Ch. 7
(Duane's Perspective)
I stop by the mirror in the upstairs hallway and stare into it. It holds nothing. There is no reflection. There is absence of anything except the opposing hallway wall.
Sighing, I turn my gaze away from the truthful slab of glass and continue on my way to the stairs. I descend from them, landing on the first floor.
The house is barren, still the exact same as when I first purchased it. There is no sign of any life. It is as though nothing lives here. In fact, that is true. Nothing lives here.
I raise my wrist, glancing at my watch. It is almost time to pick her up. How I came up with the idea of trying to be anything more than what I am was incredibly stupid. Tonight, I will be risking everything. I will be risking her.
A whimper comes from beside me. I slowly turn my head and look at a young woman. She is simple. She is pretty. She is not beautiful. She is not gorgeous. She will not be missed. She sits up against the wall, a white cloth muffling her would-be cries of fear, her wrists and ankles bound.
I turn my body to face her. She stares at me, eyes moist due to tears slipping from behind her lids. Fear is pure within them.
I close my own eyes and take a deep, even breath of air. The heavy, enticing scent of fear and terror in it suddenly, yet briefly, overwhelms me.
A shudder ripples through my body and I open my eyes once more, resting my gaze upon the girl. I step closer to her. She shifts suddenly and begins to cry out. "Shh," I whisper. "You don't have to be afraid."
I kneel down beside her, reach out and behind her head, and untie the cloth, taking it away from her soft lips. She looks at me. "What-"
"I'm sorry," I interrupt. "I am terribly sorry, miss. I was dared by my friends to do this. It seemed harmless at the time, but now I see that I have truly frightened you. I am quite sorry."
"You're friends are crazy. You are, too! You don't just grab someone off the street and take him or her hostage! What were you thinking?"
I am silent as I untie the restraints from her ankles and wrists. I look into her light blue eyes and she stares back into mine. "Are you okay now?"
"Yeah," she answers. "I just want to get home, please."
I crane my head to look at the overall living room. Something on the wall catches my attention. The blood stains. They have faded over time, but the scent is still strong. It is then that I am lost.
I turn back to the girl. Her eyes widen and her breath catches in her throat. I know then that she has seen what I truly am. "What are you?" she asks, fear shaking her voice.
I slowly lean in and whisper lightly into her ear, "I am what you deeply fear…"
I straighten up and look at her once more. "…And yet, what you deeply desire…"
Within a fraction of a second, I have her grasped firmly by her shoulders. I jerk her toward me and brush her long blond hair back away from her throat, tilting her head.
I bare my teeth and sink my protracted fangs deep into the flesh of her neck, slicing nerves and veins. Sweet, sticky, warm blood pumps and flows into my mouth. The flavor dances upon my tongue and the life-giving liquid trickles down my throat.
The girl has begun to shout out, to scream, but as the life quickly flows out of her, she loses the energy to do so. Her body rapidly becomes limp in my arms.
As soon as the very last drop of life has been drained of her, I pull away and let the now pale, lifeless body crumple onto the floor. I stand up slowly, staring at the girl. My tongue easily traces over my teeth and quickly checks my lips for any stray drop of liquid.
Clean.
I sigh as I pick up the body and effortlessly carry it outside to the backyard. I trek several hundred feet from the building before dropping the body once more into the woods. The wolves will clean up the mess. They always do.
I look at my watch again. It is time to leave. It is time to get her. Now, after I have fed, I am sure there will be less risk of revealing myself to her, or even worse…
…killing her.
I reach for the keys in my pocket. I fish them out and walk around the old house to the garage. I enter it and get into my car.
Tonight will be quite different. But trying different things has never hurt anyone…
Maybe that will change.
…
(Angie's Perspective)
I am dabbing a little bit of peach-flavored lip-gloss upon my lips when the doorbell rings. It must be Duane. "Be right down!" I holler and hurry to finish getting ready.
It is the night of the Halloween Ball. I don't really have any desire to go, but since Duane asked me, I figure it will be nice to give him something to look forward to. It just seems like he needs some kind of little happiness in his life, a little bit of fun perhaps. These school dances hardly ever turn out to be that way though.
I hurry downstairs in the dress I have bought. It is really a nice, long, black dress held up with spaghetti straps. The skirt of it falls straight to my ankles meeting a pair of strappy, black pumps. Thin lines of orange sequins twist their way up from the bottom of the dress, stopping when they near my hips.
I have my dark hair curled and up in a bun with just a few tendrils coming down to frame my face. I glance one last time in the den mirror making sure everything is in place. Due to his reaction the first time he met Duane, I have Max stay in my room with his Kong toy filled with peanut butter before opening the front door.
I smile as I see Duane standing there on the small porch. He looks up from the ground and directly into my eyes. I stare back silently at him, looking him over. He looks good. He looks really good. He dons a nice, expensive-looking black tuxedo with a bow tie on his neck. I look down and see that he is wearing fancy Italian shoes. I knew he had to have a pair.
His features seem to be enhanced by the light of the sky. The sun is setting, giving the earth a reddish-orange tint. It provides the world with a new, relaxed, romantic mood.
As I look deeply into his eyes, I find a dull, yet strong aching starts to rise up in my body. His dark eyes have a type of mystery to them. They see to have an element of persuasion and passion about them in the orange light. It seems as if they follow every single curve of my body as they study me.
His lips seem as if they are sculpted straight from fine marble. They compliment the smooth plane of his face in an extraordinary way. They look so smooth and so soft that I want suddenly to kiss them, just to see what they will hold in store for me. Will they lead me to demise? Will they lead me to ecstasy? A fire of burning desire to know swells up inside of me.
I find myself wanting to run my fingers through the rich darkness of his fine hair. He has his hair parted to the side as he usually does and the side-swept bangs that fall upon his brow give him his perfect appearance. It provides him with a bit of an edge. It enhances every other detail about him that simply makes my heart start to pound. The blackness of it gives his characteristics more intensity and makes something in the back of my mind wonder if it just might be the slightest bit dangerous to go out into the night with him.
I want to know what it is like to be in love with a man of his disposition. He seems to move with such grace. He seems to calculate every move he makes to make sure it is fluid, smooth, and in every way beautiful.
There is absolutely no way he is from New York. He can't be! I believe he has more the look of an Englishman somehow. If he is, I wonder if every boy where he is from looks as good as he does. If they do, I am definitely moving.
A thought enters my mind. I wonder if he has ever been in a relationship. I wonder if he has ever possessed a girlfriend. Something peculiar makes me wonder if he has ever known the feeling of love, if he has ever loved or been loved. He is so quiet, serious, and he mostly keeps to himself. I ponder at this.
I don't have long to think about the answers to my questions though, for Duane extends a slender hand, offering to lead me out into the night. I reach back into the house and take up my purse. After slipping it over my shoulder, I take Duane's hand in my own. It seems to have an unusual chill, but my body quickly adjusts to it and no more thought is given.
He leads me over to his silver Porsche, opens the passenger's side door, and helps me inside. I thank him. He nods, closing the door. He glides over to the driver's side and situates himself in the car. With a reach into his pocket, he produces the car keys, turns them in the ignition, and the car purrs to life.
He backs out of my driveway and we are well on our way to the school.
