Forbidden Touch

by K. S. Haigwood

  He looked at her aghast, and she managed to smirk as she chewed. She knew what he was thinking. "Don't believe everything you see in the movies, Mitch. I can eat, and I don't sleep in a coffin."

  "Wooden stakes, holy water, garlic, sunlight, crucifixes?"

  "Are you planning to kill me or something?" she laughed. "The sunlight, when I am visible, can kill me. I'm the only one of my kind, that I'm aware of, that can lose visibility and walk in the sun. I was very useful to my people. As for the other things you mentioned, the answer is no. A wooden stake through my heart wouldn't do anything but piss me off. Although, if you could manage to crush my heart or rip it out of my body, that would get the job done. I don't like garlic, but that isn't because I'm a vampire. The next time you order us Italian, order cheese bread instead of garlic bread, please."

  His eyes narrowed. "I thought my leftovers had been smaller in the last month. You little sneak. I thought I was eating more. What about crosses, churches and blessed ground like cemeteries?"

  Ciera reached down the front of her shirt and pulled out a dainty gold chain. On it dangled a diamond cross. "I wear it everywhere I go. I'm not evil, Mitch; I still believe in God. I pray every day."

  His eyes widened in amazement. "What about…uh..."

  "Blood?" she said, and looked away from him. "I have to have blood. More so if I have used a lot of energy. Staying invisible uses my energy." She looked at the sky. That sun would peak its head over that small mountain in a matter of seconds. "And that's my cue. You'll see me again when the sun sets." Her body disappeared before his eyes, but not before she winked at him.

  "No, I'm going to see you before then."

  "What, close your eyes and get a mental picture of me? You'd better keep your eyes open and on the road. I'm the only immortal in the vehicle," she said, and snickered.

  "That wasn't what I was referring to. We're going to my mother's house. She has a basement." He paused for a moment, and then said a little lower, "I have a basement. There are no windows, and that used to be my bedroom before I moved out. My bed and everything is still down there. Do you sleep?"

  She nodded, but then realized he couldn't see her. "I can go two or three days without sleep, but I didn't sleep last night. I'm getting tired, and I can't stay invisible when I'm asleep, so that's probably a good idea. Will you be all right going back in that house?"

  "I've been thinking of doing it for some time now. I have to do it sooner or later. No better time than the present." He paused again. "Do you need…"

  "Blood?" He was having a real problem with that word. Actually, she noticed that he was having a problem saying any words that related to what she was. "I need it, but I'll be fine awhile longer."

  "Do you have to turn people into…what you are?" he said, and cleared his throat nervously. "Or kill people when you ah…"

  "Feed? No, and no. My body only requires about a half a pint every few days, but I have to have it, or I will be in severe pain…then I'll die. I witnessed it happen to a few of my close friends over my lifetime. They were tired of being what we are. They wanted to die. Some of my people choose to go out in the sun and end it quickly. That way only takes a few minutes at most, but my friends thought they needed to die slow and painfully because of the wrongs they'd done in their lives. They considered it their punishment."

  "So… how long has it been since you… fed?"

  She clapped her hands, and it startled him. "I'm so proud of you, Mitch. You said it! Say vampire."

  "Huh?" he said then looked at the passenger seat. He chuckled. She must have caught on that he was having a trouble coping with her situation. "Vampire," he said with a smile, then looked back to the road. He came to a stop sign and turned southwest.

  "Good," she said energetically. "Now, say blood, feed and fangs. Say it quickly so you don't chicken out."

  He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Blood, feed and fangs." He paused. "Do you really have fangs?"

  "Razor sharp ones," she said a little spookily, and he laughed. "It has been a few days," she said, and uncomfortably cleared her own throat.

  He looked over to the empty seat. He could hear her, but he couldn't see her. He needed to see her soon. He sped up a little. Not enough to get pulled over, but enough to get them to his house faster. He grabbed another slice of pizza, and got a little freaked when a slice hovered out of the box on its own, raised higher, and then the tip of it disappeared.

