by Maya Daniels
Scanning the area as far as my eyes can see through the slit, I don't even breathe as I strain my ears to hear any sound. Silence meets me.
"This is good." Blowing out a slow breath, I push the heavy manhole lid harder, moving it to the side. "Very good."
I know I told Sara we need to lay low for a few days, but we need food. Eddie will be taking medication, one that we are guessing will help him, and he will need to eat. Since none of us are doctors, we are diagnosing him out of our butts, aiming for less severe sounding things, like a cold or the flu. I might not understand medicine, but I know food, and all three of us need it. The restaurants don't throw away a lot anymore. I'm starting to think the employees are taking the leftovers with them when they finish work. What that means is beyond me, but when it's harder to find the food you need, you'll start paying closer attention to what's causing it. It looks like the humans that think the vampires are their friends are beginning to pay the price for that friendship.
Pulling back the metal cover, I bring it in place before slinking back to the alley. My heart almost stops when a woman squeaks before laughing throatily. A dark male chuckle follows it, and my whole body shivers in fear that they'll see me standing here. Luckily, they are too busy exploring each other in the middle of the day to pay me any attention. With shaky legs, I plaster myself to the wall, all focus intently on the area where the sounds are coming from. The dumpster is the only thing separating us. They keep grunting, moaning, skin slaps skin, while I stare unfocused at nothing. I stand there with my heart in my throat for what feels like hours, but judging by the disappointment in the woman's voice when she speaks, it is probably only minutes.
"This is why we choose the vampires you miserable bastard. You could've let me finish first." A loud slap follows her words, and my eyebrows hit my hairline. I want to laugh, but instead, I press my lips tighter, biting the inside with my teeth so I don't make a sound.
"You stupid whore. How dare you hit me?" The guys angry words are punctuated by the rustling of clothing and a dull thump on the other side of the dumpster.
"You better pray there is not a scratch left on me you dumb fuck. I was picked to visit the Italians tonight so they can feed. I would hate to see what will happen to you if I tell them why I can't go. You know, since I'm not feeling well because of you."
"You wouldn't dare…" The fear that came out of the guy can never be faked. I know, because I've felt it.
There it is. The Italians again. My brain reminds me of the two vampires from last night. They were freaking out about the Italian vampires as well. The two people on the other side of me keep bickering among each other but I don't pay attention to their words. My mind keeps running in a loop. Monsters are monsters. All of them are the same, or so I think. But the last twenty-four hours are telling me that some things are so terrifying that even those we fear are afraid of them. While I'm lost in my head, imagining one scenario after another, the voices fade, and the closing of a door brings me back to the present. Sagging in relief, I peel myself off the wall, and after making sure no one is around, I lift the lid of my food store, aka dumpster.
The smell is horrible, that first blast of hot air that hits your face, no matter how many times I've done this. In the beginning, I used to gag or empty my stomach. Now I just take a shallow breath and give myself a moment to get used to it. A quick glance around confirms I'm still alone, so I lift myself up and, pressing my hips on the edge, dive my upper body inside. Rummaging through the trash bags as fast as I can, throwing them from one side to the other, I hold my breath. There must be something here that doesn't have mold or maggots on it. I just have to be thorough. My blood is rushing to my head since I'm hanging with my head down and holding my breath. When I can't keep it in anymore, I start lifting myself up before I try again. The sound of the door opening makes me panic, and I throw myself inside the trash. Not daring to move, I stare wide-eyed at the open lid of the dumpster.
"That stupid bitch left the dumpster open just to get me in more trouble."
The same male voice from earlier spits the words angrily, a second before a muscular tattooed arm reaches across the open dumpster for the lid. A big, shaved head, caramel skin with a square jaw and a flat round nose, comes above me. I'm so terrified that I'm pretty sure my heart stops beating. Numbness blankets my entire body. When the lid starts coming down, tears slide from the corners of my terrified gaze. He will not see me. As soon as that bitch Hope pokes her ugly head out, I know I'm finished. The guy glances down, does a double take, then his eyes widen comically, his arm freezing halfway and not closing the lid. "And what do we have here?" murmuring, he pushes the top back up.
