by Logan Keys
Mitch’s sudden intake of breath was swiftly snuffed out with a lift, twist, and pop.
“Thanks for the tip, sweetheart.” A blissful hum rippled through Valerie as she plunged her fangs into the side of his neck. She kept one hand in his hair and wrapped her free arm around his back. Her legs coiled around his, too, pinning him in place. Anyone who could see the pair would assume they were engaged in something far more innocent than the dark desire Valerie nurtured.
The boy’s blood filled her mouth like hot syrup. The contrast in temperature made her shoulders drum against the surfboard, and gooseflesh covered her body. She drank deep, pulling from Mitch’s carotid artery until his pulse faded, and it became too much effort for too little elixir. Valerie was lazy in that way. Plus, she needed something left over to lure in the sharks so they’d mangle the evidence.
She wrenched the boy’s head to one side, dragging his body off of her and into the tossing sea. He dipped below the surface of the water, bobbed twice, and then was gone.
“Hey!” a voice echoed over the waves. The tall boy lay across his board, paddling her way.
Had he seen? A stab of panic launched Valerie into motion. She rolled over onto her stomach and splashed her hands in the water.
“Help!” she shouted. “Over here.”
The tall boy paddled faster, his brow pinching as he searched for his friend. “Where’s Mitch?”
“I don’t know.” Valerie whimpered. “I thought he was playing a trick on me, but he hasn’t come up…and…and look.” She gasped and pointed off in the distance.
Two shiny fins cut through the water, punctuating the horizon. They reflected in the moonlight and grew brighter as they neared. Valerie hoped Mitch’s body had sunk deep enough to allow a good buffer while she dealt with this one. She had wanted the tall boy for last, but he’d botched her plans. His loss. Fast food didn’t come with a happy meal toy in Valerie’s world.
“Mitch!” The boy yelled for his friend, raking his hands through the dark water as the tide rolled toward them again. Valerie gripped the rails of the green surfboard while the budding wave tossed them about. Then she waited for it to crest and block out the worried faces at the shoreline. The game of peek-a-boo with the waves added another precarious layer of exhilaration, and she struggled to suppress a grin.
If she were a cautious creature, she would have called it a night. But she’d been planning this feast all afternoon. The mister was a grazer. He could sip from the same host for weeks, even months at a time. But Valerie’s palate demanded more excitement.
She would go for days without feeding, letting her appetite carve a cavernous, aching hunger within her. Then, when she’d set her sights on a victim—or three—there was no talking that hunger down. By then, it would have sprouted leathery, nightmarish wings of determination to help her carry out her plan to whatever fateful end awaited.
It was argument fodder for the mister. He’d grown cautious over the years, losing his taste for the thrills their kind so often thrived on—the thrills that Valerie lived for. She shuddered at the thought that he might be reacquiring the humanity he’d discarded so many centuries ago, the same humanity Valerie had dismissed even before he took her as his eternal bride.
“Mitch!” The tall boy yelled again, louder. His board knocked against Valerie’s as he reached her. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice squeaked, although, the shark fins had vanished.
They were probably feasting on her leftovers by now, Valerie thought. She’d been lucky enough to avoid them all summer, thanks to the man scraps she distanced herself from as soon as she finished feeding.
“Ricky!” another voice echoed across the water. The boy in the squid shorts paddled toward them. “Where’s Mitch?”
Valerie refrained from grimacing. The moon was so bright, she was sure they would notice. Instead, she gripped the rail of Ricky’s surfboard. It wasn’t the way she had envisioned her second course, but there was still time to salvage the three-meal fantasy she’d concocted from her lounge chair.
The tide rocked again, and this time, she released her hold on Mitch’s green board and let her body slip off and into the ocean. Her head submerged, but she held tight to Ricky’s board until she felt his hand close around her wrist and his nails bite into her skin. The boy’s panicked voice was muffled by the roar of the water.
