by David Paul
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61914-303-6
This book is dedicated to Aurora Laorenza. She was the little angel that was called from this Earth to go to Heaven much sooner than we all thought.
“In time, dwellings and mammoth structures will reach skyward farther than the mind may comprehend. An era of confusion and sin will take over. The closeness to the heavens will give the illusion of piety, but it is simply an illusion and nothing more. The true meaning of life will be lost, but a dark day will come when the people of the time will be reminded.”—
Leviticus Balcarum
Preface
I just wanted to thank everyone who helped make Nocturnal possible. Thanks to my artist, Eric Benkosky aka Benko, for delivering all of my artwork for this novel and the fan-page. I’d also like to thank my girlfriend, Sandy, for putting up with all of my nocturnal activities and endless banter about the book. Sandy also did a ton of promoting for me to get the word out there. I’d also like to thank my cousin, Lisa Noffi, who did all of my preliminary printing through her business, Variable Data Printing. Of course, my parents were very supportive as well, and they helped me edit the first draft. I really can’t forget all of the people that showed so much love and support throughout its completion—you know who you are! I’ve got a long list of autographed copies of the book that needs to be sorted out.
On a personal level, I was in a really dark place when I wrote the novel. I really felt very close to the character of David, and his name was easy and very convenient to write. I had just gotten over a divorce and financial troubles prior to writing it. Anyone who ever felt like life was beating them up can relate to the main character. I certainly was able to relate. After all of my troubles, I felt like life was kicking me around a bit. In many ways, I felt like the character, David. Writing the book was practically an “exorcism” for all of the demons that seemed to haunt me.
At the time, I had just started a new relationship, and because of my divorce, I was very nervous that I could possibly get hurt again or be disappointed. My job was very unsatisfying at the same time. I think that all of this came into play while writing the book. I hadn’t written creatively for about five years before starting Nocturnal. The idea for Nocturnal actually came from a song that I wrote for a garage band that my friends and I had. Long live the metal days! One day in April of 2010, I sat down and started writing. Everything seemed to fly out of my brain. I never stopped writing, and about a year later, the first draft of Nocturnal was finished. In total, the novel has been re-written about five times before I decided to release it. Special thanks to John Betancourt of Wildside Press for all of his insight and critiquing of the work.
Well, I hope you certainly enjoy this novel. My main goal was to write an uncompromising story that had something for everyone in it. I wanted a subplot of a love story to keep the women readers interested, and I wanted vampires and demons for everybody! I didn’t want another “kiddie” story about vampires. The book is definitely geared towards the 18+ audience. I just wanted to write it as is with no “pulled punches.” There is graphic violence, adult situations, sexually explicit material, and more. I strongly advise parents to read the book before letting “little” Johnny read it. I’m just throwing that out there, everyone…enjoy!
Thank you all!
Chapter Index
Copyright Page
Chapter One: Night Moves
Chapter Two: The Meeting of Zurelda
Chapter Three: The Black Forest
Chapter Four: Captivity
Chapter Five: A Glimmer of Hope
Chapter Six: The Turning of Two
Chapter Seven: Finding the Path
Chapter Eight: An Bye Opener
Chapter Nine: Deeper Inside the Vampire’s World
Chapter Ten: The Hunt is On
Chapter Eleven: Doctor Carver
Chapter Twelve: The Devil’s Child
Chapter Thirteen: Evil Touches Us All
Chapter Fourteen: Taking Out the Trash
Chapter Fifteen: The Beast is Near
Chapter Sixteen: Dancing with the Devil
Chapter Seventeen: The Beast is Here
Chapter Eighteen: Aftermath
Chapter 1-Night Moves
nocturnal: [nok-tur-nl]-adjective
1. of the night
2. occurring or active at night
The smell of fresh blood mixed with the fragrance of midnight lilac lingers in the air on this moonless night. Another is dead. Another has fallen victim to the ancient affliction. Tonight is just another night of many. The familiar thirst is an unrelenting addiction that has gone on for centuries. The thirst has animated the beast inside of him for far too long.
