The buzz of the alarm on her bedside table screeched annoyingly loud when it went off seconds later and she reached over to hit it. In recent months, she was always awake before the blasting thing sounded off. She didn’t know why she bothered setting it anymore.
“Damn it, there goes another one,” she muttered out loud as she hit the device a little too hard, causing it to break. Its beeping died slowly, sounding fast and high-pitched at first before it became low and soft. It was the fourth one she’d broke in the last month.
Grabbing it, she stood and tossed the little round brass clock in the silver trashcan near her bed before continuing on to the kitchen for a drink.
Her quarters became flooded with a bright, white fluorescent light when she flipped the switch. She didn’t need much in this place because of her limited diet, but she did have a refrigerator stocked with her one need: blood. Blood that their kind tended to con out of the humans by setting up fake blood banks and traveling buses, or stealing from the local hospital. Sure, they were deceiving the humans most times, but it was better than them running out to feed on people. They preferred to stay a secretive race. It prevented panics and wars.
She had hers in fancy, dark bottles. In the same way that some people rather have their alcoholic beverages in bottles instead of cans, she’d rather have her drink in a bottle instead of a plastic bag.
As she drank standing at the white kitchen counter, she scanned her living area. It was small, but she was content there at the Compound. The kitchen was tiled with a black and white checked pattern. The bedroom area, which opened out from her kitchen, was carpeted with a plush crème color. Her bed was pushed against the wall on the other side of the room; across from that was a small television on a black iron stand. She hardly watched the thing, but it had been provided by Nathanial when she was in recovery a year prior. There was a closet near the bed where she kept her weapons and clothes, just enough space for those things and not much else. On the wall above her was a large rectangular mirror with a black iron frame to match the television stand. Beside the bed were stacks of books and craft supplies—showing some semblance of life and personality outside of fighting. They weren’t very organized, scattered every which way throughout the corner, but still unusually neat in its own way as if she had a particular order of things.
Her gaze lingered momentarily on the mirror as she watched herself drink from her cloudy amber-colored bottle of scarlet deliciousness. The flavors danced wildly over her tongue and brought back many different memories. Most of which she wanted no part in.
Zarah almost snorted out loud to herself as she looked over her reflection. Humans had the crazy notion that vampires couldn’t see their own reflections. She always found that funny in an odd way, although she didn’t know why. They also had made many misconceptions of the vampire legend in general.
Wooden stakes, garlic, holy water? She laughed at it all and always shook her head when she’d pass by some young naïve humans discussing the ‘legend’ or would read the latest stupid human romantic novel about vampires and humans.
‘Let them believe what they want. It’s the best thing for them, rather than being forced into the reality of our world,’ she had always thought to herself.
The fan kicked on, sending frosty air through the vents above her head and her hair flew lightly in the fake breeze. She glanced at the mirror again as she finished her bottle and looked herself over with curiosity. Her long, dark auburn hair swayed slightly around her face, which still held the innocence of the day she had been turned four decades before. She had barely just turned nineteen years old then.
Her long exotic lashes were a deep ebony and stood out against her pale skin. Her amethyst and turquoise colored eyes were a unique trait—the two colors combined in a swirl in her irises.
She wasn’t tall, only standing around five foot and three inches in height. Her body was lean and beautifully curved, yet athletic and prepared for a fight.
She never could quite understand her appearance. She felt different compared to the other Guardians. Most were tall and more built than her. Most were also men; she was one of the rare women on the team.
Zarah glanced up at the white clock on the kitchen wall and sighed. She needed to get dressed to go meet Draven for a night out hunting. She was not the least bit thrilled about this idea. Being paired up with anyone else wouldn’t have made much of a difference. They all feared her, ignored her, hated her. She was the Compound Freak. Draven was just the most open about it. Nathanial, however, must have had a legitimate reason in pairing up the Guardians. Maybe there was something he knew that he hadn’t informed anyone of yet.
She had certainly noticed something odd the night before in her encounter with that Rogue. She couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about it at the time. He spoke to her, gave her some kind of warning as if he knew her. Something was going to happen. It was all strange. She ignored it for the moment until she could get more information. Maybe she’d just been tired and had been imagining the words?
Zarah didn’t dress like the other Compound Guardians either. While they normally donned themselves in fancy military-like black gear, she dressed entirely different. That night she wore a pair of ripped, faded blue jeans and a cotton purple tank top with a long, black duster jacket that reached down to her calves. If it weren’t for the gun holster that she needed to wrap around her back and onto her shoulders, she probably wouldn’t even wear the jacket. She did love her boots though. They were old worn black combat-style boots that laced up to the tops of her ankles. The leather had wrinkles in it from intense wear and action, but they were comfortable. Comfort was important when chasing after those nasty things.
