by Cas Martin
A ping announced the blood was ready. Elizabeth let her mind retreat to a happy little place somewhere far away while she snipped off the corner of the package and glooped its contents into the mug. She looked down to make sure the bag was empty and shuddered with revulsion.
It might have felt confusingly good when Monica had fed off her before, but she could rule out it being anything to do with blood itself. This was gross.
The guard still hovered by Monica when she walked over with the drink. ‘Help her sit up straight. She needs to drink this.’ She saw the look in Monica’s eyes as she struggled to stay vertical. She didn’t want the guard to see her drink blood out of a cup. It was humiliating. Elizabeth swallowed. Time to step up. ‘Okay, I’ve got her from here. Why don’t you wait outside? I’ll call you if I need anything.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’ Elizabeth replied, her tone firm. His hesitation was understandable. He didn’t want to leave his leader alone with a woman wearing the Pendant of Lazarus around her neck. He looked down at Monica who used her remaining strength to give him the nod.
He sighed a reluctant agreement. ‘I’ll be right at the end of the corridor. You give me a call if she needs anything.’
‘I will, I promise.’ Elizabeth stood still until she heard the door click closed. She checked over her shoulder to make sure he was really gone and then sat down on the couch next to Monica. ‘Here, you need to drink this.’
‘It won’t do any good.’
‘It might buy you a bit more time. Stop being so defeatist.’ Elizabeth was stern but she was afraid Monica was right. She had seen her on the brink of death before. This was different. Last time, she had been bruised and broken. Now she was a hollowed out shell of her former self.
‘I can’t.
‘I’m being serious Monica, you have to drink this. Then I’ll call Harlan. If he has anything, no matter how untested, it’s got to be worth a try.’
‘I called him a few hours ago. There’s nothing.’
‘Shhh, drink this first.’ Elizabeth held the mug up to the other woman’s lips and fought her instinct to look away. The last thing Monica needed right now was to be wearing it rather than drinking it.
Monica was reluctant at first to be fed. Elizabeth understood the humiliation, but in the end, she had no choice. Each mouthful became easier, until she drained the mug completely.
‘Good,’ said Elizabeth. Despite the severity of the situation, she wanted the mug as far away from her as possible. She practically ran to the kitchen and shoved it into the discretely positioned dishwasher. Out of sight, out of mind.
There were no signs of instant recovery. Monica’s face remained pale and tired. She grabbed a blanket from the spare room and covered the shivering body.
Would Dennis come? There was a very real possibility Monica wouldn’t make it through the night. Elizabeth wasn’t sure what she’d do if that happened. She should stay and finish what Monica had started, but her instinct was to head straight back to England. She sat next to Monica and rearranged the blanket to trap in her body heat. As she fussed, Monica’s eyes fluttered open.
‘Thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘For coming over.’
‘That’s okay.’
‘They attacked us. I had no choice but to run. Dennis…’
‘Shhh, don’t worry about that now.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Now where is this Harlan guy’s phone number?’ Elizabeth refused to get upset. Not when there was still time to be practical.
‘I told you. He doesn’t have anything.’
‘He must have something.’
‘No.’
‘We can’t just give up. Someone must have something.’
‘Only one person,’ Monica struggled to get the words out, but Elizabeth felt hope flare at last.
‘Who? Tell me what you need and I’ll find a way to get it.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘It may not be simple but it might be the only chance we have.’
‘Elverez.’
‘He has the cure?’
‘No. He thinks he knows the cure.’ Monica’s eyes fluttered closed again.
‘Where is he?’
‘He left. There was fighting. He wasn’t safe.’
‘And he took the cure with him?’ That was madness. Monica wouldn’t be going anywhere else tonight, even to save her life.
‘No, but he told me what he thinks it is.’
‘Then tell me and I’ll find it.’
‘It’s already here.’
‘Then why haven’t you tried it?’
‘Because,’ Monica paused and Elizabeth shook her. She opened her eyes again and stared at the wall opposite. ‘Because it’s you.’
‘What?’ Elizabeth stood up and backed away from the couch.
‘Sorry. That’s not why I called you over.’ Tears welled up in Monica’s eyes. ‘I just didn’t want to die alone.’
‘Does anyone else know this?’ Elizabeth saw the new bounty on her head. Without Monica’s protection she would be a dead woman no matter what country she was in.
‘No. Only the two of us. I’m sorry.’
‘No, I’m sorry. It’s just…a bit of a shock.’ She sat back down and put her hand to Monica’s forehead. Her skin was burning despite the shivers.
‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘Did Elverez say why he thought that?’
‘He reminded me what happened last time.’ Monica looked away, which made Elizabeth feel better because it meant she didn’t have to. ‘After you, I healed quickly. Too quickly. Remember?’
‘Of course.’ How could she forget? They had gone to the old man’s house afterwards and he had been quite brazen about the fact that Monica had fed from her. ‘That could have been a coincidence. It doesn’t mean I can cure you.’
‘I know. He said at the time there was something unusual about your blood. I didn’t understand then how he could know.’
‘Does that mean you do now?’
