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[theinsouciantscribbler]

Not Another Vampire Romance: Chapter 5: “The time for childhood dreams are long past their expiration date.”

‘I most defiantly will not have fun.’ I found myself thinking the moment she pulled me into the crowd that had gathered around the plaza. It was a beautiful place on its own, decorated for the festive season that was coming upon us. Garlands frosted with fake snow and strings of twinkling lights climbed up every lamp post, strung across the gazebo where the band played and down the banisters. Red Crushed velvet was draped in bows, and poinsettia’s dotted the plaza by the dozen. The holiday cheer filled by all around us was the antithesis of what my gut was telling me to feel. 

My spine felt tight, ready to jump, while my fingers itched to reach for the handle of my blades. I scanned the crowd over and over again, looking for that familiar, villainous face I was after. I couldn’t banish the frown that had grown on my face, and I wondered if she could see the anxiety that I felt tied up in knots within my stomach.

Jackrabbit was here, somewhere, ready to strike.

So too, would I.

“Not a big fan of country?” She asked, her voice distant but clear enough to bring me back. I shifted my focus to her, and felt my chest tighten. Her eyes looked sad, heavy and burdened.

“Aw,” I thought if I should lie, but the truth came out before I could make up my mind. “No.”

“Yeah, me either.” She shrugged. I watched her, wondering if she was only saying that to go along with what I said.

“You might not have guessed by looking at me,” She continued, “But I tend to gravitate towards the heavier brand of music.”

“Like?”

“Oh, just rock, metal… and then the bit more obscure genres.”

“Huh. Who is your favorite band?” She was right, she didn’t look like the kind that listened to rock or metal. 

“Oh, I doubt you’ve heard of them.” She waved me off as if she listens to some obscure band. I had to hold my humor and disgust back when a thought came to me that she might mention Nickleback.

“Try me.” I wasn’t a music buff, but I’ve heard a good portion of the music out there. Far too much of it sounded the same.

“Well, have you heard of Avatar?” She asked. The first thing that came to mind was the James cameron movie about those blue monkey people.

“That James Cameron movie?” I questioned, unsure of what she meant. 

That made her burst out in laughter. 

Her eyes became like shining jewels held up in front of a hot summers sun, and her laugh was musical and almost perfect, then she snorted. She slapped her mouth from the loud noise, and tried to muffle her laughs till they finally died down.

“I’m sorry, but no. Avatar is an avant-garde heavy metal band.” She explained, pulling out her phone and showing me a web link about the band. The singer was decked out in a full jokers outfit, and the lead guitarist was referred to as the ‘King’ of Avatar Country. They had quite the cult following.

“You are right, I have no idea who they are, and you certainly don’t strike me as someone who would enjoy that.” I admitted. Heavy metal, as far as I knew it to be, was garble trash that I couldn’t understand a single lyric to.

“Their music is beautiful, tortured and inspired. I am moved every time I hear any of their songs.” She frowned.

“I didn’t mean to insult your taste in music.” Not directly, anyways.

“You didn’t insult me… And I wouldn’t expect most people to understand or appreciate their music…”

“You see,” She continued, “When I hear their music, it takes all the things that I am battling inside, the anger, pain, sadness, loneliness, hate. For a time, albeit it short, I am able to let it go.”

“Music does that for a lot of people.” I agreed.

“I just need the stronger kind for it to work I guess.” She smiled, turning her head back to the music up on the stage. They were just finishing their last set and introducing the upcoming band.

“You don’t have to let music take on all the burden.” I whispered down into her ear. She whipped her head to look me dead in the eyes, and I saw the terror in them. 

“Do I frighten you, my little doe?” I asked, searching her, hoping I could give her any comfort in this solitude she seemed to keep herself within.

My eyes couldn’t help but soak in what was only inches away from them, and when they landed on her vermilion lips, I was entranced.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming out today-“ I heard announced over the mic. I hardly heard the voice over the crowd, and I only wanted to hear what she might have to say.

“You don’t even know me.” She looked down, perhaps studying her functional brown sneakers. They certainly seemed more practical that those red ice picks she wore last time.

“Then let me.” I asked.

“I-“

“I am Jackrabbit.” The voice crawled up my spine like a spider. I snapped out of my daze and looked straight to the stage to see the new band. 

“That narcissistic bastard.” I growled. He had named the band after his own alter ego. He was front and center, and starring directly at us. He wore his typical black leather cowboy get up that was decades out dated. He had found his niche when all the Americans began sputtering out manifest destiny and heading west to claim land that was never theres to begin with. He found the West suited him well, and it was over too soon, at least in his eyes.

“Looks like tonight is going to be interesting, filled with plenty of fun.” He smiled, then tilted his head to and fro as if to ponder a thought. “Maybe a little blood shed… But don’t worry about that.”

“Now who is ready?” He roared, lifting up both of his fists in the air. The crowd cheered and did the same while Jackrabbit glared greedily at us.

“Good.” He chuckled like a literal demon from hell.

I heard the shrill scream of a woman before I ever saw his flesh tare away like wet paper. Amplified by the sound system on the stage, the cracks of his bones as they contorted to form his true self echoed through the entire plaza. He grew in size, tripling his human husk. Two pairs of leathery wings broke free from his back and shot him up and out into the air, his hooked feet catching several poor souls. Illuminated by the full moon, my eyes watched in disgust as his first victims were tossed up and then consumed whole by his dislocated jaw; much like that of a ravenous snake. Finishing off his gruesome scene, which sent the crowd into a spiral of fear, the entirety of the plaza was covered in a spray of blood.

“Grey?” I heard Alyra whisper behind me, her hands clutching my arm and her knees visibly trembling. I looked to her for only a moment, to give her the slightest assurance that this is why I was here. For her. I would protect her.

“Stay behind me.” I instructed.

Whipping my head back to face Jackrabbit, I seen he had already landed on his hooked feet, making his way towards us. With one fluid motion, I withdrew both blades from my personage and leapt towards this beast.

“Esheton Grey,” Jackrabbit laughed as I swung the blade at him, only to miss by a mere inch.

“Making a bit of trouble again, Jackrabbit?” I asked, taking another attempt to strike him down.

He leapt back from my quick and fierce swings of the blades.

“So you have come out of retirement, and mean to slay the beasts once more, and for what, because I want to have a little fun?”

“This isn’t just a little fun. It is a message, and I hear it loud and clear. I mean to reply in kind, so if you don’t mind, let us fight.” I stuck my feet securely on the ground and prepared for a fight.

“So you know this is a job?” He questioned, still not making a move against me. “Do not tell me you are protecting that little morsel?”

“Enough Jackrabbit, fight!” I roared, leaping up and bringing my blades down. Quick and blurry he escaped my attack and slammed a blow to my back to send me down into the brick plaza with a great force.

I felt the wind drawn out of me, and it was only then that I realized that I was weak, out of practice, and dying of thirst.

“The problem with your diet, Grey, is that your are dying from it.” He chuckled, sending me flying back with a kick to the gut.

I hit the ground and rolled. I finally came to an abrupt stop when I struck the trunk of a tree.

Shaken, I rose to my feet. I lifted my arms to attack when I realized both blades had been flung out of my hands and were scattered across the plaza. My normal blade was closer, but the Morning Star would be needed to end this beast. Taking not a moment to think, and working solely on instinct, I ran for Morning Star.

“Hm, what is this now?” Jackrabbit smiled, reaching for the gleaming blade. Taking it in his grip was a foolish mistake on his part, and everyone heard that it was. He bellowed from what I assumed to be a scorching, enduring pain that he could never heal from. He flung the blade away in a panic, dancing away in terror. 

Not more than a few steps away, I took Morning Star in my hand and pointed it towards him.

