Sucks to Suck – Chapter 3

Marion walked through the green and white-tiled corridor, squinting as the flickering fluorescent lights buzzed annoyingly above her. She winced slightly and placed her hand over her side, feeling the bandages under her dark hoodie. Each step caused a sharp reminder of the cut just below her ribs. At the end of the corridor, she saw three doors. One right at the end of it led further into the hospital. Of the two doors siding it, she only knew what the one on the left led to, the maintenance closet and the reason she was there; the other, she imagined, must open into some sort of break room for the non-medical staff working there. She couldn’t be sure, she had never gone past the maintenance closet. As she reached that door, she knocked. Three short knocks, a pause, and then two more. She rolled her eyes at the obvious ineffective security measure, but Marion would not get into an argument about that again.

“Come in,” said the deep, slightly sluggish voice coming from the inside.

Marion pushed it open. The lights were off, but it only took a moment for her eyes to flicker and her vision near-instantly adjusted to the darkness. She could see the modular shelves filled with boxes, buckets, towels and cloth wrapped in plastic, and the bright yellow bins for medical waste with the biohazard symbol painted in black on their side. The closet was long and narrow, and she spotted her contact leaning against the wall at the far end of it, opposite the entrance. The human had an oversized hoodie and a beanie tossed over his uniform fatigues, and while he didn’t have a cigarette with him, she could smell the residual smoke clinging to his clothes, even from across the room, mixing with the scent of cleaning products, ether and human sweat.

She reached to the side and flickered the light switch on, and Dave smirked from his corner as she looked towards him, scratching his stubble and pushing a strand of his brown, curly long hair away from his eyes.

“Ha. Gotcha.”

“No. You called me in,” she said impatiently. “And… I can see in the dark.”

“No, yeah, I know that. But your eyes… They did the thing, you know?”

“The… Thing?”

“When the lights went on, for a second, they were like, super red. I had this theory it might happen. Kinda like when a dog looks into a headlight but not really.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“I noticed the last time we dealt... As soon as I turned the lights off before we left, your eyes did a little… Woosh-thing. And then I could swear they turned red for a second when you stepped out. But I wasn’t sure. So, I wanted to see it!”

She sighed.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t toy with my condition when we have to conduct business.”

“Geez, Marion. Relax. I was just curious about something.”

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a yellow envelope thick with bills.

“Four hundred… Where are the bags?”

Dave stepped aside to reveal a cooler. Not a hospital cooler but the type one might use to transport beer. He tapped the red plastic with the tip of his foot, distractedly.

“Right here. Gotta tell me what you think of the harvest. I think it’s A+ and AB.”

She frowned, looking from the box towards Dave’s goofy grin, and then back to it as she spoke:

“Dave, for the third time… Blood types are not like Mountain Dew flavours.”

“Well, yeah, but in True Blood…”

He didn’t continue as Marion stepped forward to shove the envelope against his chest. She was starving and she didn’t have time for him, especially if he was going to be bringing up shows like True Blood.

“In True Blood, I’d be able to get this at a corner store and wouldn’t need you ripping me off.”

“Ripping you off? Four hundred is a steal. Do you know how hard the logistics involved are in making a fresh bag disappear? It sucks. Half of what I charge you go to bribe other people.”

She shook her head as he stepped aside and let her peruse the cooler. Four blood bags were piled there, partially submerged in a small amount of water. She reached out and touched them. They weren’t at body temperature, but it was close enough; they were still at least a little warm. The water on the bottom of the container must have cooled a little from when Dave poured it in, presumably at the right temperature. Her contact could be a little annoying, yet she couldn’t help but appreciate that he at least tried to make it more comfortable for her out of his own initiative.

“I mean, it's a little easier during a blood drive,” he admitted with a mischievous smirk as his hands played with the zipper of his hoodie, pulling it up and down in a mindless way.

She knelt in front of the cooler and felt each of the bags. Her side ached. The place where the blade had cut was still sore, and sharp pains shot through it whenever she moved too fast or tried to bend. Her fingers touched the plastic medical bags filled with dark red fluid. They weren’t as infused with life as if she was drinking from someone, she knew from experience. And it would be uncomfortable, too. The taste of anticoagulant always stuck in her mouth for the rest of the night. But she was desperate. The little sip she had gotten from the thug on the previous night was already wearing out, and her headaches were itching to return. She could feel them, aching beneath the surface.