I can't speak. I don't think I can even breathe at this point. My lungs are screaming for oxygen, my brain is yelling to get the hell out of here, yet I just stare at him dumbly, unblinking. Dark spots start dancing at the corners of my eyes, my vision tunneling. At the end of that tunnel, two grim black eyes are watching me with a glint I don't understand. Will he kill me himself, or is he going to give me to the Council? Which way do I prefer to die? My body is sagging deeper into the plastic trash bags, feeling more cumbersome by the second. Everything around me blurs, and it takes a second to understand that big, fat tears are rolling down my dirty cheeks.
"Today is my lucky day." The excitement in the guy's voice tells me everything I need to know. The Council it is. "I just found my ticket to immortality. Let's see what that whore thinks after I have fangs."
A large hand reaches for me, thick fingers curling around my arm. My body is lifted out of the dumpster as if I weigh nothing, leaving me dangling in his hand like one of the icicle Christmas ornaments we used to have when I was a child. A gasp, more a short, sharp intake of breath, is all I manage. I'm a prisoner in my own body, screaming and raging on the inside while paralyzed by fear on the outside. At least the Council will kill me on the spot. There is comfort in that. I just feel great sadness because I'll never see Sara and Eddie again. Will they be okay? God, I hope so.
"The Italians will be happy to get their hands on the elusive runners, methinks. I'll let that bitch watch when they turn me into one of them." A gleeful chuckle echoes in my ears.
It figures.
I will not die quickly. Oh, no. First, I will meet the bogeyman that scares the monsters. I guess Luck got in cahoots with her sister Hope, both deciding to screw me as good as they can so they can even the odds.
I think it's called balance.
Sluggishly and with a pounding head, I try to roll on my back. My whole body hurts, a feeling like I’ve been run over by a car making every muscle and bone protest at the movements. With great effort, I peel my lids open to slits, blinking fast, stifling the groan that wants to come out. I have no idea where I am or what happened.
Better to be safe than sorry.
Rolling to my side, a scream is wrenched from my dry lips. Cool metal yanks on my wrist, flipping me back. Panic tries to overwhelm me, but I breathe through it. Squinting in the darkness around me, my eyelids scrape like they’ve been lined with sandpaper. Where the hell am I? As soon as that question pops up, memories assault my brain. Creeping around the city at night, the pharmacy, Sara being excited about the medicine I found, and at last me staring unblinkingly at dark eyes before I was pulled out of that damn dumpster. I should’ve fought, scratched his eyes out, or bit him. Flailing around, or even screaming, would’ve been better than hanging limply, paralyzed by fear. All the should haves are useless now that I’m tied up, awaiting my fate.
Waiting for my executioner.
Sounds drift to my ears as footsteps move closer, every one loud enough to be heard over the pounding of my heart. With no idea how long I’ve been in this place unconscious, he might as well have taken me to those Italians I keep hearing about. Jerking my hand a few times, the reality of my situation hits me like a ton of bricks. There is no way to get free. No one will come to rescue me, and death has finally caught me. No more running and hiding. It was go
od while it lasted, but in this moment, I can finally admit to myself that I knew it wasn’t going to last forever. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew my time was short. Death was imminent, but I gave it a run for its money. I didn’t give up. For some reason that makes me calm down.
I never gave up.
The squealing sound of protesting hinges when the door opens pulls my focus to the shadow looming at the threshold. I don’t know how long I was stuck in my head, coming to terms with my predicament, but thanks to that, my heart doesn’t flutter like the wings of a dying moth when it sizzles, burning alive on a flame. It beats calmly, waiting for my life to finally end. It’s such a freeing emotion that I almost sob in relief.
I wasn’t living, no matter how much I convinced myself otherwise, just so I could keep going. I was surviving, scraping the dirt and trash from the world with some messed up sense that it meant something. Watching the outline of whoever it is staring me down from a few feet away, chained like an animal, slaps the truth in my face.
