Damon (13 page)

“You said you had proof,” I reminded him. “That we were vampires.”

He nodded seriously and handed me yet another picture. In this one, the old folks were older, maybe in their thirties or forties, standing in a room with paneled walls. This one was a color photo. They all wore long black robes with hoods, looking scary and strange. In front of them, on a table covered with a red cloth, sat a flaming candle and a silver bowl full of red liquid.

The back of the picture was blank.

Aside from the usual six, others stood with them, all dressed in the creepy black robes. Their faces were painted white and their eyes were rimmed heavily in black. The only one I recognized was Grampa Harvey.

“That’s my grandmother,” Damon said, pointing. “I don’t know who that woman is. Corky’s wife, maybe.”

I nodded. “I never knew her. She died a long time ago.”

“There’s more.” He handed me another letter. I didn’t recognize the handwriting but at this point, I didn’t care. “The offspring survived and thus far has shown no signs of confusion or illness. We won’t know the true result for years to come.”

He folded the sheet of paper and replaced it in the makeup bag. “It’s from a page in my granddad’s journal. Now do you believe me?”

“I don’t like this,” I said aloud. “I hate this. I really, really do.”

I had to get up and walk around, and look out the window at the eternal river flowing below. I was alarmed now, no doubt. My grammy had been up to something. Something weird and creepy. She’d been a member of some sort of bizarre cult. I realized I’d never known her at all.

“Do you believe me now?” Damon asked again. He moved up close behind me and rested his cheek against my head. “We’re in danger.”

“I just… can’t believe any of this.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist. “They like it that your mother is crazy. They want us to go crazy, too. That way we can’t learn the truth. That’s why they keep you close. To keep an eye on you. At the first sign we know the truth, they’ll kill us.”

Everything he said made sense to me. Now that I had more evidence. “We have to go to Pine Hollow. I have to know.”

He tightened his grip on me, breathing heavily in my ear. “Thank you. I knew you’d love me. Once you knew who we are.”

Turning around, I looked into his deranged, hopeful eyes, and a moment of clarity came over me. I loved him and he loved me and we were meant to be together. Happiness, no matter how temporary, was within my reach and all I had to do was grab hold of it.

“Damon,” I said and took his hand, “come sit down with me.”

He came easily, to the table with two chairs, but kept a suspicious eye on me as we sat down, facing each other.

“Will you tell me the truth about something?”

“Maybe,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Tell me why you were in that ‘place.’ I promise I won’t hold it against you. I’d really like to know.”

He shook his head slightly. “I needed it to survive. To hold on as long as possible. It helps me stay sane.”

“Then you can tell me. If it helps you stay sane then I need to know. I need to know everything.”

He sat back, sitting turned in his seat, and crossed his arms. “I stole something. Something normal people don’t steal.”

“The hand skeleton? Or the hand before it was a skeleton?”

“No. You’ll look at me differently.”

“I won’t, I promise. If we’re going to stay together I need to know. We’re the same. We come from the same place. You can trust me. We’re like family.”

He pressed his lips into a straight line and stared off as if he could barely find the self-restraint not to jump out the window.

Then he shrugged and met my eyes. “Fine, let’s test this. I stole some blood.”

My breath caught in my throat. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d already confessed to drinking blood. Still, I was surprised. “How?”

“There was this blood mobile…. They caught me, fucking red dripping down my chin. I was young and careless and I got caught. I went straight to the psych ward.”

“Okay,” I said with a nod. “Thanks.”

He frowned harshly. “That’s all?”

“Well… not all. Scoot around.” Every nerve in my body vibrated, but I felt extraordinarily calm and focused. Damon was different. I knew that without any doubts now. But I was different, too. I moved my chair around to meet him, then I leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “I’ve drunk blood before. Lots of times.”

He caught my head and wouldn’t let me sit back. His arm closed around me, and then I was sitting on his lap. “Tell me about it.”

We sat hugging so those watching us from a distance would never guess we were having a dark and depraved conversation. “My mother taught me when I was young. She said it would give me magic powers. From the first time, I’ve craved it. But I don’t let myself do it much anymore.”

