Fright Night (2011) Prequel

Part Two

Invading Jerry's Space

(Author)

So, what are we thinking? Hmm? Who knows with all of you weirdoes! So, what do you think is in that house? Well, y'all gonna find out. Am I the only one who thought it was justified that Jerry killed What's Her Face? Ha-Ha! I knew I wasn't!

Well, it wasn't long after that Jerry Dandridge got rid of the Harley and purchased a whole other mighty steed; a large gray pick-up with a hefty diesel engine. He continued his household remodeling while keeping it cool amongst the living natives. His life was a ritual performance; tediously working clearing out an area beneath the house; a few perspective individuals already chosen and placed within the dirt made walls. Not too many questioned his nightly work; hell he was a construction worker and pretty damned talented doing some updates with his own home. Let them believe what they want; fine by him. He took his weekly trips to Publix refurbishing his beer and fruit supply while getting that much ego boost from the ladies. The chosen meals lasted a few days while kept in one of the makeshift cells in the large basement; tucked secretively away through a hidden entrance behind a floor to ceiling tool shelf. Occasionally he would catch a missing person's flyer or announcement in the paper then at times those faces would pop up on the local channel 11 news. Such achievements; he would boast to himself while seated in a comfortable chair slamming down a tasty beer.

Time came to dispose of unwanted trash. He had the pick-up already backed into the garage. He stepped out into the garage with a hefty load draped over his shoulder rapped in layers of typical trash bags then went to the truck tossing the trash into the truck bed. He slammed the truck gate closed and moved alongside the truck. Upon opening the driver's side door that damned feeling practically slapped in the back of his head; there were eyes somewhere spying on him. Had whatever he encountered in that old house somehow found him? After a week he had almost forgotten but now was well reminded. He climbed into the truck then drove out of the garage entering out into the subdivision. Being watched or spied on was a huge pet peeve of his. He drove out of Mirror Lake heading out onto Highway 78 taking the trash far away from his territory.

The trash was disposed of, somewhere off the side of some back road that branched out from 78. He returned back to his quiet neighborhood. During the drive that sense of being watched faded; perhaps his spy returned back to their run down dwelling near some old family cemetery. He pulled the truck into the garage then got out and hit the button; the garage door lowered. Upon entering the house he was again bitch slapped; his eyes frowned again sensing that mysterious something. His senses led through the house; things were out of order. It was if a curious child had entered his home and violated all his belongings tossing things around being nosy. There was an odd sense of the fairytale Goldie Locks and the Three Bears; he all three bears combined into one snazzy package. This apparent intruder helped themselves to his damned bathroom as well; the jetted garden tub still filled with dirty water which he touched, barely warm. He was seriously getting pissed the more things he discovered touched, moved, or rummaged through. He hated the sense of something else trespassing on his turf. There was an attempt to just let it slide but now that it invaded the privacy of his home; he wasn't having it. He moved back downstairs, through the kitchen and entered the laundry room where the basement access was located. Well, damn, the washer and drier had been used. He felt beyond having his privacy violated! Down into the basement he marched.

Each overhead light throughout the large basement flickered on. He stood at the basement steps peering down the long stretch of concrete with walls made of only framing. His eyes quickly spotted that the tool shelf was moved and exposed the hidden entrance. He knew damn well he put the shelf back. His boots stomped across the concrete with his eyes focused and blackening. No one pisses on another's turf! There's an unwritten rule that another will not attempt screwing with another's territory. He stepped through the entrance prepared to take out the mother fucker who was stupid enough to mess with him. With a flip of the switch the hallway lit up; he stood there before the stretch where doors lined the walls. His eyes scanned both sides trying to see if anything was out of place. Great; had this something come to scope out his food supply? He didn't want anything touching what was his. He moved to each door taking a peek through the tiny peepholes; most cells were empty with exception to two but there was a need to make certain nothing decided to play hide and seek inside any of them.

He reached the first occupied cell; his eyes peered inside. That particular meal was alright; had another day or so and it would reach its expiration date. He stepped further down to the second occupied cell; that too was fine, pretty much expired but would be placed with the others which is where he would check next. He continued down the hall reached the steel door that led into the death pit where the walls would eventually be filled with the buried and brewing creatures. His hand pressed against the steel and slowly pushed the door open. His senses picked up on that presence that was previously felt within that old house but it was stronger now that this intruder had obviously washed, including their clothing. With removal of any possible covering odors; he now knew he was dealing with an obvious vampire but it was different than him.