It meant nothing.
It just prolonged my suffering. The miserable existence I’ve had.
“You are awake.”
The same guy that found me speaks, his voice slimy like slugs are gliding over my skin. Still standing at the threshold, the light from behind him hides his features, making him look more menacing than he has any right to be. He is human for God’s sake. Just like me. Unable to stop myself, laughter bubbles out through my dry lips, the skin cracking, but I welcome the sting.
“A crazy person,” mumbling under his breath, sounding disgusted by my lack of sanity, he shuffles inside the room. I’m not even sure it is a room. I don’t even care at this point. “At least you won’t understand what’s happening to you.” Chuckling, he squats down on his haunches. “I’m doing you a favor. We will help each other out.”
My insane laughter stops, and I blink at the dark outline crouching in front of me. This asshole thinks just because someone is not all there mentally, apparently it’s okay to kill them. Or trade them like some livestock. Anger surges through me, the yank of the metal on my wrists fueling it when I try to slap him. He flinches at my sudden jerk but doesn’t move away.
“A fighter…” Snickering like a mad man, he yanks on the nest of hair sitting atop my head. “I’m told the vamps like it if you fight. It makes the blood taste better, or so I’ve been told. The assholes never tried to take from me.”
The longer I listen to him, I’m not so sure which one of us is insane. Through the years, I had heard humans liked it when vampires drained their blood. I just thought they were lying, or maybe trying to make themselves feel better for betraying humanity as a whole.
Maybe this idiot is one of those wanting what everyone has, even if it isn’t a good thing. If everyone is saying it, it must be true. Morons.
I haven’t had anyone to guide me through what was good or bad, but I would like to think I learned on my own. My morals might be screwed, but they were mine, and I was proud of them. No approval was needed to understand that I did the best I could with the shit of a life I was given.
This guy, on the other hand, is the reason why we are at the point we are. Selfish, unhinged, and screwed in the head ten ways from Sunday. At least I never turned my back on my kind. I can die knowing that.
“We have a short trip, you and I.” Lifting up to his full height, the creep rubs his hands together in anticipation. “Soon, we’ll both get what we deserve. You’ll be put out of your misery.” A hand reaches for my shackled wrist. “And I’ll get to be immortal. Rising up the chain.” I watch him, detached from the situation. That calms the feeling from earlier blanketing my body.
Free.
I will finally be free from everything. Luck, hope, suffering. Most of all, I’ll be free from life. I never realized how much I wanted that. Hanging limply, I allow the idiot to unchain me. Much stronger than I expected him to be, he drags me out of the darkness. The tips of my boots scrape the floor. Through the matted hair hanging over my face, I take in the dingy apartment where I’ve been held prisoner. Stained, brown carpet covers the floor. Yellow curtains that have seen better days are pulled closed over one window. A checkered sofa with holes, springs, and stuffing poking out of them in a few places is the only furniture I can see. Empty cans and bottles of alcohol, mostly beer, litter the ground. He kicks them out of the way as we pass towards the door, the cluttering sound reaching my ears like a peal of cruel laughter.
The night air washes over me as soon as we step foot outside. Well, he steps foot out. I’m tiptoeing because his greater height jostles my limp body after him. His apartment smelled just like the dumpsters I raided so I could feed myself. Somehow, that thought makes me feel better. I was living like a scum, and I am proud of that. This asshole will never be proud of the life he has lived. Descending the two flights of stairs takes no time at all while he practically runs down, impatient to end my existence. When we reach his beat-up car, unwashed for as long as I’ve been alive, he wrenches the trunk open, shoving me inside. My body hurts from being bent at awkward angles, but I don’t protest. Before he slams it closed, I smile at him, causing confusion to cloud his face.
“Thank you.” My whispered words widen his eyes. He slams the trunk closed so fast the sound hurts my ears. The engine rattles, coughing and spitting, before it starts. With a deep breath, I relax, smiling in the darkness.
