Page 31 of Oklahoma Storms
He is slow and steady, easing me into the chair. The sun coming through the blinds hurts, and I lift my bloodied hand to block the rays, but Westin is on it, using his paranormal speed to close them.
“Thank you,” I sigh in relief.
“Here.” Jazz appears in the seat next to me, holding out my phone. “Call who you need to. We aren’t leaving your side. I’ll go grab some towels to clean you guys up and to go shower the blood off you.”
“No one is helping me fucking shower,” I seethe. “I can do that on my own.”
My friends fall quiet as I scroll through my phone for Kentucky’s name.
“If you need help to shower, we will help. You know we don’t care. We’re worried, Oakley. This isn’t normal.”
“I know,” I rasp, putting the call on speaker because holding the device adds an ache to my joints that I can’t handle right now.
“I’ll get started on the cleanup,” Jazz says, pushing his chair back.
“No. It’s okay. I can do it. I need some time, but you guys don’t have to do that. I’ll get to it.”
“Oakley?”
“Jazz?”
“Shut the fuck up.” And just like that, the place where Jazz was sitting is empty as he goes to get cleaning supplies.
“Seriously,” Westin echoes.
“Oklahoma!” Kentucky picks up on the fifth ring. “How are you doing? I’m glad you called. I wanted to ask how the rescue is doing? Do we need to have a meeting anytime soon?”
“Kentucky—” his name is a broken struggle as I try to speak. “I need help. I need answers to what is going on with me.”
Kentucky’s voice darkens to a low baritone. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I’m throwing up blood. My body fucking aches. Speaking hurts my ears. I figured you might know what’s going on since you’ve been a vampire longer than me.”
“Oh. Oh. Oh. Kentucky. Pick me. I know. Pick me.” A familiar voice in the background sounds a little too excited.
“Lorcan, he isn’t asking you.”
“Yeah, but I like answering questions. Plus, I can get to him right now. I’m on my way!” Lorcan shouts.
“No!” Kentucky and I say in unison, but it’s too late.
Lorcan, our friendly neighbor Void, who reaps souls, is in front of me, his skeletal figure cloaked by a ragged black cloak.
“Oh, wow, Kentucky. It’s a murder scene in this kitchen. Blood is difficult to clean too,” he tsks, shaking a boney finger.
“I’m so sorry, Oakley. He just does that.” Kentucky sounds just as exasperated as I feel.
“It’s fine. I’ll leave you on speaker so you can hear everything.”
Lorcan takes Jazz’s chair and crosses his legs. “I’m surprised the vampire who turned you didn’t warn you about this.”
“About what?” Westin sneers. “I don’t even know what’s going on with him.”
“Because you were bitten. Bitten vampires don’t know everything like you all think you do. You have to learn as you go. This happened to Kentucky too, but not so soon. Interesting.”
I don’t feel anything from Lorcan. There’s no emotion at all. It’s like a never-ending abyss.
It’s a welcome relief.
