by Jean Booth
“What’s wrong?” I asked. It suddenly dawned on me—he was hungry. I was alone in the Everglades with a hungry vampire, miles away from anyone. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” His eyes flew open. “You can’t eat food, can you? That’s why you didn’t eat with me earlier. Good lord, Stephan. You must be starving.” I didn’t understand why he hadn’t just asked me to open a vein, unless he had to kill to survive. I’d donate a pint or two, but I wasn’t willing to die for him. “Do you have to kill when you eat?”
“No.” His tone was firm. I wasn’t certain if he was answering my question, or if he was denying my unspoken offer. I pulled my hair to one side and tilted my neck toward him. I knew he could see the pulse thudding in my jugular; I could feel the frantic beat. His eyes went straight to the pulse, jaw clenched firmly. His body went even more rigid against mine.
“Then feed.”
His mouth latched onto my neck without thought. His hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back farther. His other hand clenched my lower back, pulling me tightly toward his arousal. He thrust helplessly against me, sucking the life from my body as he did. I gasped, placing my hands on his shoulders to push him away. I’d forgotten the sexual nature of his bite. As my hands gripped his shoulders, I found myself pulling him closer instead of pushing him away, legs weak with my involuntary arousal.
We came together, crying out our satisfaction to the night air. I felt the trickles of blood slide down my neck seconds before he licked the wound closed. He leaned against me, still pinning me to the side of the house. I started to shiver.
“Never again,” I whispered. “Promise me this will never happen again.” I couldn’t even look at him I was so ashamed at myself. No matter how I tried to justify the inadvertent lust, if I ever let him feed from me again, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop at just the bite. I felt him tense above me.
“Forgive me. I promise.” He moved away, walking toward the car with purposeful strides. I sank to the ground, legs unable to hold me up, humiliated with myself and upset that I’d unintentionally hurt him. I’d forgotten what his bite was like. A girl would do just about anything to feel that. I couldn’t have him bite me again; he’d wind up killing me, and I’d go, encouraging him until my last breath.
It was a long while before I was able to stand and face him. I got to my feet and walked back to the car. He was leaning against it, body humming with pent up energy. Silently, he opened my door. I offered a small smile as I sat. He was starting the engine before the door even closed.
“Tell me about vampires. Am I going to have to drink blood now that I’m different?”
He took so long in answering it surprised me when he finally did.
“No. You don’t need to drink blood to survive.” He went quiet again. I thought that might be all he would say on the matter, but he sighed as if he’d finally come to a decision. “When Atlantis sank, we were left without the ability to sustain our lifespan. There’s something about being Poseidon’s offspring that enables us to live longer than humans, but when left without him and without our land, we started aging as normal humans. Before completely abandoning us to his grief, Poseidon wanted to gift us with the ability to maintain our lifespan on the surface. He didn’t see how losing most of his offspring, his land, his mate, and then being forced to watch us suffer for a sin we didn’t commit was a fitting punishment for his crimes. He thought we’d been punished enough.
“After seeing the devastation meted out to Poseidon and his people by the Fates, the other gods had pity and allowed him to grant this boon, if we so desired. The other gods wanted to make certain that we’d find the act of receiving sustenance difficult, so they placed guidelines, limitations on our gift, convinced that we wouldn’t repeat the uprising Atlas achieved.
“Few see vampirism as the true gift it really is. Most would view it as a curse: beings forced to live off another’s life force. When we were first given this gift, I agreed that it was a curse, not a blessing.
“We were starving, half mad from being trapped at sea with no place to call home. When we landed in America, we fell upon the first town we came to. The entire village was slaughtered within minutes. Blood drenched our clothing, stained our faces, and filled our bellies for the first time in weeks.” He shuddered, the visions of the first kill plainly evident on his face, mortifying him with the memories of the brutality. Pain and remorse coated every word.
