Everafter Series 1 - Everafter (12 page)

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Authors: Nell Stark,Trinity Tam

Tags: #Gay & Lesbian

BOOK: Everafter Series 1 - Everafter
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She looked as disappointed as I felt. “That long?”

Helen’s laugh was knowing. “Valentine is right. Give yourself at least three days to recover, if you’re going to let her take that much every time.” She turned her attention to me, and for the first time, I met her gaze without flinching. “And how do you feel?”

Only when I pondered her question did I realize that it was the absence of pain and weakness that I was experiencing. I smiled, exhilarated. “Different. Stronger. It’s because of the…?” I gestured aimlessly, uncertain of the vocabulary I should use to describe what had just happened. What I’d just done to Alexa.

Helen nodded. “You’ll experience these effects for several hours. The easiest analogy I can provide is to performance-enhancing drugs: drinking blood from a human will make you physically stronger and faster. All of your senses will temporarily improve. Right now, I imagine Alexa’s blood must be a relief to you, serving as a panacea for your injuries.” Her expression was a mixture of both wistfulness and desire. “It is not only the parasite’s thirst that drives us. The stimulation is…heady.”

I heard the word she wasn’t saying. Addict. Blood wasn’t only her sustenance—it was her drug. As it would be mine. I shivered, and Alexa’s hand moved immediately to the nape of my neck, rubbing and massaging my tense muscles there.

“It’s okay, love,” she murmured. “You’ll always have what you need. I promise.”

I chose not to call her on the lie, knowing that right now, we needed to cultivate hope. When she stood, I watched closely to see whether she was in danger of fainting, but she didn’t even waver on her feet. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

I stood slowly and reached for her hand, kicking myself for what I was about to do. I wanted to go back with her to our apartment, so very badly. But I just couldn’t. Not yet—not until I had myself under better control.

“I think I should stay here for a while.” When pain flashed across her face, I shook my head, knowing what she was thinking. “I’m not leaving you. I’m just—I’m afraid that I’ll hurt you. I’d rather spend a few weeks here, learning to control myself, than…” I trailed off, not wanting to say it.

“I understand,” she said after a moment. But displeasure was written plainly across her face. I threaded my arms around her, hating myself for continuing to make her unhappy.

“It’s going to be so hard to be apart from you. Will you come and visit, when you can?”

She rested her head against my chest. After a few moments, I realized that she was listening to my heartbeat. “I’ll come every day,” she finally said.

“You’ll eat something, right? To replenish what I took?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She pressed even closer, weakening my resolve.

“Maybe you can stay a little longer? To see whatever room they give me, so you know where it is?” I was grasping at straws, but I couldn’t bear to watch her walk away. Not yet.

She smiled brilliantly at me. “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” I whispered, kissing her forehead. In a minute, I’d ask Helen about the room she had offered, and about those records that she said I’d have access to. In a minute.

For now, I needed to hold on to Alexa and savor the hope that just maybe, thanks to her, everything was going to be okay.

Chapter Eight

 

But that night, I dreamt of my attacker. It was only a jumble of images and sensations: the pungent smell of decay, the smooth metal of the knife handle against my stinging palm, the sickening thud of my head connecting with the pavement. I woke pouring sweat, thigh and shoulder throbbing dully, reaching for Alexa—

I was alone. I took some slow breaths to try to calm my heart rate. The absence of sharp pain from my cracked ribs was a surprise, and I tentatively tried inhaling deeply. Only a faint twinge. My surprise sharpened when I realized that for the first time since I’d woken from the coma, my throat didn’t ache. I was thirsty, of course—I would never completely escape thirst again—but the persistent burning pain was gone.

My thirst had abated thanks to Alexa’s blood. Did I have the same source to thank for the healing of my bones? Helen’s prediction that the salutary effects of my feeding would wear off in a few hours had been true—the familiar aches and fatigue that had disappeared last night were present this morning. But they were noticeably diminished. Was Alexa’s blood having an additional, unforeseen effect? It seemed impossible, but since yesterday, my definition of that word had radically changed. Despite the maelstrom that my life had become over the past twenty-four hours, one thing was clear: I needed to find out as much as possible about this parasite and its effects so I’d know what I was up against.

