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kathierif_ficTitle: A Bad Taste In Your Mouth (One Blood, One Life)
Author: Kathie (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathierif_fic)
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing: none. This is gen. OMG.
Rating: FRM
Part 1 | Part 2
3.
“That one.”
Danny looked up with some difficulty. His eyes felt gritty, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, and the Nightwatchers had taken his glasses, together with his belt, his badge, his watch, and his shoes. His entire body ached in a dully throbbing way that seemed to be synchronized with the beat of his heart. His ribs hurt as if he’d been kicked repeatedly, and he was dirty and stiff.
What he needed, he thought grumpily while narrowing his eyes to focus on the two big strong guards that were moving toward him now, was a nice long shower and a long nap in a comfortable bed, and not one second longer of staying here, curled up on the hard ground with all these other unwashed people.
He didn’t belong here. He had a job and a purpose in life. Him being here, locked up by the Nightwatchers, was a big mistake, a screw-up in the system. He’d tried to tell that to the guards when they had taken his belongings, but they hadn’t listened to him.
Maybe someone – Lindsay, most likely – had finally realized that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, that he hadn’t come home and that he was missing, and had made a few calls, to get him out of here. He didn’t even know exactly how long he’d been here. Without his watch and without any windows, it was almost impossible for him to tell the time, but it was long enough that someone had to have noticed that Danny had disappeared without a trace.
Until this mess was cleaned up, he was caught in this tiny cell in the Nightwatchers’ main building, together with a skinny pale girl that was silently crying and had done so ever since she’d been pushed into the cell, and two thickly muscled, drunk, middle aged guys who both screamed trouble to Danny. Fortunately, they had fallen asleep quickly after being brought here and hadn’t bothered anyone. Danny had tried to calm down the girl, but she’d only cried harder when he’d wrapped his arm around her, and after a while, Danny had given up.
The steel door that separated Danny from his freedom rattled as it was opened, and one of the two officers stepped into the cell and reached down to grab Danny’s upper arm and to pull him roughly to his feet.
“Come on,” he grunted and made a gesture, indicating that Danny should turn around.
Sluggishly, Danny followed the order. His wrists were cuffed behind his back, and he was guided out of the cell before he fully realized what was happening to him. Every fiber of his body protested against the sudden movements after sitting still for so long, but he clenched his teeth and refused to let a single sound escape. He wouldn’t give the officers that kind of satisfaction.
He was guided down a long hallway, around a few corners and through a few doors, until he finally was standing in what looked an office, in front of a desk. A tall, slender man dressed in black, with a high collar that ended just below his jaw, sat behind it. His hair was combed and parted perfectly, and he was leaning back in his chair now to muster Danny from head to toe.
“Are you Danny Messer?” the man finally asked. The collar around his throat gave him away as a Donor, and Danny knew that he had to be careful when interacting with this man. He didn’t want to annoy the vampire that belonged to that one.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Danny managed to say. His voice was rough and scratchy, and he swallowed thickly.
The Donor’s dispassionate gaze went down Danny’s body, from the tips of his unwashed hair over the shirt he’d been wearing for days now to the sock that had a hole in the left big toe.
“You have been selected,” he informed Danny with a distasteful curl of his upper lip.
“Selected?” Danny repeated, disbelief filling his still rough voice. “That must’ve been a mistake.”
The Donor stiffened behind his desk, which, a small part of Danny’s brain thought, was quite a feat considering his already board-like posture.
“So you are not Mister Danny Messer?” he asked, his voice sharp like a good kitchen knife. “Occupation police officer?”
“I am Danny Messer,” Danny replied, his voice rising in agitation. He tugged at the cuffs that held his wrists, but it was useless.
“In that case, sir…” The Donor sneered again, “…there was no mistake. You’ve been selected and matched.”
Danny grimaced. “I can’t be selected,” he protested. “I have the paperwork, to keep me from being put in there!”
The Donor glared at Danny. “Your protective status has been revoked,” he informed him coldly. “You were in the pool and you were selected. Stop resisting. You can’t change it.”
He gave a nod, and the two guards that had brought Danny here grabbed his elbows and started to haul him out of the office and down a series of hallways and off to an uncertain future.
~*+*~
Don blinked his eyes open just as Mac shook his shoulder a second time. Sheldon next to him was already sitting up and rubbing his eyes, and Don quickly followed his example. “Mac? What time is it?” he asked, his words slurred together.
“Early,” Mac murmured and pressed a glass of juice into Don’s hand. “Drink.”
Don didn’t protest. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip before asking, “What’s wrong?”
“Besides Sheldon oversleeping?” Mac shook his head slightly. “Another attack on a claimed Donor,” he murmured. “She managed to escape, but her vampire was furious. Ripped the attacker to pieces, in front of the already traumatized Donor. Stella’s talking to her right now, trying to find out what triggered the attack.”
Sheldon didn’t say a single word and climbed off the bed. He left the room and locked the door to the bathroom behind himself.
“Great job,” Don muttered and stood to bring the now empty glass back into the kitchen. “Now he feels guilty about his stupid serum not working.” He sighed and shook his head slightly, to get rid of the daze of sleep and blood loss.
“We both know it’s not Sheldon’s fault,” Mac replied. “He’s a good scientist.”
Don rolled his eyes. “Tell him that, not me,” he suggested before stepping out of the room.
The apartment was mostly dark, the only light coming from the room he’d just stepped out of. Don didn’t mind as he padded through the main room and toward the room that was technically his, even if he didn’t spend that much time there. He knew the layout of the place by heart and didn’t need any light to find his way around. Grabbing a clean shirt, he pulled it on and went back to the kitchen, to find something to eat.
The kitchen had become the part of the apartment where he could almost do whatever he wanted. The vampires didn’t need to eat like he did and didn’t pay too much attention to the things he did here.
He sighed softly and allowed his thoughts to drift back to what Mac had said, about Donors being attacked.
It almost surprised him that his phone hadn’t rung yet, calling him to deal with the repercussions of another attack. Don didn’t have a formal education in dealing with the aftereffects of a vampire attack, but he had a knack for listening to people and asking the right questions, helping the victims to remember details which in turn helped the police to track down the attacker.
A glance at the clock told him that it was, in fact, still early. He’d only slept for about an hour.
He frowned. It was unusual that Mac was already home, but then Don understood the fear and worry about something happening to a Donor. Without him, both Mac and Sheldon would be without a source of fresh blood, and Mac had gone for long enough without any that he was jumpy and twitchy already.
Soft steps behind him made him turn around, and Sheldon stepped up to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m off to the lab,” he murmured. “Try to get some more rest, okay? I might have an idea what went wrong with the last serum.”
“Okay,” Don nodded. “Good luck with that.”
He watched the vampire step out of the kitchen and waited until he could hear the door close behind him before turning back to the food in front of him.
Sheldon had been right. They needed to bring Mac to stop being stubborn and eat before he either became too weak and died, or before he snapped, like all the vampires who didn’t have a Donor and attacked someone who could fulfill their needs, and since Don was the closest and most compatible source of blood for Mac, chances were that he would be the one to face the consequences of Mac snapping.
He had seen the results of a vampire snapping more than once, and it never was a pretty sight. He preferred not ending up like these victims.
A sharp pain pulled him from his thoughts, and he cursed quietly as he looked down and realized that he’d been lost so far in his own thoughts that he hadn’t paid attention to what he was doing and had cut himself with the knife.
The cut was only small, but a drop of blood quickly collected on its edge and started to slide down his finger.
Don sighed and put the knife down, to wash off the blood, when suddenly, he had an idea.
For a moment, he allowed himself a grin before schooling his face back into a neutral expression.
“Mac?” he called out and turned, to find the vampire before the small cut stopped bleeding.
