First Bitten (8 page)

I sit down on the edge of the bed.

I probably should go downstairs now. I stand up and get the trainers. Size five. I guess Nathan must have checked my Jimmy Choos before he burnt them.

Burnt. Carrie. I’m going to be sick.

I just make it to the bathroom in time.

When my stomach’s empty, I rinse my mouth out with cold water from the tap, and swill it clean with mouthwash. Then I go back into the bedroom, put the trainers on, tie the laces up and go downstairs.

I find myself in a longish hallway.

I look right. I can hear voices and the sound of a television coming from behind the closed door.

I look left. It leads to the front door.

If I turn left I can leave this house and get away from all of this. If I turn right it takes me to Nathan and to my new and very much unwanted life.

There’s another door directly in front of me that is wide open. A quick glance tells me it’s the living room.

I look at my surroundings. It seems to be a big house, well bigger than the two bed Eddie and I had, and every part of it I’ve seen so far is decorated in neutral colours, like the carpet under my feet. It's dark brown and the walls are painted beige. There’s no colour, no knickknacks, no mementos – no woman’s touch. If there was once a woman here, she’s been erased.

I look left again. My eyes rest on the front door.

All I have to do is walk to it, open it up and leave. It’s that easy. I don’t have to stay here. I don’t have to listen to anything else Nathan has to say.

I turn my body in the direction of the front door and take a step toward it.

But if I leave where will I go? I can’t go home. I’ve got nowhere to go and no one that can help me, except for Nathan, that is.

I pause and look right.

With a resigned sigh, I walk down the hall toward Nathan, each step I take getting heavier the closer I get to him.

When I reach the door, I take a deep breath and slowly push it open.

I find myself in a brightly lit, large, open plan kitchen-diner. Nathan looks up at me as I enter. He’s leaning up against the kitchen counter to my far left with a glass in his hand.

I smile. He doesn’t return it and I wonder if I’ve done something wrong.

A flush rises in my cheeks. I look away, glancing around quickly, taking in my surroundings. Directly in front of me is the dining area. The TV I could hear is fixed up on the wall to my right and it’s currently hosting the rugby. Adjacent to the TV is a large, dark brown, wooden dining table with six white leather chairs pushed underneath, and two of those chairs are occupied by, I’m assuming, Nathan’s dad and brother.

“
Hiya love, you alright?” Nathan’s dad says.

I notice he looks good for his age. He has warm dark eyes and hair to match, with just a showing of grey. Nathan looks nothing like his dad.

“
I’m Jack, Nathan’s dad,” he adds, patting a hand to his chest. “And this is Sol, my youngest.” He thumbs in Sol’s direction.

Sol smiles a very confident smile at me.

I can tell he’s Nathan’s brother. He’s just a younger, slighter version of him. The only difference I can see between them is Nathan has a more indie style hair cut, whereas Sol’s hair is cut short and styled to precision, just like his clothes. Sol seems to care about his appearance in stark contrast to Nathan’s ‘I’ve just fallen out of bed and put on yesterday's clothes’ look. Nathan may have had a shower before he woke me up earlier but, if so, he’s still put back on the same rumpled clothes he was wearing this morning.

“
Hi,” I utter nervously.

“
It’s really nice to meet you properly,” Sol says with a noticeable swagger to his surprisingly deep voice. “And when my dad says I’m young, he just means I’m younger than these two oldies.” He nods his head in the direction of his dad and brother. “I’m nineteen and very experienced for my age,” he adds in a lower tone, bordering suggestive.

Nathan snorts out a laugh. My face instantly goes red.

“
Sol, for God’s sake, stop flirting!” Jack chides. “Sorry about him, love,” he says to me, rolling his eyes heavenwards. “His hormones never calmed down once they set in when he was a teenager.”

“
Yeah, we’ve considered getting him neutered,” Nathan adds, a goading tone to his voice.

I see Nathan and Sol share a look, then Sol says, “Sorry, when did you last get laid, Nate? Oh yeah, about a year ago.” He smiles smugly. “Me, you ask? Oh well, I got some yesterday.”

