The Last Vampire
Page 1
The Last Vampire
Copyright © 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted or stored in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval, without permission in writing from the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Jorge Savage
Chapter 2: Peyton Hunt
Chapter 3: Jorge Savage
Chapter 4: Peyton Hunt
Chapter 5: Jorge Savage
Chapter 6: Peyton Hunt
Chapter 7: Jorge Savage
Chapter 8: Peyton Hunt
Chapter 9: Jorge Savage
Chapter 10: Peyton Hunt
Chapter 11: Jorge Savage
Chapter 12: Peyton Hunt
Chapter 13: Jorge Savage
Chapter 14: Peyton Hunt
Chapter 15: Jorge Savage
Chapter 16: Peyton Hunt
Chapter 17: Jorge Savage
Chapter 18: Peyton Hunt
Chapter 19: Jorge Savage
Chapter 20: Peyton Hunt
Chapter 1: Jorge Savage
The pile of books before me were my accomplishments for the day. Perhaps thirty 1000-pager books would be impossible for a human to finish in a week, but a vampire could read all of these in less than twenty-four hours.
Being a vampire could have a lot of treats in it. The incredulous intellectual ability could be one, but my father said that I was exceptionally gifted. My hunger for knowledge was insatiable, and my brain's capability to absorb the information I just skimmed for seconds was unbelievable for humans.
I had lived in this land for more than a century today, but my skin had not wrinkled even a little. I stopped aging when I was 27, keeping my physique and appearance at the peak of my manhood. My father looked like a dashing 50-year-old man, although he had existed for over a thousand years on earth. As the mortals called it, we had unlocked the secret of the fountain of youth.
I was sitting in the heart of my enormous library. It was equipped with billions of books I had read over the year. Donating some of these bunch of worded literature and replenishing the shelves with new ones became my recreation. Reading had always been one of my hobbies. Learning more about the world and the way humans thrived were simply immaculate and amusing.
"Still reading about the human behavior and psychology?" A voice echoed all over the room, resonating over the high ceilings and wide walls of my book haven. I turned behind me to face my father. He was standing before the door, watching me obsess over a science book.
"Indeed, father. There can be nothing more entertaining other than the way humans think and behave." I smiled at his direction as he walked towards my direction. As he came close to me, he sat on the other side of the table to face me.
I drifted in thoughts as I stare at my father's face. I would probably look just like him in case I aged.
"You are doing a superb work, son." He ran his fingers along the pile of books I had read, skimming the titles on the edge of the thick covers. "I bet your mother would be extremely proud of you."
The sadness in his voice struck straight in my chest.
My mother had died long ago. After giving birth to me, an uprising ensued, causing the vampires to split into two groups. It was the most horrifying battle in the history of the immortals, attributing to the numerous deaths of almost every vampire on the earth. One of the casualties was my mother.
"I hope so, father." I searched for his eyes, but his striking gray eyes were distant in thoughts. His imagination must have been taken over by the memory of my mother. He missed her a lot.
"I know she is." Finally, his eyes met mine. He forced a smile as he rested his back against the soft cushions of his chair.
"The sacrifices she made was worth it. The rest of the fallen vampires would be delighted to know how gifted you are, too."
"Father, how did we flee from danger back then?" I leaned forward, braving to ask the question I had been keeping for years.
"I know you are dying to ask that one, Jorge." My father smirked at me, watching my eyes glow with thrill. "The battle had erupted all of a sudden. The human-killing vampires dominated our territory, decapitating every innocent one that came to their way. We were in the village that day, and your mother was carrying you in her arms."
I could picture the scene in my head although I was not conscious enough to remember those things.
"I begged her to flee, but she knew that the war would risk leaving everyone dead. She passed you to me, pleading me to run away from the village and go far away from that place. Her eyes were shrouded in fear, but the courage in her voice was remarkable. After kissing your cheek, she went out of the door and defended us as we escaped." It was a wistful sight to see my father hurting, but he was proud. My mother was a hero. She was one of the valiant vampires who fought for their beliefs until the day they died.
She was one of the smartest and fastest vampires in the clan. My father always told me how I inherited her wits and speed. Her last resort of burning the whole village down was a huge sacrifice, but she managed to eliminate every opponent from the world.
"You see, she hated killing people. She wanted to establish a sound relationship with humans. She dreamed of living a normal life, but the others disapproved." My father was staring at my eyes, telling me of my parent's advocacy. I was raised to feast like a human, and the taste of blood was another foreign experience in my life. My father enlightened me with the world, teaching me that killing humans was not the right thing to do.
"I miss her so much, father."
"Me too, son. But just like your mother, we believe we can begin a new clan." I looked at my father, the gloom in my heart dissipating into thin air.
"What do you mean, father?"
"We are the only vampires left in this world, but there's still hope. You can build a new beginning for us, son." I stared at him, perplexed at what he really wanted to tell me.
