Chapter 7: The Blooded
“He’s violating a court order!” I said, rising from my seat and pointing at Burke. “He has to stay five hundred yards away.”
“Shut up,” Cherise snapped, still playing with her phone.
Burke looked over with fury. His eyes kept running from Cherise with a questioning look, then back to me with a disgusted one. Bile twisted his strong, masculine face into a Halloween mask.
His wavy brown hair looked ragged and unkempt, not salon fresh. The carefully affected stubble on his square jaw which normally gave him a rugged, masculine sheen had been neglected and looked too thick. His checked shirt and jeans carried stains. Dark circles lined his eyes. He looked like hell.
“Burke!” Cherise said without looking away from her phone. “Get over here.”
His shoulders slumped and he slunk over toward our couch, all five foot ten of him.
I watched, astonished. Burke Sparks did not slink. Not the Burke I knew.
If an art teacher asked me to paint a picture of my marriage to Burke I would splash red and black paint across Edvard Munch’s The Scream, gouge the canvas with a hunting knife, and call the whole tableau Three Years In Hell. But this is not a pity play and Concordance Therapy teaches us to negate the negative: To succeed, one must destroy the past, transcend the present, and visualize the bright, shining future.
It is enough to say that I needed the restraining order and counted myself lucky to walk out of that marriage instead of ending up another stuffed head on the wall of Bear Flag Guns & Ammo.
“You,” I said, spit flying as he approached. “You did this. You stalked me. You harassed me. You slashed my tires, broke my windows, and terrorized me for three fucking months!”
Burke just cracked his shit-eating grin and shrugged. All just a game, what are you getting so upset about? Shut up, you know I love you. You asked for it. You provoked me. It’s your fault. All that shit, his usual patter.
“Sit down,” said Cherise, shoving her phone in a pocket and scowling at us. “Both of you. You’re making a scene.”
I shouted at him. “Why? Why did you do it, you bastard?”
“Fuck off,” he said, but without his usual vehemence and force. His fists clenched, his arms trembled as he sunk onto the couch. He looked drained.
“I almost bought a gun! I wish I did! I want to shoot you in the head—I want to see what crawls out—scorpions and spiders and snakes!”
“I told you to sit down!” Cherise growled. She seized my arm and flung me to the couch.
My ass hit the seat, hard. Her iron strength—unbelievable. In a flash, it reminded me of Colin’s preternatural abilities: the ease with which he lifted me up the brickwork wall, the way he walked away from my Honda’s bumper.
They are vampires. They are.
Steve the barista jogged over, his copper-frame eyeglasses glinting in the fluorescents, the apron half masking his Rainbow Brite t-shirt. “Is there a problem here?”
I fell silent.
Burke bent his head, chest rising and falling. He looked as ragged as I felt.
“No problem, officer,” Cherise grinned at the barista. “Just a little family quarrel.” She flicked her fingers in a ‘go away’ gesture.
Scowling, Steve moved off.
She shot cold eyes at me. “If you can’t behave yourself, people are going to die. Do you want that on your conscience?”
“No,” I admitted. I’d managed to calm myself. Deep breaths—one, two, three.
“She has no conscience,” Burke said. “It’s just her self-pitying bitch-act: look at poor, little ole me. She’s a masochist and a drama queen. It turns her on to piss me off. Always has.”
I stared daggers at the liar then looked away. Deep breaths—one, two, three. Con-cor-dance Ther-a-py. One-two-three. Con-cor-dance Ther-a-py.
“You’re an idiot if you believe that, Burke,” Cherise said, “but you don’t. Rowan is a sheep, a domesticated beast, one of the herd.” Her cold eyes turned toward me. “There are two species on this planet: predators and prey. We are predators, you are prey. Now one of the predators has for reasons I cannot possibly fathom claimed you as his own. You have been lifted from the herd of the sheep into the kingdom of the wolves. This upsets the natural order.”
“You’re lying,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Colin is nothing like you or him. And Burke, he’s just a man, nothing like—whatever you people are. You, you—Bradens.” I almost said vampires for lack of a better word.
“You’re right,” Cherise said, “Burke is not a Braden yet.” She reached out to caress Burke’s knee with a possessive air. “He’s still like you, only further along. Show her, Burke. Show her your devotion to the Empire of Blood.”
