There was blood everywhere. I could feel it, warm and sticky beneath my fingers. The smell of copper and gunpowder filled my nostrils. I could hear everything. The clock ticking, the wet carpet drying flooded my ears. I could see everything. I looked up from the blanket of bodies on the floor to the window. My eyes took in the minute stitching of the rug to the wood grain of the side table by the couch. The streetlights crept through the blinds, casting an eerie glow across the room. I could hear people in the room beside me eating dinner, their plates clinking, forks scraping, mouths chewing. It was a beautiful symphony and yet so overwhelming. I couldn't remember a time that I'd heard such beautiful sounds or such deafening noise.
How did I get here? Where was I? Who were these people? Or, more accurately who had these people been? I looked around me. Pools of blood leached into the carpet. A lifeless face stared me down from across the room. I should have been frightened. I should have been screaming. What the hell had happened? Instead of fear, I felt numb. Any doctor would have said it was shock. I didn't know it then but shock would have been the least correct word for it.
My throat ached. God I was thirsty. The burning sensation seeped down into my chest and filled my lungs. I rolled off my stomach and onto my hands and knees. I felt strangely light as I pushed myself up. I swayed under my own weight as I stumbled into the bathroom. Propping my hands on the countertop I turned the tap on and lowered my mouth to gulp down lukewarm water. Satiated, I raised myself up to look in the mirror.
I gasped as I stumbled backwards into the doorframe. My usually tame, blonde hair was wild, matted with blood that streaked down my face. Dried blood cracked on my cheeks and eyelids. I couldn't see any resemblance in the mirror to myself for the gaping holes in my clothes, the blood. God so much blood. My eyes were red and dry. My irises were crimson, stark against my pale complexion.
I smelled fresh blood. The tang of copper strong and bright coated my tongue and I felt a pull in my jaw, like sipping a dry Shiraz. Saliva filled my mouth and suddenly it felt full. I ran my tongue behind my lips over my teeth and felt faint.
I heard a noise. Spinning around I was face to face with a cleaning woman in uniform. I must have been in a hotel. At least now I knew where I was, sort of. The woman cried out, frozen with fear standing amongst the bloodied bodies sprawled across the floor. I could smell it. Her palatable fear tasted heavy with spice. She smelled good.
All of a sudden I felt my hands gripping her shoulders. My mouth closing over her throat. My teeth sinking into her skin.
That was my first memory as a vampire.
BRIANNA
"Bree," I heard my name from across the hall.
Looking up from my patient, an O- bag of plasma, I looked for Bill. Bill worked in the separation department of the Canadian Blood Services lab. If he was calling me, then he had another shipment of bags for me to label, pack and box up for the next truck to the blood bank.
I slipped the bag into place in the last box and quickly ran the tape gun across the top. Straightening my collar, I tossed my gloves into the waste bin as I entered the room adjacent to mine. Bills' machines were running but he was nowhere to be seen. I saw the pile of blood bags on the steel counter top. Unmarked and unlabeled outside of their designated type, the bags were still warm. I could smell it, the excitement, through the bags. Looking around once more for Bill, I loaded up the wheeled cart and slid it back to my room.
After I'd properly tagged and sorted each bag into its proper shipping container I listened hard. There was still no sign of Bill. I could hear the whirr of the spinner, the click of the air conditioning, the skittering of the mice in the rafters but no sounds I could attribute to Bill. We worked the graveyard shift and it was common for us to leave for short breaks. No one would tell on us, we were the only two staff who worked in the shipping department after hours. However it was strange for him to leave the spinner running. The specific plasma he was spinning was on a short cycle. For him to not be here, felt odd.
Suddenly I caught the scent. Panic raced through me. I felt my body still. Ten years and I'd never gotten used to the abrupt quiet that surged through my flesh when instinct took over. I gently put the box in my hands on the table and slipped off my lab coat. Every muscle was tense as I shifted silently from one room to the next; searching for the scent that brought everything into focus. I felt my mouth fill with saliva, the pull in my jaw as my teeth sharpened to points. Instinct. That's all it was.
The smell got stronger as I passed the supply closet. Grasping the handle, I quickly turned it and flung open the door. I leaned back ready to take on the intruder when the smell of fresh warm blood washed over my senses.
There, at my feet, was Bill. His neck torn open, eyes lifelessly staring into nothing. I felt a chill course through me as I surveyed the damage. My eyes were drawn to the wall behind him and if I'd still had a heartbeat I'm sure my blood would have drained from my face. Above his head on the wall, someone had smeared, "I know what you are."