Bound by an unholy curse, he is forced to wander the night. Endless time haunts him. He exudes the bittersweet stench of immortality. Many a king has risen, and many a king has fallen. The sword has given way to the rifle. The horse-drawn carriage has given way to the minivan. The world has changed dramatically. Much time has passed. The dark figure bears no scars or imperfections. He has been impervious to the passage of such time.
On the ground lies the body of a stunningly beautiful woman. Trees and lilac shrubs surround the corpse. Long flowing blond hair is pushed over to one side, and this reveals a visible bite mark with two pronounced puncture points. Her perfect breasts are exposed with still erect nipples. The body is motionless and drained of its lifeblood. There is no look of terror on the victim’s pale white face, only confusion. The expression of bewilderment changes as her pupils dilate, and her eyes go dead. He leaves his victim in the park. It really doesn’t matter to him who finds her.
A handsome dark figure, dressed in a black Armani suit, walks away casually and calmly. It is as if nothing bizarre or out of the ordinary has happened. The man seems completely at ease with the situation. It has become routine to him, another bloody night. Only the names change. The dark figure jumps into a tinted black, AMG Mercedes sedan. The motor comes alive. He drives away from the scene of the murder, and the late night fog cloaks his getaway.
“With a rebel yell, she cries more, more, more,” blasts on the radio. The dark figure cruises swiftly down the expressway. Lights streak by like laser beams in the side windows as one hundred miles per hour is reached. One-ten, one-fifteen, and one-twenty…the speedometer needle keeps rising. After an upshift, the Mercedes spits an elegant German, muted growl. The black car climbs in speed rapidly.
The passing scenery is becoming an indistinguishable blur. The driver finds the Verve’s Bittersweet Symphony on the radio. The song is right at the beginning. The driver turns it up to a thunderous volume and cruises effortlessly at break neck speed. The dark man looks as if he is wallowing in serenity. The song title reminds him of his identity. The bittersweet symphony has been his life. He whistles to the opening music. A smoking cigarette is in his hand. He is reflecting on something.
The black Mercedes eats away the tarmac mercilessly. Not one soul is on the road to slow it down. Lost in thought, he rides. The sun peeks out of the darkness. The early morning sky shows a glimmer of light winking through the night and heavy fog. The slick driver puts on a pair of pricey Italian sunglasses.
He races against the coming of the light. The music is still blaring. After pulling off of the deserted expressway, he zips down a main road. He quickly arrives at a private gated driveway. The driver slips away fluidly into an attached four-car garage. He parks the Mercedes right next to a brand new, black Cadillac.
The property is large, extravagant, secluded, and well maintained. It is obviously a wealthy abode. Every single window in the house has the curtains and shades drawn. The aged willow trees outside give the house a creepy appearance. The house and grounds are flawlessly kept. The garage door closes just moments be
fore sunrise.
She’s standing there like a dark angel in the main foyer. A mesmerizing attractive woman in a short black evening gown is waiting to greet the driver. The woman is stunning. Long legs stretch down endlessly to a pair of stiletto heels. Flowing black hair with long elegant waves hangs perfectly around her toned face. The exotic perfume that she is wearing creates a small cloud of tempting fragrance.
“How was your evening, my love?” She asked. A devilish grin with a flirtatious twinkle composes her gaze. Her intense eyes mimic the vivid blue waters of a tropical sea.
“It was a pretty typical evening, Fiona.” The driver gives a somewhat frustrated smile.
“David, you act as if this is such a bad thing,” she said. The remnants of an unresolved argument linger. It wasn’t his words that rekindled her frustration, but it was the way that he said them. In Fiona’s eyes, David seems depressed. “You get to live forever; you are not cursed!”
Her beautiful face appears frazzled.
“I am dead inside,” he said. His black eyes are piercing. “There is no life or true love. I am surrounded by death, despair, and regret, yet you wish for this path to follow?”
