Wow, awesome response to previous chapter, thanks guys. We've discovered the secret to get you reviewing it seems. Thanks so much for taking the time. Of course, this is a supernatural story, death is not the end!
Marble Eyes is also extremely curious who the mysterious Seashell who reviews us is, the way they write is quite familiar. Any way enjoy the next chapter!
He'd been having a wonderful dream. the beautiful man with blue eyes he could get lost in was there, flying him over the most beautiful city in the world by the light of the moon and the stars and the twinkling little patches of brightness below them. He'd held him close and nibbled his neck and sent waves of pleasure through his body and looked at him like he was his saviour, all the light he needed in the blackest of nights.
When he awoke, he wasn't completely certain where he was.
That didn't worry him. He didn't know who he was either. He remembered fear and hate and pain and love and sex and need. He needed. He needed the man with the dark hair and the blue eyes, but he hated that man too. He didn't care why. He needed.
He opened his eyes to darkness. He didn't understand. He sat up. He wasn't even upright when his head hit something.
"Ow!" he hissed, and punched whatever it was that he'd bumped into. "Ow," he repeated, mostly because he thought he should. Nothing had hurt.
He felt around with feet and hands. The solid thing he'd bumped was big. It reached all the way along his body and some distance above his head, until he reached another one going straight down. He punched that too on principle. Then he felt to his sides.
He was surrounded by metal. Eaten by a metal beast! He was furious now. He punched it hard, and kicked it and elbowed it and hit it with any part of his body he could move. Then he screamed.
He didn't stop. He squealed and shouted and struggled. The solid around him clanged and crashed and rang loudly, but didn't give, even for a moment. He screamed even louder.
Suddenly the world moved. The metal flew over his head. Some terrified looking people in white were staring with wide eyes. One of them stuttered some words. They meant nothing to him. He checked both. Were they going to hurt him? Were they bad people? What were all those smells? So many smells, some gorgeous, some horrid. One of the people smelt nicer than the other. smelt tasty. He wanted that. He wanted that person.
He scrambled forward. The people jumped and fell away from him. The one he wanted to taste ran from him. The other shouted at him.
The voice was so loud! It hurt his ears. He covered them. These were not nice people. They were scary people. He had to run.
He was out of that room in no time. In a corridor, in a space he'd never been. White wall, green floor, long, doors, cold, empty. So smelly, so many mixed smells, some beautiful, some vile, some boring, some evil.
He followed the nicer ones, the rich tasty metallic smells. They smelt right. He wanted them. Hungry. So hungry. It was painful.
People appeared around him. Some startled, some scared, some didn't notice, and some were something else. They wanted to hurt him! He snarled at them! Scare them off! Get away from them! No one was going to hurt him!
A new place. Suddenly he was surrounded by people. Such a mix and so much beautiful smell. A beautiful red liquid dribbled or dropped or flowed from some. It was the most glorious thing in the world! It smelt like home and life but there was too much of it! Everywhere the gorgeous liquid. He could see it on people's skin hear it in people's chest smell it in the air around him. He couldn't bare it!
He needed to get away. It seemed sensible. He needed space away from that smell that noise that sound that life. He threw himself into a room slammed the door fell to the floor clung to himself. He wanted Brendan. He hated Brendan. He didn't know what Brendan was.
The door opened and he shrank away. More of that smell, more people. A small man agitated, loud, pitiless.
Followed by people in blue or white, he shouted at them, ordered them, bullied them. They mumbled back, submissive, worried, nervous. The man-boy shouted again and off they ran, like he wanted to. But he was stuck now, under something, behind something. They couldn't see him. They couldn't smell him either. But he could smell them. He could smell the man-boy.
The man-boy thinking he was alone, groaned, in pain, sat on the place he was hidden below. He smelt the man-boys's glorious red liquid then. Not as perfect as some, but so close. He wanted it. He needed it.
He stood and stared at the liquid. How could he get to it? He could smell it, he could see such a small amount and when he licked his lips he could taste it on the very air. But such a small amount was coming from the hole in the man-boy's leg.
The man-boy jumped to see him. Then shouted, but he could see the fear in the man-boy too. He was surprised.
The man-boy shouted some more, called him names. He didn't understand them. The man-boy realised where he was looking, and suddenly was laughing. He looked at the man-boy's face then. It was a cruel face, a wicked face.
"Pervert! Fucking queer," he heard the man-boy say, nasty, angry, ugly. "Fuck off!"
He snarled. His teeth tingled and grew, and suddenly the man-boy wasn't laughing anymore. The man-boy was scared again: face looking less ugly when it was scared. The man-boy's blood smelt nicer too, flavoured by fear.
He could smell the blood, and sensed where it was near to the skin. That gorgeous red liquid passed in a line up the man-boy's neck. He knew what to do now.
He bit. The man-boy struggled but he was stronger. He held his victim down to the hospital bed as he drank and drank, the tangy, life-taste spilling between his lips, dripping over his teeth, coating his tongue, trickling down his throat, waking him, revitalising him, giving him life, stolen from this creature. The man-boy's struggles only heightened his excitement, his thrill, and feeling them weaken so satisfying to him.
