by Casey Wyatt
“Well, I’m off then. Have good evening.” He brushed dirt off his tailored trousers. “Sod it, they scuffed my shoes. And this shirt is ruined.”
“Yeah. What a tragedy. You’re lucky. You could have been a revenant Slurpee.”
He sniffed at the suggestion. “I was never in any real danger.”
“You could have fooled me,” I retrieved my ball cap from the grimy sidewalk.
A late afternoon sunbeam penetrated the alley, illuminating the vampire’s blue-green eyes and highlighting the fine bone structure of his face. I tried not to gawk.
I gathered my tangled hair and mashed it under the hat. “Looks to me like they had you pinned against the ropes.” Did I mention he was gorgeous? Like a cover model. An underwear cover model. I cleared my throat. He was a total stranger, and while I bet he looked divine in only underwear, I needed to stop ogling him.
When he stared at me and didn’t reply, I lamely added, “You know? Down for the count.”
“I understood the reference, luv,” he said in his damn fine accent.
A man-shaped shadow shifted from across the street, forming a dark blot in the alley’s entrance. We weren’t alone. I tensed my shoulders.
“Something wrong?” Mr. English stepped closer. A minty scent roiled off his powerful body.
Delicious. Hunger and blood lust stirred my stomach. I moved back. He prowled forward with a predator’s rolling gait, eyes fixed on me. Transfixed, I stopped only when my back banged into the wall.
He was a finger length away. “Like what you see?”
“N..n-no...” I stuttered. The figure across the street changed position. The shadow’s head now sported a small bowler shaped hat. Was that—?
The blond vampire shifted, more tantalizing aromas drifted under my nose. All rational thought fled my brain and the shadow was forgotten. A wry smile twisted his pale pink lips. I imagined his fangs trailing down my neck. I choked the swoony sigh before it escaped my mouth.
I made a half-assed attempt to regain control. “Geez, Mister, a little space here. I’d appreciate it if you would let me leave now. Please,” I squeaked. Who was the idiot speaking with my voice?
I inhaled a deep lungful of his scent before coming to my senses. The mooning had to stop. “What’s your name anyway?”
He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “You first, sweetheart.” His smooth voice ran over my body like silk on naked skin. I clenched my fists, digging my fingernails into my palms to stay focused.
My mouth opened, ready to answer. What the hell was wrong with me? I clamped my jaw shut so hard my teeth rattled.
Compulsion. Made total sense. He was older. I turned my face away, tearing my gaze off his jugular. No doubt about it, irresistible blood ran in his veins. And I wanted a taste. My punishment for not feeding sooner. I would not tell him my name.
“Cherry,” my fool mouth responded.
“You’re hungry. Why haven’t you fed? Doesn’t your master,” he sneered the word as if disgusted, “feed you properly?”
“Not his fault,” I choked out. It was none of his business why I was hungry. Jonathan and I might have issues, but he took damn good care of his family. And I wasn’t some weak fledgling.
I slammed my palms against the wall. The bite of the brick’s rough surface helped clear my mind. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Ian McDevitt.” His eyes traveled down my neck and stopped at my logoed t-shirt. He angled his blond head, appraising me. “Fang Bang? Are you a strumpet?”
“Strumpet?” How old was this guy? Who said that word anymore?
“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend. And who’s the stalker in the alley across the street?”
I looked over Ian’s shoulder. Or tried to. I had to rise on my tiptoes. The shadow pulled back, presumably departing.
“I think it’s a customer from the club.” I’d recognize that bowler hat anywhere. Jonathan would get an earful about. Mr. Vandemere following me outside of the work place.
“Your sire needs to nip that kind of devotion in the bud.” Ian moved back slightly, dropped his hands and gave me some breathing room.
“Yeah, no shit.” Not wanting to look at his tempting neck again, I stared at his hands instead. Big mistake. Long tapered fingers, smooth palms, and a crescent shaped scar between his thumb and forefinger. I like a man with big strong hands. A man Ian’s size with small hands would be a total turn-off. Tingles raced across my skin at the thought of such capable hands caressing my body.
