Kiss Me, Kill Me Page 8

  ‘I know.’ I stared into his haunted eyes. Smoothed the creases between his furrowed brows with my thumb. Placed a soft kiss on his lips.

  ‘If I fuck up, it’ll be me… I’ll be the one who put an end to her life. How will I face you? Scott? Knowing it was my fault—’

  ‘Now you listen here,’ I interrupted, poking him in the chest. ‘Without you, Melanie will be leaving this Earth in the near future. That’s a definite. The doctors can’t help her. Scott and I can’t help her. We can’t do a damned thing. But thank God we have you! You’re the only one who can give her a chance at surviving. And you heard her; if it fails, she’d much rather go out that way. If that happens, it won’t be your fault. Cancer’s the thing at fault here, not you. If this doesn’t fail…if it goes right…you’ll have saved her life, just like you saved mine. I believe in you, Greg.’

  Greg gazed at me for a long moment before giving a slight nod. He pressed his forehead against mine and said, ‘Thank you, baby.’

  He kissed me.

  I shut up for a good long time.

  Someone cleared their throat. Greg and I broke apart to see Melanie and Scott standing there.

  Usually, Scott would have ribbed us and told us to get a room. ‘We’re ready,’ he said, gravitas to his voice and bearing that I’d not seen from him before.

  Mel nodded.

  I am not ready for this.

  Chapter Nine

  Just as we’d all gotten into the storage area (which the vampire-to-be had decided to call her lair), Melanie exclaimed, ‘Oh bollocks, I should have had a last meal.’

  We all glanced at each other. I wasn’t sure if a last meal was a good idea. People on death row had those (special final meals, that is, not good ideas). No one ever came back after that. Was it too much like giving up?

  Melanie went on, ‘I’ll be on a bloody liquid diet forever after this. Ha! Bloody liquid diet. Too right.’ She screwed up her face. ‘But I shoulda had some awesome solids today. A last hurrah, you know?’

  She was staying positive. That was great. And yes, she should have had some fantastically awesome solids. I pondered where we could track down a lobster dinner in Lorne at short notice.

  Scott scratched his head. ‘Um, we could head back into town and see what’s open.’

  ‘Tim Tam Sucks!’ yelled Melanie. I wondered if her voice had even gotten the memo that the woman was terminally ill.

  ‘That’s what you want?’ asked Scott. ‘Not a steak dinner? Surf and turf? Chicken in pyjamas, even?’ He sounded hopeful that he could entice Melanie to enjoy a hearty feast. PS: How cute was it that he now referred to chicken parmigiana as chicken in pyjamas, the same as the rest of us?

  ‘Nope. Chocolate and coffee. That’s what I want.’

  ‘Right.’ Scott clapped his hands together. ‘What my girl wants, my girl gets.’ Their gazes locked, and the look that passed between them? They were so going to have sex when operation M.M.A.B.S. was over.

  Greg immediately piped up. ‘I’ll go get the stuff.’ And then before anyone had a chance to offer assistance, he raced out of there as if his vamp trousers had caught fire. He must have been relieved to be given a short reprieve.

  ‘Wow,’ Mel croaked. I turned to see her blinking rapidly at the space where Greg had been a second ago. ‘I’ll be able to do that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Scott and I affirmed at the same time, although Melanie hadn’t posed it as a question.

  ‘Hey, I reckon I’m going to dig this vampire caper.’ There was excitement stamped all over her features.

  Please, please, please let her survive!

  Not long after, the four of us took a seat around a card table. The three of us who weren’t Greg each had a mug of warm coffee. There were open packets of different flavoured Tim Tams in the centre of the table.

  ‘I’ve always called this a Tim Tam Slam.’ This from Greg, who was born in the US.

  ‘Suck—’

  ‘Suck—’

  ‘Suck—’

  All the sucks were shouted at the same time by everyone who wasn’t Greg. Melanie was born in the UK. I’d introduced her to this Australian gastronomical sensation, so she said it my way, so it was three against one.

  ‘It rhymes better,’ Greg countered.

  Many people did refer to it as a slam; we, however, were old school.

