Promise Me Anthology (12 page)

Devlin eyed her, then slowly nodded once.
“Come in then, and receive your due.”

Devlin led her to his bed, removing their
clothes. As he always did, he was gentle as he made love to her.
But as she climaxed, he bit into her. Instead of orgasmic pleasure,
there was only a sudden feeling of terror, then pain.

Heather broke his hold on her, moving away.
Devlin watched her, then inclined his head. “You see how it is?
That sensitivity you had does not survive the turning, just as I
knew it would not.” He got up and began to dress.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Heather yelled.

“Would you have believed me?” he scoffed.
“No. When you’ve only had pleasure, you couldn’t fathom feeling
fear and pain. But vampires have instinctive fear of being drained.
It’s one of the few ways they can die. So they seldom drink from
one another.” He finished dressing. “Please get dressed, and one of
my men will show you out.”

As he left, Heather collapsed into tears.

* * * *

The next week was a blur of days of work,
feeding from cold, bagged blood, and studying the damned vampire
handbook. But there was no help for Heather in it. She felt cursed
and rejected, the seed of anger festering within her until it
became full-blown rage. That night after her shift, she followed a
teen into a dark alley. When he turned on her with a gun and a grin
of surprise, demanding money, she slaughtered him ruthlessly,
finding a fleeting relief from her pain in his blood.

Heather killed all that next week, determined
that if nothing else it should bring Devlin again to her door. She
wanted out of this life, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Instead, Ulysses found her, blood from her fourth victim still
staining her hands.

“What happened to you?” he whispered in
horror, as she let the corpse drop from her arms.

“A vampire named Devlin Dalcon,” she said
emptily. Then she was crying in his arms. Yet even as he comforted
her, she wanted his blood, the rush of it in his veins deafening.
Heather fled that night to her apartment, not answering her
brother’s pleas through the locked door to let him in.

The next night, Heather left early, avoiding
her brother’s sleeping form with her newfound stealth. Skipping
work, she instead went to stalk a victim. As she was closing down
on the woman to snap her neck, the mark turned. Heather recognized
a familiar face a split second before the crossbow bolt pierced her
heart and she fell, paralyzed. The machete blow descended, severing
her head a moment later.

* * * *

“Your nurse is dead,” the man in black
reported. “The Van Helsing Group sent their usual gross notice. I
burned it and scattered the ashes.”

Devlin let out a sigh, looking out over his
deck into the silent and dark woods of his estate. “I know, Lash. I
felt her die through the bloodbond.”

“Probably best,” Lash answered. “She was
killing randomly and I’d have had to put her down this week.”

Devlin didn’t answer.

“You did what you could,” Lash said gruffly.
“There’s no point feeling bad about women who won’t face
reality.”

“You’re right,” Devlin said softly. “But I
can’t help feeling that I corrupted her. She could have done some
good with her life.”

“Maybe,” Lash allowed. “But she probably
would have found something else to obsess over.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,”
Devlin said with a faint smile.

“No, that is what state carnivals are for,”
Lash said, handing Devlin a ticket. “There’s bound to be some song
mistresses at this Stones concert. We’re going Saturday.”

Devlin looked over the ticket, his expression
brightening. “This looks great. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Lash replied with a grin. “I also
wanted to tell you that your new girl Delilah is here. I’ve got her
waiting for you in one of the guest rooms. And I told her that
you’ve recently suffered a loss, and need some serious help to take
your mind off it.” He winked. “I wouldn’t keep her waiting long, if
I were you.”

Devlin’s expression turned to one of lust. “I
won’t,” he said, pocketing the ticket as he strode inside.

* * * *

“Is this her?”

Ulysses nodded stoically, looking down at his
sister’s disemboweled body. She was at peace now, maybe. But he was
going to get the bastard that had done this to her, no matter what
it took. “Can I have a moment?”

The coroner nodded, then left.

Ulysses touched Heather’s pale hand. “I’m
sorry I couldn’t save you. I love you.” He dropped her hand, then
plucked a card out of his pocket, the silver lettering gleaming in
the harsh light. “Devlin Dalcon, you’re going to pay for this, pay
with everything you have. You won’t see me coming.”

