Good & Dead #1 (7 page)

“Bell went to get cleaned up,” Tanish leaned casually on the wall next to the door, thumbing his cell phone.

Michael wiped his mouth with a shaking hand, and forced himself to stand.

“She’ll meet you in the dining hall,” Tanish said, opening the door and waiting politely for Michael to navigate around the blood spray. 

He led Michael around the grand staircase again, and down another hall.  They stopped outside two tall, ornately carved wooden doors.  Michael swallowed hard. 

“Don’t worry,” Tanish said with a smile, “she likes you.”

The dining hall was the most lavish room Michael had ever seen.  The ceiling was all ironwork and glass, and enormous rose vines grew over the whole top of it.  Sconces all along the black walls shone upward, illuminating vibrant green foliage.  Light danced on the surface of an exceedingly long table, cast by three large crystal chandeliers.  Michael froze in the doorway.

Bell sat at the very end of the table in front of three sparkling silver place settings.  She was relaxed in her chair, talking on her cell phone.  Michael noticed she had changed clothes.  Her business casual attire had been replaced by a silky white-pink dress with a severe neckline.  A fine gold chain held a single pearl between her breasts.  She looked up at the soft click of the door closing and gestured for him to sit down.

Michael walked stiffly toward his seat. 
I am about to have dinner with a woman who killed a man ten minutes ago.

“No,” Bell said, smiling at Michael and indicating she’d only be a moment, “It is not possible for me to care any less than I currently do.”

The chairs were high-backed and uncomfortable.  Michael sat and stared at his plate.  He eyed the myriad of spoons and forks with trepidation. 

“Joseph.” Bell adjusted herself in her chair. “Make a decision.  It really doesn’t matter.”  She tapped her screen and placed her phone down gently by her plate. 

“Management,” she said with a labored smile, “it’s a bore.”  She snapped her fingers and the doors off to her right opened.  A stern, middle-aged woman entered, pushing a cart of covered silver dishes.  Delicious aromas wafted toward them.  Michael’s stomach growled audibly.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Bell smiled.

Michael had not realized it, but he hadn’t eaten all day.

“So…we still eat…regular food?” Michael asked, stomach churning.

“Of course.” Bell smiled.  “You can just leave the cart, Linda.  Thank you.”

The woman named Linda smiled so briefly it almost didn’t count.  “Enjoy,” she said, and returned through the service door.

“You have not really stopped being human, Michael,” she said, rising out of her chair and walking around beside the cart.  “So you still need to feed your human body.”  She lifted an ornate cover to reveal a pasta dish, loaded with shrimp and drenched in a rich white sauce, steaming hot and smelling glorious.  “But you are more than that now.  You can do things mortals can’t do.  So you need things mortals don’t need.”

She breathed in the wonderful smell and served Michael a big helping. 

“So, I’m alive.  I mean, I’m not dead…right?”

“Well, technically you died; you have to for the transformation.  And the very fact that you very nearly
can’t
die brings us into a discussion of semantics.  What is life if there is no death?  Can darkness or light exist without the other?” she nudged him with her elbow and started eating.  “So,” she shrugged, “if black and white are dependent upon each other, we are the gray area.” 

Michael’s eyes widened. 
I didn’t understand one word of that.

Bell laughed.  “Let’s leave it this way: the old Michael is dead, and the new Michael is here, better than ever.”

Michael stared down at the numerous forks and frowned.  

“Use any of them,” Bell said. “Linda likes to set out a full place setting.  I don’t think I’ve ever used this one,” she said, holding up the longest of the spoons.

“Thank you,” Michael said quietly.

“I guess it’s just the two of us,” she said with a deep and deeply fake sigh, serving herself a large helping as well. 

Michael couldn’t help but glance over at the vacant place setting that was meant for Chad.

“Don’t be so nervous, Michael,” Bell took an enthusiastic bite.

Michael picked up the normal fork, and tried a bite of shrimp.  It was so good he forgot where he was for a moment.

“Good?” Bell asked.

“Mmmhmmm,” Michael said, his mouth full of warm pasta.

