staying elsewhere once finished.”
