by Trisha Telep
“I can assure you there is a God because I know there is a Satan!”
She stopped and tossed her head, causing her raven hair to fall over one shoulder. Her beauty was fierce. “How do you know?”
“Because I am one of his demons,” I hissed.
My eyes swam red with fury and I unsheathed my razor-like fangs. I felt my face contort into the killing mask that was the last thing my victims saw upon this earth. I’d never seen my own visage at its most monstrous. But I have some idea of its power if the stunned horror on the faces of my fledgling vampire prey were to be taken as a measure. Still, Victoria was unafraid. She was not unaffected, however – far from it. Her face registered an emotion I could not reconcile with present reality. She was aroused.
She was still leering at me as the sun broke over the horizon and I began to scream.
“Will you turn me?” she demanded.
“Yes!” I shouted, burning from the inside out.
“Then let’s get started,” she said, closing the drapes with a flourish.
Her squeal of triumph was the last thing I heard before I passed out from the shock of my injury.
I awoke in cool darkness after a troubled sleep plagued by nightmares. She’d closed the drapes an instant before I would have gone up in flames. I stretched tentatively to test my injuries, and sensed her warmth. Victoria was curled up beside me, naked.
“I guess you needed some time to rest and recover,” she said. “I’m sorry I had to do that to you.”
I fought to bring my rage under control before I replied. I had never been as ill used in my long existence as a blood drinker and by Satan, this minx would pay. “Yes. The rest was very helpful,” I said. “Your blood will help me to complete my healing.”
She became excited again and got to her knees on the bed beside me. “That’ll be the first part of the blood exchange that you’ll use to turn me, right?”
“That is correct,” I said. Little did she know she would never get to the second bit of the process – the part in which she would in turn drink of my blood. She would not survive that long.
“Why don’t you release my wrists and we’ll get started,” I suggested as calmly as I could manage and with what I hoped was a winning smile.
From a bureau drawer she withdrew a knife. I had a moment’s concern when she approached me with it, but she only cut the plastic fasteners. Then she unlocked the metal handcuffs.
I rubbed my wrists. The marks left by the bindings were already disappearing. Now I smiled in earnest. “Come here, sweetling,” I murmured.
There was no need for the kind of violence I abhorred. I would not kill her by ripping and consuming her flesh. Instead I would simply drink her blood – all of it – at my leisure. By the time her draining was past the point of no return, she would be unconscious and helpless to protest.
Beaming, she lay down beside me and swept her hair aside, offering me her throat. “I can hardly believe this is happening. I’ve waited for this so long. It’s what I’ve always dreamed of.”
Dream on, darling. I thought, extending my fangs. I encircled her with my arms and gathered her to me, positioning my mouth to her throat. I bit down without using glamour and she gasped. Her hot blood flowed across my lips and I savoured its sweetness.
“Can you see in the dark?”
“What?” I asked, annoyed that she’d interrupted both my feeding and my fantasies of revenge. “Yes. I can see in the dark.”
She sighed and offered her throat again. “I have so much I want to learn from you.”
It was not her nakedness or the flavour of her blood that aroused me, but her last simple statement. She wanted to learn from me. “What else do you wish to learn?” I asked, curious.
“Are your other senses as powerful as your vision, like the legends say?”
“Yes.”
“And must you be invited into a house before you can cross the threshold? Last night I didn’t say the words exactly, but I clearly welcomed you.”
“That’s all it takes,” I said. “You don’t have to say the words. You merely have to wish me to come inside.” I tried to remember the last time anyone had ever asked me to share my own knowledge. Unsettled, I licked at the wounds in her throat and bit down again.
“How do you feel about literature?”
“What?”
“As my sire, you and I will be together for ever. I mean, maybe I’m being presumptuous, but you are going to be my mentor, right?”
