Page 1 of Chain Me
D.H
Imay have been the heir to one of the richest families in the country, but alas, our vast fortune couldn’t buy meeverything.
Love was beyond the reach of my checkbook—though affection had never been synonymous with the Gray name anyway. Sanity was another elusive trophy, and the past year had served as a biting testament to how little I had left.
But my millions couldn’t procureanswers.Especially the ones pertaining to the brooding vampire who had destroyed my life on a whim and then disappeared.
What else did a bored heiress with too much time and money on her hands have to do with her days besides track him down?
Nothing—apartfrom blatantly lying to the doctor standing in my way, of course.
“Do you think you can help me?” I meekly asked the woman seated across from me. A polished oak desk separated us, the most eye-catching fixture of her rather plain office.
“Good news! I don’t think you’re dying, Eleanor,” Dr. Goodfellow declared. A severe bun kept the graying brown hair back from her round face, enhancing her stern “trust me” expression. If I squinted, her concern almost seemed genuine. “However, I’m glad you dropped by, because I do have some mild concerns. I think another round of tests would help to put us both at ease.”
“More tests? Are you sure? I think I’m feeling a lot better, actually—” A cough ripped from my throat, and I attempted to smother it within the sleeve of my sweater. “I feel fine.”
“Th-That may be so, dear,” Goodfellow stammered. Her gaze settled over my chest, her blue eyes suspiciously narrowed. “But I’m concerned. Your lab results have been…puzzling, to say the least. For instance, your hormone levels seem to be spiking, but since you wrote”—she shuffled a stack of documents before her and scanned the topmost page—“neverin answer tocould you currently be pregnant?, well… I must admit that I’m flummoxed. I’ve even consulted some outside experts for insight. I wish I could get my hands on your old records, but it seems there was a mishap because your file for last year appears to be incomplete...”
She paused as if waiting for me to clarify. Where oh where could a year of my medical history have gone? I knew the answer of course. Into a vampire’s coat pocket.
It wasn’t an explanation Goodfellow could comprehend, however. When I said nothing, she cleared her throat. “Well, it’s only been a month since you were last cleared by your last provider, Dr. Wallis, hasn’t it?”
I shrugged. The last time I’d seen Dr. Wallis had been a mere month after the vampire pulling his puppet strings disappeared. He had eyed me the way one might a ghost before promptly refunding my health insurance for every penny spent on the treatment for my supposed illness.
Then he too vanished.
“Is he still in Tahiti?” I wondered, parroting the reason his office secretary gave for his absence.
“Tahiti?” Dr. Goodfellow blinked and adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses. “I’m not sure, dear. But you can rest assured that, even with the gaps in your history, I can address your concerns—”
“I’m fine.” I even flashed a charming grin for emphasis. “I don’t think more tests are necessary.”
“Oh? Over the phone, you said you’ve been feeling poorly for weeks. Isn’t that why you made the appointment? Frankly, I wish you had been more specific, and I would have booked you an emergency consult.” She wrinkled her delicate nose in distaste. “That sort of cough is no minor symptom, my dear—”
“It’s nothing.” I shrugged as my fingers toyed with the silver cross hanging from my throat. Little did the good doctor know that, as long as I wore it, I supposedly was the picture of health. Or so a deceitful vampire claimed. Batting the talisman aside, I tried to look as un-sickly as possible. Another unforced cough didn’t help much in that regard. “Do you have a diagnosis yet?”
“It could be fatigue,” she said. “But your case has puzzled me. Your symptoms don’t seem to fit into any logical diagnostic criteria—”
“So you’re saying I’m fatigued?” I sighed to hide my skepticism. Compared to my last life-shattering diagnosis, what a boring ailment.
Thankfully, Goodfellow was right; my health wasn’t the real reason for this visit anyway.
“This is quite the premier establishment,” I blurted out, eyeing the diploma framed in gold, hanging on the white wall behind her head. “I’m sure you have people of high esteem on the board?”
I knew firsthand that itdid. Stationed right in the heart of downtown, St. Mary’s was one of the leading medical facilities in the country, prestigious enough to attract backing from a variety of benefactors.
The undead kind in search of a power trip, for instance. The kind of man who liked to disappear without so much as a word or a“Thanks for your virginity, Eleanor. Oh, and your blood, too. Have a nice life!”
Such a creature would relish the influence this hospital could provide—it was the perfect place to hide in plain sight.
“Ms. Gray?” Dr. Goodfellow had an eyebrow raised, her tone delicate in that annoying way when someone tended to stare off into space for uncomfortable periods of time. A tone I had grown accustomed to.
“R-Right.” I snapped out of my daze and cleared my throat. “As you well know, my family has a long history of providing donations to hospitals and charities alike. I would love to do my part to contribute, by any means necessary. Perhaps I could be introduced to the board?”
“Of course!” Dr. Goodfellow couldn’t even disguise the greedy twitch of her lips. Suddenly, all concern for my welfare vanished. “We welcome any form of donation. I would be happy to connect you to our Community Outreach Department—”
“Actually, I’ve already done my research. Here.” I fished a brochure from my purse. Its dog-eared pages betrayed how many times I’d peered through them in anticipation of this meeting. One in particular sported a tear right down the middle, suspiciously close to a mysterious name.
