Darklands: a vampire's tale

by Donna Burgess

  She felt powerful. When Michael was not around, she examined herself in the mirror, although that was becoming increasingly difficult to do. She had to stand at a certain angle to see herself clearly; otherwise, it was as if she was nearly transparent, a ghost. She blamed the stupid lighting in the old house, but in her heart, she knew it was something else. No matter. What did matter was how her muscles were more defined than they had ever been, even during her periods of intense training. She squeezed her fists and her biceps tensed, ready to spring beneath her skin. The long quads in her thighs were like those of a professional runner. She was lean, catlike. Confident. Deadly.

  The sunlight poured through their windows in the morning and created blaring headaches that rivaled her worst hangovers. She wished she could remain curled up under the covers most of the day. She couldn’t find sleep at night. The sounds that accompanied the darkness were deafening. The soft rush of the tides nearly drove her mad, and the muffled footfalls of a cat crossing their lawn drew her to the window, searching for the source of the sound.

  She no longer needed her contacts to see. In fact, the other morning she had forgotten to put them in altogether, but she didn’t notice until later when she saw the lens case, the lenses still inside and floating in the transparent solution. Her eyes were now so sharp she could focus on objects as small as an eyelash from across the room. It was slightly disconcerting how she could read the names of the shrimp boats, almost a quarter of a mile away, from the bedroom window without the aid of her lenses.

  She wanted Michael physically and in so many different ways, but she was terrified she might really hurt him. She lay awake at night and smelled his blood through his skin. She wanted to hold him, to taste him. Her mouth watered at the thought of the salty stickiness flooding her mouth. Would his blood be different from Devin’s?

  Many times, she thought Michael had spoken to her, but he said odd things—things he would never say. Ideas, really. Nothing more. She finally realized that she was either picking up his thoughts or else going even crazier. The latter was the most likely choice.

  Still, she knew Michael wondered about her sanity, and she didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that. Plus, he was frustrated with what he perceived to be a lack of interest in sex. He was concerned, but also felt neglected.

  Michael was a logical person. Explaining to him the things she had done in the past few weeks—died, returned to life, drank a man’s blood—would not make him understand. It would get her a vacation in a padded room.

  Susan needed to make things up to him, both for cheating on him and for neglecting him, but she resolved to keep herself in check. She would not give in to her darkest cravings. She stripped down to her bra and panties and knew he was looking at her, wanting her.

  “Come here,” she told him, as he was getting ready for bed. Her lips found his, her tongue probing, drawing his tongue into her mouth. His cock rose immediately, and she pushed him onto the bed, and then straddled him, massaging him through his clothes.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Michael asked.

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “God, yes.”

  “Then don’t ask questions,” Susan said. She freed him from the prison of his pants. He sat up and tugged his t-shirt over his head and then lay back down underneath her. He was hers now. She could do whatever she wanted.

  Susan bent and sucked hard at the skin of his chest, tasting the faint but wonderful hint of blood coursing just beneath the surface. She flicked her tongue around the hard nubs of his nipples and pulled at the hairs of his chest with her teeth. Michael slipped his fingers under the waistband of her panties, nearly tearing them off in his eagerness.

  She rode him with abandon. She had never felt so uninhibited, or so selfish, worried only about her own climax. In fact, she didn’t give a damn if he came or not.

  He cried out as he exploded into her and grasped her waist as if he had anything to do with her movements.

  She paid no attention and continued to rock against him, intent on her own building orgasm. She dipped her head low once again and nipped his throat with her teeth. She wanted so much the taste and the warmth of his blood beating quickly in the vein there. Yet, just before she tore into his flesh, she pulled away, gasping.

  She watched him as she climaxed, his intelligent face pulled into a deep frown of concentration. His fingers burrowed deep into the flesh of her ass. Normally, that would have caused wicked bruises to form later. Michael dropped his head back and a second, violent orgasm overtook him.