With the door open his eyes peered into the darkness of that dank brewing pit. He sniffed the air; it was definitely passed that doorway. There wasn't anywhere for it to go; where he stood was the only way out. "I know you're there," he spoke into the darkness, "I can smell you." His lips snarled exposing his fangs and again he sniffed while keenly listening. A faint sound caught his attention; the simple crumbling movement of the dirt within the darkness. He stepped forward onto a makeshift platform and knelt down with his eyes focused forward. His hand felt and found the extension cord then used touch to find the outlet and pushed the three-prong into it. The few strung lights quickly came on brightening the pit and a flash of speedy motion caught his eyes leading them to the only shadowed corner. He slowly rose up with his eyes glistening black and focused on that singular shadowed corner knowing that the intruder was there. "Okay, there's nowhere to run." He said with a slight grumble then stepped down into the dirt pit surrounded by foundation openings where within the dirt his collected subjects were placed to brew. "You've made a huge mistake coming into my home." He scolded with threat in his tone, "I don't care who or what you are; you've made a really bad decision trespassing." He aimed his clawed finger in direction of the shadowy corner, "Show yourself so I have a face to watch when I rip you apart!"

"You trespassed," a voice came from the shadowy corner following by a flash of those eyes, "Couldn't you read the signs posted?" The voice was soft, whispery with an almost angelic tone and obviously female.

Well, point taken but it was now his territory that was trespassed. "I don't really give a shit." He grumbled again taking steps forward, "Right now, you're the trespasser and I don't take that lightly. You helped yourself with my stuff."

"Well," the voice again spoke maintaining that soft angelic tone, "You shouldn't have done the same."

He huffed with annoyance; not wanting to make conversation just to get the death over and done with. "No more chit-chat!" he snapped, his fangs snarled, "Come out, now!" Finally he saw motion within that shadow followed by another flash of eyes reflecting the light within the room. "That's it," he lifted his hand and coiled his distorted index finger, "Come into the light." His eyes held their focus waiting the moment he would see the trespasser's face for what was determined to be the first and last. The first to be seen was a hand slide from the shadow moving against a portion of concrete foundation; the skin was the purest white with no evidence of veins beneath and from the dainty fingertips spread outward lengthy gray nails with prominent white tips. His eyes watched closely as the hand continued to slide bringing out from the shadow the attached arm which was just as white. The arm emerged further; at the elbow an aged and yellowed white lace sleeve. The rest of that creature slowly emerged with its back to him while pressing against the concrete wall. There was a bundle of twists and curls of pale golden hair with a dull sheen as it caught the light; he found his Goldie Locks for sure. It was definitely female by the figure that was draped over by antique lace; a dress aged and worn and seemingly from the nineteen twenties with portions of sheer yellowed lace hung from the calf length hem. And her bare feet dirty from the soil beneath them. This was altogether a whole other species he had only heard of, never seen.

He watched closely as she slowly turned while bringing a white hand before her eyes blocking the light. She then lifted the other hand, it too keeping the glare of the light from her eyes. Over the centuries there was mention of a specific breed of vampire that spent their lives hidden away from the living just to leave only to feed. They were recluses; lived in a type of self placed time warp keeping out of sight. They were considered the ghost breed for they were rarely ever seen which also explained why the old house was claimed to be haunted and, actually, in a way it was. They kept to what they knew from their mortal lives; surrounded themselves with memories of their past lives and loved ones. They avoided contact with anything outside their ghostly world; living or undead. Those were the reasons he had only heard about them but never seen one. The fabled descriptions of them were now obviously true; their skin the palest white imaginable, whiter than death and vacant of any indication of blood within their hollow veins. And there he stood looking at the rarest species known to vampires. Some had even considered they had gone extinct because of their reclusiveness and inability to adjust to the changes of passing centuries.

The endangered creature kept her hands before her face and eyes then lightly she parted her fingers peering through with eyes just as vacant of color as her skin. Without the accent of the pupils the eyes might have been thought completely white. The anger of being intruded on had faded a bit after witnessing for the first time in his four hundred years the rarity that was the Ghosts. There became a type of fascination with the intruder; he now was amongst the few to have seen such dramatic breed of vampire. There was almost a type of pity for such miserable creatures that would prefer a life secluded within the confines of a rotting corpse of a home while the world around them thrived and continued to blossom and change. Yet, for some reason, this one member of that ghostly breed had decided to come out of her reclusion but unfortunately it was his turf she trespassed. He had to move into a community that unknowingly harbored the endangered species and he had to be the damned one to come across its hiding place. What the hell drew her out? What the hell compelled her to seek out his home then make herself too damned comfortable? Was it because he kind of trespassed onto her turf that she felt fit to do the same to him? He didn't know for sure but damn it, he wasn't going to let her get away with it.

