No Good Comes When You Dig Up the Dead, page 16
If Erin hadn’t been there to hear Callie’s suggestion, I never would’ve mentioned it, but she thinks it’s a great idea, telling me she’s actually pretty hungry.
My stomach flips at the thought of sucking the essence out of a living human, which should be enough to put me off. Instead, I now get horny at the sight of an exposed neck, which will be happening more often now that Erin’s started wearing a stumpy little ponytail while her hair grows out. Contrary to my naive beliefs, vampire hair grows fast, which is why I’m halfway to becoming Tim Minchin.
“Can you quiz me on my life?” I ask, the minute Erin gets home from work.
She hasn’t even taken her shoes off yet. “When I get out of the shower.”
Erin is quicker at showers than me, emerging from the steamy bathroom fifteen minutes later in fluffy pyjamas with a towel wrapped around her head. She looks and smells amazing, and I want to bite her neck, because that’s what I’m like now.
She makes grabby hands. “Give me the file, then.”
I lay it on the coffee table beside the hot chocolate I made for her while she settles on the sofa. “Ask me anything.”
“Birthday?”
“Third of April.”
“Star sign?”
“Pisces.”
“Chinese zodiac animal?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Monkey.”
She riffles through the pages. “No way is that in here.”
“It’s not, but I knew what my old one was, so… yours is a snake.”
She hisses. “I know. Sssiblings?”
I place my palm over my heart. “A tragic only child of disinterested parents who moved to Australia just to get away from me.”
“It was their loss.” She sips her hot chocolate. “Hobbies?”
“I’m keeping the same hobbies.”
Erin grins. “Yeah, but what are they?”
“Knowing obscure words so I can play Scrabble. Drawing Mr Men characters. Talking through movies. Cross stitch.”
“Cross stitch?”
“Aunt Grace used to teach me things her kids weren’t interested in. It was our way of spending quality time together when I was growing up. She also tried me on crocheting, but I wasn’t very good at that. I can’t wait to get back into photography living here… Everything’s so pretty.”
“Have you thought about what you wanna do for work?”
“War cleared me for part-time work, so I already applied for a couple of jobs.”
“You feel ready?”
We’ve been out a few times, wandering among the tourists and locals, and though I can smell how tasty humans are, I’m not overwhelmed by a desire to snack on them. Erin said it’s because I still feel queasy about it, and that the blood craving will likely get worse before it evens out. I like to think I have more self control than that. I like to think a lot of things about myself that no longer feel true.
“Yes, and if I start feeling differently, I’ll stop job hunting. It’s not like I’m gonna get the first job I apply for.”
“What jobs were they?”
“Phone shop and a bookies.”
She laughs. “The bookies?”
I shrug. “The odds look good.”
“That was terrible.”
“I’ve always been a bit fascinated by gambling… like the psychology of it, and how odds are calculated.”
“I can just imagine you talking punters out of big bets with your psychobabble, then getting fired because the house is always supposed to win.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence, Erin.”
“I have the utmost confidence in you.” She grimaces. “But why would you apply for a job in a phone shop? Or any public facing sales job? Have you met people?”
“Yes, but unlike you, I like people.”
“You say that now…” She finishes off her chocolate. “But seriously, I’m proud of you.” She raises her palms to her chest and lets out a wistful sigh. “My baby… flying the nest and getting a job.”
“Calm down, Mother. I haven’t even had an interview yet.”
“Come on, we need to get dressed.”
My heart drops to the floor. “What for?”
“Your flatmate is hungry, and unless you’re willing to sacrifice your neck, I need to get to a club.”
“Why do I have to go?”
“You really want to be thrown in at the deep end when it’s your turn?”
I really don’t want that. “Fine, what do I need to wear?”
“Whatever you usually wear when you go clubbing.”
“Do I look like someone who routinely goes clubbing?”
“Wear what I got you for the picnic,” she suggests.
“Erin, I’ve put on ten pounds since the picnic.”
“Have you?”
“Why else do you think I’ve been wandering around in tracksuits like I’m 1985 Biff Tannen?”
She shrugs. “Comfort?”
“Well, yes. They are comfy, but… this is not my look.”
“What did you buy when Brody took you shopping?”
I groan. The less said about that the better. Brody can pull off all sorts of things that I’d look like a clown in. “What are you wearing?”
She takes our cups to the kitchen, then leads me to her bedroom. “Come on. Let’s coordinate.” She takes her hair down out of the towel in front of her mirrored wardrobe, jumping at the sight of herself. “Fuck, I’ve got a reflection.”
“That will never be funny, no matter how many times you do it,” I tell her. “You need to be a fully-fledged dad to pull that off.”
She hands me her brush, and I get to work on her hair as her arms plunge into the depths of her wardrobe. “I was thinking of this… with my black ankle boots.”
The dress is figure hugging, in black and white with bows and big fabric buttons. Perfectly in tune with Erin’s retro aesthetic.
“I don’t have anything this fancy. Or anything black.”
“Did you miss the part where you’re a vampire now? Why don’t you own anything black?”
