Page 55 of Missing Piece
“It started just as Wild Side opened,” he said softly. “I wanted to celebrate my business and newfound independence from my maker. So I took a new trial.”
Adam’s pulse quickened. “You’ve said that word before. Trial. Never explained it.”
Vincent glanced over his shoulder, mouth tight, a bitter smile barely formed. “It’s testing out a human to be your food. You push their limits. If they break, fully give over, they’re yours. Your personal blood bank.” He peeled the remaining tape slowly. “You’re smart enough to imagine that process.”
Adam gave a slow, cautious nod. A ripple of sick dread coiled in his chest, but he stayed silent, not wanting Vincent to stop now he’d finally trusted Adam.
“My maker handpicked someone rough-looking, tough—someone who could handle the physical strain. But the man behind the facade was soft, gentle.” Vincent’s eyes closed, shadows of pain crossing his face. “He broke quickly. Shockingly quickly. And before I knew it, we were making deals instead of fighting. He had a baby, a little boy he’d do anything for. And ridiculous as it was, we formed a different kind of arrangement. He’d continue his daily life, and I’d feed on him. In return, I made sure his kid was safe.”
Vincent turned, coming slowly back towards Adam, holding out the photo as his hand shook. “Truthfully, it was one of the stupidest things I’ve done. Because soon it wasn’t a transaction anymore. I started to feel things for him.” He laughed bitterly. “I couldn’t tell if his affection towards me was real or a survival tactic, but for me…it was devastatingly genuine. To the point I designed a room for him and his son here. So they could stay here. So they’d be comfortable, cared for. So when he fell asleep after feeding, it would feel safe, not forced.”
Finally, Vincent pulled away the last strip of tape from the photo and pressed it gently into Adam’s hand, turning away as if unable to bear seeing it himself. “This was three weeks before they died.”
Shock stiffened Adam’s limbs as he stared down at those smiling faces captured on paper. A little boy in a birthday hat, chubby-cheeked grin brightening the shot, sat between two men in a restaurant booth. Adam’s chest tightened sharply seeing Vincent’s carefree expression, radiant and unexpected as it was. On the other side, a tall, muscular man—the boy’s father, no doubt—wore the same tender smile, pride and joy undeniable.
He flipped the photo over slowly, reading the penned date silently: “Lashawn and Reggie, 7/23/2014.”They were dead. Just three weeks after this joyful picture, they were both dead.
“What happened?”
Vincent dropped to a whisper. “Hunters. They were after my maker—a vendetta from a kill he made—but they wanted all of us gone. They didn’t discriminate vampires from humans.” He extended a trembling hand, wordlessly asking for the photograph back.
Adam gave it to him. Vincent stared down, shoulders trembling. “They kidnapped them both. Tortured them in ways no living creature should ever endure, trying to break us. They took every human we cared about as revenge for the vampires we’d killed. Lovers, friends, trials. All gone to spite us.”
Adam placed his hand firmly atop Vincent’s thigh, unsure of what to do or say. When he finally found his voice, it felt fragile. “What did you do?”
Vincent met his eyes at last, scarlet streaks of blood tracking silently down his cheeks. “We slaughtered every single one of them.”
Chapter Twenty - Adam
Silence engulfed the car as they headed into town, though that didn’t seem like such a bad thing at the moment. Vincent had been quiet and distant since their conversation following Adam’s White Girl Wasted cry-and-bone blunder, and it was starting to gnaw at him. The silence at least afforded him the chance to stew further on his own doubts. Like maybe Vincent felt bad about how much he revealed about himself in that moment? Or maybe he was having second thoughts about wanting a so-called “do-over”? Did he not measure up to that last guy?
Why do you care how you measure up? He could decide tomorrow he’d rather chain you back up and poke needles in your eyes. He’s. A. Monster.
He pressed his forehead against the window, gazing at the overcast night sky.Stop…The situation with Vincent was already perplexing enough for him. Now he had to come to terms with the fact that Vincent had experienced something similar in the past, or at least, that’s how Adam interpreted it. Vincent hadn’t exactly delved into the specifics of his past sexual encounters with his deceased trial.
He shouldn’t linger on it. He knew that. It’s not like he ever cared what partners someone had in the past, because generallyconcerning himself with someone’s sexual history wasn’t at the forefront of his mind for his prior hazy hookups. But now it was, thanks to being painfully sober and hyperaware of how his body felt.Is this jealousy? Am I jealous of a dead guy?
He didn’t even notice the country road becoming a proper street or the fields giving way to houses until the car turned down an avenue near the courthouse that they were already back in the city. He shrank down in his seat, just in case they passed any cops on the way to wherever Ophelia’s dad lived.
Vincent had mentioned that they would spend the night at Ophelia’s place for an important meeting concerning vampire stuff. He really should have asked more questions about what exactly he was being dragged to, especially since he already felt uneasy about encountering more vampires, but there was a lingering fear in the back of his mind that he might be left behind in the farmhouse. Alone. Again.
He cried literal tears of blood, shouldn’t that be enough to make you want to run? You don’t even know if he was being honest about the danger. It could all be a game to him. Haha, look at the dumb junkie, he’ll believe anything.
“We’re here,” Vincent announced, nodding toward the neon sign ahead of them on the right before turning into the alley between the buildings.
“This is Club Euphoria,” Adam observed, somewhat bewildered while glancing behind them to make sure they weren’t being followed. He unbuckled his seatbelt, scrambling to open the door as Vincent got out and walked around to his side.
“Marcus lives above the club,” Vincent explained as he helped Adam to his feet.
Adam barely had time to regain his balance before the door on the side of the building swung open like someone had kicked it. He jumped as he tried to take a step back.
“Vincent, you old bastard, get in here!” a handsome man with a smile that could replace a lighthouse beacon exclaimed, his arms held wide, like he was waiting for a hug. He wore glowstick necklaces around his neck that lit up his dark beard and features in a way that made him seem more like he had come from a rave than inside a small Midwestern nightclub.
“Nice to see you too, Tariq,” Vincent replied, pulling Adam’s arm over his shoulders and steadying him with a palm on his waist.
Adam was too distracted by the thumping of the bass and the weirdly jovial glowstick man in front of him to bother being embarrassed about the fact Vincent was practically carrying him again as they moved into what appeared to be the emergency stairwell of the club.
“You must be Adam!” Tariq exclaimed as he wrapped them in a bear hug that lifted them both clear off the ground.