“See,” she leaned forward and patted his knee.  “We aren’t so scary.  Relax.”

Michael swallowed hard.  He was surprised by the beauty of the clan home, as Bell had called it.  He was surprised to see Bell acting so courteous to the cook.  He was surprised by everything.  If someone had looked in the window it would have seemed like two friends were having a casual, if overindulgent, meal together.  You would sooner assume Bell was an heiress than a vampire. 

Bell placed another large tray on the table and lifted the lid.  This one was full of steaming broccoli.  “Ah, yes, we must eat our veggies,” Bell said, giving them both a generous helping.  Michael hated broccoli.  But, not wanting to be rude, he took a bite.  It was almost as good as the main dish. 

Bell took a bite, too, and smiled.  “We are so glad to have Linda.  We were miserable for years without her.  I went out of my way to turn one of the best chefs in the city and his food was dreadful.  And Linda had been here the whole time.  She was a student at Le Cordon Bleu, and we had her working in the bootleg business.  Such a waste.”

“Bootleg?  Like, prada bags?”

“No,” she laughed, “like alcohol.  During the delightfully lucrative prohibition era.”  She smiled wistfully. “Great fashion, too.”

“Oh.” Michael glanced toward the doors to the kitchen, and back to Bell. 
How old are these people?

Very old.

Michael jumped so badly his forkful of broccoli flung across the table.

Bell’s voice rang out crystal clear in his mind, though her mouth hadn’t moved one bit.

“How did you do that?”

It’s something all vampires can do
.  Her voice echoed in his mind even as she raised her glass to her lips. 
Some of us over a mile or two.

Michael forced his throat to swallow.  How many of his thoughts had been overheard by Tanish and Joseph?  He played the evening over in his mind.  That explained the awkward pauses and random laughter between the two.  

“I say ‘all’ vampires, but that doesn’t include you.  Yet,” she gestured at him with her fork.  “But you’ll get there.  There is a lot to learn around here.  And a lot I want to learn a lot about you.

“What are your talents, Michael?  Your interests?”

Michael smiled uncomfortably.  He couldn’t imagine there was anything she’d find worth knowing. “Um…”

“Come on,” she said, “This is a family, Michael.  If you’re going to be a part of it, you’ll have to contribute to it.  What can you do for us?”

Absolutely nothing came to mind.  His skills were all useless.  “I almost have a degree in accounting,” he offered.

“Hmm,” she seemed surprised, “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a numbers guy.”

Michael shrugged.  Accounting was his mother’s idea, and Michael hadn’t had a better one.

“That’s good.  Very practical.”

“My family is very practical.”

“Yes we are,” she winked over her wine glass.  “Anything else?  How do you spend your spare time?” She leaned back in her chair, swirling ruby liquid in the bottom of her glass.

“D&D.”

“D and what?”

“Dungeons and Dragons,” Michael felt heat rise in his face, “It’s a role playing game.”

“Like a board game?”

“No.  Well, you can use a map if you want.  But you don’t need that, really.”

“Huh.  So, you just sit around and talk about dragons and dungeons?”

“No.  There’s dice, and…” Michael coughed on a spicy pocket of pepper in his broccoli, “It’s complicated.  You kind of have to experience it.”  He took a large gulp of water.

“There are a lot of things like that in life,” Her emerald eyes sparkled wickedly.

Michael choked and sputtered, water dribbling down his front.

Bell laughed louder than he had heard her laugh before, her face bright and her smile wide.  She was still laughing when she leaned forward and tossed him her napkin. 

“Oh, you are fun, Michael.  I’m glad I met you,” She said, pulling her legs up gracefully to sit cross-legged in her wing back chair. 

I wish I could say the same.

Bell’s smile faded a bit, and she eyed him appraisingly for a moment before throwing back the last of her wine.

“Now,” She said, “It’s your turn.  What do you want to know?” she opened her arms invitingly, “I’m an open book,” she said, checking her phone, “for exactly thirteen more minutes.  Then I have to run.”

