Crimson Kiss

by Trisha Baker

  She felt the usual euphoria, and started drinking thirstily. Then she remembered her vow not to kill anybody. The blood lust told her to forget about it and keep drinking. No, she told herself. But how could she do this, she thought, her mouth filled with blood.

  Maybe she could try counting—a minute's worth of blood should be enough.

  She counted to sixty slowly, the act of counting pushing the blood lust back. After she got to sixty, she raised her head and looked at Roy. He seemed all right; he hadn't even woken up. His skin color looked good. She put her hand on the pulse in his wrist—it was strong and steady.

  And how did she feel? Well, she wasn't glutted like she usually was, but there was a feeling of well-being. Charles was right. She could feed without killing. She leaned over and kissed Roy on the cheek. "Thanks for breakfast."

  Breakfast! How could she have forgotten that she had to find a place to sleep before the sun rose? She looked at Roy's alarm clock—it was already five A.M. Where was she going to go? She needed a place that would allow in no sunlight and where she wouldn't be discovered. But where?

  Wait a minute! What about Playland? The amusement park was closed for the season, so she should be safe there. She could hide in the fun house or the haunted house. Roy's apartment was on Beach 112th Street, and Playland was on Beach 97th. It shouldn't take more than twenty minutes to walk there.

  Then again, why walk when you can fly? Meghann got out of bed and put on her clothes. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and thought Playland with all her will. Nothing happened. After five more minutes, she was still in Roy's bedroom.

  Apparently, she still didn't have the hang of astral projection. Maybe she could only do it in emergency situations. Why had she landed in Rockaway? Because it was safe? Because she'd been thinking of her father and she associated the place with him? She left the apartment and began walking to Playland quickly, keeping a cautious eye on the brightening sky.

  Three blocks from Playland, she started feeling very tired and weak. She had to force herself to climb the iron gates protecting the park. She managed to stagger to the door of the haunted house. It had a padlock and chain guarding the entrance; it took the last of her strength to break the lock.

  Once inside the dark haunted house, she felt a little better. She took a tarp off one of the little gondolas people rode in through the house, and put it under the door to block any rays of sunlight. Then she used another tarp to make a bed of sorts on the hard, cold floor.

  Before going to sleep, she took a glance around. She saw an ancient mummy and a papier-mache Dracula leering in the darkness, awaiting summer when they would have people to scare again.

  "Guess what, guys?" She yawned at them. "I used to come in here all the time—never thought I'd be a ghoul, though. Fit in pretty well with you monsters, don't I?"

  Her words had a wry tone; she wasn't depressed or self-pitying anymore. For the first time since Simon had transformed her, she was content. Look at her accomplishments for the evening—she had escaped Simon and she'd taken blood without killing. If she had to live as a vampire, so be it. But from now on, it's going to be on her terms was her final thought before she fell asleep.

  Meghann didn't rise in her usual, quick manner. She came to slowly, feeling very drowsy. Feel like I was drugged, she thought drowsily.

  She dragged herself up off the floor, remembering the previous evening. It was time to see about leaving for Europe. What time is it? Meghann peered at her watch, but the darkness was too thick for her to make out the time.

  She opened the double doors to the haunted house and stepped outside. The first thing she noticed was how foggy it was. The mist was so thick she could barely see her hand in front of her face, even with the superior vision a vampire enjoyed.

  She consulted her watch—twelve o'clock! How on earth had she slept until midnight? She never slept that late—the latest she ever woke up was a half hour after sunset. Then she remembered feeling drugged when she woke up, and her mouth went dry with fear.

  Simon! Could he have commanded her to sleep this late? That was the only explanation that made any sense. But how had he found her? Oh, dear God—Roy! She had to make sure he was all right.

  Meghann started running toward his apartment, the mist making her feel like she was in the middle of some horrible nightmare. This was the worst fog she had ever seen. There was no one on the street; she was completely alone. The streetlights were out on a few blocks. She ran, scared to death of what she might find. Please, God, she prayed, let Roy be OK.

