After a decade of being a vampire, I thought that I knew everything there was to know about our nature and behavior. But as it turned out, a vampire that lives a life of denial and control cannot completely comprehend all that our existence entails.
I had come a long way since the first time I took a human life five months ago. I had since killed twenty two more men, all of them undeserving of the term man. The killing became easier but the guilt was still there when my victim's last thoughts ran through their mind. I tried to ignore those thoughts by searching out other minds in the area around me and concentrating on them, but it didn't always work. The emotional pain would always find a way to torment me. However, it still wasn't enough to make me stop living the life of a nomadic murderer.
The burn of my thirst was finally soothed and I actually found it easier to be around humans at times. Not to mention the taste of the blood—I would not be able to give that up for anything. The words needed to describe the ecstasy that only human blood gave did not exist. The monster was sated and he could be contained more easily now. That is until I started to grow thirsty again—then I was almost just as wild as a newborn. I became crazed over blood. So much so that I would just react on instinct trying to find it, rather than being the meticulous planner that I had been before. I had to kill twice as often as I did when I hunted animals to keep myself well fed, or the consequences of my actions could be catastrophic. I would not allow myself to kill an innocent—not even by accident.
If I wanted to be honest with myself, this lifestyle was hard and trying. But it's what I was purposed to do—what I was meant to live with. If it wasn't my purpose, I would have died in a hospital ten years ago and not have been turned into this thing that I am.
I needed to keep living this way. If I didn't, my only other option would be to go back to Carlisle, and that was not going to happen. If I were to pay him a visit it would only be to let him know I was right. I may have been perpetually seventeen, but I did know a thing or two.
I always thought I knew everything. No one could ever convince me I was wrong no matter how convoluted my decision making could be—not even my father the lawyer. My mother always said I inherited his stubbornness, to which I would retort that it wasn't being stubborn if I knew I was right. Then she would playfully slap me upside my head and tell me to go study. She thought that if she could make me concentrate on things, like history, economics, and law, I would realize that becoming a soldier in our first world war was the least interesting thing I could do with my life. Mother obviously forgot who she was dealing with. I was adamant about that path, certain it was my purpose. The only thing that could make me think twice about that decision was not being able to fight off the influenza. Learning that my destiny was just to die on a cot in a crowded hospital was just what I needed to get some clarity on priorities, but by then it was too late. As far as I knew, I would not be able choose another path—to set my parents minds' at ease with my choices. They were already gone, and would never have to see me die. They were lucky.
The ironic thing was that even through that learning experience, ten years as an immortal has not changed the way I think at all. I was still the arrogant child I was as a human. The only difference was the horrific things I have witnessed—not to mention the horrific things I have done—things I didn't know I was capable of and thought only the worst of our kind did.
When I left Esme and Carlisle, I was only filled with thoughts of what I would be doing, who I would be feeding from, and the places I would get to travel. I never took into consideration the monster I would become or how much this lifestyle would change me.
Carlisle said it was the blood. Our choice of drink could influence the course of our nature. For instance, animal blood made us more amicable with each other. It's the reason we can easily form bonds and relationships with others of our kind and humans. I wasn't sure I believed him at first. I thought that was just Carlisle—calm and compassionate. It would be in his nature to modestly rationalize that the good in him was a result of his diet and not his general sense of being. His theory would then suggest that feeding a lion a sole diet of vegetables would cause the lion to be able to take a lamb as his companion. That was just out right lunacy. A lion would never be able to resist the temptation of the lamb, especially if it had been starved of such a delicacy.
But now, I know that Carlisle had been right. Human blood had changed me. I see things differently. I think differently. I behave differently. My emotions are harder to contain. Sometimes I wonder what Carlisle would be like if he fed from humans. Would the blood change him as much as it changed me? Would he become a blood thirsty killer? I honestly doubted that. I was sure that Carlisle would still find a way to kill calmly and diplomatically. I chuckled at the thought.
