Thea (Book 2): A Vampire Story

by Steven Jenkins

  “Please, Kate.”

  She glances at me, shakes her head, and then releases the man’s tongue from her fingers. He snaps his jaw shut in relief as Kate snatches the pyjama sleeve out of my hand.

  “Fine,” she says, stuffing it into his mouth and then tying it around his head. She climbs off his chest and stands up. “But if he tries anything else, I’ll rip his fucking cock off too, and stuff both of them up his ass.”

  Kate storms past me in anger, out of the room.

  The man is left lying on his back, juddering, eyes streaming.

  I stare at him in curiosity, unsure of what I’m meant to do next.

  ‘Leave him, Thea,’ Kate tells my head.

  I should be afraid of her. Terrified. I should be running for the hills, screaming for help. But instead I exit the room in a numb haze, compelled to follow her footsteps again.

  5

  In the living room, there’s a fire blazing in the hearth. Even though I’m not in the least bit cold, the heat feels good. Kate is sitting on an old, worn out brown couch, staring at me; her eyes filled with either intrigue or worry.

  “Sit down,” she says.

  I do as she says and sit next to her.

  “Do you understand what’s happened to you?” she asks.

  I shake my head, struggling to snap out of this zombified state.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Reaching over, she takes my hand. “You’re a vampire, Thea. Do you know what that means?”

  I nod.

  “What do you remember?”

  “Just pieces,” I reply with a shrug. “Flashes. Like…”

  “Like what?”

  “A woman. I bit her neck and killed her.”

  “Do you know who she was?”

  I try to focus on the woman’s face, but it’s blurred. “I can’t make her out.”

  “Good,” she says with a smile. “It’s not important who she is anyway. You were hungry. You had to feed.”

  My eyes start to wander around the room. It’s hideous. The paint on the walls is cracked and peeling, the floor has no carpet, with just rotting floorboards showing, and the window is sealed up with pieces of wood, nailed to the frame. “Is this where you live?”

  Kate follows my stare. “No. Not anymore. Not for a long time.”

  “Do you know that man upstairs?” I glance up at the black, swollen ceiling. “And the girl?”

  “No. They’re nobody. Squatters. Junkies. Just food for people like us.”

  “Why are you keeping him upstairs?”

  “Because we need to feed on him; ration our food supply. I don’t want to be hunting just yet. I can’t risk leaving you alone in the house.”

  “Okay,” I reply. “What was that smell from earlier? Smelt like old pennies.”

  “That was blood. We can smell it from half a mile away.”

  “I don’t smell anything now.”

  “That’s because you’ve fed. Your senses go into overdrive when you’re hungry.” She picks up a small piece of broken wood from the floor, and then throws it onto the fire. “Tell me what you know about vampires?”

  I think for a moment, remembering school. My school. I’m sitting next to a girl. I think her name is Daisy. There’s a teacher. A fat woman with grey hair. I can’t remember her name, but she’s talking about vampires. “The sunlight will kill us.”

  “That’s right,” Kate says. “That’s why I had to get you into the boot. We would have burned to death in a matter of minutes. What else?”

  “We don’t age.”

  Kate shakes her head with a smirk. “That’s not true. You will age, but much slower than humans.”

  “How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-five—but I should be forty-six.”

  I gawk at her face; the lack of wrinkles, her perfectly white teeth, green eyes sparkling in the light of the fire. She’s beautiful. Perfect.

  How old am I? I can’t remember.

  “You’re thirteen,” Kate replies, even though I didn’t say a word.

  “How did you do that?” I ask, only now realising how impossible it seems.

  Kate doesn’t answer.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  She lets go of my hand, rubs her eyes, and then sighs. “You have my blood inside you.”

  “How?” I ask with a puzzled frown.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she replies, sheepishly, throwing another piece of wood on the fire.

  “Did you bite me?”

