My Precious Nightmare

12: Juice Pouch

The next thing Husani knew he was holding an empty plastic pouch in which he had been sucking desperately on. A familiar sound of wet sliding across wet told him his abdominal muscles were weaving back into place over his insides. His own blood pooled around him. Alarmed, he threw the pouch aside, coughing as his throat cleared and his teeth retracted. The loud puttering hadn't left but surrounded him, as well as the metal walls of what could have only been the inside of the helicopter.

The tall, brunette vampire from the night before sat on the other side of the carrier, holding another plastic pouch of what could only be blood. He watched Husani with a flat, dry expression, and tossed the pouch into his lap.

Husani tried to leave it there, desperate to learn what had happened during his lapse of consciousness, then felt the pang of his torn wing, arm, and slowly returning left eye and lifted that pouch to his waiting fangs.

Human blood washed down his throat. It was cold and had a stale taste to it, but he melted with relief nonetheless. Animal blood could stave off instincts, but only human blood would do when this injured.

The tall vampire tossed over a set of heavy headphones, having put a matching pair on his own head. Once Husani had finished off the pouch, he put them on.

"Who was that?" asked his hunter-turned-savior.

Husani felt along the side for the mouthpiece and pulled it down.

"A very, very old vampire who I've been tracking down for the past few weeks. He's the cause of that string of bear attacks."

"I gathered that much. How do I know it wasn't you?"

Husani gaped at him.

"You went through all that to save me—"

"—Because you saved me," he said sharply. "I don't do debts. But we're even now, so I plan on shooting you in the head once you give me the answers I need. Why's a thing like that in the city? What's brought him here? If he's old he probably has other places to be or a brain to realize he's asking to be killed."

Husani managed a wry grin. "Saying you're going to kill me once you've got your answers doesn't give me much incentive to keep talking."

"Then I'll just kill you now." He pulled out a rather thick looking pistol from underneath his leg and leveled it at Husani's eyes.

Husani raised an eyebrow.

"Blow out my brains and it won't kill me," said Husani slowly.

"Blow out your jaw and it will leave you writhing for eternity for want of blood," said the man, calmly. "Unless you're going to tell me that even that heals in time? I wouldn't know. I'm new at this. Kind of fun to watch you, though." He jerked his chin to where Husani's shoulder bone grew back together like a sprouting plant played on fast-forward, followed by the wet sound of the flesh crawling after it.

Husani took in the very human sheen of the other man's blue eyes and his still somewhat sweet scent. "I'm impressed you haven't gone on a killing spree yourself. You seem to be right at home in your faculties."

"Blood banks are a wonderful thing. Now, if you wouldn't mind," He cocked his gun.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you much. From what I know, old vampires don't do killing sprees. They're old because they refrained from doing just that, and as one ages their need for blood decreases as well. They're durable, though, and more monster than human when put on the defense. If we had stayed there, the two of us would have been shredded."

The other man's eyes jumped from one of Husani's to the other. Husani didn't move a muscle, nor did he look at the pistol.

"Why were you hunting him?" he asked.