“Did you already forget how great this blade is?” I asked the tortured demon.

“Clearly, and that power… Am I wrong to think it is missing its other half?” 

“Still enough to mortally wound you.” I smirked.

“Have you washed your hands of us all so much that you are no longer affected by it?” He grimaced, the pain in his hand apparent. The wound was making his leathery skin bubble like goo, and it was quickly trailing up his forearm. In time, were I to leave him as he is, it would take over his whole body and kill him in a slow and tortured death.

“Are those your final words, Jackrabbit?” I asked, taking great strides straight up to him, the intent to separate his sickly soul from his mortal coil. Killing him now was a merciful thing, and Jackrabbit knew it; I could see the realization in his black, evil eyes. Right before and during their death, these beasts always seemed to exhibit the mark of a soul about to meet the other side. Terrified and worried for their eternal damnation.

I held Morning Star at his heart, pushing in slowly.

“I won’t be the only one to come after her… And now that you have intervened, I doubt you can remain in the dark about your involvement.” He warned.

“Do you know why they have such an interest in her, or are you so low on the food chain you only do what you can for the scraps?”

“If I told you, would it change my fate?” 

That question made me pause. Would he, could he know anything about their plans? 

I knew I had to remember that this was Jackrabbit, never a member of the elite four, or even an underling for the hundred. He was a simple Headhunter, scraping by for bounties, vying to be noticed but never seen. Still, could he have heard something?

“I can’t risk your life for hers.” I apologized.

“Either way, I doubt what I have would have to say would have been enough.” He was a tricky devil.

I plunged Morning Star into his heart till I ran out of blade.

“Blood.” He whispered.

“What?” I asked, unsure of what he meant.

“Her blood.” He whispered right before he turned to ash.

I rose up to stare at the pile of ash at my feet, the breeze slowly spreading it across the plaza, I completely unaware of the group that stood at the outskirts of our skirmish.

“Grey, I think we should go.” I thought I heard Alyra say, but I couldn’t be sure. I felt in a daze, still trapped by his final words. Her blood. What about Alyra was so extraordinary that they would be concerned with her blood? 

“You look hurt, are you okay?” She asked me, but I couldn’t speak. My head was dizzy, spinning with thoughts of what the devil was cooking up and what his plans may be.

“I need to get you cleaned up, do you want me to take you home or-“

“We can’t stay here.” I muttered, wandering off to one direction, her hands guiding me in another.

My mind was still warped in thought when I numbly got into a vehicle.

“Maybe I should take you home?” She asked. 

I felt myself shake my head no, unsure of how to proceed. I couldn’t understand why they were so desperate for her blood, and perhaps the next time someone came after her, I would be too late if I wasn’t there to stand guard. 

I made up my mind before she had driven more than a block away.

“Go home.” I instructed.

She didn’t say a word, or even nod. 

‘Perhaps she could sense the danger she was in.’ I thought as I watched her. She didn’t even take a peek at me as I studied her, keeping her hands firmly on the steering wheel and eyes on the dark road.

The long, twisting ride was uneventful.

‘Thank Gods.’ I muttered to myself as we pulled up to what I assumed to be her home. It was much larger than I thought someone who lived alone would need. Not to mention the cost. I suddenly began to wonder what employment she had that could afford such a big home.

I went to get out when I noticed her sitting stiffly in her seat. Her fists tight on the steering wheel and made the leather wrinkle and knuckles starch white, the absent eyes and labored breathing; I hadn’t noticed until now that she was terrified. 

“Damn,” I cursed under my breath and walked around to her side and opened the door. Her skin didn’t even seem to recognize the cold air as it breached the inside of the car. “Come on now, let’s get you inside.”

I lifted her gingerly out of the car and placed her hesitantly on her feet. Making sure she was steady before letting go, I tried leading us towards the steps but she didn’t want to budge.

“Alyra?” I looked back when my tugging didn’t move her.

“They are after me, aren’t they.” It didn’t sound like a question. I meant to open my mouth to answer, but she turned around and swung the trunk open and filled her arms with bags. Mindlessly, I began taking bags too and followed her inside as she placed them upon the kitchen island.

It looked like a dream kitchen for a chef.

“You must love to cook.” I heard myself mumble as I did a 360 around her kitchen. 

She shrugged.

“I used to.”

“But not anymore?” I questioned as I helped unload her bags of produce. 

“I do it out of necessity to eat, but I don’t really enjoy it. I probably stopped enjoying it the same time I stopped enjoying food.” She sighed, putting her hands on her hips and looking at the plethora of things on her counter top. I could only wonder what she was thinking.

“You’ve picked up a lot of food for not enjoying it.” 

“As I said, out of necessity. Also, I buy in bulk to save on price and because I prepare my meals ahead of time.” She explained. Suddenly, she twirled around and opened up a cabinet and began fingering through shelves that were filled with books.

“There must be more than fifty books in there.” I was surprised to see she had that much. At one point it must have been an obsession.

“Uh, yeah. Something like that.” She muttered, pulling out one thats spine looked well worn and flipped to a page in an instant. Recipe page numbers memorized, swift movements as she grabbed her tools and effortlessly began working made me see just how masterful she was. Could she be more than just a home cook, a chef perhaps?

“Ever work in the food industry?”

She paused, and then laughed.

“Yeah, for like a second. I was a terrible waitress. Got sacked pretty quickly.” 

“But never a cook?” I prodded.

“No. I only cook for friends and family. At least that’s what I used to do before…” I thought she might continue, but she just stood silent as she worked, lips tight on their secrets.

“Before?”

“It’s nothing. Uh, do you want to help a bit?” 

“I’m terrible at cooking.” I admitted outright. “I would probably burn anything you wanted me to cook.”

“Well, if you manage to burn onions by dicing them, then color me impressed.” She laughed.

“Dice?” I didn’t know what that even meant.

“Oh for heavens sake, just cut them into small chunks as evenly as you can manage.” She set out a wooden cutting board and knife and motioned for me to start.

I eyed the work hesitantly.

“You look terrified.” She giggled.

“Do I?” I grinned. She nodded her head and went back to work. 

I took the knife in my hand and felt the edge of the blade with my finger tip. It was slightly dull, and it would not cut so precisely as she might want.

“Oh, did I give you a dull knife?” She asked, looking over. “I have a knife sharpener in this drawer.” She nodded to the one behind her. As I went to dig through the drawer, I found myself thinking back to the things she has said. This woman said the most strangest things that frankly, gave me concern.

“Finding it okay?” She asked, breaking my thoughts.

“Uh,” I moved things around unable to find it. I closed the drawer to try another when I found myself frozen in confusion. I reopened the drawer to see the brightly colored dishes and children's utensils.

“No, not that drawer!” She shouted, slamming the drawer closed and pulling open the one above it. She quickly pulled out an steel rod with black rubber handle and held it out for me to take. “Here.”

“Uh, thanks…” I wasn’t sure how to respond to what I saw, or to her reaction.

“Alyra, do… Do you have kids?” I asked, having not heard or seen a single bit of evidence that she did. That is, until I actually looked. On the front of the fridge were drawings done terribly, yet they made me smile from their waxy appearance and simplistic concepts. One side was covered in cars, trains, airplanes, and robots. The other was flowers, rainbows, animals. But the star piece of art was of a family of three. A mother with three long yellow strands for hair, with two yellow stringy haired kids holding her hand.

I am sure there was more I missed, but what I missed the most, were the actual kids running around in the home.

I turned around when I noticed the chopping Alyra had been doing stopped. In her hand was a small locket with fine detail. It was open and she was smiling with trails of tears falling down her face.

“Alyra?” She looked so fragile, I was afraid that if I touched her, or spoke too loudly, that she would crumble.

