Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Chapter 42

I wake up to something warm and delightful that is trickling down my throat. Remembering Eliot's promise, I suddenly bolt upright, thinking I must be feeding on him. It wakes me up instantly though the blood doesn't taste as delicious as it should.

"Helen, Helen, calm down. I am just giving you some blood from the stash we have with us." Tobias says soothingly.

Only when I can verify the truth of his words do I accept the blood bag and start drinking up. It tastes awful, but it's better than nothing. At least I can feel my wound healing up, and strength coming back to me. Still, it's nowhere near as good as feeding on a live human.

Once my senses are fully restored, I can feel a pair of persistent eyes on me, and even without looking, I know who it is. I know it is Eliot who has just witnessed my sloppy feeding on blood, human blood.

"You have a little bit of something, right here," Eliot says, coming in view with a handkerchief.

I am so shocked that there is anyone in the world who carries around a handkerchief that I don't even shrink back from his touch as he wipes away blood from my lips.

It's utterly embarrassing, especially having in mind that I haven't made this much of a mess while feeding for a while, and I hate the fact that he got to see me in this light.

"Now, you look perfect," he says with a gentleness I don't expect.

How can he look at me with that mixture of relief and kindness when he just witnessed me tearing into the blood bag? Doesn't he realize that I am the same way with my human victims?

At least with Seymour, I didn't have to worry about showing him my true nature since he has similar urges, he understands the thirst. How can I explain to a non-vampire my viciousness?

"How can you say that after witnessing how great my thirst is?" I ask retracting my fangs.

"I meant your wound is healed. Everything seems perfect now. I wish our healing could work that fast." Eliot says, backtracking.

"Aren't you repulsed?" Helen said.

"Would you be disgusted if you saw me chomping down on pork?" Eliot asks.

"No, not really, but it's not the same," I say, agitated.

"Of course not. I can choose not to eat pork. I can survive without it. You can't survive without human blood." Eliot says.

I am not sure why he is being so kind to me. It's difficult to believe that he really means it, that he can look past what I am so effortlessly. However, I don't know why else he would say that. He doesn't have any reason to lie to me about my feeding habits disgusting him or not.

"Where are we?" I ask, deciding that the change of topic may help me process the ease with which he is accepting something so vile about me.

"We walked down the river, literally. Well, the others carried you and me but still going down such a big river. It was pretty cool if you ask me." Eliot says.

"Masking the scent. Smart thinking." I say.

"Why thank you, I've been told I was a smart cookie more than once," Seymour says in a strange voice that doesn't sound like his own.

"We've been worried about you. The wound was taking longer to heal than we expected, and you weren't waking up. We were worried that you lost too much blood." Alarcos says.

I guess that explains Seymour's tone. He has never been good at dealing with emotions. Well, unless those emotions were love for Alarcos, apparently.

I wish I could stop thinking about that and get rid of some of the bitterness.

"Well, I am okay now. But you didn't tell me. Where are we now? We sure aren't in the middle of the river." I say, surveying our surroundings.

"We followed the flow of the river for as long as we could without risking your life, and we settled in this abandoned church so that you can feed but will have to move soon. Alarcos and I will go and check if it's safe to go on while you get your bearings." Seymour says.

As soon as he says that, the happy couple disappears before I can say anything or ask any additional questions, which is quite rude, in my humble opinion.

I search for Cecilia and Tobias with my eyes, and I see that they are engaged in some kind of planning. That means all I am left with is Eliot, whose eyes never leave me. The fact unnerves me since I am still not sure how I should behave in his proximity and why he is being so understanding.

Besides, I am the most experienced fighter in the group (not that I have shown that what with all the loss of consciousness and getting hurt) and yet I am excluded from all the planning. I know it's probably to let me heal in peace, but it only further annoys me that they don't think I am strong enough to even do strategic planning.

"Do you ever stop fighting?" Eliot asks thoughtfully.

"What do you mean? I spent years, decades without fighting." I say, confused.

"I am not talking about the physical fighting, that one is sometimes necessary. Do you ever stop fighting yourself, your feelings?" Eliot asks.

"I don't have many feelings to fight," I say.

"You're not fooling me, and no matter what you think, you never fooled your friends either. They just let you pretend not to care about anyone or anything because they think that's what you want. Maybe it is, but I don't think it's what you need." Eliot says.

"I am too tired for this psychoanalysis nonsense. You might be a Healer, but you don't know anything about what I am feeling or not feeling." I say, utterly annoyed that I can't even have a few moments of peace after taking the sword for the guy.

"Actually, being a Healer is as much about mental health as it is about physical health. Having a healthy mind and body is necessary for a person to be happy," he says.

"I don't want to be your patient, the guinea pig on which you can practice your 'Healer powers'," I say.

Only then do I realize how true that is. I don't want to be Eliot's pity project. As much as he thinks otherwise, I don't need to be.

"Trust me, you are so much more than that. All I want to do is help and remind you what it's like to be truly happy again," Eliot says.

The funny thing is that he actually seems to mean what he says, and I have no idea how to respond to that. I don't need his help, yet at the same time, I don't want to chase him away with my hostility.

Luckily, my answer is postponed by Alarcos and Seymour's return. I am happy I have more time to think about what I do want from Eliot because I am not sure I want him to leave me alone.

"We need to go," Seymour says, and off we go.