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  Chapter 15

  Mitch pulled into his driveway at 7:45 a.m. He'd left the house in his mom's name, and there wasn't anything in his thin file at work that would lead the cops here, so he felt safe in staying here for a while if they needed to. Of course, if they did a little research, they would know his whole life's story, and probably how many times he took a piss in a day with the information they could get hold of.

  Most everyone was still asleep on this fine crisp Saturday morning, so he didn't have to worry about a lot of people seeing him.

  "Stay here. I'll be back," he said, then jumped out of the car and ran to the flower garden where he always hid his hide-a-key. It was still there, shaped like a dark-gray rock. You could only tell that it was plastic if you picked it up. Gotta love those hide-a-key makers.

  He took the key out of the little compartment in the bottom and let himself inside. He froze like he'd run into a brick wall going ninety. His head filled with anxiety, and he was having trouble finding enough air to fill his lungs. He braced himself against the wall that led into the living room. He couldn't freak out now. He had to be clear-headed so he could think, but all his head was thinking now, was to shout out "Mom?" like he had every time he walked through that damn door. He made himself walk, and he struggled to the door that led into the garage. He threw it open and hit the button to raise the garage door on the far side.

  As the rising door let in light, he spotted the black Chevrolet Tahoe. It was his mother's. It had been his mother's, and now…and now it was his. He had to face reality sometime. She wasn't coming back. Her body was decaying six feet under, only five miles from here. He took several deep breaths, and then the stolen car came into view. It looked as though it was driving itself, but he knew different. He shook his head to pull himself together, then hit the button to close the garage door when the car was put in park and the driver door opened, then closed. He knew he was still having trouble taking all of this in, but it would get easier with time, he hoped.

  "Aren't you going to invite me in, Mitch?" Ciera's voice said, sounding amused.

  His eyes grew wide. "Do you really have to be invited into a house before you can enter?"

  "No, but you are standing in the doorway, blocking the entrance."

  "Oh," he smiled shyly, and then backed out of the way so she could join him inside. "I'm sorry."

  She looked at him a little closer. He was as white as a ghost. "Are you all right?"

  He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. "Yeah…I will be. It's just…"

  "This house?" she finished for him.

  "Yeah…but I'll be all right." He walked to the edge of the kitchen and opened a door. Stairs led down to complete dark silence. A cool draft wafted up from the black beneath them. He flipped the light switch just inside, and the stairway was suddenly illuminated. He motioned with his hand for her to go ahead of him. "After you, my dear. Muahahaha," he said spookily.

  "This is like a really scary movie, where the monster is going to wait for us to get to the bottom, then grab us," she giggled. "If I wasn't the monster, I might be a little frightened."

  He felt her brush by him and he grabbed her, pulling her firmly against his body. His hands ran up her arms to frame her face. His lips found hers with the first attempt. He only kissed her briefly, and then pulled back. "I'll protect you."

  "I believe you would try," she breathed.

  He smiled. "I'm not fooling myself in thinking I can. I know you are about a hundred times stronger than I am, and it's a rea
l hard punch to my ego, but yes, I would try."

  "I know you would, Mitch, but promise me that you won't."

  He stepped back a little, but he still had a hold of her face. Of course he would try to protect her, why wouldn't he? The joke had suddenly turned serious, and he knew they weren't talking about any big, hairy monster in his mother's basement. "Wh…"

  Her invisible hand covered his mouth. "You can't win against them if they find us. Don't for one instant think you can. Some of the Elders only have to look at a mortal to kill them if they want them dead. Promise me that you will not try to protect me. If I say run, do what I say. Don't let your pride get in the way. Please." She waited a moment but he didn't respond. "Promise me, damn it!" There were tears in her voice.

  He sighed and pulled her to him in a tight hug. "Can we worry about that if, and when, it happens?"