I flick a glance in Nathan’s direction. His green eyes briefly meet mine. I feel a jolt inside. It surprises me.

“
Ignore those two idiots,” Jack says to me, sliding a disapproving look at them both. “They’re always like this. You get used to ‘em after a while - well eventually.” He smiles. “Do you want a drink?” But before I get a chance to answer, Jack turns to Nathan and says, “Make yourself useful and get Alex a drink, will you?”

“
Do you want a drink?” Nathan asks me.

I glance at him wearily, unsure of what drink is actually on offer. I don’t think I could stomach any more blood right now. Or ever again.

“
A normal drink,” Nathan adds, seeing my hesitation.

I spy a bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. That must be what he’s drinking.

“
Jack Daniels?” I ask.

“
Jack Daniels it is.”

He puts his own drink down on the counter, reaches up and gets a glass out of the cupboard, pours a small measure of whiskey into it and holds it out for me to take.

I walk toward him and take the glass. “Thanks.” I stare down at the brown liquid. I’m not a big whiskey drinker, more of a vodka girl, but right now I’d drink glass cleaner if it had alcohol in it.

I down it in one. It goes down like water. In the past when I’ve drunk whiskey, I’ve breathed fire after a one sip.

“
Refill?” Nathan asks, raising an eyebrow.

I press the back of my hand to my damp lips, drying them. “Yes, please.” I hold my glass out as he pours again. A larger measure this time, I notice.

Nathan gets another clean glass from the cupboard, tucks the bottle of Jack Daniels under his arm, picks his own drink up and heads for the table.

Cradling my glass to my chest, I follow behind him.

He puts his own drink down, places the clean glass on the table in front of his dad, pours some Jack Daniels into it, and sits down.

“
Thanks, son.” Jack looks over at him appreciatively.

I sit in the chair beside Nathan and put my glass down.

“
Don’t I get any?” Sol asks.

“
Since when do you drink whiskey?” Nathan questions.

Sol’s eyes briefly flicker in my direction, then straight back to Nathan. “Since forever.”

“
Sorry, I thought strawberry milk was more your drink of choice.” With a sigh Nathan gets up from his seat and goes to get Sol a glass.

He comes back, sets the glass down on the table in front of Sol with a slight bang, and sits down again.

Sol takes hold of the bottle of Jack Daniels and pours himself a large measure. He picks up the glass and, with a defiant look in his eyes meant for Nathan, takes a really big gulp of whiskey. The moment it’s down he starts spluttering and coughing, his face turning bright red.

Nathan lets out a laugh. I stay quiet in my seat. Under normal circumstances I’d find this funny but this isn’t exactly normal circumstances.

Jack leans over and pats Sol hard on the back. “Cough it up, lad,” he says, letting out a low rumbling laugh himself.

“
Good stuff, isn’t it?” Nathan smirks at Sol and downs his own remaining whiskey.

“
Fuck off,” Sol snaps, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

Nathan eyes him over his glass, grinning.

A smile breaks Sol’s stony face. “You’re a real arse at times, you know,” he says, a small laugh escaping him.

“
So I’ve been told.” Nathan slides an innocuous look my way. My face flushes. I look away.

“
Do you want something to eat?” Jack asks me, thankfully changing the subject.

I shake my head.

“
You sure?” he questions.

“
I’m sure. But, thanks.”

I take a sip of my drink and put it back down on the wooden table, keeping my fingertips resting up against the glass.

Jack picks the remote control up off the table and points it in the direction of the TV, turning it off. The kitchen is suddenly eerily silent.

“
So ... Alex,” Jack says putting the remote control back down, “Nathan says you have some questions.”

That’s the understatement of the century if there ever was one.

I slide a sideways glance at Nathan and look back to Jack. I nod my head lightly.

Jack pulls a pack of cigars out of his shirt pocket. “You mind if I smoke?” he asks.

