Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body (12 page)

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just . . . you taste weird.”

“The Vampyre Raige loved my blood,” he said, sounding offended. His lips started to tremble and his skin went even whiter.

“Your neck’s still bleeding?” I asked. I grabbed at my hip to get my cell phone and realized I hadn’t clipped on my holster. I figured it would’ve ruined my dress. Stupid girly vanity.

“Where’s your phone?” I asked, panic rising. Jesus, he looked bad.

He shook his head.

“Okay. I’m gonna get help. You’ll be all right.” What was Shawn supposed to say? Yeah, I believe the vampire who injured me? I had to make it right. I stumbled around the corner. My dress and hands were spattered with blood. I was feeling nauseated and dizzy.

“Simone!”

I heard Brady’s voice coming from inside the barn. I really needed to put on the vamp speed and get to someone, anyone at the party.

“Brady,” I managed. “Why the hell are you in there? Shawn needs help.”

“So do I. Hurry!”

I stopped at the gaping doors.

Fear mamboed up my spine and did a soft-shoe on my scalp. I grabbed the right door and swung it open. I stepped inside, anxious. The dusty air was tinged with the scent of manure. It felt thick, too, like a slimy blanket dropped onto my skin. I saw moldy stacks of hay, leftover farm equipment, toppled boxes, and damaged crates.

No darting shadows, no maniacal laughter, no ectoplasm-coated walls. And no Brady.

I felt the feathery touch of evil. Light, teasing, deadly. I swallowed the knot in my throat, too afraid to move deeper into the barn. Something terrible had happened here—and I didn’t want to know the details.

Metal screeched. Then I heard crack . . . pop . . . whoosh.

The left door had been leaning on top of its companion. Without that support, it broke free of the rotted wood and rusted hinges. Had I remembered that I was a vampire with überspeed, I might’ve gotten out of the way. Instead, like an idiot, I threw my arms in front of my face as it came down on top of me.

When I awoke, I was on my side, the big wooden door pressing me into the hard-packed earth. Pain attacked me with the ferocity of hungry wolves, biting and tearing every inch of my battered self.

I shoved the door off me so hard it hit the wall of the barn and shattered. Wood flew everywhere, and I turned face-first into the dirt to avoid the shrapnel. Damn it! Was it even possible to make a good decision today? Dirt plumed in the air, disturbing the mustiness that lingered in here. If anything, I’d made it smell worse. Grit sandpapered my tongue and clung to my teeth. Yech.

Aching all the way to my pinky toes, I sat up. Vampires healed quickly, but I hadn’t had my pint yet tonight. Feeling better wouldn’t be instantaneous. At least I hadn’t broken anything, which was a miracle.

Obviously, my hearing was damaged because I’d sworn I heard Brady call me in here. Nausea still swished in my stomach and I felt off balance.

With my head throbbing and my stomach threatening the dry heaves, I got to my feet and brushed off my dress. Didn’t do much good, though. I was filthy. Dirt streaked my arms and stained my dress, right along with the blood. I could only imagine what my face looked like. My right hip throbbed and I pressed my fingers against the sore spot.

The aches and twinges were fading. Pain stabbed my knees and vibrated up my spine, but at least I could walk. The way that barn door hit me, I should’ve been dead.

Well, deader.

But even though the ol’ vampire corpse was healing itself, it wasn’t doing a damned thing about how sick I felt.

I heard a pain-filled groan and realized I’d forgotten all about Shawn. Damn it! What kind of thoughtless bloodsucker was I?

I scurried out of the barn and back to the young man. I fell to my knees and gave in to my stomach’s demands to vomit. Nothing came out except for spittle; leftovers from the blood still trapped in my mouth.

Shawn leaned against the barn, looking so gray I would’ve thought him dead if he hadn’t turned his terrified gaze to mine.

That’s when it occurred to me that I could pick him up and take him straight to the people who could help him. At least, I hoped I could. I felt weak and my head was spinning (figuratively, of course).

I squatted down, intending to scoop him into my arms. My vision started to blur.

What was going on here?

I’d passed out earlier and now I was gonna do it again. Had Shawn poisoned me? My heart lurched. The Taint. Oh, my God. In my twirling thoughts I heard Doc Michaels say that humans couldn’t pass along the Taint.

Then what was wrong with me?

I heard rustling behind us, in the tree line. The woods curved around the property; the house and barn located in the crescent-shaped field that abutted the creek.

