XX

A figure slunk along the starkly illuminated corridor of Odette General's topmost westerly wing, dark curls bouncing behind her in a low ponytail. Her face was obscured by a thin surgical mask (It's flu season, please protect yourselves and others! the sign at the entrance to the wing had explained) and her body was wrapped in a knee-length padded coat. Dead grey eyes peeked out from between messy bangs and mask, but no one noticed the living corpse moving amongst them.

No human ever noticed Olive if she didn't want them to.

The hum and hiss of ventilators and monitoring equipment enveloped her like a blanket, an almost soothing reminder of the life that still existed in the rooms around her. She traced her fingers along the name placards outside each room, the marker bright on some and faded on others. Her target was at the far end of the hall, a room whose nursing schedule she'd memorized weeks before.

Without a sound, she slipped into the room and pulled the door shut behind her. As always, a dormant part of her raised her arm to make the sign of the cross when she entered. The single bed in the corner was occupied by a man in his 40s, his skin pale and thin from being bedridden for the last two months. Overall he was in fine physical condition as far as she could tell and if it weren't for the monitors and IVs connected to him, he might have been mistaken for sleeping. Unfortunately, he'd been rendered non responsive from massive head trauma, and though the majority of his wounds had all but healed, it was looking less likely he would wake.

Motorcycles were such dangerous vehicles.

Her weekly visitations were the most frequent he had lately aside from the staff; his family consisted of one brother in the area and he couldn't stop by too often. She'd heard chatter that the patient was going to be transferred to a long-term care facility soon, and she would have to move on to someone new. "Hello, David," she said, because it was only polite. "It's cold today."

David made no indication he was aware of anything happening around him. The blips on his heart monitor kept their languid pace and his breathing never quickened. Although he lay as still as a stone, his body was flush with the warmth of life as Olive touched her fingertips to an exposed part of his leg. Veins in the calf were trickier to feed off of, but the nurses never seemed to notice wounds beneath compression socks.

As if they could even recognize them for what they truly were.

She removed her mask and knelt down beside him, gingerly moving his leg into position. There was never any concern he might react to any of this stimulus, she was much more gentle than any medical testing would be.

Ridiculous that Ansel would rather sweat and suffer in the mansion than take care of himself. Olive curled her lip at the thought. Orders were one thing, but self preservation should always come first. She'd learned that lesson long ago. Shaking her head to herself of the thought, she leaned close and prepared to strike.

The door opened behind her.

A frantic pulse flared behind a pair of dark brown eyes and a woman froze in the doorframe. As unobtrusive as Olive could be, there was no hiding her presence in the room, and a tense moment passed where neither one of them dared to move.

The spell was broken by the woman first, who stepped closer towards the bed and started to speak. "You're—"

Olive slipped her skin and became a mist that rushed past the startled newcomer, gathering in a pool behind her in an instant. Rematerializing, she leaned heavily against the door, sealing off the only escape. The woman whirled around and they again renewed their standoff.

Thralling was the best option. Olive could order her to stay quiet, to stay in place, to allow her to leave without raising any alarm. She would lose her feeding spot — and it would use up her reserves for a net negative overall to the evening — but she would be safe. Olive pressed her fingertips together one by one as she turned the thought over in her mind. Overpower the woman and make her bleed, it would be over quick; she was just another human, no challenge to her at all.

"Please," the woman said, holding a hand up when Olive took a step forward. "You… you're a—" her voice caught in her throat a moment, "—vampire, right?"

Narrowing her eyes, Olive paused. She was unglamoured and had shape shifted, yes, but no human's first thought should be vampire if they didn't already know about them. "What makes you say that?" she asked, drawing herself up straight.

"I've been… warned," the woman said. She lowered her hands in a placating gesture. "My name is Mildred. Millie. I'm a doctor here." Although her tone and body language were becoming more open, her pulse was racing faster now that she knew what she was facing down. 

"Warned?" Olive blinked before realization hit her. "You're working with that Hunter." Her lip curled into a snarl and she clenched her hands into fists—she was in a more dangerous position than she'd expected.

Panic hit the doctor's face. "No, no, not working. He's a friend, but—" she stammered and her eyes darted back to David's prone form. "You must need to feed, right? Blood?"

None of this conversation was going the way Olive had anticipated and she felt very wrong footed to be nodding along to her question. "Yes," she said, arching an eyebrow. "Get out and let me, then I'll be gone. No need to bother your Hunter friend, you'll never see me again."

Mildred shook her head. "You can't feed on him. Patients like him… he's more delicate than you think, you could do serious harm without meaning to."

Olive peered over her shoulder at David, his chest rising and falling slowly. He looked healthy enough to her, but she couldn't ignore the sincerity and authority in the doctor's voice. "He your patient?"

