Chapter 15:
Myrnin's POV:
She's confused, and she has good right to be; things have been very traumatic for my little Claire in these past few hours, going from searching for Sam, to then being captured by him, to then my saving her, for her then to kiss me – a fact that was then discovered by her housemate. Adding into the equation the fact that Amelie will want her presence alongside mine when we are forced to explain about how Sam is suddenly 'back from the dead', then one can without a doubt, understand why she isn't sure what she's doing.
As soon as we enter the laboratory, she instantly makes for the small kitchen area, where she pours a glass of water from the bottles in the fridge – the one completely safe source of drinking water, for I fear I may have contaminated the running water with large deposits of lead – and begins to eat one of the bars on the side with high glucose content. Simultaneously, I move towards the work bench which contains most of the work I did when Claire was asleep, for Sam.
I require a blood sample from him as soon as possible – by now, the antigens in his body will have broken down the donor blood to make it his – to see whether or not it is depleting quicker than an average vampire. Blood is broken down in our bodies at a varying rate, dependent on physical exertion and age, and so he would need more blood than say, Amelie, anyway…but the ordeal his body has been put through, it could cause him to need blood faster than normal.
"What are you doing?" Claire says – or, I think she says, for she speaks with her mouth full, as most teenagers seem to do nowadays.
"If you would care to speak to me with your mouth empty, it would be much appreciated." I find myself snapping at her, and instantly regret it; I don't understand why I did that, for when one feels something for someone as I feel for Claire, it isn't wise to then yell at them, is it? "I am trying to think about what could be done to prevent Sam's body breaking down the blood so quickly," I continue almost instantly, hoping that she doesn't linger on the fact that I snapped. The stress of the past thirty hours or so has caused me to be this way, I fear, and blood must be consumed by myself shortly, otherwise there is the possibility that I could lash out at Claire.
Thankfully, for a change, Claire doesn't begin to argue about my attitude towards her; instead, she takes steps forwards and approaches the same bench as myself from a different angle. "So, you want to change the make up of his blood somehow?" she considers, yet I shake my head.
"No, no, that would be far too dangerous – and it would be extremely complicated," I reply, the plausible outcome of this running through my head. "Changing the blood would have an adverse effect on both Sam's mental and physical health, and it could even cause a new mutation of the Bishop disease. No, this must be a chemical akin to an antibody, I suppose, something that hinders the progression of something. It must not stop the breaking down of the blood, merely slow it down for a short period of time, until his body regulates itself once more."
She frowns, something I can tell through the movement of the air rather than actually seeing her expression, and then continues. "So you're saying he's effectively a new vampire again?"
"That is correct, my dear, yes," I reply, amazed that she managed to conclude this so quickly.
"But Michael wasn't like that when he was turned," she argues – ah, I should have known that it would be too easy for her to agree with me right the way through. "So maybe it's because of something else that he's like this, not because of him being brought back from his state of being comatose."
She's arguing with me, and it takes all of my efforts to not lose my temper with her; she should know by now that I don't take kindly to her opposing my ideas and theories – true, she has been correct in the past, but in a scenario where neither of us have the greater knowledge, she should hold her tongue. Feelings do not come into the equation when science is at stake, along with the fact that it is the Founder's lover who we are discussing, not just some hapless idiot.
"We do this my way, Claire," I retort, not even bothering to turn to face her as I begin to move a thick sheaf of paper to one side, my eyes scanning each piece to find the one I'm looking for: it contains information about Sam, information that has been stored since his birth and has been updated since. I find it after a few more moments, reading through the average amount of blood he had in a week, along with an average on how much exercise he did in any given week, and beginning the calculations on how quickly the blood is broken down.
"Fine, ignore me then!" Claire says, her tone sounding frustrated, and I turn to look at her as I realise that I have blocked everything in reality out, for a moment or two, whilst working out the sums.
"I am quite afraid that I did not hear you then, Claire; would you please repeat what you said?" I am much politer than normal as I respond, for I have been rude to her earlier and that isn't how you treat the people you love. "Also, for I am in a rather…good mood, if my plan does not work – which I sincerely doubt it will not be the case – you may tell me that you told me so. That is all."
She smiles ever so slightly, and it really does bring out the beautiful shape of her eyes, and the colouring of them, taking my unnecessary breath away. It isn't just for her brains that I think I love her, nor for her body, but for the combination of skills she has, and her personality—I have never used such words to describe my feelings for another being before, for I am generally much less decisive with my thoughts, yet I cannot help but feel that my life would be extremely different without Claire, and that these differences wouldn't be good. I have lived a life without Claire, and yet now I couldn't do it; she must be mine, and soon, for it grows more and more torturous for us not to be together. Especially now she has kissed me, because I know now she feels what I feel for her – she just may not yet be aware of it.
"Believe me, I'll be making sure I get to do that," she replies, and steps up to the table beside me to look at some of the discarded pieces of paper. It would be helpful if she was caught up on the information I have already gleaned, yet my attention is distracted from the work when she speaks again. "Myrnin, about earlier…"
Silence reigns as I turn to face her, my eyes gazing into her own, and wait for her to continue. Something about her tone suggests something to me that I most certainly do not want to accept, because it makes me think in the deepest depths of my mind that she'll ask me to act as though it never happened. She'll want me to go back to the way we were before, when I was nothing more than her eccentric boss who felt that he loved her, but I won't do it! Something that today has proven to me is that I must act when I feel something, rather than bottling it up as I once have, for I almost lost her. Not that I would expect this girl to understand, given that she pays no attention to her own safety and seems entirely obtuse to the fact that I am a better partner for her than her current beau.