I sat up against the headboard, pulled the blankets to my chin, and stared at the unfamiliar room. It looked for all intents and purposes like a hotel, down to the reading lamps mounted on either side of the bed and the cookie-cutter alarm clock that sat atop a nightstand to my left. I wondered whether, if I opened the small drawer, I’d find a Gideons Bible. Rays of light cascaded through the windows to my right, and I remembered Clavier’s passing comment yesterday, about how the parasite made its victims more sensitive to the sun. How did that work? Would it actually burn me, or was that a myth?

So many questions. The prospect of attending my Anatomy class paled in comparison to staying here and beginning to look through the Consortium’s medical records, and I decided to skip out on school today. It wasn’t a particularly good idea, seeing as I had already missed so much—but I’d be of no use to my professors or classmates with my attention so completely diverted.

Just today, I promised myself. One day to familiarize myself with the Consortium’s research so that I wasn’t so much in the dark. But after this, no more skipping. I had to make a concerted effort to get caught up with my medical studies. I needed that degree now more than ever, if I was going to make research into the parasite my life’s work. A PhD would probably help, too. I rubbed the back of my neck while contemplating how soon to talk to my advisor about that. This mattress was too soft. I missed my own bed, not to mention Alexa’s sure and certain hands. She was so very good at kneading out the tension that never failed to pool in my neck and shoulders. Tuesday was her busy day, but I would see her tonight. She had promised.

In the meantime, I was going to focus. I slid out of bed, bracing myself for the pain of my left foot meeting the floor…but the surge of discomfort was far less sharp than it had been yesterday. I went to the chair in front of the small desk over which I’d draped my jeans and fished the card that Helen had given me yesterday out of the back pocket.

“Call me tomorrow, Valentine,” she had said, curling her fingers around mine as she handed over the card. “Or the next day. Whenever you are ready to learn more.”

Taking a deep breath, I lifted the phone from its cradle and punched in the numbers. Suddenly, I felt disconnected from myself—as though I were hovering above my own body, watching the quick motion of my fingers without feeling the compressions of the keys. The hands of a monster. How had my life become this?

“I’m ready,” I whispered as Helen’s phone began to ring, hoping that hearing my own voice would ease the eerie sense of separation I was feeling. I was going to fight what had happened to me, and eventually, I was going to win. For myself. For Alexa. For us.

 

*

 

The Consortium had a library on the eleventh floor, complete with a reading room, computers, and a reference librarian who had been born at the turn of the nineteenth century. Helen’s secretary had arranged for me to spend the day there, with the promise that Helen herself would join me once night fell. I hadn’t left since the morning, unable to pry myself away from the wealth of information that Consortium members had compiled about both the vampire parasite and the Were virus.

While the latter fascinated me intellectually—particularly because the increased regenerative capabilities of Weres had profound implications for modern medicine—I concentrated almost all of my attention on the parasite. I learned that it released toxins when my skin was exposed to the sunlight: that for now, I would be fine so long as I applied sunblock, but that once it gained control of my blood—at which point I would be known as a “full” vampire—I would barely be able to spend two minutes in the sun without a major systemic shutdown. The thought of never again being able to enjoy the heat of the sun pounding down on my scalp as I jogged through Central Park, or spend a beautiful Saturday morning window-shopping in Soho with Alexa, made my stomach hurt. I forced those thoughts out of my head and concentrated on the facts, rather than their consequences.

There were, I learned, some beneficial aspects of becoming a full vampire—though as far as I was concerned, they didn’t outweigh the negatives. Because the parasite essentially replaced the host’s red blood cells, the effects of its chemical reactions with consumed blood were more pronounced. To use Helen’s drug analogy: full vampires got more of a high off human blood than I could. They would be stronger, faster, and have keener senses…until the effects wore off. Or until they drank again.

A cool, gentle caress against my neck startled me. “Didn’t your parents tell you not to read in the dark?”

