Read Cameo and the Vampire Online
Authors: Dawn McCullough-White
He looked up at her, shocked at her strength.
She took his pistol from the snow then turned and aimed it at the man who was fleeing—he was nothing more than a tiny figure in the distance now—and shot him as well. The final blast rang out over the forest.
"Jody," she hissed as she knelt down to look at him, "you are so obnoxious, although admittedly quite handsome."
"Am I?" he asked hopefully, covered in blood and snow.
"Indeed." She toyed with the dagger in her hand now. "Yes. I'm going to enjoy drinking your blood, after I kill you."
"No, wait!"
She stabbed him in the chest until he stopped moving, and then there was an eerie silence. Just the sound of Cameo's footfalls in the snow.
She dropped the spent pistol and found Jules lying in the snow, twisted up in the saplings. His eyes opened a crack as she knelt down beside him.
"I'm dying," he said as he mustered a shaky smile.
She ripped open the front of his leather armor easily, as if it were made of muslin. He'd taken four bullets, and his torso was torn to pieces.
Jules glanced down at the mess and groaned a little.
"You're healing." She met his eyes. "A bullet isn't going to kill you."
His head fell back.
She removed the saplings and lowered him to a more comfortable position on the ground, and then she inhaled the bloody perfume before her. Cameo had worked so quickly to kill all of those men so that she could have this moment now. To drink Jules’ blood. One moment she was dazzled by the scent and color of the flowing wounds, the next she had pressed her lips to his slender chest, sucking the blood directly from a bullet hole.
This roused him. His head lolled to one side, and then he realized she was still there, tormenting him. Her mouth against his chest.
"What are you doing? Don't touch me!" He tapped the top of her head with a shaky hand, a hand that was batted away with very little effort on her part.
"Drinking my blood," he breathed, confused.
He was healing too fast. The wound she had been drinking from was closing; the musket ball popped to the surface and fell to the snow. She ran her tongue against the bloodstain that remained there.
He moaned.
This was more delicious than that human blood, and that animal blood she had tried in Lockenwood did not even compare to this ... delicacy. Was all zombie blood like this? If so, how had Haffef held himself in check all these years?
This was like nothing she'd ever tasted. It oozed from the wounds slowly, torturing her, and she moved lower toward that nasty shot that he'd taken to the stomach in hopes of finding a stronger surge of blood flow. She heard his pulse, stronger now, and she cursed inwardly; he was healing. Cameo latched onto the wound, lost in her need for his blood, caught up in the sensation of the constant prickling across the surface of her skin, the flutter in her stomach, and the sound of her name repeated over and over....
There was a certainty in her that ghosts had collected around them, but all that mattered was that throbbing heartbeat, the dreadfully slow pulsing of his blood, and the taste—
"Stop ..." Jules’ voice caught in his throat, and she broke from him, blood dripping out and over her bottom teeth. Jules' eyes crossed as he passed out. He lay there, helpless, a perfect mirror of all that she had been prior to this blood-drinking monster she'd become, and for one moment she was little sorry for him.
Cameo wiped the blood from her chin and shivered at the taste. All around her were ghosts. "Leave me," she growled, and as soon as she'd said it, they walked away. She pulled Jules' winter cloak around him, and licking the blood from her gloves, she remembered that Jody was lying behind her, bleeding into the snow.
She crawled over to his form, still handsome in death, and tore open his waistcoat.
Chapter Six
It was dark, except for a small campfire that Cameo had built. She dug out a spot on the ground for Opal near the fire, removing all the snow, and laid him down in the pine needles on top of her cloak so that the ground wouldn't steal all of his body heat.
She was perched on the edge of a boulder nearby, sharpening her dagger. The fire played against her face, bathing it in a weird golden-red light and losing her again to shadow.
Jules sat up suddenly, completely straight, as if there were a string attached to his spine, and then he rose, stiff and corpse-like. For a moment he remained eerily still, staring out at the dead bodies he saw in front of him, his body a tall, black silhouette against the snow, and then he turned to look at her, his face angry.
Cameo clutched her dagger tightly.
