by Al K. Line
My heart beat fast at the thought of his death, and the sickness squirmed in my belly like a spasming tapeworm. The greed made me ashamed. Such a conflict, this desire, this overwhelming urge to cause harm. Take a life, snuff it out and revel in the blood that makes my body vibrate and my heart sing even though it takes me one step closer to the end of being human and becoming something obscene. But for now, I was doing a good job of holding on to my humanity, and this man's death would finally give his life meaning, as it sure as hell hadn't had any yet.
He wasn't really called Tom, he'd been relocated, witness protection, supplied with a new identity and a new life because of the evidence he'd given, helping put away others involved in the sick perversions he enjoyed. It left a bad taste in the mouths of everyone involved, but he gave names, information, and plenty of bad men would never walk the streets again.
But Tom had a job and a nice house, and Tom was right now talking to a woman a few doors down from his home, and as he bent and pinched the cheek of her young daughter I steadied my resolve and knew what I was about to do was vindicated.
It didn't stop me hating myself for this deep desire that burned so fiercely, for the roar in my ears and the clouded vision as blood lust rose and I began to lose all thought as my true nature pushed up and out. This child molester deserved to die the worst kind of death for his crimes; taking pleasure from it sullied the act.
He finished his chat with the neighbor and I watched as the woman and her child continued on their way, to the park a few streets away would be my guess. Tom stared after them, licking his lips nervously, and it was clear he wasn't looking at the rear of the woman.
Tom put his shopping down outside the gate, opened it, grabbed his bags, and continued up the steps to his nice semi-detached.
I stowed his file in the glove box, got out of the car, locked up, then went to go meet Tom for the first, and last, time.
Knock, Knock
I hadn't fed for months, and after the Paris incident I felt so odd inside, so downright peculiar, that the urge receded. It had crept up on me, slowly but surely, until it became a raging torrent of desire I was almost helpless to refuse. Sure, I could, and had, refused, but it becomes an obsession and the more you resist the more it nags at you until you begin to lose your mind.
With all thought of magic gone, no concern about the problems Dancer wanted solved let alone the worry for Faz and his torturous state, I stood outside the front door of number 10 Wayfield Road and felt as nervous as the first time. I was flushed, blood sang in my ears, and Hidden magic swirled around my system, begging to be used. I forced it back down, couldn't think of trying to control magic and the vampire strength. Anyway, I needed no magical assistance. This was on me, me and the blood.
I straightened my blouse, plastered a fake smile on my face, and knocked.
"Hi, how can I help you?" asked Tom looking past me then meeting my gaze.
"I'll show you." With boosted muscles I punched out hard and impossibly fast, his nose splatting under pressure that amounted to a smack in the face with half a ton.
Tom flew back into his hallway and crashed down onto pretty Victorian tiles, sealed and gleaming. His blood pooled around his face, spreading like a dark oil slick on the beautiful, intricate floor.
I stepped in and quietly closed the door behind me.
Tom groaned and backed away, scooting on his backside, and shouted, "You crazy fucking bitch, what the hell is this?"
My answer was nothing but a sneer. I advanced slowly, doing my best evil vampire smile, then, unable to resist the drama, I did what Faz likes to call the vampire shimmer shuffle. One minute here, the next everything going on fast-forward. I was a blur of action as I appeared right in his face, my eyes cold and hard, emotion as dead as this dude would soon be.
"Hi, I'm Kate," I whispered sweetly in his ear, then I parted my lips and my fangs snicked down. Strong, hard, white, and hungry. Milky venom dripped; the vampire's tear.
"What do you want? Who are you?"
"Your worst nightmare." I grabbed him by his bloodstained collar, yanked him to his feet, then kept on lifting until he hung a foot from the floor. His eyes widened and tears fell, his mind still refusing to accept what was happening.
"This can't be real, this can't be real," he mumbled over and over.
