Double Take - A.J. Cole (classic fiction txt) 📗

took a sip, it would be really, really bad.”

“For whom?” asked Maya.

“Everyone.”

Having recovered somewhat from an exaggerated sense of shock brought on by too much vodka, Arissa said, “How come? What would happen? And what are you, anyway?”

“He’s a Sidhe.” An older man had come to the table and was wiping his hands on his apron. “I’m his father and happen to overhear that last question. Just wanted to clear things up.”

“He’s a she?” It was Arissa’s turn to back away, or slide away, given the confined nature of the booth. “Huh. Looks pretty masculine to me.”

“No, no, a Sidhe.” The elder Murphy smiled and spelled it for her. “A Gaelic word that confuses a lot of people, darlin’. A Sidhe is an Irish creature, supposedly of myth.”

“I should know that. Come to think of it, I have seen that word, but never knew how to pronounce it – thought it was ‘Sid’ or something.” Arissa giggled suddenly with no idea why.

“Okay, but how does that work with the whole vampire and biting thing?” Maya sat forward, head tilted.

“Well, now,” said Mr. Murphy, who had somehow acquired an accent, “the blood of a Sidhe is magical, you see, and if ingested by a dead thing, will cause it all sorts of difficulties. For instance, the vampire will start breathing again, its heart pumping faster and faster until it explodes, which will cause irreversible, final death. No getting up again once that happens.” He shook his head.

Arissa thought he looked less saddened by this fact than maybe he should have been. After all, vampires were keeping his bar operating, weren’t they? But then without them, the humans would return and the bar would remain open anyway. “So biting your son would cause death for a vampire.” Arissa took another sip of her drink. “And what would happen to him?”

“Why, he’d turn into a vampire, of course – and a mighty angry one, I might add. One incapable of dying but with only insanity and fury to drive him through the ages.”

“Which means what?” Now Leander was leaning forward.

“An insane creature that would murder everyone in his path, but who himself could not be killed? What do you think that means, boy?” Mr. Murphy raised a bushy eyebrow.

“It means we’d all be in serious trouble,” said Arissa.

“Why did you say you should know about the Sidhe?” asked Finn.

“Because I’m Irish.”

“Are you now?” Mr. Murphy gave her an odd look. “And you’re not really a vampire, either, am I right?”

“Well, not usually. I mean, tonight, yeah, but that’s only because there’s a full moon.”

“Aren’t you a bit confused?” asked Finn. “That’d be a problem for a werewolf.”

“Exactly.”

Two sets of Irish eyebrows rose.

“No, see, I’m not a vampire and not a werewolf. I’m both. I’m a werepire. So are they.” She waved vaguely toward her friends. “Your bartender knows what we are.”

Finn said that he’d never heard of such a thing before. “I wonder what would happen if you bit me.”

She thought about that for a moment. “Let’s see… well, I suppose that would depend on when. Not that I’d feel inclined to suck your blood on non-full-moon days. But if I did… I don’t think it would matter then, would it? But if I took a sip now, I’d probably have the whole exploding-heart situation, and that would really suck!” A second later she heard herself and burst out laughing. “Oh, I did not just say that!”

“You’re an unusual young lady, er – you have a name, I believe?”

She stopped laughing long enough to tell him what it was, and then went back to being mildly hysterical.

“Right. You’re an unusual young lady, Arissa Martin. How old are you?”

Getting herself under control, she finished her drink and told him.

“So you’re only a year and a half younger than my appar… than me? How long do, werepires, is it? How long do werepires live?”

“Hundreds of years,” she said, “unless we get smushed by a really big rock or something.” She hiccupped and knocked her glass over, the effects of the liquor finally taking full effect. “Hey, now we know about the heart problem thingy. What about kids? What if you and I had children? What would they be like? Don’t tell me,” she rushed on before anyone could answer. “I think I know. They’d be redheads with blue eyes and oval pupils, fangs, the ability to do magic, and a natural immunity to alcohol!”

Everyone stared at her for several seconds.

“Shut up.” She scowled and passed out.

TWELVE

 

 

Waking up to find people watching her was beginning to become what her mother would call “old hat.” Why she would call it that, or what hats of any age had to do with familiarity was anybody’s guess. But there it was, and there they were – Maya, Leander and Vlad.

For the first time since her bizarre transformation, Arissa didn’t scream when she saw them. She scowled and sat up instead. Vlad was perched on the edge of the bed by her feet, Maya on the chair near the window, and Leander was standing a few feet away.

“Am I missing someth- ow!” She put a hand to her head, which had begun to throb. Simultaneously, her stomach lurched and she doubled over, breathing carefully to keep herself from throwing up.

“Werepire hangovers can be awful,” said Leander. “We wanted to be here for you when you came to.”

She was in her room with no recollection of how she’d gotten there, but suspected her new friends had managed to get her home safely, probably using her key to enter the apartment. The thought of them crawling up the side of the building with her in tow and bursting in through one of the windows didn’t make sense, after all.