His eyes narrowed; the images of his belonging tossed about returned that anger. "Okay," he finally spoke up again, his tone filled with the anger's return, "Before I evict you permanently off these premises; what in hell made you think you were welcome to come into my home and touch anything? You bathed in my bathroom!" Yes, his bathroom! All of it was his! No one touches his shit!

"What made you think you were welcome," her voice flowed from behind the cover of her hands, "Welcome to dispose of your mess in my cellar, let alone my home?"

"Well, for one I had no damned idea that shithole belonged to anyone let alone one of you." He snapped back, "The point is, you screwed up coming here, Goldie Locks, because this Papa Bear is pretty damned pissed." He aimed his clawed finger at himself.

"Ruth," she spoke up, "…my name's Ruth."

"I don't care." He snapped again, "I don't need your name! I never asked your name! You're practically invisible to me!" He went to snap at her some more but her hands quickly moved uncovering her face. Apparently she didn't approve of being yelled at or perhaps it was the invisible comment which prompted her to reveal her face. Her oval shaped face wasn't as he expected; sure he expected more of that too white skin. Her skin was so white it seemed emulate its own radiant glow with not a hint of color to indicate details of her features. Her brows were so pale blonde they almost seemed not there. Her eyes were large, almost unnaturally large like that of a porcelain doll. Her lips prominently stood out amongst all that pure white skin; they were a bruised tone which brought out the shape with the top a heart shape with the bottom fuller and naturally pouting. She looked like a ghost or perhaps a morbid deathly version of an angel. His brows frowned, intensified the lines etched across his forehead. She was almost surreal to look at; he was pale most of the time, for a construction worker who apparently worked under the sun; yeah right. He watched those larger than life eyes slightly winch against the light; it was obvious her breed avoided most any light besides the deadly sunlight. He moved across the dirt, not towards her, but strangely towards the strung bulbs. Her eyes watched his every movement as he did her. He reached up to one of the heated bulbs and ignored the burn then twisted it until it went out. Why was he being nice all of a sudden? Not like him at all. Perhaps his fascination and curiosity about this rarity influenced him.

Her eyes softened upon the light being twisted out. He moved back twisting another light; it amazed him as it gradually got darker in the room her skin seemed to have absorbed some of that artificial light and practically glowed. Done showing some unnatural kindness; against his nature; he stepped towards her. "Okay, Ruth," he spoke up, "What if I let you go, let you leave here; will you return to your hidey-hole on the hill and never return? Hmm?" Since when did he make bargains; even with other immortals?

"Yes," she simply replied with that remarkably soft tone, whispery and gentle; so deceptive for their species, "Will you leave and never return?"

Oh, wait a second; he thought; was she actually suggesting he leave his digs? "Excuse me?" he crossed his arms and leaned a bit turning his head as if he hadn't heard her right, "Are you telling me that I have to leave?"

"Yes," she again gave another soft spoken but simple answer.

"And why should I?" he asked finding her suggestion almost humorous.

"This is my home." She stated with not a single note changed in her tone, "All of this is mine. Every victim you've claimed belonged to me. It wasn't only my house you trespassed but my entire home, my town."

Okay, he didn't at all enjoy being told to basically get the hell out of Dodge. "Now, you wait a…" he went to chew her a new one but she dared to lift her hand to silence him, "Oh, no, you don't!" He took a step forward as she simply folded her fingers with just the index erect.

"No," she said to him with her voice without change, "All these creatures you have sleeping in these walls," she shifted her hand palm up and gracefully gestured to the walls, "They weren't yours to make. You know nothing about what I am, do you?" she asked, "You just see another version of yourself but not as equal as you. Am I correct?" she spoke with her head slightly tilted and large eyes ever watchful without a single blink of those white lids.

"I know what you are." He was sort of getting tired of being talked over, "You're what they call a Ghost." He took another step forward not noticing her flinch once, "You hide in your decrepit holes and come out only to feed. You live caught up in self pity and loathing. So, by that, you sure in the hell aren't my equal. Besides, I'm positive I've been around a lot longer than you." He scanned her nineteen twenties fashion with a scowl of disgust, "Trapped in time forever and ever."

"No," she stated without a single lift in her tone, "Perhaps I've been here in this particular place for nearly a hundred years but," she took a step towards him, her bare feet pressed down into the loose dirt, "I am much older than you assume." Her lips barely moved with each of her softly spoken words, "Look closely at me, Jerry."

