My Blood on Your Lips, Your Money in My Bra

I eyed the werewolf across the table coolly as I took a sip of my coffee, black with eight packets of sugar stirred in. The male was staring at his full glass of Pepsi with serious blue eyes. He was slumped over slightly, like a man who needed nothing more than to rest for a while, and his aura was so filled with anxiety that even I could feel it, though I was not linked to werewolves in any way. I set the mug on the table amidst a pile of spilled sugar and sat up a bit straighter, preparing to speak.

"So, what do you want?"

His eyes darted to me, and he seemed alarmed for an instant. That sudden shock seemed to fade away, rapidly replaced by the same seriousness that had filled his countenance before. "It's not hard to guess."

"You still want me, then?" I ran a finger slowly down my glass's handle, then around its rim.

The male nodded only once. "Yes, but not entirely for the same purpose as before."

My hand fell away from the mug and I allowed my eyebrows to raise as a sign of interest. "Oh?"

His eyes went back to his glass, following a droplet of water from the condensation to the table. "Terrence is dead, as you well know," he began, his voice soft to keep anyone from overhearing us. There were only the waitresses and two older couples in the restaurant, however, surprisingly little business for the local Applebee's. "I thought that his death might stop the feud between my werewolves and his vampires, but it hasn't. It's only made it worse."

"And you can tell this when he's only been dead for a short time?" I questioned, puzzled.

"Yes." His eyes met mine again, narrowing in anger. "The new leader, James, ordered an attack on a group of werewolves early this morning. An entire family was slaughtered in their own home, and they had only vague ties with my clan."

"And you want me because...?" I trailed off, awaiting an explanation.

"You can fight vampires. I watched you do it last night to protect that other necromancer. You can help the werewolves win this war against a foolish group of vampires who don't even know what they're fighting for anymore."

"And I-" I stopped when a waitress approached our table, smiling as she placed our food before us. She eyed me curiously, just as she had when she'd first taken our orders, trying to fathom the reason for my bloody, beaten-up state. I thanked her shortly, and she left without a word. I continued. "And I wouldn't just be a blood slave for your clan?"

The werewolf dropped his eyes to the rare steak that had been placed before him, alone on a plate. Softly, almost regretfully, he gave me my answer. "We would pay you well if you would agree to share your blood with my brother as well."

"Why only your brother?" I asked, allowing my gaze to fall to the apple walnut chicken salad before me. I picked up my fork and got myself a piece of chicken.

"The rest of us don't need blood the way he does," the werewolf informed me, still speaking in that quiet, gentle tone. "And we can't keep letting him hunt humans. He's killed six already, and the police will eventually find out. If they take him..." He trailed off, but the sorrow in his last words allowed me to fill in the rest of the sentence.

"Won't he kill me, too?" I asked as I fetched another bite of chicken.

"He's promised to try to keep you alive, but you know as well as I do that an animal after blood can't always control himself." My eyes darted to his hand as he picked up his steak knife. I knew he wouldn't do anything in a restaurant, especially since he needed my help, but the instinct was still there. Besides, how was I to know that he wasn't one of the animals he spoke of?

"Yes, of course," I replied casually, my eyes moving to his face when he began to use the knife on his food, not on me. "Would you require that I live with you as well?"

"Not unless you would like to. I know that you already have a home and other clients to deal with." When I remained silent, deep in thought, he turned to me solemnly and asked, "Will you feed him?"

Slowly, I nodded. "Yes. But if he or anyone else kills me, you must agree to do something for me."

"What?"

"The girl who was with me during our first meeting...James killed her family and took her home from her, so I've taken her in myself. Without me, she would have no way to live unless she wanted a life like mine. If I die..."

"I'll help her." He offered me a small smile, the first friendly expression he'd ever shown me. "She won't be alone."

I sighed, relieved to have that worry taken care of. "Thank you."

He merely nodded in response, turning his attention back to his steak. "I'm Hale, by the way, leader of the Argos clan."

"Wasn't Argos the name of the old dog in the Odyssey?"

He shot me another smile. "I didn't expect a necromancer to be the first to figure out the origin of our name." He then went back to his food, and I did the same with a tiny smile on my face.

-

After a quick, silent meal, Hale and I made our way to his car. It was a simple four-door sedan, silver in color and recently washed. I got in on the passenger's side, just as I had earlier that day, and waited as he slid into the driver's seat and started the car. We began the journey back to my apartment building a moment later.