“Uh, right.” Because of my aversion to fledglings, I’d never considered the possibility of creating another vampire. Thus, I’d never thought of what it would be like to play Pygmalion – to shape a young blood drinker in my own image no matter how long it took and no matter how much carnage had to take place. “What were you saying about literature?” I asked distracted.
“Oh sorry. I’m just so excited I’m rambling. You and I can discuss literature. And Philosophy. And – everything! Hey, here’s a philosophical question – do you think that everything is knowable given enough time, say another thousand years? Do you think cosmologists will have unravelled the mysteries of the universe by then?”
“That is my most fervent wish,” I said sincerely.
I bit down again, trying to concentrate on the task at hand even as a fantasy was taking shape in my mind. What would it be like to have a soul mate to share my studies? Someone who shared my ravenous hunger for truth?
Impossible! I could not bear to see this woman reduced to a ravenous animal. I would rather see her dead, and the sooner the better. To see her as a savage would repulse me. I pressed my fangs deeper into her flesh and drew deeply from her veins.
“How old are you?” she managed to ask, even though her voice was growing weaker.
“What?” I was becoming intoxicated – the point at which I would be unable to stop drinking her blood even if I wanted to; the point at which if I were going to make her a vampire, I would have to feed her my own blood.
“How old are you?” she repeated, her eyelids fluttering.
The thrum of her pulse, so strong at the outset, was becoming thready and weak.
“I was born in Greece hundreds of years before Christ.”
“You’re from ancient Greece in the classical period? Really?”
This news obviously thrilled her. She rallied just enough to lift her head to stare blindly at me as we were still in the dark.
“Yes. Really.”
“What did you do there? For a living, I mean?”
“I was a priest at Delphi.”
“Get out!”
“Excuse me?”
“You worked with the Oracle? Is it true the sibyl spoke in riddles?”
“Yes. It was my job to interpret them.”
She swooned in my arms and I was sure it wasn’t from the blood loss. “You thirsted for knowledge even then. So much so that you worked your way into the sanctuary at Delphi. That’s why you became a vampire, isn’t it? You wanted to go on seeking . . . for ever. Just as I do.”
“That’s right,” I said. “That’s why I allowed myself to be turned.” What a remarkable young woman, I thought, my earlier anger towards her for the pain she caused me was gone. Finally, a woman who understood me, and soon she would be dead at the point of my fangs.
“I have a thousand questions. I can’t believe my luck. Not only do I finally find a real, live vampire, but he’s an intellectual to boot. I promise I won’t interrupt you any more. Is it time for me to drink your blood yet?”
I looked down at her and marvelled at her perfection both in body and mind. I ran my hand through her silky hair, letting my thumb brush her cheek, which was by now as pale as alabaster. It was such a shame she had to die.
A cold wind sent leaves and litter swirling in a tiny whirlwind that skittered past me while I waited for my next class at Georgia State University. I’d chosen to move on to another institution of higher learning for the winter semester and put behind me the unpleasa
ntness I’d gone through in nearby Athens, Georgia.
For a vampire who always anticipated living for ever, having come so close to death was a sobering experience, so I opted for a change of scene. GSU was an urban university, situated in the heart of downtown Atlanta. The inner city environment with its profusion of drug dealers, pimps and other criminals was a rich hunting ground.
“Come along now, dear. Don’t play with your food,” I admonished Victoria.
She was dangling her victim off the top level of the multi-storey parking deck on which we stood. She nodded and drew him back ob to the concrete surface where she finished draining his blood. The man had made the mistake of attempting to carjack our vehicle as we entered the structure.
Oh, I killed Victoria that night in Athens all right. Killed her mortal body and made her into a blood drinker as she’d asked. For my part, I resolved to set aside my prejudices and tamp down my disgust for fledglings. The experience has proven to be a much-needed exercise in tolerance for me. After all, who am I to question the ways of the vampire?
When she’d drunk her fill, I stuffed the body into a nearby trash can and covered him with refuse. “Shall we?”