  ‘Suck goes better with the name of our mission,’ said Melanie. ‘Make Mel a—’

  ‘B.S.’ I finished for her. ‘Use the acronym; it’s much quicker. By the way, that acronym could also stand for Mixed Martial Arts Bullshit.’

  ‘Don’t make me come over there,’ she retaliated.

  ‘Whatchu gonna do? Punch me with your fingers on the…in-side?’

  She glared. Then laughed. We all chuckled.

  Scott grabbed an original Tim Tam. I picked a dark one. Melanie opted for the caramel version. We each nibbled the ends off our biscuits.

  ‘Okay, suck,’ Scott instructed loudly.

  We each dipped one end of our biscuits into our warm coffee and sucked the beverage through the biscuit, essentially using the Tim Tams as straws. As soon as the chocolate-infused coffee hit my tongue, I popped the whole biscuit into my mouth. Yum, so gooey and melty.

  ‘Mmmm,’ murmured Melanie. She wiggled in her chair and looked ever so blissful.

  ‘Shit!’ shouted Scott as his biscuit imploded and fell into his mug.

  We all burst out laughing. Well, Greg did. Melanie and I did the best we could with our mouths filled with melted Tim Tam gooeyness. Scott wiped splashed coffee off his face with the back of his hand.

  ‘What happened, Scotty?’ I eventually asked after washing everything down with a couple of gulps of coffee.

  ‘I was too busy watching Mel’s reaction and I mistimed.’

  ‘What did I do?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘You sucked, and when you put the whole thing in your mouth, you wiggled in your chair. Then your eyes rolled back in your head while you made mmmm noises.’

  She stared at him for a moment. ‘You really need to get laid.’

  ‘Bloody oath,’ was Scott’s answer, quiet yet vehement, accompanied by meaningful eyes at Melanie, before he grabbed a caramel biscuit and yelled, ‘Suck!’

  This went on for some time. We each gave all the flavours a whirl. Some, more than once. Mel lost one of her biscuits in the coffee cup. Undeterred, she scooped up the sludge with a spoon. I was hailed Queen of the Suck. I didn’t feel like a queen. All of a sudden, I felt royally sick.

  ‘I’m done.’ Placing my empty cup on the table, I rubbed my tummy. I’d be on a sugar high for fifteen hours after this.

  ‘Urgh,’ Mel uttered. ‘I am of the opinion that I may have overdone it.’ She burped. Not delicately.

  Scott joined in.

  Greg shook his head. He shook it harder when Mel suggested he should have had a go by sucking blood through a biscuit.

  Now I felt stupendously ill. I’d be named Queen of the Barf if it wasn’t for that steel-trap gag reflex of mine. I hadn’t chucked my bikkies since I was a kid. Unfortunately, I would probably feel as though I needed to do it—most likely for the next fifteen hours also.

  Melanie stood. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’

  With all eyes on her, everyone went quiet. I got all panicky. I had the strong sense that we’d forgotten something. Surely there was something else we should do before…

  I’m not fucking ready.

  In less than ten minutes, after more hugs and kisses, the four of us were in position. Melanie lay on the single mattress we’d previously placed in the cage area. Greg knelt near her head. I sat towards the foot of the mattress, rubbing her shin. Scott was over on the opposite side, one hand holding Melanie’s, the other stroking her face.

  She looked bad—more than just queasy from the Tim Tams. I’d watched as she’d gotten onto the bed. She’d moved as if she’d aged fifty years since we saw her off at the airport mere months ago. Because of fear of what was to come, she’d
dropped the act, and I witnessed exhaustion and pain that she hadn’t let us see before.

  ‘You sure you’re ready?’ asked Greg.

  ‘B.I.T.F.O.’ I knew Melanie had meant to yell that, but it had come out as a croak. She sounded scared out of her mind.

  Greg didn’t wait or procrastinate or prolong the moment. He brought it the fuck on. His head lowered, those fangs of his slid out, and he sank them into her throat.

  Everyone who wasn’t Greg sucked a hissing breath through their teeth.

  Greg had his brows furrowed lower than I’d ever seen. He was also scared out of his mind.

  I felt strange watching this, almost as if I were outside myself, taking in the scene. My man had his teeth deep in my best friend’s throat and was sucking the blood—and the life—out of her. Surreal didn’t even begin to describe it.

