by Virgil Moore
“At least we know he’s a vampeal. That in itself is good news. It means it is still viable,” another voice said. He noticed the slightly younger undertone to it. There was something adolescent about it, high pitched and boyish, nothing like the rest.
He managed to open and clear his eyes to see a shut cabinet door before him. There was a blurry hue to the edges of the crack that let the light in. It was surreal. He pushed on the old double doors. His arms met with great initial resistance. It was closed tight. He went at the door again. A bright light began to shine through. It was blinding. His eyes tried to adjust to the sudden radical shift, the doors faded. He pushed as his fingers pierced the doors and they disappeared into a mist.
He fell forward onto the floor of his bedroom. The lights were off. He darted around to the other side of the bed to pick up the clock. It was a little past seven in the morning.
Chapter Seventeen
More Than A Date
The phone rang in the total darkness.
Zack’s mind was still in the dream when he picked up. “Hello?”
“I know what you are,” a young woman’s voice answered. The voice was soft, warming. It felt familiar, yet new.
“Did you kidnap me last night? Are you the one that took me and laid me in bed?” he spoke with a straight forward tone. The question was a matter of fact to him.
“No, but I might if you’re nice,” the feminine voice was being playful, inviting.
His head was pounding. His face was sore and swollen now. It hurt as he placed his left hand on it, leaning on it accidentally. He felt thirsty again. “Do I know you?”
“Don’t joke like that, Zack. It doesn’t become you,” the voice was friendly. She knew him even if he didn’t recognize her. “It’s ‘K’, from last night.”
“How did you get my number?” he asked as he held his throbbing head. He thought it was weird that she had gotten his number out of the blue. But there was the more pressing question on his mind. He wanted to know what had happened to him.
“That’s what you ask me? Not ‘how are you doing?’ or an ‘it’s nice to hear from you. I’m glad you called.’ Does it truly matter how I got your number? Or are you upset with the fact that I called you so early?” K wanted to play with him a little. It felt good to tease him.
He remembered how she felt the other night. The warm sensation of her skin on his was intoxicating. “It’s not that. I had a strange dream and you’re just so-” he stopped.
“So what?” K asked. Her smile could be felt through the phone. She wanted to hear what he thought of her.
“So amazingly hot,” he spoke instantly. “You’re like a blazing dream. I wouldn’t have thought you would ever talk to me, of all people at the club that night. Regardless of how, I’m glad you called.”
“But I knew you wanted to, though. That’s what counts, Zack,” K remembered the feeling of his different skin. The delicate touch, the way he looked into her eyes. It made her smile again.
“‘K’ would you like to-“ he wanted to ask her out.
“It’s Kyli,” she said energetically.
“What’s your last name?” he thought about the way she looked last night. The headache returned before he could explain. His throat was parched.
“Slow down, sweetie. You haven’t earned that privileged info yet. We’ll get to proper introductions on the second date.” She thought about what she wanted to do to him the next time she saw him, “then we can go as fast as you’d like.”
His head was splitting open. He thought of the nightmare, “Kyli, did you ever have a bad dream that you weren’t sure was only a dream?”
“You’re paranoid, Zack. Relax. Dreams are meant to deliver messages. They aren’t supposed to be dangerous,” she knew that he was startled for some reason. She feared that his gift might have developed beyond what she had been told about in the report. “Besides, if it wasn’t a dream, there’d be a mark. Someplace difficult to reach.”
“Like what?” he slowly checked his arms and legs.
“A set of two red marks on an unknown location, somewhere interesting on your body,” she was flirting directly. She suggested things that a steady couple might find regular, but not as the two strangers they were to each other. She enjoyed the thought of leaving the marks on his unfamiliar flesh.
He thought about what she said, “you mean like a bite?”
“No, like two lips pressed against your skin from fresh red lipstick. What did you think I meant?” she was toying with him again. She wanted him on his toes.
It worked, “I thought you meant to bite me.” His headache subsided as he thought about her burning lips.
“No, but I can do that if you want me to,” her voice was suddenly somber and faintly seductive. She needed to get close to him any way she could in order to fulfill her part of the contract. But the offer was serious, genuine. She remembered their touch at the club.
He was quiet on his end of the line. He was still thinking about her lips on his.
She spoke up, “do you like music?”
“What kind?” He could feel a date in the near future. He enjoyed the thought.
“Classical goblets,” she spoke with an enticing whisper. It sent chills down the back of his neck.
“Musical glasses?” he didn’t know where she was going with the idea. But he wanted to play along.
“-Musical goblets, NOT glasses,” she corrected him with assertion. “The musician is Demetrius Del Marin, and he is quite good at what he does. I think you’ll like him. He’ll be in town for a string of concerts soon. The next one will be tonight.”
He remembered the posters in front of the club. The Vampire Demetrious Del Marin. He thought about the dream again. What was it they called him, a vampire?