He frowned with surprise hearing her speak his name. He wasn't sure how to respond to any of what she was suggesting, including her knowledge of his name. She dared closer without a single show of fear of him. "How do you know my name?" he asked, it would bug the hell out of him if he didn't know. He watched her eerily tilt her head from one side to the other without once blinking her wide porcelain doll eyes. His eyes shifted and looked to her mouth and watched them closely as they moved with her words. "Yes, Jerry, we are called the Ghosts. But why is it truly we get that title?" his eyes watched those lips motion as softly as her voice, "Yes, we live our lives, not in hiding, but in reclusion because that is how we survive; have survived for more centuries than you've been around. Why is it you think we are so white? Hmm? Is it because we refuse any source of light? No," her head slowly moved side to side; his eyes shifted back up to hers, "No, we are what you see because we have lived for so long. At one moment, in the beginning we were like you but time passes and we draw ourselves inward instead of outward." He watched her step closer, "We have been undead for so long the color faded into white; including the shades of our eyes. Yes, once the color leaves, the light, bright light is bothersome and so we live in shadows of night and in darkness; it's less bothersome."

He was having hard time believing this crazy vampire. "So, you're telling me I will eventually become like you?" he aimed his finger at her then belted out an unbelieving laugh, "Oh, that's just rich."

"I don't expect something like you to accept what I say." She spoke so calmly and without any indication of frustration or anger, "You are vain and there is nothing wrong with that. We all are vain at one point. But, like everything else, the color fades then vanishes." Her foot moved forward bringing the tip of her toes before his boots, "Yet, there has been many like you who lived freely and enjoy the chaos and havoc," there came a slight smile of remembrance across her lips, "And many don't make it as far as I and others have; so many have willingly stepped into the light of day to end their colorless lives. A shame really. We are given a special gift and upon it not being as grand as it was in earlier years, so many just surrender and die." She leaned closer to him; her large eyes peered deep within his. "Maybe you, Jerry, might live as long as I have but perhaps being as vain as you are, you might find yourself dead; either by your own hand or another's." Her eyes seemed as if they could read his life within his dark eyes. They shifted mechanically around and back and forth, "Yes…" she leaned back, "Four hundred years is a long time but is it long enough or is it too long?" Her head tilted in question.

"How the hell do you know that?" he was getting a creepy vibe from this fortune telling ghostly creature. He watched one corner of her lips lightly lift in the first real sinister expression.

"When you've been around as long as I have," she started her reply with that voice really deceptive in its angelical melody, "You become open to more than just the typical heightened senses. What more is there but to evolve once you've practically done everything else?" She brought her other foot forward brushing the tips of her toes against the tip of his boots. Her eyes moved about his face, studying the colors that were still there; the colors that were now vacant in her. "You are quite a beautiful creature, Jerry." She commented, "It's been some time since I've seen another; one still vibrant with color. We don't typically socialize with others. The conversations would take hundreds of years to finish." She slightly laughed at her little quip.

He felt suddenly awkward with her practically in his face staring at him with those large eyes. He never got awkward; mister suave, calm, and cool. There was something in her way of speaking that possibly stated loud and clear that the truth was being said. Most of the stories of the Ghosts were assumptions because of their willingness to keep themselves hidden away. His train of thought was broken the moment he felt her lengthy nail tips graze his bottom lip and oddly lightly part his lips then she strangely sniffed. His eyes looked down at her deathly white but angelic face seeing hers focused on his mouth. "You fed." He listened to her state, "Awe, the joys of nightly feeding…" What was she actually saying? She answered his thought question, "You probably wonder since I've been here for so long why the population was still so abundant." She was dead on, "The hunger wanes; doesn't feel as strong any more. A real shame because there was so much pleasure in the games of pursuit and feeding. Can you imagine becoming bored with those games?" her eyes shifted from his mouth and to his eyes, "You probably can't, not right now for you still play like a child with an easily broken toy. Just break them and on to the next." She sounded almost fascinated; perhaps with her own memories, "And you play for days until they are good and broken."

Her manner of reading details about him was intriguing but oddly uneasy feeling. He wasn't used to being read like a historical open book. He slowly uncrossed his arms as her fascination seemed to grow with every childlike tilt of her head and none blinking motion of her studying eyes. Her white thin fingers and their white nail tips traced along the shapes of his face in the similar manner the blind visualizing another's face. "I apologize, Jerry," his name was practically sung with her angelic tone, "I meant no disrespect to your house. You're the first I've seen in over a hundred years and when I witnessed, at the cemetery, your skills of enjoyment in killing that young woman; it reminded me of earlier times." She continued her touching exploration of his features, "After you left I inspected that mess you left in my cellar and found it quite beautiful; I had forgotten the beauty of the color of blood." Her eyes again shifted back to his, "I also apologize for the bite. It was the first time I've done so in a long, long time. And I will say you tasted quite good; all those centuries of vibrant life I tasted in that single defensive bite." She slowly lowered her hands, the nail tips dragged down the sides of his nicely designed and masculine features.

