C.5
A Human Counterpart
| . . . : . . . |
A/N:
(Bold print represents sign language.)
Please remember that this is first, and foremost, a horror story. Dark themes are very present in this chapter.
| . . . : . . . |
Emmett gripped the heavy drapes and pulled them together. He quickly turned from the window to Edward who was stepping briskly into the room. He couldn't hear it but he knew that Edward was whistling. His puckered lips and the bounce in his step were the only hints. He never knew the tune that he would sound to himself, but he knew it was present.
Their eyes met through the soundless space as Edward tilted his head to the side. His smile faded. He raised his hands to speak to Emmett the only way he could.
You feel sorry for her.
Emmett responded quickly. No.
I may not be able to hear your thoughts, but I can read your face.
Maybe you're going blind.
Edward smiled at him, amused.
Don't worry, my friend. Your time is approaching.
I'm looking forward to it.
He knew his intention from the moment Edward had trapped him into this life of servitude and death that he would make good on his promise to kill him, he knew it well. He prayed for it, and it was only a matter of time.
Take out the meat that is stinking up my basement.
With Edward's final signs, he turned on his heels. Emmett watched the fleeting shadow of the vampire as he walked out of the room and down the hall to his library. It was where he always went before the hunt. It was a sight that Emmett had seen many times before. He didn't know what he did in there, and he was sure that he cared not to know. He had seen Edward's collection once, and he never wanted to see it again.
He took one last peek at the orange-streaked sky through a sliver of fabric before doing what was asked of him; the bidding of a monster, a monster that held his biggest fear over his head – pain and the ability to sever body parts.
He recalled that day well, but cared not to think of it now, but pain and memories are persistent demons.
His hands and eyes worked together in perfect unison as he prepared three plates of food. He carefully measured the portions to ensure they were even, and then gave a tender swipe across the bare rim with a towel. Presentation was everything.
He piled them on a large tray with cups of water then headed to the lowest recesses of the house. It was dark and damp with a new stench that permeated the tight air. He breathed through his mouth the lower he stepped to the basement. The cryptic stink was suffocating as he opened the door at the bottom of the stairwell. The vampire had not drained his first victim from the group, the smell was the proof. He continued to breathe through his mouth, taking shallow breaths.
He placed the tray on a wooden stool that was situated close to the door, then turned up the lighting so he could work on removing the corpse efficiently. He pulled a taser from his pocket and inserted the key into the lock. He didn't want to use the defector on his fellow man. He wasn't the one for violence, but if it would keep them safe then he would. If they should happen to escape he could hold onto one, maybe two, but not three. If they made for the stairs, Edward would know. He would hear their thoughts of escape. He would injure them, and when it was their time to be set free into the backyard, they would suffer. The unnecessary pain was pointless. He didn't want them to suffer more than they had to.
The humans were gathered in the far corner of the cell, bunched up and cowering away from the new light that revealed the horror across from them.
Emmett could smell their stench now. The undeniable sting of urine burned his nostrils and a pail that he had provided them sat in the opposite corner. From the smell of it he knew that it had been used. It was the first time he had cared for victims in this way. The devil that lived above them would not have cared if the humans urinated themselves. He would have laughed. He would have cackled at the very sight of it. He would have called them weak and pathetic when they were already down on their knees pleading for their very lives.
Emmett brought his hand up to tell them to stay back, but they didn't need to be told. He watched them closely as he grabbed onto the hand of the body, the man they called Mike. He dragged the limp and rotting carcass from the cell then placed the tray in before closing and locking the door. He watched them for a moment while they loosened their grip on one another. They stared back in silence.
Emmett's hand fell from the bar with an exhale as he studied their faces. He had seen that look before on many different occasions, but these expressions carried more than fear. There was an undeniable sadness. What else would there be? They were at the end of their life. Death had their numbers in his hand; he only had to call them for it to be final.
He had filled their shoes only briefly, but it was false. His fate would be worse than death. What could be worse than serving Death himself?
The feel of dead flesh did not threaten him from slipping the single ring off Mike's icy finger. He did it quickly with only slight resistance from its keeper. He examined the little thing in his palm briefly. He felt the weight of the metal and noted the intricate lines on the sides. It was a senior class ring. He had one briefly, but lost it after giving it to an ex-girlfriend. Silly high school romanticisms.
Out of his normal routine of removing the belongings from the body and placing them aside for Edward to sort through, Emmett stood from his crouched position then walked back to the cell. He held out the ring through the bars, nodding his head with an open palm. It was Jessica that stepped to him slowly and pinched the ring in her shaking fingers.
She said something to him. The way her mouth moved it looked to be "thank you". He hadn't fully learned to read lips yet and in this dim lighting he was even less sure. He only went back to his duties of covering up the murder that he helped commit. He had not personally killed this boy, but he did nothing to stop it from happening. He was guilty all the same. And he would not leave remains to rot without proper disposal. He would show this boy the last bit of kindness left in this house, as he did with all the others before him.
He opened another door in the same room, dragged the body through, and then closed it when it had cleared the swing of the thick wooden frame. Beads of sweat dripped from his skin as he stuffed the body into the large, roaring furnace. He ignored the grim, blood, and open wounds, but the smell this close was entirely different.
His decay was apparent and had been accelerated due to the massive gashes and holes in his flesh, even in the cool confines of the basement. It was a different type of rot than the others he had burned, which were normally taken care of right away. Edward had not allowed Emmett to touch this one. Instead, he watched as it was taken easily away to torture the ones that had been allowed to keep their lives.
He absently watched the body burn for a few moments then closed the iron door to the furnace. The skin would melt from the bone and soon become nothing more than mere ash. He decided that he would dump the ashes in the small stream that ran close to the house. It would be a decent ceremony, even if he was the only one that would attend.