Burke looked pained. A shocking change had transfigured him. Women did not tell Burke Sparks what to do. The glib, charming, smooth-talking lady’s man I’d once known—a mask which concealed the beast beneath—had morphed into something new, a third incarnation if you will.
I expected him to unbutton his collar, to reveal classic bite marks along the neck. What did I know? I had nothing to go on but Hollywood notions: fangs and coffins and Buffy and wooden stakes.
He unbuttoned a flannel sleeve with deliberate care. At first, it looked like he took his time just to be a dick. But he could only half-control his trembling hands. The black and red checks rolled up, revealing a pale arm. Once toned musculature looked harrowed. Scars, tracks, and needle marks—maybe a bite mark or two—covered his arm like a sleeve. Dark ink marred the flesh, forming circles, pentacles, glyphs, and occult symbols. The tattoos looked crude, like prison ink. Goetic signs dominated, like those on the brick that broke my window or the chalk circles in the underground chamber.
“My God, Burke,” I whispered. “What’s happening to you?”
“He’s my thrall,” Cherise said. “Soon to be my spawn.”
“Why?”
“That’s not your concern,” she said. “But it’s what Colin will do to you.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Horror blew a soft gentle whisper across the nape of my neck. I slipped off the end of the couch, an inch at a time.
Neither made a move to stop me.
I took another few steps away, shot a glance at Cherise.
She lifted her head and fixed me with hollow, green eyes. They looked dead, just two candles flickering in an empty skull. Her grin revealed a mouth of cobwebs and tombstones.
I cried out, turned heel, and ran unhindered out the front door.
My Honda—Mr. Reliable—was parked in the employee section behind the real estate office, between Jill’s Range Rover and the dumpster. I ran to it, digging in my purse for my keys.
“Rowan!” a warm brogue called from behind the office. He’d been waiting for me.
“Go away!” I shouted, shoving the key at the lock, gouging paint.
“Rowan, wait!” He ran up.
The key wouldn’t turn, fell from my shaking fingers. “Keep away!”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, grabbing my arm.
I shook it off with a fury. “Stop it! Don’t touch me!”
“What’s got into you, lass?” he asked, taking a step back, his voice still gentle.
I took the chance to run, dashing around the hood of my car and sprinting for the side alley. If I could get back into the real estate office, maybe he wouldn’t make a scene. Or would he?
If you can’t behave yourself, people are going to die.
He waited two seconds then gave chase. I careened through the alley, collided into a couple of garbage cans. Metal lids rattled off the concrete, a cacophony.
“Rowan, wait!”
“Get away from me!”
Do you want that on your conscience?
Too fast, he caught me at the edge of the alley, just out of reach of the chain-link gate. “Calm down, can you?”
I spun to face him. “I know what you are—what you have planned.”
“What’s that?”
“What your ‘sister’ is doing to Burke. Her ‘thrall.’ They’ve been torturing me for kicks. Feeding on my fear for the ritual that’s making him into—into whatever you Bradens are.”
“Oh, aye.” He scratched the back of his head, a pained look on his face. “She told you that?”
“Yes!” He’d released my arms, but I knew it was no use trying to run. “And she said you’d do the same for me. Because you claimed me before your sire, whatever that means.”
“It means a lot, to be fair,” he said. “And there’s truth in what she said, but lies, too. That’s the way of one like that.”
“I don’t believe you!” I said. “You’re monsters.”
“Now,” he said. “Isn’t that a wee bit harsh?”
“Harsh?”
He grimaced. “Look, I’ll tell you anything an’ everything you want if you’ll calm down and let me explain. Fair enough?”
I took a deep breath. That sounded like a Burke line. Could I trust him?
He gave a pained smile, bringing out the laugh lines around his eyes.
My god, why is he so good-looking? “All right. But be quick. Where?”
“Let’s sit in your car a spell.”
“Fine,” I said, spinning toward the Honda. The reliability of my world had narrowed again: my car, Mom, Pookie, and Netflix. And I didn’t even know about Netflix anymore; it never prepared me for this.
Vampires, Colin explained, did not call themselves that anymore. They used their own nomenclature, speaking in riddles to keep outsiders at bay. They used the v-word only on rare occasions when they needed to get it through some mortal’s head.
