Vampire Girl: Crimson Cocktail

by Karpov Kinrade

  I scream in my memory, and Sebastian clutches me against his chest as my screams carry to the present.

  I open my eyes and stare at the woman caged before me.

  "What did you do?" My voice is hoarse, my heart broken.

  "I traded you for immortality. But like the selfish bitch you are, you didn’t fulfill your end of the bargain. And now he’s dead. My love. My life. He’s dead because of you."

  Sebastian moves to face her. "He’s dead because of me. Ember had nothing to do with that since your boyfriend and his pals drained her of blood. And he would have done the same to you if a hunter hadn’t captured you first and dragged your sorry ass here. Be grateful you get to live at all. That vampire you hooked up with is a serial killer with a particular taste for women."

  Her face pales, and she bares her teeth at him like an animal. "I was different. He loved me. We were going to rule the world forever."

  "Do you know where his brother is?" Sebastian asks.

  She answers by spitting in his face.

  Sly cringes at the display and hands him a handkerchief, which he uses to clean up the saliva. He then stands and helps me to my feet. "We aren’t going to get any more from her." Sebastian gives Sly a look and then the three of us leave the dungeon as cries of despair follow us out.

  When we reach Sly’s library, I sink into the couch and pull my legs to my chest. I feel weak. Tired. And so very sad.

  Our host bows his head slightly. "Allow me to give you both some privacy while I check on other matters of concern. I’ll see what the hunters have dug up about the remaining Rendali brother and what his plans might be, and I’ll have a room prepared for the two of you. You might be here a while."

  Sly leaves, and I stand and pace the room, thinking. "Are there phones here? I need to call work and let them know I’ll be taking an unexpected vacation."

  "No phones. Tech isn’t very reliable in The Black Lotus, and you can’t leave. It’s the only place you’re safe with Steven Rendali gunning for you."

  I nod. "Fair enough. I’ll figure out a way to explain my absence upon my return. Perhaps some forged medical documents showing I was in a temporary coma?"

  Sebastian raises an eyebrow and smirks. "I expected there to be more tears and less planning."

  "My tears will come. Right now, the rage I feel is turning them to fire." I stop and face him, feeling utterly vulnerable and alone. "I trusted her, and I don’t trust easily. How could she do this to me?"

  He comes to stand close to me, his hands reaching for mine. "There are no limits to what people will do for the chance to live forever. And the Rendali brothers are very cunning."

  I square my jaw at him and frown. "I would never succumb to such an immoral plan."

  A grin plays at his lips. "I have no doubt you would always make the right choice, Ember."

  Another wave of memory washes over me, and I stumble into his arms as the past crashes into my brain.

  Teeth sinking into my neck. So many men feeding on me at once, draining me.

  Pain. Anger. Fear.

  I feel violated.

  And I hear her. Molly. Laughing. Flirting.

  Then I see her, licking one of the open wounds on my body, tasting my blood, rubbing it on her face.

  Then it all goes blank, and when next my eyes open, they look upon the face of a dark angel. Sebastian, with his ocean eyes and black hair flopping in his face.

  I blink, the past version of him fading to reveal the real man… vampire.

  "You’re regaining your memory?"

  "Some," I say. "It was… horrible. She’s a monster." My eyes prickle with tears, and my throat clogs with emotion. "The pain. I can’t describe the pain."

  "You’re shaking. You need more of my blood to help complete the transformation." He holds his wrist to his own mouth and bites. Blood pools on his pale skin as he holds it to my mouth.

  We are inches apart. His blood drips onto the floor as he waits for me to feed. The scent of blood, of his blood, overwhelms everything. My teeth elongate, and I sink them into his wrist and drink.

  His other arm wraps around me, holding me against him as I feed on him. I feel what he feels, sense what he senses. There is affection. Worry. Fear, which he is not used to feeling.

  When I am done, I release him and step back. My emotions bubble to the surface unrestrained. I crave him like I’ve never craved anything or anyone. I need him. Want him.

