Cassie Alexander: Bloodshifted

Jackson set his side down and grinned over at me. “It’s pretty great, eh?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t want to admit that it was. “Is this what being a daytimer is like? Being super-strong?” I thought I knew the rules, but I wanted to hear him say them, just in case.

He waved his hand indeterminately in front of him. “Yeah, for a while. Until the blood runs thin. You’ll be strong, and quick, and able to hear quiet things, and you’ll heal fast. You feel better, don’t you? After as much blood as you got, you must.”

I nodded slowly. My tongue touched the tiny pointed ends of my canines inside my mouth.

“The downside is now you’re attached. Think of it like a psychic umbilical cord between you and him.”

I pulled back. The image hit too close to home. Jackson went on, “You’ll want what Raven wants, for at least as long as you’re around him. You’ll do what he tells you to do. He’ll always be able to find you when he’s awake at night.” His smile faded into more of a grimace. “From here on out, it’s his way or the highway, as they say. And if you do try the highway, well, God help you.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine Raven running me to ground. “How long does it last?”

“As much blood as I heard you got? You’ll probably feel like Superman for a month.”

“And after that?” I pressed.

He shrugged. “If you don’t get more blood, you’ll start to feel sick soon. You won’t like it when your humanity comes back, with all its aches and pains. You’ll start to age, and you wouldn’t be supercharged anymore. But you’d still have to obey him, even after the good parts wear off. It’s a devil’s bargain—you make it once and you make it for life, either your lifetime or his. After a while without blood you’ll feel like you took a drug, missed the high, and got only the shitty side effects.”

I tried not to frown, but Jackson easily read my face.

“You’re new. Everything’ll take a while to get used to. Let’s move this over there.” He jerked his head toward a zebra-print rug on the floor. We picked up the coffee table together again, and I realized as we neared the rug it really was the skin of a zebra.

“Wow.” I knelt down to pet it after we set the coffee table down.

“She can be a bit exotic.”

I made a show of looking around the rest of the room. Her bed occupied most of it, looking like a four-poster throne, and I noticed the vanity mirror pointed toward it. Shining chrome bars joined all the posts at top, and curtains hung off these, along with several sets of handcuffs.

“You think?” I said, trying to sound as ironic as I could. If becoming a daytimer had stranded Celine in the 1980s, did that mean I was going to be frozen circa 2014?

Jackson clapped my back. “I think we’re going to get along just fine, Edie.”

It took all my strength not to nod in hope. He looked down at the floor where the coffee table had been. “Okay then. Let me go get you a cot,” he said, and left the room.

I had that urge you get when you’re alone at a stranger’s place to go through all their stuff. But I didn’t know when Celine would be back—and I noticed there weren’t any locks on the door, which seemed odd. Jackson returned momentarily, carrying a cot, and unfolded it for me. It was covered in unfortunately placed stains.

“Sorry about that. There’s sheets somewhere too, I’ll find them. It’s been a while since we had company.”

“Thanks.” I looked down at myself. I was still encrusted with sweat and salt from the sea. “Is there any clothing here?” I knew Celine and I weren’t the same size since she was a foot shorter than I was.

“Yeah. You want to take a shower first?”

I did. If—and it was a big if—it was safe.

Jackson grunted at my hesitance. “You just got a pint or two of vampire blood. No one’s going to be able to hurt you for a while, unless they manage to physically pull off your limbs.”

All too easy to imagine—at least while the vampires were up. “Somehow that image doesn’t help.”

He snorted. “Sorry. I guess not. But you’ll need to know where the bathroom is anyhow; you’ll need to pee eventually. Come on, it’s just down the hall.”

The door to the bathroom looked just like the door to Celine’s room, only I could smell the water behind it.

It was half prison bathroom, half horror movie. The toilets were inside stalls, all missing doors. Across from the toilets there was one long countertop with five sinks, and three showerheads at the far end, without any curtains. A row of lockers was tucked in between the showers and the sinks, but none of them had locks. The tile floor had divots leading to multiple drains—the easier to clean up bloodstains, I presumed.

“Classy,” I said after taking it all in.

“Yep,” Jackson agreed. “I’ll go work on sheets and clothing. Everyone’s busy now—it’s a good time for you to shower, if you’re going to. You can use my stuff—” He popped open a locker, revealing a shaving kit and a few bottles of toiletries. “If you go back to Celine’s room smelling like her shampoo, she’ll kill you in your sleep. We get decent water pressure, but it takes a while for the water to get hot,” he said, and left.

I stared at the showers once I was alone. I was disgusting, the salt embedded in my clothing rasped at me, and I stank. But it was hard to feel comfortable showering anyplace it looked like a slasher film was about to break out in.

Then again—I stretched my hands out in front of me, remembering the strength I’d had when I’d lifted the coffee table. I’d never be safer here than I was right now, with Raven’s blood fresh inside me.

Okay. Let’s do this, baby.

I quickly stripped off all my clothing and cranked the water on.

Everything from Jackson’s locker seemed to have a slight manly scent—and I wondered if that was true, or if it was just me now being more sensitive. In an effort not to wind up smelling like he was my boyfriend, I borrowed just a bar of soap, swiping it over myself and lathering it into my hair, trying to take the fastest shower I’d ever taken in my life.

I wasn’t quite fast enough. Jackson came back in the room and walked past me, a stack of fabric in his arms.

I slammed the water off and picked up my clothes to cover myself with, quickly shoving my feet back into my tennis shoes.

“I thought you might need a towel,” he said, coming back to me, holding one out. I took it from him and made an indelicate transfer while he looked away. The towel was a short one, and I was nervous when he looked back. I didn’t care if he saw me, but I didn’t want him to see my stomach, just in case. I knew I still had meat on my bones despite my recent starvation, and there was no way I was showing yet. But if Raven hadn’t told anyone else about the baby and my subsequent ticket out of here in eight months, courtesy of Anna, I wouldn’t volunteer it. Just thinking about it made me want to shelter my stomach with my hand.

“Do you all usually bring in your own curtains?” I stepped out of the shower and slunk over to the clothing he’d put by the sink.

“They aren’t big on giving us any privacy.” I could tell he said They with a capital T .

I folded the towel under my armpit and picked up the shirt he’d brought me. It looked two sizes too small. “I don’t think this’ll fit me.”

“It will. It’s mostly spandex,” he said, and seeing my mouth open he cut me off. “Don’t ask where it came from.”

“Okay.” I held it up in front of me and waited for him to go away.

He made a show of turning around, arms crossed. “We aren’t big on privacy with each other either, just so you know.”