On the Edge of Humanity

chapter 11


AN HOUR LATER I PACED the carpet in front of the couch biting my nails. Webb had left me in his office alone while he addressed some issue in the building. What were they going to do with Ben? I started to tear up when the door opened and Webb walked in.

“How could you?” I ran over to him with my fingers balled into a fist, ready to swing. He clamped down on my hand. I tried to pull it away, but his grip was strong. A seed of hatred sprouted and my stomach clenched. I suddenly hated him. He had sentenced Ben to death.

“You need to calm down,” he said in a tone that permitted no argument. He steered me over to the couch. “Sit,” he said.

“I’m not a dog.”

“I said, sit down.” His nostrils flared.

It was the first time I detected a little impatience from the blue-eyed vampire. Now I was seeing the real side of Lt. Webb London. I crossed my arms over my chest and plopped onto the couch beside me.

“You’re a little dramatic,” he said as he stepped back from the couch.

“What? You told Ben that if he didn’t agree to keep a secret you’d kill him—and you think I’m dramatic?”

He laughed as he placed both hands on his head. “Ben is the least of my worries.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. My father is more important to you.” I enfolded my knees into my chest.

He laughed again. He was an irritating vampire that I wanted to beat to a pulp. My brother was missing, Ben’s neck was on the chopping block and this annoying, blue-eyed creature was more worried about a man I didn’t know and couldn’t care less about.

Hours had passed since we’d arrived, and I hadn’t seen any signs of Webb or his team doing anything to find my brother. With all the security around this place, it was going to be hard to get out of here, but I had to try. I had to do something to find Sam.

“You’re correct. Your father is important to me and to this team. But I haven’t spent the last twelve years helping my best friend search for his children, only to let your brother die, or kill his friend. I’m not the monster you think I am.”

He inched closer, his movement swift. His musky scent tickled my nose and my stomach fluttered. I lowered my head to my knees. I didn’t want to look at him.

His hand touched my head, then he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. His light touch sent chills rippling up my spine. What is it with him? Every time he looks at me or touches me, I get this weird lightheaded feeling. Does it mean I like the irritating vampire? I didn’t like boys, not like Darcy did.

“Look at me, Jo.”

“No. You’ll only try to mesmerize me, or whatever you vampires do.”

“It’s called compelling. Vampires can compel humans to believe what we want them to believe. We, in essence, scramble their thoughts. We can even do it on some of the weaker vampires.”

“So why have you been trying to compel me?”

“I haven’t. I’ve been trying to calm you. You were so nervous in Mr. Jackson’s office. Your heart was pumping blood as fast as it could. I was trying to ease your nerves so we could talk, so you would listen.” He took in a deep breath. “I overdid it. So Tripp stepped in to prevent you from passing out.”

I kept telling myself none of this was real. Maybe the more I said it, the more they would become human.

“You see, Jo, vampires have unique abilities. Not all of us have the same ones. For example, Tripp can relax people by the way he touches them.”

I braced myself. Did I want to know what Webb’s special ability was? I picked up my head. “And yours?”

“I can create a telepathic connection with another vampire.”

I thought back to Mr. Jackson’s office and how Webb kept nodding to his guards. He must’ve been speaking to them that way.

“Does that work on humans?” I prayed that he’d say no. Otherwise, I was going to panic. The thought of him getting into my head scared the shit out of me. I didn’t want to hear his voice in my head. It was bad enough I was becoming a ball of mush around him.

“It’s been known to work on a select few of those with the vampire gene who haven’t crossed over, but no, not on humans. Basically, you’re walking a fine line between being human and becoming a vampire.”

I didn’t know whether to be more worried that Webb might be able to get in my head or that I was on the verge of becoming a vampire. Either way I wished the fine line that I supposedly was walking would lead me out of here, out of this building, away from this whole sordid situation.

“I carry the vampire gene, so what?” The words spilled past my lips as if I were a spoiled brat. But I didn’t care.

He narrowed his eyes and a muscle in his jaw ticked.