I needed to stop thinking of Carlisle. He was starting to invade my thoughts almost too regularly now. While five months is by no means a lengthy amount of time to our kind, it is a long time, for anyone, to be alone. I missed my family. Remembering Esme caused me much pain. I tried very hard not to think about the woman who tried to be a mother to me—she not only tried, she succeeded. The amount of love that woman could bestow on someone was staggering. It was impossible not to be enamored of her.
No. I needed to stop this train of thought, for only caused pain. I no longer had a family.
Carlisle and Esme had told me that I could come back any time, but I didn't think they realized who they would be welcoming back into their home—certainly not the same boy who left. Family was no longer an option for me.
At the moment, my only companion was the dead body that I had just unceremoniously dropped next to my feet. His body had hit the sand with a sickening thud. I had just drained him seven minutes earlier in an alley in Brooklyn, and then carried him down to Brighton Beach for his disposal. I had found a shipwreck two months ago that was a couple miles off the coast and served as a perfect place to hide the missing dregs of society.
I looked down at my most recent victim, remembering what I was supposed to be doing. The task at hand was surely not to stare off into the ocean brooding over the further loss of my humanity at two in the morning, in the middle of March.
With a sigh, I bent down to see what useful things were in the man's pockets. Yes, not only was I a killer, but I was also a thief. Using my parents' inheritance money to support this lifestyle seemed wrong to me, so all the money just sat in different banks and investments until I decided what I wanted to do with it. Anyway, I found it more of a poetic justice that those I fed from would not only sustain my existence, but also sustain me financially—and that they did. So far, my victims have paid for my loft in Soho for the past three months, clothing, books, tickets to various plays, concerts, films, and whatever else I could possibly need or want. While living in New York City, I have found myself searching for more wealthy prey that would uphold my new lifestyle. If there was one thing I learned from Carlisle, it was that it could take a lot of money to appear invisible. If I wanted to hide amongst humans, I had to appear to be one.
I started with the pockets of the suit jacket the man wore. The side pockets produced cigarettes, a book of matches, and a hotel key. He was in town for a short amount of time on what he considered business. Unfortunately for him, attempting to murder his own brother so that he coldn't be listed as the beneficiary of their father's estate was not only not business, but would also get you killed by a vigilante, mind reading vampire.
I decided to keep the hotel key. I would inspect his room later.
The cigarettes and matches were of no use to me—I tossed them aside. The inside breast pocket contained a dinner receipt and a pen—useless. I moved on to the pants pockets where the only item was the man's wallet. I had been following him all night, so I already knew how much money he had in it from when he paid for his dinner, and then later when he paid a prostitute. Waiting for that, uh, transaction to be completed may have been the longest thirty minutes of my life. I spent the entire time hoping that he wouldn't find any other ways to spend the remaining four hundred forty two dollars he had left before I could get him alone. Anyone who was stupid enough to carry that amount of cash on them, especially in Brooklyn, surely had much more to spare located elsewhere. I was hoping that there would be more in his hotel room. I stuffed the cash in my own jacket pocket and replaced his wallet.
The only thing left to do was to hide the body. With a sigh, I removed my jacket and my shoes—I didn't revel in visiting my little under water grave yard. I then took off my shirt and lightly wrapped it around my jacket and shoes. To keep the small bundle hidden, I buried it in the sand in case there would be some late night beach walkers. Then, picking up the body and tucking it under my arm, I trudged into the ocean.
Swimming at night was a surreal experience. I tried to only kill on a night when the moon was bright to increase the underwater visibility, which still wasn't great. Having my sense of smell cut off completely joined with only partial eyesight was very discomforting, but I was getting used to it. This would be the ninth time I carried a body down to the shipwreck.
I always marveled at the things that I would see on this trip. Being this close to marine life was extremely fascinating for me. I hoped to come across a large Great White shark one day so I could see just how strong those jaws really were.
