Mercy's Danger: Montgomery's Vampires Trilogy (Book #2) (Montgomery's Vampires Series) (21 page)

Robert patted Jerry on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But did Leopold say if he’s made progress on my cure?”

Jerry shook his head. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Leopold claims that he’s getting close, but there’s still no cure. The destruction at the lab has set him back.”

Robert frowned.

After a few seconds of silence, I said, “Robert says it will hurt when I change over. How bad will it be?”

“I’m not going to sugarcoat this,” Jerry told me. “You’re going to be praying for death by the end of it.”

I let out a quivering exhale. “We should get on with it, then, shouldn’t we? Before I chicken out.”

“It’s up to you,” Jerry said. “Have you bid farewell to the sun?”

I nodded. “I spent all day yesterday soaking up some rays, saying goodbye to daylight forever.” I wished I’d had more time, but I wished not to be murdered by the VGO more.

I’d seen a lot of stunning scenery during my time in Bali, and I was thankful that my final encounters with sunlight had been beautiful. On my last day as a human, I’d risen early with Robert to watch as the ocean’s surface changed: ethereal oranges and pinks at sunrise, green midmorning, and sapphire at noon. We ate a tray of tropical fruit under a palm tree, its emerald crown swaying lazily in the breeze. When the beach emptied, we swam naked in the surf. And as the sun went down, Robert and I made love on the sand. My final, perfect day of humanism.

“What about a coffin? Did you have one made?” Jerry asked me.

“I did,” I said, “and it’s actually kind of beautiful.”

“I imagine it would be,” Jerry said. “The Balinese are known for their exquisite handcrafts. I wish I had more time to stay and shop.”

I agreed. “Wait until you get a look at it, Jer. It’s made of teak, with petrified wood and mother-of-pearl inlay.” Hey, if I was going to die, no reason not to do it in style. “It’s lined with lavender-grey silk, and the hinges are oxidized gunmetal. It’s
so
sweet.” I couldn’t believe it, but I was feeling true excitement while describing the casket. I tried to look at it like I was ending one chapter of life and beginning a new one in death. I sure hoped I liked being a vampire.

Robert kissed my cheek. “I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

“Me too,” Jerry promised.

“Then we have no excuse to wait,” I said. “Let’s do it.

18

I was dying.

At least, I wished I was dying. Death would be preferable to the pain I was suffering.

Pain
, however, was not a strong enough word to convey my agony. No term in any language on earth would fully depict what I was going through, unless a phrase comprising
hit-by-a-train-and-boiled-in-battery-acid-and-eaten-by-a-school-of-ravenous-sharks-and-lit-on-fire
existed and I didn’t know about it.

There was sweating. So much sweating, in fact, that Jerry had to call the front desk twice to ask for new sheets. I soaked both sets within minutes. There was crying and moaning and cursing—lots and lots of cursing. I cursed everyone and everything: the VGO, Leopold, Michael and his stupid predictions, my third grade nemesis who used to steal desserts off my lunch tray, every dog that had ever yapped at me while I was jogging, PMS, mayonnaise (I
hate
mayonnaise), and parking tickets. Most of it I did into a pillow because I was worried that a passerby in the hall would hear me and think I was being tortured. Though, in a way, I kind of was. There was vomiting, vomiting, and more vomiting. I could have given that possessed little girl in
The Exorcist
a run for her money.

So much for going out with dignity, eh? I tried to take solace in knowing that Robert had seen me at my worst and continued to stick around. If a man can still love you after you’ve upchucked down the front of his shirt, ladies, you know he’s a keeper.

Robert and Jerry
had
warned me, sure. But no amount of cautioning would have prepared me for the agony of giving myself over to darkness. I also hadn’t been provided any indication of how long the process would take. It was impossible for
anyone
to know for certain, as the changeover was different for everyone. Jerry’s changeover had taken an hour; Robert’s had occurred over the course of two nights, though he didn’t remember much of it. Some of the luckier vamps Robert and Jerry knew had changed instantly. For those fortunate souls, it had simply been a matter of drinking blood from the vampire who’d bitten them. Then, presto change-o, they were immortal. Like vampire Tang, but instead of water it was
just add blood.

Unfortunately, the universe was not on my side in this situation.

Jerry and Robert hadn’t left my side since we’d started the whole process. Six hours ago. That’s right,
six hours
. Around hour three I recognized that I was not going to be a Tang vampire, but after six damn hours of mind-numbing torment I
did
anticipate an end being somewhere in sight. The change couldn’t go on forever . . . right?

For the umpteenth time, I bawled, “How much longer?”

I would have felt sorry for Jerry and Robert if I hadn’t been so busy feeling sorry for myself. It mustn’t have been easy for them to tend to a woman who’d been hurling insults (and don’t forget vomit) and writhing around in wet sheets for most of the night.

