Chapter Seventeen – Jack
Chapter Seventeen
Jack
I woke up from death to the sound of cartoons, in just as much pain and hunger as I had died. I worked my way free from folds of fabric and found myself staring up at the bottom of a mattress. I could smell Angela and Rabbit. They’d survived—we’d all survived.
I thumped my head against the floor behind me in relief. “There are definitely no dead hookers under here,” I announced.
Both of them went still, and then Rabbit shrieked. “Jack!” and started peering underneath.
“Hey buddy,” I said, reaching for the edge of the mattress to pull myself out. “I assume we’re safe?” I was on the floor between two queen beds and eye level with a Book of Mormon.
Angela was smiling down gently. She looked goddamned beatific with the room’s solo light on behind her, igniting each strand of her blond hair. “Yeah. We’ve got a day.”
“And then what?”
“I’ll explain in a bit,” she said, tilting her head towards Rabbit.
“Sounds good.” I folded my legs in, feeling the edges of my ribs grind as I stood. I knew I looked a sight now—how much worse had it been when I was dead? I wound an arm around my chest as a bolster, then staggered up to sit on the bed opposite them.
“I got you some new clothes,” Angela said, standing and heading toward some shopping bags on the far side of the room.
“And I’ll make you a sandwich!” Rabbit announced. He was jumping on the bed, and the thing inside me that was always hungry, watched him—even as Angela, now frozen, was looking over her shoulder, watching me.
“Thanks,” I told him, forcing myself to look away. “Can I shower?
“Please,” Angela said, gesturing toward the back of the room.
I went into the bathroom and got the full view. I was covered in dirt and my chest was dented. I couldn’t eat, but I could at least get clean. I reached in to start the shower, and then moved to unbuckle my pants as the door opened behind me. I whirled.
Angela was there, holding out a bag of clothing and Tupperware container of something red and sloshy. “I got you this.”
I took it from her and opened it up. Pig’s blood. Congealed. My fangs didn’t throb. Drinking it would be like drinking phlegm. “Thanks, but no thanks,” I said, pouring the contents down the shower drain. “Fran talked to you, I assume?”
“Yeah. She gave me some money, too. Said she’d add it to your tab.”
I snorted. “I’ll bet.”
Standing there, half-naked, I could almost feel her watching me. It would be so easy to do half-a-hundred things to her, and my hunger thought she would be as delicious as the pig’s blood was disgusting. “I’ve never seen all your tattoos before,” she said.
“Well you’re still up on me.” I forced a smile.
She closed the door behind herself and leaned into it. “I know you’ve got to feed, Jack.”
“I can go another day.” I took a step away from her, and found myself trapped by the bathroom’s back wall. The thought of her offering made my heart both thrill and sink. I wanted her, badly, I always had—but didn’t want to be anyone’s pity case, least of all hers.
“You look like hell.”
“Just let me shower,” I said gruffly, concentrating on the task at hand. I shoved my jeans the rest of the way off and got into the shower, hauling the curtains closed around me. I stood in the stream and watched dirt wash away, until I heard the bathroom door close.
When I came out, Rabbit had my PB whatever the magician had done hadn’t changed her base scent by more than a note or two.
“Jack?” she asked, and I opened up my eyes. I hadn’t realized they were closed, as I was stroking my face through her hair.
“Sorry,” I apologized, stepping back. She’d offered blood and nothing more.
I popped the polo’s collar. “This is totally how Bella Lugosi would’ve wanted it,” I said.
She laughed, and I engulfed her, without thinking.
One arm around her body, the other pulling her head to one side by her chin.
“Don’t fight, don’t fight, don’t fight,” I whispered, before my fangs made speech impossible.
Her hands grabbed mine in terror, wrestling me as I wrestled with my hunger.
It wanted—oh the things it wanted—but she was mine, she’d offered herself to me, not it, and I wouldn’t hurt her any more than I had to.
I breathed a warning, and then my sharp fangs pierced her sweet pale skin.
She gasped, went still, and blood welled up inside the wounds.
I moved to lap at it, holding her close, swaying to her blood’s time, like we were in a profane dance.
Such hot, sweet, softness, rolling over my tongue, so easy to get lost in.
I could feel it healing me, giving me everything I needed… .
One trembling hand rose up to touch my face.
Angela combed her fingers through my hair and broke the spell.
I made my fangs retract, even as my hunger cried, it could’ve taken so much more.
I slowly released her, both of us leaning forward against the sink.
She twisted her head to inspect where I’d bitten her.
“Did you get enough?” she asked, panting.
There was no way she couldn’t feel the hard-on I had—I hastily backed up. “Yeah,” I lied.
“Really?”
I lifted the bottom of the polo, and showed her where my chest was whole, ribs back where they belonged.
“Good,” she said, touching her neck with fluttering fingers.
“I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn’t mean to, I just—”
“Shh. Don’t apologize.” She turned and put fingers on my lips to silence me. “We’re monsters. That’s the way we are.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, and retreated to the other room.