“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Sean said, kicking a broken bottle underneath a silver truck. “Besides, what’s so different about being a vampire besides the diet and keeping later hours, huh? Or is becoming a humorless jackass a side effect the legends got wrong?”
“Dude, shut up,” Nelson said under his breath.
“Hunger,” Thomas said, venom in his voice.
“What?” Sean asked, skeptical.
“Hunger. That’s what’s different. The biggest difference. I mean, I feel stronger and see things more clearly than ever before, but that’s not the biggest difference between who I was and what I am now. I feel hungry, no matter what,” Thomas vented, heat mixing with his words. “It doesn’t matter if I’ve already drank or fed or whatever. It’s a feeling in the pit of my stomach, always reminding me I’m a freak.”
Nelson and Sean shared a glance.
“Come on, man,” Nelson said as they crossed the street, the bar’s faded Open light illuminating its doorway. “You’re dealing with a lot of stress. Even if we didn’t consider the physiological changes, you have been under a lot of stress. And c’mon, let’s be honest, you’ve never really been good at dealing with that.”
“Not when you don’t have someone to hold your hand and tell you you’re pretty,” Sean joked before switching to a more serious tone. “But seriously, you’re not a freak. You’re just, what, differently normal I guess? I don’t know. Let’s just go drink.”
“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Thomas said, although his spirits had lifted at their comments.
“It’s a great idea,” Nelson said.
“Bro night,” Sean yelled, pumping his fists into the air.
Nelson opened the door for them and bowed. “After you, ladies,” he grinned.
Thomas simply smiled in resignation.
◆◆◆
“Down the hatch,” Sean called out, raising his beer high.
“Down the hatch,” Nelson and Thomas intoned after him, clinking their beer bottles together before they all drank.
They claimed a worn pool table in the back of a small bar. The bar wasn’t crowded, but it was abuzz with energy, more alive than the Red Lightning Pub could ever hope to be. It was the kind of atmosphere Thomas didn’t particularly enjoy, but he tolerated it. His friends loved the open energy only found in bars and clubs.
“What’s wrong? Not a good enough brew?” Sean asked as he lined up some shots on the pool table. Nelson slipped away to put a song in the old school jukebox.
“What?” Thomas asked as he watched his friend increase his lead.
“Your face is bad. Lighten up.”
Thomas stared into his bottle. He’d been drunk when he’d arrived at Artemis’ over an hour ago, but the effect had mostly worn off. He’d already had a few drinks here at the bar, but the feeling wasn’t returning. The moonshine Lawrence mixed into the red lightning must have packed much more of a wallop than more traditional brews.
Thomas chuckled at the thought.
“See? You’re already being cheered up by my devilish charm and wit.”
Thomas snorted.
Sean straightened up with a stupid grin plastered all over his face. “Come on, admit it. I’m the funniest person you’ve ever known. Just watch. I could have the whole room laughing till they burst.”
“Unlikely,” Nelson said as he returned to the table. “But you could ruin my chances with that lovely set of legs over there.”
As one, Thomas and Sean muttered under their breath.
Handsome, suave, and actually a bit charming when he wanted to be, Nelson had the kind of luck with women that would have given rock stars a run for their money. Or, at least, that was what he claimed. There was no denying Nelson knew how to make a girl beam when he was around, although his long history of breaking hearts had made it difficult for him to seal the deal with anyone from their usual hangouts. Unfortunately, that kind of history wasn’t something that the waitress he’d been talking to must have been aware of.
Thomas shook his head as he took up his own pool cue. He glanced over to the new waitress that Nelson had been flirting with. Tall and curvy, she was pretty enough to assume she already had a boyfriend, although Nelson’s cocky grin meant that he’d confirmed otherwise.
His new, sharper eyesight could read her in ways that Thomas had never experienced before. The subtle shift of weight from foot to foot, how much she was breathing—he could see the slightest movement of skin along her neck where her pulse beat in her carotid artery from across the bar.
“Hey, man, eyes to yourself. You’ll freak her out,” Nelson said in a low hiss, snapping his fingers at Thomas and breaking his concentration.
Thomas shook his head, feeling embarrassed and a little ashamed at the strong pang of hunger in his stomach.
“Err, sorry,” he replied, turning all of his attention back to the pool table. “But I think you’ve already done enough, man. Her heart is beating like crazy.”
Sean and Nelson fell silent for a moment, both staring right at Thomas.
Feeling their eyes on him, he glanced up, frowning, “It’s just something I kinda noticed.”
“Dude,” Sean said in amazement.
“That is awesome,” Nelson exclaimed. “I got her heart racing? I mean, I assumed I had that effect on women, but it’s nice to have confirmation, you know? You are my official wingman.”
More embarrassed by the second, Thomas took his shot. The cue smashed into his target, spinning it into the balls next to it. The balls scattered across the table, knocking into each other with loud cracks and spinning in new directions. Thomas watched in amazement as two of Sean’s balls tipped into a pocket, as well as the cue.
He scratched. If vampirism had improved his aim, his new strength acted as a counterbalance. He was still going to lose.
“Hey, fellas, you looked a bit thirsty.”
