Deadly Encounters (Raina Kirkland Book 4) Page 2

  Kamaria pursed her lips. “Nil.”

  Nick groaned and set the spoon in the jar of Ambrosia. “Let’s try the blood then. I bought it from the grocery store a few blocks away,” he said as he unscrewed the top of the jar, but before he could even take the lid off I somehow found strength enough to grab it from his hands with vampire fast reflexes that tore at my stitches. I didn’t care. I could smell the sweet metallic scent of the blood and I was overtaken with an awesome hunger. I wanted, needed to drink it down, all of it! With the heavy jar to my lips I took in the blood as fast as I could; gulp after heavenly gulp until I was left sticking my fingers in the jar and licking them clean to get every last drop.

  “Well, vampire organs it is,” said Nick.

  “It’s almost daylight,” said Kamaria.

  “Raina’s not ready to be moved just yet. Is it okay to have her here for another day?” Nick asked.

  “Child,” Kamaria said. “Of course it is. Now, I better get cleaned up and get my store open. You two need to get to sleep.” And with that said, she left us.

  “We should go to sleep,” said Nick, but I grabbed his arm before he could leave me.

  “How long have I been dead?” I asked him.

  He didn’t answer me. Instead he looked to a window, thickly covered by black drapes to keep the sun out. “We should get to sleep.”

  I shook my head. “How long have I been dead, Nick?”

  He sighed. “I was going to put you back together right after you died, but as the days went by I just—wanted you to rest in peace. Plus, I didn’t trust that it would work, sewing you up like that. There isn’t much written on the subject of resurrecting demigods. From what I could gather, as long as there’s a body the soul will come back. It’s as if the body acts like some kind of beacon. All I had to do was study your anatomy. It was like putting together a two-thousand and seventy-five piece 3D puzzle made of frozen flesh.”

  “Frozen?”

  “I had to put you in the freezer to keep you fresh. But the longer you stayed gone the more I thought you were better off dead. The world’s a shit hole.” He looked to the clock on the wall. “I worked on you for ten straight hours. Toward the end you started to ripen a bit.”

  Ewe. I cringed. “How long? How long was I dead, Nick?”

  “Five.”

  “Days, weeks?” He looked to the floor with a long face. “Shit, five months!”

  “Years,” he said softly.

  I was stunned into silence for a moment. Five fucking years. It didn’t feel like five years. It barely felt like five minutes. What, what about my kids!? What about Damon, the man I love, the father of my children. I’ve been dead for five years!?! No doubt, I had a funeral and everything. My eyes were wide with distress. My heart thudded in my chest. I grabbed at Nick’s shirt so he couldn’t leave before he answered me. “What’s happened to my family, Nick?”

  He grabbed my hands and gently loosened my grip on his shirt. “I don’t know. Kamaria said Damon came into the café the other day for coffee and he seemed fine.”

  “Fine?” That bothered me for some reason. “Damon was here, at the café while my body was frozen in Kamaria’s freezer and he was fine?”

  “Well, it’s not like he knew you were in the freezer. He just thought you were…”

  “Dead,” I finished the sentence for him. Thinking too hard about my family, I absentmindedly let Nick walk away from me. Isobel was only a few days old when I was killed. Now she’s five. And poor Thomas. He’d lost his entire family before Damon and I took him in as our adopted son. He’d be thirteen now.

  “Raina, get some sleep,” Nick said from someplace unseen.

  “I can’t rest without seeing them. I want to see them, Nick. They need to know that I’m alive.”

  He didn’t respond for a time and I began to think that perhaps he left the room or fell asleep, but eventually he said, “We need to know who we can trust before we let the world know that you’re back. Raphael betrayed you. He gained your trust, he got close, he got into your head and then he had you killed. We can’t be sure he was working alone. Are there others, other people who you’re close to that were plotting against you?”

  It hadn’t occurred to me that anyone else could have secretly wanted me dead, but I couldn’t even begin to make a list of likely suspects. I could make a list of people I knew for certain would never betray me, and Damon was at the top of that list.

  “Get some rest, Raina. We’ll talk when the sun goes down,” Nick said.