“Yes!” he hissed. “It’s a craving. A
need.
” He squeezed me so tight it hurt. “Let me taste you. I’ll be careful.”

“No.” I pushed myself back. “I don’t want to be like that, Damon. I have to stay focused on reality because of Mama. I’m all she has. And I
do not
want to be like her. I’m really scared. Let’s just pretend like we’re normal.”

“Just a little pin prick,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with fantasies. “It won’t hurt. I need to taste you so bad I’m in constant pain. Constant, Maggie…. Blood
keeps
us sane.”

“Damon, no,” I moaned. Because Lord help me, I craved to taste him, and everything I’d admitted was true.

Every time I lifted a pound of hamburger out of the bowl, and saw the watery red pooling in the bottom, I had to force myself to pour it down the drain. And how I wanted to taste Damon, my partner in dementia, my soul mate in insanity. His blood would be real, warm and thick and delicious….

I could taste him right now, in my watering mouth.

“We’re vampires,” he said with a deep voice, holding my gaze. “They told me to deny it, in the hospital, but I never did. I know what I am. And now I’ve found you, my sweet lover. We won’t die alone.”

Somehow, he knew my greatest fear. Of being committed, of dying alone. “I do love you,” I said, closing my arms around his neck. “We were meant to be together. You’re the one.”

He pulled on my hair, exposing my neck and dove in, aggressively sucking and biting, barely refraining from breaking the skin. The pain sent white-hot shards of pleasure straight to my center.

I wanted to give him what he wanted. And I wanted to take what he offered. But I needed to know one thing. I needed to know beyond any doubts.

“Tell me we’re not cousins. Tell me we’re not related.”

He leaned back and frowned at me. “We’re not related. We’re the children of vampires. Chester and Bella never had children. Verna Jarvis never had children. We only seem the same because we’re the only children of vampire children. Your mother and my father were the only children born.”

“What about Aunt Cynthia? What about Corky’s children?”

“They’re like us. They hide it. Or… they’re immune.”

“So, we’re not cousins?”

“No,” he said with conviction, frowning wildly. “My granddad loved my grandmother. Theirs was a true love. He told me once that a cheater is the same as a criminal. To betray the one you love is the same as murder. The murder of love. The murder of trust. And love and trust is more important than human life. There’s no greater crime. He’d never have cheated on my grandmother. He wore his wedding ring to the grave. We’ll take tests if you want to prove it. Whatever you want.”

I only wanted answers and a meaning to my meaningless life. I wanted security. No matter what.

No matter what.

So I didn’t resist in the slightest when he carried me to the bed and began undressing me. For the first time in my life, I could truly imagine a future with someone. Damon and I might actually have a happy life – until our kids had us committed.

But what was I thinking? “We can’t ever have children,” I told him.

“Okay,” he said and lowered his hot body over mine.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I stood in a bright, humming bathroom, looking in the mirror, trying to find a way to cover the bite wound on my neck. Damon had used his pocketknife after I’d screamed, but there were still some open places where his dull teeth had torn my skin.

Makeup wouldn’t do the job, and I’d only brought spring clothes with me, no turtlenecks or scarves. I had a jacket but the collar wouldn’t stay up. I’d have to put a bandage over it and say I’d had an allergic reaction to a wasp sting, or something equally lame. Maybe everyone would think it was a bad hickey.

I dropped the blood-soaked washcloth into the sink. “Damon,” I called.

He made an indistinct noise from the other room so I stepped around the corner. He was lying naked and spread-eagled on the bed, just as I’d left him, spent and staring at the ceiling. His lips were still red with my blood.

“I need you to go get me some bandages and stuff.”

“Sure,” he said, but he didn’t twitch so much as his big toe.

“I’m jumping in the shower.”

This time he didn’t bother with a response. He was probably asleep, I didn’t bother to check - I was worried about my injury. I decided I could wash it again real good with soap and get the disinfectant later. But, god, how was I going to explain it? I didn’t have a devious mind. I couldn’t think up good lies.

