Page 13 of Tainted Souls
He takes a long drag from what I now recognize isn’t just a cigarette. The piquant, musky aroma of cannabis registers within me—hard to get and highly illegal, being the main cause for perpetrators to engage in bloodsucking without regard for the consequences.
“Where did you get that?” I demand, my eyes darting between the group.
“Viktor,” Haden says with infuriating nonchalance, taking another hit. “The plug.” That slippery dealer who operates from a windowless basement beneath a butcher shop, where the stench of raw meat masks the scent of various substances that flows freely among his clientele. He isn’t a vampire, but certainly profits from their existence.
Viktor is what locals call a blood broker, facilitating transactions between desperate humans willing to sell their blood outside the system and greedy vampires looking to circumvent ration limits. He also deals in various substances that enhance the high of a bite for humans, or intensify bloodlust for vampires.
Last I heard, he even expanded his enterprise to include smuggling unregistered vampires into Penn City, those too dangerous or damaged to go through proper channels. The thought of him operating so openly now, supplying my friends with illegal substances, makes my skin crawl.
I snatch the joint from Haden’s fingers. “You’re dealing with Viktor now?”
“Mean,” he pouts, reaching for the joint I confiscated.
I hold it away from him, my eyes scanning the booth. The humans are clearly too far gone to notice or care about our conversation, ecstasy glazing over their eyes as they bask in the afterglow of vampire bites.
Despite Haden’s protests, I crush the joint between my fingers.
“Someone isdead,” I repeat, leaning forward with my hands braced. The playful atmosphere evaporates instantly at the slamming sound of the table. The vampires straighten in their seats, realization flickering across their faces. “And you’re sitting here high as a kite from Viktor’s garbage.”
“Shit,” Evan curses, his arm slipping away from the human beside him. “We’re—”
“In trouble.” I glance nervously at the door.
Evan blinks hard several times as if trying to force his pupils back to normal size. He is frozen in place, apparently believing that immobility will somehow mask his intoxication. “I was going to say innocent,” he says. “We’ve been here the entire night.”
“So have keepers. All over the district.” I stifle a laugh at how still he sits. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was posing for a portrait. “And why are you sitting like that?”
“I always sit like this,” he insists, voice dropping an octave in what I assume is his attempt to sound sober. He then reaches for his glass, his hand moving in a straight line as if following an invisible track.
I facepalm, coming to terms with the fact that they have likely only processed half of our conversation before this. I reach for the pocket of my coat, pulling out a small tin. As I pop it open, a collection of pale green candies resembling ordinary mints reveals itself.
They seem deceptively plain considering the power they pack.
“Eat these,” I command, tossing one to each vampire in our circle.
Vitaequils. They will clear their heads in about five minutes—the amount of time that could mean the difference between lighthearted fun and irreversible catastrophe. The tiny, compressed tablets are a lifeline in situations that require a vampire to sober up quickly, like right now, so I carry them everywhere I go.
The science behind it is quite complex, something about enzyme stimulation and some type of synthetic plasma. Things that keep the bloodlust at bay when common sense can’t.
For creatures whose entire existence revolves around the delicate balance of blood consumption, a momentary lapse of control is always lurking around the corner, especially when indulging in substances that fuel the thirst. Vampires heal almost anything, but not the guilt of what they might do without these.
Evan catches his with surprising dexterity despite his current state. “Always prepared, aren’t you?”
“One of us has to be.” I watch as they reluctantly place the candies on their tongues, the chemical imitation of cinnamon and lemon making most vampires grimace.
As expected, their faces contort as they swallow.
“Fuck, these taste worse every time,” says Haden.
“You’re welcome,” I state dryly. After a couple of minutes, the effects finally begin to take hold. “Now, focus. We need to talk about Kyla and what this means for all of us. Max already put two and two together and figured out we’re skirting the law. He threatened to turn us all in if it happens again.”
“Us?” Evan snaps. “He threatened you, too? That’s ridiculous. You’ve never bloodsucked in your life.”
I sigh, nodding in what feels like shame.
I know Max is right. And I know I’m wrong. Still, a part of me wishes that he wouldn’t have said that. That he would’ve lied for me instead. But that’s exactly what makes him a good person, and why I fell for him.
With him by my side, I can be fixed.