  Greg’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His fingers gripped the sheet as though he needed to hold himself there by force.

  Melanie was quiet for a time. Then she began to struggle a little. She had decided against having Greg mesmerise her, not wanting to be oblivious to what was going on. Without consideration to that decision, her survival instincts were now kicking in, her body realising death was coming swiftly.

  We held her down as she began to fight harder, to stop her from thrashing and causing grievous wounds where Greg’s fangs were embedded in her throat. It was awful to force her to stay still when all she wanted to do was get away.

  Because we were literally killing her.

  If that was bad, the next part was even worse. The struggling gradually lessened. Melanie eventually became still, her eyes vacant. Skin pale—deathly white.

  Panic hit me full force. My heart raced; I was hot, then cold. A wave of sickness washed over me.

  Suddenly, Greg withdrew, licked to seal the wound his teeth had made. Swiftly biting into his own wrist, he held it over Melanie’s mouth. Blood dripped between her open lips.

  She didn’t move. Didn’t swallow.

  A rivulet of blood trickled over her bottom lip and down her chin.

  ‘Drink,’ Greg ordered. He pushed his wrist firmly over her lips. ‘Drink, damn it.’

  Scott and I immediately began cajoling her. Different words said in different ways, all amounting to drink the hell up right this instant. I wanted to shake her. Slap her. Something.

  Wake. Up!

  It felt like an eternity while we hoped and freaked out.

  It wasn’t remotely surreal anymore. The shit had gotten really fucking real.

  My friend was dying right in front of me.

  The panic became so overwhelming, I wanted to scream, grab her, tip her upside down—anything to wake her up. My brilliant, gorgeous, courageous, hilarious, defiant friend with her big heart. The little fighter, air boxing with her fingers on the inside. My partner in crime who always stood up for me. Who would storm the castle to set Stepfucker’s hair on fire for me. She lay there lifeless, glassy eyes staring at nothing.

  ‘Don’t you fucking die!’ I screamed. I jumped up and leaned over her, my whole body shaking. ‘Don’t you dare die on us.’

  No response.

  ‘You can’t go. I need you. We have shit we have to get done, Mellie. We have to bash down the vag turret. You said you’d set Lydia on fire for me. I was going to help you rescue Roland. And we wanted to go on that trip to the Maldives before it disappears under the frigging ocean.’ I flung my arm in the direction of the door. ‘We haven’t even been down the bloody road to see the Twelve Apostles!’ I was screeching and wailing by the end of it.

  There was a flicker of her lids. Slight. So slight.

  ‘Shit,’ Greg uttered.

  Then Melanie started sucking on Greg’s wrist. Weakly, but she was doing it.

  Oh, thank God. Thank God. Thank God!

  The mixture of relief and hope in the room was a heady thing. We weren’t out of the woods yet, but this was amazing.

  Feeling slightly dizzy, I pressed my palm to the wall to steady myself and willed my breaths to calm. I scrubbed tears from my eyes so I could see Melanie properly.

  The more she drank, the stronger the pulls on Greg’s wrist. Her face regained colour. She lost the glassy, vacant look and became aware. Her awareness didn’t extend to her surroundings, though. Her laser focus was directed purely on Greg’s blood.

  Greg pulled his wrist from her mouth. Melanie tried to follow, her head and shoulders lifting off the bed, her mouth seeking. Scott pushed her gently back down. He stroked her face. And while Greg swiped his tongue over the savage-looking wound in his wrist, Melanie’s eyelids slowly drifted shut.

  She didn’t open them again. Her closed eyes and death-like stillness didn’t freak anyone out this time. We were ready for this. The extended sleep where her body would be busy changing into something else.

  We all silently observed her for a few minutes, watching for any change, regardless of what we knew needed to happen.

  ‘I’m going to hunt,’ announced Greg abruptly. ‘She’ll be okay for a while.’ And before anyone had a chance to say anything, he was out the door.

  Scott and I stayed by Melanie’s side.

  Eventually, I drifted to the door and stared out into the darkness.

  When I turned back, Scott was whispering to Melanie. Telling her a bunch of stuff she couldn’t hear. They were fine. It was Greg who needed me at present.

