Page 28 of Accidental Vampire

I hadn’t been on a blood run in ages. Aurora and I used to break into hospitals all the time to round out a club night. Not that we needed to steal blood. It was on tap at Ruelle. We all had our preferred sources and stashes. Aurora liked the challenge of corrupting the morals of mortals. Using sex to get people to do what she wanted was a proper fetish with her. One among many.

The white lab coat was on the passenger seat. I’d have Omar dispose of it later. I looked down at the name tag. Miles Jensen, MD, would be awfully confused when he woke up thinking he had the best back alley sex of his life. Aurora was right about one thing - it was stupid easy to get mortal men to consent to sex no matter the time or location. One nice bite later, they’d be passed out in bliss and you could go wherever your dark little heart desired. Not every vampire could pull euphoria so strongly it induced unconsciousness, but it was a right handy skill.

I put the van in park a short distance from the cabin. I’d have Omar move it later. Nadine would want the vehicle back at some point. I hefted the cooler out the passenger door. Once I gained access to the lab with Jensen’s plastic card, I had the run of the place. I didn’t bother seeking out the pharmacy as usual, being gone this long was making me pathologically anxious. Drugs might help, though…

A shriek split the air.

I was back at the house before the sound waves petered out. Smashed right through the door and down the stairs.

Red splashed the walls and puddled the gray floor where Omar lay next to a machete. Tiffany stood over him, the scrubs shredded, slash marks crisscrossing her torso and neck, blood dripping from her mouth, her arms painted red to the elbow. She looked down at the man on the floor, curious, not concerned.

“He was delicious.” Her voice had almost an amused note to it.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she swayed. I had her in my arms before her consciousness cut and she hit the floor. I eased her down and pulled the tattered remains of the top free to see the damage. One horrific gash went from her hipbone to her ribcage. Panting, I massaged it as it closed. Newly made healed slow. I couldn’t take my eyes from it until it was perfect again. Omar’s gurgling wheezes were distracting.

When the wound finally closed, I covered her as best as the shredded fabric would allow. I stretched for a water bottle and a towel to clean the blood from her face. A sweet smile played about her lips. She breathed contentedly.

A hacking, wet cough pulled me away from Tiffany. Omar’s throat was completely torn out. Blood foamed at the corner of his mouth. He’d need a massive amount of mortal blood to survive. Tiffany needed it more.

I crouched over him, tilted his head to inspect the wound. His eyes were glassy and struggled to focus on me, but he managed.

“What happened here?” It was pretty clear. He attacked her and she defended herself. But the question was why.

His lips moved. It was a whisper. Barely shook his vocal cords.

I put two fingers in the gaping hole in his neck, preventing it from closing. Omar gagged on the blood he couldn’t quite cough up. He clawed at my hand, his movements agonizingly slow now.

“What happened?” I asked again.

“Veronica.”

I dug my fingers deeper into his flesh. His armed flopped to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Take… me… back.” He gasped each word.

Disgusted. I pulled my hand from his neck and wiped my fingers on his shirt.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

When Veronica was done with you, you were better off dead. With Omar, she had been rather gracious, letting him pledge another family and not outright killing his lover in front of him for daring to be happy without her permission. I could only think of one person who left Veronica’s orbit and lived to tell about it. Worming your way back in with a body count was straight foolish.

“Please… blood.” His arm weakly flopped in the direction of the cooler by the door.

I shifted to look at Tiffany. She was perfect. I had noticed a little crease had often wrinkled her brow when she slept, like her dreams were misbehaving. It was gone now, her smooth skin glowed even under these harsh lights. I leaned over and pressed my lips to where that crease usually lived.

The machete caught my eye, it was covered in blood. I tested it with my tongue. It tasted like Tiffany, sweet and vibrant.

I watched Omar fail in slow motion. Critical blood loss burning through all his energy to heal his wounds. The magic that made us what we were might heal his body, but that might not be enough to sustain his life. Without blood he’d be stuck in this state forever. He rested for a moment and his eyes found Tiffany, who was comfortable and thriving on his life force.

“M… mistake,” he worked himself up but finally got that out in a rasp.

“Making her was a mistake?” I kept my voice soft, no need to disturb her sleep.

Omar’s lips moved but no sound came out. I moved the machete into his field of vision.

“The mistake was,” I said slowly to make sure he had time to track the machete, “taking her blood with this.” His eyes crossed and unfocused. I brought it closer so he could get a good look.

“Did you taste her?” I made each word crisp and precise.

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