On the Edge of Humanity (18 page)

The mess hall located on the third floor made the cafeteria at school look like a rundown diner. The stainless steel refrigerator had three doors on top, and two draws that pulled out on the bottom. The tables were all set for dinner complete with cloth napkins like a high-end restaurant.

Two long islands lined the right side of the mess hall, a name that didn’t fit the atmosphere or design of the expansive room. Each island had a granite counter top with bar stools tucked underneath. Behind them was a small selection of liquor bottles neatly stacked from the bottom shelf to the top. Probably not something they were going to let me drink, although I imagined something strong would have helped my nerves.

“I’ll see if the cook can make us a light snack,” Webb said as he pushed in a swinging door, to what I assumed was the kitchen.

I was thirsty, and since liquor wasn’t one of my choices, I walked over to the refrigerator and pulled open the middle door. Two rows of colorful juice boxes sat neatly under the sprinkle of the refrigerator light. There were orange, blue, green and black boxes. I plucked an orange one from the shelf and closed the door.

I surveyed the small box, then pulled the plastic straw from the side of it. The word
Creamsicle
was imprinted across the top edge.
This sounds tasty.

I inserted the straw through the foil spot on top, then drew in a long sip. The sweetness of the orange and vanilla combination made my tastebuds tingle, but the thickness of the liquid made my stomach clench.
What is this? This isn’t juice.
The consistency was more like a milkshake.

My stomach started to churn and bile rose in the back of my throat. I swallowed, then inhaled. I suddenly became dizzy. Maybe I was dehydrated. I grabbed another orange box and went through the same procedure, though I sipped this one slowly rather than downing it. The room began spinning.

“Jo, what are you doing?” Webb yelled. “Put that down. You
can’t
drink that.”

I snapped up my head. A look of horror was plastered on his face. His eyes suddenly turned black. Not a good sign. Oh no. What did I just do?

“Put
down
the juice box.”

My mind agreed with him, but my hands didn’t.

“This isn’t juice,” I said as I looked at the blurry words printed on the box.

“I know, Jo. It’s
blood
!”

I stood frozen in place with the straw still in my mouth, still sipping the…
what
!

“Dr. Vieira, I need you down in the mess hall,
now
,” Webb yelled into his phone.

He guided me to a chair. “How do you feel?”

“Fine. What’s all the fuss? I’m just drinking...”
Oh my God! Is this my father’s blood? Am I going to turn into a vampire?

The room was spinning faster now. My stomach decided it didn’t like the blood, after all. I dropped the box, grabbed my stomach and bent over.

Webb snatched a trashcan from somewhere.

“In here.” He placed the container at the base of my feet.

I heaved the contents of my stomach into it. My hair fell in front of me as sweat beaded up on my face and forehead. The first round was painful, as if I had just completed fifty sit-ups. I burped, and as soon as I did, the second round began. Webb pulled my hair behind me and held it.

“What happened?” Dr. Vieira asked. “Ah, I see.”

I couldn’t tell what he saw. Only that he probably figured it out from the orange boxes on the floor.

“Will she be okay? Or will this mess up our plan?” Webb whispered.

“What plan?” I asked as my voice echoed from the trashcan.

Him and that damn plan, whatever it was.

“No, she’ll be fine. She’s eliminated most of it. Only a very small amount will absorb into her system, but shouldn’t do any harm,” Dr. Vieira explained. “Make sure she eats something bland for dinner.”

“Did I just drink my father’s blood?” My heart raced.

“You told her?” Dr. Vieira asked. There was concern in his voice.

“We don’t have much time. She needs to know,” Webb said.

“Then it begins. I’m almost finished with her tests. They may be ready by this evening,” Dr. Vieira said.

I raised my head, hands glued to the rim of the trashcan. “Tests?” I shifted my blurry gaze between Webb and Dr. Vieira.

They both wore an unblinking expression.

“I get it. Need to know basis, right?” I asked.

“Let’s go back to my office. You can lie down for a bit,” Webb said.

“I want to see Ben. That’s if you—” I stuck my head in the trashcan, waiting. But it was a false alarm. “Didn’t kill him yet.”

“What is she talking about?” Dr. Vieira asked.

“Nothing,” Webb replied as he walked to the bar with his phone at his ear.

I sat motionless, trying to still the dizziness that clouded my head while I thought of Ben. Had Webb actually killed him?

Dr. Vieira sat beside me.

“Do you know if Ben…?” But, before I could finish, Webb grabbed my arm.

“Let’s go,” Webb commanded.

Dr. Vieira guided me upright.

“Make sure you eat something light at dinner,” Dr. Vieira reminded me as he dropped his hand.

Webb helped me toward the door. I willed my stomach to begin its third round. I wanted desperately to puke on his shiny military boots.

Olivia met us in the hall. “Sir, you requested me?”

“Can you escort Jo to the ladies room then return her to my office?” Webb asked as he let go of my arm.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hey, I’m not some postal package who needs to be returned to sender.”

The man is irritating with a capital ‘I.’

Webb flicked his head to the side and Olivia returned his command with a nod.

Like Webb, Olivia was dressed all in black with cargo pants and laced-up boots. She wore a black golf shirt, which disappeared into her trousers, and her weapons were strapped to her belt. I focused on her sword, which had a black leather handle with a silver plate tacked to the side with words engraved on it. I squinted, but the words were too small to make out. I wondered though if there were any significance to the different colored handles. I remembered Sloan’s sword had a brown handle and Webb’s was red.

As we walked into the restroom, my stomach tightened. I covered my mouth as I ran to the sink. I was a little disappointed my stomach waited until now.

“How many boxes did you drink?” Olivia asked.

I held up two fingers as I continued to puke.

“No wonder. A human can’t handle a spoonful without getting sick, let alone eight ounces of blood,” she replied.