“Find me pleasing, do you?” Ian’s lips curved into a slow smile. His hands skimmed over his abdomen.
Yikes. What was I doing? I wasn’t capable of actually blushing, but I swear blood heated my cheeks. “Puh-lease. Sorry, but your large ego obscures the view. What family are you with?”
Ian’s face darkened for a moment. Then the sneaky smile returned. “I’m a rogue.”
I flattened further into the wall. He had freely admitted to being an outlaw. All vampires were in families. Unaffiliated vampires were preyed upon and eliminated. “How is that possible?”
“That I’m still alive?” He seemed amused by the question. “I’m a crafty bastard. And, luv, until you came along and interrupted, I planned to claim a bounty on the revenants.”
“You’re a bounty hunter?” Interesting. I’d heard rumors that a black market existed among vampires specializing in essence of revenants. Supposedly, a revenant could be harnessed for its excess spirit, providing the user with an amazing high. Like revenants, vampires bought into stupid myths too.
He spread his hands outwards, motioning to the remaining revenant dust, “I’m empty handed at the moment.”
“Are you implying I messed up your plans?”
Ian laughed. His voice echoed in the alley, sending shivers up my spine. He held his hand up. “Don’t get your knickers in a bunch. No offense meant.”
“But bounty hunting is so …”
“Crass? Uncouth? I like to think of it as necessary. This gang has been hunting local vamps for weeks. They needed eliminating.”
“Oh. So you aren’t fueling the black market?”
“No,” was the short, clipped response. “I was hired by a legitimate vampire benefactor. So kindly, do not lump me in with the vermin.”
“My apologies,” I offered. Touchy.
“Duly noted.” He inclined his head and opened his mouth to speak when his cell phone chirped. After a quick glance at the screen, he looked up. “Well, duty calls. Maybe I’ll catch your act sometime.”
“You’ve heard of me?” So he knew who I was the whole time? Damn this red hair.
“Who in Austin hasn’t heard of the great Cherry Cordial?” He turned to walk away, then paused. “And luv, I’d appreciate it if you kept my independent operator status to yourself.”
I nodded, watching him until he disappeared around the corner.
What a day. I had narrowly avoided becoming a revenant snack, met my first outlaw, and lived to tell the tale.
~ * * * ~
Thoughts of Ian occupied me the entire drive home. A rogue. He was free. No sire telling him what to do. Each choice his own to make. On the flip side, he lacked the stability of a family. In a family, there’s always someone there—a built-in support system. Like a human family, not everyone saw eye to eye or even liked each other, but we were loyal to a fault. We never had to worry about hunger or fear attacks from others.
Still, I envied his freedom. What would I do with freedom? A shiver ran through me. I’d never been on my own before. First I was under my nurse’s thumb, then that of my governess. When she wasn’t directing my life, there was my mother. And later, Jonathan.
Sad. I know. And depressing. Over a hundred years old and a scared girl still lived inside me.
I exited the highway and turned onto the road leading toward the lake area. My mind drifted back to Ian and his finer attributes: the smooth planes of his face, the sparkling blue-green eyes, and his golden blond hair. To die f
or. No lie, he shivered my timbers in my female parts.
I suppressed a sigh. No. Swooning would not do.
We lived in two different worlds. If Jonathan found out I was canoodling with an outlaw, he’d kill Ian and then tan my hide.
No point in questioning fate. I’d have accept the cards I’d been dealt. I learned that lesson young, from my father, the Earl of Pembridge: speculator, card sharp, and missionary rolled into one.
The tires squealed as I nearly missed the turnoff to my house.
Sunrise was an hour away, but I wasn’t worried. Sunlight wasn’t an issue for me. Yet another myth. Vampires don’t burst into flames or display other skin maladies in daylight. Good thing, since I couldn’t go into the house to shower. Nature would provide. I could watch sunrise from the lake.