“Alright. I’m going to feed now so…”

“Go watch the door. Yeah, I got it.” Dave nodded, turning his back to her to go stand immediately behind the closet door to prevent it from being open.

Marion always felt… Low and dirty when she had to eat from a bag. And it wasn’t just because she was taking donations from people who might need blood. It felt ‘wrong’ and unnatural. To drink without a heartbeat, without the scent of a person. But she wasn’t a good hunter, she had accepted it years ago. And while sometimes she could land enough prey not to need to resort to that, buying blood was simply much less of a fuss. Dave had, as they would say, ‘seen past the Veil’. And he had managed not to go crazy or get himself killed. Mortals like that were rare and useful.

The sight of blood in a bag didn’t cause her fangs to expand instinctively as they would with an open wound, so she closed her eyes and guided her thoughts to imagine things. Heart beating, warm pale skin. A streak of red running down it. The slight tremor on the surface of the skin that revealed the pulse underneath, the scent of iron and blood and the sweet scent of vitality rising like fumes in the air. Warm fumes licking her face. And as expected, as she let her mind be flooded by such thoughts, her body reacted immediately. The wet clicking sound could be heard across the small closet and over the buzzing of the lights as her fangs expanded and she used them to tear the bag open, squeezing with her hands to direct it down her throat.

She almost gagged at the chemical aftertaste but she kept drinking. That one was from a girl in her mid-twenties, and she could tell by her blood that she was vegetarian and smoked pot. She felt the girl’s vitality filling her slightly, and she discarded that bag when it was empty, to grab the second one and tear it open carefully, but a bit more eager. Once again, the chemical taste was revolting, but she could taste a male. Older, maybe in his forties? A smoker, for sure. If she could choose, she would not drink from smokers. She already craved blood; she didn’t need to crave nicotine too. But beggars can't be choosers.

When she reached for the third bag, she was less careful in tearing it open, and she was drinking faster, more hungrily. She was still in control but she could feel the temptation to let it slip. She could feel the part of her that wanted to just run wild manifest. An older woman now but just as full of life as the previous two. Nothing in her blood that Marion could recognise the taste of but it just felt sweeter than the others. She knew where that came from. Happiness. It was a very rare treat. But the taste of anticoagulant was now building in her mouth, clinging to her tongue and throat and if she could throw up, she would. By the time she got to the fourth bag, she could barely taste anything about it, except something vague that she associated with the outdoors. A very distant memory of the sun came to her mind as it touched her lips. But the memory was faint. It had been more than eighty years since she last felt the touch of sunlight on her skin. And she didn’t even remember what her last day as a mortal was like. Not anymore.

She finished the last bag and rose, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and licking it. She shuddered slightly. Her skin was warm now, and she could feel her heart beating faintly. There was a tingling on her side where cold steel had cut into her flesh. The pain brought by the injury dulled out gradually and was replaced by a warm, almost tickling sensation. She couldn't remember the last time she was that well-fed. Not in a while. She couldn’t afford to buy from Dave often. And he didn’t have the ability to produce four bags at once often, either.

“I’m done…” she said, running her tongue through the inside of her mouth and cheeks to try, in vain, to get some of the anticoagulant taste to go away.

Her tongue felt the inside of her mouth and her eyes looked toward Dave. A thought that was both deeply hers, but also felt foreign, led her sight to lock onto his neck. Her vision was sharper, much sharper, and she could see the skin trembling rhythmically with his heartbeat. Drinking just a little bit from him could be enough to wash the astringent taste off her mouth, and she still had room for more. Just a little more. Just one quick bite and…

“Alright,” Dave said, turning around as he spoke and breaking her train of thought. “Right on time too. I need to get back from my break in, like, three minutes.”

Marion felt a surge of shame washing over her as they briefly locked eyes. She quietly chided herself for the ravenous cravings. She was fed enough; she didn’t need more. And she surely shouldn’t be attacking her lifeline.

“Thanks, Dave.”

“Nah. Thank you. I made four hundred on my break. That’s pretty good.”

She couldn’t help but laugh dryly as he said that, and dipped her head in agreement. Dave continued:

“I’ll get rid of the evidence too, don’t worry. Just get out of here without anyone seeing you.”

