Hellmouth #9
"Late One Night..."
My eyes don't seem to adjust to the light I have no idea what's going on but I know that this ain't normal I feel like I'm buried underneath something Am I dead I would assume not but I cant really tell Whatever I'm buried in certainly isn't dirt I'm feeling too many sensations to tell what it really is though crinkling like paper and crunching like wood and aluminum I just notice that I'm in no pain I also notice the stench of everything around me I smell urine and beer and something else that I've never smelt before A warm aroma but distinct Like fresh cut grass out of a smoking lawnmower My eyes wont adjust until I realize they're closed The new sight is still dark and something drips in my eye socket Bits of light break through the contents piling on top of me and I stop to listen Out of the corner of my mind I cant hear anything inside me I would imagine my heart would be pounding in my chest right now after waking up in some mysterious place buried, and I congratulate myself on how admirably and cool I'm taking all this in Time's enough I have to get out of here
Finally. I wipe the crust off my suit jacket and pull myself fully out of the trash can, knowing that this cleaning bill is going to be sky high. I try so hard to remember what happened last night, but I truly cant. In fact, I cant even say last night, because I'm not really sure what day it is. It is night time outside, that much is sure, and I'm pretty sure it's not the same night I passed out in this trash dumpster, so... I dunno. I'm really confused right now. All I know is that I reek and I need to clean up. And my head hurts.
I see a gas station a few blocks down lit up, so I figured I'll head over there and use the bathroom there. Not the best part of town, I notice, which makes me further wonder how the hell I got there. I don't even remember what happened this week, or the week before, for that matter. I hope last night was worth it, cuz I must have been pretty torn up. I notice people staring at me as I walk up and towards the station entrance. I wipe my nose to make sure its not dripping blood or mucous and I open the door to the station. A child in the back corner looks at me and starts crying, while her mother hurries to her and holds her tight, giving me this frightened glare. I try to dismiss it but it pisses me off and I want nothing more than to snap her neck. I stop still and shake my head, knowing how tired I must be to have those kind of thoughts so suddenly. Everybody in the place stares at me as I walk towards the counter except the attendant, who appears as if everything is commonplace. He looks at me for the first time and huffs, as if annoyed. I ask him for the key to the restroom and he nonchalantly tossed me a key with a big wooden key chain. An unexpected snarl came out of me when I passed the crying child again. I don't know what's come over me, but I know I want to go home.
As I walk around towards the back I felt an itch on my scalp that I began to relieve when I noticed a few red flakes peeling from it. On further inspection, I realize that it's dried blood. Wow. That must have been some night. I put the key in the keyhole and jerk it, but it does nothing. I twist and jiggle it, but still, I get nothing. When my anger forced me to rip the damn knob off, I wonder if maybe I was still drunk. People tell me all the time that I'm an angry drunk, and that would explain why that kid got to me so bad on the inside. I get over to the sink and turn the water on, cupping a handful and splashing it on my worn face. I wipe my eyes and feel something strange, like a gigantic bruise running from one side of my forehead to the other. I rub on it and feel no pain, but I have no idea what it could be except someone might have taken a pool cue across my eyebrows and forehead. I examine it in the mirror to find nothing there. Literally, nothing there. I think I might have felt my heart skip a beat, but it might have been my mighty swallow when I saw an empty bathroom in a mirror that should be showing me myself. I bite my lip hard until blood trickles down the side. I wiped the blood off on my now clean hands and stare at it, and then I feel it. The hunger. I have no idea what it means but it is definitely something I have never felt before, not like a hunger for homemade chicken noodle soup or pie. The thought only interferes for a second with the fear in my heart for my lack of reflection and my facial swelling until I heard a noise from behind me.
I turn to face a well-dressed man, clean cut in a suit that I could easily afford if not for that damn mortgage. My face shot back to the mirror to compare notes, noticing that he doesn't have a reflection either. "I didn't know this bathroom was occupied, man," was all I could get out through stuttering and biting my tongue. "S'alright, my man. I came to see you." His words were cool to a freezing degree that gave me an uneasiness. "You remember anything about last night?" he asked. I was still frozen. His words spread from his mouth smoothly, like he knew me and I knew him. In fact, I think I do know him. Does he work with me? Above me? I couldn't place the face, and the demeanor was definitely something I couldn't pin down. I was able to stutter a solid "no" when he laughed. I did, however, recognize the laugh. He continued, asking "Alright, Daniel, you watch a lot a TV? Read any books?" I was able to shake my head with a little frustration trying to reawaken the nerves in my neck. "What do you know about Vampires? Leeches? Dracula? Anything pickin your strings yet?" I nodded, a new direction for my neck. The things rung a bell, that's for sure, but only in my Rice and Stroker novels. Suddenly the no reflection thing started worrying me a little bit more after all the mythology I've read. I found myself staring at the empty room in the mirror, only to turn back and find that he has changed. His facial skin grew tighter, widening around the eyes, flattening and widening his nose. His forehead arched forward and protruded from his skull, pulling circular marks around his eyes. His eyes themselves turned from brown to gold that glowed enough to peer right through you. Through memories left hidden deep in my brain, repressed and put away, I knew him now.
My head burns with visions pouring through me. Of my long time girlfriend fighting with me and walking away. Of the bar I ended up at on a side of town that I knew wasn't too nice. Of the feeling of loss that I felt, and my newfound apathy for life. I saw memories of the scotch I buried. Of the bill I rung up. Of him, as he was before now, plain Italian man in a nice suit, opened and dressed down, the universal sign of an uprooted business man with bartab wishes and alcohol dreams. We laughed, and played a game of pool. We walked outside and down the back alley, the one I woke up in, cursing bitches everywhere. He went in like he was gonna kiss my neck, and I told him that I was straight. He told me that he was straight too, and that this wasn't sexual. I remember laughing and turning uncomfortably when he grabbed me by the shoulder. I saw it; the face he's looking at me with now, I saw it then, too. He told me he was going to make everything go away; make the hurting stop, he said. He extended his teeth, those long, shining canines, and sank them into my neck. I grunted and searched for something to grab onto. I tried to scream but one of his hands pulled my hair back while the other clutched my throat. I couldn't see his eyes anymore, but I wanted to so badly. I yearned for those eyes as he siphoned the blood from my jugular. I could feel my own heart slow as it began pumping in my chest furiously but inevitably slowing to short, distanced pumps, just enough to keep my normal body functions from stopping completely. His teeth pulled out, tearing a piece of my flesh with it, something I couldn't feel by that point. He sliced his wrist and offered it to me, and as I saw the blood running down to a pool on his cupped hand, I had a new passion for it; I knew I was going to die then, and I felt that taking the blood from him would at least bring him to hell with me. So I drank; I drank until he ripped me from his wrist. I fell back onto the cold cement and coughed up his blood.
Now I'm here, standing in front of him. I felt the bruises on my forehead again. I turn to the mirror and feel the grown canine teeth in my mouth and I knew. I didn't want it, but I knew. "You've got it now, don't you?" he smiled, those eyes catching me again. I feel something curling up my lungs and into my throat and I scream a scream I have never reached before. I reach for the mirror and I shred it from the brackets on the wall, throwing it clear across onto the other wall, raining down shards of mirror and glass. I feel strong hands grab me and jerk me up hard, holding me in place. "Look, brother, you're gonna have to calm down. This ain't the worst thing that's happened to you, my friend. Listen to me, you're eternal now. I destroyed the weak and worthless you and now you're reborn, man." I slap his cold hands away and I run to the door, while he screams for me to stop. I don't.
