Chapter 9 - Unfinished

Jeremy

It was so difficult to describe the smell in my head. It was so sweet and delicious, cranking my senses into overdrive. It was strong and erotic in its depths of flavor. It was a whole new dimension of smell that I had never known before. My mouth watered with anticipation at the promised taste ahead.

But mixed with the warmth and luscious headiness was something else. It was almost floral in its organic earthiness. Even with my new senses I couldn't place the otherworldly smell that made my head spin. It was tantalizing and tempting, but in the same instant it was familiar. Yet in its teasing pleasure floated a waft of innocence and purity. It was serene and tranquilizing at the same moment of intoxication. A delicate balance between sweet and soothing.

And then it came to me. Suddenly, the scent had a name. And a face. Sweet pea and lavender. Erica. My wife. It was her scent that was pulling me so forcefully.

I increased my speed, my shoes literally falling off from the pressure my new muscles were exerting against the hard dirt floor over which I was practically flying. Every home and car I passed gave off more of the heady scent that I had originally chased fruitlessly. But it was easier to stay focused now that I had my wife's scent in my head. I was in tune to her scent and nothing would break my stride now.

The house was quiet as I crept along the dark road. I paused across the street and stared in silence at the house. My house. It was a little rundown from neglect by multiple tenants before we had moved in as a happy new couple, freshly married college students. But it had served our purposes. A small kitchen, modest size bedroom and bathroom suite, and enough room in a formal living room to entertain a few friends over, or cuddle up on the couch in front of a good movie.

It had been our little castle.

I walked slowly over to the silent domicile and placed my hand upon the warm cherry door. I was home. Forget being a vampire. I was going to be with my wife. Just her and me and the rest of our lives together.

I fumbled in my pockets and miraculously found my keys. I slipped the small metal into the brass doorknob and entered the dark house. With my new eyes I could see every detail perfectly. But it wasn't the way I remembered it.

The couch was covered in piles of pillows and blankets, and the kitchen counter had several bouquets of wilting flowers in glass vases. Dirty dishes were strewn on the counter with fast food bags and boxes littering the floor around the overflowing trash can. Newspapers were scattered across the coffee table. What had Erica been doing in two days?

I stepped over to the table and stacked the papers neatly in a few swift movements. The headline on the top of the stack grabbed my attention, "Valley suffers great loss in local fire". I skimmed through the print, my eyes widening in disbelief as I poured through. The store had burned to the ground in some kind of mechanical fire, and all the workers were dead. And it had happened almost four days ago. I sat the paper back on the table, absorbing this startling information.

I turned and scrutinized my home once again. Erica's diary lay closed on the floor next to the couch. I bent down and scooped it up, my body fluid in movement. I flipped it open to the last few entries, and read the delicate scrawl:

Dear Diary,

Jeremy and I finally are going to Disneyland. We got the tickets dirt cheap and will be able to leave in the next few weeks. We didn't really have enough money for more than a two day honeymoon at a small motel out of Tucson, but I'll never complain about that. We'll finally be able to have a real honeymoon with all of the fun and adventure that is expected of newlyweds.

Its kind of funny though. Both of our parents keep telling us to not waste money on frivolous things like a trip to Disneyland, or Broadway shows in Phoenix. But that's what we want to do with our money. They keep telling us to invest in an actual home, build a nest egg, and start a family. Jeremy and I both just roll our eyes and tell them that we'll do that when we're ready.

Although sometimes I think I might actually be ready to be a mother.

I smiled as the dim happy memory filtered through my mind. My mother had been furious when I told her to just wait for grandchildren. I was just not ready to be a father. And children were just such a huge commitment. I was fully committed to Erica, but children were another story.

I flipped the page and read the next page. The writing was a little frantic in its speed and irregularity, but it was easy enough to make out.

Dear Diary,

I don't know what to say today. This morning was fairly normal for us. Jeremy had to leave before I got up, but I know he kissed me like he always does before actually leaving. And he called me before he actually clocked in for the day, just to tell me he loves me like always. But if I had known that it would be the last time I would hear his voice, I don't know how I could have let him off the phone.

I got a call at work that sent me into shock. The store had been reported on fire, and no one had been seen coming out. The fire and hospital crews were on scene and desperately looked for survivors. I still haven't heard anything yet.