I shake my head. Even if I did, it’s his house and not my place to object, but I like the fact that he cared to ask.

He puts a cigar between his lips and lights it up with an old Zippo lighter. My dad used to have one of those lighters and he, like Jack, used to smoke cigars, only one a day, right after we’d eaten dinner. He’d go sit out on the back porch as my mum wouldn’t let him smoke in the house and I’d go and keep him company.

It was nice. I really miss it.

I inhale the scent of the cigar smoke and watch as it curls around the air. A pang of nostalgia and longing overtakes me.

“
You want one?” Jacks offers and I realise I’ve been staring.

“
No, thank you,” I utter, embarrassed.

Jack reaches over and pulls the glass ashtray, which was sitting in the middle of the table, toward him. He taps the end of his cigar on it, dropping ash in. “So you want to know how we know all about your kind – Vârcolacs, I mean,” Jack says getting straight onto the point.

Leaning forward, I rest my forearms on the table and wrap my hands around my glass. “Pretty much.”

He takes a noticeable breath. “We know about Vârcolacs and all the other supernatural beings out there because we’re a part of it. We’re shape-shifters.” He takes another puff of his cigar but keeps his eyes fixed firmly on me.

I’m pretty sure a tumbleweed blows through the room.

I look at Nathan agog, but he doesn’t meet my stare. I flick my widened eyes to Sol. He meets them and smiles in that awkward way people do when they really don’t know what else to do.

Okay, so I don’t really know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“
Shape … shifters, as in ... shape-shifters,” I finally say.

“
Is there any other type?” Nathan bites.

I turn, surprised, and see Jack give him a look. Nathan gets out of his seat, taking his glass with him and puts it with a clatter into the sink.

“
So, erm ... what do you ... shift into?” I ask Sol in a quiet voice.

“
We can change into anything we want,” Sol answers, “but only animals. We can’t change into other human beings.”

“
Oh,” I say.

Silence reigns for a moment. Nathan sits back down at the table beside me. He doesn’t look happy.

I decide to turn the subject away from them and onto myself, even though I am curious. I shift in my seat, turning to look at Nathan. “Nathan, you said earlier that when I was been bitten by the Vârcolac it should have killed me, not changed me. So how did I survive?”

I’m met with shrug. Nathan turns his head to look in my direction. His hair falls in front of his eyes. He brushes it away. “Maybe there’s something different about you. Maybe you’re special,” he says. He doesn’t sound like he thinks I’m special. “Or maybe over the years, as women have evolved and your bodies have somehow become stronger, you’ve become able to cope with the change. They’ve probably just never discovered this fact because Vârcolacs are so accustomed to you dying, they stopped trying to turn you. To them you were just dinner and obviously no one’s been stupid enough to try and save a woman from them, well apart from me, that is, and when I did, well then obviously I changed everything.” I see the regret in his eyes.

I’m fast coming to the conclusion that Nathan doesn’t really like me and that saving me is probably what he would class as one of his bigger mistakes in life.

It’s fine. Really.

I rub my hand over my face. “From what you said earlier, I’m to take it that it’s not a good thing I survived and became one of them?”

Nathan taps his long fingers against the table top. “No. If the Originals find out you exist–”

“
Originals?”

“
The first Vârcolacs,” Jacks inputs. “There’s two of them, Matthias and Isaiah. They’re twins.”

“
So where did they come from?” I’m starting to get so anxious that I’m fidgeting with thin air. “What I mean is, if they’re the first, then how did they become that way?”

Jack stubs his half-smoked cigar out and lays the remainder on the edge of the ashtray. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “There’s a lot of myth surrounding them but the legend as we know is that in the early part of the 1600s there was a cross-breed between Demetrius, the son from the original head vampire family, and a werewolf, Grace. She was the daughter of an important pack leader. That’s how Matthias and Isaiah were created. Demetrius and Grace were in love and she got pregnant. It was a pretty damn stupid and dangerous thing for them to do. Vampires and werewolves don’t mix at all. They don’t get along.”