Lysander’s neighborhood was quiet, and I didn’t recognize any of the street signs. I was used to my inner-city apartment enclave just outside of the college. This was nothing like that. This was a nice, middle class neighborhood filled with one and two-story homes.
As was typical of suburban homes, they all looked alike. This neighborhood was no exception; it was filled with pink, Spanish tile roofs and white-and-cream stucco walls. The only thing distinguishing one house from the next was the choice in landscaping and even then there was not much variety.
The streets were long, and none of the names were familiar. I came across Vera Cruz and noticed it seemed to open out onto a larger street.
Another sign at the edge of the neighborhood had a symbol I recognized—the Henderson city seal—in the bottom corner, next to the name “Pecos.”
Why would a vampire make his home in a quiet suburb like Henderson? Why not right in the heart of the city? Las Vegas is Sin City, and the variety of tourists would provide a veritable smorgasbord….
I stopped and shook my head. What was wrong with me? Here I was, absolutely horrified at the thought of killing, and in the same instant questioning why a vampire —like myself—wasn’t living somewhere near the buffet line that would be the Las Vegas Strip.
I knew thirst had taken over my judgment. I didn’t know where I was or which way to go. The nagging craving made me wonder how I was going to make it all the way back to my apartment before I ended up doing something I would regret.
I turned to walk down the street, not knowing if I was heading in the right direction or not. All I knew was that I needed to keep moving. My skin itched. The dry parched feeling worsened as I walked. I scratched my legs through my jeans, fighting against thoughts of blood.
Cars sped by, and their bright headlights stung my eyes, making me squint. Two men on bicycles rode past me and I was stunned by their scent. They stopped at the stoplight a few hundred feet ahead.
“Oh, my,” I sighed, taking in a long whiff of their wonderful aroma. Theirs was so much more potent than that of the dog I had passed earlier. It was a cologne of intoxicating pheromones, drawing me toward them. They stopped at the curb, waiting for the light to turn green, signaling it was safe to cross the street.
My mouth instinctively watered as I allowed my eyes to roam over their thin, business casual-attired bodies. I quickened my pace to meet them at the stoplight, hoping it would remain red so I could have a chance to be near them and enjoy more of their perfume. My legs carried me faster than they had when I was a mortal. In the space of a few seconds, I caught up to the two cyclists.
“Why do they smell so good?” I mused. “So sugary-sweet and warm.”
I closed my eyes inhaling slowly, savoring the aroma. The beast inside of me begged for blood.
I must have looked crazy, standing there with hungry eyes, smelling them, my mouth watering. I absently licked at my fangs, not bothering to hide them, as I took another step closer to them.
Eyes wide with fear, they inched away, almost falling off of the curb into oncoming traffic as I got within arm’s reach of them.
I couldn’t hold back the thoughts in my mind. Attack them! Drink them in! They will make you feel better.
It was like a monster was speaking to me from within my own head.
Do it now! Bite them! Drink in their ecstasy.
Before I made another move, the sound of screeching tires drew my attention. A large, black Jeep SUV pulled a U-Turn from the opposite side of the street. It hopped the median and headed straight towards me. The two cyclists threw themselves to the pavement. I didn’t move. I was like a deer caught in headlights watching as it screeched to a halt at the curb.
The windows were too dark to see through, but a strange feeling, that odd warm sensation, hit me. Intuition told me it was Lysander.
The passenger door flew open, confirming my intuition, revealing Lysander’s angry, scowling face. He barked at me to get in.
Fear momentarily replaced my hunger. I stood frozen in place under Lysander’s angry glare. He looked like a predator, ready to rip me apart. Flames danced within his twilight eyes.
“What do you think you are doing?” he growled.
“I want to go home,” I snapped at him.
Lysander sighed, appearing to try and calm himself before speaking. A menacing tone still laced his voice. “Get in this vehicle…now!”
“Why, so you can trap me back in that house, all alone?”
The two cyclists were on their feet, running away alongside their bikes as we argued. A twinge of disappointment had me sighing as their scent faded.
“You have no clue what you’re doing, or what risk you put us in by wandering the streets alone like this.” A low, rumbling growl still accompanied his words. “I will not tell you again. Get in.”
Grudgingly, I got into the car. I had no other choice. I didn’t know where I was. Lysander was right, though I didn’t want to admit it. The urge I felt, to attack those men on their bikes, could have put me in a bad position.
Lysander spoke slowly, giving each word emphasis. “You will not leave the house again without my permission. Do you understand this?”
“Don’t leave me alone like that. What did you expect me to do?” I snapped back coldly. “Do you think I’m going to just sit around waiting?”
“Silence!” His voice was louder and more frightening than any scolding I’d ever been given. I shuddered. “You’re too young and inexperienced to know how to take care of yourself. You will die unless you heed my words and quit acting like a spoiled child. You will not go anywhere without my permission. Is that clear?”
I remained silent for a few moments. I knew I couldn’t argue with him, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an immediate answer. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was an infant vampire with no sense of how to take care of myself. Whether I liked it or not, I needed Lysander, and he knew it, too.
