Cold Blood, page 9
Though any alcohol would be weaker. I’d focus on that. Maybe I couldn’t beat the impossible quality of the goods they could order, but I could certainly beat the strength. The prices weren’t labeled, so I could easily raise them to match the sort of expectations they’d have. Novelty and strength, I’d focus on that, and try to get a sale.
The path was impressively smooth and maintained and led up to a polished oak door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked.
The better part of a minute flew by without any sound coming from the other side. I was ready to give up when finally, it flew open, and a woman in a gown made of fabric that had to cost more than I’d make in a year looked out at me. “Can I help you?” she asked. It wasn’t what I expected. She wasn’t throwing me out, but it also wasn’t the formal greeting that I’d assumed one would receive at a place like this.
“I was hoping to help you, actually.” I smiled. “I have a number of goods for sale, including some rather potent alcohol from the East.” Technically, the still was east of here, so it wasn’t a lie.
“I…” She looked behind her. “I’m not sure the master of the house will be interested.”
I tried to contain my disappointment. It was better treatment than I’d received in a while, even if it wasn’t a sale.
“But we might be. Come around back to the servants’ entrance and let us see what you have. We so rarely have time to go out to do our own shopping.”
A smile pulled at my cheeks. That was the best news I’d had in days. “I’ll be right there.”
The servants’ entrance was in a recess at the back of the house, but it was easy enough to find, and the door was open and waiting for me. They marveled at my selection, poring over everything. A few kids jumped at the chance to have some proper toys, grabbing a doll and a carved horse and carriage while the men grabbed bottle after bottle of alcohol. The cloths I had didn’t seem to interest the women, but one begged for me to read her palm. I’d never learned the trade, but I’d seen it done enough times that I wasn’t willing to say no.
She sat by the counter, and one of the men pushed a chair over for me, so I sat and took her hand. I muttered a few words, like I was trying to figure out what it meant, and then simply repeated the same thing I’d heard my cousin tell a customer, explaining how this line meant she’d have a long life, how this meant she’d find love, and the usual nonsense people loved to hear.
Of course, this only excited more of them, and I didn’t manage to get out of there until I’d had to make up some outlandish fortunes and been given a bag of more money than I’d ever seen.
As heavy as it was on its own, my tray was so light now that I was practically skipping on the road home. I’d have to come back the next day. I’d always stuck to poorer areas, where it seemed like people would be more interested, but I’d apparently been overlooking an under-served market, and I would not do that again.
The coins in my blouse were enough for everyone. We wouldn’t have to worry for weeks. They were going to be thrilled. There’d probably be a party in my honor.
I chuckled, the grin no longer enough to express my joy. Everything was perfect.
I turned down the road. It wasn’t dark or empty. There were plenty of people on it, but they were wealthier, and I was well below any of their notice. Home was only an hour’s walk away, maybe forty minutes at the rate I was going, so I wasn’t overly worried.
But one of them started following me.
It was an older man, with gray hair, a frock coat, and a cane that rang out on the cobblestones. It was what first made me notice him.
The sound hadn’t meant anything at first. People had walking sticks, and they made noise; it was no different than anything else I’d hear on the road, like footsteps, hoofbeats, and shouted slurs. But unlike all of the other noises, it didn’t go away as I kept walking.
I didn’t want to look, but it kept thudding, never getting any farther away.
He was keeping pace with me. I tried speeding up, pretending I was still skipping merrily along. For a moment, the sound grew fainter, and I thought maybe I’d been paranoid over nothing, but then it got closer again.
It kept thudding. Beat. Beat. Every few steps, never growing any farther.
I risked a look back and saw the proper older man in a frock coat. Nothing about him seemed interesting. He didn’t even react when I looked. But he was the exact same distance he’d been when I’d first noticed him.
A pit formed in my stomach. I tried turning off to a different road, but it didn’t change. That same sound kept following me at the same distance.
Could he have been the owner of that house? Maybe he thought I stole something? Was that why he was following me?
I turned again, and it stayed exactly as far away. It just kept coming. No matter what I did, he was following me, and I’d been dumb enough to turn into a village street I didn’t know as well.
I’d been here a few months earlier. The houses were all wooden, with thatch roofs, and sides that seemed ready to cave in, with tarps in places to keep out the draft. There were people on the roads, as evidenced by one spitting at my feet, but I didn’t know anyone here. There were no other Rroms I could turn to or anyplace I could go.
Part of me wanted to try knocking on a door to sell something, but standing in one place with him behind me felt like a terrible decision.
But I had to do something.
I turned back onto the main road, and he didn’t stop me, but when I looked back, I swear he was the slightest bit closer. Nowhere near arm’s reach, still a good ten paces away, but he’d been farther before, hadn’t he?
I kept walking. I was maybe half an hour from home after that detour. I could make it.
He was only eight paces away now. What was he trying to do? Why hadn’t he said anything? “Is there something you want?” I finally asked, turning, trying to smile but knowing the fear took it from me.
