Chapter Forty-Eight

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Spencer hobbled across the room and opened the top drawer in his chest of drawers. August would probably have him tortured if he found he'd defied his orders and gotten out of bed, but he couldn't stand the idea of everyone else running around while he lay useless. He could at least pick out some clothes and find the little trinkets he wanted to remind him of his time here. Not many people got to fully remember the first years of their lives, and his years as a vampire were, in his opinion, the only ones that mattered.

The door clicked open, and Spencer glanced at it in horror. Shit, busted.

"It's me!" a very not-August whisper came through the door.

Pushing the door just wide enough, Edeline peeked her head through. Spencer braced himself against the chest of drawers and watched—half in suspicion, and half in amusement—as she squeezed through the unnecessarily small gap she had opened. She closed the door behind her just as carefully, ensuring it was silent.

"Carson worried we're going to run off together?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Is August?"

Spencer grumbled and grabbed a handful of pairs of socks, tossing them towards the bed.

"You'd know better than I would at this point."

"Oh ptsh!" Edeline rolled her eyes and crossed the room. Grabbing his waist—thankfully missing all the injuries with her small hands—she guided him back to the bed and, with a surprising amount of strength, forced him to sit down. "If you're going to be such a wet blanket, this trip is going to be no fun."

She returned to the chest of drawers, but instead of selecting out useful clothes, she pulled out the entire drawer and, with a mischievous grin, upended it onto the bed. Rolled-up pairs of socks went bouncing across the mattress, and his boxers flumped into a messy pile. Edeline replaced the drawer in the unit and came to sit on the bed. She grabbed the pile of boxers and began counting them out.

"You wouldn't get very far, you know," she said once the counting was done. She selected out an even dozen pairs and set them in a smaller pile. She discarded the rest to the floor and started on the socks.

Spencer watched her with what he hoped looked like disinterest, only, his thoughts were working overtime.

"We lost them for three months," he said. "And I was high. You think I couldn't do better sober?"

"I think you couldn't do better against me," Edeline said, glancing up just long enough to meet his gaze. She held out a pair of socks before making an over-exaggerated basketball shot towards the trash. The socks bounced off the rim and landed on the floor.

Spencer sighed and tossed the pair he'd been handed. They soared in an arc straight into the metal bin. Edeline clapped.

"I don't understand why you'd even want me around," he said. "Before, with Vince, it was necessity. This isn't. You can have a whole new life."

Edeline grabbed a dozen pairs of socks at random and dumped them in the pile with the boxers. Sweeping the rest onto the floor, she returned to the chest of drawers and pulled out the second drawer down. Unlike the underwear, she didn't upend this one. She stared at it, her back to him.

"Do you know how hard it is to find someone who understands... what I can do?" she asked quietly. "It's a parlour trick to them, even Carson. They don't... get it."

"Edie, come on."

She turned to him, a pile of shirts in her hands.

"I have spent more time listening to you than anyone," she said. "Even my father."

Nodding, Spencer drew his finger along the pattern in the blanket.

"I know," he said.

"I know you want to be good."

"But—"

"You have a disease, Spencer. That's all there is to it. You came into this life with a disease and—"

"And that disease almost killed you," he said quickly, cutting her off. "How can you know it won't happen again? I shouldn't be putting you at risk like that."

Edeline put the collection of shirts into the pile. Spencer almost smiled when he realised it was his collection of picture shirts, designs from movies and television shows, books and games. They were his favourites, but he didn't wear them often. He hadn't enjoyed them enough, instead opting for what he considered to be more grown-up clothes. When he looked up, Edeline was staring at him.

"What if I could cure the disease?"

"That's not possible, Edie. You can't cure temptation."

She smiled.

"Well, no, I can't cure it completely. But I know someone..."

"They gonna give me a lobotomy?"

"Something like that."

Spencer gaped at her.

"Edie, I was joking!"

"I wasn't."

Hissing as he sat up straighter, Spencer gritted his teeth and adjusted himself on the bed.

"It won't work."

"It's like hypnosis to stop smoking, but... better," Edeline said. "Come on. She'll only take your temptation for my blood... and maybe drugs, just to be safe."

"I'm going to end up as a vegetable."

"I wouldn't let you."

Spencer stared at the shirts in a neat pile on the bed. August had promised him a month. If it wasn't working, he could always tell him he wanted to leave. Even before he nodded, Edeline was beaming. She jumped up from the bed and bounded to the door.

"We're cutting it a bit close, but give me an hour," she said.

Flinging the door open, she bounced out into the corridor, almost out of sight before she leaned back around the frame and pointed at him.

"Do not bring the boring shirts!" she said. "I'll know if you do."

Left alone in his room for what might be the last time, Spencer wanted to soak it in, or even feel nostalgic for what he would be leaving behind. But as he packed his favourite shirts into a bag, leaving the boring ones exactly where they were, all he could feel was excited that he would never have to see this place again.

***

"Spencer, this is Christine. Chris, this is my friend Spencer I told you about."

Spencer stared open-mouthed as he numbly reached out and took the hand that was offered to him. Christine couldn't have been older than fifteen, and that was being generous. With a gun to his head, he would have guessed that she was twelve years old.

Edeline leaned in, grinning.

"Thirteen," she said.

Spencer didn't think that made it any better. He was meant to trust his brain to a thirteen year old? Did thirteen year olds even have brains of their own, let alone the ability to meddle with the brains of others?

Chuckling to herself, Edeline took hold of Spencer's arm and led him back to sit on the edge of the bed. Patting his uninjured shoulder cheerfully, she turned to Christine.

"So, just like we talked about, right?" she said. "Don't take the memories, just the urge to ever repeat them."

Christine brushed Edeline away like she were a particularly annoying fly.

