Hunted Souls

by Lisa De Palo

  “Okay, darlin’, okay!” he said as he grabbed her in both hands and pulled her close.

  “Are ye hurt?” He turned his head to see if anyone was near and Layla forced his neck sideways letting her razor-sharp teeth plunge down into the pale skin of his aged neck.

  He screamed out and tried to shove her, but that made Layla furious. She clenched her jaws tighter and felt her fangs plunge deeper as warm blood came swelling out. He struggled, but his arms became so weak that they dropped to his side and then his body followed. Layla took care not to spill a single drop as she let him go.

  A moth to my web…

  She looked at his lifeless body and felt nothing. The blood was pooling by his limp neck and she scrunched her nose at the site. Why didn’t she care? She didn’t know what was worse, the murder, or her heartlessness. She knelt down and pulled his head to the side to analyze his face. There was nothing, no feeling, no wonder, nothing.

  Layla knew in her heart she would never have done anything so sinister before. Numbness set in and the only emotion that surfaced was frustration for her lack of feeling. She took his arm and dragged the body away from the dock’s edge. His lifeless body was heavy and she dumped him without thought.

  Everything was so easy. The hunt, the kill, the feeding, moving the weight of a corpse - even leaving Marco. What had she become?

  She slipped away from the corpse and felt the fresh blood pulsing through her veins. Her head went light, she felt dizzy and the night came alive before her eyes. The darkness faded away and clear sight came to her.

  Without thought, she had wandered into a park. The towering trees moaned and creaked as a cool breeze rippled through their leaves. The sounds were everywhere, all around and surrounding her as if the very trees themselves were talking in ancient tongues.

  Her head swung left and right in vampiric ecstasy, she smiled at all the things that would have gone unnoticed as a mortal. The soft hum of insects, the fluttered of wings, the songs in the wind.

  She snapped her neck sideways to look around and a moth had singled her out. She could see the tiny red eyes hovering in the night as if they were studying her. And, as if it became aware of being noticed, the moth puffed away leaving the dust off its wings to linger in the air. Layla was hypnotized by all the beauty and elegance laid out before her.

  It was magical and her head swirled and span. Faster and faster until she fell dizzy, and a sudden pain stabbed at the side of her stomach. Layla gasped in pain.

  She screamed out and felt another sharp stab below her ribs.

  “Help!” Again she screamed and the words got stuck in her throat as the agony intensified.

  Layla was gasping for breath, every movement felt like her bones were grating and her insides being ripped apart. A gust of wind blew over like a storm and strong arms reached down to grab her.

  “Stay still!”

  It was Marco, Layla moaned in agony at the touch. She tried to open her mouth to speak but felt her stomach twist.

  “This shouldn’t be happening…” he cursed and Layla squeezed against his arm.

  “Make it stop…” She cried.

  Marco’s eyes widened. His hands skimmed across her stomach looking for the source of her pain. But it wasn’t working, it was inside her. Layla felt Marco press his ear against her belly.

  He took a moment to listen as he closed his eyes and they instantly sprang back open. His jaw fell wide and looked at her like he had seen a ghost. Layla’s heart was racing, it was pounding hard as another stab pierced her side.

  He rolled up his sleeve and bit down onto his wrist. He lifted her body and gently raised her head as he moved his punctured wrist near her mouth.

  “Drink,” he said calmly, though Layla could hear it was forced.

  She hesitated.

  “You must,” he said.

  He pushed his wrist to her lips and she closed her eyes accepting his blood. It was cold, like ice, and thick like syrup. She kept swallowing mouthful after mouthful and Marco struggled to stop her. She felt him pull back but she latched on tighter, unable to stop herself. His body wavered and his weight tore his wrist from her lips as he fell back.

  The pain within her eased and she breathed again. She took Marco and noticed his eyes were half closed, his body too weak to move, so she held him in her arms.

  “I need blood,” he rasped. “Get me back inside…”

  She did as he asked. It took longer than she would have hoped, but together they struggled back to the coven and snuck in unseen. In his room she found his fridge and blood bags labeled B+.

  “Drink,” she said, offering him the blood.

  He sucked it dry and it took two full bags to give him the strength to sit up fully. He took her in his arms holding her tight, and she felt his breath run down her neck.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  The hairs on her neck stood tall. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to feel love. Layla let her head fall gently against his chest. It was a while before she could speak, and when she did the words were disjointed and hesitant. Her eyes downcast rather than meeting his.

  “I… I took someone’s life tonight.”

  Marco sat her back up, moving her hair away from her eyes and tucking it gently behind her ears.

  “I know,” he said.

  She gave him a stern look.

  “You know? You were there? And you did nothing?”

  “Layla,” he said, moving back a little bit. “You were not listening to reason. Anyway, it was bound to happen eventually. so I followed you to make sure you weren’t harmed.”

  She shook her head staring off to the side and an expression of deep sadness filled her ice blue eyes. She didn’t expect that answer from him and she remained silent for a moment.

  “I wish we had never met.”

  She almost whispered it, but her words had cut deep and carved themselves into his black heart.

