I Bite She Sucks

by Bloom, Penelope

Somehow, I needed to find a way to get both of us out of here without Riggs noticing. That, or I needed to blindly hope Riggs would decide to keep protecting us, even when he found out.

  14

  Riggs

  I had no idea what to do.

  I was harboring a fucking vampling in The Wet Flea. I walked the hallway outside our room, running my hands through my hair. I could still fix this if I wanted to. It'd only take an explanation about how the vamp blood had masked the weak scent Maisey was giving off.

  But I wasn't prepared to sacrifice Sylvie.

  Felix and Fang had been down getting dinner. Felix was the first to return.

  He came toward me through the hallway, then hesitated when he saw the look on my face. "What happened?" he asked.

  "There has been a small complication."

  "You mean how the older one is turning?"

  Shit. He already knew? I really was slipping if Felix had caught on before I had.

  "When did you know?" I asked.

  "As soon as I smelled her. I thought you knew already."

  "Already knew? Fuck, no. I don't protect vamps. I don't work for vamps."

  "Until now," Felix corrected.

  I clenched my fists. I wanted to punch his smug ass in the mouth, but he was right. "So what are you going to do?"

  Felix spread his hands. "What I've been doing. Help my dumbass partner get himself out of his latest mess. It'll be like old times."

  "You shouldn't get involved. This could get both of us cast out from the pack. Hell, we'd be lucky if that was all."

  "In other words, it'll be about as risky as all the shit you used to drag me into?"

  I grinned, then reached out and shook his hand. Felix gave mine a squeeze, then slapped my arm.

  Fang came upon us at that moment, tilting his head. "What are we agreeing to, bros?"

  "This is where your help is no longer needed, Fang. Why don't you go get as much as you can drink. It's on me."

  "Oh, no, no," Fang said. "Whatever it is, Fang’s in. Bros don't bail on bros."

  "We're not-"

  "The older sister is turning into a vamp," Felix explained.

  Fang pursed his lips in thought, then nodded vigorously. "Spicy. We're in. Hell yeah, I’m in. This is going to get messy, isn't it? So which one of us is going to go all taboo and let her feed on us?”

  I tensed. Fang was right. We needed to get Maisey fed or she'd go feral. I'd seen it before. The only choice if that happened would be to put her down, and that wasn't an option. Sylvie would never let it go.

  “That would be a bad idea,” Felix said. “If she’s already that hungry, she’s just as likely to drunk us dry. Can’t trust a hungry vamp to limit themselves. She’d definitely kill the sister. We need vampires with experience to walk her through the first feeding or she’ll get someone killed. Simple as that.”

  "You all wait out here, I'm going to talk to the girls," I said.

  When I entered the room, I found Sylvie hunched over Maisey. She was grunting with the effort of lifting her sister from the chair and both girls looked like they were about to fall over.

  "What the hell are you doing?" I demanded. "Get back in bed."

  "Stay back!" Sylvie said. She was holding a spoon out at me like it was a weapon. "This is pure silver. I swear to God I'll use it if you try to touch us."

  I had to fight to stop from smiling. Pure silver? It was the spoon I'd given her to eat the soup. And I knew damn well The Wet Flea did not carry silver. Not because werewolves had a weakness, but because it was expensive.

  "The silver thing is a myth. A couple werewolves a long time ago had skin allergies and silver was an irritant. That's all."

  She swung the spoon through the air like the world's lamest sword, taking a step back with her half-conscious sister clinging to her to stand. "Nice try. Stay back."

  "I know what she's becoming," I said. "And the only way you're both going to survive is with my help. So you can take your little spoon and try to stop all the howlers in the bar from tearing your sister to shreds when they pick up her scent, or you can let me help you. Your choice."

  Sylvie glared, still pointing the spoon at me. She looked so tiny and frail, but I had no doubt she'd take a swing at me with the little spoon just like she had with the baseball bat if I came closer.

  "Why would you help us? You said it yourself. Werewolves hate vampires."

