Blood Drive

Frey’s surprise turns to anxiety. “What? What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

But I’ve already jumped out and started for the VW, two cars behind.Pull into the stadium parking lot. I’ll meet you there.

To myself, I add, Please don’t let him wreck my car.

But Frey’s reply follows me,I’ll try not to. And thanks for the vote of confidence.

I don’t bother to respond or look back. Quicker than it takes to register in No-neck’s head, I’m standing at the passenger side door of his car. The door is locked, but the window is open so I reach inside and pull the door open. He does a double take as I slide into the seat.

“Well,” I growl with cold menace. “Fancy seeing you again.”

I’ve startled him into speechlessness. In fact, I’ve startled him into a near heart attack. I can tell because his heart is pounding so hard, I can hear it. Along with the rush of his blood. That, coupled with the anger I’m feeling toward mankind in general, brings the vampire in me to the surface.

I don’t know what it looks like when the animal takes over. I only know what I see in the eyes of humans when it happens. No-neck’s face has gone pale, his breathing is shallow. A human who allows vampires to feed from them can still distinguish the difference between control and rage. His eyes are locked on mine, and though car horns blare at him to move as the light changes, he is frozen in place.

“Move, asshole,” I snarl. “Or I’ll rip your miserable throat out right here.”

His Adam’s apple bounces as he takes a couple of shaky breaths. “Where should I go?”

I gesture to my car just ahead of us. “Keep doing what you’ve been doing-follow my car.”

He puts the VW in gear and we lurch forward. After we’ve cleared the intersection, he asks, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Depends on you,” I snap. “And what kind of answers I get.”

His hands are shaking as he pulls up behind the Jag. Frey starts to get out, but I wave him off. I want to do this by myself.

I notice No-neck’s car registration in a plastic holder on the visor. I reach over and rip it off. “Let’s see who we have here.”

The registration lists the owner’s name as Darryl Goodwin, his address,

3946 Quail Street

in San Diego. “Are you Darryl?”

He nods.

He’s wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts. I reach out a hand and lay it on his bare arm. “Okay, Darryl, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“The easy way is I ask you some questions and you answer.” I rub his arm encouragingly. “The hard way is I bite your worthless neck and suck until you’re dead. But before you die, I’ll get the truth out of you. All of it. So what’s it to be?”

His Adam’s apple is dancing again.

“Okay, let’s give this a try. We’ll start with an easy question. Why are you following me?”

Darryl seems to be having a hard time getting words out. My impatience is searing. I dig my nails into his arm and open a long, ragged cut, drawing blood. I know it’s risky. In my state, the scent of his blood and fear are like an aphrodisiac too powerful to resist. But I don’t have time to waste with him.

I scrape a fingernail deeper. He gasps and tries to pull away. My grip tightens. “Let’s try harder, Darryl. Why are you following me?”

He recovers enough to whine, “I was curious, that’s all. I saw you at Carolyn’s this morning. With the cop.” He looks at me sideways. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

But this is my interrogation, not his. “What were you doing at Carolyn’s?”

A little of the bravado comes back. “You know. I like getting laid, and she likes getting a break on the rent.”

My fingers curl into fists. He sees the reaction and holds his hands up. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, her being dead and all.”

“How long were you there, Darryl?”

A little smile twists the corner of his mouth. “Long enough to see that old lady whack you. I can’t believe you let her get away with that. Who was she anyway?”

“Another question and I’ll tear your arm out. Are we clear, Darryl?”

He gulps and nods.

“Good. Now, have you followed me everywhere since then?”

Another nod.“From Carolyn’s to that house in La Mesa-nice place, by the way. Is that where you live?”

I yank on his arm, hard, and he yelps. “Okay, okay. Anyway, then you went to the hospital and to an office on

Pacific Highway

and then to the police station. Back to that school, and now, you know, here we are.”

Christ. He’s been on my tail every minute and I never noticed. I don’t know whether I’m angrier with him or myself.

The silence stretches on while I decide what to do with him. I thought I scared him enough the first time I ran into him at Carolyn’s to make him want to stay away from me. Now, it seems I’ve just piqued his curiosity.

I tap my fingernail against the cut on his arm, draw more blood and bring his arm to my mouth. Glaring at him, I suck ever so gently, savoring the taste, the texture. Not as sweet as from a vein, but warm, refreshing. I feel him relax a little. Then I bite down. Hard.

He utters a sharp, high-pitched cry of pain and tries to pull away.

My teeth ravage the arm. I gulp down the blood, losing myself for a moment in the hunger.

His cries of panic bring me back. When I look up, I see Frey start walking toward us.

I take one more mouthful and reluctantly release his arm. I wave Frey off, licking the blood from my fingers. “Darryl, Darryl, what am I going to do with you?”

The change in my tone and the ragged bite mark on his arm drain the remaining color from Darryl’s cheeks. He cradles his arm and looks like he might finally be scared enough to cooperate.

“So let’s try again. Why are you following me? Did you think if you found out where I lived you could drop by for a quickie once in awhile? That we might become friends? What were you thinking, Darryl?”

His mouth twists and his tone wavers just this side of panic. “I don’t know. I didn’t plan to see you this morning. When I did, I acted on instinct. I just wanted to find out who you are.”

His answer rings true, but it’s neither comforting nor reassuring. There’s only one way I can think of to keep this kid away from me and from those I love.

“You like going to Beso de la Muerte, don’t you?”

The change of subject catches him off guard. He gives a jerky nod.

I lean in toward him and take his arm once again. I raise it to my mouth. At first he tries to jerk away, but when I suck at the wound this time and lick it closed, I feel him relax. I reach a hand up and pull his head close, breathe into his ear and let my hand play with the waistband of his shorts.

He actually moans.

“Let’s make a deal,” I whisper. “You stay away from me here in San Diego, forget everything you saw today, and I’ll meet you down there on Friday. That’s two days from now. Two days and I’ll give you what you say you want.”

He takes my hand and pushes it down his stomach, shifting on the seat until I feel a stirring between his legs. His skin is slimy and slick with sweat. I close my eyes and think of Trish to keep from gagging.

His tone is rough with desire. “How do I know I can trust you?”

I want to answer by grabbing his miserable cock and yanking until he screams. Instead, I stroke it and coo, “Hey, you know everywhere I went today. I think you could find me pretty easily if I didn’t show. What do you have to lose?”

“How about a little preview?” he says, squirming on the seat.

“Uh-uh.” I pull my hand away and sit back. “You’ll just have to wait until Friday. Do we have a deal?”

He’s got his own hand between his legs now, and his eyes are glassy and unfocused. “Fuckin-A,” he says. “We have a deal.”

“Okay, then, Darryl. You can play with yourself when you get home. I want you to leave now.”