And he thought he was morbid. Perhaps all her time being a recluse had unfortunately tangled up her wiring causing some serious misfires. He took a step back, not sure if he wanted her to again go touching him. "Okay," he nodded not sure how to respond to anything she creepily said, "I understand; if you are some kind of ancient relic of our kind then I guess I should respectfully accept that I overstepped my welcome." He wasn't typically one to bow out but there were plenty other places in the world to begin the construction of an army of vampires in which he would rule and rise to take over the mortal race. In the greater vampire society they respected another's turf and if one crosses that line that's typically when all out war happens. Every vampire is territorial. Though she appeared as fragile as her porcelain doll appearance; there was no telling what really hid beneath that porcelain shell; what abilities were hidden. "Again, I had no idea you were even here." He again found her right in front of his face, "Alright are we at an agreement?"

"Yes," she simply stated though she was obviously still fascinated with him, "But take your time. I'm in no hurry."

Now she was starting to really weird him out. "Don't worry," he spoke up though he was strangely getting a tad bit worried, "It won't take me long to get out of here." He took another step back from her; since when did he back away from anything? "I have some prospects out west." He stated which was true; always had a backup plan in case something goes bust, "All this will be cleaned up in no time."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" she easily sensed, "Please, forgive my forwardness." She stepped forward feeling the dirt crumble beneath her petite feet, "Perhaps…" her head tilted a bit further more awkwardly while her eyes held their focus on his attractive face, "…it's my appearance that makes you uncomfortable or perhaps the manner I enjoy looking at you."

"No, I'm fine." He sort of lied, "I can't blame you for wanting to look at me, now can I?" He watched her lips form a soft but broader smile.

"So vain," she sang, "But that's only natural." Her eyes, still without a single blink, scanned his masculine build. "Perhaps…" the angelical melody remained but was lightly tarnished with a more sinister note, "…if you would care to oblige me by allowing me…" her eyes slowly shifted to the entryway into that pit then shifted back to him, "…to partake in what is left of that one…" she lifted her arm and aimed her finger at the nearest cell door.

What; share his food? His eyes glanced to where she pointed then looked back to her. "Well," he wasn't too sure about sharing; always greedy but then again that particular cell was soon to be emptied by the next evening, "I suppose it would be okay; not much left."

"Oh, plenty for what I need it for." She stated broadening her lips into a grin.

The only thing that could possibly be of interest to him was watching another tear into flesh and blood. He always enjoyed when any of his past little critters went into starved animal mode and ruthlessly went crazy beast on any poor mortal. Yet, he didn't understand what she meant by what she needed it for. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the ring of keys. His brows lifted then he quietly moved towards the makeshift steps. As he moved up and into the hallway he could feel her weird eyes burning against his backside. He was getting an understanding of why those like her went the whole suicidal route; she pretty much seemed she was on the verge of going all vampire crack pot. He slipped the key into the lock and unlocked it with one quick turn. His eyes glanced to the right just as she stepped into the hallway. He turned the knob then opened the door; the almost expired item sat limply propped against one of the four walls of the small cell. He stood aside with his eyes following Ruth's silent entrance into the cell; he could easily slam the door and lock her inside but honestly that would be useless.

The twenty-something young woman weakly startled upon opening her eyes and discovering a whole other type of creature other than her captor. She managed to scoot herself back against the corner with her eyes hallowed and shadowed by days of being relentlessly fed upon. Ruth eyed the woman; it had been perhaps a year since the last time she tasted mortal living blood. It had been so long since the hunger could really be felt; something about the handsome devil and watching him ruthlessly bite the woman's tongue from her mouth then rip into her throat made her remember the thrill and pleasure of such actions. Having tasted his blood upon that defensive bite heightened those long forgotten urges. For so long alone within those walls of the abandoned house; the Proctor family having been wiped out by her and buried within their family cemetery plots; such a pleasant memory devouring the innocent lives of a prominent family who had become their own enemy. The memories of their horrified faces built up that long dormant excitement. Each one, one by one; father, mother, adult children, all drained of their life source. They were greedy with their wealth and kept to their residence which aided in the fact not a single outsider cared that they had vanished nearly a hundred years ago.