“Their names are Charolette and Clarence. Fraternal twins, but you could still hardly tell them apart.” She whispered, turning the locket around to show me their pictures. I had to move in close to view them properly, they were such small pictures of what I could only describe as angels.

Their hair were like halos and eyes shared by their mother.

“They look like you.” I smiled. 

“Yeah, everyone always said that.” She turned the locket back around and gazed down at them. A small finger rose and caressed their cheeks. “But if you look at old pictures of my father, you would say Clarence looked more like him.”

“If you think about it, we all probably look like those from our past.” I agreed, thinking how people often compared me to my father and grandfather in likeness; but it was my mothers eyes they said I had inherited.

“I suppose we do.” She smiled.

“How long ago was it…” I tried asking, “That they…”

I couldn’t say it.

“Died?” She nearly choked on the word herself. 

“Six months.” She finished.

“They look so young.”

“They were five when these pictures were taken.” She nodded. “Only a couple months before…”

“What happened?”

[theinsouciantscribbler]

Not Another Vampire Romance: Chapter 4: “Coming out of Retirement because I can’t live off of Social Security.”

‘What are you thinking?’ I asked myself as I watched Alyra walk out of the apartment complex without so much as a goodbye from my end. I haven’t her digits, address, or any sort of plans to meet with her again.

“Don’t be foolish,” I chided aloud, turning back to my door and walking inside. “It is better this way.”

“It’s not like it could go anywhere,” I continued muttering to myself, “We have no future together.”

Still arguing with myself on whether I should run after her or let it be, I found myself gravitating towards the fridge to grab a fifth out of the fridge. The soft smack of bottles in the door jingled, bringing back a flash to Alyra doing the same thing, thumbing through the lack of options. I couldn’t help but remember how her hair draped down, twisting in gentle coils at the ends, or remembering the arch in her back as she bent down.

“Damn it.” I didn’t even bother closing the fridge door or the door to my apartment as I raced down the hall, out the door and using intuition and a keen sense of direction, took a left. The ‘Blue Goose’ was just a few blocks over, and perhaps she had left a vehicle of some variety there. 

I pushed passed the very few people that walked the streets this early in the morning on a Sunday, staggering to keep my pace as I was weak from my basic diet of liquor for the past few months. Jerking right, I was about to come across an alley when a bright as day motorcycle ripped out in front of me. I recoiled back before it ran me over, and found myself in a stupor as I saw the driver wearing a bright pair of red stilettos. 

“Alyra?” I could hardly breathe, realizing she was gone and I was too late. 

I stumbled to my feet to watch her disappear as my fascination with her seemed to grow.

“Too bad i’ll never see her again.” I kicked my boots against the brick of the building before turning back home.

I took considerably longer to make my way back to the dingy one bedroom apartment I considered home. It didn’t smell, which was an improvement from the last rental I had procured a year ago, but it was clearly dilapidated. For the past couple weeks now I had considered ending the terms of my rental agreement early and heading off to a new place. The winds were seemingly calling me up till now, telling me it was time to go. Now, I couldn’t bare to move an inch beyond the small three block radius from my home to the ‘Blue Goose’ in the hopes I were to ever see her again.

For weeks I made sure to arrive at the ‘Blue Goose’ upon opening and stay till closing, keeping my eyes glued to the door. Perhaps the bar keep, found me odd that I had suddenly stopped ordering drinks from him regularly yet still frequented his establishment; but he wouldn’t say it. Instead, the keep would always ask what I was having, and I would wave him off; far too preoccupied with my foolish hopes.

“Waiting for someone, eh?” He asked, breaking the mold from the routine we had shared. I turned to look at the burly man, a bit gruff, but it seemed to suit him fine. Seemed to suit the fashion of the times anyhow, which I cared for not.

“In fact,” It wouldn’t hurt to ask if he knew her. I hoped to god she was a local and hadn’t jetted away to a distant land. “A few weeks ago, a girl I met came in here. Long, blonde hair, red stilettos.”

“A lot of blondes and red heels around the place.” He shrugged, and it was only then that I looked out and realized just that. It was a sea of them, unoriginal as the last; yet somehow, she stood out amongst all of them.

“Besides,” He interrupted my train of thought. “I thought you were retired.”

“I am, and she isn’t a mark.” I muttered, eyeing the man suspiciously. Did he know something I didn’t?

“Huh, not from what I heard.” He whispered, pouring me a drink and shoving it over. I stared at it as it was a foreign enemy; a stranger. 

For a while I sat in silence, we both did it seemed, till the bar grew quiet and empty.

“What have you heard?” I asked at last, leaning in to take the drink in my hand and gently swirl the brown liquid in the glass, watching it move like a seductive, hypnotic dance.

“A couple weeks ago,” He looked around to make sure we were alone. “A Saecula was reported missing. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

“Depends. Who’s asking?”

His eyes narrowed, watching me closely.

“Everyone.” 

“Everyone?” 

“Well,” He shrugged. “Turns out he was on an important mission and was interrupted before he could finish it.” 

“How important?” I asked, perking up. How bad did I mess up, getting involved with the Saecula this time?

“So important they have put a huge head on it for anyone to finish what he couldn’t… Caught the attention of a local Head hunter.” 

“Who?” I shot up from my seat, yanking my jacket back on. I was ready to fly out of here if needed.

“I think more than hundred and fifty thousand Euro’s if she is brought back dead, even more if she is alive.”

“Westin.” I growled at the bar keep. I hated the games he played.

He stared at me with an eyebrow raised and a growing grin. He was expecting payment. I shoved my hand into my pocket and threw a few big denominations at him. She was worth more than legal tender.

“He goes by the name of Jackrabbit.” He told me, and I knew of the sleazy monster he spoke of. He didn’t ever stick around one place long, and never caused so much trouble to ever require my intervention. Once, long ago I had even tracked someone down with him. We didn’t suit each other, so after the job I was more than happy that we took our separate ways. He was immature, and liked to play with his hunt.

“I know him.” I confirmed, ready to find the man.

“Then you already know he won’t have the restraint to take her alive.” He warned.

“Where does he plan-“

“Downtown, in the old district. Apparently, this one plans on making a big show of it too.” He told me, anticipating my question.

“Thanks.” I muttered, about to leave when he looked like he had more to say.

“So… Not so retired after all?” He smirked.

“Spit it out, I have somewhere to be.” Annoyed that he was wasting time on something so personal.

“I hope she is worth the trouble, because from what I heard, the order comes from up top.” He warned me, his smile gone.

This gave me pause.

“What could they want with her?” I asked aloud, my mind grinding like gears in a clock.

“That is something you’ll have to ask. All I know is that they won’t stop till she is taken care of, properly.”

“Yeah and they don’t take too kindly to their plans going sideways either.” I agreed.

“So, is she worth it?” He asked again.

“Never mind the girl, I think is it about time I finish what I started.”

“Then you might want this.” He reached from under the bar counter and pulled out a small wooden box. It was plain and had simple brass mechanical pieces. To most, it would seem to be worthless and would never house anything of importance.

“Are you sure?” I asked, taking the box in my hands.

“You’re already the enemy of the state. Doing this will alert them to your whereabouts. There is no running from this once you start, so you might as well take it.”

“True, but helping me will make you one as well.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “But you actually have a chance of taking them down, so take it and don’t make me regret it by dying before you get the job done, okay?”

“Even if I don’t, it’ll make for good entertainment. A must see.” I joked, opening the box and taking the Morning Star in my hand. Were my hands not gloved, the handle would have seared my flesh for it burns all that is unholy.

I brought the long, silver blade up to my eyes to inspect the beauty of the sword. Forged to slay devils and tempered in holy water to banish demons from this world, it gleamed even in the dim lights of the bar. Latin inscription, the same as the one on my cane, was engraved in a beautiful manor. 