  "I said I'd protect you, and that's what I'm going to do. Also, fuck Lazarus. If letting one vampire get loose means wiping the smug look off his face, then I can bear it."

  She finally let the spoon fall a little. "You'll really help us?"

  "Yes. Now give me that ridiculous spoon." I stepped closer and reached out, grabbing it. I clenched my hand tight around it and then scrunched my face up in a show of agony. "Ahh! Silver!" I hissed.

  Sylvie's eyes went wide with horror, but she didn't let go of the spoon.

  I relaxed, laughing at the look on her face. "I told you I-"

  Sylvie swung and hit me in the temple with the spoon. It made a dull, metallic sound.

  Of course, that happened to be the moment Felix and Fang had come into the room.

  "Did she just hit you with that?" Felix asked.

  Sylvie pointed the spoon at Felix. "Come closer and you'll get it, too."

  "Easy, Rambo,” I said. “They already know about your sister. We're all going to help."

  Sylvie moved her eyes around all of us, then all the strength seemed to drain out of her. Both the girls started to collapse together, but I got there in time to keep them from crashing to the ground. I put them both in the bed and stepped back.

  "Felix, find a way to get Maisey someone to feed on," I said. "Fang, get a doctor here for Sylvie. I don't care if they're human. Just get them here and I'll handle the rest."

  "Got it, boss," Fang said. "One doctor, coming up."

  Fang hurried out of the room.

  "Not that simple, Riggs. Trust me on this.”

  I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to consider asking vamps for help. I wondered how hard it could really be to stop the small woman from drinking too much. Then again, I supposed I didn’t know how fast a vampire drained a persons’ blood or how much was too much. Dammit. “Then figure something out,” I said.

  "I could ask the Rebel Prince."

  I almost shut the idea down out of reflex, but I had to consider that extreme situations called for extreme solutions. The Rebel Prince was a vampire who had broken from the Coven. He claimed they had no interest in subjugating humans or continuing the war with werewolves, but I wasn't ready to believe it. I thought it was a play to get werewolves to help them fight a civil war we had no part in. If the rebels won, I had no doubt they'd turn on us as soon as it was over.

  But for the time being... Maybe Felix was right.

  "Look into it," I said. "Quickly."

  Felix nodded and left.

  As much as I wanted to personally handle everything, I had to admit it was good to have help. It meant I didn't have to leave the girls alone and hope nothing would happen.

  I stared at their sleeping forms, but felt a swirling, nearly uncontrollable hatred when I looked at Maisey. She was one of them, and I was helping her.

  But when I looked down at Sylvie sleeping peacefully, I reminded myself it wasn't about Maisey or vampires. It was about doing the job I set out to do. To keep this woman safe. From anything. Even if it was the danger her own sister posed. Even if it was the danger my kind posed.

  I'd failed once to protect someone I swore to protect.

  I didn't care what it cost. I wasn't going to fail Sylvie. I couldn't fail.

  15

  Sylvie

  Fang led a man into the room with a hood over his head. He was trying to talk, but it sounded like he'd been gagged beneath the hood.

  I sat up in bed, wondering if this was a fever dream.

  Maisey was sleeping beside me, looking bad, but not noticeably worse than she had when
I'd staged our failed escape attempt. Riggs, as usual, was posted by the door with his big arms crossed over his chest.

  I wasn't sure if it was the fever, but he looked more obnoxiously handsome every time I saw him. I kept finding more things to appreciate, like the fact that his eyes had just the right amount of upward tilt at the outer corners. Or how long his eyelashes were.

  Stop that, fever brain, I thought.

  Fang ripped the hood off the man, who was wearing sweat-stained clothes like he'd been in the middle of a workout. He was in his fifties and a little out of shape. He wore a salt and pepper goatee with round glasses and a pudgy, short nose.

  "Meet the doctor," Fang said, gesturing proudly to the man, who was swiveling his head with wide open eyes to take in everything.

  Fang roughly untied the bandana that was stuffed in his mouth and wrapped around the back of his head.

  The doctor rubbed his mouth, then looked to Fang. "Who are you and where am I?"