I run for miles in the other direction, not stopping until I'm in a neighborhood I recognize, which is far beyond any distance I could run earlier and way faster than anything I've ever done before. When I stop, I'm exhausted, but I'm not breathing heavily or anything, which surprises me. I stop and I listen: I'm not breathing at all, and I can now feel my lack of heartbeat. I really am dead, aren't I? So I'm just carrying around this sack of bones? What am I? Dead? Undead? Am I still a man? Thoughts race through my head as my head hits my hands and I can still feel my misshaped visage. I close my eyes and begin to concentrate on rubbing the folds back in, but they're rock hard, like the blood has risen to them and they sprung forth. I stop and I calm myself. With a mental gesture and a full-body calm, I can feel them settle, and my face becomes human again. For a second I wonder if the lines on my face are now saggy and hanging now that my face has been stretched out, but then I think about the Italian man in the suit, my attacker, and his face, reshaping back to a beautiful Italian young man's. I hear my name and I'm broken out of my thoughts.
It's Tasha, one of the more attractive ladies that works with me. She walks towards me and I pull myself up from the base of the tree and I realize that I stumbled into the park. She looks at me strange and smiles an awkward smile. Tasha is a gorgeous young black girl, right out of college and just into her new place by herself here. She was highly recommended to our marketing firm and she has been one of the brighter spots of my work day. In my drunken stupor last night, I told the Italian man her name, and that she was on the list of people I would ask out now that my girlfriend's gone. I find it strange yet pleasant that I cant remember her name now. Tasha bounces her way to me in her jogging gear, and a smile creeps across my face from ear to ear; I can smell her smells from everywhere, every bit of her. She has been sweating from her run, and the pungent aroma, now oxygen-free thanks to my new-found loathing of breathing, fills me in its stead. "What are you doing out here so late, Tosh? Some weird stuff goes down at night..." I say, provoking a strange stare from her. She opens her luscious lips wide, bits her bottom ruby lip for a gentle moment, and replies, "Uh, Danny, what are you doing? You didn't show up to work today and you're wearing the same thing you were wearing yesterday. And you musta worn the hell outta it too, cuz you look kinda crusty right about now, and I think you need a shower, boss." I laugh aloud, and that eases her a bit, but her voice screams that she is actually worried, which I smile coyly at.
"Rough night. Then rough day. And I'm back at rough night now. Anna left me," I say. Anna. That goddamned Anna. I remember that bitch now. My honesty provoked a purr from Tasha, who was now immediately jumping into her concerned friend role. "C'est la vie, though. Opens me up for some better things. Newer goals to reach." She giggles uncomfortably, trying not to show her obvious concern, for me and herself. I walk in closer and get right next to her, on top of her, practically, something I would have never had the balls to do yesterday. I rub my nose from the base of her neck up to her ear softly, listening to her suck in a breath and close her eyes. Her body tenses and softens at my words, as I say "You are absolutely angelic, do you know that? And your body smells like petals." She doesn't move and she doesn't breathe. She and I both forgot where we were, and I wanted her. I wrap my hands around her waist and I want her; I want her flesh, every smooth and supple inch of it. I want her soul to wrap around mine, so she can feel the sensations I'm feeling. I want her blood...
The hunger. That's what's doing this. I know it. Yesterday, she wouldn't have let me do this, and what's more, I wouldn't have done it. I couldn't have, for myself or for my love of Anna. They say that animals, especially newborns, run off of instincts, and that their search for satisfaction and survival build from instinct alone, and are later effected by their surroundings. I am an animal. I don't just want her, I crave her. I need her. My high school years, my college years, hell, early adulthood even, my goals were plain and simple: I wanted to be inside a woman, just like every straight man does. Now, I need her inside me. I am strong. I am fast. I am eternal, but I am still dead. Her, though, I can feel her life, pulsing through the neck that my lips are running over. Pulsing faster and faster as her skin tightens and goose bumps form on her bare shoulder and back. I pull her back into the tree-laden area I found myself in moments ago, hiding us from the other joggers and the beggars and the goddamn kids on their skateboards. She shows a moment's hesitation until my lips connect to hers. She acts as though she's never kissed a white man before, much less has she been intimate with a coworker she hasn't known now for a year and a half, tops. Maybe she feels the coldness of my lips and hands, stroking her back and teasing her with gentle massages around the small of her back and sides. I continue kissing her neck, but my intentions wait. Then I hear it. Her chest expands and takes in air, and exhales it in a low, whimpering moan. Then I bite her, sinking my new weapons into her neck, instinctively finding a major artery. The artery and the flesh tear and her body tenses fully. Her warm, sticky blood flows from the wound and into my mouth, cascading like I'd have never believed it would, so much in fact that it poured down her neck and onto her jogging shirt. I placed my mouth over the wound and sucked hard, pouring the nectar into my body, stealing the life that was stolen from me. The Italian man was wrong: this was completely a sexual thing.
The last drop reaches my tongue and I laugh as my imagination makes a slurping noise like an empty soda cup at the movies. I release her body and it goes limp, falling into the brush. She makes a thud sound, her life long gone and in me now. Part of me expects to hear my own heartbeat again, but instead, I feel it. The hunger; more hunger. I fell much stronger, however, and I consider myself satisfied for the moment as I sit on the wooden bench in the park. Something jabs my leg and I reach into my pocket to find a bit of the mirror that I busted had reluctantly come along for the run here. I stare into the emptiness of the reflection, noting the view of the Big Dipper that the sky shows above me into the shard (a rare occurrence due to the normally smoggy skies of Cleveland). I'm less afraid at not seeing myself, that's for sure. I couldn't imaging what one kill has done for me. Kill? I killed her, didn't I? The beautiful, gorgeous, ambitious, lively girl is dead now, because of me. Her Christian mother lost a son to drugs and all she had was Tasha, and now Tasha is dead, because of me. And I don't care. I truly don't give a damn. She is a part of me now. Her legacy will live on in me, and not only do I not mourn her, I literally want to do it again. I suppose my soul is gone now, too, Tasha...
I run my finger over the shard and break the skin. Trickles of blood come out, and I happily consume them, but I didn't even feel the blade touch me. I stick the mirror piece in further, tearing a line down my forearm. I feel it, like a deep itch or a muscle cramp, but not true pain. Nothing like I would have experienced yesterday. Tears nearly swell in my eyes at the thought that I really cant feel anymore, and I jabbed the shard clean through to my left forearm, scratching the bone on the way to the other side; the pain is searing, but not unbearable. It hurts worse than anything I've felt before, but it's not that bad. You would literally have to kill me to stop me now, with a pain tolerance this high. I am eternal.
I hear laughing and three odd strangers approach me. I consider draining them, but they call me by name, so I stop and look up at them. "You're Daniel Timmerman, right boss?" I stare up at him silently. Coldly. He continues, "Yeah, you're him. You know pal, you should really think about lettin the vamp face go when there's humans around. They get freaked out by less and less these days." My cold stare softens at the realization of my mistake and I calm myself back into my human face. "You fed yet?"
"Whats it to you?" I ask, trying to be intimidating, especially since I realize that these guys are... vampires... too.
"Look, I'm Tonio. Dis here's Brute and Blunt behind me. We're Fabini's boys."
"Fabini?"
"Sharp looking 'Talian dude, sired you last night? Said he'd talked to you earlier at a gas station on fourth and main..."
"Sired?"
"He created you. You were reborn into a better life because of him."