Oh good
, Michael thought,
I think so clearly with a ticking clock. 
Michael knew what he most wanted to ask, but he remembered how she had responded when he’d asked her if it could be reversed, and he couldn’t forget what happened to Chad, no matter how much he wanted to.  He cleared his throat nervously.

“What will happen if I decide not to…feed?”

She sighed deeply.  “Michael,” she said under her breath, standing and turning to the dinner cart.  She placed the smallest silver tray on the table and lifted the lid, to reveal a cheesecake with a gooey raspberry center.  She carefully cut a slender piece, placed it on a plate, and set it in front of Michael.

“I don’t think that’s an option,” she said calmly, sitting down in front of her own piece of dessert.  She tucked her long red hair behind her ears and resumed her casual posture.  She looked at him with her clear green eyes, and Michael found he couldn’t look away.  “In about 24 hours you will want blood.  It will be all you can think about.  In 48 hours you won’t even see people anymore.  All you’ll see is the pulsing of their veins.  All you’ll hear is the beating of their hearts,” she selected the longest spoon and held it up with a smile.  “Linda will be so proud,” she took a small bite. 

“In 48 hours you will feed,” she said matter-of-factly, “and you’ll feed on the closest warm body.”

Michael looked down at his plate.  He had never wanted food less.

“Is it possible to…feed…but not kill the person?” he asked quietly, all his hopes riding on the question.

“Yes,” Bell said, “That’s how you turn someone into a vampire.”

Michael deflated.  He couldn’t do this to anyone.  He wasn’t sure which was worse yet; life as a vampire or death.

“But you can’t be sure they’ll survive anyway.  The transformation process is…taxing.  You are still experiencing that,” she said with her dazzling smile.  “Besides, it takes a great deal of self-control to stop once you’ve started,” she said, enjoying another bite of cheesecake.

Someone chose to do this to me.
  Michael was surprised by his own anger.  Whoever it was that he met in that alley chose not to kill him.  They chose to make him live as a vampire.  Michael glared at nothing, staring out into the spacious grounds, the dark grass going on for miles.

“During the unconscious hours, when the mortal is closest to death, I believe there is a moment of choice.  You can see where this world and the next meet, and you choose to walk forward or walk back.  You and I chose to walk back.”

Michael’s anger dissipated.  He slumped in his chair and ran his hands through his messy hair. 
Why would I choose this? 
“I don’t remember that.”

She waved that away.  “That’s normal.  Parts of it may come back to you, or they may not.  I wouldn’t worry too much about it.  All that matters is you’re here.”  She smiled as though he had won the lottery.

Michael picked up his fork and took the saddest bite of cheesecake in the history of dessert.

“You are pitiful,” she said finally, eyeing him as he sat there, looking depressed and staring at his plate.  Her voice was suddenly cold.  “They all have to die sometime- the mortals.  You have been saved from that.  You have been given strength, speed, and immortality.  Your destiny has been changed,” she said, gesturing to the beautiful room.  “Embrace it.”

The large grandfather clock behind him chimed loudly.  He jumped so badly his fork flung out of his hand and bounced across the rich carpet.

Bell laughed, her mischievous smile returning.

Michael blushed and retrieved the fork, “Sorry,” he said, sitting back down.

“Maybe that’s why you need so many forks,” she said, handing him another one.

Michael set it down without eating.  “But how can I…do that…to a person?” he asked, more to himself than to Bell.

“Do you want to survive?” Bell asked tersely.

Michael didn’t answer right away.  “Yes,” he said begrudgingly.

Bell just looked at him apathetically, and shrugged.  “Then you’ll do it.  I’ve seen what happens when a vampire is captured, caused to starve,” she said darkly.  “Trust me, Michael,” she said, looking up at the rose vines that grew overhead, “You don’t want to find out what happens if you don’t feed.”

Michael stared up, too.  There were thousands of roses up there, all deep red and wickedly beautiful.  They wound their way through the decorative iron as if they were determined to take it down. 

“Do you like our garden?” Bell asked.

It was beautiful, but Michael thought there was also something hauntingly sad about it.  He nodded.