House Wyndham Vampires: Half Light Part 10

Can't feel Michel?

I turned my head to the side but kept my gaze focused on Craft's. "What do you mean?"

"Ghouls are commanded servants. When a vampire decides to make a Ghoul, they feed a human their blood three times under the full moon. A drink before full, a drink during full, and a drink just after." He was smiling as he told me this. "Their blood commands us. They're always there, in our minds. Controlling-pulling the strings. Since I was made I've felt Michel's presence in my thoughts. It's like...being chained to a moving object. I was also bound to go where he wanted, do what he willed."

"And now it's different?"

"Yes." His grin lessoned. "How...how is that possible? The only way a Ghoul can be released is death, or to be turned."

My brain just wasn't going to focus. I held up my hands as a way to make him stop talking. "Craft-what are you saying? That you're not a Ghoul anymore?"

"I'm still a Ghoul. I would know if I wasn't. But I don't feel...I don't feel those ties to Michel anymore."

"You think he's feeling the same thing?"

Craft pursed his lips. "Honestly? No. I don't think Michel feels anything much anymore-which is why he's the way he is. Life is losing its appeal and he's fighting to get it back."

"You talk like you kinda care about him." I searched Craft's face and noticed his eyes had an almost incandescent quality to them. I'd originally thought they were a light green, but realized it was something else in them. "I've seen the way he treats you. He's always done that?"

"He treats me the way Ghouls are always treated," Craft said. "Ghouls don't have a voice in your world. Blood Dolls are treated better." He shrugged. "Ghouls are chained with addiction-a physical need to drink or die. It's like being a vampire without the freedoms."

"Meaning you have incredible strength-that much I've seen."

He nodded. "And I'm faster than the average human. I have a few powers-mostly echoes of Michel's. I can read minds, move objects," he held up his right hand and made a small s.p.a.ce with his thumb and index fingers. "Little objects. But do I care? No. He's been my Master for so long-he's like a cruel older brother-and he was older than me when he was turned. I just know that living with them, I've watched them. I know that vampires feel deeper, and harder than anyone else in the world. For the first hundred years or so-it's nearly unbearable. And then when the intensity of those feelings fade..."

I looked away as I compared the intensity of Brandon's attention to that of his lack of it at the fence with Michel. I could understand that. After I was turned, the things I'd always loved to do, like horseback riding and swimming became too much. I could feel the horse's heart and I never wanted to ride for fear I'd kill him. Drive him to his limits.

And swimming-without the fear of death any longer driving me forward-I found myself sinking to the bottom of the pool for hours and listening to the world a mer-person would hear. Swimming fast was no longer a challenge.

"I see you understand what I'm talking about."

"Yeah. A little too well. I'm a.s.suming you mean Michel doesn't have his hold over you."

"I don't know. I just know he's not...there...anymore. Not in my mind."

"So...if you're not Michel's Ghoul," I looked from Jared to Craft. "Then whose are you?"

He shook his head and looked a little panicked. "I...I don't know."

Craft helped me clean Jared's room up and we got Jared into bed. He was pretty much a limp noodle for now, unconscious from the blood in his system. We'd fed from each other before, so it wasn't as creepy as it sounded.

But only for emergencies when we'd forgotten to restock the fridge.

Craft's words continued to roll around in my head though. He continued to insist he was free of Michel's control. And since I didn't know Ghouls' minds I really had no idea what that meant.

And if he was, what kind of mood was Michel going to be in when he got back? And did I want Jared around when he did? I'd put in a call to Father just after we got my brother to bed and Craft excused himself and went downstairs.

I a.s.sumed he was heading down to deal with the cheerleader. "She's not dead," he'd insisted. "I can still hear her. And I need to get her home and settled since he didn't leave me with any orders for a kill-shot."

Craft explained to me that it was a responsibility of a Ghoul to clean up their Master's messes.

But, if Michel wasn't Craft's Master anymore, why keep up the facade?

