Darklands: a vampire's tale

by Donna Burgess

  “Enough!” Susan cried. “Don’t lay a load of religion on me. I don’t need to hear it.”

  “No?”

  Kasper raised the gun and shot her.

  chapter forty-three

  “Don’t cry, tough girl,” Kasper whispered, hot against Susan’s ear. Slowly, consciousness returned. Her feverish eyes were swollen with tears, and a searing agony had settled like an illness in the muscled curve of her waist.

  Still suspended from the ceiling, her hands remained bound tightly above her head.

  “You bastard,” she croaked.

  “Yes?” He grinned, and she noticed blood rimming his mouth. Hers?

  “How long was I out?”

  “Long enough.” He made a show of dabbing at the corners of his lips with a thumb and winked at her.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked. She wanted to throw up. She could smell her own blood. It coated her legs, cooling and as sticky as syrup. Glancing down at the ragged, gaping hole in her side, her knees buckled from the horror of it. Her mind played a stupid game of time with her—was this now or was it a dream? The heat of the Sunday morning outside a little white church in Hamilton flashed through her mind.

  Kasper had removed her clothing, and she wore nothing but her panties and bra. The skin on her arms and legs had puckered into gooseflesh, and her teeth chattered from both pain and cold.

  “It’s not like I killed you, Susan. Your beloved Devin has already done that. Of course, I could have finished you off. One shot, and it could have all been over.” Kasper touched her hair. “But not yet. Your little head is much too pretty to vaporize. I can see why Devin chose you.”

  He pressed his hard body to hers, and instead of pulling away, Susan flexed her ass against his groin. Kasper was aroused, and although it disgusted her, it was probably a good thing. It bought her more time to heal and regain her composure. Plus, it meant she had at least some control over him. As long as he was attracted to her, he would be easier to distract.

  Their eyes met for a long moment, and she saw that he was more haunted than hate-filled. What had he gone through to make him the vile creature he was?

  "You're not going to bite me, are you?" he asked. His voice became hoarse.

  "Don't flatter yourself," she answered.

  “I know you would like to feed. To heal.”

  “I’d rather die.”

  “Don’t worry. You will. Eventually. When I am finished with you.”

  Kasper reached up and traced the back of her arm with his fingertips, sending a shiver through her. Susan swallowed and clenched her jaw against the agony in her side.

  She smelled his sweat and the blood rushing beneath his skin. No matter what she told him, she would love to taste it. How she would love to suck mouthful upon mouthful down her throat and feel that wondrous mending begin to take place. If she could feed, the bleeding would slow. The pain would dull. Her mind would sharpen.

  Susan craned her neck, turning her face upward to his. “I’ll do what you want, Kasper. Just don’t hurt me again.”

  He seemed taken off guard. He dropped his eyes from hers, and she kissed him softly. He opened his mouth slightly, his tongue moving to meet hers. He slipped his arms around her and held her to him, giving the ache that had set into her arms a reprieve, but sending new waves of pain through her middle. He dipped his fingers into the yawning gunshot wound, and she groaned into his mouth.

  Kasper’s breathing quickened. This was working. Susan leaned closer to remain in constant contact with his body.

  He was putty in her hands now. She would find an opening and escape soon enough.

  Then, he abruptly drew back, smiling. “I’m calling your bluff, sweetheart.”

  He fumbled his fly open and removed his inflamed cock from his trousers. She got a glimpse of the white flesh of his lower belly, of the raised scar there—the black sun. The same mark Devin bore.

  Kasper yanked her bra off and tossed it aside. Next, he ripped away her lace panties. She writhed on the end of her chains, but he only wrapped his arms around her and held her against him.

  "Monster," he whispered.

  "Do I look like a monster, Kasper?”

  “I’ve heard that line of shit before,” he growled. He shoved one leg between hers and forced her thighs apart. “We’re both monsters.” He then grabbed her hips in his big hands and moved her onto him. Susan gasped as he slammed inside her. She felt impaled, as though she was being torn apart from the inside out. She wasn’t ready for him, and his cock felt as if it were made of sandpaper. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

  She watched Kasper’s face, lost in the swirl of sex, his eyes nearly closed, his stubbly jaw clenching and then loosening, his hard mouth becoming softer. After a moment, the movement became easier. She had started to bleed.