  "You're here to help our friend," Fang said, pointing to me.

  Riggs got up and knelt down so he was eye to eye with the doctor. "And if you don't help her, I'll fucking kill you."

  "Riggs," I said. "You can't threaten to kill doctors if they can't help people."

  "Just did," Riggs said. He jabbed the doctor in the chest with his index finger, knocking him back a step. "And I'll kill you slow if you don't start making an effort right now."

  The doctor pushed up his glasses and moved to the side of my bed. He saw me, then noticed Maisey, who seemed to concern him more. "W-which one?" he asked.

  "That one," Riggs said. "We'll handle the other."

  "She looks anemic," he said, pointing to Maisey. "Y-you should-"

  "I said we'll handle that one. Help Sylvie. Now."

  The doctor asked me a series of questions and looked through my prescriptions. He seemed relieved to find most of the pills he wanted were already in my impressive collection. He scribbled down instructions for a slight modification of my usual rotation of pills. He wrote me a prescription for an antibiotic and steroid as well, but warned that with my condition, there was no guarantee it would take.

  "Then there's no guarantee you'll get to keep living," Riggs said.

  I sighed. "Riggs. He's doing his best. Stop threatening to brutally murder him."

  Riggs glared down at me like I'd just asked him to do something unreasonable, but he finally nodded.

  Relieved, I smiled. Riggs seemed like an aggressive, out of control brute, but at least he seemed to listen to me. Somewhat. I was surprised when he paid me any attention, but Felix and the others seemed shocked. Every time he didn’t bite my head off for talking back to him, I caught them all staring openly, like I was sticking my head inside a lion’s mouth and laughing.

  The doctor handed the prescription he'd written to Riggs with shaking hands.

  "Call it in to her pharmacy," Riggs said, handing the doctor a phone. "I want to hear it confirmed that they'll give us the pills."

  I thought the doctor was about to cry with relief when Fang finally hooded him and was instructed to take him back to where he'd found him.

  "Thank you!" I called out as Fang led the doctor back out of the room.

  "You don't have to be such an asshole to people," I said. "You know that, right?"

  "I'm not being an asshole. I'm making my expectations and the consequences of failing to meet them clear."

  "And you're doing it with all the tact of a barbarian."

  I thought he was going to blow me off, but Riggs looked thoughtful, then he came closer and sat down. "Did you know your sister was turning?"

  I swallowed. "Well... She kind of told me as much the night you showed up. I believed her, but I don't think I really accepted it until I saw her teeth."

  "Why would she do that?"

  "She wanted to save me. From my condition. She thought she could turn herself, then turn me and cure me."

  He sat back, looking at Maisey with a little less of the hatred that seemed to color his expression when he noticed her lately. "What an idiotic plan," he finally said.

  "You don't think it would work?"

  "It would fix your condition, yes," I said. "But you'd be a vampire. Would you cut off your arm to stop your finger from hurting?"

  "It's not the same thing," I said.

  "You don't know shit about it. Do you? You have no idea what it means to be one of them."

  "Enlighten me, then. Because right now, I see my options as continuing to be a useless burden to everybody who cares about me, or I let Maisey do what she was planning and maybe I can have some semblance of a life. Assuming I survive this mess," I added.

  "I'm protecting you, so you will survive.”

  “Yeah? Are you going to growl, intimidate, and punch the next virus that tries to wipe me out?”

  “I’ll keep you alive. It’s my job. And you will not let Maisey do what she was planning."

  "That's not your choice to make," I said.

  Anger flashed across Riggs' face. "I'm in charge of protecting you right now. That means it is my call. Vamps have a hierarchy. You get turned by a mutt and you'll be less than a mutt. You'll be trash to them. Like a rat they'd sooner step on than have to tolerate scurrying around under their feet."

  "A mutt?" I asked. "Did you just call my sister-"

  "It's a ranking system, and it's not important right now. We have less than a week before we're forced to leave here. But the sooner we can go, the better. If anyone figures out we're hiding a vamp in here, all hell will break loose."

  "Why can we only stay here a week?"

