They Claim They're Immortal

“You lost her?!” Jake roared, standing from his chair so quickly the chair tipped backwards and clattered to the ground. Kyle winced and I met Jake's glare head on. His demon was showing and I'd be damned if he lost his cool now.

“We didn't lose her, we just temporarily lost track of her.” I was attempting to make the situation a little more bearable but Jake was having none of that. Aaron sighed and strode over to one of the phones hanging from the wall. I saw him dial a familiar number and relaxed.

“So you lost her!” Jake roared again.

“Temporarily,” I emphasized. William was the best tracker we knew and a damn fine friend as well. “And you know, for a person who doesn't really care about Jessica, you seem like you really care. That, my dear friend, is called 'contradicting yourself'. I know, I know, big word but there really isn't any way to dumb this down for you, Jake.”

He growled at me and tensed, looking ready to lunge for my throat and I'm positive he was about to when we heard Aaron say, “You have her? Thank god!”

“Who has her? Is she alright?” That first question had to be rhetorical or I'd have deemed Jake stupid. Seriously? Who has her? The Russian mafia, obviously. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“William has her, Jake and if William's able to answer a phone I'm sure she's fine. Lord, you always prove me right, Jake,” I muttered more to myself than him.

“About what?” he snapped.

“About how stupid you are. Obviously.” He glowered at me but I noticed he'd gotten control over his demon and I knew, I just knew, he wasn't as unaffected as he'd like me to think. I cackled mentally and rubbed my palms together in anticipation for the coming weeks. They say the best way to cheer yourself up is to cheer somebody else up but I've always liked making Jake squirm.

-

“You gade a really fab cut on your bed.” What the...? I cracked open an eye to find myself face down on some bed with two pillows currently suffocating me. I was feeling light-headed at the same time as I felt like somebody was constantly hitting my head with a goddamn pan. I groaned when I felt a wave of nausea roll through me and swallowed back the bile that was starting to come up. Don't throw up. Do no throw up, I willed myself.

I cracked open my other eye and looked around the dark room. “You mave a confussion.” That was not English. I tried to make sense of what whoever this person was saying, but I couldn't. What happened to me anyways? My ears were ringing, my eyesight was starting to blur, oh no! I was going to-

I leaned my head over the side of the bed, seeing a blue blur before throwing up all over the floor. “Oh! Gross!” I heard someone cry out. I retched and retched and retched. Whoever this person was immediately stepped away from me. I know this because I had a clear view of their jean-clad legs. That were now partially covered in vomit. Oops. I think they may have said something along the lines of 'awesome' but I could barely hear it over the sound of myself vomiting. Again.

Once I was had nothing left to throw up, I willed myself to wipe my mouth and breathe. This was definitely not my day. Of course I would wake up concussed. If I wasn't so exhausted I would roll my eyes. Ugh. I would also shower. The crusty, dried blood in my hair probably wouldn't even come out during the first wash. I was thinking maybe a good dozen or so showers should do the trick.

All of a sudden I was gripped under my armpits and hauled out of the bed. I blinked blankly at the person who was holding me at arm's length like I was a baby covered in their own spit up. Which I guess is mildly accurate. I digress. I didn't recognize this person. Or maybe I did and I was just suffering from temporary amnesia. Or maybe I'm being help hostage by this stranger. Maybe they kidnapped me from my kidnappers. Or, you know, maybe they're just a stranger.

“You need to learn some serious manners, Missy.” Okay, so they spoke English. I can now say that with confidence. “Honestly. These were a new pair of jeans. New and expensive pair. Now I have to attempt to try to get all the vomit out and even if I do, they'll probably still reek so I might as well burn them.” They were scowling at me as they walked me backwards, my feet dangling just over the floor.

“Now you've got stitches in the back of your head so I get the honor of washing your hair.” That was said sarcastically. “Although I've covered them with some water proof covering, it'd be pretty bad if you somehow managed to fall or knock yourself unconscious under my watch. Pretty sure Jake would murder me after castrating me while I was awake.” He had muttered that last part to himself, but I had caught it.

“Jake?” I grimaced at the sound of my unused voice. I sounded like a cheap hooker with a tobacco addiction. How long had I been unconscious?

“A good two days or so.” My eyes widened at that but the stranger chuckled at my expression. I was not impressed. “That was a joke. You've only been out for around 6 hours. Although, I think it was more because Kyle slammed into you rather than the head wound.” He was grinning. Obviously that was a joke as well.

He sighed when he saw I wasn't nearly amused as he wanted me to be. “Okay, fine, little Miss Cranky. Always gotta ruin my fun.” He turned keeping me still at arm's length and pushed open a bathroom door using his back. He sat me down on the toilet and went rummaging about through the medicine cabinet.

“Would you like some Tylenol or Morphine? I have both. Maybe some... Midol? Now isn't that for menstrual pains and such?” I stared at him bewildered while he read the back. Morphine? Midol? What the hell next? Some adrenaline? He tossed the box behind him carelessly and continued rummaging. “Advil maybe? I only have cold and sinus so I don't know how much of a help that will be.”

