Free The Blood That Bonds by Christopher Buecheler

long it had been, had
no conception of time. She cursed herself for not remembering to
ask for his blood. She cursed Darren for ever giving her the drug.
She cursed God for putting her on this earth. Pain and thirst
ravaged her. At times it seemed she burned, at others chills
wracked her body like physical blows. She did not call for Theroen,
though she wanted to. She was afraid only the thing she had met
last night would answer.
    Just as it seemed she could take it no
longer, that she would leap from her bed, dress, return to the
city, return to Darren, return to it all in exchange for the
syringe which would numb this pain, she felt a presence in the room
with her. Her fear gave her a momentary respite from the pain, but
this was not the abject terror that she had experienced in
Abraham’s presence, nor the quiet awe that Theroen inspired. It was
something in between.
    “ Who?” She asked the
darkness at the end of the room.
    “ Melissa,” said a voice
from the shadows. Two could make out a pair of gleaming eyes
observing her. She tried to think of an adequate greeting. Words
failed her. Hi, I’m Two. I need some
heroin. It was almost enough to make her
laugh out loud.
    Melissa came forward into the light. She was
a study in contrast. Her hair was jet black, long and straight. Her
brown eyes had not been lightened by vampirism, only intensified
into deep black pools. Her skin was white porcelain, her lips a
deep, sensual red. She was beautiful, taller than Two and well
built, wearing a pair of black jeans and a cream-colored blouse.
She appeared concerned.
    “ Don’t take this the wrong
way, but you look terrible,” she said, sitting in the same chair
that Theroen had previously occupied.
    “ I’m not … doing too good,”
Two admitted.
    “ Sick?”
    “ Withdrawal.” Two felt a
slight flush of shame at this admission, but what did it matter
now?
    “ Withdra—Oh!” Melissa’s
eyes grew large as she realized what Two meant. She pushed her hair
back behind her shoulders unconsciously, bending over Two, seeming
equally curious and worried.
    “ Theroen?” Two asked,
trying not to let her voice sound as weak as she felt.
    “ I don’t know. I’m sorry. I
wish I did. I’d get him.”
    Two sobbed once, got control of herself,
looked again at Melissa.
    “ Can I have my
clothes?”
    “ Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure.”
Melissa handed them to Two, who pulled them on underneath the
covers.
    “ Sorry,” Two said. She
fought against the pain, sat up, forehead rested against her palms,
elbows against her knees.
    “ It’s okay. I guess it’s
weird, having some chick you’ve never met staring at you while
you’re all sick and naked and everything.”
    Two laughed a little, wiped tears from her
eyes.
    “ What kind of drug?”
Melissa asked. There was a faint accent to her voice. Two couldn’t
place it.
    Two did not look up. “Can’t you read it?
It’s sort of been on my mind.”
    “ I’m not like Theroen. I
mean, I might be someday, but not now. His powers are way beyond
mine. I just pick up things once in a while.”
    “ Heroin.”
    “ Oh, ouch. That’s not good.
I mean … you know. Pot, E, maybe even a little coke, sure. But
Heroin’s bad shit.”
    Two shuddered, looked up at Melissa, eyes
watery.
    “ No kidding.” Her voice was
a hoarse whisper.
    “ Hey, hey … sorry,” Melissa
said, that expression of concern coming to her features again. “I’m
not trying to be rude. Seriously. I’m a little scatterbrained right
now myself. Always like this when I oversleep, and the girl last
night had so much wine in her.”
    Two raised her eyebrows, confused.
    Melissa rolled her eyes. “And now I’m
rambling. I can’t control it. I’m sorry. Can I do anything to help
you?”
    Theroen was right; Two did like Melissa. She
was the polar opposite of the calm, collected vampire who’d brought
Two to this world, but Two liked her just the same. She smiled,
trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
    “