Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ What Stephenie Meyer and Anne Rice Never Told You ❯ Rise and Shine ( Chapter 1 )

 

 

It took a long moment for me to realize why I wasn't hearing the jarring screech of my alarm clock. It came slowly, the last tendrils of sleep stubbornly clinging to my consciousness. The feel of rough concrete scraping against my cheek was the first hint. Then the pain, held at bay by the sweet bliss of sleep, returned in a dark wave and I was soon gasping for breath. Blinking away tears, I tried to do a quick mental inventory of my injuries. My left arm was still twisted beneath me where I'd fallen, and I could feel that it was at least fractured, if not broken. My neck was sticky with dried blood from Marcus' attack, but it no longer hurt. My stomach knotted tightly but I forced myself not to dwell on that.

 

Next, the deep gash that went from my left thigh to the outer side of my knee. Yikes. On top of that were several bruises and countless small wounds that I didn't even bother thinking about. What mattered was that I was very hurt and in an extremely vulnerable position.

 

I cried out with a voice raspy from screaming. My head swam as I braced myself to move again. With an enormous effort I managed to pull my arm from under me and turn on my back. Hot, bright sunshine pierced through my closed eyelids and I flinched. It had to be at least two in the afternoon. How had I escaped notice? Usually an injured, bleeding woman lying in a parking lot would attract attention. Like everything else, that worry was shoved to the back of my mind as I dealt with the matter at hand.

 

Finally I managed to get to a sitting position. Hesitantly, I opened my eyes. Sure enough, people were walking right on by as if I weren't sitting ten feet away from them. It took my scrambled brain a moment to realize why. I looked at the now bloodstained charm on my wrist and grinned cynically. Ah, yes, Roselda's charm had worked wonderfully. Too bad it hadn't worked on the undead.

 

With I sigh I admitted to myself that it was probably for the best anyway. Doctors had a nasty tendency to ask questions. It's be far more trouble than it was worth. Besides, the S.S. had it's own medical unit more than capable of patching me up. If only I could get there.

 

Getting to my feet was about as easy as pulling all my teeth out with a wrench, but panting and looking bright and cheery, I'm sure, I stood and managed to fish my phone out of my pocket. Thanking the numerous deities that it was still functional, and that I had a decent signal, I made the call. I winced at the cheery tone of the secretary who answered. Gods, why couldn't Luke just give me his gaddamned cell number? I asked to be transferred through gritted teeth, anger taking the edge off the pain.

 

I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to leave a voicemail- a voicemail, for crying out loud, and here I was in need of medical attention- when he finally answered in a vague, I'm-really-not-interested-in-talking-to-you tone.

 

"Is it really so hard to comprehend that one of these days not having your cell number is going to kill me?" I growled.

 

He was silent for a moment. "Jesus, Jo, is that you?"

 

"Nah, it's her doppelganger. Just thought I'd call to say hi. You been following the Mets?" I cut myself off before I went off. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that it was never a good idea to lose control... not that it helped any. Luckily Luke was a bit faster than me this morning.

 

"Where are you? Are you in CC?"

 

Ah, all business as usual. The SS was fond of code words. Management said it made things go faster. CC was short for 'critical condition'- and one that I unfortunately knew very well. Being a Slayer has that risk. I refrained from giving the poor guy another sarcastic comment and told him my location. Then I staggered over to the lamppost and waited.

 

Just another fun-filled day in the SS...

 

I'm not sure how long I stood there. Using the techniques taught to me by my mentor I kept the pain at bay. Well, mostly. I glanced at the clock on my standard-issue cell phone and groaned. My guess had been close- it was going on three in the afternoon. Danni was going to kill me if I missed Amber's recital. When I moved to Portland after High School my sister had insisted that I move in with her. At first I protested- after all, she was busy with college and being a single mom- but she threatened to call Dad and tell him I planned to live with my non-existent boyfriend. Needless to say, I relented. The fact that Danni was constantly busy did nothing to keep her from prying into my personal life. I can't even begin to count how many times she's set me up on blind dates.

 

Having Amber around makes it bearable- most of the time. Being Danni's roommate, I'm the first to get asked to 'baby-sit'. Personally, I don't see the point. Amber is sixteen- way too old to need me around. Usually I just let her hang out with friends. She's a neat kid- I've never had any problems with her. Amber got her name because of her eyes. Like her mother and myself, she was cursed with nearly transparent skin and thick, dark hair. But her eyes turned out to be a rich amber gold instead of icy blue like her mother's or deep green like myself. Some people find it creepy but honestly, I'm a little jealous.

