Erik didn't mention the fight to Henner. Even if Henner might understand some of what was going on, Erik doubted that he'd explain anything, especially if he suspected the answer would matter to the person that he considered a nuisance. He was also no longer able to convince himself that he was quite normal. Normal people couldn't smell vampires. Normal people couldn't move as fast as a vampire in a fight. Normal people's bruises took longer to fade. Normal people didn't get this weird, hungry feeling after smelling blood. Normal people didn't have to try to convince themself that their teeth hadn't looked sharper.
Erik had the feeling that Henner would take a very unhappy view of anyone who wasn't 'normal'.
He'd mentioned a few things to Nikki, but he couldn't bring himself to mention the hungry feelings, or the maybe fangs. Those were freaking him out, and it was happening to him. How would Nikki be able to stay calm, to not think that there was something strange and wrong with him? She was already seeming slightly puzzled by the fact that he could move so quickly when fighting the new rising vampires, that he always knew when one was about to rise.
As Henner became more demanding and the grave vigils increased, Nikki in turn sought comfort from Erik more often. It was a sort of love, actually. He wasn't certain that he was 'in love' with Nikki, not the way the movies made it sound, but he cared for her, wanted her to be as safe as possible. And if it would help her to be together, to touch and kiss, and join together… But that was changing a bit as well. Their encounters were becoming less hesitant, more forceful and passionate. And he found himself nipping along her collar bone and throat, sometimes leaving little marks. Especially over her pulse…
More disturbingly, that unsettling hungry feeling that kept rising every time something was bleeding started to get stronger. He could imagine himself tasting the blood, imagine licking it from the wooden swords. Images of biting Nikki harder when they were together, wondering if it was possible to draw blood with normal teeth, though he never quite tried it. And while it would die down some once he'd cleaned the blood away, when he'd discarded the broken wooden swords and blunted stakes, it didn't quite go away. It was always there now, this skittering sharp feeling in his stomach. And Erik couldn't keep from wondering what was happening to him, asking why and how these things were happening to him.
He started feeling restless at night, unable to just rest and listen to the quiet. It could have been because he knew what was out there, it could have been a result of being in so many fights over the years that he'd forgotten how to not fight. It could have had to do with the strange, unwelcome hungry feeling that had become a part of him. It made it easier to push it down if he was stalking, if he was breaking up trouble, if he was fighting with the new vampires. At least, it was easier to ignore until blood was drawn.
Erik hated the dark hunger. It was somehow deeper and more frightening than a craving for fresh bread, or an apple, and no amount of normal food could even touch it. Uneasy, he walked along a street, trying to ignore the hunger clawing inside of him, trying to blot away the insidious image of being with Nikki, of caressing her body as he bit down on her throat, the image of her blood welling up around his teeth, flowing into his mouth… No! Not Nikki, he wouldn't hurt Nikki.
"I don't know who Nikki is, but I can make sure you don't have to worry about her ever again." The voice seemed cold, ruthless. Almost the way he'd imagine a snake sounding, if they could talk.
Slowly, Erik turned around, his hand clutching at the sword as the stench of vampire finally registered. The slight breeze had been blowing it away from him, but now… Now there was a vampire, one that reeked of death and smelled faintly of car oil and grease, dressed in a stained mechanic's uniform. He barely realized that his lip had curled up in a snarl reminiscent of a wolf's.
"You think that will do you any good?" The vampire seemed amused, and lunged towards Erik, his teeth sharp as his jaw dropped open. It was obvious that he expected Erik to be easy prey.
Erik twisted, slashing towards the vampire's legs, confident that if he could throw the vampire off balance, if he could surprise the vampire enough, he'd have an advantage, at least for a few moments. A few moments could make a world of difference. The sword parted the coveralls, dragging across the vampire's flesh, releasing the thick scent of blood into the air. It was so thick that he could almost taste it…
"gahhh…. You're quick, boy, but that won't be enough to save you." The vampire spun around, raising hands that now ended in sharp claws. "I'll suck the marrow from your bones."
Erik found himself licking his lips, not out of fear, but… it was that horrible hunger again. He could almost taste the blood, the aroma was so thick. "I don't think so."
