Page 5 of Watch Me Turn
The bed creaks as he releases some slack in his wrist shackles to move closer. "The fuck you just say to me?"
"I said,please. Now you try it."
His entire body tenses like he's testing his restraints, and he gnashes his teeth under the effort. When his weakened body produces nothing but disappointment, he slumps back down, defeated.
"Fine," he sighs. "More, please."
He drinks the next bottle slower, his eyes studying my face as he takes deep, labored sips. When his eyes fix on the deep scar that runs through my eyebrow, I wink at him.
"Oh, this?" I smile, pointing at the scar I've had since I was fourteen years old. "You should see the other guy." Except the other guy is dead, but I probably shouldn't mention that since I'm trying to build rapport and all.
"Why are you wearing that thing?" he asks.
"The balaclava? I think it helps to maintain a boundary."
He furrows his brow. "So this is a ransom situation? I knew it would happen eventually."
"Not quite."
He pulls back and eases into the pile of silk pillows, grimacing as he does.
"You want me to flip these? Fluff them, maybe? They're kinda sweaty. You probably don't wanna be lying on them like this."
He grunts something that sounds affirmative, and I ease him forward so I can get to work. He takes advantage of this new position by massaging his ankles, running his thumb around the stiff cuffs and trying to release some of the tension.
"What are you?" he asks, his face grim. "Some kind of nurse?"
"I'm something else," I say, karate-chopping a feather pillow to puff it back up. "I've been asked to look out for you for a while. To protect you."
He laughs. "Protect me? Is that what this is?" He tugs on the chain attached to the cuff, and it clanks against the wrought-iron bedframe. "No offense, but how do you think you're gonna protect me? You're so afraid of me that you gotta chain me up?"
"Oh, those things?" I shake my head. "They're for your protection, not mine."
He scoffs. "Sure, but you know who I am, right?"
"I do."
"So, you know you're already in deep shit. When my father finds out I'm missing, he'll raise hell looking for me. I don't know what the pendejo dumb enough to do this is paying"—he raises his arms and clinks the chains for dramatic effect—"but whatever it is, I'll pay double for you to let me out."
I can't resist. "And this payment...? Will this be your money, or will your narco daddy be writing the check?"
"Fuck you, mocosa," he spits.
"Sophia," I correct, turning and throwing him a wink over my shoulder. "You can call me Sophia."
As I settle into the couch, my stomach rumbles, and I know I'm due for a feed, but I doubt that tearing into a pouch of blood in front of him is exactly what he needs to see right now. So I kick my feet up onto the coffee table and reach for the book I've been itching to read.El Arte de la Muerte Segunda, the definitive text, written centuries ago by the Old Ones. Vampires so ancient they're practically prehistoric.
I run my fingers along the spine, inspecting the ancient ridges. The pages are practically falling out. She said it's the best resource on vampiric turning. I have a feeling somewhere deep within my bones that I'm going to need it.
Somewhere in my memories there are flashes of my own turning experience, but it's hazy. Just snippets of things. Candles. So many candles. The smell of palo santo. The heat in my veins raging like a fire and spreading through my body. The sound of women chanting in unison. I wish I could remember more, but the fever does something to your mind, kind of like the trauma of a painful childbirth or something. Your brain kinda erases all the bad bits.
The nerdiest part of me loves this. As the youngest of the Malditas, I haven't had the opportunity to watch it firsthand, and I've always wanted to follow the process of vampiric transformation from start to finish. Our mother is so selective about who she turns, and we're forbidden from making vampires ourselves. This is the closest I'll ever get to being a sire.
"So you're just going to keep me here?" Angel asks, trying to sound threatening but wavering slightly.
"Yep."
"For how long?"