The outline of the large boat was coming into view. I slowed down as I approached the hull, searching for the gaping hole in the side. After locating it, I swam into the ship, maneuvering carefully around the different rooms. This part was a bit difficult. Hardly any moon light got down this far under the water, let alone into the ship. I first found the wreck during the afternoon on a recreational swim trying to escape the thousands of minds I could constantly hear in the city. I had no trouble seeing any of the details then. However, at night it was difficult, but not impossible. I continued through the ship's confines until I located the boiler room.
Numerous heavy pipes ran through the room that were perfect for tying the bodies to. There were also many chains lying around the ship that I had previously gathered and left slung around one of the pipes for using to secure each body.
I set the dead man against one of the unoccupied pipes while I broke a long piece of the chain from the rest of the bundle, and started wrapping it around the man and the pipe. I hated this part. I hated it. Doing this made me feel like more of a monster than the actual act of drinking from these wretches—that felt normal. It was in my nature—I was drawn to do it. But this is watching the consequences of what I am. In here I could see the amount of death I caused piling up in the past two months that I have been hiding the dead here. I didn't like to look around this room—I usually kept my eyes averted from my previous victims. The sight was too horrid with each body in a different state of decay, and moving softly with the current of the water, making them still look alive. It was truly grotesque. I felt more like the seventeen year old boy who should be frightened of such images rather than the vampire that I was. I silently scoffed at myself for my ignorance. I was a vampire. Vam-pire! This was normal. When would I truly learn that?
I quickly made sure the chain was securely around the body so I could get out of there. Once I was sure the binding was fastened properly I was ready to leave. As I was about to turn for the exit, something caught my attention, and I froze—something was different. Could I be seeing what I thought I was seeing, or was my mind playing tricks on me? Was I finally going crazy from this insane life I was living?
I looked around again to take inventory of the room's occupants. Nine. I should have had nine bodies there, but I counted eleven. That was impossible. There was surely no way I could have killed, hid the body, and forgot about it. How the hell could there be two more bodies?
I swam closer to the two I did not remember bringing here. As I got closer, I saw that they were women, and I had never killed a woman—I hadn't found one with vile murderous plans. There was no way I had put them there.
I was now close enough to see some detail. Both bodies were nude, had their throats torn out, and were littered with bruises. I couldn't believe how badly they were beaten. They both had very similar injuries—especially on the pelvis. It looked like their hip bones had been crushed. I shuddered. If I was still human, I would have vomited when I realized the severity of torture these girls had endured. To say that I was beyond disgusted would be a vast understatement.
The last time I was here was a week ago, but judging the bodies' state of decay, I would say that they had been there for three or four days.
Another vampire was in New York City, not only was he in the city, but he was watching me. And not only was he watching me, but he was fucking with me! The revelation sparked anger in me that I didn't know I had. How dare he? My life was none of his business, yet he was stalking me with only God knows what plans for me. He could have been planning to kill me because I have been hunting in his territory and wouldn't even have known it. How could I not have noticed his thoughts, or his scent? It has been five months since I've seen another immortal, and I've already grown ignorant of their existence. I needed to get my act together—I still had so much to learn. I was livid at this point, and needed to plan.
I exited the ship, and swam back toward the beach. As I neared the surface, I paused, remaining perfectly still under the cover of the water to listen. I concentrated solely on my gift to open up as many minds as possible to me. I could hear everyone who was within about a mile of me, so since I'm near Brooklyn, that would only be thousands of voices. It was maddening. How could I expect to hear one lone vampire? His mind would sound more complex than that of a human, so at least there was something identifying to search for.
After about ten minutes, I had found nothing. If he was near me, I'm sure I would have detected something. I gave one last listen to see if anyone was on the beach to make sure it was safe to emerge from the water.
