Fear the Light

by William Massa

  Facing Vincent was none other than… Sasha.The love of his life. The woman Vincent had mourned for the last few decades. Sasha seemed as radiant as he remembered her. Her face was flawless but the beauty it projected had been dulled. The playful twinkle in her eyes, the open smile, the way she would toss her hair back when she laughed... all these qualities had been stripped away and replaced by a far darker quality, a coiled intensity and ferociousness that made her seem like another person. It was almost as if his Sasha had exchanged her soul with someone else. Physically the same but now possessed by a different spirit.

  Vincent exhaled as if punched. “It can't be... you're dead...” He advanced, still reeling. He noticed Sasha had one arm hooked around Maria. The poor woman was beyond terror, a mere shell of her former self. “How? Angelique said they killed you.”

  “They tried. They almost succeeded,” Sasha said.

  “I don't understand...”

  “The master and his flock saw my broken body disappear into the ocean but below the waves, part of me survived.”

  Sasha leaned closer. Her lips touched Vincent’s mouth and for one split second, Sasha’s memories became his, their minds intermingling the way they had so many times before...

  Vincent found himself on a beach. Sasha sat shackled on a wide expanse of sand. Angelique, Dracula and the other members of the clan watched from afar. As the sun rose on the horizon, they vanished inside blacked-out cars parked across the sand. Behind polarized windows, they observed.

  Sasha scrambled to her feet, sunlight dappling the beach, the rays assaulting her. The strand stretched for miles; there was no place to hide or seek shelter.

  Steam hissed off her body and her skin grew black. Her scream reverberated across the barren stretch of sand as she plunged into the ocean, the waves engulfing her flaming remains. As the boiling water closed over Sasha’s head, the world grew black...

  And Vincent was back in the chateau, eyes fixed on his love. But Sasha was not done yet. Sasha clawed his wrists, nails digging into bone, her memories blending with Vincent’s once more, ignited by a dark urgency.

  A new image appeared. Some time had passed and we now looked up through a lapping curtain of ocean water at a fishing trawler bobbing on rough seas. A shadow grew before us - an incoming fishing net.

  A school of panicked fish surged as the net closed around us, their silver bellies shimmering in the moonlight. The net tightened its hold, the movements of the now trapped fish growing more desperate with each successive second of captivity.

  A rush of motion as the haul was lifted onto the slippery deck of the fishing boat. The net hung in the air for a moment before swinging toward the deck.

  Our angle changed and we caught a glimpse of the swirling ocean below us before it was replaced with the slippery, fish-guts-strewn deck of the trawler. The net was lowered and the weight of all those fish pressed down on us as the deck came up. The net opened and we spilled across the deck in a rain of writhing, gasping fish bodies.

  One of the fishermen leaned over to inspect the catch, slipped on the slick deck and bumped his head. Blood ran down his face and a few drops of the crimson liquid speckled the net.

  SOME LANDED ON US.

  We looked down at our hands to find them charred and coal-black. But the droplets of blood seemed to blow the ashes away, allowing skin to regenerate.

  While the wounded fisherman staggered back to his feet and rubbed his bleeding head, we rose from the net. The fisherman stared, slack-jawed. But his surprise made way for the glassy look of the dead as his throat was torn apart and his body spilled across the mass of flapping fish, his blood mixing with the ocean water’s salt...

  Sasha pulled away from Vincent. Her perfect beauty had started to show its first cracks, her once-flawless skin now mottled with ugly pink scar tissue. The skin would heal, creating a momentary illusion of perfection until the scars broke out again, a never-ending cycle of decay and rebirth. It was as if Sasha was fighting off a cancer - she could slow it down but not defeat it.

  “I survived but I'm not the same,” Sasha said. “My powers diminished, my body covered in scars no amount of blood could ever heal.”

  “Why didn’t you get in touch? Why have me believe you were gone?”