I turned one more page and stared at the page in disbelief. The pungent scent of salt saturated the page and water drops splattered several lines, obscuring the words.

Dear Diary,

He's dead. Jeremy is dead.

The records from the home office say that Jeremy clocked in at one minute after seven and that he didn't clock out before the fire was reported at nine thirteen. And I know that if Jeremy had not been in the building he would have found me by now.

I just can't believe he's dead. I almost wish now that I had gotten pregnant before he died, so I could have just one small piece of him alive.

I couldn't read anymore. Every fiber in my body was alight with sorrow, and I didn't understand why I couldn't cry. I stood in the silent house and stared into the darkness. The truth slammed into me like a ton of bricks, kicking the book from my hand to land back on the floor: I was dead.

I felt an ache in my still heart, the beat of life having long left my shell hollow and empty. Suddenly, the unkempt house told me all the secrets. Erica thought I was dead. My wife thought I was gone. She didn't even have a body to bury.

And she was grieving for me.

Damn them! Damn those two vampires who stole my life from me and made me into this abomination. I would find a way to make them pay one day. I promised silently to my wife, with every ounce of love I feel for her, that I would avenge the pain and hurt she has had to endure. They would feel the world that had tried so hard to build and maintain crumble around them because some stranger would destroy it, and make them watch.

A flash of lights broke my vindictive thoughts. Following a natural instinct I ghosted out the back door and stood by the bedroom window, listening intently. A car pulled into the driveway, idling for a moment before the engine went silent. The door opened and the crunch of gravel precipitated the small gasp of surprise. Erica's voice floated through the house into my ultra-sensitive ears. "Jeremy?" she whispered moving into the house.

Her voice was music to a man who could hear for the first time. I could feel the relief even from out here.

She stepped inside the house, her footsteps halting just a short distance from the doorstep. "Jeremy?" she asked again anxiously. I could picture her standing in the walkway looking around for a sign that I was there. She was just so lovely, her petite frame just a hair shorter than my own height. Her emerald eyes, sharp and inquisitive, were framed genially by her warm chestnut hair cropped closely to her face; all complimenting her peaches and cream complexion and sturdy build.

I'd always said my wife could handle herself if I wasn't around, but I wasn't so sure anymore. I moved infinitesimally and peeked through the window to see my wife standing in our walkway, tears pouring down her face. A fierce war erupted in my mind, two sides of my psyche competing for dominance. The old me, the soft, genuine, and human me, was aching to go comfort her and assure her that I was alive. While the new me, wild, strong, and cold, had a thirsting for her, body and soul. The muscles in my body constricted, binding me by my indecision. I could only stand rooted to the spot and watch as my wife collapsed under the emotional pressure on her gentle heart.

As I stood watching my wife in agony I still felt the inward struggle between my two halves: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The Jekyll half of my personality, longing to comfort my wife. To hold her in my arms and calm all her fears. To kiss her and chase away the ghosts of her despair. But the Hyde half of my personality had more strength than Jekyll. His will was so overpoweringly dominant it was terrible to bear. The savage wanted to watch as the tiny mortal cried over a dead body. Even secretly longed to enter the house, but not to comfort her. No. Hyde wanted to taste her.

And so it was that my body was locked in place. Neither willing to let the other succeed in its goal. The evil and the good stalemated in a battle of wills, and my wife the trophy. The victim.

After a few seconds, or a few years for all I knew from suffering the prolonged strain, Erica wiped the tears from her eyes and muttered under her breath, but clear to my new hearing, "Just my imagination."

I pulled away from the window and slid down the wall to sit on the ground, a knife in my heart. My poor wife. She was so depressed as to daydream about me. If I hadn't been in such pain because of this I would be deeply touched at her love for me. The Jekyll in me was thrilled to feel this new touch of love and strengthened against Hyde. After a moment of inner turmoil I moved back to see inside once again.

Erica had moved from the hallway and was now standing in the doorway of our bedroom, leaning against the frame. As I watched I could almost see the scenes being replayed in her mind. Each happy moment we'd spent in the small quartered room. Moments of passion. Moments of anger. Moments of tender connection. Moments upon moments that she believed we could never have again.

