by Lyra heart
George left the park he spent the day wandering the metro. He needed blood to be spilt on the knife in his pocket. There was no reason he shouldn’t enjoy the kill, whatever girl it would be. Why not kill a girl like Chloe? he thought. It would be poetic.
That night, in a pub in the heart of London, George observed the youth as they socialized. He waited until last call, for a girl with a candy-pink dress and black stilettos to leave. He followed her as she stumbled her way to the taxi rank.
“Excuse me, your friend told me you left this?” He revealed her mobile phone, which he had swiped from her bag earlier.
“Oh, God. Thanks!” Drunkenly, she went to grab the phone from his hand.
George grabbed her wrist. They were near enough to the taxi rank for people to hear her scream, but too far away for anyone to see the identity of her killer. In one swift move, he drove the knife into her heart. Turning it, he then dragged it down to her abdomen. The crunching sound of her ribs cracking deeply excited him. His hand pressed against her mouth, he bit into her neck as she died in his arms. It was a cruel death. He loved how she looked a little like Chloe, but fragile, breakable, just like a voodoo doll symbolizing all og the resentment he felt for Chloe.
Retrieving his knife, he left the scene. He had enjoyed watching his victim drink vodka, talk to her friends, and be happy before her death. He had even tasted the alcohol in her blood, a pleasant addition. He walked past closed high street shops and houses until dawn showed its face. Soon the trains would be opening up again and he could make his way home. When he was finally aboard he felt some relief to think of Jasmin carrying on, alive and well.
When he returned home he laid the knife before Chloe. She looked at him with excitement. She sniffed the knife, and then let her tongue glide over the bloody blade. She closed her eyes, feeling the life that had been taken.
“You didn’t bother to clean the girl’s blood from the knife? Classy. I like it,” she said. “What was it like? Did you enjoy it? Did she taste good?”
“It hurt. It was like being stabbed myself. I tasted her only briefly as she died.”
6
Chloe was invigorated by thoughts of her plan; she was ready for it to happen. She could see it in her mind’s eye, the bright light as the door to her world opened and Nolan stepping through. She had brought Jay, Lance, and George together that day. The two newly turned vampires looked at her vacantly, but she could see the contempt in Lance’s eyes.
“The spell requires five deaths. ” She addressed all three boys with a serious tone.
“Five deaths sounds easy enough. But why have you waited ten years for this?” George asked.
“The spell can only be conducted once every decade.” She hated to even consider the spell failing again. “I tried the spell as soon as I arrived in this reality. I did it alone, but the magic that controls it was still drained from the first time the doorway opened.”
Chloe gave Lance and Jay both two vials and one to George. They would fill each vial with blood from one of the sacrifices. She explained how each of the murders needed a different execution.
Chloe could see the contempt written on Lance’s face. “You got a problem with my plan?” she asked Lance sharply.
He looked down at the carpeted floor. “No, Chloe. I accepted my orders.”
“Yeah, yeah. Right. I know how much you hate me. You’re brewing with contempt inside that little mind of yours. I can taste it. Yet, there’s jack-shit that you can do about it.” Chloe’s tone was triumphant.
“I’m looking forward to it!” George said.
Chloe knew her most favored lackie was looking forward to the kill. He was a natural to the vampire’s hunting nature and always had been. She felt how he craved it, burned for it.
“Get going boys!” Chloe beamed. “I want to see the blood flowing in the name of my spell. Remember to converse with each other, how you’re going to kill your victims, because if the kills are the same the spell isn’t going to work. You don’t want to make me angry, now do you?” She looked at the boy’s—they were soldiers in a row awaiting marching orders.
Pain resonated from Lance and Jay. Neither of them wanted this life with its violence, even though it provided immortality.
“I get it,” Chloe said. “Jay. Lance. You’re not fans of being made into a vampire. You know what? I’ll never care. You’re mine. And if you fuck up, if you dare fuck up… I’ll make you murder your families. So we are cool right? No one’s going to mess up?”
“Well?” George said, addressing Lance with aggression.
“I already gave my word,” he growled.
“Jay?” George said.
“I promise. I swear on my mother’s life. I wont fuck up,” Jay replied.
“Well that’s that!” Chloe grinned. “Get your asses out the door and start killing!”
* * *
George sought out a few calling cards for prostitutes, one of his favorite types of victims. He studied the cards and the pictures of the sexy women offering themselves for money. He couldn’t decide which whore to order. As he shuffled the cards at random he threw them away, one by one, until only one remained.
He picked up an untraceable, disposable mobile he had purchased especially for this call. Dialing the number, he heard a sultry voice ask what services he wanted and when he wished to have them. The girl would be arriving to meet him at the hotel room George had acquired earlier that evening.
The hooker was tall and thin, with brown hair and skin that was pale beneath her fake tan. George noted her beautiful feline emerald green eyes. Looking at her attire, she really didn’t look like a prostitute, but more like a young lady on a date. Dressed in a short skirt, her legs bare, she wore a tight white shirt and a fitted black blazer.
