Death Beckons (Mortis Vampire Series, #1)
Page 4
I was going to eat him.
·~·
Chapter Five
With a cry of horror, I shoved the dog walker away. We’d shuffled in a half circle while I’d briefly contemplated eating him. He hit the fence, flipped over it and landed with a thump and a groan. Seizing the moment, the mongrel went on the attack. High screams and vicious barks echoed throughout the neighbourhood.
Snatching up the dog blanket from the ground, I made my escape. Three blocks away, I slowed to a walk and realized I’d also snatched up the little dog. My close encounter with its owner had awakened something in me that couldn’t, that wouldn’t be denied. Hunger.
Hunkering in an alley, I held the dog up, judging its size and how large a meal it would offer me. Shivering in fright, whimpering in terror, it wasn’t much bigger than the rat that had passed me in the toilet alley a few nights ago. Soft brown eyes, just like its owner’s, stared at me. A small pink tongue came out and licked me on the nose. My dead heart tried to lurch in my motionless chest. I couldn’t do it. As hungry as I was, I couldn’t eat the poor thing. I’d have to find my meal somewhere else.
Back tracking, I spied the dog walker milling around in a dazed circle. From the way he was rubbing his butt cheek and bleeding from the arms, I figured the mongrel had taken a few bites out of him. I had a sudden moment of intense envy for the dog’s taste of blood before squashing it. The dog in question was still barking and growling, reaching as far as it was able to over the fence.
“Misty? Here, Misty,” the distraught man called.
In my arms, Misty gave a shrill bark and wriggled madly. Setting her down, I melted into the shadows as the small tan dog and her owner were reunited. He scooped the mutt up and hugged her to his chest. Her small pink tongue was in a frenzy, licking the man’s chin, cheeks and even his mouth. They disappeared with many disturbed glances back over their shoulders. Forcing out a sigh, I rubbed my empty stomach. There goes my meal. On the plus side, at least I now had a blanket.
Crossing the road to stay out of the mongrel’s range, I ducked into another dark alley to search for something to eat. Rats nosed through garbage that had spilled from a knocked over wheelie bin. My lips wrinkled back at the thought of biting into one of them. Just the thought of touching them made me want to barf. Clutching my hard won prize, I gave up on the thought of a meal and trudged back to my crypt in disgrace.
Spreading the blanket out as far from the remains of Silvius as possible, I sat down and waited for the sun to rise and for the unconsciousness that would invariably follow. My second night as the undead was spent huddled on a filthy, flea infested dog blanket, wondering what I’d done to deserve a crappy fate like this.
As dawn neared, I could feel sweet oblivion only moments away. Using my backpack as a pillow, I lay down on the blanket and sank gratefully into nothingness.
Awakening just after dark, I lay on the chilly concrete floor and wondered if I should even bother getting up. What would I get up for? I had no plans, no goals, no reason to continue on with this terrible unlife. So far, I sucked at being a vampire. Eating humans just seemed so wrong. Munching on animals was just as bad.
Growing hungrier by the second, I pondered on my dilemma. What exactly was so wrong with taking a snack from a human? I had never heard of an actual case where someone had died from blood loss via vampire bite. Logically, this meant we didn’t need to drain people dry when we fed. The thought of tearing the dog walker to pieces had sent me running. If I didn’t have to actually kill to feed then why shouldn’t I be able to take a pint of blood? They’d be able to regenerate it easily enough in a few weeks or months. I was pretty sure the Red Cross took that much from their blood donors.
An empty pit had opened in my stomach and was growing larger by the minute. It had a helping hand in convincing me that it would be ok to hunt as long as I didn’t get carried away. I had the unnerving feeling that if I didn’t feed soon, the pit would grow until it consumed me. I’ll just have to pick a likely target. I had a vague thought of choosing someone who deserved a fright and a bit of pain. Rising, I dusted dog hair off my clothes and decided I didn’t need to change my outfit yet. Another handy thing about being undead was that I didn’t sweat. The pros just kept on coming.