His eyes finally met mine. They were cold, lifeless things that somehow still seemed to show joy at the look on my face. “Good evening,” he said.
I glanced up at the sky. The sun was barely hitting the horizon. Evening seemed a bit early, but if the worst he was going to do was be wrong about the time, then I could hardly complain. “Good evening,” I repeated, not wanting to correct him. “Do I know you?”
His teeth showed in a mockery of a smile. They were white, straight, and far too sharp. “No, I don’t believe you do.”
I took a step back.
His cane echoed again as he stepped toward me, seeming to cross the entire distance between us in a single step. “It is a lovely night for a walk, isn’t it?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. A lump seemed to have formed in my throat, and I couldn’t force anything past it.
“Oh, it’s quite all right.” His finger pressed against my lips. “You don’t need to say anything more. Ever again, in fact.”
I snapped on his finger hard enough that the bone crunched, and blood sprayed into my mouth. It popped free, and I felt the vile digit loose in my mouth, rolling against my throat and only adding to how badly I wanted to vomit as I swung my tray at his head, jars and toys flying off and smashing on the ground.
He caught it. “Oh, I do wish you hadn’t done that.” He yanked the tray from my hand with so little effort, I might as well have been a rag doll. He snapped it over his knee, then flung it to the side. “We were playing a simple game, and you had to ruin it.” He stared at his missing finger, then picked me up by the throat.
It was the strangest thing I’d ever felt. It hurt, of course, like nothing had ever hurt before as his fingers crushed my windpipe, and I gasped for air, but he was holding me in the air in a single hand. I’d compared myself to a doll, but I hadn’t realized how true it was. Whatever this monster was, I was merely another toy to play with.
He pressed against my broken trachea as I tried to scream, but nothing came out except his finger, and it fell to the ground. Those fangs he had for teeth sank into my throat, and I knew I was going to die. I reached under my shirt, feeling the bag of coins but moved past it. I knew I still had it. I had to. I wouldn’t have lost it.
My hand clasped the hilt of the knife my cousin had given me. It was little more than a letter opener, but it was all I had. I drew it and stabbed into his chest, and blood sprayed out with so much force, I could taste it.
I thought he’d at least be surprised enough to drop me, but he only tightened his grip, and the world went black as I finally dropped to the ground.
That was how I died. The first vampire I’d ever met stalked me and tormented me, then left me dead on the side of the road.
But I’d tasted his blood. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but it was enough to make sure I didn’t stay dead. I was quite possibly the first vampire to ever accidentally become one, but at the time, all I knew was that I’d been attacked and left for dead on the side of the road. I had no idea that I’d become the same sort of monster that had killed me.
Chapter Eleven
Dorenia
“That’s not possible,” Kalila says.
“What isn’t?”
“You can’t…no one is turned like that. Vampires choose to do it. I’ve been hunting them for over a decade, and I’ve never heard of anything like this happening. It doesn’t make sense. He should’ve been fast enough to avoid any of that. You’re lying.”
I need her to believe me. What can I possibly do to get through to her? “I’m not.”
“Then why are you wasting my time with this?”
“I need you to understand who he is and what he can do. He’s a serious threat, and you don’t want to go in blind.” It’s the best way to pitch it. The story is obviously to get her sympathy, but if I treat it like a tactical necessity, maybe she’ll keep listening long enough for the truth to sink in.
She crosses her arms and sits back but doesn’t say anything. I take it as a sign to continue.
I woke up on the side of the road, the sun well below the horizon. I felt my belly to find the bag of coins still there. No one must’ve wanted to touch me. Their loss.
I felt my throat, expecting the same pain as before, but it seemed whole and unbroken. There wasn’t even a tear where his teeth had bit in. I tried speaking, and a noise came out. “I’m all right?” I asked no one and received no answer.
My tray was still broken on the ground, and blood still clung to my face and blouse. It hadn’t been a dream or any sort of hallucination. I was attacked. I was killed. But I was fine.
I rubbed my throat, knowing that there had to be an injury, that something had to be wrong, but it was perfect. It was like nothing had ever happened.
I pulled myself to my feet and ignored my fallen goods. I’d made enough money that it wasn’t a huge loss.
Home was so close. All I had to do was walk, but as I began moving, I felt a pain in my belly. At first, I thought it was an injury I’d overlooked, but as I began licking my lips, I realized that I was starving.
I hadn’t eaten all day, so that made sense. Someone back home would probably have saved me some food. It should give me the motivation to make the walk.
But as a woman walked by, I found myself staring at her neck, unable to look away. She smelled more delicious than any food I’d ever smelled. It was like a succulent roast mixed with the most flavorful wine, but somehow more than that. I was drooling.
I tried to fight back, to keep from moving toward her, but she was already within arm’s reach.
She turned to me, shock and revulsion clear on her face. “Get away from me, gy—”
My teeth sank into her.
I blinked, barely managing to keep from pulling away and taking her neck with me. What was I doing? Why was I doing this? I released her and stepped back, licking my lips and barely managing not to moan at the taste. She ran, and I had to fight every instinct to chase her.
