This is a fairly long vampire based Hanson story that I first began writing in the summer of 2001. The vampire mythology used here (which I created years before ever reading Twilight) has nothing to do with the amazing and complex Universe created by Stephenie Meyer, I'm sad to say. Also I don't really believe Taylor Hanson chows down on the necks of fandom fans. Though if any of you disagree, and know how I might reach him to volunteer… Consider yourself disclaimed.
Continuing on from the last chapter, this one also has some rather "EE!" elements. Enjoy!
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Chapter 21
Beatriz stepped out of the elevator, and into the penthouse apartment she lived in. It was very quiet. Too quiet, considering all the goings-on of the past few days. "Hello…" she called out, and threw her bag on the sofa. A fire was still burning in the fireplace, and she walked over and held her hands out, warming them. She hadn't fed yet, not wanting to walk the streets in the clothes she was wearing. Sighing, she walked towards her bedroom, taking off the high heel shoes and enjoying the feel of her bare feet on the cool marble floor. As she walked past the room the two young girls were staying in, she heard laughter from inside: male and female. She stopped for a moment, wondering if it was Taylor, but when she heard it again, it didn't sound like him. Though, she realized she had yet to hear him laugh. Perhaps it was him after all.
She continued to her own room and threw her shoes in the closet. Looking in the mirror, she pulled the pins from her hair and let it fall loose. She thought back to Diana and her haggard appearance. She felt terrible seeing how much Taylor's situation was affecting his family. As much as he looked like his mother, the woman had to be lovely, but worry and an obvious lack of sleep had taken a toll on her beauty. Even the youngsters looked stressed. She turned away, took off the stylish clothes, and put on a turtleneck sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans. She then slipped her feet into a pair of tennis shoes, not even bothering with socks. Walking back out into the room, she headed down the opposite hall to where Taylor's room was. When she placed her hand on the door handle though, the entire door shifted. Looking over, she noticed it was just leaning there. Pushing it, it lingered there a moment before falling into the room with an enormous bang as it hit the floor. Stepping into the room, she looked around even though she knew he would not be there. She turned and walked over the ruined door, stalking back out.
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Melanie and Kirk had themselves made it almost to home base when they heard a disturbing sound. Beatriz was on her way, with a steady stream of Spanish words spoken in a manner that made them certain she was not a happy lady. Just prior to that, they'd heard a loud bang. Hurrying to throw their clothes on, when the door flew open, they were at least half dressed. "Where is Taylor!?" She demanded.
"Uh…" Kirk started as he zipped his jeans, "He's in the library with Michelle." He said. Then he grabbed his shirt and put it on, praying he wouldn't spend his last few moments of life in only a pair of pants. Melanie pulled her top down, covering herself, then stepped into a broomstick skirt.
Turning, Beatriz went back out the door with the other two behind her, "Where is Camille?" She asked.
"She was in there with us. She has a headache." Melanie said, trying to keep up.
Beatriz stopped and turned around, looking at the girl for a moment, then she shook her head and continued her walk. When they came to the library, the door was standing open and the room was empty. Melanie and Kirk both stood, wide-eyed and looking around the room. "Well?" Beatriz said, turning slowly to face them.
"He was here—" Melanie started but Beatriz cut her off.
"Do you think he is stupid?" She exclaimed, looking at the both of them. Then, she reverted back to her native Spanish again as she went back to the sitting room. Pacing in front of the window, she continued her diatribe. Kirk and Melanie stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do. All three of them looked up when the elevator opened and Sonya walked in.
"Hey, Mel, you guys can—" she started, and then she saw their faces. "What? What's going on? Is Taylor alright? Did something happen?" She said, looking around the room.
"He's gone." Beatriz stated.
Sonya looked at the other two. "Where did he go?" She asked, throwing her bag down on the couch.
"Well, uh…" Melanie said, and then she shrugged her shoulders.
Sonya smiled and sat down on the sofa. "Hmmm…how exactly did that happen?" She asked. "And where's Camille?"
"She's laying down. Taylor hit her." Melanie said.
Kirk shook his head, "He didn't hit her. He just wanted to." He said.
Beatriz stepped closer to all of them, "I don't want to know how it happened right now. I just want him back here. If I have to shackle him to the wall or the piano or whatever it takes…" She took a deep breath. "I want him back here, now." She said and the anger in her voice was unmistakable.
Sonya stood and walked towards the elevator as Kirk and Melanie practically ran to the bedroom to get their shoes and head out into the night once more to search for Taylor. Beatriz closed her eyes and tried to locate his mind, but she felt nothing. The sound of the elevator opening caused her to open them again, but instead of Sonya getting on, she saw Taylor stepping out of it. "Where are you going?" He asked Sonya nonchalantly, "No wait, probably the orphanage down the street, right?" He smiled at her. He then looked over at Melanie and Kirk as they rushed into the room. They stopped and watched him as he walked gingerly over to the couch, pulled the very elegant table over closer, then plopped down and perched his foot up on it, wincing. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "What the hell are you all looking at?" He asked, pulling his eyebrows together.
Sonya stood with her hands on her hips and Beatriz took a very similar stance, while Kirk and Melanie let out a collective sigh of relief. "Where've you been?" Sonya asked, walking towards him.
He laid his head back on the couch and looked over at the television, even though it was not on. "I took my supper home, so none of you would get any."
He said.
"So, you did feed?" Beatriz asked.
"Yep." He said. She looked from Taylor to Kirk and Melanie and raised her eyebrow. Melanie nodded, not actually knowing whether he had or not.
"Thank you for returning. How considerate of you." Beatriz said coldly.