  “I couldn't risk revealing myself to you, my sweet Vincent. The clan would’ve mercilessly hunted me down. And I couldn’t put you in danger. I had to regain my strength, bide my time…”

  So you could plot your revenge, Vincent mentally added.

  “I didn’t want you to see me like this. See what I’d become.”

  The words pained Vincent. Sasha had been hiding from him for all of these years, afraid that he’d reject her on sight. How wrong she had been.

  “The clan may have failed to kill me, but they did destroy me.”

  “What about Maria and Paul?”

  “I was weak, unable to go up against the clan by myself. I needed help. Someone on the inside. Someone they wouldn’t see coming. A human willing to do my bidding for a taste of immortality.”

  “But you killed him.”

  “I could never trust a man who was willing to betray his own woman.”

  “What about the promise you made to yourself? You vowed to never feed on humans.”

  Sasha scoffed as she spoke. “And look what it got me.”

  Vincent shook his head, anger welling up. “I mourned you all these years and had no clue of the clan’s involvement in any of this.”

  “You were never in any danger, my love.”

  Vincent didn’t look convinced.

  “I knew you’d overcome any challenge I’d sent your way. I didn’t trigger the last window in the dining hall until my surveillance cameras showed me you’d spotted a way out.”

  “What about those mercenaries?”

  “I knew they were no match for you. Paul thought they were an hour late, but I constructed the timetable knowing they wouldn’t get here until the sun was almost down.”

  Vincent’s face filled with sudden understanding.

  “You wanted me to kill them?”

  “I had to make you unlearn the foolishness I taught you all those years ago. You needed to rediscover your strength and sense of purpose. Reconnect with who you once were.”

  “What about the things you used to believe in?”

  “Dracula managed to teach me one important lesson - I was a fool for thinking we could go against our nature.” Sasha's eyes glittered with fanatical glee and her voice hummed with unbridled hatred. She had physically survived Dracula's attack, but her second lease on life had come at a steep price – her soul. The woman Vincent loved had indeed been destroyed on that fateful day on a faraway beach.

  Unaware of the dark thoughts that passed through Vincent’s mind, Sasha continued. “Together we can create a new clan, Vincent. A glorious new beginning for our kind.”

  Vincent regarded Sasha, unable to believe that the woman he’d known and loved could give voice to such terrible thoughts. As she stepped back, Sasha’s features were whole once again, untarnished by any signs of trauma.

  She can make the scars on the surface disappear, Vincent thought, but the damage on the inside was a different matter.

  “I'm sorry, but I can't,” Vincent finally said.

  Sasha glowered at Vincent, unwilling to accept what she was hearing.

  “You've spilled blood today, Vincent. All it took was a little nudge to push you out of the light and back into the darkness where our kind belongs.”

  Sasha’s eyes filled with the beginning of an idea. Before Vincent could react, she drew a sharp nail across Maria's throat. The woman let out a stunned gasp. Blood oozed from her neck. Her legs grew wobbly, caved in and she crumpled to the floor. Vincent's eyes remained riveted to the spurting gash across her throat.

  The blood seemed to hum with life, its steady susurration beckoning him. Vincent's eyes flared with a dark hunger. Sasha yanked Maria’s head back by her long black hair, exposing t
he mortal woman’s beautiful neck. Her thundering heartbeat assailed Vincent’s senses, becoming an overwhelming temptation.

  Vincent's fangs grazed her flesh, almost puncturing the skin... He was about to give in to the dark call when he stopped himself.

  An eternal moment. Vincent was surprised by his own reaction, not quite sure what made him hesitate. Instincts collided with his conscience and every molecule of his being screamed as he willed himself away from Maria.

  He was back in control. A decision had been made.

  The vampire hunters were an exception to the rule, his need to survive overriding all other considerations. Maria was different. She was helpless, a victim in all of this, forsaken by the very man she had given herself to. And Vincent knew much about that particular subject. The clan had betrayed Vincent and Sasha, but in turn she had betrayed everything she stood for. This vicious cycle had to end.