The vampire lunged forward, slashing with the claws on both hands, and Erik couldn't quite dodge fast enough to escape being raked along one arm, releasing the scent of more blood into the air. He punched at the vampire with the hand not holding the sword, splitting the lips over those jagged teeth, ignoring the flare of pain from his own knuckles. They'd heal soon enough.
This vampire was fast, and probably older than the ones they'd fought in the cemeteries. He was faster than the one that had tried to attack on his birthday. Soon, blood flowed from wounds on them both, and Erik was feeling the burning of exhaustion as they spun and lunged, as claws and sword slashed at each other. It was starting to look like this fight would be a slow, painful wearing down, and whoever became tired enough to make a mistake first would die. Blood had dripped, splashed and sprayed enough that the pavement was slick beneath his feet, and he hoped that his feet wouldn't slide out from under him.
The vampire slipped first, lunging towards Erik and stepping into a smear of liquid blood, one foot sliding out at a painful looking angle and there was a soft, horrible popping sound. Part of Erik wanted to wince in sympathy, certain that whatever had popped was one of the joints in the knee or hip, and that it had to be agonizing. But the part that took the initiative was the part that swung the sword towards the vampire, hacking into the neck with another spray of blood.
It took another blow to sever the head from the rest of the body, and by the time he was finished, blood was everywhere. He couldn't tell what was his and what was the vampire's. Everything hurt, and his head felt almost floaty as it throbbed from a clip to the side of his head. His teeth itched, and something was trickling down his cheek. He didn't think twice before wiping at the drip with the back of his hand, coming away with a smear of red to go along with the splatters from the messy decapitation.
Slowly, almost as if it was moving at the behest of some outside source, his hand came up, and he licked at the blood on the back of it. The flavor almost seemed to explode on his tongue, and something inside almost leapt for joy. This was what the hunger sought, this was what his body had been craving…
Erik had licked almost all of the blood from the back of his hand before he managed to stop, and he stood there, trembling in shock and fear. He'd been licking the blood away… Swallowing it. Drinking it like a cat would lap up cream. He wanted to be sick, especially when he realized the hunger wasn't quite as sharp. But his body wouldn't surrender any of the hard won blood, and he just remained there, collapsed on the concrete for a few agonizingly long minutes.
Absently, he lifted his other hand, licking at the blood that had flowed down the sword, coating his palm and threatening to make his grip slip away.
When he realized what he'd done, he forced his hand to his knee, trembling as the conflicting urges raged inside of him. He had licked at the blood, and it had tasted good. What was happening to him? Why did he seem to be becoming the very thing that he'd been fighting against?
The scrapes on his knuckles were already closing, even faster than they normally would. Was it because of the blood that he'd licked up? Was it because of this change? Erik could feel himself shuddering with panic and revulsion. He had to get the blood off of himself before… before he lost this tenous resistance. Before he just started trying to lap up as much as he could, before he lost control of the blood-lust in him. He staggered quickly back towards the gym, his stomach churning. He still felt hungry, but also nauseous.
When he reached the gym, he made his way right to the shower, and almost scrubbed his skin raw trying to get rid of the blood. Trying to wash away the scent of it. This time, he couldn't deny that his reflection had fangs. And he couldn't forget the horrible corner of him that whispered that if he went to Nikki, if she welcomed him into her arms, he could take her blood, could fill himself with the warm, wonderful taste of Nikki. She would taste sweeter than the bitter vampire's blood had…
He found himself retching into the sink, though the only thing that came up was sour bile. Somehow, that made things seem even worse. The blood should be in his stomach, should have come up when he'd vomited, but it hadn't. His body refused to let it go.
But vampires didn't reflect. Henner had said that, over and over. If a vampire didn't reflect, and Erik did, then he couldn't be a vampire, right? That meant that he was something else, not a vampire, not something that Nikki would have to Slay. He clutched at the small cross from his pocket, gripping it so hard that the arms bit into the palm of his hand, and the smell of blood rose into the air.
His stomach growled.
"oh shit… no, no… This can't be happening." His whisper echoed in the tiled room. Erik closed his eyes, wanting to be able to wake up, wanting this to all have been a horrible dream, wanting this to not be real.
But he could still feel the exhaustion in his muscles, still feel the barely closed slashes from the vampire's claws, still feel the pain where the cross had dug into his palm. He could still feel the hunger stirring inside of him, a desperate, horrible craving for blood.