What the hell was going on with me?
I wiped my face and rubbed at the blood on my shirt. It was too dry to come off, but I needed to get rid of it. What was I? I had to look like a monster, and it didn’t seem far off from the truth.
That man, that thing that attacked me. Was I like him now? He had bitten me and left me for dead. Why was I like him? What was he?
Maybe someone back home could tell me. All I could do was keep from hurting anyone. I had enough money to help out, and they’d hide me if that woman ran to the police. We’d probably have to leave town sooner than I’d imagined, but at least we wouldn’t do so penniless.
In mere minutes, I was there. I looked around in confusion. It had been farther than this. I thought back to how even as I ran, he was always right behind me. Was this part of that too?
I wanted to talk to someone, to ask what was happening to me, but I couldn’t do it while looking like this. I headed for my wagon only for someone to start calling my name. The words were loud and rang in my ears, but I turned to face the one who said it. Her image was so sharp that I couldn’t recognize her at first, but she coalesced into my cousin, Mala.
“God, Dorenia, you look like hell.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. I only wanted to get cleaned up, to not have them all see me looking like a monster.
“You’re covered in blood. What happened to you?”
“It’s nothing.” I shook my head and tried to move around her, but she grabbed my arm, her pleading eyes meeting mine.
“Dorenia, what happened? Did someone hurt you?”
I shook my head.
Her grip tightened. It was nothing like his. She was so weak. So human. Unlike whatever I was now. “You’re covered in blood and coming home well after midnight. You’re not leaving without answering me.”
I sighed. Was it really that late? How long had I lay on the side of the road? “Fine, I’ll tell you, but can we please go to my wagon? I want to get cleaned up.”
She held my gaze for a long moment but finally nodded. “All right. I’ll fetch some water, but as soon as I get there, you’re telling me everything.”
I did. She helped me clean off, and I told her every detail of what had happened, from how he’d followed me, to how I’d bitten off his finger, to how I’d died and woken up hours later in the dirt.
“What the hell?” she finally asked when it was all done. Because she, unlike some people, was capable of not interrupting a story.
“I don’t know.” I sobbed. Tears had blocked my vision halfway through the story. I tried to wipe them away, but they kept coming. “He’s turned me into something. After I woke up, I…” I trailed off. Could I truly say it? How would she ever look at me again? “I attacked someone. I was so hungry. I needed her blood. I bit her throat, but when I saw what I’d done, I released her, and she ran away, screaming. She’s probably gone to the police already to say that one of us attacked her.”
“Shit. Okay, don’t tell anyone else about this. They always say we’ve attacked them. Stay in here, and I’ll ask around and see what I can find out.”
I followed her advice. The next day, police came, beating people, asking questions, demanding what we’d been up to, and I heard every second of it while I hid in my home, not willing to risk facing them. I felt like a coward, but Mala was right. If the woman could identify me, it would only make matters worse. And until we knew what I was, there was little we could do for it.
That night, Mala knocked on my door, and I let her in. She wouldn’t meet my eyes and seemed unwilling to speak.
“Mala, what is it?”
She shook her head, tears falling. “You attacked someone, Dorenia.”
My heart dropped. I knew what she was going to say.
“They’re talking about kicking you out of the caravan. Tsura is saying that you sound like a strigoi, an undead monster that feeds on blood. I told her she was wrong, but with what you said, I don’t think she is.”
“I didn’t mean to be…” What a pointless thing to say. When had my desires ever mattered?
“I know.” She blinked away tears and threw her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Dorenia.”
I hugged back, my tears falling onto her shoulder. “It’s okay. I don’t want to bring harm to all of you.”
“It’s still not fair. You don’t deserve this.”
I nodded, but it was hard to agree. I’d attacked someone. I could’ve killed her. This was precisely what I deserved. “Did she say anything else about strigoi?” I asked, pulling away.
“Only that they’re corpses that rise at night to feed on the living, and supposedly, they can turn into animals. Can you do that?”
“I haven’t tried.”
She chuckled. “You could turn into a cat and stay in my wagon. Then you wouldn’t have to leave.”
I imagined myself as a cat, but my body didn’t seem to do anything. “I don’t think I can.”
“I figured. But it sounds like you need to drink blood fairly often or else you could get dangerous. She did say one other thing. I didn’t want to mention it, as it was rather mean, but she said that you were too much of a risk to keep here, that if you didn’t feed regularly, you’d lose control and be unable to keep from eating your family.”
I nodded. “That sounds like what happened before.”
“All right.”
I stared at her. “What?”
She brushed her hair back and smiled at me. “You need to eat. If we’re kicking you out of the caravan, I’m not sending you out there starving. You’re my best friend, and you’re still family, no matter what they decide—though it sounds like they’ve already decided—so eat.”
“You don’t mean…”
“I do. I trust you. You won’t kill me. Drink enough to satisfy you. You can have more whenever you need. I know you’ll always be able to find me. That way, we can keep people safe.”