"Jesus." I breathed. I felt my body tighten. I was hungry. It had been weeks since I'd had a normal feeding, if chasing down black bears in Algonquin Park could be classified as normal. I usually stole a case of blood bags from work and stockpiled them in my fridge every couple of days. It was better than the alternative. Better than being an animal.
I had to get out of there. I felt my heart racing as I stared at the red streaks on the floor. He wasn't cold yet; maybe I could have just a – STOP! I screamed internally. Ok Bree, Bill was your friend. You don't eat friends. I repeated my mantra as I bolted out of the hallway. Flying into the shipping room I scooped my purse and my keys and hightailed it out of there. If I was going to keep my "blood" sobriety, I had to get home.
I found my car outside in its place. I slammed the keys into the ignition and the engine roared to life. I felt manic. The bloodlust was pounding through me. I had to get home to feed. I pulled the '71 Nova into the street and pounded the gas. It was just what had happened to Antoine.
Antoine Belanger, my only "vampire friend" had been dismembered and decapitated 3 weeks previous. He'd been the one person I turned to when I needed anything. As a rule I tried not to partake too often with the other vampire nests in the city. Their anger and disregard for humanity was too much to watch, but Antoine had been different. He'd still fed from humans, but he admired them. He'd respected them, and he'd never killed anyone. Before Antoine had died, he'd tried to warn me about a vision he'd had. He'd said that someone was coming to kill us all, good bad or otherwise. At the time I'd laughed. I'd told him that it wasn't news to me. That someone was always trying to kill us. His face had grown sombre and I could see he was really spooked. He'd asked me to be careful when I went hunting. I'd said yes. The next day he was dead.
Streetlights flew past me. My clock read 1:46 a.m. I still had a few hours before sunrise. I'd make it.
I lived in a small farmhouse on a piece of land just outside of Whitby, Ontario. The usual 45 minute drive in to work had taken me 25 minutes at my current pace. I pulled into the driveway and shut off the car. I couldn't help but look over my shoulder as I stepped in the door.
"Ok, just breathe." I said out loud as I dropped my purse to the floor.
Kicking off my shoes I went straight to the kitchen. I needed to eat. It was the only thing that took away the manic feeling in my chest. All my senses were acutely tuned into everything. I could almost feel the bubble of my fish tank; I could hear my cat tromping around on the third level. Reaching for the fridge I pulled out a fresh bag and ripped into the top with my teeth. The cool blood washed down my throat and I felt instantly better. My pulse slowed, the ache in my jaw subsided, the instinct settled down.
I felt a breeze behind me. I sucked the last bit of blood out of the bag and tossed it into the sink before turning around.
"Crowley."
"Well hello there my soulless little friend."
The demon was sitting at my breakfast nook. My breakfast nook of all places.
"What do you want?" I said tersely. If Crowley was here, it meant that tonight meant something somewhere. Upstairs, downstairs wherever. Crowley was King of Hell. If he was paying me a visit, it meant something was up. The last time I'd seen Crowley had been almost 11 years previous. I'd been on a hunt. The same hunt that'd seen the end of my human life. The end to more than just my human life, that hunt had ended everything I'd known to be true. Now, here he was pouring himself a glass of Jameson and looking ever so ready to chat.
"Thank for the drink love. Such a great hostess." He winked.
"What do you want Crowley." I repeated myself. I leaned back into the counter. I wasn't getting closer to this.
"Well, ever since that tragic accident in that little hotel room I've always kept a bit of an eye on you. You were quite the hunter when you were alive. Almost as good as that pair of monkeys you trailed. You know, the ones that got you into the mess you're in now?"
"Get to the point." I didn't need to hear this. I stood straight and made my way towards him. "What is it that you want. I have nothing of value for you."
"That can't be further from the truth my dear. Well, just thought you might like to know. It's feeding time at the zoo and the monkeys are quite hungry." In a blink he was gone and I felt the tip of a stake pressed into my back. Sighing, I turned around. My speed caught him off guard and I ripped the stake from his hand pushing him to the floor.
I looked down at the man on my kitchen tiles. He looked worse for wear but under the furrow of eyebrow I could see his grey green eyes still held a depth to them. Like someone who understands real pain. Someone who has suffered real loss. Someone who's been to hell and back.
Breathing out I tossed the stake at him. I was too tired for this.
"Hello Dean."