Blood rushed into my mouth, salty-sweet, and I gulped the rich liquid gratefully. I felt its warmth suffuse through me, salving the damage the moon had done to me. The pain, while not leaving completely, eased considerably. When the flow of blood began to slow and, all too soon, to stop, I sucked and chewed at the dead animal’s throat, seeking more. Just one more drop, I begged silently, while my tongue desperately probed the depleted injury. When I was convinced there was no more to be had, I reluctantly stopped and moved away.
I sat up on my knees, feeling stronger. The pain had almost completely subsided. I looked at the corpse of the dog lying drained in front of me, and I saw that I had bitten completely through the throat to its spine. In my frenzy, I had almost decapitated the poor animal. The taste of blood lingered in my mouth and my tongue found stray traces of flesh and fur trapped in my teeth. My guts clenched again, this time reacting to a surge of disgust and nausea. I retched.
Andi clamped a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t vomit!” she ordered. “You need that blood, and I don’t have any more to give you.” I nodded in understanding, forcing myself to swallow the bitter lump in my throat as she released me.
I spat, several times, trying to rid myself of the matted hair in my mouth, but to no avail. I would just have to get used to it.
“Good,” said Andi when she was convinced I was going to keep down my liquid meal. “Human blood tastes much better, but it is not available right now. This will help keep you alive at least, and allow you to heal.” She looked at me and shook her head with pity. “Why didn’t you listen to me, Gregory? Sunlight kills our kind. New vampires are very fragile and especially sensitive to it. Because the moon reflects the sun’s light it could have destroyed you. You were very lucky.” She touched my face with a light caress. “The blood helped. You are starting to look better. It is going to take a little time, though. You will get stronger as you feed and your body adjusts. By the time the moon is full again you should be able to withstand it. For now, though, you must hide and allow me to take care of you.”
I tried to speak, but no sound came out. Andi saw my distress.
“You don’t breathe anymore, dear Gregory. You must breathe to speak. Draw a breath and try again.”
I nodded. I was going to have to work on remembering this minor but critical detail. I inhaled deeply and blew it out, shaping air around a single word. “More,” I said, pointing to the mauled carcass of the dog.
Andi smiled. “No. There is no more. Tomorrow night, though. I promise. Right now, you should rest and heal. Sleep comes very easy to us. You simply will your mind to stillness. I will wake you up tomorrow night when the moon is down.”
I acquiesced and shuffled back to the comforting darkness of my pit. Sleep suddenly sounded wonderful to me. I still hurt, and in addition my body felt drained and weak. The brief burst of energy I experienced while feeding had been exhilarating, but it left me just as quickly as it had come. I settled myself down on the cool welcoming earth as Andi closed the trap door above me. I raised my right hand and hesitantly brushed my neck with my fingertips, afraid of what I might feel but curious nonetheless. I touched intact skin and realized that Andi had been right. I was starting to heal. The hole in my throat had already closed and the skin felt smooth and, mostly, undamaged. Andi also spoke the truth when she told me sleep comes easy to our kind. I no sooner wished for the soothing touch of oblivion than it embraced me.
CHAPTER 7
Several nights came and went as I fed, slept, and gained strength. My teeth grew as sharp as my need for blood, and Andi no longer had to cut my victims for me. She came each night with an offering – usually a large animal, but occasionally several small ones – and I ate gratefully. My charred flesh sloughed away, revealing whole intact skin beneath. There wasn’t even any scarring. And to my shock and amazed delight, the two fingers cut off of my left hand grew back, fingernails and all. After only a couple days, it was as if they had never been gone. I did not ask Andi what had happened to them. It did not seem quite as important since they had grown back anyway. Besides, I was not altogether sure I really wanted to know why she had taken them.
Though I healed completely after the first couple of feedings, I still feared the moon and did not leave my shelter again for fear of its fiery touch. I was content to hide and let Andi take care of me.
During the second week after my transformation, Andi brought a man to the cemetery. He appeared to be young, perhaps my age, dressed simply in jeans, a T-shirt and a light denim jacket. His hands had been bound behind him and a blindfold covered his eyes. He did not seem to me to be afraid or concerned about his situation, but then, I too had come here with Andi willingly. Perhaps he simply did not realize the danger. Perhaps he too was happily being led by his prick rather than his head.
“Gregory, this is Michael,” said Andi by way of introduction. She removed the blindfold and untied his hands. My curiosity about this man heightened as I watched him examine his surroundings with a fascinated look on his face. He had the appearance of someone allowed to witness a great secret, or allowed entrance into a sacred space when he knows he is not worthy, rather than that of a man who was in fear of his life. When his eyes found me however, the look of wonder on his face dissolved into one of disgust. He controlled it quickly, but I had seen it and it left me feeling shamed. Andi still had provided me no opportunity to bathe, and I resembled a walking pile of mud and filth. Then, oddly, the man grinned and his eyes lit up with excitement.
“He’s a new one, isn’t he?” Michael asked Andi, pointing in my direction. “You just turned him, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Michael. Gregory is new. That is why I needed you tonight.” Andi turned to me. “Gregory, Michael is a Friend of the Night. We can trust him.”