He didn’t say they found the term ‘vampire’ offensive—because that would be ridiculous, like a serial killer demanding a more politically correct term like “compulsive injurer.” According to Colin, they called themselves “the Blooded” among themselves and their followers.
“Why ‘Blooded’?” I asked. “Because you drink blood?”
“There’s some truth in that. But we aren’t killers, preying on the innocent. Not anymore. There are saner ways to acquire what we need, legal ways.”
Cherise’s intravenous pack: “Medical supply blood?”
“Aye. The days of terrorizing crossroads and villages are gone. We live in cities now, towns. Multiple homes, many ways to hide. Blooded means part of a clan.”
“Sounds like a street gang.”
“In a way, it is,” he said, reflective. “But more sophisticated. Have you ever seen The Sopranos?”
“Yes,” I said, not liking the sound of that. At all.
“It’s like a supernatural mafia. We keep a low profile, work in the shadows.”
“And what is your work?”
“I’m just a soldier. I help the clan. See to our safety, our comforts, our needs.”
“What about the people you kill?”
He frowned, looking at his hands. “I won’t lie, lass. There’s blood on these fingers, but not of innocents. We have a code. Soldiers fight other soldiers. Everyone knows the rules of the game. Magic stays in the dark, but we’re not monsters.”
“Not monsters?” I asked. “Cherise and Burke sound like it. They’re feeding off my fear.” I recapped the scene in the café, leaving nothing out.
Colin listened, then said: “She’s a rotten one, aye. She’ll use that strength to make Burke a Blooded after they’ve done for you.” His voice lowered. “They chose you because Burke hates you. I won’t lie; they planned on abducting you, feasting on your terror, and then making you disappear. She admitted it to Armando, our sire last night.”
“Oh god.” I shivered, suspicions confirmed: the Lotomaw House, the ex-husband, these Bradens, all intertwined and arrayed against me. Only one thing stood in the way, one man—if Colin still counted as human.
“In a few years, another skeleton might turn up in the national forest, a sacrifice to the darkness for his ascension.” He shook his head. “That’s why I claimed you before our sire, Rowan. To save your life.”
“But how did you know what they were doing to me?”
“I didn’t know until last night. I’d been hearing reports about a creature up at that house. We keep an eye out for paranormal activity and try to suppress and hide it. Things like that might draw unwelcome scrutiny to the clans. So, I went for a look-see up at the house, keeping my head down. Watched one couple drive up and leave in a hurry, leaving a note on the mailbox.”
“My clients.”
“Aye. They scampered off. Later, I saw you drive up, so I stayed out of sight. But after you arrived, the presence materialized. I sensed it and crept in closer. It spooked you and you ran. That’s when you clipped me with the boot of your car. Later, when you called and told me about the stalking, it all clicked: who and why. I couldn’t let them do that to an innocent woman. The rest you know, by and by.”
I nodded, as it gibed with what I’d learned. “Why not leave it at that? What do you care about me?”
He took his time in answering, instead staring out the front window. “When I was a boy,” he said, “I took an interest in bird-spotting. Robins, starlings, magpies—got to where I could know them all by their songs.” Then he looked at me, fixing me with the warmest, most open-hearted smile that in any other circumstance would get one right back in return. But I couldn’t shake the horror of the last twenty-four hours—or the reality of what he was. “One time, I found this young wren with a wounded wing and took her home and nursed her back to health.”
“Did she survive?”
“Aye,” he said, releasing an unseen dove with his hands. “One day, she was flying all around my bedroom. I opened the window—and she was gone.”
“Touching,” I said, almost meaning it.
“I can’t walk away from an injured bird. I can’t let those two hurt an innocent woman for kicks. That’s why I did what I did in front of our clan head. I claimed you. By law, once you’re claimed, the others can’t hurt you. I did it without thinking it through or asking you first. My only thought was to save your life.”
“Now I have to become like you or they kill me? I’ll tell the cops!”
“Tell them what? Burke would deny it, Cherise will never be found and then where would you be? They’d target someone else or bide their time. Cherise won’t care if you live or die, but if she bloods your ex-husband, someday he’ll catch you up and finish the job. Years don’t mean much to our kind.”