The brunette waitress sashayed toward them. She wore a cute smirk that was only for Nelson as she approached him, holding up a wobbly tray with a few beers.
“On the house, since you’re so sweet,” she said, still staring at Nelson.
An easy, practiced grin spread across Nelson’s face as he replied, “I’m flattered, honest. But I’ll never be as sweet as you.”
Thomas rolled his eyes, and Sean had to bite back a snort of laughter at such a cheesy line.
“Oh, a real smooth talker, aren’t you?” The waitress purred, giving Nelson a playful little shove with her free hand.
As she shifted her weight, the bottles on the tray shifted too. She tensed, trying to restore the balance but overcorrected, sending all of the beers tumbling.
Thomas, Sean, and Nelson winced as the bottles hit the cement floor, shattering and spraying beer everywhere.
“Oh no,” she cried, blushing furiously as she took a rag from her apron. “I’m so sorry.”
She fell to a crouch to wipe up the mess.
Nelson was immediately at her side, picking up the larger pieces of glass and setting them carefully on the tray.
“Oh, you can just blame me,” Nelson said with a reassuring wink to the waitress. “I was distracting you.”
Sean grabbed a bunch of napkins from the nearest table and handed some to Thomas as they went over to help with the mess.
“Give it a break will you, Romeo?” Sean muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “Clean then try to impress her.”
Nelson gave Sean a hard glare, but before he could add his two cents, another exclamation filled the air.
“Ow,” the waitress cried as a jagged piece of glass sliced the tip of her finger. “Ooo, that stings.”
“Careful,” Nelson warned a little too late. “Here, let me take a look at it. I’m a doctor.”
Thomas stopped dead in his tracks.
It was such a small little thing. A little slice.
Still all he could focus on was the crimson drops seeping from the waitress’ fingertip.
&nb
sp; The hunger stabbed through his stomach like a knife, twisting and hollowing him out the longer he watched.
“Thomas?”
A hand gripped his shoulder. It snapped him out of his trance, but the hunger still squirmed within.
Sean’s eyes were wide as Thomas pulled away. He looked scared.
“Sorry, I,” Thomas began, feeling that odd strength beginning to surge through him along with his predatory instincts.
Remembering how his fangs had extended the other night in the ER, Thomas immediately threw a hand up, covering his mouth to make sure no one could see them.
“Are you okay?” Sean asked in a low voice.
“There! That should do it until you can grab a bandage,” Nelson was saying, having used a few paper towels to wrap the shallow laceration around the waitress’ finger.
Thomas forced himself not to look at the red spreading across the lily-white napkins, staining it with a mesmerizing hue.
“I have to go,” Thomas said, his hand muffling his voice.
“Hey, I can go grab the car,” Sean replied.
Thomas glanced over toward the entrance clear across the bar, the garage further away across the street.
There were too many people. It had to be his imagination, an illusion from his supernatural thirst, but Thomas swore he could hear the heartbeats of everyone else in the bar.
“No, I’m fine,” Thomas replied hastily, turning toward the emergency exit behind them and dashing toward it.
“Thomas,” Sean called. Whatever else he said was cut off by the wailing of the fire alarm triggered by the emergency exit door.
In a blink, Thomas was gone.
◆◆◆
With his hands shaking, it took a few tries to get the key into his front door. Thomas raced across his living room and into the kitchen, throwing open the refrigerator door hard enough it slammed into the sink next to it.
Hunger lanced through him in steady pangs that made him collapse into a twitching heap. He didn’t understand. He’d drunk enough red lightning at the pub earlier that night. He should have been fine until tomorrow. But seeing that blood, dripping from the waitress, right from the source. . . .
Charles’ warning about feeding directly from humans echoed through Thomas’ mind. He thought he could understand now how powerful those urges could be.
He grabbed one of the blood packs and didn’t bother getting a glass. Instinct flared inside him, and he bit into the plastic, his extended canines pressing against the IV bag until the plastic burst beneath his fangs. Twin flows of irresistible crimson gushed into his mouth, soothing the edge of his hunger.
He shuddered but not in ecstasy this time. The blood was cold. The animalistic, predatory part of him didn’t like that.
He wanted warm blood. Fresh blood.
Through his mind’s eye he saw the waitress’ throat, her artery thudding in her neck, calling to him.
With a growl, Thomas tossed the drained blood bag and reached for another. Then another.
His hunger was satisfied after the first bag, but his predatory instincts weren’t. As he forced himself to choke down more cold blood, the need to use his superior strength and take what he wanted, not get what he needed, filled him. A voice deep within his mind called out for him to hunt, to prowl, to embrace what he was. He ached to appease the urge, no matter how ardently he hated it.
Thomas dropped the last bag at his feet, but it still wasn’t enough. The curse he carried within him was fully active, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite turn it back off. Why? Shouldn’t he be getting better at controlling himself? He needed help. He needed to talk to someone who understood.
Thomas headed toward his apartment door but stopped just short of the doorknob. He couldn’t go out like this. The city was crawling with people. It didn’t matter that it was late. The weekend was here, and everyone was hitting the bars. He didn’t trust himself to be around so many people and make it to the Red Lightning Pub without giving in to his instincts.
