by Virgil Moore
He felt a warm hand on his chest. It slid up and around his throat, caressing his neck.
“Tell me what you want,” the voice whispered.
He didn’t respond.
“Let the words fill this dream, let them become this world.” There was a hot breath on his face but no image connecting the feeling. There was only empty space in front of him. “Use your hands. Stain them with all that you wish and only after they have had their fill should you ever dare to ask me who I truly am.” The voice became silent.
He could smell the scent of someone breathing inches from him in the darkness of the void.
The voice came closer, it entered his left ear, “or begin to think you hold any lesser degree of sin.”
Chapter Forty Nine
The Concert
The dream ended suddenly. Zack could hear the song as it ended as well. He kept his eyes closed. He was transfixed on the fleeting image of Kyli in his mind. The eerie presence of what he thought was her.
“Zack,” she said quietly.
He opened his eyes as the dream completely dissolved, “yes Kyli, what is it?”
“It was nice, wasn’t it? Do you think we can do that again?” she asked softly.
He didn’t know what Kyli was talking about. She squeezed his hand and smiled. Her warm touch reminded him of what he felt before the dream.
“Yes, we can do it again.” He figured daydreaming together was what she was searching for. He wondered if this was part of her gift. If he had truly communicated with her through their sudden daydream.
The next song’s opening note built up, Marin’s fingertip rung the glass to a full open note. He progressed into Beethoven’s 5th. The room seemed to wave with the succession of the sound. It was entrancing.
He lightly squeezed her hand. He leaned in and gently put his arm around her. She laid her head on his shoulder. The warmth felt almost too good against his skin. She smelled amazing. She was enthralling.
He slipped into the daydream once again as he held her close. Things had changed. The breezy meadow was darker and filled with a heavy fog. His view of the once placid blue sky was limited. The outer boarders of the field were completely obscured. He stood as the wind nipped at the edges of his hair. She was still holding his hand. She was now standing, pressed against him. He was holding her with his arm while his other was interlaced with hers. Her head was past his left ear, her chin perched on the nape of his neck. She was cold in his embrace.
“Is this real, Zack? Are you really here, in this place?” she was about to cry, her throat was tight as she spoke.
It was strange. She seemed different, more herself than she last was. “Yes, I’m here. Welcome to my meadow. It’s normally not this gloomy. In the daylight it’s actually a lot nicer. This has always been a place for me to come back to when I need to kick back and relax. I come here to look up and watch the clouds. They take whatever shape I wish them to since it’s my dream world.” He considered ending the moment. He thought about the concert and holding her hand in the real world. She was cold here. It was too strange. He wanted to enjoy the beautiful girl next to him, not a recreation of her. “Normally, I come here to escape from reality. I usually don’t drift here when I’m in a place I want to be in.”
“How so?” she raised her arms around his neck and rested them onto his shoulders.
“I mean that I’m sitting next to you for real in the concert hall, holding your very warm hand in mine.” He felt bashful for a moment. He was reluctant to say what he was really thinking.She didn’t respond to his question. “So this is what part of your mind looks like?” She raised her head up and tipped it back. She gazed up at the sky, “you really are a good person, Zack.” She lowered her eyes to meet his, “this is very welcoming.” She closed her eyes. “I hope that blood won’t change your thoughts like it did mine.” She opened her eyes. She stared down at his chest. “Visions of red rivers flow in my mind. They are so wide and deep that it’s hard to ignore them sometimes. Honestly, I’m quite envious of you.”
He knew it was a dream. He had never had other dreams in which the apparitions of his mind spoke to him. Somehow, this dream was special. It felt colder than normal, detached. But real. She answered his questions as a real person would, not at all as he expected her to. She was talking to him as if she was actually there.
“Kyli-” he thought about the possibility of seeing into her dreams. Into the field she had mentioned, “-Will you let me enter your realm, let me see your inner world?”
“Sure. Close your eyes Zack,” she requested.
He shut his eyes as he heard the music in the far distance above the clouds and beyond the fog. It sung slowly in from through the many layers of overcast.
The sound of the 5th symphony shifted, cut out, and then returned in a sharper, clearer tone. It was like hearing it from different ears. He opened his eyes. She was gone. There was no longer a meadow. It had been replaced by a dark green forest. A heavy blanket of leaves lay on the wet ground. Rain was still thick in the air. The forest glistened in his eyes. The bark on the trees was nearly black. The high canopy overhead was so thick it barely let any sunlight show through. Dim light came from a stream beside him. The light was deep red. He walked toward it. There was a bright red river of fast moving liquid running through the forest. He knelt at the side of the flowing brook. He dipped a finger in. It was thick. It ran off his skin slowly. It was blood, luminescent blood.
Chapter Fifty
The Years In Between
Six years transpired as Del finished his law degree. Thanks to his constant evening presence the dock no longer had late night assailants. However the nearby cow population had declined greatly. He had to eat something each night. And when a random thug had come around, he obliged them by having them for dinner. Eventually, no one dared to get near the fisherman’s property. And in time he went back to his tried and true method of fulfillment, cows. With his completion of what he set out to do, Bill wanted him to move on from the docks.
