Beasthood (The Hidden Blood Series) (6 page)

“
You do know that she’ll probably never forgive us for this?”

             
Erica shot him an acidic look with her stone, grey-green eyes. “I’m willing to take that risk,” she retorted stiffly. “Are
you
?”

             
He gazed at her coolly in response.

             
She then smoothed down her sandy coloured bun with one hand and put the carrier bag of snacks and sandwiches on the back seat. She left the back door open –on her niece’s side- and waited for a short moment before asking, “Where is she?”

Right on cue, her niece came strutting out of the toilets. Driver couldn’t look at her anymore than a second as the weight of what was about to happen hit home. He got straight into the car and placed his hands heavily on the steering wheel. He didn’t turn his head, keeping it fixed straight ahead. “You ready?” Aunt Erica called to her.

He listened to the sounds of Jaz’s approaching steps crunching against the stones scattered randomly on the tarmac. He closed his eyes. Those insignificant little sounds made his heart jump up to his throat. He swallowed hard; his throat was so dry the lump got stuck there.

“
Yep.” The car jolted a little as she jumped inside. She shut the door and let out a sigh that was loud to his acute hearing.

             
His body wanted to sprint out of the car as fast as he could, yet at the same time, he felt like he couldn’t bear to be away from her. It was a strange and new feeling that tore at his insides. Unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

             
He held his breath as the others slid into their seats.

             
After mentally demanding himself to ‘
Get a grip
’, he turned on the engine, exhaled, and set off.

~
Chapter  7-
Dupe~

Saturday May 7
th
, 2011, 1:04 p.m

“
Egg and cress, that would be yours darling.” Aunt Erica handed the sandwich packet to Uncle Bo.

             
He took it without turning round.“Thank you dear.”

“
I’m the chicken salad. I got you a ploughman’s. I remember you having that at some point.”

             
Jaz took it thankfully. She leaned her back against her door and gazed at her aunt wonderingly. “You have a really good memory,” she observed.

             
Her aunt looked at her and let out a short laugh. “Years of crossword puzzles to keep my brain healthy, though I’m not that old.”

             
Jaz looked her aunt up and down. It was the first time she had tried to guess her aunt’s age. She'd never asked if her aunt was an older or younger sibling, but had always assumed she was younger by appearance. Perhaps late thirties? Maybe mid?

             
Her aunt had a very rectangular face. A strong -almost masculine- jaw gave her face a sharpness that was more attractive rather than fierce. The bones of her cheeks were high and pointy, disguising any sagginess, bags or wrinkles that might be very obvious if they didn’t have the support her cheekbones provided.

             
Her small, feline, cold green-grey eyes that were now studying her, had the habit of twinkling when she smiled or laughed. Her straight, white teeth grinned below her small, pointed nose that Jaz was sure looked very similar to hers, minus the bump on the bridge.

             
Jaz gazed down at the black, pointy, patent heels with the bright red soles her aunt was wearing -probably the only thing really adventurous she ever wore- and then back up at her aunt’s face.

             
Her aunt guessed what question was brewing in her niece’s mind that caused her brows to set into a curious frown. “I’m thirty six,” she stage whispered with a grin. Jaz nodded. That seemed about right. Her aunt then grabbed a bottle that had been resting on her lap and handed it to Jaz. “Orange juice.”

Jaz took it with a smile and twisted open the cap. She noticed that the seal had already been broken and looked down at it in puzzlement. “Huh,” she grunted in a high tone to herself.

              She wasn’t looking up to notice the momentary startled expression that flashed across her aunt’s face. Her uncle almost choked on a mouthful of egg, cress and white bread but he didn’t look back. The driver’s only reaction was to grip the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

“
What is it, dear?” Aunt Erica asked, composing herself enough to sound believably unknowing.

“
Oh nothing, just my bottle. The seal is broken.”

“
Oh yes, silly me. I opened it for you and then when you didn’t come out the bathroom straight away I put the lid back on.”