"Why don't you have a car?" the werewolf asked after only a minute of silence, flipping his visor down to block the bright light of the morning sun. We eased to a stop at a red light, and he glanced at me.

I averted my gaze quickly, mildly flustered by the question. The answer wasn't exactly something to be proud of. "I can't drive."

He cocked an eyebrow at me in confusion, even as the light turned green and he accelerated through the intersection. "You can't drive?" I shook my head, refusing to look at him, and he turned back to the road. "Hasn't anyone taught you how?"

"I don't know anyone who could teach me," I replied, a faint blush coloring my pale cheeks. This really wasn't something I felt comfortable talking about...

"I could teach you if you'd like," he offered. "It's really not that hard."

"But even if you taught me, I'd have to worry about getting a license and buying the car and those sorts of things."

"It's not hard," he assured me. "I could help you with everything."

I finally turned to him, finding his eyes on me once again as we slowed to a stop at another red light. "Why would you help me?"

"Because you need someone to help you."

"But you're a werewolf, and we just met."

"We're going to be working together, aren't we? We should be willing to help each other."

"That can't be all of it. Teaching me to drive won't do much to help our cause."

He turned to the road once more, his face completely stoic. "No, I suppose not. Forget I said anything."

I watched him, confused, though I didn't ask what I wanted to. Why else would you want to help me? I knew he wouldn't give me an answer.

The rest of the ride home was silent, broken at the end only by a simple statement from the werewolf. "I'll come for you when I next need you. It shouldn't be long from now."

I nodded and closed the door, standing alone on the sidewalk as he drove down the street. I watched the car until it turned a corner, then I started the long trip up to my apartment.

-

When I reached the door to my apartment, I found it unlocked, just as I had left it. I would've locked it, but Hale had been hurrying me along. I stepped inside and found myself greeted by the shouted words of Eli and Kyrianna. I could hear every syllable clearly in spite of the fact that they were all the way down the hall in my room.

"How could you have just let someone take her?!" Kyrianna cried, outraged. "You were supposed to protect her!"

"It's not my fault I was too exhausted to notice anything!" Eli retorted, his voice angrier than I had ever heard it before. Being accused of failing to protect me apparently didn't sit well with him.

I entered my bedroom before Kyrianna could shout again, stopping hesitantly in the doorway. The pair were standing beside my bed, glaring at one another viciously. It was a rather humorous stance for such angry people to take, as Kyrianna had to tilt her head back just to look at Eli's face.

"You can calm down. I'm fine," I told them, looking from the necromancer to the vampire and back again. They turned to me, their angry glares gone. Eli's gaze was stoic, Kyrianna's relieved.

"Where did you go, Elyria?" the female asked. "Why didn't you wake Eli before leaving?"

"A werewolf made me leave," I answered with a shrug. "He seemed to be in a hurry."

"What did he want?" Eli questioned.

"He wants me on the werewolves' side, against the vampires."

His brow furrowed. "Why? Isn't the war over between them now that Terrence is dead?"

I shook my head. "No. James thinks it's all right to go around killing innocent Weres now, and the werewolves can't just sit back and let it happen."

"So you agreed to help them?"

"Yes. And I agreed to share my blood with one of them."

Eli had me pinned to the wall in a heartbeat, his fangs bared inches from my face. "What?"

I held his angry gaze calmly. "I agreed to share my blood with a werewolf."

"Are you stupid?! You'll end up dead if you feed one of them!"

"Why does it matter? I'll end up dead by the end of this war, anyway, and I'd rather die by a werewolf's fangs than a vampire's."

Eli held me for a moment longer, then he released me, taking a step back. His expression lost all emotion once more. "All right. Do as you please."

"What?" Kyrianna asked, surprised by his easy surrender. "You're just going to let her get herself killed?"

"She's right," Eli said softly, turning to the girl. "She probably won't make it through the war if she plans to get involved in it, and to die at the hands of James or someone like him after surviving with Terrence for so long..." He dropped his gaze and fell silent, his aura becoming somber.

"I'm going to go take a shower," I said suddenly, desperately wanting to escape the gloomy atmosphere. "I've been a bloody mess for far too long." And with that, I went to the bathroom, deciding that I'd grab my clothes once I was less dirty.

