Chapter 19

Patrick tensed, waiting. Would she bite him like Claudius did? Would she beat him? His breath choked into a terrified rattle and every hair stood on end, desperately sensing for her. Was she close? How close?

There was a whoosh of air, then a crack. A millisecond later Patrick felt the sting on his naked back. A whip? Holy Jesus! Was she really?

A second crack killed the question and he choked back a cry of burning pain. The impact of the next lash drove him to his knees. He held himself up, hands braced against the cold floor.

"Four," she said dispassionately as she cracked the whip again. "Five. Six."

The echoes of Patrick's screams died. He could feel her draw close, though he couldn't see her. Her breath tickled his raw back, then he felt something hot and moist slide over the raw wounds. Holy shit, she was licking him! He whimpered and she replied with soft pleasured sounds as she lapped at the blood; his blood.

Oh God, make it stop!

She pulled away and he heard the whip drag across the floor, ready to slash him again. The suffocating black choked him and he squeezed his eyes shut against it and the coming onslaught.

Only it didn't come.

Her fingers traced feather light over his shoulders and he shivered. "That's enough, isn't it, child? You've learned your lesson?"

"Yes," he choked out. He'd have signed his soul away to make it end.

"Good. From now on will you show Claudius the respect he deserveswhether you think he deserves it or not?"

"Yes. Yes."

"What is he?" she pressed.

The question confused Patrick. "A vampire?"

She clicked her tongue and the whip whistled through the air to slam into him. He choked on his scream and she laughed softly. "He is your master. I'll ask you again." She raised the whip "Who is he?"and unleashed it with a crack.

"Mymy master!" Patrick shrieked.

"One more time."

Schwip. Crack.

"Master! He's my fucking master!"

"Very good. I think we're done here. Someone will be along to let you loose."

As her footsteps clicked away through the blackness, he slid to the floor to lie on his side. Alone in the dark, with only terror and pain for company, he couldn't stop the sobs that shook him.

Minutes passed, or maybe they were hours. The burning pain in his back was worse with every breath and the smell of blood grew stronger with each terrified heartbeat. At last, hurried footsteps drew near and Patrick tensed.

"Pat?" It was Michael. "Hey man, you okay?"

Patrick dragged himself into a semi-sitting position. "What the fuck do you think? I was chained up and whipped like some kind of slave."

Michael cleared his throat. "I told you already, that's what you are." The silence that followed was louder than words, and Michael forced it away. "Claudius sent me release you. He said next time you'll be chained up all night." He unfastened the shackles. "Now do you see why I have to get out? They're psychos! I've been dealing with this kind of shit for months."

Patrick bit his lip, but it was already chewed to pulp. "I-I made the deal with Jorick."

He heard the sharp intake of Michael's breath. "What?"

"After .After." but he couldn't admit what Troy had done. "After Claudius bit me. Jorick was in the park. He promised they'd kill Troyand Claudius."

"Goddammit, Pat! But they want to wait months. I can'twe can't wait months."

Patrick closed his eyes. "I know, but there's nothing else. I can't kill them, and neither can you."

"You haven't tried."

"Have you?" Patrick snapped. "If you're one of them and you still can't do it, then how the hell am I supposed to? I've seen movies and shit. Vampires are like super-strong and super-fast. I can't compete with that."

Michael drew a breath heavy with defeat. "All right, since you've already agreed, I guess we're stuck. What's the plan?"

"I don't know. I was in lousy shape and I just wanted to go home. I guess we should probably find them."

While Michael sulked, Patrick felt around for his cast off clothes. He held back a cry as he pulled the t-shirt over his head. The jacket would have to wait.

"Can we get out of here?"

"Yeah." Michael waited while Patrick dragged himself to his feet. "By the way, your shirt's wrong side out."

"Right now, I don't care."

***

Michael led Patrick to the carriage house and into a small red car. Patrick sank carefully into the seat and laid the coat over himself like a blanket. He was too tired and heartsick to talk, so they passed the trip in silence. Michael let him off at his apartment building with the words, "Since this was your idea, you better find them and get some kind of a meeting set up."

Fucking great.

The shower hurt too much. Patrick twisted this way and that, but he couldn't get a good view of his injuries in the mirror. What he could see was red, swollen, and still bleeding in spots. The next morning, the crimson streaks on the sheets told the same story. He dressed carefully in a black shirt and lost himself in a bottle of whisky and a handful of pills.

Sometimes alcohol is the only thing that makes sense.

***

Monday, January 22nd

The weekend was a blur. On Monday, Patrick's mother brought his laundry over, but he was too out of it to focus on her lecture. When she left, he forced himself into the bathroom. His shirt stuck to his back, and he ripped it free with a cry. A sobering shower swirled pink down the drain; he was bleeding again. When he was clean he checked the mirror. The bites on his chest were still sore, but they were healing. He had a hard time seeing his back, but what he could make out was heavily scabbed, except where he'd pulled it loose. God, how long would that take to get better? Or at least stop hurting?

He took a handful of pain pills, got dressed, and scuttled out the door. Outside was washed in purple twilight, and he hurried to the grocery store as fast as he could. He bought gauze and Tylenol and three tubes of antibiotic cream. Then he added three bottles of Jack, to help with the pain. He still had plenty of money from Michael's envelope, so he took his purchases and stopped for pizza.

Inside the pizza place, Hailey was seated like a queen at the head of a checkered table, Mark on her right, her court gathered around her. Patrick noted with no enthusiasm that Christenson was absent, and there wasn't an empty place for him.

Patrick slouched into his coat and tried to hide as he gave the girl at the counter his order. "That will be about thirty minutes," she chirped. "You can have a seat over there."

He hurried to the bench around the corner and slunk down against the wall. The clock ticked off the minutes with a spatula shaped hand. He'd almost gotten away with it when

"Patrick!"

He looked up to see Bethy, one of Hailey's friends, standing in front of him. "Oh my god, you look like shit."

"Yeah, you look great, too." He self-consciously rubbed the stubble on his chin.

"Are you getting pizza?"

No, I'm building a fucking bridge, what does it look like? "Yeah. Carryout. Almost done."

She nodded to the brown paper bag at his feet. "Going to a party?"

"Yeah." It was easier than the truth.

"Do you have a date?"

He cocked an irritated eyebrow. "What's with all the questions?"

She drew her hands together and swooped to fill the empty space on the bench. Her voice dropped, "Don't tell anyone, but I think Mark and Hailey are going to break up."

Patrick rubbed his head with one hand. "Why would they do that? Aren't they having a baby?"

"Maybe, and maybe not." When Patrick didn't comment she added, "I don't think it's Mark's."

Patrick snorted. "You're surprised?" Bethy looked shocked and he shrugged. "Sorry, I'm not feeling very friendly after that shit at New Year's."

The pizza girl appeared at the counter with a box, and a wave for Patrick. He stood to collect his order, but Bethy caught his arm. "She feels bad about not standing up to her brother, you know. They haven't really spoken since. That's why he's not here."

"And it's not on my account." Patrick pulled his arm free. "See ya round."

Bethy followed him to the counter. "She really does feel bad. I think she's still got feelings for you."

Internally, Patrick wavered for a moment, then he turned away. "Good for her. Take care, Bethy."

He couldn't deal with that shit right now.