by Martha Woods
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and the visions of those dead girls come easily. I reach out a hand to one in my mind and say her name.
“Jane,” it comes out a weak whisper. The room suddenly becomes icy. I watch both men tense up. I open my eyes, and there she is before me, a decaying angel.
“You must free us,” she says.
“I’m trying. You have to take me where he is,” I say.
“Is she here?” Damon asks.
“Something is here,” Vincent mutters.
“I will show you, but I cannot help you,” she says. She reaches out a hand that is skeletal, rotted, with tendons clinging to it. Why do the ghosts of the dead seem to decay quicker than their actual bodies? It is a question I will have to ask Faye another day.
I take Jane’s hand, and I feel her veins wrap tightly up my wrist like snakes. I try to pull back, but I can’t move. She begins to walk, and I am forced to follow, my two guards trailing behind me, though it is only Damon’s steps I hear.
“Help us,” Jane whispers as the cold chill of death makes a hole in my heart.
Chapter 13
We walk out of the apartment complex and towards a sewer drain. She points down at it, and I kneel and try to pry it up, only to be nudged aside by Vincent. He picks it up like it is a poker chip and tosses it to the side. Damon flips on a flashlight and shines it down into the murk before going down the manhole. I start down the ladder, but Jane tugs at me insistently, and I slip, falling backward only to have Vincent’s strong arms there to catch me. When did he even get down here?
It smells like rot; my shoes are immediately full of sewage. It is about ankle high, but the smell is covering me like a cloak. I don’t have time to be disgusted as Jane pulls me forward. I begin to feel the others trailing with her; I can’t see them in the light of Damon’s flashlight, but I know they are there. I swear I can hear the maggots from their eyes dropping into the water as we walk.
“Charming place,” Damon mutters.
“He has access to any place in the city, can move during the day without detection. This is an ideal location for him to dwell,” Vincent says.
“Where do you sleep?” I ask.
“In more comfortable conditions, I assure you. I have little reason to hide,” he replies.
There are so many twists and turns. I can’t keep track of where we are going. I’m lost after only a few turns and hope the other two are better at tracking where we are going then I am. Jane comes to a sudden halt, and I nearly trip over my own feet, but I catch myself at the last minute. I feel the tendrils leaving my arm, and she turns to face me.
“He allows us no further. He is ahead,” she says, and I watch her as she begins to vanish.
“Wait! Why are you trapped here?”
“He is death. Do not become one of us, Amy,” she says before I can feel nothing but the coldness.
“He’s ahead,” I whisper, but the words barely get out of my mouth before I feel strong arms dragging me forward at a speed much too fast to be natural. Claws dig into my arm painfully, and I let out a scream because there is little else I can do. I hear Damon and Vincent call my name, but they seem so far away. The tunnels become a blur before everything turns black.
Then there is light, a curtain of red, a bed of black. The sewage in this area seems to be blocked out, forming a river around a strange living quarters. Still, the smell permeates every molecule, and I suddenly understand the stench that accompanied Bella’s mutilated remains. In the center of the room, there is a chair with straps attached to it, and I’m thrown into it. Before I can let out a word of protest, I feel my legs being strapped down to the chair’s legs, my arms to its arms. It’s made of metal, and I look down to see it is bolted to the floor. Whoever is doing this, I can’t see them, they’re moving so quickly.
“Let me go,” I manage to get out, but all I hear is laughter.
“So, she comes to me,” says a voice. The shadows seem to part, and I look at the figure of my nightmares. He is bald, his face looks as if it has half been burnt off. He wears a leather jacket, a white shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. But there is something off about his proportions, as if I’m viewing his through a funhouse mirror. The creature does little to hide his canines. They are thick, sharp, discolored, lacking the precision of Vincent’s fangs. I want to look away, but he grabs my head and forces me to stare into yellowing, deranged eyes.
“Amy, you couldn’t have made this easier. Following the ghosts right to me. And all this time I thought you were trying to ignore them. Don’t worry, you can join them…after a few hours. I’m feeling leisurely today. I have so much time to play with you,” he says, tangling his fingers in my hair and jerking my head back. I am immobile, I can’t struggle as his canines brush against my check. His breath smells of rancid meat. Another harsh tug makes me cry out, and he shoves his tongue down my throat. It tastes metallic, of fresh blood.
“I’ve been holding that just for you,” he says as he stands straighter. “How do you like the taste of your dog?”
I begin to gag. I try to spit it out, but he holds my jaw closed, bruising my face. My fear is through the roof, my heart beats so fast it might give me a heart attack. I plead that it does; I don’t know what else this monster will do to me. I’ve already decided I’d rather die than find out. I swallow just so he will let go and try to keep the bile down.
“Crying already? Oh, we have just begun,” he says, moving his hand to catch a tear that trails down my cheek. He licks it off his finger.