“Here.”

Something that felt like a glass was shoved into the hand not clutching her brow and she opened one eye to see what it was. Ah, a glass. Yes. With some kind of liquid that swirled pink. Far better, she thought groggily, than a glass of fresh sand, eh?

“Drink it, please,” said Vlad sounding polite and only a little exasperated.

She sniffed. “Bleh.”

“Just drink it, Riss.” Maya looked upset.

“Mph.” Arissa raised the glass to her lips, straightening somewhat, and took a sip. Straight vodka and blood. Why had she thought this was a delicious concoction when they were at the bar? Yuck!

“Drink it all, my dear.”

Vlad. Grrr. She forced herself to swallow the rest, and a moment later, her vision un-blurred. “I asked you not to call me that,” she told the vampire. “Thanks, though – it’s helping.”

Everyone obviously relaxed, but she couldn’t understand why they’d been so tense in the first place. “Hey, I’m all right, guys. What’s the big deal?”

“Your hangover, if untreated, could easily have sent you into a kind of undead shock.”

Arissa was sure Leander had been speaking English, but none of what he’d said made any sense. “You say ‘untreated’ as if a hangover was an illness or something. And what the hell is ‘undead shock’? You suddenly become unalive or something?”

Maya, despite the serious atmosphere, giggled.

“No, Riss.” Leander sighed and came closer. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “It’s like this – when a werepire gets drunk, the blood ingested with the alcohol prevents the undead person from feeling the effects of the drink for a long time, but because of the blood in the alcohol, the alcohol in your blood becomes almost toxic. This would kill a living human, but because you’re already dead, that state is heightened, making you, oh, I don’t know, super-dead, I suppose. But you’re still alive in an undead kind of way, so to handle it, your body and mind shut down, and you spend the day vomiting, unable to think or speak, but you feel the pain of the constant barfing and the temporary atrophy of every vein in your head, which gives you one hell of a headache to boot. Understand?”

Boots and hats. Barfing death… awesome. “No. If that’s what happens, why would any of us drink in the first place? And it sounds like a regular hangover to me. But this yucky crap,” and she raised the glass at him, “is the whole hair-of-the-dog thing, right? So if you knew this, why did you take me out to a bar?”

“We didn’t know how you handled your liquor, and wanted to find out.” Maya got up and stretched. “Sorry.”

For some reason, Arissa found this funny rather than cold-hearted, and she gave the other girl a twisted smile. “Okay.” She slid backward and sat up more so she could rest against the headboard. “I suppose I should stay in bed for a while.”

“How do you feel now?” asked Vlad.

“Better but not great.”

He nodded. “As I thought. And yes, stay in bed. I called your job, incidentally, and told them you were terribly ill. Your boss sounded annoyed, but not like he felt inspired to fire you or anything.”

“Sweet.” She blinked a few times as a wave of sleepiness washed through her. “Wait – how did you get my work number?”

Infuriating in his way, Vlad merely shrugged.

“Uh-huh. You probably know my underwear size, too,” she mumbled, sliding down under the covers again. For some reason, staying awake was becoming nearly impossible.

“Five.”

“Huh?” Did he just accurately tell me my underwear size? she wondered, too tired now to muster up the outrage she knew she ought to feel about this.

“Sleep well, Arissa, dear.”

“I asked you nnnnn…”

 

*******

 

Leander gave her shoulder a gentle shake but got only a soft snort in response. “She’s out cold.”

“Let’s let her sleep it off, then, shall we?” Vlad stood. “Maya, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay with her. Just a precaution, you understand, because I think she’ll be fine. Still, if there are any problems before she fully recovers and no one is here to help her, Kyria will have my head.”

“That’s fine. I had nothing important to do today, except school.” Maya gave him a happy grin – she hated school, and everyone knew it.

“Thank you, my dear.” He gave her a peck on the cheek, waved Leander to follow him, and went out.

 

*******

 

Upon opening her eyes, Arissa found her bedroom vampire- and werepire-free. Her recollection of what had happened the last time she’d woken up was vague at best. Still, she knew her job situation had been covered, and honestly didn’t care about missing class at this point. She also remembered how awful she’d felt, and was delighted that all the nasty effects of her full-moon binge had worn off. She got up, removed her clothes (which by now were horribly wrinkled from being slept in), took a quick shower, and went into the kitchen. Her goal was her laptop to find out how long she’d been asleep. Thursday. So she slept for a full day and a half. As she went to the counter to make a pot of coffee, she saw a bright pink sheet of notepaper sitting beside the coffee maker that had no business being there. She didn’t own stationery, much less anything in pink.

“And how did you get in?” The handwriting was what could be called spidery, but with a touch of praying-mantis thrown in to distinguish it from Kyria’s. Arissa frowned and picked it up, going to