Once Bitten, No Longer Shy by Julie Steimle (to read list TXT) 📖

Rick growled. “Snap out of it!”

Troy shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand?” The hairs on Rick’s head straightened up like hackles.

“You’ve always been a werewolf,” Troy shouted. “I was just a kid—”

Rick’s face went white with fury. “I was just a kid! I had no clue—”

“Not the same thing,” Troy argued, but he knew he was going to infuriate Rick more. Rick was always super-sensitive about how altered his life had become since he discovered he was a werewolf at thirteen years of age.

“It is! You’re freaking out and giving up!” Rick shouted, his canines elongating. “You think I’ve never thought that way?” But then he whipped to Tom and said, “Tom? Verify it for me!”

Tom promptly raised a hand, much to Troy’s annoyance. “I solemnly witness I’ve seen Rick get bombarded with suicidal thoughts too.” He then glared at Troy, adding, “But he does not entertain them.”

That was offensive. Troy snarled at Tom, wondering when he had become Rick’s lackey. “Entertain?”

“Yeah,” Tom bit back, unintimidated by Troy’s fangs (then again, as an ex-roommate to a werewolf, what would intimidate Tom?). “Do you actually think you are better than us just because you were born entirely human? What about Eve who spared your life? She’s a damn angel now.”

But the mention of that woman set Troy’s anger boiling again. “She got me stuck this way!”

“What’s this?” Rick asked. His eyes trialed back to the stairwell.

“No, she didn’t.” Huffing, Tom marched up to Troy.

The sky seemed to get lighter. Troy could feel the sun was about to crest the horizon. This was not how he had wanted to say good-bye to his friends. Not with an argument.

 “Your stinking father, the vampire, and his thugs from the Order of Blood did this to you,” Tom said, looking inclined to throttle him. “Eve merely saved your life.”

“I chose to die,” Troy said, waiting for the light to come to turn him to dust.

“Not acceptable,” Rick growled out. “I thank God Eve was your angel.”

He what? Troy wanted to scream. But then the sunlight broke, shining directly on all of them. He collapsed to his knees instead. “Agh!”

His skin was already smoldering.

Randon sprang up, screaming, “Shield him!” He threw himself into the sun’s path, splaying his arms to cover Troy. The others quickly jumped to do so… except for Peter who oddly was watching at the side, clearly willing to give Troy exactly what he wanted.

“No!” Troy shouted as his skin burned, wishing they would just join Peter. “Let me be! It is my choice! My life!”

“But Troy,” Randon grabbed him, trying still to cover him from the sun. “I can’t let you do this. You’re my best friend.”

A stab of pain cut deep in Troy’s heart. He wanted Randon to be free, to let go. He said, looking to Randon’s wife. “You’ve got Silvia.”

Silvia stared at him, flustered.

But Randon groaned. “Ugh. As much as I love Silvia, I did not marry her to replace you. Friends for life, man.”

Silvia nodded, trying to help Randon shield Troy from the sun, crying.

“My life is over,” Troy said, trying to go easily. It was hurting too much.

“No.” Randon dropped to his knees.

And the sun rose higher, lighting the city of New York, bringing pain with it.

“Ow…” Troy groaned, then looked about himself. The top layer of his skin seemed to the go the color of ash, flaking off like dust. Pink skin was underneath and turning pinker. He looked up at the bluing sky. Vampires were burned to dust by the sunlight. That was how it worked. But he was not. “I’m sure it’s not supposed to take this long.”

 “It isn’t,” Daniel, Andy, and Peter said in chorus. The other two out of the Seven stood back with Peter now, watching together. They exchanged knowing looks. Rick stepped with them also, openly confused. He stared up at the sky then at Troy, a peculiar light forming in his eye. He glanced back at the stairwell again, almost laughing. It was infuriating. What was so funny?

Those around Troy stepped away from him. His skin which had been smoking before sluffed off as dust, but under it was definitely pink flesh, like a sunburn and nothing more.

Tom peered over to where Rick was looking, and a crooked smile curled up to one side of his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” Matthew said, then looked that way also.

Then everyone looked, though they did not see anything.

Yet Troy, when he looked, he saw her. The dark angel.

“You!” he shouted.

The dark angel, with her long-and-straight midnight hair, all her bloody wounds, large bat-like wings, and long scythe, stepped out into the light. Like with the invisible angels, only a few could see her. But she glanced quickly to the sky as if those angels might come back for her and she only had a short time.

“Shut up, stupid, and listen,” she said, her voice reaching into Troy’s mind but not his ears as she walked across the roof to him. “You’re clearly not a vampire. That means you’re not entirely dead.”

Half filled with terror, half-filled with anger, Troy bit back, “And you’re the expert?”

“Yes,” she said, walking past Hanz who looked around, following her voice.

“Eve?” Hanz called out, his eyes searching desperately for her.

“He can’t see you?” Troy asked, with a glance to her.

“Only people whom I have saved can see me,” she said with hardly a look at the others who could also see her—among them was Rick, Matthew and Tom. She focused on Troy. “Now, I’ve only got a second. You need to start buying high SPF sunscreen. I used to use about 90 SPF. You’ll probably have to do the same. And sunglasses—until you can curb your appetite.”

This was crazy. Troy felt like screaming. Instead he shouted, “How am I not a vampire? I can’t feel my heart anymore. I crave blood.”

But she just stared at him with a dry look with the reply, “Have you drunk someone else’s blood yet?”