 

I was deep in thought when Luke lightly touched my arm; therefore I accept no responsibility for him being flat on his ass a few moments later. Rule number one: Do not sneak up on the vampire slayer when she's distracted. It's probably the last thing you'll ever do. I grinned apologetically and held out my hand. He shook his head and stood up on his own.

 

"I'd probably pull you down with me. You don't look too good."

 

"It's not too bad." I scratched my bloody neck unconsciously. "I've had worse."

 

His deep brown eyes looked worried. "Did you get him this time? I'm getting real sick of him playing around with you. We all are."

 

'We' consisted of the Night Crew at S.S. Usually the team consisted of myself, Luke, Georgia(the secretary who sounded like nothing short of a sale at Bloomingdale's could excite her), Mike and the Boss. When we weren't out on a hit Luke, Mike and I manned the phones. When someone had a 'problem' they contacted us first. The police simply weren't equipped to deal with vampires, werewolves, or shades. They just cleaned up after us. As for 'him', let's just say that he's been far too much trouble than he's worth.

 

Before I could answer him his cell phone beeped. He answered it automatically- in our business not answering a call could mean someone's life.

 

"Hello?"

 

I let my gaze wander to the people waking by, so completely oblivious of what was going on around them. Most of these 'normies' only know what Anne Rice and Stephanie Meyer had taught them. In my opinion that about amounted to 'vampires have feelings too and we love them because they sparkle'. if only they knew. I turned my attention back to Luke.

 

"Yeah. OK." He reached out to help me and I gratefully put my weight against him. Luke was one of those guys that looked like they could snap you like a toothpick. I swear he spent half his time in the gym. He was about six foot four and boasted incredibly impressive muscles under deep chocolate skin. Not a guy I'd want to piss off. He probably could have carried me to the car without any effort. I'd never let him though. Not because of pride- I just really hate the thought of being carted around like some helpless damsel in distress. We made it to the nondescript blue Toyota Camry and I tumbled into the back seat.

 

S.S. headquarters was cleverly disguise as a crisis hotline center. It was nestled snugly between a 7-11 and a small community park. The building was three stories tall (no one had rented out the other floors in decades) and painted a washed-out green. S.S only worked on the first floor. We had three rooms- the phone room, the meeting room, and the 'safe' room. Georgia, Mike, Luke and I practically lived in the phone room. The name is really self-explanatory. The meeting room was usually only used when the Boss came to discuss extremely serious cases. The safe room was where we went to recover after a hit.

 

This was the room I managed to limp to after refusing Luke's help. Can't let myself get soft. The comforting atmosphere enveloped me as I walked in. It had a homey, lived-in feeling. I swear the Boss invited Martha Stewart to decorate this place. The only furniture was a twin sized bed and a small floral couch on the opposite wall. None of the rooms on the bottom floor had windows. The walls were painted a soft rose pink and the floor practically gleamed with wax. I sat on the bed gratefully and tried not get sick. I didn't do well in small spaces on the best of days.

 

Luke came in behind me with the first aid kit and a few towels. He used the sink beside the couch to dampen a few paper towels and began to wipe the blood from my neck. Neither of us spoke as he examined my skin for bite marks. After a moment he turned and retrieved a syringe from the kit.

 

"Are you kidding me Luke? We don't even know if he actually bit me-" I didn't like how weak my voice sounded.

 

"Better safe than sorry, Jo. You know what happens if we don't inject it." he didn't even pause as he filled the syringe with a smoky liquid. "That's how we lost Bernie."

 

I swallowed. I hated the shots. The ugly truth about vampire bites is that only two percent of victims actually survive. The bite of a vampire almost always becomes infected. The pain combined with the venom that messes with your head causes the victim to randomly attack people with almost no idea what the hell they're doing. The other two percent either accepted their new life as the undead or committed suicide. The shots were developed by a scientist in the 1800s that worked for the S.S. I'm not sure what's in them, but I do know that they hurt like a bitch, infected or no. I gripped the comforter tightly as Luke turned. I nodded once, tightly, to show I was ready. My colleague inserted the needle and mercilessly injected the Cure.

 

The only good thing about the next twenty minutes was that I probably scared the living shit out of Georgia with my blood-curdling scream. That'll teach her to paint her nails on duty.