basketball.”
“Oh.”
He sat down next to her. “So. What were you doing hanging out with Mario when he came to kill Kent?”
“You have your memories back?” Oh, please God, no.
“No. But I’ve gotten a short rundown from his point of view.”
I don’t have to tell the truth, but he’ll find out in the end. And what’s the saying? Better to be hated for who you are than to be loved for who you aren’t? She wasn’t fully convinced, but she’d give it a shot. “Let me start at the beginning.”
He nodded, and she forced her mind to travel back. It wasn’t long ago, a few months, but she’d worked so hard at blotting the memories out. “Here,” she said. “I can do better than tell you. I’ll show you, and you’ll know I’m telling the truth. Look into my eyes.”
After a moment of hesitation, he did.
She hadn’t expected to ever wake up again.
Some of her friends had warned her that the University of Southern California was in a horrible neighborhood, but as far as Doreen had been able to tell, it wasn’t really that bad right around campus—like the area around most colleges she’d visited. And Doreen was cautious; she never ventured far, didn’t go more than a block or two off campus at night, and never walked south on Figueroa.
Walking north, it was never deserted at eight-thirty in the evening. Heck, the evening was just getting started. But that evening, it had been. There had been only her, a smiling man in an Italian suit, and those amazing eyes. Once she looked into them, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
She woke up in a basement somewhere. It was cool, and there was hint of moisture in the air generally absent in Southern California except when it had rained or by the beach. She didn’t open her eyes right away. She was sick; she knew that right away. The steady slither of warm liquid in the back of her throat told her it was probably some kind of cold. Her tongue touched something plastic inside her mouth. She opened her eyes.
The plastic tube leading to her mouth was full of blood. It took her a moment to realize it wasn’t coming out of her. Rather, it was coming into her, dripping into her mouth. Yuck. She tried to turn her head away, but it was held in place. The blood was gathering, pooling in the back of her throat, making her want to throw up. But she couldn’t. Finally, she swallowed. To her surprise, it settled in her stomach rather well.
“Ah, our patient is awake.” It was the man from the street. He walked over and peered at her. “Doing well, I see. Time for your draining.”
“Drang?” she asked. She tried to say draining , but the words were hard to say with a tube in her mouth.
“Yes,” he murmured. “I’m afraid you’re going to be a very special vampire. Usually we only have to do this once, to get all the humanity out of you before we bring you back from the grave. But you , you’re destined for something important.”
“Who are you?” she asked. Those words were easier to say.
“I’m Mario. I’m your master.”
“Doreen,” she said. I’m no one’s slave, but I think I need to get on your good side. She could say it clear enough if she pitched her voice lower. I sound like Darth Vader.
Her mind refused to comprehend the full horror of what was happening to her.
Mario didn’t acknowledge that she’d spoken. Nor did he seem to notice another voice, sounding weak, saying, “Please.”
Doreen moved her eyes, since she couldn’t move her head at all. It was being held by something steel around her skull, she realized. In the corner was a pale looking man, his cheek sunken, his skin yellowish. He was naked, and he was secured to the chair he sat in with iron manacles. In his arm was a needle, and from the needle , the tube led in her direction. Blood dripped into the tube at the same rate it dropped into her throat. Doreen was no expert, but she suspected there was not much life left in him.
She felt a sharp pain in her
“Oh.”
He sat down next to her. “So. What were you doing hanging out with Mario when he came to kill Kent?”
“You have your memories back?” Oh, please God, no.
“No. But I’ve gotten a short rundown from his point of view.”
I don’t have to tell the truth, but he’ll find out in the end. And what’s the saying? Better to be hated for who you are than to be loved for who you aren’t? She wasn’t fully convinced, but she’d give it a shot. “Let me start at the beginning.”
He nodded, and she forced her mind to travel back. It wasn’t long ago, a few months, but she’d worked so hard at blotting the memories out. “Here,” she said. “I can do better than tell you. I’ll show you, and you’ll know I’m telling the truth. Look into my eyes.”
After a moment of hesitation, he did.
She hadn’t expected to ever wake up again.
Some of her friends had warned her that the University of Southern California was in a horrible neighborhood, but as far as Doreen had been able to tell, it wasn’t really that bad right around campus—like the area around most colleges she’d visited. And Doreen was cautious; she never ventured far, didn’t go more than a block or two off campus at night, and never walked south on Figueroa.
Walking north, it was never deserted at eight-thirty in the evening. Heck, the evening was just getting started. But that evening, it had been. There had been only her, a smiling man in an Italian suit, and those amazing eyes. Once she looked into them, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
She woke up in a basement somewhere. It was cool, and there was hint of moisture in the air generally absent in Southern California except when it had rained or by the beach. She didn’t open her eyes right away. She was sick; she knew that right away. The steady slither of warm liquid in the back of her throat told her it was probably some kind of cold. Her tongue touched something plastic inside her mouth. She opened her eyes.
The plastic tube leading to her mouth was full of blood. It took her a moment to realize it wasn’t coming out of her. Rather, it was coming into her, dripping into her mouth. Yuck. She tried to turn her head away, but it was held in place. The blood was gathering, pooling in the back of her throat, making her want to throw up. But she couldn’t. Finally, she swallowed. To her surprise, it settled in her stomach rather well.
“Ah, our patient is awake.” It was the man from the street. He walked over and peered at her. “Doing well, I see. Time for your draining.”
“Drang?” she asked. She tried to say draining , but the words were hard to say with a tube in her mouth.
“Yes,” he murmured. “I’m afraid you’re going to be a very special vampire. Usually we only have to do this once, to get all the humanity out of you before we bring you back from the grave. But you , you’re destined for something important.”
“Who are you?” she asked. Those words were easier to say.
“I’m Mario. I’m your master.”
“Doreen,” she said. I’m no one’s slave, but I think I need to get on your good side. She could say it clear enough if she pitched her voice lower. I sound like Darth Vader.
Her mind refused to comprehend the full horror of what was happening to her.
Mario didn’t acknowledge that she’d spoken. Nor did he seem to notice another voice, sounding weak, saying, “Please.”
Doreen moved her eyes, since she couldn’t move her head at all. It was being held by something steel around her skull, she realized. In the corner was a pale looking man, his cheek sunken, his skin yellowish. He was naked, and he was secured to the chair he sat in with iron manacles. In his arm was a needle, and from the needle , the tube led in her direction. Blood dripped into the tube at the same rate it dropped into her throat. Doreen was no expert, but she suspected there was not much life left in him.
She felt a sharp pain in her
Similar Books