The road curved. The lake came into view. Crystal clear water went on for miles, framed by leafy green trees and sandy shores. I had bought the house at Lake Austin long before it became so popular. I had the foresight to purchase the two adjacent lots, ensuring my privacy.
The winding, unpaved road leading to my side of the lake was deserted. The humans around me were tucked in their beds, asleep. Rocks pinged the Jeep’s undercarriage. Dust filled the air. It hadn’t rained in a while so everything was dry. I didn’t fear many things, but fire was one of them. Vampires and open flames don’t mix.
I shifted into park and could hear giggling from the opened windows. Then the tell-tale squeak of bedsprings getting a workout. My hand hovered over the horn. I imagined the loud clarion startling them both and possibly ending their fun.
I couldn’t do it. I’d rather swim in the lake than listen to Jay complain that I was cramping his social life. Somehow he managed to see to my needs, study for a Ph.D. and date other humans. Who was I to begrudge him his fun?
Lacking any close neighbors to shock, I dropped my clothes on the gritty shore-line and waded into the cool water until I was up to my neck. I flipped over onto my back and floated. Weightless in the water, it was like flying. A dream of mine since I was a child – soaring in the air, hovering above the world like a superhero.
One of the many advantages of my undead state – I didn’t have to fear death by falling (though I’m terrified of heights anyway). Extreme heat and cold didn’t bother me. And I didn’t need to breathe. Since I couldn’t really fly, swimming was the next best thing.
The mattress creaking intensified. When the fuck bunnies started moaning and calling each other dirty names, I sank underwater. The water closed around me like a dark, chilly glove. There is only so much I can stand. The sad truth, I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time. Like half a century. I could have had a ton of empty sex if I wanted to, but I wasn’t raised with those values.
When I touched the bottom, I slid my hands over the slime covered rocks and sifted the sand through my fingers. Lord knows what the fish thought of the pale-skinned monster sharing their domain.
After what I felt like was enough time for post-coital cuddling, I slogged out of the water. A fisherman in a canoe floated in the center of the lake, casting his line. I doubt he could see me. Human eyesight was weak. Not that I cared too much. I did take off my clothes for a living. But the lake association didn’t know and I wanted to keep it that way. Staying under the radar and following the rules kept humans out of my business.
I gathered my clothes and whistled a signal to Jay – I’m coming in, get her ass out the door. I knew Jay heard me because I could hear him ushering his guest into her garments.
After empty promises of the, I’ll call you soon variety, she departed and I finally entered my house.
“Thanks Cherry,” Jay said patting down sweaty and mussed hair. A wine red hue suffused his dark complexion. “Can I fix you something to eat?”
“No thank you.” He knew damn well I didn’t need to eat human food to survive. I waltzed into my bedroom, dried my hair, then dressed in clean clothes.
Afterwards, I re-joined Jay in the living room/dining room/kitchen area. The house, a cottage really, was pretty small and we had one common area. With two bedrooms and two bathrooms, we made the space work. The vampire-thrall bond ensured we never seriously got on each other’s nerves. At least not long term.
Jay was a neat freak. My habits left him with plenty to do. I suspected he enjoyed nagging at me to pick up my dirty clothes. And he hadn’t tried to kill me in my sleep. Not for over a century now.
Jay scooted over and moved his textbooks so I could join him on our comfy and well-worn couch.
“How’re the classes coming?” I asked, flicking on the morning news.
“Fine. Are you planning on sleeping today?”
I detected a note of frustration. Uh oh. We were about to have a “conversation” about me.
“Yeah, eventually,” I hedged. I suppressed a yawn behind my hand. “I’m not tired yet.”
“Bullshit.” Jay snapped off the TV. “You’re having those dreams again aren’t you? And you’re afraid to fall asleep.”
That’s my buddy. He cuts right to the chase. I snatched the remote. The TV clicked back to life. “No.” I lied. Lately, whenever I slept, I dreamt of dark caverns and red earth. Voices spoke in a strange language. The words hammered at me. Insistent, as though I needed to know something. Worse, I failed to comprehend the dream’s message. I always woke up out of sorts and couldn’t fall back to sleep.
