by LJ Swallow
JACK
I don't know if my nightmare is over or beginning. The haze of the last year gradually became a thick fog, and I lost myself in a treadmill life of hunting and running. In trying not to kill.
And now this.
I hold my breath as Dahlia kneels in front of me, fix my eyes on her dark-coloured boots, and will her to move away from me. A primal voice inside screams attack Dahlia, reminding me the reason I was semi-conscious when Keir and the girl attacked is because I haven't fed for days. Weeks.
Now they left the room and put this human Dahlia in danger.
My body's weak, but I manage to pull upright and slide along the wall away from Dahlia before she touches me. Or worse—I touch her.
“Jack...”
“Please go, Dahlia.”
“Look at me.”
I can't. If I do, I'll have to accept everything is real. I tune into Keir's voice upstairs; he’s talking to the pink-haired girl. Dahlia, here, is Ava’s fault, and I'm furious.
I peer from under my fringe.
Dahlia. The girl from my dreams, who never left them, even after they changed me into this creature she hates. My sight is sharper than before, but Dahlia isn't the bright girl they pulled me away from. She doesn’t look at me as she sits, tears streaking her pale cheeks, mouth turned down in unhappiness. Understandable, given she just found out I’m a demon, but I also sense this new Dahlia doesn't smile much.
Mingled with my lust for the blood I can smell pumping through her veins is the chain of connection to Dahlia I thought had snapped. How can I want to hold and comfort her when physically I want to rip her throat out? I close my eyes and hold my breath.
“I'm sorry.” Dahlia’s voice is a whisper, winding around my demon heart.
“For what?”
I open my eyes, our gazes locking for the first time since she arrived. Her chocolate-brown eyes are huge, confused. Hurt. Her chest rises and falls, pumping her blood faster and I swallow. My beautiful Dahlia, who gave up her world so she could live in mine. And now look at the mess we've created.
“Because if we'd never met, you wouldn't be...”
“A vampire?”
I expect Dahlia to look away, but she doesn't. Doesn't blink, or show any emotion. “Yes.”
“You should leave.”
“I just found you.”
“No, you found a demon. Demons should die. Vampires are worse than any demon—they take the body and the soul.”
She shakes her head, brown hair flying around her shoulders and the scent sends me nauseous with hunger. “No, you're Jack. You have Jack's soul.”
My anger spikes, emotions run close to the surface in this form and I don't have Jack's control. I grab my hair and pull, rather than lash out at her. “No. I'm a demon!”
Dahlia stands and steps towards me; I push against the wall, wishing I could merge with the bricks. She should be scared of me, not wanting me. Dahlia lifts her hand towards my face.
“Don't touch me!” I shriek and she drops her hand, wide eyes full of hurt. “Dahlia. You're human, and I haven't fed.”
Finally she understands the situation and steps backwards. “You wouldn't hurt me.”
The certainty in her words is my Dahlia, as if she's telling me. She’s insane. Dahlia's not a soul hunter anymore; of course, I can hurt her.
DAHLIA
I wake from a dream, where I found Jack, and return to a cold world. Turning to one side, I grab for my sheets because I'm hardly covered. Gripping a thick woollen coat instead, I open one eye. I'm lying on a lumpy sofa and the coat smells of Keir. I shift to sit, stretching my aching neck, and look around for a clue to where I am. The room is bare, apart from the sofa I'm on and the thin pink curtains drawn across the early sunshine hitting the window.
Shivering, I shrug on Keir's coat. I know where I am now, and derelict houses used as vampire nests don't tend to come with heating.
Everything rushes back, coiling my stomach back into a familiar knot.
Jack.
Is anyone else here? I hold my breath, as if my hearing would suddenly improve if I do. Nothing. Memories of the evening before force me to my feet. What if Jack's no longer here? I walk towards the back of the house, but the door to the basement is locked, the small metal key protruding. I remember now. Last night, I refused to go home. Keir was reluctant to leave me alone with Jack, and Jack refused to come out of the basement. This was the compromise if they left me here with Jack: a locked door, Keir’s coat, and phone.