A shiver ran through Troy. Of course he hadn’t. He did not want to be a vampire.

Rick, Matthew, and Tom got in nearer, listening closely. The others there who could not see her, peered around in hopes to catch sight of what they were seeing—though Hanz stepped in, closing his eyes, and listened.

“What about the vampire’s blood they forced down my throat?” Troy retorted hotly. The sun was still burning, but there was no more smoke rising from his skin. He still felt like he was being cooked, though.

“Eve?” Hanz reached into the space next to where she was. She stepped out of reach, cringing as if it pained her to see that Nordic doctor so desperate to hold her.

She said to Troy in haste, “That was against your will. Vampirism is still a choice. You can be a daytime vampire.”

That sounded so stupid to Troy. “A daytime vampire?”

“Is she really here?” Hanz turned to Rick. “I can hear her, but she’s ignoring me. Can she not hear me?”

Rick pulled him aside, whispering into his ear something Troy could not catch.

Eve cast Rick a thankful glance as she said to Troy, “That’s right. You still have a life.”

Troy felt sick. He muttered, “A life…”

“Shut up,” she snapped, startling him so much that he staggered from her. Once more he remembered that she was death incarnate. She bit out angrily, “You’ve had it easy up ‘til now. Now you have to learn how to resist severe temptation—and maybe learn to think outside yourself for once.”

That accusation did not seem fair. Troy was about to protest but Eve continued in her rant without a breath.

“I bet since you got bit you’ve done nothing but hide from vampires. Did it ever occur to you spend your time helping others with their vampire problem instead of only thinking about yourself?”

She could have slapped him and it would have hurt less. Each of her words stabbed deep, and he felt shame. Had he really only thought of himself? Was this really fair? He had intended, once he had figured out a cure for the bite, to help bite victims afterwards. Was it that wrong to take care of himself first?

“Use your new gift to help those who do not have your experience and knowledge,” she said.

“Gift…” Troy muttered. How could being a vampire be a gift? Even one who could clearly walk in daylight without being dusted?

“Even a curse can be a gift,” she said as if speaking from centuries of experience. “I learned that.”

But then she turned toward her Nordic fiancée. “Hanz?”

“Yeah?” Hanz had been staring into space next to her, listening.

Her face went gentle as she spoke. Despite all the wounds and blood, it made her look beautiful. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Hanz stood like he would collapse in joy at hearing her, tears welling up in his crystal blue eyes. A thousand thoughts crossed his face as if they just had a long conversation with only those words. He did not say a thing, but he nodded.

“Help Troy figure this out,” she said. “Bring him to Will or somebody like him who can help him adjust to being no longer human.”

Troy shuddered. There were people like that? That is, outside Gulinger?

“Eve…” Hanz reached out to her.

She stepped back, fear in her eyes. “You can’t touch me. It will hurt you.”

Hanz halted. But then reached out anyway and, surprisingly, set his hand on her face, his fingers resting on her cheek. Before the entire rooftop crowd, the dark angel became solid. The couple stared into each other’s eyes and Hanz smiled.

“Oh wow,” Randon murmured, staring at the bloody, terrifying personification of death before them.

“That’s her,” Silvia squeaked out, recognizing her.

Hanz leaned in to kiss Eve.

Quick as lightning striking the top of the hospital, three angels in gray robes appeared on the rooftop. Two grabbed Eve, and in a snap, yanked her out of there. One angel remained, gazing darkly upon them all.

“No!” A gut-wrenching scream, erupted from Hanz. He grabbed at the air.

The gray angel who remained appeared as stoic as a priest in mass. His wings were as if from a huge dove, not quite white and not really flapping. They were spread out like a peacock on display. Everyone could see him. His eyes, however, did not rest on Hanz whose joy he had just destroyed, but on Tom who was rattled as if he knew this angel personally. “Tom Brown, the troublemaker.”

“Who-the-hell are you?” Tom shouted up. Several stared at Tom, surprised.

The gray angel spoke in a soft yet penetrating baritone. “My name is Asahel. And your sight has caused enough trouble.”

Tom glared upward, teeth clenching. Troy looked nervously to him as did the others.

 “I prophesy that you—Trouble,” the angel said, “—will lose that sight while you are still young.”

Matthew cringed, closing his eyes. Troy and Randon exchanged glances, knowing he was talking about Carlos’s prediction. The others were working to calm Hanz down after being so close to his fiancée yet losing her again. Only Peter, who was back with Silvia (possibly to protect her from the angel) glared at him with dejection.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Tom jerked up his chin, still full of bravado.

The angel’s gray wings fluffed in affront.

Matthew stepped forward, joining Tom’s side. He peeked once to Troy then to Hanz. “You’ve done your deed. Be gone.”

“No! Wait!” Hanz rushed up, called out to the gray angel in the air. “Where is Eve? Where have you taken Eve?”

Casting him a particularly annoyed glance, the gray angel said, “Forget her.”

 “How can I possibly?” Hanz breathed out, his face white with stress.

Those around him stiffened, as clearly knew Hanz was of a singular mind. And Peter seemed even more irked.

“You have no idea how long I have waited for her!” Hanz called skyward.

Intense disdain formed on the gray angel’s face. He huffed in disgust then vanished like a bolt of lightning.

“And like that, he’s gone,” Silvia muttered. She then looked to both Randon and Troy who had exchanged shaken glances, both breathless.