Authors: Elliott Kay
She didn’t
answer. Shannon felt sure she felt a weak pulse. Nothing indicated she was
breathing, though; no chest movement, no sensation against Shannon’s ear as
leaned over the victim’s mouth.
Naturally,
she saw, Ian now had trouble with a crowd. He couldn’t leave the wagon yet.
Shannon drew a crowd, too. She continued her initial exam, but came to the same
results. She reached for her CPR mask, but it had fallen out of her belt pouch
when she pulled out her gloves. She didn’t see it anywhere in reach.
“Hell with
it,” she muttered. Shannon put her mouth over the fallen woman’s lips just as
the thousand year-old succubus released her last breath.
Shannon’s
eyes went wide. Her throat burned while the rest of her body froze. She
couldn’t let go. Her limbs went weak. That burning sensation went all the way
through her, soon chasing away her sudden, inexplicable chill.
Fear and
panic would have set in had she not passed out on the spot.
* * *
She
remembered castle walls. She remembered torches, hearth fires, and the laughter
and conversation of a feast.
She
remembered her dress. It was long and flowing and beautiful, fit for a
noblewoman. A woman like herself.
She
remembered the smell of beer and the sweat of men. She remembered the power she
felt as she seduced them. She remembered feeling of men’s flesh, holding her
and caressing her and stroking her inside. More than one man, all at once. She
remembered lustful laughter, and needful grunts, and satisfaction and hunger
for more. She remembered being taken. She remembered liking it.
She
remembered that it had been her idea. It had been her deliberate betrayal.
She
remembered torches, hearth fires, and flames that roared far higher and hotter
than anything seen by mortal man.
She
remembered being reborn, and remembered that it hurt, but after that she knew
there would be power and pleasure for centuries to come.
* * *
“Ms.
Abrams? Ms. Abrams, can you hear me?”
“Huh? Yeah.
Yeah.” Her eyes fluttered open. Up above her were grey Seattle skies. Closer to
her, but still above, was a handsome face. She liked his green eyes and his
short, spiky blond hair. “Wow. You look good in that uniform,” she said
sleepily.
The officer
blinked. Shannon watched him as she became aware of a lot of noise: people
yelling, some crying, engines running, and apparently something big burning
brightly and loudly not far away. “Uh. Okay. You with us now? What’s your
name?”
“Shannon.
Call me Shannon,” she said with a dreamy grin. “Ms. Abrams is my mom.” Her
smile faded as it all came back to her. “Oh, shit, is she—the woman who fell,
is she okay? What happened?”
“Fire’s
already dealing with the building,” explained the cop. He looked to be about
thirty and in great shape. Shannon couldn’t stop looking at him. Fit without
being bulky. She wanted to see more. Hell of a time to think about that,
though. He continued, “Your partner took over with the woman in the street
right when I got here and pretty soon... well, anyway, it’s under control. I
figured somebody should look after you besides random bystanders.”
“Aw, that’s
sweet,” Shannon replied. Again, the cop blinked. So did Shannon. “I mean—uh—I
mean thanks. Ugh. I gotta get up.”
“Woah,
careful, slow down,” the cop said, helping her sit up as she realized just how
stable the world wasn’t. “How are you feeling? Does anything hurt besides your
head? You obviously took a concussion.”
“No, I
think I’m okay. I mean I’m a little confused, but I’m okay. I just...I started
checking on that woman, and then it all went black. Is she okay?”
The cop
frowned. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “She’s gone.”
“Oh, fuck,”
Shannon sighed, her hands covering her face. Her voice cracked with
frustration. “Dammit, I was trying to help her and I don’t know what happened!”
“Hey, hey,
don’t take it like that,” said the cop. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, I
checked her myself. The whole back of her head was broken in like five
different places and you could tell just from looking at her that half her ribs
were smashed. There was nothing you could’ve done.”