“Fine,” I mumbled, and turned to look out the window.
We remained silent during the short drive back to Lysander’s home. I clutched my aching stomach, trying to focus on something other than anger or thirst.
When we got back, he opened up the trunk of his SUV. Inside was a suitcase I recognized as mine.
“You can never go back there,” he snarled “You’re dead to that world now.”
I grabbed my suitcase, feeling weak as I pulled it from the back of the Jeep. An overwhelming rush of dizziness struck me as I rolled the suitcase up to the house. My head filled with a gray, hazy fog. I shook my head and tried to take a step forward. My muscles protested the movement.
Darkness crept in all around me. I felt weightless, like a floating feather, as my vision went black.
* * *
A FAMILIAR TINGLING sensation ran down the back of my throat, rousing me back to consciousness. I opened my eyes slowly, focusing though a hazy blur. My head swam with ecstasy as I swallowed the thick, sweet liquid filling my mouth.
I realized I had collapsed. I was lying in the doorway of Lysander’s home and he was holding me up while I fed from him.
I could have drunk him in for eternity, but just as I was awake enough to truly enjoy the euphoric feeling, Lysander pulled his wrist away and told me to get up.
“You are starting to become more of a problem than you’re worth,” he said under his breath as he clutched his wounded arm and stood up.
Still a little dizzy and feeling a bit ashamed, I got up and pulled my suitcase into the house. I set it next to the couch and opened it to find a clean change of clothes.
“Sorry,” I said as I rummaged through the bag. “How did you get my stuff?”
Lysander reached into his pocket and tossed a black leather wallet at me. It flew toward my face, falling just short of hitting me.
He must have gotten it off the guy who had attacked me the night before.
My I.D. fell out as it hit the floor. I picked it up and stared at my old picture. Lik
e all DMV photos, it wasn’t very good, but it was me … or at least, it was the old me. My lost green eyes stared back from the photo.
I tried to blink back the tears but it was no use. One streamed down my cheek, falling into my opened suitcase. I was no longer that Alyssa who lived on Cambridge Street, as the small plastic card stated.
I was a monster now.
Afraid I would burst into a fit of tears, I quickly grabbed some clothes and rushed into the bathroom.
Lysander, probably still angry, said nothing to me, and I was glad for that. I took my time in the bathroom. I didn’t want to talk to Lysander any more or see the annoyed look on his face.
I never asked to be turned into this thing. I never knew vampires existed. I thought they were just fiction stories or characters in horror movies. Now I was one.
I mumbled to myself as I stared into the mirror. Blood-red traces of tears lined my pale face.
Why couldn’t he have killed those men before I showed up? Why did he have to wait until they had already attacked me?
Lysander’s words echoed in my mind. You’re dead to that world now.
I wondered how long it would take before my friends realized I was gone. If the manager at the coffee shop would think it odd that I was no longer coming in for my regular, café mocha. The little everyday things I was used to were all gone now, replaced by this frightening new life.
I wanted to blame Lysander for what happened, but deep down I knew it was my own fault. I had played Russian roulette walking home alone and I was lucky to even be alive, or undead, or whatever the hell this was.
My reflection stared back at me with empty, cold, blue-gray eyes.
But I don’t want to be this thing, this monster!
“You still alive in there?” Lysander called out.
Washing the tears from my face, I called back, “Yeah, I’m fine.” I hurried to change into some clean clothes.
Enough time had been wasted sulking in the bathroom. I opened the door and walked back out to the living room.
Lysander was waiting for me.
“Are you feeling better?” He spoke more calmly now. Gone was the growl in his voice and the fire in his eyes.
“Yes, I’m fine, sorry about that….”
He put his hand to my lips, silencing me; his eyes met mine and again I felt that strange warmth.
“Please, forgive me. I feel we are getting off on the wrong foot. Perhaps I should have told you I was heading out to get your things. I did not realize that you might have woken up so hungry and confused. I’m not use to having…guests.”
This sudden change of attitude came as a complete shock. He sounded sincere and kind. I sensed something strange coming from him. I felt genuine sorrow for how he snapped at me. The feeling radiated in small pulses, like tiny waves, from Lysander. I’d never experienced anything like this before. I felt his sorrow as if it were my own. It was as if our emotions were joined.
“Thank you, Lysander. I’m sorry too. I’m making a mess of things, and I know you’re trying to help. I’ll do better, I promise.”
We stared awkwardly at each other for a few quiet moments before Lysander took hold of my hand. “Now that you have a little strength, you will need to hunt. Let’s go.”
Chapter 7
MY STOMACH SANK. His words hit me like a crushing blow. I had hoped somehow to avoid this, but it was inevitable. I was going to have to hunt.
“Where are we going?” I asked as I climbed into the passenger seat of the large SUV.
Lysander twisted the keys in the ignition and the engine roared to life. “We’ll start somewhere easy. Do you know the art district?”
I nodded and shut the door.
