Possessed by a Vampire

by Susan Griscom

  I swiped away the tears that soaked my cheeks. Was that the way it had happened? I couldn’t recall exactly . . .

  Why had Julian and I been given this fate? If we had stayed on the farm after our parents died, we never would have been in Dorian’s path. We never would have been turned into vampires. Now it was all just wishes and regret for something that could never change.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Preston

  Darkness caressed me, shrouding me in a blanket of nothing. I had no thoughts, no desires, no needs; just blankness and the sensation of floating through weightless space. I was positive that death had come for me, and I was disappointed. Where was the heaven or the hell I’d been told about? There was no great light of sanctuary or fire of torture. Just . . . nothing. A world devoid of everything.

  As time slipped away, streaks of red and orange filtered in, gravity became my enemy, and I knew that death had eluded me. The heaviness turned into pain and grew to a point where I wanted to die. My eyes fluttered open to blurred faces. I quickly closed them, wanting to return to the calm of nothing. Why the fuck did every bone and muscle in my body ache and burn?

  “Hey, he’s waking up!” I heard Gage say, his voice too close to my face for my comfort.

  “Step aside. Let me examine him.” Another male voice: Grayson, Chelle’s dad; now, our vampire doctor. Cold fingers touched my face. One dipping the bottom of my eye down as bright light glared into it. Something cold pressed down on my chest. I opened my eyes to see him hovering over me, listening to whatever he heard through that stethoscope of his. He was a new vampire—new this century, I mean—turned in his early thirties if I had to guess. Chelle had been five at the time and had witnessed her mother’s death. He was a good doctor, but I didn’t want him prodding and probing me with his hands or his instruments. My skin hurt at every touch.

  “Stop.” My voice was low, barely audible to even my own ears.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Cian’s voice of concern asked. He was the rock behind the Lost Boys. The level-headed one of the twinsey pack. He was grounded and strong-minded. He had a great sense for business and kept us together . . . kept us a family. He was the center of everything that made us whole. His woman, Maggie, looked petite and angelic as she stood by his side.

  “He should be. I’ve never seen anyone who’s been out in daylight as long as he was. It will take a few days for his insides to return to normal again. The cells need to replenish. You’re lucky Ari and Vanessa were able to locate you. If you’d have stayed outside much longer, I’m not sure how long it would take for your organs to hydrate again. If they would.”

  “Elvis, buddy, you scared the piss out of me,” Gage’s face hovered over me again. His long, unruly curls flowed over his cheeks as he looked down. He smiled and nodded. “Glad you’re back among the living.”

  I glanced around. Most of the faces were still blurred to my eyes, but I suspected that the entire household stood in my room.

  “How . . .?” I asked.

  “I have your blood in me. Remember? You guys thought it would be a good idea if all of you gave me some. Just for this very reason. Bet you never considered the possibility of a human saving your ass.” Ari beamed, priding himself on his human ability to walk in the sunlight.

  “If I didn’t have your blood,” Ari continued, “I never would have known you were missing.”

  “Luckily, V can walk in the sun,” Lane added with a grin. Cocky son of a bitch. “She teleported Ari to you in that alley.” I glanced at the witch-turned-vampire. Damn. I never would have thought I’d be thankful that Lane had turned the witch. Guess she wasn’t so bad, after all.

  “Here,” Grayson stuck a straw attached to a plastic bag of blood into my mouth. “You need more nourishment. I’ve already given you two bags intravenously, but the more you ingest, the better.”

  I swallowed; the sensation almost foreign to me. I hadn’t realized my throat was so dry.

  “What the hell were you doing out there?” Gage asked.

  “Searching.” That came out like a whisper. As hard as I tried to talk louder, the volume of the words wouldn’t increase.

  “Searching for what or whom?” Cian asked.

  “Lily. She . . .” I shook my head. These guys were never going to understand. “She left me sitting in the car. Wouldn’t let me take her all the way home. How long have I been out?”

  “Four days,” Grayson answered.

  “Four days? I need to get up. I need to find her.” I tried to move, but my body wasn’t having any of it.

