Sullied

Chapter 6

Six

Sullivan

Over the next few days, I learn so many new skills I could start my own YouTube channel. Top among them, I can use a miraculous machine called the microwave to heat food, and thus, within a mere four minutes, have access to the culinary delight I’m currently munching: popcorn.

Mmm. So crunchy, so salty, so buttery. I’m in love and so is Twenty-Four.

I offered some to Socks, but she turned her little pink nose up. Ru says cats don’t eat popcorn, but I don’t see why. It’s divine. Twenty-Four and I are going to get fat eating snacks and watching The Great British Bake Off, and we’re going to love every second.

That reminds me, I need to ask for something called cream cheese frosting. The judges’ moaning when they taste-test frostings reminds me of the sounds people make in porn videos.

Yes, I found porn with my stolen tablet.

Of course I did. It’s impossible to have the internet and not find porn.

II Tech may have wanted to treat me like a perpetual child stuck in the 1990s, but I’m a grown man, and it’s the twenty-first century, thank you very much. I may not have anyone to have sex with, but who needs a lover when a delicacy like cream cheese frosting exists?

I digress.

Other things I’ve learned: How to sort the recycling, how to water the plants, how to feed Socks (her food smells terrible, I don’t understand why she wouldn’t prefer popcorn), and how to load the dishwasher.

Also, we only put dishes in the dishwasher. It doesn’t wash shoes.

Who knew?

Apparently there’s no such device called a “shoewasher” even though we all wear shoes and they get very dirty. Someone should invent that. I’d use it.

I try to keep myself busy while Ru is at work, but even with Twenty-Four and Socks for company, I’m lonely. Ru works all day, every day, and though he spends time with me at night, he mostly has to sleep.

He says his schedule isn’t always this bad, but that I “created a bit of an emergency at work.”

I apologized, but he waved this off. “Not your fault. We’ll come up with a better arrangement after this blows over. If it ever blows over.” He said this like he doesn’t think it will.

At least not anytime soon.

In the meantime, I read books and watch TV. I discover True Blood, and while Ru informs me the show’s take on vampires isn’t accurate to the real world, I’m sucked in anyway.

Pardon the pun.

Or don’t.

I’ve never sucked blood directly from someone’s vein. Never leaned into the crook of someone’s neck and tasted the delicate skin of their throat. Never made a man moan with my mouth and tongue.

Ru has a nice throat and handsome, scruffy cheeks between irregular shaves. How would that feel against the baby-smooth skin of my face?

I’ll never grow a beard. I’m not sure if I’d even want to, but it’s just another thing stolen from me. Test-tube baby. Modified DNA. No real parents.

No real species.

No beard.

A car engine approaching draws me out of my maudlin thoughts.

My chest warms with pleasant excitement.

Ru returning home. The urge to hop up and greet him at the door tingles, my feet twitch, but I’m stuck all curled up on the couch.

Socks is asleep against my stomach, and Twenty-Four lounges on my hip.

My blanket is crooked and my arm is numb, but I don’t want to disturb them.

I don’t have to wait long. Ru arrives with an armful of paper bags and a burst of cold air from the side door.

Oh! That’s another thing I learned. The thermostat. I love to be warm.

“Hello,” he says from the kitchen. “You all right?”

I poke my head up over the couch from where I’m trapped. “Fine. Covered in napping animals.”

He comes over to see, smiling down at us. Lovely smile. With all the trouble I’ve caused this man, I’m happy to make him smile, if only for a moment.

Carefully, I tuck my legs in and sit up, making room on the couch. “How was your day?”

The smile slips from his face, and he stares at the vacated spot without sitting. “Long. Tense. There are a lot more vampires in the lab lately. They make me nervous.”

So do I, I think.

It’s true, even though it makes me sad to admit. He’s scared of me. Not entirely comfortable in his own home. He tries to hide it. Sometimes he manages to forget. But the fear is always there, in the background, lingering.