Morning Star was only one half to a whole, and when combined with its sister blade, it was a weapon meant to rid the world of every last Monster and beast that infested this sickly world.

“Do you still have the other half?” Westin asked, unable to draw my full attention away from the blade.

“Eventide has been kept away safely from any disturbance.” I assured him. I sheathed the blade and hung it on my hip. I looked up to Westin and gave him a single nod to say salute before I turned my attention to what I would face. A past I had tried to escape, a life I had wished to end. Both now coming to face me like a nightmare I was forced to finally remember. Time would tell if I would be able to slay this beast, or if it would consume me whole and bring me to death; a companion I thought I would never meet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The market was quiet this late in the day, letting each footstep I take upon the cobblestone walkway echo through the street. It was just past five and several vendors had already gone home; but I preferred it that way. The shops that remained were willing to make sales at a discount cost to get rid of inventory, which made my abysmal budget allow in fresh produce.

“Uh, I’ll take 3 bell peppers, a cucumber…” I muttered as the woman behind the mock counter began packaging my order and ringing it up as I went so I could see the total. “I’ll take a bushel of your Roma tomatoes.”

“This is our last one, a bit shabby if that is okay?” She showed me the basket, and they were a bit soft and some were wrinkled. They were perfect for the purpose I had in mind, but I didn’t want the sales woman to know, so I scrunched my nose.

“I can offer the whole bushel for twenty.”

“I’ll take them.” I smiled, offering my linen shopping bag I had brought for such an occasion. I continued browsing her goods while she bagged my produce, going through an internal list of the things I needed and what I could live without.

“Do you have any potatoes left?” I asked, not immediately seeing any out.

“Oh, yes we do, a couple bags.” She smiled, bending down and disappearing for just a moment behind the counter to rise with two five pound bags of red potatoes. 

“How much?”

“3 each.” It was a bargain.

“I’ll take both.” I agreed. I also picked up a bag of onions from the same vendor and paid for my goods.

The bags were heavy, but I paid them little mind as I walked them back to the old, dingy jeep I used to drive up here. It was my first vehicle, given to me on my sixteenth birthday. It was reliable, and served its purpose when I needed to get more than just myself around.

After I had heaved the heavy bags into the back of the jeep, I reached up to close the hatch. Gripping it with my hands I yanked it down with a resounding grunt. 

“Damn,” I breathed as I headed back to the market. “That gets harder each time.”

I still had a few things left on my list before I would allow myself to indulge in the beautiful music playing from the plaza at the center of the market. It wouldn’t take long, and hopefully it wouldn’t distract me too much so I didn’t forget anything; a tendency I seemed to have.

It was almost six when I had finished packing my jeep with the last of the things I had planned on stocking up on for the month, and felt myself ready to finally relax for just a moment as I made my way to the plaza. The music playing had shifted from gentle and calm to a more upbeat tune, the change due in part to a new local band playing.

As I walked towards the plaza, which was separated from one side of the market by main street, I felt a buzz coming from my purse. Looking both ways before I crossed the street, I flipped open the flap and dug till my hands met the phone and pulled it out. I wasn’t sure who could be calling me at this hour, but it seemed these last few weeks were full of surprises.

For just a moment I thought of Esheton Grey as I looked down at my phone. For some reason, a small piece of me thought it might have been him, but that was a silly thing. He didn’t have my number, and I was sure he had forgotten about me long since.

BEEEEEEEEP!

SCREECH!

I looked up from my phone as two blinding headlights stared me in the face like two demon like eyes. I could hear the blare of a horn like a trumpet in a choir and the screech of the brakes like nails on a chalk board. I stood motionless, a silent whisper to move but an overwhelming urge to stay put kept me there. Right on impact I felt an immediate jerk bring me flying backwards.

When the sound of the horn faded, I opened my eyes to see the darkening sky overhead with just the first stars twinkling out tonight. Shifting my eyes just south, I saw the reason for impact was not the car.

“Grey?” I felt my heart explode with excitement while my mind twirled around in circles trying to understand how he had once again been in the right time and place to save me. Perhaps he really was my Dark Knight.

Leaning back in his arm as if we had just done a dip in a dance, he helped me slowly rise upright until I was firmly on my feet.

“You were right,” He frowned, “You do have a penchant for bad luck.”

Subconsciously, I thought hundreds of eyes were on us to witness this embrace, but when I looked around I saw not a single soul paying us any mind. 

“Are you alright?” He asked. I felt my mouth gape but nothing came out immediately. I still felt in awe that he was right here when I thought I would never have the chance to see him again. 

“Uh, um… Yeah.” I nodded, finally forming a jumble of words. “I’m… fine.”

“What were you thinking, trying to take a Sudan head on?”

“Honestly, when I looked the street was clear of any traffic.” I shrugged, unsure where that car had come from.

“What was so important to distract you?” He asked as he grabbed the small phone in my hand, the evidence written all over it.

“A phone call?” He rolled his eyes and looked at the screen of the phone. His teasing smile fell when he looked at it.

“What?” I asked, grabbing the phone out of his hand. I looked at the screen and seen I had missed a call from an unknown number.

“Nothing to worry about, most likely a telemarketer.” I shrugged it off and pocketed my phone.

“Anyways,” I started when his moody silence didn’t break. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I was told this was a great place to meet new people and socialize with the locals.”

“Uh, yeah I guess.” I chuckled awkwardly. “You just don’t strike me as the type of person who goes out of their way to do that.”

“Perhaps not, but I had hopes that I might run into you here.”

“You… Did?” I was shocked by his frankness.

“I went after you when you left me at my door.” He began. His very words made the beating in my heart stop. “But before I knew it, you were zipping past me in a yellow motorcycle.”

“I can be a bit reckless with that thing.” I admitted, kicking myself for flying off.

“Reckless, or fearless?” He smiled.

“Oh, most certainly reckless.” I laughed.

“Uh, hey, would you like to listen to some of the local talent playing tonight?” I asked him, somehow blurring the lines of my recklessness and fearlessness once more. 

“Well…” He let out a big huff of air.

“Oh come on,” I begged, “I hear they are supposed to be pretty good. For a small town band that is.”

“Um…” He seemed unsure at first, perhaps music wasn’t his thing. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.” I smiled, taking his arm in mine. “They are playing just over there in the plaza. You’ll have fun.”

[theinsouciantscribbler]

Not Another Vampire Romance: Chapter 3: “Wool Gathering is not about shaving Sheep.”

I felt my mood shift as I walked into his apartment complex, my mind a hundred miles away. I couldn’t stop the thoughts of my parents popping into focus in between each step I took down the dark navy hall, or the rise of a bulging pain in my throat; a throng of remembered ache that still tortured my heart each time something reminded me of them.

Even the smallest of things, like the smell of oatmeal, reminded me of my father. He would eat it everyday for breakfast with his cup of coffee before he went off to work. The sweet scent of Lillies reminded me of my mothers perfume. Sometimes, when I would walk through a department store, even the slightest whiff of a similar perfume could throw my mind into a series of flashes of her smile and cheerful voice. It would wreck every last piece of brick I had built up from the time before, the pain still new and fresh even after six years. 

However, the worst of it was not that they were gone too soon, or that I didn’t get to say ‘I love you’ one last time. I knew they loved me, and they knew I loved them. I knew that their time had come, even if it was a bitter way to go. The worst was the day to day things, the small and seemingly insignificant things that made it painful. I couldn’t call my mom to tell her about my day, or ask her about hers. I couldn’t talk to my dad and ask his advice about the multitude of things he seemed to know about; what direction I should take for school, or what he thought about my latest piece of art whether it be of music or painting. I didn’t have that anymore, I couldn’t go home and know that I could find my mom in the kitchen cooking dinner for my dad when he came home from work, or find my dad working on the various projects he busied himself with on the weekend.

