Vlad the Paler by Malthea

Author:Malthea [Malthea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

I CARRY Logon in my arms, and he’s conscious enough to put his arms around my neck. He’s still delirious though, and he feels like he has a fever. If anything happens to him…. The future looks really grim all of a sudden.

Orisha makes a disapproving noise at Logon’s condition and points to an afghan-covered bench. I lay Logon down on it.

“Can you help him?” I ask

“Sure ’nough,” Orisha answers. “Move out my way.” Orisha looks into Logon’s eyes and touches their foreheads together. “Poor lamb. Don’t fret. We’ll get you fixed up real quick.”

“Let Orisha work,” Bon Tom says. “We walk down to the water.”

I’m not leaving Logon.

“Better this way, cher. Better for him.” Bon Tom nods at Logon.

“I want to stay with Logon.”

“I know you do, but if you want me to help him, you leave me be,” Orisha says sharply. “Go and wash up now.”

I’m covered in blood, and I either trust Orisha or I don’t, so I follow Bon Tom across the dark, sloping lawn to the water. The grass gives way to sand and sandspurs, pretty fast, and then to wet sand. The mild surf sounds like a line of semis passing by on a wet road. Bon Tom goes bounding into the water, moving with determination until he’s deep enough to dive under. He surfaces and waves to me. Did I mention I can see in the dark now? Yeah. Cool, huh? Damn right, it is. I can see Bon Tom clearly as he gestures for me to come in.

No thanks. I can do without hanging around in wet clothes slowly going stiff with salt as the inescapable sand rubs precious parts of me raw.

“Suit yourself, cher,” Bon Tom calls out. “But you got a fair amount of blood on you. Brine’s the best thing to wash it off, ’specially this kinda blood.”

“Why? What’s it going to do to me?”

“Stain your dainty white shirt and make it smell somethin’ awful. Werevamp blood the worst.”

“Werevamp?”

“Come in the water, fool. Bon Tom tell you all ’bout it.”

It would just be silly to try and explain my long-term unsatisfactory relationship with the beach. On the one hand, the ocean is majestic and powerful and eternal and all that. On the other hand, it’s salty, sandy, and hot as hell most of the time. These are not three of my favorite things. But I can smell a rotten odor that’s getting stronger. Imagine the stench of decayed flesh mixed with burnt hair and broccoli farts. The theme from Jaws is playing in my head, but this reek is even worse than dumpster water.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” I holler. Yes, if you must know, my mom did hold my hand the first day of school, but I have a legitimate concern here. In many vampire films, salt water is like acid on undead flesh, just as bad as holy water, which I’m going to put in a Super Soaker squirt gun for the next time I run into Simon.

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