(4.3) Transition

Chapter 4, Part 3

While the two of us were enjoying our meals, we carried on in light conversation. She explained to me the reason her business card named her as “Angel” as well as the meaning behind the suspicious tag of “D7″ that resided below it. All in all it was a pretty nice pre-dawn conversation interrupted only by a phone call from Nick, explaining to me what my next assignment was. But we’ll get into that later.

The sun began to come up shortly after Alexis and I finished our blood. During our talk I’d warned her of what the feeling of the power of her now-vampiric blood leaving her would feel like. Very similar to the crash one would feel after a 24-hour adrenaline rush. I told her she should sit down before the sun came up. She said that since she didn’t notice a huge difference between now and before I turned her that she would be fine.

So when the sunlight touched her and she collapsed over the edge of the couch, falling immediately to the floor, I made it a very large point to start laughing from my position on the other side of the couch. She was stubborn and deserved it. Besides, I’ve been a vampire a lot longer than her, I tried to reason with her.

“You were one of those kids that used to only learn after mommy brought out the switch weren’t you?” I said.

She let out a non-commital grunt as she worked her way back up to a rather wobbly standing position, using the armrest of the couch to support herself. “Sweet Jesus James. What the– How the–” She stammered.

“Well, first off,” I began. “The the longer you live, the easier it is for your body to transition.
I’ve been around for a long long, long long long, long time, so half the time I actually need to look outside to notice the difference. Secondly, as always with the supernatural, the first time is the worst.

I looked at my watch then, noting that I had a meeting with Nick in about 20 minutes.

“Now,” I said helping to guide her to a seated position. “As soon as your muscles aren’t feeling like jelly, you’re going to put on the clothes that I’m going to set out for you. Then, you’re going to go home and change, shower and report to Illiavanno.” At this point she started to object. I cut her short by pulling on her sire-strings and continued on.

“You’re going to report to him, and tell him that I’m leaving town. I’ve got to go take care of some more business. Business that should take me out of his hair, but if I see another person gunning for my neck, he’ll be getting each of them sent back in no less than 10 FedEx boxes.”

I think my sudden demeanor change scared her a bit. If anything, the wide-eyed look she gave me was a dead giveaway. I left her there for a moment, going into my room to try to find the sweatpants that I knew were hidden in there somewhere. It took a few minutes but when all the crap I’d stuffed in the closet fell to the floor, I found them, hiding behind a stuffed lion that I couldn’t remember ever buying.

“Okay,” I said, returning to the living room, “Here are your pants and there is the door.” I tossed the pants at her and she dressed quickly. “Great!” I exclaimed 3 seconds later as the elastic waistband settled around her. “Now run along, and I’ll be in contact with you.”

I shoveled her outside the door, shoving a wad of cash into her hands to pay for a cab and ignoring her protests about her lack of shoes before I closed it. When I had the door locked, I gathered my gear and stood in front of my bedroom door. I had a good five minutes before I needed to be in her office so I had decided to take a shortcut.

Taking her business card out of my pocket, I touched it to the door. In response to the spell that had been cast on the card, the door began to ripple, turning  into a rather quaint looking office door with a nameplate that read simply “Nicole Anderson - Investigative Services.”

I re-pocketed the card, knocked twice and opened the door, not waiting for her acknowledgment. Nick sat behind her desk in her ridiculously large office, looking up at me from a stack of papers longer than my sword. She tossed a few of them at me, and I caught them when they hit my chest.

“What are these?” I asked, straightening them out so I could read them.

“Those James, are tickets. You’ve got a flight to catch in about 4 hours.” She responded.

I’d managed to find the papers that had the plane tickets in them and read the destination.

“Vegas? What the hell is in Vegas?”