Blood and Guitars (3 page)

“It’s not like she can really kick us out,”
Mark added. “Antonio wouldn’t like that.”

That wasn’t at all what I was talking about,
but I shrugged in response. “What’s she playing at getting involved
with Tytus?”

It was Mark’s turn to shrug. “Who cares? They
deserve each other. Maybe it will keep them busy enough to give the
rest of us some peace.”

Maybe Mark was right, or maybe something else
was going on like my gut told me. In any case, there wasn’t much I
could do about it, at least not immediately. I took a sip of my
Purple Haze and it burned pleasantly, gliding smoothly down my
throat. Mark was sipping his drink too, or rather gulping it.

“How long since you fed?” I asked him,
smiling incredulously as I watched him drink.

“Not as long as you’d think.” He licked his
lips. “Three nights ago. Let’s just say it’s been a long week.”

“I’ll drink to that.” I took another sip.
Unlike most bars, this one didn’t serve alcohol. It might have if
any of the club’s frequenters wanted to drink the stuff, but our
drinks were laced with something more powerful and intoxicating.
The blood in my Purple Haze wasn’t enough to sustain me for long,
but since I had fed tonight I didn’t need anything too powerful. It
would be plenty enough to get me through the rest of the evening.
The truth is, alcohol doesn’t affect vampires, at least not in the
way that humans enjoy. It isn’t that we can’t drink it, but most of
us can’t get past the overpowering smell, and our extra receptive
taste buds prefer things more palatable. I personally avoided the
stuff because I couldn’t get the slightest whiff of it without
being reminded of the accident.

“How’s your stash?” Mark asked me, breaking
my train of thought.

“It’s getting a little on the low side, now
that you mention it.”

“I have tomorrow night off. I’ll stop by and
replenish your supply.”

I smiled. “You’re a good guy, you know
that?”

“You’re just figuring this out?” Mark teased.
And then I heard him think, “No wonder I can’t get anywhere with
you.”

A small laugh escaped my lips and he looked
at me. “You’re doing it again.” He tried to look upset. “Knock it
off.”

“I can’t help it,” I said, still laughing.
“You’re the only form of entertainment I have right now.”

“Glad I could amuse you.” He gave me a
sarcastic smile and set his empty glass down as I took another
drink from mine.

“So, tell me there’s a hot young vamp doctor
who just transferred to the hospital that you want to line me up
with,” I said lightly.

“Not likely.”

I stuck out my bottom lip in a pout and he
smiled, but I knew he was right. Despite the fact that vamps have
abilities that make us much more effective healers, not many choose
to put themselves in situations where they are surrounded by blood
all day. The temptation is just too much for most. Mark is a rare
exception to the rule. He is a master of control, which
coincidentally is probably one of the reasons I’m not into him.
Although it rarely happened, I at least liked the possibility of
some spontaneity and excitement in my life.

Mark didn’t like discussing my dating
prospects, but he was a good sport and humored me on occasion. His
gaze went over my head and a voice from behind me spoke. “Doctors
are over-rated. What you really need is a dashing, powerful vamp
with connections.”

The voice belonged to Damir Vidic, great (to
many greats to count) grandson of Synod Elder Stanislav Vidic.

“No offense,” Damir added as he stepped up to
our table, nodding at Mark.

“Sure.” Mark said dully.

“Although, you do seem to keep great
company,” Damir added, staring at me boldly.

I met his gaze for the first time, smiling
wryly at him. He wore his usual black suit, the symbol of the
Emissary embroidered on the breast pocket. It was the sign for
infinity, a sideways number eight, but on the left side, a straight
line slashed through the middle, making a small letter ‘e’ in the
design which stood for Emissary. Damir was average height, with
blond hair and brown eyes. He wasn’t bad looking, but his
over-sized ego definitely wasn’t attractive. Unfortunately, Damir
was even more dangerous than Tytus. He was powerful, as much as I
hated to admit it, and he was a full vampire. He was also first in
command of the Emissary, a group of full grown vamps who act on
behalf of the Synod.

