Page 25 of Mongrel
Jakob returns with Bowie in tow. The big man looks no worse for wear. In fact, I can see no change in him at all. But if feeding a vampire causes no ill effects for the volunteer, why is Bowie so hesitant to partake?
The coppery hints of blood filter to my nose, not an unpleasant smell. If I hadn’t just eaten enough for two wolves, the scent would probably make me hungry.
Bowie emerges from behind Jakob, his complexion pinker along the high ridges of his cheeks. His lips are blushed darker than usual. Blue glittering irises flash bright against their crystal-white background, like sapphire jewels set in quartz. If possible, he looks younger than before, though I’ve yet to ask his age. His beauty is striking. I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Ready?” he asks, breaking my stupor.
I grunt an affirmative. I’ve lost the ability to speak.
Bowie parts from his sister and brother-in-law with hugs and kisses. Jakob’s big arms swallow him up in his embrace. “Be careful,” he says. “Take good care of Andras.”
“I will.” A playful smirk forms on Bowie’s lips. “Good luck withyournew puppy.”
Jakob releases him from the bearhug and claps him on the shoulder. “I think you’re wrong about that. Cecily is ready for the responsibility.”
Bowie’s laughter rings out. “If you say so, but I think you’ll be cleaning puppy piss off your fancy rugs in no time.”
Catherine takes my hands. Her warm gaze lands on mine with genuine concern. “Thank you for helping my brother. Be safe.”
I don’t know what to say, but I don’t have to respond because Bowie takes my arm and says, “Not to worry, we’ll be fine.”
We leave Bowie’s massive estate and hurry through the village to take the road north toward Debrecen. With any luck, the trail will lead straight to the city. Traveling on a maintained roadway will be much faster than combing through wooded paths.
It’s a cool evening, with a gentle northerly wind caressing my skin. The moon hides behind a high layer of wispy clouds, and I thank the stars they aren’t rain clouds. A quiet settles as we make our way past farmlands and pastures toward the forest.
Before I shift to better follow the scent, I want to ask at least a few of the dozen questions that linger on my tongue. With Bowie so vibrant beside me, I’m dying to know more about how he feeds and why he waits so long between meals.
We are alone aside from the animals and the chirping insects. I take off my hat and shake free my ears, flicking them this way and that to enjoy the bug chorus with clear hearing.
I’m not sure how to start the conversation, so, clumsily, a question barrels from my lips without much forethought.
“Does Jakob feed you often?”
Bowie peers at me from the sides of his eyes, brows raised. “Why do you ask?”
For such a chatty creature, he’s oddly sensitive about this topic. “Because I want to know.”
He blows a breath through his nostrils, maintaining his stride. I keep pace next to him and bite down the urge to apologize for the question. I’ve been honest in answering him; this seems only fair.
“Yes,” says Bowie with no further explanation.
My brows knit together. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he lies.
I decide to press. It’s hard to know where his boundaries lie with these uncharacteristic one-word answers. “Then why don’t you want to talk about this?”
“Isn’t it enough that I don’t?” He doesn’t sound angry, just sad.
He has a point, and an uncomfortable guilt coils in my gut. “Sorry,” I mumble. Maybe I should shift now. Bowie clearly isn’t in the mood for conversation, and I don’t want to risk upsetting him further.
I untuck my shirt, Bowie’s shirt really, from my pants and lift it over my head. As I’m folding it, he halts suddenly. I make it a few steps ahead of him before my body catches up to my mind and stops too.
“No,I’msorry,” says Bowie. He strides forward until he stands an arm’s length in front of me. “I’m not upset with you for asking. My relationship with Jakob is complicated. I am…” His gaze drops to the ground. “Ashamed of my need for human blood. Remorseful for past crimes driven by this infernal craving. Jakob knows my sins and helps to prevent them with his selfless offerings. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”
I shouldn’t have asked. I’ve made Bowie uncomfortable and pulled from him a reluctant confession.
“There is more,” he continues. “But it’s a long story, and I won’t come off well in the telling.”
