It was midnight. A cold breeze pushed its way through the street, and with it came the smell of rain. A sharp pain stabbed at Lucien’s gut. It had been almost two weeks since he’d fed last, but he didn’t mind. The pain helped him remember who and what he was: a monster.
As an old truck pulled out of the driveway, Lucien stood up and faced the little green house across the street. It was time. Finally Lucien could feed.
4
Lucien didn’t bother knocking. He announced his arrival by kicking down the door, splintering it into several pieces. A sawed-off shotgun was immediately shoved in his face by a skinny, long-haired man with scabs on his arms. Lucien grabbed the gun and smashed it against the man’s face, breaking his nose. The man screamed and covered his nose, but blood still sprayed from between his fingers. Lucien shoved him aside.
Inside the small living room, one woman was pressed into the corner screaming while another lay sprawled on a couch. She looked at Lucien with casual indifference, her pupils the size of the smoking light bulb lying on the floor next to her.
“Get out now if you want to live,” he said.
The screaming woman scrambled for the door, taking Broken Nose with her. The other girl with chin-length brown hair and eyes that looked more yellow than green smiled at him and closed her eyelids. Lucien didn’t try to wake her from her stupor. Instead, he let her enjoy the escape she had chosen from life. It would become her coffin.
Lucien ducked behind a corner when two pairs of feet pounded on the stairs leading up from the basement. Two men appeared, both holding handguns. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He stepped in front of them at the opposite end of the hallway, his hands balled tight and fangs extended. The men opened fire at the same time Lucien rushed them. Metal bullets tore into his body, some going right through him, but they did nothing to slow him down. The men backed up, their eyes widening as they continued to fire their weapons.
Lucien grinned wildly and attacked them through a spray of bullets. It was a simple dance for him, one he had perfected throughout the years. He dove in grabbed each of them by the arm, spun around until the guns were forced from their grip, then back around until they were each pressed against the wall, Lucien’s tight grip around their throats.
“You have one chance to live,” he said. “Leave now or die.”
The man-boys glanced at each other. Lucien released them from his grip and waited for their answer. At the same time, both men scrambled for the door, pushing and shoving just to get away. Lucien was glad they’d chosen wisely. He took no pleasure in killing, but he wasn’t a saint, either.
Lucien closed his eyes and concentrated on the other sounds in the home. A faint shuffling, as if someone was searching through articles of clothing, whispered through the house. There was one more human hiding. Lucien crept down the narrow hallway. A lone light flickered above, and the house smelled of stale beer and burnt chemicals.
A bedroom door on his right was closed. Just as he was about to kick it down, the door swung open, surprising him. A heavyset man with a tattoo of an eagle on his left arm fired an AK47 directly into his chest. Lucien crashed into the wall behind him, temporarily stunned. He slumped to the ground, pretending to be dead.
The fat man chuckled and stepped in front of Lucien. He bent down and, inches from Lucien’s face, spat, “Come to take my money? You dirty, piece of sh—”
Lucien’s eyes snapped open, and he snatched the man’s meaty neck and jerked him forward, his fangs easily slicing through the man’s thick skin. Lucien held him tight while he sucked in the human’s warm blood, which in turn heated his own cold blood in a matter of seconds. It was like stepping into a hot bath, and Lucien couldn’t help but moan in pleasure. But it wouldn’t last.
The large man’s body jerked and twisted in Lucien’s tight grip, clinging stubbornly to life. The initial pleasure turned to misery, and Lucien almost let go. He hated the taste of the last drop of life that man treasured most. Other vampires joked that it tasted like a maraschino cherry, but Lucien found the taste bitter and foul.
Lucien tossed the dead man to his side and leaned toward his knees, his stomach tightening into knots. He inhaled several sips of air until he knew he couldn’t take any more time. Police would be arriving soon.
He forced himself up, despite still feeling nauseous, and moved through the house, gathering any flammable objects he could find: cleaners, hairspray, paint thinner. He then crushed all of the containers and sprayed the liquids everywhere, including on the stacks of hundred dollar bills he’d found in the fat man’s bedroom.
Downstairs was a fully functioning meth lab. He didn’t spray anything down there—it would ignite on its own.
Lucien walked out the back door and lit a match. The orange flame dropped to the ground, and then licked at the trail of chemicals until it had entirely engulfed the run-down house. He stayed for a few minutes, the heat warming his face, but when sirens wailed in the distance, he stealthily maneuvered his way through the many backyards to his car at the park. Just as several cops raced by, their lights spinning and sirens blaring, Lucien jumped into his Hummer.
Surprisingly, Lucien’s thoughts didn’t linger on the man he’d just killed. Instead, he was thinking of breaking into the Deific, and that made him think of Eve. And before he realized it, he found himself driving in the direction of her house. There was something calming about her presence, and right now that was exactly what he needed.
Fifteen minutes later, he stepped over a small bike to climb the oak tree across from Eve’s house. He made it to the tallest limb possible before he finally looked over. The sight was enough to stop his heart from beating, if it actually beat.