Slowly and mechanically Erica undressed and slipped into a pair of my old pajamas. The long striped sleeves made her look childish and innocent, the witness to a tragic event in somebody else's life. But her eyes were full of a misery that should never be placed upon such young shoulders. Sniffling silently, Erica slid beneath the covers of our bed, pulling the sheets over her body. As I watched in silent agony she grasped the collar and brought it tenderly to lie against her nose and inhaled deeply. She was reliving my scent.

I turned away in pain. How could I stand her and do nothing while my wife was in such pain? Was I such a coward as to allow the fear of Hyde possess and corrupt the love of Jekyll?

No. I was no coward.

I'd pursued this girl for a month before she'd given me a chance to impress her. I loved this woman. And nothing was going to keep me from her any longer.

With slow and deliberate movements, Jekyll and I fighting to keep control over the powerful demon that was Hyde, I ghosted back around the house and entered the still open door. I pulled the door closed behind me with a gentle click of the metal, and continued to make no noise as I moved through the still house. My wife's gentle breathing was coming from the other room, her heartbeat slowing and calming into a serene state of sleep.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, gasping in pain as the soft scent of lavender and sweet pea washed over me again. It was so intense now. The dull dry burning in my throat flared into a roaring flame. My body hunched into a crouch involuntarily and made the few steps to the doorway before I regained control.

I froze at the sight of my wife in bed. The brilliant moon outside the window casting its silver light on her gentle face amidst the deep red burgundy sheets. I could see every curve, real or imagined, and it made her so beautiful. It sent my senses, both Jekyll and Hyde, into overdrive. The need for her, to have her in my arms was so incredibly powerful. This was probably as close to addiction that I'd ever felt in my life.

Holding my breath, I walked slowly around the bed, keeping Erica in my sight and my back to the window. With every ounce of consciousness I could muster I monitored every feeling and emotion that sped through me, fighting desperately to keep control of my powerful new emotions. I had never felt this strongly about another human, not even Erica, before I had been killed. But now the first emotions I had felt seemed like a drop of water as compared to the flow of the mighty ocean. Strong and vast in its sheer volume of being, my emotions tested the very bounds of my inner strength.

I stopped at the head of the bed and stared for the space of a moment. She was deeply asleep. The kind of sleep the mind takes on to avoid pain and suffering. No dreams or thoughts. Only sleep; unbroken and yet unresolved.

I sat down on the bed slowly, carefully shifting my weight to not wake my sleeping beauty. I reached out slowly and placed my hand on her face. She shivered slightly but leaned into my touch. The heat from her body was strange against my skin, it was almost a small fire. So warm. So soothing.

Erica stirred. Slowly and confused her eyes fluttered open. "Jeremy?" she asked dazed.

"Erica," I whispered.

Her reaction was stronger than I had anticipated. I don't really know what I had expected from her, but it certainly wasn't what the reaction she gave. Erica practically leapt out of bed and flung her arms around my neck, her cries coming in a torrent of tears. The shock surprised me so that I gasped and felt the surge of fire in my throat as she wept into my shoulder.

"They said you were dead," Erica sobbed uncontrollably. "They said that you had died in that fire."

I rubbed her back in slow circles, afraid to speak. I leaned my head against hers and closed my eyes against tears that wouldn't come, trying hard to savor this moment. But even this tender eternity of ours was marred by those two vampires. My throat burned, and my body ached for the delicate lady in my arms. And once again I hated the monsters that cursed me and my life. Cursed my wife and left her with this monster for a husband.

"Jeremy," Erica whispered, pulling me back from my wandering thoughts.

"I'm here," I whispered. The pain was evident even in my voice. I was the beast, hurting because his beauty was in pain. A phantom of the night longing for his angel of light to sing joyfully.

"Am I dreaming?" she asked, her voice still a whisper in the dark.

I pulled away to see her face. Her eyes were alight with fear, pleading with every ounce of her being that she was wrong. I could even feel it in her body. She was tense, holding onto me with every ounce of strength she possessed. It normally would have been painful, but my body was stone beneath her fragile hands.

Her need was just too great for me to ignore. "You're not dreaming," I told her softly. "I'm here."

"But it feels so surreal," she admitted, resting her head against my chest. "I thought you were gone."

I froze in shock. "Do you want me to go?" I asked hurt. It was so silly, but the reaction was so instantaneous I had no control over it.