He raced toward her, knocking her hand away from him as he approached.
She moved backward at a supernatural pace, and he moved toward her until her back met with a large pine tree trunk.
"What was that?!" he demanded.
She held the blade at one side, pointed at him, and with her other hand she searched for the loaded pistol that she'd slid into her belt.
"As you said, I
gave in to it
," she said silkily, which angered him even more.
He tore at his own hair. "I never said you could drink
my
blood!"
"I know you thought we were friends—"
"I hate you! I hate that fop! I'm here only because I'm compelled to be." He slammed his fist against the tree that she was backed up against, embedding his hand in the trunk for a moment, and as he glanced down he saw the pistol behind her. "You're going to shoot me now?! Fine! Fine, shoot me!"
Her mouth tightened into a firm line.
He pulled his fist back but remained standing close. "What difference does it make?"
She studied his face. He seemed exasperated, and his cooling anger appeared to be turning to depression.
Cameo felt much the same way as she had when Edel had slammed Jules into a wall: empathy and now guilt. "I'm sorry."
His eyes were suddenly riveted to hers.
She shook her head, "This ... craving ...."
"Is that the problem?" he asked scornfully.
Cameo glanced down at the pistol in her left hand, contemplating her next words. "Of course. I crave blood. You were bleeding." She looked up into his eyes; he towered over her. "I understand how you must feel. You probably want to kill me."
"No, I don't." His expression softened.
He smelled of leather and death ... and blood, and she couldn't stop staring into his eyes, tracing the slight hint of the green iris that had faded there and been lost to the corpse-like haze.
A flash of revelation crossed over her face. She didn't hate him.
The snow crunched under his boot as he took a step toward her.
Cameo didn't move.
He was so close now that she could smell his hair as it touched her cheek lightly; she inhaled his scent and felt his lips press softly against hers.
She understood now. Every single opportunity she'd had to hate him, to take his life, she'd passed them over. For one moment she was lost in that kiss, the warmth of it, the tenderness of it, the sadness flooding from his body and into her own—and then it was over. Abruptly.
Jules turned and walked away from her, glancing back once, his eyes lingering on hers, searching for some meaning in her face, and then he simply moved away from her into the darkness.
* * * * *
Black Opal opened his eyes. He was staring at a smoldering fire. He was cold but also blissfully numb. After a moment of lying there, he realized that his hair was wet, and he attempted to sit up and shake it out. The first mistake was trying to shake it out, as his hair was not only wet but also frozen, and he managed to whip his own face with threads of icy hair, and then there was that more problematic misstep he made when he attempted to steady himself with his broken left hand.
He shouted out a string of obscenities as he collapsed back into the snow.
"Good morning, Opal."
The fop turned toward the bored sound of Cameo's voice instantly. His hair lashed his face as he did so. "Dammit."
She was sitting on the ground behind him, cutting up a few pieces of smoked meat. "Here, let me help you." She set everything down into the snow as she lifted him up into a sitting position.
"Thank you, my dear." His voice sounded somewhat ashamed. "Have you gotten stronger?"
"Stronger?" Her face was innocent. "No, I don't think so."
"Really? Because that took no effort at all on your part."
"No, it did."
His brows knitted together as though he didn't really believe her, or perhaps he was trying to figure it out.
"Here, I have this ready for you," she said, placing a small piece of venison against his lips.
Opal hated this part. "When will we reach Kyrian?" he asked between bites.
"Soon. It's not much farther now, and I've decided to carry you."
"No!"
She stuffed another piece into his mouth. "Afraid someone will see us?"
The dandy chewed vigorously, hoping to get a word in between mouthfuls. "Cameo—"
"Have something to drink," she said, splashing water into his mouth before he could refuse.
"Where's Jules?"
"Hmm?" She glanced at the blood-soaked snow where Jules had bled-out the night before, and then regenerated.
Opal followed her eyes to the spot. "He's not ... dead?"
That sounded a bit too optimistic for her liking. She met him with a dark expression usually reserved for those whom she planned to murder. "I have no idea where he is."
"He's left? Well, well. This is practically a holiday," he beamed, attempting to ignore the look in her eyes. "Isn't it?"
