I Am Forever (What Kills Me) (6 page)

“Uther said it’s just a routine checkup. But they’re obviously not going to check my heartbeat or my cholesterol. What else is there to do?”

“I don’t know. How routine is an examination of a god?”

He said the last word so disparagingly. “I don’t appreciate your sarcasm,” I said.

He stopped mid-stride. “The sarcasm wasn’t meant for you. It was directed at them. This whole god thing is absurd.”

Ouch
.
“Fine,” I said, even more hurt by the latter part of his comment.

“Hey. As I said, we can leave here whenever you want. You’re in charge, okay, boss lady?”

I
forced a smile. “Okay.”

“Come on. Let’s get this over with. It’ll be all right. I’ll be beside you the entire time.”

Lucas opened the doors to a bright, all-white lobby. A vampire with a chin-strap beard shot out of his seat behind a glass reception table and pounded his fist to his chest. “My lady,” he said. “The doctor is waiting for you in room eight.”

I was thankful that I didn’t breathe; the air reeked of rubbing alcohol and bleach. We walked down the stark hall. I knocked on a door marked “VIII” and turned the knob.

“Hello, Doctor, I’m—”

“Stop!” the little doctor vampire said.

I froze, one foot in the door.

The doctor, who stood just under five feet, rushed at Lucas and me and dropped flip flops on the ground. “Please, remove your outside footwear and put these on your feet.”

“Uh, of course,” I said. I took off the silver slippers that the maids had given me and kicked my feet into the flip flops. “I’m Axelia.”

I extended my hand to the doctor, who straightened up, lifted his football-shaped head high—rising to perhaps five-foot-one—and put his hand to his heart.

“My Lady, I am the doctor Vosper.”

With his shock of black hair he reminded me of Ernie from Sesame Street, and his lab coat was so crisp, it probably would have kept its shape without him in it. He waved me in by fluttering his hands as if fanning his own face.

Inside the white room, with its tiled floors, white countertops, and stainless steel table, it was like I was inside a fridge.

“Please, my lady, sit, sit,” he said, his voice nasal. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, then used the square of fabric to open a drawer before stuffing it back in his pocket.“Ah, ah!” he exclaimed. I looked over at Lucas, who had just leaned on a counter. “Please refrain from touching anything in the examination room.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. As I hopped onto the table, the doctor snapped on plastic gloves.

“Uh, please be gentle,” I said.

“Of course, of course. This examination is to ensure that my lady is well and strong. How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.”

“Are you tired?”

“No.”

“Are you experiencing any pain or discomfort?”

“No.”

“Did you incur any injuries from your battles? You have no scars, your maids said.”

They’d know. They scrubbed every inch of me.
“None.”

I used to have a scar on my chin, an upraised snippet of skin, from a bicycle accident, but it disappeared when I became a vampire.

He put his hands on either side of my neck and felt my throat. He squeezed the muscles down the length of my arm, turning my hand over and pulling on each of my fingers. He prodded the rest of my body, manipulating my joints, lifting my legs, jiggling my kneecaps. Over his shoulder I watched Lucas scrutinize the room and note the ceiling camera as well as the recording devices mounted in each corner.

“All normal, Doctor?” I asked.

“Mmm.”

“I should tell you then that when I’m angry, I turn green.”

He stopped moving my big toe like a joystick and stared at me, pressing his bushy eyebrows in to meet each other.

“I’m joking,” I said with a shrug.

Dr. Vosper removed his gloves and tossed them into a metal bin; he retrieved his handkerchief to open a drawer to get new gloves.

He leaned toward me. “Please, my lady, stay still for a moment.” He flipped my lip up with his index fingers and pressed his thumbs hard into my gums.

“Ow!” I broke free from his hands and covered my fangs as they descended. Lucas straightened up.

Startled, the doctor reeled back, bracing himself on a counter. The moment his arm touched the counter, he gasped and snatched his hand away as if the surface was a hot stove. He looked around, his nose in the air like a sniffing rat, and tore his gloves off.

“I’m sorry, I—” I started.

He flung his arms in distress, his wrists wagging like a marionette’s. He used his handkerchief to open a cabinet, pulled out a spray bottle, and unleashed streams of bleach onto the counter like an arachnophobe squirting his nemesis to death. Mouths ajar, Lucas and I watched him swab the area furiously with a paper towel.

Whoa. The vamp loves his bleach.

With new gloves on, the doctor returned to me.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting it to hurt.”

“My lady, the fault is mine. I failed to sufficiently prepare you. I just wanted to examine your fangs.”

“They’re here,” I said with a grin. But they had already started to recede. “They’re white and pointy.”

“Yes, I saw them. For now, I have just a few more tests to run.”

He pulled out what looked like a blow-dryer with a small satellite dish on the end. “Please, give me your hand.”

He took a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and wriggled them onto his face. The bridge of his nose was so shallow that the frames sat on his cheeks. He flipped my palm up and pointed the gun at my wrist. “Now this may sting a little,” he said.

I clenched my teeth as he flipped the switch. A bluish light shone onto my skin. But nothing happened. No pain.

The doctor cocked his head, frowning. He flicked the light off and then back on. Then he pointed the gun at his palm. His gloved hand instantly began to sizzle.

“Ahhh!” he cried, flapping his hand.

“Are you okay?!” I said.