Even though I felt the edges of my vision blacken, I made myself turn around. “Hello?”

I heard a man’s low laugh. Fear rocketed through me and I fell to my knees, trying to hang on to consciousness. God, I was scared. So scared of what I’d done and what had been done to me. “Who’s there?” I whispered.

He laughed again. A shadow detached itself from the tree in front of me. Definitely a male. He retreated into the forest, whistling. Something about the tune bothered me. Familiar, that song. It made me feel even more frightened.

“Someone help us!” I cried. “Please!”

Moments later, I heard the soft thud of feet and looked up. Patrick stood there, and behind him Lorcan and Damian. God bless vampire hearing.

Patrick took in the scene and stared at me. “What the hell did you do?”

“Nothing.” I didn’t appreciate the looks I was getting. I didn’t mean to hurt Shawn or to get smacked by a barn door. I felt like I was sitting inside a freezer. My teeth chattered together like castanets. My insides were surely getting frostbite. It was June in Oklahoma , for Pete’s sake. The last thing I should be feeling is chilly.

Brady arrived seconds later. He must’ve run the whole way, but he didn’t sound or look winded at all.

“Simone!” He picked me up, ignoring the dirt and the blood and the guy who was dying. “Are you all right? Jesus H. Christ! What happened?”

He turned his gaze to Patrick, looking at him as if everything was his fault.

One black eyebrow winged upward in disbelief. “We heard her cry for help. We found them just as they are.” Patrick leaned down and scooped up Shawn. “He’s still bleedin’.”

Damian sniffed. “I smell death.”

“Noooooo,” moaned Shawn. “I don’t . . . wanna . . . die.”

“I’ll take him to Dr. Merrick.” Patrick sparkled away.

Damian hurried past us. Brady held me close. His heart was thudding and his muscles were tense, and not just from holding me. I knew the fight-or-flight response very well. Why in the world would Brady feel as if we were in danger?

“This is my fault,” he murmured. “Shit.”

I knew he was thinking about his blood, the blood I drank without his permission. He’d said it shouldn’t affect me, but maybe I wasn’t immune from his mysterious infection.

Damian returned. “There’s a body back there.” He held up a wallet. “I got his ID. Rick Delaney.”

“Rick’s my donor,” I said. Horror crawled through me. No, no, no. “But he never showed up.”

“Apparently he did. Someone drained him, Simone. There’s not a drop left in him.” His voice was neutral, but I saw suspicion in his jade eyes.

I felt too ill to defend myself. I sagged against Brady. My vision was getting worse, and so was the spinning. My stomach twisted again and I wanted to hurl. Stupid body! I was a vampire. None of my innards worked anymore.

“Simone?” Brady’s voice sounded far away. I grabbed on to his shoulders. A black pit had opened beneath me, and even though I tried to hold on, I had to let go.

I spiraled into the endless black.

Tuesday, June 18

 “Simone, you have to drink.”

Brady’s voice.

Weird. Eyes won’t open. My body felt heavy. ’Member that scene in X2: X-Men United when Wolverine shoved that hose into the girl’s mouth and filled her up with that metallic stuff? She floated doooooown into the water, and clunk . . . dead.

That’s how I felt. Clunky and dead.

I soooooo relate to movies, you know.

“Baby, you have to drink.”

Brady’s voice again. Memory flickered. I remembered the smell of his skin. The feel of it against my mouth.

No. Not right.

I was somewhere beep-y and ammonia-y. Now, where was a place like that? Been to one before, I think. Yeah.

“Drink.” Warm flesh pressed against my lips.

Ah. Yes. He’d made me do this before. Couldn’t open my eyes then, either. Something wrong, though.

Oh, that’s right.

Never drink from Brady.

“Can’t,” I murmured hoarsely.

“Please, Simone.”

“Brady said no! Won’t hurt him.” Ouch. It actually hurt to speak. I willed my eyelids to lift. Nope. No cooperation there.

“You’ve been feeding from me for the last couple of days. You have to, baby. Or you’re not gonna make it.”

Well, that didn’t make any sense.

“We did this yesterday. Why doesn’t she remember?” Brady sounded tired. Worried.

“I don’t know.” Hmm. Woman’s voice. Not Jessica. Or Patsy. Heard that patient, soothing tone before. Couldn’t remember her face. Her name. “Given the data and the evidence thus far, our theory is correct. One more day and she should be done with the process.”