The situation had me upset, but I couldn’t be angry with Damon, not after I’d gone insane with lust and begged him to do it. With full awareness, I had exposed my neck for him and brushed my hair out of the way, as he’d leaned over me with that sharp blade and wild eyes. I’d been crazy, but fully aware. And it had paid off, this time, since he’d given me the most mind-blowing, soul-searing, orgasmic experience of my life. We must have disturbed the entire fourth floor with our noise.

Oddly, the exchange had had opposite effects on us. He was completely wasted and I felt wired. I should have been the drowsy one - I was the one injured and low on blood. But I felt like moving too fast, talking too fast, and thinking too fast. I wanted to run stairs.

Forcing myself to stay calm caused my nerves and muscles to cramp and burn. I thought a hot shower would help.

I’d just finished washing my hair when Damon stepped into the tub and pulled me into his arms. He turned my chin and tried to examine the wound in the poor lighting.

“I tried not to,” he said and hugged me gently. “But I couldn’t help it. I was possessed.”

“I’m all right.”

He picked up my razor off the edge of the tub and studied how best to cut his wrist with the protected blade.

“Don’t,” I said. Now that I wasn’t controlled by lust anymore, I didn’t want to give in to my perverse cravings.

He glanced at me with shining eyes. “You’ll be rejuvenated.”

I stepped back from him, until I saw the enticing red river dripping off his wrist, falling wasted into the flow of water. He caught my hand and pulled, and I went, mesmerized by the intense craving I’d fought for so very long.

“It’s all right,” his melodic voice soothed. “Hurry.”

Heat and steam and the mystical darkness of water trapped me inside a world surreal and beautiful. I couldn’t resist any longer.

I clamped onto his wrist and drank, acutely aware of his hand stroking my hair, and the nerve endings in my head suddenly coming alive, so bright. At first, I couldn’t find more than a faint taste, then I found the flow and sucked and his blood ran over my tongue and down my throat. A wave of cold heat flowed throughout my body and my feet prickled and tingled. I swallowed the trickles that ran over my tongue until he pulled on my chin and maneuvered his wrist from my mouth.

And that was when the beauty faded and hard water slapped me in the face. The hum of the bathroom sounded institutional. The white of the walls looked puritanical and threatening. Damon tied a white washcloth around his wrist and pulled it tight using his teeth while I stood swaying, staring indifferently.

I tried to look at him but his shape blurred and my knees turned to sponge cake. My mouth was full of glue. Damon caught me before I hit the floor of the tub and supported me when I insisted on rinsing my mouth.

Tears flowed with water down the drain and nausea swirled violently in my stomach. I wasn’t just crazy, I was perverted. Debauched. Disgusting. I was worse than Mama. So much worse.

Damon carried me wet from the shower to the bed and lay with me, petting me and saying that everything really was all right. That we were meant to be this way, because we weren’t like humans. We were vampires, and what we’d done was perfectly natural and right, and even necessary.

We’d be like the original six and never tell anyone. We’d be safe together. Forever.

I cried with shame even after my body began to feel shiny and alive with energy. I didn’t want to be like Mama. I didn’t want to be like that. And I was terrified of being put in a ‘place.’ I’d been in those places - I could imagine what it would be like. I could imagine all too well. I was prepared to kill myself first. And I could do it - I knew that now. But I didn’t want to die. I’d finally found love for the first time in my life. I was backed into a corner.

I cried until I thought my tears would turn red, until I finally heard Damon begging, “Stop, please stop, you’re killing me. It’s not wrong. It can’t be. We’re glorious. Believe me.”

I stopped crying, because I’d run out of steam, and because the distress in his eyes disturbed me. “I’m done,” I told him with a garbled voice, and brushed at the wet strands stuck all over my face. “I’m better.”

He pulled me into his arms again. “We’re okay,” he whispered in my ear. “Everything’s okay. It’s not as bad as it seems, I promise. It just seems that way. I swear I won’t let anything bad happen.”

“I know. I believe you.”

But I was lying and Damon was wrong. Dr. Sanderson would have said so if he’d been here. Damon would ruin my mind and break my heart. He would drag me down into his hellfire pit of insanity and never let me leave.

But with his strength and heat surrounding me, and with a new sense of euphoria forcing me into a languid stretch that lifted my back off the mattress, I really didn’t care. I wanted to go with him to hell.