There was a lull in the action and my stomach settled for a moment. I picked up my head and she handed me a paper towel.

It was hard not to peer in the mirror. My bangs were stuck to my forehead and my chin had small red marks from where the glass punctured the skin. I turned on the faucet, wetted the paper towel and placed it over my mouth. When I looked up, Olivia was staring at me. Her hair was pulled back into a low braid and her angled eyebrows accentuated her soft brown eyes. Like the rest of the guards, she looked young. I wondered at what age she had crossed over.

“Is something wrong?” I asked as I turned to face her.

“You look just like—”

“I know, like my father. How many times am I going to hear that today?” I rolled my eyes and, as I did, the room spun and my stomach gave way. I jerked my head toward the sink, but not fast enough as the contents of my stomach sprayed onto Olivia’s shirt.

I hugged the sink and heaved again. I took a deep breath and waited a few seconds before I raised my head. When I did, I saw that Olivia had taken her shirt off and was rinsing it in the sink next to me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “While the flavor tasted good, my stomach sure doesn’t think so.”

She laughed. “Which kind did you try?”

“The creamsicle.”

“Not my favorite. The one in the black box is a peppered flavor with some other spices in it. That’s mine.”

She reminded me of something Sam said when we were at the funeral home—which seemed ages ago now. He had mentioned that when he got blood in his mouth, it tasted like pepper to him. I desperately missed Sam. A gust of hot air blew in my direction. I looked over at Olivia; she was drying her shirt under the air dryer.

I couldn’t help but stare. She wore a white tank top that was perfectly fitted to her body, showing a hint of six-pack abs. Her sculpted biceps rippled along her arms as she rubbed her shirt together. When she turned to face me, the front of her left shoulder exposed a tattoo. It looked like a handwriting specialist drew the number four in calligraphy style. If the vertical stem were removed, it would look like the number two.

“Your tattoo. Does it stand for something?” I asked.

She glanced down. “Oh that. It’s nothing.”

“What does it mean?” My stomach gurgled, echoing in the room. “Sorry.”

“Do you have to throw up again?” she asked.

“I don’t know. But stay back.”

“It’s the symbol for Jupiter. We’re the Jupiter Sentinels and this sort of brands us into the group. Every vampire recruit that makes it through SEAL training is imprinted with a symbol of their SEAL team.”

“Neil has a symbol on the back of his neck in the shape of—” I froze.

His was a monogram, as well, with the letters ‘P’ and—did his symbol stand for the Plutariums?
Oh shit! Is Neil part of them—the bad guys?

“Neil? Who’s Neil?” she asked. Her brows lifted.

I wasn’t sure if I should tell her. I suspected she was going to tell Webb everything we talked about. But it was only a tattoo. I wasn’t going to tell her that I thought Neil was dead. Then again, did the Sentinels have something to do with his death?

“Some guy I met at the hospital. He had a tattoo on the back of his neck. Not like yours but it looked like the symbol that’s engraved on that ring Jonah was wearing.”

She flinched. Did she know Neil?

Her hands shook slightly as she buttoned the top of her golf shirt.

My stomach talked back and I leaned over the sink. While I waited for the puke to rise, my mind raced. The pieces of an extremely complex puzzle were forming, but little was making sense. A few seconds ticked by. I burped, then hiccupped. A complete mess, I splashed water on my face and played with my bangs, but it was useless. The monster look would have to do for now.

“We should get you back to Webb’s office.”

My stomach settled and the gurgling had stopped, but a cloud of haze floated around me as I stepped into the chilly hall. My knees buckled. Cool air whistled past my ear as I landed on my right shoulder and my head hit the tile floor. The fluorescent light spun above me, then faded.

I woke up on the couch in Webb’s office. I lifted my head, but it was as if a weight were pressing against my forehead, pushing me back down. A sharp pain throbbed just above my right ear. I inserted my fingers into my mouth, searching my gums for fangs. I sighed heavily, relieved that I didn’t find any pointy teeth. My hands roamed over my body, seeking what, I didn’t know. Aside from fangs, I wasn’t sure what other physical changes vampires experience.

“Are you like a magnet for trouble?” a familiar voice asked.

Excitement stirred within me.

I sat up. Ben was sitting in the chair opposite me. He was alive. Oh my God. I couldn’t believe it. Webb didn’t kill him. His voice was music to my ears.

“You’re alive?” The words came out in a high-pitched tone and I sounded like a squealing girl at a Justin Beiber concert.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, because Webb was suppose to kill you for not agreeing to…you know.”

“Jo, I couldn’t do that to you or Sam, even if you could be one of them.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I’m glad Webb had Tripp take me upstairs. I needed time to process all this. This vampire stuff is heavy. Tripp explained some things to me and showed me around the compound. The SEAL team members in this building are mostly vampires, but a couple of them are human. I had a chance to talk to one of them. While I’m not completely comfortable with vampires, it was good to hear what another human had to say.”

I was relieved Ben sounded a bit more relaxed. Maybe his vibe would wear off on me.

“And Tripp showed me the weapons room. It looks like something out of a James Bond movie. It’s some cool shit,” Ben said as his eyes glistened.

“Do you hear yourself? A couple of hours ago you were no way about this vampire crap. You meet a few vampires, talk to a human, see a bunch of weapons and now you’re into it?”

“Not completely. But I decided at least to listen. The human guy said something that made me think. He said, ‘You can’t change how you’re born.’ All this scares the shit out of me. You kind of scare me. But I’m not going to abandon a friend.”

Tears filled my eyes.

“You know I was down here freaking out, thinking the worse. While I want to strangle you, I’d rather strangle him,” I whispered as I flicked my head at Webb, who was sitting at his desk shuffling papers.