"Yeah, well, where was I gonna go? I guess I coulda found some cardboard box somewhere that mighta kept the sun off me, but you know, I didn't want to take the chance of some wino getting pissed off 'cause I was in his house." Taylor answered sullenly.
"You could have gone to your family." Beatriz stated, watching his face.
He turned to her, "Sure, and have you freaks kill my brothers and sisters? I don't think so." He snorted.
Sonya sat down beside him, "Taylor, we are not going to kill your family." She said, looking into his eyes. She saw his sadness and his anger come together in one expression as he looked back at her.
"Sonya, don't even try to tell me that! There is no way you can guarantee that. You might not, but any one of these other things would." He stood up, a little off balance for a moment, then turned to her, "For that matter, you might do it just as easy as they would. You did it to me." He said, and then he walked over to the television and turned it on. "And WHERE," he said to Beatriz, "is the remote for this piece of crap?! Some rich bitch you are—don't even have fuckin' cable." He went back to the couch and proceeded to ignore them and mindlessly watch the screen.
Sonya sat with tears in her eyes, but said nothing. Beatriz looked at Kirk and Melanie, "Go on." She said. The two of them left the room, heading for the elevator without a sound.
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"Mom, he didn't kill me or Zac and he had every opportunity." Isaac reasoned. Diana wanted Taylor back as much as everyone else did, but she believed she owed it to her other children to think about all the pros and cons of living in the same house as a vampire. More than one vampire. Beatriz wanted four others besides Taylor to be with them on the road. They would act as bodyguards and just generally keep an eye on things.
"Isaac," she replied, "we're not just talking about Taylor here. Don't forget what they did to your brother." She said, looking him in the eye.
Zac and Isaac looked at each other. They couldn't believe their parents even had to think about whether or not they wanted Taylor to come back or not. "Look, guys," Walker said, "Taylor is my son and I love him as much as I ever did, but we also have to think about Jess, Avie, Mack, and Zoe."
Isaac slumped down in the chair; it was going to be a long night.
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Camille opened her eyes and shielded them from the light of the lamp on the table. Slowly, she pulled herself up off the bed. She knew she needed to feed and it was getting late. If you waited too late, all the possible eats would get drunk or just be…yucky. Smoothing her hair down with her hands, she slowly walked out towards the sitting room. There, Taylor was lounging on the couch, looking just as grumpy as before. Beside him, Sonya sat staring off into space and finally, Beatriz sat in a chair next to the fireplace, watching. As she stepped from the smooth floor onto the rich, carpet under the sofa and the surrounding furniture, she stumbled and landed on her knee. Beatriz raised her eyebrow, "What's wrong?" She asked the girl.
Plopping down in the chair opposite Taylor and Sonya, she shook her head. "Nothing, I'm alright." She said back. Taylor looked at her, his eyes unwavering and his face showing no emotion at all. She looked back for a moment, then looked away. Both Sonya and Beatriz watched them. Finally, Camille could take no more of his stare, "Stop looking at me!" She shouted, then she put her hand to her head.
"Taylor, stop it." Sonya said, looking over at him. But, he continued. Camille turned her head and looked out the window.
Finally, Taylor spoke. "Hey, guess what?" He said to Camille.
She turned back to him, "What?" she said.
"It seems I can fuck after all, Camille. I hadn't really given it any thought 'til you said something about it. So, thanks. I never knew what I was missing." He said, leaning up and pulling his leg down off the table. Camille's eyes clouded up and she sat back in the chair and put her hand to her mouth, chewing on her nails, pouting like a toddler.
Beatriz stood up and walked over to where the group sat. "What happened here while I was gone?" she asked them.
Sonya shook her head, "I wasn't here. When I left, Taylor was in his room and I assumed that Mel and Camille were going to be here until Kirk got back."
Now Beatriz looked at Camille. Camille looked back at her, her blue eyes glassy, "He was locked in," she said, looking over at Taylor, "we knew Kirk would be back soon, so we left."
Beatriz looked at Taylor. He had closed his eyes. "And then what?" She asked.
"Well, then, when we got back, he and Michelle were in the library. That's it." Camille answered.
"Did Taylor hit you?" Beatriz asked. Now he opened his eyes and furrowed his brow.
Camille looked at him, "No. I don't know. I don't think so."
"Oh please!!!" He said, sitting up. "I didn't hit her. Even though she deserved it—" he said, looking at her and narrowing his eyes. Camille turned her head away from him and looked at the fire. Sonya and Beatriz watched the two. Taylor then stood up and walked into the library, leaving the three women all watching him. He returned, carrying the teddy bear and a hooded purple sweatshirt, belonging to Michelle. In their haste to get away unnoticed, she had forgotten it. "So, is this like, where I live now?" He asked Beatriz, placing the small bear in the jacket and zipping it up, leaving only its worn face sticking out. He sat back down on the couch and tied the drawstring in a bow, then brought it up to his face and breathed in the scents of his sister, brother and the girl he'd been with earlier.
"Well," Beatriz answered, "for the moment, yes. This is where you live." She watched him as he admired the toy, wondering if he was losing his mind. "Taylor, you hurt Camille, whether you touched her or not. Your mind can hurt worse than your hands. You realize that, don't you?" She asked.
He looked up at her and shook his head, "I didn't do anything to her. She's lying."
Beatriz walked over and sat next to him on the sofa, "Vampires don't get headaches, Taylor—" she started, but he cut her off.
"Bullshit. My head still hurts from the other night." He muttered.