“I explained earlier today that some people choose to become immortal while others don’t have a choice.” He paused and dropped his gaze.

“Are you saying I don’t?” I held my breath.

“I’m not sure yet. But I hope you do,” he replied.

I was confused. My head was spinning from all this information. Why did he seem so concerned about me having a choice? Did he think I wanted to become a vampire? My choice was easy. There was no way that would happen. While some days I wanted to die, today wasn’t one of them.

“What’s the big deal?”

He studied me for a second. I was curious if getting into a vampire’s head also meant he could read minds. God, I sure hope not.



“In my world we don’t like to force those with the vampire gene to choose between mortality and immortality. Like the human world, we have laws, lots of them. But the one we honor and protect the most is the right to choose between my world and the human world. As you heard Ben say, he believes in growing old. Some people who carry the vampire gene want to experience that, they want to grow old. They want to be as human as they can be. When your destiny doesn’t give you a choice...” His voice was sullen. It sounded as if he never had a choice.

He hit a nerve that resonated within me. Sure, I wanted to find my way, to get out of the world I was trapped in and to be free to make my own choices. But…

A sudden pain grabbed hold of my stomach and twisted it in a knot. I didn’t want to hear anymore. Still, there was a question burning inside.

“You become a vampire, how?”

Webb shifted his position. “Since you carry the vampire gene, the only way for you to become immortal is to drink a pint of your father’s blood.”

A chill crawled up the back of my neck and pinched me hard.

“So, you don’t become a vampire by another one biting you?”

The corners of his mouth curled. “Didn’t I tell you not believe everything you read? If I were to bite you now, all I would do is either satisfy my hunger or drain you of all your blood.”

I unfolded my legs and scooted back against the couch as far as I could—away from him. As I blinked, I thought I saw him lick his lips. He was a pretty vampire, but I didn’t want to be his snack.

“Don’t worry, I know how to control my hunger.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. His eyes changed slightly and flecks of red dotted his cobalt blue eyes.

“A pint, huh? And then...” I snapped my fingers. “I materialize into a vampire?”

He ignored me. “It’s a complicated process and I’m not going into the details.”

Anger rose, stinging my cheeks. “Then how do you expect me to believe anything you say? I don’t know even know why I’m here. You say I carry the vampire gene and my father is missing. I don’t know where Sam is or even if he’s dead. And that’s just the beginning of my long list of what’s happening in my world. Oh, and I’m sitting here next to a vampire worried if I’m going to be his snack.”

Webb rose from the couch. My body relaxed slightly, but my rage still simmered. He stood on the other side of the coffee table and scratched his neck. I assumed he was trying to keep his anger at bay.

“I want to get out of here. I want to go back to Mr. Jackson’s house—now,” I said.

His head jerked slightly as his nostrils flared again. His eyes slowly turned black. If he wasn’t angry before, he sure was now.

“You’ve seen evidence that vampires exist. That’s enough for you to believe something. You’re not here so that I can convince you to trust me. You’re here so that you don’t end up missing like your brother. And you need to stop being a brat and listen to what I tell you. I’ll explain things when necessary and only when necessary.” His hard tone matched his hard eyes as he glared at me.

I just pissed off a vampire. Great. I stilled as his black eyes bored into me. I was afraid if I moved he would leap on me.

He took a breath and moved around to sit on the coffee table in front of me. He pinched his bottom lip between his forefinger and thumb.

“Your father has to be a vampire in order for you to become one. The vampire blood, his blood, is essential in the crossover process. Once you reach the age of sixteen, your father starts to store his blood. Once a month he replenishes the old with the new until you and Sam make the decision on whether you will stay human or become a vampire. Your father wants you to have a say in your future, in your life. But it’s also stored for…emergencies.”

I wanted to laugh. My father hadn’t been around for fourteen years. Why would he care what Sam and I wanted? If he did, he wouldn’t have dumped us in the foster system.

“A father’s blood is like a precious and rare gem.” His voice was soft now. “It should be guarded at all times. If your dad or your dad’s blood were to fall into the hands of his enemies, they would destroy him and any of his stored blood. You would never get a chance—”

“What makes you think I want to be a vampire?”