“So sweet. Now I see why Vincent has such an interest in you. You’re not entirely human; I can’t take over your mind. You have seen my dead. It may be lonely now, but it won’t be when I’m done. You’ll stay close to me forever. The best part is I can’t block the pain. I won’t even try, I want the screams to echo through these tunnels.”
“I have two people following me. They’ll stop you,” I spit out at him. Try to be brave, Amy.
“Ah yes, a hunter and a vampire who hasn’t been able to catch me for centuries. They may find me, but it won’t matter much to you,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because,” he says as his claws rip through my shirt, shredding the material and leaving my breasts and chest bare. The silver necklace suddenly flares to light, and he backs off. The metal pulses, and it seems to be burning into my skin it is so hot. I cry out in pain, but clench my jaws together – this is keeping the creature away.
“So, you are not completely defenseless,” he says, with a touch of amusement in his tone.
He takes a sword that has been sitting by his bed and walks closer to me again, shielding his eyes. I hear the crackling of his own skin as he moves the tip of the blade under the chain. The cross sticks to my skin and burns brighter as he pulls the chain up. There is a sucking noise as the cross comes off my skin, then the necklace is jerked, the chain broken, and both chain and charm go flying somewhere into the sewer, losing their glow. I can smell burning flesh and look down to see what looks like a brand on my skin.
“Now that we have that out of the way,” Elric says as he leaps forward towards me. I begin to struggle as he breathes down my neck. It’s like my nightmares, but I am unable to move. Past him I can see the dead girls, looking at me with remorse, holding out their arms to me as if welcoming me to their sisterhood, even though I was their last hope.His elongated canines tease the flesh at the side of my neck.
“If I bite you, you will become one of my kind.” Elric laughs, and then he scrapes his claws along the side of my neck. He plays with the blood leaking from my neck with his claws and his tongue and I am revolted. I am in agony. I can’t move, I can’t get away. I want to escape from this anguish – I’ve never wanted death so badly before in my life.
Chapter 14
Elric does not just maul my neck; I start to feel his sharp claws digging into my lower torso, beginning to sink into the flesh there as if my skin is water that gives under his touch. He draws his fa
ce away from the wound, looking into my gaze as his claws sink in deeper. It is a new type of pain, blossoming from the tips of his claws and spreading throughout my abdomen with horrible swiftness. I squirm, writhing under his touch as if it can ease the pain.
“I’m going to rip out your small intestine and make you eat it,” he whispers to me, stroking the side of my face with his free hand.
Elric is suddenly knocked away from me by a force I can’t see. He’s down on the ground with Vincent on top of him. I can feel blood dripping from my neck and look at the puncture wounds on my stomach – they’re not as deep as I’d feared; he was toying with me, after all, he wanted to make it last. But still, blood is trickling from the puckered wounds.
“And I thought tonight would be dull,” Elric says. He’s up on his feet, Vincent close at his heels, and my eyes can’t follow their movements. Vincent is enraged, primal growls escaping his lips as he lunges for the werewolf. I hear the slam of their bodies connecting, and my hair blows past my face, letting me know they are fighting. Elric’s laughter sends shivers up my spine. There is a terrible crunching sound before a hand suddenly falls in front of me and I let out another scream. I can’t tell if it is Vincent’s or Elric’s, but the fighting doesn’t stop.
I follow their movements through the drops of blood that are left in their wake. I can tell that Vincent is trying to keep the fighting away from me while Elric pushes towards me. I’m the weakness.
“Don’t hold back,” I whisper, because I don’t have the ability to speak any louder. “Please stop thinking about me.”
For the first time, I feel something brush against my mind; maybe it is because the loss of so much blood has weakened me, but I believe Vincent is there. His presence in my head is not invasive, it is warm and soothing. A strange comfort, as if he has taken me out of this hellhole to someplace warm and clean and safe, where I can wash away the blood and grime. There is a promise to take me there, no words spoken, just a vow to make up for all the pain he has caused me.
The fighting intensifies as the vision fades. I relax back against the chair, my pain still with me, but dulled somehow. And then I feel someone cutting at the straps that hold me in place. I open my eyes, and Damon is in front of me. He’s sweating, out of breath from running.
“You found me,” I murmur.
“You just…vanished. But Vincent smelled your blood and took off after you. I’m not as fast,” he says. I can hear the defeat in his tone. He touches my cheek, removes his shirt and places it on the wound on my neck. “Amy, I’m so sorry.”
Then he is pulling away from me and now that his shirt is gone, I can see how heavily armed he is. Various weapons are strapped over his chest, secured around his waist, bound to his forearms. Somehow he is able to track the blurred movements of the fighting creatures, and he pulls out one of his guns and takes aim at Elric. The gun goes off, and my ears hear nothing but ringing as the sound reverberates through the sewage system.
For a moment, Vincent and Elric pause in their fighting. Vincent is holding a gleaming silver sword, and I’m happy to see it is Elric’s hand that is missing. But Vincent is severely wounded – It looks like Elric’s claws have sliced halfway into his neck. Elric’s clothes are shredded to pieces. He is drenched in vivid red blood. I can’t tell if more of it is his, or mine, or Vincent’s.
