Callie - An Enchantress Novel - Book 1

Chapter 2

The poor girl was hurt when Sam tackled his informant on the footpath outside his office. He hadn't realized John had the knife when he'd run away. A second or two passed before he managed to regain his control once the smell of fresh blood filled the air, by which time a crowd gathered around them.

Callie's dark hair, having come loose from the bun at her neck, splayed in a black halo around her face, the paleness of her skin enhanced by the dirty-grey of the pavement. Her heartbeat faltered.

Sam accepted all responsibility for her imminent death. He should have realised sooner that the kid had immunity to compulsion when he refused the seat Sam offered him.

There was something about this girl that made him hesitate. He felt drawn to her. Something he couldn't put a name to, combined with guilt, forced an impetuous decision to save her. Seizing control of the minds of the humans around him, he deleted the scene from their memories. He lifted her gently, cradling her against his chest.

From of the corner of his eye, he saw John gather himself up off the ground and glance in his direction, then take off down the road as if the hounds of Hell were after him.

"You'll keep for another day, John," Sam vowed, carrying her up the fire escape stairs into the flat above the office.

Biting his own wrist after he laid her in the bath, he held the wound to her mouth and tilted her head back to let his blood slide down her throat. She swallowed, almost imperceptibly, before her heart stopped beating. He prayed she had taken enough.

Within an hour, his worst fears came to fruition as her body temperature rose. Had he not filled the bath with ice it would have soared further causing irreparable damage, and in doing so create yet another night stalker. It rarely happened, but when it did, the witless creatures were blood-craving monsters that thought only of their next meal, sucking their victims dry and leaving the desiccated corpses where they lay. He had first hand experience with the anarchy that resulted.

Others like Sam worked within a network to clear the streets of these abominations and their poor unfortunate victims. While vampires do need human blood to survive, they don't need to kill the source.

Donors came in two forms: there were those who volunteer for live sessions. Endorphins released by the vampire bite were the best possible high any druggie could wish for, without the addictive side effects. They did have to be clean of all drugs, however.

For the other option, donors receive payment per pint at a special blood bank. A limit on how often a donation can be made ensures donors' health and co-operation and keeps any suspicion from the vampire communities, allowing them to go about their business without detection.

***

Sam wiped the sweat from her forehead with a cold, damp cloth and swirled the ice in the bath surrounding her lifeless body. The skin on her fingers and toes had shrivelled to resemble wrinkled prunes a couple of days ago.

It had been two days and fifteen hours since she swallowed his blood and the transformation was almost complete. He left her for a few minutes to gather some things she would need when she awoke.

His robe would have to suffice as he had no women's clothes at hand. He didn't think she'd appreciate having to walk around in her blood-stained, ripped outfit, even though it accentuated the curve of her breasts and hips. He considered undressing her, but dismissed the idea, thinking she would be confused enough when she woke without having to deal with that as well.

He zapped a beaker of blood in the microwave, returning to the bathroom just as his watch beeped, signifying it was time. He pulled the plug to allow the bath to drain and turned the warm water on so it sprayed from the showerhead. After adjusting the temperature just enough to allow a little steam to develop, he sat on the closed toilet seat and watched as she began to stir.