One place in Brisbane that would be a decent hunting ground for someone like me was the Valley. Fortitude Valley could be a rough place if you were unwary. As each second passed, I cared less about being careful and more about feeding. I was becoming obsessed with filling the hole in my middle.
Keeping to a fast jog, I took the darker streets and made it to the Valley in an hour. There was a variety of pubs and nightclubs in the area that drew a crowd most nights. It was Tuesday night but the footpaths were still crowded with people of all nationalities. Some were heading to the watering holes of their choice. Others were heading to or from dinner at the plethora of restaurants and cafes. I blended in easily enough despite being a female on my own. Keeping my head down and walking normally instead of slinking around like the creature of the night that I was seemed to help.
It was just after eight, too early for the real degenerates to be out and about just yet. Finding a suitably dangerous looking alley, I settled in to wait.
It was surprisingly easy to blend into the shadows and wait for my prey. It seemed that I had finally acquired the art of patience. First, I studied my hunting spot and tried to come up with a workable plan. I’d chosen an alley with a dead end so there could be no escape for my meal. The carcases of discarded beer bottles and used syringes littered the ground. A dumpster hulking off to one side was overflowing with trash. It reeked so badly that my eyes would have watered if they’d still been capable of producing liquid. New to the idea of being a hunter, I couldn’t think up a real plan of attack. If someone deserving of their fate happened to wander close enough, I’d grab them and see what happened.
After a couple of hours, my patience was rewarded. Four young men in their early twenties stumbled into the mouth of the alley. Their unwashed hair, torn jeans and worn jumpers screamed ‘dole bludgers’ to me. There were plenty of jobless people like this in the city. They depended on government welfare to get by and it didn’t pay very well. With my new night vision, I made out their dazed expressions from twenty feet away. They were already stoned but took out fresh joints anyway.
I’d expected hard core druggos or muggers. Instead, my prey was a few weed smokers too poor to afford entry into the clubs. They’d hang around the nightclubs begging for smokes or money, hassling the pretty girls and getting high. I was supposed to maul losers like this for a meal? Frustrated and hungry, I kicked a can. It whistled through the air and hit one of the young men on the back of the head. Staggering forward a couple of steps, he turned to investigate the source of the attack and his friends turned with him.
“What was that?” one of the guys slurred.
“I think someone threw something at me,” his injured friend replied, rubbing the back of his head. It was lucky the can had been empty. It might have fractured his skull if it had been full. Who knew I could kick like that?
Pulling a switchblade from his grimy pocket, a third guy flicked his joint to the ground. “No one throws shit at my mates.” With a small metallic snick, a four inch blade appeared.
All four guys started towards me and I suddenly wished I’d thought through my rudimentary attack plan some more. I hadn’t expected to face so many victims at once, even if they were a bunch of losers. Reassuring myself that they couldn’t kill me because I was already dead, I let them come to me.
They stopped a few feet away, peering at me in the darkness. The fourth guy pulled a lighter and flicked it to life. I flinched at the brightness but only for a moment. The hole in my stomach was demanding I fill it and the thought of food consumed me. Eating these guys didn’t seem like such a bad idea. In fact, it seemed like a great idea.
“You’re pretty,” said one of the men and noises of agreement came from the others.
“Yeah,” one of the others replied.
“Gorgeous,” breathed another.
When I’d looked into the mirror, I’d at first been surprised that I had a reflection at all, then I’d been disappointed to see I hadn’t changed much. Obviously, I now had some kind of vampire mojo that made me attractive to men. For a second, I wondered why Silvius hadn’t been the least bit attractive. Repulsive would have been closer to the mark. Then the hunger roared through me and cognitive thinking was gone.
Guided by weird new instincts, I grabbed the nearest guy, yanked him forward and bit into his neck. My usually blunt teeth effortlessly sheared through skin and found a vein. Sweet, salty blood flooded into my mouth. Hands tightened on my waist and the guy made a sound of intense pleasure that I couldn’t ever remember causing in a man before.
