(Vampire Hell)
Chapter Four: Kage Ai no Aru o Sugite Hitotsu no
(Beyond the Shadow of a Love)
The girl's thoughts raced through her mind as she changed from the blood-drenched clothes into the fresh, crisp, clean ones. She had snuck into a dark house, sensing no one was home, and immediately ran to the bathroom and took a warm shower. She felt so dirty and evil after she had fed, and guilt washed over her like a massive tidal wave. Now, she stood in front of the full-length mirror inside the closet door and admired her new attire: a blue, sleeveless, ribbed turtleneck, small navy blue skirt, a bit too short for her taste, but it covered enough, and white knee socks under her old shoes. Whomever lived here had large feet, and she was unable to fit their shoes, so she'd scrubbed the dry, crusty blood dutifully away and slipped them back on.
Relena sighed to herself and dropped her hands from her waist, sinking her shoulders into her spine. How had Dou found her, anyway? She then realized, while staring at her own bright blue eyes in the mirror, that she knew nothing about being a vampire. She knew nothing about how the older vampires think, how they develop their powers, how she could eventually develop her own, and control them. She knew only that she had a thirst inside her mind and body and soul, a thirst that would spring to life at least every other week, and she would have to drink the blood of a living human to quench it, only to have it rise again. Being around excitement increased the thirst. Happiness, fear, anger, jealousy, any strong emotion, even love, would cause the thirst to rise suddenly, and she would unknowingly set her sights on the bearer of these emotions, killing them swiftly and painfully and draining them of their life-blood.
What sort of advice had her master, her creator, the person responsible for her eternal hell on earth, given her? None, none whatsoever. "Well," she thought to herself, running her fingers through her sandy blonde hair, "He did tell me a few things."
"Always drink the blood of a freshly killed human, stay away from those with drugs in their system. Their blood is bitter and unsatisfying. As you grow older, you will notice changes: the need to feed more often, your face and body will lose its fleshy colors, your eyes will take on a silvery undertone. Don't be alarmed, for this is natural. It's a way for your body to adapt to your new being; your dislike of the light, and the sun." He'd recited these words of advice like a prepared speech, so calm, so cold and unanimated.
"Where did vampires come from?" she had asked, sobbing. She'd been changed into a demon, and now she would be forced to live like one, killing humans mercilessly and without punishment to survive. She had never asked for this. She never wanted it. She was forced into it. Die, or live forever. That was her choice. Had she known the hell of a half-life, half-death she would be given, she would have chosen to die that day.
Her creator had laughed out loud, and she remembered the sound as it echoed off of the walls of the small cave they had occupied during the birth, as he called it. It echoed in her mind still, nearly two-hundred years after it had occurred. "That," he had said, pointing his long, slender finger directly at her nose, "is something I can't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because even I don't know that."
She wished so much that she could remember who had made her, his face, at least. The memory seemed to be incessantly blocked from reaching the surface of her mind. All that remained with her were the words he had spoken, not even his voice. Only the words themselves. She could place no sound to their being.
"You're leaving me now?" she heard her memory repeat to the darkness that had hovered above her in the cave.
"Of course I am," he had said laughingly. "You can't expect me to stay with you forever." He'd placed a comforting hand on her cheek, and it had been so cold, like ice, she had shivered.
"But I love you! I love you more than anything!" she had clawed at his hand, hoping to keep it attached to her shoulder forever and never let him leave her.
"It's only temporary," he'd answered knowingly. "In a few years, you will hate everything about me. You will hate every word I have spoken. A few years later, you will block the memories from your mind, because you won't want anything to do with me..."
"That's not true! I will always love you!" she sobbed shamelessly, hoping he would stay, if only out of pity, but he slowly removed his hand from her grasp. It had seemed to fade out of its own content, out of being, for a moment. She could not hold it, nor could she feel it as it was pulled away.
"And in a few more years," he continued, "You will never again be able to remember my face."
Relena sighed to herself. He had been somewhat right. She'd hated him years later. She'd sworn revenge, in fact. He never told her she would do that. Years after that, she had known their was something driving her quest to kill all vampires, and only a whisp of knowledge enlightened her. It had something to do with her creator, how he had treated her. But she never forgot his words, as he had said she would do. She would not allow herself to forget. For she knew, deep within her mind, that no matter how much she hated him, she would still love him somewhat. And, eventually, years and years later, she had forgotten his face. She'd forgotten the exact color of his eyes, how they had sparkled in the pale moonlight that had crept in through a crevice of the cave. She forgot the shape of his face, the way he smiled, the sound of his voice. She did not regret forgetting what he looked like. She didn't need to know, for at this point, there was no longer an ounce of feeling for this man, besides pure and utter hate. She would never try to drag up the memories of him, save for recognizing his face before she kills him, but she would never, never forget his words.