He stopped and stared at me for a long second before he continued. “Your father’s enemies don’t want more vampires like him. Your dad is a very powerful immortal. His enemies believe that you and your brother are a threat to their plan, especially when they’re fighting for control.”

A knock on the door caused Webb to snap his head in that direction.

“Enter,” he said.

Sloan stepped in. “A word, Lieutenant?”

Webb rose from his seat. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he stepped out of the room.

I blew out all the air in my lungs. Whoa. I couldn’t believe what he just said. My father—a powerful immortal. What does that mean? It was as if a freight train was barreling down the tracks, and I was stuck between the rails, struggling to break free.

“Get up and walk around. Shake it off,” I muttered out loud. “I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming,” I repeated over and over.

I stood up and twisted my neck in one direction then the other. Drinking a pint of blood—was he kidding? Sure, I was drawn to the sticky liquid for some reason. But drinking it like a tall glass of milk? No way. My mind wrestled with the idea while my body screamed for it.

He said my dad had enemies. What enemies? It seemed to me that blood and enemies were a lethal combination and my stomach suddenly became ill. Were those enemies responsible for Sam being missing? Who were they? Alarms were going off in my head.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around the room to adjust my vision. A bookcase behind Webb’s desk caught my attention. A picture of two people in green fatigues stood smiling together, as a crystal blue ocean spanned the background. I focused on the man to the left of Webb. My mouth fell open. If I weren’t mistaken the man in the picture was Sam. His long black hair was tied back. His emerald green eyes peered out beneath long lashes. His smile was as endearing as Sam’s. As I grabbed the picture off the bookcase, another sat behind it. I replaced the one in my hands with the second, which had two little kids sitting on a blanket on a beach. Was that Sam and me? My pulse quickened.

I ran a hand over the picture and muttered, “Sam, where are you? Please, please be all right. I will find you.”

“That’s your father in the other picture,” Webb said.

His voice startled me.

“And this one?” I pointed to the one in my hand.

“That picture was taken when you and Sam were two years old, just before your mother died.”

My mother? I bit my bottom lip. I didn’t even want to think about her. My life during the past week was enough to process. I wasn’t ready to learn about my father, let alone, my mother.

I closed my eyes and inhaled. Webb had given me enough of a family history lesson to last a lifetime. But something told me he wasn’t finished yet.

“You should eat. It’s getting late,” Webb said.

The gray light that spilled in from the small window didn’t give me any indication of the time of day. There wasn’t a clock in this room either, but my stomach was a little queasy, which I assumed was more from nerves, but now that Webb mentioned eating, it sounded like a good idea.

“Let’s go up to the mess hall. Dinner is not until five, but we can find a snack.”

“Um, I do have more questions.”

“We have plenty of time later,” Webb replied.

As we rode the elevator up, the questions were bouncing around in my head, aching to get out, but something warned me Webb wasn’t going to give answers for all of them. I would have to search for some on my own.





The mess hall located on the third floor made the cafeteria at school look like a rundown diner. The stainless steel refrigerator had three doors on top, and two draws that pulled out on the bottom. The tables were all set for dinner complete with cloth napkins like a high-end restaurant.

Two long islands lined the right side of the mess hall, a name that didn’t fit the atmosphere or design of the expansive room. Each island had a granite counter top with bar stools tucked underneath. Behind them was a small selection of liquor bottles neatly stacked from the bottom shelf to the top. Probably not something they were going to let me drink, although I imagined something strong would have helped my nerves.

“I’ll see if the cook can make us a light snack,” Webb said as he pushed in a swinging door, to what I assumed was the kitchen.

I was thirsty, and since liquor wasn’t one of my choices, I walked over to the refrigerator and pulled open the middle door. Two rows of colorful juice boxes sat neatly under the sprinkle of the refrigerator light. There were orange, blue, green and black boxes. I plucked an orange one from the shelf and closed the door.

I surveyed the small box, then pulled the plastic straw from the side of it. The word Creamsicle was imprinted across the top edge. This sounds tasty.



