22: Don't Think About It, Just Drink

It’s hard to sleep and lack of sleep or not, I find myself awake too early. There’s no knowing when Gabriel will stop by and every fiber of my body is on edge...waiting. He shouldn’t show up until the exact time I drank that disgusting stuff the last time, but I know Gabriel, I know Phillip. I know vampires. Deceitful.

The day goes by incredibly slow. I have so much time, I call into Mystic Moon several hours early pretending to be sick. It’s hard enough to lie with every single one of my nerves on edge. It’s extremely hard to lie to a witch with psychic abilities.

“Gretchen. It’s nothing serious. It’s just a stomach ache, probably some bug that's going around.” I play with the weakness of my voice really trying to nail it.

“I can stop by-”

“No.” It comes out too loud, too fast. “I’m fine. The shop needs you more than me. I’m just going to lay down, watch some TV and probably sleep most of the day and night away. I’ll let you know how I feel tomorrow.”

Her motherly concern is one thing I can deal with, but her skills mixed with Monty’s and I’m inches away from being found out. As soon as the call ends, I let out a sigh, positive that she bought it...maybe. Or she’ll be checking in on me later today.

That thought only leads to another equally awful thought. Where is Gabriel?

Hours go by and I try to make my restless body less restless, but my legs itch to move and my feet yearn to pace the floor. In mid-argument with myself a knock startles me to a stop. I glance at the door and then out the window, the sun just starting to set.

There’s no denying the pained expression on my face as I swing the door open. Gabriel just flashes me a smile oblivious of my inner turmoil and walks right in as if he owns the place. “Hello love.”

I huff at his greeting. Love. Apparently, he doesn’t listen too well, because I swear I told him to never call me that again.

He stands in the middle of the kitchen, in similar clothing to what I’ve seen him wear before. Always black, always jeans. “I know I just saw you yesterday, but before you have a drink, did you find the witch?” Gabriel asks as if he’s a gentleman. I can hear what he really wants to say, ‘Oh, before I torture you, have you done a good deed?’ His tone is torturing enough without him having to actually say the words.

“Let’s just get this done with.”

He smirks at my failure and I can’t help but to glare at him. Our eyes meet and I know he sees my scowl, but he refuses to acknowledge it. The silence between us is suffocating and it gets even thicker as he slides a small pocket knife out of his jean’s pocket. “Do you have a glass or would you prefer to drink it from the tap?”

My breath is stuck in my lungs as he jokes around. I’m appalled and traumatized at the same time. A nausea attacks my stomach and I can’t stop my legs from making me sway. In a blink of an eye, Gabriel leaves my swaying body to retrieve a mug from my cabinet and comes back to stand in front of me, still slightly swaying.

I’m snapped out of my stupor as he quickly slices his forearm open. A dark, thick, sluggish trail of blood oozes from his wound to fill the cup. “Enough.” I shout. “I said that’s enough.”

How full does he intend to fill it? How much does he think I’ll drink?

He picks up the mug and hands it to me, “bottoms up.” His golden eyes meet mine.

I hold the cup, it’s unexpectedly warm. I go against better judgement and look down into the mug examining its contents, which is bad idea.
Don’t think about it. Just drink it. Don’t think about it. Just drink it.

I bring it up to my mouth, resting the rim of the cup on my lower lip and inhale. Another bad idea. The metallic, rusty ting attacks my nostrils and I choke back a gag.

“Stop stalling and just drink it.” He stares at me as I try to take slow deep breaths cleansing my nose from the horrid smell. “Is this too casual for your stomach? Do you prefer a crystal goblet like at Phillip’s?” He laughs at the idea. “Phillip would love to hear that. Someone with as exquisite taste as him.”

“I am nothing like Phiilip and I never do anything that will come close to pleasing him.” I bring the mug to my lips. I toss my head back and the mug up, draining the contents into my mouth.

As soon as the blood touches my tongue, I nearly gag again, but I just want this over with, so I quickly swallow it down. Once it’s empty, I slam the cup down and cringe at the force of it hitting the tabletop. Thankfully, I don’t crack it, but then again maybe I do want to smash it. I’ll never look at that cup the same again.

“Sadly for you, whatever you do pleases Phillip.” Gabriel says with a smirk on his face.

“You can go now.”

“What? Leave? No, I need to stay awhile, keep an eye on you. Make sure you keep it down and don’t die.”

Now it’s my turn to say, “What?” I’m offended that he thinks so little of me, but I’m frustrated that I didn’t think of that myself. I could just vomit it up right in front of him...maybe play a trick and showcase some of my special concoctions, the cotton candy one in particular.

“It could happen.” He shrugs his shoulders and turns his back to me as he approaches my couch.

It’s in slow motion as I watch him plop down in the middle of the sofa, grab the remote and turn on the TV. He scrolls through several channels before deciding on some reality show about yachting.

“This can’t be happening.” I mutter. The chain of events are too much for my little brain to handle.

I drank vampire blood for the second time.

I have a very attractive -may be the blood talking- vampire playing house in my house.

My previous lies of being ill could very well come true. In fact, I feel something coming on. A fever, the chills, the sweats, thoughts that can’t possibly be my own.

“You’re not looking too well, little witch, you should have a seat.” He pats the spot next to him as if I’d willingly take it.

“I...hate...you.” Saying the words are a struggle. They’re not only painful getting out, but each word rips through my body making it painful to actually say them. I have not missed this.

I stumble into the table, leaning heavily over one of the chairs. My eyes squeeze shut as I try to talk myself through it, but it’s too overpowering. My limbs get shaky, my breath is more labored. The room is spinning, but it comes to a stop when a cold hand firmly grasps my elbow.

“If you won’t sit on your own, I will make you.” Gabriel says the words with a sternness that I find funny and I actually laugh in his face.

But that laugh is cut short as he lifts me off my feet and carries me to the couch to sit in the exact spot he had patted only seconds ago. “I’m not the only one that can sweep you off your feet.”

All the blood in my body goes cold. I know the reference is pointed to Caleb and at this moment with Gabriel’s blood freshly ingested, I find my actions last night with Caleb disgusting and despicable. I fight the feeling off as deep down I would rather be with Caleb than Gabriel, but at this moment I feel as if I betrayed him.

I melt into the crook of Gabriel’s body finding comfort there. The contentment that washes over me being this close to him plays with my mind and as I fight the pull I’m not only in physical pain, but I start to feel as if I’m going crazy.

Sleep. I just need a sleep.