"My point exactly. I used my mind to hurt you Taylor. Just like you used yours to hurt Camille. You're a male and you appear to have the instinctual abilities characteristic of a female of out kind. It's a very dangerous power…and if you don't learn to control that, you could really hurt someone. You could kill a human if you did it to them." She said.
Taylor looked over at Sonya, questioning with his eyes.
"It's true. I don't know how you got it, but you did." She said.
"You are his sire," Beatriz stated, "I'm sure he got it from you." She said to Sonya.
"I'm not his sire, I just killed him." Sonya said coldly, her feelings still hurt by his earlier jab.
Beatriz waved her hand in the air, "A technicality." She said. Suddenly, Taylor's eyes fell on her and he raised his head and sniffed the air. Then he brought the bear back up to his face. Before his anger could manifest itself, she hit him with the same kind of power they had just discussed. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, then he pulled his knees up and put his head down on them. "Yes, I went to see your family." She said to him, "But I didn't hurt any of them, I only let them know you were alright and I assured them that you were being taken care of."
Taylor looked up at her, "Are they alright?" He asked, his eyes glassy, "You're not gonna let anything happen to them, right?" He asked softly.
"Nothing will happen to them. I promise." She said. She then looked at Camille and Sonya, both of whom were feeling as guilty about the whole situation as she was.
"Thanksgiving is next Thursday." He said, looking down at the bear again and rubbing his temples.
Beatriz sighed, "Yes, I suppose it is." She said.
"Do you think they'll go back home without me?" He asked, looking at Sonya.
"Only if you tell them to." She answered. He leaned over and put his head on her shoulder.
"My Grandma makes the best pumpkin pie…" he said. Sonya nodded her head and reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, trying to ease not only his pain, but also his sadness.
"I'm sure she does. Mine did too." She said.
"Do you miss her?" He asked.
"Every day." She answered.
Camille sniffed and stood up, "I'm gonna go back out." She said to Beatriz.
"Take Taylor with you." Beatriz replied.
Camille shook her head slowly, "He doesn't want to go anywhere with me." She said.
"Well, that's too bad. You all made him and now you are going to teach him what he should have learned immediately. His powers are stronger than most young ones. It's time he learned how to use them." Beatriz said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"His powers are greater than mine. How am I supposed to teach him how to use them?" Camille groused.
"Don't underestimate yourself. You are very good at bending someone to your will. You can call out to a victim as well as any of us here. Teach him what you know. Sonya will do the same tomorrow night. We are on a schedule here!" She barked.
"My leg hurts. I don't want to." Taylor said into Sonya's neck.
"It didn't hurt when you were taking doors off their hinges and leaping tall buildings in a single bound. You are just fine." Beatriz said to him.
"Here," Sonya said picking up the bear, "we'll put your buddy right here…" and she placed the frumpy animal and it's new coat on the arm of the sofa, sitting up, "and you go with Camille. If you eat something, you'll feel better." She said.
Reluctantly, Taylor pulled himself away from Sonya. She was very warm and she was reminding him of his mother right then, so he felt compelled to do as she asked. "Can't you come, too?" He asked her. But Beatriz answered before Sonya was able to.
"No. She will accompany you tomorrow and Melanie the night after." She said, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards his bedroom.
"I'm not going anywhere with Melanie…" he said as she led him away. Before they could hear Beatriz' response, their voices had faded away. Sonya looked at Camille.
"What really happened?" Sonya asked the girl as she stood and walked over to her.
"He hates me." Camille answered, tears in her eyes. "He had sex with that girl, he didn't feed from her!" She hissed.
"Oh, I doubt that." Sonya said. Then she moved closer to Camille, "Besides, if he didn't feed from her, who did he feed from? They're gone now, but I saw those pink cheeks of his." Sonya whispered. Camille just looked back at her. "You have to stop this, Camille. You're hurting him, too. That's why his powers are too much for him. You keep adding to them, and it's going to cost both of you. He's too young and he doesn't have the personality for it. If she finds out…" Sonya shook her head. As Taylor and Beatriz joined them again, they were still going back and forth. Sonya was taking some satisfaction from seeing Beatriz deal with a problem child for once. In the past, it was always her that was sent to deal with them while Beatriz dealt with the more "important" issues.
"Those are the most pitiful excuses for clothes I've ever seen in my life." Beatriz was saying as she and Taylor walked into the room. "Tomorrow, I'm going to have Mr. Jones bring you some proper garments to wear."
"Oh sure, like I want to look like a butler. I don't think so, these are fine." He stooped down to tie his shoe, wincing as his leg reminded him of its questionable condition. He stood up and looked at Camille. She was wearing a skimpy black blouse and a red skirt, slit up the back with black lace around the hem. "Look at what she's wearing! Nobody worries about them looking like prostitutes." He said, turning to Beatriz.
"They take care of themselves. What they wear is their business. When you start doing what is asked of you, you can dress like an idiot as well." Beatriz said, and then she pushed them toward the elevators. "Don't make me sorry I haven't killed you yet, Taylor. Leave." And she turned back toward Sonya, who was smiling. Camille and Taylor both stood uncomfortably by the elevator, when Beatriz turned back to them, "Aren't you going to wear a jacket? At least pretend to be one of them." She said, and then her words turned into Spanish and she went back and sat on the sofa with a huff. Taylor came back over and took the purple jacket off the bear and then placed him back on the couch gently.
"He better be here when I get back." He said, pulling the too small jacket over his wide shoulders. Beatriz shot him a look, but didn't say anything. Camille came back in wearing a denim jacket. "Hey! That's my brother's!" Taylor spat as they walked into the elevator. The doors shut and the room was silent again.
Beatriz looked over at Sonya, "How old were your children?" She asked her.