  He sighed out loud and she thought she saw his lip twitch before he spoke.

  “Can we ever be strong enough to live in this world with a hand that would leave us unhurt?…”

  A scuffle of feet at the locked door broke their thought. Layla and Marco both sat up to attention staring at the entrance.

  “Shit,” Marco cursed under his breath. “Layla, they know you’re here. I need to get you somewhere safe, right now!”

  “But I’m a vampire now, why would they hurt me?”

  “You still hold the blood they need, they will use you to their advantage even if that kills you. We don’t have much time.”

  Marco rushed over to his window and peered out into the night checking to see whether there were any vampires lingering. It was clear, and he threw his arm out to her ushering her outside.

  “Come quickly, let’s go.”

  She ran over and took his hand, she cautiously climbed out onto the narrow ledge that ran along the side of the building. Floodlights were switched on illuminating everything in sight. There would be hundreds of vampires hunting them within minutes.

  Marco grabbed her arm and they jumped to the ground and dashed into the night air. They ran toward the woods not far from the docks yet far enough away that they couldn’t be found in a hurry.

  “Where can I go, Marco? I can’t cross over to St. Lucy’s.”

  He looked around realizing she was right. Everything had become a mess, and their choices were running out. He hung his head anxiously trying his best to come up with something. There was nothing, no answer he could give her that would make her feel secure.

  “We don’t have time,” He said. “Find a boat.”

  They flew at the water’s edge, the sounds of vampires closing in on them. Orders were being yelled and hounds were barking into the night.

  “There,” Layla pointed out a boat.

  They darted to the left a little, grabbed on to the hull and pushed it into the water. Layla jumped in first and Marco pushed the boat off with all his might. The wooden vessel streamed
out into the river and Layla snapped back to look at Marco as he stood on the shore.

  “What are you doing!?” Layla cried out. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Go Layla!” he yelled. “Go to your aunt’s house and don’t look back!”

  The boat drew her further and further away and she tried to stretch out to reach for him. His silhouette got smaller and then she saw red eyes emerge from the darkness. They jumped him and all she could do was listen to the yells.

  “Leave him alone!” she screamed but it was no use.

  She sat there in silence as the water rippled and clapped under the boat until the vampire’s eyes changed to her direction. She was too far gone for them now, but their eyes lingered until she got to the other shore.

  Sitting high above her on the dock was the bench. The one where she had met him. She scrambled for it, hoping for a better sight of the far side, but they had already gone.

  She placed her hand on the seat and drooped her head to the side. He had always been there to help her and now he had risked his life for her again. Her nails gripped into the edge of the wooden bench, she shook her head as her mind raced. No matter how hard she tried, he had anchored himself deeper in her heart.

  She jumped up and ran towards the edge of the pier, scratching at her skin and grabbing at her hair like a vexed soul. Marco had been captured, and she was utterly tormented by two minds.

  I wish I never met you… My last words to him…

  7

  DESOLATION

  Jeremiah’s phone vibrated in his pocket, he pulled his bike over and turned off the growling engine.

  “Jeremiah? it’s Sophie, I’ve found her.”

  “Where?” He asked.

  “She’s at the docks, St. Lucy’s.”

  Panic set in and Jeremiah ended the call. He kicked his bike off and the engine roared into action. He had to get to her before anyone else realized she was back in the city. Rafael and his crew would be onto it already, and scouts would have been sent out in every direction.

  He clenched his jaw and revved his bike harder as bursts of emotion sent his mind crazy, perhaps he had become more human than he’d like to admit. He finally reached the docks and jumped off his Harley, dropping it heavily to the ground. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him. There, alone sat a single silhouette with a hung head. Jeremiah leaned over in relief and rested his hands on his knees, his hair fell long in front of his face as he shook his head in disappointment.

  Layla turned slowly and noticed him standing there with his head low. She gasped deeply with disbelief leaving her mouth wide open. Quickly, she bounced up from the bench and raced over to him wrapping her arms right around him.

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” she said.

  He looked up with shallow eyes and threw her cold hands away from him to her side. He had just felt the weightlessness of the loss of her soul.

  “How could you?” he spat. “You selfish thing.”

  Layla gasped taking a step back in shock. She stared at him for a moment and he saw the pain in her eyes. Did she imagine that he would be pleased to see her return like this?

  Jeremiah grasped her shoulders, spinning her to face him. She blinked trying to soak up her tears.

  “You had no business going over there, what did I tell you!?” he barked.

  Layla’s face tensed and her lips twisted

  “Who are you to tell me what to do,” she hissed.

  “I have every right to tell you what to do, do you realize what you have done? Who you have hurt? Now a war is on our doorstep, and you have put yourself, Sophie and everyone else in harm’s way by doing what you did, have you not lost enough?”

  She jerked out of his grasp and gave him a scathing glance. Layla couldn’t handle the obscurity, couldn’t accept relentless people telling her who to be. To be someone like herself but not the same, locked in a prison of her own pain she wanted to break through the surface of her own skin. His face relaxed, when he felt her energy welling deep inside.

