Page 41 of Thirst

“Damn, how deep did he cut you?”

“I'm not sure. It hurt … as far as I can remember.”

“Well, let me see it. If it’s shallow enough, you shouldn't have anything to worry about.”

“It’s got this bandage on it,” I say as I undo the ties on my robe enough to pull it down to open up the bottom portion, exposing the brown bandage over the cut.

Nae moves in closer. “Well, it’s not bleeding so much that it’s soaking through the bandage. I can't see any blood at all. You mind if I pull the corner down a little so I can see?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Janae plays the part of my nurse and uses her nail to peel the corner of the bandage back, then she looks behind it. When I see the expression on her face, a sudden feeling of worry sweeps over me.

“What’s the matter?” I ask, trying to see past her hair so I can look at my skin.

“I don't see … there's nothing. Hold on.” Suddenly, Janae pulls the entire bandage off, and the look on her face scares me.

“What? What is it? I'm scared to look now because your reaction is terrifying. What’s wrong with it?”

Nae’s eyes bounce from my face to the spot where the bandage was, then back up again, her expression never changing.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” she says. “I thought you said he cut you.”

“He did,” I reply defensively.

“He couldn't have,” she says. “There isn't anything there.”

“What?” I sit up straight to get a better view of the area, and when I see it, I gasp. “How is that possible? I swear he cut me.”

Janae shrugs. “I don't know. I don't see anything.”

I squint my eyes, trying to see as best I can, but no matter how hard I look, nothing changes. There is no cut in my skin. The spot where I felt the pain of the knife cutting into me is as smooth as the minute my waxer finishes her work. Whatever Amari did to me, it has completely healed.

AMARI

Twenty-Five

Isit on my couch with a glass full of red wine, my eyes glued to the blue fire shimmering in the fireplace in front of me. It's beautiful, and almost mesmerizing enough to take my mind off of where it has been glued since I tasted Aaliyah’s blood. Since that life-changing moment, she has been the only thing I can think about. She's all I want. All the time. The smell of her. The feel of her soft skin. The taste of her blood.

My body has yearned to be near her since I watched her step onto the elevator and return to her normal life—the life of stress and pressure that she led before she met me. All of that matters now: her job, her rent, her boss, her friends. I care about it all, and no part of me is willing to stand aside and let her worry about any of it, because she's my Companion, and that changes everything.

I learned about Companions from a vampire couple I met two years after I was turned. They walked into a bar I was sitting in, and took two seats next to me. I felt their presence before I saw them, and it made me wonder what kind of vampires they were. Some vampires are similar to how I am now, wanting to live as quiet a life as possible while doing whatever necessary to appease the thirst. Others are addicted to the hunt. Those are the ones who never got over their initial thirst after they were turned. Those vampires are the monsters children read about, and at the time, I was very much still one of those monsters. But when this couple came in, I saw something in them that I hadn't seen in the few vampires I’d met before. They looked happy.

We spent the night talking about a plethora of things, but every few minutes I would notice them gazing at each other. In their eyes, I saw life that a vampire’s eyes shouldn't harbor. When they looked at each other, I saw vibrance in them—a passion so strong that it made a monster like me smile when all I felt inside was a rageful bloodlust. So I asked them about it, and that’s when they told me that they were fated to be together, and that finding one another changed their lives. They were like me before, but being connected with their Companion was a bandage over their cracked hearts. They told me how all vampires have a Companion—a partner they are meant to walk hand in hand with, and until they find that partner, they’re bound to misery forever. Even if they manage to subdue the thirst, they will never feel whole. Vampirism is a curse of loneliness, among other things, and only our Companion can cure that part of it. But, not all of us meet the person we’re meant to be with.

From that moment on, I was obsessed with the idea. To me, it explained why I was so caught up in wishing my maker would return. I thought she was my Companion, because I longed for her like a drowning person longs for a breath. Every day that I wasn't with her was filled with torment, and their explanation made it all make sense. Of course time was my torturer. I wasn't with my fated partner. But my maker never came back. She turned me, and left only hours later. She was gone for good, and it took me decades to get over it and realize that she was never my Companion. If she was, she would've known before me, and she never would've left me all alone.

The conversation in the bar took place in 1902, and after decades of longing for my maker only to realize that she wasn't the one, I decided that my Companion and I would never cross paths—that I would be like the many other vampires who would never meet theirs. I moved on from crying tears of blood for my maker, and focused on myself. I conquered my thirst as much as the thirst can be conquered, and I learned to use my abilities to my benefit. Influence was my best friend until the day I found Shawn in that alley, and even then, it was my most potent tool. It got me everything, and I used its endless supply every chance I got, using it to fill a hole that was bottomless. I was convinced it would always be this way, until the day I walked into that strip club.

Her blood has changed me. Ruined me. I can't be without her now. Even as I sit in front of this fireplace trying to drink away the growing obsession, she's still here, occupying all of the space in my mind. I know I can't be with her all the time, but if I could, I would be. I'd become her shadow just to watch over her. But that’s not realistic. In the real world, there has to be conversations and explanations. She can't be my Companion and not know it, so now my life is all about giving her the truth. But how do you tell a human that they are fated to a vampire?

“Wow. You look like you're in here having a mental breakdown. You good?”

Shawn’s voice doesn't even move me. I hear him, but I'm still thinking about her.

I turn to him and find my assistant dressed in black-on-black as usual. He takes off his blazer, folds it neatly, and drapes it over the back of the couch before coming to sit next to me. Out of my peripheral vision, I see him staring at the side of my face, but I don't bother to turn to him.

“She's the one, isn't she?” he asks, turning his gaze toward the dancing blue fire.