"No," Erica practically shouted.

I took her face in my hands, moving slowly and deliberately to not test my control over my body. She gasped, but held my eyes as I stared deeply into her own. "I'm here Erica," I swore to her solemnly. "I will not leave you again."

"Empty promises," she whispered, a tear falling from her eyes. "I'm still asleep and you'll be gone in the morning. Your red eyes tell me everything."

I was so shocked and stunned I didn't know what else to do. Releasing the animal ferocity I had so carefully kept at bay I pulled Erica to me. I felt her pulse jump and her breathe caught in her lungs as I crushed my lips onto hers. The sheer taste of her kiss was beyond description, almost all that the earlier tease of her scent had promised. The heat from her body increased until it matched the fire burning wildly in my throat.

I pulled back for a moment to breathe again. Erica gasped as I released her. But it was to be a short reprieve. Gently but forcefully I laid Erica back onto the bed, my lips locked onto her skin. Distantly in the back of my mind I heard the sound of a car passing by, but I didn't care. Erica needed me and I needed her.

I pressed my body against Erica, her warm and soft flesh bowing before my own hard body. I drew my hands across her skin, tracing the curves along her spine, hips and thighs. She was every bit as lovely as my dim memories could recall, but so much more.

It still astounded me that even so distracted by Erica I had enough room to still think about memories. I could remember our first date, though it seemed so dim now to my new senses. A small breakfast restaurant, talking about the usual things college students talk about: classes, professors, tests, and hot spots on the internet. But Erica had grabbed my interest by her wit. If I said one thing she could quickly twist it to make it sound even more comical than I had thought possible.

And our relationship had grown from that. An easy friendship that blossomed into a strong love. I was always glad at that. So many people always said it made them so much happier to marry their best friend.

But me and my best friend had been more than just friends. We had become soul mates, each half completing the other. I on the one hand was horrible at math and science; Erica's strong points. And I wouldn't say that she was bad, per say, in English and literature, but I always found ways to improve on what she had written or a different way to think about it.

The only thing that we truly harmonized on was music. Music had become the perfect match for us. While neither of us could really sing, we could carry a simple enough tune to fill in a choir. The best dates we'd had while we dated were karaoke nights with some friends and singing duets. It felt natural and carefree. So perfect and heavenly it was easy to forget that all good things come to an end. And yet still all the same I had never felt sad that some of those things had come to an end. With Erica I knew I would have more. And I was content with that.

Erica surprised me with a sudden twist of her body and I was wrapped once again around her need, her every wish becoming my will. But it also made me remember the little surprise I had received while reading her diary.

We had been engaged for only three months before we were married. It was a simple, held in the church we both attended on Sundays; another bonus for me since God was high on my list of musts. Our local pastor had been more than happy to perform the ceremony. Erica had been so beautiful, wearing a dress she had inherited from her grandmother. Her mother had given it a couple of touch ups to give it a bit of a modern flare, yet still keeping it so true to the classic look of the gown. And with only twenty members of family and friends present we exchanged our vows to love and honor each other for the rest of our lives.

For the rest of our lives.

But at that time had could I have known that my time with this beautiful woman was to be short lived. Had I known I wouldn't have wasted a single glance, opportunity, or kiss. I would have thought less of tomorrow and more of today. And I would have stretched our honeymoon a little longer.

That thought tugged at my heart. My life was over. And sooner or later Erica would leave me. I knew the lore of vampires well enough to remember that vampires were immortal. Plain and simple. Existing as do the elves, living without aging until they are killed. Beautiful and strong compared to mankind, living aloof from them.

But I could not be an elf. I was a vampire. A creature of darkness, cursed to hunt the children of God under the cover of night. Doomed to need the blood of another to satiate the burning of my own soul, but cursed to never have it so.

I sighed inwardly, my body responding in perfect time. I may be damned for the rest of eternity, but I would not do this to Erica. I would not let her share my fate.

And again I swore an oath to heaven, hell, and Erica that I would punish the ones who had done this to me.

Erica pulled away to catch her breath and I hovered above her, my eyes searching hers. There was no fear, no terror, in her eyes. She still loved me, even though I had become this monster. And that knowledge made me content, happy even.