"What does he want"
"'Bini's a sharp guy, and he knows that you was kinda freaked when you saw him. Hell, it'd freak my ass out if the guy that killed me the night before showed up when I crawled out. He wanted to let you feed and get acquainted wit everything fore you come on with us. You look like you've fed well enough."
"What do you mean come with you? Why should I come with you?"
"You, my friend, have a favor to repay. Fabini is your sire. He made you eternal. You're immortal now, baby. You've been given strength and everlasting life. All he asks is that you help him here and now. We gotta do a few tings for him, and we're free to live out our eternal life. Your in."
"I dunno."
"Wasn't a question, brother. You are in. When the dust settles, you're out. No strings. Now come on."
Just when he grabs me on the shoulder, what looked like a bolt from a crossbow strikes one of the three in the chest... Blunt, I believe it was. He bursts into what looks like a dust-like substance, something I've never seen before. As he melts away into dust, Tonio grabs my arm and tugs me in the opposite direction. I have no idea what's going on, but something tells me that I'm going to want to stick near these guys for a bit. We hurry for quite a bit, weaving in and out of the woods, trying to lose whatever is tailing us. At the end of a seemingly never-ending sprint, we dive into the brush near an urban subdivision. "What the hell was that?" I ask, furiously. "Hunters," he replied, "Dumbass kids who train their entire lives to kill us. We avoid them..."
"Why? We're the powerful ones. Why don't we just kill em?"
"Because they kill us better."
"We're already dead. How can they kill us if we're already dead? And what happened to that guy back there?"
"They dusted him. He's gone now. We have a few weaknesses like everything else. But those are the Hunters. By themselves, they ain't nothing. Together, you cant stop them with anything less than an army. These guys know what they're doin, and they hunt in packs. You see a group of them, you run, or you'll be dust, understand?"
I don't question him. I saw what happened to that other guy back there, and on my first night as an immortal, I see just how fragile I am. He tells me a bunch of other stuff, but I can only catch the small details, like a time and a place that I need to meet up with them tonight to "pay my dues." He then tells me to handle any personal matters I need to handle, and I nod, and they leave cautiously. At this point, my head is spinning worse than in my college days ad I would vomit if not for the hunger. Tasha tasted so good and she satisfied me so well. I needed more, but she is out of the question now. But personal matters? This is my first night as a vampire... What kind of personal matters could I have?
Anna. That's personal enough. I haven't a clue why I'm here or what my meaning for this, well, afterlife is, and all this confusion is because her ass couldn't be monogamous. I want a good feed, and that's where I'll find it. Delightfully enough, I'm only a few blocks down from where I should be. The few blocks go quicker than I thought they would and I'm there before I know it. I walk through the yard, the yard I cut two weeks ago. I walk up the stairs to the porch, the same stairs that I power washed last weekend, and I did a great job, might I add. I knock on the door, the door that I painted last month. She takes a while but she comes to the door in her silk robe that I bought her for Christmas, which no doubt reeks of the man she left me for. I hadn't thought of it until now, but there is a good chance that he is still here, which honestly, is all the better. She looks through the glass pieces and sees it's me, and I quickly straighten myself up and make sure that I'm not in vamp face. The door opens and she gives me that same smug look she gave me the night she left me. She came to my house and did her damage there, returning here probably to have her way with the new guy. I expect the new guy is in the back, and I'll do my damage now. Once the opening was side enough, my new- found blood-lusting confidence urges me to walk right on in like I own the place, and technically, I have been paying her rent for her the last seven months. Something's wrong, though; some invisible field is keeping me from going inside. Well, what do you know, at least some of the mythology in fiction is true; I remember reading that a vampire can't cross the threshold of a private residence without the inhabitant's permission, and it seems they nailed this one dead on. "Hello, Anna," I say calmly, instead expressing my confidence through my demeanor.
"Daniel. You look... well, you look like shit, actually."
"Last few days have been awkward. You'll have to forgive me."
"Danny, I..."
"Aren't you going to invite me in? You at least owe me that..."
"Well, you have paid my rent til the end of the month, so I suppose it's your place as much as it is mine until the rent's due."
Close, but not enough. "I wanna here a nice welcoming, Anna. Can you just give me that?"
"Please, your highness, come in, come in," she said, saturated in sarcasm, an art form for her.
"Okay, Danny, you have to understand that we're done, and."
"Get over yourself, woman," I said, smiling, "I just came by to see you. I'm not gonna beg you back, okay?"
Then it happens. He came out. I don't know his name, but I know who he is; he's the low-waged courier at my job, who just happens to deliver and pick-up from the printing place she works at. I felt a lot of confusion and then a strong urge to laugh, but mostly, I wanted to kill him. She began, "Daniel, this is..." I stop her because I don't really care. "Naw, I don't wanna know his name. He works just as well in my head as 'asshole new guy' but thanks." He steps forward and I put my hand on his bare chest to push him back when I notice that he his completely undressed with the exception of an old pair of my boxers, a fact that I even find disturbing now that I am soul-free. "But, Anna, baby, I don't mean to sound shallow here, but this guy makes about a fifth of my paycheck, so what could he possibly give you that's better than me?" She smiles and says that he's bigger, something that forces me to think for a second until I become really grossed out and I just snap his fucking neck. The body falls limp to the floor and lands much like Tasha but harder. I step forward towards Anna, who's mouth is dropped but you can tell she really hasn't grasped what has really gone down yet. I grab her by her blond hair and I rip her down to the floor, inches away from the lips of her lover, slamming her head down sideways so she can look right into his now cloudy eyes. His body is distorted now that his head is turned further than a head should go, and now everything is coming into picture for her. I crawl on top of her backside sprawled on the floor, grabbing her right hand with my left, her mouth with my right, and thrusting my pelvis hard enough to make the hardwood floor pull the left shoulder blade resting against it out of its socket. She screams and moans, tears flowing like rivers on her face, soaking the hardwood. Yeah, everything's clearing up now.
"You really think he's bigger? I don't know, he looks kinda shriveled right about now," apparently I'm the only one who thinks that's funny. "You see, babe, I've become a new man since you killed me yesterday. I don't think you know the kind of influence you have in men, baby, but let me tell ya, you are bad. You are real bad. And without you, man, I just had to look at life differently. So I gotta thank you, sweetheart. I have come so far thanks to you and you alone." I turn her to face me, still clutching her mouth so she cant scream, and I vamp my face out. Her eyes widen and I can hear her screaming more still underneath the muffling hand. Tears pour from deep inside and she cries her soul out and down her cheeks and into her beautiful blond hair. I extend my teeth further and I make sure she sees them. This is it. Forget about all that mortality or lack thereof bullshit. This is what its all for...