  “I only wanted to keep you safe, Layla, and now…you’re a…”

  Jeremiah couldn’t even finish what he was trying to say and turned his back so that Layla couldn’t see he had been crushed by grief. He shook his head and quickly pulled himself together recalling the urgency of the matter at hand.

  “We don’t have time for this,” he said coldly. “Let’s go.”

  Layla shrugged her arm back.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I can’t.”

  “Maybe you want to explain that to your Aunt? Or all the people that might be crushed at your expense? We don’t have long before someone finds us here.”

  He began to text Sophie as he walked back to his bike, letting her know the situation.

  Layla rushed up behind him, he knew she would realize he was right. She glanced back at the other side of the pier in one last hope, but there was nothing. Just the black, cold, desolate remains of her own nightmare.

  8

  CONFINEMENT

  In the cool of the evening, the ancient vampire Dimitry sat blank-faced in front of a fire holding a glass of dark bourbon. Earlier, he had been informed that Layla had escaped with the help of his son, Marco, and debated with himself for hours about the outcome of Marco’s future. He swished the amber bourbon around his glass, clinking the ice side to side as a means of meditation, and swiveled his leather-bound chair toward the double doors of his chamber.

  “Guards,” he called out lazily. “Send for Anastasia and Kane.”

  Anastasia and Kane were both promptly brought in front of Dimitry, the look of dread painted across their faces.

  “Our one and only hope of becoming a free and powerful coven has been lost,” Dimitry said.

  Anastasia and Kane barely moved but slightly turned their heads to acknowledge each other’s concern. Their hands clenched hard behind their backs fearing their outcome.

  Dimitry paced the room with his head held high, circling each of them in attempt to read their minds.

  “Yes, Anastasia, I know it was Marco,” he said. “He has obviously disobeyed me as his ruler and shall be dealt with… But you two… You were both supposed to be on watch.”

  Dimitry noticed the stress as their hands fidgeted.

  “We will find her, Sire,” Kane said.

  Kane felt the weight of hands tap down on his shoulders. His jugular twitched as Dimitry traced the cold skin of his neck with the tip of his sharp nail. Angered, he snorted and snuffed at Kane like a wild pig.

  “Yes you will, Kane,” Dimitry threatened. “And any enemies of mine, who are unwilling for me to rule over them will be brought here for you to slay in front of me.”

  Kane and Anastasia both gave a single nod and turned to walk out.

  “Oh, and Kane, have Marco brought to the cell upstairs.”

  * * *

  Marco stumbled up the stairs blinded by a hessian hood and shackled tightly in chains. As he climbed higher and higher a disgusting stench wafted down from up ahead, almost making him dry reach. It was an old, rotten, putrid smell that gave him the impression he was being led into a tomb filled with dead and decomposing remains.

  The smell was almost too much for him to bare when he heard the sound of an old metal door open. Creaks from the hinges echoed through a narrow, long corridor. His body tensed and hands began to shake, he knew something dreadful awaited him.

  A sudden blow from behind shoved him flying into a cell, the old bricks that had paved the floor were loose and unstable and almost tripped him. His arms were pulled and lead toward the center of the room and his wrists held firmly above his head.

  “Argh,” Marco wailed.

  His wrists felt the pressure of the rope tightly binding them close together, cutting down deep into his flesh. A noose tightened around his neck when his hands were clasped onto a winch that slowly elevated the weight of his body off the ground and he was left to hang.

  The pain through his limbs grew torturous and sent his mind
insane with horrific thoughts. He heard the door close behind him and hours seemed to pass before the faint sound of footsteps clicked back down the corridor.

  The metal door was pushed slowly open. Someone casually walked in and sat on a chair in front of him. There was no word, no movement, nothing, and it remained that way for some time. He was terrified at what was to come and visualized torturous devices of the worst kind, his mind sent him crazy in fear.

  “Hello?” he called out, hoping for an answer.

  Nothing.

  “I know you’re there,” he said, hearing the waver in his own voice. “Dimitry?”

  “Centuries ago it was I who found you,” a voice broke the silence and he knew it was Dimitry. “You had just murdered your own mother for turning you into the beast you are and were left wandering alone, lost and afraid. It is very dangerous for a vampire to be lost on his own you know, without a family, without a coven. I chose you and brought you into my loving arms, Marco. Do you remember? I took you as my son, and gave you a home, a family…”

  “Please, Sire, I can explain,” Marco pleaded.

  “My dear boy, your time for explaining is well and truly over. Did you think you could betray me?”

  Marco heard the soft clanking of some instrument that Dimitry was playing with.

  “Forgive me, Sire. You don’t understand… I love her…”

  Marco felt the cord around his neck loosen and the hood ripped from his head. He squinted before he could focus and adjust his eyes. In the far corner to the left of him, he saw the flames from a small candelabra flickering dimly in the musty old room. Suddenly he felt the roots of his hair pulled from his scalp. He yelped in pain as Dimitry’s hand tightened a grip and ripped his head backward.

  “Love?” Dimitry hissed. “You love that filth? A demon? You disgust me!”

  “She is different, Dimitry, please,” Marco shouted as he felt the roots of his hair ripping free from his scalp.