=x=
The night was quickly swallowing all that Bella could see. The moonlight was pale and stricken, causing her sight to be limited. It seemed darker tonight than it had been previously, and she noted that she had been doing the exact same thing twenty-four hours ago. Only now, she wasn't looking for a familiar face. She wasn't looking for hope of discovery. She was looking for a way to escape and her thoughts tangled on how to save the remaining three.
Every angle was lost in the shadows. Every piece of light faded from inside her soul when his face turned horrid and rigid.
She didn't remember when she started crying, but once her movements halted in the thick surroundings her fingers swept against her cheeks. She sniffled and her body turned erratically at the sound of movement to the left of her. Branches cracked under the weight of a body, or did they fall from a tree? Bella couldn't be sure. She squinted in the dim light, her breath picked up and she moved quickly away from the sound.
It could be him, she thought. Anything that she hears or sees could be him. She did not trust him to keep his word about midnight. Even if he did, what chance did she have against something like him? What would keep her from his cold, bony fingers that wanted nothing more than to kill her?
It all seemed hopeless no matter what idea she thought of. She knew that she would never be fast enough to outrun him. If his words held any truth, then he would read her thoughts and know her plans, but still she pressed on.
For a half-hour she walked over spiny tentacles of barbed wire, overgrown brush, and fallen logs. She listened to the nocturnal sounds of wildlife, hoping that it would bring her comfort to keep her mind from wandering to death and its ability to find her. Fireflies blinked through the trees, a beautiful note in a symphony of fear.
Not far away a faithful whippoorwill cast its premonition into the darkness to anybody that would listen.
The skirt of the dress snagged on everything she stepped over, and Bella constantly had to pull it from the ground. She continued to mind the branches that reached for her as she wandered into the furthest reaches of the forest.
"The campsite should be around here somewhere. If I can find that, then I can find my way to the road," she said absently to herself. She charted the drive in her head. They had passed a small town on the way, roughly ten miles away. It would take her more time than she was allotted if she walked. Her only option was to hitch-hike.
When she looked up, the weave of trees had disappeared in the filter of the blue moonlight. There was blackness ahead, as if something was obscuring her vision. Her steps quickened, but were still mindful as her feet were bare and vulnerable.
As she closed in on the object, she reached out to touch it. It's rough texture and crevices caused her heart to sink, all hope fading with it. Her eyes trailed the monstrosity until its dark figure met the sky and trees.
The wall.
=x=
"Something is missing," Edward said as his fingers bounced along the book spines on the shelf. Without looking he pulled one out then took a peek at its interior. It didn't amuse him. He tossed it over his shoulder and it landed with a loud, shuffled thump on the floor. Hours had passed since he released the girl, and the time to hunt was getting closer, but that didn't help his patience.
He continued to walk down the parallel lines of the bookcases, his fingers always on the old columns. He pulled out another, took a peek, and then tossed it over his shoulder once again. "I can't quite put my finger on it."
"Nothing seems to satisfy me anymore. No lingering thought or a careless whisper goes untouched. I should delight in it." He recalled these words he had spoken days before as he said them aloud once again. They were still true. Even after playing with the girl and knowing that he would soon take part in another hunt he found himself exasperated at the idea that she would be found.
They were always found.
"Perhaps it is time for a new game," he said. "Maybe I should find something else to do in addition to this. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love to sniff them out in the darkness. The anticipation is what excites me most, but after that it turns… dull."
Two books flew off the shelf by his hands. They soared across the library and hit the wall with an astounding thud. The scent of the old books – centuries old paper and the crisp, metallic ink – soared from the rustling pages. He could almost detect the origin of the books, each one, to him, smelled differently than the other, but no matter where they yielded, he loved the scent.
They had kept him sane for many years while he was a newborn. He read the folklore and myths that concentrated on his species, but he came to find that most of the tales were false. He thought it a good thing that he wouldn't burn in the sunlight or couldn't be killed by a stake through the heart.
He detested the smell of garlic but that had nothing to do with what he was. He had hated it when he was mortal.
Crucifixes were a fascination but only because of their morbid history.
Yes, he liked crucifixes very much.
But there was nothing that could hold him. There wasn't a whisper he couldn't hear, or a thought or book that had gone untouched. Soon, the majority of his library content was in the middle of the floor.
Edward un-characteristically allowed his eyes to close for a long moment while he paced. His fingertips dragged on one of the glass casings that contained one of his favorite specimens. He stopped and turned to the preserved head; its obsidian pigment his salvation against the dull ache of repetition.
He stared for a long moment. "Perhaps a favorite?" He seemed to ask the article. An eye on the head seemed to wink.
"Yes," he chanted to himself repeatedly as the thick heels of his shoes collided with the floor. He pulled the book from its rightful place among his collection and he held it up high above his head with a full smile. "A favorite, gentlemen!"
The title on the spine was faded, its gold flecks a reminder of what once was.
Dracula.
He opened the tattered pages to where he had left off from several months ago then sat down on the chair. He appeared to shift and crossed one leg over the other knee in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. He held the book spine regally in his palm as he smoothed the page down with the other.
His hand was in his hair, pushing the fallen locks out of his face as his fingertips and palm slid over his scalp. "Now, let's see… ah, right… here we are." He eyed the glass cases before beginning to read aloud.
"The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that Lucy and her mother might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastly formalities, and the urbane undertaker proved that his staff was afflicted, or blessed, with something of his own obsequious suavity.
"Even the woman who performed the last offices for the dead remarked to me, in a confidential, brother-professional way, when she had come out from the death chamber, 'She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It's quite a privilege to attend on her. It's not too much to say that she will do credit to our establishment!'."
Edward's voice wasn't as thick as it usually was when he read his favorite piece of literature; it was now dwindling and empty, much like him. He clenched his jaw, his keen teeth grinding into the others. "No," he whispered as he closed the book then set it on the small, round table next to him. "This will not do. This will not do at all."