When I drank Tasha, it was instinct. I seduced her in thirty seconds; I could smell sex all over her. It was intoxicating to a level I've never been to before. This is different. This is better. I don't understand it, though. Save the position I've trapped her in, there is nothing sexual here. This is purely a kill, but something is in the air. Filling the room. It cant be something she's cooking because the bitch could never find her way through a kitchen. I take in the aroma and I hold it in, juggling the sensation in my mind... it's fear. That's the smell; it's pure, unbridled fear. It's all over her! And the feelings I got from Tasha, the pure, sexual energy she gave off, the lust, the need to die, empowered me in a way I could never have imagined, but it pales in comparison to this. She is so afraid to die now that she would want nothing better than for me to kill her and end it quickly. She has no idea what I am but she knows that she is the cause of it; she is the deep down root of the monster that will end her life. The aroma gets me high, higher than any drug imaginable. I stare deep into her and I wait for it, just I had done for Tasha; I refused to drain her until she absolutely yearned for it. Then, when her last tear drops, Anna needs it. Her screams are no longer for escape but yet she screams for release. I draw first blood on her neck, and as the first stream of it pours down towards the hardwood, I run my tongue up it, ensuring that I wouldn't waist a drop of this sinful life. I clutch the teeth to the artery and drink in every drop until I can her heart slowing. I pull my teeth out from her neck and I gently place her head back down. Sobbing without tears, she squeaks as I turn her to her back and straddle her stomach. I look into her red, saddened eyes and I run the sharp edge of my fingernail over my wrist, drawing blood of my own. My strength and my speed and my eternity now in a ruby liquid on my exposed limb is offered to her. I draw her head up by her hair and I draw her closer to my life. Her moist tongue extends to it, craving just as I had craven his the night before. I cat's whisker from my wrist, I pull back hard on her hair. I kiss her on the lips with more passion than I ever had in life. I place my bloodied hand on her chin, and then I push with it while pulling on the hair; I break her neck so hard that it twists and tears some of the skin around her neck.
My blood wasn't good enough for her when it flowed through my beating heart, and it certainly isn't worth much to her now that it's stagnant. I leave the bodies lying where they are; the time is drawing near for me to meet up with the fellas and my "sire," whatever that's supposed to mean.
I can smell the night air on the streets of Cleveland an I know now just how sweet this city is. All the fear and torture I smell only moments ago has a distinct scent, one that I can now pinpoint in every urban area around this town. Everywhere in this city, in every dark corner, in every locked room, there is one form or another of fear or anxiety spreading from window to window. The residual high I have might never come down at this rate. I can hear a scream in the distance, that is true, but the smell of the fear is so distinct that I can pinpoint the exact distance of where the fear is at, what direction and what speed the victim is running. I cant believe that with these kind of skills, they could possibly call a group of medieval-weapon-wielding college drop-outs "Hunters." We are the Hunters, no doubt about it. I walk to the edge of the alley and extend my hand into the main street, grabbing a girl by the hair, the same girl that was screaming and running from her assailant. I vamp my face out quickly, a small thought flashing in my head as to whether or not blood can make me overweight, and I show her the teeth, just as I had with Anna. Her assailant arrives and snarls at me; he is a vampire, as well. I snarl back and cut the girl's face with my fingernail. I lick the trail of blood from her cheek and I release her, pushing her behind me and further down the alley. I haven't been a vampire long, but I know a hunt when I see one, and the chase, I'm assuming, is the best part. The vampire smiles and nods, a small sign of gratitude, and then he's off.
Blocks away from my final destination and I realize that in one night as a vampire, I have already found it to be my greatest achievement. Tonio was right, everyone has a weakness or two, but no one can experience the pleasures I have experienced tonight. To kill with no remorse, to hunt and torture, without feeling any bit of shame or guilt, is better than any narcotic or any sexual act. Every dark thought that has raced across my mind that I spent every year alive trying to repress what I now live my afterlife performing. I've never felt so alive being so ironically dead... One of the perks of being eternal, I suppose. Open the door to the old factory and cast my eyes on what seems like fifty or so of the toughest looking vampires out there. Tonio and Brute are there, and so is the vampire from the alley that I assisted in his kill. Fabini isn't there, and I assume he's the ringleader here and he's going to make a spectacular entrance. The door opens again and a much larger vampire walks through it; he calms everyone and gets there attention for him to speak. "Brethren, thank you all for coming here tonight. All of you are newborns, some as new as tonight, in fact, but thank you all for showing up at the request of either your sire or the man who sired your sire. Fabini, the western representative of a group called The Board, either gave you or sponsored you his strength, vitality, and immortality. You are all eternal, and rather than your eternal gratitude, Fabini only requires one service of you: for that service, I will let the man tell you himself. Brethren, allow me to introduce your savior, Fabini of the West!" The front door opened wider and we could see the silhouette of the suited Italian man, the one from the gas station. I think to myself that if I had known he was this important when I met him, I might not have run, but that was then. I do have a debt to repay and once I repay it, I am truly eternal.
"SET!" a noise comes from the rafters... No, from the upper level of the factory. Only now do I notice that the upper level had been roped off and several black curtains laced around the upper level so that from the bottom level, we can't see what's on the catwalks up there. On the word, the curtains open to show many young men and women, each sporting one or two large buckets. Everyone looks strange, either mystified like myself or terrified. Fabini, still standing on the outside, makes an awkward face, one of frustration mixed with fear. If our savior is afraid, I think to myself, then this cant spell anything but trouble. "NOW!" came the second command, now visible, a young white man with medium length black hair and a cross around his neck. Every person on the second level tips over their bucket, spilling a clear liquid, water it seems. However, upon dousing the crowd of vampires, everyone begins smoking and wailing. A bucket of the water lands on me now, and instantly, the pain is so horrific, I cant think correctly. I look at my hands and see the flesh melting from the bone, and on its way down, the flesh degrades and turns to the same dusty-substance that Blunt turned into. I don't understand what is happening to me, and I feel like I am dying. It seems a lot like one of those "it could never happen to you" moments, like yeah, I could get hit by a bus, but what are the chances of that happening? Not much, it seems, but this is happening. In one night of my new life, I knew what immortality was. Now I see what flesh is left on my bones bubbling and bursting with blood and puss; my face and cheeks that I once feared stretched and faded are now melted and running down my face. After my first kill tonight, I had no fear, yet I now fear death worse than when I was alive. I thought I was eternal...
The smoking pile of ash finally cascades the base floor of the factory after the last vampire was dusted. Fifty-two in one night, and that's not bad, Lock thought. He put down his bucket and couldn't help but laugh and smile, turning to face Larson, who was smiling himself for the first time in awhile. "Larson, buddy, did you enjoy your first massacre?"
"Well, when the leader's instructions are 'turn the bucket over onto the oblivious and helpless crowd,' I don't think I can really call that field experience."
"It's all about the way you tell the story, my friend. The pastor make it home okay?"
"Yes, but it took him over seven and a half hours to sanctify all the water, you realize..."
"But you cant argue with results, and the look on Fabini's face when we rained down.well, water on his new-borns, he knew exactly who it was. One of the Abbits told me that he saw the guy ditch the second the water came down."
"Why didn't we wait for him to enter? Douse him with the holy water too?"
"This is a game, Larson. You have to play it like he does. It didn't take the thinking and the forward planning that his little Bloodring trick did, but it was effective as hell, and he will be ready to die real soon."
"As many good things as you have in your leadership ability, Lock, you have one thing that has killed way too many captains, and the is pride."
"Pride is a healthy thing, Larson. Trust me on that one."
"Have you heard any word from Ky or Gene?"
"Nope. They're still taking their vacation pay or lack thereof for the moment. At least Gene's still talking to me, and Jules talked to Ky last night. Everything seems okay enough, and they'll show back-up before we take out the Board."
"You say it as if this is in the bag, Lock. Most vampires are very selective in who they turn, but Fabini has turned at least half of the vampires in here tonight. He is building an army against you, and I'd imagine that there is a dangerous split in the ranks of the board right about now with all the risk he has been to them, so I believe he has a lot to account for."
"And with Gene back with the Axe Units and Ky back with the Coven, we should be able to handle them without much trouble. Lets just clean up. Gene actually said he'd be stopping in tomorrow. We clean up now, we get some food in us, and we'll worry about the Board soon enough..."