It didn’t need much to get a hungry vampire to give in to the urge to eat, he knew that – it was what had caused all these vampires to snap and succumb to the blood rage, after all – and a single drop of blood should do the trick here.
“Hey, Mac?” he called again and stepped into the main room of the apartment. It was both a living room and an office, the walls lined with shelves for all the medical and forensic texts both vampires needed in their lines of work. Mac was sitting at the desk in the corner, where Don had found Sheldon a few hours ago, but he looked up and sniffed when Don stepped into the room.
Don crossed the room with a few quick steps and held out his injured finger to Mac.
Mac grasped his wrist carefully and looked at the small injury with a raised eyebrow.
“Don…” he started, but before he could add anything else, Don interrupted him.
“Cut myself,” he explained. “Kiss it better?”
Mac’s fingers were cool against his wrist, he noticed. The vampire needed to eat, sooner rather than later.
“Please tell me you didn’t do this on purpose,” Mac said, his eyes still on the small drop of blood.
Don grimaced. “I didn’t,” he said. “You should know me better than that!”
Mac shrugged slightly, but he lifted Don’s hand to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss against the injured finger. His tongue licked off the blood carefully, and Don swallowed at the sight.
It only took seconds for Mac’s saliva to close the cut, and he pulled away from Don, even if he could feel warm blood, so close to the surface of Don’s skin, calling to him and trying to seduce him to take more.
“Mac.” Don’s voice was sharp, his eyes troubled.
“I’m fine,” Mac managed and swallowed with some difficulty. The few drops of blood on his tongue had woken his appetite for more, and he clenched his teeth and struggled to get himself back under control.
“That’s why you’re here, right?” Don said, his voice rising in agitation. “You couldn’t handle the scene, right? You had to back out and let Stella handle it. The blood was too much for you.”
“Stella is more than capable of taking the lead on this case,” Mac replied stiffly. He was still struggling with his instincts.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not right,” Don argued, and there was nothing Mac could say to that. Don was right, but Mac still couldn’t allow himself to drink his Donor’s blood. Not when he knew that Sheldon had done so recently, and Sheldon needed the blood more than he did.
Don shoved his wrist into Mac’s face. Blue veins pulsed with warm blood under the pale, thin skin, and Mac could only stare at it, frozen in place.
“I swear, Mac,” he said, his voice quiet and furious. “You have two choices here. Either you bite me now or I’ll take that damn kitchen knife and do the job for you!”
Mac managed to shake off his rigidness and grabbed Don’s arm, pulling it way from his face. “Don’t,” he said, his voice rough and scratchy.
“Then do it,” Don replied, his voice still hard and uncompromising, and a sound of total anguish escaped Mac’s throat as he struggled with himself. Don shoved his wrist against Mac’s mouth again, and Mac frowned as instincts threatened to take over. He yanked Don’s arms away and turned it slightly, looking for the perfect angle.
The first taste of fresh blood filled his mouth and his entire consciousness. Every single cell of his body suddenly yearned for it, and he swallowed slowly, letting the metallic-tasting liquid run down his throat and warming him from the inside. Vaguely, he was aware of Don leaning against him and stroking the pointed tip of his ear gently.
He took a few more sips before pressing his tongue firmly against the bite marks and soothing them.
“More,” Don protested, but Mac licked the wounds again and stopped the flow of blood before pulling away.
He saw immediately that he’d been too rough and that he had left bruises on Don’s skin, having sucked too hard instead of letting the blood flow at its own speed into his mouth. It was a beginner’s mistake; one he regretted as soon as he realized what he’d done.
“You need more,” Don protested, but Mac shook his head.
“You can’t give any more,” he replied, his voice firm. “And you won’t.”
Don looked grim. “Call Sid, then,” he ordered. “Ask him.”
Mac sighed and stood to pull Don into a brief hug. “Sid was a Donor for forty years,” he said patiently. “He served his time.” He rubbed Don’s back gently. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”
“Yeah, well,” Don murmured, “I learned from the best, Mac.”
The phone rang.
Mac took a step back and reached for it. “Taylor.”
While he listened, Don had the opportunity to watch him. A deep line had appeared on Mac’s forehead. That never meant anything good, Don knew, and he wondered if there had been another attack.
On the other hand, he noticed, the feverish gleam had already disappeared from Mac’s eyes, and his cheeks had started to show some color. Within twenty-four hours, he knew, the vampire would look less like a walking corpse and more like a living being.
“Well?” Don asked as soon as Mac put down the phone. “New case?”
“No,” Mac replied. “An offer for a Donor.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If we’re interested, we need to go down to the Nightwatch Central Station today, or they’ll call the next name on their list.” He frowned slightly. “If we don’t take a look, we won’t be on top of the list for the next one.”
“So, what are you waiting for?” Don asked, amusement and a faint glimmer of excitement in his eyes.
Mac chuckled. “For you to get dressed,” he pointed out. “Unless you don’t want to take a look at our potential Donor…”
Don laughed, and he allowed Mac to fuss over him for a long moment, straightening his clothes and closing the collar around Don’s throat, and finally handing him the thin gloves, which Don accepted with a small nod.
“Shouldn’t we call Sheldon, too?” he asked curiously, but Mac shook his head. “This is just to establish our interest,” he pointed out. “You know how this works.”
“Only in theory,” Don replied. “I don’t even remember if you brought Sid when you picked me up.”
“We did, of course,” Mac said. “He was the one who had to deal with you. Check your homework and all that.”
“I was seventeen. I was able to do my own homework,” Don pointed out and wriggled his fingers into the gloves.
“Yeah?” Mac couldn’t stop the small grin from escaping. “Didn’t stop you from trying to make him help you.”
“What can I say, I’ve always been a smart kid,” Don grinned and smoothed the sleeves of his shirt down. “Want me to drive?”
~*+*~
“So…what now?” Don murmured while trying to reach under his wide collar to scratch his neck.
Mac gave him an amused glance. It looked as if didn’t matter that Don had gone through the Selection and Matching-process himself, or that he regularly helped other Donors through the process.
“Now we meet our potential new Donor,” he said calmly.
Don gave up his attempts to alleviate the itch of healing skin and sighed. “And you’re sure that this is necessary?” he asked quietly. “I can handle it, you know.”
Mac gave him a frown. “Don’t start again,” he warned.
Don just grimaced. “I won’t,” he promised. “I just…if this one doesn’t work out, I guess I just don’t want you to worry too much about it.” He shook his head and continued before Mac could reply. “So we’re getting a new kid in the house?”
“Not a kid,” Mac said and held out a file for him.
“Get outta here, one of you gave up a grown Donor?” Don asked in surprise as he took the folder and opened it.
“Not exactly, no,” Mac replied, but he fell silent and allowed Don to study the file for himself. Don was smart, and Mac didn’t plan on keeping anything from him.
“A cop, huh?”
Mac nodded. “Yeah, a cop.”
“But he’s compatible with you guys.”
It wasn’t a question, but Mac nodded nonetheless.
“You’ve seen that he’s trouble, right?” Don said as he closed the file and put it down on the table. “That would be the only reason I can think of that would have him end up in the pool, having his protected state revoked.”
“Thank you for making it sound like a punishment,” Mac replied with a small smile. “As if you ever had to suffer since you’ve been Selected.”
Don shrugged. “No, but I’ve been lucky,” he simply pointed out. “And it’s not as if I had my entire life turned around there.”
Don was bringing up a valid point there, Mac had to admit, but before he could reply, a soft cough made both men look up.
“Mr. Taylor, he is ready to see you now,” the Donor who had greeted them first when they’d come down to the station reported.
Mac nodded and straightened his jacket. “We will follow you,” he said and tilted his head invitingly.
