“Come on, guys, we’ve got to get him back to the van. Now. Move it!” Tony’s voice came to me as if from a distance.
I stood up, still holding Nick’s hand. It had gone limp in mine. Dom, John, and Tony all lifted Nick’s body off the ground and headed toward the van at an awkward trot. This time it wasn’t a vamp looking so surprised by death, it was me. I’d never thought, never really thought, that we’d lose one of the team. I’d feared for Malcolm, of course. Feared that I might screw up and end up dead—wasn’t that what Nick had said? The only mistakes were the fatal ones? But the rest of the team, particularly Nick, they’d seemed unstoppable, invincible, until right now. For a moment, for a very tiny moment, I understood the surprise I’d seen on so many fangy faces.
As I followed them, the sounds of the Bronx slowly filtered back into my consciousness. The Bronx is never silent; there’s always a background hum of traffic, car horns, distant sirens, planes flying overhead. But on top of that there were other sounds, sounds of activity and concern. The noises we had made while fighting, Nick’s scream, our subsequent shouts, had alerted the neighbors. Lights were flicking on in the row of apartment houses across the street from the playground, and people were beginning to peer out of windows.
The guys maneuvered Nick’s body into the back of van, then jumped in after him. John took the driver’s seat. Dom and Tony took their usual seats on the bench behind him. I followed them and slammed the side door behind me, taking one last look out the window to watch as we pulled away from the playground littered with dead vampire bodies.
The police were going to have a field day with this one. Nick would be furious that we had to leave a scene like that behind.
Would have been furious, I corrected myself silently. Nick’s seat in front of me seemed horribly empty. I stood up in the tiny space and crawled over the bench seat, moving to the back to sit with Nick, cradling his head in my lap so that the ride wouldn’t jar him. It just didn’t seem respectful to leave him back there alone. No one said a word as we drove back to the shop.
* * *
We got back to the shop and Tony took Nick’s body into one of the unused rooms. The rest of us stood in the common room staring at the ground.
Finally, I spoke. “I’m going to go take a shower.”
“Yeah,” Dom muttered.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
John didn’t say anything at all.
In the shower, I scrubbed at the blood on my hands, on my face, in my hair, watching it swirl down the drain in reddish-brown streaks. Some of that was Nick’s blood, I realized. The thought drifted in front of me without really connecting to anything else. When that blood was inside Nick’s body, he was still alive.
I didn’t bother putting on clothes. I just wrapped a towel around me and padded back down the hall to my room, the one I had lived in when I had stayed at the shop just a few weeks ago. I didn’t dry my hair or comb it out or do any of my usual nighttime rituals. I just dropped the towel to the floor and climbed into bed.
It was still dark outside when I woke up early the next morning clutching a pillow. I felt like I hadn’t slept at all.
I rolled over and stared at the ceiling in the dark.
“Hey.”
Malcolm’s voice startled me. I pulled the covers up around me and sat up to find him slouched in the lone chair against the far wall.
“You came back,” I said.
“Yeah. Tony called me and told me what happened.”
“How long have you been there?”
“A while. I didn’t want to wake you.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest and leaned against the wall at the head of the bed.
Malcolm moved to sit beside me. He stretched his legs out in front of himself and rested his hand on my foot. We sat that way for a long time without saying anything. Malcolm’s fingers stroked my ankle and the top of my foot.
Finally I rested my head on my knees and let myself cry those heaving sobs that had been trying to work their way out of my chest ever since I’d seen Nick collapse to the ground.
Malcolm wrapped both arms around me and I turned to him, putting my head on his chest.
Somehow we ended up lying down on the bed, and then we were kissing—not soft kisses, but hard, demanding kisses. Then Malcolm’s hands were under the blanket, roaming across my body. They felt good—hot and strong and alive.
I struggled to pull his t-shirt off as he lifted his arms and tried to help. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, feel the hair on his chest brush up against my nipples, his stomach pressed against mine. I threw the t-shirt onto the floor, not caring where it landed.