Awe, sweet memories; thanks to that merciless killer behind her. Her eyes rolled in response to the heightened sense of the waning blood managing to slowly pulse through the woman's trembling and weakened body. Her head rolled then leaned back and those bruised lips parted wide; the fangs, unused for nearly a year, sprouted into two sets at the top and bottom. Her jaw twisted and flexed as she felt the tip of her tongue against those almost forgotten tools of an immortal killer's trade. Her eyes snapped open into their wide dolly shape. Her head jerked side to side as it lowered aiming her eyes down at the terrified and dying woman. With a sudden burst to renewed energy she bolted forward giving the woman not a second to scream. Behind her, standing the open doorway the trigger for her renewed energy stood back watching.

Jerry quickly moved from the doorway; the lifeless woman was viciously thrown from the cell striking the adjacent door then dropped to the floor awkwardly twisted and broken. Well, that was the height of his evening. From the cell he heard a high pitched screech of pure energized excitement. He again stepped into the doorway to see what she had meant by what was needed. Before his eyes he watched exactly what that woman's minimal blood helped Ruth regain. That whiter than death porcelain flesh became shattered by cracks of blue; the veins again feeling the rush of blood. A familiar madness gave new life to the look of her large eyes. Had she gone that long without feeding that every part of her body became void of blood? He knew he couldn't survive like she had. If moving beyond centuries meant you became bored with your way of life, forgetting the thrills of the kill, and becoming a shell of your former glory; he definitely understood desiring death instead. Her body jerked and twisted with surge of minimal blood rejuvenating her stale cells. Her mouth, stained with the woman's blood, held that all too familiar expression of pleasure. He was now growing truly intrigued; it was something he never witnessed before. Perhaps he could be a bit more obliging and see what happens when she gets her fangs into another who is more vital with blood than the other.

He smirked; lifted his hand and coiled his finger urging her from the cell. He watched her head stiffly tilt with question. He simply nodded and stepped back then moved to the other occupied cell. He had plenty to spare; so many other meals to collect. He unlocked the door and swung it open just as she finally made her way back into the hallway. The physical changes about her were being more and more prominent. With just a gesture of his hand he offered her access to the young man he had planned to add to the collective which wasn't necessary now that he would soon leave there. She again tilted her head questioning him. "Be my guest." He urged and watched her eyes shift looking into the cell. With a tensed jerk of her head she swiftly darted into the cell. Eager to watch, he stepped forward and faced the cell. A scream of agony belted from the young man as he was slammed against the wall then jerked forward and brought hard to the cell floor. In less than a second she was on him with all that dormant hunger ripping into the side of his neck with such force blood spurted across the near white wall. It was amazing to witness; she was definitely a violent force to reckon with.

Her screeches and growls echoed against the cell walls as the young man convulsed beneath her; legs and arms jerkily twitching as his life was swiftly sucked from his body. And just as the woman's blood had done, her body was revived and physically displayed it. The dull tone of her hair was spread over with vibrant rich golden tones throughout each smooth twist and curl. The young man went deathly limp; her head bolted upward and large eyes darted toward the kind host. Within those colorless eyes, the blackness of the pupils swarmed outward swallowing the white. Now she had the eyes of a true vampire; a vampire again with life and color. The bluish tint cracked throughout her white flesh pulsated, the veins filled with blood and life. Her mouth was glossy with the thick and rich blood painted over them and covering her chin. She rose effortlessly onto her bare feet which too had regained the long faded etchings of color.

He again stepped back as another lifeless corpse was thrown mercilessly from that cell. The body struck hard sounding broken bones and thudded to the floor. He quickly looked back inside just as she smeared her fingers across her bloodied lips; nails now darkened into the signature claws of a vampire's. She moved before Jerry and looked up at him with no longer colorless eyes but filled with that glossy blackness. To his lips she brought her bloodied fingertip then painted the young man's blood over the shape of his mouth.

"Are you still uncomfortable?" she asked reading his eyes; her voice still that deceptive angelic tone.

"Oh, I'm a lot more comfortable now." He stated then tasted the blood from his lips. Now she looked the part; became obvious what he was looking at right now was the reasons she asked him to oblige her. Perhaps he might develop a thing for older women. Oh, physically she was probably younger than him but immortally she was plenty older; he believed that now.

She gave a soft laugh, "I'm approximately eight hundred and twenty-nine; give or take a day or two."