             
Jaz bobbed her head in understanding and twisted the lid completely off. She smiled at her aunt before turning to gaze back out the window. When she was sure no one was looking, Jaz slipped her hand inside her handbag and very quietly popped the lid of her pills’ bottle. To normal human ears it was quiet. Her aunt and uncle didn’t notice it though their ears unconsciously picked up the faint ‘pop!’

             
The driver, however, did hear it.

             
He flicked his gaze up at her face in the mirror. She was looking down, her chin angled towards the window, as if she was trying to hide her face from the others. This sparked his curiosity.

             
She had an iron pill hidden in between her fingers and giving one last glance to her aunt and uncle, she discreetly plopped it in her mouth, downing any trace of it with several gulps of orange juice.

             
Her aunt released the breath she’d been holding from waiting for her niece to drink the juice. She then relaxed and gazed solemnly -but with acceptance of what had to be done- out the window.

             
The driver frowned- which to him wasn’t much different from his ordinary expression- causing the crease between his brows to deepen a little more as he watched her swallow. The curiosity was still brewing beneath the surface but the realization that there was no turning back now, blazed like a red hot poker on his skin.

             
Jaz drank half of it before she quietly clicked the lid back on and slipped her hand back out of her bag, moving it back to its nook between her hip and against the door. She double checked that no one had seen and it was only then that she let her eyes slip to the mirror.

             
This time, he wasn’t looking at her and the tension that she'd felt, when she was preparing herself to snap her eyes away if he was watching her, faded. She watched him without his knowledge. It was a good minute before she’d even realized she’d been staring and when she finally peeled her eyes away she noticed she had difficulty moving them. They felt sluggish as if she’d just woken up. It was a strange feeling. She stretched her lids wide as she forced her eyes open, doing it towards the window so no one saw. Her lids still felt heavy.

Stupid iron pills,
she thought irritably. She hated taking them.

             
No, she hated the fact she
had
to take them, she corrected herself.

             
She was a young woman, fit, healthy, ate well, drank plenty of water, exercised, and yet, she couldn’t do anything about her severe iron deficiency anaemia. She’d had it since she was a small child.

I was diagnosed when I was five,
she remembered.

             
Ever since then she’d had to take two iron tablets daily, and had to go to the hospital to have one injection per week for five weeks at a time. Then she'd have a break, somewhere up to a year, maybe more if the pills and her diet were working. Usually not. The doctor's didn't know why.

             
It was hell.

             
The fact that she had to rely on them to survive the day really pissed her off. She hated relying on anyone or anything. Her own body should work and be able to absorb the iron itself. It should, but it didn’t. And no doctor she’d gone to could explain why.

             
There was no cure, just a lifelong treatment of popping pills and injections.

             
Some days she felt so weak she had to lie in bed. Her anaemia wasn’t the norm, but it was the closest explanation anyone could find for her symptoms. She had low iron levels in her body, but even with an iron rich diet and the pills, she could still get horrible symptoms. She needed the pills; even more, she needed her strong dosage of shots. Without any of them, she’d die.

             
She wasn’t sure if it was because she was ashamed of it, but she just didn’t want anyone knowing. The only people who knew about it were her parents. If she’d had any choice, they wouldn’t know about it either. She wasn’t about to tell her aunt or uncle.

             
Yet even with these pills she still felt tired.

God damn it.

“Do you mind if I roll down the window?” she asked, loud enough for all to respond.

“
Not at all,” her uncle replied.

             
Her aunt spoke over him. “Are you too warm?”

“
No, um, just want some fresh air.”

“
Sure, open it.” 

             
This time she didn’t see the exchange of glances between her aunt and the driver through the mirror.  She pressed the button and the fresh air whacked her in the face. It was exhilarating and helped her tiredness a little. “Let me know when it gets cold,” she called over the loud whistling of air as the car sped down the motorway.

“
Sure,” her aunt mumbled.