Once ready, she walked out into the hallway, locking her door behind her with a swipe of her electronic card key. The clean white tile and shiny glossed walls gleamed from the bright lights. The Compound almost had the appearance of a hospital wing, white and sterile, with chrome framed light fixtures lining the top of the walls near the ceiling. She made her way around the winding corners, walking with confidence, as she searched for her new partner. There were only two places that he’d probably be at that time of evening—the Lounge, or in his room.
She knocked on his door, but when he didn’t answer, she headed toward the other area where she knew she could find him.
The Lounge was a large room in the Compound where Guardians would go to be social with others, enjoy drinks, read, watch television, and do whatever else. It was, in a sense, a common area. From time to time, parties were held there. Zarah never attended. She was never invited.
“Ready?” she asked emotionless when she found him sitting in one of the large black leather chairs reading a paper.
Draven looked up at her and shrugged nonchalantly. He hated the partnering idea as much as she did.
She stared down at him with impatience, noting that he also didn’t seem to dress in the usual military-style garb. Instead, he wore baggy, rugged black jeans, a plain white tee shirt and a black trench coat. His hair was pulled neatly back in a low ponytail.
He stood, and she realized for the first time how incredibly tall he was compared to her small stature. It was a bit intimidating.
“Yeah, let’s go and get this over with.” He sounded agitated. She frowned and reached out to grab his arm.
“I don’t like this arrangement either, but we can at least try to work together professionally for the sake of Nathanial,” she said through clenched teeth. He yanked his arm away from her out of anger and turned his mouth up in disgust. She recoiled at the sight of his fangs.
“I know. Here’s the deal—no personal talk. Work only,” he growled.
She nodded and rolled her eyes, pretending to ignore the inkling of fear that had momentarily struck her.
“Like I would want to talk to you in that way,” she mumbled as they began to head out of the Lounge.
They remained silent from then until they exited the elevator to the garage.
“Your car or mine?” Draven asked when they entered the garage. The air was chilly and the smell of wet concrete from rain earlier filled their senses.
“I don’t have a car. I normally walk.”
He sighed and motioned for her to follow him toward the back-end of the garage where many of the Guardians’ vehicles were parked.
Zarah let out a low whistle when she eyed the car he was approaching. A remote in his hand started the metal beauty as they reached it.
Before her sat a sleek new sports car, its black, shiny exterior shimmering beneath the dim garage lights. The windows were tinted dark, and the rims were a well-polished chrome. The low rumble of the dual exhaust reverberated throughout the surrounding concrete walls. Zarah nearly salivated as she stared at the powerful car. She didn’t care that she was clueless to the model, or other manly stuff like horsepower. All she wanted was to get behind the wheel and fly down a straight strip of highway.
Still standing beside her, he frowned.
“No, you can’t drive it,” he said harshly as if he had read her thoughts. Of course, they could read each other’s thoughts, but many of them didn’t unless it was necessary. Most held up mental blocks to prevent it. Most never worried about it. She certainly didn’t want anyone reading through her thoughts though, afraid of the dark things they would find there. If they saw the things she’d done, they would hate her more. Quickly shaking her worry, she turned back to Draven and played it off. She knew he hadn’t truly read her thoughts that time; he’d only made the comment from sheer observation at her admiration of the car. Her prolonged silence and paranoia though could lead him into suspicion and that was the last thing she’d want.
She stared at him in mock horror, placing a hand on her chest.
“Oh, you just broke my heart!” She acted melodramatic, dropping her jaw open, and faking a sad attempt at a lip tremble that she’d once seen a girl do on television. The corners of his mouth perked slightly, twitching, as if he was fighting off a chuckle. She could see in his eyes he was not going to let himself get comfortable with her, despite that she was actually trying to show some humor. He still was going to hate her either way.
“Let’s just go,” she finally said. Her light mood turned bleak again as obligation set in.
Three
The Rogue snarled and hissed as they approached it. Zarah was on one side, Draven on the other. The two of them had surprisingly made a decent team throughout the night—already having slayed three others earlier. They hunted well, picking up scents. Toward the end of the night, the Guardians found themselves on the roof of a building where they’d picked up heavy activity. The one they were cornering then held a human in his grasp. Luckily, the young man was still alive. Zarah kept her gun aimed at the Rogue, while Draven reached forward to grab the creature.
With a single swipe, Draven and the out-of-control Vampire were immediately in a scuffle. The creature temporarily forgot his meal in order to fight for his life. The human was tossed to the side like a ragdoll. A Rogue’s speed was generally a bit faster than that of a Guardian or Hider’s because they fed much more frequently.
This one was exceptionally fast because of his newer status. He was an old Vampire, but a younger Rogue, and this made it a bit harder to get a hold of to take down. He had two advantages on his side—being a Rogue, and the age. He ran at astounding speeds in circles around the roof, blurring his image. Zarah or Draven couldn’t get a clear shot.
