Esme stands by her man.
I got the call at 11.37pm and was at the hospital at 11.40. I had heard the crash so was expecting the summons.
No one suspected anything. No one ever suspects the wife of the chief of medicine dropping in at the end of a long shift. Sometimes I pretend to bring food or drink. It will never be eaten but no one notices. We mastered the skill of appearing human long ago.
For now I sit in the staff room, feigning interest in some magazine or making small talk with the staff. Carlisle, I am told, is just delivering the news to the family.
"He has such a gentle manner", one orderly tells me.
"You can tell how much he really cares" another adds.
"losing a patient is never easy" the head nurse, Lorraine murmurs from the over her mug.
'Yes" I say "Poor carlisle always needs a special dinner when he loses someone. It helps".
I fake solemnity. I fake so well that the others seem drawn into their own reflections.
Illusion and secrecy are two vital parts of being a Vampire. Our whole family were very good at both. Vampires belong to a secret world. Carlisle and I were the best. We had secrets our family would never know.
Tonight, we would indulge one of them.
Carlisle's shift had ended and he joined me. As always, every eye followed the two of us. Our beauty was both a benefit and a drawback. We were almost irresistible to most people, a helpful hangover from an era when Vampires solely feasted on many of our community survive as "vegetarians"; drinking only animal blood.
Carlisle and I spend the appropriate time making polite small talk with his colleagues then excuse ourselves on the premise of going home. We smiled, wished them all a pleasant evening and left towards the main door.
We never left the building. Two steps before the door we both turned and ran into the operating
room. Super speed, another vampire trait. We sped past the reception desk but no one saw a thing.
Carlisle and I were almost completely alone. As far as anyone else knew, the only patient who had been in there was the sole occupant from the car crash and he had died on the table. The family knew and had gone home. Carlisle had asked to be left alone once he had called time of death. Something the staff were used to. They mistook it as sensitivity and compassion. His time to say goodbye to a patient. He would pack up the equipment and prepare the body for the morticians. A sweet compulsion of a sensitive man.
They were very wrong.
At the back of the operating room is a single table. I know before I get to it what i will find. A man, barely alive. Brain dead. He is attached to a machine that is keeping his heart beating and his blood pumping.
There is no time to dwell, without a word we walk to the table. Carlisle lifts the sheet and offers me the poor man's wrist and i start to drink. My teeth have pierced his skin and his weak heart slowly pumps what little blood he still has into my mouth. It is sweet and hot, delicious and addictive. I drink for 30 seconds at the most, then offer his wrist to Carlisle who takes it and lifts it to his mouth.
As he drinks I look at the man. His face has been so badly damaged in the crash, I am told he lost control on black ice. A major problem in this area.
He looks young, maybe 35. Dressed as if he's come from work as a logger or something similarly active.
Carlilse had finished his meal. Silently he stood up and switched off the machines. The man let out 2 more ragged breaths and then was still. I drew the sheet over his head. Carlisle went to the phone on the wall and made the call to the mortician.
This was our one shared vice.
Moderation was the key. Moderation and rules. We never killed a person for sustenance. Only those who Carlisle had tried to save. We only drink enough for a taste, a treat. The last drops of blood from a soul who already has one foot in the grave.
Our family are strict vegetarians. We have raised a children who are upstanding members of human society. We have always taught them that drinking from humans is wrong. So this is one secret kept between husband and wife. We are clever about it. Drinking a Human turns a vampires pupils blood red, but we have learned when to stop ourselves.. We keep ourselves in check and our eyes remain amber
We thank the dead man for his last gift and return to our home. Never speaking of our guilty pleasure. Until the next time the opportunity arises.