“A dashing, powerful vamp with connections,
you say?” I asked. “Maybe you could introduce me sometime.”

Damir returned my sarcastic smile as I sipped
my drink nonchalantly. Mark faked a cough to cover up a laugh and
then sunk down a few inches in his seat, not wanting to offend the
vampire he reported to on a weekly basis concerning hospital
matters.

“I do enjoy this game of ours,” Damir said to
me.

The scary part? I believed him. It hadn’t
taken long after I’d come to Florida with Antonio for word to get
out that there was a new vampire fledgling in town with exceptional
mental fortitude. It was rare for a new fledgling to show such
control in any specific ability, even if it was their moon-given
talent. That reputation preceded me everywhere I went. I was
nothing more than a prize to Damir. That’s all I had ever been.
Damir only wanted to have me on his arm and parade me around in
front of the elite vampires.

“One day you’ll come around,” he continued.
“When you’re ready to secure your place in our world.”

“There are plenty of vampire women here
tonight who would be happy following you around like good little
mindless robots,” I said to him. “Why don’t you go try your luck
with one of them?”

Damir sipped from his drink and gave me an
amused look. “Perhaps I’ll do just that.” I wasn’t sure if he
thought that would make me jealous or what, but I hoped he was
serious. “I do look forward to seeing you again at the Lunar
Eclipse Ritual.”

Mark rolled his eyes and I grinned at him as
Damir walked away.

“Now you see why I so desperately need a hot
vampire doctor,” I said, lowering my voice.

Mark raised an eyebrow at me, incredulous.
“You’re looking at one.”

I grinned at him playfully and set my now
empty glass down. I’d tortured him enough for one night. “Come on.”
I got to my feet. “Let’s dance.”

Mark stood up reluctantly but didn’t fight me
as I pulled him onto the dance floor. I decided the new DJ wasn’t
half bad as Mark and I danced in the middle of the crowd. Mark was
a good dancer, most vamps are. Good coordination is just another
bonus we vamps enjoy, which was why the dance floor at Club Sanguin
was always hopping. At one point I smelled Tytus nearby and
glimpsed him watching me from the bar. Malena was still on his arm,
but didn’t notice me watching. I fought the urge to listen in on
Tytus’s thoughts and forced myself to look away, but not before
Mark caught sight of him, too.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Mark thought,
knowing I would hear it.

I smiled as a new song started and kept
dancing to prove that I wasn’t letting it get to me, but in the
back of my mind, I couldn’t help but feel that there was more to
Malena and Tytus than met the eye. No one trusted Melena, and I
trusted Tytus about as far as I could pick him up and throw him,
which even with my vamp strength wasn’t far by our standards. I
didn’t know how, but sooner or later I was going to have to figure
out their motive for being so close, if only for the sake of my
sanity.

Having gotten my fill of blood for the night,
I dropped Mark off at his house and drove back to The Waking Moon.
I climbed the stairway up into the loft and put on some loud music.
The piece I’d started the night before was waiting just as I’d left
it. I donned one of the aprons hanging on the wall and picked up a
brush. This particular piece was of an ancient Egyptian pyramid at
night. This piece was black and white, although that isn’t a very
descriptive label considering there are a gazillion shades of grey
in between that really make an image come to life. I patted paint
onto the canvas, creating a moon in the sky. Then I added the face
of a woman on the surface of the luminescent moon.

I worked for an hour, maybe a little longer
before the painting was complete. I set it aside to start drying.
It would be dry to the touch fairly soon, but not dry enough to
varnish for six months. I set it aside where it would be safe and
then pulled out a painting that had just reached the six month mark
earlier this week. Working with oils made keeping a steady supply
of paintings in the studio a fickle thing. But I’d been painting
long before I opened The Waking Moon, so I’d had enough pieces
varnished and ready to go on display to make it work. I just had to
keep the process going. On occasion I put a painting up for sale
and just arranged to have it delivered once it was dry enough to
varnish, even though that was often months down the road.

