Chapter 5 Discoveries

Vivianne

By the time I had done the last stitch, applied two tubes of antibiotic cream, and bandaged him up, I honestly had no idea how long it had been. My knees ached, and so did my back from bending over him for so long. This was often also the case in the operating room. Leaning over a patient, sometimes for hours on end, usually led to an aching back. 

As I was cleaning up and gathering up the leftover bandages, empty tubes of ointment, used gloves, and other things, the man with the gun returned to the room. He looked over what I was doing and nodded, seeming to approve of the bandages on my patient. As I bagged the trash in a plastic bag in my kit, I straightened my back groaning. 

“You sound rather like an old woman there doctor, I imagine I don’t have a cane lying around to assist you.” He smirked at me and I was rather put out at his condescending attitude, all things considered, I had just saved his “Liege” as he’d called him. 

“I don’t need a cane. Bending over a patient for quite some time can often lead to backaches, so I would think you would understand that, and rather than ribbing me about it, appreciate the effort I exerted to help your “Liege” here as you call him.” He almost snorted at that. 

I turned and once again looked at my patient, pushing the hair off of his sweaty forehead. At that moment I noticed something I must have been too distracted to notice a bit earlier. His skin felt like the same temperature as mine. Now, most of the time someone would be comforted by that, as it would mean the patient didn’t have a fever. However, I had a problem in that my hands and my feet were always freezing cold, no matter what, no matter how many socks or gloves or whatever I used, they were always freezing. 

The nurses in the operating room teased me that it was good the patient was asleep before I touched them with my ice-cold hands. So, normally when I touched someone their skin felt really hot to me. His skin feeling the same temperature meant his skin was cold. It could be a sign of shock, but he didn't exhibit any other signs of being in shock. 

As I looked at him more closely seeing if I was missing those signs, something else caught my eye. His chest wasn’t moving up and down with his breaths. He wasn’t breathing. Panicked, I reached for his neck, feeling the pulse point. It was slow and sluggish, but he had a pulse. I looked back to his chest, watching for movement, but there was none. He seemed like he was passed out or comatose, but he had a pulse but was not breathing. His skin was ice cold, like my hands. 

Suddenly I understood, and the breath froze in my lungs. My whole body locked up in fear. This man, lying before me, was a vampire. There was no other explanation. Most people had no idea they existed, but my own mother had been brutally butchered by one right in front of my eyes when I was only six years old. So, I had developed a deep-seated hatred. I thought it was rather understandable, all things considered.I could feel my hands shaking, but I willed them to stop. I was assuming the man behind me still holding that gun would be aware of what his “Liege” was. So, perhaps he was watching to see if I would catch on to there being something off and unusual about him, at which time he would use it as an excuse to shoot me. 

So, I pretended that I had noticed nothing, and was simply checking his pulse. I pushed the hair off of his forehead again, trying to not change anything that I had already been doing. I couldn’t hint at all that I was aware of what he was. I knew one thing above all others in that vampires were secretive about their existence to most humans. As I had grown up I had researched them and hunted down answers. I had also been rather dogged in my pursuit of justice for my mother.  

Calen had been friends with Nathan in high school, and we had been somewhat friends as well. Sarah had been my main friend and she and I had been friends since we were small, but when Calen and I got together, Nathan had become part of my social circle. He had become a detective, and I had gone to him regarding helping me on my mother’s case, and through questioning me and reading the file, he realized I knew more about the supernatural world than most, and he then let me in on the secret about the special branch of the law enforcement he worked for. 

His unit was for supernatural crimes only. He shared my hatred for vampires, but his was more of a species-hating thing, rather than a reaction to a personal tragedy like mine. He was actually the only other friend I had besides Sarah. He also was the only one I could ever talk to about my knowledge regarding vampires. He’d warned me they were secretive, so I could never let on I knew anything about them. 

I took his advice to heart, and pretended I knew nothing about the man lying on the cot before me. I looked at him more closely, seeing small scars around his face, almost buried in his hairline or around and under his jaw, as if he’d had reconstructive work done. Although, if his life was full of people shooting at him and attempting to kill him, who knows what other types of injuries he might have sustained. I noticed a peculiar one that was crescent-shaped above his eye and just cataloged it with all the others. 

I decided I needed to move, so I put my hands on the edge of the cot and helped to push myself up. Once again smothering groans as my body protested my extended stay on my knees while helping him. I stood up and turned to speak to the man still holding the gun beside me. 

Then, right as I turned, my vision went wonky, and everything went dark.