“Which ones?” I ask. I’ve only met a few. Voijin—otherwise known as tall, dark, and menacing—who’s somewhat of an overseer. He’s okay.

Lasko, who used to donate his blood in return for donated human blood. He was like Voijin lite. Still frightening, all the vampires are, but less tall, less dark, and less menacing.

Milla, who seemed afraid of us, or perhaps disgusted. Hard to tell. She wasn’t around often and clearly didn’t want to be around as much as she was.

Samira—I suppress a shiver—the most terrifying of all of them. I don’t want to think about her. It’s been ages since she came around.

A few others over the years, come and gone. I was never told why. Humans mostly run the II Tech compound. Other scholarly science-types like Ru, but obsessive, and with less foibles over pesky things like ethics and morals when it comes to their experiments.

“Voijin, of course, and a new one called Taraya. She might be even more irritable than him.”

Yikes. “What happened?”

“Nothing worth talking about. Needless to say, they’re all still trying to find you. And arguing over whether to notify the local vampire population.”

I straighten a bit too quickly, and Socks jumps off the couch. “There’s a local vampire population?”

“Of course. They’re everywhere. Just secretive.”

It’s so weird that Ru knows more about my kind than I do. Makes me feel dumb. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

“Can I meet them?” They won’t be like me, not part human like I am, but maybe I could have friends. Maybe they’d help. Maybe—

“No.” His eyes are wide and full of alarm. “You can’t.”

A cold shiver jolts through my chest. My thoughts glitch. I wasn’t expecting an immediate denial. My disappointment must show on my face.

“I mean, that wouldn’t be safe,” he explains. “They might be hostile. You could get hurt.”

“Oh.” Twenty-Four stands on my shoulder, his little hands on my face. He sniffs the air. I pluck him up and cuddle him to my chest. “It’s okay, buddy.”

“It wouldn’t be safe for me either,” says Ru. “Don’t go looking for others.”

“I won’t.” Not anytime soon, at least. Not while his home is my only shelter.

“Promise?”

“I said I won’t. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I’m on edge lately at work and worried about you and other things. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Have you eaten anything besides popcorn today?”

“Cereal. Some blood. A Coke.”

“That’s not enough. Come on. You can help me make dinner.”

Glad for the change of topic, I get up, fold the blanket, and head to the kitchen.

Ru

During dinner, my phone chimes several times in a row with incoming texts. I plan to ignore them, but Sullivan stares curiously at the device.

“Aren’t you going to see what that is?”

So I pick it up. It’s my friend Zoe, a buddy from my undergrad days, my absolute ride or die, and she’s blowing up my phone with texts.

Zoe: Ruuuuuuu, my dude, what’s up?

The next message is a meme about asthma. It’s a picture of an inhaler and the text says: Because of all the things you could be bad at, you suck at breathing.

It’s followed by another text with several laughing emojis and a skull.

Zoe: Is it weird that asthma always make me think of you?

Um, yes. That’s weird. But whatever.

You drunk?

Zoe: noooooooop

Zoe: maybe a little

Zoe: r u ?

Not even a little bit.

Zoe: booo

You good? Safe? Need anything?

While I await her next reply, I explain text messages to Sullivan. He seems amused. I should probably get him a phone. Add that to the to-do list.

“Who’s texting you?”

“Friend from school. She lives in Vermont now.” My phone chimes.

Zoe: peachy keen jelly bean

Okay, have fun.

Text me if you need something

I wait, but there’s no more forthcoming. If she needed something, she’d ask, right? It’s not like drunk texting each other is anything new, but it has been a while. I should be better at keeping in touch.

“What did she say?” asks Sullivan.

“Not a whole lot. I think she’s partying. Something made her think of me.”

We finish eating and clean the kitchen together. I’m zonked, but it’s obvious Sullivan wants company. He keeps flashing those big green eyes toward me, filled with such longing. I should go to bed, but I can’t leave him to while away the hours alone.