Damon fires another round into Elric, missing the heart, and Elric charges at him, only to run into the steel force of Vincent, who pushes him against the wall. Elric claws at Vincent, and I see bone where there should be flesh, but Vincent is unflinching.
“Hurry up, hunter. I can’t hold him for long,” he snarls.
Damon pulls a silver dagger from one of the holsters on his pants. He moves with the grace of a mountain lion before slipping between the two. Quickly, he plunges the silver into Elric, who lets out a wolf like howl. Vincent lets go of him, and both men stand back. I watch the werewolf scream in agony before his body slowly becomes lifeless.
The figures of the murdered girls start to vanish. I watch them wave to me, their bodies reconstructing themselves into what they looked like before they died – beautiful, young girls who had lives, futures ahead of them. Jane smiles sadly at me as her form vanishes from sight.
Strong arms scoop me up out of the chair. The chest I am leaned against is cold, and I look up to see Vincent, who looks frightening, hurt badly enough that he can’t pretend at a human form.
“You need a hospital,” he says, though I can feel the want in his eyes as he looks at the open wound on my neck.
“And you’re not in the best condition to take her,” Damon says, sword drawn and placed against Vincent’s throat.
“Correct. I must feed,” and he stares at me longer than I’m comfortable with. I put a weak hand over my neck to cover the wound. “You’ve lost too much blood, Amy. Don’t fear from me. I have enough control to lead both you and Damon to the nearest hospital.”
“Maybe I should carry her,” Damon says.
“We will move quicker if I do it.” And I feel Vincent’s arms holding me closer to his form, as if he does not want to let me go, as if he wants to make sure I’m still real and alive.
“Let’s not fight, and just get on with it,” I say, resting my head against Vincent’s chest and closing my eyes. I feel so dizzy.
Vincent walks fast but not fast enough that Damon can’t keep up. We turn corners in the tunnels, splashing through the gunk before stopping at a ladder that leads up to the real world. It is here that Vincent hands me over to Damon, with some reluctance, to push the manhole cover away. He takes me from Damon again and crawls up, setting me on the sidewalk outside a hospital. He presses his lips quickly against mine, sending a wave of unwarranted pleasure through my aching body.
“Until we meet again, Amy,” he says, then he jumps down into the sewer. Gone as if he was never there.
Damon comes up the manhole, shuts it, and picks me up, walking towards the hospital. I don’t know what he did with all his weapons, but he only has a gun at his side. I suppose walking into a hospital fully armed wouldn’t be the greatest thing in the world. My head falls against his chest, listening to his beating heart and taking comfort in how alive it feels. My eyes close and I can’t help but welcome the darkness that overcomes me.
Epilogue
I stay in the hospital for three days. I’m not sure what story Damon told them of how I got the marks, but the doctors don’t ask me many questions. My neck is stitched up, and the holes in my stomach get staples. There will be a scar where the cross burned into my skin.
Everyone but the person I wanted to see and thank comes to see me during my stay. Vincent keeps away, but I can’t help but hope that I will be able to see him again. I don’t even get any mysterious flowers that will let me know he visited my room or at least checked up on me.
I move half my stuff into Damon’s apartment, my own not feeling safe or mine anymore. I don’t know yet if I’ll stay there for good, or if I’ll rent a new place of my own. But for now I am glad to be with Damon, to fall asleep and wake up safe in his arms. Rick finds me an instructor to help me with hand-to-hand combat, but Damon begins to train me as well, to defend myself against the supernatural. I’m not going to become a hunter, I know that much, but he wants to make sure I am prepared if the need to defend myself against what goes bump in the night ever arises again.
I go back to working as a forensic investigator, but suddenly my job seems less satisfying than before. I am still proud of my work, and I know that I do a lot of good on the police force, but something is missing. I’m not saying I want to be a superhero, and it is nice not having nightmares, but I have scars now that tell stories. I have been touched, and there is no way to return to normal after that.
Especially not when my boyfriend comes home scratched up and bleeding from some fight with the undead. He never tells me the stories but on those nights, I can see the horror in his eyes. Damon hasn’t closed himself off from me, but he is s
till unwilling to share his nightmares.
I guess that’s how some relationships work – there is always something to keep hidden. I am not sure exactly what I feel for Damon, but I’ve never felt so connected to another man before. I have never felt so safe and wanted, even though he doesn’t have the time to take me out dancing.
And I hide things from him as well. There are nights when he was gone that I do sneak back over to my apartment and wait. I expect to see Vincent return, remembering how sweet his lips felt pressed against mine in front of that hospital, and the promise he made me.
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Click here to read Book Two!
Bonus Book 3
Escaping the Demon's Trap
(Book 1 of ‘Princess Anastasia’s Tales’)
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Martha Woods
© 2017 Martha Woods
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All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