  Susan fell on top of him and stayed there until their breathing became normal again, and their galloping hearts slowed. A sheen of sweat covered both their bodies, but it was already growing cold. She moved off of him and pulled the covers over herself. She wanted to be close to him, but realized she couldn’t trust anything she did or felt. She was no longer in complete control of her mind or her body.

  Michael lay next to her, and a surprised smile touched the corners of his mouth.

  “Damn,” he whispered.

  Susan forced a smile. “What?”

  “Damn,” he repeated, now laughing.

  He held her until he fell asleep. When Susan was sure he was deeply asleep, she pulled away, then climbed from the bed and dressed in her nightgown and panties. She sat down in the reading chair by the window and looked at the moon shimmering over the bumpy surface of the ocean.

  What the hell was happening to her? She hated it; she hated herself for being unfaithful to a man who had never been anything but loving and supportive despite her crazy moments.

  And talk about crazy moments. She could have killed him. She could have drained him just as Devin had drained her. But, she didn’t yet have the experience to know when to stop. She was unable to pinpoint the brink of death in order to bring him back. And did she really want Michael to be anything other than what he already was—a kind, mild-mannered, normal man?

  A human. A term she was convinced no longer applied to her.

  It wasn’t worth the risk. She should leave. She only hoped she could last until Devin returned for her. She knew he had planned it this way—so that she had no option but to go with him.

  If he did not return soon, she would have to go to Charlestowne and search for him.

  ***

  Susan dreamed she was inside a closed casket. She reached out in the darkness, and her fingers brushed the inside of the lid, rough, splintering. However, as she awoke, the dream held fast. Moonlight spilled in through the window, but something was not right.

  “You’re taking all the covers,” Michael complained, still half asleep.

  “Sorry,” Susan answered. She reached out again, but that damned casket lid was still there. “Shit.” She shook her head in a sad attempt to untangle the cobwebs of sleep from her mind. She thrust her hands out, but her palms struck the cool, flat surface again.

  Fully awake now, she looked around her. She was floating. No, hovering. Her nose brushed the ceiling of their bedroom. Michael’s missing covers hung around her like a shroud. She jerked her head around. “Fuck,” she whispered. “Oh, fucking fuck.”

  She moved her arms and kicked her legs, but nothing helped. She felt panic rising, which was not good. She never allowed herself to panic. She wanted to scream, but bit it back. What the hell would Michael think if he woke to find her on the goddamn ceiling? She flailed about, thrashing her hips, and the sudden motion flipped her over.

  Now face down, the covers fell from her and back across Michael’s legs. He was on his side, his body tightly curled against the chill of the old house.

  Susan clenched her jaw. That stupid Devin. Somehow, he had caused this. She kicked her legs again, almost as if she were swimming in the air. She was so cold. Her hair fell forward into her face; she tucked it behind her ears, and then took a slow, deep breath.

  She closed her eyes and thought hard about getting back down to the floor or the bed without waking Michael. After a moment, she open
ed her eyes and looked around. She had not moved.

  She arched her back and again concentrated on dropping downward.

  Then, she fell, hard. Luckily, she landed mostly on the bed, one flailing arm striking the side of Michael’s head.

  “What the hell, Susan?” he said, sitting up and rubbing his ear where she had hit it.

  “Sorry,” Susan said. She pulled up the covers and nestled back down into the comfort and warmth of their bed. She caressed his cheek. “I was having a nightmare, I think.”

  “Oh.” He planted a kiss on her mouth, then lay back down and closed his eyes. “Okay, now?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I think so, anyway.” But, she didn’t sleep again until morning, when she was sure he had left for work.

  chapter twelve

  Susan sat awake watching the slanting rain come down and the lightning paint the low, swollen clouds that hang over the angry bay. The clock glared at her, red-eyed and accusing. She tortured herself with the memory of the taste of Devin’s sweet blood on her tongue.

  2:19 a.m. Michael had been called to the hospital on an emergency an hour ago. He had not been on E.R. duty since the confrontation with Alton Lee at Yeoman’s and did not want to leave her. Susan assured him she was fine and pretended to fall back to sleep as he hurriedly dressed.

