Kala pointed out a twenty-something bloke with long hair pulled back in a ponytail and a tattered shirt hanging almost to his knees.
The man waved a peace sign as the microwave dinged. 'Ah, McCain,' he said, and popped the door. The smell of freshly nuked pizza was overpowering.
'And Nigel,' Kala said. 'You might've noticed his board out the front on the shaggin' wagon.'
Nigel wore baggy three-quarter pants and a faded T-shirt. A headband kept his mop of sun-blond hair off his tanned forehead. Both men stank of cigarettes, and a sweeter fragrance, one Kevin had come across only rarely: marijuana. He half-heartedly held out his hand. Nigel kept his wrapped around a stubby of beer. Kevin put his hand in his pocket, feeling his face flush with the snub.
Both Hippie and Nigel had rashes on their faces, fanning out from their noses. Now that he could see Kala in the light, he realised she had it, too.
'Are you blokes-'
'Red-eyes, like Kala,' Nigel answered. 'Myxos. You soon learn to tell the difference between master and servant.'
'Bathroom's there,' Kala said, a hand on Kevin's shoulder directing him to a door at the other end of the kitchen. 'I'll find you a spare set of clothes.'
He shut the door and flipped a wire hook through a loop on the jamb to lock it.
'Jesus,' he heard Nigel say, 'how strung out is he?'
'The boss back soon?' Hippie asked.
'Clear out if you want,' Kala told them. 'I'll handle it.'
'Watch yourself,' one of the men said, Hippie maybe, the voice muffled.
Kevin had no idea what they were on about, though he could almost smell their anxiety. He stripped, noting the crusty smears on his torso, a tan pucker where Taipan had shot him. Memories of Meg, scared and bleeding, made him nauseated. You're a vampire. Taipan's words haunted him, so unbelievable he found himself doubting anything was real. Yet the throbbing ache in his chest couldn't be denied. The mineral scent of bore water clouded around him with the steam as he luxuriated under the hot shower, scrubbing himself clean, letting the water spill from his mouth. He lathered himself again and again.
A knock at the door. 'I've made you breakfast,' Kala shouted, 'and I've got you some new clothes.'
'Give me a minute.' Kevin reluctantly stepped out and dried off with the nearest towel from the rack. He opened the door and took the bundle she handed him. He dressed quickly in the jeans and flannelette shirt - not a bad fit, well-worn, the jeans spotted with faint stains. He removed a towel covering the mirror and inspected himself in the spotty, steam-dappled surface. He ran a finger across his teeth. Everything appeared normal. He tried to convince himself the events of the past hours had actually happened, that he had been turned into something other than human. Something simply unbelievable. He felt normal. Totally normal. He pinched his arm. It hurt. Touched the wound on his chest. Felt the smooth, unblemished skin of his throat where that woman, Mira, had ripped into him. She was a ghost in the back of his mind, her thighs around him; her blood in his mouth.
And what about Meg? What had he done to her? She'd been so scared; so scared and so confused. Betrayed. Staring at his reflection, he wondered just who was staring back at him. Fury gripped him. All because of Taipan. 'You sonofabitch,' he yelled, relishing the release as he pounded the mirror to fragments. He clung to the edge of the basin, panting, fighting back sobs, watching uncomprehendingly as the cuts on his knuckles slowly closed.
The door shook as Kala hit it, shouting, 'Kevin? What's going on?'
He took deep breaths, swallowing down the panic and the rage as though they were razorblades. 'It's okay, just an accident.' He clenched and unclenched his fist, willing himself to relax. The sudden violence had helped release the pressure. Hold on, he told himself. Just hold on, and this will all make sense.
But my father will still be dead.
Kevin let out a deep breath, then used his towel to sweep the pieces of glass against the wall.
He opened the door. 'Sorry. I, um, broke the mirror.'
'It happens.' She brushed past. 'Drop your dirties out the back. Brekkie's on the bench.' She gathered his clothes from the corner where he'd kicked them, handed them to him and shut the door.
He heard the plastic crack as the toilet seat was dropped, followed by the echo of tumbling water. He walked away quickly, found no sign of Hippie or Nigel, so threw his dirty clothes onto the back veranda. On the bench, he found a slice of pizza, a mug smelling of coffee and another next to it containing a dark, steaming liquid. He gobbled down the pizza, relishing the bite of pepperoni. His stomach made a gurgle of disagreement. He reached for the coffee but somehow picked up the other mug; sniffed it, and cautiously probed the liquid with his tongue. It made his stomach growl, the saliva flow.
He almost dropped the mug as a woman spoke up behind him. 'Newborn, eh?'
He turned, embarrassment warming his face. It didn't help that the stranger was gorgeous, her skin shiny black, her face framed in dreads.
'I didn't hear you,' he stammered. 'I'm Kev. Kevin. I'm with Kala.'
'Good for her.' The woman leaned back against the fridge, dislodging a magnet shaped like a pineapple. She caught it in one hand and put it back in a fluid move so quick Kevin barely tracked it. There was a finger painting on the fridge: four stick figures besides a house under a yellow sun with long rays. 'The mechanic from the garage, eh?' the woman asked, as though nothing had happened.
'Yeah, that's me.'
She looked him up, down, up again. 'I'm Acacia.' She stood as tall as Kevin and was as wide in the shoulder. The sleeves had been torn from her denim shirt, revealing muscled arms. Several necklaces of beads circled her neck. She smiled broadly, her teeth white, eyes lit with humour, as she pointed to the mug in his hand. 'Don't let me put you off, mate. Most important meal of the day 'n' that.'
'You guys keep calling this breakfast but-'
'We work the night shift,' she said with a wink.
He nodded, and turned away from her to hunch over the mug of blood. It looked like tomato juice gone wrong. His gut churned. With his eyes closed, willing himself to stop smelling it, he sipped. Sipped and groaned in delight. It warmed him all the way to his toes. Numbed his forehead like a generous shot of OP rum. Before he knew it, he was lapping the last traces from the lip of the mug. An uneasy peace wrapped around him, as though he had just finished a huge meal and was ready for a nap. But he couldn't imagine sleeping any time soon. Not after all the weird shit he'd just been through.
'That all right?' Kala asked, a hand on his shoulder. Her fingers smelled of soap.
'Yeah, thanks.' He licked his lips and put the mug down on the sink, pushed it away from him.
'Rinse it,' she said. 'It stains.'
He felt his face flush again. He washed the mug and tipped it upside down on the draining rack. Vampires still had to wash up - bloody typical.
'Quite the neat freak, our Kala,' Acacia said.
Kala hugged Acacia and apologised for waking her. Acacia brushed it away with a wave of her hand, then yawned. 'I was awake. Just wanted to see what was on the stove. He'll need more. A lot more.'