"Oh, it's real all right. You're on my list. Time to cross you off." I glanced to the side and noted his spartan but clean living room and the sofa. I dropped Tom a little and dragged him into the room.
Coming to his senses, he punched at my head but my reflexes were as sharp as my canines and I cackled as he tried to hit me. I pushed him away to arm's length then casually flung him onto the sofa.
"I've got money, you can have it. Anything."
"What, not going to fight, teach me a lesson? Fiddle with me?" I snarled and flung my hair back, acting up for effect. It had grown long, nice and wavy, and it suited me, certainly made more of a dramatic effect especially since I dyed it black and began wearing a brighter shade of lipstick.
"What are you talking about? What's this about a list?" Tom put a hand to his nose and cried out with pain. It was irreparably broken and small shards of bone splintered through the skin.
"Time to go, Tom, time to go." I hated myself for this playing, this teasing of prey like I was a bored cat with a frightened, cornered mouse. As he opened his mouth to ask me where, I was across the room and at his throat.
Oh, if only I could explain how beautiful that breaking of the skin truly is, like sinking your teeth into a deliciously sweet cake with bitter topping, like dark chocolate and salted caramel times a million.
The first barrier, the skin stretched and taut, resisting for a moment. Then I feel it give way as my impossibly sharp teeth break through and the blood spurts to the back of my throat and I swallow, then gulp, then suck in a sick perversion of an obvious sexual act that certainly isn't lost on me. And then I gag and feel sick to my stomach as the blood of another human being enters my system and I get this almighty rush that almost makes me black out. But I can't stop, won't stop, not until my terrible thirst is quenched and my victim's heart has stopped beating and the blood no longer flows.
Finally, it's like sucking thick milkshake from a crumpled straw and I tear away, ripping flesh, and slump back. It's over, it's done. I am whole again only more so. More complete, stronger, more powerful than Hidden, certainly than Regulars who couldn't possibly imagine what this feels like.
When I come back to myself, Tom's dead on the sofa and I'm kneeling on threadbare carpet. My system thrums and mingles with this new magic of mine, making for a heady mix.
The vampire nature is strong now, same as always, but it's different too, more potent than ever. Magic of the truly Hidden kind isn't meant for the likes of me, no magic is. Vampires don't do magic the way wizards do. Ours is blood magic, but I'm neither one thing nor the other anymore. I'm a hybrid, something unique, something special, and for the first time I understand something.
I'm dangerous.
A New Me
There's one crucial aspect to being one of the undead that I've grown to respect over the years, and that's always have a change of clothes with you. I stood in Tom's bathroom, naked, disgusted with what I saw yet full of admiration too. I'm slim and shapely and have that vampire shine to my skin, radiant and with a clear complexion, but now I was practically glowing with vitality.
I was also horny as hell. It's an often unwanted side-effect as it lessens you, turns you more into a monster, that you can get off on death, on this dark side of what you are, but it's unavoidable and I've learned to control it.
Foreign blood mingled with my own and the vampire virus that permeated every cell in my body, and my pulse quickened as I absorbed this newly created blood magic. I watched, transfixed, as something new and unique happened. Strange patterns began to appear, covering me from head to toe. Not where my veins were, or not only there, but swirls and eddies, circles and spirals and delic
ate trails that pulsed and meandered, carving out a new and potent route.
I trailed a bloodied finger across my taut belly and felt the power within the patterns, the flesh raised like my husband's tattoos when he summons magic to do his bidding. In fact, come to think of it, this was exactly what it was like—his ink. Most wizards have extensive tattoos, usually getting them once they become true magic users and are certain of the path they will follow, not that many ever turn away once introduced to the Hidden world.
It's not common for witches, though; theirs is a different kind of magic. But I was no witch or wizard, I was something else. Slowing my heart and searching within myself, I understood that these new markings resulted from the blood mingling with the surfacing magic. The magic was telling me something, almost insisting, that if I wanted to use it, master and harness it to full effect, then this was how it would work.
