The plastic gives with a muted pop, spraying my face and hands. The rest splatters Rayne who moans and parts her lips. She clutches the bag, shoves it to her face and drinks. And drinks. And drinks.
Slow, wary, I ease away, scooting back across the slippery floor.
Something is drumming, hard and fast, and several seconds pass before I recognize my own heartbeat.
Still holding back, the woman points at the guzzling figure on the floor. “What’s going on? Why is she in mania?”
“Long story. Get another bag.”
“I can’t. There are rules and daily allowances—”
Rayne stops drinking and drops the empty plastic packet on the floor. She stares at me, my hand, my blood.
I stand and back towards the kitchen. “Seriously, get another bag. In fact, make it three.”
Chapter Twelve
I’m arguing again. Seems to be something I’m good at.
The security guard stands at reception, fighting to reach the phone. I’m beside her, slapping her hands away, and failing to keep my temper.
“We have a procedure.” Again she reaches for the phone. “I have to report the incident to SPEAR.”
Again I shove her hand away. “They already know. I’m a Grade Five agent—”
“But my report—”
“Make it to me.”
She stops. “You can’t bring in a manic vampire without warning us.”
“You’d prefer I left her on the street?”
“Where’s the rest of your team?”
“Busy.”
“You brought her in alone?” Her eyes widen.
“We’re leaving now.”
“What? No, wait—”
I’m already walking back to the cafeteria where Rayne waits with her hands folded in her lap. Six armed security personnel form a ring around her, positioned to shoot without catching any colleague in the crossfire. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so pissed.
Someone has found her a change of clothes, a frumpy, ill-fitting pair of trousers and a Clear Blood Clears The Future T-shirt under a large lab coat.
“Rayne, we’re going.”
“No.” She doesn’t look up.
“Of course we are. Or did you forget, we’ve got things to do.”
“I’m not safe. I need to stay here, under guard.”
“We don’t have time—”
“Agent?” At last she lifts her head. The ripe acorn brown is back, but with it comes pain and fear so strong her eyes shimmer with it. “I could have killed you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I could smell you. I still smell you. Your blood has the finest, sweetest scent—you’re a sensory cocktail.”
I glance at my bandaged hand. It aches, but the cut is clean and sure to heal quickly. “There’s bigger things happening.”
Her forehead wrinkles. Shoulders slump. “I…” She sighs. “I don’t want to hurt anybody else.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t know that. I have to do right, I need to be responsible—” Her words break beneath a short, sharp gasp. “I know what to do.” She stands.
Security tightens their collective grip.
I dash in, hands outspread. “Steady, everyone, steady. I keep telling you, she’s not a threat.”
One on the far side twitches his gun. “Our procedure says—”
“Screw procedure.”
“You don’t need to protect me, Agent.” Rayne laces her fingers and places them on the back of her head. “Ladies, gentlemen, please be so kind as to escort me to reception.”
The guards share startled looks. I know my expression must match theirs.
“Rayne…?”
“I have to do the right thing. I should have done this weeks ago—you said so yourself.”
Her voice, usually so calm and soft, is hard now and sure. Her words ring with a confidence and certainty I’ve not yet heard outside a combat situation, and my heart flutters like a butterfly.
Is this the real Rayne I’m hearing now? The one from before?
The guards look to me.
I bite my lip. “We don’t have time—”
“We’ll make time.” She starts walking and the security team part to let her through.
“It’s okay, guys, I’ve got her.” I follow.
At reception, behind the large desk, the night receptionist looks up from her computer. She smiles, removes her headset, and slips out to greet us with all the easy, snake-like grace of an edane. Not vampire though.
“Good evening, how may I assist you today?” Her voice is a symphony, all highs and lows and harmonies pulled together into one sentence. I could dance to the sound of that voice.
Up close, her hair is long and pale, thick like a spill of eagle tail feathers. Her eyebrows have a similar texture, light and fluffy like a duck’s underbelly.
A siren, then.
“I’d like to register my status as a vampire and add my name to the registry, please.”
“Of course. Take a seat and I’ll bring you the appropriate paperwork.”
Rayne sits on the end of a squishy sofa positioned between a pair of tall pot plants.
This part of Clear Blood more resembles a highbrow doctor’s office than the public face of a powerful pharmaceutical giant: plush carpets, textured wallpaper, and huge golden plaques in a row above the doors leading deeper into the building. From this distance I can’t read them, but the lettering above them proclaims, Clear Blood Foundation, Board, Benefactors, and Founding Members.
In front of us, a low coffee table holds a selection of magazines, leaflets, and flyers.
“Tired of buying new clothes every full moon? Try our brand-new mega stretch fabric, guaranteed to withstand the most violent of lunar shifts,” Rayne reads off the topmost leaflet. “Really?”
“There’s a reason Wendy always looks like a hobo.”
“There’s nothing here for vampires.”
I slump beside her and kick my feet up on the table. “Why would there be? Those monsters don’t need styling tips and homeopathic pain remedies.”
“Monsters?”
Shit.