  At his apartment, she knocked on his door. The slight pressure made the door swing open—it had been unlocked. Heart in her throat, Meghann entered the living room. Too late, it occurred to her that if Simon had already been here, she was walking into a trap.

  Now I'm really in a haunted house, she thought, feeling the psychic residue around her. Terror, great pain—they were all in this place. The air was thick with horror. The door to the bedroom was closed.

  Whatever happened, it happened in that room. Meghann didn't want to see, but she found herself unable to stop walking over to the bedroom. If there's a trap, I'm already caught.

  She threw open the door, and saw Roy's body immediately. It hung over the bed where he had been impaled to the wall by a wooden stake that was coming out of his chest. Her horror-struck eyes looked into his empty sockets—his eyes were gone. He had also been castrated—his penis was dangling limply out of his mouth.

  Meghann screamed and the bedroom windows shattered. She felt an iron hand clamp over her mouth, and an equally strong arm circle her waist.

  As she struggled wildly, a voice whispered, "Miss me, sweetheart?"

  Simon! She struggled harder, squirming and thrashing. What was he going to do to her?

  "You have disappointed me, Meghann." He buried his blood teeth in her neck, seeming intent on sucking the life out of her.

  She bit his hand with her blood teeth. He cursed and pulled his hand away. She let out a howl of fright—putting cracks in the plaster. Before she knew what was happening, they were back in Simon's town house. Through flight, Meghann had not stopped screaming.

  Simon paid no attention. He simply dragged her to the whirlpool he'd recently installed in the master bathroom and threw her in the steaming, bubbling water. "You still have the stink of that man on you."

  "Yow!" How hot was this water if it was scalding her skin? Livid purple welts broke out all over her body and Meghann tried to jump out, but Simon grabbed her and forced her head under the water. She was going to be burned alive!

  "The temperature is two hundred fifty degrees," he informed her calmly when he allowed her to resurface. "A mortal would already be severely disfigured, if not dead. Don't look so aghast. Do you think I have any desire to keep a deformed consort? Your body will recover from those burns, if I allow it to, so there's no need for histrionics. Now sit still and let me clean you." Simon picked up a vicious-looking brush and scrubbed her skin roughly, telling her he'd make her bleed from head to foot if she screamed.

  Meghann forced herself not to move, and after an interminable length of time, Simon yanked her out of the water by the hair, using a coarse towel to dry her. She cried out when the towel opened up more cuts on her already bruised, aching skin. At her cry, Simon whacked her on the back of the head with the brush. "Be quiet." Then he attacked her hair, nearly pulling it out of her scalp with each vicious stroke.

  When he was done, Simon put a white shift over her and left her whimpering on the bathroom floor. "There—at least now you're somewhat purified."

  "What is the opposite of love, Meghann?" He kept his back to her while reaching into a large linen closet.

  "Hate," she croaked, her voice gone from screaming and some of the boiling water that had gotten in her mouth. Meghann squirmed miserably on the floor, her only relief coming from the cold marble pressed against her flaming, burned skin.

  "You don't ever want me to hate you. And let me warn y
ou, I am very close to that." Simon turned around, a bullwhip coiled in his hands. He smiled when he saw her eyes bulge.

  "Why did you do that?" she whispered through the pain in her throat. "You didn't just kill him… You tortured him. Why? He didn't do anything wrong."

  Simon cracked the whip, and it caught her arm. She yelped and curled up into a ball to protect herself from the lash. "He touched what is mine. However, if you wish to blame someone for his untimely passing, then blame yourself, trollop. It was you who broke your vow. And now you must be punished."

  Simon cracked the whip again and she felt searing pain on her back. "You have a choice, Meghann. Get on your knees and beg me to forgive you for your betrayal. Do that, and I will give you a hundred lashes as punishment for your infidelity. In case you're thinking of further defiance, keep in mind that minor reprimand is mild compared to what I shall do if you anger me any further tonight."

  She limped over to the whip and spat on it. Then she glared at Simon and used the last of her voice. "If I can't escape you, I don't want to live. Do your worst."