I abandoned myself into Jekyll's joy, surrendering control to my body. Every taste, every scent, every movement increasing my desire for the lovely angel in my arms. A lust to rival that of King David looking upon the fair Bathsheba. A love to rival the passion of Romeo.

"Jeremy," a voice gasped.

But I was beyond hearing. I was beyond feeling. Every nerve of my body was so overloaded with the fire burning in and outside of me it seemed almost impossible to still yearn for more. I felt more alive than I'd ever imagined was possible. Everything was so sharp and clear it made me want to take it in more. Every inch of my wife's skin, her taste, her smell; Erica.

A scream of pain shook me to my senses. I froze, my own consciousness leaping to the helm of my body. I pulled back slowly, moving every muscle with ease, taking in the unfolding horror.

With one hand clamped to her neck bracingly, Erica reached over with one hand to turn on the light, though my eyes could see perfectly well. She pulled her hand back slowly to stare into her hand. A small spot of red liquid lay in her palm, and I could see a slight graze in her neck. And from the small nick of skin, a thin line of blood seeped out.

I gasped as I realized what I'd done. But it only turned to make the situation worse. The smell of her blood was a siren call to my ravished senses. The need for her blood became stronger than the need for her body.

The monster of Hyde roared to life and I stalked forward, pressing Erica into the sheets with my weight. I could feel my body moving, but even with the strength of Jekyll with me it was not enough to regain control. It was as though I had been locked away in some distant corner of my mind and given my body over to another. I was playing host to the usurper of my body, generous and tolerant. But I was screaming inside.

I felt my lips curve into a wicked smile. "Jeremy?" Erica asked my darker guest I'd named Mr. Hyde.

But Hyde didn't respond, every atom of his concentration on the life trickling out of my wife's neck. I watched, powerless and terrified, as he moved toward his victim. The distance was short, but the movements matched the gentle strides I had expected from a vampire. Erica cringed away only slightly, thinking I guess that I was playing some kind of new sex game. But all the shouts and yells for her to run were met with mute lips.

With one hand he pinned her arms to the bed and with the other he swept her hair gently away from her neck. Erica watched in silent terror, her eyes growing wide as realization dawned on her. Hyde leaned over her and inhaled deeply, and I felt my eyes roll back in the sadistic pleasure he was taking in this torture of my wife. Then with one quick movement I felt my lips pressed against my wife's throat again. But this time, a different pleasure crept through me. A new power.

Erica collapsed under the full weight of my body. And I felt a roar of victory rise from deep within me erupt from out of my lips.

David felt the sharp tug of pain on the line of light he was following with Delilah. With a look of concern he turned to Delilah, her face echoing and increasing into dread.

Together the two poured on the steam, racing against the deadly tick of time. Every second they weren't there was another second that they might not be able to save one of their number from making a mistake they would forget.

The string of light acted as a homing beacon for them. Honing in on it David began to sense emotions attached to the indescribable beam that was seen and yet not seen. It was so confusing to truly describe. But it was there as constant as magnetic north. As clear as a radio station from the top of a mountain to the surrounding valley.

But the light was turning darker. The thoughts once filled with love and passion were turning lustful and macabre. The multihued line became unified in one color; a crimson red. A bloodlust red.

David bowed his head slightly in grief at the two lives that had been lost to such a bloodlust. His first night as a vampire and he was a killer. Two innocent victims to the whims of immortals. It was a cruel joke from the poet's tongue to say that it was fate. No Fate, either Greek or Hindu, could have possibly chosen this for an innocent person.

Perhaps not even for a guilty.

But the strength of the bloodlust was growing too strong. David and Delilah turned to each other and nodded, setting their wills against that bloodlust. Delilah had been enough to bring David from that dark hunger, but it may not be enough for Jeremy. And with a small oath to atone for his sins, David burst through the wooden door with Delilah onto a scene that would have graced any horror film.

Jeremy held a woman in his arms, his mouth at her throat and a strong sucking sound filling the dead silence. David leapt from his position and wrestled Jeremy off the woman, pinning him to the ground as best he could. Delilah was at his side in a flash and together they hefted Jeremy out of the house, kicking, hissing, and cursing with all his energy trying to free himself. After we had made it a few miles away, Jeremy stopped struggling. He hung limply in their arms, moaning softly, "I'm sorry Erica."