It was gone as quickly as it came, and I was alone in a strange bathroom, covered in dried blood, replenished, energized, scared, and shamed. The shower ran warm and I used a dead man's soap and shampoo and scrubbed until my skin was pink. I dried and dressed in the clothes from my backpack then removed any trace of my presence and did the same as I went back downstairs. In the living room I cleaned anything I might have touched, and without looking at Tom I went into the hall, wiped down the door, stepped out into the cool autumn day and pulled the door closed using my sleeve over my hand.
Back in the car I made a call to the cleanup crew—all of us have their number, for obvious reasons—and then drove off. Tom would disappear off the face of the planet, never be found, would get no burial. It was what he deserved.
The traffic was flowing well in the city center and I drove aimlessly for half an hour just to get back on an even keel, but I knew what I had to do if I was to take Dancer up on his offer, and part of me was excited by the thought, the other part scared.
Ever since I got this thing inside of me, this magic, I'd felt it grow and become part of me. It was mine now, forever. It could not be given away again, could never be returned, couldn't even be taken from me because of the bond between husband and wife, because of the intent. Hidden magic was mine because of love, because the only way for me, a vampire, to bear a child was if I had magic of my own, so it came to me, and would be with me through eternity.
It's a scary prospect, just as terrifying as when I was turned, for it would set me apart from all I knew. I would be unique, destined for something but I didn't know what.
I had to make this magic my own. I had to get myself tattooed.
A smile spread as I thought about how Faz would react—he did love his ink. It was with a happy heart and a smile on my face, that I navigated the city after killing a man, off to see my husband and give him the good news.
Dancer could wait. If I was to do what he asked I had to be prepared, so better to go in ready than fail before I'd even started my new job as the first ever vampire enforcer for the Hidden Council.
Maybe I'd get given a cool name too.
A Test
On the outskirts of the city the roads narrowed and I slowed, always careful to stick to the speed limit. I was distracted as I pulled up at the red traffic light, thinking about the new role I'd somehow talked myself into accepting, wondering if I was truly a terrible person for feeling good about putting myself in mortal danger when more than anything else I wanted to be a mother.
It's a massive contradiction, but I've learned the hard way that this world is impossible to understand, that we have to accept who and what we are to some degree, embrace our true nature.
Mine is being a vampire. Undead to some, although that's not true, not really. My heart beats, I can eat, go out in the daylight although the ancient ones can't, and I like to think of myself as a human being. But I'm not. I'm a young vampire, cut off from her human life in her third decade, won't look different for maybe centuries, age creeping up on me so slowly it hardly means a thing. I'll lose myself to the cold and the dark unless I fight it every step of the way. So far I've managed, but it isn't easy, gets harder and harder, and I've done terrible things, nearly lost everything.
Would this act as a form of salvation? Do something with my life even though it's dangerous? Vampires may be basically immortal but if you get killed you still die. There's no way to regenerate if you get too badly injured; you die like everyone else.
Was this someone who should be a mother? Did I deserve it? Before Paris, we'd gone over and over it, weighing up the pros and cons, knowing the risks and that we were hardly the most safe and secure individuals, but it all boiled down to one thing in the end.
We wanted it.
I want to be a mother, I want to have a family, and Faz paid the ultimate sacrifice to give this gift. He almost lost his life getting the information we needed, only to discover a simple truth: a vampire can only become pregnant if she has magic inside, Hidden magic, so she is no longer quite human, or ex-human. He gave it, paid that price so this could happen. Vamps never have kids, something shuts down and ovulation ceases, but this would reverse over time, something we both had plenty of.