She smoothed her hair, straightened her skirt and took my arm. “Of course, dear,” she said.
She begged me to let her jump down to street level, but I pointed out that someone would undoubtedly see her. Having to explain herself to a patrolman coming out of Atlanta police headquarters across the street would put a damper on the fun of flying.
“Of course, you’re right. Whatever you say darling,” she said sweetly. “What would I do without you to keep me out of trouble? Let’s take the elevator.”
I removed a linen handkerchief from my pocket and dabbed away the trickle of blood from her chin. In time, she would cease to need the excitement of the kill and we would both feed together discreetly and without the need to hide the bodies of the miscreants she drained of blood.
As we walked to class arm in arm, I reflected on my good fortune. It had taken me some 3,000 years to find the woman meant just for me. I’d enjoyed being a scholar, but until Victoria I’d never experienced the satisfaction of sharing my knowledge with someone who appreciated it. The student has become the teacher. And, as the youngsters used to say, the teacher digs it. And then, of course, there’s the sex. I would never have dreamed that monogamy would be so . . . stimulating.
And what of my enduring philosophical question – what is my purpose? I am now beginning to believe that my purpose as a blood drinker on this earth was to sire Victoria the vampire. So, at the risk of waxing as romantic as a smitten schoolboy, pardon me and my lady Victoria while we ride off into the proverbial sunset.
Viper’s Bite
Delilah Devlin
Her hips swished beneath her short, flirty skirt, drawing his gaze like a magnet. He suppressed a low, rumbling growl from the beast rising inside him. The splash of large pink flowers on the white skirt stood out like a beacon in the darkness.
He followed her as she left her apartment, sticking to the shadows, ducking into stairwells when she looked behind her as though she sensed someone followed.
Her shoulder-length, flyaway brown hair bobbed across the tops of her slender shoulders. The creamy skin of her exposed arms and legs swung in a rhythm that his heart picked up and matched, beat for stride.
Feeling more like the true predator he was than ever, he suppressed shame that burned like battery acid in his stomach, and continued stalking the woman who walked more briskly now along the darkened sidewalk.
When she turned onto a crowded walkway, her shoulders sank and her steps slowed as she relaxed.
She believed herself safe now.
Little did she know, but her ‘spontaneous’ decision to go out had been at his suggestion – a message telegraphed with tantalizing snippets of fresh salt air, the caress of a soft breeze and a glimpse of sensual pleasures.
She hadn’t heeded her own natural inhibitions. Hadn’t paused to check the clock and note the waning evening hours. Instead she’d made her decision, wriggled into her sexy little skirt and snug pink T-shirt, slid her feet into strapless sandals and bounded down the stairs, ready to kick off winter’s gloom in an unseasonably warm spring night.
He’d made sure she didn’t glance even once at the clock or the calendar resting on the bureau in her foyer.
And while he’d provided himself the opportunity to meet her, he’d decided days ago that he wouldn’t use his persuasive gifts to bring her straight into his arms.
Tonight, he wanted to savour a natural seduction.
She paused along the gangway that followed the curving street through a long, outdoor mini-mall. At the bottom of one set of stairs leading up into a seafood restaurant, she lifted one foot, planting it on the first paved step.
He drew back the suggestion that had led her here. Her brow furrowed, and she shook her head. Her foot slipped off the step and slowly settled beside the other.
“Did you forget something?” he murmured behind her.
A gasp escaped her, and her head jerked to the side, then tilted up to meet his gaze. Her eyes widened, and then slid over his shoulders before rising again. “You frightened me.”
The frown that bisected her brows amused him. She was annoyed and not bothering to hide it. Her eyes narrowed. “I know who you are.”
Viper jerked imperceptibly. His heart tripped and then thudded dully again. She couldn’t mean what he thought. “Are you sure you’re answering the correct question?” he asked, giving her a slight twist of his lips. More of a smile than most ever saw.
