Wake Me When the Sun Goes Down (5 page)

Chapter
Five

Contrary to what it might sound like from my strong opinions on vampire lore, I didn’t believe vampires were real.  Oh sure, there were the goth vampire wannabes that drank blood laced wine out of ornate pewter goblets and called themselves names like Lord Drake or Mistress Belladonna
.  B
ut real vampires?  That was fiction, not fact.  More than a little spooked, common sense tried to reassert itself, my mind scrabbling for something a little more reassuring. 

Fact – I was still walking around during the day, though the sun did bother me quite a bit. 

Fact – I had a reflection like anyone else. 

Fact – I still had a pulse… though it was so slow, I could hardly call it normal by human standards anymore. 

Okay, so my facts were starting to depress me.  Suddenly I felt like the supernatural was taking over my body.  The only spot of comfort was in the fact that the mild exercise of walking home
did me good
, and I felt much stronger by the time I turned onto my street. 

I had almost convinced myself I was blowing things out of proportion when I spotted him
,
the one person who might have the answers I
searched
for.  The trouble was, I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.

Bishop stood waiting outside my apartment in the shade of the front porch.  As I slowed my approach warily, he removed his dark glasses, squinting as he addressed me with a polite smile.  “
Miss Evans, I wondered if I could have a few more minutes of yo
u
r time?  We weren’t able to conclude our business yesterday.
”

I stared at him, floored by the gall of the man.  As if I would pick up where we left off the night before after he’d disappeared out the window
.
  “Are you kidding me?  I know you’re not a cop,” I tossed out, slipping past him to open the outer door to the building. 

“I never said I was a cop, you did,” he pointed out, following right behind me as if invited
. 
I stopped on the bottom stair, blocking him from going any further. 

“But you didn’t correct me.  What kind of a person does that?”  Bishop did little more than shrug, and I realized that was all I was going to get by way of apology.  “I want those clothes back by the way
,
the
real
police need them for evidence.”

“That’s not going to happen,” he scoffed.  “Listen, it’s getting late.  How about we go upstairs and continue our conversation?”  He was obviously trying to be the voice of reason, but I had no intention of doing anything he asked.

“How gullible do you think I am?  You expect me to invite you into my apartment again?”
M
y brows rose incredulously.  I
’
ve been accused of being naïve in the past, and I admit I was foolhardy for letting him in once, but I learn from my mistakes.

“You already invited me once, that’s good enough for me.”  Bishop smiled as if we shared a private joke. 

“You don’t seriously think I’m going to talk to you again, do you?”  No sooner had I uttered the declaration, I found myself breaking my best intentions.  “Who are you anyway?  What do you have to do with any of this?  Do you know who attacked me?”

For a moment Bishop looked like he regretted being there at all, but then his polite smile returned.  “I’ll tell you what, you answer my questions, and I’ll consider answering yours.”

“No deal,” I frowned.  “You’ll do more than consider answering mine if I answer yours,” I insisted indignantly
,
“
o
r we’re done with this conversation.”

His face darkened
,
and Bishop seemed to swell bigger than his six foot plus frame as he loomed closer to me
.  M
y position on the stairs put me at eye level with him.  “I’m not accustomed to being given ultimatums,” he growled.

“Well neither am I!”  I have no idea where the nerve to stand up to him came from, but I found myself staring back, my chest tight from the breath I
held
.  Had I said before I didn’t feel any threat from him?  Danger radiated off of him in waves, making my skin break out in goosebumps, but somehow I found the strength to stand my ground. 

Instead of throttling me
,
or any number of unpleasant things he could have done, he shook his head, muttering disgustedly as he turned away to leave.  “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”  

“I’m sorry
.
”
M
y teeth caught at my lower lip as I sucked in a needed breath.  I hadn’t expected him to give up altogether, and a ribbon of panic sliced through me as I realized he was taking all of his answers with him.  “Wait… Bishop, don’t go.  I’ll answer your questions, just… please…  Can you help me?”  I thought he would ignore my plea, but instead he stopped in his tracks and I heard the whisper of words in a foreign language rush past his lips.  I imagined they might be swear words, but I couldn’t say for certain.

“You’ll answer my questions?  No song and dance this time?”

I hadn’t done anything but be truthful to him so far, but I found myself nodding at his back.   “I swear, I’ll answer anything you want to know,
G
od’s honest truth.”

“God’s honest truth,” he repeated, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a faint smile as he turned around.  “That’ll be a novel change.”

“I’m not a liar
,
Mr. Bishop,” I insisted crossly, tired of his insinuating I knew more than I
let
on.  I couldn’t help it if I was clueless, but I wasn’t dishonest.

“It’s just Bishop, Miss Evans,
a
nd I never called you a liar.”
The smile was a little more pronounced th
at
time as he approached the bottom of the stairs. 

“It’s Anja
.
”
I started to feel encroached upon again, but it wasn’t at all scary this time as he drew closer. 

“
Anja, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?
”
 
Bridget stood
by
the front door; I hadn’t even noticed it open.

“This
is
just
Bishop
.
”
I had trouble tearing my gaze away when he kept the focus of those
mesmerizing
eyes on mine, but I was the first one to break eye contact.  “
This is my roommate
,
Bridget.
” 

“Come on up, Bishop,” she invited without hesitation, dropping me a broad wink as she passed by.  Bishop’s eyes tracked the sway of her hips up the stairs and I scowled as I turned to scamper up behind her, leaving him to follow or stay behind, as he liked.