  I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to scream my frustrated emotions, but I didn’t. I left it at that. He couldn’t possibly understand how important seeing my kids was to me. He wasn’t, nor would he ever be a father.

  BURNING THROUGH AND THROUGH

  I LISTENED TO Nick’s breathing for a time, flexing my muscles as I waited. I could feel my muscles stitching themselves back together as they contracted and relaxed, like a painfully tickling, itchy sensation, but they were growing stronger with every passing moment. I curled my fingers into fists and relaxed them again. I bent my elbows ever so slowly. My body was healing fast, but there was so much damage and I could feel that some things weren’t quite put in the right spot. My insides felt lumpy and cold, cramped and sickly. As I flexed and took deep breaths, ensuring the blood I drank was flowing well throughout my body, I could feel the lumps lessen, the cramps ease up and warmth come back to my limbs.

  Eventually Nick stopped breathing altogether. What a sleepy little vamp. Slowly I sat up on the table and looked out at Kamaria’s small living room. I was worried that sitting up would hurt my stomach, but it actually hurt my back and head a whole lot more. I had to clench my teeth to stop myself from expressing the pain vocally.

  Kamaria lived in the back of her café, and the living quarters had a narrow floor plan. There was a tiny kitchen with no real space for her dining table. Her living room consisted of a leather reclining chair and a small television set. Nick was in the recliner, dead to the world. The dining table I was sitting on was up against the wall, close to the door that would lead me out to the café. In fact, I could see a bit of the café through a thin gap between the door and its frame. I always loved the café’s bright Greek décor. A few quiet customers sat at separate tables, sipping their coffee and keeping to themselves, while Kamaria was someplace unseen.

  Just past the television set was a door that led to Kamaria’s bedroom. I looked down at myself. Could this body make it from the table to the room? I was a stitched mess of a woman. Slowly and with great effort, I half fell, half crawled off the table, landing on all fours. My feet didn’t like holding my weight on their own, so my hands had to take on some of the heavy lifting. I crawled across the floor in a fast-slow jerking motion until I reached Kamaria’s bedroom. It was a small eight by six room with barely enough space for a dresser and a bed.

  Call it modesty, call it shame, but the first thing I wanted to do was cover my nakedness. As a child growing up as a witch, being naked in public was common and joyous, not dirty or shameful…but I had two good reasons to cover up. Firstly, from what I could see of myself, I was pretty gross. And secondly, if I was going to leave Kamaria’s Café in the middle of the day, I needed to hide myself from the sun, lest I burn up.

  At Kamaria’s dresser, I searched for clothes that would fit. We two had very different body types. She was small and frail. I was of average height and weight, but my breasts were far too big. Many women would say they were envious of them. I assure you, there’s no reason to be envious of my breast size. They are a curse. Physically, they’re heavy, uncomfortable things that kill my back and leave me hunched and unbalanced. Aesthetically, the only shirts that look half decent on me are either form fitted stretchy fabrics or maternity clothes that leave ample room for growing breasts.

  Kamaria was always partial to summer dresses; light fabric, pastel colors, floral patterns. Most of her clothes matched this description, but one dress, only one, was larger tha
n the rest. It was a size sixteen, double my size, but at least it fit over my bust. It was made of a thick, light green fabric. The dress was long, covering my feet, and thick enough to keep out the sun. Too bad it was sleeveless.

  “That was my dress after I gave birth to my first son,” I heard Kamaria say from the door. I turned around fast and was surprised that it didn’t hurt as badly as before. “I thought I threw all those circus tents away.”

  “I’m glad you missed one. I need to see my kids,” I said, and already I was building a defensive argument. In my head I was planning it out. ‘You can’t stop me. You can’t keep me here. I have the right to see my kids. Thank you for all of your help, but I need to go and I am going.’

  But Kamaria stopped all my words by saying, “Of course.”

  “I thought you would try to talk me out of it. Nick did.”

  She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “If I were you, I’d be out that door as soon as I had strength enough. I’d be some kind of hypocrite to try and stop you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But are you strong enough? You’re sitting on my floor and dressing yourself for a reason. Can you stand?” she asked with her fists on her hips.

