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Vampire’s Revenge
Text Copyright © 2016 by Alexis Davie
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing, 2016
Publisher
Secret Woods Books
[email protected]
www.SecretWoodsBooks.com
Vampire’s Revenge
By: Alexis Davie
Vampire’s Revenge
Chapter One
Lucy
Just like any other night, the bar was quiet, save for the drizzle of local regulars that flitted in and out of the doors. Lucy kept herself busy removing the glasses from every shelf before wiping the wood and replacing the glasses. Every so often, she would stop to serve one of the elderly men another pint of beer or pour a glass of wine for one of the wives. Yet every time she looked at the clock that hung above the front door, she found that only a few minutes had passed.
She sighed with frustration. It was going to be one slow night. Already exhausted from her day shift at the bakery, she couldn’t wait to change into an oversized t-shirt and climb into bed.
“Everything all right in here?” a familiar voice sounded behind her.
Lucy looked up from where she was crouching to reach the bottom shelf to see her boss standing in the doorway leading up to the office above. He frowned at her as though wondering what she was doing, and she smiled up at him.
“Everything is fine,” she told him. “I just thought I’d clean up while things are slow.”
“You’re a good girl, Lucy.” He grinned back at her, “I’ll be up in the office if you need anything. You okay to lock up for me tonight?”
“Sure,” Lucy grinned, though she was not pleased her shift would be lengthened by the tiresome job of waiting for all the patrons to clear out after last call.
“Great, I’ve got an early start in the morning,” Gerry told her. “Got to get over to the supply store.”
“Do you need me to come in tomorrow?” Lucy asked, praying that he wouldn’t say yes. She hated how her mouth always started talking before she’d thought about what she was offering. The last thing she wanted was to come back into work early before her next shift at the bakery.
“No, I think I’ve got everything covered this time,” Gerry’s words were a relief, and she had to stop herself from sighing in front of him, “Thank you for the offer though. I’ll see you later.” With that, he turned and headed up the stairs, the door clicking shut behind him.
Lucy finally released the sigh she had been holding and pushed herself up onto her feet again.
Someone on the other side of the bar cleared his throat. Still crouching, Lucy spun around and looked up into the familiar handsome face, that had the most mesmerizing eyes she had ever seen. Lucy rose to meet his gaze.
He was tall, towering over her, even as she stood on the raised platform behind the bar. His hair was dark, slicked back from his face, which was sharp with rugged features. Lucy was almost sure she could physically smell the pheromones coming off him in waves; she felt her mouth go dry at the sight of him.
“Can I help you?” she asked. The man, who she deemed her handsome stranger, had been a regular at the bar for more than a year, but never engaged in conversation. He always ordered the same thing, then sat at a booth at the back of the bar. She’d tried to talk to him on many occasions, but he was always cold and aloof.
“A glass of Merlot, please,” he said as he pulled his wallet from the pocket of his black jacket. Lucy barely managed to stop herself from gaping at him. Even after seeing him several nights a week, she couldn’t get over how attracted she was to him. The mystery that surrounded him made him even more appealing.
He was nothing like the usual clientele she was used to serving. He was the only person who every ordered any sort of red wine. Most of her patrons preferred the ales, lagers, and spirits, except for the white zinfandel that most of the women ordered. She had no idea why he kept visiting the dive bar. He was a breath of fresh air in a sea of stale beer and sweat.
“Sure,” she grinned at him and turned to pull a wine glass from the rack above her head. “Can I get you anything else?” she found herself glancing behind him, as she always did, expecting to find a beautiful woman as his companion.
“No, just the wine,” he said simply, almost impatiently. She poured the thick, red liquid into the glass and slid it across the bar to him.
“That’s four dollars and ninety-five cents,” she told him, as she held out her hand to receive the money he had produced from his wallet.
“Keep the change,” the man told her as he picked up the glass and walked away from the bar. Lucy stared in amazement at the hundred-dollar bill he had just placed in her hand. He was typically a great tipper, but this was exceptional. It was more than she would typically make in a night, considering the regulars rarely left more than fifteen percent, if they left anything at all. Quickly, she cashed out his bill and shoved the remains into her jeans pocket, making a mental note to pay her electricity bill first thing the morning. She was short this month, so his tip had saved her from getting her power shut off. Maybe he could read minds? Probably not, because then he’d be fully aware of how much she thought about him and imagined him ravishing her night after night.
When she glanced back into the bar area, Lucy noticed the man had taken his drink and settled down into his usual a corner booth, seemingly to sit as far away from the cluster of other patrons as possible.
Lucy turned back to her work, though now her head wasn’t really into it. She couldn’t concentrate knowing that someone so good looking sat just feet away from her. With every movement, she felt as though eyes were on her. Pull yourself together, she snapped at herself as she began pulling another row of glasses off their shelf. He is not watching you.