For a moment, I stare at the flaking paint on the cellar door; if Jack is down there still he could reject me again. Or be waiting to pounce. I shake the idea from my head. No, he won't hurt me. Slowly, I unlock the door and open it, then flick on the light. The bare bulb shines on the concrete steps and on Jack, who sits in one corner, watching me from beneath his shaggy fringe. Immediately the tears gather and I hold them back, my insides melting at the sight of the guy I loved and lost. Can he be mine again?
“Can I go now?” he asks.
“Go where?”
“Anywhere. Away from you.”
His words sting; he doesn’t want me. “Where would you go?”
Jack doesn't reply. I sit on the steps, gazing down at the person who was gentle, caring Jack and is now the embodiment of a deadly enemy. “You can't stay here.”
“I can't stay with you.”
I sigh at his refusal to engage and decide to change tack. “This is new, Jack.”
He shakes his hair away, focuses on me for the first time. “What?”
“You. Stubborn. Is that a vampire thing?”
“No, wanting to kill you is a vampire thing,” he snaps back.
Ouch. I pretend not to bother, and roll my eyes at him instead, the way I once did before, when we were Jack and Dahlia. Maybe if I pretend we are, he might be that Jack again. “Sure.”
Jack pulls himself to his feet and walks across to where I sit. Slowly, he ascends the steps and I stand too. When he’s eye height, he pauses and I look back at him. My increased heart rate is in reaction to my proximity to Jack, not the threat of the vampire, and I fight the urge to touch his face.
“You need a shower,” I tell him.
“Why aren't you scared of me?”
“Because you're Jack, and I'm Dahlia.”
He huffs and his cool breath reaches me. I need to know if he feels like Jack, and I reach a hand out.
Jack moves down a step. “Don't touch me.” This time his voice holds a tinge of sorrow, not the anger from last night.
“You don't have anyone else. Let us help you. We're part of the reason you're here.” I blink away my tears, and one escapes. Jack's gaze follows its path. “You can't stay down here forever.”
His eyes remain on the tear, and I wipe it away with a finger.
“I don't want to live. I've wanted to die every day since they did this to me.”
My chest hurts with the intense need to stop him saying these things and hold him as I focus on his dull eyes. “That's why they did it—to torture us both.”
“Who?”
“The vampires. This is my fault. I killed their coven leader. That was the soul I had to take back last year. Keir helped, but I didn't remember him at the time. I don't remember anything, only what he’s told me since.”
“Oh.” No emotion.
“Oh?”
“What else do you expect me to say?”
“Be angry. Upset. Something.”
Jack shrugs and I stifle a laugh. “What's funny?” he asks.
“Shrugging vampire.” The tiny hint of a smile plays on his lips and surges hope through me. He fights the smile away. “Jack, will you come with us? At least until you decide what to do?”
His eyes narrow, as if considering something. “Who's the girl? The pink-haired one?”
“Oh her. Ava.”
He tips his head. “She's not human either?”
“She's a soul hunter.”
“Ah. That's why s
he tried to kill me. Shame she failed.”
“Keir won't let Ava kill you.”
Jack rubs his cheek. “I remember his face from the night... this happened.”
“He's the Nephilim I told you about. He helped us. Helped me afterwards by keeping me safe.” I breathe in and exhale loudly. “He kept me safe the night the vampires came, and every day since.”
“I've heard about him from others. Legendary Keir, the demon who kills demons,” he says with mock reverence. “Maybe he'll kill me.”
I want to push Jack down the steps, scream at him, ask how he can say this when we've found each other again, because now we have another chance. Maybe Jack’s in shock too? How can I know what this new Jack thinks?
“I doubt Keir will. But I guess you can always ask him,” I say sarcastically.
Jack's shoulders sag, his tall frame shrinking. “What do we do, Dahlia?”
The eyes that meet mine may be dull brown now, but they're the eyes of the guy I fell in love with. The guy I left the stars for.
“I don't know.”
25
JACK
I stare at the metal object in Dahlia's hands.
