by Juniper Hart
If he didn’t get himself killed somehow.
5
Her vivid eyes shone through the darkness as she watched the scene before her, her heart racing faster than it had any business doing.
She leaned forward as the man dropped a tender kiss on his lover’s waiting lips, her mouth parting to eagerly accept the embrace. In seconds, they delved into a tangle of passion, hands entwined in each other’s hair.
“Oh, Jacob, I have waited for this moment for so long!” Catherine cried as they parted. “I thought you would never leave Elizabeth!”
“It’s always been you,” Jacob breathed, staring lovingly at his mate. “You and I will never be apart again, I swear it!”
Lara watched, her body ablaze with envy as the two continued to engage in their lust for one another. She chomped down on her lower lip, watching the scene with mixed emotions.
You can’t do this, Jacob! How can you be with her? Your wife loves you so much, you bastard! I hope you get a frying pan to the skull! You deserve nothing less, she thought furiously.
But as she continued to watch, it was clear that his wife was the last thing on Jacob’s mind.
“Lara, how can you continue to watch this crap?” Franz demanded, sauntering into the living room. She turned her head to regard the speaker, reluctantly pulling her eyes from the television screen. Franz stood behind the sectional sofa, remote control in hand. He aimed the device to change the channel, but Lara moved like lightening, slapping it from his outstretched fingers. The device went flying across the room, batteries spilling beneath the sofa as the remote shattered into pieces. A half-smile tickled Franz’s face and he turned his icy eyes toward her, amused by the action.
“That was dumb,” he told her flatly. “Now neither of us can watch anything.”
“I was watching that,” she snapped.
“I can see that, my love. What I fail to understand is how you can actually sit through the tripe that humans call entertainment.”
Lara scowled.
“I don’t question your taste in…movies,” she shot back furiously, the meaning unmistakable as she thought of some of what she’d found on his browser history. “Why are you bothering me, Franz?”
Franz grinned mockingly.
“Don’t get defensive. It’s not a judgment, Lara. I just fail to understand your fascination with these films—or with the humans in general. They’re beneath us.”
“I could say the same about the naked females I see on your laptop all the time.”
Franz’s amusement grew and he laughed loudly, unfazed by his mate’s annoyance, but Lara wasn’t in the mood to banter. She waved a small hand, dismissing him from the room, but to her irritation, he sat beside her on the sofa. She tried to ignore his closeness but he gently turned her face toward him insistently.
“Franz—” she started to argue, straining past him to see the movie, but he held her firmly, his intense eyes studying her expression pensively.
“You’ve been melancholy,” he stated without question. “I’ve noticed it for a while now. What’s the problem, little dove?”
Lara began to shake her head in denial, but Franz nodded.
“Yes, you have been, Lara. I can see it in your eyes. What’s wrong? Are you getting bored, darling?”
“Nothing,” she replied defensively. “You’re interrupting my entertainment time. It’s annoying.”
“It is more than that,” he insisted, tucking a strand of ebony hair behind her ear. “This has been manifesting for months. Each day you seem more and more desolate. I would say it started around the time that Pascal disappeared.”
A shiver slid through Lara’s body and she moved her gaze away but there was no point. Franz knew her too well.
“You think he’s coming back, don’t you?” Franz asked, a laugh to his words, but Lara caught the underlying tension in his voice.
“I don’t care if he is,” she replied shortly.
“Oh no?”
“No.”
A heavy silence fell between them but it was Lara who spoke to end it.
“You’re mistaken,” she continued flatly. “Anyway, you’ve got more important things to concern yourself with than my moods. Aren’t you advocating for war?”
Franz finally lost the smug smile on his face.
“Is that what this is about? You’re mad because I offered up a defense strategy to Congress?”
“You suggested going to war,” she snapped. “Haven’t we seen enough of that for one lifetime, eternal or not? I thought you had an in with this Sleeper group or whatever fool’s errand you sent Pascal on.”
“Ah ha! It is about Pascal!”
“Are you that daft, Franz? This is about us, about the future of the vampires. A war is not in our best interest.”
Franz pressed his lips together.
“You’re such a little girl sometimes,” he growled. She wrenched her chin from Franz’s grasp and stared pointedly at the screen as if she were watching the movie again.
“Now you have made me miss the good part!” she protested, gesturing at the characters on the set. Franz rose gracefully to his feet and snorted.
“Lara, you may think me a fool, but I know you’ve seen this movie several times. I can see when I’m not wanted, however. Just remember, I am the only family you have. I know you better than anyone and I can sense when something is amiss. You might not feel like talking now but eventually your feelings will come to light. After all, who else do you have to talk to?”
He chuckled and there was a jesting note to his question but there was nothing funny about it, about any of it. Lara knew she was trapped now, trapped with this power-thirsty vampire who would sooner bring down the tribe than admit defeat.
I made a mistake going with Franz but it’s too late now…isn’t it?
“Good night, sweetie,” Franz cooed but Lara ignored him as if he had already left the room. Franz was not one to be overlooked.