“A ‘Friend of the Night?’” I repeated, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“A Friend is a human who helps vampires. They run errands for us during the daylight hours and volunteer their blood for us at night. They provide these services, and in return they will one day be turned.”
“Turned? Into vampires?”
“Yes. Into vampires. Like me … and you. I brought him here because you need human blood to continue to gain strength. Michael kindly offered his assistance.”
Michael was the first human I met that knew about vampires and wanted to voluntarily assist them, although I have met many like him since that night. I have found in my travels that in almost every major city in the world these so called Friends of the Night – or some recognizable equivalent – can be located. However, most of the members of these groups have never actually met a vampire, and only joined because they thought it was some kind of role-playing, fringe group that appeared mysterious and glamourous. They wanted to pretend they were part of something dark and evil, without ever realizing how close to the sun they actually flew. The majority of the “Friends” that had the misfortune to witness anything truly supernatural generally renounced their membership, burned their black trench coats, and started attending church regularly.
The few that have actually met one of us and not gone screaming from the room are the dangerous ones. Their numbers usually consist of an assortment of masochists, psychotics, and puling sycophants that dream of one day wielding power over those that have held them in contempt their whole lives. The kind of person that would stomp a kitten to death just to prove it is too helpless to stop them. They seek power so they can avenge themselves on every perceived slight they have ever received in an effort to deny their own worthlessness. They will do anything to gain the favor of one of my kind.
Anything.
Away from their hearing, vampires refer to them as “feeders,” and no vampire I have ever met would seriously consider turning one of their lot. They are dangerous and unpredictable as humans. I can only imagine the damage they would do as vampires.
They do have their uses, however.
I did not yet know any of this the night I met Mich
ael. The only thing I knew for certain at the time was that I was very hungry and this young man was much too close to me for his own good.
Michael approached me boldly. He slipped out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor. Next, he pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside with the jacket. With his upper torso exposed, I could see a network of circular scars along his neck and shoulders. Half-moons of silvery scar tissue crisscrossed his skin in a grisly story of longtime servitude to my kind, some linear and neat, others wide and jagged as if done in a great hurry. Most of the wounds were old and well-healed, the damaged skin smoothed and tanned by time and sun, but one bite I could see was fresh. The cut was not deep and it had mostly clotted, but a drop of blood still seeped from the opening, advertising that the injury had come very recently. Perhaps Andi had taken a small taste before bringing Michael to me. Or maybe someone else had simply gotten to him first.
Ultimately it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had been fed upon many times in his life and he knew what to expect. And right now he was here for me. I shivered with anticipation. I could smell the blood flowing through his veins, just beneath the warm skin, and I wanted it. I almost whimpered from the need.
Michael slowly tilted his head to one side and closed his eyes, like a lover waiting for a kiss. He bared his neck to me and I needed no further encouragement. I leapt upon him.
My weight drove him to the ground under me as I plunged my teeth into his vulnerable throat. Dull and flat, my incisors did a poor job breaking through the skin and muscle, but like a starving animal I tore at him, chewing until I ripped through the resisting flesh and severed the jugular vein. His blood poured into me, filling me and warming my unnatural, cold tissues. I sealed my lips around the wound I had created and sucked hard, trying not to lose any of the precious fluid flowing out of Michael. The joy of drinking his life away was beyond description, beyond any satisfaction I had ever known while alive. His strength and vitality roared through me even as I killed him. The pleasure was physical. Primal. Sexual. Every part of me came awake, and I realized that in my excitement I had developed an erection as I fed. Michael’s heartbeat pounded in my ears and created a sympathetic vibration in my chest. For a moment, I could pretend my own heart was beating and I owned a living body once again.
I had to struggle to maintain my hold. When I ripped into his neck so violently, Michael realized I would not be content until I had killed him. This was not what he had experienced before. It was not a normal feeding. Panicking, he began to fight me; trying to push me away. Adrenaline pumped through him, giving his blood a sharp heady taste. I liked it. His fear enhanced my excitement and drove me to new levels of ecstasy.
Much too soon for my liking, his struggles faltered and the flow of his blood slowed. I felt his heart lose its steady rhythm and stutter erratically, weakening until finally, inevitably, it froze forever in his chest. When the blood no longer came of its own volition, I sucked and licked at the wound trying to encourage the flow of salty nectar to continue. It did not. Michael had given all he could give. Realizing there was nothing more to be gained by my efforts, I rose up on my knees and released a long moan of pleasure.
“Oh, Gregory,” said Andi sternly as she stood over me. Her voice startled me. I had become so focused on feeding I had forgotten I wasn’t alone. I smiled up at her sheepishly. Her hands were fisted on her hips and her lips had pressed together in a tight line.
“I had hoped you would show more restraint. Do you know how hard it is to cultivate a feeder?” she asked. The harshness in her expression softened quickly however, and she added, “I see you enjoyed him quite a bit.” She stared pointedly at the stiffness in my groin.
