82: I Mean...I'm Fine Now

The nightmare doesn’t come back, but the residual feeling stays with me. The adrenaline doesn’t stick with me either and I finally shuffle out of bed, my arm a beacon for pain. Any little touch, the gentlest of grazes, is like fire.

With bedhead and still shirtless, I stumble about the apartment only to come to an abrupt halt when my eyes land on Gabriel sleeping on the couch. A yelp escapes through my lips and he jolts upright.

I run from the room to shut myself in the bedroom. It takes several minutes before I manage to get a t-shirt on, because going shirtless or having sleeves isn’t an option. When I finally emerge Gabriel is waiting for me.

“You’re still here?” I ask even though, obviously, he’s still here.

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.” He takes slow, cautious steps toward me as if I would freak out again. “You’re still in pain.”

I glance down at my arm. It doesn’t look any better from last night. “Yeah, well, I think I’ll be in pain for a while...ya know, I don’t have super healing and all.” I begin to ramble.
“I can help with that…” his eyes drop to the floor, “if you want me to.”

“And how would you do that?” My voice cracks as I ask.

“It’s not preferred and you’d be disgusted by it, but...I don’t want you to be in pain.”

I don’t want to be in pain either, but I’m not an idiot. Do I really want to drink vampire blood? I’ve heard the rumors, the side effects. Obsession, lustful need, addiction, losing yourself, turning into one of them. The list goes on, but as you tumble through each and every one, it always leads to turning into one of them. The ultimate sacrifice one takes when they agree to drinking a vampire’s blood.

“Just a little.” I mutter, choosing my fate. Dipping a toe, taking a chance. Is it the right choice? Who knows, but with my arm still searing from demon fire, the answer is obvious. Who cares.

I’m expecting Gabriel to slash his skin open and place said bleeding extremity to my mouth, but he walks right past me and starts rummaging through my cabinets. My questioning of him comes up short as he makes his back toward me, small glass in hand already filled with blood. There’s enough for a swallow or two.

He hands me the glass and I immediately start to second guess my decision, but he did bleed for me, so I feel like I should take it. And I do, but with shaky hands.

“It isn’t enough to do much.” The back of his hand runs down the side of face. “Promise.”

With two heavy breaths, a heave ho mentality, I down the contents like a shot. And it tastes just as bad as a shot too. It doesn’t burn going down like cheap liquor, but there is a feeling. Not a taste or a physical feeling, but a deja vu kinda feeling. Like my taste buds have tasted it before.

Gabriel takes the empty glass from me and quickly rinses it, getting rid of the evidence. The evidence that is now inside me, mixing within my body.
“It won’t heal you, but it should...lighten the pain.”

In other words, it’s going to make me high as a kite. Great. So my arm will still be grotesque, I just won’t be able to feel it...until the effects wear off. Is that when the addiction part starts to kick in?

“I should get to work before Gretchen starts wondering where I am.”

“I don’t think-”

“I’m fine, plus, she might be able to give me something more long term to help with this.” I shake my arm, this mangled mess of a limb. It doesn’t hurt like it should as I move it and I realize that Gabriel’s blood is pretty instant and effective. I may be able to put on a decent shirt.

He’s waiting for me when I’m finally ready to leave. “You’re not coming with me.” I blurt out.

“I promised I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“And I’ll be safe at work.” Once I get there.

“Then I’ll bring you to work.” His stubbornness doesn’t let up. “We can stop for coffee first. One of my favorite places.”

I hide my enthusiasm with a fake grumble. But, all that matters is that he takes my arm and wraps it around his. A crushing need to be close to him grows. Oh shit. I try to shake him loose, but my effort isn’t much and he doesn’t let up. I’m trapped in his arms and I’m perfectly fine with that.

I lose track of time as he drives through the city to some special place and as he pulls in front of a small cafe, I realize it might be secretive too, because I’ve never heard of it. “Droplet?”

“What can I say, we like word play.” He teases before he disappears from the car.

I debate about getting out and joining him...finding him, but within a couple minutes he’s back with a small brown paper bag and two cups.

“How do you know what I like?” I ask as I take a sip of the hot coffee.

He doesn’t meet my eyes right away as if he’s startled by my question. “I don’t,” he quickly replies, “I just got what I think is good.”

I give him a tight lipped smile and believe the words. They go in one ear and out the other. We could like the same things. Right? But at the same time, a part of me is thinking this has to be too good to be true. A gentleman like, rumored to be murderous half breed vampire, likes me, just some nobody witch.

Before I know it, we're in front of Mystic Moon. “I’ll pick you up when your shift is done. eleven, right?”

“Yeah...but you don’t have to.” I mutter feeling like some idiot.

“Oh, you’re very wrong about that, because I have to. It wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t.”

I’m in a foggy haze as I exit the car and enter the shop. His words have me lightheaded and light footed at the same time. Walking on air, a vampire with the name of an angel guiding the way.

And then I’m crash landing back into reality when Monty jumps on me the second I enter the shop. “With the king again?”

I can see her words on her face, clear as day, but I refuse to acknowledge them. “And?”

“There’s something wrong about him…and it has nothing to do with him being a half breed. It’s something else.”

“Let me guess. It has something to do with your cards?” Her cards always have something to say and when she says she has a feeling or a hunch it’s coming from her cards.

“And what if it is, Hazel? The King card holds many secrets. One doesn’t become symbolized as The King without deceit being involved.”

“He’s been nothing but helpful. Especially after last night.”

“What happened last night?” Gretchen always seems to show up at the worst possible times. The times that I tend to be incriminating myself.

Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up, but now with both of them staring at me I have to admit it, out loud. “I was attacked by a demon on my way home.” The words are fast and blend together. As I look at each of them, I begin to think they didn’t understand me.

But they did.

Gretchen is the first to say my name in a shocked, inhale of air. Monty has that ‘I told you so’ look on her face. She’s definitely trying to connect the demon attack to Gabriel.

“I’m fine…” might as well admit it all, “I mean...I’m fine now.”

There’s a loud, angered ‘what’ that bellows from Gretchen’s lips. “Show me.” She knows exactly what I’m talking about as she demands to see the burn.

I didn’t manage to get a long sleeved shirt on, but I did get my army jacket on. Having to shimmy my arm gently out of the sleeve doesn’t feel great. It feels almost numb as the fabric rubs against the raw flesh.

Gretchen and Monty both become so horrified that one of them, Monty, turns her back on us and dashes away.

Gretchen and her motherly senses, grabs me by my good arm and brings me to her office where she immediately starts to whip her magical ointment that I’ve used a few times. I give a shutter keeping those memories at bay.

She bickers to herself as she makes it and continues to hold the conversation with herself as she applies a thick, gloppy layer on the burn. “Use it three times daily, until it’s gone.” She finishes with a huff.

“Thanks.” I mutter before pocketing it. “I’m gonna go get my room ready for a client I have today.” I feel like a scorned child as I explain myself to her, listing everything and a reason for all my actions.

I hope I never have to do that again.

Time seems to fly by from my uncomfortable encounter with Gretchen to when my client comes prancing through the doorway. Monty guides her to my room and quickly leaves but not before giving me a wide eyed stare.

For what, I’m not exactly sure.

Could it be from my reckless and completely unwanted run in with a demon and she’s getting one more jab in? Or my growing closeness to the deceitful king? Maybe it has something to do with my newest client who’s a werewolf.

And we all know what happens when we offer assistance to female werewolves. Their domineering counterparts come out to play not so nicely.