Robert continued holding my hand and cheering me on like I was giving birth. Jerry pressed a wet washcloth to my forehead. They ignored my question.

“You guys, I wasn’t being rhetorical!” I hollered. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Robert, looking more nervous than I’d ever seen him, said to Jerry, “If this goes on much longer, we might have to start thinking about getting her coffin ready. In this condition, it may take us some time to move her. I’d hate to see her caught up in sunlight. And once the sun gets close, you’ll have to go to your own coffin.”

Jerry nodded. “Smart idea. Just in case.”

“What?” I screeched. “I can’t do this all night! I can’t lay in a dark coffin alone in this condition! I can’t—”

I was dead. That I was certain.

But I was awake, with no pulse and no breath. And my mouth was sore.

That was the first change I noticed, my fangs. They were fully extended and cutting into my lower lip. I ran a tongue over them and their tips cut my tongue. Blood oozed over my taste buds, and it was then I discerned the second change: a ravenous urgency to feed.

Jerry and Robert both wore masks of fright. Jerry was shaking with such ferocity that the flask he held in his fingers splashed droplets of blood down his wrists and onto the floor.

I sat up and they flinched. They were afraid of something.

After a moment I came to realize that the
something
was me.

“Mercy, are you . . . okay?” Robert took a tentative step forward.

Suddenly, I was crouched back on my haunches, hissing like a loon—actually
hissing at my
boyfriend
. I thought stuff like that only happened in crappy B movies.

Jerry shuffled forward and extended the flask, offering me the blood. “It’s a college baseball player,” he said enticingly.

I swept an arm out and batted my clawed fingers at him, like an invisible puppeteer was controlling me with invisible strings. On a deep level I knew I shouldn’t have been lashing out, but on an even deeper level I didn’t care. The darkness had seized me.

And I was hungry.

So painfully hungry!

“Mercy, you aren’t yourself now,” Robert said slowly. “Take the flask from Jerry.”

“You smell
so delicious
,” I purred at my man. “Let me taste you. Give me a taste!” And then I was lunging forward, nipping and clawing out.

Jerry placed himself between Robert and me. I hadn’t noticed him, a fellow vampire, creeping up. I’d been too focused on the scent of Robert’s human blood.

“Hey! What are you doing?” I screamed as Jerry and Robert rushed me. I batted Robert away like he was nothing more significant than a gnat, but Jerry managed to pin me to the floor.

“Get off me!” I wailed.

Robert ran to Jerry’s side and snatched the flask. “Open her mouth!” Robert bellowed.

I clamped my lips together and Jerry thrust his fingers into my mouth, prying my teeth apart. “Sorry sweetie,” he apologized, though it was
my
fangs cutting
his
fingers to ribbons. Jerry’s vampire blood flowed down my throat and I gagged at its bitter taste. It tasted nothing close to the way Robert smelled. He looked at Robert and nodded. “Ready.”

Robert steadied the flask over my mouth and dumped in the blood. “Hold on, baby,” he whispered, stroking damp hair back from my forehead. I nipped at his wrist.  He pulled away just in time, or else I would have sunk my teeth in and had myself a nice little meal.

I relaxed as the effects of the flask blood started to kick in, rolling my eyes back into my head. Like the pain of the changeover, it was an ecstasy that couldn’t be quantified with words. I’d never shot up, though I imagined a heroin user might feel a similar sensation as the opiates invaded their veins. Combine chocolate, sex, wine, and your best adult memory, and it still would fall short to the sensation of drinking human blood as a vampire.

Robert and Jerry moved away to give me some space. I got to my feet and walked into the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror, examining my new vampire self. I looked like me, though a few tweaks had been made. Besides the most obvious change, the fangs, I was . . .
brighter
. I glowed from within, like there was a candle blazing underneath my skin. My eyes had lightened; they were a brown-hazel shade that was also gray—three colors in one. My hair, normally chocolate brown, boasted flickers of deep maroon. I was gorgeous.
Otherworldly
.

And then it hit me: I was immortal. I, Mercy Delilah Montgomery, was never going to age. Not ever.

I went back into the main room to join Jerry and Robert. I wanted to apologize for being such a pill during the changeover. No sooner had I opened my mouth to tell them that I was okay that things started going wrong.

Clutching my stomach, I fell to my knees. I rolled onto my side in fetal position and screamed. This time no pillow was over my face, and my howls reverberated off the walls. It was scary, hearing myself sounding so tormented.

Everything hurt. My mouth flooded with the taste of copper and I spat an awful thick fluid out onto the floor. It was blood. In the center of the puddle were fangs—my fangs. I tongued the two raw bleeding holes in my gums, gasping as my human teeth began to grow back. They were fully sprouted within a few seconds. The pain in my gut stopped and my suffering ceased.