The blankets tangled around my legs, so I kicked them to the floor. Malcolm’s mouth trailed down my throat. He licked the space between my breasts and I moaned softly. He turned his head to take my nipple into his mouth and rolled it around his tongue. My back arched as hot sparks of excitement trailed down my stomach, following his tongue.
No, no, no. This wasn’t enough. I pulled him back up and rolled over so that I was half on top of him. My hand fumbled at the button of his jeans. He laughed softly, such a deep, sensual sound that I leaned down to kiss him again, my tongue exploring his mouth. This time he moaned, and reached down to help me with his jeans. I tugged, and he skimmed out of them.
“Wait,” he said as I started to toss them onto the floor with his t-shirt. His hand scrabbled around in the back pocket and he pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, he extracted a wrapped condom from the back compartment.
“Should I ask how old that is?” I smiled as I spoke.
“Probably not.” He set it down on the bedside table and slid his arm around me, pulling me back down to kiss him again. I reached down to hold him, and he was hard, hot and ready.
I sprinkled little kisses across his chest and down his stomach to his groin. As I reached his waist, he suddenly froze.
“Stop,” he said. His voice sounded strangled, like he was having to force it out of his throat. “No. Don’t. Not that.”
I lifted my head and looked up at him questioningly. “Okay,” I said, but I couldn’t keep the confusion out of my voice or my eyes. I let go of him and moved back up to rest my head on his shoulder.
He covered his eyes with his hands. “It’s just… I can’t…. The vampires. They…” His words trailed off.
Oh, no. How could I have been so stupid? I’d seen the wound on his inner thigh. And I knew how much like sex a vampire’s bite could be. Of course they had played up that connection.
“Shh,” I whispered. “It’s okay. I understand.” I moved over him and pulled his hands away from his eyes. I wrapped his arms around me, leaning in to kiss him.
It took a moment, but then he was kissing me again. He rolled me over and pinned me to the bed, holding my hands above me. He let go long enough to unwrap the condom and slide it over the length of him, and then he was inside me. We clung to each other desperately, as if we were trying to crawl inside one another’s skin with every movement, every thrust. I felt all the tension of the last few months building inside me, causing me to whimper and pull Malcolm closer. Malcolm moved faster, rocking us both back and forth on the bed, and I felt the pressure growing. Finally it burst forth, washing over me in wave after wave of ecstatic pleasure. My hands tightened spasmodically on Malcolm’s back, and he groaned my name as he, too, found the release we’d both been looking for.
Afterwards, we lay breathing heavily, still holding on to one another.
And then we slept.
* * *
When I woke up again, Malcolm’s arm was slung across my chest. I eased my way out from under it and slipped on my clothes. I opened the door as quietly as I could, then slipped out into the dimly lit hallway.
The shop had that nobody’s-awake stillness to it; I could feel the presence of other people, but I couldn’t really hear them. I stood outside the room where we had laid out Nick’s body, listening for a moment. I didn’t hear anything inside. I didn’t feel anyone’s presence either.
Of course I wouldn’t, not with the whole “Nick’s dead” thing. I hesitated, unsure whether or not I really wanted to go back in and see his body. But I needed to say goodbye, so I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Nick was gone.
I stood staring at the empty bed a lot longer than I should have. And then I raced down the hallways as silently as possible. If I was wrong, I didn’t want to worry anyone else.
But I wasn’t wrong.
Nick’s body wasn’t in Tony’s lab.
It wasn’t in any of the other empty rooms I checked.
And when I sprinted through the garage, it wasn’t in the van, either—though the back was still covered in his blood.
When I finally left the building entirely, I stood bent with my hands on my knees, gasping, as much from panic as from exertion.
When I looked down at the end of the block, Nick was standing under a streetlight.
I swear to God I saw the light glint off a fang. My hand drifted toward the stake I had automatically shoved into my waistband when I dressed, but it never made contact before falling back down by my side.
Nick waved a sort of salute at me, and then the shadows swirled around him in that vampirey way and my eyes slid off him.
By the time I started running, he was gone. I stumbled to a stop in the pool of light and turned around in circles, peering down the streets that branched off to the sides.
But I knew I wasn’t going to see him, wasn’t going to catch him and stake him.
Not this time, anyway.