Free Blood Type by Melissa Luznicky Garrett

“Let’s go for a walk.”
    I yanked my arm free and took a step back. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”
    “Is everything okay?” asked the woman, approaching us with caution.
    “Leave,” said John in a tone I had never heard him use before. The couple walked away at once, no questions asked and without another look back.
    I watched them disappear and then shoved the jacket at his chest saying, “ Here. You can keep this. I don’t want it. And I definitely don’t want your help. ”
    I pivoted on my heel and started making my way back to my car, but John grabbed my arm again before I’d managed to make it even five feet.
    “You don’t know what they do to vampires like him, but I do. And he doesn’t deserve it.”
    I stopped in my tracks, spinning to face him. “He doesn’t deserve it? What do you mean, he doesn’t deserve it?”
    “It was my fault for not having enough of a supply in the house. His needs are much greater than mine. He didn’t know what he was doing when he attacked you. He wasn’t in control of himself.”
    A n angry flush r ose in my cheeks. “And you think being hungry makes what he did to me okay?”
    “No, of course not,” John said. “It’s only that . . . he’s not bad . Most of the vampires who attack people are scum. They have no moral compass. But he does!”
    I held up my hand to stop him. “You have got to be kidding me. You’re telling me there are vampires with an actual moral compass?”
    He gave me a look as though my words had personally wounded him. “Blake, they can’t find out .”

 
    July 29
     
    Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries invaded my dreams that morning . I burrowed further under my down comforter and pulled the pillow over my head, wishing that the idiot calling at such a god-awful hour would hang up already and let me get some sleep. The music cut off finally , and I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter with the hope of falling back to sleep.
    I had just started to drift off when the ringtone blared again . I groaned . “For the love of . . . Shut up . ” Then realizing the only way to make it stop was to just answer the darn phone , I threw back the covers and fumbled for the cell on my nightstand , nearly dropping it .
    “Ehlert residence.” My voice came out gravelly and deep with sleep. I cleared my throat and tried again. “How may I help you?”
    M y parents had drilled the greeting into my head when I was five years old, seeing as how lots of prospective clients called for my mom, and it had become an automatic response to putting the phone to my ear. Only belatedly did I remember I had answered my personal cell and not the family landline.
    “Is this Blake?”
    I looked at the clock and did a double-take at the time. Had I really slept so long? Surely it couldn’t be almost eleven ! My head swam as I tried to shake off the remnants of sleep . Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I combed my fingers through my hair, preemptively working out the tangles before my morning shower.
    “ This is she . Who’s calling?” In my sleepy haze, I didn’t recognize the voice.
    “John Kelly. Have you forgotten about me already?” 
    My eyes widened. As if . When I didn’t answer right away he said, “I bought you lunch. I took you home. We shared one hell of a kiss. Any of that ring a bell?”
    I stood up at once, nearly falling over when the blood drained suddenly from my head. Yesterday had seemed like a dream. A nightmare, actually. Or at least the part where I broke up with my boyfriend did . I s ank back to the bed so that I wouldn’t inadvertently knock myself unconscious by fainting.
    “John. Hi. Of course I remember. How did you get my number?”
    “ You programmed it into my phone . Remember? ”
    I smacked my forehead with the heel of my hand. “Right.” Then I reached for the glass of water on my nightstand and downed its contents in three large gulps. Unable to think of anything else to say, I unfortunately said the