"Late One Night..."
My eyes don't seem to adjust to the light I have no idea what's going on but I know that this ain't normal I feel like I'm buried underneath something Am I dead I would assume not but I cant really tell Whatever I'm buried in certainly isn't dirt I'm feeling too many sensations to tell what it really is though crinkling like paper and crunching like wood and aluminum I just notice that I'm in no pain I also notice the stench of everything around me I smell urine and beer and something else that I've never smelt before A warm aroma but distinct Like fresh cut grass out of a smoking lawnmower My eyes wont adjust until I realize they're closed The new sight is still dark and something drips in my eye socket Bits of light break through the contents piling on top of me and I stop to listen Out of the corner of my mind I cant hear anything inside me I would imagine my heart would be pounding in my chest right now after waking up in some mysterious place buried, and I congratulate myself on how admirably and cool I'm taking all this in Time's enough I have to get out of here
Finally. I wipe the crust off my suit jacket and pull myself fully out of the trash can, knowing that this cleaning bill is going to be sky high. I try so hard to remember what happened last night, but I truly cant. In fact, I cant even say last night, because I'm not really sure what day it is. It is night time outside, that much is sure, and I'm pretty sure it's not the same night I passed out in this trash dumpster, so... I dunno. I'm really confused right now. All I know is that I reek and I need to clean up. And my head hurts.
I see a gas station a few blocks down lit up, so I figured I'll head over there and use the bathroom there. Not the best part of town, I notice, which makes me further wonder how the hell I got there. I don't even remember what happened this week, or the week before, for that matter. I hope last night was worth it, cuz I must have been pretty torn up. I notice people staring at me as I walk up and towards the station entrance. I wipe my nose to make sure its not dripping blood or mucous and I open the door to the station. A child in the back corner looks at me and starts crying, while her mother hurries to her and holds her tight, giving me this frightened glare. I try to dismiss it but it pisses me off and I want nothing more than to snap her neck. I stop still and shake my head, knowing how tired I must be to have those kind of thoughts so suddenly. Everybody in the place stares at me as I walk towards the counter except the attendant, who appears as if everything is commonplace. He looks at me for the first time and huffs, as if annoyed. I ask him for the key to the restroom and he nonchalantly tossed me a key with a big wooden key chain. An unexpected snarl came out of me when I passed the crying child again. I don't know what's come over me, but I know I want to go home.
As I walk around towards the back I felt an itch on my scalp that I began to relieve when I noticed a few red flakes peeling from it. On further inspection, I realize that it's dried blood. Wow. That must have been some night. I put the key in the keyhole and jerk it, but it does nothing. I twist and jiggle it, but still, I get nothing. When my anger forced me to rip the damn knob off, I wonder if maybe I was still drunk. People tell me all the time that I'm an angry drunk, and that would explain why that kid got to me so bad on the inside. I get over to the sink and turn the water on, cupping a handful and splashing it on my worn face. I wipe my eyes and feel something strange, like a gigantic bruise running from one side of my forehead to the other. I rub on it and feel no pain, but I have no idea what it could be except someone might have taken a pool cue across my eyebrows and forehead. I examine it in the mirror to find nothing there. Literally, nothing there. I think I might have felt my heart skip a beat, but it might have been my mighty swallow when I saw an empty bathroom in a mirror that should be showing me myself. I bite my lip hard until blood trickles down the side. I wiped the blood off on my now clean hands and stare at it, and then I feel it. The hunger. I have no idea what it means but it is definitely something I have never felt before, not like a hunger for homemade chicken noodle soup or pie. The thought only interferes for a second with the fear in my heart for my lack of reflection and my facial swelling until I heard a noise from behind me.
I turn to face a well-dressed man, clean cut in a suit that I could easily afford if not for that damn mortgage. My face shot back to the mirror to compare notes, noticing that he doesn't have a reflection either. "I didn't know this bathroom was occupied, man," was all I could get out through stuttering and biting my tongue. "S'alright, my man. I came to see you." His words were cool to a freezing degree that gave me an uneasiness. "You remember anything about last night?" he asked. I was still frozen. His words spread from his mouth smoothly, like he knew me and I knew him. In fact, I think I do know him. Does he work with me? Above me? I couldn't place the face, and the demeanor was definitely something I couldn't pin down. I was able to stutter a solid "no" when he laughed. I did, however, recognize the laugh. He continued, asking "Alright, Daniel, you watch a lot a TV? Read any books?" I was able to shake my head with a little frustration trying to reawaken the nerves in my neck. "What do you know about Vampires? Leeches? Dracula? Anything pickin your strings yet?" I nodded, a new direction for my neck. The things rung a bell, that's for sure, but only in my Rice and Stroker novels. Suddenly the no reflection thing started worrying me a little bit more after all the mythology I've read. I found myself staring at the empty room in the mirror, only to turn back and find that he has changed. His facial skin grew tighter, widening around the eyes, flattening and widening his nose. His forehead arched forward and protruded from his skull, pulling circular marks around his eyes. His eyes themselves turned from brown to gold that glowed enough to peer right through you. Through memories left hidden deep in my brain, repressed and put away, I knew him now.
My head burns with visions pouring through me. Of my long time girlfriend fighting with me and walking away. Of the bar I ended up at on a side of town that I knew wasn't too nice. Of the feeling of loss that I felt, and my newfound apathy for life. I saw memories of the scotch I buried. Of the bill I rung up. Of him, as he was before now, plain Italian man in a nice suit, opened and dressed down, the universal sign of an uprooted business man with bartab wishes and alcohol dreams. We laughed, and played a game of pool. We walked outside and down the back alley, the one I woke up in, cursing bitches everywhere. He went in like he was gonna kiss my neck, and I told him that I was straight. He told me that he was straight too, and that this wasn't sexual. I remember laughing and turning uncomfortably when he grabbed me by the shoulder. I saw it; the face he's looking at me with now, I saw it then, too. He told me he was going to make everything go away; make the hurting stop, he said. He extended his teeth, those long, shining canines, and sank them into my neck. I grunted and searched for something to grab onto. I tried to scream but one of his hands pulled my hair back while the other clutched my throat. I couldn't see his eyes anymore, but I wanted to so badly. I yearned for those eyes as he siphoned the blood from my jugular. I could feel my own heart slow as it began pumping in my chest furiously but inevitably slowing to short, distanced pumps, just enough to keep my normal body functions from stopping completely. His teeth pulled out, tearing a piece of my flesh with it, something I couldn't feel by that point. He sliced his wrist and offered it to me, and as I saw the blood running down to a pool on his cupped hand, I had a new passion for it; I knew I was going to die then, and I felt that taking the blood from him would at least bring him to hell with me. So I drank; I drank until he ripped me from his wrist. I fell back onto the cold cement and coughed up his blood.
Now I'm here, standing in front of him. I felt the bruises on my forehead again. I turn to the mirror and feel the grown canine teeth in my mouth and I knew. I didn't want it, but I knew. "You've got it now, don't you?" he smiled, those eyes catching me again. I feel something curling up my lungs and into my throat and I scream a scream I have never reached before. I reach for the mirror and I shred it from the brackets on the wall, throwing it clear across onto the other wall, raining down shards of mirror and glass. I feel strong hands grab me and jerk me up hard, holding me in place. "Look, brother, you're gonna have to calm down. This ain't the worst thing that's happened to you, my friend. Listen to me, you're eternal now. I destroyed the weak and worthless you and now you're reborn, man." I slap his cold hands away and I run to the door, while he screams for me to stop. I don't.
