Jeaniene Frost - Halfway to the Grave

By far, though, the most grueling activity was up close with him. He stretched my limbs until tears poured down my face, chiding me all the while for my lack of flexibility. Then, during our hand-to-hand combat, he’d knock me into a state of unconsciousness that all the icy water in the world couldn’t revive. I would wake up with the taste of his blood in my mouth, just to repeat the procedure all over again. To say I fantasized about killing him every second of every day was an understatement. Yet I got better, I had no choice. With Bones, it was either improve or die.

My first indication of increased stamina came after my second week of training. Bones and I fought and I actually didn’t pass out. He still beat me soundly, but I remained conscious throughout. It was a mixed blessing. I had my dignity from not going night-night in the middle of our battle, but then was awake when he fed me his blood.

“Disgusting,” I spat after being cajoled and then threatened into putting his bloody finger in my mouth. “How can you things live off that?”

The words left my lips without forethought, as had many before them.

“Necessity is the mother of all appetites. What you need in order to survive, you learn to love,” he replied shortly.

“All this blood better not turn me into a vampire. That was not our deal.”

I felt uncomfortable arguing with his finger jammed in my mouth, and I moved my head backward until it slid wetly out. It was almost a sexual gesture. I blushed as soon as the thought flitted through my mind. He caught the flush, of course. No doubt the reason behind it as well, but just wiped his hand on his shirt.

“Trust me, luv, you aren’t having nearly enough blood to turn you into a vampire. Since you fret about it all the time, however, I’ll tell you how it works. First, I’d have to drain you to the very point of death. There’s a trick to that, taking enough blood without taking too much. Then, stuffed full of your blood, I’d open my artery for you and let you drink it right back out of me. All of it, and then some. There’s a trick to that, too. You have to be strong to make other vampires, or your would-be protégée sucks you dry and kills you while he or she is changing. New vampires are harder to get off an artery than a starving babe off a juicy teat. These measly drops of blood I’m feeding you aren’t doing more than healing your injuries. They’re probably not even enough to enhance your strength. Now, will you stop griping every time you have to lick a few bits off my pieces?”

That really caused me to color at the visual that skipped across my subconscious. Seeing it, he ran an aggravated hand through his hair.

“Now, that’s another thing you have to stop doing. You turn red as a sunset at the slightest hint of innuendo. You need to be playing the part of an aggressive, horny woman! No bloke’s going to believe that when he says boo and you faint from embarrassment. Your virginity’s going to get you killed.”

“I’m not a virgin,” I countered, and then nearly did faint as predicted.

His dark brows went up. I turned away, sputtering, “Can we change the subject, please? We’re not girlfriends at a slumber party. I don’t want to be discussing this with you.”

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, ignoring my plea. “Kitten’s catted around, has she? The way you act, I’m surprised. Chap waiting patiently for you to finish your training? Must be quite a lad, to get you all hot and bothered. Again, didn’t peg you for the experienced type, but then again, you did offer me a taste when we first met. Makes me wonder now if you planned on staking me before or after you got your itch scratched. What about the other vampires? Did they die with a smile on their-”

I slapped him. Or tried to. He caught my wrist and held it, and caught the other one when I whipped my left palm toward his cheek.

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way, I’ve heard enough of that crap growing up. Just because my mother had me out of wedlock, our stupid old-fashioned neighbors thought that made her a slut, and me, too, by default. And not that it’s any of your business, since you’ve probably raped villages full of women, but I’ve only been with one person. He dropped me like a bad habit right afterwards, so that was enough to cure me of any desire I had to duplicate the sexual escapades of my peers. Now, I mean it, I don’t want to talk about this again!”

I was panting in pent-up fury over the wound he’d unknowingly ripped open. Bones released my wrists, and I rubbed them where his fingers had dug into my skin.

“Kitten,” he began in a conciliatory tone, “I apologize. But just because your ignorant neighbors took their prejudice out on you, or some pimply-faced teenager pulled a one-nighter-”

“Stop it,” I interrupted, terrified I was going to cry. “Just stop it. I can do the job, I can fake sexy, whatever. But we are not discussing this.”

“Look, luv-” he tried again.

“Bite me,” I snapped, and walked off.

For once, he didn’t offer to take me up on the invitation, and he didn’t follow me.

At the start of the fourth week, Bones announced we were taking a field trip. Of course, it wasn’t an afternoon jaunt to the local museum. No, he had me driving along a narrow road at midnight with no idea where we were headed. He’d given me the barest direction-turn here, turn there, etc.-and I was nervous. We were in a very rural area, no streetlights along the road. If you wanted to suck someone’s neck dry and then dump the body, this would be an ideal place.

Then again, if he’d wanted to suck my neck dry and dump my body, the cave was a pretty ideal place as well. Considering all the times I’d been unconscious after our training bouts, he could have dined on me before if he’d wanted to. I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. Hell, I wouldn’t have been able to stop him when I was awake. I had yet to win a single round between us, to my dismay. Bones was so damned strong and fast, fighting against him was like trying to put a leash on a lightning bolt.

“Turn left here,” Bones said, jarring me from my thoughts.

I read the name on the sign. Peach Tree Road. It didn’t look like it led anywhere.

“You know, partner,” I said as I made the turn, “you’re being very secretive. When are you going to tell me what this field trip is about? I take it you didn’t just get a sudden urge to go cow tipping.”

He snorted. “No, can’t say that I did. I need some information from a man who lives out here.”

The way he said it made it sound like the person wouldn’t be happy to see him. “Look, I refuse to be a part of killing any humans, so if you think you’re going to interrogate this guy and then bury him, you’re wrong.”

I expected Bones to challenge me or get angry, but he started to laugh.

“I’m serious!” I said, stomping on the brakes for emphasis.

“You’ll get the joke soon enough, luv,” he replied. “But let me set your mind at ease. For one, I promise not to lay a single hand on the fellow, and for another, you’ll be the one talking to him.”

That surprised me. I didn’t even know who the guy was, let alone what questions to ask.

An eyebrow arched at me. “Will we be driving again anytime soon?”

Oh. I let off the brake and hit the gas, jolting the truck forward. “Do I get any more details than that? Like, some background on him and what you want to know?”

“Of course. Winston Gallagher was a railway worker back in the sixties. He also had a side business of making moonshine. One day, a fellow bought one of Winston’s products and then was found dead with it the next day. Winston might have mistaken the alcohol content for that batch, or the sot drank too much. Either way, it all ended the same. Winston was found guilty of murder and condemned to die.”