"Not exactly. But I look out for him when I can," she said, turning her head in his direction. "I was working the night he was brought in."

The two of them watched him for another few breaths, the heart monitor keeping steady time through the break in conversation.

Again, the doctor was the one to speak first. "Does it hurt, when you feed?"

"He doesn't feel a thing," Olive said, pulling the end of her ponytail over her shoulder and running her fingers through her hair. "A prick, maybe, but it can't be worse than a blood draw or something."

Though she had turned to face David, Mildred's eyes darted back over to Olive when she spoke. "Feed on me."

For some reason, Olive felt her heart skip a beat and she took a few instinctual steps away until her back pressed against the door again. "What? Are you crazy?"

"I have a duty to protect this patient," Mildred said, squaring her shoulders. "And… and if you need to do it to survive, then I think that falls under duty, too."

A snorting laugh escaped Olive, an outburst of unbearable tension more than anything else. "I don't think that's part of the Hippocratic oath, doc," she sneered.

"Sure it is," Mildred said, matching sneer with smirk. "It's near the end. 'I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.' And vampires," she declared with the utmost solemnity.

The absurd turn in the discussion had Olive suppressing a fit of laughter. Brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, she found Mildred's eyes peering at her intently, and the woman had taken a few undetected steps closer. "You know I could just kill you and go," she said, baring her fangs in a wide grin.

"You wouldn't," Mildred stated with confidence, holding her ground against the weak threat display. "You haven't hurt David. How long have you been coming here?"

"Weeks," she admitted before shaking her head. "This is some Hunter's trick. You're working to trap me."

"No trick," Mildred flatly declared. "He'll never know. He'd probably want to kill you for sure."

"And this is supposed to make me trust you?" With a snort, Olive shook her head and folded her arms in front of her chest. "Why do you want to do this so bad?"

Mildred tilted her head to one side, brow furrowed. "I help people who need it. So let me help you."

Olive's expression of derision turned hard and closed off. If the woman was so determined to put herself in harm's way, she wasn't going to turn her down. Maybe if she made it an unpleasant experience, she likely wouldn't bother her again, teach her a lesson about self preservation. But the way Mildred was standing, so determined despite the fear her racing pulse exposed to Olive's eyes… 

"You should sit down," Olive said, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. "I'm not catching you if you pass out."

Without a hint of hesitation, Mildred wheeled a chair away from the wall and sat herself down, ramrod straight and facing Olive. Pulling her hair away from one side of her neck, she seemed to say, Well, here I am.

Olive's fingers rubbed at her own cheek before she could think better of it, her skin almost felt warm to the touch. "It doesn't have to be your neck, if you don't want it to," she said. "Especially if you don't want your Hunter friend to suspect anything."

Tapping at her chin, Mildred considered this then nodded once in understanding. With a flick of her wrist, she undid the button on the cuff of her shirt and exposed her left forearm. "It had better be this way, then."

For the first time in a long while, Olive felt herself hesitate as if her feet were rooted to the floor. With a firm shake of her head, she approached Mildred who obliged by presenting her arm. For as calm as she was acting, she couldn't suppress the tremor that shuddered through her when Olive wrapped her fingers around her wrist to pull the arm out straight. She should be frightened, any human would be when confronted with being food for something else. Before she could second-guess herself, before either of them could change their minds, Olive's fangs pierced the flesh just below the crook of Mildred's elbow.

With a whimper of either surprise or pain, Mildred turned her head away as Olive's mouth closed onto her skin. Her fist clenched tight as her blood flowed out, coaxed from her vein by Olive's Thirst and her high blood pressure. Feeding from Baptiste was no substitute for the sweet tang of a human's blood, and there was something even more alluring about this meal which had been given to her almost freely.

When she had her fill, Olive moved her head away and pressed her fingertips to the wounds left behind. "It shouldn't bleed too long," she said softly.

It was only when Olive spoke that Mildred looked her way, blinking at her hand holding pressure on her arm. "Oh," she murmured. "Yeah, it shouldn't." Her fingers brushed over Olive's as she went to take her arm back, and for a moment neither one of them moved any further. "I never got your name."

Carmen.

"Olive."

Dark brown eyes searched her face as if she could read her thoughts. "Olive," she repeated. "Is there a way to contact you? For next time…?"

Whatever spell that had fallen over the two of them evaporated and Olive withdrew into herself, moving closer to the door. "I can find you," she said, pulling the mask over her face. Just to make sure, she allowed herself one final look over the woman, to pick out the intricacies of her soul among the others she'd fed from.

"Okay," Mildred said, nodding to herself.

Olive turned, her hand hovering above the door handle. Suddenly the mansion seemed so far away. She glanced back over her shoulder and Mildred raised her eyebrows a fraction, expecting her to say something. But the silence followed her out the door and into the hall.

TO BE CONTINUED