He found the time to finish night school. He didn’t find any difficulty fitting it as long as he sat in the back and didn’t make too much eye contact. If he was fed, his color remained. His fangs were contained.
Graduation as a tax lawyer was fitting. It was a simple repetitive task that earned him an honest living. It was a path that was in line with Mr. McHugh’s words. It was something he prided greatly.
The year was now 1934. The economy was still in a depression and he was working sparsely as an attorney. He put his weekend nights into doing little chores at the dock. Bill wanted him to leave. He said that his talents could be used anywhere and have a far better effect on the world.
One day Bill voiced his opinions directly. He had enough of Del’s generosity. The boat was sparkling. It had been repainted a proper ocean blue. Its small cracks and barnacles were no longer there. He had even cleaned up the dock itself, resurfacing the old wood and cleaning the entire area. The place was amazing. It was a different location to anyone that hadn’t seen it as it once was six years ago.
One night Bill asked him to come over to discuss the future. He arrived early, as usual. He was dressed in a nice, expensive black suit. He wore a black short brimmed fedora. His hair was trimmed short and combed back smooth. Bill was dressed in a new, but already well used yellow fisherman’s slicker, nearly the same clothes he was in the night Del saved his life.
Bill spoke up, “you’ve done well for me. You’ve killed off all those damn bastards before they got another chance at me. In my book, you will always be my friend Marin. But get the hell outta here, and keep doing what you’re ‘doin.”
“Why? Haven’t I done a good job for you all these years?” he replied.
“That’s the problem dammit. You did too good a damn job,” Bill gestured to the boat and the whole dock. “Just look at this place! This would have cost me a fortune to rebuild like this. Instead, I had you and you
r never ending sense of loyalty. I’ve abused you Marin. This has to end.” He stood up and opened the door for Del.
“But you did do things for me. It was fair compensation,” he argued.
“I filed some paperwork for you. That’s all dammit. What you did here, this is worth way more than running some errands for ya’ is.” Bill held the door open, “now go. You’re wasting yer’ life here.”
He tipped his hat to Bill and left, “goodbye Mr. Saunders. Thank you for letting me work here.”
He traveled up north to New York city. A steady body count of thugs and mobsters kept him heavily nourished. Everywhere he went, he seemed to attract attention from the wrong people. It wasn’t that he enjoyed killing people. It was just that he preferred killing only people that were detrimental to society. In essence, he was doing the country a favor. Wherever he went, the crime rate dropped. Despite his aversion to feeding on humans and killing people in general, he had become quite good at it. He was as efficient with it as he was with farm chores. A simple and quick knock or tap in the right spot was all it took to get the job done.
Chapter Fifty One
More Time To Kill
After he left the clothing store he appeared ten blocks away in a deserted alleyway. He stood in his expensive attire and waited. It didn’t take much time. It never did.
A half hour later a men approached him from the back side of the passage. His breath was muted, calculated. He walked slowly as he crept into place and raised his hand, “don’t say anything and walk backwards with me behind the dumpster. If you scream, I’ll shoot.”
The words were familiar to him. He had heard it a thousand times before. A few times in this same side street. He complied as he felt the cold steel against the back of his skull. They stepped next to the dumpster and he waited for the usual to happen. The man with the gun to his head ruffled though his pockets. He turned them inside out when he found nothing in each. It was a pattern that he found a little amusing. He smiled and the man pulled on his shoulder and spun him around.
“Okay, where’re you hiding the wallet?” he gestured with the gun for him to take off his shirt.
He slowly took his shirt off to reveal his toned body. He wasn’t hiding a wallet.
“The shoes and pants too,” he pointed the gun low.
He smiled and nodded once in accordance. He unbuckled his pants and slipped off his shoes to the side. He stood naked against the man with the stainless steel gun.
“What the hell man? Don’t you have anything on you of value?” the man was frustrated. He turned side to side and check the alleyway for any witnesses. There was no one around.
It was turning out to be a good day. No one would see what was about to happen next. His brand new clothes had been removed. There would be no blood stains on them. It was turning out to be a good day indeed.
“Okay man, I’m sorry about this, but I’m gonna have to shoot you if you can’t give me anything,” he cocked the hammer with his thumb.
“I’d rather you not. It will make too much noise. People will come,” his voice was low and his grin began to creep up again.
“Why would you care if someone caught me or not?” the thug was confused.
“It’s simple,” he stepped forward and pressed the barrel against his naked chest. “I don’t.”
“Hey man, I don’t want to kill you if I don’t have to. Step off,” he retreated against the back wall.
He closed the gap and held his chest tight to the muzzle. He leaned in and spoke softly to the mugger, “that only makes one of us.” He smiled devilishly. His fangs drew out.
The man pulled the trigger.
The gun didn’t go off.