The worst was when I had lost everything I had tried to rebuild, the family I had fought for against every odd and it still wasn’t enough. That even after everything, I was back to where I started; alone and broken.

“Are you okay?” Grey’s words finally ripped me out of the spiral I was drowning in.

I jerked my head up and looked at him. 

“Yeah, of course.” I lied. “Why?”

“You’re crying.” We had stopped right outside of his door, the number ’39’ in a tarnished bronze hanging crooked. His hand on the door knob and another reaching for my cheek. I was hesitant to let him close, finding any courage I had long gone.

Lightening fast, his hand cupped my chin, sending a tremor to surge down my spine while his thumb wiped away a tear. His skin was a bit rough, but it was real and somehow felt safe; it gave comfort when everything else caused unrest and anguish. I felt myself drawn in to his eyes that made me wild the first time I had seen them, found those brick walls tumbling from his smokey voice. When the first wall collapsed it startled me back to reality.

‘Don’t get attached.’ I warned, ‘You’ll loose everything that you love. Every time.’

I backed away from his warm, soothing hold. Even if he had just been holding my chin, my entire body felt cold now.

“I should go.” I decided, knowing that this dream would have to end eventually, so it ought to end now.

“Okay.” He seemed unaffected by my choice, which made the ache worse somehow.

“Thank you, for saving me.” I thanked, my eyes scanning his face like a piece of art. Admittedly, I was committing him to memory, every nook and cranny; every shape unique and beautiful.  

“As requested, don’t mention it, if you would.” He asked again, and I couldn’t do more than nod an agreement. 

I backed away slowly, wondering why the world was pulling me towards him while I fought to leave. 

“Goodbye.” The words tasted bitter, acidic, even foul. I needed them out of my mouth, but I couldn’t take it back. I turned back down the hall and left, not hearing another word from him.

The moment I was outside of the building, I opened the black purse that had somehow stayed slung around my shoulder this entire escapade. I dug around recklessly, ignoring the silent, salty tears that poured into my mouth as I searched for my phone. 

‘Still has power, good.’ But I didn’t feel good, only empty. I unlocked the screen with a swipe of my thumb and opened up a maps app to show me where I was.

‘Only three blocks away from the Blue Goose.’ I thought as I read the directions. 

Following them quickly, I walked down the street doing my best to ignore the emptiness I felt creep up on me. It was the same before he came, before the monster had attacked. It was the same reason I had parked so far away from the bar, and why I walked through the dimly lit sidewalk last night to my motorcycle. I was lonely, desperate for it to end, but too cruel to let anyone in. I had wanted that creature, what Grey called a ‘Saecula’, to fulfill his promise. I wanted everything to end, yet even through the worst of circumstances that I face, I always ended up alive; alone, but alive.

“It’s not fair.” I mumbled bitterly, thinking of all the people that had gotten close to me, only to fall down dead like flies. I couldn’t help but wonder why did they have to die, why was it their time to go and to leave me here? Why could we not have gone together, or better yet, I had taken their place, even just to save one?

‘Why them, and not me?’ But I never got an answer.

Somehow or another, I managed to find my motorcycle still standing from the overnight sleepover in the alley and helmet still dangling on the back. I shoved the bright yellow jacket helmet over my head before I secured my phone and bag in the flip up compartment of the seat. I pulled out the keys from my pocket and made the yellow, Kawasaki Ninja hum. Revving slightly, it purred like a new born kitten under my fingers. I felt a rush of excitement every time I rode this vehicle, and up till last night, it was the only thing that had made me feel happy to be alive.

Zooming out of the alley with an unbridled speed, I zipped down the quiet Sunday morning road, taking back roads until I finally left the city and was at full speed down the country highway. The wind smacked against my visor and I felt it slip around my exposed neck and into my jacket like a violent, uninvited hand. It made my skin crawl, caused the hairs on my air to prick, and thrilled the blood coursing through my body.

Weaving along the country-side with the road, I found my head clear for once in too long a while, and wished it had lasted longer when I finally arrived home. I slowed into a gentle roll, my eyes gazing at my childhood home. It was a lovely mint green, an old craftsmen made in the early 1900’s. My parents had taken good care of it while they owned it, and when it came into my hands, I tried to keep their memory alive.

“I will miss this place.” I sighed, parking the Kawaski down the driveway.

I couldn’t afford to live here anymore, the taxes alone were too much, and after what happened two weeks ago, I needed to find a new job, and those are too few to count over here. I had a few offers, back west. I would have to leave Maine, leave the beauty of this state behind, leave all the memories I cherished to the past. 

I wasn’t sure I could. 

I wondered how I would ever be able to visit the graves of my parents if I moved, visit my best friend Kathrine who was two rows down from my parents and who was just a few graves over from Charolette and Clarence.

I couldn’t resist the urge a moment longer and grasped the heart locket that hung on my neck. It was made of black hills gold, the twin leaves and twin vines symbolizing what was held inside and what I had lost. I flipped open the delicate panel and gazed at the faces that stared directly back at me just like they had every morning; bright eyed and daring, ready for adventure. 

My ankles gave out from under me and I crumpled down to sit on the first step that lead up to the porch and cried. I ached so deeply, felt too much too quickly; it all tore at me and ate me away. Their sapphire blue eyes, curly blonde locks that gracefully fell down their faces. Their smiles were so full of life, of hope and innocence. I clung the locket to my breast as if they were in my arms once more, directly where the scar stung the worst. A literal wound that would never heal from a bullet that had just missed my heart by centimeters. The doctor had called me lucky.

Lucky.

I hated that word so much.

When the chill in the air began nipping too harshly upon my exposed skin, I found the incomprehensible strength to rise onto my shaky legs. My fingers numbly closed the locket and let it delicately drop down and hide once more under my shirt. I turned around and looked to my home, somehow having the courage to go inside and be swarmed with the memories of the past.

I hadn’t taken more than a step inside the soft, country themed decor of my mothers design when my phone started buzzing. I felt my heart drop while an annoying thumping began to rise in my head. There could only be one of two things calling me, and both I tried to avoid at all costs. I pulled my phone to look at it buzz in my hand, and sure enough…

“Oh.” That was surprising.

I quickly slid my thumb to answer and rose the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I asked the hollow device, waiting for a reply.

“Alyra, I think it is time we talk.”

“Marcus.”

[theinsouciantscribbler]

Not Another Vampire Romance: Chapter 2: “Latin isn’t easy to pronounce.”

I sat waiting, staring at her as she laid gingerly on the bed I had set her upon. I couldn’t help but gloss over every inch of her face, measuring the smallest movements of her breathing. I wanted to talk to her, ask just a few questions. I knew I shouldn’t indulge myself, that as soon as she would eventually wake, I ought to send her off to were she belonged. Yet I couldn’t help but imagine all the things she might say. I wondered about her life, if it was fulfilling and if she was living her dream; whatever that might have been.

I couldn’t garner from what she wore, or how she held herself, or even the few words we exchanged, anything about her. Normally I could sense these things, pick up what kind of person they were, find the littlest thing and figure them out. Perhaps I was losing my touch, or perhaps it was because she wore the face of another.

When she finally began to stir, the first light of day started streaming through the blinds. The golden light landed on her hair and made it shimmer like fairy dust. I couldn’t help myself and found that by the time her eyes started to flicker open, I was on my knees by her side.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, hoping the salve from the Swamp Witch had worked.

“I’ve gotten quite the headache, and I am a bit parched… but nothing that a glass of water and Asprin couldn’t fix.” She groaned with a tried smile. 

“That’s good… And what do you remember?” I asked as she started to push herself up and look around the drab apartment I lived in. I wasn’t sure what I hoped she remembered.