  “No. Humans don’t get infected from bites. That’s just a myth. The most common ways are through unprotected sex, sharing needles, and consumption. Someone gave you some of my blood.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s not important, but what is important is understanding that we have a connection now. I can read your thoughts. Not all of them, just some. And I can feel what you feel.”

  “Forever?”

  Kate shakes her head. “No, not forever. Nothing is forever. The stronger you become, the less effective the connection is.”

  A thin beam of light creeps through a small gap in the boarded up window. The sun is coming up.

  “Am I your slave?” I ask, just as my eyelids start to feel heavy.

  Kate spots the light as well, turns to me, and then takes both my hands gently. “No, of course not. The connection is only to help you. The next few days are going to take a little getting used to. The more you remember about your human life, the harder it’ll be to accept the change. But it’s my job to keep you safe.”

  Kate gets up from the couch and I follow her out of the living room and up the stairs. There are three rooms. Two must be bedrooms and the other the bathroom. We step inside one of the bedrooms. It’s completely bare apart from another boarded up window, a broken chest of drawers, and a few pieces of rubble scattered across the bare floor.

  I lie next to Kate in the centre of the floor.

  I don’t feel cold, or even uncomfortable; all I feel is an all-consuming need to close my eyes and sleep.

  I wonder if that man is sleeping too…

  6

  There’s a tap on my bedroom window. I try to move off the bed, but I can’t. There’s something wrong with me. The pain in my stomach is getting worse.

  There’s another tap on the window, this time a little louder. I manage to sit up in bed, clutching my stomach like an alien is about to burst out.

  I hear a voice—it’s coming from outside the window.

  “Thea,” the voice whispers. “It’s me.”

  “Shit,” I mutter to myself. I forgot about him.

  I roll off the bed and walk, hunched in agony, over to the window. Pulling the curtains open, I see Jared behind the glass, fingers gripping the rim of the window, one foot on the drainpipe, and the other on the sill. Letting go of my abdomen, I unlock the window and let him in.

  “You took your time,” he whispers as he climbs inside. “I’ve been out there for ten minutes. Thought you’d had a change of heart.”

  The pain worsening, I sit on the edge of the bed, struggling to keep my focus on his face. “What are you talking about?”

  Jared sits next to me, placing his hand on my thigh. “About running away together.”

  I grimace at him, still in the dark about any plans we supposedly made.

  “What’s wrong with your belly?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. Hungry I think.” I wince as a sharp tremor shunts my insides. “Starving.”

  “Then we’ll grab something on the way to the station.” His eyes scan the room. “Have you packed yet?”

  “Packed what?” I reply, my words coming out a little slurred.

  “Your clothes. The bus is leaving in less than an hour.”

  I shake my head, eyes watering. “So hungry.”

  A deep scowl forms on his forehead. “What the hell’s the matter with you? If you don’t want to go, then just say.”

  My vision distorts as the room starts to spin. “Why ar
e we going to the bus station?”

  “Are you kidding me, Thea? We’re going to my brother’s house in London. Have you been swigging down your mother’s wine or something?”

  I don’t respond; the pain is too much, running up and down my spine. It’s agony. Now it’s in my legs, too.

  I can’t bear it.

  Jared gets up and pulls a sports bag out from under my bed. “I’ll pack for you.”

  “Pack what?” I mumble.

  “Bloody hell, babe. Is this a wind-up?”

  “I need to eat something.” I’ve forgotten who this is standing in front of me, stuffing clothes into a pink bag.

  What’s he doing in my bedroom?

  Who the hell is he?

  Where am I?

  I wake to the sound of a man screaming.

  Did I dream it?

  Jared.

  I can’t believe I forgot he existed.

  My heart aches when I picture his gorgeous face, his light green eyes, and his thick blond hair. Is he back home, waiting for me, wondering why I left?

  What would he think of me now?

  I don’t remember the last thing I told him. ‘I love you’, maybe?