Everything he had said to her would be remembered, so that she would remember the reasons for her hunt.
"I don't want to be a vampire! Vampires aren't real!"
"Then why do you, at this very moment, thirst for my blood?"
"I don't know... because I love you, and I want your very soul..."
"My soul belongs to another."
"Tell me you love me."
"I do not."
"How can you not? How can you be so cold? How can you not care about me? Do I mean nothing to you?"
"Nothing more than an addition to my race."
"Why did you give me a choice to live or die, if you don't care?"
He had laughed again, as if the question she had asked was meant as a joke. He didn't seem to take anything she said or asked seriously. Everything about her was a joke. He had played around with her, toyed with her mind, convinced her, without words, that he loved her, and now he was telling her that she was stupid for thinking something that outrageous. He could never love her. "Look at yourself, Relena. I hate to admit it, but you are beautiful. Blonde hair and blue eyes, fair skin. Your eyes will look lovely when they turn silver, your hair will accent your skin when it fades into a reflective and pale white. You have something deep within your spirit, as well."
"What?"
"You have an instinct."
"An instinct? For what?"
"Murder."
Relena had stared at him in utter shock for a few moments. She could never view herself as a killer. She believed in peace and kindness. Violence could never solve any problems, murder would only enhance them. How could this boy make such outrageous claims? "I don't know what you mean! I'm not a murderer! I could never hurt anyone."
"You think that, only because you have never been pushed to that point. You will be. The thirst will eventually drive you mad, and make you kill someone, and you will kill them so viciously, you won't believe, afterward, that you've done it. You will grow to love the killing."
He had been right. The thirst had bubbled inside her for weeks, even months. She'd finally lost all sense of where she had been going, and was wandering around on an empty street in a very bad, unclean neighborhood, searching for any fresh body that might be meandering around in the middle of the night. She'd found a young girl and boy who had run out in the middle of the night to be together. They sat in a car, kissing and fondling each other. She'd ripped the car door from its very hinge and killed them both viciously, screaming as if she were mad. The blood had splattered and stained the windshield, and afterward, when she had regained her thoughts, she stared at the remnants of her victims lying on her lap, and screamed.
She hated that memory. She had never since let her thirst get to that point. She tried to never let the rage take control. It happened every once in a while, though. She stared at the soiled, blood-stained clothes that sat in a heap on the bathroom floor. Every once in a while, things would drive her to that point. Most often, though, her killings were swift and painless. At least, she hoped they were.
Relena, finally satisfied with her new outfit, gathered up her old clothes and put them in a small plastic bag she'd found in the cabinet underneath the bathroom sink. She checked her new hairstyle in the mirror a moment, smoothed back a few loose strands, then left the bedroom. When she was out of the house, and again breathing in the fresh night air, she felt herself relax greatly. Her muscles were so tense these days. She had not had much rest lately, always afraid to let herself fall into the blanket of a vampiric sleep. She was too worried that someone would find her. And now, on top of all of this, she had to worry about something else: Duo. That boy seemed to know far too much about her. She felt his eyes on her constantly, ever since she had met him that day. She knew he wanted her dead. She knew he would try to kill her. She knew she had to be prepared, and always alert.
The night shrouded her as she tossed the soiled clothes into a garbage can on the street, and, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest, continued walking, searching for something to occupy the hours before sunrise.
~~~~~~~~
"How many others have you created?"
"A few."
"How many?"
"Seven."
"You mean, there are at least seven more vampires?"
"Not anymore."
"What do you mean? What happened to them?"
"They were killed."
"How many are left, then?"
"Only two."
"Two?"
"Yes."
"But with me..."
Duo turned around and stared at Quatre. He looked a bit shaken after what he had just been told, but slightly intrigued, nonetheless. "There will be three of us." Quatre smiled at him proudly, and Duo found himself walking towards him. He knew his intentions for this boy were horrible. He knew that after he created his new life, he would have to make him leave. Quatre would hate him. Quatre would want to kill him, just like all of the others he had created. They all wanted him dead. It was fun for a few years, killing together, but his children tired of him, and left. Duo never saw them again after they did. He felt in his soul when they were destroyed. He knew when he had lost another child, but he never let the pain he felt get to him. He brushed it off, knowing that he could easily go out and make another.
"Okay," Quatre said, grasping his hands tightly in front of him. Duo was so close to him again. It was making him feel uncomfortable. He could feel the boy's eyes boring into the top of his lowered head. "I'll do it."