  He smiled sadly. "Poor deluded child… I was hoping you would show some sense tonight. But I see you must learn the hard way. Meghann, you are no saint or martyr. But you have some romantic notion of yourself bravely facing death rather than living with me. However, when you are pushed, you always choose life, don't you? You did so when I offered to transform you, and let's not forget—you did kill your own fiancé so you could keep living. Your first instinct is for survival—a trait I admire greatly." Simon raised an eyebrow. "One more chance. Do you reject the gift of immortality I have given you?"

  Meghann nodded. It was impossible to speak.

  "If you don't want my gift, I'll take it back." Wave after wave of shock hit her as he drained her of blood. He's going to kill me, she thought dimly. This is what it's like to die; what it felt like for all those people I bit. It hurt, but the worst part was the feeling that the beast who was killing her was growing stronger as she grew weaker.

  She thought she felt his teeth slide out of her neck. Is it over? Meghann couldn't see or hear. She couldn't move one finger; she didn't know if she was lying down.

  Dimly she felt herself being dragged. Then she felt cold air. The air revived her a bit. She heard a hammering noise, then felt a slight pain in both her hands. I'm being crucified, she thought hazily.

  Simon lifted her head up. "I know you can hear me, Meghann. You are on my rooftop and you are so drained of blood you cannot move. However, should you get some strength, I have nailed your hands to the floor. When sunrise comes, you'll die. Isn't that what you want?"

  Go to hell, she thought.

  "We'll see if you're that brazen when the sun comes up. What I want you to understand, love, is that you can end this anytime you wish. All you have to do is beg my forgiveness. I'm rather interested to see what will happen. Will you nobly sacrifice your life to keep your pride intact, or will you yield to your master?" She felt his lips on hers. "The choice, which you insist I never gave you, is yours." She heard a door slam.

  Meghann must have lost consciousness for a while, but she woke up when the sky became light. I'm still on the rooftop—guess I'm gonna die. Poor butterfly, she thought in delirium.

  When the sky turned pink, an intense agony ripped through her. She tried to scream but couldn't. And she couldn't move one finger to save herself—she was trapped.

  No, she thought grimly. Won't do it—won't beg. I'll die. At least she could see now—she wanted to see the sun.

  It began to appear over the city, and Meghann felt like she was being stabbed with a thousand needles at once. I'm in hell. But still she didn't call out to Simon.

  Then the first rays hit her, and she was blinded. Every where the sun hit, her skin burst into flames. She could smell her skin being burned.

  No! Oh, God! The fire was killing her from within.

  It was in her bones, eating through her heart, causing unbelievable agony.

  Master, she screamed, unable to take the pain. Oh, please forgive me!

  She heard a sickening tear of flesh as her hands were torn away from the nails. In seconds, she was safely inside the house.

  But I'm deformed, she thought before she fainted. Blind and burned all over… I'm a freak.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TEN

  « ^ »

  Meghann woke up from a nightmare she couldn't remember. She looked around the bedroom in relief. What had scared her so?

  Then she remembered the rooftop. That was no dream! She had burned, and the sun had taken her sight away.

  But she could see now. She stretched her arms out—no scarred, blackened flesh. The skin was red with a slight purple tinge. It looked like that awful sunburn she'd gotten when she was twelve and fell asleep in the sun. Some of the cuts from the hell bath were still there, and she felt exhausted.

  "You'll feel better after you feed."

  A thin scream escaped her lips. Meghann looked up at Simon in complete terror. There was no thought of defiance now—she could not take that pain again.

  She backed away, terrified of him.

  "What's this? You have no reason to be scared—you were properly chastised for your behavior. Now prove you learned your lesson—on your knees."

  Meghann knelt before him. When she looked up, he pushed her head down to his feet.

  "Kiss your master's feet."

  She complied without argument.

  He yanked her up by the hair. "We still have a few minor matters to clear up." She started to rise, and he pushed her down. "Stay there. What do you have to say?"