After a few seconds, he was torn from my grasp. Blood trickled down my chin. I wiped it off with the back of my hand then licked my hand clean. One of the other men stepped forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Do me. God, do me next.”
Accepting the invitation, I munched down on him and intoxicating warmth swept through me as I drank. All four men demanded I drink from them and I happily complied. When the hole in my stomach was full, I pushed the last guy away. He wore a huge, stoned smile just like the others. His legs wobbled and I sat him next to his friends. Lined up side by side, sitting on the filthy ground, they looked a bit like tired children who were pretending they didn’t need to take a nap.
The whole feast had only lasted for a few minutes but I was lucky no one had stumbled across us. I’d only taken a few mouthfuls from each of the guys so they should recover quickly enough. So much for mauling them. They’d been surprisingly willing to feed my hunger. Maybe that was why they hadn’t suffered the excruciating pain I’d felt when Silvius had bitten me. I hadn’t been the least bit willing to be his victim. I had a lot to learn about my strange new status of undeath. Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I touched my fangs with my tongue in wonder. They were already beginning to retract. Automatic fangs that popped out when you needed them. What next?
Jogging back towards my new home, I felt powerful and almost alive again. My cheeks felt like they had a rosy glow and my skin was room temperature rather than clammy. Halfway home, I stopped when I saw the moon shining down from above the buildings. “Oh, wow, look at that. It’s so pretty.” It was perfectly round and utterly mesmerizing. My smile was huge, happy and slightly stoned.
·~·
Chapter Six
Staggering back inside the crypt, I pushed the door shut and leaned back against it with my eyes closed. I’d sprinted most of the stoned feeling away but a slight amount of weed remained in my system.
“What have we here?” a voice said and my eyes snapped open.
A stranger stood at the far end of the crypt. He was about six feet tall, leanly built and had black hair that was short and expensively cut. Wearing a pricy pair of black slacks, leather shoes and a black cashmere sweater, he was overdressed for the cemetery. My mouth dropped open when I took in his face. With high cheekbones, full lips and burning black eyes, he looked like a model for a cologne ad.
“Who are you?” I asked then followed up with a more pointed question. “What are you doing in my crypt?” Maybe he’s from a ghost tour and got separated from the crowd.
Dark eyebrows rose as he swept his gaze from my face down to my feet then back up again. The sardonic twist to his mouth indicated he wasn’t particularly impressed with what he saw. “I am Lucentio,” he replied. I detected a European accent and frowned. The last European man I’d met had killed me. What horrors would this one have in store?
Examining him further, I took in more details I’d missed on my first inspection. Lucentio’s skin was pale. Unnaturally pale. His eyes were so dark they didn’t appear to have irises. Most importantly, his chest didn’t rise and fall. My theory that he was from a ghost tour evaporated.
“Great.” I threw up my hands in disgust as I came to the only conclusion possible. “Another vampire. You should have brought all your vampire friends and we could have had a full moon, undead cemetery party.” My sarcasm was thick enough to walk on.
“I do not have friends,” Lucentio responded. Glancing at the empty clothing nearly covering the nasty smear on the ground, he pointed at them gracefully. “Who was this?”
“That was Silvius. My, uh, maker.” I winced as the intruder’s sharp gaze bored into me. Killing your maker probably wasn’t a good thing. I was betting it went against vampire etiquette. “I’m sure that if he was still alive, he’d be very pleased to meet you,” I finished lamely.
Switching his stare from me to the mark on the ground, the intruder hunkered down for a closer look. “I doubt that as we were already well acquainted. We were not what you could call close.” Studying the empty clothing intently, Lucentio asked the worst possible questions. “What happened to him? How did he die, exactly?” His gaze skittered away from the cross lying in the middle of the mess.
Walking over to the nearest stone coffin, I leaned back against it. “This is probably going to sound bad,” I said reluctantly. Touching the tarnished silver cross in the centre of the much larger iron one, I tried to pry it free but it was stuck fast.
Luc, as I’d automatically nicknamed him, glanced up and went absolutely still. After a few seconds, he rose slowly and took a step back. I didn’t know much about fighting but from the way he was balanced on the balls of his feet, he looked like he was readying himself to attack.
