by Virgil Moore
He appeared several blocks away in a changing booth of a clothing store on Main Street. He picked up a pair of pants and slipped them on over his toned and muscular thighs. He buttoned the fly slowly, one by one as he turned to reach for a shirt. He pulled his arms through the sleeves and opened the door.
The female sales clerk instantly noticed his sculpted naked chest. She dashed over to him, “can I help you?” she asked as she noticed the tags on his clothing. “Sir,” she had a hard time looking directly at him. His deep brown eyes were stunning. He was handsome, fit, and downright hot. But she couldn’t overlook the fact he was wearing their clothes and was on his way out of the store with them. “I can’t-”
He stared into her eyes for a moment. He placed one hand on her shoulder. He gripped it firmly, but tenderly. “I am in need of a pair of shoes, size thirteen. Can you be so kind as to help me with that?” his voice was smooth and commanding. It had authority to it.
His voice was luscious to all those that heard him speak. Several women in the store turned to watch him as the clerk led him to the shoes at the far end of the building. His abs danced with each ripple as he moved with each step. He was gorgeous.
The clerk showed him to a small bench where he sat down. She watched him move into the seat and look up at her. His straight black hair fell over his shoulders and across his toned chest. “Size thirteen?”
“Yes, please,” his voice lulled her as she found a pair of leather shoes in his size. “These should do,” she placed the shoes on the floor and dipped down to one knee. She took his foot and ran her hand up his calve. It was a rock. A tingle ran up her back. He was freezing cold, but in a good way. She laced up the shoe and began with the other. She held his leg the entire time.
“Thank you,” his voice calmed her further.
She felt attracted to him. She pushed her hands up the inside of his pants as she sat back on her knees. She was enthralled by him.
He stopped her hands at his inner thighs, “that will be enough. Thank you for your help. I’ll be leaving now.” He stood up and casually walked out.
Every woman in the store stared as he slowly left. The clerk didn’t care about the tags on his clothing anymore. She care for much of anything anymore. She bit her lip as she watched the door close behind him.
Chapter Forty Two
Adapting
Del spent two months repeating the same pattern of trial and error. His visual range had increased. His hearing was amazing. All of the things that he worked hard towards when he was younger, the strength, the endurance, they came so easily now. It was unreal.
He quickly separated from society. He spoke to no one. He traveled from town to town in search of a solution to what he was. He thought there might be something to allow him to walk in the daylight again. There was also the thirst for blood. He couldn’t keep killing cows in every town he came to. If he was going to live a civil life at all, he needed to put a stop to his tendencies. He searched for a fix to the issues in his new life.
He headed southwest towards Charlottesville, Virginia. On the way one night while he feed on livestock in a random country field, a young girl of no more than eight years old stumbled upon him. She had a white linen sun dress that was tattered with mud. Her dark hair shielded her green eyes from everyone except his perfect vision. Her sun freckled skin gave way to the idea she was a farmer’s daughter. She held her arms tight as the brisk night air wisped by.
She watched him. Then as she slowly understood what he was doing to the cow, tears welled up in her eyes. She was afraid of him. Just as he knew every animal on the farm he grew up with, so did this girl. She was frightened and didn’t know what to say. Her feet were covered in the wet dirt from the day’s rain. Her knees were trembling. The girl watched as he turned to face her. His face coated in blood. His hair was matted and clumped together from the many cows he’d fed on, his suit saturated in old, coagulated liquid. He was a monster to her.
The girl stood quietly, shaking, not knowing what action to take next. He thought about what he was doing. He was taking the life of the same gentle beasts he had once cared for. It was against his own nature to do what he needed to sate this new thirst. He had to reconsider. He required a plan.
The girl stepped back as he focused on her face. She was young and vibrant. She smelled like molasses, sweet and pure. He licked his lips. He fought the urge to attack and feed on the helpless child. His body wanted to tear her chest open and devour her heart. To feast on her wet insides and drain the life from her thin, small little body. It was a sick and twisted thought in his mind that he had to fight against. He was silent as he watched the girl breathe.
The child slowly leaned backwards and fell down. She picked herself up and ran in the opposite direction.
As blood flowed down his chin, he swallowed what was left in his mouth. The idea that he would desire the death of a child was alien to him. He had to force himself to not follow the little girl. Her scent trailed in the air, strong, pungent. It filled his senses. He decided that he would find a way to succeed at being human in all his endeavors. If he was able to resist these urges, he could rebuild his life, in a way at least. A way to resist the monster within. He found that after drinking a large amount of blood, his skin blushed. The color that had faded from his veins returned. But the red in his eyes remained, along with the gauntness in his cheeks. It was a matter of over indulgence that returned part of his humanity. He saw it as a small way to regain what he lost. He shuttered to think of the volume of blood he would have to ingest from any other creature. If the blood of a cow was just enough to add a hue of color to his skin, it would take more than three people to obtain the same result. He looked down at his hands, he felt the blood spill onto his shoes. He was still a monster and would be seen as one for his actions in time.