The moon lit up the surface of the ocean, but Valerie’s legs were swallowed by the shadow of the deep. It rose up like a great monster at night. A thick, cold darkness that was so much more menacing than the night air that bred Valerie’s flavor of nocturnal creature. She felt as if she were trespassing, claiming prey in foreign territory. It made the blood sweeter. Another taboo trend she could add to the list along with her self-inflicted hunger pangs.
Valerie waited until the shadow of Ricky’s head loomed over her, just above the churning water, and then she broke the surface like a great white. She opened her jaws wide and clamped down on the boy’s Adam’s apple, silencing his would-be scream. It gurgled in his throat as his blood leaked down Valerie’s chin and pooled atop her cleavage.
The sharks would sense it soon, Valerie realized as the water grew warmer around her. Ricky rasped, and blood spilled over his bottom lip. It splashed onto Valerie’s cheek. She closed her eyes and shivered as more filled her mouth, swallowing it down as fast as she could. It was nearly scalding compared to the chill of the ocean, but her body had already absorbed her first meal, and she could feel it rejuvenating her muscles and bones from within, rebuilding her as if the ocean were a time-lapse womb.
Years unraveled, and though she had been exquisite to look at before, now she glowed with a dewy youth. The resort’s spa was a joke in comparison.
“Ricky!” The boy in the squid shorts screamed. “What the…”
Valerie hadn’t realized he was so close, but she was finished with the tall drink of blood, so she quickly submerged her head under the water again, taking the second body with her for the sharks. The dip also served to wash the sticky remnants from her face and chest.
When she broke the surface next, the remaining boy was further away. The tide pushed him back toward shore, and he let it, shock freezing up his limbs as he stared in horror at Valerie. This wasn’t the first time she’d been caught in the act, and she had a failsafe protocol to get out of such an occasion. At least, it hadn’t failed her yet.
“Help! Please!” She waved her hands and let her head dip under the water a few times. “Hurry, before the sharks come back for me!”
The boy began paddling again, albeit more cautiously. His eyes probed the water, making it difficult for Valerie to hook him with her mind. He was too panicked for her tricks now anyway. Prey had to be relaxed and intrigued for her wiles to work.
“Climb on the board!” the boy yelled over the rumble of the tide. He looked at her as if she were insane for staying in the shark-infested water.
But Valerie was distracted by the blissful sensation rippling through her core and reverberating out to her limbs. The second helping was taking hold of her, and she felt like a deity being born, crafted of the salty sea and blood. So much blood. She wondered how she would feel after sucking down the third boy’s essence.
Maybe I’ll walk on water, she thought, straining to pull down the corners of her mouth as she threw a leg up onto the board. Her body lifted out of the water, and she flopped onto her back. The night air cooled her flesh, flushed with the heat of the two lives she contained and the anticipation of a third.
“Are you…all right?” the third boy asked in between gasping breaths. His anxiety was thick, rolling of his skin like a heady pheromone begging Valerie to take him. She wanted to, but before she could answer the boy, he garbled out a choked noise and pointed behind her.
The sharks were on the move again. Valerie wondered why they weren’t diving deeper to fetch Ricky’s body. She was sure he’d sunk a good distance by now. Far enough that the creat
ures should have taken notice. Concern dampened her mirthful spirit, and she feared that she might have to sacrifice her third meal to get out of a dicey situation.
“Quick, give me your hand,” she said to the boy in the squid shorts.
He reached for her, too scared out of his wits to question her motives. Her fingers locked around his wrist, and she gave his arm a vicious jerk. Her strength was extraordinary, and it felt so good to use it after quenching such a fierce thirst. Gluttony was her favorite of the deadly sins, and sharks or no sharks, she was going to have a taste of this boy, too. Before surrendering him to the keepers of the forbidden hunting grounds.
“Hey!” The boy yelped as his board flipped up on its side and smacked the top of his head on the way down.
