Blood and Guitars Read Online Free Page B

I’d finished, I had enough varnish left over for one
more piece which worked out perfect, considering I only had one
more left that had dried for the required period of time. I
varnished that painting as well and set them both aside.
    I realized that I was running low on crystals
and a few other supplies, and I was in serious need of a new
horsehair brush. I dug a piece of paper and pen out of a drawer and
spent a few minutes making a list of things I needed to pick up at
the art supply store on Belcher. That meant that I’d be going out
during the day sometime soon. Shopping during regular business
hours was one of the downsides to being a vampire. Someday, maybe
I’d find a vampire who owned an art supply store and I’d convince
them to open for an hour or so each night. I sighed, knowing that
wasn’t likely. It wasn’t that there weren’t other vamps who were
business owners. There were plenty, but opening a shop or store of
any kind in the middle of the night would only draw unnecessary
attention, and that was something the Synod would frown upon.
    I was feeling restless, and wished I had
something more to do, but I didn’t have any great inspiration to
start another piece so I took off my apron and went back downstairs
into the bathroom to scrub my hands, trying to get the paint from
underneath my fingernails.
    Knowing I was done for the night, at least
with painting, I grabbed my keys and locked up. The sun would be up
in an hour and I wanted to be in lost in sleep when that happened.
I drove straight home and went into my bedroom where I undressed
and pulled on some pajamas. The windows were blacked out to prevent
the sun from shining in and disrupting my sleep during the day. I
climbed into my silky black sheets and let my head fall on the
pillow. My eyelids were growing heavy and my nerves were dulling as
the moon descended to allow for the new day. It was like the
intangible tentacles of my senses were growing numb at the tips.
Sleep would come easily. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what
my next painting should look like as I drifted off.
     
    The sound of my own stomach rumbling woke me
up around nine o’clock pm. I climbed off of the bed and unlocked
the front door before going to the pantry that was located toward
the back of my kitchen. I opened the double doors and reached for
the wine cooler that was installed in the bottom corner below the
shelves. The bottle of blood was cool to the touch as I pulled it
out and carried it into the kitchen. I reached for a wine glass,
and then reconsidered, reaching up for a second glass. I set them
on the counter of the island in the middle of the kitchen and
emptied the contents of the bottle into the glasses. Just as I’d
suspected, a knock sounded on the front door seconds after I’d
tossed the empty bottle into the garbage.
    “Come in,” I said without raising my voice. I
picked up the wine glasses and walked into the living room as Mark
was closing the door behind him.
    He was carrying a box, which he quickly set
down on the coffee table before I noticed the flyer sitting on top
of it.
    “What’s that?” I asked, holding out his glass
to him.
    “It was taped to your front door.”
    I bent down and picked up the flyer. It was a
local lounge promising live music seven nights a week. I dropped it
on the coffee table and watched as Mark took a sip and then handed
me the glass again to hold for him. “We really should get these in
the cooler.” He gestured to the box he’d brought with him.
    I followed him into the kitchen where he
filled my wine cooler up with bottles resembling those you would
find wine in. Truthfully, I didn’t know exactly where the blood
came from, just that it was from donors and the Synod took care of
the supply and demand aspect of things. As long as I had access to
it I didn’t really care where it came from. I handed Mark his glass
again and we sat down on the couch in the living room.
    Before my change, I’d never