Page 49 of Accidental Vampire

I got up and stretched, made my way to the armoire that held medical supplies. I batted the little orange bottles about, looking for that one that Aurora had shown me. “Dexter something something.” I would never understand why they all had such ridiculous names. They were an abomination of Latin, all chopped up and taped back together.

I pulled my head out of the cabinet, the sound of unfamiliar footsteps approaching. It was the young mortal, Sugar, who drove us on the errand. Seeing me here, he stopped short and leaned back out to double check the hallway.

“I thought everyone was out.” He fidgeted, reconsidering his plan before coming right to the drug cabinet.

“Sorry, mate.” I leaned against the armoire and slid my hands into my pockets. Sugar was jumpy, I could practically see sweat break out on his brow. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be on this side of the wall.” I nodded to the steel wire wall that separated the two sides of the room, his side, the safe side, and here where the monsters live.

“I, er, need some things.” He flashed a smile, like he remembered who he was. “I always say that if you’re going to do questionable shit, do it in public and do it fast.”

“In public, huh?” I smiled back. He stepped over to the cabinet that held all the drugs. I made room for him. He quickly found the supplies that he needed and lined them up on the desk next to us.

“Yeah,” he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. I was accustomed to people getting naked for me, but I gave him a questioning eyebrow, anyway. “You see, people react slower when other folks are watching. Group think,” he tapped his temple, “messes you up. You stop and consider what everyone watching will do. You can get away with mad shit if you’ve got the balls for it.”

He tore open a little packet and took out a square of fabric with the sharp scent of alcohol, the medicinal kind. He wiped the top of one of those glass vials I saw the other day. He took another and wiped the back of his arm and his belly.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, unless it’s someone like Shaw. That man has no shame and doesn’t care what people think,” he replied. His movements were jerky but sure, like he was angry about what he was doing, but well practiced at it, regardless. He took out various packages, a needle and a electronic device a bit chunkier than a phone.

“What is all this?” I asked. I’ve seen mortals take lots of drugs in my day, but never with quite the technical setup.

“Shaw is busting my balls,” he said in a fair mimic of Shaw’s voice. “You have one job, manage your shit.”

He inserted the needle into the vial and held it upside down, drawing out some of the clear liquid. He snapped it with his finger a few times. Holding the syringe in his teeth, he popped a small white plastic square with rounded corners out of a protective shell. He stuck the needle in the back of it and pushed the plunger. Tossing the needle in the trash, he fiddled with the black phone thing, made it beep, and then stuck the white pod right to his stomach. It clicked a few times before one loud snapping sound that made Sugar wince. The thing stuck there on his skin, right next to his belly button.

Next, Sugar prepped a different hand-held device with a bright yellow trigger button. He raised his elbow up, tucked his hand behind his head, applied the device to the back of his arm. When it clicked, he scrunched up his face like it hurt. He pulled the applicator away and a clear plastic oval was left attached to his skin.

“Yeah, so anyway,” Sugar said, fumbling to get something that looked like a key fob clicked into the plastic holder on the back of his arm. “If you’re going to do something dumb, make a scene about it. Do it fast and in public. That whole ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission’ thing works.”

Working by touch alone, he couldn’t see what he was doing, and the fob slipped from his fingers, made a dull sound when it hit the floor. “Shit,” he muttered.

I bent to pick it up and handed it back to him.

“Would you mind? Fingers are shaky.” Sugar turned his body to me, nodding over his shoulder at the thing on the back of his arm. I held his arm as I pushed the fob into place with a soft click. I traced my finger tips up his arm to what looked like a needle jabbed under his skin and secured with white cloth tape.

“That?” Sugar answered my unasked question. “The fuckers won’t let me have a PICC line anymore.Needles in your heart are not meant for recreational purposes.” He sounded like Richard now. “Dick is such a dick.”

I nodded, like I understood what that meant. I stepped back, muttering an apology.

“Nah, it’s good man, vamps have no concept of personal space.”

He picked up his shirt, shaking it out. The white devices attached to his skin stood out against his golden complexion.

“You, uh, want… want a taste?” He held out a wrist to me. “I’m running pretty high right now. Probably 300 or so.”

I hesitated for a moment. “You want me to bite you?”

“Well, Misty won’t shut up about it, so I wanna know, you know?”

I got… fuck, I got shy. Mortals didn’t usually offer their blood in such a manner. He was eager and inviting.

“Where… where do you want me to bite you?”

“How about here?” He put a finger to his collarbone. Not his neck. A spot he could hide. Good. The neck was a bit intimate.

I stepped into him, my hand on his waist, the other on his neck. using my thumb to angle his face away to create space. I breathed in, and slowly pierced his skin, careful, no pain at all. Sugar shuddered as I pulled him closer, feeling the white plastic pod press against my side. I took a mouthful of his blood, allowing it to linger on my tongue. It was rare for mortal blood to taste like this, sweet and minty. I pulled just a little more blood from him, tapping into that well of euphoria and moving it through his body.

“Shit, man,” Sugar practically moaned.

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