Process? I couldn’t wrap my brain around all the words. Hungry. Very hungry. Weren’t you supposed to get pudding or something when you were in this place?

Hospital.

Yeah. Hospital. Wait. I hated hospitals.

“Simone.” Brady’s voice was low, so smooth and sexy. “Drink.”

Once again, warm flesh tempted my lips. Beneath that lovely skin pulsated the very thing I wanted. Life.

I drank.

I woke up during the seizure.

My whole body shook and twisted.

“What’s wrong with her?” yelled a man’s voice.

“She’s convulsing,” said a woman. “Hold her down.”

I felt hands pressing on my shoulders and grabbing my legs. Trying to keep me still. Thoughts spun away. Panic clawed.

Help me, God. Please, help me.

Band-Aid prayers, said Gran. God don’t work that way, child.

You shouldn’t stay with him, girly, said Lyle. Nobody deserves that kind life. Especially not you.

Nobody wants a whiny, stupid, selfish little girl like you, Simone. I’m the one who loves you, said Jacob. You’re mine, honey. All mine.

“She might be rejecting the change, Brady.”

“No,” he cried. “No! Stay with me, Simone. Stay with me, goddamn it!”

“Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear. . . .”

Bobby Darin singing, and twining with him the deep tone of another voice.

Jacob.

I knew the words to the song. “Mack the Knife.” Jacob sang it all the time. His father had taught it to him. His father taught him how to do many things: build a doghouse, shoot a rifle, punch a wife.

He was not a nice man.

Jacob spoke fondly of him, as though he were the perfect dad. By the time I’d found out about Jacob’s true nature, about the drug-addict father who’d helped create the monster I married, it was too late.

Jacob’s voice was louder now.

He’d turned the CD player to ear-busting volume. I heard cabinet doors and drawers opening. Slamming. Things falling, crashing. Idiot. How could I hide in the silverware drawer?

We lived in a two-bedroom ranch house about a half hour away from Nellis Air Force Base. It wasn’t a large house and it was older, not as insulated as newer homes, which was why I could hear everything he was doing. He did it on purpose, to terrify me and to create multiple messes. Messes I would be expected to clean up. And it didn’t matter how much my ribs hurt or if my eyes were swollen or my hands were bruised and sore.

“Mama.”

“Ssshhh, Glory.” My baby sat on my lap, her tiny arms clinging to me. She trembled, sniffling. We’d fallen asleep in the bed, watching A Bug’s Life.

Jacob had come home unexpectedly. He was supposed be doing hush-hush training. Supposed to be gone a blessed week. So I’d relaxed. In the past couple of days, Glory and I had gone to the park, had dinner at Lyle’s house, went to the mall, and bought Dippin’ Dots. It had almost felt like a normal life.

The door had crashed open and Jacob had yelled, “Honey, I’m ho-ome.”

I’d grabbed Glory and hidden in the bedroom closet. At dinner the night before, Lyle gave me a cell phone and told me it was a gift. We had a land line, but Jacob didn’t allow any phones to be plugged in unless he was home. When he left, he took the phones with him. He wasn’t worried that I might need a way to call for help in case something bad happened.

He was the bad.

I had no one. Not until our elderly neighbor Lyle had taken an interest in me, and despite my constant rebuffs, finally befriended me. He was a nice old man. Someone I could talk to, someone who listened, someone who cared.

“Call me, call the police, call anyone,” said Lyle. “Just get some help, girly.”

I’d kept that cell phone with me. A lifeline. And as Jacob tore apart our home and sang that goddamned song at the top of his lungs, I dialed 911.

“I know you’re in here, oh, darling wife,” called Jacob as he stumbled into the bedroom. The song ended, but Jacob had looped it, so snap, snap, snap . . . Bobby Darin began again, belting out the tune about the criminal Mack.

My heart hammered in my chest and perspiration dotted my face, dripped down my neck. Terror scrabbled through me like a plague-ridden rat, piercing my insides with tiny, sharp claws.

Glory pressed her face against my shoulder. She’d never seen Jacob in a full rage. I’d managed to protect her. During my pregnancy and for two whole years, I’d made sure her father never laid a hand on her.

I wanted to leave Jacob. Lyle was going to help me escape. I just needed some time, some money. And now, as Jacob’s heavy military boots stomped across the wood floor, I realized I’d been crazy to stay. Even another minute. What was wrong with me? I’d put myself and my daughter in danger. For what?