“You must be Anne?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, smiling nervously.
She was young and George wondered if this was her first time as a call girl. “Come in.” He smiled as warmly as possible.
Trembling slightly, she made herself comfortable sitting on the edge of the bed and looked around nervously at the plain, yet cozy hotel room.
“Are you new to this stuff?”
She nodded emphatically. George could sense a feeling the dread emanating from her about her choice of professions to feed a new addiction.
“Yeah, this is the second time,” she mumbled. “Don’t worry! I mean it’s not like I’m not experienced. I’ll show you the time of your life, I swear!”
George took her hand gently, enjoying the depths of her green eyes and the cheapness of her sweet perfume. “I’m sure of it.”
She hesitated, “How should we make this?”
Taking charge, he kissed her lips. She returned the kiss, but without passion, at first. He removed her jacket and lifted the shirt from her back, touching her skin beneath. Reaching up he turned her neck to kiss it. As he made love to her, a feeling akin to love was warming to his cruel heart. Holding her still by the base of the neck he drank from her. The shock, fear, and misery of knowing that this line of work had led her to an awful fate rushed into him. As she lay dying in his arms he filled one of the vials with her blood.
7
Ten years of waiting for this day. Chloe stood before her three vampires holding the vials in her hands—this blood was precious. The once ugly flat had been redecorated. She didn’t want Nolan to be disgusted by her living conditions. The old wallpaper with its brown background and flowers had been replaced with fresh white paint. Sheets of colored fabric had also been nailed to the walls as incense burned amongst the flowers everywhere. Rose petals lay on the newly varnished floor. All of the windows were shut and the door was locked; nothing would disturb the spell. Chloe was dressed in a blue silk dress embroidered with white and gold flowers. Her blond hair was down, her makeup lovely. She smelt sweetly of expensive perfume.
She addressed them all, “This morning, when I was shopping for fresh flowers, this world looked more beautiful tha
n any paradise because I knew Nolan would see it soon.”
“Georgie! Are you excited?” Chloe exclaimed.
“Yeah…” He seemed nervous, his answer uncertain.
Chloe was not concerned, though. “I assume you two are looking forward to this, as well?” Chloe didn’t really care for a reply.
“Are we almost ready?” asked George.
“Yes. Remain still and silent.” Her demeanor changed from jubilant to serious. It was time to begin.
The three boys stood back, watching Chloe.
“Permissum cruor illae universitas, patefacio ianua ut has been propinquus. Permissum is patefacio signum ut orbis terrarum EGO penetro ex. Permissum meus vitualamen exsisto recipero. in nomen of natu maximus veneficus,” she chanted the words she knew by heart. Let the blood of this world open the door that has been closed. Let it open the seal to the world I entered from. Let my sacrifice be accepted. In the name of the oldest magic.
She looked at the vials, each labeled with its distinct crime, and selected the one brought to her by Lance. “This sacrifice is from Lance, in the form of a death by knife. Please take this blood as my gift.”
Opening the vial she poured out its contents. Steam rose from the blood as it evaporated before a single drop hit the floor. Chloe next took the blood of a girl whose neck had been broken. From the corner of her eye she could see Lance shudder as the temperature dropped in the room.
The blood from Jay’s vials were offered next, first from a homeless man, and then a stranger at a nightclub. Thunder rolled, sounding as if it came from between the center of the room and far beyond the house.
At last she took the blood gathered from George from the prostitute. Thunder rolled again, this time only from the center of the room, followed by the sound of rain. A voice in a foreign language wove in and out of the storm. Silence held them until broken by a man’s footsteps.
Chloe called again, “Permissum cruor illae universitas, patefacio ianua ut has been propinquus. Permissum is patefacio signum ut orbis terrarum EGO penetro ex. Permissum meus vitualamen exsisto recipero. in nomen of natu maximus veneficus. HEAR ME! TAKE THIS SACRIFICE! OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR!”
Tearing, like fabric ripping, sliced through the room. The sound of rain became heavy. The flat melted, molding into a forest at night. A campfire burned brightly amidst the trees, wavering in the downpour. Beside the fire, stood a young man drenched in the rain—his back was turned to them. His cotton top clung to his athletic physique. He turned to look at Chloe where she stood on the floor of her flat as it blended in a patchwork with the grass. He had dark hair, high cheekbones, and eyes that looked lonely and sad, as if the hope had been stripped from his existence. His lips parted with confusion, revealing his fangs. He shivered from the cold and reached out to touch her.
“I love you,” Nolan said. He didn’t seem to notice the three boys as they watched, still standing behind Chloe.
As the darkness that surrounded Nolan faded, they held hands. “I love you more than life, more then anything!” Chloe said as she kissed him.
Suddenly, Nolan began to fade with the background. Chloe stifled a scream. Tears ran down her face.
“I’ll always love you, Chloe. If I could I would bring you back home to me… Whether that was your wish or not, but that’s not possible. Just promise that you’ll wait for me,” he asked as his touch faded from hers.
“I promise. I’ll have you once again. It will work next time!” Chloe cried.