Night Shift

(Previously published in Frightmares anthology
11-2011)

“Pass the scalpel, please.”

Becky blinked at the gray haze over her eyes.
Why wouldn’t they open?

“Is she under? Her eyelids fluttered.”

“She’s under. It’s just a reflex, Doctor. You
should know that by now—”

Her surgery. God, she’d woken up in the
middle! Frantically, Becky tried to move her limbs, to stretch her
lips in a scream.

“Up the anesthesia slightly, anyway, Nurse
Jordan. Now.”

Becky tensed, fighting, then relaxed, the
grey haze becoming black nothingness.

A moment later the black lightened to grey
again.

“Only take out three vials.”

That was Dr. Miller. Becky opened her eyes a
crack.

“She’s strong enough for four—”

“No, Jordan. We need her alive.”

Jordan leaned over her, empty vial in hand.
“We can’t survive on just ten vials a piece—”

“And I can’t have another of my patients
die,” Dr. Miller hissed, baring fangs. “You’re going to blow our
cover here—”

Nurse Jordan snarled, his own fangs bone
white. “Some patients die in surgery. It’s routine—”

Becky managed a squeak, her panicked eyes
darting madly. Both vampires looked down at her.

“She saw us,” Jordan said, smiling wickedly.
He connected the vial. “Now we have to.”

Please don’t, God, please, please,
Becky thought wildly, her heart beating like a trip hammer as she
watched the vial fill.

“You’re right, Jordan. She won’t remember
anything, anyway,” Dr. Miller assured, tapping a syringe. He slid
it into Becky’s arm, then depressed the plunger.

Their leering faces dissolved back into grey
black night. Then the night lightened steadily, becoming
grayish-white.

Becky blinked and then moaned softly.

“She’s coming out of it, Doctor.”

Becky opened her eyes wide, then struggled to
sit up. “It’s over?” she asked weakly.

“Yes,” Dr. Miller said, patting her arm. “You
did fine. We got the tumor out, but you did lose a lot of
blood.”

Becky squeezed his hand gratefully, her face
breaking into a relieved smile. “Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so
much.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, then turned to
his nurse standing nearby. “Nurse Heather, please see she gets a
transfusion as soon as possible.”

Nurse Heather nodded. “Of course. We’ll take
care of it right away.”

As Dr. Miller watched her wheel Becky away,
Nurse Jordan came up to him. “You’re needed in emergency surgery,
Doctor, stat.”

Dr. Miller took the proffered chart, walking
quickly toward emergency. “Brief me, please.”

“Accident victim, male, mid-twenties. Severe
neck injuries. Emergency personnel had to cut him out of the
wreck.”

“Is his family here?”

Nurse Jordan smiled. “They were all in the
car, sadly. All DOA.”

“Is he conscious?” Dr. Miller asked, his eyes
glimmering as he began to walk faster.

Nurse Jordan shook his head. “No. And it’s
just you and me for this surgery, Doctor. Everyone else is busy
with other emergency patients tonight.”

“Then my prognosis is he won’t wake,” Dr.
Miller said, the tips of his fangs showing in his smile. “Let’s go
to work.”

Just Business

Angelica sauntered down the sterile hallway,
wrinkling her nose as the strong disinfectant smell permeating the
air.
Why did hospitals always have to smell so awful? God, let
me not die in a hospital...

“Can I help you?” a passing nurse said,
stopping in mid-stride to block her way.

Angelica gave the nurse a once over, as she
did every woman she met.
Plain blonde pageboy, non-descript
mud-brown eyes, at least five pounds overweight.
The nurse’s
nametag had her name with no prefix at all.
Not any threat. But
don’t waste the smile. It’ll be lost on this one.
“I’m looking
for Nurse Jordan. I think that’s his name? He’s an EMT.”

The woman smiled, but her eyes were still
cool as she looked at the buxom blue-eyed temptress in the
formfitting simple black dress. “I’ll tell him you’re here. He’s
likely with a patient. Please go back and wait in the visitor’s
lounge.”

Angelica resisted her urge to tell the woman
she needed a better concealer, as well as clothes that weren’t from
Wal-Mart. “Of course.”