“Look, in my defence, I did just find out he was a vampire and that he’d made me into his servant,” I said a bit desperately. “What was I supposed to do? Become his unholy slave for all time?”
Rocking back on his heels, Luc pondered the question. “Yes,” was his eventual answer.
“For the love of G-G-G. Shit!” I wiped a hand over my face in exasperation at my inability to say the Lord’s name and gripped the cross tightly. It bent slightly and I eased up on the pressure. The metal must be worn from age to bend so easily. “Just because some decrepit old man took a bite out of me, I’m expected to serve as his slave for the rest of my unnatural life?”
My question was followed by another short pause. “Yes,” my strange visitor said again. He now seemed wary and on the verge of fleeing rather than attacking. I’d always had a particular way with men. Luc wouldn’t be the first man to flee from me and he definitely wouldn’t be the last. “Would you mind,” he ventured, “telling me the circumstances of how you were turned?”
Since the question was polite and I had nothing better to do anyway, I filled him in on my capture and subsequent re-birth. “And then I finally figured out he was a vampire,” I finished up.
“So you decided to kill him?” Luc asked.
“It was more of an impulse than an actual decision,” I explained. “He was laughing like a crazy man and before I knew it, I’d snapped off the cross and was throwing it at him.” Without really meaning to, I snapped off the second cross and held it in a throwing position, aimed at my unexpected visitor.
Luc cringed away, holding his hands over his heart protectively. “A further demonstration will not be necessary,” he said hurriedly.
“Oops. Sorry.” I very carefully put the cross down on the sarcophagus. Way to make an impression, Nat. My usual lack of charm was in full force once more.
Straightening, Luc warily eyed the snapped off cross. “Does that not hurt?”
I stared at him blankly. “Does what not hurt?”
“When you touch the holy object?” he indicated the cross with a nod.
“Nope. Should it?” I asked. It dawned on me then that Silvius had burst into flames when he’d touched the cross. Of course vampires couldn’t touch crosses without dying horribly. So how come I can touch them? Unfortunately, I was about to find out why.
“The prophecy has come true,” Luc whispered and his face filled with despair. I’d seen that expression on men before. Usually it was when they were trying to break up with me and I was having difficulty grasping the concept.
“Prophecy? What prophecy?”
“What is your name?” he asked me instead of answering my question.
“Nat.”
“Gnat? You are named after an insect?” His surprise was comical but laughter was the last thing I was capable of right at that moment.
“Nat-a-lie,” I enunciated carefully. “Natalie Pierce.”
“Well, Natalie,” Luc said grimly, “I regret to inform you that your birth might very well herald a dark age for vampirekind.”
“What? Why?” I heard the whine in my tone and tried to notch it back a little. “What could I possibly have to do with a dark age? I didn’t even believe in vampires until I woke up as one.”
“The ancient Prophet speaks of you, Natalie Pierce. You bear one of the signs of Mortis.” The words were spoken portentously with the weight of thousands of years of superstitious dread behind them.
I nodded thoughtfully as my feet automatically shifted towards the door. “Mortis, huh? I’m not familiar with that word.” Although it did ring a bell somewhere deep down. Maybe I‘d heard it in a movie or read it in a book. “What exactly does it mean?”
“It is Latin for death,” was his heavy answer.
All was still for several seconds then I was moving for the door. I do not need this right now. Meeting one crazy vampire in one lifetime is more than enough to deal with, thank you very much.
Luc caught me with a hand on my shoulder before the door was even halfway open. “No one can run from their destiny, Natalie. Not even a creature such as you.”
Clearly he was faster than me and that meant I wouldn’t be able to outrun him. Conceding defeat, I glumly trudged back to the dog blanket, trying to come to terms with the fact that I was now a creature. Taking a seat, I stared across the crypt at my new best friend as he moved back to his original position. Luc hunkered down into a crouch and stared back at me. He might be faster than me but I was apparently the legendary Mortis. We were at a stalemate.