I was blatantly staring at him like he was insane. “Yes, I'm an immortal but I've been anticipating your visit.” I didn't have to voice my thoughts and I knew he didn't read my mind—or I assumed so—because my thoughts were clearly written on my face.

“So you knew I was going to get hurt?” I asked. So why the hell didn't you save me all this trouble, asshole?!

“Well, yes, to put it bluntly. And, before you say anything, I couldn't prevent it. I wasn't physically bound or anything, I was just a little too hungover to fight off Damon's horde of peons.” I glared at him while he pulled out a clear bottle filled with yellow oval-shaped pills. They were prescribed for...me?

He tossed them to me and I barely caught them. Seemed I was still a little woozy. “Take two of those, numb you right up.” I raised my eyebrows at him and he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Okay, one now another one later. Let's get you cleaned up and fed.” Food wasn't really appealing right now as I basked in the smell of my own throw-up but I knew that I should probably eat something.

“First, let's set some ground rules,” I ordered, my voice steely.

“Yes, I know. You keep your underwear and bra on and I try your food first before I serve it. It really wounds me that you would think I would poison you. Especially after going through all this trouble to nurse you back to health like my own baby calf.” He wiped a non-existent tear from his face and sighed, playing it off like he was sad. I pursed my lips. How did he know?

“I knew you were going to get hurt and I would burst into your home and gallantly save you from Damon's evil clutches, so I obviously would have known you'd be difficult. I can't read minds, I'm no vampire but you're no Phil Ivey.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Phil Ivey. You know, the famous poker player. Probably one of the best on this planet. Next to me, of course. Come on, though. You seriously don't know him?” He sounded incredulous. “My goodness, what is wrong with our world's youth nowadays? They've stopped following poker, they're all into texting and “facebook” that god awful “social site”, their obsessed with being stick-thin skinny—which is not healthy nor ideal, but that's just my opinion—and to top it off, women wear far too much make-up for my liking. Probably because of that one television show,” his face contorted into a disgusted face before continuing, “Jersey Shore. I pity our next generation's children. They'll start dressing and talking like that little gremlin, Deena, or better yet, Snooki. Lord have mercy.”

I blinked up at him as he continued to murmur under his breath about how our generation was doomed to suffer the after-effects of Jersey Shore, like it was some sort of earthquake. He started undressing me and I didn't protest, only because I was way too weak to even stand up by myself let alone clean myself. Besides, he was too busy bemoaning today's youth and everything that went along with it. You name it. Cell phones, facebook, twitter, television, magazines. He threw just about everything into his rant. In fact, he was still ranting about it as he washed the blood out of my hair.

“I mean, even you're a little too boney. Although you might have lost some pounds because you've been throwing up so much lately, but even then you would look pretty good with another ten pounds or so. Nobody should even be able to fit in a size zero, in fact, a size zero should even exist, but nope. That's not the case...” I tuned him out and slid my eyes closed as he massaged my scalp. He was surprisingly good at this.

“Now I had to partially shave your hair so I could stitch you back up-”

I jerked upwards and splashed water over the edge of the tub. “What?” I snapped. “You shaved my hair off?” I asked quietly. My tone was deadly. Even the stranger looked a little intimidated.

“Hey, now. I couldn't just let you bleed freely and you weren't exactly complaining earlier-” I slapped a hand over his mouth because I could tell he was about to babble and at the moment I found his babbling very tedious and unnecessary. I ambled myself out of the tub and over to the mirror over the sink. I turned so I was facing away from it and lifted my hair up and just about lost it.

OK, so I shouldn't be surprised or angry about this. This man could have very well saved my life but I was so ready to wail on him. It had taken me years to get my hair to this length and I could not handle the fact that this strange man would just casually shave the bottom of my head while I was unconscious. I whirled to face him and glared.

“Now, now, let's not make any hasty decisions,” he tsked. I just about growled and lunged at him right then and there but I reigned myself in. If Taryn had taught me anything in the hours I'd learned of his existence, it was that I had a temper that needed to be leashed at all times. I took a deep breath and felt my fingers uncurl from fists. I hadn't even realized but my nails had elongated again and my teeth felt like they were retracting.

He opened his mouth as if he was about say something but I held up a single finger demanding silence. “Don't say a word,” I all but growled and stomped over tot he bath and got in again, splashing water over the edges again but I paid no mind. My legs felt wobbly but I didn't give him any indication.

“At least let me introduce myself so you know who to add onto your hit list.” I didn't really need his name, I'd already seen his face and that's all I really needed and cared for. Had he offered early, I might have cared but after I learned that he'd shaved my head? No. Uh uh. Not a chance. “The names William Blade, but everybody calls me Blade.” William it is. “I know that we've hit a rough patch in our relationship-” Relationship? Pah! “but I'm sure we'll be able to make amends and become great friends.” He started washing my hair again and I grumbled quietly. What little strength I had accumulated after waking up was now sapped from me from getting out of the tub by myself.

“Actually,” he started while rinsing out the shampoo and starting to massage in some conditioner. I believe it was TRESemmé, from the smell of it. “I'm one hundred and ten percent positive we'll be the best of friends in a week or two.”

It was then when I decided that I would prove William wrong, but at the same time, I got the oddest feeling that William Blade was rarely ever wrong in his predictions.