The moon was full, hanging above him like a giant clock-pendulum. Its bright light bathed Eve as she lay upon her roof, staring at the stars. She wasn’t aware, or didn’t care, that her golden hair was spread upon dirty shingles. If ever there was a fallen angel, she was it.
Lucien gripped the tree tightly, the whites of his knuckles showing. It was painful to be so close to such a beautiful creature and not touch it. Of course, even if he could, he wouldn’t for fear his touch would destroy her.
For hours, she lay unmoving, breathing in and out quietly. The entire time, her eyes moved only to follow the moon’s retreat across the night sky. It was a slow and gradual process, and when the sun’s rays finally chased the moon away, Eve sat up and gracefully disappeared down the backside of the house.
Lucien sucked in the early morning air, letting his lungs fill to their capacity. He didn’t realize until that very moment that he’d been holding his breath the entire time.
5
There are moments in a person’s life they will remember forever. For most humans, these snapshots are often a graduation, a wedding, or the birth of a child. Other people capture simple moments like the joy of watching a sunrise or a first kiss. Lucien had never experienced any of these, not while human and never as a vampire—until now. This sudden emotion was foreign to him, and it bled something he didn’t understand.
He was still in this confused state when Eve opened her front door an hour later, wearing a cotton floral dress with a lime green sash around her waist. Her long hair hung down in great curls, and as she walked, they swayed carelessly across her back.
Lucien followed her every step, not deterring from the path even though he knew where she was going. The suburban houses turned into shopping centers, gas stations, grocery stores, and eventually towering skyscrapers. Eve ignored it all—it was the people she noticed.
A woman with unkempt red hair and a long overcoat passed by Eve. Eve stopped abruptly and turned around just as the red head ducked into a nearby bar. Eve followed her inside.
The small building, made from black painted cinderblocks, only had two barred windows in front, one on each side of the door. On the roof, a bright green neon sign flashed “Billy’s”. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, no doubt late night customers who were too drunk to
drive home.
Lucien wandered around the side of the building and waited. Eve didn’t strike him as someone who would drink this early in the morning, but then what would she want with the red head? He tried to listen for her voice over the loud bar music, but he was only able to catch a few words that he recognized as hers.
After a while of leaning against the side of the bar like an uncommitted alcoholic, curiosity got the best of him. He peeked inside the grease-stained window. Eve was in the corner with the red head, her back slightly to the front door. If he was quick, he could sneak inside and sit at one of the bar’s few booths. Just then, one of the bar’s patrons stood and moved toward the door. This was his chance.
The male customer opened the door. Lucien waited until his back was to him before he slipped inside just before it closed. The bar was poorly lit except for the many neon beer signs crowding the walls. Only three males and four females, including Eve and her new friend, sat throughout the bar. Many of them were hunched over, looking completely wasted. The only two talking were Eve and the red head. Despite the music, he could hear Eve much better from inside.
Eve was leaning toward the woman in a private booth in the corner, comforting the red head who was crying. She held the woman’s hands in hers as the woman spoke of her failing marriage and her own desire not to live. The conversation was wearisome for Lucien, who thought it absurd that the woman might actually kill herself because her idiotic husband had cheated.
Red sniffed. “He was my life.”
“No, he was in your life,” Eve clarified. “Don’t let yourself believe your life is meaningless without him.”
Red nodded wearily. “How could I have been so naïve? All the signs were there.”
“You wanted to be loved,” Eve said, her tone matter-of-fact, yet Lucien sensed something more. A slight distortion in her voice that made him think of a single word: pain.
They chatted for a few more minutes and then, after a long hug, Eve said goodbye to the red head. Lucien hunched over, his back to her, as Eve left the bar. He waited a few minutes before he continued his pursuit. Lucien wasn’t sure what Eve had just done, but he got the distinct impression that she’d just saved the woman’s life.
The sun was high in a cloudless sky of bright blue. Lucien removed his jacket to release some of the heat pressing against his skin. The sunlight wore on him physically, but only a little—nothing a dark place couldn’t cure.
Eve turned a corner. She was almost to the Deific when she passed a skinny cop with wavy, shiny black hair. He was writing out a ticket for an illegally parked car.
“Excuse me, sir?” she asked, smiling big.
The cop turned. His jaw dropped and he looked her up and down. He quickly regained his composure. “Yes?’
Eve stepped close and batted her eyes. “I seem to be lost.”
“Where are you trying to go?”
“Sunrise Café. It’s a coffee shop nearby.” She reached out and brushed his arm at an invisible piece of lint.
“Um, it’s just around the corner. That way.” He pointed past her, his face reddening.
Eve grabbed his hand suddenly. “Oh my!”
“Wh—What is it?” the cop stuttered.
“Your hand! It’s so big!” She caressed his palm, trailing her fingers up and down his skin and across a wedding band on his left index finger.
Lucien, partially hidden within a small entryway of a pharmacy shop, raised his eyebrows. Who was this woman? One minute she’s telling a girl to leave her cheating husband, and the next she’s flirting with a married man.
The cop’s mouth opened into a silly grin. “I get that a lot.”
“I bet you do! What’s your name?”
“Adam.”
Eve laughed out loud. “Adam? How funny!”
“How come?”
“Because my name’s Eve.”