The Donor hesitated slightly.
“It is unusual for a Donor to join his Master in picking his or her replacement,” he pointed out, and Don decided that he didn’t like this Donor one bit.
Judging from the sudden and deep frown on Mac’s forehead, he wasn’t the only one to think so.
“I’ve always brought my Donors with me,” he pointed out, his voice icy.
The other Donor stared at Don speculatively. “The rules have changed quite a bit,” he finally said. “Bringing retiring Donors – I assume there is something wrong with yours, perhaps a disease? He does look a bit pale.”
Don had known Mac since he was seventeen and had been matched to the vampire, and he rarely had seen him really angry. Right now, however, there was no doubt about the cold fury in the vampire’s bright green eyes. When Mac squared his shoulders and snapped his fingers, Don knew what to do. On silent feet, he stepped around the table until he was standing right behind Mac’s left shoulder while giving the other Donor a dark glare.
Nobody was replacing him just yet.
The other Donor flinched under their combined glares, but he didn’t resist anymore and lead them down the hallway, to meet the man who would maybe move in with them soon.
~*+*~
It wasn’t, Danny thought while shifting nervously from one bare foot to the other, as if being Selected was necessarily a bad thing. A lot of people were Donors – both casual and fulltime – and seemed happy, or at least content, with it.
It just wasn’t anything for him.
When he had turned seventeen, he’d been running around after Louie instead of applying to get Selected, and when Louie had told him that being Selected would be horrible, Danny had believed him without hesitation and without wondering how his brother could know that.
He’d still believed that being Selected was a bad thing to happen years later, when he’d already figured out that Louie hadn’t been the glowing role model Danny always had thought him to be, and he never had reason to change his mind about it. He’d managed to slip through the raster, had avoided random blood tests that could have determined him for a life as Donor, and had lived a happy life without bloodsuckers controlling every aspect of his life.
And now, they had finally caught up with him and he had been Selected as a Donor. Apparently, there was a long list of vampires who had just been waiting for Danny’s blood.
It was pretty unreal, he thought while shifting back to his other foot. He’d never expected that this would happen to him, trusting his luck and his badge to keep him safe, especially since he wasn’t one of those young, bright-eyed, pretty kids anymore who had been groomed from birth for a life as a Donor.
The guards had finally taken off his handcuffs and had allowed him to take a shower. They had given him clean clothes; sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips and a t-shirt, and had told him that a vampire would meet him here.
His match.
The vampire who was responsible that Danny was in this situation in the first place.
He didn’t know yet who this person was, but he already hated them with a fiery passion. If that certain vampire – and all the others on that stupid list – didn’t need this special kind of blood, nobody would have bothered Danny and forced him to be a Donor.
He wondered if strong emotions like hate would make a difference in the quality of his blood. One thing was for sure: if hate made his blood inedible, he would be free again soon. Besides – he straightened slightly – there had to be a way for him to say no. They couldn’t force him to give up his life. He wouldn’t let them. They would have to chain him down if they wanted him to stay with a vampire.
The door was slowly pushed open, and Danny squared his shoulders defiantly.
He would fight, and he would not give up until he was back where he belonged: at work and in his old life.
The man entering the room was tall, but not taller than Danny. He had a square jaw, short brown hair and he was wearing a suit with a blue dress shirt. His eyes were glinting in an unnaturally bright green color, and his skin was unhealthy pale, identifying him without a doubt as a vampire.
Danny swallowed thickly. They had told him that a vampire would talk to him, but he hadn’t expected a vampire with so much charisma. Even if the vampire was too pale to be healthy, it was obvious that he was in control of himself and the situation he was in.
“Danny Messer?” the vampire asked calmly.
Danny lifted his chin challengingly. “Yes,” he replied. “And you are?”
The vampire tipped his head slightly. “Nice to meet you,” he said politely. “My name is Mac Taylor. This is Don Flack.” He nodded toward the man who had followed him into the room.
That one, Danny knew immediately, was a Donor. Tall and lanky, with blue eyes, he wore the high collar of a Donor and gloves, the usual attire of a full-time Donor.
“Look,” he said before the vampire – Taylor – could continue. “This has been a mistake.”
The vampire lifted a corner of his mouth in amusement, but without showing his teeth. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Danny said firmly and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. They were getting cold, and he hated how the clothes he had been given made him feel exposed and unprotected. “See, I’m not…”
“Not what?” the vampire asked when Danny trailed off.
“Not a Donor,” Danny muttered.
Taylor gave him a long look. “No, you’re not,” he finally said. Danny flinched. It was one thing to refuse this lifestyle for himself, but the rejection from the vampire still stung.
“Why don’t we sit down before we continue this?”
Numbly, Danny nodded and settled into one of the chairs around the table. His feet were freezing by now.
“Danny.” Taylor frowned slightly. “Have you ever given blood to any of us?”
A shiver ran down Danny’s spine, and he clenched his hands in tight fists. “Yes,” he managed to say through gritted teeth. “I hated it.”
“Why?”
Danny could detect nothing but genuine curiosity in the vampire’s voice, but he still felt reluctant to reveal the circumstances of that one experience. Mutely, he shook his head.
Taylor glanced down briefly. “Would you be willing to give this a shot?” he asked quietly.
“No!” Danny shook his head firmly. “It was a mistake. I’m not a Donor!”
“No, not yet. But you will be.” Suddenly, there was a hard edge in Taylor’s voice. It made Danny flinch.
“Mac. Stop it.”
It was the first thing Danny heard the Donor, Flack, say, and he was surprised by the sharp warning in the man’s voice. So far, he had given the expression of being one of those devoted, submissive Donors that didn’t have a free will and only lived to serve their vampires.
Mac inhaled slowly. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, Mr. Messer. Danny.”
“Then let me go,” Danny demanded loudly, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice.
“He can’t do that,” Flack pointed out calmly. “If he leaves now, the next guy on the list gets a shot at you. I’m sure you know how that works. And there’s no guarantee that the next guy is as nice as Mac is.”
Danny saw how the vampire reached for his Donor and griped his wrist tightly, his fingers pressing over Flack’s pulse point, and he also realized that the vampire’s ears were pointy.
Pointy-eared bloodsuckers never were a good sign, Danny knew, and he became even more aware of the fact that he was absolutely unprotected.
The whole situation confused him – Taylor obviously had a Donor, one he adored, otherwise there was no explanation why he’d allowed him to be here in the first place, or why he just let his Donor talk to him so sharply and stop him from just taking Danny right here and now.
“I don’t understand this,” he admitted after a long moment of silence.
“What don’t you understand?” Taylor asked gently.
“You obviously already have a Donor. Why aren’t you using him? Why…” Danny swallowed. “…why are you replacing him?”
“Nobody is replacing Don,” Mac said firmly, and, judging from the sudden grimace on Flack’s face, his grip on the man’s wrist tightened.
Danny frowned confusedly. “I…I just don’t understand any of this.”
“H’s not trying to replace me,” Flack explained and leaned forward. “There’s not just Mac in the family. You know how vampire families work?”
Danny shrugged. “A family, that’s one creator and the vampires he made,” he said. “They all have the same requirements for blood.”
Flack nodded. “Mac here has only one heir,” he explained easily. “And Sheldon is one of the guys who work on a serum to keep vampires fed and happy.”
Danny nodded slowly as the puzzle pieces fell into place. “You can’t have a hungry blo- vampire work with blood samples,” he muttered. “”Which is why you’re feeding him and not…him.” He nodded toward Mac.
Flack grinned. “Exactly.”
Danny frowned. “So…what do you want from me?” he asked.
