Page 6 of Newly Undead in Dark River

I eyed my filthy clothes that smelled musty and dirty from lying in a ditch. The smell made me want to heave. There was no way I could put those back on.

Walker strode into the bedroom and stopped dead when he saw me in just a towel. He quickly turned his back.

“Sorry. I see you found the shower.” He sounded a little flabbergasted, and for some reason, that made me smile. “I bought you a change of clothes from the boutique in town. Tonight we'll go and pick you up some more, but I thought you'd appreciate a fresh set sooner.” He held out the plastic shopping bag and placed it on the floor near the door. “I'll leave you to it. When you’re ready, we'll head into town and get you acquainted with the place, and grab a bite to eat.”

The mention of food made my stomach growl loudly. I was ravenous again, and even Walker's slow heartbeat sounded enticing. I finally realized what he was trying to tell me yesterday about the temptation of humans. If Walker, another vamp, made my mouth water, then I shuddered to think about my reaction to a human.

Walker left and shut the door, and I picked up the plastic boutique bag. Inside was a soft cotton T-shirt, a cashmere sweater and a pair of jeans, in exactly my size. I briefly wondered how he'd known my size, and decided that it didn't matter. For all I knew, it was a special vampire ability. There was no clean underwear, which was fine with me because that just would have been weird, but the idea of putting on dirty ones also repulsed me, so I decided to go commando, at least until I could pick up some new ones myself. I pulled on the t-shirt and then slipped the sweater over my head. Its softness was unbelievable.

I lost fifteen minutes just standing there, stroking my sweater like an idiot.

I quickly pulled my hair into an elastic and brushed my teeth with one of the new toothbrushes Walker had in the bathroom cabinet. I looked at myself with my new sharpened eyesight. My wild hair was still a riot of blond waves, and my skin was still creamy-white with a few freckles across my nose. If only vampirism had gotten rid of my freckles. The biggest change I guess was my eyes. My greenish-blue eyes seemed wider, and the pupils were abnormally large, like a cat at night, or a dancer at a rave party.

I didn't look different, or any more perfect, as Hollywood would have you believe. I still looked like me.

I walked out into the living room to see Walker relaxing in the armchair, his eyes closed and his head tipped back, exposing the long line of his throat. The slow thump of his heartbeat made my limbs tingle, and my stomach churn. It wasn't as lively as a normal heartbeat. It only beat every few seconds, but that was enough to stir a new primal need deep within me. I felt the caged predator that now resided in my blood raise its head and whisper to me.

I let out a cry as my fangs slid down and cut my lower lip. Ouch, dammit!

Walker's eyes snapped open, and he took a deep breath in. Something wild appeared in his eyes, and he inhaled deeply. Holy crap, he could smell my blood. He stood and walked toward the window, and I could see his back heaving as he took several deep, steadying breaths.

“What would happen if you were to drink from me?” My voice sounded too loud in the room.

Walker's shoulders stilled. He turned to look at me, but I could still see him struggling with his nature. “We can drink from each other, but it's not something that should be done without ample preparation. Extra sustenance would have to be taken, control would have to be firmly in place. It is possible for a vampire to be killed if another takes all the blood in their body.” He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Plus, it usually isn't done unless the two vampires are in some kind of relationship. Taking blood can be an extremely intimate act.” A blush lit his cheeks, and I resisted the urge to laugh. I had the feeling he was giving me the vampire version of the birds and the bees talk.

“Good to know,” I said, trying to keep the smirk off my face. “I'm ready to go now.”

Walker looked relieved that that line of questioning was over, and picked up his hat from the floor beside the armchair.

The trip to town was quiet, as I took in everything I could in the fading light. Not that the lack of light seemed to be a problem for me; I could see everything with a clarity that startled me. It was like watching high definition after a lifetime of the fuzzy goodness of Betamax.

“Did you find my stuff?” I was hopeful. My camera, my passports, my life, was in the backpack.

He shook his head.

“There was no sign of it. I got a few scraps of material, and a shoe print from the area, but otherwise it was clean. I have no idea how you ended up in a drain outside the town limits.” He sounded frustrated. Well, that made two of us.

I still hadn't decided what to do with my... uh, death. The thought of never seeing my family again tore at my heart. However, the thought of literally tearing at their hearts with my fangs was even worse. So I was doing what I did best. I was stalling until the last possible moment. It was an innate talent. Instead of choosing someone to go to prom with, I went stag. Instead of choosing a Major in college, I'd set out to backpack my way around Canada. Look how well that ended.

He eased the car into a spot outside of Bert and Beatrice's Diner. “Let's go grab something to eat, then we'll figure out the rest.” He pushed open the diner door and stood to the side to let me through.

Every set of eyes turned to look at me, and I was getting a strange sense of deja vu. Beatrice was manning the counter today, and she gave me a warm smile.

“Evenin' Mika, Sheriff. Just grab any table, I'll be over to get your order in a minute.” She bustled down the other end of the counter to refill the coffee of a man in a tight cable knit sweater with shoulder-length black hair. He was the only person in the room, not staring at me.

Walker placed a hand on my lower back and directed me to an empty booth. There were some hushed murmurs, and then everyone descended at once.

People were in my space, shaking my hand and introducing themselves in a blur of names and faces that I'd have no chance of remembering. Walker was equally as bombarded with questions: who made me, were there any leads in my murder case, did he think it was one of the townspeople?

Two women, who looked to be in their late thirties, were hanging off Walker like two extra limbs.

“Well, I think it's that drifter. When I watch CSI, it's always the drifter.” One, I think her name was Lynette, said to the people surrounding our table.

“I thought it was always the husband? Are you married, Honey?” Lynette's shadow asked. I dazedly shook my head. “Well then, maybe you are right. Maybe it is the drifter.” Both of their eyes swung to look at the guy in the cable knit. I could see his shoulders were tense, and I was guessing that a) he was the drifter and b) that he had heard every word Lynette and her parrot had said.

I stared at his back and wondered if that was the truth. Was he my murderer?

In a town full of carnivores, anyone could be the person who stole my life. The people crowded around me now seemed a lot more ominous.

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