“I said good night, Lara. Sweet dreams.”
He didn’t move until she bid him goodnight also.
“And to you,” she answered without an iota of sincerity.
“I will be expecting you in our room tonight.” There was a note of finality in Franz’s words, but Lara didn’t respond. As he retreated from the den, her irises shifted to the doorway to ensure he was gone. Her eyes moved past the threshold, toward the dark foyer, expecting Franz to be watching from the shadows. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d caught him staring at her, as if he were contemplating what to do with her.
She didn’t sense him there and slowly exhaled.
Her lover was not wrong. She had been feeling melancholic, but the reason was not a matter which she wanted to discuss with him, particularly because he was the root of it.
It’s not a matter which I can discuss with anyone, she thought woefully. Therein lies my problem.
Lara was entirely alone in the world, left to battle her demons alone.
I have no one to blame but myself for this, she reminded herself. I should have been with Pascal when I had the chance.
She tried to return her attention to the movie but to her dismay, the credits were rolling. The film had ended.
She eyed the green numbers on the digital receiver. It was three a.m. She could hear Franz upstairs on the rowing machine in his room and she sighed.
I’m hungry, she mused silently. Her cat, Amis, wandered by Lara’s legs, vibrating with affection. She leaned forward to scratch the animal, contemplating her options.
You aren’t terribly hungry, she tried to convince herself. You can wait. Watch another movie and maybe you’ll sleep instead.
But she couldn’t focus now, not with the idea of feeding on her mind. Lara found herself eyeing the cat with too much interest and quickly recognized she was in bad shape. She wasn’t about to devour her cat, temping as the idea might be.
Gently, she pushed the calico onto the floor, rising to her feet. She headed upstairs to dress.
<
br /> “Franz,” she called after slipping into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “I’m going out to eat.”
Immediately, he poked his head from his bedroom as if he had been waiting for her to speak.
“Where?” he demanded, fully appearing in the dim hall. Lara’s eyes flashed with irritation.
His endless questions were becoming annoying.
“What difference could that possibly make?” she barked back. He looked taken aback by the response, his own eyes narrowing slightly.
“I daresay, Lara, you’re becoming quite sassy. I don’t remember you having such an attitude when we first got together.”
“I’m surprised you remember those days at all,” Lara murmured with clipped anger, brushing past him as he moved into the hall. He reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Lara—”
“Leave me be, Franz,” she snapped, yanking her arm back and avoiding his gaze. To her surprise, he released her without an argument but as Lara descended the stairs, she could still feel him staring at her back.
As she left the house, she started down the street, unsure of which direction she was going but wrapped in her own thoughts. Her stomach growled relentlessly now, as if it knew that a food source was within reach.
But that was not where Lara was going and she quickly shifted her thin body into a bat, flying high into the night.
I shouldn’t be doing this, she thought, shaking her head as she zipped higher into the dark and disappeared. But she had been debating this very move for months, ever since receiving that letter that had been meant for Franz.
She was finally going to find Pascal and bring him home to make things right before Franz ruined everything.
Despite its dense population, Cape Town was wrapped in the arms of sleep at that hour on a Wednesday night, restaurants and bars closed tightly for the witching hour. There was not a soul to be seen on the streets as she walked although cabs did slip by silently, slowing to see if she needed a ride. She was an odd sight in the dark, a lovely, single woman without any fear, but somehow, all knew to keep their distance from her.
It was as though the bustling metropolis understood the dangers which lurked in the streets after 2 a.m. and prepared itself accordingly.
As Lara walked in slow, even steps, she was enveloped in her own thoughts, trying to ignore the energy slowly seeping from her body. With each step she took, she became increasingly weak. She had taken on too much of a flight without any nourishment, but she was where she was meant to be now, close to Pascal and within help’s reach.
I need to find something to eat. I can’t carry on this way, waiting to eat until I’m about to die, she thought.
It was a conversation she’d had with herself many times over the decades but not one that got any easier. Killing might be a part of who she was now but that wasn’t who she had always been. Franz might have forsaken their past, but Lara certainly had not.
Lara found herself turning onto Darling Street as if guided by an unseen hand. She knew where she was heading even if she hadn’t actively thought about going there. She had been to Cape Town before, long before it had been built upon, when men had flocked from all over the world to mine diamonds and kill themselves in the stifling South African heat with the whiff of riches.
There stood the Groote Kerk church, just as she had remembered it a hundred years ago.
It was the safest place she could think of to feed. As she crossed over Adderley Road, she stepped toward the apartment building walls, hoping to cloak herself in the darkness.
Emergency vehicles had blocked off the entire section of the street and while the sight wasn’t foreign to her, she found herself unnerved by their presence. She knew it was merely because she did not belong where she stood. Lara lowered her head, her gait increasing as she slipped by, a mere shadow against the flashing lights. When she had escaped the blinding rays of the police cars, she stole across the street toward the historic church and out of view of the emergency crews.
The courtyard was faintly lit, only three streetlamps in the interior, and Lara welcomed the dim adaptation against the commotion she had just witnessed.
