For the past three days I’ve been spending the majority of my time wandering around the city alone, sitting people watching in cafés or mindlessly browsing through the shops. This is why I was out today in the first place. Basically, I’ve been doing it to get away from the house, there are just way too many people around Finn’s place these days. Half of which happen to think I’m some sort of modern incarnation of Judas. Yeah, the vampires remain pissed over the fact that I went behind their backs to rescue Rebecca.
Rita, her mum and Alvie are still living in the motor home out in the front garden, while Finn, Gabriel, Ira, Amanda and myself have been staying in the house. But get this, Ethan went and bought a house that had been for sale across the road for the vampires to live in while we’re still maintaining our strange alliance. Very cosy. I think he gets some kind of perverse satisfaction out of making me miserable. He still hasn’t spoken a word to me. It’s only been four days, but still, the vampire needs to learn how to let go of a grudge. I mean, he could at least be civil to me for the sake of working together, but no such luck. Maturity it seems, is something that has evaded Mr Cristescu and his two-hundred and seventy-nine years.
The sky has only just darkened to night as I slot my key into Finn’s front door, and I can hear chattering coming from the kitchen. When I step into the hallway, shrugging out of my coat and hanging it on the banister at the end of the stairs, I pick out the distinct tones of Rita and Ethan. Both are laughing at some shared joke I presume.
Ethan has been doing his utmost to charm Rita these past few days. The bastard. He knows she’s powerful and he wants her on his side in the long run. I think he also knows that she’s my favourite and wants to steal her away from me. Don’t get me wrong, I love Finn, Alvie and Gabriel to bits, but Rita will always hold a special place in my heart. I feel oddly possessive of her friendship now that Ethan has set his sights on her.
Disgruntled, I fling open the kitchen door and limp my way over to the sink to wash the city grit from my hands. Their laughing immediately ceases and then Rita lets out a low gasp.
“What happened to you Tegan?” she asks, rising from her seat with a look of worry on her face.
“I got caught up in a riot down on Campion Row, some crazy bastard attacked me,” I stop and gesture at my rapidly bruising face, “as you can probably see.”
“Jesus, why would he attack you?” Rita’s words come out ponderous, rather than questioning.
“I don’t know, all I can tell is that something funky is going on. One minute everything was normal, people going about their own business doing their shopping and the next they’re transformed into a bunch of violent nut-jobs.”
I allow myself a glance at Ethan, and the look in his eyes is murderous, only I can’t tell whether he’s angry at the man who hurt me or if he’s still just angry at me in general. His cold, dark blue eyes cut right through me. Woah, intense or what.
I look back at Rita. “Do you think it might have something to do with Theodore? I seriously wouldn’t put it past him to try sending the human population insane simply for his own entertainment.”
Rita sits back down now, a thoughtful expression on her pixie-like face. Today she’s wearing red lipstick that is so dark it’s almost black, and this weird white eye shadow and mascara on her eyes. It’s striking to say the least. Her outfit consists of ripped black jeans and a lacy purple shirt, oh yeah and bare feet. Rita loves to go around barefoot, perhaps she feels like it brings her closer to that Goddess she’s always invoking in her spells. Mother Earth, I imagine.
“It could be the workings of Theodore I suppose, but there’s also a chance that it might be something that seeped through from the hell dimension when Marcel brought him back over to this side. There’s some dodgy stuff over there, stuff that might make people go a little bit crazy when released into the atmosphere.”
“Can you be more specific?” I ask her, leaning back against the counter and trying not to wince at the pain in my leg.
“Malevolent entities, spirits, demons, that kind of thing,” Rita answers flippantly.
“Yay, I love when evil comes for a visit.” I reply sarcastically. “Help me get out the good china, would you?”
Rita rolls her powdery white coated, dark brown eyes, they look like they’ve just been snowed on. “Good luck with that, I don’t think Finn’s the kind of man to own fancy china.”
I laugh. “Yeah, you’re right there.” I glance between Rita and Ethan, both still seated at the kitchen table. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to whatever cosy chat you were having before I interrupted. I’m going upstairs to try and doctor myself.”
Rita grins over at a stony faced Ethan, who suddenly jumps up and strides toward me. He grabs my wrist and commands, “Come with me,” before yanking me out of the room and up the stairs to the bathroom. Those three little words are the first he has uttered to me since the party at Whitfield’s mansion. He might still be aggressive as fuck, but perhaps this is progress.
Ethan slams shut the bathroom door and turns over the lock. Fun times! His hand is still clamped onto my wrist, so I jerk myself away from him.
“What’s all this about?” I ask. “Have you finally decided to acknowledge my existence like a mature adult?”
“Stop talking, or I won’t help you.”
“I don’t need your help, I’m fine.”
His eyes travel over my bruised face, and if I’m not mistaken they stray to my lips for a fraction of a second before meeting my gaze again. “You don’t look fine,” he says and grips my shoulders, pushing me over to the edge of the bath. “Sit down.”
With a distinct gulp, I do as he says. His hands on me cause memories of sleeping with him to rise to the surface. I haven’t had his touch in weeks, and the brief pressure of his hands on my shoulders reminds me of how much I miss him. I breathe out heavily and look up at him as he towers over me. Something shifts in his eyes and he inhales. Oh crap, can he smell what I’m feeling? That I want him so badly?
His gaze burns, and his lips part slightly, his sharp, white fangs extending downwards. He puts one foot in the bath tub, the other on the tiles of the bathroom floor, saddling himself in front of me on the edge of the bath. He lifts his wrist to his mouth, eyes still trained on mine, and then bites down hard with his fangs. Blood begins to drip from the puncture before he thrusts his wrist at me. “Drink, it will heal you,” he tells me softly.
I raise one eyebrow and glance down at his offered wrist. “Does this mean we’re friends again?” I ask him humorously, humour which his expression indicates is not reciprocated.
“You and I will never be friends…” his voice is hard now as he trails off. “Friends do not want each other as we do. Still, if you are asking if you are forgiven then the answer is no, but that doesn’t mean I will allow you to suffer physically the way you are suffering now. Drink.”
I glare at him, but I’m remembering the time when I drank Dru’s blood and how it had healed my broken ribs in a matter of minutes. It had also tasted incredible. I lean a little closer, hesitantly pressing my lips to Ethan’s bloodied wrist. A small hiss escapes him at the contact, and I can’t help feeling satisfied that I still affect him as much as he affects me.
I begin to suck at it tentatively, but when the honey sweet taste of it slides down my throat I start to take much more harder gulps. I think I hear Ethan groan as I do, but I’m too consumed by his blood right now to pay it much attention. The next thing I know I’m being lifted up and flipped across the room to the wall, Ethan presses himself into me as I continue to drink from him. I glance up at his dark eyes and our gazes connect. It feels almost magical. He moves his nose up the side of my neck softly, as though tracing the line of a vein.