  Vincent’s gaze locked on Sasha’s face, sadness and loss in his eyes. “You're wrong, Sasha,” he said, his voice strong and powered by a newfound conviction. He had needed to stare into the abyss to see the light.

  Lightning flashed outside, thunder cracked. Vincent could feel Maria observing him through a haze of fear and confusion. It was clear she didn’t understand what was happening or how Vincent and Sasha were related to each other but she sensed the gravity of what was unfolding. This wasn’t a battle of wills but a battle for Vincent’s very soul.

  Sasha broke the silence. “Very well, Vincent. If you refuse to join me, then I can't trust you.”

  Without warning, Sasha brought up a stake in one swift motion. Vincent realized it was the exact same one she must have used to kill Zane. There was no hesitation as Sasha drove the spike into Vincent's chest and even though he had expected her reaction to be violent, his eyes widened with incredulous shock. Pain ripped through his body as he careened backward but he was still alive, the stake having failed to penetrate his heart.

  Vincent's fingers closed around the stake and began to pull it from his chest, one excruciating inch at a time, the silver slick with the blood of the men he had fed on mere moments ago. The gory spike clattered to the floor. The exertion had taken its toll on Vincent. His knees buckled and he lost his footing. Vincent crumpled to the floor right next to Maria. Sasha closed in, revealing the silver scythe she had used to decapitate Rafael. She was gearing up to deliver a death blow. “I'm sorry, darling...”

  Sasha would never finish her sentence, as Maria made her move. She snatched the bloody stake Vincent dropped and brought it up, channeling a last reserve of strength. Sasha’s eyes grew wide as the bloody stake burst from her chest cavity. Unlike Sasha, Maria hadn't missed her target. The stake had punctured Sasha’s heart. The scarred vampire let out a keening shriek and crumpled face-first to the floor. She might be dying, but there was still some fight left in her. She pushed herself erect, her eyes blazing with hatred as they fixed on Maria. Whatever little time Sasha had left, she’d make damn sure Maria would perish along with her. As Sasha readied herself for one final, devastating attack, a streak of silver arced across the room and the sickle-shaped blade, now wielded by a grim-faced Vincent, found Sasha’s exposed neck and separated her head from its heaving torso.

  Together, Vincent and Maria had succeeded where the clan had failed. The silver scythe shook in Vincent’s hand, the blow vibrating up his outstretched arm and into his shoulder. Tears of blood were streaming down his face. He had slain the woman he loved. But deep down he knew the woman he’d once known, and worshipped, would’ve wanted it so.

  Sasha was gone. And this time she wasn’t coming back.

  Vincent knew he had done the right thing, but it didn’t make it any easier. He let out an anguished gasp, a terrible cry that shook the windows of the house and momentarily drowned out the storm raging outside.

  Silence followed.

  Despite the pain in his face, Vincent managed to pick himself up. An incredible effort. He stood there for a protracted moment, a creature of pain. His dark gaze shifted toward Maria. Saw her bleeding out across the floor. She was fading fast, succumbing to her wounds.

  Once again a woman had saved him but this time he didn’t need to let her die.

  This time could be different.

  Vincent circled Maria and with one rapid stroke, slit his own wrist. To his surprise, Maria didn’t seem afraid. “You’ve lost too much blood. You’re dying. But there’s another way.”

  Maria studied Vincent and considered the dark blood oozing from his open wound. The offer had been made, but Vincent would not force it upon her. Maria knew what Vincent was and what she would become. She could remain human and die or become a vampire and live.

  It only took seconds for Maria to make her choice.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MOONLIGHT SPARKLED OVER the waves as they lazily lapped up the receding shoreline. Most of the surfers and tourists had traded the oceanfront for their favorite night haunts. The beach now belonged to the dog walkers and an occasional jogger. Near the bike path, an elderly couple walked hand-in-hand, sharing a comfortable, loving silence.

