Thirst No. 4 Read Free

for dead Sita. I finally realize I’m alive only because he wills it, and that this respite won’t last forever, or even a great many days. He has sent me back for a purpose and I have a limited amount of time to accomplish it.

TWO
     
    S eymour volunteers to take me back to my hotel, where I share a room with Matt. Almost immediately after leaving the cemetery grounds, I begin to feel physically worse. I don’t know if my sensitivity to the daylight has suddenly increased or if it’s just because we’re driving east, in the direction of the sun, but the bright glare hurts my eyes. Pulling down the car’s visor and closing my eyes helps, but the irritation remains.
    And I have a worse problem.
    My guts are cramping. It is as if two maniacs have grabbed hold of opposite ends of my intestines and decided to play a game of tug-of-war. The spasms are so intense I feel they’ll cause internal damage.
    I haven’t had such a sensation in a long time. Around five thousand years. Yet I recognize it immediately. I’m experiencinghunger pangs. A vampire’s hunger pangs. I need blood, Christ, I have to have it soon or I’ll go insane.
    Seymour glances over at me. “Are you all right?”
    “Fine. Why?”
    “You’re squirming in your seat.”
    “The sun’s bothering my eyes.”
    “Close them.”
    “I tried that. It’s still bothering me.”
    “Is that all that’s bothering you?”
    “You are. Shut up and drive.”
    “Sita. Tell me what’s wrong.”
    Another spasm strikes. I feel as if my stomach’s trying to tear itself in two.
    “I’m thirsty,” I whisper.
    “It’s not the Array?”
    “It’s this body. It’s young, it has to be fed.”
    “Oh shit.”
    An uneasy silence settles between us, disturbed by the loud pounding of his heart, the pulsing of his blood through thousands of veins, millions of microscopic capillaries. It’s like the sound is promising me it will provide instantaneous relief—if I just reach over and rip open his skin.
    “What are we going to do?” he asks.
    “Drop me at my hotel, let me worry about it.”
    He’s scared but not as scared as he should be.
    “You’re going to have to tell Matt. You’re going to need his help. At least when it comes to getting blood.”
    “I’ve been a vampire a long time. I can handle it,” I say.
    My hotel is a Hilton. It’s rated four stars and stands on the outskirts of town. Seymour is staying at a Sheraton two miles away. He tries to walk me to my room but I convince him I’ll be okay. The sound of his blood is like the song of the Sirens in my head, calling us both to our doom. My thirst has entered the insane region where I’ll do anything to satisfy it.
    I practically run from Seymour’s car.
    Matt’s not in our room. He’s left a note. It says something about needing to scout the area for Telar. I hardly read it. I don’t care about Matt or the Telar. Now it’s my own pulse that pounds in my brain like a primal drum that knows only one message: FEED ME!
    Perhaps if I was in my old body, and had all of my ancient power, I might have resisted the urge longer. Alas, I’ve inherited Sita’s soul, I am Sita, but for some reason I lack her strength of will.
    I pick up the phone and push the button for room service. I order something, anything, it doesn’t matter what’s on the menu. It’s the person who will bring the meal that counts; they are what I’m having.
    Nevertheless, waiting for the food to arrive, pacing like an addict in need of a fix, I promise myself I won’t commit murder. I just need a drink, a pint or two, to satisfy my thirst. I’m not going to hurt anyone. I suspect my mind—and therefore my new brain—retains a measure of its old power. When Ifinish feeding, I can always hypnotize my victim with my eyes and make him forget there’s a vampire in room 1227.
    No one need know. Not even Matt.
    A knock at the door. I answer in an instant. The odors of rare steak and a baked potato fill the air. Along with