The art district was a rather seedy part of downtown. It wasn’t the downtown most people are familiar with, but the area in between the old Strip or Fremont Street and the newer Las Vegas Boulevard. It was an old area, filled with many small buildings: art studios, nightclubs, and a grid of darkened side streets. It had recently undergone the start of a renaissance. Attention had been drawn to the area in the hope of revamping it and making it a more attractive place to go.
“Yeah, I’ve been there a few times for the First Friday art festival,” I said confidently.
“Alone?” Lysander asked.
“No, that’s a place even I don’t wander by myself.”
“That’s very smart of you. Even with its popularity, that is not a place one should be walking alone. Be warned, we won’t be the only ones hunting in this area. Plenty of immortals are attracted to populated spots like this.”
“Other immortals?” I hadn’t given thought to more vampires out there. Certainly if there was one, there would have to be more. “How many vampires are out there?”
“More than I care to count, Alyssa,” he sighed. “The immortal world is as varied as the human world. There are many different covens and families; each group has its own form of government or rules to live by. Most of the time, rule number one is keep a low profile. That will be the rule here with me as well. We don’t need anyone knowing who and what we are.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling a little disappointed. “So, I guess we’re loners, then?” I wasn’t ready to meet another immortal yet; but I wasn’t happy with the idea of being a hermit, either.
“On occasion, you might befriend someone new, but don’t make that an expectation. For now, just stick to who you already know and don’t try attracting extra attention.”
“I see.” I sighed and stared out the window. Streetlights flew past in blurry streaks as we drove on. I prayed for a red light to pause us on our trip, but it seemed the traffic lights were against me. They all remained green. We would soon be at our hunting ground.
The tall, white Stratosphere tower came into view. It was an unmistakable—and phallic—landmark, long and slender with a huge glass observation deck that was accented with red neon lighting at the top. It dwarfed all of the other bulky, wide hotel casinos of downtown and looked as if it might topple over in a strong gust of wind.
My heart thumped erratically as we approached. Hunting was inevitable now.
How am I going to do this? Does Lysander ever struggle with this?
I looked over at Lysander. His face remained calm, an implacable mask, giving no clue in his expression to tell me what he could be thinking.
I thought about others, vampires, being out there in the world and what it might be like to meet them.
“Tell me about covens,” I said, breaking the silence in the car.
Lysander spoke without taking his eyes off the road. “Covens are like large families: vampires living together, ruled by some form of leader. I wouldn’t get any ideas on joining them. They tend to be very fanatical and look down on those who are not born into their house, so to speak. For now, if you wish, you can consider me your family.”
He turned to look at me. A sincere smile crossed his face. His voice softened. “Of course, once you’re comfortable with yourself and ready to face the world alone, the choice will be yours. You will be welcome in my house or free to go your own way.”
I turned away, and stared out the window, thinking about what a large family of vampires would be like. Would it be nice to have lots of people like me to interact with, or would I rather be stuck as a loner with only Lysander as a companion?
“Back to hunting,” Lysander said, sounding a bit more serious. “We’re almost there, so listen closely. We won’t be the only ones hunting. You will need to watch out for others of our kind. Pay attention to those around you. If you think a person is marked, do not try to go after him or her. We may not know one another, but as a rule, we leave one another’s marks alone.”
“How will I know who is marked?” Did we physically mark our victims?
“Keep an eye out for people being followed or a vampire showing interest in one particular person. Pay attention to your intuition. You should be able to sense when one of our kind is around. If you see or sense one of us clos
e by, go hunt somewhere else.”
Sense? I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but I nodded anyway, pretending I understood. I was more worried about the act of hunting than the consequences of another vampire being around—though both seemed pretty scary.
Lysander pulled into the parking garage of the Stratosphere tower and drove up to the top floor. He found an open parking space near the elevators, along the wall, giving us an unobstructed view of the bustling street below.
Anxiety set my nerves on high alert. I knew there was no way out of this. I was going to have to hunt. A knot formed in my throat. I tried to gulp it down and put on a brave face.
“Alyssa, I know this is hard for you, but you can and you must do this tonight.”
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I’m not ready for this.
Lysander must have sensed my anxiety. He patted my leg in a comforting gesture, and softened the commanding tone in his voice. “I want to make this as easy as possible for you. Just listen and do what I tell you.”
I can’t do this, I can’t do this.
I nodded.
“There are a few points you can easily drink from. The best places are where the blood flows freely. The faster you drink, the easier it will be on you and your victim.”
I don’t want to do this. I can’t drink blood. I can’t kill. I tried to gulp down my anxiety.
He leaned his head to one side, showing me his bare neck, and pointed out a thin blue line under his pale skin.
“You see the vein here? The neck is one of the easiest points to drink from.”
I nodded again, not wanting to speak.
He held his wrist out to me. I saw similar blue lines, boldly running down his pale arm.
“The wrist is also an easy target. Choose one of these to feed from.”
“O-okay.” How can he expect me to do this? I silently prayed. I desperately wanted to avoid this. I don’t want to kill.
“We each have to find our way to cope with how we obtain our food,” Lysander said.
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