I swallowed, nodding. “He hates me enough.”
“He’s done a number on you already,” Colin said, his voice soft. “Before he ever met us. I can see that.”
A shiver chilled me. The enormity of my predicament settled in. “Colin, I don’t want to become a beast—even a polite one like you.”
He gave a pained smile. “Gentleman monster, fair enough.”
“What do I do? Are those my only options? Join or die? I’d rather end it quick.”
“Don’t say that,” he said, reaching for my arm but stopping short when I flinched. “Sorry. But that’s not the answer. There’s always another way. You could disappear.”
“Disappear?”
“Aye. I’ve got friends in interesting places. Braden Services is nothing if not resourceful. I’ll set you up somewhere they won’t find you.”
“I have to leave Port Selkie?”
“Think of it as the underworld’s Witness Protection Program. You’ll have to leave the Pacific Northwest. The whole Kingdom of Dagon.”
“The kingdom of what?”
He grinned. “My house is just one of many sworn to the Eibons up in Portland. Other clans rule other places.”
“Just how many creatures like you are there?”
“We don’t need to get into all that. What do you say? I’ll stay with you until you get settled in your new home.”
My unsettled future reeled before me. “This is insane. I can’t believe this is happening. I feel like I just stepped into the world’s cruelest reality show.”
“Hand me that torch, will you?” He pointed to my aluminum flashlight in the driver’s side door pouch. I’d brought it to bed with me last night, stuck it in my car this morning. In lieu of a stun-gun or a heroic dog, it was the best I could do. I handed it to him.
Colin grabbed it between his hands and after only the slightest grunt, bent the entire flashlight, batteries and all, into a U-shape, then handed it back. “Reality show, eh? Let’s see some spray-tanned layabout do that.”
I held the flashlight, staring at in shocked fascination. Like my life, it had been bent back in on itself into a sharp U-Turn. In a small voice, I asked: “Where will you take me, County Clare?”
“Too obvious. How about Paris? The sooner you’re over the pond the safer you are. It’d be best if I slept on your couch until then. I wouldn’t put it past Cherise to take a shot at you out of spite—and I don’t know what this Burke lad is all about.”
“Paris,” I said, deciding my future in an instant. I nodded as if in a dream. Everything moved in surreal, slow motion. “I’ve never even been to L.A. Why are you helping me, Colin? What do you want in return?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want anything. It might be hard to believe coming from someone like me, but it’s the right thing to do.”
“I see,” I said, not sure that I did. “When I leave, what happens to Pookie and Mr. Reliable?”
He shot me a puzzled, almost hurt look. “The cat I’ve met, but who’s this other fellow?”
I patted the steering wheel. “My car.”
Mom’s cherubic, inverted, fifty-something face smiled at me, her tanned chin bobbing toward the top of the screen. “Mom, you’re upside down.”
“Oh dear, there we go!” she said, turning her iPad around. The Facetime app let us talk face to face. “How’s that?”
“Good girl. How are you?”
“We just got back from the Roswell Museum last night and Joyce took the most amazing pictures of the stars. She thinks there are some obvious ET discs in the pictures, but they’re just fireflies. But don’t tell her I said that! You know how she gets.”
“I won’t, Mom.” I smiled then fell silent. So much to say and I couldn’t say half of it and had no idea where to begin with the rest.
“What’s wrong, caterpillar, do you need money? Or is it Burke? I bet it’s Burke. What’s that bastard done this time?”
“No, Mom. It’s … I kinda met a man. We’re going to Australia for a while just to get away from here.” I hated to lie to her of all people, but Colin had advised a little strategic misdirection.
Mom started waving the iPad around and howling. “This damn Jobs gadget!”
“Mom, what’s wrong?” I asked, jumping up. I never thought it possible, but she’d got a virus on her iPad once.
“Someone’s disconnected me from my homebody daughter and put me in touch with an adventurous stranger.”
“Mom, it’s true!”
She beamed. “I’m so glad! It’s about time you did something impulsive. I don’t think you’ve gone ninety miles outside of Port Selkie in your life.”
“I went to Seattle for a real estate conference.”
“That doesn’t count.” Then her eyes bugged. “But what about Pookie? You can’t put him through the trauma of an international flight and a quarantine.”
“Now that you mention it…”