‘He said your father was the same.’ Monica’s voice was little more than a whisper.
‘What?’ Elizabeth felt a jolt to her stomach. How would Elverez know that? She remembered the photo he had shown her, the two of them looking like two best friends, not two different species. Her father hadn’t simply studied them. He had known them. Been friends and equals with them. Did that mean he had done it once too?
No, it couldn’t be.
He had always favoured the Giordano family.
She felt the tears sting her eyes. There was a hole where such an important part of her life should be. He should be here with her, not leaving her to work everything out on her own. What would her father really do, if he stood in this room now? The answer was no longer as black and white as she once thought it would be.
Monica hadn’t asked to feed from her. It seemed nothing would force her to break a promise, not even her own sense of survival. Elizabeth’s heart ached. She had distrusted so much and now, when Monica’s life slipped away, she had proven herself. Elizabeth hoped that she wasn’t too late to change that.
‘What if he’s right?’ she asked.
‘Does it matter?’ Monica gave a weak smile.
‘Perhaps. You have to help me’
‘I don’t know. He was right, you are different. I don’t know what it is, but since you, nothing has felt the same. No other human is like you.’
‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ Elizabeth murmured. ‘Do you think it’s worth a try?’
‘I promised I wouldn’t.’
‘No you promised you wouldn’t take advantage of what happened before. Now I’m asking you an entirely different question. Do you think it could work?’
‘It might. I don’t know.’
‘We should try.’
‘No.’
‘Monica, this isn’t a time for stubbornness or foolish pride. What have we got to lose
?’
‘What if I infect you during the process?’
‘No humans have shown symptoms yet.’
‘That doesn’t mean that they never will.’
‘I can’t see Elverez willingly putting my life in danger. Not even to save yours.’ Elizabeth ran her hands over her eyes. It was all too much.
‘You can’t be sure. The ties to the family are stronger than anything else.’
‘Not always. You’ve taught me that.’
‘I’m the exception rather than the rule.’
‘I kind of think that Elverez is as well.’ There was silence. Monica’s eyes had closed again. Elizabeth pushed to the back of her mind what was actually happening and tried to be practical.
Monica was weaker than last time. More defeated. Would the same natural inclination to feed still be there? Elizabeth looked down at her hands. It made sense to use her left wrist for this. She had no idea how much damage could be done, but it always made sense to keep your dominant hand in a time of crisis. Decision made, she rolled up her sleeve. Her veins were plumpest at the crook of her elbow as they ran down to her wrist. There was a clear winner. Another decision made. She gagged again. This was worse than cooking blood.
She walked back over to the couch and sat down next to Monica. No, that wasn’t going to work. Holding her arm at that angle would be too much of a struggle for both of them. She got back up and knelt on the couch instead, using the back to brace herself with her good arm. She hoped the guard didn’t take it upon himself to walk back in. There was something about the position that was all kinds of wrong.
‘Monica, we’re going to do this now, okay?’
‘What if I don’t want to?’
‘Oh, shut up. I’m not taking no for an answer. Let’s just get it over with.’
‘I don’t have the strength.’
‘To feed?’
‘To make it less painful. For you.’
‘That’s okay.’
‘It will hurt. It won’t be like last time.’
‘That’s okay. Just promise me that you’ll stop. That’s all I ask. Same as before. When you’ve had enough, stop. Don’t kill me.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You managed it last time, you can do it this time. Now for god’s sake, let’s get this over with.’
She put her arm up to Monica’s lips and braced herself for the pain. She closed her eyes and gripped the back of the couch, her knuckles white with tension.
Nothing happened.
She cracked open one eye and looked down. Monica’s mouth was open against her wrist, but there wasn’t the slightest sign of the teeth that would wreak havoc against her skin. Well this was awkward.
‘Um, you can start now.’
‘Trying,’ Monica mumbled against her skin. Elizabeth pulled away. ‘I told you. I don’t have the energy. Let me sleep.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Why was nothing in her life ever easy? Elizabeth stood up and stormed into the kitchen, locking the door to the apartment on the way past. The guard wouldn’t save her if anything went wrong, and she would rather keep him the other side of the wall when the smell of her blood filled the air.
Monica had some top of the range cooking knives. They seemed far too nice to use on herself but Elizabeth doubted Monica cooked enough to care. If Monica couldn’t use her teeth to start the blood, then maybe the blood would start her teeth instead.
She looked down at her wrist again. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally commit suicide in Monica’s kitchen while trying to save her. Everyone would have fun trying to work out how that had gone down. Instead, she closed her eyes and sliced across the delicate pad of her index finger. ‘Motherfu—’ she gritted her teeth against the pain.
The blood pooled on the surface of her skin. Her eyes watered and she wiped the tears away with a reminder that this was nothing compared to the pain that she was about to feel. She returned to Monica and resumed her position. ‘Right, let’s try this instead.’
‘You’re crazy.’
‘And you can thank me for that in the morning. Now open your mouth.’