Marion nodded. She could do that. She wasn’t the best hunter but she was quite good at going unnoticed. She left the maintenance closet and now that she was properly fed, her senses had kicked back into high gear. Her fangs were still out, and she still felt a pang of hunger in her core, but she recognised that as being just the ravenous, near unsatiable nature of her condition, and not proper need. Feeding frenzy, her Sire used to call it. Once you started feeding, it took willpower to stop. And the more you consumed, the more you will want.

She left the hospital through a backdoor that led directly into a small underground path mostly just used for ambulances to reach the emergency vehicles on the other side. The area wasn’t designed for foot traffic, which meant there was no one around, and even the door she used was marked 'emergency only'. Marion walked into the proper underground parking lot after it and began heading for the ramp leading out into the streets. As the hunger of her ‘feeding frenzy’ subsided, and she spat out some of the bad taste lingering in her mouth, she felt the faint thrumming of power inside her. It had been a while since she got to feed that much at once. She avoided eating any more than necessary when she dealt with live prey. In part because she didn’t trust herself to control the hunger if she indulged it too openly. But now, she had a pulse. Her skin had regained some of the pink tints it had in life. Her lips felt wet, her senses were sharp and she couldn’t feel the knife wound anymore. Because it was no longer there. As soon as she had a chance, she should remove the bandages Logan had helped her put on and discard them.

And just as she reached the exit of the parking lot, a light flashed on her face. Her fangs were still out, it would take a moment for them to go back into her jaw, but the security guard pointing his Maglite straight at her face didn’t seem to have noticed them. She raised her arms to shield her eyes and face from the intense beam.

“Hey, girl, what are you doing there? This is a staff-only area.”

“I was… Looking for the exit. Got lost,” she said, face contracting still under the bright light.

The man approached her with a suspicious glance. His hand was hovering near his belt for a moment, and whether he had a gun or a taser she couldn’t say with her sight compromised, but he seemed to relax as he realised she was a small woman, clearly judging she was no danger.

“Yeah, yeah…” The middle-aged security guard seemed not to believe her story as he finally lowered the flashlight and closed the distance to stand but a couple of feet from her. “How did you even get down there, huh? What were you buying? Vicodin? Oxy? I know your type.”

Well, that was just rude. Her ‘type’? He had no idea what her type was. She felt a surge of very primal rage begin to swell inside her, and she suppressed it.

“I wasn’t buying anything. I was just lost, I told you.”

He reached out, grabbing her by the shoulders, though his hand mostly caught her hoodie. It was clear he wasn’t buying it.

“Come with me and we will check your pockets.”

She had nothing in her pockets but she didn’t intend to indulge the man’s power trip any longer or waste any more time with him. As he attempted to yank her with unnecessary force, she planted her feet firmly and he seemed shocked as his yank failed to move her a single inch. As he looked at her in shock, confusion turned to anger, as it often did with people like him.

“What? You’re making this worse for yourself, girl, just come with…”

“Release me,” she hissed as their eyes locked, and his hand immediately opened, letting go of her clothes.

He clearly didn’t understand why he had obeyed, or maybe didn’t even process her words, only noticing that he had let go of her, even though that wasn’t what he wanted to do. She took advantage of the momentum, reaching out to grab his face and direct his gaze to her eyes again. She only needed another second.

“Walk away,” she spoke dryly and commandingly. “Forget me,” she added and released his face.

She had no idea if it would work, especially because he looked a bit stunned in the wake of it and didn’t move for a moment. As her hands left his face, he blinked, confused, and then adjusted his posture, turned off his flashlight and simply turned on his heels to return to his normal patrol route, she assumed. She breathed out a sigh of relief. And then she realised that she was breathing again. Her chest was rising and falling as her lungs filled with air without her having to deliberately try to do it. She smirked, feeling her fangs retreat into her jaw. She rushed out of the hospital grounds before the effect of her commands wore off. She was now acutely aware of the cold air of the city entering her chest. As she came out of the underground and walked past the toll gate and into the streets of downtown, she checked her phone for the time.

Twenty to midnight. That was the most alive she felt in weeks but she couldn’t just sit down and enjoy it, she had to go to work.