Alone again without her love, she looked around at the flat with a mixture of anger and sadness. She wanted to break everything in sight, but that was pointless and futile. Instead she went to her bedroom. Disrobing, she slipped under the silk sheets and stared up at the ceiling in the remaining daylight seeping through the blinds. Quietly, George entered the room while the other boys remained behind.
“Chloe?”
She didn’t answer.
He paused. “I’m so sorry the spell didn’t work. I was truly hoping it would.”
“Don’t lie to me George. I know you were afraid.” She sighed. “I really thought I was going to have all of my dreams come true today.”
“I know…” George tried to console her.
“I mean it’s not just Nolan. I promised my best friend, as well, that she would have glory. I’ll never see my father or mother again.” She was shaking as she spoke. “What if I never open the door? What if this is it: me, you, and those idiots?”
George sighed deeply. “You can still be powerful. Your the most powerful being in this whole world.”
Chloe didn’t reply, but simply looked towards the window. George left in silence.
8
As Jasmin and Tim sat together in her room they discussed what they should do next, now that they knew what George and Chloe really were. They needed to know more about vampires and just how great a danger they were in.
Their online research finally uncovered an article about a man who had supposedly died and risen from the grave in Eastern Europe. He had bitten residents of the village and been staked through the heart. Other accounts told of an English man that was found prowling, seeking blood. When they scared him off he hissed like a wild cat and bared his fangs. The stories didn’t sound like Chloe and George.
“We can’t give up,” Tim said.
“What can we really do?” Jasmine replied.
“I can tell when thing’s aren’t meant to be. These creatures don’t fit. It’s like God didn’t make them.”
* * *
Everything is a mirage, a script, a lie. I choose to venture into the known, to find my glory in a new light. This foreign sun burns my soul, leaving me alone.
For three days following the spell, Chloe sat in her room and wrote in her diary.
Everything I am is gone. I might as well accept my fate. Ten more years without him is a death sentence. So, in these words, I break my promise to my lover. I will not wait for you. I’ll always love you, but I will not wait.
Her head hurt from too much sleep. Getting out of bed, she took a bath and made herself beautiful. She had decided that from tonight on she would stop waiting for the glory she felt she deserved. She would live her life just like any young woman. It was time to venture forth from the flat and leave her minions behind, to truly adapt to the world she had claimed as her home.
“Your up!” George exclaimed trying to sound chipper.
“We need to talk,” she replied.
“Sure.”
“Are Jay and Lance back with their parents for the night?”
“Yeah. You know they only come when you need them.”
“About that… I don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“I don’t need servants anymore. They served their purpose with the spell. They can be released.”
George interrupted before Chloe could finish. “What about me?” he exclaimed with a barely concealed grief.
“Your different,” she replied calmly.
“You still have use for me?” he asked.
“For now.” Chloe knew how George needed her, so much more than she needed him.
“For now? How long is ‘for now’?” George looked like he would cry.
“Relax Georgie. I was going to say, before you cut me off, something I’ve never said to you. When I created you, you were a tool for me, but you’ve grown on me over the past decade. Especially lately with the spell failing and my dreams shattering—I realized that you’re my only true friend.”
“What happens to Jay and Lance? You gonna kill them?” George asked.
“I don’t know. I was and then I realized the murders connected to them, if discovered, would mean we might have to leave London. London is our home. I’m going to set them free of my charge, but I will still control their wills. The power I have over them will stop them from being able to talk about us.”
“Won’t people will notice them staying seventeen?”
“Not necessarily. You know, you could
grow older if you wished. So could I. The only reason we stay this way is because we feed on human blood. We can survive without blood. We age and then we either mimic death and restore ourselves back to youth through either a very special sleep or returning to the practice of feeding on blood.”
“So we can’t die?”
“Not on your own. I’m the only person who could kill you.”
“Even if an atomic bomb dropped? I still couldn’t die?”
“You would return, eventually.”
* * *
In a dark cigarettes-stained bar Chloe sat, alone and sad, looking down at her whiskey and coke. The sound of live music, a band in their late teens killing a Nirvana song, filled the room.
“I thought you could use another?”
Chloe turned her head just in time to see a tall man with dark hair place a drink on the table.
“Always good to have more alcohol, I guess?” Smiling nervously he took a seat next to her. “I’m Lloyd.”
“Right,” Chloe replied bluntly.
“I’ll leave you alone, if you want?” he asked.
“Whatever.” She shrugged.
As Lloyd was about to walk away, Chloe looked at him properly and was uncomfortably shocked at what she saw. He resembled Nolan. The tall stature, dark hair, and dark eyes—it was like looking at a flawed, human interpretation of her true love.
“Wait... I’m sorry!” she said with urgency. “I didn’t mean to sound off.”
“It’s ok. I’ll survive. Have a nice evening.” He turned again to leave.
“Don’t go,” she said quietly.
To Chloe’s surprise, they seemed to get on well. She had never had this experience with a mortal man, perhaps because she had never wanted to. Before they realized it, the bar was closing.