Okay, she could read his thoughts. Maybe she could read some other thoughts that were beginning to brew inside his morbid but genius brain. She lifted slightly up on her tiptoes bringing her blood glistening lips near his. His brows lifted curiously. "Well, it's been," he felt her lips lightly motion as they grazed against his, "A very, very long time." Oh, she was reading those other thoughts loud and clear; first time he enjoyed the idea of having someone else get into his head. He watched closely as her eyes shifted a bit in response to her thoughts then they returned looking into his. "I believe," her lips practically pressed against his, "It's been maybe a hundred and," she again paused trying to grasp a timeline, "Yes, a hundred and thirteen years; give or take." Now that was a long time; he thought; longer than he could imagine for him. "But," he felt her lick the tip of her tongue across her lips, "How do they say; it's like riding a bike."

Well, he never would have thought that evening would go in such a direction. First he was beyond pissed off that his house was invaded then informed he had to vacate the area which made him even more pissed. Now, he found himself being seduced by the intruding Goldie Locks and his own thoughts were spoken by her angelical voice passed her blood slicked lips. Four hundred years and life still had a way to surprise him. "Doesn't it," she again spoke; not a single thought of his seemed to be safe. Her having fed seemed to have heightened that tricky ability of hers. Damn, why hadn't he developed such a useful ability? "How do you think I feel," she sang so heavenly, "For nearly a hundred years I've lingered around here and then recently something pleasantly unexpected happened," She again developed a fascination with his mouth using that newly blackened claw tip parting his lips studying his recently grown fangs, "You practically showed up on my front lawn splattering it with blood. If it weren't for the likes of you I might have completely forgotten how lovely blood smelled." Speaking she developed a sultriness mingling with that deceptively innocent angelical melody. It was becoming the strangest conversation he has ever had; he thought it, she'd answer verbally. "Okay," she again sang, "I'll stop." And she did with a blink of her blackened eyes, "But you'll have to learn to speak up or take action."

"Fine by me," he commented with those intriguing thoughts developing more. She lowered flat on her bare feet and took a step back. His eyes wandered; took a moment to check her out to get an idea what he would soon discover. There was prominent evidence that beneath the layers of yellowed lace was a figure made of womanly curves. His eyes lifted back up to her face and watched her again smear her fingertips across the slightly drying blood stained over her lips. Closely his eyes focused on her naturally pouting lips as one by one she sucked those bloody fingertips clean. He could only image what it was like to feed for the first time in a year; what a rush she must have felt; almost like a born again virgin experiencing the sexual act after a long trial of celibacy. Oh, he now had a pretty good idea her response would be to something entirely different but similarly pleasurable after having not done so in a hundred and thirteen long, long years. "Tell me," he spoke up, "How was it after not tasting blood for a year?" He was really curious to how she would describe such an experience.

She stepped near the wall to her left and slid her fingers through the slick of splattered blood then again brought them to her lips. With the flat of her tongue began to lick up the length of her fingers; obviously haven't fed in all that time she had no desire to waste one drop. She rubbed her lips together, "Do you remember your first time?" she asked and watched him slightly nod, "Close to that. But nothing really compares to the first time does it." She stepped backwards continuing licking up each finger followed by a soft hum; enjoyed the flavors she hadn't indulged in such a long time. "Amazing what you forget," she explained then slid her pinky into her mouth and sucked it clean, "My advice to you, Jerry, is always treat each one like the first because there will come a time every flavor from each one begins to blend together and becomes tasteless. Perhaps..." she paused leaning back against white wall enjoying all those long forgotten sensations from feeding delivered throughout the body, "That's why I wait so damned long between feedings; so that when I do, I remember how sweet and precious a treat their blood is." Her eyes lightly fluttered as the flavor practically tingled over her tongue. Her head softly moved from side to side as if the flow of blood creating a rhythmic in melody in her mind. Her mind trailed back through her history; all those centuries she had taken advantage of those plentiful pleasures which now seemed as rare as she.

He sure found himself caught up in her words and actions. Surpassing him in centuries she still seemed new to it all; denying herself those pleasures he enjoyed each and every evening gave her an almost rebirth. He was definitely drawn to her; it had been a long while for him having associated with another and she happened to become the first in that long while. He wasn't disappointed; literally having witnessed an instant transformation before his curious eyes. Being intrigued as he was he brought boot over boot moving towards her as she remained pressed back against the wall in a type of euphoria. His eyes wouldn't alleviate from their study of her responses. Her hands were no longer that whiter than death coloration; etched with those blood filled veins; and she touched her face with those slightly blood stained fingers. She was certainly fascinated; couldn't keep her hands off herself which he had no problem watching. Things then got even more interesting; her hands began to tug against the fragile lace dress exposing her shoulders which she quickly caressed.