He spoke out loud to himself, “at least the cows are big, plentiful, and bred for butchery with clear intent.” He stood up and peered in the direction of the little girl. He could hear her wet, muddied footsteps echo in the distance. There was a pulling in his body to chase her, to hunt her. It gnawed at his consciousness. He clenched his fists and turned his back to the soft sounds in the night.
Chapter Forty Three
The Desire For Blood
“Why cranberries?” Zack wanted to know what Kyli’s motivations for choosing such an odd flavor.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she poured some milk into the same glass the blood was in. She pushed it over to him.
He thought about it while he automatically drank the milk. “Milk?” It was a nice enough choice. It was smooth and soft and he did like it. There was something in him that liked the idea of blood as milk.
She took the glass back from him and poured more milk into it again. She threw it back and slammed the glass back onto the table. “Nope.” She had a blood mustache.
“Why is there blood on your lips?” he saw her pour the milk. It didn’t make sense.
“You smell, taste, and see what you want to. For you it’s milk. For me it’s something else. It has to do with a memory. Something that it tied to your childhood,” she wiped her mouth.
“So it was blood I just drank, not milk?” he was amazed at how real it seemed. “And it wasn’t milk you poured yourself either?”
“Nope, I see it as cranberry juice. I only know it’s blood because it’s not labeled as juice. For me it’s a sweet taste I remember from being a little girl. Some kids like sugary drinks and ice cream, I liked the taste of cranberries,” she finished the last drops in the glass. “Milk must be your thing.”
He stared at the glass. It was red. There was no trace of white in the cup, only the same dark red that she had poured into her own glass. She was right.
“I can honestly say that I’ve never met anyone that tastes milk as the flavor of blood before. You’re just different,” she chuckled.
He laughed a little with her.
“Do you like cows too?”
she asked.
“Now you’re just screwing with me,” he stopped laughing.
“Would you like me to screw with you? It’s simple, this is a mental issue that can be fixed with a little therapy.” She put her hands up and acted like she was scribbling in a note pad, “and what was the relationship with your mother like?” She tilted her head to the side in a questioning manner.
“I’d like to but I’m not answering that,” he said calmly.
A warm sensation ran up the back of her spine. The thought of pulling him into her bedroom and spending the evening, night, and the whole of the next morning was a more than inviting thought. She thought about it and didn’t respond for a moment.
“I didn’t know my mother,” he reminded her.
She realized what he had meant, “of course not. It’s not really an issue. I was just messing with you.”
“I know,” he said confidently as he stared into her blue eyes.
She blushed again and quickly changed the subject back. She needed him to go to the concert with her that night. He had to meet Marin. “Honestly, if milk is what allows you not to vomit, then that’s just your thing,” the fleeting thoughts of rolling around with him in her bed had passed.
“So I’ll have to feed often?” he thought about his encounter with her. He had enjoyed it far too much. There was something inside of him that wanted to feed daily, to feed from her again and again until she was drained to a husk. His head began to pound again.
“Yes. When you do bite that special someone on the neck and suck their blood. I hope to train you a bit so you will be able to do it with grace and power. And most importantly not kill the person.” She put up the dishes and walked over into the bedroom. She left him at the breakfast bar.
He heard a rustle and then an article of clothing was thrown out into the living room. It landed on the couch. It was her black tank top. Then she threw her shorts out as well. A second later she peeked her head out from beyond the door frame. She was naked and shielded only by the wall from the chest down, “you coming?”
The idea of following her into the bedroom was intoxicating. He strolled across the room, “of course.”
He entered the bedroom to find her already changed into a red flowing dress with a halter top. She spun around to display it to him. It exposed her long smooth back as her black hair tossed and swayed. She put on a pink heart choker and let the long silk ribbons trail down her back and mix with her hair. She wore black low rise heels that were more like flats than dress ware. He guessed that she didn’t want to overshadow his height too much. Since she was a full inch taller than him already, she didn’t want to draw any more attention to it if possible. The red dress reached just below her knees, letting her shapely calves advertise the appeal of her long legs.
He drank every part of her body. Her hair settled down her back as she turned to see his face.
“Done ogling?” her arms crossed in disapproval.
He kept staring, “you look beautiful.”
She uncrossed her arms and smiled. “That’s more like it,” she took his hand and led him to the foot of the bed. “Now get dressed. We’re going out tonight.”
“Into what?” he looked into her closet. It was large and had a huge variety, but he doubted it contained men’s ware.
“They’re on the bed behind you,” she gestured for him to see.
He hadn’t noticed them at all. To him there was only her in that room. His head pounded again. He was thirsty.
Chapter Forty Four
A New Kind Of Different
Del wandered into a diner in the middle of the lonely night. He was in the same blood soaked clothing he had on when he left two months ago. It was ripped, tattered, and falling off of him. As he approached the restaurant, the people viewed him with disgust. Some people immediately picked up their things and departed. Others shied away. They covered their noses from the scent.