“More than I ought to,” She grimaced at what I suspected a thumping headache that must have gotten worse with the flood of blood. “I remember that… creature. I remember you basically refusing to tell me what it was, quite the cryptic and secretive fellow aren’t you.”

“I remember you.” She added, looking straight at me. I felt my heart stutter when she told me that. 

‘Certainly she didn’t know who I was, how could she?’ I asked myself rapidly, ‘She wasn’t the same girl I knew, just a carbon copy. A very good one, but not the same.’

“You remember me?” I asked, trying to hold my excitement back. I knew it was misplaced and would feel the crash.

“From the ‘Blue Goose’.” She recounted, and as I suspected, that hope fell, crashing down and shattering into a thousand foolish pieces. “You were sitting there, all alone, drowning your sorrow.”

“Why are you so sad?” She asked me. 

“I’m not sad.” I lied.

‘Damn, is it that obvious?’ I asked myself, trying to push it down deeper, lock it away and lose the key.

“Is there another reason someone sits at a bar alone, drinking an entire fifth to himself?” She asked. I found I had a slight irritation for her astute recollection and ability to figure me out with just one look. 

‘Why can’t I figure you out then?’ I asked myself, trying to search her for a tell, a sign, anything that could make her any less interesting so I could forget her and let this delusion of the past die and stay dead.

“I like the taste of Scotch.” I shrugged. 

“I’m sorry,” She apologized, “I shouldn’t have just assumed anything about you. Especially after everything you’ve done for me.”

“You don’t need to apologize-”

“I do,” She pressed, “I thought I saw something in you, but I suppose it was just my own feelings reflected back. Tends to happen to me a lot, thinking there is something there when there just… isn’t.”

I watched as she rose to her feet, I rose with her but froze in my tracks as she moved across the apartment to the kitchen. I was still processing what she had just told me. 

Without invitation, which make me smirk from her candor and lack of formality, for it was clear she was raised as a hellion, she flung the fridge door open and rummaged through its continents. 

“If you are looking for something a little less… Strong, you won’t find it there.” I informed her, and I could almost hear her pout when she snapped erect and closed the door.

“How’s the tap?” She asked, twisting slightly, watching me. I found myself wishing I had turned the lights on, because most of her was draped in shadows.

“Don’t know. Haven’t tried it.” I shrugged.

I watched as she twisted the squeaky nozzle to the sink. It began to sing in an off pitch F, reminding me of a squealing pig right before the slaughter. The water shot out the water spigot in short bursts like an impact sprinkler until it finally sputtered into a constant stream.

“Glasses?” She asked, already rummaging through the cabinets.

“To the left.” I muttered. She pulled out the first glass closest to her and filled it. Cautiously, as to not startle her, I moved over to the light switch to flick it on. The light flickered for a moment before it sustained constant light. For the first time, I finally began to notice how downtrodden this tiny apartment was. Sure, the rent was hardly noticeable, but the living conditions were squaller at best.

I watched as she took a sip before pulling it away from her lips with a scowl.

“Not sure if it’s the pipes or the water, but the distinct taste of iron and sulfur has made this water foul.” She sneered, pouring the glass out and slumping against the tan countertop. 

“You don’t have anything?” She asked, looking disappointed.

“Nothing you would want.” I silently chided myself for having a strict diet of alcohol.

“Is there a corner store near by, or…?” She asked, licking her lips. My eyes followed it. Unintentionally, I found myself biting my own. 

“Come on,” I snapped out of my daze, “Let’s get you taken care of.” 

I reached for my jacket that hung besides the door and slung it on. She was right besides me, ready to go. 

Walking down the street this early in the morning was oddly refreshing.

‘I ought to do this more often.’ I thought to myself, ‘Would have to stop drinking till four in the morning… So maybe not.’

“I suppose we should introduce ourselves.” She began, filling in the silence that had lingered in the air up till that point. 

“Should we?” I questioned, knowing that against my better judgement, I desperately wanted to know everything about her.

“Perhaps not, a bit of ambiguity in ones life could do some good.” She smiled, looking down at her feet as she spoke. “Just two strangers, walking together down to the corner shop.”

“You’d prefer that, would you?” I smirked, finding her… I wouldn’t say odd, just different. Everything she said seemed to contradict what I thought I was forming about her in my mind. One moment she was nosey and intruding into my very personal life and home, and the next she was giving us a full arm width apart.  

“Oh, I don’t know…” She muttered, “Just a thought, a musing really.”

“Truthfully,” She continued, her voice stronger, the color of her cheeks turning peach. “I would like to know the name of my hero.”

“I am no hero.” I said firmly.

“A Dark Knight, then, but if it is all the same…”

“You shouldn’t try to think that I am something good, just because I spared you from that creature, treated your wound.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” She rebuffed, “I know so, and you are avoiding my question. A bit of them actually. Don’t like letting down your guard?” 

“Which questions?” I didn’t remember a single one.

“Where should I start…” She rolled her eyes at me. 

“Well, you wouldn’t tell me what that thing even was, and you didn’t exactly tell me what that black ooze was that you used to completely heal my wound; don’t think I’ve forgotten what it was like before hand. Oh, and I asked you what your name was and you’ve refused to give me that.” She recounted.

“That’s all?” 

“Exactly.” She sighed, sounding more amused than how she acted. 

“Perhaps,” She continued, “I could tempt you to loosen your lips…”

I watched as she nearly danced on her tip toes, teasing me. We had come to the store front of the corner shop, and she was blocking the way. With slender, tiny hands, she gripped the collar of my leather jacket and yanked me close. It was too close for comfort, too close and I could smell her. Her hair wafted of honey and sunflowers, but the sweet and fruity scent of plums came from someplace more daring to think about. My eyes met her lips, slightly pink; tempting. She was too close, and I was weak. So close I could drink her in like a fresh cool glass of water.

“I’m Lyra, by the way.” She whispered, her lips tickling mine as they moved. Jerking back with a teasing smile, she pushed back into the door of the store and went in. I followed behind numbly, daring to not think of what was dangerously close to happening.

‘I need to get as far away from her as possible. She is dangerous.’ I decided, knowing that she would cause me too much trouble if I lingered.

It wasn’t until I stepped into the store, and the cool stream of air that hit my face, that I realized she had told me her name. I wasn’t sure if I was thankful that she didn’t share my memories name, or saddened that I couldn’t use that name with that face. It would certainly ache, to call it by another.

“Lyra, huh?” I whispered, walking closely behind her as she browsed the drinks in the clear faced fridge. “Just Lyra?”

“You want more, you have to give more.” She muttered, biting her nails. She wasn’t paying me much mind, reaching in for a bottle of water.

“Esheton Grey.” I caved. It didn’t matter anyways, if she knew or not. I wasn’t in any directory, I didn’t use that social media that was taking over the world. I was, what I heard some people call ‘Off the Grid’. “Though, I prefer Grey.”

“You prefer being referred to by your surname?” She asked, raising a brow as if she didn’t believe me.

“Esheton was my father, and endeared by my mother. Though he was known more for his ‘connections’ than either his given christian name or surname. So it suited me better, to be called Grey.” I explained, though I doubted she could understand the complexities of why I would rather not be associated with my father.

“I can understand not wanting to use your given name, though perhaps not for the same reason as you.” She nodded. “Lyra is just a nickname, really. A good friend called me that once, almost twenty years ago now; and it stuck like honey. My real name is Alyra-Mae Henderson.”

“I think I prefer Alyra-Mae.”

“Thanks, uh,” Her cheeks started to glow red, “Sorry about my rambling. I tend to do that, go off on my own tangents. I’m in my own little world it seems, always woolgathering or over-explaining… Like I am now.”