It was as if there was an obstacle in his mind that blocked him from resolution. What absence he felt. What would it take to cure this state? He had asked the very same question days earlier to a victim he housed very briefly; more brief than the absent Bella Swan.
A groan slipped from his throat. The thought of her hiding in the darkness absorbed his senses. The way that her dark hair flowed over the cream-colored pillow, her pale skin in the moonlight, and the way her pounding heart increased in velocity when he touched her. He had forgotten the desire that women could feel. No one looked at him as a sexual being, except for the foolish, or fearless.
And she smiled at him… smiled… at the monster. He never recalled his prey smiling at him, even when his red irises were shielded by humans. His very presence repelled even the most absent minds, as if they knew that he was dangerous and out of sorts. And they were right.
It had been months since he had fed from a woman. Most of his victims had always been men. They were the most interesting to hunt, but women were sweeter, more like a dessert than a meal.
A low rumbled of frustration came from his chest as the hands on the clock told how much longer he'd have to wait to venture into the backyard. "I'm bored."
His head lolled as he sat in an antique chair in the center of the room. It wasn't his favorite, but the concern of material things wasn't heavy on his mind – the hunt was. He took a concentrated breath of air, even though he didn't need it.
In a desperate attempt to allow his mind to lax, he moved swiftly from the chair and stepped around the scattered remains of his library. The magical and factual pages lied open to the ceiling or face to the floor. Before walking out the door he stopped and turned to face the new clutter. His face scrunched then released.
"I'll think about that tomorrow." He almost sighed.
His wandering steps led him to the darkest recesses of the house; the basement. It was without the faintest hint of sobs or words being exchanged but he was assured of their vitality when he increased the lighting and saw them in their usual places. They were, again, huddled into the back corner away from the cell door. They had heard footsteps in the stairwell coming down and hoped it to be the bigger man. He was satisfied at their disappointment.
He approached the cell. "I need the boy."
They exchanged glances.
The dark-haired boy, whom Edward understood from thoughts to be Eric, stepped forward without a word. He wasn't surrendering, only protecting the woman he loved and his friend from this man. Although he didn't quite know who or what he was dealing with, he wouldn't be called a coward again. Edward smiled. How right the boy was. If he refused the invitation he would be criticized once again for being yellow, then he would take him anyway.
Human males today held no honor unless there was a prize, or a punishment in the end. Edward always used this to his advantage.
"No worries, ladies. He'll be back soon," Edward directed to the cell. "After you." He held the door open for Eric.
He glanced over his shoulder with a furrowed brow and a concentrated gaze, not knowing if it would be the last time he would see Angela again. She was at the bars, holding onto them as he disappeared behind the wooden door. He repeated sentiments in his head as he walked up the stairs. He thought of ways he could fight the man behind him, but his confidence was an invisible front.
"You will regret trying to escape, I assure you," Edward said to him.
The statement closed Eric's thoughts on the subject.
When they entered the library, Edward gestured to the room. "Please, make yourself at home. There is some bourbon in that glass jar that I keep for just this occasion. Help yourself."
"No, I'm okay," Eric said. The books on the floor were the first thing he noticed, then it was the various trinkets that Edward had collected, including the heads that were darkened in their glass cases. A breath escaped as his eyes adjusted. He questioned silently if they were real or a figment of his imagination. Had he spent too much time in the dark?
"I assure you, they are quite real," Edward answered his internal ponderings proudly.
"Please sit," Edward motioned to the sofa as he sat in the chair he had occupied earlier. He rested his chin delicately on his bent fingers as Eric took a seat quietly across from him. It was a short moment when Edward's lazy gaze met Eric's intense eyes before he spoke. "You're an intelligent man, Eric. Intelligent but dumb."
"Excuse me?" Eric furrowed his brow, confused.
"You're book smart, but when it comes to life in the real world you're absent. No offense is meant. It's merely an observation."
Eric shook his head with a scoff of annoyance and fear. "You don't know me."
"I don't have to know you." A smile tickled Edward's lips.
"What do you want?" Eric asked.
"Tell me, what do you see in here?" Edward gestured to the space around them.
Eric studied the room briefly before speaking then said lazily, "A collection of a crazy person?"
"Don't be a smartass, Eric. I don't like that. Tell me what you see."
Silence.
Edward rose from his chair to pour Eric a small swig of bourbon. "Here," he said handing him the tumbler, "this will help you relax. You're far too stiff."
Edward chuckled, which confused Eric as he shakily took the offer from Edward, but he dared not drink it. The base rested in his palm as he held onto it gently with his fingertips.
"I'll tell you what I see, Eric. I see a man who has everything, yet nothing," Edward said as he circled around to the backside of the small sofa. He came to rest behind his guest.
"But it is new to me, this situation."
"What situation?" Eric asked nervously. He didn't turn around.
"Having so many guests in my house at once. I am so unsure of what to do with all of you. It is why you are all in a cell. I didn't have enough rooms."
"Where is Bella? Is she alive?"
Edward's jaw pulsed as he ground his teeth together. His hands had absently started to move toward Eric but he restrained them to his side. He moved around to his chair again.
"Bella is safe, for now, but what about you? Aren't you concerned for yourself, or for your girlfriend? Yes, I know you are. I had you mistaken last night for someone else, a coward that I've come across time and time again. It was Michael who was the coward, wasn't it?"
A brief glimpse into Edward's eyes caused Eric to look to the floor quickly. He couldn't stand looking at him. He was disgusted with him, and with himself. He should have stopped Mike when he had the chance because he knew the outcome his actions would have, and he was right. Mike's death was preventable.
"You're angry with me," Edward stated.
"I'm angry with myself. My feelings for you are something else entirely."