“Yes, yes, my lady.”

“Is that, uh, sun in a gun?”

“This device emits ultraviolet light to mimic the rays of the sun.”

“I’m impervious—”

“You’re impervious.”

“—to sunlight.”

“To sunlight, as I expected,” he said, setting down the gun. “In that case let us move on to another test.”

He changed his gloves again and retrieved another silver tool. This one looked like a staple gun with a digital dial mounted on the top.

“The hand dynamometer will measure your strength,” he said. “The base rests against the metacarpus—”

“Uh...”

“This part of your palm, and your fingers curl around here—that’s it. Now, just tense your hand as hard as you can for three to five seconds, and the dynamometer will measure your grip strength in hundreds of pounds. We’ll do three trials and take an average. Try not to move any other part of your body, just—”

For practice, I squeezed the device. With a crack the handle broke.

My mouth fell open. As did the doctor’s. Lucas raised his eyebrows, pressed his lips together, and nodded. “Good job, Zee,” he said.

“Oh my God, Doctor. I’m so sorry.”

Dr. Vosper took the mangled parts from me. “That has never happened before,” he said. “I sincerely apologize, my lady. It must have been faulty. We’ll have another one ready for our next appointment.”

“Doctor,” Lucas said, “I’m sure she’ll break that one too.”

“I’ll be more careful next time,” I said.

“No, no, we’ll have stronger dynamometers made, won’t we?” the doctor said, his eyes flitting to the camera over my shoulder.

Big Brother is watching. Well in this case, more like Big Dead Sister.

The doctor retrieved another tool, a black, hand-held device with two pointed cat’s ears. He turned a dial on it. “May I have your hand, my lady? This will hurt a little.”

He pressed a button and a blue current lit up between the two points. As it crackled angrily, he touched the device to my wrist.

A pop of pain caused me to yelp.

“Why did you just shock me?” I asked as he put the device away.

“I used a very low voltage to test your reaction to pain,” he said.

“Do others feel my pain?”

“No, my lady. Only blood wounds are experienced by all.”

Again with his hanky he opened a cabinet and took out a wooden case.

“All right, my lady. You were wonderfully patient today, and I have one last thing to ask.”

He lifted the lid and removed a large syringe and a needle, as long and thick as a pencil.

“My lady,” he said. “I need your blood.”

The doctor held the needle like a conductor’s baton as he was talking. But I wasn’t listening. I was getting slightly dizzy staring at it.

“...and then we can send the samples for testing,” the doctor said, attaching the needle to the syringe.

I swallowed. “That isn’t a needle. That’s a chopstick.”

“Excuse me, my lady?”

“Seriously. You could hunt for whales with that harpoon.”

“I don’t understand, my lady.”

Crap. Joking isn’t making me feel better.

“Zee, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Lucas said.

“Vampires are thicker skinned,” the doctor said. “Human needles prove insufficient for puncturing the epidermis.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek.
No. Be brave, as Lucas always says.
I had survived worse. And the Divine had to be fearless.

“It’s fine. I was just kidding.” I extended my arm to the doctor. He rubbed a cotton ball moistened with alcohol against the inside of my elbow.

“Now this may sting. But please stay as still as possible.”

He pressed the tip of the needle to my flesh. Stiffening, I waited for the pain. My skin dimpled under the pressure and the point pinched. The doctor grunted, his mouth pursed in effort, the skin above his lip rippling.

“Doctor—”

The needle broke. I flinched. The end flew over the doctor’s shoulder, plinked twice against the floor and rolled under the table. He gaped at the broken needle, his eyes wide, his nostrils flaring.

“Oh no,” I said.

“You’re breaking all of his things, Zee,” Lucas said.

“I can help you pay for these things.” It was a weird, human thing to say, I realized.

“Uh, uh, yes, I mean, no, no. This is terribly awkward. I had not anticipated this scenario. My apologies, my lady.”

After setting the syringe down, the doctor tapped his fingers against his thumb, like a crab tapping its pincers, as he considered his next move. With a huff he arranged several test tubes on the counter and took out a scalpel. He presented the scalpel to me gingerly, as if he was giving me a flower.

“Unfortunately we do not have a functioning needle. However, we still require a sample for testing. If you would, my lady, please make an incision at your wrist. It need not be large, just deep enough to draw blood, and we will fill these tubes. Please press hard.”

You may be the only one strong enough to break your own skin, Uther had said.
I thought of that terrible car crash that Lucas and I were in, how broken he had been and how I’d walked away without a scratch.

This will not be just a scratch.
I licked my lips and gripped the steel handle. Meanwhile the doctor wrapped his own wrist with gauze in anticipation. I positioned the blade over my arm.
Man, this is going to hurt everyone.

All of a sudden, Lucas’s hand was on mine.

“You’re not doing that,” he said. I softened with relief.

“But my lady, the examination cannot be complete without—”

“It’s complete when we say it is, and we’re done here. Come on, Zee.”

“But the sample...” The doctor looked up at the cameras.

Lucas followed his gaze. “Doctor,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, “the lady will bleed for no one.”

The doctor’s lips parted, his finger outstretched and aloft; he then slowly curled it in. His hand formed a tight fist, which he put against his chest.

“My lady,” the doctor said.

“Thank you, Doctor,” I said. “We are finished then?”