That was simple-to keep Michel preoccupied and happy enough to send him back to his home and out of our house.

I was worried about all of them. Craft, Jared...

And Brandon.

I'd started calling Brandon too. He never answered and I didn't leave a message.

I didn't know what to say. I mean, what could I say. No it was a lie?

When it was the truth? I was Michel's fiancee.

I should pack it all up... just head home to Father and forget I ever dreamed of freedom. Or of love.

It was close to four Sat.u.r.day afternoon before I woke. I rolled out of bed, the depression of the night before still fresh in my mind. I stepped out into the hall and checked in Jared's room.

His bed was made, his things put away. There was no trace of blood or smell. It was strange for him to be up before me, though.

I meandered to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of blood from the refrigerator and nuked it for a few minutes in the microwave. I stood at the sink and drank it down, feeling the tingle of it invigorate me- I slammed the mug on the kitchen sink. The ceramic shattered into the floor. What blood remained in the cup dripped down the front of the counter to the tile.

"Carly?" Jared's voice swam through the haze realization that had me riveted to the floor.

He came into the kitchen and stood beside me. I turned a slow gaze to him and looked up. He was magnificent, and beautiful. "Jared..." I said in a slow manner. "I fed you...and Craft...in a single night."

Jared nodded. "I know. Craft told me what happened. He's gone out for a few errands but he was pretty worried about you-"

"Jared, listen to me. I fed both of you. Why wasn't I hungry afterward? How come I'm not hungry now?"

At first he looked confused, as if he wasn't sure what I was getting at. And then as realization dawned on him, his eyes widened and he ran a hand through his hair. "It's starting. d.a.m.n it. Father said we had another two years..."

"Jared-"

"I'm so sorry Carly but we have to go. We have to get back to Father. That a.s.shat!" He started pacing the length of the kitchen. "That b.a.s.t.a.r.d-he had to have sensed it. That's why he's here. It has to be it."

"Go? Sense what? Jared-answer me!" I reached out and grabbed his upper arms. I felt my teeth slide down to meet my lower lip and a growl started deep inside of my throat. This wasn't the first time I growled. "What is going on? I fed both of you-I should have been famished. I should have devoured bags of blood to make up for the loss. But I didn't. I haven't had blood till this morning."

He was looking at me like I used to look at broccoli-when I still ate food. It was something that was necessary, but I didn't like it.

"Carly-it's not my place to say. Father compelled me not to say anything. So I can't." He reached out and put his hands on my arms as well, only without as much force. "We can't stay here. We have to go. And preferably before Michel wakes up and realizes it as well."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's happening!" I knew I'd reached howler monkey volume with my yelling, but I was sort of freaking out.

I should have been sucking down bag after bag of blood. What was wrong me? I didn't feel weak at all.

I felt...

Strong.

"I'm not going anywhere." I released him and went back to my room. I threw on jeans, a sweater, socks and my boots. I didn't bother with a comb through my hair as I grabbed up my bag. My tablet was still inside, though probably in need of a charge. I grabbed the cords and headed for the garage.

Jared was outside but stayed under the garage roof. "Carly-we have to get back to Father. You can't be out like this."

"I don't know what the h.e.l.l it is you're saying, Jared. And right now, I don't care. You and everybody else haven't been straight with me on a lot of things. Forgetting to tell me my fiancee was a freaky perv was a huge lack of judgement. If you think I plan on marrying that son of a b.i.t.c.h, then you're as screwed up as he is. You and father both."

I had the keys to the BMW and jumped in. Jared didn't try and stop me.

I pressed the remote, the garage door opened. The light outside was subdued and it hurt a little, but not bad. I put on my shades before I backed the car out and headed up the road.

I drove around for a while as I calmed down. I still had the taste of blood on my lips. I did want more now. But I didn't want bagged.

I wanted it fresh.

And I wanted...Brandon's.