“Your blood,” the vampire replied evenly. “We expect you to feed us and that you take care of yourself and don’t do anything that might put your health and safety at risk. We ask that you won’t let other vampires drink your blood – once you’re ours, you’re ours, and you will remain ours. In return, we will take care of everything you need – food, shelter, clothes, health care, you name it, we’ll handle it. This means that we will care for you for the rest of your life, even if, for some reasons, you can’t give us your blood anymore.”
He swallowed and lifted his hand, to run it over his face.
The vampire looked exhausted, and Danny couldn’t help feeling slightly sorry for him.
Mac shook his head slightly. Suddenly, cold sweat broke out of every pore of his body, and black spots appeared in front of his eyes.
“Mac?” Don asked and worriedly reached for the vampire. His words echoed in Mac’s ears and bounced around his mind.
“I’m fine,” he managed to say, even if he knew that it wasn’t true. He was starved, and his body was shutting down.
Vaguely, he realized that he that he was pressing his teeth together, to alleviate the throb in them, and that his hands were shaking.
Don hissed angrily. “I told you to eat more,” he whispered, but there was no accusation in his voice, only worry. He, too, had realized what was happening with Mac.
Mac struggled to keep his breathing even.
“What’s wrong with him?” Danny asked. He was confused by the sudden shift of mood in the room and the unexpectedly strange behavior of the vampire.
“He’s dying,” Don explained sharply. “I tried to get him to eat earlier, but he didn’t take enough, and now, he’s shutting down. It’s been weeks since he had a full meal.” He yanked at his gloves, trying to get them off, but Mac took a rattling breath and shook his head.
“Don’t,” he wheezed. “Give me five minutes.”
“You need to eat,” Don insisted. “Please, Mac!”
“I know.” Mac took a slow, deep breath. “But you can’t, Don. Not a third time.”
Danny glanced from vampire to Donor, a frown etched into his forehead. Both Mac and Don were stubborn, that much was almost painfully obvious, and for a moment, it looked as if neither of them would step down, but finally, Don glanced down. His shoulders slumped slightly as he admitted defeat.
“Tomorrow, you eat,” he said. “No excuses. Sheldon can go a couple of days without.”
“Day after tomorrow,” Mac argued weakly. “You need the rest, Don.” His voice was scratchy and weak, but steady. To Danny, it didn’t look as if the vampire could go two more days without a proper meal, but he looked stubborn enough to try it, just to give Don the time to rest. Danny wasn’t sure how much blood a vampire would take for a normal meal, but if it was true that vampires had fed three times off of him on this alone already, the Donor really needed a break unless he wanted to risk his health.
Danny shifted in his chair as his instincts urged him to help, to offer his own blood. He was compatible with Mac Taylor, he could help him right now.
He didn’t even have to let the vampire bite him, he thought, his mind whirling. He knew vampires. They wouldn’t question his motivation once they smelled even the smallest drop of blood. He just had to find a way to keep the vampire’s mouth off of him.
One more glance at the pale and shaking vampire made the decision for him.
“Hey, Flack,” he said and stood. “You got a knife or something?” Everything had been taken from him when he’d been picked up, and he hadn’t received his personal belongings back yet.
Don gave him a confused frown, but he reached into the pocket of the vampire’s pants and pulled out a knife.
“What are you doing?” he asked, worry and suspicion coloring his voice.
“Can you hold back your vampire for five minutes?” Danny asked and grabbed one of the glasses from the middle of the table.
“In this state? Sure,” Don nodded and wrapped his hand tightly around Mac’s elbow.
“You know that vampire saliva is addictive, right?” he asked conversationally.
Don’s lips twitched slightly. “No,” he said. “Just…narcotic. And with some superglue qualities.”
“I don’t want any bloodsucker’s saliva on my body. Anywhere. Under no circumstances. That clear?”
Recognition sparkled in Don’s eyes. “Crystal clear,” he replied and handed over the knife. “Don’t cut too deep.”
“Not planning to,” Danny muttered. Before he could rethink what he was planning on doing, he swiftly pressed the blade of the knife to the fleshy part of his palm.
The vampire made a wounded, desperate sound at the back of his throat, a sound Danny had only heard once before, and he still had nightmares from that incident. It was incredible that Taylor hadn’t already attacked Flack, Danny thought while his blood dripped into the glass and the flesh of his hand throbbed in beat with his pulse.
The vampires Danny had dealt with in the past would have already forced themselves on the next person they were compatible with. Taylor’s self-restraint impressed him.
He had no idea how much blood the vampire needed to get through the next few days, until Flack could handle it again, but when the glass was full, he pushed it across the table, toward the vampire.
“More,” Flack told him tightly, and Danny grabbed another glass and watched with a mixture of curiosity and disgust how the vampire took the glass with trembling fingers and lifted it to his mouth, to drink greedily.
When the second glass was almost full, the blood flow slowed, and Danny gave Flack a questioning look.
Instead of replying, Flack handed him a handkerchief to wrap around the injured hand.
Danny took it and frowned. “That’s it?” he asked in disbelief. “He doesn’t need more blood?”
Flack snorted. “He needs more,” he said. “This is the bare minimum that lets him get his damn control back. If he’s healthy, it’s enough, but right now, it is not.”
“Then why did you stop me?” Danny asked and wrapped the fabric tightly around his hand.
“I didn’t think you wanted to lose too much blood on your first attempt,” Don admitted. “You need to get that looked at and cleaned up. Get the blood stopped.” He was rubbing Mac’s back soothingly while the vampire sipped the second glass of blood at a more sedated pace.
“Exactly,” Mac agreed. His voice already sounded better.”Thank you.” He glanced down at the glass in his hand. “I’m sorry for losing control like this.”
Danny laughed sharply. “Losin’ control?” he repeated and shook his head. “Trust me, that wasn’t losing control.” His uninjured hand went back and rubbed his shoulder.
“I didn’t plan on doing this,” Mac admitted, not reacting to Danny’s words. “I just wanted to get to know you a little.” He nodded toward Danny’s bandaged hand. Blood was slowly seeping through the white fabric. “I can heal that for you.”
“No.” Danny shook his head firmly. “I told you, I don’t want vampire saliva anywhere on me.”
“Okay.” Mac turned to Don. “Could you inform the guards outside that Danny needs medical attention? He’s still bleeding.”
Danny flinched slightly. Mac Taylor’s awareness of him bleeding couldn’t be a good thing.
Don slowly got to his feet. “Sure thing,” he agreed. “Will you be okay?”
Mac nodded. He and Danny were silent until the door closed behind Don.
“I wish we could start this all over,” Danny murmured.
Mac managed a small smile. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Detective Mac Taylor, and I’m a vampire.”
Danny frowned. “I’m Danny. Messer. I’m a cop.” He sighed again. “I was a cop,” he corrected himself. “Now, I’m a living lunchbox.”
“You’re more than that,” Mac assured him. “Let me prove that not all vampires are evil bloodsuckers.”
Danny flinched. “Picked that up, huh?” he muttered before asking, “I don’t really have a choice in this, do I? I already let you drink my blood.”
He swallowed as the ramifications of his action became clear to him. He might have saved the vampire’s life, but in turn, he’d given up the life he’d led so far.
“I could’ve just as well signed my own death certificate,” he concluded bitterly.
Mac shook his head. “Don’t think of it as a death certificate,” he said, his voice soft. “Take it as a new chance. A fresh start.”
“That means I have to stop working,” Danny pointed out in what he considered to be a reasonable voice. “I like being a cop.” He sat back down and shook his head. “What am I supposed to do all day long, then?”
“It’s up to you,” Mac told him. “You could go back to school.” He sighed. “I understand your…concerns about vampire saliva,” he said. “And while it would make things easier, for all of us, we can accept that and can work out something.”
Danny pressed his lips tightly closed, but he didn’t reply.