I carefully twisted off the lid of a jar I
had sitting on the table in the corner. It was full of turpentine
and the dissolved remnants of some crystal that I had suspended in
cheesecloth from the lid. The result was damar varnish that I used
to coat my paintings to protect them from dirt, dust and damage.
You could buy varnishes at any painting supply store but I
preferred to make my own so I could control the quality. We
vampires are often control freaks. This was the most obvious way
that tendency showed up in my everynight life. I thinned the
varnish slightly to get the right consistency and used a horsehair
brush to apply it to the canvas, being certain to coat the entire
surface. When I’d finished, I had enough varnish left over for one
more piece which worked out perfect, considering I only had one
more left that had dried for the required period of time. I
varnished that painting as well and set them both aside.

I realized that I was running low on crystals
and a few other supplies, and I was in serious need of a new
horsehair brush. I dug a piece of paper and pen out of a drawer and
spent a few minutes making a list of things I needed to pick up at
the art supply store on Belcher. That meant that I’d be going out
during the day sometime soon. Shopping during regular business
hours was one of the downsides to being a vampire. Someday, maybe
I’d find a vampire who owned an art supply store and I’d convince
them to open for an hour or so each night. I sighed, knowing that
wasn’t likely. It wasn’t that there weren’t other vamps who were
business owners. There were plenty, but opening a shop or store of
any kind in the middle of the night would only draw unnecessary
attention, and that was something the Synod would frown upon.

I was feeling restless, and wished I had
something more to do, but I didn’t have any great inspiration to
start another piece so I took off my apron and went back downstairs
into the bathroom to scrub my hands, trying to get the paint from
underneath my fingernails.

Knowing I was done for the night, at least
with painting, I grabbed my keys and locked up. The sun would be up
in an hour and I wanted to be in lost in sleep when that happened.
I drove straight home and went into my bedroom where I undressed
and pulled on some pajamas. The windows were blacked out to prevent
the sun from shining in and disrupting my sleep during the day. I
climbed into my silky black sheets and let my head fall on the
pillow. My eyelids were growing heavy and my nerves were dulling as
the moon descended to allow for the new day. It was like the
intangible tentacles of my senses were growing numb at the tips.
Sleep would come easily. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what
my next painting should look like as I drifted off.

The sound of my own stomach rumbling woke me
up around nine o’clock pm. I climbed off of the bed and unlocked
the front door before going to the pantry that was located toward
the back of my kitchen. I opened the double doors and reached for
the wine cooler that was installed in the bottom corner below the
shelves. The bottle of blood was cool to the touch as I pulled it
out and carried it into the kitchen. I reached for a wine glass,
and then reconsidered, reaching up for a second glass. I set them
on the counter of the island in the middle of the kitchen and
emptied the contents of the bottle into the glasses. Just as I’d
suspected, a knock sounded on the front door seconds after I’d
tossed the empty bottle into the garbage.

“Come in,” I said without raising my voice. I
picked up the wine glasses and walked into the living room as Mark
was closing the door behind him.

He was carrying a box, which he quickly set
down on the coffee table before I noticed the flyer sitting on top
of it.

“What’s that?” I asked, holding out his glass
to him.

“It was taped to your front door.”

I bent down and picked up the flyer. It was a
local lounge promising live music seven nights a week. I dropped it
on the coffee table and watched as Mark took a sip and then handed
me the glass again to hold for him. “We really should get these in
the cooler.” He gestured to the box he’d brought with him.

I followed him into the kitchen where he
filled my wine cooler up with bottles resembling those you would
find wine in. Truthfully, I didn’t know exactly where the blood
came from, just that it was from donors and the Synod took care of
the supply and demand aspect of things. As long as I had access to
it I didn’t really care where it came from. I handed Mark his glass
again and we sat down on the couch in the living room.

Before my change, I’d never been much of a
morning person. Mark had been the same, I guessed. It always took
us a few minutes after waking up to get going for the night. This
drink might be considered the vampire equivalent of a cup of coffee
to awaken our senses for the rest of the evening. Just a few sips
and I was already beginning to feel more alive.