"Practically." She placed a last piece of venison on his tongue and stood. "Anyhow, I'm all packed up. We need to get moving. Kyrian isn't getting any closer to us. Matter of fact, he's moving away...."
Black Opal stood. "Let's get going."
She stared at him. "Are you sure you don't want me style your hair, fix your makeup?"
"You don't seem to be in the mood for it."
She smiled at him thoughtfully now, “Of course I am. I’m not going to let Francois Mond go parading around the countryside looking a wreck, am I? Couldn’t really call myself much of a patriot then, could I?” Cameo closed the space between them, retrieving her cloak from him, then unbuttoning his duster, straightening it and buttoning it back up again.
He stood there, with his perfect posture, allowing himself to be fretted over. He could've been at a local tailor; he looked in every way the model.
"My eye-patch, if you don't mind, my love. It's gone a bit askew."
She rearranged the patch. "Are you warm enough? You can have my cloak back if you'd like."
"No, thank you. Though, a swallow of whiskey couldn't hurt."
She smirked. "Too bad I have none at the moment."
"I hate to admit it, but I miss the Lakestar. They had such wonderful service, and the most comfortable furnishings. Of course, your friend Edel had a lovely place himself. The bed in that apartment...."
She snuffed the fire with snow. "You must be soaked though."
Opal shrugged. “A bit.”
As they rounded the cluster of pines, Opal noticed several bodies lying in the snow. "What happened?"
"Oh, yes, that," Cameo sighed, as if thinking about the whole thing annoyed her. "It's that Jody Fitzrory and the other men from that tavern we visited yesterday. They wanted the bounty on your—Black Opal's—head mostly."
"And I ... I slept through that?"
"Yes."
"The tincture …."
"Yes."
They continued on in silence, until a thought struck him. "Did he have any money or alcohol on him?"
"Heh." Cameo chuckled to herself. That was all he was interested in? Well, of course he was. He was hoping she would give him more money. Was there any other reason for him being with her? She provided him with stuff, and he gladly held out a hand (or at this point, a paw) to take it. "Yes, he had a little money."
"I'm surprised none of that lot had any alcohol."
"The tavern didn't have any, so it doesn't really surprise me all that much."
"I suppose so."
They hadn't walked more than half a mile before they came across a black figure sitting in the snow off to one side of the footpath. At first Cameo reached for her pistol, but then the figure turned its face toward them, and she realized it was Jules.
"Oh, and I thought you had gone," Opal stated, an air of displeasure in his tone.
Jules got to his feet. "I'm compelled to follow."
"Of course you are," the dandy grumbled to himself.
Jules pulled his pack over his shoulder, and the front of his shirt flapped open, exposing his chest to the cold.
"What happened?"
Jules glanced down at the scars as if he hadn't fully gotten used to them being there yet. "That fop shot me."
“You should get your armor repaired,” Opal sniffed.
He grinned, looking down at the leather that Cameo had ripped open last night. “Does make me look more like a zombie, though.”
"You should stitch that back up," Cameo said.
"You have a needle and thread?"
"No."
Jules pulled his cloak around himself.
They began walking again, south toward Ponth. Black Opal fell into step behind Cameo and Jules. He had gone silent.
* * * * *
"Dog!" Carrington spun around. That black-and-brown dog was following him. "Get away from me."
Caith chuckled.
"This is your fault, Caith. You encouraged that mutt, and now he's following us."
Kyrian glanced back at the canine in question. "Maybe he likes you, Carrington."
"I'll bet that's it," Caith grinned at Kyrian. "You've found a friend, Carrington."
The young man pressed to the front of the group, trying to lose the dog in the crowd. "I have plenty of friends. I don't want that stupid dog following me around. Besides, he could get hurt where we're going. Doesn't he have an owner?"
Caith reached down and rumpled the dog's fur. "If he did, he's decided to travel with us now."
Carrington shook his head and moved toward the front where Gibson Reynard was leading them forward, toward Ponth. Carrington, however, inclined his head in Sage's direction, apparently preferring her conversation to the lieutenant's.