I drank the blood. I knew I’d never look at cocoa the same.
But it gave me the buzz of a thousand cups of coffee and eliminated the pain in my sprained knee. I spent the whole night cleaning, organizing, thinking, and researching lists of UV-resistant materials to experiment with. I dozed off for an hour or two before dawn, while the sky was still dark, but it didn’t last long.
Henry, Betsy’s husband, towed my truck back from where it had been parked near the sheriff’s office and handed over the keys with a gruff admission that he was glad I was back home safe and to call if I needed anything. That Betsy hadn’t ridden along with him hurt my heart a little, though I knew she needed time and space. From where she stood, I’d broken a cardinal rule of our friendship — no keeping secrets, particularly when it came to men and love and sex.
I distracted myself from the knot in my throat by searching the creaky, overloaded bookshelf in the back room for the medical textbooks we’d kept as useful references for when the power went out at the cabin and the cell phone service wouldn’t support a search. The power fritzed often enough, even with the old generator, that we kept an entire cupboard stocked with candles, matches, flashlights, and batteries. I frowned as I pondered that. If I miraculously got a shitload of fancy new lab equipment, or even just one or two centrifuges, would there be enough steady power to actually use them? Plus I’d need a hell of a fridge to store samples and cultures, and that could draw more power than the rest of the whiz-bang stuff. Maybe I could rent a new generator from someone in town for a couple of months if I couldn’t buy one outright. I added it to the list but didn’t even bother to research prices.
Paging through the dense material and statistics grew more difficult as each paragraph generated a thousand more ideas and research possibilities. I made more lists for all the tests I could run to narrow down the possible causes for each aspect of Dragomir’s UV sensitivity — iron levels, melanin, cellular abnormality, potential DNA mutations, negative effects of UV on DNA in red blood cells and skin cells… Finding the specific mechanisms or genetic interactions that caused each reaction would make it easier to design a treatment or temporary alleviation of symptoms. All those tests meant lab time and equipment and money, and if I wanted any of those, I’d have a hell of a time explaining why to anyone with half a brain.
At least the sun warmed the air outside to something closer to tolerable, so I didn’t need coat and hat and mittens to hobble around as I needed to think. Archer’s business card poked me through my jeans, and I took it out to study it as I collapsed in the Adirondack chair and propped my feet up. There was one way to get the money I needed to order supplies, since Dragomir hadn’t deigned to leave me a credit card or paper bag full of cash. With my luck, all of his money was in gold bars and illegal diamonds.
My cell phone weighed a ton as I lifted it to my ear, listening to the ringing through the sudden pounding of my heart. My head ached as I squinted at the trees and watery sunlight. All the energy from Dragomir’s blood faded into nothing and left a deficit behind. Could vampire blood cause a hangover? Could someone get addicted to the rush and clarity of it? I shivered and focused on the call. Needed to get my game face on if I wanted to come out ahead in the negotiations.
My lungs tightened and struggled to inflate as I waited for him to answer. I’d never believed in deja vu or clairvoyance or anything like that, but it sure as hell felt like the call initiated something big.
Archer answered in a smooth, professional tone that sounded out of place for someone who wandered around with a grubby film crew in forests. He sounded like the corporate lawyer Dragomir dressed as, or like someone who negotiated contracts and issued orders and made decisions about other peoples’ lives. Competent and neutral. Just like the doctors who told me Dad wouldn’t wake up.
I cleared my throat a couple of times before I managed to say, “It’s Ada. I have a couple of questions.”
Like how much money he could throw my way and how long it would take for the check to clear the bank. How little I could get away with sharing before he cut the check. And maybe a little on how strong those arms actually were and what he thought about getting drunk and naked. I shook myself. Jesus. I was in the middle of a huge problem and all I could think about were his broad shoulders and how firm his butt looked in his jeans.
He immediately brightened. “Ada. I’m so glad to hear from you. How are you feeling?”
“Like the southern end of a northbound polecat,” I said, figuring he would enjoy the colloquialism.
Archer chuckled. “That’s a good one. I’ll write it down for later. How can I help you?”
Just the cadence of his words got me shivering in anticipation. He made my hands shake like my blood sugar dropped, which was strange since he seemed like all kinds of sweet. My face heated up until I was sure he’d be able to tell from the tone of my voice. Those feelings were obviously leftover from those mind-tricks Dragomir pulled to make me think about sex. That was it. Just some residual horniness from mental vampire porn and nothing to do with reality and a man I’d known maybe a day. “Well, I’ve been thinking about your offer and —”
“Why don’t we meet up? Talk about it in person.”
I winced; I didn’t particularly want to go out in public looking like I’d tried to break through a window with my face, even if part of me really wanted to see him again. I took one look in the mirror when I got to Betsy’s house and then covered all of them up at the cabin. I couldn’t account for the sudden crush on Archer while not knowing anything about him or having talked to him about anything real. There had to be a logical explanation for losing my mind. Endorphins, maybe dopamine and serotonin. I’d never fallen head-over-heels in love, which Betsy blamed on me over-thinking “literally everything everywhere in the universe,” and I had no idea how to deal with the nervous anticipation of seeing him and being near him and hearing his voice. What if he didn’t like me? Sure, he had to pretend for the sake of a show, but what if he really thought I was obnoxious and at the end of filming just beat feet back to wherever he came from? The potential for a humiliating misunderstanding made me squirm as I imagined all the ways I could fuck things up and make an ass out of myself.
And there I went, making up problems when I had enough already on my plate. I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to breathe normally. Even with the potential for real cringe-tastic miscommunications, I wanted to see him. He thought like me, he believed in cryptids, and he didn’t think I was crazy. That was rare enough in my past, and when I added how handsome he was into the equation… It just didn’t balance. He might be my relationship unicorn, and I’d be damned if I sat by and didn’t at least try to make something happen.
I’d never been addicted to a man or a relationship, but I already saw the possibility with Archer. “I don’t know if I should —”
“How about I bring you dinner?” he asked. “You got a taste for anything you haven’t had in a while?”
I did. I really, really did, and it was more to do with his shoulders and fine ass than anything truly edible. I’d have him for a snack without a second thought. Not that he was on the menu, based on our conversations to that point.
I covered my eyes and leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair. I’d definitely lost my mind. “Ummm…”
“I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” And damned if I didn’t believe him, too.
“Just you, right? No cameras?”
The briefest hesitation snapped my eyes open, but he otherwise didn’t miss a beat. “Just me and your favorite meal.”
It sounded too good to be true. It was too good to be true. “There’s a Thai restaurant near the bar, they’ve got Panang curry that’s pretty good.”
“Done and done.” He was too cheerful by half. “Give me an hour and change, and I’ll be right over. Anything besides Panang curry? Spring rolls? Pad Thai? My expense account is paying, Ada, so dream big.”
Expense account. So it wasn’t really a date, even if the butterflies in my stomach told me otherwise. “Sticky rice and mango?”
“Got it. I’ll see you in a bit.”
When the call ended, I stared at the reflection in my phone’s screen. It would have been wonderful to call Betsy and get her take on Archer and whether potential existed there, but I couldn’t explain him and Dragomir. I groaned that I somehow had boy trouble like I’d never had in middle school, but I dragged myself up to put away the books, microscope, bags of blood, and the UV lights that had mysteriously appeared on my porch in the night while I banged around on my blood high. I’d definitely lost my mind.