  She pushed him back against the sheetrock that made up the walls going down the stairs, then pulled the door shut with a loud bang. There was no light coming from under the door. She made herself visible and Mitch could tell that she was indeed crying, and she was clearly angry with him. "I know what you're doing. I've been around you long enough to realize that you don't lie. You would gladly hurt somebody's feelings rather than lie to them. And right now you are avoiding promising me something because you know you will be lying." She was crying heavily now. "Promise me, please," she pleaded loudly, then lowered her voice. "Please, Mitch, promise me that you'll try to get away and hide. There is no reason for both of us to die, when there is a chance that you can live."

  He looked away from her. He couldn't lie to her, and he wasn't going to run away like a coward and let them kill her without at least trying to save her. He would be nothing without her, so he didn't have a reason for living if they killed her. "I can't, Ciera. I'm sorry."

  She sat down on the top step and put her face in her hands and cried. He sighed, then picked her up in his arms. She couldn't possibly weigh anymore than a hundred and twenty pounds, tops. It was physically impossible for her to be as strong as she was. She had picked him up and ran with him like he weighed no more than a feather. Mitch walked down the steps with her in his arms, and without turning on the downstairs light, he carried her to the bed and laid her down. The only light came from the top of the stairs. He knew where everything was in the room, but if he turned it out he wouldn't be able to see a damn thing, and he wanted to see her. He didn't feel like he could look at her enough.

  He knew she wasn't his though, and he was having a real problem with that. She wouldn't let him in for some reason.

  Her crying had slowed to soft sobs as he lay down beside her. He pulled her against his body and ran his fingers over her back lightly.

  "Sleep now, Ciera. I will hold you, and you can sleep," he whispered.

  She sniffled a few times then relaxed in his arms and drifted off to sleep.

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  Chapter 16

  Mitch opened his eyes to the bed vibrating. He must have dozed off in the dark, quiet room as Ciera slept in his arms. He blinked a few times. He was disoriented but he was coming out of it fast; something was wrong.

  She wasn't in his arms any longer. He sat up fast and felt beside him. She was on the far side of the queen bed with her back to him. He put his hand on her back. She was shaking so violently that the entire bed was shuddering beneath her. He turned the bedside lamp on. He turned her over and she was sweating profusely. Her eyes were closed like she was still asleep or unconscious, but this was one hell of a nightmare if she was asleep.

  "Ciera! Ciera, talk to me! Wake up and tell me what's wrong so I can do something!" he shouted at her. He was more afraid now than he'd ever been in his life. Was she dying?

  Her eyes fluttered open a little. She tried to give him a smile, but failed. "I'm… sorry, Mitch." she said through chattering teeth, then closed her eyes again.

  He was frantically trying to keep her awake. He didn't know anything about vampires. As soon as the thought passed through his mind, he knew what the problem was. The conversation they'd had earlier replayed in his mind like a recording, "So… how long has it been since you…fed?"

  She'd clapped her hands excitedly, startling him. "I'm so proud of you, Mitch. You said it! Say vampire."

  "Huh?" He'd said, and looked at the passenger seat. He'd chuckled then. She must have caught on that he was having a little trouble coping with all of this. "Vampire."

  "Good." She'd said energetically. "Now say blood, feed and fangs. Say it quickly so you don't chicken out."

  He'd shaken his head and rolled his eyes. "Blood, feed and fangs." he'd paused. "Do you really have fangs?"

  "Razor sharp one," she'd said a little spookily, and he'd laughed. "It's been a few days." she'd said, then cleared her throat.

  It had been a few days… It had been a few days… It had been a few days.

  He tried to concentrate through his hysteria. She had said something before that, something important. He tried to think, then finally remembered what it had been: "My body only requires about a half a pint every few days, but I have to have it or I will be in severe pain… then I'll die."

  Every few days… severe pain… then she will die.

  Mitch shook her hard. "Ciera, wake up and bite me!"

  Her eyes fluttered open again, and she smiled lazily. She brought her shaking hand up to his cheek, and shook her head slowly. "It's better like this. I do… love you," she whispered, then forced a smile before falling unconscious again.