Valerie paid him no attention as she jerked his arm again, pulling his hand in toward her mouth. She sank her fangs into his wrist, enjoying the salty crunch of bones and tendons before his blood squirted over her tongue. But it was just a squirt, because a shark had slipped up behind the boy. His horrorstruck eyes swelled as he took in her true face, but his screams were never heard from inside the great white’s hideously magnificent mouth. It put Valerie’s tiny fangs to shame.
Her jaw popped as the boy’s wrist was wrenched away, and his punctured artery sprayed a thick arc of blood across Valerie’s face and into her eyes. Her scream spanned the entire spectrum between surprise and outrage.
Blood boiled in her belly, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She needed more.
Taking three in one night wasn’t a luxury she pursued often. Certainly not with her killjoy husband breathing down her neck. She was onto something big tonight—an epiphany perhaps. But it was drowned out by the sound of screams and startled voices echoing across the ocean.
“Is that blood all over her?”
“Where’s Garrett? Did you see her pull him off his board?”
“Crazy bitch.”
“Someone should call the Coast Guard.”
Valerie swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing the blood coating her skin. Although the sea was dark, the moon was bright enough to illuminate the blossoming patch of red across the surface of the water where the shark had snuffed out the climax of her banquet. From the alarmed faces observing her, she wondered if she’d get away with pinning all three boys on the sea beasts. If she got away at all.
The shiny fins weaving through the waves had multiplied, and several of them were creeping closer to the surfboard she lay on. She began to worry that maybe her husband had been right. Perhaps her thrill-seeking was getting out of hand. But what was life without the spice of certain doom on occasion?
The sound of a motor grumbled nearby, and Valerie glanced up to watch a small yacht approach. The white hull reflected the moon and starlight as it turned sideways, revealing a swim platform that opened to the stern deck of the vessel.
Her husband appeared near the edge of the deck. His dark brows rode low on his forehead, parallel to the equally flat line of his mouth, as if he were annoyed. He was handsome nonetheless, glossy dark eyes and hair set against alabaster skin, dressed like a pretentious golfer. The ladies found him more approachable when he skipped the flashy threads Valerie preferred him in.
Despite her shame at the failed snack fest, she was almost relieved to see her husband, until he aimed a harpoon gun in her direction. Has our marriage really come to this? Valerie wondered. Her breath sucked in tightly, and her eyes scoured the boat for any sign of her replacement.
“Duck!”
Valerie pressed her face into the surfboard just as her husband released the harpoon. At the same time, the closest shark reared its hideous head, coming right at her with its open maw of jagged teeth. She pushed off the board, thrusting it at the creature as the harpoon pierced its snout.
The shark slammed into the board, snapping it in half as it thrashed about, trying to dislodge the spear. Valerie heard the awful crunch and squeak of foam being mangled behind her as she swam for the ladder off the back of the yacht. Her husband reached down to help her up.
“What was wrong with the massage therapist?” he grumbled, casting a scathing look at the voyeurs on the beach.
Valerie crinkled her nose. “I’ll bite whomever I like.”
Her husband huffed out an annoyed sigh before dashing off to the cockpit and torpedoing them away from the abandoned surfboards and circling sharks. And away from Valerie’s spoiled vision of grandeur. She shivered in the whipping winds created by their escape, mourning what could have been.
Once they were in the clear, the yacht decelerated, and her husband slipped out of the cockpit to join her on the stern deck again.
“We weren’t scheduled to check out until Tuesday.” Valerie pouted as the bonfire on the beach and the resort faded into the distance, swallowed up by the night.
“Then you should have waited to maim the locals until then.”
“I couldn’t help myself.” She sniffed, affronted by his lecturing tone.
“You look like the illicit love child of Little Red and the Big Bad Wolf,” he said, giving her remarkably youthful appearance a reprimanding, though, somewhat appreciative glare. His Rs rolled with the thick accent that Valerie loved on their best days and despised on their worst. She was torn tonight—grateful for the rescue, but still not ready to kiss and make up.
“No,” she said, licking her lips. “I look like Little Red if she had eaten the wolf and his grandmother, too.”