“It took years for us to learn that we didn’t have to kill to survive. Years of killing humans, just to realize that a mouthful of the sweet nectar would sustain us for the night. By the time we’d discovered this, only fifty of our refugees remained. Twenty more would ask for true death at this discovery, unwilling to live their remaining days with the knowledge that they’d killed hundreds of innocent lives unnecessarily.” He went silent again, lost in a pain I hoped to never fully understand, and grieved for those that would only live in his memories. I grieved with him. To have been the cause of so much unnecessary death, and then to be asked to take the lives of close friends…I didn’t know how he maintained his sanity.
“You won’t have to drink from people because as a Changer, you consume the blood of the creatures you kill. That’s one of the reasons why you must learn to be comfortable with hunting in your animal form. The true Atlantean Elementals—the Aeris, Pyros, Nymphs, and Earthen clans must sacrifice one human per year in order to maintain their life, but they do not have to drink daily to survive. They are where your history gets human sacrifices from. Various religions saw what we did and how we maintained our vitality. They attempted to copy our rituals to increase their lifespan, to no avail. Our Elementals are from Atlantis. The power from their element sustains them, but without the Atlantean waters, the elements demand sacrifice.
“I’m an anomaly, as I don’t belong to any one clan. There are others like me—the few Necromancers, Dream-Walkers, and Telekinetic Atlanteans—the only ones of our race that don’t have a connection to the elements or are able to change, that have to live off the blood of the humans to survive.”
“But I Dream-Walked for years before I mated, and I never had to drink blood.” I interrupted.
“You were born human. Someone from your lineage must have had offspring with Amphres before he died, and we realized that procreation with humans was possible. It is incredibly rare for a mixed breed to have to rely on the blood of others, but it has been known to happen. That is a lesson for another time.
“I’ve tried to live off elemental energy, and when that didn’t work, I tried living as a Changer. The blood of animals makes me violently ill. The only thing that sustains me is the living blood of another human.
“I’m able to survive with only a pint of blood a week. I prefer the essence of another Atlantean, as it helps maintain my strength and I drink less, but any will do just fine. Taking from the source has always been very erotic for me. It’s an uncontrollable, all-consuming, desperate need I try to avoid whenever possible. I’m unsure how others react to their feeding as it is considered rude to discuss.” His face flushed, and I was certain mine was crimson.
“You’ve been the only person in three centuries to cause me to forget myself. Your blood was wonderfully intoxicating when you were human; it was part of the reason I knew you were different. Now that you’ve become complete, your blood is even more potent. I’ve only tasted one other who came close to you. With your blood, I may not have to feed for days. I feel energized, my entire body stronger and more vibrant than I’ve felt in a very long time. It’ll be a struggle for me to act human with this power flowing through my veins.”
My mouth hung open in astonishment. His candor shocked me. I wasn’t used to him being so open with me. More often than not, he was cagey and mysterious about himself.
He glanced over at me and laughed at the expression on my face. His eyes twinkled, dimples deepening on his cheeks; his whole face was transformed with simple joy. Time stood still in that moment. It was in his eyes, the way h
e held himself. He had enough misery to last a thousand lifetimes, and I was just beginning to understand it all. It made his laugh more precious than others and made me feel special for having provoked it.
“Should I stop, or would you like to hear more?” he asked, coyly glancing at me with laughter still dancing in his eyes. I could barely form the words to answer.
“More, please,” I choked out.
“Since you specifically asked about vampires, I’ll tell you all you wish to know. Later, I’ll teach you about the other clans. You’ll need to know everything you can in order to defend yourself against those that would wish you harm.” He paused, gathering his thoughts to start explaining my new culture.
“First, there’s a difference between natural and created vampires. Natural vampires are the original refugees from Atlantis and our offspring. We aren’t undead; we still have souls, and we don’t die off during the day.” He smirked at me. “Those are always the first questions. We’re still the same people we were before Atlantis sank; we just have a different diet. It’s still extremely difficult to reproduce, just as it is in Atlantis. The bittersweet irony of being Poseidon’s offspring was that while we can practically live forever, reproduction is almost impossible. Poseidon always made absolutely certain that he maintained a certain balance when he gave us a gift. We couldn’t benefit from unnatural abilities without giving up something in return.