Draven was thrown into a nearby metal vent, and the Rogue turned to face Zarah, who was trying to get the unconscious human away from the scene. It leapt, flying across the length of the building, and landed in front of her. She tried aiming her gun to shoot, but wasn’t fast enough as the creature reached forward and slapped it out of her hand. It soared high in the air above their heads before landing at the edge several feet away. He shoved her into a brick wall, and she winced when her back slammed hard into the building. The roof door was nearby, but being an abandoned building, it was probably locked with no way to get inside. She quickly recovered, baring her fangs with rage and hissing. Draven was on his feet again and heading back into the scene when more trouble appeared. As he started to approach to help Zarah, another Rogue dove on to his back causing him to shout out in surprise.
“There’s two, Zarah!” he screamed, beginning to struggle with a female Rogue on his back. He made a few small maneuvers to keep her from biting him. Her snapping was loud, and everything became a blur as the two struggled.
Zarah looked over at her partner, distracted momentarily by the confusion. It was unusual to see two Rogues fighting together. They were normally loners.
Her attention was captured again when the male Rogue grabbed her arm, pulling her up against his body.
“Do you not recognize me, Zarah?” His voice came out in a deep baritone, ridiculously normal and familiar from a long time ago. She stopped struggling against his grip and stared at him wide-eyed. Thick, wavy blonde hair that reached down over his ears, tall and a lean-muscled build, almond-shaped eyes and a strong jaw line…and the unmistakable hard-edged deep, raspy voice. She realized instantly who he was and began to stutter.
“T-Thomas?” she asked in disbelief.
That small amount of shock and hesitation could have cost her life. With a nod, the creature smiled mischievously and pushed her away from him. He stopped attacking and motioned for the female Rogue to stop as well. Draven was stunned when she obeyed and backed away from their fight. He glanced over at Zarah with a confused frown.
Zarah peeked out of the corner of her eye to see the human still unconscious. Inspecting him quickly, she noticed no bite marks and secretly sighed in relief.
“The human is unharmed. I only brought him here to get your attention,” Thomas said. Slowly, she began to reach for another gun that was snug in the holster on her hip.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“And why the hell not?” she growled, her hand still placed on the gun, prepared to draw it and begin shooting. It was her chance at taking him down. She’d been waiting for this opportunity. He remained still, nodding his head briefly toward Draven.
“If you do, Alyssa certainly won’t mind turning your partner Rogue before you could attempt to pull the trigger again. We all know it only takes one small bite,” he answered, eyebrows raised with interest to see what Zarah would do. She narrowed her eyes and glanced between the two Rogues, noting the positions. Alyssa, the female that had arrived on the scene, still stood dangerously close to Draven, who was unarmed after the struggle. They stood several feet away, near the edge of the roof. She looked back to Thomas’ scarlet eyes and nodded, slowly taking her hand away from the holster, holding it up in defense.
“Good girl. Now we can talk.” Thomas smirked. Zarah looked past him toward Draven and clenched her jaw in anger.
“What do you want, Thomas?” She brought her focus back to him.
“I just want to talk.”
She sighed in defeat, but kept her body tensed, prepared for more fighting. This was an unusual scenario, and she couldn’t help but to be confused by it.
“You’re intelligent,” she noted, eyeing him with suspicion.
Thomas let out a dark chuckle and nodded.
“You think that just because I’m a Rogue, I’m completely lost to the world and unable to communicate?”
“Rogues are lost. Once a Vampire is gone to the bloodlust, all previous intell
igence is gone, and the only thing lived for then is sustenance,” she remarked angrily.
“That is what we have been trained our whole lives!”
“Oh? Like how you suddenly were cured?” he asked with a mock tone, raising an eyebrow. She growled, her fangs glinting in the moonlight.
“I am cured,” she hissed.
“Perhaps,” he started. “But I can imagine you still hear that dark voice at the back of your mind every so often.”
She stared at him in silence, refusing to respond. There wasn’t a chance she’d let him get to her. Thomas was her past—and Draven was witnessing this sweet little reunion.
“I’m not your problem, Zarah, and we didn’t entice you here to kill you. There are things you’re not aware of,” he continued when she didn’t say anything.
“Like what?” Draven asked, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and anger.
“I’m not speaking with you, Guardian.” Thomas turned around and growled. The wind picked up, sending a chill through the late night air. The two Guardians and two Rogues were staring at each other, tension clear in everyone’s eyes.
In the distance, sirens sounded in the city. Longview, Texas wasn’t the cleanest of places as it once had been. Now growing overcrowded through the years, and full of crime amongst the humans, she’d seen many changes in her own time. She had a feeling she was going to continue seeing more as the country continued on its path of expanding cities while the population rose and with that, violence. The humans were a strange species themselves. Shouts could be heard from somewhere below the building on the street, and Zarah picked up the scent of smoke and fire.
Darkness Comes This Way Page 2