“A laptop?”
She sits on the edge of the bed, balancing the laptop on her knee. “Gaming used to distract you from the world. I thought maybe it still could.”
Dahlia's brown hair is tied back today, accentuating how pale and unhappy she is, and stirring latent human empathy in me.
“I can't,” I tell her.
“Why, don't your fingers work?” She meets my look with a challenging arched eyebrow.
“No, it's just...”
“You're not human, yeah. But when you play, no one knows who you are or what you look like. Maybe some of your friends might play still. Kyle...”
Faith. My head hurts, as if Dahlia poked me in the eye with something sharp. Worse than this is, she makes me feel. I miss Faith. And Kyle. All of them. I glance sideways at Dahlia. How much of this is her deviousness at trying to reconnect me to my humanity, and how much is accidental?
“Are they on campus?” I ask.
“No, still travelling, I think. I haven't seen them since the night of the party. Though I did have Faith calling me every day accusing me of all sorts after you... left.”
“So you don't know how the band's going?”
“I don't talk to them.”
Keir helped Dahlia through the nightmare of the accusations she was involved with my disappearance and suspected murder. With no proof or evidence of my death, I'm a missing person. Missing, presumed dead. A couple of times after Keir found me, I consider calling my parents, but I decide things would be easier if they think I'm dead. I am dead. I don't want to talk to Dahlia about anything from my old life.
They brought me to this cheap hotel a couple of days ago, and I stay in a room befitting my half-human state: a bed with a stained mattress, an ancient TV, and a lingering smell of tobacco smoke to accompany the brown stain on the ceiling.
Today, I sit and dangle my hands between my legs, as Dahlia busies herself, plugging in the laptop. She's learnt to stay away from me, not because I attack her, but because every time Dahlia does come near me I yelp, or scream, or back off. The residual Jack part of me doesn't want Dahlia to stay away, but he's pushed so far down by the demon, she's not safe.
I'm so fucking hungry, and I don't know what to do.
I spoke to Keir one night when he was vampire sitting me and Dahlia wasn’t here, and he doesn't know what I should do either. Keir says he'll speak to some friends but was cagey who these friends are. I told Keir I need to feed on a human until they die, take in their life essence as well as their blood. I doubt anyone around can help with that. Not willingly.
Dahlia leans over the desk, moving the mouse as she concentrates on her task. Something human stirs in me again as I appraise her rear, beautifully hugged by tight jeans. This isn’t Dahlia as a possible kill now; I remember the physical us. Sex with Dahlia. Memories of our time pour into my head, taking me by surprise. Gradually, Dahlia is connecting vampire Jack to human Jack, but for her to connect the two parts, I need to allow her, and I'm resisting every step of the way.
Maybe she thinks my laptop is some kind of Achilles heel.
“Okay, done. Log on.” Dahlia steps back from the desk. I chew my lip and she walks towards me. “This is a first step to coming back into the world, Jack. You can interact with people but not have to see them. You're Jack inside there; you just need to find him again.”
I rake my hair from my eyes. How is she so sure? Willing myself not to see Dahlia as a meal again, I study her. She's right. He’s buried in there, and Dahlia is doing everything she can to have her Jack back again.
“It's been days, Dahlia, and you still haven't asked me.”
“Asked you what?”
“About the feeding.”
I wait for a look of revulsion on her face, but Dahlia's features remain unmoved. “I don't need to ask. I know what vampires are.” She pauses. “And I know you're hungry because you haven't left this room yet.”
I don't tell her my plan. If I stay here, or wherever else they take me and don't feed, I expect to die. And when Keir or Ava sees how painful this slow death is, they might put me out of my miserable state so I don't suffer too long. It's not as if they can force-feed me.
“Yeah, I'm hungry but I'm not eating.”
Dahlia rubs her eyes. “The lore I've read is confusing and contradictory, and I don’t completely understand. Do you need to drink human blood or are there other options?”
“I don't fucking sparkle and hunt deer in the woods,” I snap.