“Now, a natural vampire is able to walk in the sun; we have reflections, are not affected by garlic, and can enter churches if we so desire. There are few ways to kill a natural vampire, just as there are few ways to kill a true Atlantean. You, miña mascota, are a true Atlantean. You have Atlantean blood and were born with a gift. You became what you were truly meant to be when you mated. You became an Atlantean.”
“What does that mean?” I interrupted. “If I didn’t have my Dream-Walking gift, would I still be single?” Anxiety crept over me; the idea of never knowing Raif hurt to even think about.
“No.” Stephan’s hand found mine. It was warmer than he usually was. “I believe you would have eventually found each other—it is the soul that matters, not the abilities. However, with you having the blood of Atlantis already in your veins, Poseidon could transport you more easily to Atlantis.”
“Oh. Well, what about being a vampire?”
“You must be a descendent of one of the clans to survive the transition into vampirism.” I saddened at that. It meant I would most assuredly outlive Katie and Ash. Unless they carried an Atlantean marker and were made into a created vampire.
“We’re able to survive almost anything,” Stephan continued as if I wasn’t already overwhelmed. “Our bodies have superior healing capabilities. You’ll find you’ll never experience something as trivial as the common cold again. Your body can regenerate any organ or heal any injury as long as your head and heart are intact and connected. The only way to kill a natural vampire, or Atlantean, is to behead them, impale them, or by exsanguination.”
“So, the stake through the heart thing is true, but everything else is wrong?” I finally found my voice. He smiled.
“For natural vampires, yes. Things get a bit different with the created vampires.” I opened my mouth, but he held his hand up, effectively cutting off my next question. “You really are inquisitive. I’d wondered at your lack of questions earlier. Give me a moment, and I’m certain I will get to it. Natural vampires must feed frequently. How often we feed, and how much, depends on the quality of the blood we take. Like I stated earlier, human blood is the weakest. Atlantean blood is the strongest, depending on the power of the host. Mine, for example is the strongest on the surface. You and your mate would probably be on the same level as Atreyu. He would be the next strongest, following me, but it’s impossible for him to visit the surface. Every other natural vamp would follow him, depending on how advanced their power base.
“We can taste the intricacies of individuals. The stronger the host is, the more flavorful the blood. Each person has a unique taste; the powerful Atlanteans pack a kick, regenerating more than just our bodies. The sick and infirm humans taste weak, bitter, and leave a sour note in our mouths. Diabetics and alcoholics are my personal favorites. Their blood is sweet, tangy, and thick with sugar. After drinking, we sometimes know more about our hosts than they are even aware of.”
“How so?”
“We can taste the impurities of the blood. Some hosts don’t know yet that they’re diabetic, or have cancer, for instance. But we recognize the difference as you can recognize the difference between chocolate and steak.”
“That’s incredible. Think of all the people you could save with early detection if you became a doctor.” The possibilities were astounding.
“While we are able to identify the illness, it is poor blood to survive on. And what would the humans think? After a while, word would spread of miracles, and we would have to offer up proof of how we diagnosed something that others could not.” Stephan was patient, painting the bigger picture for me. “Humans are to live their lives how they were meant to. We are living ours as best we can without our homeland. To interfere with the natural order of things wouldn’t be wise for our survival.”
“But—” I began.
“No.” He was firm. “It’s been tried, and we suffered for it. There are reasons for your myths and stories. There are reasons your kind fear those in power. I will not risk what’s left of my people.” Silence stretched between us for a moment. All the amazing things they could do for humanity were right there, yet Stephan couldn’t—wouldn’t—interfere with our lives. Knowing what had happened to Atlantis, I understood. Didn’t mean I liked it.