"Yeah, yeah, Leenie, I got it. Christ, you'd think you'd be able to hear that I know how to do a job."

Holding her hands up in defeat, Edeline retreated from Christine's side and began opening the drawers in the cabinet. When she was met with the sight of piles of boring shirts, she began humming happily to herself.

Christine clicked her fingers in front of Spencer's face.

"Hey, over here, Romeo."

He looked at her, mouth opening.

"Romeo?"

She jerked her head back in Edeline's direction. Spencer gaped.

"No!" he said quickly. "No! Me and her? No!"

"There something wrong with my cousin?"

Behind Christine, Edeline was doubled over in silent laughter. Gulping, Spencer shook his head.

"No," he choked. "It's just, I'm uh..."

"He's gay!" Edeline finally spat with a spray of laughter.

"Really?" Christine seemed more curious than annoyed at her mistake.

Spencer nodded.

"What has two thumbs and likes dick?"

He jabbed his thumbs towards his chest.

"Spencer!"

Leaning forwards, he grinned at Christine, who was having a hard time containing her giggles, despite Edeline's chastisement. Or perhaps because of it.

"Don't worry, she likes her men slightly... hairier than me," Spencer said.

Christine shrugged.

"Well, it really makes no difference," she said. "Probably helpful, actually."

"Helpful? Why?"

"Well, because I'm about to make you repulsed by her blood, and that gets a bit complicated if you'd wanted to screw her."

"Chrissy..." Edeline warned.

Christine glanced over her shoulder.

"You bring me to a house full of vampires to mentally addle a mass murderer—"

"Serial killer, actually," Spencer chimed in. "Multiple killings over an extended period is a—"

She held up her hand to cut him off.

"Not the point," she said, still looking at Edeline. "And you think my dad's gonna be worried you talked too much about your sex life?"

"Well, no, but—"

"At this point, pretty sure they all think you're three layers into kink hell. Come on, Leenie, a wolf?"

Leaning to the side, even though it hurt like a bitch, Spencer nodded towards Christine.

"I like her."

"That's good, Spencer," Edeline placated him. "Now, can get on with it? We're on a clock."

"Fine, whatever."

Christine nudged Spencer's legs apart with her knee and stood between his legs. Moving to lean back, Spencer was stopped by the teenager grabbing him by the hair on both sides of his head, burying her fingers in to press them hard against his scalp.

"You can't just look at me?" he asked.

"Contact is a good conductor," she said. "Now, quiet."

Spencer did as he was told, sitting still as Christine did... not very much. She stood very still, fingers against his skull, and stared over his head. If he wasn't mistaken, she seemed more interested in the wall than in him. He wanted to ask if this was normal, or if it wasn't working, perhaps, but he didn't want to disturb her.

Edeline, on the other hand, didn't seem at all perturbed by the awkward silence. She bopped her head to music he couldn't hear, and ambled around the room, looking at the things Spencer was leaving behind. Sighing, Spencer resigned himself to staring at nothing for as long as this took.

When Chrissy finally let go of his head, she stepped back, shaking her hands and rocking her head from side to side, stretching her neck. She smiled triumphantly.

"Done."

"You're sure?" Edeline asked.

"Positive."

Spencer went to stand, but as pain seared through his ribs, he thought better of it.

"Wait a second," he said. "I don't feel any different. Not repulsed, anything."

Christine glanced at Edeline.

"Don't have a pound of cocaine to test it, do you?"

The glare Edeline returned was cold and deadpan.

"No, Chrissy, I do not have a pound of cocaine on me right now."

Christine grinned at Spencer.

"Shame," she said. "It'll have to be blood."

Nodding, Edeline looked around the room for something sharp. When she found nothing, she retreated into the bathroom and came back with a pair of nail scissors.

"No, wait," Spencer said quickly, shuffling forwards on the bed. "Is that really necessary? I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why? Don't trust me?" Christine asked.

"Not particularly!"

"Now that's just rude."

Edeline shushed them both and, without pausing, jabbed the end of the scissors into the ball of her hand.

The smell of blood in the air was immediate, and Spencer wondered how long it would take for August to come running into the room, wondering what was going on. He was thinking about August's reaction—and how his face would turn murderous when he realised Spencer had let a thirteen year old girl addle with his mind—that it took Edeline waving her hand in front of his face for him to remember the reason for the blood in the first place.

It wasn't revulsion, as such. He didn't feel queasy or disgusted by the sight of the blood dribbling down Edeline's palm. It was just... there. There was no interest in it what-so-ever. The most, he figured, was that she might want to wrap that up before they gathered a crowd.

He stared between them, a smile growing by the second.

"That's incredible."

Christine smirked in self-congratulation.

"See, told you," she said. 

"But what about other people's?"

"There'll be no change. It's just Edeline's blood," she said, waving her hand dismissively before turning to Edeline. "Now, about my payment."

"My entire closet. It's yours."

Grasping Christine's hand before she moved out of his reach, he beamed at her.

"Thank you," he said.

She shrugged.

"I ever need a mass... serial killer, I know who to call."

Edeline ushered Christine towards the door.

"Come on," she said. "I'll take you home before anyone realises you're missing."

Christine just about managed a wave before she was escorted out into the corridor. Spencer waved and, when they were out of sight, flopped back onto the bed.

Mind-addling aside, he thought August was going to be pretty damn pleased with this development. They were already leaving the city. This would be a real fresh start.

For all of them.


AUTHOR'S NOTE

Yeah, so I was writing this and knew I needed a character for Edeline to bring in. I had a funny idea about her being a young teenager, and when Christine came in, I fell in love, writing her. But NO! No, I cannot make a whole new series following Christine and her mind-addling mass-murderers. NO! 

Until next week, folks, when you'll get your final two chapters... remember to vote and comment.

Chele

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