I inserted the straw through the foil spot on top, then drew in a long sip. The sweetness of the orange and vanilla combination made my tastebuds tingle, but the thickness of the liquid made my stomach clench. What is this? This isn’t juice. The consistency was more like a milkshake.

My stomach started to churn and bile rose in the back of my throat. I swallowed, then inhaled. I suddenly became dizzy. Maybe I was dehydrated. I grabbed another orange box and went through the same procedure, though I sipped this one slowly rather than downing it. The room began spinning.

“Jo, what are you doing?” Webb yelled. “Put that down. You can’t drink that.”

I snapped up my head. A look of horror was plastered on his face. His eyes suddenly turned black. Not a good sign. Oh no. What did I just do?

“Put down the juice box.”

My mind agreed with him, but my hands didn’t.

“This isn’t juice,” I said as I looked at the blurry words printed on the box.

“I know, Jo. It’s blood!”

I stood frozen in place with the straw still in my mouth, still sipping the…what!

“Dr. Vieira, I need you down in the mess hall, now,” Webb yelled into his phone.

He guided me to a chair. “How do you feel?”

“Fine. What’s all the fuss? I’m just drinking...” Oh my God! Is this my father’s blood? Am I going to turn into a vampire?

The room was spinning faster now. My stomach decided it didn’t like the blood, after all. I dropped the box, grabbed my stomach and bent over.

Webb snatched a trashcan from somewhere.

“In here.” He placed the container at the base of my feet.

I heaved the contents of my stomach into it. My hair fell in front of me as sweat beaded up on my face and forehead. The first round was painful, as if I had just completed fifty sit-ups. I burped, and as soon as I did, the second round began. Webb pulled my hair behind me and held it.

“What happened?” Dr. Vieira asked. “Ah, I see.”

I couldn’t tell what he saw. Only that he probably figured it out from the orange boxes on the floor.

“Will she be okay? Or will this mess up our plan?” Webb whispered.

“What plan?” I asked as my voice echoed from the trashcan.

Him and that damn plan, whatever it was.

“No, she’ll be fine. She’s eliminated most of it. Only a very small amount will absorb into her system, but shouldn’t do any harm,” Dr. Vieira explained. “Make sure she eats something bland for dinner.”

“Did I just drink my father’s blood?” My heart raced.

“You told her?” Dr. Vieira asked. There was concern in his voice.

“We don’t have much time. She needs to know,” Webb said.

“Then it begins. I’m almost finished with her tests. They may be ready by this evening,” Dr. Vieira said.

I raised my head, hands glued to the rim of the trashcan. “Tests?” I shifted my blurry gaze between Webb and Dr. Vieira.

They both wore an unblinking expression.

“I get it. Need to know basis, right?” I asked.

“Let’s go back to my office. You can lie down for a bit,” Webb said.

“I want to see Ben. That’s if you—” I stuck my head in the trashcan, waiting. But it was a false alarm. “Didn’t kill him yet.”

“What is she talking about?” Dr. Vieira asked.

“Nothing,” Webb replied as he walked to the bar with his phone at his ear.

I sat motionless, trying to still the dizziness that clouded my head while I thought of Ben. Had Webb actually killed him?

Dr. Vieira sat beside me.

“Do you know if Ben…?” But, before I could finish, Webb grabbed my arm.

“Let’s go,” Webb commanded.

Dr. Vieira guided me upright.

“Make sure you eat something light at dinner,” Dr. Vieira reminded me as he dropped his hand.

Webb helped me toward the door. I willed my stomach to begin its third round. I wanted desperately to puke on his shiny military boots.

Olivia met us in the hall. “Sir, you requested me?”

“Can you escort Jo to the ladies room then return her to my office?” Webb asked as he let go of my arm.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hey, I’m not some postal package who needs to be returned to sender.”

The man is irritating with a capital ‘I.’

Webb flicked his head to the side and Olivia returned his command with a nod.