  At the end of the bed, Elvis woke with a start and, growling low, darted into the closet. And then, like a dream, Devin was there, right beside her. Susan never even heard him enter the house.

  “Jesus. How did you get in here?”

  “One of our little tricks,” Devin said. “Remember?”

  “You're not supposed to trick me.” She could not make herself trust him, despite the fact that he had saved both her and Michael’s lives.

  “I’m sorry.” From where he stood, his face was half in shadow. He was soaked to the bone, his black t-shirt and jeans glued to his body. He seemed to detect her tension. “Don’t be afraid of me, Susan.”

  “How can I help it? What did you do to me, Devin? I woke up on the ceiling the other night.”

  He touched her face, and his eyes softened. “Didn’t you like it?”

  Susan shoved him away. “Like it? Are you kidding me? I feel as if I am dying all over again. I think of draining Michael’s blood when we make love—“

  Devin winced as she said that. “Don’t talk of making love with him. You no longer belong to him.”

  “I belong to no one,” said Susan.

  “You belong to me,” Devin told her, teasingly. He moved closer and took her wrists in his big hands. “You are tied to me, and you know it as sure as you know that the sun will rise.”

  “The sun will rise, but I won’t see it. I can’t stand the sun. I feel like every nerve is alive tenfold underneath my skin,” Susan said. She raked her hands through her hair and turned back to the window. “I can hear mice scurrying across the lawn. I can see the very blades of grass wavering in the breeze. I can smell Michael’s blood as it rushes through his veins.

  “I can’t stand it. I wish I could shut it off like a light switch.” She wanted to cry, but she would not allow this man to see it. Instead, she clenched her jaw tightly. From the darkness of the closet, Elvis growled again, deep and surprisingly loud.

  “Elvis hates you,” she said.

  “Never was a big fan of him, either,” Devin answered, grinning.

  “Yeah? Well, he was my cat, and now even he doesn’t like me.”

  “Animals can sense the change,” Devin told her. “They’re much more perceptive than pathetic humans.”

  He caressed her boldly, his hands roaming brazenly over her breasts. She stiffened and before she could stop herself, she balled her fist and slugged him in the mouth.

  “Well, you’re not especially perceptive, are you?” she snapped, but instantly, she wished she hadn’t hit him. Who knew what he would do in retaliation?

  Devin fell to one knee. “Still a little fighter, are you?” He flicked out his tongue and licked the blood from his bottom lip. Despite the pain, he seemed amused.

  “No doubt. Now, I want you to get the hell out of here.” Susan flexed her hand and wondered if she had broken her first two fingers.

  “I wouldn’t want you any other way.” He slowly straightened up. “I’ll not force you to go with me. In time, and very soon, too, you’ll want to go. You’ll not only learn that you need me, but you’ll grow to love me.”

  “You’re insane,” Susan said.

  “In fact, I think you already do. A little.” Undeterred, he moved toward her again. He bent and kissed her. She didn’t fight him this time. He was right, but she didn’t want to let him win so easily. Still, the taste of the blood on his lips, and then in her mouth, was too delicious.

  Gently, he turned her around and pushed her down onto the bed, his mouth barely leaving hers as they struggled out of their clothes.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she whispered against his face.

  “I’ll live.”

  She ached to have him inside her, and when he finally was, she hooked her fingers into claws and clutched his back and ass, pulling him even deeper into her. “I know what you need,” he whispered against her lips. “Do it.”

  Susan bit into the taut flesh of his throat, only a small wound, but it was enough. Blood began running warm and sticky-sweet over her lips. Devin held her much more gently than she held him, cradling her head in his hands and allowing her to drink, his hips still against hers.

  When Susan’s thirst was satisfied, she permitted him to drink from her, as well.

  Later, they dozed, tangled in the sweat-damp sheets, limbs locked, and Susan’s hair spread across Devin’s slowly rising chest.