There, she slowly gazed about.
Surprisingly, she only saw a lone bum, sitting on the bench across from the steps. She wondered if the other homeless had scattered because of the event on the street. It didn’t matter what country they were in—the homeless and the displaced never wanted to rouse the attention of the authorities. It was no different in South Africa.
Lara drew closer to the man and realized that he was asleep in his seated position. Her stomach cried out and a wave of dizziness warned her that she was weakening with each passing moment.
He will have to suffice, she told herself, closing the distance between them. Her incisors throbbed at the nearness of the kill, but she knew she still had work to do. She couldn’t very well claim him there in the courtyard, starving as she might be. Setting a fire to a mangled body in the middle of a church courtyard while emergency crews sat by was hardly the pinnacle of discretion.
No, she would have to move him—subtly.
Her hand reached out to gently brush the dark waves of hair from his neck. The plan was to incapacitate him and steal him into an alleyway but before she could react, her wrist was in the confines of a vice grip. The homeless man turned to face her and Lara instantly realized her mistakes. He was neither a vagrant, nor was he asleep. His face seemed to glow against the inkiness of the churchyard, his crystal blue eyes almost transparent. Drops of blood streaked his face and his nose was misshapen as if he had recently been engaged in a fight. His full lips pulled back into a sneer, revealing ivory teeth, clenched in anger.
Yet as his eyes rested on her, he recoiled without loosening his grip.
“What the hell are you doing here, Lara?” he hissed. Lara tried to pull back, but his grip was surprisingly forceful. Her hunger forgotten, she tried to summon her inner strength to detach herself from Pascal.
How did she not sense it was him? Of course he drew her there!
Shockingly, she could not break free.
I’m a lot weaker than I thought, she realized, a combination of nervousness and interest rushing through her.
“Answer me!” Pascal snarled, his eyes flashing with fury. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I-I came looking for you!” Lara panted, her voice wavering under Pascal’s intense scrutiny.
“Is that right?” he snarled, pulling her toward him. “Did Franz send you?”
Lara’s mind raced. If she had not waited so long to eat, she would have had the strength and sense to explain all she needed to explain to Pascal but in that moment, she was powerless. The anger on his face was righteous and intense and Lara knew there was nothing she could do now but appeal to his sympathy. It would not be the first time she used her striking good looks to get out of a bad situation.
“Yes,” she breathed. “He sent me here to get you.”
An undercurrent coursed between them, a pulse which seemed to throb as he kept her firmly entangled in his grasp. For a moment, Lara was reverted back to a time when she had been very comfortable in his clutches.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she insisted, trying to regain the upper hand. “You’re acting like you don’t know me, Cal.”
“You’re the one who tried to drink from me,” he retorted but he set her back to drink her in and she shifted her eyes away from his suspicious glare. “What the hell took you so long to come? Where is Franz? I sent word a year ago and he left me here…”
“I am sorry,” she told him again, her mind racing to formulate a story he might believe, but under pressure, her instincts were to run and regroup.
“Lara, where is Franz?” Pascal asked again, skepticism overtaking his face as he stared at her, his eyes narrowing.
Before Lara could stop herself, she spun and ran, suddenly wishing she had not come halfway across the world.
6
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��Pascal wake the hell up!”
Kyla gaped at him in utter disbelief, her anger mounting as she watched him. As always, he was passed out but what bothered her the most was that she had missed his entry, falling asleep in his usual spot on the couch. At some moment during the night, he had returned and she had missed him when he had slipped into his room.
She was either losing her touch or he was getting sneakier.
Neither thought appealed to her in the least.
She shoved at him again, this time with force and this time, Pascal sat up instantly, his eyes alert and ready for attack. He stared up at her blankly as if he didn’t recognize her and the expression only infuriated her more.
“Get up! I’ve had enough of this shit!” Kyla yelled again, whipping a blood-soaked towel at Pascal’s head. She had come across it in the bathroom, the implications unmistakable. Slowly, Pascal threw his legs over the side of the bed and peered up at her, the look on his face unreadable.
“What are you doing here?” he grumbled but she didn’t miss the undertone of nervousness in his voice. His eyes darted toward the blood-soaked towel and back toward her again before looking down at his hands. Whatever scuffle he had been in the previous night could not have been that bad. Kyla had not gotten wind of it and if he had sustained injuries, they had already healed.
Not that it means anything, she told herself. He could have killed someone again and I would never be any wiser.
“The sooner you understand that I am always watching over you, the happier you’ll be,” Kyla shot back but as she spoke, she felt a heaviness in her heart.
It shouldn’t be this hard with him. There is no connection here. I don’t know who I’m fooling. He’s playing me.
She shoved the thought aside, remembering that she had come to his house for a reason.
“May I ask why you are having a nervous breakdown?” Pascal asked lightly, leaning back against the bed again to peer up at Kyla defiantly. Whatever he saw in her face did not appease him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Where were you last night?” she insisted, wishing she didn’t sound like such a nagging shrew. “Do I need to clean up another one of your messes?”