  I left the room and wandered with no destination in mind. I wasn’t worried about the dark. If it wasn’t for the existence of snakes, I wouldn’t have been concerned about walking into the bushland. I knew Greg would sense me out there. I stopped as I reached the tree line. The white bark of the towering ghost gums was visible in the moonlight. I inspected the trunk of one, and when I deemed it to be snake and spider free, I leant against it and waited.

  I became so lost in my own ruminations, when Greg spoke from behind me, I got a bit of a fright.

  ‘Kayana,’ was all he said. Just my name. The longer version that he used only when either I was in trouble, or he was extremely troubled.

  When he came around to stand in front of me, he was all stiff posture and tortured eyes. He was looking near me but not quite at me. There was no point asking lame questions I already had the answers to. Things like, ‘Are you all right?’ Or, ‘What’s the matter?’ Instead, I stepped forward, rested my hand on his cheek and said, ‘Thank you, Greg, for saving Mel. What you’ve done for her—it’s amazing. She would have wasted away and left us way too soon. From this day, she’ll have a whole new life in front of her. Because of you.’

  He met my gaze, staying silent for a time. Then he made a sound, a harsh expulsion of air from his nose. ‘I almost lost her.’ His voice was ragged. ‘I thought I’d fucking lost her.’

  ‘I know. I know, baby.’ Tears pricked the backs of my eyes again. I would never forget the experience of believing Melanie had gone. I palmed the other side of Greg’s face and held him firmly between my hands. ‘It must have been so awful for you. We were all frightened. But you were the one feeling as if you were shouldering all the responsibility. No one would have laid the blame at your feet if she didn’t pull through. We went into this with our eyes open—all of us. But you did it, Greg. You did it. Thank you for saving her life.’

  He was quiet again for a moment, then, ‘Fuck!’ That was all he uttered in response before grabbing me and smashing me to him in a hug that left me almost breathless.

  I wrapped my arms around him, returning his hug. I loved that Greg was so tall and big and strong, although, right then, I wished he could rest his head on my chest so I could envelop him, soothe him, and make him feel protected and safe and loved. The way he always made me feel when I was ensconced in his arms. I did the best I could, rubbing circles on his back and murmuring a similar message that I’d already given him, whispering now, using different words.

  We held each other for a long time. Eventually, he pulled away and kissed my forehead. He normally would
have kissed my lips, too, but he’d just gone hunting. He’d consumed the blood of some sort of animal or animals. He never kissed my mouth after he’d consumed blood without a good teeth-brushing first, including a gargle with one of those set-your-muzzle-on-fire mouthwashes.

  The logistics of human-vampire relationships: serious business and not to be taken lightly.

  Chapter Ten

  I woke, disoriented, wondering where the hell I was. Then it all came back to me.

  I sat up, blinking and shaking my head to clear the muzziness. I was in bed in the villa. Scott was fast asleep on the sofa a few feet away. The clock read 4:10 p.m.

  After Greg and I had returned to the storage space—lair (Melanie really should be banned from naming anything)—we’d hung around, watching Melanie and talking quietly. Greg had eventually shooed Scott and me out, saying we needed to get some rest.

  Regardless that we’d resembled a couple of things the cat had dragged in after giving them a good chewing, and that we’d felt dead on our feet, we couldn’t sleep. So Scott had ended up on the sofa in my bedroom, and we’d continued talking well into the morning. The last time I’d taken a peek at the clock before I’d fallen asleep, it had been almost 10:00 a.m.

  I slipped out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

  The sound of the shower must have woken Scott because when I returned to the bedroom, the sofa was empty.

  Starving, yet unable to bear sitting around while I ate my breakfast/dinner or whichever meal this would be, I grabbed some portable stuff—muesli bars, apples, shortbread biscuits—and made a thermos of coffee. I needed to get to the stor—lair—to see how everything was going. We were expecting Melanie to wake at sunset. Which was expected at 5:13 p.m., according to the day-length chart Scott and I had consulted the night before.

  ‘Is that coffee I’m smelling?’ asked Scott as he walked through the front door.

  ‘Yup. And I’ve got food.’ I shook the bag I was holding before throwing in a few chocolate bars for good measure.