Duo rubbed the boy's head lovingly. His hair was so soft, it flowed through his fingers and fell immediately back into place. "Are you sure?" he asked, still rubbing his head. He could smell the boy's shampoo.
Quatre looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. He'd never had another boy stroke his hair before. Duo was so friendly, almost as if her were flirting, toying with him. Quatre was so attracted to him now, with him standing so close, touching his hair so tenderly, he felt ready to jump into the boy's arms and kiss him. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have his ice cold body tight against his own. "I'm sure, Duo," he breathed out, nearly a whisper. His nerves would dare not let him speak louder. The sound may ruin the moment.
Duo looked down into the boy's eyes, and his flushed cheeks. He felt awful. This young child was already falling in love with him. Poor thing. "It happens to everyone," he mused to himself, still stroking the boy's head. He touched his warm cheek and felt the heat against his hand. It warmed his palm, and he liked the feeling. So soft... "everyone falls in love with me. It's just that I'm a vampire. They can't help it." Duo cleared his thoughts away from his mind and concentrated on the mortal before him. The mortal who's eyes were sparkling brilliantly with fascination and expectation.
"Close your eyes, young one," he breathed softly. Quatre was chilled by the icy words and the icy breath, but he complied, letting his soft lashes shield his vision only for a moment before tightening his lids. "Now, give me your hand." Quatre lifted his hand, palm up, to Duo's face, and the boy held it tightly in his own. He brought it to his mouth, giving the wrist one cold kiss before sinking his teeth into it. Quatre drew in his breath painfully. Duo bit harder and slid his mouth quickly across the fresh skin, ripping a large hole in the once perfect flesh. Quatre jerked his hand away and opened his eyes, staring at Duo, his mouth dripping a bit with the fresh, warm blood.
Quatre held his injured wrist to his chest, his shirt soaking up the blood as it trickled down his arm. "What did you do that for?" he inquired, looking fearfully at the smiling eyes before him.
Duo grinned a bit, a strange smile, accented by the tinge of blood on his teeth. He brought his own wrist to his mouth, bit down upon it, and jerked his head through his own flesh. A sickening, blackish blood began to ooze and seep from the wound. It didn't flow freely like Quatre's. It merely bubbled to the surface and quickly began to repair the injury.
Duo held out his wrist in front of the boy's face. "Drink," he commanded, and Quatre stared at him warily. "If you want this to happen, then drink. Now!" Quatre released his own wrist and grabbed Duo's arm with his other hand. He took one final glance at the boy hovering over him before lowering his mouth onto the blood.
Duo smiled and watched as the boy lapped at the wound a moment, then attached himself securely, sucking thirstily. It felt odd, having someone drain you of your blood, but no more strange than the many other times he'd been fed upon. It was as if someone were drawing your very soul out of your body, leaving you with nothing but an empty shell. Duo laughed softly to himself. To actually think to himself that he would have a soul... how very unlikely.
Quatre was experiencing pure ecstasy at this moment, taking the cold, salty blood into his mouth and swallowing it in huge gulps. It coated his throat in a thick film, and filled his stomach quickly, spreading through his entire body with a fierce chill. At first, he'd felt almost ill, tasting the blood on his tongue, forcing himself to swallow it. Now, though, he was enjoying it, and he ignored the fact that his free hand still was bleeding, and the droplets were steadily falling to the floor, creating a pool of crimson at his feet. He ignored the way Duo was wincing uncomfortably, almost moaning, and the slight laugh that followed the sounds. Everything was drowned out and engulfed in the pure, hazy feeling of this soul-filling meal he'd been given.
Duo concentrated intently on his own heartbeat, no longer daring to moan in discomfort, fearing he may miss his internal cue. When he heard his own, dull heartbeat begin to slow dramatically, he pulled his arm, slowly taking his wrist away from the boy who so eagerly tried to hold tight to it. Duo placed his hand on Quatre's, still attached to his arm. "Wait a moment, young one," he said soothingly. "You don't want to kill me, do you?" Quatre shook his head and stared at him blankly. Oh, how he craved the taste of that boy's blood in his throat! Duo reached weakly for Quatre's bleeding wrist, and the boy offered it without protest. He took it hungrily in his mouth, feeding on the boy's essence, reveling in it, and regaining his lost strength. Quatre, now, moaned in discomfort. He felt as if someone were pulling out his heart through his wrist. He could feel his veins and arteries being tugged at through the wound, and they ached in protest. Duo was completely unhindered by the young boy's wincing. He sucked viciously, aching for the grand warmth that traveled down his throat. It warmed him, and made him feel renewed. It gave him strength again. Strength, he knew, he would need, to feed this tender morsel in front of him.
