Cravings (12 page)

"I'LL have a Bud," Daniel said.
Huge
surprise. He turned to her.
"Can you—uh—"

"White wine." She sighed. "Anything from 1985."

"So you can drink stuff that isn't blood?" he asked after the waitress
swivel-hipped away.

"Yes. I can drink anything, it just doesn't—ah—satisfy me."

"Oh. So, how'd you become a vampire?"

She shrugged.

"Oh, come on. I really want to know! I mean, this is just so cool!"

"Yes, being undead is a laugh a minute. I can't think why I didn't do it
before."

"Come on, it can't be all bad. I bet you're really super-strong, right? And
fast?"

She shrugged.

"And you can prob'ly see in the dark like a cat. And you've got that whole
sex appeal thing going."

She stared at him. "I'm not sexy."

"No, you
weren't
sexy. Now you are. I mean, come on, you think any
girl dug up on the beach is gonna be cute? But you were seriously cute. I was
scared when you sat up but I was, y'know, kinda glad, too."

"Oh." That was… that was actually kind of sweet. Gross, but sweet. "Well,
thank you."

"So how'd you do it?" He leaned forward eagerly. "Was it hard? Did it hurt?
Did it take a long time?"

"It was very hard, it hurt tremendously, and it took no time at all."

"Oh." Slightly crestfallen, he didn't say anything until the waitress put
down their drinks and left. "Really bad, huh?"

"Really very unbelievably bad." She stared moodily into her white wine. A
nineteen eighty-
four
Riesling, dammit.

"You want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to talk about it. Also, you've
got sand in your eyebrows."

She shook her head impatiently and watched as a tiny grain of sand flew away
from her table, arched a few feet over, and landed in the precisely parted hair
of the woman sitting at the table beside them.
Why, he's right
, she
thought, uncharacteristically amused.
I do see in the dark like a cat
.

"It's kind of a long story," she warned him.

"Hey, I got time. I wasn't leaving for home until tomorrow morning."

"Home? Minnesota, you mean?"

"Sure, I still live in St. Paul."

"What do you do?"

"Oh…" He shrugged sheepishly. "Nothin'. I came into my trust fund a couple of
years ago, so mostly I play golf n' stuff. I'm only in town for a wedding. You
remember Mike Freeborg? Played shortstop? He got married yesterday."

"Fascinating. So… you're driving back? Flying?"

"Driving. It's not far… six, maybe seven hours."

"Hmmm."

"Why?"

Why ? Oh, no big deal… I just need to be in Minneapolis soon to pay
homage to the new vampire queen. And you just might be my means, Daniel Harris.

She supposed she could play Scheherazade for him. Keep him hooked on her
grisly, yet interesting (for a non-vampire, that was) story, all the way to the
Twin Cities. Then she could pay homage to the new queen, and see what happened
from there.

The new queen might press her into service.

Or destroy her.

Andrea was fine with either one.

"LOOK, I'm happy to play driver-guy and all—"

"The word is chauffer, Daniel."

"—but aren't you gonna explode or something when the sun comes up?"

"No, but I
will
burst into flames and make a terrible mess in your
car. I'll probably scream a bit, too."

"Well, we'll just stop and stay at a motel before sunrise."

She shrugged. "Or you could just put me in the trunk and keep going."

"I couldn't do that!" he said, shocked, big dumb blue eyes wide with
distress.

"We'd make better time."

"You know, you're still a cool one. I remember that about you in school. Just
cool as a—a—"

"Cucumber?"

"Yech, I hate cucumbers. You're as cool as a chilly tomato. Anyway, I'm happy
to take you back to the Cities, but you were gonna tell me about how you got
vampired, don't forget now."

"Telling you how I got turned won't even get us out of the city."

"Well, then I'll tell you everything I've been up to."

"Swell," she mumbled. Then, louder, "All right. A deal is a deal. I was
working late—this was my internship at KPMG. And I got grabbed while I was in
the parking ramp—the big one on Marquette?"

"Sure, I know it. I park there when there's no parking at the Target Center,
you know, if there's a game or something."

