Good Enough to Eat, page 12
Robin stood frozen. “Uh, you mean my office?”
Alana nodded.
“Well, you know, it’s nothing special.”
“I’m not expecting the Taj Mahal, it’s just… I admit I’m really curious about the place where you write your novels.”
Rubbing her chin, Robin seemed to weigh her options.
“I’d understand if you’d rather not, I just thought…”
Robin shifted her weight from one foot to the other and fixed her gaze on the bookshelf against one wall. Just when Alana wanted to tell her to forget it, Robin said, “Sure. Come on.”
“Thank you.” Grinning, Alana bounded after her.
Robin opened a door and swept her arm in a gesture that encompassed the entire room. “Like I said, nothing special. Just a room with a desk and a computer.”
Alana nudged her gently, setting off the familiar tingling sensation again. “And here I was expecting golden typewriters and covers of your books used as wallpaper.” She stopped in the doorway and blinked a few times.
Robin’s L-shaped desk took up two walls, reminding Alana a bit of the control centers of spaceships she’d seen on TV. The large whiteboard above one side of the desk caught her attention. Index cards and sheets of paper were stuck to it. Alana did a double take when she saw what was pinned to the board below the floor plan of a house—a printout of her photo from the law firm’s website hung next to her business card.
“Um, Robin?”
Robin, who was rummaging through a drawer, paused. “Yeah?” She half turned.
“Why do you have my photo on your whiteboard?” Should she feel flattered or scared?
“I…it’s not what you think. It’s… I based a character in one of my short stories on you.”
Alana reached up and scratched her neck, not sure how to feel about that.
“I hope you don’t mind. Maybe I should have asked, but we barely knew each other when I wrote that story.”
“If you wrote the story that long ago, why do you still have my picture up on the whiteboard?” Alana asked.
“Uh, I…I guess I forgot to take it down.”
Alana finally turned away from the whiteboard. Come on, it’s no big deal. “It’s okay. I just… I thought I left those unrealistic love stories behind, and now I’m a character in one of them.”
“No. I mean… Alissa, my character, isn’t you. The editor had me make her a police officer. She said divorce lawyers don’t make for sexy main characters.”
Alana sent her a challenging grin. “Oh, yeah?”
“Hey, it’s not like I agreed with her.” Robin turned around and took a notebook and a pen from the drawer. “Okay, let’s get to the step work before I embarrass myself even more.”
* * *
Half an hour later, Robin furrowed her brow at the third step of the program. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in God.”
Alana tapped her index finger on the brochure they were reading. “It says ‘God as we understand Him.’ God can be anything, you know?”
Robin ran her fingers through her hair. “What do you mean?”
“Do you believe that there’s a higher power?”
“No.”
Alana suppressed a sigh. “Okay, who created you?”
“Um, my parents?”
Alana chuckled. “Well, there’s that.”
Robin moved closer on the couch, but not close enough to touch her. “I don’t believe in a higher being creating us, like an author creating characters in a novel.”
Alana grinned. “That’s because you just use people you know in real life.”
Robin flashed her a beaming smile. “Didn’t you ever see me wear my careful or you’ll end up in my novel T-shirt?”
“I didn’t, but good to know that you come with a warning label.” Alana returned the smile. Their eye contact caused a tingling sensation similar to the one she felt when they touched. She forced her gaze back to the brochure. “I admit I struggled with that step too.”
“You did?”
Alana nodded, already regretting that she’d told Robin. That topic was best avoided when she was around humans.
“So you don’t believe in the existence of a higher power either?”
What could she say to that? There was no believing about it. She knew that higher beings existed. Hell, she’d been one of those higher beings. Not a god, of course. Her kind was neither all-knowing nor did they have unlimited powers. Still, her kind came pretty close to what humans would think of as a higher power. “Actually, I do,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “But my beliefs are a little unconventional and don’t fit most religions’ understanding of God.”
Robin tilted her head. Curiosity sparked in her eyes. “How so?”
Alana glanced around, searching for a way out of this conversation. But if she wanted Robin to open up and work on the twelve steps with her, she needed to set a good example and not clam up. “I don’t believe in a god who created everything. I believe in the universe and in energy that never dies. It only transforms.”
Robin lifted one eyebrow. “Does that mean you believe in life after death?”
Alana shrugged. “Don’t you?”
A shadow darted across Robin’s face. “No. I’ve seen too many people die to believe that. There’s just blood and death and then…nothing.”
There was so much regret in Robin’s eyes that Alana reached out and laid her hand on Robin’s arm. Instead of the almost painful spark her touch had caused in the beginning, the energy that flowed between them now felt healing. If that was true, she certainly hoped it would heal Robin’s emotional wounds, just as it had healed the cut on her lip. She studied her. Why had Robin seen people die? Had she served in the military or something like that?
Before she could ask, Robin refolded the AA brochure and stood.
* * *
Robin walked over to the picture window and looked down at Central Park. She pressed the Coke that she had opened just for appearance’s sake to her forehead. For a moment, she wished it were blood swishing around in the can, but then she pushed the dark images, memories from past hunts with other Girah, from her mind.