“What? No,
she wasn’t that hurt! I didn’t see anything like that!” Shannon’s hands came
away from her face. She looked toward the street to see a black plastic sheet
covering the fallen woman. Beyond it, Shannon saw that the apartment building
was a full-on blaze. Firefighters worked to contain the mess, but nobody would
be able to live there again once it was all over.
The cop
relaxed a bit, understanding that Shannon’s frustration wasn’t to the point of
tears or a breakdown. “You might not remember it that way now,” he suggested,
“but you could take a look at the body over there if you really want to. I
don’t recommend it. Seriously, she could’ve taken that fall in the emergency
room parking lot and she still wouldn’t have made it.”
He helped
her up when she moved to rise. “Ugh, I’ve gotta get back to work,” Shannon
said.
“No, you’re
good. Think we’re all covered here. Plenty of paramedics already. You need to
take it easy. Seriously,” he reiterated when she tried to brush him off.
Finally, he saw her absorb his words and nod. His tone softened. “Listen, did
she have anything with her other than the gun?”
“What? No.”
“It’s just
that nobody in this city should have a monster like that gun. If she had anything
else and somebody in the crowd walked off with it before we got to you, it
could be important.”
“No,
just... just the coat and the gun. Beside that, she was naked. Gorgeous.”
Shannon paused as soon as it came out of her mouth. Where did that come from?
What would it matter?
He brought
her to an ambulance—her own, embarrassingly enough. She accepted his help in
sitting her down on the back bumper, though less out of need for assistance
than appreciation for his attention. That wasn’t normally her style...
but hell, he’s cute and he seems
really nice, right?
“What’s
your name?” she asked.
“I’m
Officer Murray.”
She smiled
up at him. “Does it say ‘officer’ on your driver’s license?”
He grinned
back at that. “Kevin,” he replied. “My name’s Kevin. Look, I’m gonna let your
partner know you’re okay, alright?”
“I’d
appreciate that, thanks,” Shannon nodded. She stepped on the urge to flirt
more. She wasn’t the flirty type at all. If anything, she was normally shy.
This was also absolutely not the time or the place. She resolved to get her act
together, and then immediately looked back up at him, unfastened the top button
on her uniform shirt—just to cool off—and asked with that same girly,
not-entirely-innocent smile, “Are you gonna come back?”
“I. Um. I
dunno,” he stammered. “Listen. Uh... I know this whole scene is crazy,” he
said, fishing a business card out of his shirt pocket, “but if you remember
anything, you wanna give me a call? Anything at all.”
“Sure,” she
said, accepting the card. “If I remember anything about anything.” The gun.
Right. Something about a gun. That was something a cop would care about, not
flirty EMTs.
Stop thinking
like you’re out barhopping.
“Can I call you if I don’t remember anything?”
“...sure?”
he answered. He seemed to blush. Then he left, answering a call from someone
else on the scene.
Shannon
didn’t know whether to squeal or slam her head into the ambulance. She’d never
made a guy blush before, let alone a guy like him. She still felt out of sorts.
Good, oddly enough, but a little confused. The whole situation around her was
pretty crazy, too, she conceded. Maybe she was woozier than she thought? Maybe
she had imagined all of the cop’s promising reactions? Or maybe she read them
completely wrong because she’d damaged her brain?
A young
woman in a dirty white dress stepped in front of her. She was seriously
pretty—and pretty serious. “You’re Shannon Abrams,” said the blonde.
“Yeah?”
“Your
boyfriend just dumped you because he’s an asshole,” she went on. The blonde’s
eyes looked her over as if reading something or seeing a scene play out on a
television. “He—wow, what a shitbag. Dumped you via text. Didn’t have the balls
to tell you the real reasons why. Wow.”
“Huh? How
do you know—”
The blonde
shook her head. “You can’t worry about that asshole now. He’s just a speedbump
in your life, Shannon. You’ve got more important things to deal with. Listen to
me:
Don’t fuck anyone
until I can talk to you again.”
Shannon
blinked. “What?”