David is particularly morbid tonight.
“Yes David,” she said, “I want your gift, and I want to live forever with you.”
“Then you are already doomed,” he said, “just as I, my beautiful mistress.”
David walks away slowly, and Fiona follows him trying to drum up more conversation. Hardwoods adorn the floor he walks on. A tasteful mix of uniform, cherry wood flooring, natural dark stone, and marble accent each room. The earthy materials bring a sense of coziness, but no warmth. Every square foot of the dwelling seems polished and perfect. Each item seems to have its own separate place, which makes the rooms appear very tidy and well thought out.
The house is filled with priceless artifacts from all periods in time. It looks more like an old museum that someone lives in, rather than a home. Samurai swords from Japan, golden Egyptian tableware, peculiar Civil War memorabilia, and countless other treasures look like they have been preserved inside of a time capsule. All throughout the house, the walls are covered in antique paintings from pre-fourteenth century Europe and tapestries from other unknown periods. Both an archaeologist and a thief would have an uncontrollable orgasm upon seeing the place. Even the inside decor is a bizarre mix of creepy and elegant.
Everything is preserved so impeccably. One would almost be scared to touch anything. Even with the fireplace burning and lit candles, the space seems cold. An olden smell of aged woodwork gently floats below the pretty aroma thrown from the scented candles. Something seems missing from within the house, but is not immediately noticeable. Fiona follows David into a bedroom draped in black. An inferno of candles is ablaze.
“I’m going to rest until sundown,” he said. Fiona seems eager. “We have business to attend to later.”
“Do you have to sleep just now?” She asked. Fiona wants something. She gives him a persuasive look. “My body is calling for you to ravage me, and I cannot wait for you to be inside me.”
“Not now.”
She locks eyes with him.
“I want it, and I don’t want to wait,” she said. Fiona made it obvious what she was after. She is very direct. The woman pines for his touch. After a few playful bites on his neck, she takes off his jacket and shirt. She kisses his chest and grabs fiendishly for his bulge. Fiona is a fierce sexual creature that is not easily satisfied.
“My love,” he said, “I promise that I will satisfy your needs when the evening begins.” David senses her yearning, but he pulls away her hand from his crotch. His mind is completely elsewhere. “We have many things to talk about. All Hallow’s Eve is upon us. Let me prepare for the Samhain. Please leave me be.”
Fiona acts as if she were a child denied candy. She glides out of the room, practically pouting. He watches every move of her curvaceous body as she walks away. David laughs to himself briefly, and then a look of seriousness comes over him.
“She has no idea what she is really asking for,” he said. He mutters to himself. The vampire is festering in his own thoughts. Her beautiful backside was only a brief distraction. “She does not know the feeling of evil coursing through her veins for all eternity. The curse of immortality leaves one longing for an end to the pain and suffering.”
David shakes his head out of frustration.
“I’ve spent over seven centuries in madness and twisted reality. I’ve watched all that I love perish and killed all that I’ve ever loved with this curse.” His face looks as if tears might stream down, yet not one tear is shed.
Fiona’s desire to become a vampire has David very upset. It was a brewing hot topic in their relationship. The idea came up out of the blue and never got resolved. It escalated until he gave her the choice. David felt like a fool for giving her a choice, and he cannot go back on his word. Now, they are so close to the actual night. David feels like he should have stonewalled her. The four-letter word buried deep inside of his black heart has slighted him. Love made things even more confusing, especially his twisted version of the emotion. Fiona should have been a lawyer. She did a great job convincing him to say yes. Now, he has to convince her to say no.
A decanter of blood red wine sits in a glass cabinet. David pours himself a tall drink inside of an antique goblet. The distressed vampire swirls it around, smells the fragrant bouquet, and then tastes every essence of the flavor bursting from the wine. The legs of the wine trickle down the length of the goblet.
