Chapter Twenty-Seven
For the first time that he could remember, Conor woke from a deep sleep that hadn’t been interrupted by dreams or anything else.
The room was dark yet he knew he wasn’t alone.
His mother and Saintcrow stood on the left side of his bed and although there were no lights on, when he turned his head to the side, he saw them clearly and distinctly.
His mother was concerned, his father merely curious.
Feeling wide awake, Conor jackknifed into a sitting position. And then it hit him. He was a vampire!
“Are you all right?” his mother asked anxiously. “You haven’t changed your mind?”
“I think it’s too soon to tell, Mom,” he said with a lopsided grin.
“How do you feel?” Saintcrow asked.
“I don’t know. Strange.” He glanced around the room.
“Everything looks the same but different. I can hear a dog barking from somewhere in town, a couple fighting over what to watch on TV, a baby crying.” He shook his head.
“Even the air feels different.” Rising, he paced the floor.
“I feel like my insides are on fire.” He licked his lips. “And I smell blood.”
“Yeah,” Saintcrow said. “Come on, let’s see what kind of vampire you are.”
Conor frowned at him. “What kind? Is there more than one?”
“There are all kinds of vampires. A few are like your mother. They don’t inherit the killer instinct.
They never hunt for pleasure, only to satisfy a need.
Others turn into the monster so prevalent in Hollywood, nasty, blood-thirsty creatures who kill for the fun of it.
And then are those like me. But we’ll talk about that some other time. Let’s go. You coming, Kadie?”
“Of course. I was there for his first step,” she said with a grin. “His first tooth. His first birthday. I’m not going to miss his first bite.”
~ * ~
Conor grinned as they left his house. Three people dressed in unrelieved black. He knew instinctively that it served two purposes – the color made it easy for them to blend into the shadows of the night. And it wouldn’t show the blood.
Since Conor had never tried transporting before, Saintcrow took care of it. With one arm around Kadie’s waist, and his free hand on Conor’s shoulder, Saintcrow transported them to the outskirts of Cheyenne where a group of homeless people lived, mostly in makeshift tents.
Standing behind a dilapidated camper, Saintcrow took in the lay of the land. Men and women and a few children huddled around a couple of campfires. They were a pitiful lot, clad in mismatched clothing. Most were thin, obviously undernourished. A couple were sick. One was dying.
Kadie tugged on Rylan’s arm. “Can’t we go somewhere else?”
“Next time.” He glanced at Conor. “If something goes wrong, nobody here is going to call the cops.”
“What do you mean? What can go wrong?” Conor asked, and then muttered, “Oh, right. You mean if I kill somebody, no one will complain.”
“Exactly.”
This was his first hunt. There was always a chance he might take too much. Conor took a deep breath, felt his stomach tighten at the smell of so much prey, so close. He stared at the camp, then glanced at Saintcrow.
“You’re not going to kill anyone,” Kadie said. “If you start to take too much, one of us will stop you. Right, Rylan?”
He shrugged. And then grinned when Kadie glared at him. “Right.”
“One thing you never told me was how to bite someone,” Conor said, sounding less than enthusiastic now that he was faced with the reality of his new existence.
“Trust me,” Saintcrow said, with a wry grin. “You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
Conor started to reply, then groaned as pain ripped through his insides.
“Hang on,” Saintcrow said. “You’d be hurting a lot worse if you hadn’t been turned by a master vampire.” Stepping away from the camper, he focused on a middle-aged woman sitting alone. Letting his mind brush hers, he called her by name. Lena, come to me.
She slowly gained her feet and walked woodenly toward him. No one paid her any attention, no doubt thinking she needed to relieve herself in the bushes.
“Couldn’t you have found someone a little younger?” Conor asked. “And less...smelly?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Saintcrow replied. “You’ve gotta learn to take the bad with the good.”
Conor’s whole body tensed as the woman stopped in front of them.
Everything else faded into the distance and there was only the woman and the tantalizing scent of her blood.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as his whole body clenched.
His eyes felt funny all of a sudden. He muttered, “what the hell,” when he felt the prick of his fangs against his tongue. Fangs!
His hunger grew stronger, irresistible, and instinct took over.
He spoke to the woman’s mind reassuringly as he folded his hands over her narrow shoulders and sank his fangs into her throat.
Fresh hot blood ran over his tongue and slid down his throat.
The taste was unlike anything he had ever known.
It didn’t matter that her skin smelled of dirt and sweat, or that her hair was tangled and filthy.
All that mattered was the blood. He was shocked when pictures flashed through his mind.
He knew somehow that he was seeing images of her past. The warmth of her life’s blood flowed through him and he closed his eyes, thinking feeding was almost better than sex.
“Conor. That’s enough.”
Saintcrow’s voice penetrated his mind, harsh, commanding.
For a moment, Conor was sorely tempted to keep drinking. He wanted to take it all, to glut himself on her blood, to drink her warmth, her very life.
“Conor.”
Reluctantly, he lifted his head. Saintcrow wasn’t only his father, he was now his sire and as such, he had to be obeyed. He watched silently as Saintcrow released the woman from his thrall and sent her away.
“Conor? Son, are you okay?” his mother asked. She placed her hand on his arm, her gaze searching his.
He took a deep breath as the tension drained out of him. “I’m fine.”
“No regrets?” Saintcrow asked.
Conor considered the question a moment, then shook his head. “No.”
“Let’s go home,” Kadie said.
Later, while discussing the night’s events with his parents, Conor suddenly remembered Brynlee, her beauty, the sweetness of her kisses.
What would she think of him now?