He kept his eyes down and hid his face.
The waitress took one look at him and sighed, “you can’t eat like that you poor thing. My name’s Charlene. Come with me out back, we’ll clean you up darlin’.” The woman was kind to him. Her dark hair was somehow familiar to him. She had the same green eyes as the little girl he saw in the field.
He thought she smelled like freshly baked cookies.
She led him out to the back of the diner. She turned on the water hose and filled a bucket of cool water. She threw in a bar of soap. “Now close your eyes darlin’,” she sprayed him down. “Now take a seat on the bench over there. We’ll get you cleaned up.” She took a sponge and dipped it in the soapy bucket. She ran the sponge over him. She focused on cleaning him more than noticing the watery blood that flowed down the back alley drain. Either she didn’t care, or she didn’t want to know. All that mattered to her was that she was helping a poor beaten down man. “What’s your name darlin’?”
“It’s Del,” his voice was raspy, deeper than it normally was. He cleared his throat. “My name is Del,” it sounded better, but there was still a different pitch to it. He tried to compensate for it with little effect. He wanted to know. He needed to understand, “Why are you-?”
“-Because you looked like you needed a bath hun. I don’t know what happened to you, what was done to you. Something just called to me, telling me that you needed help.” She lowered her head as she removed his torn jacket. “Now let’s finish up before my break’s over.” She carefully rinsed his matted hair.
Blood ran down the bench. The mud swirled into a puddle at his feet.
She walked to a small row of thin gray lockers. She reached in one and pulled out a pair of overalls, “Jed won’t miss these. He has enough of ‘em,” she tossed him the clothes. She reached for a towel and gave it to him. “After you’re done getting dressed, sit where you are. I’ll serve you up some late night dinner.”
She went back to the diner as he removed the remnants of his black suit. Somehow he didn’t find any more sentimentality in keeping it as it was. He decided to let it go and move on.
She came back to him with a large plate of country fried steak and a small shot of liquor.
“What’s this for?” he referred to her hospitality more than the food.
She placed the meal down at a picnic table a few feet away from him, “the meal is pity.” She sat the shot of alcohol next to the plate, “the bourbon is mercy.”
He looked at her with a sad expression. A few minutes before he walked in, he was viewed as a monster. Now this stranger had taken the time to help him. It was the first sign of humanity that anyone had recognized in him since the change.
“Are you going to eat? Or am I going to have to feed this to the dog?” she laughed to herself. “You know my dog Poochy can’t handle his bourbon. It makes him piss all over the front of the diner. Are you really going to let it come to that?”
“I’ll eat,” he said softly. His voice choked up from the kind gesture.
The meal tasted good and he quickly finished it. But it was missing something. It didn’t sate his hunger. Inside him there was still a thirst to be quenched. Not even the alcohol had an effect on it. It did, however, taste and smell familiar to him. A thin, light scent of molasses lingered in the shot glass.
“What is this?” he asked her while as he held up the glass.
“Oh, that. I just coat the shot glass with a bit of homemade molasses and let it dry out in the sun. It gives off a sweet taste when the bourbon hits it. It’s a family tradition,” she took up the plate and glass.
“Charlene,” his voice was scratchy. “Do you have a daughter?”
She stopped in her tracks and turned back to meet his strange red eyes. “Yes, do you know her? She’s a thin little eight year old girl. She’s my baby. Did you see her on your way over here? She better not be playin’ in that cow field at night again. I’ve told her better time and time again. That child.”
He thought about his answer
for a second, “yes, I saw her before I arrived.” He wanted to be honest. No matter what that meant.
“She better be back in bed when I get home, or that girl’s gonna have a whoopin’ tonight,” her face tightened as she walked back to the diner.
He understood. He had spared the little girl in the field. Then this complete stranger had the grace to help and tend to him. He felt a sense of right in the world.
At eleven, the diner finished closing up. She came out and gave him two dollars, “here, you could use this.”
“Why are you doing this?” he didn’t feel he had deserved such decency.
“Hun, why shouldn’t I?” she smiled.
A car at the front of the diner honked its horn, signaling her to hurry.
“Well, that’s me. I hope that gets you where you’re going stranger.” She got into the work carpool that was waiting for her.
He was so touched by her blind sincerity. He decided to change direction. The idea of finding the coastline was appealing to him for some reason. He had never worked on boats before, but thought he’d be handy with the tools it took to make them. As long as he was able to get work, everything would be fine. Provided he had an ample supply of cows along the way.
Chapter Forty Five
Checking The Goods
“It’s too early for the concert, isn’t it?” Zack looked at the clothes Kyli had set out for him. He wondered when she had the time to lay them down.
As he looked over the clothes that familiar scent came back. It was sweet and delicious. It filled the room. It overpowered the scent of cherries and lavender.
“There are three things you need to remember about me, Zack. I love Johnny Depp, any movie by Tim Burton, and any song performed by Demetrius Del Marin,” she stated as she gestured to an extensive collection of each that lay neatly placed on her shelves.