She heard the pause in his voice. She pounced on him with force, “Zack, you’re telling me that you want to reject a proposal from a tall beautiful girl?”
“It’s not that,” he replied. “When’s the next concert again?”
“Later tonight. Now do you feel like continuing what we started at the club?” She wanted him to come with her. She needed his cooperation with this. But she wanted those eyes on her again. She wanted the feel of his touch again.
He could feel the hunger in the back of his throat subside. He enjoyed the thought of seeing her, of being near her again. “Where do you want to meet?”
“I’d say my room. But that’s only where we’ll end up. We have to go on a little journey first,” she played with the idea further in her mind.
“That’s not an answer,” he pressed back.
“I’ll pick you up,” she smiled. She liked being pushed back.
He gave his address with a grin. “Then I’ll see more of you tonight?”
She relished the thought, “as much as you’re willing to.”
He smiled again, “Then I have only one question before I let you go.” He thought about how she looked up on the stage that night. The look of amazement she had as she met his eyes. “What is it about me that startled you so much that night?”
She blushed, “you’re different, Zack. You’re not what I thought you’d be,” she spoke softly, slowly. She was thinking of his face, how he looked broken and all alone at that table. The intense eyes he used to watch her with. She could feel them on her again as they spoke.
“How different could I be?” he could almost see her blue eyes through the phone. She was a Gothic goddess to him.
She felt her breath quicken, “you’re more special than you know, Zack.” She thought about the report she had read. This was supposed to be the modern day incarnation of The Black Rose. He was to become a demon. She thought about the contract again. “Maybe you’re right. You’re not so special yet. All you need is time. Someday I’ll explain why. On some dark cloudy night this will all make sense. Just know there is a reason I find you interesting,” she chuckled to herself. A tingle ra
n through her body as she continued to think about his eyes.
“What is it?” He thought about her warmth. It was nice. He wondered about the rest of her body.
“You’re cute,” she said as she thought of his stoic face.
The sound of rain fell against the bedroom wall. It began to storm. It was a sound that he had become used to having no windows. A low roar. He had more than relaxed by the end of the conversation. The disruption of the dream had passed him. He wanted to talk more. He wanted to just hear her voice.
“You still there?” her soft words rang through his mind. There was a pleasant chill to her words.
“I’d rather be there,” he said smoothly.
Sub Chapter
Black
Dark satin sheets. A soft, enveloped touch. There were lips pressed to his. It was a sweet taste, smooth and haunting. His arms could feel the fabric of the sheets and the warmth of another as he tangled under them. There was no light, no glimmer to cast an eye on this scene. Zack knew only the touch, the warm feel of the moment.
“It’s okay. This is what both of us want. What we deserve, to be together,” Kyli’s voice seeped into her actions as she held closer to him.
Her skin shifted against his. She was pulling him, drawing him nearer. His hands slipped over her shoulders, the heat was unreal. Her body was perfect, porcelain to his fingers. His eyes meant nothing in the space. The embrace was the only reality that was recognized there. Time held no sway as he kissed her lips. The minutes passed to forever as they pressed deeper and deeper. The hours faded, giving way to new sensations that he had never felt before. The rhythmic pulsing movements that shook their bodies could be felt throughout the world as they were created under those satin sheets.
“Is this real?” he wondered aloud.
“It is to me,” she kissed his lips, pulling his head to her. “It is to us, Zack.” She bore her face into his right shoulder. “But it’s not real enough for you,” she sighed and let her lips nuzzle the nap of his throat. “Not yet,” she tore into his neck suddenly.
Blood spilled into the black satin. The warm slippery fluid cascaded between their union. It painted a feeling that was as damning as it was lubricating. They pulsed, entwined as she pushed into him, hard, passionately. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t bring himself to ask the questions teeming on the tip of his tongue. There was only the knowledge, the feeling of what was happening. His blood was being drained, and he was enjoying it.
Chapter Eighteen
Welcome To The Fold
Zack had fallen asleep immediately after the phone call with Kyli. His new dreams were beginning to disturb him further and further. He wasn’t sure if they were an adolescent thing, or if they had something to do with her.
“Wake up, we have a guest,” a sharp, eerie voice whispered quickly and without warning. It shook him awake. He could smell something sweet in the air. It was new, different than he was used to. He slowly opened his eyes.
“Wake up sleepy head,” a different, more feminine voice spoke up. It was above him, next to the bed.
He turned his head and felt a warm hand next to his face. It was soft. It burned against his skin, “you feel amazing.” He placed his hand against the smooth skin. He looked up to see Kyli kneeling at the side of his bed.
“You seem pretty relaxed to find me here. Does anything ever affect you?” she asked.
He thought about it. It was strange that she was in his room. There was definitely something wrong with it. But at the moment he didn’t care. He caressed her hand, “this does.” There was that warmth again. The clear difference in their bodies that was so enticing to him. He slid his hand across hers. He wanted to worry about how she could be sitting there in his room, but he couldn’t, he didn’t want to. There was the touch and her eyes. Those same eyes that were up on that stage last night. They were enthralling.