“What about bagged blood?” I asked.
“Bagged blood from blood banks is fine, but the fresher the source, the more potent the blood. As the blood sits, it loses its potency and flavor. I refuse to take directly from the source; it’s too erotic. I use stored blood from a high-ranking Atlantean, alternating with freshly donated human blood. I must replenish my stock once a month. You’ve seen me drink a few times. When I drink in public, I like to have a pitcher of human blood taken from an alcoholic. Their blood is sweet, thick with the toxins of liquor, succeeding in giving me a slightly intoxicated feeling. It’s a little joke I like to play while drinking among the humans.” He smirked at me and I laughed.
“Created vampires are tricky. They’re very different from natural ones in that they were once human like you. Like I stated earlier, only the humans with Atlantean blood running through their veins are able to be made into vampires.” I gave him a quizzical look. “Your human traits are dominant to our Atlantean ones. You have Atlantean genes, so you are able to Dream-Walk, but your human genes override the Atlantean ones.”
“So I was still fully human until I mated with Raif,” I said. Stephan only twitched slightly at the reference to my mate—he was improving.
“Precisely,” he said. “A human that holds a trace of Atlantean blood can become a created vampire, joining their Atlantean brethren. They must live off the blood of another, but do not drink as frequently as a natural vampire. They are able to survive, drinking only once a week or so. They’re able to walk in the sun for brief periods until they reach five hundred years of age. After that, they’re quarantined to the night.
“Garlic is still fine, as are churches.” He smiled, dismissing the same litany of stereotypes he did when talking about natural vampires. “They still have their reflections. They cannot reproduce. The healing sleep of the day kills off any abnormality in their body—including a fetus. They don’t sleep in coffins, although years ago, it was considered by some to be a wonderful practical joke.” He shook his head, and I could tell he was suppressing a smile.
“Created vampires are killed just as easily as humans unless it’s close to dawn and they have a sufficient blood source nearby.” His voice went soft, reliving some pain I could tell he didn’t want to talk about. “They feel things much more intensely than any other crea
ture. When they are pleasured, it’s as if every nerve is pleasured at once. When they’re in pain, every nerve feels that as well. Their blood doesn’t coagulate as a human’s. If stabbed or shot, it’s possible for a created vampire to bleed to death in minutes.” He fell silent. I let him have his moment, knowing that sometimes you had to let the memory wash over you before you could continue. He probably had millions that crept up on him.
“I have not and will not ever create a vampire.” His voice was firm, answering a question I would never have asked. “Those that are under my protection came to me from a creature that was destroyed. It’s beneficial for created vampires to stay in their kiss—their vampire clan. They have the protection and name of the natural vampire, as well as a vast amount of willing donors that have been specifically chosen throughout centuries. The created vampires that attempt to live without a kiss rarely survive long, if at all. They need the structured hierarchy of the group to be held accountable for their actions.
“I’m not entirely certain created vampires retain their souls.” His voice was so soft, I could barely hear it over the wind. “I hope they do, but watching them as they age and grow into something heartless leads me to believe otherwise. I would never willingly remove someone’s soul. Living as even less than what Hades cursed us to would be beyond cruel.” He shook his head.
“I’m getting ahead of myself. Forgive me, I’m not used to explaining our heritage and life to another. The vampires under my protection were taught by their previous masters about their history, abilities, and limitations. I’m trying to remember everything but keep losing myself. Created vampires cannot create another vampire. Only a natural vampire can create a vampire. The madness of our existence reaches created vampires faster than it does us. It’s something about the weight of the years combined with their lonely nighttime existence.
“I’ve never seen or heard of a created vampire finding their soul mate. That, combined with the quick onset of madness, leads me to believe that they may lose the portion of their souls that has the ability to connect with another, in essence, becoming truly undead.” He sighed. “It’s a mystery I’ve been trying to solve for centuries.” He went quiet and stayed that way until we started seeing the lights of the city. “Do you have questions?”
