by Virgil Moore
He heard the ladle drop to the floor. Scurrying sounds echoed from the hut and into the distant field around him. Suddenly, and without warning, the door flung open. The beautiful young woman with very long wisping black hair and Spanish skin stood tall and confident. She stared into his eyes for a moment. He got one good look at her while he transfixed his eyes to hers. She had bright green eyes that tore into his heart with their pain. This was a woman that was expecting someone else. They were truly piercing eyes that kept his attention. He smiled.
He didn’t even feel the shot. The long double barreled gun that impacted his chest didn’t so much as faze him from staring into her eyes. He hadn’t fed in more than a day and was already feeling weakened at the time he approached the door. He didn’t flinch as the deer slug entered his right chest and slammed through his upper ribs and collapsed his lung. The trauma was too quick, too surprising for even him to react. The bullet exited and ripped open the back of his black suit. Blood cascaded down his chest. It was the first time he had ever been shot. The pain was surprisingly numbing. It was more of an ache followed by a moment of light-headedness. He blacked out. His eyes shut with the sight of her green eyes.
She realized the look on his face was not malicious as he fell to the ground. He honestly meant her no harm. When she heard him at the door she acted on impulse. She had fired at him with fear rather than any reason or justification. As he lay on his back, bleeding, she had an overwhelming sense of guilt.
His weight had decreased over the years due to a diminished diet and a lack of livestock in Madrid. He had slimmed down to a light one hundred and sixty pounds. Regardless, she dragged him inside. A streak of blood trailed in the dirt. She put a fire poker into the burning kindle for the stew and took out her sewing kit from the corner of the room.
A draft blew the door closed. The fire in the middle of the room lit only the lower half of the dwelling.
“If you survive this, you better have not been sent by Silveretta. If this has anything to do with my land, I’ll kill you again before you have a chance to run back,” her voice was soft but her words were strict. She drew a long string from the sewing bundle and began to thread it into the large needle. She pulled him up onto her left knee while she sat down and examined his chest. “By the way, I’m Maria. If you were sent by him, you already know my last name, but here’s to hoping you weren’t.” His blood soaked into her dress. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I shot you.”
She took the time and effort to stitch his wound shut. The bullet had passed through, so there was nothing to dig out. She bandaged him up and laid him on her small cot to rest.
He laid there in bandages for a day. She had closed the window shutters and sealed the door up tight. It had been cold and she didn’t want him to freeze. He was unconscious until the next nightfall. She had treated and cleaned his wound. She cared for him despite initially wanting to murder him at first sight.
A few hours after dusk, he woke up. She was stunned to see him sit up on his own so shortly after taking such an injury. He was pale and far lighter than he was the day before. His fangs had drawn themselves out. His eyes were bloodshot with dark red pupils that stared at her with a yearning, a question. He was thirsty and hungry for the primal need of blood his body had developed. He didn’t care why she had helped him. Only that she no longer wanted to end his life. He wanted nourishment. His body demanded it. He eyes settled on her. There was an urge that was consuming him. His body was sinewy and taught. He was the epitome of terror as he stood and watched her. It was a fear that was felt to the core of her soul.
She waited as he closed in on her. He knocked her to the floor and pinned her arms to the ground above her. He was about to sink his fangs deep into her throat until she said something that he couldn’t ignore.
“The pain of fear, the ache of mortality. My life is a meal, a quick snack to be eaten by your eternal desire for more. Am I so insignificant that you would kill me without another thought?” her words were crafty and full of eloquence, as well as in English. It was something he wasn’t used to.
He didn’t know what to think. He let up off of her and allowed her to climb to her feet. She carefully backed away from him. She misplaced her left foot and fell back toward the fire. He caught her in his arms. He saved her and pulled her in close.
She stared at him with displeasure, “you protect me from the fall when you already know you’re going to devour my soul?” her face shed its fright and adopted a position of curiosity. “What ferocious vampire spares injury that leads to an easy murder?”
Her words rang loud in his heart. She was much smarter than he had let himself believe. She spoke clear English and was well educated. He set her on the side of the bed and hung his head in shame. He had nearly slaughtered an innocent woman in a rage that was not his own. His craving for blood had gone unchecked for too long. He wanted to gain control again. He wanted his humanity intact if he was to continue living as a monster. He let the water flow from the dry vessel that was his body. This was not who he wished himself to be. He prayed for absolution.
She was amazed that she was still alive. She stood up, “you are very contradicting, you know. Crying for something you never actually did. Especially since I shot you last night,” she sighed. “I acted rashly. You only thought it.” She sat back down next to him, “do you know why I know what you are? Do you want to know why I instantly knew a vampire had come to my door?”
Chapter Sixty Five
An Old Friend
Del subtly shook his head. His hands still covered his weeping face.
“When I was ten, there was a vampire that lived in our village. He was beautiful. He was far taller than I was at the time,” Maria’s voice loosened as she spoke. “His long black hair was straight and refined. His chiseled jaw wooed every woman that came across him.” She smiled shyly and turned away from him, “he dismissed them all, every one. I think he must have broken half the girls’ hearts in the country. His eyes were like yours, only purple. They were an amazing pure purple. The color of the paintings in the cities. He taught me English, how to read, to write, and left me pages of music after he vanished.”
