In hindsight, he should have known better than to take the Dr. Julia Hoffman as his slave. That didn't mean that Tom regretted his choice. Julia was more than willing to offer up her neck to him, be it for his or her own pleasure. Through her blood, he had seen her thwarted affections for the eccentric, hollow cheeked Barnabas who (surprise, surprise) is a recovering vamp. It seemed that Julia had done her damndest to cure the poor bastard of his "horrible" affliction. Was she going to attempt to cure Tom? He couldn't see it in her thoughts. She seemed to like Tom just the way he was.
Not that Tom would agree to treatment anyway. In only the few nights since he had risen from the grave, he had become completely engrossed by his new life. For the first time, he was free of distractions and responsibility. He needed only to worry about himself. It had been ages since had had this kind of independence.
But life hadn't been all fun and games. Tom's first problem had been trying to find a place to sleep out the day. After a few moments of careful searching, he found an empty crypt. As he had suspected, it had Collins origin. Extra crypt? Were they just planning on death? But it didn't really matter to Tom why they had built it. It was large enough to serve his purpose. Since Barnabas and his servant had already turned the soil, acquiring his coffin was a cinch. He soon had his daylight safe house ready for business.
Sleeping in the coffin was another matter. Tom had always been slightly claustrophobic, a condition not very well suited to casket quarters. And to think that he had thought his old dorm room too small! Each evening, he would wake up and not realize where he was. Panic would instantly set in and he would thrash about in his small space, rocking the coffin until it teetered precariously on its stand. This activity, violent as it looked, brought Tom back to reality. With a quick movement, he would force it open and zoom into a sitting position, panting to recover any lost air. As much as he loved his new life, Tom had trouble grasping that he was dead. It was little things like this that made him remember and left him slightly bitter about his situation.
But any hesitation was swept away by the smell of the air. SHE was awake and was thinking of nothing but him. Tom would be able to reflect on nothing but Julia until he had the taste of her in his mouth. Just the thought of her was often enough to send his body reeling. He could savor her longing in the back of his throat. It was almost as intoxicating as her blood. He had to go to her side at once; nothing was going to keep them apart.
Tom had almost made his mind about the fate of Dr. Julia Hoffman. As much as he wanted to maintain their current "relationship," he realized that it was not an option for the long term. There were, therefore, only two real alternatives: free her and find another victim or do to her as was done to him. Although he liked the idea of having her with him forever, the remaining vestiges of Tom's conscience held him back. He had never been a man prone to violence; could he kill anyone? Could he take her against her will? The first problem was something he'd have to overcome; the second was something that would soon be out of the way. In just a few more nights, his will would permanently supplement hers. He wouldn't have to force her into anything because she would willingly do as he told her. That didn't mean he had to make a decision on it now. There would be plenty of time to come to some understanding that didn't feel rushed.
After of few minutes of rest, Tom slipped out of his coffin and flowed out into the world. Ever since his transformation, he had begun to view the world around him as different. The night air that had once seemed to be one mangled flavor now held a cacophony of aromas, each on distinct from the ones around it. Every color seemed brighter than it had before. It was as if the life that had once filled his body had been partitioned out to the earth. Tom wondered if others saw this change or if he was the only one allowed to view this glory.
He knew that he had changed drastically. Although he was unable to see the changes with his own eyes, his invasion of Julia's mind had allowed him to see his new self. He looked like the man he had been days before, but something seemed amiss. Something in his eyes . . . or his stance . . . or maybe his smile . . . had mutated into something quite different. It all lent him a lethal edge that he had not possessed when he was alive. Was it a good thing? It got the job done; why question what works?
Tom leisurely walked to his mark in the woods. It was THEIR spot. In just a few minutes, Julia would walk up to him and remove her scarf. They would then join together, merging in a union that was sensual and violent. It was the hi-light of his night. He took a deep, cleansing breath and called out. "Julia . . . Julia, come to me." He took another breath and leaned up against a tree. All he needed to do was wait.
Five minutes turned into ten; then turned into twenty. Soon, Tom found that he was still standing by the tree, forty-five minutes after he had sent out the call. He could send out another one, but, for some reason, it seemed pointless. He sniffed the air to find it the same as it was before. She was alive and she still longed to be with him. There had to be something holding her back . . . but what?
Tom thought on it for only a moment. The answer was painfully obvious. It had to be Barnabas. But why? He didn't want Julia . . . at least not the way Tom did. He was being difficult for no reason. Did Tom pose a serious threat to him? Not likely. The man was just being territorial. "Old bastard," muttered Tom. "He only wants her now that someone's in the way." Well, Tom had much to say about that. He was not willing to give up his only companion to assuage someone else's guilt. Barnabas would be dreadfully sorry that he picked this fight!