Her husband handed her a towel and clicked his tongue. “You’re dripping.”
Valerie narrowed her eyes at him as she dried her hair. “How did you know where to find me?” Her green irises glowed, thanks to the voracious feeding, and from her husband’s strained gaze, she could tell he was fighting the compulsion to answer her.
“A gaggle of squealing girls interrupted my…tea with the pavilion hostess,” he said, lifting one of his sharp eyebrows before breaking eye contact with her. “Even a scorned lover cannot paint a proper portrait of you without alluding to your beauty, my tender bride.” Valerie grinned before she could stop herself, though it faded as he went on. “Your penchant for shifting blame to other predators has failed you, I’m afraid. If you’d only pace yourself—”
“Not this again.” Valerie threw her wet towel to the deck floor. “We may be dead, but that’s no reason to stop living.”
“You’ll grow tired of this, eventually.”
She put a hand on her hip. “Well, until I do—”
“Until you do,” he echoed, gripping her chin, “I hope you’ll at least try to be more careful.”
“It wasn’t as if you had to cut me loose from a burning stake.” Valerie’s cheeks flared at the memory. It had been so long ago, and the first of her husband’s daring rescues. He’d been less reprimanding at the time, sharing her craving for perilous thrills and adventure. The night had ended in passion rather than a scolding. Oh, how Valerie longed for that era.
Her husband pulled her face in for a chaste kiss, but when her bottom lip puckered out, he nipped it. “We’ve been here all summer, pet. Don’t look so glum.”
“I hardly had a sip of that boy before the sharks got greedy,” she mused, glancing out at the choppy waters where her spirit animal dwelled.
“It’s our honeymoon, my dear. What kind of brute do you take me for?”
Valerie perked and folded her hands together under her chin. “What did you bring me?”
“The bellhop, of course.” He nodded at the stairs leading to their cabin below deck. “I would have rather snagged the resort’s gym manager, but with such short notice—”
“The bellhop is perfect!” Valerie threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. “Can I have him now?”
He grumbled and rolled his eyes before giving her a reluctant nod. “Keep it on the tarp, please,” he called after her as she rushed off.
“Of course, darling.” Valerie would have sucked every drop of blood out through the kid’s pinky finge
r if her husband had asked her to. She was getting that third course after all. The night was ripe with promise again, and she wondered what kind of trouble she could talk dear Dracula into.
With the blood of three strapping lads in her veins, there was no telling the sway she’d have over her husband. He’d be relaxed. Intrigued, even. She’d be fully saturated and in her prime. It was as if the glittering stars overhead had aligned.
A mischievous grin twitched up one side of Valerie’s mouth as she descended below deck to greet her dessert and to cook up the best bad idea she’d had yet.
BLOOD, SWEAT, AND TEARS
A KILDRAKE: The Life of a Vampire Hunter Universe Novella
CAROLINE A. GILL
—1—
Looted
Last Friday, the hunters came, driving the Reborn in front of their holy blades.
When the idiot hunters swept through downtown Los Angeles, everything they touched went to pitch. Fifty years of cultivating influential vampires wasted in a few hours.
Under the lines of commuting cars, under the bridges of cement and iron, the battle raged.
Rotten corpses littered the sewers and the dried-up, paved-over river bank. My enemies were always ruthless. But so am I.
Fierce, trained, and efficient hunters left no undead behind them. The humans knew better than to show mercy. Vampires bite back. When the browncoats finished clearing the underground tunnels, there were only empty crypts, broken urns, and the ashes of hundreds of vampires with silver in their fangs.
Dead. Again.
Staked through the heart, burned into the ends of eternity.
Deep into the heart of the lair they went, slicing and stabbing through all the guards. Then they found my little girl. The hunters stole Peggy.
For that, they would pay.
Drizzling down from smog-filled gray skies, the tears of angels fell on the broken sidewalk of Ventura Boulevard, seeping into the cracks in the concrete.
It never rains in southern California. Never.
Except today.