He had pushed the hammer backwards into the handle of the gun. It was completely unable to fire now. He pressed his other hand over the mouth of the criminal, “it’s better this way.” He dropped the gun and lifted the man’s short. “If you hadn’t of pulled the trigger, I wouldn’t have known you were willing to murder a defenseless person in broad daylight.” He caressed his fingertips over the man’s stomach, “this way I can be sure that I have taken one more piece of evil from this cold world of mine.”
He pushed his hand into the man’s gut. There was a sudden struggle, but it wasn’t enough. His hand traveled up. It slid past his liver, between his lungs, to his heart. He grasped it. The body surged with all its might to be released. It wasn’t enough. It never was. He twisted and pulled. The heart shed its mortal coil. Blood poured over ground next to the dumpster. It splashed over his skin. He watched as the organ slowed. He bit into it and drained it to a small husk.
Satisfied, he placed the remains of the heart back into its home. He picked up the gun and removed its magazine. He pulled a bullet and held it between his fingers. He flicked the back of it and it shot out into the man’s chest. He pulled three more rounds and snugged them into the bases of his fingers. He fired them in quick succession and let the casings fall to the ground. The blood that had splashed on his had absorbed into his nude skin. He walked over to the neat pile of clothing he had removed a minute ago and dressed himself.
Before he left he slid the magazine back into the gun. As he heard the footsteps get closer, he vanished with a smile.
Chapter Fifty Two
A Pleasant Haunting And Another New Life
Del found that living alone best suited his needs and he eventually came to reside in an abandoned hotel over the course of the next ten years.
Slowly he became a myth to the local population. He was the reason no one was mugged within a ten mile radius of the run down building. He only fed at safe locations. He would drag the body either back to his hotel, or find another dark place to finish what he started. He was a boogie man to most criminals, a story to tell the naughty children at night to keep them in their beds. It was said that he killed his victims before they became afraid of him. In the first moments of recognition he acted to end their lives quickly and gruesomely. He would leave large amounts of blood at the scene of everyone that he came upon. He had become terrifyingly fast and cold natured.
The legend grew of the ‘Instant Assassin.’ It became outlandish and over exaggerated during his ten years at the hotel. The people said that he was seven feet tall, had hair down to his ankles, and that his teeth were the length of sewing needles. This of course was all pure myth. His hair had grown long, but to his shoulders. He was tall, but only six foot one. He had fangs, but they were only a centimeter longer than the rest of his teeth. He felt that the lie was now so unique that he could reintegrate into society again without fear of someone realizing he was the local killer. Since the police never arrived at the front door of the hotel asking questions he figured that they either were afraid of the stories or they just didn’t mind losing a few bad guys over the years.
The world war was in full swing, and he wanted to practice again. To be a tax lawyer in a time of war was nice to him. It was the idea of doing a job that needed to be done and nothing else. Taking on cases at night was not so much of an issue as it was compared to his age. Every able man in the country had joined up for service. He had to think of a way to explain why he wasn’t on a plane, a ship, or a submarine fighting against the axis powers.
Every time he was asked by a perspective client why he wasn’t in the army, he answered truthfully. “I burn in the sun, and can’t serve because of my severe condition. So I fight by helping push papers.” And he would smile and take their case at a discounted rate for asking.
He handled everything from tax disputes to tax evasion, all from his little one room office in upper New York City. That was all he did until the war ended in 1946. Then most of the men in the nation came back to the jobs they left at home. Suddenly no one came to him anymore because the larger law firms were absorbing all the business in the city again. Very quickly he found he couldn’t pay the rent. He was able to make ends meet with the vast amounts of money he had saved. He was
in no way lavish. His only heavy expenditures were the new black suits that would get soiled during his nightly walks.
Chapter Fifty Three
The Words In The Dream
Kyli placed her hand on Zack’s back, “I’m sorry you had to see this.” She stood behind him. “This is my vampeal forest. It’s the part of me that enjoys the feeding. It’s responsible for my thirst.”
He turned and faced her.
“This is what we all have inside us,” she stared at the red stream with disappointment.
The trees were hazy in the fog. They gave off an air of darkness. The red light seemed to be absorbed into the black of the bark. He understood that this was no longer his dream. It was hers.
“Do you see how the leaves are corrupted by it? How they turn when it touches them?” she sulked. She looked up as a light breeze brushed some of the leaves off the trees.
He witnessed the natural dark green of the leaves fade to colorless husks as they fell to the ground and were enveloped by the red blood. The red seeped in. It painted them with blood. He looked around. The forest floor was covered with blood and fallen debris. It seemed to writhe under his feet as if it had a life all its own.
“It seemed dark at first,” he said to her as he lifted her chin, “pretty in an eerie sense, entrancing in fact, like you are to me.” He placed his right hand on her cheek and caressed her gently. He embraced what he felt inside. He embraced her as she was.
“You’re not afraid?” she asked.
“Why would I be?” he replied without hesitation.