I run for miles in the other direction, not stopping until I'm in a neighborhood I recognize, which is far beyond any distance I could run earlier and way faster than anything I've ever done before. When I stop, I'm exhausted, but I'm not breathing heavily or anything, which surprises me. I stop and I listen: I'm not breathing at all, and I can now feel my lack of heartbeat. I really am dead, aren't I? So I'm just carrying around this sack of bones? What am I? Dead? Undead? Am I still a man? Thoughts race through my head as my head hits my hands and I can still feel my misshaped visage. I close my eyes and begin to concentrate on rubbing the folds back in, but they're rock hard, like the blood has risen to them and they sprung forth. I stop and I calm myself. With a mental gesture and a full-body calm, I can feel them settle, and my face becomes human again. For a second I wonder if the lines on my face are now saggy and hanging now that my face has been stretched out, but then I think about the Italian man in the suit, my attacker, and his face, reshaping back to a beautiful Italian young man's. I hear my name and I'm broken out of my thoughts.
It's Tasha, one of the more attractive ladies that works with me. She walks towards me and I pull myself up from the base of the tree and I realize that I stumbled into the park. She looks at me strange and smiles an awkward smile. Tasha is a gorgeous young black girl, right out of college and just into her new place by herself here. She was highly recommended to our marketing firm and she has been one of the brighter spots of my work day. In my drunken stupor last night, I told the Italian man her name, and that she was on the list of people I would ask out now that my girlfriend's gone. I find it strange yet pleasant that I cant remember her name now. Tasha bounces her way to me in her jogging gear, and a smile creeps across my face from ear to ear; I can smell her smells from everywhere, every bit of her. She has been sweating from her run, and the pungent aroma, now oxygen-free thanks to my new-found loathing of breathing, fills me in its stead. "What are you doing out here so late, Tosh? Some weird stuff goes down at night..." I say, provoking a strange stare from her. She opens her luscious lips wide, bits her bottom ruby lip for a gentle moment, and replies, "Uh, Danny, what are you doing? You didn't show up to work today and you're wearing the same thing you were wearing yesterday. And you musta worn the hell outta it too, cuz you look kinda crusty right about now, and I think you need a shower, boss." I laugh aloud, and that eases her a bit, but her voice screams that she is actually worried, which I smile coyly at.
"Rough night. Then rough day. And I'm back at rough night now. Anna left me," I say. Anna. That goddamned Anna. I remember that bitch now. My honesty provoked a purr from Tasha, who was now immediately jumping into her concerned friend role. "C'est la vie, though. Opens me up for some better things. Newer goals to reach." She giggles uncomfortably, trying not to show her obvious concern, for me and herself. I walk in closer and get right next to her, on top of her, practically, something I would have never had the balls to do yesterday. I rub my nose from the base of her neck up to her ear softly, listening to her suck in a breath and close her eyes. Her body tenses and softens at my words, as I say "You are absolutely angelic, do you know that? And your body smells like petals." She doesn't move and she doesn't breathe. She and I both forgot where we were, and I wanted her. I wrap my hands around her waist and I want her; I want her flesh, every smooth and supple inch of it. I want her soul to wrap around mine, so she can feel the sensations I'm feeling. I want her blood...
The hunger. That's what's doing this. I know it. Yesterday, she wouldn't have let me do this, and what's more, I wouldn't have done it. I couldn't have, for myself or for my love of Anna. They say that animals, especially newborns, run off of instincts, and that their search for satisfaction and survival build from instinct alone, and are later effected by their surroundings. I am an animal. I don't just want her, I crave her. I need her. My high school years, my college years, hell, early adulthood even, my goals were plain and simple: I wanted to be inside a woman, just like every straight man does. Now, I need her inside me. I am strong. I am fast. I am eternal, but I am still dead. Her, though, I can feel her life, pulsing through the neck that my lips are running over. Pulsing faster and faster as her skin tightens and goose bumps form on her bare shoulder and back. I pull her back into the tree-laden area I found myself in moments ago, hiding us from the other joggers and the beggars and the goddamn kids on their skateboards. She shows a moment's hesitation until my lips connect to hers. She acts as though she's never kissed a white man before, much less has she been intimate with a coworker she hasn't known now for a year and a half, tops. Maybe she feels the coldness of my lips and hands, stroking her back and teasing her with gentle massages around the small of her back and sides. I continue kissing her neck, but my intentions wait. Then I hear it. Her chest expands and takes in air, and exhales it in a low, whimpering moan. Then I bite her, sinking my new weapons into her neck, instinctively finding a major artery. The artery and the flesh tear and her body tenses fully. Her warm, sticky blood flows from the wound and into my mouth, cascading like I'd have never believed it would, so much in fact that it poured down her neck and onto her jogging shirt. I placed my mouth over the wound and sucked hard, pouring the nectar into my body, stealing the life that was stolen from me. The Italian man was wrong: this was completely a sexual thing.
The last drop reaches my tongue and I laugh as my imagination makes a slurping noise like an empty soda cup at the movies. I release her body and it goes limp, falling into the brush. She makes a thud sound, her life long gone and in me now. Part of me expects to hear my own heartbeat again, but instead, I feel it. The hunger; more hunger. I fell much stronger, however, and I consider myself satisfied for the moment as I sit on the wooden bench in the park. Something jabs my leg and I reach into my pocket to find a bit of the mirror that I busted had reluctantly come along for the run here. I stare into the emptiness of the reflection, noting the view of the Big Dipper that the sky shows above me into the shard (a rare occurrence due to the normally smoggy skies of Cleveland). I'm less afraid at not seeing myself, that's for sure. I couldn't imaging what one kill has done for me. Kill? I killed her, didn't I? The beautiful, gorgeous, ambitious, lively girl is dead now, because of me. Her Christian mother lost a son to drugs and all she had was Tasha, and now Tasha is dead, because of me. And I don't care. I truly don't give a damn. She is a part of me now. Her legacy will live on in me, and not only do I not mourn her, I literally want to do it again. I suppose my soul is gone now, too, Tasha...
I run my finger over the shard and break the skin. Trickles of blood come out, and I happily consume them, but I didn't even feel the blade touch me. I stick the mirror piece in further, tearing a line down my forearm. I feel it, like a deep itch or a muscle cramp, but not true pain. Nothing like I would have experienced yesterday. Tears nearly swell in my eyes at the thought that I really cant feel anymore, and I jabbed the shard clean through to my left forearm, scratching the bone on the way to the other side; the pain is searing, but not unbearable. It hurts worse than anything I've felt before, but it's not that bad. You would literally have to kill me to stop me now, with a pain tolerance this high. I am eternal.
I hear laughing and three odd strangers approach me. I consider draining them, but they call me by name, so I stop and look up at them. "You're Daniel Timmerman, right boss?" I stare up at him silently. Coldly. He continues, "Yeah, you're him. You know pal, you should really think about lettin the vamp face go when there's humans around. They get freaked out by less and less these days." My cold stare softens at the realization of my mistake and I calm myself back into my human face. "You fed yet?"
"Whats it to you?" I ask, trying to be intimidating, especially since I realize that these guys are... vampires... too.
"Look, I'm Tonio. Dis here's Brute and Blunt behind me. We're Fabini's boys."
"Fabini?"
"Sharp looking 'Talian dude, sired you last night? Said he'd talked to you earlier at a gas station on fourth and main..."
"Sired?"
"He created you. You were reborn into a better life because of him."