She tucked a wild lock of hair behind her ear, but it didn’t want to stay put. I found myself much liking that hair. It wanted to be free, be itself, refusing to apologize for going against the grain. 

The moment after purchase, a couple dollars from my own wallet as I found it terribly tedious for her to pull out her plastic card just to buy water, she uncapped the bottle and drained it whole.

“You’ll make yourself sick.” I whined, but she didn’t seem to hear me. Or simply didn’t care.

“So, mind telling me something about yourself?” She said the moment we turned the block to head back to my apartment. I was almost shocked to hear her ask permission first. I wanted to laugh at how she flip-flopped but didn’t have time. She was waiting for an answer and I didn’t want to keep her waiting.

“What do you want to know?” I was curious, at the very least, what she thought she needed to know about me. There wasn’t much, not that I could tell her anyways, that was interesting or worth sharing.

“Well, first of all, where do you procure yourself a bad-ass cane sword?” She asked, eyeing the cane that I walked with. 

“Would you like to take a look?” I offered it to her, not needing the crutch for any physical limitation.

She took it gently, observing the carved silver bulb handle. It was ornate, an intricate design. In a similar fashion was the fiberglass casing. Watching her pull out the blade from it reflected a thin stream of light upon her face, making her eyes dazzle like jewels. This was the first time I had gotten a truly good look at them, not distracted by anything else, and this was the first time I saw the difference between the past and present; the reality was so much greater than the dream.

Her eyes were decorated with what seemed like copper and gold flakes upon steely blue eyes. Within them, I felt like I could finally see in through those windows, take a glimpse of what was there. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sword was nothing magnificent by any standards as far as design were concerned. It wasn’t ornate like the casing, and was for a practical usage; which made sense. The only thing that could be said about the blade that separated it from others, were an inscription upon it which I could not read. It was in a different language, and although I was no linguist, I took a guess at which one based solely on a gut feeling.

“Latin inscription?” I asked, looking up at Grey to see he was staring right back at me. 

“Uh,” He furrowed his brows as if to think for a moment. I must have broken his train of thought. “Yeah, I think so.”

“What does it mean?” I asked, pointing to the words and speaking them the best I could. “Mortem ut Saecula Saeculorum Animarum Comedenti.”

He let out a long sigh before slowly taking the sword away and sheathing it back into its casing. He looked at me hard, silently, for a long time before he gently jerked his head to the side to indicate for us to keep walking. I followed at his side, twiddling my fingers together.

“It means,” He began, surprising me. “Death to Saecula Saeculorum Animarum Comedenti.”

“Okay, but what does-“

“Saecula, Saecula Saeculorum,” He interrupted. “Or for abbreviations I like to simply say ‘Sae’, means simply in an age of ages, forever and ever.” 

“So, immortal.” I suggested.

“Not exactly,” He shook his head, “Immortal suggests that there is no end, no death. Which is not what the meaning is trying to convey.”

I didn’t quite understand, but I stayed silent and let him continue.

“Animarum Comedenti, is the eater of souls. Though,” He paused, almost as if he was scoffing at what he had just said. “It doesn’t really explain everything that it entails.” 

“Death to an age of ages, to the eater of souls?”I asked, and suddenly, I pieced it together. “It means to bring death to that creature you slain last night.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t seem to have much more to say about it, but now I was more intrigued than ever.

“So, you call them Sae?” 

“Saecula is universally known as their name, at least in the sect that knows about them. Sae is just something I call them. You, and most of America might call them ‘Vampyre’.”

“He didn’t look like he wanted to drink my blood.” I argued.

“The romanticized version is nothing like what is really out there.” He explained, “Perhaps one Saecula chose to only drink blood, and somehow it caught traction that all Saecula only drink blood, and because of the vampire bat in Africa that drinks blood from small animals, legend began calling them vampyre, and it morphed into a dangerous fantasy where people actually think they want to be one.”

“They only see the perks of living forever, not what it takes to get there.” I added, understanding, or more like not understanding the desire to want to live so long. I already thought life had dragged on for far too long, certainly I didn’t need to elongate it further.

“Precisely.” He nodded, seemingly pleased that I understood his seemingly disgusted attitude towards such fools. Then his smile fell when he looked back at me. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“No.” I could answer that quick without thought. “The thought, to live forever, seems unbearable.”

“Miserable, even.” I continued, just rambling on since he didn’t speak up. “What more could life have to offer beyond the normal scope provided; since it already offers so little already?”

“Nothing really.” He agreed.

“Tell me,” He said when we reached the door to his apartment complex. It rose high into the sky, was just as drab as the inside, and cast a shadow that brought the entire block down in its misery. “Are you happy?”

For once I felt afraid with him there besides me. No longer protected and guarded, he meant to dive right in and ask the things I wanted to keep buried away. I suppose it was my fault, speaking so openly as I did. 

‘I really ought to quit being so candid.’ I chided myself, knowing I would work on that in the future.

“Why…” I stuttered, trying to find a way around answering his question. “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Well, because I think you should be. Happy, that is.” He opened the door to his building, offering for me to go first, but my feet were planted firm on the sidewalk.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, feeling a wild temper flaring in the pits of my stomach.

“I only meant that you deserve to be.” He replied.

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say, since the last time I had heard someone tell me that, was the night my parents died.

[theinsouciantscribbler]

Not another Vampire Romance: Chapter 1: “Stiletto Heels are not for Running.”

“I’ll pick some up when the market opens in a few weeks.” The voice was like velvet.

I only saw a bright, lipstick red pair of shoes fade away before the ache in my head drowned out every other sense. I reached for another swig of, ah, well I couldn’t remember what I was drinking. The glass was warm, but I lifted it to my lips to partake when even craning all the way back left my mouth dry, I slammed the small glass down. I think the bartender may have said something about cutting me off in that moment, but a flash of memory whipped past my view. A field of wheat under the glamour of the autumn sun, the scent of plums wafting off from the orchard during harvest. 

I had to rub my eyes to see my memory transform into a flaxen locked dream. Her hair swayed just like the wheat, the perfume that fell behind her was sweet, fruity and crisp, but faint and fading with time. I couldn’t help but follow behind, tossing a chunk of bills down on the counter before I went.

Guided by the glory of what couldn’t possibly be real, and shoes that matched a darker memory completely, I staggered far behind but enough to imagine all the ways she could have found her way to that time at that bar. 

I smelled him before he came. 

It was foul, rotten, stagnant. 

“Saecula.” I growled. I reached for the bulb of my cane, ready to withdraw my weapon when I saw a man in shadow saunter up to her side and yank her into the pocket alley. My heart thumping from a sudden frenzy I had repressed for what seemed like a lifetime now, I swept through the night. From one breath to the next, I was at the mouth of the alley and had my sword unsheathed from my cane. 

The villain chuckled when he heard my footsteps.

“A sword will do you no good here.” He cackled, twisting just enough towards the dim light of the street lamp to illuminate his monstrous face. 

“You’ll regret underestimating me, beast.” I warned him right before I dove in to slay this evil creature.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps I was inviting death, walking down the poorly lit street that night. I even greeted it, when the prickling on my skin warned me of what was coming and I didn’t dare raise my voice when it grabbed me. I can’t remember if I smiled at death when I stared it straight in the face, embracing it as it’s human facade torn to shreds like tissue paper and revealed a most vile abomination that not even my most darkest imaginations could have conjured.

The shadows made it larger than it was, my fear gave it greater strength. Or at least, it would have, were I afraid. Instead, my heart didn’t change it’s pace from one moment to next. My gut didn’t twist in pain from panic, and my mind wasn’t franticly searching for different avenues of escape. Instead, I stood there, listening as it promised a vicious ending to my mortal coil and all I could think about was the lonesome man at the counter of the ‘Blue Goose’. He seemed miserable to be alive, in pain to just be awake, to breathe. I hadn’t seen much of him, just enough to see his eyes were blood shot from both the staggering train of drinks consumed and loss of sleep. 