  "No!" he managed to shout through a clenched jaw. He shook her fiercely again, but he didn't get a response this time. "Better for who?! Better for you? You are such a coward to take the easy way out!" he cried. He noticed that her body was barely even trembling now. She was dying. He sat up quickly and reached in his slack's left front pocket. He palmed his pocket knife, brought it into view, flipped it open, and had his right wrist slit before he could even think about it. Her mouth was already slightly open, but he opened it a little further, placing his bleeding wound over it. He was shaking and crying, he was so mad at her. Why didn't she just tell him that she needed to feed? He would do anything for her. Didn't she know that?

  "Wake up and drink, Ciera! Damn you, wake up! You don't get to decide what happens to you. You don't get to take the easy way out and leave me here by myself. You don't get to tell me it's better if you aren't here. And you don't get to tell me that you love me, and then die!" Mitch wiped at his tears, then the sweat off of his brow with his free hand. His blood was all over the place. He was getting more blood on the bed than he was getting in her mouth, because she wasn't swallowing any of it.

  He pressed his wrist to her lips harder. Her breathing was shallow, but at least she was still breathing. He shook her hard with his left hand. She swallowed once. His eyes grew wide, and his body went very still. He shook her again. She swallowed again. "That's it, Ciera. Drink, baby, please drink."

  He felt something poke the cut on his wrist and he jerked involuntarily. Her hands came up fast to his arm, pressing it more firmly to her lips. He felt a sharp prick, then he could actually feel her sucking the blood from his veins.

  "Thank God," he sighed, then let his body fall limply beside hers as she fed from his wrist.

  A couple minutes later she stopped sucking, but he could feel her doing something with her tongue to the cut and puncture wounds caused by her fangs. It would have been seductive if he hadn't still been so angry with her.

  She pulled his wrist away from her mouth and looked at it as she ran her finger over the smooth, unblemished skin. There were two faint pink dots, then a faint pink line right under it. It almost looked like a face, not happy or sad, just a face.

  He watched her do this, then she turned to face him. He couldn't look at her. He didn't want to look at her or talk to her. He got out of bed, walked up the stairs, and slammed the door closed behind him.

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  Chapter 17

  Ciera w
atched in total confusion as Mitch got out of bed and stomped up the stairs. What was wrong? Why did he seem angry with her? She had just woken up. Had she said something in her sleep? She jumped when the door slammed shut. Evidently she had.

  She sighed, then looked up at the ceiling. There was something crawling on her face. She reached up with her hand to brush it off. Her cheek was wet with tears. Had they had a fight that she didn't recall? She only remembered kissing his hand, then he had pulled it away before she looked at him. She looked at her wet hand and sat up quickly. He fingers were colored red. Her tears were clear.

  Ciera looked down at the front of her shirt, and then the blood soaked bed around her; she began to hyperventilate. What had she done to him? Had she attacked him? Bits and pieces of a dream flashed through her memory. She had been scared and hurting. She remembered him there in her dream, shouting at her to "Wake up and drink!" She shook her head and tried to remember more. The taste of his sweet blood was in her memory, as well as still on her tongue. She got a flash of touching his cheek as she looked up at his frantic face: "It's better like this. I do…love you," she'd said to him in the dream.

  He had gotten angry after that, but what had he said? She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, trying to concentrate on the dream. Then she heard it all again as if he was shouting it at her now: "Wake up and drink, Ciera! Dammit, wake up! You don't get to decide what happens to you. You don't get to take the easy way out, and leave me here by myself. You don't get to tell me it is better if you aren't here. And you don't get to tell me that you love me, and then die!"

  Her eyes shot open. It hadn't been a dream at all. She had been dying, and he'd forced her to take his blood to save her life. She grabbed the pillow off the bed and heaved it across the room. A spray of feathers burst out of the cotton from the speed it had hit the wall. She put her head in her hands and screamed as her tears began to flow from her eyes. He hated her now.