Edward nodded slightly in understanding. "I know the feeling. I have felt what you have felt – what you're feeling now. You want to kill me and burn this house to the ground then piss on its ashes. I have been there."
"I don't understand why you're doing this," Eric said.
Edward shrugged. "Would you believe me if I said I was bored?"
Eric said nothing.
"As a matter of fact, I'm bored now, which is why you're here. I enjoy conversations. You have provided me with some entertainment," Edward paused and looked to the clock, "but I still have an hour and a half left until midnight. What do you do when you're bored, Eric?"
"Play games on my computer," he said lightly. He wondered what significance midnight held.
Edward chose to not answer his internal pondering. He pressed on with questions of his own. "What type of games?"
"I don't know… the generic ones?"
"Ever play chess?"
"Yes."
A smile stretched across Edward's face. "You look like the chess-playing type. Play a game with me."
The notion made Eric want to laugh but he didn't. He wasn't about to play a game with the man that wanted to kill him. "No," he said in a disinterested tone.
Edward's head tilted slightly and his smile faded. His head began to unravel with possibilities. "What if we played for your freedom, or Angela's freedom? Would you play then?"
Suddenly, the disinterest was wiped from Eric's face. His eyes met the killer's and held his stare. "You wouldn't let anyone go."
"I am a gentleman, and a gentleman never goes back on his word. I swear that I will set you or Angela free if you win."
"And, what if you win?"
"Then you go back into the cell with your girlfriend. What more do you have to lose?"
Eric thought about it for a moment. What did he have to lose? How could he refuse an offer such as the one that this man was giving? He was going to set him or Angela free, but why would he do that?
"Why would you be willing to set one of us free? There has to be something in it for you."
"I already told you, I'm bored," Edward said. He stood and carefully stepped over the chaotic maze of books on the floor, careful not to trample on their covers, even though he had trashed them onto the wooden floor. He pulled a glass chess set that was tucked securely away on the shelf next to jars of fingers in formaldehyde. "It's a way to pass the time and make it interesting all the same."
The coffee table between his chair and where Eric sat was littered with various contents. "Move all that stuff on the table."
Eric quickly leaned forward and began to move the contents aside, just enough room for the board. An impatient growl rumbled from Edward's throat. "Just… move it." He put his thick shoe on the table and slid everything off, including the antique vase that chipped when it hit the wooden floor.
"If you don't mind, I like playing the clear pieces," Edward said as they began to set the board up.
Eric nodded, not sure what to say as he aligned the frosted pawns.
Once they had finished, Edward gestured for Eric to open. He folded his fingers together and rested his lips on them while he waited for Eric to make the move he already knew he was going to make.
He calculated too much, but moved his first pawn from the front line. Edward followed with a knight.
The game carried on for ten minutes.
Edward grinned, and put his King in harm's way purposely. He could have had Eric in checkmate in five moves, but what would the fun be in that?
Eric froze when he saw the move, and his thoughts erupted in joy. He moved his bishop to declare checkmate.
"Checkmate," Eric said with a sharp breath. He could have jumped from his skin. He had won!
"It appears I am a bit rusty," Edward said, and laid his king down in defeat.
Eric rose from the sofa. "Now let her go."
The intensity in Eric's voice surprised Edward. "Relax, I told you I'm a man of my word. Do you want to do it now?"
"Yes."
"Then let's go to the basement and tell her the good news," Edward responded.
He led him to the basement where Angela and Jessica paced back and forth. When the wooden door opened and Eric walked through, Angela grabbed for the bars.
"Eric!" she cried. Tears perked from her lids and dripped onto her already wet cheeks. "I thought I was never going to see you again!"
She grabbed at the front of his shirt and pulled at him through the cell in an attempt to get close to him in any way that she could.
Behind her, Jessica folded her arms over her stomach as pain radiated from her core at the sight. She would never get to hold Mike like that again.
"Eric won in a battle of wits for your freedom," Edward said, interrupting the moment. "I've come here to honor our agreement and set you free."
The thick air became stagnant with two-sided emotions. Angela pulled back and stared at her love partially in her arms. "What?" she questioned quietly.
"He's… letting you go," Eric said gently with hope in his voice.
"No!" Jessica screamed. "No! What about me? What about me?" She flew to the bars and stuck the front of her face between the cold metal that held her prisoner. "What about me!"
Her questioning scream echoed from the cement walls as she glared at Eric.
"Consider yourself lucky to see another day," Edward said. He pulled the keys from his pocket, shooing Eric away so that he could open the cell.
As soon as the door swung and creaked from the hinges, he closed a hand around Angela's arm and pulled her out before she had a chance to turn to her friend. Jessica attacked the bars as the cell door slammed closed.
"No, No! Don't leave me down here! Angela! Eric! Don't leave me!" she shoved her hand through and tried to grab Angela but she was out of reach. Her sodden face attracted the flakes of rust onto her skin and tore from the metal as she pulled away to go to another apart of the cell to try to grab her friend again.
Angela turned to Jessica. "I'll get help," she said quietly. "I promise I won't leave you. I promise."
Jessica rattled the bars and threw herself into the walls of the cage as Edward pulled Angela and Eric out of the room. She was left alone in the dim light of the basement. The last of her sanity left when the locks turned over from the other side.
"Please!" she continued to scream. "Please! Don't leave me!"
As they climbed the stairs from the basement door Jessica's pleads didn't fade, they became louder and turned unrecognizable. They were frightened, un-humanlike screams that held no meaning other than that of madness. It turned Angela's stomach to hear her child-hood friend make those sounds. Guilt weighed heavy in her chest as she continued to walk further away from the basement. But she would get help and bring it back. She wouldn't leave Jessica. Even the most noble thought couldn't drive away the stream of tears.
