Read Online Sophie Morgan (Book 1): Relative Strangers (A Modern Vampire Story) by Helen Treharne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Helen Treharne
Tags: Vampires
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declared that I needed to urinate and staggered to the bathroom, leaving Maggie to tidy away her first aid kit and Mickey to put the chairs atop the tables in the bar. In truth, it was because I was going to let curiosity get the better of me. I needed to see what that beast had done to me.
The tiny toilet at the back of the room had two small cubicles and one sink with a mirror over it. I studied myself in the reflective surface for a while. I was a mess. No wonder everyone was stressed. Maggie had done a good job of dressing the wound, it was neat and secure, but I couldn’t resist sliding a finger under the bandage to see how bad the cut was. As I leaned into the mirror, I lifted one corner of the tape and began separating the gauze from my skin. I didn’t have to reveal much to see the extent of the damage. It didn’t add up. There should have been more damage. I felt that searing pain, I felt the tearing of flesh, and I felt my warm blood turn cold as it met my skin and the evening air.
Where the hell is the cut, the bite mark? There have to be some puncture wounds surely?
Just as I was about to rip the bandage off my neck in one swift, confused, angry motion, I heard Maggie’s voice behind me. She stood in the doorway behind me.
"Right pet, I’m off to bed now," her words stone and peculiar.
I quickly covered the dressing with my palm, trying to look nonchalant.
"The tape was peeling back at the corners," I blurted out. Guilty. Caught red handed.
Maggie didn’t respond, but there was no mistaking the icy chill which filled the small space. Was she frustrated? Annoyed? Disappointed? I couldn’t read what she was trying to say to me.
"The door to my place is right at the top of the stairs," she added. "I’ll leave it unlocked. You feel free to come in if you need anything. Make sure the lads get you home okay. If they give you any trouble, just come and get me. If you want to stay, you’re welcome too; there’s a sleeping bag and a pillow on my sofa. Don’t go anywhere on your own though, and if you don’t feel well, you come get me straight away."
I thanked her for showing such kindness and silently followed her out of the toilet and back into the bar. She handed a bunch of keys to Mickey on her way past him, squeezing his hand tightly as she did so, before heading up the stairs and into the darkness.
Once we were the only two left in the bar, Mickey and I shared silence for what felt like an eternity. At first he leaned against the bar, while I resumed my seat at the table. It took an age for him to travel the distance between us. Once he had planted himself next to me on the bench, I decided that someone had to speak, and it looked like it was going to have to be me.
"So what happened?" I asked. Both of us looked straight ahead at the bar, not wanting to make eye contact.
"Do you remember anything at all?" he quietly asked.
"Bits, but I’m not sure it makes sense. I remember we were going to head back here. I remember giving you Tracy’s bag, heading on up to follow you, and then…" I shrugged my shoulders and left the words trail off, hoping he’d fill in the rest.
He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and didn’t answer for a really long time. When he did it, he just muttered incoherent sentences under his breath; anybody would think that he was the one who had been attacked.
"Are you okay?" I found myself asking.
Stupid question really, of course he wasn’t okay, he’d just dragged a half-dead girl off the street and into the pub, she was possibly a lunatic who thought it was a good idea to run after robbers, and he’d now locked himself in the bar with her. Great question Sophie, no flies on you is there? Really fucking insightful, well done.
"No, "he blurted out, "I’m not feckin' okay at all." I deserved that. "I think I may have bloody killed someone and you’re asking me if I’m okay. Fuck, Sophie, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, I’m sorry I shouted. Oh my
The tiny toilet at the back of the room had two small cubicles and one sink with a mirror over it. I studied myself in the reflective surface for a while. I was a mess. No wonder everyone was stressed. Maggie had done a good job of dressing the wound, it was neat and secure, but I couldn’t resist sliding a finger under the bandage to see how bad the cut was. As I leaned into the mirror, I lifted one corner of the tape and began separating the gauze from my skin. I didn’t have to reveal much to see the extent of the damage. It didn’t add up. There should have been more damage. I felt that searing pain, I felt the tearing of flesh, and I felt my warm blood turn cold as it met my skin and the evening air.
Where the hell is the cut, the bite mark? There have to be some puncture wounds surely?
Just as I was about to rip the bandage off my neck in one swift, confused, angry motion, I heard Maggie’s voice behind me. She stood in the doorway behind me.
"Right pet, I’m off to bed now," her words stone and peculiar.
I quickly covered the dressing with my palm, trying to look nonchalant.
"The tape was peeling back at the corners," I blurted out. Guilty. Caught red handed.
Maggie didn’t respond, but there was no mistaking the icy chill which filled the small space. Was she frustrated? Annoyed? Disappointed? I couldn’t read what she was trying to say to me.
"The door to my place is right at the top of the stairs," she added. "I’ll leave it unlocked. You feel free to come in if you need anything. Make sure the lads get you home okay. If they give you any trouble, just come and get me. If you want to stay, you’re welcome too; there’s a sleeping bag and a pillow on my sofa. Don’t go anywhere on your own though, and if you don’t feel well, you come get me straight away."
I thanked her for showing such kindness and silently followed her out of the toilet and back into the bar. She handed a bunch of keys to Mickey on her way past him, squeezing his hand tightly as she did so, before heading up the stairs and into the darkness.
Once we were the only two left in the bar, Mickey and I shared silence for what felt like an eternity. At first he leaned against the bar, while I resumed my seat at the table. It took an age for him to travel the distance between us. Once he had planted himself next to me on the bench, I decided that someone had to speak, and it looked like it was going to have to be me.
"So what happened?" I asked. Both of us looked straight ahead at the bar, not wanting to make eye contact.
"Do you remember anything at all?" he quietly asked.
"Bits, but I’m not sure it makes sense. I remember we were going to head back here. I remember giving you Tracy’s bag, heading on up to follow you, and then…" I shrugged my shoulders and left the words trail off, hoping he’d fill in the rest.
He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and didn’t answer for a really long time. When he did it, he just muttered incoherent sentences under his breath; anybody would think that he was the one who had been attacked.
"Are you okay?" I found myself asking.
Stupid question really, of course he wasn’t okay, he’d just dragged a half-dead girl off the street and into the pub, she was possibly a lunatic who thought it was a good idea to run after robbers, and he’d now locked himself in the bar with her. Great question Sophie, no flies on you is there? Really fucking insightful, well done.
"No, "he blurted out, "I’m not feckin' okay at all." I deserved that. "I think I may have bloody killed someone and you’re asking me if I’m okay. Fuck, Sophie, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, I’m sorry I shouted. Oh my
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