  Kasper’s movements were fast and brutal, his hands digging into the soft muscles of her ass, her hips, into the hole in her side. Susan closed her eyes and forced her mind away from there. There were moments when death was better. What kind of curse was this, this never-ending life?

  Shortly, his thrusts slowed, and with a low groan, he came. He clung tightly to her as his breathing settled, then opened his eyes and looked at her for a long moment. Her gaze drilled into his, and he lowered his eyes first, as if he were suddenly ashamed. Turning away from her, he closed up his pants.

  “Maybe I’ll keep you around for a while,” he whispered, more to himself.

  “Don’t do me any favors, you shit,” Susan said.

  Grinning, she stepped backward as far has her shackles would allow. Then, in one incredibly smooth motion, she flipped her legs upward and hooked them tight around Kasper's neck. Kasper’s fingers dug into her ass and the back of one of her thighs. She hooked one leg over the other and squeezed, her crotch pressing against his face. She gritted her teeth, wishing she had the strength to snap his neck.

  Kasper dropped to one knee. "This really doesn't bother me," he remarked, his sarcasm muffled against the cushion of her crotch. The blood and semen mixture that leaked from her smeared his face.

  She looked up, waiting for the right moment. Kasper struggled back to his feet, his fingers grabbing at her arms, at her hair and anything else he could get his hands on. Almost. She shifted her legs, making him stumble to the left. The chain moved up higher on the tip of the meat hook. She stretched up, as far as she could reach, tearing the wound in her side open even wider and sending a new gout of blood down over her hip onto the side of Kasper’s face. The pain was horrific, and she nearly fainted, but in the next moment, she was free.

  Clasping both fists together, she brought them down hard on the bridge of Kasper's nose, at the same time releasing her leg-lock on his head. She rolled headlong to the floor as Kasper fell backward on his ass. He scrambled after her on his knees. Blood was pouring from his nose. He wiped at it with his sleeve, but it continued to flow, over his chin and down the front of his shirt.

  Despite the pain and hunger, Susan was quick; it was something new in her that she loved completely. She had always been athletic and light on her feet, but this was incredible. Like a cat, she was on her feet and standing over Kasper. She landed a succession of sharp kicks to his ribs. But Kasper was still quicker. He grabbed her leg and snatched her other foot from under her. The back of her head struck the floor hard and consciousness drifted away for a breath.

  He yanked her to him, his breaths coming in wet, shallow gasps. "Fucking bitch! I didn't want to hurt you like this. I was going to keep you around long enough for you to say goodbye to Michael."

  He collapsed on top of her. He began to swing his fists furiously. Somehow, she instinctively blocked each punch, a dozen times, right, left, right, her wrists up and deflecting his big fists.

  "Fuck!" he screamed. Barely able to breathe through his broken nose, he sprayed her face with his blood. She ran her tongue out, tasting the saltiness of it. She laughed out loud.

  This infuria
ted him even more. He grabbed her by the throat, lifted her up, and then slammed her back onto the concrete in a football-style takedown. Stars reappeared before her eyes. There was a new wetness on the back of her head, tickling the back of her neck like warm, silky fingertips.

  "Fuck yourself," she offered drowsily.

  He grabbed a handful of her hair. She reached up, hands still bound together, and gripped his hand. But his hold was a lot better, and he jerked her head to one side. The tendons screamed, and she bit her lip from the sudden agony. Pain exploded and traveled upward into the base of her skull and downward the length of her spine. He pulled again, driving her head all the way down, her right ear brushing her right shoulder. Susan heard a dull, but audible snap, and then she blacked out. Was her neck broken? She felt like a drowning woman trying to find her way back to the surface of awareness. Was this something from which she could recover? Or would she be stuck, immobile, as he finished her off?