"What do you want to say to me, Claire?" I ask her in an emotionless voice, for these deep suspicions shall be true, shan't they? I would never have considered them if they were not –and I am always right, am I not? Everything I have ever worked for, particularly within this town, has been achieved, and nothing I have ever concluded has been wrong: I am right. And, not for the first time in my life with regards to Claire, I want to be wrong, to be proven that she doesn't want to forget what we did, because that would mean that we would have a chance at happiness. Life has grown mundane, with just science, and Claire has brightened things up – she is required in my life for me to feel as though I have a future.
"I wanted to ask you if you would mind…acting as though I…as though I didn't…" she trails off, though I know exactly what she means – I was correct in my presumptions. She wants me to do something I most certainly do not want to do.
She wants me to forget that I have feelings for her.
"You want me to act as though you did not kiss me," I reply flatly, continuing to stare at her. Come on, Claire, see what I know is evident to you, I think, trying to channel as much of the desire for her to realise what I know she knows into my eyes, so she can see it even more clearly.
"Well, yeah," she replies awkwardly, her cheeks colouring with blood that I find myself desiring – if I cannot have her, then nobody can. This isn't something I ought to be thinking, it most certainly isn't, because killing Claire would help nobody. All it would do would mean that I would die alongside her, and that was never part of the plan, most certainly not.
"Have you noticed something about today, Claire?" I turn away from her suddenly and stalk towards the bookcase in the far corner of the room. One hand rests on the side of a book, my forefinger running down its leather spine. "And the way that, once again, you have ran off into a dangerous situation without even thinking about the plausible consequences, and then being captured by the person who has wreaked so much havoc in the past few days?"
"Only because you forgot about him," she mutters, but it doesn't add the touch of humour to the situation that her words normally would; I'm angry, and her attempts to calm me down won't work. Nothing will work…nothing besides the one thing I desire so dearly.
"You could have died, and you ran off there without considering what could happen," I repeat, turning back to face her with anger on my face – I'm sure of it, though I'm as certain that it is human anger, not the vampire equivalent. "And, once again, I had to clean up your mess. As per usual, I was forced to find you, before you became Sam's next meal, but it isn't the first time, is it? You head into dangerous situations and don't even consider the way that things could turn out, and merely drag others alongside you, not even caring about their lives—" I could continue, but she cuts me off, her own expression suddenly changing to one of anger.
"What are you trying to say, Myrnin?" she snaps. "Are you saying that I don't care about my friends, about you, or anyone else, just to try and do something? Because if you are, then you don't know me at all, do you?"
"I know you better than you think I do," I retort sharply, digging my nails into the binding of the book rather than allowing myself to take my anger out on the breakable human in the room. "Let me assure you, Claire, that not once have you shown the slightest consideration for your life, or anyone else's, for that matter, when dashing off to do something dangerous."
She stalks towards me, something that humans don't normally do to a vampire, and I can see that she is shaking with rage. "And why do you care about whether or not I value my life?" she whispers, her voice filled with anger. "Are you trying to say that you give a damn about whether I live or die, or is this just another mind game? You're deranged, Myrnin, because all I've ever done is try and help you; you were dying and crazy, yet I stayed to help you."
I can't help myself now; the anger is too great to remain contained inside of me. Almost without realising, the book half within my grasp is across the room, slamming into the far wall and splitting down the spine; another follows in quick succession as I try and control my anger without success – how dare she insinuate that I don't care whether she dies!
"All I have done since I met you is try and save you!" I find myself yelling at her, turning around to face her once more, balling my hands into fists to prevent myself throttling her. "You would not be alive if it were not for me; none of you would be! I care for you, Claire, and you…you try and say that I am a vampire through and through, with no humanity remaining in me, when I am the reason you continue to breathe! How dare you?"
"You're the one who almost killed me however many times, Myrnin not Amelie or—anyone else!"
"You're wrong!" I bellow back, feeling my eyes and vision turn crimson. "People wanted you dead, Bishop did, Amelie did, and did you die? No! Because I interjected, I used reasons and excuses that evidently have no truth behind them whatsoever, and that's why you're standing here. Not because you're special at hunting down the enemy, but because of me."
She looks shocked, the anger sinking out of her for a moment, leaving her deflated. "Why?" she asks, stopping three or four metres away from me. "Why would you do something like that, risking—?"
"Because…because…" I cannot say it. I cannot say that I love her, because where would that leave me when she tries to leave, or tries to tell me that it means as little as the kiss in the graveyard? I don't think I can cope with that once again. She can't hurt me like that. "Things that you wouldn't understand, for you are so obtuse to anyone's feelings besides your own, are you, or are you not?"
"How dare you!" she shoots back, the anger returning in blazing glory to her eyes. "You care about nothing but science and yourself and, and—" she's yelling now, yelling louder than I've ever heard her speak before, but I don't focus on this as I find myself speaking.
"And you!" I shout back. "You are someone I care about; that's why I find you and save you, because I cannot live this life without you—"
This time, she cuts me off, striding forwards those final few metres to press her lips to mine, once again the kiss being initiated by her. Unlike the first, this one is more passion filled, a mutual anger blazing as I kiss her back harder than she probably is used to, all my attempts to be gentle lost in the inferno that is my brain and emotions, for she has caused this. She has made me this…
Her touch is tantalising as she kisses me as hard as she can, a soft moan leaving her lips as my arms wrap around her, pulling her closer to me. Feelings that ought to be impossible in a man as dead as I are roused as she whispers things against my lips, and it almost seems as though I am human, with the electrical impulses that are racing through me at her touch.
"Well, this is certainly interesting work," a voice comes from across the room, though it takes us both a few moments to realise that there is another being present, kissing Claire being far more important to me than this intruder. She is everything to me, and she is here, kissing me…I cannot put into words how confused my vampire senses are, given that I was shouting at her mere seconds before.
Wait, that voice.
Oliver.
What in science's good name could he want?
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