Be Counted by D R Perry

Author:D R Perry [Perry, D R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: D.R. Perry
Published: 2018-05-09T18:30:00+00:00

I’m waiting by the coffeemaker, listening to the water running in the bathroom while Stephanie washes her face. I’m not sure whether it’s a habit or an excuse, her reason for going in there. Maybe both even though she’s way older than me. One month’s acquaintance is nothing compared to my still human friends, who I’ve known for as long as I can remember. She’s the vampire I’ve known the longest, but it’s hard to decide whether I can trust her. Then again, maybe she’s in there acting human to put me at ease.

The blood’s warm now so I pour it into two mugs and set them on the breakfast table. I take the seat facing the front door. Dad always called it The Paranoia Chair. Stephanie walks out of the bathroom wrapped in my terrycloth bathrobe. Before I continue, here’s a little four-one-one on Steph.

Usually the woman who vamped me looks more alive than most humans. She’s somehow larger-than-life, comes across like she’s six foot something and not someone you want to meet in a dark alley despite the lipstick and fashionable clothes. She’s posh, polished to a high-gloss like literal brass balls.

I blink because I’ve never seen her like this before.

She looks too short without her pumps, almost an entire foot shorter than my high opinion of her vampiric prowess elevates her in my mind’s eye. My robe dwarfs her frame, hangs longer down her legs than her usual slightly below the knee skirts. But it’s worse than that.

Steph’s face is as white as the pancake I put on my own mug last night. That includes her lips. Her eyes don’t have their usual twinkle, instead they’re flat. Even her chestnut hair lacks luster, sticks in limp clumps to the beige cloth under it. She sits in the chair across from me and curls both hands around the mug of warmed blood.

“You okay, Stephanie?”

Instead of answering, she lifts the stonewear to her mouth, steadily swallowing until it’s all gone. Her shoulders droop as she sets the empty cup down. Instead of getting up for the refill I can tell she needs, Stephanie looks at the coffee maker like a puppy being left behind at an animal shelter. The kill kind.

“I got that.” I reach for her mug and she lets me take it.

Up at the counter, I pour her the rest of what’s in the carafe. I empty two more bags into it and turn the burner back on. Once she’s got her refill, I sit down again. She stares at her hands before wrapping one around the handle.

“Thanks, Valentino.”

“It’s no problem. About the blood and the crashing, I mean. But I still want to know if you’re okay.”

“I’ve got to be and so I am.” She holds the mug up, close to her lips and gazes at the blood inside. “Just fine. Thanks for asking.”

It’s clear that she’s not, but I let her cover it up. For now. Stephanie isn’t telling me the truth and the contrast

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