Like Webb, Olivia was dressed all in black with cargo pants and laced-up boots. She wore a black golf shirt, which disappeared into her trousers, and her weapons were strapped to her belt. I focused on her sword, which had a black leather handle with a silver plate tacked to the side with words engraved on it. I squinted, but the words were too small to make out. I wondered though if there were any significance to the different colored handles. I remembered Sloan’s sword had a brown handle and Webb’s was red.

As we walked into the restroom, my stomach tightened. I covered my mouth as I ran to the sink. I was a little disappointed my stomach waited until now.

“How many boxes did you drink?” Olivia asked.

I held up two fingers as I continued to puke.

“No wonder. A human can’t handle a spoonful without getting sick, let alone eight ounces of blood,” she replied.

There was a lull in the action and my stomach settled for a moment. I picked up my head and she handed me a paper towel.

It was hard not to peer in the mirror. My bangs were stuck to my forehead and my chin had small red marks from where the glass punctured the skin. I turned on the faucet, wetted the paper towel and placed it over my mouth. When I looked up, Olivia was staring at me. Her hair was pulled back into a low braid and her angled eyebrows accentuated her soft brown eyes. Like the rest of the guards, she looked young. I wondered at what age she had crossed over.

“Is something wrong?” I asked as I turned to face her.

“You look just like—”

“I know, like my father. How many times am I going to hear that today?” I rolled my eyes and, as I did, the room spun and my stomach gave way. I jerked my head toward the sink, but not fast enough as the contents of my stomach sprayed onto Olivia’s shirt.

I hugged the sink and heaved again. I took a deep breath and waited a few seconds before I raised my head. When I did, I saw that Olivia had taken her shirt off and was rinsing it in the sink next to me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “While the flavor tasted good, my stomach sure doesn’t think so.”

She laughed. “Which kind did you try?”

“The creamsicle.”

“Not my favorite. The one in the black box is a peppered flavor with some other spices in it. That’s mine.”

She reminded me of something Sam said when we were at the funeral home—which seemed ages ago now. He had mentioned that when he got blood in his mouth, it tasted like pepper to him. I desperately missed Sam. A gust of hot air blew in my direction. I looked over at Olivia; she was drying her shirt under the air dryer.

I couldn’t help but stare. She wore a white tank top that was perfectly fitted to her body, showing a hint of six-pack abs. Her sculpted biceps rippled along her arms as she rubbed her shirt together. When she turned to face me, the front of her left shoulder exposed a tattoo. It looked like a handwriting specialist drew the number four in calligraphy style. If the vertical stem were removed, it would look like the number two.

“Your tattoo. Does it stand for something?” I asked.

She glanced down. “Oh that. It’s nothing.”

“What does it mean?” My stomach gurgled, echoing in the room. “Sorry.”

“Do you have to throw up again?” she asked.

“I don’t know. But stay back.”

“It’s the symbol for Jupiter. We’re the Jupiter Sentinels and this sort of brands us into the group. Every vampire recruit that makes it through SEAL training is imprinted with a symbol of their SEAL team.”

“Neil has a symbol on the back of his neck in the shape of—” I froze.

His was a monogram, as well, with the letters ‘P’ and—did his symbol stand for the Plutariums? Oh shit! Is Neil part of them—the bad guys?



“Neil? Who’s Neil?” she asked. Her brows lifted.

I wasn’t sure if I should tell her. I suspected she was going to tell Webb everything we talked about. But it was only a tattoo. I wasn’t going to tell her that I thought Neil was dead. Then again, did the Sentinels have something to do with his death?

“Some guy I met at the hospital. He had a tattoo on the back of his neck. Not like yours but it looked like the symbol that’s engraved on that ring Jonah was wearing.”

She flinched. Did she know Neil?

Her hands shook slightly as she buttoned the top of her golf shirt.

My stomach talked back and I leaned over the sink. While I waited for the puke to rise, my mind raced. The pieces of an extremely complex puzzle were forming, but little was making sense. A few seconds ticked by. I burped, then hiccupped. A complete mess, I splashed water on my face and played with my bangs, but it was useless. The monster look would have to do for now.