It won’t be long now.
Sebastian
Anxiety, frustration, and fear stream through the connection I have with Marcus and Andrei. As soon as my eyes open, I’m fully aware that something is wrong. Taking my time to get out from between the sheets only makes it harder for the two males who are aware of my waking state. If something has gone wrong, they should be afraid. I have come a long way to reach this goal and will not allow anyone or anything to quirk my plans. A sharp, stabbing pain pierces my chest when the thought of losing the girl floats through my head. Pushing it down, I walk under the stream of hot water in the open shower. Feeling every drop slicing the air and sliding over my skin, warming it up, soothes me. I’ll take my time, letting Marcus and Andrei come to me. Patience has never been their strong suit, even though they’ve been with me for over a century now.
Hunger gnaws in my gut, reminding me it’s been a couple of days since I’ve fed. That will need to be remedied soon before it takes control of my actions, and the Americans see their fears of us are very much sound. Watching the suds swirling around the drain at my feet, my lips tilt up at that thought. Maybe it’s not a bad idea to confirm what they’ve been whispering between each other. I will think on that a bit more. Every action needs to be precise and strategically made to further our cause.
Pushing my hair out of my face, squeezing out the water from it, I snatch a towel and tie it around my waist. The same face I have seen for too long to count stares at me from my reflection. Day by day, humanity has been slipping through my fingers until nothing remains of the man I used to be. Boredom is what led me to search for something to give me purpose again. Something other than hunger and thrill to fill my days.
When I had almost given up, I found the old parchment buried in the Colosseum in the middle of Rome. Who would’ve thought that new things could still be found there? Written in a shaky hand, as if the one holding the quill was in a hurry, it spoke of a time when things were not as bleak as they are now. It talked of greatness and power beyond anything any of us have considered possible, including the self-proclaimed gods of the Council. That weathered piece of confession, as I like to call it, brought me where I am today: in the middle of the nest, where my eternal life may end.
Or start anew.
It all depends on one girl. If I get my hands on her. With that reminder, I dry off and start pulling my clothing on. Whatever it is that got two strong and smart males anxious and afraid will no doubt not make me happy. However, it will need to be dealt with before I satisfy the hunger raging through my veins. My fingers still at the buttons of t
he shirt when a knock disturbs the silence of the bedroom. Marcus is the first to want to end his torment, it seems.
“Come in” murmuring, I finish buttoning up my shirt.
Marcus opens the door and walks inside, closing it gently behind him, not meeting my gaze. It brings me great pleasure knowing that my friend knows better than to provoke my ire more than necessary. Letting him dwell on whatever it is that ails him, I continue my dressing, pulling the jacket over my shoulders. When my second set of cufflinks is placed correctly, the red and gold contrasting on the white fabric, the door opens again, and Andrei walks in. It doesn’t escape my notice that he didn’t knock. I know he understands my displeasure when his body shudders and a pained grunt sounds from his firmly pressed lips.
“It seems we have a problem,” I say, finally facing them both, aware that my eyes are flashing red because the predator in me is too close to the surface. “A big enough problem that we forget our manners.” My gaze lingering on Andrei, I tuck my hands in my pockets.
Andrei finches but keeps staring at his feet. Marcus is the one that shows his bravery by meeting my eyes. Swallowing a couple of times, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down before he speaks.
“We lost the girl, Sire.”
I doubt that they can see the stiffening of my shoulders in the unnatural stillness all of us possess. What they can feel, however, is the blast of my power that hits them through our connection like a monsoon, bringing them down on their knees. Pressing the bridge of my nose with a thumb and forefinger, I breathe slowly in hopes to calm my natural reaction pushing me to kill them both. I pride myself on the control I have accomplished over my instincts. It is the only reason both of them still have their heads attached to their bodies.
“Lost her how exactly?” With slow, measured steps, I stand in front of their kneeling bodies, looking down at the two males I trust more than anyone else. “Lost her, as in she escaped? Or lost her, as in she is dead and lost for eternity?”