"Terrific. We have more and more in common all the time. Anyway, it turns out
it was the three hundred fiftieth year of Nostro—he was like the vampire
king—anyway, it was the anniversary of his reign. Very big deal. And because he
was a dramatic fuck, he had his underlings kidnap a bunch of women and made us
part of his ceremony. And—and a bunch of vampires sort of—sort of pounced on us
all at once. He—they—kept us for days. Then they threw us away when they were
done with us. The other girls died. But I caught the infection, and rose."

Nobody around; the moon high. Smells… rotting meat, fresh earth. The
moon, so bright. So thirsty. Climbing over dead girls, so thirsty. It didn't
matter what happened; didn't matter where she was, who she was; only the thirst
mattered. So thirsty. So
—

"That fucking sucks! Those pieces of shit!"

"It was… it was extremely awful." And, oddly, she felt better for telling it.
For finally telling it.

"What a fucking awful way to die!"

"Yes. Anyway, I rose from the dead and started feeding and eventually ended
up passing through Chicago and that's what I've been up to for the past six
years, how about you?" she asked with faux brightness.

"Jesus, Andrea," he said, not noticing her flinch, "I'm really sorry. That
sucks the root."

"Thank you. You're about to miss our exit."

Cursing, he wrenched the wheel to the right and, ignoring the hail of horns,
careened over into the proper lane. "You said—you said you caught an infection.
Is that like how you become a vampire? I thought you had to drink a vampire's
blood and he had to drink yours, or something."

She shook her head. "Old wives' tale. Most people die of extended… attention.
If you catch it, you rise from the dead. It's not a big mystery."

"So you've been roaming the streets of Chicago for the last six years?"

"I—I think so."

"Huh?"

"Which word didn't you understand?" she snapped, then instantly softened. She
should be flattered that he was so curious. He certainly hadn't shown this kind
of interest in her in college. Not Andrea Mercer, she of the mousy hair, mousy
eyes, mousy life.

And had anybody cared enough in the last few years to ask her anything?
Anything at all? She would do well, she reminded herself, to not be such a
damned snob and remember Daniel was only asking questions because he cared. Or
was morbidly interested. Same thing, in her world. "I don't remember much of the
early years. You have to—you think about feeding all the time.
All
the
time. And once you've fed you start thinking about when you can feed again."

"Jeez," he said, respectfully, if not very originally.

"It's like the worst thirst you've ever had, times a million, every minute
you're awake. I might have made some vampires myself; I just don't know. I—I
hope not."

In fact, this mindless frenzy, this constant hunger, and the complete
inability to remember anything beyond the hunger, was a source of deep shame for
her. She, always the top of her class, a precocious child. She'd memorized the
periodic table in half an hour. But all of last year was a blank. Likewise the
year before. And the year before. And the—

"Well, you seem a lot better now. You seem just like you were in school. You
know, standoffish, smart, bitch—uh, temperamental."

"Thanks," she said dryly. "The reason I seem 'better' is because I'm a little
older. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a positive infant by vampire standards, but
I'm not a newborn anymore, either."

"So you're not thirsty all the time?"

"Oh, sure I am." She glanced at his neck and grinned. "I can just control it
a little better. Lucky for you."

"You didn't look like you were controlling yourself too good when you started
chewing on me," he grumbled.

"I didn't know you then," she explained. "I thought you were just some guy."

"Oh, that makes me feel
much
better."

"It should," she said truthfully.

"I still say I should just get in the trunk. We could be in the Cities in
another four hours."

"Look, I'm not driving around with a vampire in my fucking car trunk, okay? I
can afford the hundred bucks for a hotel room."

"Waste of money," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting
while he fiddled with the key card.

"Says you. I'm driving, I get to say when we stop."

"What exactly do I get to say?"

"Tell me more about being a vampire."

"Bo-ring."

"That's because you don't have any… uh… what's the word?"

"Perspective."

"Right. You don't have that. But I have tons of it."

He opened the door and gestured for her to move ahead of him. She stopped
short and stared at the single king-sized bed.

"Oh," he said.

"Right," she said.

"I asked for a double."

"It's no big deal. I'll sleep under the bed."

"Oh, good, because that's not incredibly creepy or anything. Look, you can
trust me. I won't lay a finger on you while you're… er… slumbering or whatever."