Her head shook, sending her fine, dark hair shivering silkily across her cheeks.
The urge to tuck her hair behind her ears was almost irresistible. He curled his fingers and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. “Who do you think I am?”
She hesitated. “I’ve seen you before. At one of those Goth clubs. You’re the manager.”
Viper suppressed a grin. She was talking about Dylan’s club. “I’m just filling in for a friend at the Cavern, until he returns home. I have no ambition to run his place permanently.”
“The Cavern.” She nodded. “That’s it. It’s a strange place. I did a piece there about young Goths and the rise of Sanguinarian blood rituals.
“You’re a writer then? Or are you a television reporter?” he asked, knowing full well she wrote columns for the social section of the Seattle Times.
Her casual shrug belied the fact she was serious about her work. Ambitious even. The social section wouldn’t encompass her ambition for long.
He’d always loved that about her. She kept her eyes on the prize and rushed headlong wherever her curiosity and drive led her. An excellent quality for a reporter, but one that had spelled disaster for him.
But then, she didn’t remember any of it. She hadn’t learned her lesson because he’d needed her to remain safe.
“You know, they have a dress code here,” she murmured eyeing his black leather jacket and T-shirt, and then letting her glance slide quickly down his legs before rising again. A faint blush tinged her pale cheeks.
Viper’s eyes dipped. “I’m not planning on going inside. I was waiting . . . for someone.”
“Lucky girl,” she said softly, then shook her head again. “It’s not like I have a reservation or anything, and I’m not dressed for it either. I’m not really sure why I stopped–”
His glance panned the line of people waiting patiently for their numbers to be called by the restaurant hostess who roamed outside, taking names on a clipboard. “Would you like to go somewhere else?” he said quickly, not wanting to let her go just yet, needing to work the moment in order to build her trust.
Time stretched between them. Her gaze flitted down the row of well-lit shops, still open with people walking leisurely along the covered walkway. A soft evening mist muted the glare of the street lamps and the sounds of the people passing them by as they stood at the bottom of t
he steps leading into the trendy restaurant.
“I promise I don’t bite,” he said, fighting the urgency building in his body to keep his words light and casual. “We can just take a walk. Find a cup of coffee, if you like.”
He wanted her to say yes, without any extra ‘persuasion’ from him. He wanted her to choose him of her own free will.
Along indrawn breath lifted her chest, and she gave him a small, tentative smile. “There’s Starbucks at the end of the mall.”
Warmth seeped into his chest. And although he knew tomorrow he’d pay a heavy price, he needed to spend tonight . . . with her.
Viper tugged his hands from his pockets and crooked an elbow, feeling a little foolish for the old-fashioned gesture. His manners felt a little rusty.
Her hand slid around his forearm, her fingers lightly resting atop the leather. Through the barrier he shouldn’t have been able to note the heat of her hands, but he did,
“Shall we?” he asked, and then stepped out, shortening his natural stride to allow her to walk comfortably beside him.
“You haven’t asked me my name.”
It’s Mariah. “You haven’t asked mine.”
Soft, rueful laughter floated around him. “I’m not like this. I don’t let strangers lead me around.” She ducked her head, perhaps to hide the new blush staining her cheeks. “I’m Mariah Cohen.”
He pressed his lips to halt the automatic response. Tonight he wasn’t Viper. “I’m Daniel Vacarro,” he said softly and held his breath. Would the name niggle at her memory?
“Daniel. Not Danny?”
He shuddered.
She laughed again. “Not manly enough?”
He gave her a narrowed glance.
“See?” she said, a smile curving her lush lips. “We’re already getting to know each other.”
“Are you always a smart ass with complete strangers?”
“We aren’t strangers, Daniel. I admit, tonight I feel just a little reckless, but I recognized you right off. We’re just taking a short walk in the middle of a crowd of people. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Viper shook his head. The woman was crazy. But she was right. The only danger he posed was to her sweet, curvy body.