He raised his head and wiped his face. She used the edge of her dress to clean his eyes. Her smooth Latin legs piqued his vision and distracted him from his internal anguish.
“I was a little girl, but I was in love with him none-the-less. I know he knew it too.” She lowered the edge of her dress and leaned against his shoulder, “he was cold like you are.” She locked her fingers in with his, “one day on my fifteenth birthday I offered myself to him. I offered everything to him. I told him that it was for my birthday present,” she blushed. He was cold. It was a welcome feeling. A memory. She tightened her grip, “he took my hand and brought me to his house.” She nuzzled his shoulder, “we walked up to his bedroom. He laid me down in his bed. I remember thinking the sheets were so soft. He slowly and gently slipped my clothes off one by one. I let him strip me down to my underwear before I told him to stop.” She gripped his arm, “he knew I didn’t have the courage to go through with it. He had done only so much to placate me, in order to let me know that I had the guts to do it or not. I thanked him and we talked in the bed all night long. Before the morning came he covered me in a white sheet and carried me back to my house in his arms. It was very romantic. I enjoyed everything from that night.” She sighed.
“What’s wrong?” He felt her hand loosen. He placed his arms around her. He welcomed the attention.
She continued, “the next day he was gone. There was no note, no message to mark his abandonment of all of us. Nothing to say that he ever even cared for me in the way that I loved him,” she swallowed the lump that had welled up in her throat. “That was it until a year later. He appeared to me on my sixteenth birthday. He told me that if he stayed the villagers would have hunted him and he would have had to kill too many people that were close to me. He left to spare me their d
eaths,” her tears flowed from her eyes with the pain of her memory recalled.
“He never drank from you?” he was touched by her story. Her skin was warm to his cold touch. It was smooth.
She buried her head in his shoulder again as he held her tight, “not once. He wanted to keep me pure, and then he went away.” She squeezed his arm, “you look so much like him.” She raised her head again. She had come to a decision.
“Have I done something wrong?” he was used to offending people through his lifetime with his simple actions. He thought she was pulling away from him.
“I know what to do,” she ignored his question and began to search for various items around the hut. She gathered a water bucket, a sponge, sheep sheers, a straight razor, a brush, and a cup. “Come, sit here,” she sat him on the single in the chair.
“What are you doing?” He faced away from her. His hair was matted and his chin had thick stubble.
She started by arranging his unkempt hair.
“Are you grooming me?” He asked.
She brushed his long tangled hair, “sit still. I have a lot of work to do.”
“There’s no need,” he was proud. But he was filthy and knew it.
She dipped the brush into the water. She used it to wet his head. “I told you to behave, now stay still,” she pushed down on his shoulders to square him in the chair.
He fidgeted on purpose, “what if I don’t want to?” He chose to be playful with her, something he had not done with anyone in a long time.
She stopped, “let me do this. Please, let me do this for you, for me.”
He didn’t argue. She was up to something that weighed heavy on her heart, “okay, for you.”
He was calm and still as she trimmed his hair, shaved his slim beard, and scrubbed his dirt laden skin with a sponge. She unbuttoned his tattered shirt and tossed the fabric towards the bed. Her fingers glided over his firm chest and abdomen. His life as a vampire had kept him in excellent shape. He was fit and attractive. His lure extended beyond his physique. There was a scent to him that she was entrenched in. He fulfilled her desires and dreams with his simple presence. He only needed to let her act on her intentions.
She walked in front of the chair and faced him. Her desires were obvious now. She straddled his lap and stared into his eyes, “don’t say anything, please. Let me let you come to me.” She placed her hands on his bare chest and slid her fingertips over his toned flesh, “follow me. Let yourself overtake me tonight. Be my dream. Be my vampire of the night for me.” She ran her hands across the back of his neck. She leaned in and held him tight. She gently kissed his neck.
He sat motionless, mechanically indecisive. He didn’t say anything.
She eased up and unhooked his belt. She stared into his eyes, “my name is Maria Del Cid. Tonight I’m making you make me happy. Just lay back and let me think of you as my own personal vampire, please. For now, be refined, be classy, be seductive to a fault, be him.”
He obliged her. He picked her up and placed her on the small bed. She sighed as she anticipated the night to come. She knew he took her fantasy seriously. He slid her dress up past her hips and over her arms and head. He took the time to recreate her vision of that lost night. He caressed her stomach with the back of his hand and traced his fingers up and down her side. Delicately he enticed her skin and let her excitement build as he teased her body. She gasped. His fingertips lightly scratched the inside of her leg. She sighed as small beads of blood swelled to the surface. His face bore down beside her hip. He placed his lips to her skin and sipped from where the droplets had lifted. She exhaled with force as he slid his face upwards and sank his sharp teeth into the soft space between the crest of her hip and naval of her lower body. He only drank the smallest sips as to not drain the full volume of blood he needed right away. He wanted to make the night last and prolong the pleasure for her. He wanted to fulfill her needs. She breathed deeply as he glided into a more proper position. She nodded her head and he gratified her.