Chapter Two
Erik
The bar was quiet, just how Erik preferred his hunting grounds, searching out the very dregs of society to quench his guilt over the kills he had to make to survive. The beautiful woman behind the bar was a sight for sore eyes. Her long flowing blonde hair cascaded down the back of her black tank top, and whenever she stood, he could see her pale face reflected in the mirror on the back wall of the bar.
It seemed he was not the only one watching her though that night. Three men huddled around a table a few booths away. Erik didn't need to strain his ears to hear what they were whispering to each other.
"I bet she tastes sweet," one of them whispered.
"She'd look good tied up," another cackled.
"I bet I could make her scream." The third licked his lips before smacking them together hungrily. The vile words made Erik feel sick. The growing disrespect for women in society made his skin crawl, and he wanted nothing more than to break each one of their arms to stop them from ever touching her.
He fought the urge, knowing that he would give himself away if he did so. Even though the bar wasn’t crowded, there were enough eyes to leave witnesses. He didn't want to have to kill everyone just to prove a point to those fuckers. Even the stench of them made his nose curl. He’d found that his hunger subsided considerably, even without the aid of the red wine he bought for just that purpose.
Watching the three men across the room, Erik nursed his drink, taking small sips. One of them clambered out of his chair and headed for the bar, right for the fair-haired woman.
&nbs
p; "Three more beers, sweet cheeks." He wolf-whistled as she bent over to pull the beer bottles from the fridge behind the bar. The need to rip someone's throat out returned as Erik watched how the man's eyes strolled over her buttocks. To him, it felt just as bad as touching her.
He gripped the edge of his table so tightly that his fingernails gouged deep ruts into the wood.
"Control yourself," he muttered quietly and was relieved when the man paid and returned to his table with the drinks. It wasn't until he spoke that Erik realized he was looking back at him.
"You got a problem, pretty boy?" asked the bald man as he glared at him from across the room. Erik felt no fear at the obvious disrespect and frankness. Instead, he felt nothing but red hot rage.
"Yes," Erik said under his breath glaring back at the man.
"Did you say something?" The man demanded. "I can't hear you."
"I said, yes. I do have a problem," Erik said calmly, raising his voice only a little so that the pitiful excuse for a human could hear him. Everyone in the bar turned to see the confrontation.
"Well, go on then," the man said, as he tensed and turned to face Erik directly. "What’s your problem?"
Erik pushed himself up from his seat and began to walk towards the man. As he grew closer, the man's eyes grew wider. Erik soon towered over him like he did over most men. "I believe you need to apologize to the young lady for your rudeness."
"Rudeness?" The man looked startled.
"The whistle," Erik said coldly.
"I don't know about you, man, but where I come from, that's a compliment."
The other two nodded in agreement, and one clapped him on the shoulder.
"Well where I come from, it’s disrespectful," Erik sneered. He could not stop himself from clapping his hand down on the man's chest and gripping his t-shirt tightly enough to make his eyes bulge with fear. "Apologize to the lady," Erik demanded, barely able to keep himself under control. He could feel the man's heartbeat beneath his hand, and his fangs itched to protrude from his gums.
"I...I'm sorry." The man threw over his shoulder at the bartender. When Erik glanced over at her, he could see distress in her eyes. He suddenly checked himself, shoving the man down into his seat.
Erik had allowed himself to go too far. He could go no further. And so, he turned and strode quickly from the bar, trying to ignore the whispered comments he received as he went.
Chapter Three
Lucy
Almost an hour after ringing the bell for last call, Lucy finally managed to lock up. She turned the key in the door before shoving them into her jeans pocket and pulling her scarf tighter around her face to protect against the late autumn chill.
Adjusting her jacket, she turned and began to make her way down the street towards her small apartment. Her bed was calling her name, her body aching to sleep for a week.
The street was deserted, lit by one lone street lamp that flickered every so often, casting an eerie glow to the entire place. Lucy tried to push away the fearful chill that ran down her spine as she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. The temperature had dropped considerably since she'd walked into the bar at the beginning of her shift, and she began to wish she'd brought the jacket she'd considered wearing earlier that evening.
When she turned the corner into the alleyway that cut her journey in half, she realized something was wrong. The feeling that someone was watching her crept in so subtly that she almost missed it. Yet, there it was, that burning between her shoulder blades as her heels clicked on the cobbled floor of the alleyway. She shivered, telling herself not to look around.
The sound of footsteps heightened her senses, and she pinched herself in an attempt to remain calm.
"It’s just someone heading home after a night out," she whispered to herself. However, as the footsteps got louder and closer, she knew she was in danger.
The hand that reached out to grab her was large and meaty. It clamped down on her shoulder and spun her around too quickly for her to make an attempt at escape. Her mouth opened automatically to scream, but the hand's twin covered her lips before any noise was uttered.