“Look, for
your own good and for theirs: don’t fuck anyone. Don’t kiss anyone, don’t
accept any hugs, don’t even flirt. Keep your cell phone off. Just get off work,
go home, and go to sleep. I’m busy and I can’t explain right now. I’ll catch up
with you as soon as I can, but for the love of God,
don’t fuck anyone
, okay?”
She walked
around the ambulance. Shannon stood up to follow her, but saw only Ian rushing
up to her in the blonde’s place. The stranger had vanished.
Ian carried
a gear bag, breathing heavily as if he’d been working at a good clip. “Hey, I
saw you were up,” he said. “How are you feeling? You okay?”
“Yeah, I
think so,” Shannon answered. “I’m fine now. I think. I’m a little out of it but
I don’t think I’m gonna pass out again. I feel like such a tool.”
“Ah, don’t
freak out about it,” Ian replied. “Shit happens. I mean you should get yourself
checked out, but you’ve already had a hell of a day. Lots to stress about.
Listen, they’ve got plenty of people on hand for the fire. I was told we’re
released as soon as you’re ready to go, so let’s just head back to the station,
okay?”
He’s
looking at me differently
, she
realized. It was a subtle thing; something about the interest in his eyes and
his posture and the deeper-than-normal tone of his voice. She felt no mutual
spark. He wasn’t her type, and after riding with him for the last six months
she found a laundry list of her personal turn-offs in his habits and outlook.
Working with him was fine; dating him never occurred to her. But she recognized
now that there was something there for him, at least.
Ian stepped
past her into the ambulance to stow the gear bag. He left Shannon sitting there
on the bumper, reflecting on how hard it must be to wear a mask like that.
Must be hard to hide how you really
feel all the time,
she
thought.
Or to hide who you really are.
* * *
It was a
good night to live alone.
Freed from
her job after entirely too much discussion with her supervisors and
their
supervisors about her day, Shannon all but staggered through the door to her
apartment, locked it behind her, and threw the deadbolt. She leaned against the
door, inhaling the lingering smells of last night’s cooking and the cheap
lavender air freshener plugged in down the hallway. She told herself to relax.
She was
home now. She would be home for a few days. As Ian predicted, her work schedule
had been rearranged, allegedly because of her fainting spell and not at all
because of the complaint from the ER doctor. Not one of her bosses thought the
complaint held any merit. Nobody blamed her for the death of the woman outside
the fire. Nobody wanted to get careless about her passing out, either.
Shannon
tugged off her jacket and let it fall to the floor. Her shirt joined it only a
second later. Though normally neat and methodical with her clothing, today
Shannon shed her uniform right there in the entryway and left it there.
She wanted
to be naked. Shannon jerked at the laces of her boots to free herself from
them, dumping the footwear on top of her uniform shirt and then tossing the
socks as they came off, one toward the kitchen and another down the hall.
Her
single-bedroom apartment usually stayed fairly clean. Now her belt went flying
carelessly across the living room. Her undershirt fell across the stove, only a
few feet away from the front door. She rounded the corner, went into the
bathroom and promptly cranked the knob in her bathtub to fill it with hot
water. She didn’t bother balancing it out by turning the other knob for cold
water.
Shannon
unfastened her pants and slipped them off her hips, slowing now to touch her
legs with her fingers all the way down. When she straightened back up, she
found herself looking back in the mirror.
She’d never
been fair to herself about her looks. All her life, she’d felt plain, no matter
what anyone told her. Every rejection or unrequited crush was enough to
convince her she was right. Now, she faced her reflection and asked, “When did
you decide you weren’t pretty?”
She had
been pretty all along. She knew that now. Whether Brad got that or not she
didn’t know and could hardly bring herself to care. She was clearly better than
he deserved. She had a brain. She had a steady job. It wasn’t awesome as she’d
once thought, and hadn’t been for a couple of years now, but it was still a
serious job with real responsibilities and she was damn good at it. Shannon was
twenty-eight, sane, and stable despite her career frustrations. She’d been a
good girlfriend: thoughtful, attentive, willing to give space. And yes, pretty,
too, goddammit.