  “Rest for now.”

  “Where does she live?” Lane asked. “You never did say.” He had his arm around Vanessa. She was hot for a witch. I’d always thought so, but more so now that she’d helped save my life. She looked tough standing there with her hands on her hips and her don’t-fuck-with-me attitude. She and Lane were good together. Ever since she’d come into his life, he seemed to be a bit less of a jerk, particularly when V was around. Her brazen demeanor made me ache for Lily.

  “Maybe she lives in a run-down neighborhood and didn’t want you to see her house,” Chelle said, and everyone looked at her as if she’d just grown three tits. She shrugged. “Just sayin’. After being here and seeing how we live, maybe she was embarrassed.”

  “Vampires don’t live in run-down neighborhoods or houses. They don’t want for anything. The world is theirs for the taking,” Lane said. “Usually,” he added when Vanessa frowned at him.

  “She’s definitely hiding something from me.”

  “She probably just doesn’t want to see your ugly ass anymore,” Gage scoffed. “Don’t be so stupid next time, son. Come home before curfew; that way you won’t get caught out without shoes and a shirt in the fucking sunlight.” He walked out of the room then. Gage was my best friend, but he had shit for tact when it came to voicing his emotions. I smiled. Nice to have someone worry about me.

  It took me over a week to recuperate completely. There were several times I’d considered risking it and continuing my search for Lily, but I really had no clue where to start except the bar. I could sit there and wait and hope that she’d show up. However, every time I tried to get dressed, my breath became labored, my body ached, and I was unable to teleport anywhere. Driving wasn’t an option since my vision hadn’t cleared all the way either.

  It had been rather amusing watching Gage attend to me, though. At his insistence. His doting brought back memories from my past. Ones I had only recently spoken about.

  I needed a shower. I’d taken a couple during my convalescence but always felt so weak afterwards. My sunstroke—as everyone had come to refer to my sickness—must have been similar to a bad strain of one of the many human flu viruses combined with pneumonia.

  When I stepped out of the shower and walked into my room, I spotted Gage sitting on the window seat sofa, gazing out into the night. He wore jeans with a Guns ‘n’ Roses T-shirt, and his long, curly, golden locks were pulled back into a ponytail. The scent of his Creed cologne permeated the air of my room, coating it with hints of citrus and jasmine.

  An opened bottle of Johnny Walker’s premium blue label blend sat on the shelf of the credenza with an empty glass next to it. Looked like my man had some great expectations for the evening, bringing out the good stuff at no less than a hundred and fifty dollars a bottle.

  I held the towel around my waist and headed to my closet, grabbed a pair of jeans, and slipped them on. After I had finished dressing, I headed to the credenza and poured myself a glass of the very fine scotch, bringing it with me to stand just behind Gage. The bridge was alight with headlights heading into the city on one side, and red brake lights on the other as cars took off toward Sausalito, another tourist trap just north of San Francisco.

  “I thought I’d lost you.” The gravelly quality of Gage’s voice tore me to shreds.

  “Don’t,” I barked, not wanting to get all sentimental.

  “Why the fuck not? We’ve been friends
for centuries. Pretty damn close, too, if you ask me. Am I not supposed to have any feelings? How would you feel if it had been me?”

  I sucked in my lips. He was right. I’d have cared. Probably would have cared too much. I walked around the sofa and sat a few feet away, facing the window. “It would wreck me,” I said, and feeling the heaviness of that emotion build up in my throat, I added, “But how about if we not dwell on the morbidity of that. I made a fucking mistake, but I’m fine.” He glanced in my direction. I made a silly face at him. He hit me on the back of the head with the palm of his hand. “Ouch, Dad. Stop it.”

  Gage took a sip of his whiskey and returned his gaze to the window. “I’ll help you look for her.”

  I glanced at him. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “We’ll find her. No leaf unturned.”

  I inhaled and chuckled. “That’s stone.”

  “What?”

  “No stone unturned.”

  “Stone, leaf, who the fuck cares? Means the same thing.”