Monica did as requested and Elizabeth ran her finger over Monica’s incisors. She used her thumb to push out more blood and slid her fingertip over her tongue. Monica let out a low groan of pain as her fangs slowly descended. When she was sure they were out far enough, she pulled back. ‘Ready?’
‘Yes,’ Monica nodded.
‘Okay then. Be gentle,’ Elizabeth swallowed and placed the delicate area above her wrist to Monica’s mouth once more. She felt teeth scrape against the top of her skin, testing the resistance. This time it was going to happen. She closed her eyes and braced herself for pain.
The seconds ticked by before anything happened, but when it did, Elizabeth bucked with the pain.
Monica had been right. Without any of the mind mojo, without of the gentle pre-planning, there was nothing but the pain of torn flesh. A wave of nausea ripped through her centre as she felt the suction on her skin. It was weak at first, tentative compared to the sensation of teeth under her skin. With each pull, her skin grew numb, Monica’s saliva mixing with her blood to dull the pain.
It was too late to remove the memory of how it felt.
Elizabeth had no idea how much blood was needed to heal a dying vampire. As her heartbeat slowed, she realised she had laid a lot on the line for this. If Dennis didn’t make it out of the fight alive, she would need to get Garth to come and get her. She didn’t see him and the guard at the door seeing eye to eye.
Her mind had begun to wander. Elizabeth wasn’t sure how much she had left to give. She lifted her head from where she had braced it against the back of the couch and looked down.
Monica had developed a slow rhythm, but she hadn’t regained full consciousness. Instinct had taken over, but she had slipped into some kind of mental coma. She wasn’t thinking any more. She wasn’t going to stop because she wasn’t capable of knowing how. This could get messy.
‘Monica?’ Elizabeth tried to get her attention, but there was no response. She reached down and peeled the fingers off her wrist, each one a fight to prise off her skin.
Elizabeth yelped as she realised that one of Monica’s teeth was still attached and she had to slide her wrist off it. If this worked, Monica was going to owe her a lifetime of favours for this one.
Given that, Elizabeth didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about using one of Monica’s monogrammed and very expensive towels to stop the blood. She held her arm in the air as she walked to the bathroom, her legs like jelly. She grabbed the towel and pressed it to her wrist as firmly as she could. In the short distance, her wrist had already become slick and coated with red.
When she returned to the couch, Monica was still in the same position but her teeth had retracted. There was a smear of blood on her chin and Elizabeth gently wiped it clean with the towel. By the time she had finished, her wrist ran with fresh blood again.
‘Shit,’ she muttered to herself. This had happened the previous time. Elverez was right. There was something different about her blood. Monica’s saliva worked well on everyone else to stop the bleeding, so why did it do nothing for her?
She looked down at Monica. She wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, but her breathing had grown steady at last. No help there and she wasn’t going to ask the guard to come in right now. By the time Elizabeth found the first aid kit she had got blood on her jeans and her top, not to mention over several surfaces. As if she hadn’t given enough of herself this evening, if she didn’t bleed to death she would end up cleaning as well.
She rummaged through the kit and found what she needed. Some butterfly stitches, a gauze pad and a roll of bandage. At the bottom of the kit she found a safety pin and some antibacterial wipes. Better to be safe than sorry.
As she rubbed the alcohol over the cut, this time she didn’t hold back from swearing. The pain was intense but even her choice language hadn’t woken Monica. Elizabeth didn’t know if that was a
good thing. What she did know was that trying to do first aid on yourself with only one hand was a tricky process. By the time she got the safety pin closed, she was actually quite proud of her handiwork. Proud, but exhausted.
Monica’s breathing was slow and steady, but she was still running a fever. Whatever this thing was, it had a serious hold on her. Last time, Elizabeth’s blood had worked quickly. This time, it hadn’t had quite the same effect. She tucked the blanket around her and watched for a few minutes before admitting there was nothing more she could do. Monica would either wake again or she wouldn’t and Elizabeth had to prepare herself for the latter.
She walked back to the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards. Monica had very little food around. Elizabeth suspected it was because she spent so much time at the office rather than because she was a vampire. She found some eggs and chorizo in the fridge. Her arm ached and she oddly craved a steak. This would have to do.
As she ate, she watched Monica breath in and out. Some colour had returned to her cheeks, but there was still a long way to go until sunrise. Elizabeth was tired, but too wired to sleep. She decided to have a shower and borrow some clothes that were clean and less encrusted with blood. She didn’t think Monica would mind.
In fact, given the circumstances, it was the least she could do.
41
Monica breathed. It was a strange sensation, a coming back to life more than a mere rousing from sleep. She cracked her eye open and winced as the light flooded through.
Of course, she thought she was awake. It could be she was dead and there was an afterlife after all. That was an interesting prospect.
She forced her eyes to remain open and looked around. She was definitely still in her apartment. The light was from the lamp above, not a signal from the great beyond. Every part of her body ached, but her limbs no longer felt like decaying stumps.
Her eyes fell on Elizabeth, asleep in the chair. She had curled up under Monica’s robe, presumably to keep warm. The arm that held it in place was bandaged from hand to elbow.