"What does he want"
"'Bini's a sharp guy, and he knows that you was kinda freaked when you saw him. Hell, it'd freak my ass out if the guy that killed me the night before showed up when I crawled out. He wanted to let you feed and get acquainted wit everything fore you come on with us. You look like you've fed well enough."
"What do you mean come with you? Why should I come with you?"
"You, my friend, have a favor to repay. Fabini is your sire. He made you eternal. You're immortal now, baby. You've been given strength and everlasting life. All he asks is that you help him here and now. We gotta do a few tings for him, and we're free to live out our eternal life. Your in."
"I dunno."
"Wasn't a question, brother. You are in. When the dust settles, you're out. No strings. Now come on."
Just when he grabs me on the shoulder, what looked like a bolt from a crossbow strikes one of the three in the chest... Blunt, I believe it was. He bursts into what looks like a dust-like substance, something I've never seen before. As he melts away into dust, Tonio grabs my arm and tugs me in the opposite direction. I have no idea what's going on, but something tells me that I'm going to want to stick near these guys for a bit. We hurry for quite a bit, weaving in and out of the woods, trying to lose whatever is tailing us. At the end of a seemingly never-ending sprint, we dive into the brush near an urban subdivision. "What the hell was that?" I ask, furiously. "Hunters," he replied, "Dumbass kids who train their entire lives to kill us. We avoid them..."
"Why? We're the powerful ones. Why don't we just kill em?"
"Because they kill us better."
"We're already dead. How can they kill us if we're already dead? And what happened to that guy back there?"
"They dusted him. He's gone now. We have a few weaknesses like everything else. But those are the Hunters. By themselves, they ain't nothing. Together, you cant stop them with anything less than an army. These guys know what they're doin, and they hunt in packs. You see a group of them, you run, or you'll be dust, understand?"
I don't question him. I saw what happened to that other guy back there, and on my first night as an immortal, I see just how fragile I am. He tells me a bunch of other stuff, but I can only catch the small details, like a time and a place that I need to meet up with them tonight to "pay my dues." He then tells me to handle any personal matters I need to handle, and I nod, and they leave cautiously. At this point, my head is spinning worse than in my college days ad I would vomit if not for the hunger. Tasha tasted so good and she satisfied me so well. I needed more, but she is out of the question now. But personal matters? This is my first night as a vampire... What kind of personal matters could I have?
Anna. That's personal enough. I haven't a clue why I'm here or what my meaning for this, well, afterlife is, and all this confusion is because her ass couldn't be monogamous. I want a good feed, and that's where I'll find it. Delightfully enough, I'm only a few blocks down from where I should be. The few blocks go quicker than I thought they would and I'm there before I know it. I walk through the yard, the yard I cut two weeks ago. I walk up the stairs to the porch, the same stairs that I power washed last weekend, and I did a great job, might I add. I knock on the door, the door that I painted last month. She takes a while but she comes to the door in her silk robe that I bought her for Christmas, which no doubt reeks of the man she left me for. I hadn't thought of it until now, but there is a good chance that he is still here, which honestly, is all the better. She looks through the glass pieces and sees it's me, and I quickly straighten myself up and make sure that I'm not in vamp face. The door opens and she gives me that same smug look she gave me the night she left me. She came to my house and did her damage there, returning here probably to have her way with the new guy. I expect the new guy is in the back, and I'll do my damage now. Once the opening was side enough, my new- found blood-lusting confidence urges me to walk right on in like I own the place, and technically, I have been paying her rent for her the last seven months. Something's wrong, though; some invisible field is keeping me from going inside. Well, what do you know, at least some of the mythology in fiction is true; I remember reading that a vampire can't cross the threshold of a private residence without the inhabitant's permission, and it seems they nailed this one dead on. "Hello, Anna," I say calmly, instead expressing my confidence through my demeanor.
"Daniel. You look... well, you look like shit, actually."
"Last few days have been awkward. You'll have to forgive me."
"Danny, I..."
"Aren't you going to invite me in? You at least owe me that..."
"Well, you have paid my rent til the end of the month, so I suppose it's your place as much as it is mine until the rent's due."
Close, but not enough. "I wanna here a nice welcoming, Anna. Can you just give me that?"
"Please, your highness, come in, come in," she said, saturated in sarcasm, an art form for her.
"Okay, Danny, you have to understand that we're done, and."
"Get over yourself, woman," I said, smiling, "I just came by to see you. I'm not gonna beg you back, okay?"
Then it happens. He came out. I don't know his name, but I know who he is; he's the low-waged courier at my job, who just happens to deliver and pick-up from the printing place she works at. I felt a lot of confusion and then a strong urge to laugh, but mostly, I wanted to kill him. She began, "Daniel, this is..." I stop her because I don't really care. "Naw, I don't wanna know his name. He works just as well in my head as 'asshole new guy' but thanks." He steps forward and I put my hand on his bare chest to push him back when I notice that he his completely undressed with the exception of an old pair of my boxers, a fact that I even find disturbing now that I am soul-free. "But, Anna, baby, I don't mean to sound shallow here, but this guy makes about a fifth of my paycheck, so what could he possibly give you that's better than me?" She smiles and says that he's bigger, something that forces me to think for a second until I become really grossed out and I just snap his fucking neck. The body falls limp to the floor and lands much like Tasha but harder. I step forward towards Anna, who's mouth is dropped but you can tell she really hasn't grasped what has really gone down yet. I grab her by her blond hair and I rip her down to the floor, inches away from the lips of her lover, slamming her head down sideways so she can look right into his now cloudy eyes. His body is distorted now that his head is turned further than a head should go, and now everything is coming into picture for her. I crawl on top of her backside sprawled on the floor, grabbing her right hand with my left, her mouth with my right, and thrusting my pelvis hard enough to make the hardwood floor pull the left shoulder blade resting against it out of its socket. She screams and moans, tears flowing like rivers on her face, soaking the hardwood. Yeah, everything's clearing up now.
"You really think he's bigger? I don't know, he looks kinda shriveled right about now," apparently I'm the only one who thinks that's funny. "You see, babe, I've become a new man since you killed me yesterday. I don't think you know the kind of influence you have in men, baby, but let me tell ya, you are bad. You are real bad. And without you, man, I just had to look at life differently. So I gotta thank you, sweetheart. I have come so far thanks to you and you alone." I turn her to face me, still clutching her mouth so she cant scream, and I vamp my face out. Her eyes widen and I can hear her screaming more still underneath the muffling hand. Tears pour from deep inside and she cries her soul out and down her cheeks and into her beautiful blond hair. I extend my teeth further and I make sure she sees them. This is it. Forget about all that mortality or lack thereof bullshit. This is what its all for...