  Frustration washes over me as I search my mind for the answer, but come up empty-handed.

  “Shit!” I blurt out, slamming my fist against the dusty floor.

  I stare up at the plaster that’s hanging from the ceiling, just moments away from falling off. The room seems different from yesterday, clearer. More gross.

  No, it’s not the house that’s different—it’s me.

  I hear another scream, sending an electric shock into my eardrum. It belongs to a man. And that strange, coppery smell infects my nostrils again.

  Blood.

  Racing out through the door, I follow the noise across the landing and into the other bedroom. Kate is kneeling beside the man, her teeth locked around the side of his neck. His eyes closed tight as he shrieks out in agony, his pink gag somehow hanging by his chin. Kate spots me straight away, retracts her head, and then moves away from him. “Your turn,” she says, wiping the blood from her dripping mouth.

  Stomach growling like a wild dog, I step over to him and drop to my knees. Even though the pain is quickly working its way up to my back, I stop for a moment, staring down at the bite mark on his neck.

  I glance at her. She motions with her head to drink. Flashes of my dream invade my mind, but then quickly crumble as I sink my teeth into his skin, making a fresh hole. I close my eyes as each bead of blood washes away the pain. I lose myself for a moment, uncaring as to whether this man lives or dies, or where our next meal will come from.

  All that matters is now.

  “Stop, Thea!” I hear Kate snap from what seems like a million miles away.

  I can’t stop.

  I can barely feel her hand on my shoulder, prising me away from him.

  I won’t stop.

  “You’ll kill him!” Kate shouts.

  I don’t care

  Suddenly I feel her shoe connect with my ribs. My body skids across the room, slamming into the wall; white plaster and dust spraying over me like snow. Wincing in pain, I brush off the particles and then sit up, staring at the man; his eyes are closed, and his skin is pale.

  Kate hovers her ear over his mouth and checks his neck for a pulse.

  Is he dead?

  Standing up, she shakes her head; her face scrunched up in anger. “You could have killed him. We need him alive. I told you!”

  “I’m sorry,” I reply, chin quivering, body tensed with fear. “I couldn’t help myself. I tried to stop, I really did, but—”

  Kate lets out a long sigh, purses her lips, and then sits down next to me. “It’s okay, Thea,” she says, putting her arm around me. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault—it’s mine. I should have known how difficult it is to stop. It takes a lot of willpower—but you’ll get there. I promise.”

  I wipe my mouth and stare at the man. He’s stirring. For a moment I lost control. I don’t think I’ve ever had such an urge before.

  Have I? How would I know? My memory is screwed.

  And then I see Jared’s face again, as he lies next to me on my bed; with that cheeky smile so hard to resist.

  My heart begins to ache when I think of him so far away.

  I’ll be home soon.

  Wait for me, Jared…

  7

  I feel numb as I lie on the couch. My mind is fighting to make sense of everything. Kate. This house. This terrible hunger in my stomach.

  Jared.

  I was meant to run away with him. From where though? I keep seeing a house. It must be mine. And a girl named Ivy. She looks so much like me. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. But a little older. I think she’s my sister. She’s in so much pain.

  I think she’s dead.

  Did I kill her too?

  There’s someone else buried deep inside my head, trying to break free. A woman. Who is it?

  Why can’t I remember?

  I found a book upstairs. It must have belonged to the squatters. It’s called Earthbound, written by some guy named Richard Matheson. It’s about a female ghost trapped in a beach house. She reminds me of me—trapped in this dump.

  “You’re not trapped,” Kate says as she walks down the stairs.

  I hate it when she does that. Stay the hell out of my head!

  “Then why can’t I leave?” I ask, dropping the book on the floor. “I could pretend to be normal? Go back home? See Jared again.”

  “You will—but not yet. When you’re ready. If you think controlling yourself with that junkie upstairs was hard, imagine stepping into a crowded supermarket. All those people. All that blood pumping at once. It’s hell—trust me. It took me a long time to step out of the shadows—and even after twenty years, it’s still hard.”