He chuckled.
“Adam, how would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?”
The smile on his face disappeared, and he stepped back. With firmness, he said, “I’m sorry, but I’m married.”
Eve smiled. “She must be the luckiest person on earth.”
The cop nodded as if had never considered this before. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Have a good day, okay?” she said in a sincere voice and walked away.
The officer mumbled something back through a silly grin.
Lucien waited for Eve to disappear beyond the black door and into the Deific before he dialed Scott’s number.
“Could you have a car dropped off at the Sunrise Cafe on 5th?” he asked.
“No problem. Something happen to yours?”
“I ditched it somewhere.”
There was a short pause, then, “How’d it go last night?”
“Perfect.” Lucien hung up the phone. That one word gave Scott enough information to know that the job had been completed successfully.
A short time later, two identical black Chevy Impala’s parked in line with each other next to the sidewalk. From each vehicle stepped out two men in business suits. Lucien knew they were there for him. Scott’s favorite car was the Impala.
As he approached them, they puffed up their chests, obviously insecure of their size compared to Lucien’s. Neither of them looked him in the eyes.
“Lucien?” the first asked.
He nodded.
“Here you go.” He dropped a set of keys into Lucien’s hand then ducked inside the coffee shop with his partner.
Lucien slid into the black leather seat behind the steering wheel. He used to like Impalas when it was a powerful rear-drive V-8, but the newer models were only a V-6. In his mind, Chevy had ruined a once magnificent car. Lucien tried to make himself comfortable while waiting for Eve to reappear. He turned the radio on to a heavy metal station and sunk into the seat.
It was just after noon when the Deific’s black door opened, and she walked out. Charlie was by her side again. Instead of signaling a cab, they walked down the sidewalk, their conversation focused on something that was going on with the New York office.
Lucien waited a few minutes before following, remembering how Charlie had acted when he’d passed Lucien’s car the other day. There was something off with him, which made Lucien cautious. In his experience, “off” was never good.
A couple blocks over, Eve and Charlie walked into a crowded Italian restaurant. The hostess guided them to a table on the right. When she returned, Lucien stood waiting for her.
“Table for one?” she asked beneath thick eyelashes.
“Yes. Over there, please.” He motioned to the opposite side of the dining room away from Eve.
Thankfully, the restaurant was huge and in the middle of a lunch rush. Several black partitions partially separated different areas of the dining room.
“Follow me,” the hostess said. The hostess weaved in and out of the tables, glancing back at him several times with a seductive smile.
“This one,” Lucien said, stopping at a table that would give him a small view of Eve. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Several heads of seated customers moved in and out of his view. There were too many people for Eve to take notice of him even if she did look his way.
“Here you go,” the hostess said, handing him a menu. Her hand lingered over his briefly before she pulled away.
He tightened his lips into a thin smile, trying hard not to show his annoyance. This is why he didn’t go out in public. His mask naturally lured people to him, but if they only knew what lay beyond his seemingly perfect exterior, they would avoid him at all costs.
After the hostess left, Lucien used his sensitive hearing to zero in on Eve’s conversation, blocking out all others.
“Are you ever going to order something other than Alfredo?” Charlie asked.
She laughed. “Why should I? I like the Alfredo. It’s a creamy, flavorful dish spread over thick homemade Italian noodles.”
“They should put that in the menu.”
“I
t is. See?”
He glanced down at the menu.
“You should try it, Charlie. You’ll become hooked.”
“I prefer the steer to the noodle. My teeth need something to tear into. Why don’t you try something different?”
The waitress approached their table almost at the same time Lucien’s waiter arrived at his.
“Welcome to Antonio’s. Our specials are—”
“I’ll have the Alfredo,” Lucien said.
“Very good, sir. And to drink?”
“Water’s fine.”
The older waiter nodded and walked away. Lucien returned to Eve’s conversation.
“Oh, and I’ll also have a side of sautéed mushrooms,” she told her waitress. “There. Are you satisfied? I ordered something different.”
“How very brave.”
Eve sipped from her glass and lowered it. "I heard from Sarah today. She got engaged, can you believe it?"
“Good for her! I’m not surprised though. When I spoke to her on the phone a few days ago, I had a vision of a young man proposing to her.”
Lucien cocked his head to the side. A vision? What did he mean by that?
"I can’t wait!” Eve said. “I’ve never been to a wedding.”
The waitress brought to their table a tall glass of milk for Eve and a soda for Charlie. Lucien thought it strange that she’d ordered milk. Nobody did that. Of course, nobody did a lot of things he’d seen her do recently.
“Michael called from Ireland,” Charlie said.
Lucien visibly jerked at the name of his birthplace.
“What’s he doing in Ireland?” Eve asked.
“He said something big is going down, but he couldn’t really talk. He’s supposed to email me more info later today. I called the Dublin office, but they don’t have a clue what he could be talking about.”
“Are you worried?”
“Yes. Michael doesn’t call unless it’s important.”
Eve looked out the window. Charlie looked at her. They sat in silence for a long moment.
“Are you happy here?” Charlie asked her suddenly.
The Devil's Angel (Devil Series Book 2) Page 3