When they reached the top of the staircase, Edward opened the thick door and pulled them both through to the main level of the manor. He released them, trusting that they would follow him, and they did.
Angela reached for Eric's hand and he grasped onto it willingly as they followed behind Edward through the darkened halls. They savored the last moments they would spend before she was released. He pulled her to his side and squeezed the flesh at her waist. He wanted to remember the feel of her against him. He wanted to memorize her scent, even if it wasn't the most pleasant. There was doubt in his mind that he would ever know her in any way ever again.
It was a walk that they didn't want to end.
When they reached the door, Edward turned to the couple. They were already locked in a tight embrace and showed no signs of release.
"Are you sure of your decision?" Edward asked. "You want her to be released, and not you?"
"Yes," Eric stated with a lingering despair.
"So be it." Edward pulled the couple apart and before Eric could react, Edward had already opened the door and was hauling Angela outside into the wicked night. He tossed her to the concrete.
"You have until midnight to get as far away from the house as possible," Edward said as he smoothed the upset vest at his stomach. "When midnight comes, I'll be coming after you… or Bella… whichever one I catch first."
"You bastard!" Eric yelled and picked up a small vase nearby. He launched it at Edward, but he dodged it without looking. It shattered on the concrete near Angela, who was confused at the situation. What had just happened?
"You said you would set her free!" Eric yelled and went to attack Edward with his fists.
Edward delivered a swift kick to Eric's chest which sent him back into a small end table in the sunroom. It shattered under the weight of the boy.
Edward turned back to Angela. "Shoo, go on," he said pointing to the thick forest, then shut the door and locked it.
Eric gasped for air as he lay on his back. "You said… you'd… let her go," he heaved.
A cold hand grasped around his neck and picked him up from the rubble, his feet dangled inches above the floor. "Are you calling me a liar?" Edward hissed.
"Yes," Eric choked out against the hand closing around his windpipe.
"I did set her free. I failed to mention the conditions of her release, but nevertheless I held my word."
"Fuck… you."
Edward brought Eric's body back and slammed him effortlessly into the pile of broken wood. He picked him up again and tossed him into the wall. Eric's body went limp after the harsh impact.
The vampire smoothed his hair back away from his face and stuck his nose in the air. A deep inhale of the new air smelled faintly of fresh blood, but not much. The boy's wounds were small and would more than likely clot within thirty minutes. He was, indeed, unconscious but not for long.
Edward left Eric in the sunroom as he went for duct tape. When he returned he taped Eric's hands together, then his feet, and then placed him in a chair. He left him there as he retreated into the darkened halls once again. The time to hunt would be soon.
=x=
Angela ran through the forest away from the house, doing exactly as she was told. Her heart pounded but not from exertion, it was from fear; fear that she would never see Eric again, fear of what that man would do to him. She staggered over broken branches and fallen logs as she felt her way through the darkness. The moon only filtered slightly through the cloak of leaves and branches above her. She didn't recall it being so dark last night, or so silent.
Last night she had heard crickets and frogs, and they were ever present, only not as loud.
"Help!" she called over the tears then screamed, "Someone help me!"
She slowed her pace to a walk and continued for ten minutes while continuously calling out for anyone that might hear her. The campsite they had been at was nearly remote. But this place could be anywhere. She recalled being attacked at the river then waking up in the cell. She was unconscious when she was brought here. There could be houses around.
"Someone please help me!"
A voice seemed to respond to her and she stopped. It came again. Was it her name being called?
"Hello?" she moved forward timidly.
The voice erupted from the bushes ahead. "Angela!"
"Bella?"
"Oh my God, Angela!" Bella said loudly and moved from the bush and towards her friend. The gown thrashed and flowed wildly around her legs. If Angela didn't know better, she would have thought she were a ghost.
The space between the two friends closed as they met in a forceful, yet relieved embrace. Angela clutched to Bella's back and held her tightly against her.
"Bella! What are you doing out here?" she asked.
"Ang, I'm so glad that you're okay! I've been out here for hours." She pulled away from her friend. "What time is it?"
The terror on Bella's face was frightening. She was crazed, wild. "I think it's almost midnight," Angela responded.
"We don't have time, Ang. He's going to be out here soon. He'll be coming after me. Come on." Bella, out of breath, began to pull Angela deeper into the woods.
"We have to get into town and find a police station. He killed Mike!"
"I know," Bella said with a sigh. She stopped and turned, grabbing Angela by the shoulders. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes," Angela said with no hesitation. "Why?"
"Because what I'm about to tell you is crazy, but you have to believe me, and you have to trust me, okay?"
"I'll believe you, Bella. Tell me!"
Bella took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart. The words would come out wrong, or jumbled if she didn't calm down. "I'll tell you as we walk. When I woke up yesterday, I came looking for y'all. I walked forever until I reached his house. He asked me to stay the night…"
"Why?"
"Because he's a killer. He's going to kill us if we don't get help, although I'm not sure anyone can help us now." Bella swallowed her doubt and continued with her story, trying to find the right words before she spoke. "Anyways, when I woke up this morning, he asked me to spend the day with him. I was stupid, but I'm glad that I did. At least I found out where you were. This isn't the first time he's done this."
"What do you mean?" Angela asked.
"He's the reason that so many people have gone missing, I just know it."
"How do you know all this?"
"Because he showed me his library. There are heads in there, human heads! Fingers, toes, hundreds of locks of hair. Everything in his house belonged to his victims. He told me so… including this dress."
"Why are you wearing that?"
Bella shook her head and moved branches out of the way. Twigs and rocks buried into the soles of her feet, but that pain was the least of her worries now. "He gave it to me to wear to dinner. He wanted me to dress up."
Angela nearly dug her heels into the ground. "Slow down, please. I think we're far enough away that he won't catch us."