Erik retreated to his room, and did the best he could to lock himself inside. His hands were shaking, and he wasn't certain if it was from the stress of everything, from fear, or from hunger. He was changing, and he wasn't certain what he was changing into, or how far things would go. Thank God that he'd never been one for sleepwalking.
End part 5.
Erik had the feeling that Henner would take a very unhappy view of anyone who wasn't 'normal'.
He'd mentioned a few things to Nikki, but he couldn't bring himself to mention the hungry feelings, or the maybe fangs. Those were freaking him out, and it was happening to him. How would Nikki be able to stay calm, to not think that there was something strange and wrong with him? She was already seeming slightly puzzled by the fact that he could move so quickly when fighting the new rising vampires, that he always knew when one was about to rise.
As Henner became more demanding and the grave vigils increased, Nikki in turn sought comfort from Erik more often. It was a sort of love, actually. He wasn't certain that he was 'in love' with Nikki, not the way the movies made it sound, but he cared for her, wanted her to be as safe as possible. And if it would help her to be together, to touch and kiss, and join together… But that was changing a bit as well. Their encounters were becoming less hesitant, more forceful and passionate. And he found himself nipping along her collar bone and throat, sometimes leaving little marks. Especially over her pulse…
More disturbingly, that unsettling hungry feeling that kept rising every time something was bleeding started to get stronger. He could imagine himself tasting the blood, imagine licking it from the wooden swords. Images of biting Nikki harder when they were together, wondering if it was possible to draw blood with normal teeth, though he never quite tried it. And while it would die down some once he'd cleaned the blood away, when he'd discarded the broken wooden swords and blunted stakes, it didn't quite go away. It was always there now, this skittering sharp feeling in his stomach. And Erik couldn't keep from wondering what was happening to him, asking why and how these things were happening to him.
He started feeling restless at night, unable to just rest and listen to the quiet. It could have been because he knew what was out there, it could have been a result of being in so many fights over the years that he'd forgotten how to not fight. It could have had to do with the strange, unwelcome hungry feeling that had become a part of him. It made it easier to push it down if he was stalking, if he was breaking up trouble, if he was fighting with the new vampires. At least, it was easier to ignore until blood was drawn.
Erik hated the dark hunger. It was somehow deeper and more frightening than a craving for fresh bread, or an apple, and no amount of normal food could even touch it. Uneasy, he walked along a street, trying to ignore the hunger clawing inside of him, trying to blot away the insidious image of being with Nikki, of caressing her body as he bit down on her throat, the image of her blood welling up around his teeth, flowing into his mouth… No! Not Nikki, he wouldn't hurt Nikki.
"I don't know who Nikki is, but I can make sure you don't have to worry about her ever again." The voice seemed cold, ruthless. Almost the way he'd imagine a snake sounding, if they could talk.
Slowly, Erik turned around, his hand clutching at the sword as the stench of vampire finally registered. The slight breeze had been blowing it away from him, but now… Now there was a vampire, one that reeked of death and smelled faintly of car oil and grease, dressed in a stained mechanic's uniform. He barely realized that his lip had curled up in a snarl reminiscent of a wolf's.
"You think that will do you any good?" The vampire seemed amused, and lunged towards Erik, his teeth sharp as his jaw dropped open. It was obvious that he expected Erik to be easy prey.
Erik twisted, slashing towards the vampire's legs, confident that if he could throw the vampire off balance, if he could surprise the vampire enough, he'd have an advantage, at least for a few moments. A few moments could make a world of difference. The sword parted the coveralls, dragging across the vampire's flesh, releasing the thick scent of blood into the air. It was so thick that he could almost taste it…
"gahhh…. You're quick, boy, but that won't be enough to save you." The vampire spun around, raising hands that now ended in sharp claws. "I'll suck the marrow from your bones."
Erik found himself licking his lips, not out of fear, but… it was that horrible hunger again. He could almost taste the blood, the aroma was so thick. "I don't think so."
The vampire lunged forward, slashing with the claws on both hands, and Erik couldn't quite dodge fast enough to escape being raked along one arm, releasing the scent of more blood into the air. He punched at the vampire with the hand not holding the sword, splitting the lips over those jagged teeth, ignoring the flare of pain from his own knuckles. They'd heal soon enough.