The morning didn’t come for hours. When it did the two were satisfied. They had their fun. She had only been drained enough to make her partially weak. Though her body was sore for other reasons. She was awake when the dawn broke and she covered him with her thick blankets.
She whispered to his sleeping ears. Her black hair created a canopy to his face in the darkness of the covers, “I know you will not be here tomorrow. You will leave the moment the sun disappears from the horizon.” She placed her hand on the right side of his face, “you were everything he was and more. You were my vampire of the night. For that I thank you,” she sat back down next to him and closed her eyes.
They rested under the thick blankets while the sun licked through the small cracks in the shutters. She knew she wouldn’t wake in time to see him leave. He would be miles away before her body had recovered from the blood loss later that night. She grinned as her eyes became heavy. She was happy in her last minute of seeing this beautiful man. She fell asleep as sweat still dried on her forehead.
Chapter Sixty Six
The Ululation of the Nightmare
Zack was shocked from the instant turn of Marin’s actions. He was unable to move.
“Are you going to be long? We have a party to get back to,” Marin was directly pompous. He didn’t mention the fact that he had nearly strangled him.
There was an anger that well up in him, “I must be taking too long making it appear that I wasn’t nearly choked to death five minutes ago,” there was no restraint in his voice, his tone. He knew that Marin had the power to kill him in an instant. He knew that at any moment he could rip his head off. He didn’t care. He wanted to fight back. He was urged to from the depths of his mind.
He rushed Marin with all his newfound might. His right hand was stopped inches from making contact with his face. Marin had simultaneously blocked the strike and lifted him by the neck into the air again.
Marin checked the hallway. No one was around. “You do have guts. You aren’t willing to accept the situation you’re given, even if it’s as dire as this,” there was a smile that crept up the side of his lips. “You are everything that I’ve been told and more. I can see why it happens now.” He let him down.
He straightened his tie and coughed to clear his throat. Marin walked into the larger open hall and he joined him. As they approached the party, they stopped.
“What will happen?” He didn’t like the idea of someone telling him his future.
Marin caught sight of Kyli in the thick of the crowd, “look at her Zack. Really look at her.”
He viewed her dancing in the middle of the room. Her mid-length heels made her taller than most of the men around her and almost all the other women. She had put her hair up into a single long black pony tail. It dangled down the center of her back and tossed across her shoulders as she swayed to the music. The lights were lower now. So dim that the ceiling appeared as small stars in the distance above everyone. The atmosphere of the party had changed. The astute behavior had been replaced by enjoyable undulations. Glowing body paint radiated from everyone’s bare skin. A series of black lights lit the scene from above. Swirls of emanating color were artistically placed on the arms, chests, legs, and faces of the masses. As visually numbing as the barrage of glowing bodies were, she stood apart. She had arm bands of blue paint on her wrists and the tips of her fingers were dipped in blue as well. A pink glowing choker was on her neck. Her earrings twinkled while short strands of her hair fell down next to them. A thin solitary smear of paint trailed down the front of her neck to her chest, far below the reach of anyone’s eyes. Its pink hue appeared very attractive to him. Ample amounts of paint covered her thighs. Hints of blue, red, and yellow were all over them. The strong glow was enough to light the lower halves of all the people around her. She was entrancing. She was confident, bold and sexy. She was in the center of the room and the life of the party.
She turned away from his
direct view. The sight of the single large white angel wing on her back was spectacular to him. The white ink in the tattoo glowed by itself under the black lights. Her hair whipped back and forth to the beat of the music. She was the angel in the room.
“Yes, she’s spectacular. The whole room is following her neckline and the sway of her hair, her erotic hair,” his voice trailed off under his breath.
“What was that?” Marin appeared suddenly in front of him, just enough to partially block his way.
“The red on white, the black on red, the pale-tempting-skin beneath,” he licked his lips and stared at her body in the distance.
She noticed him and met his eyes. A chill ran down her back as she realized he was still alive. He was okay. She became flush and sighed to herself. She couldn’t help but smile. She was happy he was still okay but she didn’t fully understand why. She knew what this meant. Marin wasn’t going to fulfill the contract. She had to.
The seductive glance kindled a fire inside him. It was a heated warmth that was known and felt between them. He wanted to spirit her away to the nearest secluded room, somewhere where they wouldn’t be bothered for hours. He craved her. He needed her.
“What did you say?” Marin didn’t take him for a poet. He had exuded a side of himself that Marin hadn’t accounted for. It was a part of him that he didn’t expect. He respected the tone and feeling of his words. He grinned and lightened up, “regardless, you need to change that horrid tie,” he tugged on the red tie.
He snapped out of his daze. He turned to Marin, disoriented, “what?”
“The tie, I know David made you wear it. But did he at least tell you what was on it?” Marin slipped the tie off his neck and rolled it up. He handed it to him and reached into his own right pocket. He unraveled a new Christmas red tie and began looping it around Zack’s neck. Before he had realized it, Marin had tightened it properly and snuggly into a full Winsor.