"You don't understand, Angela. He will find us." The next words out of her mouth were going to be the hardest. How could she word it? What would Angela say in response? "He's not human," was all she could say.
"Not human? Bella, what do you mean?"
"I think he's a vampire."
"Vampires don't…" Angela tried to dismiss it, but Bella cut her off.
"Don't exist, I know. But what if they did? What if vampires are real? What if he is one? You have to trust me, Angela. The way that he moves and speaks, his teeth and his eyes, and the way that his face changed when he let me go a few hours ago. It wasn't human. Not to mention, he can read minds."
"You're scaring me," Angela said.
"I'm sorry, but you have to know this. He can read your thoughts. He told me what I was thinking earlier when we were at the table. He told me everything that I thought since I had been there. Everything, Ang."
"So, if he is a…vampire, then what do we do?"
Bella was relieved that Angela didn't ask anymore questions about what she knew or how she knew it. Angela had always been a skeptic of the paranormal and cryptic myths. "You're right that we need to get to the police, but there is a problem. Do you remember that big, brick wall we saw yesterday? The one that Mike took us to?"
"Yes," Angela said.
"You were right about that wall. It's meant to keep things in. He turns us lose then tells us to get as far away as possible, but we can only go as far as the wall. It's his guarantee that we don't get away, but we're going to beat him at his own game."
"That wall is like fifteen feet high. We're never going to get over it!"
"We won't, but you will," Bella said as she turned to her friend. "I was at that wall for an hour trying to figure out how to get over it. At one part, is a tree next to it that has a branch too high for me to reach, but if you stand on my shoulders, you could reach it and swing to the top of the wall then jump down on the other side."
"No! Bella, I can't!" Angela protested shaking her head.
"Yes, you can! I don't have shoes, and I'm in this dress! I can hold him off while you go get help. Do you still have your car keys?"
"Yes, but I can't leave you! I won't! I already had to leave Jessica. I can't leave you!"
"You have to! Don't worry about me! Come on, it's right ahead! We have to hurry!" Bella said in a hushed tone.
They continued to the wall. It seemed bigger now than it had yesterday, an impossible feat. Angela was sure she wouldn't be able to get over it and down without sustaining an injury or two. The possibilities of pain were heavy but she tried not to dwell on it. She shut her eyes on the thought to focus on the task she had to face. This was a matter of life and death. If she and her friends wanted to live it was up to her.
Bella bent her knees slightly so that Angela had a way to climb on her shoulders. "Hurry," she whispered forcefully, "he'll be out here any time now! Use my legs to get on my shoulders and raise yourself up on the tree. You'll have to climb a few more branches up, but it's possible. Just remember those trees we used to climb in middle school. This is no different."
Angela nodded and began to do what Bella had told her to do. When she was on top of Bella's shoulders she reached up and grabbed the first branch that she could reach at almost arm's length. She pulled herself up, using her feet as leverage to get on the branch fully. "I did it," she announced in a triumphant whisper.
"Good! Go ahead and climb over, I'll be here the whole time."
"Okay," Angela said with a shaky voice that was beginning to be overrun with tears, drowning her confidence. She forced herself to climb higher and higher until she could see the top of the wall. Her body protested against every move she made, but adrenaline pushed her to move forward.
The moonlight shaped the square top, but there was something else, too. Shadows rose from the top of the brick. It was an odd obscurity that she couldn't be sure of at this distance but the more she stared, the more obvious it became.
Her heart sank at the sight. There was no surface that they didn't cover. Tiny, knife-like prongs sat a-top the summit of the wall. They weren't high, but rather short to be hidden. If she was to jump on top, she would receive serious wounds.
They would pierce through the rubber soles of her shoes, and cut her flesh.
"Bella!" she whispered frantically.
"What?"
"There are sharp things sticking up on top. If I get on it, it'll cut me."
"Shit," Bella hissed.
Angela appeared at the lowest branch a minute later. When Bella had helped her back to the ground, hope faded. "What do we do?" Angela asked.
"I don't know."
"Could we hide?"
Bella shrugged. "I don't know. We have to get over that wall."
"There is no way over it. Could we go around it?"
"He's smarter than that. He wouldn't leave any part of the wall vulnerable."
"I'm so scared," Angela whispered. "We have to hide. We have to try."
Bella reached for Angela's hand and held onto it. They began to move again, unsure of their direction or where they would end up, but Bella knew no matter where they were in the woods, or how far they could get away from the house, he would find them. It was only a matter of time, and time was a luxury they didn't have.
In the distance, away from worry and burden, he stepped into the night. The air around him swirled with lost scents, but they weren't the ones he was looking for. He swallowed the air, gulped it greedily to taste the flavors. It was rich with July's honeysuckles which dangled from the vines along the wall near his manor.
The human aromas were already absent, carried away by the breeze, but they would linger on the grass and trees. He stepped down from the cement stairs after locking the door behind him and stuffing the keys into a pocket of his black slacks. The soles of his shoes were silent against the cement as he walked through his garden.
He imagined how his prey had felt as they darted across the lawn, the emotions they had, the way their body reacted to the heat. He lowered himself to the grass on his hands and knees and began to inhale the earth. His eyes fluttered violently at the scent of his prey, the freshest trail that led into the woods.
Then he surrendered.
He surrendered his mind to the hunt, and his body reacted to the change. His pupils grew; adjusting to the night. His lips pulled back from his fangs; ready to sink into the flesh of a new victim.
There was nothing that could separate him between his mouth and the blood that could cure the fire that now seared his throat. He pulled in another breath, the scent clawing at his chest, begging him to find it.
He rose from the ground, and instantly tore into the tree-line. His arms pumped at his side, propelling him forward.
He jumped over obstacles, clearing them by twenty feet.
He stepped off the trees forcefully, shaking the trunks to the peak. Savage, beastly growls shook his frame as he ran faster, stepped livelier than he ever had before.