“Vintage French Cabernet circa 1684…one of the very few enjoyments of my existence,” he said. He emits a sarcastic laugh to himself and drinks more. A vampire drinking wine is like a desecration of all that is holy. Christians symbolize wine with the blood of Jesus Christ. The grapes themselves tell the sad story of a living entity that dies in order to be immortalized as something else much like that of himself. Maybe that’s why he finds his comfort in such. “At least you can kill a bottle of wine.”
His laughter continues. It has gotten so bad that all he can do is laugh because he is unable to cry. David drinks more until the goblet is empty. He refills the huge goblet to the top, skipping all of the previous wine-tasting pleasantries. The vampire drinks. He drowns everything out. The wine serves as his medication.
A few hours later, Fiona comes over to check up on David. The goblet and decanter are empty on an antique nightstand, and he is sound asleep in their bed. He is on his back, and the beautiful woman straddles him. Fiona takes his face between both of her hands.
“David,” she whispered softly into his ear. “Soon our love will be consummated in fire, and it will burn everlasting.” Fiona licks his lips to taste the remnants of sweet wine on her own lips. She admires him lovingly as if studying his face. She touches his body all over. She becomes uncontrollably aroused. The vampire’s significant other is running her perfect fingers through his dark longish hair. Breathing heavily, her heart is racing. The woman’s clitoris swells with blood. She longs for his attention. Her g-string is soaked underneath her short gown, and her wetness is leaking through.
“My Dark Prince,” she said. Fiona is seductive. She almost sounds possessed. She begins to touch herself feverishly while next to him in bed. Secretly, she hopes that he would awaken and satisfy her needs. For now, Fiona takes care of her own desires. “My Dark Prince, take me for all eternity.”
Her desire is on the rise. Fiona explores her most private areas while the vampire remains in a state of slumber. She is very comfortable with her sexuality, but something more than lust is driving her. Am almost demonic force makes her wilder than normal.
Fiona works herself into a sexual frenzy until she climaxes. She bites down hard on his chest to hold back her moans. Fiona collapses onto David’s chest with a smile and a look of contentment. David lies motionless as she holds his body close to hers. Her body is half naked and sweating. David’s coldish skin comforts her. Fiona falls into a deep
full sleep. The beautiful Fiona sleeps for as long as she can before leaving the bedroom. Hours pass by, and the sun drops below the horizon. Nighttime is upon them.
David awakens from his unnatural slumber at the very moment the sun falls from the sky. His dark piercing eyes open and focus on the mural ceiling. Fiona is dressed to kill in a slinky, seductive Versace gown. She is seated on the bed beside him drinking a small tumbler full of Scotch. She appears a bit nervous. He can sense her uneasiness. The aroma of fear overpowers her exotic perfume. David says no words of comfort to her. The awkward silence is more unnerving than anything else to Fiona. The wind howls slightly outside, but the only other sound in the room is that of Fiona’s beating heart.
“Do you hear that?”
“The wind outside?” She asked.
She looks at him almost as if puzzled.
“Your beating heart filled with life,” the vampire said. “Tonight, it could be your last time hearing it for all of eternity.” David’s words ring heavy on her ears. Fiona has no verbal response. Her facial expressions denote yet more fear and doubts. David says no more.
Fiona’s pulse quickens, and she starts to perspire. Gripped by overwhelming trepidation, she practically falls into a trance. The sound of her pounding heart seems to reverberate all throughout the room. The heartbeat is louder than the northeastern winds outside. Just as her drumming heart is about to reach the crescendo, a slight chill in the room makes her quiver. She snaps out of her morbid fog and gathers herself a bit. David is gone from her view as if he disappeared without a sound. The chill lingers in the room.
“Come with me, my love,” the vampire said. He touches her shoulder from behind as he reappears from mist.
She jumps.
“I hate when you do that!” She said. David attempted to bring some levity to the situation. They both laugh halfheartedly, and she follows him to the basement. “You always scare the crap out of me when you do that.”