He was a wizard and looked mid-thirties but was well over a hundred, I'm in my thirties for real, although in human terms I'm fast approaching the big four-oh-no. I'm trim and I like to think I dress okay, and am pretty in a simple, yet striking way. I know my eyes are a little too far apart but they're big and a very bright blue, and my nose is too large and my chin a little weak, but I know some men find me attractive. Hell, now most men do. It's the blood magic, it makes you ooze sexuality like it's dripping through your pores, and don't even get me started on the glamoring. It's intoxicating, such total power, so I hardly ever use it for that reason.
Now here I was, having taken so many years to come to terms with what I am, now different again and going down a path there was no turning back from.
What can I tell you, this stuff is wild.
I would do this, would be a mother one day, and if anyone had a problem with that then tough. You get one life, and I intend to live it, however long it lasts.
Sure, we have Mithnite, a young lad we accepted into our home, our life, our family, and he is family, but he's a young, adventurous wizard, a man really now, and much as I love him I want my own child. Call that selfish, or call it wanting what so many Regulars do, either way I know I'll be a mother.
I glanced up, rubbed at my face to bring myself back to the present. My mind was whirling along with my body, everything heightened and so intense it almost hurt. I needed a release, a way to vent this incredible force within, now more potent than ever before because of the Hidden side of me that felt like it was feeding off the blood magic and was ready to explode.
The light was still red and I tutted at the faulty crossing. A horn beeped then the driver raced past me, shaking an angry fist; what was his problem? Attention back to the red light, I noticed a bedraggled looking pigeon standing in front of my car, seemingly in no hurry to get to the other side. Except this was no pigeon, this was something else entirely. Something Hidden.
To Regulars, true Hidden can look like a number of things. Trolls look like overweight men or women in bad sportswear, goblins like scrawny marathon runners with their penchant for tight Lycra and dayglo socks, and other Hidden that live in this world take on various human forms. But true Hidden from other realms, they often look like one creature or another.
The veil flickered and the pigeon revealed its true self, a tiny, bright red imp no larger than my palm.
"Intus?" I wondered, but realized it wasn't her as she'd be in the car peering down my blouse if that was the case. But it's hard to tell them apart what with the dungarees and the forked tail, the bulbous head with all those teeth.
The tiny imp turned and stared at something, a nasty goblin running down the road, dressed in skin-tight leggings and a black vest. It was green and angry and when it spotted the imp it sped up and shouted something. I wound the window down and heard it say, "You gonna get w
ot you got coming, you freak," which was kind of rich, and then it dashed into the road and stomped down hard on the imp-cum-pigeon.
I gasped as it lifted its foot and stared in annoyance at the lack of squished imp; all that remained was a puff of smoke. The imp had gone home, and I didn't blame it.
The goblin turned and glared at me. I recognized it from years ago, a creature Faz had had several encounters with, none of them good. I'd watched him fight it one fateful day right before life changed forever.
"Wot you lookin' at? You got a problem?" asked Drugi Doles, acting meaner and angrier than usual.
What had got into him? He was usually rude and obnoxious, but saved that for guys like Faz and other human magic users. Maybe he knew what I was now. But no, he didn't recognize me, not yet.
He marched to the car and banged on the roof with his fist with some real power even though his arms were scrawny. This was nuts, why was he spoiling for a fight with a total stranger?
"Don't even think about touching my car again," I warned.
"Or wot? Haha, you Regulars are all the same." He sneered and was about to punch the side panel when he stopped and stuck his head in through the window, the stink overpowering. His large nose was like a rubber prosthetic, and I so wanted to flick it and go, "Boing," the urge was almost overwhelming.
"It's you, that vampire witch thing. You're Spark's girl, right?"
"I'm his wife. Show some manners, Drugi Doles, or I'll blast that sorry excuse for a nose right off your face."
"You don't scare me, nuffin does," he said, and I could tell he meant it. This wasn't right. He was always trouble, looking for a fight, but he knew better than to mess with vampires. He knew what would happen if he did.
Thinking now was a good time to show the Hidden world that I was in business, and to be honest, acting without thinking or feeling anything but excitement, I focused and felt the magic surge within my system.