“Robin?”
She more felt than heard Alana approach behind her. Lowering her hand with the can, she turned around. “I’m fine. Can we skip the higher-power steps for now?”
Alana visibly hesitated. “It doesn’t work like that, Robin. If you want to stay sober, you can’t skip any of the steps. Come on, let’s sit back down and approach this another way.”
“What other way?” Robin asked but followed Alana back to the couch. “You either believe in God, or you don’t.”
“There are agnostics and atheists in AA, you know?”
No, Robin hadn’t known. Otherwise, she might have attended a group like that. But then you wouldn’t have met Alana. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. Sentimental fool.
“I think they take the third step to mean that you should give up playing God and entrust your life to people who have dealt with the same problem and found a way to become sober,” Alana said.
Robin folded her arms across her chest. “Playing God? I’m not doing that.”
“Oh, no?” Alana quirked a gentle smile. “Think about it for a second.”
Robin didn’t want to. She’d had enough of step work for the day. But Alana’s pleading gaze kept her on the couch. She thought back at the events of the last few months since meeting Alana. When had she played God? With one exception, she had stopped biting humans and playing Russian roulette with their lives, as if she had a right to decide who lived and who died. Compared to other Girah, she had a downright humble attitude and didn’t view herself as a superior being who could play with humans at will. Oh yeah? An image of her neighbor, Mr. Singh, doing jumping jacks popped into her mind. Could using thrall to force humans to do her bidding be considered playing God?
For the first time, she realized that while she’d tried to abstain from biting humans, she had never considered thralling them as wrong. At least she had never thralled Alana. Not for lack of trying, her conscience was quick to remind her. Damn. She’s right. I have been playing God.
When Robin remained silent, Alana said, “I remember meeting a woman named Robin who didn’t want anyone’s help because she thought she could handle it herself.”
Ah, that’s what she means. Robin relaxed against the back of the couch. “That was six weeks ago.”
Alana smiled. “That’s not very long.”
“I wouldn’t say that. A lot can happen in six weeks.”
Their gazes met and held.
Alana looked away first and took a big gulp of her Coke. “What happened for you in those six weeks?”
I struggled with my obsession with O negative and instead became obsessed with you. But, of course, she didn’t say that. “I admitted I need help, attended thirty-one AA meetings, and got myself a wonderful sponsor.”
A big grin spread over Alana’s face. “Wonderful, hmm?”
Robin took a swig of Coke and barely resisted spitting it back out. It hadn’t gotten any better since the last time she’d tried it. “Yeah. So I think we can put a check mark next to step three.”
Alana took the brochure and a pen off the coffee table and did just that. “There.”
They grinned at each other.
“That was easy,” Robin said.
“Yes. Especially compared to how long it took me to finish that step.” Alana rolled her eyes at herself. “Practically eternity.”
“So you were playing God too?” Alana seemed to trust the AA process so much that it was hard to imagine.
Alana laughed. “Oh, yeah. It took me months to stop thinking of myself as superior to the rest of humankind, a better kind of addict than the rest.”
Robin knew exactly what she meant. Sometimes, she caught herself looking down on the other members of the group, unable to understand how they could crave alcohol when the only thing she lusted for was blood. Well, blood and Alana. “But you don’t think like that anymore.”
“No. My arrogance made me relapse. After being sober for a few weeks, I started thinking I could control it. Have a drink after a stressful day, then stop. No problem, right?”
Robin shook her head. She sensed what was coming.
“Next thing I know, I’m waking up on my living room floor in a puddle of gin.” Alana gave her a wry grin. “Nothing like having to admit to all your friends in AA how stupid you were to cure any thoughts of omnipotence and teach you a little humbleness.”
“Wow.” Robin didn’t know what to say, but Alana seemed at peace with her road to sobriety and the obstacles she had encountered. Robin rubbed her hands. “Okay, what’s next?” With her success spurring her on, she found to her surprise that she wanted to continue. Now that she’d mastered the first three steps, maybe the others wouldn’t be as bad.
Alana showed her the next step in the brochure. “You’ve got some homework to do. Take an honest look at your life and make a moral inventory of who you really are, good and bad.”
A long groan escaped Robin. “Is that really necessary?”
“Yes. How will you ever beat your addiction if you don’t understand yourself and what drives you to drink?”
Robin already knew what drove her to drink—an age-old biological imperative—but she couldn’t very well tell Alana that, so she just nodded in defeat. “And after that?” She was almost afraid to ask. “What’s the fifth step?”
Alana crumpled her empty can in her fist. “That’s when you tell me all about your life and the wrongdoings on your list.”
Panic sent hot and cold shivers down Robin’s spine. After keeping secrets and hiding her true self all her life, she couldn’t take down all the masks and facades and tell Alana everything. While Alana might feel like her only ally in the world, she was still a human. “I… Alana, I can’t.”
“I know it’s hard.”
Robin shook her head. “You don’t understand.”
Alana let go of the crumpled can and put her hand on Robin’s. Her touch sent tingles through Robin’s body that soothed the rough edges of her panic. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Robin said before she could think about it.