  Yet, I haven’t forgotten what he and Sly said about our marriage, and I step back and pull the huge ring off my finger, holding it out to him as I steel my heart against the desire and—dare I say it? Love—that is growing there.

  He frowns. "What’s this?"

  "I know you only married me to avoid whatever punitive punishment this council might effect. I release you from that vow. Thank you for saving my life. You owe me nothing further."

  I can’t read his face as he stares at the ring, but I just need him to take it. I will never be able to move on from him, but I must try. I certainly won’t hold him to a vow he made to save me, just because my ridiculous emotions are making a hormonal teenager of me.

  Instead of taking the ring, he pulls something out from his pocket and hands it to me. It's an envelope with my writing on it.

  I stare at it, transfixed. It's addressed to a post office box with only the initials S.K. on it.

  Another memory clicks into place.

  I had another plan that night. Someone I was meeting after a few hours to appease Molly.

  I look up at him. "How did you get this?" I ask, even as I know the words he's about to speak.

  "Have you not figured it out? I'm S.K."

  Chapter 4

  "You're who I was going to meet at the coffee house?"

  He nods and sits, pulling me to his side.

  I twist away far enough to face him, and take the letter into my own hands, running my fingers over the grained surface of the luxurious stationary. "I made this paper myself," I say absently.

  He smiles. "I know. You mentioned it in the second letter we exchanged."

  This strange pen pal relationship began a year ago yesterday when a mysterious letter arrived in the mail addressed to the library. I happened to be working that day and opened it. The letter was a detailed request for a specific book that dealt with alchemical practices in South India in the early 9th century. I found the request intriguing. Of course we didn't have anything like that in our library. But I have connections around the world, and found a rare edition for him that he was willing to pay a premium for.

  I became something of his book curator after that. Scouring the world via my sources and connections, hunting down rare texts for him that no one else had ever heard of save a small handful of people.

  We never communicated by phone or computer, which suited me just fine. It was always through letters, which, over time, became interspersed with more personal reflections. We shared pieces of our lives, carefully cut out of the bigger picture, carved into something only relevant to each other. He would translate long sections of the books he was reading, of which he often had the only copy in existence, and I would share my thoughts about the selected passages as I greedily devoured his elaborate calligraphy-style writing. I would hunt down rare editions of books I thought he would enjoy, and though my budget didn’t come close to his, I often discovered affordable finds that were rare and more valuable than most people knew. I would send him these treasures and wait, sometimes weeks, for his reply. I was never disappointed. He would send pages of writing on his interpretation of the text, and his enthusiasm for the discoveries.

  We didn't learn the things you might learn about someone on a first date. Favorite color, favorite food, greatest fear. But we learned so much more than that. We learned the working of each other's minds, the depth of intellectual curiosity we shared. The fascination with ancient texts and mysteries.

  As the one year anniversary of the day that first letter came approached, I made the bold mov
e to suggest we meet in person. I had no romantic expectations. I didn't even know if S.K. was a man or woman (though I speak of him as male now because I know he is), young or old, single or romantically involved. It didn't matter. I'd found a soul mate, whatever the form came in, and I wanted to meet for coffee and talk about our shared love of ideas.

  S.K. didn't reply for several weeks, and I became nervous that I'd scared him off. But then I received the letter that said he would be in Las Vegas the night of our anniversary and would meet me at a coffee shop called "Book Nooks and Bean Brains." I'd never heard of it, but it sounded like the perfect place for us to meet.

  That was where I was going last night after hanging out with Molly.

  To meet S.K.

  To meet… Sebastian.

  I open the letter, reading over my own words. The letter is worn, well-read, and has clearly been carried in a pocket for some time.

  "How do I know you're telling the truth? You could have stolen this from the person I was meant to meet."

  My heart is beating so loudly I'm sure he can hear it. I want this to be true. I want this connection I feel to him to be more than just a magical bond made of blood.

