To Be Ventured, To Be Gained

Originally written Saturday, January 14, 2006 (cont.)

It seemed too soon to be able to stand, so I made a show of twisting onto my knees, pausing to let a pretended spell of dizziness pass. While I was doing so, she brought in the full-length mirror from my bedroom. She stood it up between us, and I was startled to see the disconcerting quantity of dried blood that caked my face and neck and had turned half of my shirt a rusty reddish-brown. I looked back at the floor where I’d lain prone and saw still more blood where it had pooled and then dried under my neck and shoulder. Altogether, there must have been at least a pint of the stuff. I guessed the mess was a consequence of the repetitive biting, since a common vampire attack typically left a clean crime scene; if he kept drinking after I passed out and could no longer will my wounds to stay open, he’d have returned to the munching strategy.

Next I turned around to view the flat. Drawers were open, books and boxes were pulled from bookshelves and scattered all over. I checked my left wrist, where I’d been wearing the rose quartz as a bangle. Predictably, it was gone. He’d probably been hunting for the other one as well, and I needed to get to Patrick as soon as I discreetly could.

“See what I mean?” Jeanine said, the words pointed but the tone soft and concerned. I nodded. “I can’t believe all this blood. Where’d it come from?”

She set the mirror aside and came back down to my level. “Where does it hurt? The bleeding must have stopped on its own, but….” I let her tilt my head back and forth as she examined me for abrasions while I played weak and convalescent. We took off my ruined shirt, but there were no signs of injury underneath, either. “Is this even your blood?” I simply looked at her. Said nothing. “Do you even know what happened?”

“What time is it?” I asked her.

“Um, eleven or so. How long ago did you… I mean, if you know.”

“Uh, had to be around ten. Wait. I was only out for an hour?” That made no sense. The blood would not have dried so completely. And if he’d drunk enough not to mind leaving a pint of it behind, it would take much longer than that for my body to…. “Oh, shit. You’re here for our date.”

“Yyyyeah. Why else…?”

“Our Friday night date.”

“Oh. This didn’t happen tonight?”

“Last night.”

We paused. Looked at each other. She was trying to figure me out. “Please. Mar. Tell me what’s going on. You know exactly what happened, and I’m just completely confused right now.”

No more point to the slow recovery act. I got to my feet in a rush and headed to the bathroom to clean myself up. My skin washed easily, and I put on a fresh shirt, but the coagulated blood clumping in my hair would be more of a chore, so I just tied a bandanna around my head and went back to the dining room to grab my bag and phone. Throughout, Jeanine spoke to me as she followed me from room to room like a puppy anticipating a treat. “I’m not making heads or tails of this. You were attacked, out cold, almost dead, you have blood on you but no open wounds, and your place has been trashed. Your first thought was to make something up—which just plain isn’t cool—and now you can’t even come up with a good fib to cover up whatever it is that happened. And now… now you’re running around like nothing did happen. Marya, hon, you were completely unconscious, barely a minute ago. Not fainted, unconscious. Please, give me something.”

The events of this day to be continued...