The door suddenly boomed, so loudly he snarled at it, dropping his meal. Voices on the other side, more humans, lots of humans.
"Robbie? Robbie?"
The weak man-boy fell to the floor and groaned.
"Robbie Roscoe, open the door! Are you alright in there?" called the voices from outside.
They were going to come in, they were going to find him, they would be angry that he'd hurt the ugly man-boy, they'd hurt him. He had to go. There was only one way out. Through them.
He ran faster than ever, flying through them before they'd even seen him, knocking them aside. He flew away away away.
He didn't stop until he burnt.
He sprang backwards, snarling at whatever had burned him, though nothing snarled back. There was nothing there. He'd simply moved through a doorway. He shuffled forward, more cautiously, feeling ahead. After a few steps, his hands grew hot, too hot, and he had to move away or burn. But there was nothing there except that this room had a different kind of light. It wasn't brighter than the light he was in, not exactly, but he could feel it, making his skin itch and tingle and sting. He hated it. He ran the other way. He found a room with no light at all. He hid inside.
Numb. Numb was all Brendan felt. A world which had been so full of colour had now become black and white. His life was empty now, devoid of anything he used to find pleasurable. Steven was gone, dead. His beautiful boy was in some metal draw somewhere, his beautiful eyes were never going to open again. How could life be so cruel? He had been so filled with grief and rage, that he hadn't notice the ambulance and police cars arrive. They'd put Steven's beautiful body into a black bag and taken it away. It was almost as if Steven had never existed.
"Brendan." said Anne's soft voice from behind him.
Brendan turned and noticed how tired his child looked. It also seemed she'd been crying too, there were traces of red blood on her cheeks. If Brendan could feel, he would have gone over and comforted her. But he was dead inside now, as dead as his un-aging body. It was no wonder Anne was tired, she'd had to hypnotise all the humans that turned up to the scene. Steven Hay's death was now being circulated as some horrible work related accident. Nobody had mentioned the word murder. But that's what had happened, Steven had been murdered and it might as well have been Brendan who had shoved that stake into his beating heart.
"How are you feeling?" Anne asked.
Brendan ignored her and continued to stare at the space where Steven's body had been. He went through everything that had happened in his mind, trying desperately to see if there could have been another way. Brendan hadn't left this office since Steven had died, not even for a moment. Hours had passed, the sun had risen and set and still Brendan hadn't moved. Maybe if he went to sleep he'd wake up and the whole thing would have been one big nightmare. He'd find himself back under Steven's bed, with the boy smiling brightly at him while doing his annoying donkey laugh. Brendan wouldn't even mind if the kids woke him up...just as long as Steven was still there. Still alive.
"Where's Chez?" asked Brendan. Trying to ignore the crack of emotion in his voice.
"She's with Myra, trying to heal poor Nate the dog." said Anne. "The poor thing's a fighter alright, Macca really did some damage to it." she trailed off, probably lost in her own thoughts about Steven.
Brendan clenched his fists, thinking of Macca the vampire who was still out there. He was going to track him down and make him pay for his part in Steven's death. "I'm going out."
"Do you think that's wise?" asked Anne, pushing her lips together in a thin line.
"What do you think I'm going to do Anne, kill myself?" asked Brendan, letting out a bitter laugh.
Anne bit her lip, the thought had obviously crossed her mind. "No." she lied.
"I tried earlier," said Brendan, "While you and Chez were sleeping. S...' He found himself unable to say his name. "He ordered me not to before he...went away, so I can't. I physically can't."
"Thank God." said Anne.
Brendan let out a bitter laugh. "God has nothing to do with this Anne."
He slipped past her and through the club, not even bothering to look at anyone as he passed them. He wondered briefly where Foxy was, any distraction from Steven would be welcome. Foxy wouldn't stand a chance against him tonight, not while this monster was raging inside of him. He wanted to rip and destroy something. Brendan wanted to see red, kill, destroy. Anything that would take this pain away. He was flying through the air, when something made him stop. It was the sound of crying, the sound of children crying. The blood in his body, Steven's blood seemed to be reacting to it.
He landed in front of a destination he hadn't been planning on going to: Steven's house. As he walked closer the crying became louder, almost unbearable and heart-breaking. Brendan didn't bother to knock, he walked straight in and didn't even react when Amy jumped up in shock, quickly wiping away her own tears.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked angrily. It seemed Amy had lost the warm and welcoming part of herself that she'd displayed towards Brendan at the beginning. "Get out!"
"Amy..." started Brendan, but he had no idea what to say to the distraught woman.
"Haven't you done enough?" cried Amy, although her grief was fast being replaced by anger. "This is all your fault, you and that stupid job! I've got two children in there who have cried themselves to sleep tonight, asking where their Daddy is. What am I meant to say to them?"
"I'm sorry." said Brendan.