  And so for an hour, he speaks all the words I need to hear. He tells me of the first book I sent him, and describes what it felt like to hold it in his hands and smell it and what it was like to crack the ancient pages open and read the words few alive today have read. He mulls over letters I wrote to him, talking about his favorite observations of mine, and how my thoughts swayed him on certain topics. And for a time we both forget what is happening in the world around us. We forget what ultimately brought us together, and we explore the thing that led us to each other in the first place.

  Books.

  At some point in our conversation, I find the ring back on my finger, though I don't recall putting it there.

  We are surrounded by stacks of Sly's books, comparing his library to Sebastian's, when Sebastian sweeps a strand of hair out of my eyes, his face inches from mine. "You see? This wasn't just a random encounter. We were meant to meet. Meant to know each other. Meant to—" A blaring sound fills the room, interrupting what could have been, and Sly appears behind us as if from air. "We have something of a situation," he says.

  "What’s happened?" Sebastian asks, the books around us forgotten, the moment broken.

  "Molly is dead."

  Chapter 5

  It’s a gruesome sight, what’s left of Molly Lambert. Her hair is torn out by the roots and left in clumps around her cell. Her eyes have been plucked out and left to rot by the pissing pot. Her skin has been scratched and bitten until there’s almost nothing left identifying her as human. But none of that killed her. No, it’s her torn out throat that did the deed.

  I squat over her remains as something niggles my brain. I’ve read enough cozy mysteries to dissect a crime scene in my sleep. I point to her hands. "She did this to herself," I say in a low voice.

  Sly leans over to look at what I’m pointing to.

  "Notice her nails? She tore out her hair, plucked out her eyes and scratched up her skin. Even pulled out her throat."

  "That would make more sense than someone else being able to kill her here," Sly says. "I would know if anyone attempted to harm someone under my care."

  "Why would she do this?" Sebastian asks.

  "How could she do this?" I ask in a whisper.

  Sly shrugs. "Madness inspires mad acts. But worry not, you’re safe here."

  Except I’m not just worried about my safety anymore. "Maybe Molly was always insane, and I’m just now seeing it, but I can’t help but blame these brothers. How many women have they killed?" I ask as my mind inadvertently flashes to that night.

  To the teeth.

  The bites.

  The pain.

  "They’ve been around a while," Sebastian says. "So… a lot. In the thousands, likely. Or more."

  My stomach drops. Thousands? Or more? They aren’t serial killers. They are mass murders. They are insane. "The women on the news recently? The ones missing?"

  "Not missing, I’m afraid," says Sly. "We’ve had our Council of Hunters searching for them, but this is the first lead we’ve had. They’re good at covering their tracks."

  "And he wants me dead because he blames me for his brother dying?" I ask.

  Sebastian nods. "That’s my fault. He should be coming after me, not you."

  Sly smirks. "Rest assured, dear boy, he’s coming for you too. She’s just easier prey."

  An idea that’s been knocking around in my brain finally lands. "Then let him find me."

  Sebastian frowns. Sly looks intrigued.

  "Use me as bait. If he wants me so badly, then use that to catch him."

  "No way," Sebastian says. "Not going to happen. He’s unpredictable. Capable of anything."

  "Exactly. He’s unpredictable and likely to make mistakes. If you’ve been looking for him as long as you say you have, this should be a no-brainer. Surely with all the hunters you talk about, you could keep me safe."

  Sly’s eyes shift to Sebastian, and the vampire frowns. "No. The hunters are fallible. People in their care get hurt. People who trust them. I won’t let you die for this."

  And then it all clicks into place. "You were one, weren’t you? A hunter?"

  Sebastian nods.

  "And someone under your care was hurt? Died?"

  He looks away.

  I reach for his hand. "I’m not them. And I get to make my own decisions. You said so yourself. I always have a choice. And this is what I’m choosing. You have to trust me."

  We lock eyes, and I can see he’s still going to fight me on this, so I push harder.