  Normally, I’d have argued that the ridiculous saying declared the efforts taken during a search and tell him that the stone was heavier and therefore harder to turn, making the task more difficult, but what was the point? This was Gage. Plus, I didn’t have the energy. Love sucked.

  “It’s Friday. Let’s go check out one of those parties at Sweet’s Delicacies tonight.”

  “What happened to looking for Lily?” I asked.

  Gage shrugged. “No leaf unturned. Maybe somebody there will know her.”

  “I doubt that.” What would my Lily be doing at a party where all the guests were either whores or paying for whores?

  “You never know. I’m sure there will be a lot of vampires there. Someone might know something about her. It’s worth a try.”

  “I guess.”

  “Gage has a point,” Cian said as he entered my room, wearing a pair of dark gray slacks that hung low on his waist and a long-sleeve, purple-and-white-striped button-down. He looked ready for a night of partying. “If she lives somewhere in the city, someone at the party might know where.”

  Lane stood in the door jamb; his long, dark hair flowing loosely over his arms and stopping just at his elbows. He was dressed equally as well but with black slacks and a light pink shirt. “Can’t go to the party with you guys, though.” Lane sounded truly disappointed, and I bet he was.

  “We promised Magdalena and Vanessa we’d take them out tonight,” Cian said.

  Lane shrugged. “Something about double dating and how fun it would be. Anyway, it’s too late to back out of that now.” Lane’s eyebrows briefly knitted together, and he rubbed his thumb and forefinger over them. “If you’ve ever seen V when she’s upset or mad, I’m sure you’ll understand why.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded in understanding. V could be a wicked witch and had unfathomable powers. She was not to be messed with. I understood completely, and smiled a little to myself, appreciating her ability to bring a wiseass like Lane to his knees.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lily

  No one had come into my room since Dorian left; the passing of days registered only by the rise and fall of the blinds. If I’d kept count correctly, it was six, maybe even seven days—a week of loneliness where I’d been locked away in this prison. I prayed each night when dawn rolled around that the blinds would close on schedule and Dorian hadn’t tampered with them.

  Malik hadn’t even come in to give me any blood, and I grew tired and weak from the lack of nourishment. Today, I hadn’t even bothered to get out of bed. Maybe Dorian had left me here to rot.

  I had no form of entertainment either. No phone, computer, flat screen, or even a book to read. Well, I did have one book. One I’d kept with me, hidden from Dorian. The pages were frail from my having read it so many times, and at this point I was afraid to even open Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire for fear that the pages would fall out. It was a fictional book, of course, but one that aligned so closely to our own lives that I could have sworn she’d been writing about us. It was a book gifted to me by an acquaintance of Dorian’s and Julian’s, Langdon Atwell, who’d taken an interest in both my and Julian’s relationship with his friend. I held the book in my hands, clutching it to my chest as I lay back on my bed. I didn’t need to read it. I’d memorized every word a long time ago. Just holding it close to me was a comfort. My eyes, heavy from lack of blood and boredom, closed as the story of that day repeated in my head.

  I’d been sitting by the wall reading a new book, a gift from Langdon, as the men played poker at a table a few feet away from me. I had wanted to play, but the book had managed to captivate me and kept me completely enthralled until the sounds from the table drew me in, and I glanced up. Langdon glanced in my direction. I lowered my gaze back to the book in my lap to avoid his stare. His glances were happening too often over the course of the game, and I feared Dorian might misinterpret the man’s concerns for my well-being as affection. Maybe it was affection. But I never gave him reason to show me any kindness. Yet, still, he’d insisted that I take the book he’d given to me. He claimed it was a gift to help me get through the many lonely nights he knew I faced. At the time, I wasn’t sure how he knew I spent most of my time alone. I’d thanked him and taken the book. I began reading it immediately, and couldn’t bring myself to put it down until I finished it, which so happened, wasn’t until days later—when I was able to bring myself to pick it back up again after that night.

  My brother sat on Dorian’s right. Langdon next to Julian. It was a small game, only the three of them left as the fourth had excused himself hours before, having lost all his money earlier in the evening.