There wasn’t anything else he could say.
TBC
Author: Kathie (
kathierif_fic)Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing: none. This is gen. OMG.
Rating: FRM
Part 1 | Part 2
3.
“That one.”
Danny looked up with some difficulty. His eyes felt gritty, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, and the Nightwatchers had taken his glasses, together with his belt, his badge, his watch, and his shoes. His entire body ached in a dully throbbing way that seemed to be synchronized with the beat of his heart. His ribs hurt as if he’d been kicked repeatedly, and he was dirty and stiff.
What he needed, he thought grumpily while narrowing his eyes to focus on the two big strong guards that were moving toward him now, was a nice long shower and a long nap in a comfortable bed, and not one second longer of staying here, curled up on the hard ground with all these other unwashed people.
He didn’t belong here. He had a job and a purpose in life. Him being here, locked up by the Nightwatchers, was a big mistake, a screw-up in the system. He’d tried to tell that to the guards when they had taken his belongings, but they hadn’t listened to him.
Maybe someone – Lindsay, most likely – had finally realized that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, that he hadn’t come home and that he was missing, and had made a few calls, to get him out of here. He didn’t even know exactly how long he’d been here. Without his watch and without any windows, it was almost impossible for him to tell the time, but it was long enough that someone had to have noticed that Danny had disappeared without a trace.
Until this mess was cleaned up, he was caught in this tiny cell in the Nightwatchers’ main building, together with a skinny pale girl that was silently crying and had done so ever since she’d been pushed into the cell, and two thickly muscled, drunk, middle aged guys who both screamed trouble to Danny. Fortunately, they had fallen asleep quickly after being brought here and hadn’t bothered anyone. Danny had tried to calm down the girl, but she’d only cried harder when he’d wrapped his arm around her, and after a while, Danny had given up.
The steel door that separated Danny from his freedom rattled as it was opened, and one of the two officers stepped into the cell and reached down to grab Danny’s upper arm and to pull him roughly to his feet.
“Come on,” he grunted and made a gesture, indicating that Danny should turn around.
Sluggishly, Danny followed the order. His wrists were cuffed behind his back, and he was guided out of the cell before he fully realized what was happening to him. Every fiber of his body protested against the sudden movements after sitting still for so long, but he clenched his teeth and refused to let a single sound escape. He wouldn’t give the officers that kind of satisfaction.
He was guided down a long hallway, around a few corners and through a few doors, until he finally was standing in what looked an office, in front of a desk. A tall, slender man dressed in black, with a high collar that ended just below his jaw, sat behind it. His hair was combed and parted perfectly, and he was leaning back in his chair now to muster Danny from head to toe.
“Are you Danny Messer?” the man finally asked. The collar around his throat gave him away as a Donor, and Danny knew that he had to be careful when interacting with this man. He didn’t want to annoy the vampire that belonged to that one.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Danny managed to say. His voice was rough and scratchy, and he swallowed thickly.
The Donor’s dispassionate gaze went down Danny’s body, from the tips of his unwashed hair over the shirt he’d been wearing for days now to the sock that had a hole in the left big toe.
“You have been selected,” he informed Danny with a distasteful curl of his upper lip.
“Selected?” Danny repeated, disbelief filling his still rough voice. “That must’ve been a mistake.”
The Donor stiffened behind his desk, which, a small part of Danny’s brain thought, was quite a feat considering his already board-like posture.
“So you are not Mister Danny Messer?” he asked, his voice sharp like a good kitchen knife. “Occupation police officer?”
“I am Danny Messer,” Danny replied, his voice rising in agitation. He tugged at the cuffs that held his wrists, but it was useless.
“In that case, sir…” The Donor sneered again, “…there was no mistake. You’ve been selected and matched.”
Danny grimaced. “I can’t be selected,” he protested. “I have the paperwork, to keep me from being put in there!”
The Donor glared at Danny. “Your protective status has been revoked,” he informed him coldly. “You were in the pool and you were selected. Stop resisting. You can’t change it.”
He gave a nod, and the two guards that had brought Danny here grabbed his elbows and started to haul him out of the office and down a series of hallways and off to an uncertain future.
~*+*~
Don blinked his eyes open just as Mac shook his shoulder a second time. Sheldon next to him was already sitting up and rubbing his eyes, and Don quickly followed his example. “Mac? What time is it?” he asked, his words slurred together.
“Early,” Mac murmured and pressed a glass of juice into Don’s hand. “Drink.”
Don didn’t protest. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip before asking, “What’s wrong?”
“Besides Sheldon oversleeping?” Mac shook his head slightly. “Another attack on a claimed Donor,” he murmured. “She managed to escape, but her vampire was furious. Ripped the attacker to pieces, in front of the already traumatized Donor. Stella’s talking to her right now, trying to find out what triggered the attack.”
Sheldon didn’t say a single word and climbed off the bed. He left the room and locked the door to the bathroom behind himself.
“Great job,” Don muttered and stood to bring the now empty glass back into the kitchen. “Now he feels guilty about his stupid serum not working.” He sighed and shook his head slightly, to get rid of the daze of sleep and blood loss.
“We both know it’s not Sheldon’s fault,” Mac replied. “He’s a good scientist.”
Don rolled his eyes. “Tell him that, not me,” he suggested before stepping out of the room.
The apartment was mostly dark, the only light coming from the room he’d just stepped out of. Don didn’t mind as he padded through the main room and toward the room that was technically his, even if he didn’t spend that much time there. He knew the layout of the place by heart and didn’t need any light to find his way around. Grabbing a clean shirt, he pulled it on and went back to the kitchen, to find something to eat.
The kitchen had become the part of the apartment where he could almost do whatever he wanted. The vampires didn’t need to eat like he did and didn’t pay too much attention to the things he did here.
He sighed softly and allowed his thoughts to drift back to what Mac had said, about Donors being attacked.
It almost surprised him that his phone hadn’t rung yet, calling him to deal with the repercussions of another attack. Don didn’t have a formal education in dealing with the aftereffects of a vampire attack, but he had a knack for listening to people and asking the right questions, helping the victims to remember details which in turn helped the police to track down the attacker.
A glance at the clock told him that it was, in fact, still early. He’d only slept for about an hour.
He frowned. It was unusual that Mac was already home, but then Don understood the fear and worry about something happening to a Donor. Without him, both Mac and Sheldon would be without a source of fresh blood, and Mac had gone for long enough without any that he was jumpy and twitchy already.
Soft steps behind him made him turn around, and Sheldon stepped up to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m off to the lab,” he murmured. “Try to get some more rest, okay? I might have an idea what went wrong with the last serum.”
“Okay,” Don nodded. “Good luck with that.”
He watched the vampire step out of the kitchen and waited until he could hear the door close behind him before turning back to the food in front of him.
Sheldon had been right. They needed to bring Mac to stop being stubborn and eat before he either became too weak and died, or before he snapped, like all the vampires who didn’t have a Donor and attacked someone who could fulfill their needs, and since Don was the closest and most compatible source of blood for Mac, chances were that he would be the one to face the consequences of Mac snapping.
He had seen the results of a vampire snapping more than once, and it never was a pretty sight. He preferred not ending up like these victims.
A sharp pain pulled him from his thoughts, and he cursed quietly as he looked down and realized that he’d been lost so far in his own thoughts that he hadn’t paid attention to what he was doing and had cut himself with the knife.
The cut was only small, but a drop of blood quickly collected on its edge and started to slide down his finger.
Don sighed and put the knife down, to wash off the blood, when suddenly, he had an idea.
For a moment, he allowed himself a grin before schooling his face back into a neutral expression.
“Mac?” he called out and turned, to find the vampire before the small cut stopped bleeding.