  ***

  Susan awoke, mortified. The rain had stopped, and the sky had lightened to a pale purple. Dawn was still two hours away, but the clouds had moved, and the moon was bright and almost full through the window. Michael would be home soon. Ashamed of herself, Susan realized she had hardly thought of Michael since Devin arrived. How could she have been taken in so quickly by this crazy person?

  She sat up and punched Devin hard in the shoulder. “Wake up.”

  Devin opened his eyes a little. “Ready for another go?”

  “Have you lost your mind? Michael will be home any minute.”

  Devin rolled over onto his elbow. “So?”

  “This doesn’t really look good, you know,” she said.

  She threw the covers aside and got out of bed. She gathered up her nightshirt and underwear and dressed quickly.

  “Looks okay to me,” Devin said, appraising her with a wicked smile.

  “Don’t be an ass. Get dressed.”

  She watched him stumble awkwardly around to find his clothes, his naked body as white as marble in the moonlight. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and his hair stood up in spikes from sweat and rain. He was beautiful, and she bit the inside of her cheek to fight a smile. She felt better than she had in days.

  “You’ve done something to me, Devin. What was it?” she asked. “Hypnosis? Drugs? Vampires aren’t real.”

  Devin frowned deeply as he pulled on his jeans. “I don’t care for that word. It makes me sound like a monster.”

  “You are a monster. You murdered my brother.”

  “Christ! You’re not going to let that go, are you?” Devin said. “It was an accident, and you know it. Think, Susan. Remember everything about that night. For the last twenty years, you’ve made me into a monster in your head because that was the easiest way for you to deal with it.”

  “To hell with you,” Susan said. She snatched up her cell to see if Michael had phoned. Nothing. She tossed it onto the bed. She was relieved as he usually called as he left the hospital.

  “You know it’s true, Susan.” Devin said. “Now, do I look like a monster?” Taking her hands, he pulled her to him.

  Susan pulled away and wrapped her arms protectively around herself. “What about crosses?”

  Devin laugh
ed loudly. “What? Crosses? I’m not Count-fucking-Dracula. No, crosses won’t hurt me. I do find them to be a bit superstitious and antiquated.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and boots.

  “Garlic?”

  “Unappealing, but certainly not poison.”

  Susan moved closer, thinking of Peter wielding the broken bat at him. “Wooden stakes through the heart?”

  “Painful, but something we can recover from.” He stood again and put on his shirt.

  “What about the sunlight, then?”

  “Sunlight is a deal breaker, I’m afraid.”

  Susan sighed. For a moment, she thought her heart might explode. “I love the sunshine, Devin,” she said. “Why did you do this?”

  “You’ll learn to love the starlight equally as well.”

  “Bullshit. Tell me. What will happen if we are exposed to the sunlight?”

  “At first, your eyes will ache from the brightness. Then, you’ll begin to feel physically ill and get extremely weak. Too long, and your pretty skin will begin to blister.” He touched her face. “It would be like getting caught in an inferno. You’ll feel engulfed in heat. It would be a living hell. We cannot heal ourselves adequately from burns, understand?” he said. “I’ve seen others. They begged for death to come, lying there, hideous and tortured.”

  “How can we die, then?” Susan asked.

  Devin shook his head. “That, I will not share with you until I have your complete devotion.” He placed a small kiss on the tip of her nose. “Which shouldn’t take long.”

  “I’m afraid, Devin,” Susan said. “This isn’t what I wanted. I just want to be mortal again.”

  “We don’t always know what we want. There was a time when I wanted to be mortal again. But it wasn’t very long before my eyes were opened. Humans are the worst of all creatures, and you, of all people, should know that, Susan. Humans killed my children and my wife,” Devin said, his voice rising. “Not Deathwalkers. It was humans who killed your baby. Jesus! Sometimes I hate what I am, but I hate the alternative even more. At least we know what we are. We know we are killers. Why be so hypocritical about it?”