“Dude, he’s hot!” Bridget hissed between her teeth at the door to our apartment.

“Shhh, he’ll hear you,” I whispered back.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he knows he’s hot,” she snorted, making no effort to lower her voice as she opened the door.  I turned back to see if he was listening, gratified to see Bishop lagging behind on the stair, but the private smile on his lips was disconcerting. 

“Ah, come on in,” I invited him again, leaving him to close the door as I gathered up my fluffy blanket from the couch, folding it into a fat square.

“Well, I’ve got a date to get ready for, so you two are on your own,” Bridget announced, disappearing into the hallway after a last amused look in my direction.  I
took a seat
on the couch and gestured for him to
join me
if he liked
,
and Bishop sat beside me without exploring the apartment th
at
time. 

“I’m assuming that since you have all these question
s
, you haven’t heard from him yet?”

“Heard from who?”  Why did he always ask questi
ons I had no idea how to answer?

“Isn’t that game getting a little old?”
H
is eyes narrowed.

“Bishop, I promise you, I’m not playing any games,” I replied earnestly.

“An
j
a
.
”
H
e took my hand in his, the one with the amber ring and I looked down at our joined hands.  “You’re cutting things a little close, don’t you think?  The sun goes down in about two hours.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

His brows drew together into a single dark line.  “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Haven’t I been saying that all along?”  I couldn’t keep the exasperation from my voice.  “I’m completely in the dark here.  All I know is I haven’t felt like myself since I died, and now…
n
ow I think I might be going crazy.”  I blinked away the tears that sprang unbidden, desperately trying to hold it together long enough to get some real answers.  

“You’re not crazy.” 

I almost believed him, he sounded so calm and rational.  “You haven’t heard my theories yet
.
”
M
y head fell forward in embarrassment, hair falling forward in a protective shield.

Bishop reached out to tip my head up by the chin, studying my features carefully as if he was looking for something.  “I can guess.”

“
Motherfucker!
”  Bridget’s voice rang through the apartment, loud enough to make me startle away from his touch.  “Shit,
Anja, can you come here a sec
?”

“
I’ll be right back
,” I murmured, already rising to my feet, but Bishop caught my arm, holding me in place. 

“
I don’t think that’s such a good idea
,” he said in a low voice.

“
It
’
s fine.  She’s a little melodramatic sometimes,
I’m sure it’s nothing.
  Um, feel free to help yourself to a soda or something from the kitchen if you want.
”

“Anja… we don’t have time for this, you have some hard decisions to make.”

I had no idea what he meant at the time, and looking back now, I wonder why he let me go.  He could have easily stopped me if he wanted to.  “I’ll be right back, I promise.”  Pulling my hand gently from his grasp, I headed for the bathroom to see what Bridget needed.  For all I knew, she needed to borrow some feminine hygiene products. 

Pausing at the doorway
,
I caught sight of
Bridget
perched on the side of the bathtub
,
a bloody washcloth pressed to her hand.  My hand clutched at the doorframe, hard enough to make one of my fingernails split
,
but I didn’t care; all I could focus on was the growing crimson stain on the washcloth.  

Bridget looked up impatiently.  “Finally, I thought I was gonna bleed to death here.  I dropped that stupid glass and cut the shit out of my hand.” 
My head
nodded
slowly, but no words came as I clung to the doorway, fighting the urge to pounce. 
The blood was like a beacon, my eyes drawn to it, everything else blurring indistinctly. 

“Hello, Earth to Anja…
could you give me a hand with this?
”
 
Bridget
pulled away the washcloth to reveal a nasty looking gash on the web between her thumb and forefinger, the blood instantly welling to the surface without the cloth to keep pressure on it.

“Of course.”  I nodded, my voice sounding hoarse as I picked up the bandage from the counter.  The
gauze
trembled and fluttered in my grasp, and I swallowed as my mouth started to water.  I took a step closer to her, and then another, arguing internally that if I got the
B
and-
A
id on her, then I wouldn’t have to see it anymore.  Out of sight out of mind, right? 
I had enough self control to keep from attacking my friend… at least, that’s what I told myself. 
Only the closer I got to her, the harder it was to resist the call of the blood. 

“What’s your deal, are you gonna help me or not?”
she complained
, no doubt confused by my hesitant approach.  There was a sharp pain as I felt my
teeth lengthen and sharpen. 
“Anja…?  An… Holy shit…”  Bridget gasped, and I knew
what she was seeing. 
Half mortified, half stunned, we stared at each other across the bathroom.  All at once I rushed her, lunging for the open wound and bringing it to my mouth
,
my sharp teeth tearing the tender skin, enlarging the blood flow.
 

Bridget
screamed
,
but all I could think about was the delicious nectar my mouth was clamped down around.  I had never tasted anything like it before, and in the years that followed, few experiences would match that first taste of blood.  It transcended mere food to something more
.
I could feel
the
life force pulsing from her body into mine, giving me strength and fueling my lust for more.  I knew with a certainty I could never be satisfied with a taste; I wanted all she had to give and more.