“Rayne, I—”
“No, you’re right. I am a monster. But I’m a monster with a conscience, and now I’m going to do the right thing.”
I risk looking at her.
She’s staring at her fingers, head bowed, shoulders hunched. Her eyes are dim, almost glassy, and her lips turn down at the corners.
And yet…I find myself wanting to touch her cheek, to crack a joke, anything to bring on a smile. To make those dimples reappear.
“You’re not a monster.”
“I’m a vampire.”
The siren returns, holding a pen and clipboard with several sheets of paper already clipped in. The board she hands to Rayne, the pen to me.
I hold her gaze and fold my arms. “She’s the one registering.”
“I assumed you were the witness.” The receptionist smiles. Her teeth are pointed, freaky, especially against such expertly applied lipstick. “You’ll require a pen.”
Still I hesitate. After everything I’ve been through tonight, I don’t want this creature touching me.
Rayne pins me with a disapproving frown.
I reach for the pen, watching the siren’s eyes for any sign of a trick. Nothing happens and I slide it from her grip without incident. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” She returns to her desk.
“What’s wrong? Why did you—” Rayne breaks off as a man pushes through the double doors leading deeper into the public side of the building. In scruffy jeans and a band T-shirt, he looks more like a grungy student than a lab technician.
“Are you Rayne?” He stares at me.
“No, her.” I point.
“Come with me.” He spins on his heel and strides off again.
Rayne darts after him, leaving me scrambling to keep up.
“Just a moment, Agent.” The siren waves from
behind her desk. “You’ll need these.”
Two guest passes attached to lanyards, with our names printed in tiny black lettering.
I reach for them, neck craned to see which direction Rayne takes along the corridor.
Cool, smooth fingers grip my hand.
When I look back, the siren is grinning, the lanyards pressed between my hand and hers. Her fingers drape over mine, nails long and blue, filed to cruel points.
“You—”
“Take the third door at the end of the corridor. You may use the stairs or the lift up to Vampire Relations, which is on the second floor.”
“I—”
“Remember to wear your lanyard at all times. Wouldn’t want you detained by security.”
My gut churns like a whisk. Sweat dribbles down the back of my neck.
“Bitch.”
The siren chuckles. “Have a good evening.”
Not much chance of that now.
I leave reception with the lanyards in hand, the continued giggles of the siren ringing in my ears.
* * *
By the time I reach Vampire Relations, Rayne is already seated in a private booth and filling out paperwork. I try to hang back, but Grungy Student directs me to the chair at her side. He doesn’t quite shove me into it, but his firm gesture to the high backed seat has a similar effect.
Rayne doesn’t look up, even as she loops her guest ID around her neck. Her hand flies across the page, filling in check marks and text boxes with incredible speed. Her expression is one of concentration, tongue tip peeping from the corner of her mouth.
Pale pink. Soft. Moist.
I close my eyes and thread my fingers in my lap.
Just stay calm. Surely there’s nothing to worry about? It’s not like I have any feelings—
A jolt like an electric charge fizzes up and down my left arm, lighting every nerve ending. My eyes snap open, free hand reaching for the gun, but there’s no threat here, just…
Rayne. Her hand rests on my forearm at the source of the continued tingles. The touch is light, but I feel it all the way through my body. The air becomes tight and close.
“Are you okay?” She tightens her grip. “Your breathing, your heart rate, it’s—”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re flushed.”
“I said, I’m fine.”
The hand trembles, then slips away.
The lack of contact steals my breath. I gasp, bereft and needing.
I know this feeling—intimately, actually. Though the last time I experienced it, I’d been lying in bed, appreciating the morning sunlight on the bare skin of my most recent date. She stood naked by the window, golden beams highlighting her breasts and hips. As I watched, my body tingled, still reeling from the passionate night we’d shared, the sheets and pillows damp with her juices and mine.
No. No, this can’t be right.
I slam the chair back, straight into the path of another figure, this one with a white coat, thick rimmed glasses, and all the other boxes ticked beneath the list What Makes a Stereotypical Geek. He carries a tray with a huge needle, complete with two-pronged applicator.
“Oh, excuse me—”
“Watch where you’re going, nerdlicious.” I scramble away from the chair and over to the wall, staring at the laminated posters telling the story of the Life Blood Serum and its creation. A glance shows Jackson in pride of place, his beaming picture included in each of the panels.
I stare, fists clenched, shoulders tight, waiting for my breathing to slow.
Damn, that siren. If she’s tricked me with—
“Agent?” Rayne’s voice quivers. “Really, are you well?”
“I’m fine.”
She’s coming closer, I can sense her, actually feel her in the air like a soft breeze.
“Stay where you are. Please, stay over there.”
Silence, awkward and strained.
Then, a cough from Nerd Boy. “Well, Miss Rayne, I’m your consultant for this evening, and if you’ve finished the paperwork, we can get on with your sample and FID.”
She’s still watching me.
I walk left, following the story on the posters.
At last, the prickle of her attention fades away.