Sonya cocked her head, "Well, my son was seven and my daughter was four and the baby was almost two." She said, softly.
"I almost had a child." Beatriz said, "I miscarried."
"Oh, I'm sorry." Sonya said, "I never knew that." She put her hand on Beatriz arm.
"Well, it was four hundred years ago." Beatriz said back. She sighed and then laid her head back on the sofa. "Are they all like that?" She asked, referring to Taylor and Camille.
"From what I hear," Sonya began, "the teen years are the hardest." She laughed, "But, I never got that far, so, I wouldn't know."
Shaking her head, Beatriz smiled as well. "You know, I am sending you along with the three others with Taylor. The day after the Thanksgiving feast, he must be in Chicago for a performance. I think if he misses it, it will bring a great deal of attention to him, and we don't want that." She said, looking over at Sonya.
"What does his family think of this whole…plan?" Sonya asked.
"Hmmm, I'm not sure. I know they want him back with them. But, understandably, they are concerned for the other children." Beatriz pulled herself up from the sofa and walked over to the window and gazed out into the night. Beside her, the colorful bird in its cage ruffled its feathers and she turned to it and whispered something. At the soothing sound of her voice, it shut its eyes and swayed upon its perch. She looked back at Sonya, "I can't leave here. You have to be able to keep things in order there. I believe Taylor's parents will be able to keep him in line, but they must know what is expected of him and what his special needs are. They haven't quite grown accustomed to the idea that he is no longer a human." She said, raising an eyebrow. "You have to walk the line there. His mother is going to hate you, I can tell you that, but you will have to turn a blind eye to that and do what must be done. I don't want ANYTHING happening to one of those children or anything that could cause police or fans or media to get interested in Taylor's…habits."
"I'll do everything in my power, but you must know, I don't have total control over Melanie or Camille, and certainly not Kirk. He considers you his boss, not me." Sonya replied.
"Let me handle that." Beatriz said, then, she walked over to her, "Now, let's go out and tie one on." She said with a glint in her eye.
"Well, I already had my fill tonight, but I'll come along just for the fun of it." Sonya said, and the two of them put on their coats and headed out into the city.
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Camille and Taylor had walked for quite a bit without saying a word to one another. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "Where do you want to go?" She asked him.
"I don't know. You're supposed to be teaching me something here. Where do you usually go to kill people?" He said back.
"Well, when I kill people, I like to take them in a church and tear them to bits up on the altar. But, I only do that on Saturdays so the body is still fresh on Sunday morning." She said dryly.
She stopped and looked up into his face. For one horrible moment, he believed her. She saw it in his eyes. "Taylor," she said softly, "I don't kill people. Most vamps don't. That's all just silly stuff for TV and movies."
"What about Melanie?" He asked, flipping his bangs out of his eyes, "I heard Sonya telling somebody she killed her victims."
Camille looked away, "Sometimes." She said. She turned back to him. "I'm sorry Taylor." She said. "I never wanted this to happen."
He sighed, "Yeah, well…" he said and then he stopped and shook his head. "Let's go. You're looking a little pale."
"ME?!" She laughed, "You should see yourself."
"I've always had fair skin. God, I burned like a lobster before, now I guess I'd just go up in flames." He said as they continued on their way.
"Don't even joke about that!" She said. Taylor looked up; they had come to an intersection with a few clubs and a liquor store. "This looks good." She said, pointing to the sign, which read, "The Basement". She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the steps where there were a few people standing in line. "Got any money?" She asked him.
"Yeah, sure." He said, searching his pockets, and then he remembered he'd given all his money to Michelle. "Well, crap. I don't have a cent." He said.
"Well, let me see what I can do." She said and she began to watch the doorman very closely. A few more people came down the steps and stood behind Taylor. Raising his head, he smelled perfume. Turning, he saw two women, holding their arms around their bodies, having left their coats in their car. He also smelled blood. They'd obviously walked a bit to get there. He hadn't fed since Camille had given him her own blood and suddenly, he found himself wanting and needing more. The line moved and he turned his attention back to Camille.
The doorman looked at his clipboard and then up at her, "Seven dollars." He said.
She moved her head 'til he was looking at her face, "Um, how much?" She asked innocently. Taylor watched as the man's eyes glazed over. "Go on." He said, then he stopped Taylor, "You with her?" He asked. Taylor nodded. "Go on." He said. As they walked in the darkened room, Taylor heard the girls protesting and he smiled. Being a vampire did have a few perks.
Once inside, Taylor looked around. This clientele was a little younger than at the last bar he'd been in. Still, Camille stuck out like a sore thumb, obviously underage. She pushed her way past the others and pulled Taylor behind her. She made her way close to the stage where the lights were brighter. People were dancing and sweating and drinking as the two watched them. Taylor watched the door they'd come through and saw the two women who'd been behind them in the line. Both of them went straight to the bar and ordered drinks. He shook his head thinking, if he was going to get either of them, he'd better do it soon. He didn't like the feeling he got after drinking from the very drunk gentleman the night Melanie and Kirk had chased him. In reality, just drinking from someone with alcohol in their bloodstream didn't usually affect their kind, but combined with his panic at being chased and running for miles without stopping to take a breath all combined for a feeling of sickness that he didn't want to experience again. He turned to Camille. In the colored lights she looked striking, her pale skin and blonde hair all picking up vivid hues and her eyes reflecting as her hunger got the best of her. He looked over at the women again. They'd found a table and sat down to watch the action around them, turning to one another and laughing. Taylor watched the silver chain around the dark haired girl's neck glint in the light. When she sat still, listening to her friend, he could watch the rhythm of her heartbeat in the shiny surface of the tiny links. He turned back to Camille, "I'll be back. Meet me here later if you leave this spot." He said, loudly.