Two victims waited for him in the night, and one would become his prey.
"Do you hear that?" Bella asked stopping mid-stride.
Angela's breath staggered. "Hear what?"
Bella readied the sturdy, thick stick she had picked up a few minutes earlier. She listened for the sound again but there was nothing but silence. There were no crickets or frogs, or nocturnal birds. She moved forward in the darkness, holding her make-shift weapon with both hands. If something came at her, she was prepared to strike at it.
She turned in every direction, searching for movement but nothing moved.
A flick of blackness in the corner of her eye caught her attention.
Silence.
"Bella?" Angela whispered as the silence became even more still.
A quick movement swept Angela from her feet and to the ground beside them. He wrapped a hand around her neck and brought the girl to her feet so she could meet his eyes.
He crushed his hand around her throat, closing her lungs off to the oxygen. Her face contorted unnaturally as she already began to starve for air.
"You're bleeding," he said to her gruffly.
Bella turned. "Let go of her!"
Edward looked to her. She could almost see the red tint in his eyes, and the cruel angles on his face that countered with a smile. "No."
She charged him, the sharpest end of the stick angled at his torso. Her intent was to kill, but she was unsure if she would be able to.
Edward grabbed the end of the stick and pulled her into him. He knocked the wood away and dug his fingertips into her throat harshly.
"Wait your turn," he said against her mouth before pushing her forcefully to the ground.
He pulled Angela into him, flushing her body with his as he readied his hands around her waist, and gripped her hair, pulling it towards the ground. He stuck his nose below her ear and inhaled deeply. She squirmed more violently when she felt his chest vibrate. A low rumble, followed by a savage breath touched her ear. He moved down and allowed his tongue to touch the base of her neck. It dragged languidly up the hollow, leaving a thick, burning wetness in its wake.
Her heart pounded in her chest, the pulse in her neck throbbed in unison. She was hot, tense, and sweltered. "Ripe," Edward whispered softly against her skin.
It was in that instant that everything changed. The world around her seemed to flash brightly as a searing pain gnawed at her neck. The stars became clearer and the trees became sharper as the monster attached himself to the new lesion he created. A grip around her body became tighter, stealing the breath from her body, seizing her as still as a corpse. Her arms flailed against his shoulders and back, but they, too, became still.
She felt the dire need to scream, as if it were the right thing to do. A scream might scare this thing away, but the grip around her body refused her the right. A cry filled her ears as she felt herself slipping away from the woods.
Bella screamed at him as his fingernails clawed at Angela's waist, his mouth gaped open onto her skin as he tore into her. He burrowed his teeth into her neck further, into the cavity that he was creating with each clamp of his fangs.
Rocks and twigs dug into Bella's feet as she pushed off the ground towards the vampire. Hate propelled her forward to claw him away from her friend's body, but he was there to counter her move. He slipped his hand around her throat and squeezed. She struggled, and tried to pull his hand away with her own.
He discarded the bloody corpse on the forest floor before he slammed his new prey into a tree. Bella gasped as the action knocked the breath from her lungs. His wet, red lips were inches from her face, his breath coating her mouth.
He closed in on her face, transferring Angela's blood from his lips and cheeks to hers. He smeared it on her with his tongue and bathed her mouth in the bitter, copper liquid.
She tried to escape from his grasp, squirming from her neck down. She managed to get a hand to his hair and pulled at his long, slick strands. He merely laughed and moved his head against her force.
He liked the feeling of his hair being pulled.
She spit her friend's blood from her mouth back at her aggressor and he laughed again. His lips pulled away from his carnivorous grin that gleamed red in the leaked moonlight.
In that moment if there lay any doubt in her mind that he was human it faded. This man was not as she. The shriek of horror that was rising from Bella's chest was closed off by Edward's forceful hand. He held her tightly, pinning her against the tree so that she couldn't struggle anymore.
"You know now." She knew that he was what he said he was. His sharp tongue plowed across her cheek, coating it once again with a streak of red. A beastly growl tore from his lips at the taste of her sweltered skin. "You taste good."
Let me go, Bella thought. There was no purpose in trying to speak with his hand closed around her throat.
"Now, why would I want to do that?"
This isn't a fair fight.
Edward chuckled. "Vampire… nothing is going to be fair."
Are you afraid that you're going to lose if you play fair?
He slammed the back of her head against the bark and rattled her neck angrily. "I never lose at my own game."
Then make this a fair fight if you have nothing to lose… put me down!
Her proposal intrigued him.
Edward released his grip on her, causing her to fall to the ground harshly. She clutched at her neck, coughed, and gasped for air.
"What is it that you're proposing?" he asked.
Through her tears and shrunken windpipe she spoke groggily. "I'll never be able to out run you, but it doesn't help that I had high heels when you sent me out here."
…I can barely walk in them in the first place…
"Why do you want to prolong the inevitable?"
"You're scared," Bella coughed.
Edward ground his teeth together. How dare this insignificant being say that he is scared. What would he be frightened of?
"You're making a big mistake," he said. "Do you think it wise to play with a vampire?"
"No," Bella straightened up, "but it's funny as hell."
He considered her offer for a moment and searched her thoughts, but found nothing. The only lingering notion was that of a fair fight and delaying death. She wanted time.
"I will agree to your proposal. I'm feeling full for the night, anyhow. You require shoes?"
My shoes…
"And water," Bella added. Her eyes trailed to the body of Angela but she looked away quickly.
"Then you shall have it." Edward approached her again, backing her into the same tree. "But I want you to know, that when I find you tomorrow night, you will bleed slowly. I have a special room for those that want to delay their death, and it will know you," he hissed. "I will bathe in your blood and spit on your ashes."
He spat his venom-rich saliva in her face. She wiped the poison away quickly, knowing that the burn on her skin was unnatural.
