Page 17 of All Your Bloody Lies

She rubs her face against my chest, and I can hear her taking in a long, deep breath of my scent. I know she is doing it to remember me, and I hiss through my clenched jaw.

“You saved my life!” This woman was fucking phenomenal. If I hadn’t just witnessed her completely obliterate Mathas’ head, I would call her the victim.

When she pulls away from me, I see the dilation of her eyes, and the corner of her lip twitch up. Then suddenly, she’s running off toward the now growing crowd. “This Vampire saved me from that other one.” She falls into a stranger’s arms, an older male that has a phone to his ear. I can hear the authorities on the other end.

“He saved me! I would have died!” she continues her act.

Several of them begin moving toward me, and I groan. “It… It was nothing.” I knew trying to pin the blame on her would be stupid, because they wouldn’t believe me. Now with Mathas’ blood smeared all over me, thanks to her, I was in a predicament.

I watch her, and she doesn’t falter in the intensity of her stare down with me.

Oh, little demon, this is far from over.

As though she can hear my thoughts, she shakes her head—a warning—and slips from the man’s embrace. Then, as someone walks between us, she disappears.

6

Xeraphine

“Absolute snakes!” I need to calm down, or I definitely won’t get my deposit back. “Fucking Vampires!” My shout isn’t subdued; I can only hope my neighbors are either still out, or deeply asleep and can’t hear me.

My hand shakes so hard I can barely retrieve my phone from my pocket to swipe up on the screen.

“That stupid prick!” I can’t unlock my phone because my hands are coated in blood. When I raise it to throw it against the wall, I halt and try to sedate the anxiety building in my chest. It’s been years since I’ve felt this way, but it’s also the first time my PTSD has ever been triggered.

I rush to the sink and wash my hands, trying not to tear my own fingers off as I scrub. “Pieces of shit!”

A nail nicks me, and I vibrate with unfiltered rage. I haven’t needed anything from anyone in nearly six years, but right now, I wish Sydni were here to tell me to calm down. Her smile would remind me that destroying this place would not be good for me. Those sparkly nails she’d be pointing at me with would gleam in my dimly lit apartment, reminding me that there is good in this cruel world.

Breathe, just fucking breathe.

Brr-ow. Mister trills.Brrr-ooowww.

After I finish cleaning my hands and drying them, I pick up my phone again. It’s nearly four in the morning, but I couldn’t give two-shits. I have only three numbers in my phone so it doesn’t take long to begin pushing the dial button. I’m surprised I don’t crack the screen with how hard I push it.

Ring. Ring.

“Pick the fuck up.”

Ring. Ring.

I bounce around on the balls of my feet, teeth chattering, flexing my free hand open and closed from a fist.

Ring—

“Hello?” The voice comes over the line sleepy, and I know I’ve woken her.

“Dr. Harper, it’s me. Xeraphine.” My tone carries trepidation, but I don’t care; I am afraid.

“Xeraphine, it’s four in the morning. Please call—”

“I’m having an episode, damn it!” I shout, and I can hear her wife grumbling beside her. “I don’t give a damn what time it is. I pay you for round-the-clock care whenever I need it. Get up!”

I stride across my living room and thrust open the sliding glass door to my balcony. Harper groans through the phone, but I hear her getting out of bed and feet shuffling across the hard floor. A door behind her closes; honestly, she should be grateful I’m even giving her the time to exit for privacy.

“What happened, Xeraphine?”

Harper, along with Sydni, are two of three people who know what I am and why I am doing what I’m doing. Sydni hadn’t needed threatening, but Harper did. She was bound by law to report dangerous activities, but I told her I’d expose her underground drug dealings to the authorities if she ever said a word.

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