It was a foolish idea to be friends with a human. I knew that now. Even if Michel hadn't of screwed it up, I'd have done it eventually. I'd have to show myself to him, reveal what I was, and then make him forget.

And what would it all have amounted to?

Nothing.

I drove by his house. I didn't hear any heartbeats, so I drove on to the school. It was closed. Sat.u.r.day.

Eventually I ended back up at the coffee shop. I didn't see many cars. It was cool and windy, and the sky had a monochrome cast to it. I took my bag after I parked and stepped inside the coffee shop.

Craft was there, at my table, two coffees in front of him. He turned when I stepped in and motioned for me to join him. I felt a smile tug at the corner of my mouth and sat down beside him.

With a smile he pushed a cup toward me and winked. "I know about the smell of coffee. But, did you know that if you mix a little mocha with the blood, it'll give it a chocolate flavor?"

I looked into the cup and touched the sides. It was warm. "Are you serious?"

"Try it, and if you don't like it, you don't have to drink it."

I did try it. It was odd at first-a slight hint of coffee mingled with the coppery tinge of the blood. And then I tasted it.

I tasted chocolate! And it didn't upset my stomach!

"Oh G.o.d Craft," I grinned at him and sipped it again. "How did you know?"

"Becoming a Ghoul doesn't instantly make blood taste good. It always tastes like s.h.i.+t. It's just the way it makes us feel that drives us to drink it-the physical craving in our bodies." He put his hands around his own mug. "There were months that Michel left the compound and ordered me to stay there. But he always left vials of his blood for me so I wouldn't die. I had to find ways to make it somewhat," he shrugged. "Palatable."

I sipped the concoction again. Then I glanced up at the baristas. "You didn't like have them-"

"Oh geez no." He made a face. "I have the blood in vials. It's not Michel's blood, so don't worry. It's from the stash you provided."

"Can you drink that?"

"No. It has to be vampire blood. No subst.i.tutes. And I keep my own emergency box nearby."

"In case Michel's not around?"

His expression was odd. A mixture of sadness and longing. "You could say that. So," he put his hands on the table. "I take it you're looking for-Brandon?"

Guilt overwhelmed my somewhat cheerful mood at the mention of his name. "Yeah. I am. I have to explain things to him."

"You mean that you're a vampire and you're bonded to a s.a.d.i.s.tic creep with illusions of grandeur?"

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. He'd nailed Michel's personality. But then, he was Michel's Ghoul and it made sense. "I have to make something up..."

"Well, let me give you some advice from the book of Living In The Weird," Craft put a hand on the table. "Telling Brandon the truth is the best medicine."

"I can't do that."

"You have to. It's the only way you'll be able to trust each other."

"Seriously...." I sat back and glared at him. "I can't tell him I'm a vampire."

"Why not? You've already given him blood."

The world stopped spinning at that moment. The voices in the coffee shop ceased as time came to a halt. I opened my mouth and then closed it. He sipped his coffee and watched me. There was no malice in his expression. No hidden agendas.

But...how had he known I'd given Brandon blood? I hadn't told anyone-not even Jared. So how did a Ghoul know this? I leaned forward and put both of my hands on his. "You need to tell me right now how you know that," I hissed in a slow voice.

I didn't hear the bell over the door. But I felt the whisper of cold air.

And then I smelled him.

Strong. Brave. n.o.ble.

Brandon.

I looked at the door and saw him there, staring at me. And I had my hands on Craft's hands, sitting at the same table he and I shared.

I pulled back. Craft turned to look at Brandon as he approached.

But he was...

"Christ, Carly," he said in a strained voice as he stood so close, and yet so far from us. "How many of us poor idiots are you stringing along? No, wait," and he held up his hand. "Nevermind. Doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore."

He turned and left the coffee shop.

I stood and the chair sc.r.a.pped against the floor as it fell backward. My intention was to follow him, explain things to him. Make up something he could accept.