I quickly went to where I had buried my clothes. Thankfully, there was no lingering scent of another vampire in the area, which meant the vampire was not here, or he was planning a more elaborate introduction. I put on my shoes, shirt, and jacket, making sure that the cash and hotel key were safe inside my pocket. I started to walk back toward the city when I saw the match book and cigarettes I had tossed away on the ground. The matches no longer looked useless to me, so I grabbed them and put them in my pocket, too. I made a mental note to have them with me at all times.
I started the walk back to Brooklyn. I ran through the streets and alley ways, running up over roof tops where the streets were more crowded. I kept mindful of all the thoughts I could as I passed through the city—I had no idea what this vampire could be thinking. He seemed to have a bit of flair for the dramatic, not to mention his love of torture. Oh god, what did he have planned for me?
I continued running toward the Brooklyn Bridge. Something told me to just keep going—go west, and get out of the city, because I was no longer safe there. If I went back to Carlisle, he could keep me safe. No! I didn't need Carlisle to take care of me—I could do that myself. I shouldn't have to leave the city, for crying out loud. I had been there for three months, and I had not been in another immortal's way. I loved being in the city, and I had every right to stay. If an over-theatrical, territorial vampire wanted to come after me, then let him. Carlisle taught me how to fight, and had learned from the best, so I should have had no problems defeating another.
I was now across the bridge, and in Manhattan, making my way back to my loft in Soho. I slowed my run to a walk. I needed to figure this vampire out. Perhaps he wasn't malicious, and was just curious. After all, this is a lonely existence and he might view me as an opportunity for a companion, or maybe he saw that I had a great place for hiding my victims, and wanted to utilize it, too. I shouldn't have necessarily jumped to the most wicked conclusion.
I was almost to my building, and couldn't wait to be in the confines of my home—I felt at peace there. It was a small building with an empty warehouse on the bottom two floors, and my loft on the third. I rented the whole building from my landlord to ensure that I was the only occupant, and was thrilled that I was able to find a place in the city where I didn't have to hide what I was.
I was only a block away when I smelled it—vampire. He had been here. The scent was fresh—probably only an hour or so old. It led straight to my building, so I stopped to listen for his mind. Perhaps the city was not the best place for me—there were far too many voices to sift through.
Once I was sure he wasn't there, I went inside and up the stairs. The scent was strong on the second floor, but his scent was not the only one there—it was accompanied with the scent of a human. He had brought someone there. A window in the stairwell was left open, and it was obvious that was what he used as his entrance and exit.
Before I made it up to the third floor I realized the human was still there. I hadn't realized outside that this voice was coming from my loft. I now heard the heartbeat and the frightened thoughts coming from the person's mind. What the hell was going on?
I listened to the voice for a moment. The human was female, bound, gagged, blind folded, and scared out of her mind. All she knew was that she was waiting for someone to come for her. The vampire had a very disgusting mind, and I was sure I was not going to enjoy meeting him.
I ran the rest of the way, just wanting to free the girl and get her home safely. There was a note on the door. Of course there was—dramatic freak.
Sorry to have missed you. I hope you enjoyed your swim.
I have brought you something. She should prove to be a lot more
fun than your other choice of prey. Consider it a house warming gift.
Welcome to the city. I will be seeing you soon.
If he knew I was out for a swim, as he said, then he knew I wouldn't be there, and he was not sorry to have missed me. He had planned for me to not be there. And how dare he bring me this innocent girl to have my way with—calling her a gift. He knew where I was; therefore he knew I had just fed. Why would he bring me this girl now? It had to be some sort of test. He noticed the type of people I chose to feed from and he was trying to figure me out—e was looking for a weakness. Well, he was going to look for a long time, because I sure as hell was not going to show him one.
It seemed my new friend liked to play games—I could play games if he wanted to. He obviously didn't know what he was dealing with when commencing in such an activity with me—he didn't know the upper hand I would carry in being able to beat him at his game. There was one thing that was certain; I was going to make sure that he regretted his decision to mess with Edward Ma… Cul...I sighed. Me.