  "I'm sorry, Master," she said tonelessly, and felt a hand stroke her hair. Good doggie, Meghann thought bitterly, and looked up from her servile position when Simon laughed.

  "You should make an effort to curb that self-pitying streak. Look at all the trouble it's gotten you into of late." He gave her cheek a hard pinch and then strolled toward the bed, stretching out while he kept his bright, hard eyes on her.

  "Come here."

  Meghann walked over to the bed apathetically and removed her white shift without comment when Simon ordered her to undress. She felt a dull flush of embarrassment at his appraising gaze; it occurred to her that standing naked before the fiend was even worse than kneeling before him to beg his forgiveness.

  Meghann kept her eyes lowered, not wanting the bastard to see her defeated expression. She knew now Simon was right—she was no martyr or saint, able to withstand whatever torture he'd inflict before letting her die. How had all those people she'd read about as a child withstood persecution? How did you allow yourself to be subjected to the worst kind of agony, knowing all you had to do was renounce your beliefs or beg forgiveness and it would stop? I'd give anything to be able to do it, she thought, but I'm just not strong enough.

  Simon moved over. "Sit down." She eyed him with growing suspicion. Did the martyrs have to do this? Still, like the cowardly thing she was, she perched on the edge of the bed, not allowing her body to touch his.

  "The martyrs you unfavorably compare yourself to were fools, sweet. And I would consider you a fool if you had allowed yourself to die."

  "They weren't fools," she replied. "They went to their death with a belief in their ideals—and themselves." What do I have, she thought bitterly. She couldn't stand the thought of continuing to be Simon's slave.

  She thought it would probably anger him, but she got up and sank to her knees by the bed, meeting Simon's eyes without anger or sadness, just a level stare. "Please let me go. Why are you forcing me to stay with you?"

  Simon stretched his hand out, and she flinched. He laughed, and used his hand to pull her back up on the bed. Meghann thought briefly of resisting, remembered the agony he'd put her through the night before, and remained still as he placed her body between his legs with her back against his chest. "I'm not forcing you, Meghann. You had a choice to make last night."

  "Why does the choice have to be life with you or de
ath?"

  "Because I can make it so. Last night, you had a small taste of the power I hold over you. I am in love with you. I refuse to live in this world without you. Since I have no desire to die, that means you live with me as my consort or you may greet the sunrise."

  "Doesn't it bother you to live with someone who doesn't love you back?"

  Simon moved the heavy length of her hair to one side and kissed the exposed nape of her neck. She tried to jump away, but he held her in place.

  "Who doesn't love me back?" he murmured while one hand started moving up her leg.

  God, no, Meghann prayed, knowing what Simon meant to do. It was what he always did after beating her—now harsh, cruel fists would turn into gentle, caressing hands that sought to make her respond to him while her body still bore the marks of his brutal treatment.

  "Don't," she said, but her traitorous body relaxed; her cold, clammy, blood-starved skin sought out the warmth emanating from him.

  "Poor little girl," Simon whispered, and Meghann heard the diabolical mockery underneath his seeming compassion. "You're so cold, so frightened. Why do you do this to yourself, Meghann? Why not simply behave and avoid punishment?"

  "Leave me alone!" She moaned as one hand slyly insinuated itself between her legs while the other fondled her breasts. "Don't do this to me."

  "Don't you like it?"

  "No," Meghann said through tightly gritted teeth. "I… I hate it when you touch me."

  Simon laughed nastily while his thumb flicked casually across her nipple, instantly making it tighten into a hard rosy peak. "Your body says otherwise. Was it like this with that mortal? Did you enjoy your adulterous encounter?"

  "It was better than you!" Meghann cried recklessly. Maybe if she made him angry, he'd stop touching her like this, stop trying to make her respond to him…

  "Truly?" Simon said, and his nonchalant tone sounded as though he'd asked Meghann about nothing more important than the weather. "What did he do to give you pleasure? Did he do this?" Picking her up, Simon started moving her back and forth on his leg; the delicious friction of his hard, muscled thigh against her sensitive flesh made her whimper slightly. Jesus, it felt good!