  “So what are we meant to do in the meantime? Just sit in this dump and stare at the walls?”

  “For now. We’ve got to keep a low profile. If the police find out you’re a vampire, they’ll execute you. Both of us. Do you understand?”

  I don’t answer, just nod, trying to hide my dismay.

  “So we’re stuck here for the time being.” She swiftly inspects the room. “But I’ll make this place a little more habitable.”

  “How? It’s a shithole.”

  “Well, for a start, I’m going to take a drive into town and get a few supplies.”

  “What supplies? We don’t need food or water.”

  “How about a generator, a few lights—and a TV?”

  I beam. “Really? A TV? That’s awesome.”

  Kate returns an even bigger smile. “Thought that would cheer you up.”

  “Don’t we need an aerial to watch TV?”

  Kate’s smile melts. “Shit. That’s a good point.”

  “We can watch DVDs,” I suggest.

  “Yeah, good idea. And I’ll pick up some clothes and a couple of those inflatable mattresses, too. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds good. Thanks, Kate.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replies, making her way to the front door.

  I pick up the book from the floor and open it. “Have you got enough money?” I ask, not looking at her.

  “Of course I do. Vampires never use banks—and we’ve got a lifetime to save.”

  “Don’t forget a blanket and a pillow, too,” I call out just before the door slams. I’m sure she heard me.

  She hears everything else.

  It’s been about two hours and I’ve almost finished the book. Each page has flown by, mainly because I’ve been trying to block out the throbbing in my belly. It’s been like this for the past twenty minutes. Where the hell is Kate? I glance up at the ceiling, directly under where the man is being held. Maybe I should feed a little, take the edge off. It’s only going to get worse, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to do it. What if I can’t control myself again? I might kill him this time. It’s too risky. I should wait for Kate to get
back.

  I look up again as a stabbing pain cripples my insides. Closing my eyes, I think about what movies Kate will bring home. Shit, I should have told her what I’m in to. I bet she’ll bring back The Sound Of Music, or Pride and Prejudice.

  Kill me now.

  Or maybe she won’t. She might use those psychic powers of hers and bring back Mean Girls.

  I take hold of my stomach as the hunger takes over. Can’t bear it any longer. To hell with Kate. She shouldn’t have left me here alone.

  Getting up off the couch, I make my way to the front door to see if Kate is on the way. Outside, all I see is a dark farmyard with a rusty old bench, an apple tree about ten metres away, lots of grass, and even more trees in the distance—but no headlights coming.

  The pain shoots up my back, into my skull. I crouch down, holding onto the doorframe as I wait for it to pass. It doesn’t, so I storm across the living room and upstairs.

  As I march towards the man’s room, I listen out for Kate’s voice in my head, telling me to stop, to wait for her—but there’s nothing. Just another voice, begging me—screaming at me—to drain this fucking junkie until he’s nothing but a dried up prune.

  I barge open the door. In the blackness of the room I see the man scurrying to sit up, his body trembling, his eyes wide. I stare at his neck. I can smell the blood, pumping around his body, waiting to be tasted. He’s no longer a man. No longer a victim. He’s just food. He’s just meat. A fish at the end of a line.

  He’s nothing to me.

  I race over to him, go to my knees and stoop over him. Drooling, I open my jaws and drop them down towards his skin.

  “Don’t,” the man weeps, softly.

  I stop just as my teeth graze his neck. Lifting my head up, I glare at him. “Shut up!”

  “Please,” he begs, his eyes streaming with tears. “Just let me go.”

  The agony soaring through my body causes me to dig my nails into the floor. It doesn’t pass, so I bring my head back down to his neck.

  “My name is Darren,” he whispers.

  “I said shut up!”

  “I’m thirty-two years old.”

  My teeth pierce his skin.