Angelica headed back to the lounge, irritated
but also glad she wasn’t going to have to go looking for Jordan in
her 2” heels. It was much better for him to come to her.
If she
crossed her legs just as he approached, he’d be putty in her
hands.

She paused as she passed a ladies room, then
hurried inside. It had been raining hard outside. Her hair could
use a quick fluff with some hairspray.

After primping for a few minutes, Angelica
emerged. As she turned to head for the lounge, she caught site of a
familiar waxen face walking down the hall.
Jordan!
Eagerly
she hobbled after him, slipping slightly on the tile floor.
“Jordan! Hey, wait!”

Jordan didn’t seem to hear her as he
continued to wheel the sheet-draped gurney towards two double
doors. Angelica followed him, still calling.

It took a distance of a hundred yards and
Angelica taking off her shoes to be able to run, but she finally
caught up to Jordan at the elevator. He was nearly through the
elevator door when Angelica’s hand shot out to grab hold of the
gurney. “Hey!”

Jordan turned, his expression one of
surprise. “Angelica! What are you doing back here? This area is off
limits to patients.” He looked down and laughed. “At least the
living ones.”

“I’m not a patient, I’m a visitor,” Angelica
said with coy deliberateness, stepping onto the elevator and
slipping her heels back on. “And I wanted to see you. You broke our
date for tonight.”

Jordan looked uncomfortable, then pressed the
button for the basement. “Because I can’t be what you want me to
be. We’ve been over this, Angel.”

Angelica’s beautiful blue eyes narrowed
angrily. “You mean you still won’t make me a vampire.”

The door opened with a metallic bing. Jordan
wheeled the body out into a basement hallway, Angelica following.
As he tried to leave, she grabbed hold of the gurney again.

“Answer me, Jordan!”

“Believe me, it’s no fun being a vampire,”
Jordan said tiredly, even as his gaze flicked back and forth,
watching anxiously in opposite directions. “Count yourself lucky
you can still eat butterscotch crumpets.” His expression turned
wistful. “It is stuff like that I miss the most.”

Jordan always gave me this speech, ever
since the first time I asked him to turn me. Sure, that he couldn’t
make vampires was believable. He didn’t have the right Old World
charm to be an influential vampire. But someone made him. And I
want an introduction to that someone, no matter what I have to
do.
“You said the more powerful vampires had donors. Can’t you
take me to the one who turned you? I could offer myself as a
donor.”

Jordan shook his head. “They don’t bother
with vampires like me, as long as I keep my head down.” He gave her
a smile. “And as much as I enjoyed your warm skin that night we
spent together, I’m not changing that for you.” He headed away with
the dead body without a backward look.

“You bastard!” Angelica yelled after him,
stamping her foot. Then she grimaced, taking off her shoe to see a
large new nick in the heel. “Stupid concrete floor.”

Angelica reluctantly pressed the elevator for
the first floor. But when the doors opened, there was another
vampire there waiting, his expression tired and grumpy. “Are you
lost?” he asked gruffly. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yes,” Angelica stammered, taken aback. “Um,
I mean no, I’m not lost. But I meant to go to the first floor and
came down here instead—”

The vampire pushed her into the elevator,
then hit the 1
^st
floor button.

“Thank you, um—?”

The vampire didn’t reply, just gave her a
pitying look as the elevator doors whispered shut.

Angelica’s resolve weakened, then promptly
solidified into steel.
I’ll go back down to the ground floor and
wait.
There was a little cul-de-sac to the side of the
elevators near a drinking fountain. Sooner or later that other
vampire would have to come back through, so he could go back up
wherever the hell he’d come from. And when he did, she’d follow
him.

* * * *

Angelica’s alarm on her watch went off,
startling her. She straightened, then looked at her wrist in
disbelief. It was six in the morning! She’d waited all night and
the vampire hadn’t come back...and she’d given in to exhaustion and
fallen asleep.

Cursing aloud, Angelica straightened her now
dirty dress and staggered to the elevator. She was going to be late
for work. Tony didn’t like that, or to have her look anything but
perfect.