  Standing near the foaming water was Vincent, features edged into sharp relief by the nocturnal glow. He was back in Venice and it felt good to be home. He had quit his bartending job – after the events in Paris, serving drinks to drunken beach bums had lost some of its appeal. Vincent didn’t know what the future held, but tossing drunken fools on the street wouldn’t be part of it.

  The waves crested and fell.

  Vincent held up the gold locket and it refracted the pale moonlight. The events at the master’s chateau had taught him a vital lesson. The greatest danger to a creature that could live forever was the power that their own past held over them. The past could make someone build a fortress constructed from long-faded memories and surround themselves with the trappings of another age. It could make one cling to and yearn for long-lost lovers. It could make people kill and get them killed. Feelings could be distorted and amplified through the lens of time, erasing all hope of a fresh start.

  Vincent had been guilty of this but unlike the other members of the clan, he had been given another chance. He intended to make the best of it.

  Vincent hurled the locket into the foaming ocean. The jewelry disappeared under the water's dark surface, vanishing from the world. One day it might wash up somewhere and some stranger separated by time and space would marvel at the image of the beautiful woman it held, unaware of her tragic story.

  A figure joined Vincent. Maria, her fangs bared, a vampire now. Vincent had offered her two choices back at the chateau, and she had chosen life. Vincent had demonstrated that becoming a monster didn’t mean one had to live as one, and this had made the decision easier. Only Maria knew for sure why she accepted Vincent’s dark gift, but he was glad she had.

  The vampire couple made their way across the dark beach, accompanied by the steady, soothing surge of the ocean. There was a palpable bond between them that had grown in the weeks since they had left France and returned to the States. Vincent knew he couldn’t change who he had been in the past, but he could choose who he’d become in the future. He had faced the darkness and no longer feared the light.

  Vincent took Maria’s hand and the two vampires vanished into the starless night.

  THE END

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  OCCULT ASSASSIN: ICE SHADOWS

  CHAPTER ONE

  WHIRLING SNOWFLAKES LANDED on Kristin’s face like icy kisses as her athletic frame hurtled down the steep mountain at fifty-plus miles per hour. Sending sprays of powder into the air, she skied with the skill and carefree abandon of someone in their mid-twenties. All around her, a state-of-the art lighting system turned the tree-lined slopes into an azure, phantasmagorical winter wonderland.

  Kristin had arrived in Bergen, Norway, less than 48 hours earlier. Originally from Oslo, she worked as an account executive for a large advertising firm in London but tried to visit as often as her hectic schedule permitted. After the failure of her most recent romantic relationship, a doomed coupling with a French commercial director, the mountains of her homeland had been calling her.

  Ahead the trail forked and Kristin opted for the steeper, more challenging backcountry chute. Twilight deepened and the woods grew dark. With fewer light poles available, she’d have to rely on her other senses. She tightened her body, further increasing her speed.

  For a moment her problems ceased to matter and she felt in complete control. How she wished some of that confidence extended to her love life. She had tried to convince herself that Pierre was just a fling, but she was heartbroken. Their relationship had lasted for less than a month before the flowers and fancy dinners gave way to unanswered calls and unreturned texts. After three days of radio silence, she’d gotten the hint – the Frenchman had moved on. Why had she thought she could tame a well-known Lothario and heartbreaker?

  She was pulled out of her thoughts when her eyes landed on an unexpected obstacle directly ahead. A six-foot high wall of ice blocked the narrow trail. The blockade flexed and rippled in the starlight. She’d seen videos of ice heaves, tsunami-style waves of frozen water rippling over shorelines and damaging homes. She had forgotten the science behind the phenomenon, but she did know it occurred near lakes and required strong winds. So what had triggered such a strange anomaly at this high altitude? And why did it only seem to be affecting the ski trail?