“Wanna watch something with me?” he asks, hopeful.

An episode or two of The Great British Bake Off or whatever he’s into today won’t hurt. “Sure. You pick. I’ll be right there.”

As he flips through options and lands on the baking show, I think of his files. I spent the day reviewing them.

Can’t say it helped my situation any. Studying the details of how he was housed, raised, and ultimately turned full vampire brings bile to my throat.

Experiment after experiment. The mistreatment he’s withstood over the years is appalling.

How he can be anything but filled with hatred and vengeance is beyond me.

No mother, no father, no family of any sort. Just the cold isolation of his room, little more than a cell, and the comings and goings of doctors, scientists, and researchers for company. The same people who ran tests on him were his only comfort.

Stockholm syndrome has nothing on Sullivan.

Yet somehow here he sits, curled up on my couch, docile and quiet, petting my parents’ grumpy old cat, holding Twenty-Four, and monitoring the interactions between them with encouraging words of affection.

After all he’s been through, how could he have turned out so sweet?

I slip into the recliner opposite them. The same one dad used to sit in and read the newspaper when I was a child. I remember him reading aloud when he found an article he thought would interest me or mom. I remember his laugh. His indulgent smile.

Sullivan has no such memories.

“Can we buy some cream cheese frosting?” he asks, apropos of nothing. The show’s contestants are making something called stroopwafels, no frosting involved.

“Um, sure. I’ll put it on the grocery list.”

“Thanks.”

Maybe if he starts eating frosting, the house will stop smelling of popcorn for a few days. Not that I mind. I’m glad he found something he likes.

Sullivan watches TV, and I watch Sullivan. He’s absentmindedly stroking Socks with long, elegant fingers. The cat is drooling, she’s so into it.

Can’t blame her, looks cozy.

He runs his tongue along his teeth under his upper lip. My eyes trace the movement. I think of his fangs and remember he’s a deadly preternatural creature, even if he looks all cute and kissable snuggled up on the couch.

Wait, kissable?

No. I shake my head, evicting that line of thought before it moves in. I can’t think of Sullivan that way. He’s too fragile, too young, and far too vulnerable for me to be ogling him. Approaching thirty, I’m nearly ten years his senior.

My job is to protect him. To help him transition into whatever kind of life he wants. Something safe. Something far, far away from II Tech.

Maybe he’ll want to flee the country, same as I do. Greece. Or Italy. Maybe Spain. I’m not picky. Just somewhere warm. Somewhere with no creepy vampire testing facilities. Somewhere I can disappear to. Be anonymous.

If I sold the house… The thought makes my heart clench. All I have left of my parents is this house. I don’t want to sell it. But then I’d have enough money. Probably.

Sullivan’s soft laughter draws me from my thoughts. Whatever was funny, I’ve missed it, but it’s nice to see his expression so relaxed and happy. A good look on him, though rare. I take the opportunity to continue to observe him without being observed in return.

He’s beautiful when he smiles. Even the dangerously sharp incisors don’t detract from his allure. Dark lashes for days. Long hair tumbling over his shoulders, one side tucked behind the delicate shell of his ear.

“I don’t mean to keep you up,” he says, noticing me watching him. “You’re tired.”

I’m sure I look it. I’m stressed and haven’t rested well since he showed up on my doorstep. But none of this is Sullivan’s fault.

“You should go to bed. I’ll keep the volume low.” He grabs the remote and adjusts it.

He’s right, so I nod and bid him goodnight.

Once in my bed, though, sleep doesn’t come. There’s too much to worry about.

So far, II Tech hasn’t had any luck tracking Sullivan, but I can’t count on that forever. They don’t know I’m involved, but I can’t count on that either. The longer this goes on, the more likely it is I’ll let something slip.

Or Sullivan will get tired of being cooped up and insist on venturing out.

Or some vampire will decide to investigate every scientist and lab tech in the facility.

Or, or, or—

The risk multiplies the longer we fail to act.

Something’s got to change.