She blushed. He had given her that same look from the table when they first met. That same intensity.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I got in here? To your room?” she wondered.
“That would only be a real problem if I didn’t want you near my bed,” he pulled her closer from around the waist.
She could feel the weight of his arm on her. She smiled, “then I have a request. Come with me.”
He inhaled as that same scent filled his lungs. It was coming from her. He leaned in closer, it smelled delicious. “To that concert tonight?” he smiled back.
She took his hand in hers and stood up, “no. To my room.”
Chapter Nineteen
The Request
The plantation was silent except for a faint arguing sound coming from deep within the house. Roughly three minutes after the butler left, a short, stout man in a light tan cotton suit appeared before Del. He was in his later fifties, with a brown and gray beard. His brown eyes had the same flare as his.
The stranger looked him up and down. The man smiled and spoke, “well, boy. You have some damn fine nerve coming here like you did,” the man’s voice was rough and crackling. “I assume from what you said to my butler, you aim to talk to me about something rather important. What might that be?”
He took to his feet and faced the unknown man. “Are you the master of this house? Are you Mr. McHugh?”
“Yes. That is the name my mother gave me. Now what business do you have here with me at such a late hour?” he asked patiently.
“Sir, my name is Del Marin,” he was interrupted.
“Marin? Is that French?” he commented.
His train of thought was temporarily broken. “Yes, sir. It is. Now it’s mine.” The pain in his toe began to ache. His resolve returned. “Sir. I’ve come to declare my intentions for your daughter.”
Mr. McHugh raised his left eyebrow. “And what intentions are those?”
“I’ve come to ask you for her hand in marriage,” he rushed through the words so quickly that Mr. McHugh had trouble hearing them.
“What was that?” he raised his hand to his ear.
He took a deep breath. He repeated himself, slowly and with diction.
Mr. McHugh understood every word. He took another look at Del. “Nope.”
“What?” he was confused.
“I mean, no. Son, you have to understand, Demy has more than a dozen suitors that all come from good families. How can I give her to you when you can’t prove you’ll be able to provide for her?” Mr. McHugh had a fine point.
He realized his one flaw. He needed to find a solution immediately. “What are they?”
“Who are you talking about son?” Mr. McHugh wasn’t sure where he was going with this.
“The other suitors. What are they? What are their professions?” he asked with enthusiasm.
Mr. McHugh scratched his chin through his beard. “Well, I suppose there’s a doctor, a musician, and a lawyer after her. The rest are just from upstanding families.”
“And would you rather pick one of them over the others? Would a suitor with one of those professions meet your personal requirements to be her husband?” he was building his case.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Where are you going with this?” Mr. McHugh sighed. “You aren’t thinking about doing something crazy, are you son?”
He begged with all his heart, “Mr. McHugh, I truly care for your Demy. I also want to make this right in your eyes. What can I do to prove my intentions are best for your daughter?” he spoke with honest sincerity.
Mr. McHugh was blunt, “I will not have a dirty young man marry my daughter. And there is no amount of money someone in your line of work can make to ever convince me to condone what you have planned for her, regardless of your good natured intentions.”
“Then I will make it right sir. I will become what you require of me, for Demy’s sake and for yours.” He waited for Mr. McHugh’s reply.
“You are not what I had ever expected to come into Demy’s life, let
alone the man who would be the father of my only grandchild.” The old man lowered his head and sighed, “However, I am not a cruel man. Change your profession. Make yourself into something you and I can be proud of. Only then will you have my blessing.” He reached into his jacket pocket for a cigar. He placed it in his mouth and struck a match to light it.
“What do you want me to be?” he was pure and put himself in Mr. McHugh’s position. He wanted nothing more than to do the right thing by him.
“Go to school boy. Become a lawyer or a doctor. Do something to make people happy and right the wrongs of this world.” He had no idea the power and precedence he set when speaking those words to Del.
Chapter Twenty
A Night On The Thin Red Line
There were five lights between Zack’s apartment and the first turn Kyli took. Her large station wagon cruised over to a bank of hotels on the eastern side of Gainesville. Her vehicle matched her dark presence. It was black with a red interior.
He almost didn’t realize it while he was in the car. But there was that scent again. That inviting smell that he wasn’t quite used to yet. It wasn’t perfume. It was her. It was her blood. He turned to look at her directly as they stopped in front of The Waterfield Heights Hotel. He stared at her. The blood was wet as it ran down the far side of her neck. He leaned forward, “What happened to you?”
“That’s going to require some time to explain. For now, let’s get upstairs,” she shut off the engine.
They walked inside the lobby of the hotel. A pompous older man in a black tuxedo answered, “May I help you Miss?”
She covered her neck, “no.” She squinted her eyes sharply and turned to Zack, “we’re going upstairs, now.”