"You don't have to yell, Taylor. I can hear you." She smiled.
"Oh, yeah." He said, shaking his head, "Sorry."
"I'll call you if I need you." She said knowingly. He looked at her for a moment, and nodded, then went on to where his prey sat, drinking and laughing. When he got close to them, he could pick out the perfume he'd smelled earlier. He was very nearly suffering from sensory overload with all the different sounds, scents, and sights being picked up by his heightened senses. He didn't usually notice, but when he tried to locate the smell of her, suddenly, it all came at him at once. He hadn't really needed it, he could see both of them right there, but it was all part of the experience he'd enjoyed before. And so, when he got there and stood behind them, he lost his nerve. He didn't know what he should say to her in order for her to look at him. He knew once he locked eyes with her, he could probably get her to do whatever he wanted. Suddenly though, he wasn't a suave, worldly, powerful vampire—he was a teenaged boy in a bar full of older women. The last time, Sonya had been with him and had helped him to get the woman out of the place where they could take what they needed. He looked back over at Camille. She was still there, but now a man had joined her. Sighing, he decided to go back and watch her do her thing. He made a mental note that he had to get her to show him how she did that mind trick on the doorman. He had managed it on the woman at the airport, but it had been hard work. Camille had done it with ease and in about a fourth of the time it took him. As he got closer, he watched the man as he looked down at Camille. Her blouse was a bit revealing and the man didn't even try to pretend he wasn't looking at her breasts. She batted her big blue eyes at him and he stepped a little closer to her. Taylor stopped, not wanting to get any closer, but the more he watched, the more disgusted he became with the situation. The man looked to be at least in his forties, and Camille was so obviously a teenager. Taylor stepped over to the wall where he could watch better and crossed his arms over his chest. The man leaned down and whispered something in her ear and she smacked him on the arm playfully. Taylor narrowed his eyes. He watched as the man laughed and very purposely spilled his drink on her, then reached up and brushed his hand across her chest. The next few moments were a blur to everyone involved. All Camille knew was that suddenly, her midnight snack was looking up at a very angry Taylor. "Ah, is this your brother?" The man asked, backing up, looking into a pair of icy blue eyes.
"Taylor!" She hissed, "It's alright. He didn't mean to." She said, putting her hand on his arm.
Taylor continued to look at the man. "Yeah…I'm really sorry little lady." The man said, looking past Taylor at Camille.
"Very sorry." Taylor said to him.
"Look—" the man started, but Taylor moved closer to him and he stopped.
"No, you look—she's fifteen, what the hell do you think you're doing touching her like that?" He spat. Before the man could say anything, Camille was pulling Taylor away from him. It was taking all her strength, but she knew she needed to get him out of the place before he really lost his temper and something happened that they'd all be in trouble for. He continued to glare at the man even as he was being pulled through the crowd and finally, back up the stairs and into the cold, autumn night.
She stopped and looked up at him. His eyebrows were all pulled together and his lips were pursed. His eyes were blue and angry looking and they were beautiful to her. "Taylor, that was our food for tonight. You can't freak out like that. It's not like he wasn't gonna pay for being a dickhead." She smiled up at him.
"It's just gross. That's just gross." He said, looking away and shaking his head.
"Well, yeah…but we gotta get 'em somehow. And if they want to get all horny before I drink from them, so what?" She asked.
He turned and looked down at her. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and there was no way she tipped the scale at more than a hundred, he guessed. And she wouldn't have when she was human. Now, her dense muscle and bone made her weigh more than she appeared to. Isaac and Zac would attest to the fact that Taylor weighed a bit more now than he had before as well.
"I don't care. Its just gross." He said, looking down at her.
"You didn't think it was gross when it was that Michelle girl." She said, looking back up at him.
He leaned down into her face, "That's because it wasn't." He said menacingly.
"Hmph. Whatever." She said, and she walked away from him and down the street again. He stood there watching her for a moment, but he decided he'd better go with her or risk pissing off the queen, so he followed her. He picked up his pace until he caught up with her.
"Dang, slow down. My leg is starting to throb." He said. "I thought you all told me it would get better really fast—"
"Taylor, it has. If it had happened before, you'd still be in the hospital, and I'm sure you'd be covered in plaster and a nice pair of crutches would be in your future. And you wouldn't be walking down some New York City street. It's only been a couple days, jeez." She said, linking her arm in his and allowing him to put some of his weight on her. They'd walked a few feet when he raised his head.
"Oh God, do you smell that?" He said dreamily.
"I smell a lot of things. What are we talking about?" She replied, watching his lips turn into a wide smile.
"Coffee." He said, closing his eyes.
"Oh, that. Yeah, I smell it, it stinks. Yuck." She smiled.
He looked down at her, "How can you say that?" She almost thought he would cry.
She shook her head, "Wanna go in?" She said, pointing to the little coffee shop they were outside of.
"Well, actually, I'd love to sit for awhile. I just sorta feel crappy." He said, giving her the look.
"Alright, but it'll be torture. It's not like you can drink it. You really need to feed. It'll make everything better." She said, giving him a knowing glance.
As they walked into the little shop, Taylor sat at the first booth, putting his leg up on the opposite seat. "That feels goooood." He said, leaning back. Camille sat down and pulled his foot into her lap, then she ran her small hand up his pant leg and began to gently massage the area she knew was giving him trouble. "So, do you walk your legs off every night when you go out to….eat or whatever?" He asked her.