I keep pretending to read, now sneaking glances to where Rayne sits. She’s removed the lab coat and dropped the shoulder of her T-shirt. There’s no bra and her bare skin is clear, smooth, and pale.
A mad urge consumes me, a yearning to rush over and press my lips to her collarbone. Her shoulder. Her neck.
The consultant lifts a small medical pin from his pocket and pricks Rayne’s shoulder. A bead of bright red blood wells up which he collects on a slip of white paper with a blue tag on the end. The blood soaks in, and he clips the slip to the top of her paperwork.
“Thank you. Now stage two.” He lifts the syringe and removes the cap, exposing a huge needle. “Please hold still, Miss Rayne. I’ll only take a second.”
“Wait!”
It takes a second to realize that the shrill, frantic voice is mine.
Rayne stares, full lips slightly parted. “What’s wrong, Agent?”
“I…you…” I scratch the back of my neck. “What is that, anyway? I’ve seen loads of registrations and there’s never been a needle involved.”
An indulgent smile from the consultant. “It’s new. We’re running a pilot on one in every ten new vampire registrations—a microchip in place of the old Foundation ID card.”
“A microchip? Like for a dog? You can’t do that. She’s not an animal.”
He flinches. “I know that, but this is the procedure now and—”
“Rayne, you don’t have to do this. You’re not a monster we have to tag.”
She hikes the T-shirt back into place and faces me. “I thought this is what you wanted. I thought I needed to do the right thing.”
“You do, but—”
“But what? I don’t understand what you want me to do. What do you want, Agent?”
I bite my lip. The question hits me harder and deeper than it should.
The intensity of her gaze sets my skin tingling again. I can barely look her in the eye.
“We’ve come a long way since the early days of ID cards and fobs.” The consultant cautiously steps between us. “During this pilot, we’ll track every vampire with a unique chip, which carries all of their registration details, including information on their bloodline. After that, all they need do is present their shoulder for scanning when they come to collect their blood.”
No. No, they can’t do this. They can’t treat Rayne like some pet or criminal.
I want to argue, but the words won’t come. Instead I find myself watching as Rayne lowers her T-shirt collar again and offers her shoulder to the consultant. The needle pierces her skin, the plunger sinks, and a second later, it’s done.
“Thank you.” She scoops her clothing back into place.
The consultant grins. “My pleasure, Miss Rayne. Agent, if you’ll countersign the witness statement, we’re all done.”
The words on the page are a blur. My hand trembles as I angle that wretched pen over the dotted line. I barely recognize my signature.
Damn that siren.
The consultant snags the papers and tucks them into a folder under his arm. Another grin. “Sorted. You’re free to go whenever you’re ready. Thank you, Miss Rayne, for registering with Clear Blood. Please know that your dedication to the preservation of human life is deeply appreciated and that your actions today will ensure you remain a valued member of the community here in Angbec.”
And he’s gone, leaving Rayne and me to stare at each other across the chasm of the ten-by-eight booth.
Five seconds pass. Ten. Fifteen.
“Agent—”
“Don’t.”
She freezes, half a pace away. “I know you’ll only tell me you’re fine, but you should know that I can hear and smell the changes in you. Your heart rate is elevated, your skin sweaty
, even your pupils have dilated. What happened at reception?”
Part of me wants to tell her, the rest wants to run off screaming, because how can I? How can I look her in the eye and tell her that bitch of a siren has slapped a go faster stripe on my libido?
“Did you touch the siren?”
My head snaps up.
“She seemed very interested in you, and she’d already tried to touch me when I arrived. It was a good attempt, but siren powers don’t work on vampires.”
“Lucky you.” Knowing I’m not alone makes the admission easier. “She caught my hand when passing over the stupid guest passes. Whatever she did, it’s strong. It’s making me feel all sorts of weird stuff. I’m not myself.”
Rayne frowns. “Odd. Sirens only enhance what’s present. They don’t have the power to add anything new.”
“What?” My stomach knots.
“We always had to be careful if we joined Dad on his Ranching duties with young sirens, because they can’t control the power. Anyone they touch experiences their emotions tenfold. Older ones pick and choose, and then they tend to focus on sexual desires and feed off them.”
“No. No, that can’t be right, I…no. It can’t. I don’t…” My lips are dry, my throat parched.
I find myself staring at Rayne again, the fullness of her lips, the slender arch of her neck as it meets her shoulders. Even the brilliant pale gold colour of her eyes.
“Agent?”
“I need to get out of here.” I run.
Chapter Thirteen
I’m back in reception, glaring at the siren chattering into her headset from behind the safety of her desk.
She pauses the phone call to give me a long triumphant look. Her lips draw back off the sharp points of her teeth. “Are you feeling all right, Agent?”
She knows. She knows what she’s done and she thinks it’s funny.
Bitch.
Words catch in my throat.
My hand twitches towards my gun, then flinches away.
Then I’m running, straight across the lobby and out through the main doors, still being boarded up with thin sheets of plyboard. She’s calling, trying to coax me back, but I’d rather run naked through a field of cacti then head back in there.
Both Ways Page 11