  I looked up at her with a frown. “Not yet, but I’m healing fast. It’s only a matter of time before I can run out of here.”

  She nodded. “I have no doubt about that. Here, let me help you,” and she moved closer and grabbed my arms. “Let’s get you on my bed. I think your stitches can be taken out—at least the ones I can see.”

  “You think they’re ready?”

  “Yes, you don’t want the skin healing over them, do you? Also, I think they might be the reason you can’t stand on your feet. There’s no stretch to them, and skin needs to stretch.”

  What she said made sense to me. I let her help me sit on her small bed. She went back to her dresser and grabbed some scissors out of the top drawer, but as she approached the bed a thought came to mind.

  “Wait, I think I have an easier way to get the stitches out, both external and internal.”

  “How, dearie?”

  “Fire.”

  Almost every vampire can do things that most humans can’t do. This is because after a person is infected with vampirism there is not only an increase in brain activity, but new connections are made throughout the brain. The talent a particular vampire possesses depends on where in the brain the increased activity and new connection are primarily located. I think they say that humans only use something like ten percent of their brain. Vampires have access to more, anywhere between twenty and thirty. As far as I know, no one has ever been reported to have full access. I couldn’t even imagine what a person with full access would be capable of. It’s a terrifying thought. Maybe it’s the pessimist in me that takes the possibilities to a dark scary place, but I think my assumptions are backed by thousands of years of human history. In any case, when I was infected with vampirism, it jump started the part of me that was demigod and it also gave me access to the part of the human mind that can create and control fire, or rather create particle friction which causes the air to burst into flames.

  “You’re going to burn the thread?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I can create a quick burst of fire that should instantly burn all the thread, I just need to get back out of this dress first.”

  “Don’t you catch my room on fire,” she warned.

  “Don’t worry. The fire won’t be more than an inch from my skin. It will be a quick flame burst; gone before you even register it was there at all.”

  She gave me a skeptical look. “Are you sure you can do this? Just a few hours ago you were dead.”

  “This, I can do. I can feel it. I might not be able to shoot fire balls from my hands or become a human torch yet, but this small thing I can do.”

  “Alright, alright. Just hold on a second. I don’t want you scorching my floor,” she said before she turned around and walked out of the room, mumbling to herself. “Small thing,” she laughed. “Creating a quick burst of flames from my body is just a small thing.” She shook her head and was gone for less than a minute before she came back with a huge cast-iron frying pan.

  “What’s the pan for?”

  “For you to stand on. I know you can’t stand very well. I’m going to hold you up and then let go right before you burn me, okay?”

  I sighed, “Okay.”

  She helped me undress, and stand on the frying pan. I took a deep breath and reached deep inside myself. I could feel the heat building inside me, already burning away stitches as the growing heat became hotter and expanded. Suddenly, I could breathe deeper. I already felt slightly less rigid.

  “You ready?” she asked.

  I took a few more deep breaths before I answered with a nod. “On three; one, two, three.” And on that count she let go. As I fell I pushed my flame out in a quick burst of tiny white arches that ate at the black thread quick and greedily. I landed on my hands and knees as the flame died and the last of the thread was singed away.

  “Well, that was impressive,” said Kamaria. I was just glad I didn’t fall to the floor in pieces.

  “Ta-da,” I said again.

  I looked down at myself as I stood strong under my own strength. Something about that little trick helped the healing process. My skin was still swollen and discolored, but there were no open wounds I could see, and I felt stronger. Hell, I felt like I could go for a run.

  “You look better.”

  “I feel better,” I said as I put the green dress back on. “Do you have anything that could cover my head and arms?”

  “A towel?”

  “A big towel?”

  “No—perhaps a table cloth, blanket or sheet.”

  “Any will do. Whichever you can stand to lose. I might burn through it in the sun.”

  Kamaria left the room again and came back with a folded bit of heavy blue fabric. “I have tons of extra table cloths,” she said and then she shook it loose and draped the cloth over my head and arms. I wrapped it around myself and held it snug, with only my eyes exposed at all. “Good,” she said

  “Thank you.”