  However, no more than a moment passed before she regained some awareness. Still unable to move, she remained pinned beneath Kasper. He punched her again. Blood flooded her mouth. She spit it up into his face.

  He punched her in the side, and bolts of agony quaked through her body like currents of electricity. She lay motionless, unable to take in a breath.

  Kasper sat back on his knees. Finally, he climbed to his feet and then moved out of her sight for a moment. When he reappeared, he was carrying the shortened shotgun. He grinned down at her, his teeth stained red, and prodded her hip with the toe of his shoe. He sent a sharp, vicious kick to her wounded side.

  Susan found her breath, but she remained dangerously close to passing out again. She rolled onto her side and curled up, making herself as small as possible, hoping to protect her torn side. She wept loudly. She didn’t want Kasper Jacobsen to know he was winning, but he was winning. He kneeled down, set the gun aside and snatched her up by her hair. She stood on trembling legs, her body in agony.

  He touched her lips with the pads of his fingers. Then he pulled her face to his and kissed her deeply, his tongue searching her mouth.

  When he pulled back, she drove her forehead into his face.

  Kasper staggered backward, fresh blood streaming from his nose and busted lips. He shook his head and laughed.

  “You won’t stop, will you?”

  She fell to one knee, her weakened legs refusing to work. “Not until you kill me.”

  “It won’t be long,” Kasper said. He grabbed her hair again and slung her across the floor. He then snatched up the gun and stalked after her.

  "You put up a good fight, didn't you?" he whispered.

  With a cry, Susan rolled over and stared up at Kasper as he cocked the gun and leveled it at her head. She watched his finger dance on the trigger. She allowed nothing to register on her face.

  "There's no getting away this time."

  Just as she saw his finger move, she kicked both feet straight up and out. Both heels connected with Kasper's groin. The gun discharged, and Susan moved just enough to miss having her head blown away. Buckshot and bits of concrete tore at her cheek and shoulder.

  Kasper fell to his knees, and the gun clanked to the floor. At the same time, Susan managed back to her knees, and then her feet. She wobbled on her heels a moment, fighting to stay conscious.

  She scrambled after the gun, but Kasper wrapped his fist around the barrel just before Susan could get it. He knelt at her feet, holding his crotch. He turned his face up to hers, grinned and cocked the gun again.

  Just as Kasper raised the barrel, Susan drove her heel into his temple and sent him reeling backward. She ran toward the door without looking back, treading through the sticky mess of the little boy’s leftovers—brain matter, gluey, tacky blood, bone splinters that dug into the pads of her feet painfully.

  She battled with the heavy, industrial door. Her body was so weak that she was positive she would never manage to budge it.

  She was lightheaded, sick to her stomach, and short of breath. She had no energy and was still bleeding profusely from the gunshot, her shattered skull, and from the battering at Kasper’s hands. She threw her shoulder against the cold metal and pushed upward with a hoarse cry. The door lifted two feet, and then ground to a halt.

  “Shit!” She glanced back, expecting Kasper to be right behind her, but he was moving slowly, obviously in pain.

  She dropped to the floor and rolled beneath the door into the freezing December night. She ran as fast as her battered body could take her.

  chapter forty-four

  Susan emerged into the night and looked around, at first unsure of where she was. But just to her right, the old wooden coaster rose up against the gray sky like a sleeping dinosaur. The other way was the parking area and further beyond that, the street, a row of buildings, and then the beach.

  She sprinted toward the parking lot and the buildings. She would have an easier time finding a place to hide there.

  Hide. She was not one to hide, but now that was all she could do. Her feet pounded the pavement, which tore sharply at her arches and dug at the tougher flesh of her heels. The cold air was like a million needles stabbing at her naked skin, and her breath wafted upward from her lips like smoke.

  The docking bay door screeched as it rumbled open, and Kasper stumbled out, scowling and scanning the area for a sign of her. Amazingly, he didn’t seem to see her.

  “Don’t make it worse for yourself, bitch!” he called.