I turned to the sight of Helen leaning over my shoulder. She smiled slightly—the briefest show of teeth—before shifting her attention to the page I’d been reading. Dusk had fallen without my knowledge. The cobalt clouds scudding above the city’s twinkling lights matched the shade of Helen’s sweater.

“Clearly, I shouldn’t worry about my eyesight any longer,” I said, nodding toward the screen. When she laughed quietly, I felt emboldened to ask the first question on my mind. “What does it feel like, for you? I mean—the changes that come, when you…drink?”

She settled into an armchair next to me and crossed one slender leg over the other. “Power,” she said. “Or perhaps more accurately, potential. Life returns to me when I feed: the world becomes more vivid. My body grows stronger and my mind sharper. I am confident in my abilities—or perhaps, I should say, my capability.”

“To do what?”

Her smile lasted longer this time—long enough for me to notice the pointed tips of her canines. As though she knew where my attention was focused, she teased one sharp tooth with her tongue. “Anything.”

Anything. I fought back a shiver. Once you experienced that sensation, I imagined, you never wanted to come down. No wonder full vampires needed so much blood. “That sounds like almost a transcendental experience,” I said. “But honestly, it seems to me like the Weres get the better deal. No biological imperative to drink blood, no craving to make it even harder to resist, and they shapeshift.”

Helen’s eyebrows arched, two perfect bows over her eyes. “In other places and times, there have been power struggles between our two factions. Many of the warmongers have made similar arguments over the years—that we should serve them, because they are more powerful.”

My mind reeled. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know. You are simply speculating, based on what little you know. It is safe to do so with me, but be careful, Valentine, to whom you speculate in the future.”

I nodded, feeling like a schoolgirl taken to task for making unwarranted assumptions. I suppose, in Helen’s eyes, that’s exactly what I was. It should not have been a surprise that the political undercurrents ran just as deep in this community as in any other. Probably, they were deeper, given that the players were practically eternal.

“The necessity of Weres to change once every month is an annoying inconvenience most of the time,” Helen explained. “It has the potential, however, to be their greatest weakness. Consider if someone knew the secret and wished to take advantage of them—either individually or as a collective. It could be done easily, on the night of the full moon, when they are all beasts.

“Moreover, they are inherently volatile. You saw Darren yesterday. He has been a Were for just shy of one hundred years, yet a superficial head wound was enough to provoke his change. He fought hard against the impulse, but to no avail. A Were’s life is schizophrenic: a constant struggle between the personality of the human and the will of their animal half.”

I tried to imagine what that would be like—constantly battling for dominance against an entirely different entity in my head—and grasped Helen’s point. The defining attribute of each species was a biological curse. Some measure of power came along with that curse, but for vampires and Weres, long life would always be a struggle.

“I see,” I murmured. “That sounds very difficult.”

She inclined her head. “Was there anything else you wanted to ask?”

I sat up straighter, remembering the original question that had prompted my call to her this morning. “Yes. I woke up this morning feeling better than I ever have since my attack—like I’ve healed more in the past twenty-four hours than in the past week. I know you said yesterday that the effects of feeding don’t last beyond a few hours, but I can’t help but think that my sudden improvement must be related to drinking from Alexa. Do you have any explanation?”

Helen leaned back, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. “Interesting,” she murmured. “So she is the one.”

I had never had or expressed any doubt that Alexa was my one and only, and Helen’s unsought confirmation confused me. “How do you mean?”

“Yesterday, I was speculating that Alexa’s blood would be a viable substitute for your parasite. But it is impossible to know whether you are matched in that way until after the fact. If you are indeed experiencing long-term beneficial effects from feeding already, then my guess was correct.”

“So this is normal?”

Helen cocked her head slightly. “The arrangement that you have made with Alexa is very rare. Few of us find human mates, and even if we do, those mortals may not be willing to make the sacrifices necessary to feed us. Often, they do not survive long.” She shrugged, but behind her calm exterior, a flicker of remembered pain flared in those brilliant eyes. “For as long as you feed exclusively from Alexa, you will not only halt the parasite’s progression—you will also attain a more permanent strength.”

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