“Because it makes me look like I’m trying too hard to be edgy. Even Brody said black doesn’t suit me, and if they’re saying it, it must be true… because I bet Brody has never willingly told someone they don’t look nice.”
“True. So, what did you buy?”
“Cords and tweed.”
“And you expect me not to call you Teddy.”
“I’ve totally given up on that idea actually. And I did get some jeans.”
“What colour?”
“Tan, forest green, and a mulberry sort of colour.”
“They’ll go lovely with your camouflage toothbrush.”
“I like autumn colours, alright?”
“But tweed?” she whines.
“Uriel likes tweed,” I point out. “He told me tweed was his favourite.”
“Uriel is a billion years old.” She gets a faraway look for a minute. “What about that scoopy top I got you… the one that shows off your collarbones? Or… no, the green shirt with the beads down the front. Wear that with your mulberry jeans. Got a jacket to go with that?”
“Yeah, alright. Back in a tick.”
Erin was right. The shirt looks great, and fits better now that I’ve filled out a bit, and there’s something… Holy fuck! I bounce back into her room as she’s wriggling into her dress, smoothing it down over her thighs.
My throat dries out. “Erin, sorry… I… I’ve got an ab. Look!” I grab her hand, pressing her fingers against my single abdominal muscle. “Feel it?”
She laughs. “Yes, you have abs. And I can see them without my fingers.”
I drop her hand. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to catch you with your butt out.” I glance down at myself where I’m still holding my shirt up. “I can’t believe I have an ab.”
“Teddy, it’s not an ab. It’s a whole set of abs. And if you recall, I told you you’d put on muscle, and you didn’t believe me.”
“I will not make that mistake again. I promise to believe everything you tell me from now on. What happened to the black and white dress?” I ask, realising she changed her mind.
“Wanted to coordinate with you a bit.” She holds her arms out and twists her hips, so her dress of many greens sways around her thighs. “What do you think?”
“You look lovely,” I say, fiddling with my shirt until it’s tucked into my jeans. “You always look lovely.”
Good enough to eat. I groan inwardly. If I had my way… If I got Erin interested in me, I’m more likely to be eaten alive than to get a taste for myself.
And tonight I have to watch her nibble on someone who isn’t me.
This sucks. And not in the good way.
30
A Night at Limbo
POV: Erin
Theo is going to kill me. His sweetness is the antidote to every vile facet of life, and I can’t get enough of it. It almost feels wrong to subject his innocent soul to the depravities of Limbo. Yet, here I am, tugging him through the noisy crowd.
His hand is sweaty in mine as we pass through the public area, nobody paying us any attention. That will change as soon as we get to the back room. Theo will feel their eyes on him just as I will.
Limbo is one of the more reputable spit and blood clubs, not like the anything-goes-free-for-alls I’ve been to in London or Manchester, where I was lucky to escape with my organs intact. I’ll never take Theo anywhere like that, not until he understands who he is now.
I haven’t been to Limbo in almost seven years. I grin to myself in remembrance of Oz’s pouting face when I refused to bring him with me, but I imagine he’s a regular here now. What a thought. I can go clubbing with my best friend and stop for a snack without offending anyone’s delicate sensibilities.
In the short corridor between the public bar and the club, I pull the door closed behind us.
Theo nods ahead. “Why are they being breathalysed?”
“Because they’re not vampires, and drunk people aren’t allowed to donate blood.”
“That… is surprisingly sensible.”
The two girls ahead are allowed to pass into the club. I show my credentials at the door, and the burly bouncer stands aside, holding the door open for us. I pull Theo into the fray.
He stays close. Close enough to whisper in my ear. “Why is everyone looking at me like I’m dinner?”
“Because you’re behaving like prey. You might want to crawl out of my arsehole.” I draw him aside and smooth my hands over his shoulders. Yep, he’s definitely getting broader up there. “Listen, and listen carefully. You are the hunter now. You’re a predator.”
His spine straightens enough that my palms slide down his chest a little. “Right, like a… panther.”
“Right. And panthers don’t shuffle, they prowl. They stalk their prey. You need to glance around like all these people are beneath you, then make eye contact with the one you want. Eye them over your drink, and they’ll come to you.”
“There’s no alcohol at the bar,” Theo observes.
“Right. They can drink in the public bar, but they won’t get in here if they don’t pass a breath test, and they don’t get a badge until they’ve drunk a glass of water.”
“Sounds like pre-school.” Theo nods ahead. “What’s through there?”
“Private rooms,” I tell him. “No bloodsucking in public.”
“They look like they’re going to fuck,” Theo says, eyeing a couple who can’t keep their hands off each other.
“They are. They’re heading for the stairs.”
He gasps, eyes darting around everywhere in a not very predatory way. “Is this… Is this a brothel?”
“Calm down, Aunt Agnes. No money is exchanging hands.”
He straightens again, staring down his nose at me. “Fine. Continue.”
“That’s better,” I say. “You look like a right snooty wanker now. Some clubs are just blood clubs, and that’s it. No fetish other than feeding. This is a spit and blood club, and yes… Spit is a euphemism for cum. They allow sex and blood play here, but it’s safe.”