  Susan sprinted to the row of businesses along the beach and shrank into the pool of shadows until she was sure she was out of sight. Moving silently up the inky alleyway next to the tavern where she had last been with Devin, she spotted the ladder of a fire escape high above her head and out of reach.

  She leapt for it and missed badly, landing hard on one knee. Straightening up, stiff, trembling from cold, she began to weep again. Weak bitch, she scolded herself, and with a deep breath, she jumped for the bottom rung once again. This time, she wrapped her fingers around it. She swung there a moment and wondered if she would be able to pull herself up. Her side felt as if it was splitting open further with every move she made.

  “Come on, come on,” she muttered.

  She kicked her legs out hard, and the momentum propelled her just enough to plant her feet on the brick wall beside the ladder. With that extra bracing, she managed to find the next rung of the ladder. Fingers aching and arms shaking with fatigue, she climbed until she had her feet on the ladder, as well.

  Finally, she made to the platform and collapsed. From her new vantage point, she could see Kasper stumbling along the parking area, bent at the waist, the stubbed riot gun at his side. He didn’t look in her direction, and she remained motionless until he turned and headed back toward the rollercoaster.

  Once positive he wouldn’t look her way again, Susan got to her feet and leapt to snag the brick overhang. Using her feet to help her climb the wall, she hoisted herself onto the roof of the building. With an exhausted sigh, she collapsed onto her back. She gasped for air, but her lungs refused to expand. She wondered if she could indeed die, or would she just lie there in misery until someone took pity on her and finished her off.

  The odor of garbage mixed with the briny scent of the Atlantic danced upward. She choked back the urge to retch.

  Dear God, I am so cold.

  She lay on top of the building, the gravel surface clawing into her back, buttocks and legs like jagged fingernails. The wind was like death’s tongue caressing her shredded flesh. Her tears froze on the ends of her eyelashes, the rims of her eyes like sand. The bleeding had stopped, and her tongue grew thick from thirst. She couldn’t even dampen her lips.

  The sky faded to denim. The sun began to rise, and her time grew shorter. By now, Kasper must have shrunk back into the shadows. She could imagine him inside a dank and moldy coffin like some silly B-movie vamp with his hands folded over his chest. He would sleep with his gun, wary of some modern-day Van Helsing, as twisted as he was.r />
  The light had more strength than she realized. Even that sweet taste of orange that bled across the denim began to sear her skin. She thought of Devin. Of Michael. Of Peter.

  Finally, of Kasper Jacobsen.

  All of them broken in some way or another, just as she was.

  She wondered how terrible it would be to just remain there, to allow the sunshine, the thing that was always the sweetest part of childhood, to erode her flesh like battery acid. She wished to feel the flood of heat on her skin as she did when she was a girl, soaking up the rays as if she was absorbing its power.

  The sky turned the color of a bruise and then streaked like a child’s paint set. Her flesh grew tighter, losing all elasticity. Smoke rose from her in lacy wisps. Acrid and prickly, it stung her nostrils.

  She rolled onto her belly and slithered back to the edge. In one jerky motion, she threw herself from the roof. The fire escape platform caught her in its steely embrace, and pain surged through her left leg as her ankle caught the guardrail and snapped back like kindling across a knee. She had landed facedown, and the flesh of her back, buttocks and legs was seared as the first rays of dawn caressed it like an uncaring lover. She had to get moving if she wanted to keep any of her skin. Somewhere in her memory was something about burns becoming irreversible if too severe. Her body was a molten mass of agony.

  Despite the abuse from above, she was safe from Kasper’s rage now. He would never risk the sunlight, even to get his slimy hands on her.

  She imagined blood raining into her mouth from above, like red rain.

  She lay very still, gasping like a dying mermaid, searching for the strength to live, to move again, and to flee the sunlight like a wretched insect. Finally, she pushed herself up to her knees, and then to her feet, wobbly, drunken with frailty. All her weight was on her right leg; her left was turned inward at an impossible angle.

  The cold thrashed at her violated body, as the ever-brightening sun scorched it. With a breathless cry, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to tumble backward, pinwheeling like a leaf in the wind to the litter-strewn alley below.