She looked at him. He looked like he should be purring. "Well, I usually get some guy to come on to me and then I just take him in the back room and we have a little get-together. But, tonight, someone messed up my plan and drew a little bit too much attention to the whole scene."
"Oh." He responded, looking a little ashamed. "Sorry about that." He looked at her. Her blonde hair was silky and cut straight off just under her ears and in the fluorescent lights of the little diner, her eyes were striking. He wondered if they'd always been that color or if they had changed in any way since she'd been turned. "But, I have to warn you, I'd do it again. If that's the way you do it, fine. But I'm not gonna watch it."
Just then, a tired looking girl with hair so red it had to be from a box walked up to the table, "What can I get you tonight?" She asked, looking at the two. Camille pointed to Taylor.
She looked at the boy: messy blonde hair, clothes wrinkled, and a jacket way too small. Typical pair of street kids. But when he looked up at her, she almost gasped. His eyes were beautiful. She looked back at the girl, wondering for a moment if they were brother and sister. His voice brought her back to him, "Coffee. The best you got. Large." He smiled. For a moment she just stood there, looking into those eyes. Camille watched the exchange, then she cleared her throat. Taylor looked over at her, "What?" The waitress continued to stare at the spot where the eyes had been for a second, and then she blinked.
"Oh, um…is that it?" She asked them.
"Yeah. Thanks." Camille said. As the girl walked away, Camille laughed. "You are just as bad, Taylor. At least I let them come to me."
"What? She did come to me." He protested, not liking the smug look on Camille's face.
"It's her job." She said, leaning over the table towards him. "And don't think I didn't catch that little trick you were pulling on her."
Taylor gave a dismissive gesture with his hands and pursed his lips, "Whatever."
"You are such a man. It's alright for you to do something, but if a woman does it, then she's a slut or—" He cut her off.
"I didn't say you were a slut." He said, his eyes flashing angrily, "I understand what you are doing and why. I just can't stand to see some nasty drunk treating a young girl like that. I'm sorry, I just wasn't raised that way."
"I'm as old as you are. I've been doing this for three years now." She said.
"If he'd been hitting on me it would have been just as bad. Hell, I won't be eighteen for a few more months." He spat.
Camille looked at him, "No, you'll never be eighteen, Taylor. You'll always be seventeen. Even when you are a hundred. Do you know how old Sonya is? She was born sometime after the Revolutionary War, but before the Civil War, to put it in class room terms." The blank look on his face gave her no clue as to his thoughts about what she'd just told him. She didn't want to upset him more, but she felt he needed to come to grips with what he was.
The silence between them was broken when the waitress walked up to the table. "Here ya go," she said as she sat the cup in front of him, "strong and delicious."
Taylor looked at her nametag. "Thank you, Jill." He said, turning on the charm. Camille sighed and sat back. His methods may have been a little different, but the result was the same. Jill would be spending some time with her new friends this evening. "Um, what time do you get off?" He asked her softly, looking up into her greenish eyes.
It was all she could do to think. "Get off?" She asked.
"Yeah," he smiled, "Get off—from work?" He raised his eyebrow.
"Oh. Oh, I get off…." She looked at her watch, "in, two hours and forty three minutes." She said, gazing once again into the oceany depths of his eyes. Camille's eyes registered disgust as she rolled them up into her head.
Taylor took the girl's wrist in his hand and turned it to look at her watch, "Ok, so you get off at 3 o'clock. Could I maybe meet you at the back door? Walk you home or something?" She didn't say anything; she only nodded without taking her eyes from his. "Cool." He said. She continued to stand there. "I'll see ya then." He said. She stood. Finally, he looked over at Camille.
"Don't look at me, you wanted her, now you got her." She said, shrugging her shoulders. After a few more awkward moments, Camille stood up from the booth, "Taylor, we better go." She said to him.
"Yeah, I guess so." He said, sliding slowly out of the booth. Camille put her hand on the girl's back and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, he'll be back." Then she took Taylor's hand and pulled him back out into the street once more, leaving the girl staring after them and his coffee untouched.
"Well, how nice. You have a little dinner date in three hours. I'm hungry NOW." She said. "And you are too. I'm telling you, if you wait too long, they pay for it. Come on." And she pulled him with her farther on down the block. They came to a spot that seemed a little less bright and Camille pushed him up against the wall. "Stay here. I mean it. I'll call you." And then he watched as she walked over to the corner and leaned up against the light pole, allowing her leg to stretch out seductively. Within a few minutes, Taylor watched as a car pulled up and the passenger side window went down. Straining his ears, he could hear the man asking her if she was "working." Nodding, she bent down and looked into the car. Though it drove him mad to stay there like she'd told him, he just watched as the car door was unlocked and she stepped into the car. For a moment, he just listened as he heard the man ask her carefully phrased questions, which she answered in one-word answers. "Yes." "No." "Whatever." When the car suddenly drove away, he almost ran after it, but he knew in his heart, she knew exactly what she was doing. Leaning back, he thought about what she had said, that he was no different than she was. Sighing, he thought of his family. He looked around him to try and figure out where he was. Perhaps two or three blocks from where they were staying, he realized. He pulled Michelle's jacket tighter around him and began to think of Avery. "Avie. I don't know if you're still awake. I just wanted to say 'hi'. I sure am missing you guys." He knew she would hear him. Even in her sleep, she could hear him. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Camille's voice in his mind.
"Taylor, I'm in a parking lot around the corner. Just take a left at the light, about a block up. It's the red car, remember?" She said.
Putting his hands in his pockets, he started walking to where she told him she'd be. Sure enough, there it was. When he stepped up to the car, he could see Camille leaning over the man. She looked up at him, then reached back and opened the back door for him. "No thanks." He said, looking over at the man. His eyes were glazed over, but he didn't appear to be afraid or even uncomfortable.