"Hey there, beautiful," an oddly familiar voice called out to her. In the darkness of the alleyway, she couldn't focus on the face that loomed in front of her. "Where's your boyfriend now?" The stench of lager breath wafted over her as two more men appeared from the shadows further down the street.
Her mind raced. She had no idea what he was talking about. She didn't have a boyfriend. She didn't even really have friends. Not that she didn’t want friends; she just didn't have time to spare.
"He's not around to take care of her this time." A second man laughed, and as he drew closer, she recognized his bald head. Fear chilled her veins as she came face-to-face with the three drunk men who had been ogling her all night at the bar.
She remembered the handsome stranger who'd insisted on their apology earlier that evening, and she couldn’t help but hate his guts. Why couldn't he have just kept quiet like everyone else? She mentally scolded herself. But it wasn't his fault these three men were scumbags.
The urge to fight suddenly overwhelmed her, and before she realized what she was doing, her knee flew upwards into the crotch of the man who pinned her against the wall.
"Fuck!" he screamed, releasing his grip on Lucy and clutching himself in pain.
Lucy darted for the entrance of the alleyway, only to feel a rough, calloused hand grip her wrist and yank her backwards. Her back hit the jagged wall so hard that the air was knocked from her lungs. She gasped for breath as the bald man pressed his forearm across her chest to restrict her movement.
Something cold pressed against her neck, and utter horror burned through her as she saw the glint of the knife out of the corner of her eye.
"Next time you try something like that, I'll gut you," the bald man promised as he leaned close to her, so close that their noses nearly touched. The stench of his breath made her feel sick.
"What do you want?" she asked, and as she spoke, Lucy didn't recognize her own voice. It was small and quiet, like a mouse. All her courage was fading fast as her chance at escape closed.
"Well, first, I'd like whatever you've got in your pockets," the bald man explained. "Then, I want you on your knees."
Lucy was terror-stricken at what he was implying.
"Are you suddenly deaf or something?" The guy demanded, and Lucy felt the tip of the knife press against her throat.
Hot liquid slid down her neck, and Lucy knew it could only be her own blood. It pooled at the neckline of her shirt, and she could feel it soaking into the material, sticking it to her skin.
She gulped and then winced as the knife pricked her skin again. She could feel the tears burning behind her eyes, yet she bit the inside of her lip to stop them from falling. These men would not get the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
"Empty your pockets now," the guy on the left demanded. "Of course, we can do this the hard way, and I can strip search you."
Lucy panicked. She got the feeling that no matter how long it took, eventually her clothes were coming off. They were going to have their way with her. Maybe she could stall them?
Her hands shook violently as she reached down to her pockets and pulled out her cell phone and her tip money from the evening. Her thoughts drifted to the handsome, yet troublesome, stranger who had given her a nice tip earlier. Anger flared inside her again as she realized he was the reason she was in this mess now.
Still shaking, she was unable to stop the items from falling from her hand. One of the guys cursed as he bent down to pick them up.
Suddenly Lucy saw her chance—possibly her only chance—to escape, and she took it. Instinctively, she brought her knee up directly into the nose of the man who was bending down in front of her. An audible crack probably meant she'd broken his nose.
Blood continued to trickle down her neck, but she hardly noticed. Adrenaline pumped though her system, and as the other two men began to yell at their
wounded friend to go after her, she raced for the entrance of the alleyway. Her heart was in her throat as she stumbled forward, barely managing to remain on her feet.
The alleyway entrance was so close—only a few more feet. She could make it. Out of nowhere, a hand clamped on her arms and a huge bulking figure stood before her. She was stopped just short of the entrance that led back onto the street where she could scream for help, or at least race back into the bar. Her eyes widened, and she gawked at the stranger who held her. His crystal blue eyes blazed, and for a moment, he stared down at her as though she was the only thing he could see.
Then his nose seemed to twitch and his gaze turned to the trickle of blood that oozed down her neck and between her cleavage. She felt her cheeks grow red hot with embarrassment, or maybe fear, as she watched his jaw harden. There was a hungry look in his eyes that Lucy wasn't sure she liked.
"Get behind me," the stranger said through clenched teeth. "Don't go anywhere."
With that, he moved her as though she weighed little more than a feather, pulling her around behind him before turning his attention to the three men who were now sauntering towards them. The knife-wielding attacker pointed the tip in their direction while the man with the broken nose held his face, obviously in pain, his fingers coated with fresh, dripping blood. The third looked less confident than he had a few minutes earlier, and seemed to hang back as though he was having second thoughts.
"You again," the bald-headed leader spoke. "I thought you left."
"You thought wrong." The stranger’s voice grew deeper than Lucy thought possible. She was sure a deep growl rumbled from his chest, as though he were a lion defending his territory.
"You should have gone," the man with the bloodied nose laughed. "Joe's going to fuck you up."