And Jay knew it. He ran his fingers through the waves of his dark hair. “Don’t make me force you to rest.”
“Jay, come on…” A vampire had most of the power in a relationship with a thrall. Jay was my servant, bodyguard, and companion. If I needed to feed, he brought me blood, human or vamp. He took care of the mundane business required for me to live among humans, like securing identities, money and shelter. In the old days, when I was new and weak, he guarded my resting place from those who could do me harm.
In return, Jay was granted superior strength, eternal youth (as long as he took blood from me occasionally) and a comfortable lifestyle. He also had an advantage over me. He could force me to sleep and eat. This ensured I didn’t turn into a bloodsucking fiend due to extreme hunger or fatigue.
Jay leaned over and pulled me into his arms. He spoke softly to me in Hindi, the language we spoke together in our youth. “I will watch over you. You have nothing to fear. Sleep.”
And I did.
~ * * * ~
I woke to the alarm radio’s blare of commercials, touting the latest in … breathable cotton underpants? Late afternoon sun filtered through the bedroom window’s lace curtains. They had yellowed with age, but I refused to part with them. The left panel, neat stitches and a balanced design of flowers and birds, was created by my sisters Faith and Grace. The right side panel’s messier design and looser threads – clearly my handiwork.
A ragged tear marred the bottom corner, courtesy of my baby brother Edmund by way of bayonet. He had “borrowed” one of Father’s old muskets and put it to use stabbing bedding and other linens. His nurse had been furious when she caught him. A small sad smile formed on my lips. God, I still missed them so much.
The few worldly possessions I had managed to carry into my undead life were all I had to remind me of them.
I rolled out of bed. Four o’clock p.m. Plenty of time to make it to work.
After another shower, what can I say, I like to smell nice, I padded out to the living room. “Jay? You here?”
I found a note on the table.
C-
In classes until later afternoon. Will see you at Club.
J
p.s. – Jonathan noticed you didn’t feed from him last night. Stop putting it off.
I poured a glass of orange juice, then sat down at the vintage, red Formica table. Vampires can drink whatever we want. Our bodies can absorb any liquid. We ate solid food for pretense, but it had to be purged later. Don’t ask how.
One thing we couldn’t live without was blood from our own kind. I had been delayin
g my feeding from Jonathan.
We both knew why.
I have vampire daddy issues. Not only did I hate having to rely on him for my survival, but I despised my body’s craving for comfort. When feeding from my sire, I felt safe, protected. For vampires it’s a biological directive: feed and enjoy it so much you come back for more. I couldn’t move past the circumstances that led me to my undead life.
Tonight. After the show. I’d feed.
I sipped my juice while I perused the newspaper. Nothing exciting there. The usual stories: political corruption, murder, the Astros got spanked again. Humanity hasn’t changed much. The wealthy still run the political scene, humans still kill each other for stupid reasons, and baseball is America’s past time.
While gathering the paper for recycling, I grabbed Jay’s note to add to the pile. He had written it on the back of a battered red flyer. I flipped it over.
The Undead Space Initiative? I read the text twice.
Wanted: Adventurous individuals, fearless self-starters and hard workers. Mouth breathers need not apply for this opportunity to settle Mars. Join The Undead Space Initiative. Spots are filling fast. Don’t wait!
There was a website, a toll free number and an address. It had to be a joke. I crumpled the flyer and tossed it in the recycle bin with the newspaper.
Who in their right mind would want to go to Mars? As if such a thing was even possible.
Putting the ridiculous notion out of my mind, I packed a bag for work and headed back to Austin for another fun-filled night of the bump and grind.
No alleys and no stopping to help strangers this time. No matter how gorgeous.
CHAPTER TWO
“God damn it, Charity!” Jonathan yelled at me as soon I entered the building. He used my real name. Not good. “Where have you been? Lemmy tells me there are reports of revenants in the area.”