  From the position of my seat against the wall, I noticed Langdon and Julian playing footsies under the table. I’d suspected something was going on between the two, but this action confirmed my suspicions.

  To make matters worse, Langdon placed his hand in Julian’s lap and then said, “Dorian, you must let me take Lily to live with me.”

  I froze in my seat. Why was he asking this? His hand was in my brother’s lap, yet he was asking for me?

  Both Dorian’s and Julian’s gaze instantly darted to Langdon. Julian smiled—a sweet brotherly smile as he glanced in my direction with hope in his eyes. Dorian scowled and picked up the tumbler full of whiskey laced with blood beside him and sipped.

  “I need her here,” Dorian retorted and looked back down at his cards. The scowl was still prominent on his forehead, and I wondered if he suspected anything about what was going on under the table with Julian and Langdon. Maybe Langdon’s request was just a ruse to throw Dorian off about his affection for Julian. I suddenly feared for my brother.

  Julian stayed quiet. He knew better than to interfere, though I guessed he was secretly pleased to have someone take an interest in my well-being, even if it was Langdon, whom he was also fond of. Even though he was messing around with Langdon, Julian had seemed content—or at least accepting of his fate—living with Dorian, our maker. But like me, I knew he longed for something more or different.

  “Really, Dorian,” Langdon went on. “What do you need her for? You have Julian. He’s your lover. Let Lily come to stay with me. I can make her happy. Let the woman go. You never pay any attention to her. You simply keep her at your beck and call, only so you can keep Julian in line and have someone to take out in public to hide your true sexual orientation. Lily needs a real man. Someone who can give her orgasms.”

  He’d gone too far challenging Dorian’s manhood, and I trembled with dread as I glanced at my brother, who’d stayed compliant.

  “You play with Julian under the table, and you think I don’t see.” My brother’s eyes shot to Dorian’s, fear evident in them. “And then you have the balls to ask for Lily?”

  An enormous amount of fear enveloped me as Dorian rose from his seat, and in a flick of an eye, grabbed Langdon around the neck, shoving him back against the wall right next to where I sat. I jumped up, moving away. A sword, a beau
tiful memento of Dorian’s time in the Revolutionary War, embellished with carvings along with Dorian’s initials hung above their heads. As Doran’s grip around Langdon’s neck tightened, his free hand reached up and took that mighty saber in his hands . . .

  My screams jolted me awake, and I sat up on my bed, panting with horror.

  My hands massaged my neck, even though it hadn’t been my head that had been severed. But the vision of Langdon’s head rolling across the carpet still haunted me, the fear of knowing how ruthless Dorian really was fresh in my mind. Dorian had killed Langdon that night in a jealous rage. Though he’d claimed it was the poker game that had gone south. “Tainted with bad blood,” he’d said. He was right about that part. Both Julian and I knew the truth, but we never spoke of it.

  My brother, who, at the time had been one of Dorian’s best friends, stayed by his side whenever they were in mixed company. I, on the other hand, was known as Dorian’s wife, and accompanied him to all of his social functions. I was for show, something to be paraded around like a show dog since the gay subculture of San Francisco hadn’t gained any viable visibility until the early nineteen eighties. Homophobia ran rampant, and the acceptance of homosexuality had been non-existent at the time. Gays were highly stigmatized as unnatural. That sort of lifestyle would have put a blockade in the path of Dorian’s rise to fame and fortune, and his acceptance as an honorable and respected businessman.

  It wasn’t until recently that Julian had decided he’d had enough of Dorian and rebelled against him. The times had changed, and Dorian really didn’t need me anymore. Julian wanted to leave and discover other possibilities, and of course, he couldn’t leave without me. He was tired of living a life as a secret lover. Giving Dorian—our maker and one who’d never been able to accept rejection—two options: kill us or imprison us. At the time, he hadn’t had the heart to kill Julian. And I believe he actually loved my brother. I think he only kept me so that Julian would do his bidding, hanging the balance of my life over my brother’s head. That and the Blaze, which kept Julian from fighting back. I suspected Dorian used the Blaze on Julian frequently, though he’d never injected me with it.