“Then we’ll see each other next week.” Alana squeezed Robin’s hand before letting go and getting up. When she reached the door, she looked back and said, “Don’t forget to bring the inventory.”
The door closed behind her.
Cursing, Robin hurled Alana’s empty can across the room.
Chapter 10
Robin stabbed the backspace key repeatedly, deleting the only two sentences she had managed to write in the last hour. She hadn’t been able to write more than a sentence or two all week. The scenes that she usually saw in her head were gone. Instead, images of New Year’s Eve flashed through her mind, mixed with impressions from her nightmares in which Meghan and her parents hunted down Alana and drained her.
She closed the document, finally giving up on writing for the day, and trudged into the living room, where she stared at Central Park below. Maybe going out, getting some air, would help clear her head. If she finally got up the courage, she could even go to the AA meeting, talk to Alana, and come clean—at least as clean as she could. She had dodged Alana’s calls and evaded questions about what was going on when Alana sent her text messages. She knew she couldn’t avoid a serious conversation forever, though. By now, Alana probably suspected that Robin was avoiding her so she wouldn’t have to talk about the inventory of her wrongdoings.
She grabbed her coat and keys on the way out, pressed the down button that called the elevator, and counted the seconds until it arrived at her floor.
When the elevator doors opened, Mr. Singh stepped out and squeezed past her with a mumbled hi.
Robin returned the greeting and fled into the elevator, glad when the doors closed between them. Every time she saw her neighbor now, she had to think of Alana’s words about playing God and she couldn’t look him in the eye.
Deep in thought, she stepped out of the elevator and left the building.
Cold air and the smell of exhaust fumes, garbage, and roasted chestnuts hit her. Movement to her left caught her eye.
Robin’s head jerked around.
A man stood at the corner of the building, staring at her. When he realized she’d seen him, he whirled and ran.
Robin’s predatory instincts came alive. Adrenaline pumped through her system as she sprinted after him, dashing around honking cabs and past cursing street vendors. Even though she was running all out, she couldn’t close the distance between them. Dammit! Either he was a world-class sprinter, or she’d slowed down since she’d stopped drinking fresh blood. Still, if he could outrun her, he clearly wasn’t human.
Her muscles were burning, but she refused to give up. Gritting her teeth, she tried to speed up even more.
Ahead of her, the guy crashed into a group of pedestrians, losing valuable seconds.
Yes! This was her chance. Come on, come on. Just a few more yards…
Her lungs screamed as she tried to bridge the remaining distance between them. She lunged and gripped the back of the man’s coat. Got you!
He stumbled but tore himself free with a powerful jerk.
Robin nearly fell when her fingers lost their grip on the coat.
The man skidded around a corner and disappeared into a side street.
Speeding up, she followed. She growled, and her fangs protruded.
By the time she rounded the corner, he’d managed to gain several yards on her. He ran right toward a wall that separated the street from someone’s backyard.
No! If he climbed that wall, she would lose him.
He jumped, pulled himself up, and managed to get one leg over the wall.
Gathering every last bit of strength, Robin pounced. Her fingers closed around his other leg, and she jerked him back with all her might.
They landed on the rough pavement, the guy on top of her. Her head hit the ground. Lights sparked behind her eyes. His weight pressed the air from Robin’s lungs. Pebbles dug into her palm, tearing her skin. Dazed and breathing hard, she lay still for a moment.
Seemingly unhurt, the man jumped to his feet.
Grunting, Robin rolled around and caught his ankle.
He went down hard, landing on his belly.
Not giving him another chance to escape, Robin tackled him. She grabbed his coat and shook him so hard that his teeth rattled. “Who are you?” She growled into his ear from behind. “Why are you spying on me?”
Instead of an answer, he bucked beneath her.
Robin tried to hang on, but he was too strong. Within seconds, she found herself under him.
He stared down at her from inches away, his fangs gleaming, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Oh, shit. She struggled against his grip.
He pressed her shoulders to the ground and trailed his index finger down her neck. “Too bad you’re not human. All that running made me hungry.” He grinned, again revealing his fangs.
Robin growled and spat at him.
That wiped the grin off his face. He let go of her with one hand to dab at his cheek.
Robin drove her knee between his legs and jumped up.
His face the color of a cooked lobster, he got to his feet. “But then again,” he said, gasping, “maybe you are human. You certainly fight like one. Maybe if you drank blood, like any Girah with two brain cells, you wouldn’t have so much trouble keeping up.”
“What I drink or don’t drink is none of your business,” Robin said through gritted teeth.
He snorted. “I couldn’t care less.”
But someone did care enough to send him to spy on her. “The elders sent you to keep an eye on me, didn’t they?”
He said nothing. He didn’t need to.
“Tell them to keep their lapdogs out of my neighborhood.”
He smirked. “Or else?”
Robin clenched her hands into fists until her knuckles turned white. The elders held all the power in Girah society. Without the support of her parents, she couldn’t defy them, and as long as she didn’t drink fresh blood, she stood no chance in a fight against their spies.