It didn’t need much to get a hungry vampire to give in to the urge to eat, he knew that – it was what had caused all these vampires to snap and succumb to the blood rage, after all – and a single drop of blood should do the trick here.
“Hey, Mac?” he called again and stepped into the main room of the apartment. It was both a living room and an office, the walls lined with shelves for all the medical and forensic texts both vampires needed in their lines of work. Mac was sitting at the desk in the corner, where Don had found Sheldon a few hours ago, but he looked up and sniffed when Don stepped into the room.
Don crossed the room with a few quick steps and held out his injured finger to Mac.
Mac grasped his wrist carefully and looked at the small injury with a raised eyebrow.
“Don…” he started, but before he could add anything else, Don interrupted him.
“Cut myself,” he explained. “Kiss it better?”
Mac’s fingers were cool against his wrist, he noticed. The vampire needed to eat, sooner rather than later.
“Please tell me you didn’t do this on purpose,” Mac said, his eyes still on the small drop of blood.
Don grimaced. “I didn’t,” he said. “You should know me better than that!”
Mac shrugged slightly, but he lifted Don’s hand to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss against the injured finger. His tongue licked off the blood carefully, and Don swallowed at the sight.
It only took seconds for Mac’s saliva to close the cut, and he pulled away from Don, even if he could feel warm blood, so close to the surface of Don’s skin, calling to him and trying to seduce him to take more.
“Mac.” Don’s voice was sharp, his eyes troubled.
“I’m fine,” Mac managed and swallowed with some difficulty. The few drops of blood on his tongue had woken his appetite for more, and he clenched his teeth and struggled to get himself back under control.
“That’s why you’re here, right?” Don said, his voice rising in agitation. “You couldn’t handle the scene, right? You had to back out and let Stella handle it. The blood was too much for you.”
“Stella is more than capable of taking the lead on this case,” Mac replied stiffly. He was still struggling with his instincts.
“Doesn’t mean I’m not right,” Don argued, and there was nothing Mac could say to that. Don was right, but Mac still couldn’t allow himself to drink his Donor’s blood. Not when he knew that Sheldon had done so recently, and Sheldon needed the blood more than he did.
Don shoved his wrist into Mac’s face. Blue veins pulsed with warm blood under the pale, thin skin, and Mac could only stare at it, frozen in place.
“I swear, Mac,” he said, his voice quiet and furious. “You have two choices here. Either you bite me now or I’ll take that damn kitchen knife and do the job for you!”
Mac managed to shake off his rigidness and grabbed Don’s arm, pulling it way from his face. “Don’t,” he said, his voice rough and scratchy.
“Then do it,” Don replied, his voice still hard and uncompromising, and a sound of total anguish escaped Mac’s throat as he struggled with himself. Don shoved his wrist against Mac’s mouth again, and Mac frowned as instincts threatened to take over. He yanked Don’s arms away and turned it slightly, looking for the perfect angle.
The first taste of fresh blood filled his mouth and his entire consciousness. Every single cell of his body suddenly yearned for it, and he swallowed slowly, letting the metallic-tasting liquid run down his throat and warming him from the inside. Vaguely, he was aware of Don leaning against him and stroking the pointed tip of his ear gently.
He took a few more sips before pressing his tongue firmly against the bite marks and soothing them.
“More,” Don protested, but Mac licked the wounds again and stopped the flow of blood before pulling away.
He saw immediately that he’d been too rough and that he had left bruises on Don’s skin, having sucked too hard instead of letting the blood flow at its own speed into his mouth. It was a beginner’s mistake; one he regretted as soon as he realized what he’d done.
“You need more,” Don protested, but Mac shook his head.
“You can’t give any more,” he replied, his voice firm. “And you won’t.”
Don looked grim. “Call Sid, then,” he ordered. “Ask him.”
Mac sighed and stood to pull Don into a brief hug. “Sid was a Donor for forty years,” he said patiently. “He served his time.” He rubbed Don’s back gently. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”
“Yeah, well,” Don murmured, “I learned from the best, Mac.”
The phone rang.
Mac took a step back and reached for it. “Taylor.”
While he listened, Don had the opportunity to watch him. A deep line had appeared on Mac’s forehead. That never meant anything good, Don knew, and he wondered if there had been another attack.
On the other hand, he noticed, the feverish gleam had already disappeared from Mac’s eyes, and his cheeks had started to show some color. Within twenty-four hours, he knew, the vampire would look less like a walking corpse and more like a living being.
“Well?” Don asked as soon as Mac put down the phone. “New case?”
“No,” Mac replied. “An offer for a Donor.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If we’re interested, we need to go down to the Nightwatch Central Station today, or they’ll call the next name on their list.” He frowned slightly. “If we don’t take a look, we won’t be on top of the list for the next one.”
“So, what are you waiting for?” Don asked, amusement and a faint glimmer of excitement in his eyes.
Mac chuckled. “For you to get dressed,” he pointed out. “Unless you don’t want to take a look at our potential Donor…”
Don laughed, and he allowed Mac to fuss over him for a long moment, straightening his clothes and closing the collar around Don’s throat, and finally handing him the thin gloves, which Don accepted with a small nod.
“Shouldn’t we call Sheldon, too?” he asked curiously, but Mac shook his head. “This is just to establish our interest,” he pointed out. “You know how this works.”
“Only in theory,” Don replied. “I don’t even remember if you brought Sid when you picked me up.”
“We did, of course,” Mac said. “He was the one who had to deal with you. Check your homework and all that.”
“I was seventeen. I was able to do my own homework,” Don pointed out and wriggled his fingers into the gloves.
“Yeah?” Mac couldn’t stop the small grin from escaping. “Didn’t stop you from trying to make him help you.”
“What can I say, I’ve always been a smart kid,” Don grinned and smoothed the sleeves of his shirt down. “Want me to drive?”
~*+*~
“So…what now?” Don murmured while trying to reach under his wide collar to scratch his neck.
Mac gave him an amused glance. It looked as if didn’t matter that Don had gone through the Selection and Matching-process himself, or that he regularly helped other Donors through the process.
“Now we meet our potential new Donor,” he said calmly.
Don gave up his attempts to alleviate the itch of healing skin and sighed. “And you’re sure that this is necessary?” he asked quietly. “I can handle it, you know.”
Mac gave him a frown. “Don’t start again,” he warned.
Don just grimaced. “I won’t,” he promised. “I just…if this one doesn’t work out, I guess I just don’t want you to worry too much about it.” He shook his head and continued before Mac could reply. “So we’re getting a new kid in the house?”
“Not a kid,” Mac said and held out a file for him.
“Get outta here, one of you gave up a grown Donor?” Don asked in surprise as he took the folder and opened it.
“Not exactly, no,” Mac replied, but he fell silent and allowed Don to study the file for himself. Don was smart, and Mac didn’t plan on keeping anything from him.
“A cop, huh?”
Mac nodded. “Yeah, a cop.”
“But he’s compatible with you guys.”
It wasn’t a question, but Mac nodded nonetheless.
“You’ve seen that he’s trouble, right?” Don said as he closed the file and put it down on the table. “That would be the only reason I can think of that would have him end up in the pool, having his protected state revoked.”
“Thank you for making it sound like a punishment,” Mac replied with a small smile. “As if you ever had to suffer since you’ve been Selected.”
Don shrugged. “No, but I’ve been lucky,” he simply pointed out. “And it’s not as if I had my entire life turned around there.”
Don was bringing up a valid point there, Mac had to admit, but before he could reply, a soft cough made both men look up.
“Mr. Taylor, he is ready to see you now,” the Donor who had greeted them first when they’d come down to the station reported.
Mac nodded and straightened his jacket. “We will follow you,” he said and tilted his head invitingly.
The Donor hesitated slightly.