The light was on in the room, and Kyrianna's wet towel was still on the floor by the bathtub. I ignored the towel, however, and simply turned off the light. For some reason, I just wanted to be in the dark right now, even more so than usual.

I stepped closer to the bathtub, the amethyst glow of my eyes falling to color the dark porcelain. I decided that I didn't want to take another shower. Even though the water would turn red with old blood and fill with the grime of the night's battle, I wanted to take a bath. I never got to take baths anymore.

I stripped down slowly, in no hurry to leave the dark, silent peace of the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the tub once I was naked, plugging the drain and beginning to fill the tub with what I thought was warm water. It filled slowly, and I stuck my feet in while I waited. Soon, I was able to turn the water off, and I gladly slid into the tub.

Without giving myself a chance to relax in the soothing water, I grabbed the washcloth from the edge of the tub and began to scrub dried blood away from my skin. The color of the water gradually changed, darkening with each spot I cleaned.

Isn't this relaxing? I thought. Swimming in your own filth is just lovely.

I finished cleaning soon enough, most of my silvery flesh now tinted red from all the scrubbing. It was a relief to have all of the grime off of me. It had been a constant reminder of my guilt, my faults, everything bad I'd ever done. For some reason, dried blood always did that to me...

I set the cloth aside and sat silently in the water, leaning back to stare up at the dark ceiling. If I ignored the dirt swimming in the water around me, the bath was almost relaxing.

I wonder what's going to happen with this war...How hard will it be to fight? Who will finally kill me? And...Eli...What will happen to him?

Stress began to sink in, alongside a fear I didn't want to admit. It wasn't death I feared, though. Only pain. Unbearable, inevitable pain...

Would the vampires capture and torture me? Would the werewolf I was meant to feed tear me open and let me bleed to death? Or would my death be a quick one, with only an instant of pain, and then...nothing?

"Like that would ever happen," I whispered to myself. "It would be impossible for the world to just let me go. It would have to beat me first."

Suddenly, I became aware of the water around me. Not the filth in it this time, but what it offered.

I cupped my hand and lifted it from the water, watching as a few reddish drops splashed into the pool they had come from. The sounds of the droplets were soft, soft splashes, barely audible, barely there. I moved my hand slowly, listening to the quiet, soothing sounds of the water shifting about my arm. Then, slowly, I slid down, submerging my head.

Beneath the water, the sounds of my movements seemed much louder, yet the sounds above the water became muted. It was nice here, calm and quiet and isolated.

Wouldn't this be a better way? I asked myself, watching my hand move slowly through the water. No one would get to say that they killed me, and there wouldn't be as much pain as other deaths could yield...

My air ran out after a moment, but I fought the urge to surface. I fought the instinct that told me to survive.

I opened my mouth to take a breath, unable to stop myself, and my lungs filled with water. I coughed, only to take in more and more of the dirty liquid.

I clutched my throat and forced myself to stay down, though the surface was only inches away. The air I so desperately needed was so close...

"Elyria!" The muffled shout reached me through my breathless daze, and I broke free of the water's promising hold. "Elyria!" the voice repeated as I coughed up the water that had filled my lungs and so nearly drowned me. I looked to the source of the voice, gasping for breath, and found myself looking into Eli's beautiful green eyes, made all the more beautiful by the terror they expressed.

The vampire fell to his knees in the puddle beside the tub, pulling me to his chest in a bone-crushing hug. "Elyria, you idiot," he whispered, beginning to rock back and forth with my wet torso against him. "What were you trying to do?"

Die, I answered in my head, though I dared not speak. I began to tremble, weakened by my self-induced brush with death, and he pulled me carefully over the edge of the tub and onto his lap.

"Elyria, you idiot," he repeated, still speaking in a whisper. "What the fuck were you trying to do?"

I managed to get an arm around him, the best I could do at the moment, and whispered raspily, "I don't want to do this anymore, Eli. I don't want to keep fighting when I know I'm going to lose."

He took my chin and gently turned my face toward his, and I vaguely thought I saw Kyrianna watching from the doorway. He kissed me gently, lingering for only a moment before pulling away. Looking sorrowfully into my glowing eyes, he murmured, "So don't fight anymore."

Only one thought crossed my mind at that, a thought almost more terrifying than my previous thoughts of unbearable pain and eventual destruction at another's hand.

I don't know how to stop...

If I wasn't dead, how could I stop fighting?