The Becoming

Chapter Nine

It just gets better and better. Now I'm a parasite with nymphomaniacal tendencies. “And where do I find these willing sex partners?” I ask, though it's not really a question I want answered. I get a flash that I'll be working the homeless population or frequenting bars down in Tijuana.

"Would you seek sex partners in those places under normal circumstances?” he asks.

His voice contains a strong suggestion of reproach. I lace my own with heavy sarcasm. “No. But I doubt my boyfriend will take kindly to being drained of his lifeblood on a daily basis."

"So you have sex daily?"

He's got a mocking grin on his face that I feel an irresistible urge to smack right off.

Some of that feeling must convey itself to him because he leans back out of reach. “Sorry,” he says. “I don't mean to be impertinent. But you don't need to feed every day any more than you need to have sex every day. It's a matter of personal choice.

Actually, in a short while you will need very little blood to sustain your new life force. A pint or so once a month will do it."

"You mean like the amount you donate at a blood bank?"

He understands the implication of what I'm asking and shakes his head. “Unfortunately, that blood is drawn from the veins and refrigerated. What you need to sustain life is fresh, arterial blood. You must drink directly from an artery in the neck or thigh."

I run my tongue over my teeth. With these? They feel the same. I remember Donaldson worrying at my neck until ... the intense, breathtaking, wondrous pleasure of the experience floods back. My body tingles with the memory even now.

Stop it. I give myself a mental thump on the head. You can't do this.

Of course you can, Avery counters . You just remembered how it was. And that was with a man who wasn't even trying to make it good for you. Think of what you do with your hands and body to give pleasure to your boyfriend. Then increase it by one thousand per cent and you have an idea what magic you can work.

But how do I hide the fact that I'm biting him? How do I know when to stop? What do I say when he notices the world's weirdest hickey on his neck?

God, I've just replied in kind without even thinking about it. I shake my head in dismay.

Avery waves a dismissive hand. You'll get used to this. And your boyfriend won't notice anything other than a profoundly pleasurable sexual experience. You'll know when to stop because your body will tell you when it's had enough. As for the wound, it will disappear in a matter of minutes. All you have to do is lick it. Your saliva contains an alkaloid that will seal and heal the puncture, it's part of your physiology now.

My hand goes to my neck. Then why didn't my wound heal right away?

Avery pushes himself off the couch. For the first time since I met him, he looks disturbed.

Donaldson didn't care if you found the wound or not. He intended that you die.

Like the woman he was living with.

Yes.

Avery drains the last of the water in the bottle and returns it to the kitchen.

I watch his departing back. There's something more he's waiting to tell me. I can't imagine how it can be worse than anything I've learned so far, but his reluctance to broach the subject makes me wonder.

He's back in living room now, and his face is drawn and anxious. “I have more to tell you,” he says.

"I figured as much,” I reply dryly. “And it must be pretty bad if you're using your voice instead of ... you know.” I circle a finger at my head.

"It is.” He doesn't sit down, but starts pacing up and down in front of me. “Remember when I said I was a Night Watcher?"

I nod.

"And I told you I was one of a contingent of vampires who—"

"Monitors activity in a community, blah, blah, blah. Yeah. I remember. What does that have to do with me?"

"One of the things we watch for is renegade activity. A vampire like Donaldson, for instance, who attacks and kills without remorse and doesn't try to cover his crime. Sooner or later, the connection will be made between what he does and what he is. That makes him a threat to all of us."

"What do you a mean ‘a threat?’”

"I mean, just as I am a watcher to protect our kind, there are others who seek to destroy us. They watch, too, for attacks that leave a victim bloodless. They have connections at police departments and hospitals, just as we have. And they pay a bounty for information leading to the identification of a vampire."

"You think they might be on to Donaldson?"

"Most definitely. But there's another consideration."

Avery pauses and the way he looks at me makes my skin crawl. “What?"

"If they know about Donaldson, they may know about you, too."

"Me?"

"Yes. You were attacked by Donaldson and lived. They will want to check you out, at the very least."

"And how will they do that?"

Avery shrugs. “It's hard to say. But you must be very careful in how you conduct yourself. You will soon lose your hunger for regular food, but you must continue to shop as if you haven't. You must continue your normal routine. Be wary of strangers approaching you, and don't do anything to attract attention to yourself. If you feel the need to feed before your boyfriend returns, let me know. I'll help you find someone safe. In fact, it may be prudent to let me be there the first time you feed. You are at your most vulnerable then."