"Sorry?" spat Amy. "Sorry doesn't bring the father of my kids back to life. Your words are cheap and worthless."
Amy started to angrily advance towards him and that was when Brendan decided to take control of the situation. He couldn't let himself be side tracked by Steven's ex-partner. He needed to do what he'd come here for. He reached out his mind and immediately found Amy's, the initial grief and sadness almost caused him to flinch away from the connection.
"You will go to bed and have a restful night's sleep." said Brendan firmly, knowing the woman needed comfort more than anything else. "In the morning you will wake up and the pain will have lessened, you will feel calm and know what to do."
"Yes," said Amy in a robotic voice. "Rest, Sleep. All will be better in the morning."
"Good girl." said Brendan, as she walked off towards her room. Brendan half wished it was possible for someone to hypnotise him, then at least he'd get a break from all the angst deep inside of him. He pulled a large amount of notes from his pocket and placed them in the empty coffee pot on the side. He couldn't bring Steven back to them, but at least he could make sure they'd be financially taken care of.
"Mr Vampire?" said a little girl's voice.
Brendan turned and noticed Leah standing behind him, clutching her favourite doll. It was obvious she had been crying. "Hello Sweetheart," said Brendan, in his softest voice. "How are you holding up?"
Leah bit her lip. "I'm okay, but Lucas and Britney are very sad. They miss my Daddy."
"I do too." said Brendan.
Leah crossed the room and slipped her hand into his. "Is Daddy a vampire now?" she asked, looking up at him with very wide and innocent eyes.
"No." said Brendan, deciding honesty was the best policy with the small girl.
Leah's eyes began to fill tears. "Why isn't he a vampire, like you?"
"Because..." Brendan trailed off, trying to ignore his own breaking heart. "Your Daddy was too good to be a vampire. He's become something much better now."
"What's better than a vampire?" asked Leah.
"An angel, Princess." said Brendan.
Leah looked confused for a moment, but then her face filled with hope. "If he's an angel, does that mean he'll still be able to come and read me bedtime stories every night?"
"No." said Brendan, unable to watch as the girl's faced screwed up with misery again. "But it does mean he will be watching over you, making sure you're okay."
"I don't want that! I want my Daddy!" cried Leah, she clung onto his legs and sobbed heavily into his trousers. "I want my Daddy!"
"Me too, sweetheart. Me too."
Brendan put his arms around the girl and held her gently while she sobbed. A part of him wished he was in her place, so he could cry while someone held him. Like Leah, all he wanted was his Steven back.
The sun was gone. The sun was gone and it was dark outside. That was all he was certain of, all he knew when he'd woken up. He could escape this place, this place, this place full of strange smells. The sun was down. He could taken comfort in the darkness. He could go find somewhere where he could go to feed and fuck. He needed that red liquid of life, he needed the man with the blue eyes. He hated the man with the blue eyes.
He slipped out of his hiding place without being noticed. He was quick, really quick. Quicker than the wind. Quicker than the hearts beating around him. The hearts were delicious, full of warm pulsating blood. His mouth watered with the thought of it. Blood. Beautiful, rich, red, smooth blood. He wanted it, needed it. Needed it more than he'd ever needed anything...or was that true? He needed the dark haired man too, the dark haired man who filled his dreams. His dreams had been confusing, they'd been full of images of laughing children, a woman and a man so beautiful that he looked as if he'd been carved out of stone. But they weren't real, nothing was real any more. All that was real was the blood. And he needed blood...luckily he had found it.
It had been easy really. Following the family home. There was four of them: two adults, two children. They almost gave off a heavenly glow as they wondered through the darkened streets together in their happy little bubble. The perfect prize. He'd be quick, he wouldn't be cruel. All four would die, but their deaths wouldn't be in vain. They'd be giving him life and beautiful blood. They smelt too beautiful, all four of them. He couldn't help but be drawn to them, trailing after them wearing his strange white coat that he had stolen from the place that was full of humans and blood. They hadn't noticed him trailing behind them, as they admired the lights above them in the street. They wouldn't feel a thing, not after his teeth were in their necks. He glanced into the window of their house, noticing three of them were surrounding a tree full of bright and confusing lights. They were decorating the ugly thing, while the woman created human things in the kitchen. They were so beautiful, smelling like life and goodness. His mouth stung for them.
The littlest one jumped up suddenly, a bright smile on her face. Her fair hair bounced as she did. She said something, blue eyes wide, cheeks pink, excited, and the others smiled at her and nodded. She grinned back and ran. He followed her movements. To the back of the house. He found a way around, and watched her appear in the garden, running to a tree with green pointy leaves. She smelt like innocence, like beauty. He wanted to taste that smell, to drink it all.
He dropped to the ground between her and her house. She jumped to see him but didn't scream.
"Are you the doctor?" she asked, "where are your other clothes?"
The words didn't matter. He could hear the blood pulsing through her heart, smell it under her skin, see the life it made inside her. He needed that life blood. He was going to take it.
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