I found myself wondering, just moments before my capture, who he was and what had happened to him. He seemed far too young to be so aged and worn with sorrow. Perhaps I only thought I saw such things in his eyes, and they were nothing more than a reflection.

When the creature craned his neck to look at a mysterious figure cloaked in shadow but outline illuminated like an angel from the light of the street lamp, I felt my heart leap. I could see nothing of him, knew nothing of him, yet saw him as a dark knight coming to my rescue. 

The creature spoke in tongues, and the dark knight replied in kind. Pushed up against a corner, the monster let his hold of me go and focused on my rescuer. I watched my only view to the world take place, my eyes flickering from one to the other and hoping my knight was faster, stronger even, than this beast. 

A bright flash of light twinkled intermittently. It was his sword catching the light from the street, a gleam of hope to follow with it as it struck the creatures arm. It let out a shrill cry, but it didn’t deter it from battle. With ferocity and anger, I could see it become enraged and fight with a reckless abandon. It had been going easy on the Knight up till this point. 

Like the crack of lightening, the monster slammed its fist into the knights chest and sent him flying back into the wall I was tucked in to. I crawled quickly over to his side to asses his injuries. I palmed over his chest and face, looked for any sign of life or death but saw neither. Cupping his cheek, his eyes closed and face hardly visible in this light, I begged him to wake.

“I didn’t think you were the sort that gave up this easily.” I whispered. Besides the flicker of eyes and slight groan, it had no effect.

“Now then,” Came the monsters voice. The sound pricked and crawled up and down my skin like insects. My wrist was seized by its lone hand, the fingers longer than my forearm, thin like sticks and claws like the talons of an eagle. It yanked me towards it, its mouth agape and drooling with black sludge. Teeth like spindles lined its jaw in rows, and eyes jet black once again began to promise my inevitable death. “I’ve worked up quite the appetite.”

Before, I feared it not. Before, I would have kept my eyes open when it would bring its murder down upon my flesh, watched with a painful and sick fascination of what I was about to greet. 

Yet now I felt the frigid grip of fear, the twist of panic like a noose around my neck and pulling at my innards. Blood pumping and entire body trembling, I shut my eyes tight as I awaited the pain with the first bite.

My shoulder became instantly enflamed but that was all I felt before I was being pulled backwards. My eyes shot open and I saw the creature gutted by my dark knight. His sword pierced its flesh through so great that the handle met with his skin. I saw the black eyes of the beast grow wide before its monstrous shape contorted back into its human casing. He was a monster, but died like any other man; fearing the death he foolishly thought would never come to him.

With a swift yank, my knight ripped his sword clean of his kill and wiping the blade on some tissue, he sheathed the blade.

“They will come for you… for the both of you.” I heard the beast cough up.

“Back to hell with you.” The knight spat as the corpse turned to nothing but ash. 

Momentarily, I had forgotten the gut wrenching pain that emanated from my shoulder as I was lost in the way the milky moon light washed over my knight when it finally dared to come out.

He twisted his head and looked at me with his eyes that felt like a hand go over me entirely. When they landed at my shoulder, I met the place and saw the deep gashes that exposed the ivory bones of my shoulder and collar bone. I felt the gash trailing down to my back and thought that my shoulder blade may be peeking out to the world too; it didn’t want to be left out of the party. 

“You’re hurt.” He spoke gruffly, yet his movements spoke to a swift nature. He was at my side instantly, looking at the wound. 

“Not too bad i’m sure.” I made light of what was surely a terrible wound. “Just a flesh wound.”

He shot a dark look up at me, unimpressed with my humor.

“I can heal you, but you mustn’t speak of this night to anyone.” He waited for my answer.

“Of… Of course.” I agreed.

“Good. Seems you’ve some sense in that empty head of yours yet.” 

I almost thanked him for his help when the insult hit me.

“Come, take my hand, I can’t do it here.” Without asking, he lifted me to my feet. 

With a sly grin, he added, “You may feel slightly queasy.”

“I don’t understand-“ I began, but the world began to melt away into a haze, shifting from the alley to a dark realm of nothing but black and a spotlight where we stood. Then, like curtains raising up from the floor, the world changed again into a dank, small apartment with only a tiny window letting in the nights natural light.

When everything stopped moving, my knees went weak and my head spun. 

“Whoa,” He was quick to catch me and lead me over to a steel chair that was ice cold. “Sit here a moment.”

I tried to calm the ache in my head while I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he rummaged through the cabinets.

“Aw, here we are.” I heard him murmur. With the thumps of his boots to the wood floor, I felt him come over like each one a hit to the head.

“The first passage is always the worst.” He tried to comfort me, but it did little to help.

“As is the last.” I grumbled, vowing to never do that again as the headache finally began to wane.

“This will be excruciating, so I need you to bite down on this.” He handed me a stick. Where he had gotten a stick, was far beyond any questions I needed answered first. 

I took it and bit down while I watched him uncork a vile of black ooze. It looked eerily similar to the ooze that dripped out of that creatures mouth. He must have caught the hesitation in my eyes and chuckled.

“This is not made from the venom of that creature, if that is what you are thinking.” He promised.

“That thing has venom?” I asked, thinking that the monster I had seen tonight was no snake.

“Indeed, it does. If I was to let this wound fester, instead of clean it, it would end up killing you even if the beast didn’t.” He explained.

“Does that ‘beast’ have a name?” 

“Of course they do.”

“There are more of them?” I felt my gut roll from the fact.

“Of course… You didn’t think you had such bad luck to come across the only one, did you?” He laughed.

“Well… I have a penchant for bad luck.” I sighed.

“Maybe.” He agreed, smirking. I tried to meet his smile, but a scream came bursting out instead through my gritted teeth. My entire side felt like it was being torn into a million shreds of flesh, like my skin was melting off and bones cracking. Flames hotter than a forest fire ran over my muscles, and made every inch of my body tremor before I couldn’t handle a moment more and met the darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, damn.” I muttered when I saw her give in to what I knew to be an unbearable experience. I took two fingers and checked her vitals in her neck, and still feeling a pulse, albeit weak, I continued washing the wound with the concoction I had procured several years prior from a swamp land witch. With great interest each time I used it, I watched as the flesh began sewing itself back up like new, the scrapes in bone mending, and only scars and the memory of what happened would remain.

Washing the residue off, I couldn’t help but study the face of this woman. She was like a memory that had walked straight out of my dreams, an exact replica it seemed, even down to the freckle behind her ear. 

I had to admit to reality and in actuality that this wasn’t the exact woman. That would have been impossible, since she died so far long ago that I couldn’t dare try to count the years. Yet, here she was. I wondered, knowing that it was a complete impossibility, if she shared the same name.

“Certainly not.” I decided out loud. 

Turning away from her, I decided to clean myself up. I had gotten that vermin’s blood splattered all over my clothing and face, and didn’t fancy wearing it a moment longer. 

In the bathroom, which had a terrible florescent bulb that flickered so bad it would have given anyone a headache, I looked into the splotchy mirror and felt a moment of shock overcome me.

‘How did she not cower away?’ I asked myself. I wasn’t just splattered with blood, or covered in small chunks of the Saecula’s flesh. My contacts had become dislodged and fallen away in the battle, something I didn’t notice till now, and my eyes shined a bright, velvety cerise. Any sane human should have known something was wrong with me, with eyes like these.

“Perhaps she didn’t notice… not likely though.” I murmured before stripping down to my bare flesh and stepping into the steaming shower that enjoyed shooting me with occasional spurts of freezing water.