"Shit, Taylor! You have to. You can't just put it off." She said, getting out of the car.
"I'm not. I'll go back to the coffee shop at three and I'll do it, ok?" He said, looking away. The wind blew his hair and she could see little sparkles in it. It had started to snow tiny little flurries.
She reached her hand up to his cold cheek, "Alright." She sighed. "Just give me a minute. I hate to waste it." She said, and then she got back in the car. Taylor leaned up against it, listening to the sounds of her taking the man's blood. Sounds so soft, the man couldn't even hear it. Looking up, he wished he could see the stars. In Oklahoma, you could see stars, in New York, just dark sky. He laid his head back on the top of the car and waited. When Camille got out of the car, she straightened her clothes and hair, and then she began to count the money in her hand.
Taylor stood up straight, "Did you rob him?" He asked, aghast.
"No, I provided him with a service which he paid me for." She said.
"Oh my gosh, you are a prostitute!" He exclaimed.
Camille turned to him, "No. I am NOT a prostitute. He had money he was gonna spend on a prostitute. Instead he had a good time with me. No diseases, no laws broken. A valuable service rendered in a most pleasant way. He owed me." She said as she walked past him. Taylor shook his head and caught up with her. "Now what?" She asked, "We still have a couple hours to kill." She said.
Taylor tried to put the idea of what had just happened out of his mind. "Well, since we're so close and everything, do you think we could maybe go by the hotel where my folks are staying? Just to look and stuff…" he said quietly.
She stopped for a moment, "We're just gonna look?" She asked, looking at his face. He nodded. "Ok, but don't tell anyone, I doubt that Beatriz would approve."
He put his arm around her shoulder and they turned back to where they could see the hotel standing amongst the other buildings surrounding it. As they walked, Taylor realized he really was very hungry; every person they passed had begun to look and smell like a meal to him. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew they were all right. He needed to start feeding regularly. The difference in the way he felt when he did and when he didn't was huge. He was on the verge of becoming slow and sluggish, not full of energy and warmth like after taking blood from someone. In fact, he could feel Camille's skin warming under his arm. It seemed he could go about two days without feeding before it really got to him. As the hotel came into view, he stopped. He could see a few people milling around in front of the building. "Let's cross." He said, grabbing her hand. When they got across the street, he stood next to a tree and gazed up at the building. He didn't want to get caught by any fans, though he felt they would all have retired for the night. His thoughts went to Michelle for a moment and he prayed she had left the city. He counted up the floors of the hotel 'til he got to the 38th. There was a light on, but he couldn't see any movement. He dropped Camille's hand and put his arm around the trunk of the tree. She stepped back, watching him. He closed his eyes and she was certain he was calling someone, but try as she might, she couldn't break into his mind. She leaned up against the cool gray building behind her and watched the windows of his family's rooms.
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Avery lay in her bed. Beside her, Jessica was breathing softly, a copy of Teen People lying open on her chest. She had been in that dreamy place between awake and asleep when she'd heard her brother's voice. Just a hello from him, and a miss-you. Then, silence again. But now, she couldn't get back to that sleepy place. Sitting up, she reached down to the end of the bed where her backpack lay. She had a book in there she was trying to read and she thought it might help her settle her mind. As she lay back again and pulled the covers up, she heard him again. "Hey Ave, are you there? It's Tay. I'm sorry I keep bugging you. I'm just feeling kinda blue and I been thinking about you guys. If you're awake, could you do something for me? Would you come to the window? I'm down here looking up. You probably can't see me, but I can see you." She tossed the book down and jumped up. She pulled the curtain aside and looked down at the street below. She could see a few people, but they were so tiny she couldn't possibly make out anything about them. She placed her hand on the cold glass and pressed her forehead against it. "I'm here." She said, knowing he couldn't hear her, but hoping he would know.
It was so high up it was hard to tell, but he was almost certain he could see the silhouette of his sister in the window. A smile graced his pale features and Camille shook her head. She didn't understand it. But she knew it was for real. Then she heard him, "Good night, Avery." He said, and then reluctantly, he turned toward her and away from the sight of the familiar building that held every single thing he cared about in the world. "Let's go." He said softly, offering her a hand to get up off the sidewalk. She took his hand and was amazed at how cold it was.
"Taylor, I don't know if you should wait two more hours." She said.
"Two more hours isn't gonna kill me. In fact," he said thoughtfully, "if I thought it would, I might try it."
Camille placed her hand on his shoulder, "Please don't say that, you're breaking my heart, Taylor. I know you miss them right now, but…." It took everything she had not to tell him what Beatriz was planning. But she also knew if his family decided not to take him back into their fold, it would kill him. Literally. She looked up into his face, his hair blowing into his eyes, darkening once more as he put off drinking the blood he so needed.
"Let's just go to the park. It's not that far and we can just wait 'til then and you can let me in on a few of those little tricks of yours, ok?" He said, wanting to change the subject. She smiled at him, then linked her arm in his and once again, pulled him down the street towards their destination.
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At 3 o'clock sharp, Jill Bassett walked out the door of the coffee shop she worked in. If he wasn't there, she thought, she would just die. She didn't ever go out with the customers, not even a phone number, she just wasn't comfortable. But for some reason, this boy had gotten into her head and just wouldn't leave. She'd lost receipts, spilled coffee, and squirted a man with one of those little plastic creamers in the few hours since he'd left. It had been the longest three hours of her life. She pulled her jacket closed and zipped it, feeling the wind cut through the leather as if it were linen. As she looked up, she saw him. He was standing across the street, and she could see his eyes looking at her. He was tall and lean, and he looked incredibly strong—yet, he looked so delicate. He just had to be on drugs she thought, shaking her head and not believing what she was doing. It was written all over him. He crossed the street and was suddenly standing right in front of her. "Where's your girlfriend?" She asked, looking around.
