Vampocalypse (old first draft)

Chapter Nine

I opened my eyes but everything was dark - pitch dark and cold.

My God, I'm in some type of crypt, I thought, or I'm blind. My adrenaline kicked in; I was starting to panic.

"Help." I squeaked. My voice wasn't working right. I was on something soft, so that meant I probably wasn't in a crypt, thank goodness, but I still couldn't see. "Help."

"Shhh. It's okay. I'm here." A newly familiar voice said through the blackness. I felt Hector's icy hand touch mine.

"What's happening? Did you change me? Is this part of the change?" I sputtered, almost hysterical.

"No, the light is just off." He chuckled. "We're in the basement; it gets very dark here. I'm sorry. You're fine."

He dropped my hand. I felt his weight move from beside me, then a sudden burst of light.

"See?" He asked.

"Actually, no." I squinted in the blinding brightness.

Slowly my surroundings came into focus. I was on a fluffy king-sized bed bedecked with crimson sheets and a black comforter. There was a TV on the floor just like ours - round, about a foot in diameter, with a touch pad on the side and a place in the top from which holograms would burst. Books lined a shelf on one wall, with names like Shakespeare, Poe, and King on the spines. A closet was open with multiple hanging, black jumpsuits inside.

The room smelled entirely of embers and sandalwood.

"What...what am I doing here? We didn't- oh God...did we?" I clutched the blanket to my chest, like it would shield me from the truth.

"Uh, no we didn't. You would know if we had. Trust me." He said sheepishly.

I let out a thankful sigh. Then I remembered my last thought. "But you bit me!" My hand shot to my lower neck, to the place I remembered feeling-

"I didn't penetrate you in any way. Your delicate skin is still untouched." He vowed. "I only had a tiny taste...before you fainted."

Relief washed through me in a wave. Bits and pieces of the night came to me. I knew I'd come dangerously close to giving in to him, and I also knew I never wanted to drink any type of alcohol again in any fashion. I remembered the poor boy who'd given me his heart. I felt sorry for him; I didn't even remember his name.

"Is it still Saturday?" I asked.

"Nope. Sunday. You spent the day." He said happily. He must be brave to allow a firsty to share his bed during his weakened daylight hours. "I had to bring you here. By the time I gave up on you rousing and brought you from the restroom, the firsties had gone, and the living quarters were locked down."

"I see. It couldn't have had anything to do with you wanting me in your bed would it?" I taunted doubtfully.

"Oh, I definitely wanted you in my bed. I just imagined there would be more pleasurable activities taking place during the time." He grinned, making my cheeks flush. "I'd gladly pick up where we left off last night, but I'm afraid we better get going. I'm due guard duty, and you're due for bleeding."

His eyes darkened as if the thought of my being bled was as unpleasant for him as it always had been for me. There was nothing either of us could do about that.

"Oh, no! Don't I have time for a shower?" I panicked, a new worry coming to mind. After sleeping the day away in his bed, I had to smell like Hector. The other superiors would know. What would that mean? What would they do?

I fretted about that all the way to the neat line of groaning, hung-over firsties outside the clinic room.

I watched one after another take their turn, and observed how close they came to Starsky, who silently and professionally bled them. She would smell him all over me for sure, I just knew it.