"You mean you wanted me to have my own family, father?" He smiled at me, affirming the idea that lingered in my head.
"I cannot love another woman other than your mother, son. I know you know that too. You are the only hope of our race, and I believe you can do it." He stood up and turned to my side, gently patting me on the back before he walked out of the library.
My head considered the thought for a while. I could not disappoint my race. The sacrifice they had done should not be compromised.
But could I really do it?
Chapter 2: Peyton Hunt
"What the hell is this gibberish again, Hunt?"
I stood before the chief editor, indulging with the fair share of my mortification schedule for the week. It had been a regular on my to-do list to be reprimanded badly to the bones at least thrice a week since I worked for the Kingsville Daily.
Fulfilling dreams might not come in handy. In a series of ups and downs, I had been trapped in this cage of profession where my efforts had always been under-appreciated. Aside from the straining nature of work and difficulty level of duties, my boss had been the least happy person on earth when it comes to me. It was as if I was abhorrent to his sight that every time I walked in his office, his voice turned into a dinosaur roaring vehemently, threatening its prey with its appalling sound.
"I told you a million times, nobody's going to bite this sort of bait. You are so stubborn! You keep on settling on this kindergarten level of events nobody would even care about!" The stout man with a funny Charlie Chaplin mustache struggled to stand on his chair. My report was on his hand, crumpled into a thick mass of ball ready to be thrown and burned. The scoop I had been eyeing all week was rejected again, just like what happened the week before.
It was a profession that needed so much heart and inspiration. Some might overlook journalists and forget about them, but they were really essential to the community. Without us, how would the people of Kingsville live? That's why I was born ready for all the pain and torture the vocation had to offer.
As I exited the editor's office, I spotted James standing nearby the door. By the look on his face, it was clear that he heard everything the chief had said towards my submission. I forced a grin, although I knew it was dumb to smile at what just happened.
"I'm sorry about that, Peyton." He pointed a finger coyly at the crumpled papers I was grasping. I nodded at him as I walked towards my desk, sinking down into my chair. He followed me and leaned on my divider, watching my expression as he thought of something kind to say.
"I've always loved reading your scoops, by the way. The chief seems to have a pretty bad taste." He mimicked his grumpy face, making fun of his different facial expressions. I let out a chuckle as I engaged in his reenactment.
"Seriously, your work is great. Maybe he's just jealous of your unique caliber and work quality as a journalist." He smiled at me, showing off his cute dimples on both cheeks. James Boyle was one of the best sports journalists in the Kingsville Daily, that's why I would not be surprised to hear if one of these days he'll get promoted to the prestigious sports editor position for the pub. He had a messed up styled, dark blonde hair with black, thick-rimmed, rectangular glasses. He looked more like a geek than a jock, but he was a good-looking type of nerd.
"You're too good to me, James. But thanks, anyway."
"Why don't we celebrate that job well done?"
"I like the sound of that."
James returned to his desk to pack up his things. I did the same, sorting pieces of stuff to bring at home and things to leave in the office. As I load my bag with the important files I would be bringing with me, I realized that my crumpled report was still on my desk, abandoned. I smiled as I unwrinkled it gently, straightening the edges as I put it in inside of my envelope.
"Come on, Pey-nuts!" James was already standing in front of the Bundy clock, punching his time card on the machine as he checked out. I took my bags and followed him, doing the same as we finished our shift in the pub.
It was starting to get chilly outside. The moon was bright and full, shining beautifully all over the small town of Kingsville. I had known this place ever since I was born, and it never failed to take my breath away every time.
"Here." James put his jacket on my shoulder, warming me up with his thick varsity jacket. It was one of his collectibles, the one superstar athletes wore during their playoffs. I pulled it closer to my shoulder, enjoying the warmth it brought to my body.
"Thanks, James." A big grin filled his face. After he started the engine of his pick up, we traveled to the local diner near my apartment.
"Peyton." His tone sounded worried, but he I waited for him to further elaborate.
"Yeah?"
"Uhm, uh-- nothing." He sounded nervous as if he wanted to say something really important but he was too shy to spit it out.
"What?"
"Peyton. It's been years since we know each other…" His words trailed off, delaying his speech as our ride went on.
"And?"
"And, I just wanted to tell you that, I, uh-- oh! We're here." He stopped at the entrance of the diner. I gave him a threatening look, pissed of his escapade tactics. James let out an anxious chuckle.
"I guess that has to wait." His confidence rekindled as he pulled the pick up to a nearby vacant lot. He escorted me as we walked inside of the local diner together.
The delicious aroma that filled the place was both nostalgic and inviting. I used to beg my parents to bring me here and buy me an order of a fully-loaded burger with fritters on the side. Those moments happened a long time ago, but it felt just like yesterday.
A lot of people were hanging around the place. It was almost filled and crowded. James and I decided to part ways so we could sit and order faster, dividing the duties between us.