“We should get you back to Webb’s office.”

My stomach settled and the gurgling had stopped, but a cloud of haze floated around me as I stepped into the chilly hall. My knees buckled. Cool air whistled past my ear as I landed on my right shoulder and my head hit the tile floor. The fluorescent light spun above me, then faded.





I woke up on the couch in Webb’s office. I lifted my head, but it was as if a weight were pressing against my forehead, pushing me back down. A sharp pain throbbed just above my right ear. I inserted my fingers into my mouth, searching my gums for fangs. I sighed heavily, relieved that I didn’t find any pointy teeth. My hands roamed over my body, seeking what, I didn’t know. Aside from fangs, I wasn’t sure what other physical changes vampires experience.

“Are you like a magnet for trouble?” a familiar voice asked.

Excitement stirred within me.

I sat up. Ben was sitting in the chair opposite me. He was alive. Oh my God. I couldn’t believe it. Webb didn’t kill him. His voice was music to my ears.

“You’re alive?” The words came out in a high-pitched tone and I sounded like a squealing girl at a Justin Beiber concert.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, because Webb was suppose to kill you for not agreeing to…you know.”

“Jo, I couldn’t do that to you or Sam, even if you could be one of them.” He shook his head. “Anyway, I’m glad Webb had Tripp take me upstairs. I needed time to process all this. This vampire stuff is heavy. Tripp explained some things to me and showed me around the compound. The SEAL team members in this building are mostly vampires, but a couple of them are human. I had a chance to talk to one of them. While I’m not completely comfortable with vampires, it was good to hear what another human had to say.”

I was relieved Ben sounded a bit more relaxed. Maybe his vibe would wear off on me.

“And Tripp showed me the weapons room. It looks like something out of a James Bond movie. It’s some cool shit,” Ben said as his eyes glistened.

“Do you hear yourself? A couple of hours ago you were no way about this vampire crap. You meet a few vampires, talk to a human, see a bunch of weapons and now you’re into it?”

“Not completely. But I decided at least to listen. The human guy said something that made me think. He said, ‘You can’t change how you’re born.’ All this scares the shit out of me. You kind of scare me. But I’m not going to abandon a friend.”

Tears filled my eyes.

“You know I was down here freaking out, thinking the worse. While I want to strangle you, I’d rather strangle him,” I whispered as I flicked my head at Webb, who was sitting at his desk shuffling papers.

I rose from the couch then fell back down. Ben jumped up from his chair and sat next to me.

“You okay? Is it from that snack? How did it taste?” he asked.

“Shut up. Who told you?”

He nodded at Webb.

I looked over at Webb, but he was engrossed, reading something from a white sheet of paper. What else did Webb tell Ben?

“You’re not a vampire, Jo.” Ben started laughing.

“When I am one, you will be my first victim.” I licked my lips.

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Ben said.

I wasn’t sure what Tripp had explained to Ben either, but I wasn’t ready to tell him what I learned from Webb.

“Okay, you two,” Webb said from a distance. Then he strode over and placed his hands on the back of the empty chair.

“I guess I should thank you for not…well, thank you,” I said as I looked at Webb.

“Ben is part of this now. He’s going to help us as much as he can,” Webb said.

How was Ben, a human, going to help the Vampire SEALs?

“I’m going to be one of your bodyguards.” Ben’s brows lifted as he spoke.

“You?” I chuckled.

“Why not me? I swing a mean baseball bat,” he said in a serious tone.

“We’ve been through this. You know how that turned out,” I reminded him.

“Can you two get along, or not?” Webb asked.

Ben nodded. Webb stared at me. I guessed he was waiting for my answer. I contemplated whether to be a smart ass, but I decided against it, so I nodded.

“Good, now that we agree, we’ll head back up to the mess hall. After dinner, you two will meet me in the war room. Tripp will show you where it is.”

Ben and I looked at each other. I had no idea what a war room was or why I would need to be there. I wasn’t at war with anyone, at least not yet. Maybe they were going to anoint me into the vampire community after drinking that blood. Whatever it was I was, about to find out.