Jeanne Stein - The Becoming

He waits as I lift David from the car and leads the way into the caves. This time, all the residents of Beso de la Muerte are in attendance, forming a kind of human barricade on both sides of the walkway, watching as I pass by. I pick up the whispers of the vampires among them, greeting one of their own and curious about the mortal she brings into their midst. Is she willing to share? It occurs to me that I might be delivering David like a lamb to slaughter. Something I should have thought of before.

But Culebra senses those fears. “He is under my protection,” he announces in a voice loud enough for all to hear. “No harm will befall him."

It seems to work. Morbid interest dissolves once again to simple curiosity. I pass by unmolested, and we arrive at the room I remember from my last trip here.

Culebra motions to one of the gurneys and I lay David upon it. Another man joins us, his eyes on Culebra's, and without a word, he starts to work on David. He strips off my friend's shirt, covers his torso with a blanket, checks both arms. He finally looks at me, raising piercing blue eyes to meet my own.

"Do you know his blood type?” he asks in perfect, unaccented English.

I nod. I've seen it on company medical records. “O positive."

"Good.” He turns to the refrigerator. “Universal. I have a good supply. Do you know how much blood he's lost?"

"No. I know he's been fed from for at least two days."

He draws a bag of blood from the refrigerator, sets it on the counter. He crosses to the cabinet and retrieves another bag, this time with a colorless liquid. “It's as important for us to restore his body's fluid levels as it is to restore the blood,” he explains. He moves to David as he talks, arranging needles and tubes as he goes. I wince a little as he sticks one of those needles into a vein on the back of David's hand. It brings back my stay in the hospital and the beginning of all this.

But I push that out of my head. I don't want Culebra to pick up on it. Instead I watch the “doctor.” He's obviously American, tall, six-something, thin. He has blond hair and blue eyes and when he reaches over David to secure one of those tubes to the side of the gurney, I see track marks on the inside of one of his arms.

Gets high on his own supply.

Explains his presence here. He may not even be a real doctor, but he seems to know what he's doing. He doesn't say anything else to me until he's finished, and the two tubes running liquids into David's body are secure. The he turns to me.

"Now it's just a matter of time. He'll either pull through or he won't."

Not very encouraging. “How long before we know?"

"A day or two. I'll keep a close eye on him."

Culebra steps beside us at David's bedside. “You have done all that you can."

Have I? David lies so still and pale on that gurney. He hasn't moved, hasn't made a sound. If he dies—

The doctor is examining his neck wounds now, and he turns to look at me. “Did you do this?"

A rush of cold fury. “No. I didn't. Can you fix it?"

He shakes his head. “Only one way to heal vampire bites. I don't have the proper equipment, so to speak."

Culebra touches my elbow.

I know immediately what he is trying to convey. A vampire bite can only be healed by another vampire. But to do that, I'd have to reopen the wound. I'd be tasting David's blood. I've only fed from other vampires before this, never a mortal.

The doctor has stepped away, giving me a clear shot of the ravages inflicted on David's neck. The wound is open, weeping, the skin torn away in jagged slices. If I don't do it, he'll bear the scars for the rest of his life—an open declaration to any other vampire that he has been fed from. Like Avery's maid.

Culebra senses my decision and motions to the doctor to follow him. He pulls the drape over the door and leaves David and I alone in the cubicle.

Can I do this?

I move to David's bedside. Physically, I know how it's done. I've done it to Avery. But with Avery it was all bound up in sex and excitement and the safety of knowing I couldn't go too far. This is David, and I don't know if the taste of mortal blood will send me into some kind of uncontrollable frenzy.

But what choice do I have? And time is running out. I have only two hours until Avery sends that car to pick me up.

And so I bend over David, gather him up and lay my lips gently against his neck. I don't have to tear at his skin, the vein is right there, close to the surface. When I break in, his blood is warm and sweet and full of the vitality of life. But I don't allow myself to drink, the puncture is only to start the healing process. My saliva mixes with his blood and tissue and I feel it begin. Sinew and vein reattach, torn skin becomes elastic. The wound closes.

When I sit back, all that's visible now is a flush of color at his neck. And even that fades as I watch. I lean down once again and kiss David's cheek.

"Are you staying the night?"

The doctor has moved back into the room. I have no idea how he knew that I had finished with David, but he is examining the wound and nodding as if finding it acceptable.

"No. I can't stay. Not tonight. But I will be back tomorrow morning."

I hope.

I feel Culebra's eyes on me. He, too, has reentered the room. I turn to face him. We have a deal?

He nods and holds out a hand. His grip is dry and firm.

As I return the handshake, I realize if I don't come back tomorrow, I must make arrangements for David. Culebra is the only one I can trust now.

He tilts his head as if listening to some internal dialogue. He probably is. Mine.

After a moment he says, I will look after him if you don't return. You have a friend here in Mexico who knows him, do you not?

A jolt. Max. But how does Culebra know?

He shrugs the question off. If something happens, I will notify him.

I stare at him in confusion and alarm. Who are you?

But he simply takes my hand again. “Vaya con Dios,” he says.

Go with God. I turn away. A strange benediction from a devil.

The dress is made of silk, woven so delicately its touch is like a whisper against the skin. It has a band of jewels that crisscross the bodice, hugging and accenting each breast, and a sweeping skirt that falls to the ankles. It's bright red, the color of blood, the color of life. It's a dress that is worn naked underneath—a dress meant to invite sex and fashioned to facilitate it.

Avery has chosen carefully. Whatever he has in mind for tonight, there's no doubt how he envisions the evening will end. And why shouldn't he? It's the way almost every evening has ended since I first met him.

Won't he be surprised that tonight is so different?

But this is not going to be easy. I have to scrub my mind clear of worry for David, of this morning's explorations, of the hate hardening like concrete in the pit of my stomach. Avery must think I'm the same woman he bedded at the beginning of the day. If he suspects anything else, I have no doubt he will kill me.

I run my hands along the contours of my body. I don't know how I look in Avery's masterpiece of seduction. There are no mirrors in the house, and even if there were, I couldn't use them. I can't apply make-up either, or do anything with my hair except comb it.

So I use my fingers to fluff shower-wet hair and smooth gloss onto lips dry with impatience.

I want to get this over with. It's ironic that it's Avery's own strength I will use against him. He has given me his power. That's what Williams felt when I attacked him, which is why I was able to defeat him. I understand that now.

I glance at my watch. It's seven fifty. The car should be here any minute. Will Avery be inside? Somehow, I doubt it. I think he wants me to make an entrance, to glide down some gilded staircase maybe, or appear like a vision in a garden backlit by candles.