                                                                                    *

Saturday May 7
th
, 2011, 2:04 p.m.
On the M6.

             
An hour had passed before she started to feel it.

Her stomach became sensitive. Any strong bump in the road made it groan in discomfort. It contorted from within as if she’d swallowed a buzzing beehive. She coped with it for another ten minutes before it started to writhe and she could feel the acid gurgling just below her esophagus.

She didn’t want to throw up in this car. It was a nice car… and she’d probably die of embarrassment if she barfed right there and then. She didn’t want to ask them to pull over so she kept quiet.

Then her head started to feel strange, like it was clouded in thick black fog and she couldn’t concentrate or think of anything coherent.

She stared sluggishly out the window with one hand across her tummy as she tried to soothe the fire beneath the thick layers of flesh and stomach lining. Even as her hand rested on her t-shirt she could still feel the scorching heat of her belly. It made her sweat. The salty water trickled down her spine and pooled in the pits of her arms. Her breathing became shallower and heavier as the minutes passed. The cool wind wasn’t helping anymore.

             
Even her vision started to act strangely. The passing hills that had been ordinary shades of green and dusty yellow were suddenly bright and luminous forms of their original colours. They began to hurt her eyes as they danced violently across her vision. She closed her lids and rested her burning head against the cool glass. The vibrations of the road only made her stomach worse. She let out a quiet groan.

             
It was then that Aunt Erica chose to ask her, “Are you okay, darling?”

             
Jaz’s response was delayed and sloppy. “I-I dunno.”

             
Uncle Bo swung round. The driver’s shoulders were locked so tightly, he felt like would snap, but he knew if he tried to ease them he’d lose control. Of what, he didn’t know, but he knew as long as he gripped the steering wheel and kept his muscles locked hard, he wouldn’t lose it. “What is it Jaz dear?” Uncle Bo asked, surveying his niece’s sweaty brow, even paler skin, and droopy eyes.

“
I don’t feel so good,” she managed to say.

“
What’s wrong?” Aunt Erica questioned with a tense voice.

“
Everything. My eyes hurt, I feel tired, dizzy and this close to vomiting,” she said, holding her hand up with her index finger and thumb almost touching.

“
Maybe it was the sandwich,” Aunt Erica suggested. Jaz held up the unopened packet. Her aunt eyed it as if it were a scorpion.

Stop thinking of excuses you fool. Act concerned, worried. She can’t possibly suspect you!
Aunt Erica’s mental voice growled at her. “What do you want us to do?” she asked with genuine concern.

“
It’s so hot,” Jaz whispered, holding the back of her hand to her sweaty forehead.

“
Would you like me to pull over?” came the sound of the driver’s velvety bass voice.

             
Jaz looked at the back of his head between her half closed lids, still keeping her head back against her seat.

“
No,” her aunt cut in a little fiercely, “We’re nearly there now. There’s not much point stopping.”

“
How much longer?” Jaz croaked.

             
Her aunt shot the driver a look.

             
He glared at her in the rear view mirror then let out a low sigh. “We should be there in fifteen minutes. If there’s no traffic.” Jaz groaned knowing that answer was relative. Those fifteen minutes could double or triple or… she didn’t want to think of it. She just tried to breathe even, controlled breaths hoping that was enough to stop the vomit shooting up. “I will do what I can to get you there in that time,” he added in a stern voice. 

             
She glanced up to find the driver watching her with a determined glint in his eyes. The fierceness of it startled her for a moment and she forgot to breathe. The fire in her belly roared and she swallowed hard to try and hold it back with a ball of saliva. It worked, this time. She looked away from him and lightly bobbed her head in response.

             
The last minutes of the journey were hell on earth. The driver kept to his promise, racing down the country lanes on the last ten miles of the journey. The only problem with that was that the bumps and curves of the narrow country road made it even harder to hold her vomit down. Her sweating was becoming unbearable. Her head was pounding. She could hear her heartbeat and the pumping blood in her ears. She felt like she going to die.