That picture—of Avery standing over me while I have sex—sends me into a paroxysm of laughter. The hysteria is back. “You are kidding,” I sputter when I can finally calm myself. “You want to be there while I perform this unholy sex act on some poor, unsuspecting schmuck? Is that how you get your jollies? Are you some kind of sadistic voyeur? Is this really what this ‘watcher’

thing is all about?"

Once more, aggravation tightens Avery's mouth and darkens his eyes. “You should take this more seriously,” he says, his voice hoarse with frustration. “I wasn't suggesting you feed for the first time while having sex. There are other alternatives. I just thought since you had a boyfriend, you would be relieved to know that you can maintain a monogamous relationship and safely satisfy your hunger, too."

Oh, yes. That's an immense relief. The ultimate safe sex. Max will be so pleased.

He can be.

God.

Avery is in my head again. I'm too tired to fight it, but something else he said about feeding sifts through.

"What do you mean I'm the most vulnerable when I feed?"

Avery comes back to the couch and reclaims his seat at the end of it. “In the beginning,” he says. “You may be so swept up in the excitement—"

Excitement?

Yes. You don't understand now. But you will. Anyway, there have been cases where our enemies have pretended to be seduced by a new vampire, only to stake him or her during the act. As you gain experience, you learn to sense the danger.

More animal instincts to be developed. Great.

I look over at Avery. I think you should go now.

Avery watches me for a long minute. I don't even try to read his thoughts. I just want to be alone with mine.

He pushes himself to his feet. “I'm sorry this is so hard on you,” he says.

"And you thought it wouldn't be?"

He rolls his shoulders. “Most people choose to become,” he says. “It's the only safe way. Occasionally, someone like you has it forced on them. I don't know how to make it better except to assure you that there are others like myself to help you through the transition."

"Wonderful. A fanged support group. Just what I've always wanted."

"Give it a few days,” he says, ignoring the sarcasm. “You will start to feel the change. And you will realize there are some good things—some very good things—that come with the gift."

"Gift? That's how you see it?"

He smiles, a soft, sweet smile. “It's how you will see it, too, eventually. You must, really, if you are to go on."

Go on? Ah, that's the rub, isn't it? Will I choose to go on?

I stay on the couch after Avery leaves. He seemed reluctant to go, after catching my last thought, but finally he did. Now I'm stretched out, watching rays of a dying sun filter through the window and thinking of a hundred other questions I should have asked him. My knowledge of vampire lore comes from books. Works of fiction, or so I thought. Now I realize that, as in most folk tales, there is always a grain of truth. I wonder how many of those books were actually written by vampires? How many vampire cousins do I have? Are there enclaves of vampires in various communities? Is there a secret handshake or sign to identify one vampire to the other?

Vampire.

I'm rolling the word around my tongue and around my brain, trying to make sense of what Avery says is now my reality. I have been given the “gift” of immortality with just one small drawback. I have to drink the blood of unsuspecting humans to sustain that life. Even though Avery painted a titillating picture of wild sexual gratification bestowed on willing victims, they are victims nonetheless. I can't imagine subjecting Max to that. I won't.

So, what to do now?

I close my eyes and put a cushion over my face.

But the darkness isn't quite dark enough.

I get a picture of Avery, tan and good-looking. Normal-looking even. So much for the pale, delicate-skinned vampire who doesn't venture out into the sunlight. Obviously, that's one of the myths perpetuated by books and movies. How did all that get started?

And why hasn't the truth come out before now? And then there's that aversion to garlic—

Oh boy.

The lasagna.

Well, I won't make that mistake again. Obviously, some of those folk tales have basis in fact. That's going to be a hard one, though, giving up Italian food. Especially Luigi's, where the motto is if you don't like garlic, stay home.

But soon I'll be giving up all food, right? Isn't that what Avery said?

The ringing of a telephone interrupts my chain of thought. With a weary sigh, I hoist myself off the couch and trudge over to answer it.

"Well,” a familiar voice tinged with irritation starts right in. “Who the hell is he, Anna? Who's the guy I just saw leave your house?"

"Max?"

"You haven't answered my question."

I cross to the window and look toward the street. “Where are you?"

A figure steps out from the driver's side of a parked car with dark-tinted windows. “Here. See me?"

I nod before I realize he can't see me . “What are you doing out there? Come in."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes. I'm alone. You can relax those secret agent muscles. Now, will you get your ass in here, or do I come out and get you?"

The handsome face splits into a wide grin I can see even from here.

"I was hoping you'd say that. I'm on my way."