"I do love a good fight, and you'll make things interesting, won't you? Tomorrow," he whispered. "I will enjoy finding you tomorrow."
He stepped away from her and picked up his recent kill, slinging the limp body over his shoulder. She wanted to take her from him, but the fight was useless. Before disappearing into the night, he turned to Bella one last time. "You can collect your things at the edge of the tree-line in two hours."
He was gone, fading into the black of night.
Bella's knees gave into the weight of the night. She fell to the forest floor in a heap of fabric, screams, and tears.
She cried.
She cried for Angela.
She cried for the hopeless situation.
She cried for herself. This was the end of her life. She felt it in her gut. How could she survive if a vampire was hunting her?
She knew the answer – she couldn't.
He was a predator; designed to hunt. He could smell blood yards away, he could see through the night. She would have to become a ghost, or something less desirable.
Her breath caught in her chest. A ghost… she would have to become a ghost.
She would have to beat the vampire at his own game. She couldn't outrun him, but she could outwit him.
The plan began to form in her mind. She fleshed it out in the back of the woods and left it behind her when she started towards the house again for the items she was promised. She hummed a tune in her head, thinking about the lyrics to one of her favorite songs while the buzz escaped from her lips. The last moments with Angela slipped in and she didn't bother wishing them away. She had to think about anything except for the plan. It would be executed tomorrow.
=x=
Edward threw Angela's body on the sofa next to where a conscious Eric sat. He hadn't been prepared to see Angela like this. The hole in her neck, her blood on her clothes, her pale face sent him sawing against the duct tape and caused him to scream against the sticky barrier at his mouth. He cursed obscenities at Edward that were too loud in his mind for him to hear.
Eric's words were a jumbled mess of anger and violence which only made Edward smile, amused at the once-calm human.
Edward stripped himself of his bloody vest and discarded it into another chair then took care in rolling up a shirt sleeve with his red fingers. Eric's tears quieted him and he lay silent in the chair, exhausted and heartbroken with grief.
Edward began to roll up the other. "When you have an infinite amount of time on your hands you become very curious about the way the world works. You become a philosopher regarding life, and death, heaven and hell. When I was younger, I cared about my victims," he said with a scoff. "I mean I generally cared for them, and their souls. I had somehow convinced myself that what I had done was wrong. If you can believe any of that."
He sat down across from Eric as he unbuttoned the top button on his collared shirt. Eric watched him carefully, trying to determine what the man would do.
Edward leaned forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees. "Can I tell you a secret that I've never told anybody? I feel like I can confide in you to not tell your friends. You see, I used to be so torn up over taking someone's life that I would lie in the dark for days after drinking with the body, thinking that it would help me and console the lost. So, I asked a priest what I should do when I felt grief, and you know what he told me?"
Edward waited for Eric's confirmation that he was listening and continued after he gave him a brief shake of his head, no.
"He told me that grief is a part of humanity," Edward chuckled darkly. "That it's within a human's nature to grieve or feel regret, which is true, but it didn't apply to me… human characteristics and all that. Of course, my father was an idiot. He was a horrible father, and an even worse priest. He called me a demon when I showed myself to him after my transformation. I half expected him to tell me that he could forgive me, that I'm still part of God's plan. I hated him anyhow, and killed him soon thereafter. He had planned to burn me at the stake.
"After that, I studied and researched everything I could get my hands on to try and take my mind off what I was and what I did. I came upon interesting facts about grief, would you like me to share them with you?"
Eric couldn't respond. He diverted his eyes to the floor, the tears trickling between his cheeks and the silver tape, but his thoughts were ever present on Angela.
"I think I'll share them with you because," Edward smiled, "I have a feeling you're going to need this advice. I'll be right back." He slapped Eric on the knee and left the room swiftly. He came back a few minutes later carrying a large serving tray and a fondue set. His hands and face were still coated in blood.
Eric eyed the display in his arms as Edward sat it on a table next to the chairs. "Food is a common cure for grief," Edward explained as he began to set up the items. "Have you ever noticed that humans tend to eat when they are upset? It's like an automatic trigger; it makes them feel better after they eat something, like it will help solve all their problems."
He sat down in the chair again and pushed his thick hair from his face, smoothing it to his scalp. "I want to help you grieve, Eric, because I feel for you, I really do."
Edward reached over and grabbed the edge of the duct tape on Eric's mouth and ripped it off.
"Goddammit!" Eric screamed. "You're a fucking psycho!"
"That's not very nice," Edward pointed, and discarded the tape on the floor after folding it.
"Fuck you."
"I'm trying to help you, and you're spitting it back in my face."
"If you're going to kill me, then get it over with."
"They'll be plenty of time for that, Eric. I've got all night."
Edward pulled a knife off the silver tray which caused Eric to flinch and adjust against his bounds.
The vampire smiled sharply. "Tell me, Eric, have you ever studied anthropophagy?"
"What?"
"I take it you have never heard that term before, but I assure you, you have. You see, the Wari' Indians of the Amazonian rain-forest were quite keen on how to deal with mourning a loved one. They literally ate their grief."
Ate their grief?
"Yes, Eric. They believed that it was the highest form of honor and compassion to roast their dead and consume them. I don't exactly have the patience for slow-roasting, but hot oil should work just as well."
The knife gleamed in the dim light as he reached over toward Angela and carved a chunk of flesh from her calf. He held his free hand under the dripping flesh, catching the shards of crimson that fell. His eyes widened at the sight of the juice then he sucked it off his hand as he dropped the bit onto the silver tray.
Eric gagged and nearly came undone at the sight. His stomach fluttered violently as Edward stabbed the meat with the prong and lowered it into the hot oil that bubbled in the fondue pot.
"Open up," Edward said with a grin as he raised the hot, cooked meat from the oil.