The frown I once found so endearing reappears. “What do you mean? There aren't any deer around here.”
Sometimes I forget Dahlia isn't entirely human; that she never lived human teenage years filled with sparkling vampires and werewolves. From the look of things, she's no more involved with people than she was before I left. Keir appears to be her only friend, maybe Ava, but I get the feeling Dahlia and Ava aren’t best buddies.
“Live humans, Dahlia. No animals. Or blood bags from the hospital.” I wish she wouldn't talk about this, I feel like a man lost in the desert with a mirage in front of me. I can't tell her the people I feed on need to die too.
Dahlia dips her head and turns away, but her hand shakes. “So, I loaded the new patches, the game should be good to go.”
I laugh. For the first time in a year, something amuses me. She switches from talk of killing people to a computer game just like that. Jack the Gaming Vampire.
“Okay. I guess my vampire super-senses will give me a shitload of advantage.” I grin at her.
“I guess they will.” She smiles back at my joke, but her mouth pretends. Nothing else in her face hints at happiness.
DAHLIA
I try hard to see Jack as a vampire but I can't. Bloody stupid because his skin and eyes indicate he is one, and ridiculously, I’ve made a conscious decision not to look at his teeth. Denial, I guess. But I refuse to believe Jack's as lost as he says. Sometimes Jack's dull eyes hold his old human look for the briefest of moments, before they slip back to the glazed sadness.
I think I'm getting through to him slowly, one step at a time. Jack reconnects with the world via his gaming but refuses to interact with his friends again. How could he? As far as they’re concerned, Jack’s dead. He's left the hotel room a few times now too; we walk around the local streets and park with him as if he’s a hospital patient who needs gentle supervision. Keir comes with us in case Jack loses control and attacks someone, but he’s determined not to feed.
In better news—Ava's left.
Secretly, I'm relieved and happy, but Keir's morose reaction takes the edge off. Ava disappeared without a goodbye, which suggests to me she’s gone for good. The way she and Keir were barely out of each other’s sight, and his admission to me they loved each other, means I doubt she left willingly. Darius came for her. I'm surprised the Caeles
tia didn't take her back sooner; Ava is a soul hunter, freeing souls with Keir when she should be capturing them and taking them back to Darius. Plus, she failed miserably at her original task: take Keir's soul. There’ll be one hell of a punishment waiting for her. Probably quite literally.
I hope she never comes back.
I think about all this as I stand outside the suburban house with Jack and Keir. An ordinary house, with a neatly mowed lawn and pink rose bushes lining the path. Jack’s hands are buried in his pockets, eyes cast down, and Keir's face is as miserable. But this is positive. Not only is Keir finally allowing me to meet who he works with, he's also finding help for Jack.
Keir has a key; he lets the three of us in, then walks towards the back of the house. The interior is as ordinary as the exterior. Cream-coloured walls and polished wooden floors lead to a lounge room furnished with comfortable leather sofas and a large black rug rests in the centre of the room. The house looks like a show home; the place is spotless.
Seated in the room are two men. Nephilim. My scalp prickles and I start to panic until I remember they're not my enemy anymore. Or I hope not. The two men look very different—one has curly white-blond hair and a calm presence; the other has middle-parted, chin length brown hair and an expression of dislike I've not seen since Faith.
The dark-haired guy studies Jack with a turn of revulsion on his mouth, and I want to reach out to Jack, but cross my arms over my chest instead.
“This is him?” the man asks.
“This is Jack. And Dahlia.” Keir turns to us. “And this is Eli and Asher.”
Eli, the dark haired man, regards me. “You’re the ex-soul hunter?”
“Interesting friends you have chosen, Keir.” The blond-haired man smiles and the atmosphere calms. Unlike Eli, he's not looking at Jack as if he wants him dead, which I guess is a good sign. “Sit down.”
We all sit, Jack and me stiffly at either end of a black leather sofa, but all I want to do is run. Three Nephilim. I'd guessed this is who Keir works with, but meeting them unnerves me. What if they don't want an ex-soul hunter around? Or a vampire.