This vampire was fast, and probably older than the ones they'd fought in the cemeteries. He was faster than the one that had tried to attack on his birthday. Soon, blood flowed from wounds on them both, and Erik was feeling the burning of exhaustion as they spun and lunged, as claws and sword slashed at each other. It was starting to look like this fight would be a slow, painful wearing down, and whoever became tired enough to make a mistake first would die. Blood had dripped, splashed and sprayed enough that the pavement was slick beneath his feet, and he hoped that his feet wouldn't slide out from under him.
The vampire slipped first, lunging towards Erik and stepping into a smear of liquid blood, one foot sliding out at a painful looking angle and there was a soft, horrible popping sound. Part of Erik wanted to wince in sympathy, certain that whatever had popped was one of the joints in the knee or hip, and that it had to be agonizing. But the part that took the initiative was the part that swung the sword towards the vampire, hacking into the neck with another spray of blood.
It took another blow to sever the head from the rest of the body, and by the time he was finished, blood was everywhere. He couldn't tell what was his and what was the vampire's. Everything hurt, and his head felt almost floaty as it throbbed from a clip to the side of his head. His teeth itched, and something was trickling down his cheek. He didn't think twice before wiping at the drip with the back of his hand, coming away with a smear of red to go along with the splatters from the messy decapitation.
Slowly, almost as if it was moving at the behest of some outside source, his hand came up, and he licked at the blood on the back of it. The flavor almost seemed to explode on his tongue, and something inside almost leapt for joy. This was what the hunger sought, this was what his body had been craving…
Erik had licked almost all of the blood from the back of his hand before he managed to stop, and he stood there, trembling in shock and fear. He'd been licking the blood away… Swallowing it. Drinking it like a cat would lap up cream. He wanted to be sick, especially when he realized the hunger wasn't quite as sharp. But his body wouldn't surrender any of the hard won blood, and he just remained there, collapsed on the concrete for a few agonizingly long minutes.
Absently, he lifted his other hand, licking at the blood that had flowed down the sword, coating his palm and threatening to make his grip slip away.
When he realized what he'd done, he forced his hand to his knee, trembling as the conflicting urges raged inside of him. He had licked at the blood, and it had tasted good. What was happening to him? Why did he seem to be becoming the very thing that he'd been fighting against?
The scrapes on his knuckles were already closing, even faster than they normally would. Was it because of the blood that he'd licked up? Was it because of this change? Erik could feel himself shuddering with panic and revulsion. He had to get the blood off of himself before… before he lost this tenous resistance. Before he just started trying to lap up as much as he could, before he lost control of the blood-lust in him. He staggered quickly back towards the gym, his stomach churning. He still felt hungry, but also nauseous.
When he reached the gym, he made his way right to the shower, and almost scrubbed his skin raw trying to get rid of the blood. Trying to wash away the scent of it. This time, he couldn't deny that his reflection had fangs. And he couldn't forget the horrible corner of him that whispered that if he went to Nikki, if she welcomed him into her arms, he could take her blood, could fill himself with the warm, wonderful taste of Nikki. She would taste sweeter than the bitter vampire's blood had…
He found himself retching into the sink, though the only thing that came up was sour bile. Somehow, that made things seem even worse. The blood should be in his stomach, should have come up when he'd vomited, but it hadn't. His body refused to let it go.
But vampires didn't reflect. Henner had said that, over and over. If a vampire didn't reflect, and Erik did, then he couldn't be a vampire, right? That meant that he was something else, not a vampire, not something that Nikki would have to Slay. He clutched at the small cross from his pocket, gripping it so hard that the arms bit into the palm of his hand, and the smell of blood rose into the air.
His stomach growled.
"oh shit… no, no… This can't be happening." His whisper echoed in the tiled room. Erik closed his eyes, wanting to be able to wake up, wanting this to all have been a horrible dream, wanting this to not be real.
But he could still feel the exhaustion in his muscles, still feel the barely closed slashes from the vampire's claws, still feel the pain where the cross had dug into his palm. He could still feel the hunger stirring inside of him, a desperate, horrible craving for blood.
Erik retreated to his room, and did the best he could to lock himself inside. His hands were shaking, and he wasn't certain if it was from the stress of everything, from fear, or from hunger. He was changing, and he wasn't certain what he was changing into, or how far things would go. Thank God that he'd never been one for sleepwalking.
End part 5.