As he felt his body warm slightly with the fresh young blood, he nearly lost himself. But he knew he could not take this boy's life, no matter how eager he may feel toward the action. He wanted this boy to become one of his own. Killing him now would only satisfy his thirst for a few days. It would be pointless. He willingly kept his thoughts about him, forcing himself to count the gulps and swallows, to listen to and feel the heartbeat intently. When it began to slow slightly, he withdrew his mouth, wanting so badly to continue with the crisp taste. He knew he mustn't. He took a deep breath and shook his head to regain his thoughts before looking down at the boy.
Quatre was barely able to keep himself upright, swaying drunkenly with the loss of blood. His knees were weak, and they trembled beneath him. He looked up at Duo mournfully, his eyes having lost that spark of life they had once laid claim to. Duo looked sadly towards the boy a moment, before releasing his arm and letting it flop down lifelessly at his side.
He savored the warm feeling inside him a moment more before bringing his own wrist to his mouth. The wound he'd cut into himself had already healed, and only a light scar remained, as if it had been years since the wound was sealed. It had been merely ten minutes, at most. He grudgingly ripped another gash into his wrist with his teeth and the thick, old blood oozed forth from the newly sliced wound. He held it up to the weak boy again, and he took the arm gratefully, bringing it to his mouth and sucking with all the strength left to him. The blood was warm now, he noticed. Warmed from his own blood. It tasted slightly fresher now, not as bitter as before. A slightly sweet taste, and it filled his stomach even more pleasantly than before. He could immediately feel the blood seeping through the walls of his chilled stomach and enter into his own veins. Luxurious... so luxurious. So wonderful... He sucked and lapped at the wound for as long as Duo could stand it, taking every drop gratefully and savoring the sweet tinge it left in his taste buds when the wrist was withdrawn.
Duo fell back against the rotten pew behind him, and it nearly collapsed with his weight. He had let this youth take too much of him. He was becoming far too weak. He would have to stop giving so much, and worry more about taking. Quatre needn't be told what to do this time. He walked over to the weakened vampire and held out his wrist. It was still seeping blood, but not so much as before. It seemed to be already healing. Duo took the wrist as gratefully as Quatre had taken his, and pulled it to his mouth. He again felt the blood enter his stomach. It was so warm, and he savored it as if he hadn't fed in decades. It rejuvenated his strength once more. Strength, he knew, that he would have to again offer up to the youth.
~~~~~~~~
Finally, the sun began to rise over the trees in the distance. The sunrise cast strange shadows over the grass at her feet, and she immediately felt the warmth when the orange and yellow gave way to the full-on brightness of the sun. Relena watched as life slowly began to return to the streets about her. She sat on the same bench she had been at only a few days ago. The park bench in the center of the bustling city where she had met Duo. The small, stocky man who owned the ice cream cart slowly wheeled his merchandise onto the same spot on the sidewalk across the street.
Relena sighed to herself. She knew she had to go back to Duo's little hideaway in the alleys. She had left her book, and her backpack, in that cubby-hole of a room. Those two boys had frightened her so much, had shaken up her nerves, to the point that she had lost all reasoning. Yet, how could she have been so stupid as to leave something of so much significance in that hell-hole? If Duo found that backpack... if he searched through it... if he found out its contents... Hell on Earth would be a pure possibility for her. She hugged her arms tightly about her chest. How could she have been so ill-witted?
The book shop across the street opened up. The same plump, balding man she had met there turned the "closed" sign in the window around, revealing the word, "OPEN," and she smiled to herself. "Life continues so normally for these people," she whispered silently. "They know nothing of us. They believe they have no reason to fear the dark. They have no reason to glance over their shoulders when they hear the footsteps of our race rapidly approaching."
Relena stood up slowly. She was feeling ever more weary
from the days without pure sleep. She set her mind straight, allowing
herself to digest only the thoughts of Duo's secretive lair. It was
day now. Duo was an older vampire. Older vampires prefer to
sleep during the day. He would most certainly be in that room now.
If he was, and he was veiled in the thick, woolen blanket of sleep, she
could easily sneak in and retrieve the backpack and the book. If
he were asleep on the bed... No, she shouldn't think like that. It
would be far too fanciful of her to believe that killing him would be so
easy. She'd killed others in their sleep, certainly, but this one
was different. He seemed to know everything that was going on around
him. Even while he slept, she was sure, he had someone watching over
him. Killing him, the final vampire, would not be as easy as she
would have ever wished for.