“It is unusual for a Donor to join his Master in picking his or her replacement,” he pointed out, and Don decided that he didn’t like this Donor one bit.
Judging from the sudden and deep frown on Mac’s forehead, he wasn’t the only one to think so.
“I’ve always brought my Donors with me,” he pointed out, his voice icy.
The other Donor stared at Don speculatively. “The rules have changed quite a bit,” he finally said. “Bringing retiring Donors – I assume there is something wrong with yours, perhaps a disease? He does look a bit pale.”
Don had known Mac since he was seventeen and had been matched to the vampire, and he rarely had seen him really angry. Right now, however, there was no doubt about the cold fury in the vampire’s bright green eyes. When Mac squared his shoulders and snapped his fingers, Don knew what to do. On silent feet, he stepped around the table until he was standing right behind Mac’s left shoulder while giving the other Donor a dark glare.
Nobody was replacing him just yet.
The other Donor flinched under their combined glares, but he didn’t resist anymore and lead them down the hallway, to meet the man who would maybe move in with them soon.
~*+*~
It wasn’t, Danny thought while shifting nervously from one bare foot to the other, as if being Selected was necessarily a bad thing. A lot of people were Donors – both casual and fulltime – and seemed happy, or at least content, with it.
It just wasn’t anything for him.
When he had turned seventeen, he’d been running around after Louie instead of applying to get Selected, and when Louie had told him that being Selected would be horrible, Danny had believed him without hesitation and without wondering how his brother could know that.
He’d still believed that being Selected was a bad thing to happen years later, when he’d already figured out that Louie hadn’t been the glowing role model Danny always had thought him to be, and he never had reason to change his mind about it. He’d managed to slip through the raster, had avoided random blood tests that could have determined him for a life as Donor, and had lived a happy life without bloodsuckers controlling every aspect of his life.
And now, they had finally caught up with him and he had been Selected as a Donor. Apparently, there was a long list of vampires who had just been waiting for Danny’s blood.
It was pretty unreal, he thought while shifting back to his other foot. He’d never expected that this would happen to him, trusting his luck and his badge to keep him safe, especially since he wasn’t one of those young, bright-eyed, pretty kids anymore who had been groomed from birth for a life as a Donor.
The guards had finally taken off his handcuffs and had allowed him to take a shower. They had given him clean clothes; sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips and a t-shirt, and had told him that a vampire would meet him here.
His match.
The vampire who was responsible that Danny was in this situation in the first place.
He didn’t know yet who this person was, but he already hated them with a fiery passion. If that certain vampire – and all the others on that stupid list – didn’t need this special kind of blood, nobody would have bothered Danny and forced him to be a Donor.
He wondered if strong emotions like hate would make a difference in the quality of his blood. One thing was for sure: if hate made his blood inedible, he would be free again soon. Besides – he straightened slightly – there had to be a way for him to say no. They couldn’t force him to give up his life. He wouldn’t let them. They would have to chain him down if they wanted him to stay with a vampire.
The door was slowly pushed open, and Danny squared his shoulders defiantly.
He would fight, and he would not give up until he was back where he belonged: at work and in his old life.
The man entering the room was tall, but not taller than Danny. He had a square jaw, short brown hair and he was wearing a suit with a blue dress shirt. His eyes were glinting in an unnaturally bright green color, and his skin was unhealthy pale, identifying him without a doubt as a vampire.
Danny swallowed thickly. They had told him that a vampire would talk to him, but he hadn’t expected a vampire with so much charisma. Even if the vampire was too pale to be healthy, it was obvious that he was in control of himself and the situation he was in.
“Danny Messer?” the vampire asked calmly.
Danny lifted his chin challengingly. “Yes,” he replied. “And you are?”
The vampire tipped his head slightly. “Nice to meet you,” he said politely. “My name is Mac Taylor. This is Don Flack.” He nodded toward the man who had followed him into the room.
That one, Danny knew immediately, was a Donor. Tall and lanky, with blue eyes, he wore the high collar of a Donor and gloves, the usual attire of a full-time Donor.
“Look,” he said before the vampire – Taylor – could continue. “This has been a mistake.”
The vampire lifted a corner of his mouth in amusement, but without showing his teeth. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Danny said firmly and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. They were getting cold, and he hated how the clothes he had been given made him feel exposed and unprotected. “See, I’m not…”
“Not what?” the vampire asked when Danny trailed off.
“Not a Donor,” Danny muttered.
Taylor gave him a long look. “No, you’re not,” he finally said. Danny flinched. It was one thing to refuse this lifestyle for himself, but the rejection from the vampire still stung.
“Why don’t we sit down before we continue this?”
Numbly, Danny nodded and settled into one of the chairs around the table. His feet were freezing by now.
“Danny.” Taylor frowned slightly. “Have you ever given blood to any of us?”
A shiver ran down Danny’s spine, and he clenched his hands in tight fists. “Yes,” he managed to say through gritted teeth. “I hated it.”
“Why?”
Danny could detect nothing but genuine curiosity in the vampire’s voice, but he still felt reluctant to reveal the circumstances of that one experience. Mutely, he shook his head.
Taylor glanced down briefly. “Would you be willing to give this a shot?” he asked quietly.
“No!” Danny shook his head firmly. “It was a mistake. I’m not a Donor!”
“No, not yet. But you will be.” Suddenly, there was a hard edge in Taylor’s voice. It made Danny flinch.
“Mac. Stop it.”
It was the first thing Danny heard the Donor, Flack, say, and he was surprised by the sharp warning in the man’s voice. So far, he had given the expression of being one of those devoted, submissive Donors that didn’t have a free will and only lived to serve their vampires.
Mac inhaled slowly. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, Mr. Messer. Danny.”
“Then let me go,” Danny demanded loudly, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice.
“He can’t do that,” Flack pointed out calmly. “If he leaves now, the next guy on the list gets a shot at you. I’m sure you know how that works. And there’s no guarantee that the next guy is as nice as Mac is.”
Danny saw how the vampire reached for his Donor and griped his wrist tightly, his fingers pressing over Flack’s pulse point, and he also realized that the vampire’s ears were pointy.
Pointy-eared bloodsuckers never were a good sign, Danny knew, and he became even more aware of the fact that he was absolutely unprotected.
The whole situation confused him – Taylor obviously had a Donor, one he adored, otherwise there was no explanation why he’d allowed him to be here in the first place, or why he just let his Donor talk to him so sharply and stop him from just taking Danny right here and now.
“I don’t understand this,” he admitted after a long moment of silence.
“What don’t you understand?” Taylor asked gently.
“You obviously already have a Donor. Why aren’t you using him? Why…” Danny swallowed. “…why are you replacing him?”
“Nobody is replacing Don,” Mac said firmly, and, judging from the sudden grimace on Flack’s face, his grip on the man’s wrist tightened.
Danny frowned confusedly. “I…I just don’t understand any of this.”
“H’s not trying to replace me,” Flack explained and leaned forward. “There’s not just Mac in the family. You know how vampire families work?”
Danny shrugged. “A family, that’s one creator and the vampires he made,” he said. “They all have the same requirements for blood.”
Flack nodded. “Mac here has only one heir,” he explained easily. “And Sheldon is one of the guys who work on a serum to keep vampires fed and happy.”
Danny nodded slowly as the puzzle pieces fell into place. “You can’t have a hungry blo- vampire work with blood samples,” he muttered. “”Which is why you’re feeding him and not…him.” He nodded toward Mac.
Flack grinned. “Exactly.”
Danny frowned. “So…what do you want from me?” he asked.