  She escorted me back through her living room, past my sleeping brother, past the kitchen area and into the laundry room. There she opened a back door for me. I fell to the floor when the sunlight splashed in from the outside and instantly began burning me. Kamaria grabbed my arm and pulled me up. I fought the sensation and forced myself to stand against the blistering force, to look into it, beyond it. I was surprised to see a thick blanket of snow on the ground.

  The shock must have shown on my face because Kamaria said, “Its December fourteenth, dearie. Winter Solstice is next Friday.”

  I gave her a nod and stepped closer to the open door. Beyond the door was a snowy parking lot, a large dumpster and the main road, Ruston Way. Across the street was Commencement Bay, filled with cargo ships of every size. I knew I’d have to make a run for it, and hope I didn’t burn up too badly before I got home. Being a full on vampire meant the disease wasn’t contained inside me any longer. Now every cell of my body was rewritten, infused with the disease, and vampirism was light sensitive. I was told that even brightly lit rooms could irritate the skin.

  Because I had to run full on and without hesitation, I was mentally mapping out the exact and most direct path home. I lived in the Procter district of Tacoma, so it was mostly uphill from the bay. When I had it firm in my mind I took a deep breath.

  “You’re not diving into the ocean,” said Kamaria.

  “That’s what it feels like,” I said looking forward at the bright snow. The sun was shining down on it, making it glisten. I looked back at Kamaria, still holding the door for me. “Thank you.”

  “Yes, yes, go!” she said with a smile, and on that note I ran.

  The cold didn’t bother me, but I felt the full attention of the sun immediately. It was an impressive hot weight bearing down on my body, but I wasn’t catching fire. I ran hard and f
ast, making a left a block down the road, then a hard right a mile up a steep hill. I lost the table cloth when a strong cold breeze caught me off guard. With it not covering my head and arms, the brightness of the sun struck me down, blinding me almost completely. I fell to the snow, burning hot but not on fire.

  “Two more miles, a right, a left and—and another left! Get up, GET UP!” I yelled at myself. With bare feet planted firmly in the snow, I pushed up and onward, running as fast as I could in the unforgiving sun. I must have looked quite the sight to onlookers. No one offered to help me, and I didn’t expect them to. Most people don’t help others, they stare and go on about their business. That’s how people get murdered and raped in broad daylight and no one calls the police until well after the fact. They might take a video, though. It’s very possible I could find myself on YouTube in a couple hours. Ugly-ass she-vamp stomps clumsily through Tacoma in the middle of the day. Might be worth a laugh or two if I wasn’t in so much fucking pain.

  I came up on my house, but couldn’t quite see it very well until I was deep in the front yard, on account of the blinding sun, which probably wasn’t all that strong or the snow would be melted, right? The old colonial home was beyond picturesque with red brick, tall columns and beautiful high white windows all covered in snow. I ran up to the covered porch and I felt miles better just being out of direct sunlight.

  I reached for the handle and found it locked. Even weak, newly undead, exhausted and burning up, it only took one ram with my shoulder for the door to open up wide. I staggered over the threshold and slammed the door behind me.

  “Honey, I’m home,” I said weakly into the dark house.

  HOME SWEET HOME

  BLURRY VISION WAS the first to go. The burning pain lasted much longer, but I had to keep moving in spite of it. Once I could see, I forced myself to stand up. Looking out from the foyer, my house seemed dark and quiet in the middle of the day. I called out, but somehow I knew no one would answer me. The air smelt stale and lifeless. The house was a mess. Papers, boxes and other odds and ends littered the floor as I made my way to the living room. The room was nearly emptied. All of the large furniture sat alone in the middle of the living room covered by white sheets. In the nearby kitchen, it was much the same story, empty. Damon and the kids moved out? I hit my fist against the wall in frustration and then took a few calming breaths. I ran all that way in the blistering winter sun to an empty house! Damn it, I had to go to Bastion Fatal. It was Tacoma’s largest and most powerful vampire collective. It was also where Damon worked. He used to have a small apartment there before he moved in with me. My family had to be there, and if not, I’d at least find some answers and fresh blood. The Bastion was only a few blocks from Kamaria’s Café. Shit. I had to run back the way I’d come.