  "There are rules." Riggs sounded impatient, but I didn't understand his rush.

  I could barely sit up without my head spinning, and I doubted I could do a whole lot of walking. Unless he planned to carry me and Maisey, I didn't think we were moving for the time being.

  "Like what?" I asked, faking a sweet smile.

  He chuckled. "Your sister is turning into one of them. Anything I tell you might as well be getting handed straight to their kind. That means you don't get to know more than you have to. Deal with it."

  "Maybe she'll join in with those rebel people you talked about. Then you wouldn't need to worry, right?"

  "I told you. They're going to turn on us as soon as they get what they want. The werewolves helping them are fucking idiots. Including Felix."

  "So is there something like 'the coven' for werewolves? Some big leadership structure?"

  "There are packs. Each has an alpha who leads them. Some packs have smaller sub clans, like this bar. Full-blooded werewolves are called hunters, and the half-bloods are howlers, which-" he laughed softly, wagging his finger at me in irritation. "And there's no reason for me to be telling you all of this. Stop asking so many questions."

  "Why do you try so hard to convince people you're an asshole, Riggs? Would it be so bad if you were nice every once in a while?"

  "Yes," he said, voice completely flat. "Being nice gets people killed."

  "That's not always true."

  "And you know this from your vast life experience?" he snapped. "Or did you read it in one of those thousand ridiculous books that were on your bed in that apartment?"

  His words stung, but I did my best not to let it show. "That's what you do, isn't it?" I asked. My voice shook a little, but I shoved down the hurt feelings and steadied my nerve. "Somebody cuts through your bullshit and you try to push them away by being a dick?"

  "I'm trying to do my job," he said. "This isn't social hour. It's that simple. And I don't need to be lectured by a little girl who only knows what she has read between paperback covers or seen on TV."

  "I'm twenty-three," I said, feeling silly as soon as I said it. Riggs might've been in his early or mid-thirties, but it might as well have been eons older than me. He had obviously lived through more than I could've ever imagined. I could see it in the depth of his eyes.

  "And you don't know what you're talking about. The sooner you acce
pt that, the easier this will get."

  He got up and went to the door. "I'm going down to get you more food from the bar. Any requests?" he hesitated, then turned to face me, looking a little less like an arrogant, grumpy prick. "I'd suggest the tortilla soup. They make it on Tuesdays and it's got these crunchy things on top. Just a little spice but not overkill, too. And-" he cleared his throat, scowling. "Anyway. That's what I'd suggest."

  I smirked. "Yeah. Sounds good. Thanks. Can you get something for Maisey, though? She hasn't eaten since we got here."

  "She probably can still eat one or two more normal meals," Riggs said, as if to himself. "I'll bring her something."

  Gravy Boat hopped down from the bed to circle Rigg's feet. Riggs looked down at him in disgust. "What does the beast eat?"

  "Fish is his favorite."

  Riggs' lip curled. "Alright. Get off me, asshole. I'll bring you something." He stepped out of the room, then popped just his head back in a second later. "I'm locking this, by the way."

  "Would that stop a vampire?" I asked.

  "No," he admitted. "But like I said, there are rules and traditions. They won't come here for you. They'd start an all-out war if they did."

  "What if one of the werewolves or the howler things you mentioned smells Maisey?"

  "They know you're mine. That will at least hold them back for long enough that you'll be safe for me to go grab food."

  "Are you their boss?"

  Riggs, who was still only visible from the neck up, considered my question. "I was their alpha. The pack leader for this region. I gave that up, but the influence that came with my power doesn't just disappear because I stepped down. So, relax. You'll be fine while I'm gone. Probably," he added.

  "Hey," I said before he could close the door. "Could you get me and Maisey some basic toiletries if we're going to be trapped in here? Shampoo, deodorant, toothpaste? Hand sanitizer? Maybe even some fresh clothes?" I added, almost like a plea. I was running desperately low on my hand sanitizer, and I already could feel panic chills threatening to set in.

  "Yeah, sure," Riggs said. "Do you have a preferred scent, or do you want us to pick for you?"