He locked the door, stormed into his bedroom and locked that door, too. Before he could change his mind, he jumped into his bed, pulled the covers around himself, and curled into the fetal position. He grabbed his pillow and bit down as hard as he could, willing the uneven strength in him to run its course. He would have to wait it out.
It was agony.
The pillow tasted like dust and fake feathers. It gagged him, and he bit harder.
Angry tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t survive an eternity of this. If this was forever, Thomas didn’t think he could bear it. This was all that damn witch’s fault. Those stupid brothers. That dumb curse.
Artemis’ words echoed through his mind.
Curses could be broken.
7 Julia
The Red Lightning Pub, in one incarnation or another, had been in operation for almost a century, and although it had seen some face-lifts and changes, it had done its best to keep to its jazz era roots. The wooden floors, tables, and ‘20s style decor gave it a certain timeless feel that was comforting to a lot of patrons.
For Thomas, the agelessness of the pub was soured somewhat by the sneaking suspicion that he was the only one who had been tasked with cleaning it in the last hundred years.
The bar had been empty when Thomas had arrived at eleven in the morning. The only clue of what he was supposed to be doing was a note pinned to the counter. It was essentially a list of chores he needed to do before opening. Lawrence’s absence proved aggravating. Thomas had wanted to ask him more questions about the curse, and the chore list was long and the details vague. For all Lawrence had talked about how he would show Thomas the ropes, both of being a vampire and a bartender, he’d been infuriatingly carefree about both.
With determination to show Lawrence that he was both a hard worker and worth the trust Lawrence was blindly putting in him, Thomas started on the tasks with vigor.
He soon learned it was easier to decide to finish his list than to actually accomplish it. While some of the tasks had taken little to no time at all, like wiping the counters and dusting the extra glasses, others were more demanding. The floor in particular was quickly driving Thomas to his wit’s end.
After an hour of attempting to scrub the baseboards free of decades worth of grime, Thomas lost his determination and energy. Despite with his inhuman stamina, he’d been working hard enough to sweat off his vampire-friendly sunscreen.
“Cleaning floors,” he muttered to himself. “You have a freakin’ medical degree, and you’re cleaning floors.”
“You know, as long as they keep serving blood and moonshine, the clientele won’t care how dirty the floors are.”
Thomas started. An early afternoon customer? He lifted his head and smacked it against the underside of the counter.
Wincing and rubbing the back of his head, Thomas looked up to see a young woman standing behind him, her arms akimbo and her head cocked to the side.
The woman glowed in the dim lighting of the bar, her honey-colored hair fell loose around her shoulders, and she had a warm skin tone dotted with occasional freckles. She wore casual jeans and a t-shirt, but both seemed to accentuate her curves and slender waist.
Thomas glanced toward the door to see if she’d come in with anyone, but no one was there. He stumbled to his feet and wiped his hands off on his apron.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“You could sling me some of that lightning while I wait for my parents,” the woman said, gracing him with a friendly smile, then winked. “And you could relax. I won’t bite. Not you, anyway.”
Thomas hurried behind the bar, scanning through Lawrence’s instructions on what to do if a customer arrived. After a bit of searching, he found where the red lightning was kept and poured some into a snifter for his client.
The woman raised the glass to her nose and sniffed delicately.
“Very nice, very nice,” she said and took a sip. “He’s changed his recipe a bit. It’s
been the same for decades. And they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
Thomas stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to say.
“Goodness, they’re taking forever,” the girl complained blithely, leaning back against the bar with her elbows on the counter.
“Your parents?” Thomas asked.
“Yeah, they were in the cab behind me with the last of my luggage. I dropped by my apartment and changed quick, so I thought maybe they’d be here first.”
“Bad traffic?” Thomas suggested.
“Must be,” she replied. “I haven’t seen you here before—are you new?”
“New here? Or new as a vampire?”
“Both,” she said, smiling.
“Both,” Thomas replied, pausing to return her gaze.
She had stunning hazel eyes.
“I’m Julia,” she said. “And you?”
“Thomas Spencer.”
“Well, Thomas, it’s good to see someone with a good work ethic around here. Welcome to the fold,” Julia raised her glass in a toast then drank the last of the red lightning. She sighed, “That hits the spot. Thomas, would you mind filling me up? Traveling always makes me thirsty.”
Thomas jumped to refill her glass. Julia continued to watch as he poured. Her stare made him feel self-conscious, but there was nothing more than curiosity in her eyes.
“How long has it been?” she asked.
“Excuse me?”
“How long has it been? Since you turned.” Julia accepted the newly filled glass. “You still have that out-of-sorts look that screams fledgling.”
“It’s just been a couple of days,” Thomas replied. He leaned against the opposite counter beneath where the glasses were kept.
“Days? Are you serious?” Julia laughed. “And you’re already being left alone in the bar? You must be trustworthy.”
Thomas shrugged. “I think Lawrence is just irresponsible.”
Julia’s smile broadened. “True.”
Shadows of Colesbrooke Page 12