"Go and search for a table while I line up and order." I showed him a thumbs up, approving of his strategy.
"Hey, Pey-nuts! Is it the usual?" He yelled once more, asking me before he joined the line of customers.
"The usual!" I was still looking at him as I took more steps ahead of me. When I faced front, I stumbled real hard on somebody. I fell on the ground and I could not feel my buttocks anymore. My brows furrowed in unison, aggravated by the pain and embarrassment I was going through again for the day.
"Watch it!" I mouthed those words in disgust as I lift my face to see who caused the collision. Standing before me was a man I had never seen. He had a fair complexion, almost pale as immaculate white. His black, sleek hair pulled back as if he was a band member was stylish and attractive. His light, gray eyes got me in a daze, as if he was drawing a spell on me. He wore a white long sleeve matched with a dark gray vest, an old-fashioned choice but still he managed to rock it.
I had been living since forever here in Kingsville and the town was so little that I knew everyone well, but this man was different.
He was an exception.
Chapter 3: Jorge Savage
My eyes could not stop staring at this lady. It was one of my first few visits to this dining establishment, but today, something new came up. I did not know who she was, but she seemed intriguing. There was something about her that drew me closer, something I was not sure of what.
"Sorry, Miss. I did not intend to hurt you." I extended my hand, trying hard to hide my desperation. She was still gazing at my eyes, lost in a daze. Was she able to notice my eccentric features? If yes, I could not afford to hurt her but she must not know my secret.
She took my hand and stood up, her stares almost burning the back of my neck. Goodness, I could not let her know who I really was.
"Ah, I'm sorry too." Her consciousness returned as she shook her head lightly, gently patting off the dirt on her black pants. Helping her pick her things scattered on the floor, I laid my eyes on one item. She was wearing an ID for the Kingsville Daily. I needed not to panic about this, I got this up on my sleeve. I had prepared for this all my life.
Still mystified by what's in her that made my flesh stirred, I stared keenly at her delicate face as she searched for her things. She was the most beautiful woman I had seen in my entire life. I had been everywhere in this country, exploring the world in search of new wisdom. My eyes had laid upon a lot of beautiful women, but she was simply exceptional. Her long, dark hair was perfect for her fair skin. The way her cheeks were tinted in the hue of red was endearing. Her pink lips, parted slightly as she searched for her things, was completely adorable. She was an angel, an impossibly real work of perfection.
As soon as I gave her the last paper scattered on the floor, she gave a demure smile. It had my chest thudding loudly and I wondered if she could hear my excitement around her.
"Sorry again for being rude."
"No, it's my fault." I could not stop my lips from curling upwards. Her radiant personality must be attractive, I could feel how lighthearted and jolly of a person she was. My blood was rushing through my veins, and I was uncertain of what I was feeling at that point in time.
Was it hunger for blood? Or was it another sensation I never felt before?
Just when I was to ask her name, a man came approaching on her side. He looked queasy of my presence as if I was a threat to his existence. Was he someone related to her?
"Who's that, Peyton?" The man was carrying a tray of meals and drinks for two. He glared at me with offensive stares, sho
oting knives through his eyes. I turned my stare on the woman regarded as Peyton, waiting for any further details of who he was to her.
"Oh, he just bumped over me. Come on, let's go." She pulled the man away from me as they walked in the opposite direction. I was left there standing and mute as if words failed me. I fled the dining place without uttering another word, puzzled by my own emotions.
I ran as fast as I could back home. It was the first time that I felt this unexplainable phenomenon ever before. With a heavy heart, my whole body was tensed in complete bewilderment. Was I craving for her blood? Why was I so drawn to her that I almost lost myself in front of a crowd?
Without wasting another second, I knocked on my father's bedroom door. Upon hearing him approve of surprise knock, I stepped inside of his large room. Inside, I found him sitting in front of his furnace, listening with closed eyes to the fuzzy sound of the wood morphing into black, brittle bit of ashes.
"What is it that bothers you, son?" I knew he had a feeling what I was to ask. My father had a sharp, accurate intuition of things. His ability to comprehend feelings and thoughts was exquisite and divine. I could not hide a single secret away from him. He was too perceptive to deceive and be lied to.
"I don't know what this is, father." I stood behind his reclining chair, watching the fire blazing in the furnace as well. His voice was stern and sober as if there was something wrong with what I was to ask him. Did he know? Could he explain what it was that kept on bugging me after I saw that woman?
"You met somebody out there, right?" His visionary skill was excellent. I nodded and even though he had not seen my gesture, he knew I admitted his speculation.
"And now, you are bothered about what you just felt after you met her?" He opened his eyes to watch the flames, fascinated by the colors it created through the warm blaze of fire.
"Yes, my father." Denying would lead me to nothing. My father finally stood up from his seat, walking towards me as his face stayed in a stiff, serious expression. My eyes followed him as he approached closer, hoping for him to clear this confusion I was feeling inside of me.