“What the fuck is blood play?” he mutters, barely loud enough for me to hear.
“Exactly what it sounds like. Some people like getting really messy with it, some combine it with sex.”
He eyes me sceptically. “Are you into that? The blood play?”
Pictures flash into my mind of Theo’s eyes, darkened by hunger, blood smeared on his face as his mouth falls open in ecstasy. “Never really thought about it.”
“How can you tell who’s gonna be into what?”
“See the badges on the bar? Different colours and symbols for different requirements. I’ll get you a list, so you can memorise it. It’s pretty standard… universal, I mean.”
“But the vampires don’t wear them?”
“No. It’s mostly to give us a get-out clause, but they’re not supposed to approach us unless we prolong eye contact. They’re not obliged to accept our summons.”
“Summons?”
“Yes. You really need to get it into your head that you’re a predator now. That’s the dynamic in all the clubs. The safer clubs throw vampires out if they use compulsion, though.”
Theo licks his lips, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he watches me, his eyes going dark again. “Right.”
Fuck, I need to feed before I do something regrettable. I glance around the room, gaze settling on a goth girl with devil horns, sitting in a booth at the end of the packed dance floor. She looks like trouble, but she’s wearing a basic bitch badge, a green circle and two dots on a black background. No sex, no gender preference. Perfect.
The woman freezes, her head turning slowly to me just as Theo looks over at her.
“That’s the one?” he asks.
The woman looks between me and Theo like she’s trying to decide if she has enough blood to spare for us both.
Fun fact: she doesn’t.
Club rules dictate a four hundred mil limit, depending on weight, anywhere between two-fifty and four hundred being the optimum feed quantity for an established vampire, though bloodborns tend to need less.
I stare at the goth until she looks down at her lap. “I’ll give her a minute, and if she’s not interested, I’ll move on, but I don’t think I’ll have to wait that…” The goth rises to her feet, and heads our way. “Long.”
“What shall I do while you feed?” Theo asks.
“You can come and watch, or you can sit at the bar. It’s up to you. Nobody will bother you if you sit with your back to the crowd.”
For a second, I think he’ll take the out, but he says, “I’ll come with you if she doesn’t mind.”
“She won’t.”
He gives me a challenging look.
“But I’ll ask,” I concede.
“Consent is sexy, Erin.”
“Hi, I’m Aria,” the goth says when she reaches us.
“I’m Erin. This is Theo. He wants to watch. Do you mind?”
The woman flashes something close to a smile. “No, not at all.”
I gesture towards the doors to the private rooms. “After you.”
When Aria turns to walk away, the revellers part a little to make way for us.
“Think like a predator, Theo,” I say, slapping him on the chest as we’re forced into single file.
The heat of him sears my back as we stalk through the crowd. I catch sight of him in the mirrored wall, his posture relaxed but powerful looking. If he could see himself now, he wouldn’t believe it. But he can’t see himself because he’s looking at my arse like it’s a juicy steak, which does nothing to eliminate the clenching going on between my legs.
The anticipation of feeding always makes me horny, but I tend to wait until I get home before I do anything about it. But having Theo with me is having a potent effect on my libido for reasons I’m refusing to think about.
I shouldn’t have offered to let him watch, but it’s too late now.
We’re ushered into a room by an attendant, who runs through all the rules, then sticks a monitoring pad to Aria’s chest when she says she prefers to be bled from the neck. I usually prefer the wrist because it feels less sexual, but tonight, I don’t care.
“Alright?” I ask, once the attendant has returned to her desk in the corner, and Aria and I are settled on the wipe-clean sofa.
Aria throws a side-eyed look at Theo, who’s dragging a chair closer. “He new?”
I laugh. “However did you guess?”
Theo looks up. “What? No point in being here if I can’t see what’s going on.” He sits in the chair, and our knees are practically touching. “Okay, fair point.” He pushes the chair back about six inches and raises an eyebrow. “Better?”
Aria laughs. “Where did you find him?”
I look her dead in the eye. “Graveyard.”
Aria smiles and tips her head to the side, shoving her jet black hair out of the way. I push her back a little, so she’s resting against the cushion, and with one last look at Theo, I plunge my fangs into Aria’s neck.
She groans, the sound vibrating through my lips as sweetness floods my tongue. I moan around the mouthful of flesh, and Aria’s nails dig into my thigh, sending tingles of pleasure over my skin. I clench my inner muscles, stretching my leg out until it meets something solid. Theo’s leg.
He gasps, but I don’t look, just keep sucking and sucking, the sound of Aria’s enjoyment spurring me on.
“Two-fifty,” the attendant says evenly.
I signal that I heard, but take a little more, even though all I want is to see Theo drink from this woman. Would he? Would he do it if I ask? I stop drinking to look over at him, my gaze following his hand, which is pressed none too discreetly against his erection.
His face is flushed. “Sorry.”
“Do you want a go? If it’s alright with Aria?”
“Fine by me,” she says, on a vampire-drunk high.
“What do you say, Teddy?”
Theo licks his lips again, and nods. He stands, wiping his palms on his jeans.