"I wouldn't notice if you did." She marched across the room, turned the air
conditioner off—

"Aw, you're killin' me!"

—and pulled the drapes. The room, a perfectly adequate Holiday Inn, became
nicely gloomy.

"I'm sure you don't mean anything by it," he began, "but this is seriously
fucking creepy."

"Your bright idea, Daniel. Okay, well, good night."

"Night," he said, a bit nervously. He watched her kick off her tennis shoes
and stretch out on the bed. Straight-faced, she folded her hands over her
breasts.

"Did I mention you're killin' me?"

"Quit your whining," she said, and was insensible for the next thirteen
hours.

 

"TIME to get up," she said, poking him. As always, there was no sense of time
passing. One minute she'd closed her eyes, and now it was sunset again. "Rise
and shine."

"Aaaggghhhhh!" he cried, and nearly fell off the bed, unintentionally
smacking her as he did so. "Don't
do
that!"

"Don't do
that
," she snapped back, feeling her cheek. "What's the
problem?"

He sat up, rubbing his face. His shirt, she suddenly noticed, was draped over
the far chair. She assumed he was still swimming to keep in shape. The broad
shoulders, sweetly defined pecs, and flat stomach meant he was doing something,
that was for damned sure. His blond hair was standing up in all directions, as
if showcasing his startlement. "Look," he was saying, "I'm sorry to yell, but
it's not every night I wake up with a vampire bending over me. Even one I know."

You never knew me
. She didn't say it out loud.
Be nice, he's
giving you a ride. Plus, he knows what you are and he didn't pull the curtains
open at two o'clock in the afternoon
.

"We can get going now," she said helpfully.

"Forget it. I need to shower and change." He rubbed his cheek, which rasped.
"And shave. Well, maybe not shave. D'you want to shower first?"

"I don't need to."

He stopped in mid-yawn. "How come?"

"I don't sweat, pee, or even shed hair. Why would I shower?"

"Um… so you're not skanky and nasty?"

"Takes one to know one," she said, stung. Great. Half a day with him and she
was regenerating to grade school. "Look, just go take your shower, all right?"

"All right, all right. You're definitely not an early morning vampire. Early
evening, I mean." He stood and began unbuckling his belt, then stopped and
stared at her. "Oh. I's'pose I should do this in the bathroom. I mean… I didn't
think you'd care, but—"

"I'm dead, not asexual," she said dryly.

"Ah-ha!" he cried, startling her. He bounded (awkwardly; his pants were
falling down) across the room and fumbled for the Barnes and Noble bag on the
small table. He pulled out a small, red-bound book.
American Heritage Dictionary
, it read. "Now I can understand you and we can actually
talk and stuff."

She burst out laughing; she couldn't help it. The effect on him was
startling; his grin lit up his whole face, made his blue eyes twinkle. "There! I
knew you'd do that sooner or later."

"Oh, come on. I'm not that much of a grump."

"Sweetie, you were grumpy
before
you died. Now… well, never mind.
Asexual…" He started flipping pages. "Asbestos… ascend… ascetic…"

"You don't need that," she said, exasperated. "I can tell you what it means."

"And have you lording it over me all night? Forget it. Ah-ha! Asexual.
According to this, it's an adjective and it means—"

"I
know
what it means."

"So if you're
not
asexual it means the opposite, which is sexual."

"This is an enthralling topic," she said, suddenly nervous, "but we have
places to go."

He looked up from the dictionary and squinted at her. "So, do vampires have
sex, or what?"

"Uh…"

"Holy cow, you're blushing! As much as you can."

"I am not."

"Oh, you absolutely are! Jeez, you're acting like you've never had sex as a
vam—oh."

"Can you please," she asked desperately, "go take your shower?"

"Uh, sure. Won't be a minute." He was looking at her in a very curious way.

And he was right; she
was
blushing. Her face actually felt warm.

"Huh. That's kind of interesting."

"Interesting," she said thinly. "Exactly the word I was thinking."

"Well, you don't have to get all weird about it. It's just sex."

"And you're just an idiot," she snapped. "Go shower."

"Okay, okay."

He kicked the rest of the way out of his jeans and went into the bathroom
without another word. She struggled not to stare at his ass, and almost
succeeded.