  "I’ll do it without you if I have to." It’s a hard thing for me to say, but it’s still true. And part of me hopes he’ll walk away and let me risk this alone. So he’s safe.

  "Stubborn woman," he mutters.

  I just smile. "Does that mean you’re in?"

  "It means I’m not letting you do this alone."

  Sly claps his hands together and grins. "Excellent. I do love a good bait and trap. Let us head to the drawing room to prepare, shall we?"

  I’m anxious to leave the corpse of my best friend and breathe some fresh air, so I follow quickly and I don’t look back. There’s a part of my heart that’s mourning the person I thought she was. For the memories we shared. The time we had together. The friendship I will miss. But then I remember the things she said and did. I remember her smearing my blood on her body and laughing as I died, and bile rises in my throat.

  It’s a strange thing to finally see the truth of someone and to then have every memory re-colored by this new reality. It’s disjointing. But I don’t have time to play with the past. First, I must stop a killer.

  The plan we settle on is pretty straightforward. Sebastian will take me home and I will wait for Steven to come and try to kill me. Hunters will be stationed around my house and ready to pounce once he arrives, and we will all live happily ever after. Well, except Steven.

  Sebastian looks perpetually worried.

  And so I tell him my idea. My thoughts on how to end this without me or anyone else getting hurt.

  "Remember that book I sent you last November… the one that detailed the booby traps used in ancient Egyptian tombs?"

  He nods, and then it clicks and his eyes widen. "You're bloody brilliant, you know that?"

  I ask for something to write with and I outline my ideas. Sly and Sebastian chime in with ways to improve or tweak what I'm going to set up, then we raid Sly's workroom for the parts and pieces we will need to make it all work.

  "I still think I should stay in the house with you," Sebastian says.

  "He'll smell you. He has to believe I'm alone, and for that to happen, I have to actually be alone."

  He grunts but doesn't argue further.

  I’m actually pretty okay with this plan. At least for now. I’m sure the crazy of it all will settle in eventually. I had toyed
with the idea of going back to work, following my normal routine, etc., but I don’t want to put my colleagues at risk, even if they are all backstabbing ninnies who enjoyed mocking me. Presumably, they aren’t all psychopaths bent on mayhem and murder. I’m pretty sure only Molly holds that distinction.

  Since Sebastian hasn’t been to my house, he can’t use a mirror, but apparently I can now that I no longer have a reflection.

  "You’re officially a vampire," he says. "How do you feel?"

  I shrug. "Stronger. More attuned to my senses. But still mostly like me, just a powered-up version of my former self. I don’t dislike it."

  He nods. "There are some things you’ll have to get used to."

  "Right. Like finding blood sources. Can I use animals?" I’m not a vegetarian, so what’s the harm in drinking my dinner rather than grilling it?

  "You can, but you won’t like it much. There are clubs that humans attend in order to offer themselves as blood donors. We can find one for you if you’re interested. Especially in Vegas. There are a lot of vampires living there."

  "Really? How interesting. And the sun? I assume that’s a no-no?" It’s an odd time to be asking questions, but I don't want to turn into a shish kebab before I've even gotten to live in this new life.

  "On this world, yes, the sun is harmful to you and can kill you with too much exposure. There is a world you can go to that would allow you to live in daylight, if you are ever interested. I think you’d like it."

  That peaks my curiosity. "I think I would like to at least visit and see. I have nothing much holding me here other than my job." And all things considered, I'm not sure how keen I am to go back to a job with such petty coworkers, if Molly is to be believed. "Does this world have books?" This is a serious question, obviously.

  He chuckles. "Yes, and they are full of fantastical stories and ancient knowledge that would take you lifetimes to read."

  My heart flutters at the thought. "Then it’s a good thing I now have lifetimes!"

  His smile is full of warmth as he takes my hand and slings a leather bag full of supplies over his shoulder. "Touch the mirror and one in your home, someplace that is familiar and easy to see in your mind's eye."