I laughed. For the first time since the night she brought me into her world, I felt powerful. I murdered a man and drank his blood, and rather than feeling moral outrage and revulsion at my act, I felt wonderful. I wanted to do it again.
“Oh, well,” Andi continued. “I can’t say I’m completely surprised. I’m glad I anticipated this possibility and laid some groundwork. I let the rumor out that I was considering turning him this evening, so he will not be unduly missed.”
Andi picked up the corpse and, draping the dead man over one shoulder like yesterday’s garbage, carried it to the mausoleum’s back wall. She grasped the handle of one of the square doors lining the wall and pulled it open. I could see it took some effort. The metal door had most likely not moved in decades and probably had at least partially rusted in place. With a shrug, Andi flung Michael’s body away from her and into the exposed space. I heard the clatter of displaced bones and a cloud of dust roiled out of the opening. Andi swung the metal plate firmly back into place and turned away, not giving her deed a second thought except to brush some of the dust from the front of her clothing.
“A couple more weeks and we will be able to leave here. This is fine for temporary shelter, but too many people know about it to risk staying too long. Soon you will be able to withstand the light of a full moon and I can take you on a hunt. But for now….”
“Yes, I know,” I said. “Sleep.”
Andi nodded. “I will see you tomorrow night.”
I licked at the blood lingering on my lips and savored the taste. “Thank you, Andi,” I said.
“Don’t thank me until you know everything,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
And she left.
With her last puzzling words swimming in my head, I crawled into my pit and pulled the trap door closed over me.
CHAPTER 8
Several more days passed. Another week went by, perhaps two. Andi no longer brought me blood every night, I had developed beyond the point of needing it so frequently. She also brought no other human victims, explaining that too many disappearances would lead to suspicion. Even a vampire must be wary of human authorities.
Finally, the night came that Andi decided to move on. She came to me only minutes after the sun had set. She must have hidden herself nearby during the day, perhaps even in the mausoleum itself above me. Though, if she had slept on the ground as I had, she did not show it. Her jeans and light blue blouse showed no wrinkles or signs that they weren’t freshly laundered and removed from a neatly organized closet somewhere. Even the leather cowboy boots she wore carried no mud or signs of rough wear. They actually looked like they had been recently polished.
With barely a glance in my direction, she gathered my clothes from the floor – they had remained untouched during those many weeks – and motioned for me to follow her.
“The moon is full tonight,” she told me, strolling slowly to the front door of the mausoleum. “Would you like to see it? It is quite beautiful.”
“Is it safe?” I asked excitedly. I had spent too much time trapped in the four walls of my self-imposed prison, and I desperately wanted some of my freedom back. I believe if much more time had passed, given the choice of incineration or remaining in the crypt, I would have decided to burn.
“Yes. You should easily be able to withstand the moonlight. You will continue to grow stronger for as long as you exist and feed, but it is the first months that are most critical to your survival.
“We are leaving this place, tonight, and going north.”
“What about my apartment and my things?” I asked, realizing even as I asked the question that I didn’t really care.
“Gone. Anything of value I removed and sold. As far as your friends and family are concerned, you are dead, Gregory. You must stay that way, for your sake and for theirs.”
“Did you sell my car, too?” I asked, thinking about where I had last left my old green Pontiac.
“No, of course not,” Andi said, shaking her head dismissively at the idea. “I crashed it and burned it. With you in it, by the way.”
“You… What?!” I sputtered out.
Andi giggled. “Well, not actually you of course. You are standing right here, so that would have been extremely difficult. I used a substitute for you.” Andi
tapped a slender finger against my shoulder. “The world thinks you are gone, Gregory. The police found your car smashed and burning against an overpass support on the freeway. From your license plate, they know it was your car, your body, however was burned beyond any easy method of identification. I provided some evidence to make identification a little easier, however.”
Andi paused and eyed me speculatively. Perhaps wondering if I could figure out what she had done. And after a moment’s thought, I realized exactly what evidence she had planted. “My fingers,” I said.
“Oh, clever boy!” she beamed and clapped her hands together. “Yes, your fingers. I provided two perfect fingerprints to run, as well as intact blood and DNA to check for positive confirmation of who the driver was. And your parents will most likely recognize the ring you were wearing. They were perfect clues.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I answered, wiggling the once more intact fingers of my left hand in front of my face. A thought struck me, however. “How do you know the police found the fingers? Where did you put them so they would be discovered?”
“Oh they found them, all right. I made sure of that,” Andi responded. “I was at the scene. Merely a concerned passerby doing my civic duty. I called the police when I witnessed the crash, and when they arrived I advised them of my gruesome discovery in the grass a few feet away from the burning car.”
Andi placed the back of her hand to her forehead and fluttered her eyes like a delicate southern belle about to fall into a deep swoon. “They were very solicitous of my feelings and apologized that I should be so unfortunate as to witness such a terrible tragedy.” She dropped her hand and her expression became more serious. “Everyone will think it was you in the car. Your family and friends will grieve your loss, and you have to let them get on with their lives without any further interaction or interference.”
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