"Oh, she's not my girlfriend." He said, smiling down at her. She smiled back, certain he was lying, but not caring. A gust of wind blew her hair in her face and she shivered and put her hair behind her ear. Taylor looked at it, noticing her ear had at least ten silver loops in it, "Are you cold?" He asked.
Shrugging her shoulders, she answered, "Yeah, a little."
"It's starting to snow." He said, looking up. She saw an odd flash of green in his blue eyes when the streetlight caught them just right. "Is there someplace close where we can get out of the cold?" He asked.
"Uh…" she uttered, "well, I just live around the corner, above the deli." She said, not believing she was telling a dangerous—yet handsome—drug addict where she lived.
"Well, do you want to go there? I don't think there's much open this late, except for sleazy clubs, and I really don't want to go there." He said, smiling at her.
"Sure." Why was she doing this? She thought to herself. But, before she could talk herself out of it, he had taken her hand in his and they'd begun to walk to her apartment. She shivered thinking his hands were like ice. And yet, he didn't even bother to zip up the thin jacket he was wearing. Definitely trouble, yet too tempting to turn down she thought, looking over at him. She just hoped he wasn't a serial killer.
Camille followed the two, curious as to how Taylor would take the girl. They'd already walked past at least two perfectly hidden spots where he could have done the deed, yet, he continued to walk. When they came to a deli, closed for the night, the girl pulled out a key and unlocked the small door just to the left of the business. "Taylor, what are you doing?" She asked him silently. As the girl headed up the stairs, Taylor hesitated, then looked back, seeing Camille a ways behind them. He said nothing, just turned and followed Jill up the stairs. Sighing, she sat down on the small bench outside the place, and she waited.
Inside, Taylor watched as the girl nervously opened her door, allowing him to follow her inside. She threw her purse over on the couch, "You know, I'm really not into one night stands…" she said.
Taylor looked over at her. "Oh?" He said. She then began to undo the buttons on her uniform.
"I hate this stupid thing they make me wear." She said, walking towards him. As she pulled the blouse open at the top, Taylor looked at her throat. His hunger had pushed everything else out of his mind so that when she pulled the blouse away from her breasts, the sight of the tiny silver rings threaded through her nipples didn't even cause him to linger there more than a moment. She reached up and roughly pulled his jacket off his shoulders, then threw her own blouse off and onto the floor. As he leaned down and kissed her neck, the smell of her was enough to torture him. Not only was the sweet aroma of coffee on her, but the blood pumping through her veins was increasing as she became aroused. It took every bit of strength he had not to just rip her open right then. She was unbuttoning his shirt and running her fingernails down his chest. She stood on her tiptoes and began to kiss his shoulder. He leaned his head back as he felt his teeth begin to grow. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open as she bit into his smooth skin.
"Ouch!" He squeaked, looking down at her and half expecting her to have fangs of her own. She looked up at him and she smiled, perfect, human teeth. Then she pushed him back against the door as her hands ran up and down his body.
"Don't make me hurt you…" he said playfully.
"Oh god," she breathed, "would you?" And she pressed herself up against him.
Taylor smiled, not believing what he was hearing. He then leaned down and licked her neck and nipped at it. The moan that came from her was enough to push him over the edge and he sunk his teeth in. Her grasp on him became almost painful as he began to drink in the warm, salty blood. As his mind joined hers, he could almost feel how much she was enjoying the experience. Her eyes fluttered open and she began to feel his skin warm under her hands. His eyes were closed and she could hear him sucking on her. There was pain, but it was incredibly sexual to her. She reached back and unzipped the skirt she was wearing. Taylor continued to feed, feeling his body regain the strength and energy he needed. She wriggled out of the skirt and it fell to the floor around her ankles and her panties soon followed. She put her legs on either side of his thigh and pressed herself tightly against him. The friction was quickly bringing her close to orgasm. As the blood left her body, her eyesight began to blur and Taylor's face became even more beautiful to her. Just as a wave of pleasure went through her body, her blood loss became enough for her to pass out in his arms. He pulled back and licked his lips, still holding her limp body against his. Effortlessly, he picked her up and brought her over to the couch, laying her down gently. He stood back and looked at her. She was now pale and her red hair against her white skin was breathtaking. He watched and listened carefully. Her chest rose and fell and he could hear her heart beating in her chest. Smiling, he pulled his shirt together and hastily buttoned it and grabbed up his jacket, then he went back down the stairs and locked the door behind him. Camille was sitting on the bench, her eyes closed, her head leaning on her shoulder. At the horizon, the tiniest bit of light was forming and he knew they needed to hurry. He reached down and touched her shoulder, "Hey, get up. We gotta go." He said softly. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright.
"Hmmm, I smell sex and……..coffee." She sang, smiling up at him as she stood up.
"Shut up, Camille." He said, smiling back. And the two made their way back to the high-rise apartment they called home.
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A.N. Two quick questions before I leave you all (I know, sad huh?) First of all, I am intentionally not-so-graphic in my handling of the…er…intimates scenes in my writing. This is why I rated this story T-rated as opposed to M-rated. Do you think if goes too far for a rated-T story, or does the rating seem acceptable to a reader?
And question two: Does anyone other than Taylight Lexicon regs even read this monster? Lol…