“Your blood,” the vampire replied evenly. “We expect you to feed us and that you take care of yourself and don’t do anything that might put your health and safety at risk. We ask that you won’t let other vampires drink your blood – once you’re ours, you’re ours, and you will remain ours. In return, we will take care of everything you need – food, shelter, clothes, health care, you name it, we’ll handle it. This means that we will care for you for the rest of your life, even if, for some reasons, you can’t give us your blood anymore.”
He swallowed and lifted his hand, to run it over his face.
The vampire looked exhausted, and Danny couldn’t help feeling slightly sorry for him.
Mac shook his head slightly. Suddenly, cold sweat broke out of every pore of his body, and black spots appeared in front of his eyes.
“Mac?” Don asked and worriedly reached for the vampire. His words echoed in Mac’s ears and bounced around his mind.
“I’m fine,” he managed to say, even if he knew that it wasn’t true. He was starved, and his body was shutting down.
Vaguely, he realized that he that he was pressing his teeth together, to alleviate the throb in them, and that his hands were shaking.
Don hissed angrily. “I told you to eat more,” he whispered, but there was no accusation in his voice, only worry. He, too, had realized what was happening with Mac.
Mac struggled to keep his breathing even.
“What’s wrong with him?” Danny asked. He was confused by the sudden shift of mood in the room and the unexpectedly strange behavior of the vampire.
“He’s dying,” Don explained sharply. “I tried to get him to eat earlier, but he didn’t take enough, and now, he’s shutting down. It’s been weeks since he had a full meal.” He yanked at his gloves, trying to get them off, but Mac took a rattling breath and shook his head.
“Don’t,” he wheezed. “Give me five minutes.”
“You need to eat,” Don insisted. “Please, Mac!”
“I know.” Mac took a slow, deep breath. “But you can’t, Don. Not a third time.”
Danny glanced from vampire to Donor, a frown etched into his forehead. Both Mac and Don were stubborn, that much was almost painfully obvious, and for a moment, it looked as if neither of them would step down, but finally, Don glanced down. His shoulders slumped slightly as he admitted defeat.
“Tomorrow, you eat,” he said. “No excuses. Sheldon can go a couple of days without.”
“Day after tomorrow,” Mac argued weakly. “You need the rest, Don.” His voice was scratchy and weak, but steady. To Danny, it didn’t look as if the vampire could go two more days without a proper meal, but he looked stubborn enough to try it, just to give Don the time to rest. Danny wasn’t sure how much blood a vampire would take for a normal meal, but if it was true that vampires had fed three times off of him on this alone already, the Donor really needed a break unless he wanted to risk his health.
Danny shifted in his chair as his instincts urged him to help, to offer his own blood. He was compatible with Mac Taylor, he could help him right now.
He didn’t even have to let the vampire bite him, he thought, his mind whirling. He knew vampires. They wouldn’t question his motivation once they smelled even the smallest drop of blood. He just had to find a way to keep the vampire’s mouth off of him.
One more glance at the pale and shaking vampire made the decision for him.
“Hey, Flack,” he said and stood. “You got a knife or something?” Everything had been taken from him when he’d been picked up, and he hadn’t received his personal belongings back yet.
Don gave him a confused frown, but he reached into the pocket of the vampire’s pants and pulled out a knife.
“What are you doing?” he asked, worry and suspicion coloring his voice.
“Can you hold back your vampire for five minutes?” Danny asked and grabbed one of the glasses from the middle of the table.
“In this state? Sure,” Don nodded and wrapped his hand tightly around Mac’s elbow.
“You know that vampire saliva is addictive, right?” he asked conversationally.
Don’s lips twitched slightly. “No,” he said. “Just…narcotic. And with some superglue qualities.”
“I don’t want any bloodsucker’s saliva on my body. Anywhere. Under no circumstances. That clear?”
Recognition sparkled in Don’s eyes. “Crystal clear,” he replied and handed over the knife. “Don’t cut too deep.”
“Not planning to,” Danny muttered. Before he could rethink what he was planning on doing, he swiftly pressed the blade of the knife to the fleshy part of his palm.
The vampire made a wounded, desperate sound at the back of his throat, a sound Danny had only heard once before, and he still had nightmares from that incident. It was incredible that Taylor hadn’t already attacked Flack, Danny thought while his blood dripped into the glass and the flesh of his hand throbbed in beat with his pulse.
The vampires Danny had dealt with in the past would have already forced themselves on the next person they were compatible with. Taylor’s self-restraint impressed him.
He had no idea how much blood the vampire needed to get through the next few days, until Flack could handle it again, but when the glass was full, he pushed it across the table, toward the vampire.
“More,” Flack told him tightly, and Danny grabbed another glass and watched with a mixture of curiosity and disgust how the vampire took the glass with trembling fingers and lifted it to his mouth, to drink greedily.
When the second glass was almost full, the blood flow slowed, and Danny gave Flack a questioning look.
Instead of replying, Flack handed him a handkerchief to wrap around the injured hand.
Danny took it and frowned. “That’s it?” he asked in disbelief. “He doesn’t need more blood?”
Flack snorted. “He needs more,” he said. “This is the bare minimum that lets him get his damn control back. If he’s healthy, it’s enough, but right now, it is not.”
“Then why did you stop me?” Danny asked and wrapped the fabric tightly around his hand.
“I didn’t think you wanted to lose too much blood on your first attempt,” Don admitted. “You need to get that looked at and cleaned up. Get the blood stopped.” He was rubbing Mac’s back soothingly while the vampire sipped the second glass of blood at a more sedated pace.
“Exactly,” Mac agreed. His voice already sounded better.”Thank you.” He glanced down at the glass in his hand. “I’m sorry for losing control like this.”
Danny laughed sharply. “Losin’ control?” he repeated and shook his head. “Trust me, that wasn’t losing control.” His uninjured hand went back and rubbed his shoulder.
“I didn’t plan on doing this,” Mac admitted, not reacting to Danny’s words. “I just wanted to get to know you a little.” He nodded toward Danny’s bandaged hand. Blood was slowly seeping through the white fabric. “I can heal that for you.”
“No.” Danny shook his head firmly. “I told you, I don’t want vampire saliva anywhere on me.”
“Okay.” Mac turned to Don. “Could you inform the guards outside that Danny needs medical attention? He’s still bleeding.”
Danny flinched slightly. Mac Taylor’s awareness of him bleeding couldn’t be a good thing.
Don slowly got to his feet. “Sure thing,” he agreed. “Will you be okay?”
Mac nodded. He and Danny were silent until the door closed behind Don.
“I wish we could start this all over,” Danny murmured.
Mac managed a small smile. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Detective Mac Taylor, and I’m a vampire.”
Danny frowned. “I’m Danny. Messer. I’m a cop.” He sighed again. “I was a cop,” he corrected himself. “Now, I’m a living lunchbox.”
“You’re more than that,” Mac assured him. “Let me prove that not all vampires are evil bloodsuckers.”
Danny flinched. “Picked that up, huh?” he muttered before asking, “I don’t really have a choice in this, do I? I already let you drink my blood.”
He swallowed as the ramifications of his action became clear to him. He might have saved the vampire’s life, but in turn, he’d given up the life he’d led so far.
“I could’ve just as well signed my own death certificate,” he concluded bitterly.
Mac shook his head. “Don’t think of it as a death certificate,” he said, his voice soft. “Take it as a new chance. A fresh start.”
“That means I have to stop working,” Danny pointed out in what he considered to be a reasonable voice. “I like being a cop.” He sat back down and shook his head. “What am I supposed to do all day long, then?”
“It’s up to you,” Mac told him. “You could go back to school.” He sighed. “I understand your…concerns about vampire saliva,” he said. “And while it would make things easier, for all of us, we can accept that and can work out something.”
Danny pressed his lips tightly closed, but he didn’t reply.
There wasn’t anything else he could say.
TBC