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After a few moments, the door is opened further and a tan, weathered-looking woman with blonde highlights squeezes through the opening. She looks irritated but her furrowed brow smoothes over when she sees the paper bag in my hand. “Ah, crap. I totally forgot.”
She takes the bag from my hand and grabs the girl by her shoulder, pulling her towards the kitchen. “I just need five minutes.”
“I do have somewhere to be,” I say.
“Won’t be long,” she repeats, her voice sounding like she’s chain-smoked from the day she was born. She pulls up a stool from beneath the kitchen counter. “C’mon darling, gotta earn your keep.”
I watch with increasing nausea as the girl sits down while the woman pulls out a messy box of medical supplies and rummages through it.What the hell is happening?
Once she finds what she’s looking for, she fiddles with the IV for a bit, removing and attaching bits I can’t identify but that I’m sure she’s not qualified to, before hooking up a glass vial. With barely suppressed horror, I watch as she fills vial after vial with blood before stoppering them and sitting them on the counter. The smell seeps through me like the winter cold, making my fingers shake. The vampire in me rears it’s ugly head, full of desire. I bite down hard to stop the urge to release my fangs, swallowing hard. It takes a lot of effort to not even indulge the thought of how I could get my hands on that blood.Why does it smell so good?
The girl leans her head on her free hand, looking like she might faint at any moment. When Leslie is done, she digs through the kitchen cabinets for a moment. “Do you know if we have any more of those styrofoam boxes, hon?”
The girl lifts her head with what seems like an inhuman amount of effort. “Above the fridge?”
Leslie clicks her tongue when she opens the cabinet doors above the fridge and pulls down a whole stack of styrofoam boxes. Giving me an apologetic smile, she says, “Knew I had them somewhere.”
I suppress the urge to show my disgust on my face. Whatever is going on, I don’t like it.
The woman makes me hold the box while she slips the vials in purposely cut-out holes. I catch a glimpse of golden swirls in the red of the blood before she pushes on the lid. “There, now where is the packing paper?”
The whole ordeal would be incredibly awkward if I weren’t busy being horrified. Leslie makes me tape the box shut myself, which I do while watching from the corner of my eye as she gets out one of the syringes.
“Can’t we do that later, mom?” the girl asks, her voice quietly pleading.
“You know the drill,” Leslie says matter-of-factly as she attaches the syringe to the IV.
The girl’s scrunched up face is enough to let me know that whatever is inside doesn’t provide an enjoyable experience. I guess Alastor wasn’t lying – this really isn’t about drugs.
***
After making my final delivery, Celeste offers to pick me up from Elysium and drive me home after – well, only to the fake address I've given her but it's better than the nightbus. While I shiver in the cold, I go through the events of the night.
The girl called that womanmom. What the hell?Selling your daughter's blood for money? My parents certainly don't win any prizes for my upbringing but that is some next level stuff. Worse, though, is the knowledge that this whole time, that's what I've been carrying around the city.
Technically, selling your blood is not illegal. Everyone – that is, everyone who actuallyhasblood – does it sometimes. Easy cash. But that girl did not seem like she was doing itsometimesfor gas money.
By the time Celeste's car pulls up, I'm almost too deep in thought to notice. Only when I hear the pop of the door opening do I return to the present. I scurry across the sidewalk and slip onto the leather seat.
She goes through her usual round of questions: what address did you bring the bag to? What address did you bring the parcel to? Did you recognise anyone? Did you catch anyone's name? Did anything seem weird or suspicious to you?
I pause on the last question. Rather than answering, I ask, “Do you know what it is I'm delivering?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
She waves her hand at me. “It doesn't matter. Is that everything?”
“No!”
She finally looks up, her expression unreadable. “Well?”
I swallow. “I don't think I want to keep doing this.”
Her eyebrows narrow. “Oh?”
“I no longer owe you, right? You said everything after the first job was just for extra money. So I can walk.”