"It almost burns," she stated with an intoxicated sigh, "As if along with their blood came the heat." Her hands slid down the aged lace of the dress then the length of her blackened claws snagged the delicate yellowed lace and began gathering the skirting up. Her lips, lacking that once bruised tone but highlighted by the dried blood, formed into an intoxicated and pleasured smile. "It almost feels," she commented with a soft giggle, "Like there's a fever all over my body." Her head leaned back against the wall as the dress was gathered higher exposing her now more colorful thighs; the blue intensely cracked throughout the length of her legs to her bare feet. Her eyes grew wide into their large doll-like shape and focused on him. She took one step forward from the wall as her hands gripped the gathered hem of her dress. Her head titled with an almost innocent manner while her hands not so innocently lifted the hem higher. "Tell me, Jerry," she spoke with that unique combination of angelic and lust stepping before him, "Do you feel the heat?" One hand released the dress and quickly grabbed his hand then delivered it beneath the slanted raise of the hem and between her thighs. Releasing his hand she brought hers to the side of his perfectly carved face then leaned bringing her lips before his. "Do you feel the heat, Jerry?" she repeated as her lips brushed against his.

Oh, he was feeling something alright! Perhaps it wasn't the heat that his meals typically radiated; hers was the heat of a vampire bitch in heat. His lips formed into his always suggestive grin then he simply replied, "Yes." then felt her lips curve into a similar grin. Always one to get down to business; he took initiative crushing his lips hungrily against hers immediately tasting the blood staining her lips and flavoring her tongue.

Quickly it twisted into an instantaneous slaughter of an entirely different style and meaning. Two wild and untamed creatures of the same nature colliding in a ritual that was rare between their kinds. Centuries aged vampires kept their distance from one another but when a moment arises and a whole other animalistic hunger is reached a collision is impossible to avoid. Claws lashing, fangs penetrating, and bodies violently collide. Sounds of an unnatural nature are made; screeches, drawn out hisses, growls, and other beastly sounds mingle with distorted human vocals. Walls crack as the pleasurable violence escalates. Blood exchanged through agonizing but pleasingly made wounds. The floor splattered and smeared with blood as bodies twist and roll violently painting the floor. Entwined bodies viciously thwart themselves slamming unnaturally upward against the ceiling. And the finale of such passionate brutality ends as it began; two bodies falling from the ceiling to the floor below in a ferocious combination of screams of exploded satisfaction and roars of an ended slaughter of morbid passions.

Jerry Dandridge moved on after that really weird but damned unexpectedly interesting evening after coming across one of the legendary Ghosts. He learned a thing or two about this endangered species; they weren't a separate species of vampire at all and quite possibly like seeing into the future. He did as he said; packed up and cleared out and took care of his mess. Most likely, the mysterious Ruth would return to her reclusive existence to again not feed for another year which meant she would return to the appearance of a ghostly porcelain doll. Yet, there was one ability Jerry had no idea that odd creature had; when looking into his eyes, having been evolved as she was, she saw into his future and knew that in less than a year he would be no more. Ruth said nothing because, a creature like Jerry Dandridge, he being so vain would never survive when his time came to be a Ghost. She thought it best to leave him in the dark about his fate; no vampire screws with another's destiny and his just happened to be a more permanent death.

As for those who assist in that devilish vampire's destiny; she had seen all their faces within the blackness of Jerry Dandridge's eyes, his future. She saw teenagers Charley Brewster and Amy Peterson and the great performer Peter Vincent of Las Vegas fame. Their fates had only begun for Ruth foresaw the coming of another upon the moment Jerry Dandridge's essence fades into oblivion. His death summons forth a creature that surpasses anything Jerry Dandridge was or might have been. Ruth witnessed Jerry's past, present and future from that moment she had bitten him out of defense; a reason she stepped out from her reclusion for she wanted to witness more. And in his blackened eyes she saw everything in violent flashes throughout her evolved mind. From his beginnings to his end, where everything is linked together and draws forward something not even she would dare cross. She returns to hide away from the world and maintains her ghostly existence and the secrets revealed to her from Jerry's eyes and blood. She pitied the mortals who had no clue what was about to erupt on them, again.

(Author)

So, did I do better? Huh? Huh?

Oh, that's right, Bitches! I did a prequel now I'm gonna do the sequel the way it was meant to be done! As in the first, the remake, it took bits and pieces and literally made a whole other Fright Night that happened to have the same name as the original and character names! So, you're gonna have to hold your damned breaths and wait for it!

MUAH-HA-HA-AH!