When I drank Tasha, it was instinct. I seduced her in thirty seconds; I could smell sex all over her. It was intoxicating to a level I've never been to before. This is different. This is better. I don't understand it, though. Save the position I've trapped her in, there is nothing sexual here. This is purely a kill, but something is in the air. Filling the room. It cant be something she's cooking because the bitch could never find her way through a kitchen. I take in the aroma and I hold it in, juggling the sensation in my mind... it's fear. That's the smell; it's pure, unbridled fear. It's all over her! And the feelings I got from Tasha, the pure, sexual energy she gave off, the lust, the need to die, empowered me in a way I could never have imagined, but it pales in comparison to this. She is so afraid to die now that she would want nothing better than for me to kill her and end it quickly. She has no idea what I am but she knows that she is the cause of it; she is the deep down root of the monster that will end her life. The aroma gets me high, higher than any drug imaginable. I stare deep into her and I wait for it, just I had done for Tasha; I refused to drain her until she absolutely yearned for it. Then, when her last tear drops, Anna needs it. Her screams are no longer for escape but yet she screams for release. I draw first blood on her neck, and as the first stream of it pours down towards the hardwood, I run my tongue up it, ensuring that I wouldn't waist a drop of this sinful life. I clutch the teeth to the artery and drink in every drop until I can her heart slowing. I pull my teeth out from her neck and I gently place her head back down. Sobbing without tears, she squeaks as I turn her to her back and straddle her stomach. I look into her red, saddened eyes and I run the sharp edge of my fingernail over my wrist, drawing blood of my own. My strength and my speed and my eternity now in a ruby liquid on my exposed limb is offered to her. I draw her head up by her hair and I draw her closer to my life. Her moist tongue extends to it, craving just as I had craven his the night before. I cat's whisker from my wrist, I pull back hard on her hair. I kiss her on the lips with more passion than I ever had in life. I place my bloodied hand on her chin, and then I push with it while pulling on the hair; I break her neck so hard that it twists and tears some of the skin around her neck.
My blood wasn't good enough for her when it flowed through my beating heart, and it certainly isn't worth much to her now that it's stagnant. I leave the bodies lying where they are; the time is drawing near for me to meet up with the fellas and my "sire," whatever that's supposed to mean.
I can smell the night air on the streets of Cleveland an I know now just how sweet this city is. All the fear and torture I smell only moments ago has a distinct scent, one that I can now pinpoint in every urban area around this town. Everywhere in this city, in every dark corner, in every locked room, there is one form or another of fear or anxiety spreading from window to window. The residual high I have might never come down at this rate. I can hear a scream in the distance, that is true, but the smell of the fear is so distinct that I can pinpoint the exact distance of where the fear is at, what direction and what speed the victim is running. I cant believe that with these kind of skills, they could possibly call a group of medieval-weapon-wielding college drop-outs "Hunters." We are the Hunters, no doubt about it. I walk to the edge of the alley and extend my hand into the main street, grabbing a girl by the hair, the same girl that was screaming and running from her assailant. I vamp my face out quickly, a small thought flashing in my head as to whether or not blood can make me overweight, and I show her the teeth, just as I had with Anna. Her assailant arrives and snarls at me; he is a vampire, as well. I snarl back and cut the girl's face with my fingernail. I lick the trail of blood from her cheek and I release her, pushing her behind me and further down the alley. I haven't been a vampire long, but I know a hunt when I see one, and the chase, I'm assuming, is the best part. The vampire smiles and nods, a small sign of gratitude, and then he's off.
Blocks away from my final destination and I realize that in one night as a vampire, I have already found it to be my greatest achievement. Tonio was right, everyone has a weakness or two, but no one can experience the pleasures I have experienced tonight. To kill with no remorse, to hunt and torture, without feeling any bit of shame or guilt, is better than any narcotic or any sexual act. Every dark thought that has raced across my mind that I spent every year alive trying to repress what I now live my afterlife performing. I've never felt so alive being so ironically dead... One of the perks of being eternal, I suppose. Open the door to the old factory and cast my eyes on what seems like fifty or so of the toughest looking vampires out there. Tonio and Brute are there, and so is the vampire from the alley that I assisted in his kill. Fabini isn't there, and I assume he's the ringleader here and he's going to make a spectacular entrance. The door opens again and a much larger vampire walks through it; he calms everyone and gets there attention for him to speak. "Brethren, thank you all for coming here tonight. All of you are newborns, some as new as tonight, in fact, but thank you all for showing up at the request of either your sire or the man who sired your sire. Fabini, the western representative of a group called The Board, either gave you or sponsored you his strength, vitality, and immortality. You are all eternal, and rather than your eternal gratitude, Fabini only requires one service of you: for that service, I will let the man tell you himself. Brethren, allow me to introduce your savior, Fabini of the West!" The front door opened wider and we could see the silhouette of the suited Italian man, the one from the gas station. I think to myself that if I had known he was this important when I met him, I might not have run, but that was then. I do have a debt to repay and once I repay it, I am truly eternal.
"SET!" a noise comes from the rafters... No, from the upper level of the factory. Only now do I notice that the upper level had been roped off and several black curtains laced around the upper level so that from the bottom level, we can't see what's on the catwalks up there. On the word, the curtains open to show many young men and women, each sporting one or two large buckets. Everyone looks strange, either mystified like myself or terrified. Fabini, still standing on the outside, makes an awkward face, one of frustration mixed with fear. If our savior is afraid, I think to myself, then this cant spell anything but trouble. "NOW!" came the second command, now visible, a young white man with medium length black hair and a cross around his neck. Every person on the second level tips over their bucket, spilling a clear liquid, water it seems. However, upon dousing the crowd of vampires, everyone begins smoking and wailing. A bucket of the water lands on me now, and instantly, the pain is so horrific, I cant think correctly. I look at my hands and see the flesh melting from the bone, and on its way down, the flesh degrades and turns to the same dusty-substance that Blunt turned into. I don't understand what is happening to me, and I feel like I am dying. It seems a lot like one of those "it could never happen to you" moments, like yeah, I could get hit by a bus, but what are the chances of that happening? Not much, it seems, but this is happening. In one night of my new life, I knew what immortality was. Now I see what flesh is left on my bones bubbling and bursting with blood and puss; my face and cheeks that I once feared stretched and faded are now melted and running down my face. After my first kill tonight, I had no fear, yet I now fear death worse than when I was alive. I thought I was eternal...
The smoking pile of ash finally cascades the base floor of the factory after the last vampire was dusted. Fifty-two in one night, and that's not bad, Lock thought. He put down his bucket and couldn't help but laugh and smile, turning to face Larson, who was smiling himself for the first time in awhile. "Larson, buddy, did you enjoy your first massacre?"
"Well, when the leader's instructions are 'turn the bucket over onto the oblivious and helpless crowd,' I don't think I can really call that field experience."
"It's all about the way you tell the story, my friend. The pastor make it home okay?"
"Yes, but it took him over seven and a half hours to sanctify all the water, you realize..."
"But you cant argue with results, and the look on Fabini's face when we rained down.well, water on his new-borns, he knew exactly who it was. One of the Abbits told me that he saw the guy ditch the second the water came down."
"Why didn't we wait for him to enter? Douse him with the holy water too?"
"This is a game, Larson. You have to play it like he does. It didn't take the thinking and the forward planning that his little Bloodring trick did, but it was effective as hell, and he will be ready to die real soon."
"As many good things as you have in your leadership ability, Lock, you have one thing that has killed way too many captains, and the is pride."
"Pride is a healthy thing, Larson. Trust me on that one."
"Have you heard any word from Ky or Gene?"
"Nope. They're still taking their vacation pay or lack thereof for the moment. At least Gene's still talking to me, and Jules talked to Ky last night. Everything seems okay enough, and they'll show back-up before we take out the Board."
"You say it as if this is in the bag, Lock. Most vampires are very selective in who they turn, but Fabini has turned at least half of the vampires in here tonight. He is building an army against you, and I'd imagine that there is a dangerous split in the ranks of the board right about now with all the risk he has been to them, so I believe he has a lot to account for."
"And with Gene back with the Axe Units and Ky back with the Coven, we should be able to handle them without much trouble. Lets just clean up. Gene actually said he'd be stopping in tomorrow. We clean up now, we get some food in us, and we'll worry about the Board soon enough..."