I felt human.

Robert and Jerry were yelling, but I ignored them and ran back into the bathroom. The reflection staring back in the mirror was no longer otherworldly. I was no longer vampire, just regular old human Mercy.

I turned to Robert and Jerry, who were standing in the bathroom doorway looking perplexed. “I’ve changed back,” I told them.

Jerry’s mouth fell open. “How is that possible? I
saw
you change—I saw you
die!
”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But look at me.” I pulled back my upper lip so that they could see my incisors. “
See.
Human teeth. Those aren’t Tic Tacs on the floor in there. Those are my fangs.”

“Do you want to try again?” Robert asked.

The very idea of spending a few more hours in excruciating pain made me want to burst into tears. But I had no other choice. “Might as well,” I said.

And so we tried again. This time, the changeover went faster—just thirty minutes—but so did my reversion to humanism. I was vampire for about two minutes before I returned to my mortal self.

Hoping that the third time would be a charm, we tried once more. I changed into a vampire in about five minutes, but my fangs fell out as soon as they grew in. In my possession I now had three sets of razor sharp teeth. I scooped them up and rattled them in my palm, marveling how they’d come from
my mouth.

After a few moments of silence, Jerry said, “It isn’t working, is it? I’m sorry to be the one to say it, but somebody has to.”

“Don’t be sorry, Jerry. You’re absolutely right.” I showed them the fangs to illustrate my point. “We’ve tried three times, and all we have to show for our efforts are six very sharp teeth.”

Robert said, “You probably don’t want to try any more, do you?”

“I don’t see the use. It makes sense, doesn’t it? If my blood can make a vampire turn human, then it’s not a wonder that I’d be incapable of becoming vampire.” Sighing, I sat down on the edge of the bed. “It should have occurred to me sooner.”

This was a revelation that distressed me on multiple levels. I now couldn’t use vampirism as a way to get the VGO off my back. And, sure, I could kiss that ethereal creature in the bathroom mirror goodbye—the shimmering hair, the mesmerizing eyes, the impeccable skin. But, worst of all, I would eventually die and Robert wouldn’t. I was going to grow old and feeble and Robert was going to live forever. (That is,
if
he reverted to vampirism, which he certainly wanted to do. Leopold was a weasel, okay. But, according to Robert, he was a weasel who kept his promises. Leopold would find a cure eventually.)

Jerry asked, “So, what now?”

“Bed,” I suggested. Slumbering for a few hours seemed the most logical thing to do.

“Good idea,” Robert said. “I’m feeling sort of off myself.”

I clicked my tongue. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Robert placed his hand on my cheek. “After the pain you’ve suffered, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

While Jerry slept later in the afternoon, Robert and I took a drive along the coast to clear our heads. It was too stifling in the hotel room, as if the disappointment from my failed changeover had permeated the paint on the walls and we could no longer stand breathing in the nasty fumes.

There were a couple unanswered questions I wasn’t up to facing, but my mind kept firing them off anyway: How could my relationship with Robert prevail over my impending old age? Was I out of options as far as protecting myself from the VGO?

Robert and I talked very little during our journey, and when we did it was superficial, which made me wonder if he was asking himself the same questions that I was. But I didn’t ask. Even if Robert carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, he would deny it, and then swear for the billionth time that he’d love me no matter what my age. I appreciated his loyalty, but I questioned how that could possibly be true.

I put myself in Robert’s place and imagined what it would be like being shacked-up with an old lady when I was still a hot young man, frozen at age thirty-one forever . . .

In my head, the year was 2060. Robert and I were heading out to spend a night on the town together. People would think Robert was such a lovely man, taking his grandmother out for the evening. I’d have an early bird’s dinner special—dry chicken in mushroom wine sauce, mashed potatoes, tapioca—and Robert would sit across from me, uneaten food on his own plate, his lips stained from the blood he surreptitiously sipped from a flask in his breast pocket. We’d retire early so I could get home in time to watch reruns of
Sex and the City
, now an entertainment staple of the over-sixty female crowd. At precisely nine o’clock, I’d ease down into bed. I’d plop my dentures into a stagnant cup of water I kept on the nightstand and then swallow a handful of pills engineered to combat the discomforts of old age: arthritis, frail bones, dementia. Robert would run his smooth hands over my sagging, wrinkled skin, trying not to recoil as his fingertips fluttered over the wiry thatch of grey hair billowing out from the center of my thighs. He’d tell me that I was as beautiful as the day we first met. And I wouldn’t believe him, but I’d say something grandmotherly like, “That’s nice, dear.” I’d shut off the light, roll on my side, and wonder if tonight would finally be the night that Robert would decide to leave me. I’d wonder if I’d wake and find him gone.