The Alexandru Chronicles: The Beginning

by Julienne Holmes

  It was only a few minutes, yet, to him, it seemed like eternity of fighting with that door. No matter how hard he pulled and turned the handle, the door refused to budge.

  He knew, from just turning the door handle back and forth, that it wasn't locked.

  It was just stuck.

  After a few minutes more of just trying to put some more elbow grease into it, he finally gave up. As he stood there, looking puzzlingly down at the door handle, it was then that he felt this deep breathing on the scruff of his neck.

  As if someone was standing right behind him.

  Quickly withdrawing his gun, he turned around to see...Absolutely nobody standing there.

  It was strange, he had been almost positive that someone had been there. Yet, now there was no one.

  Swallowing down this, strange, painful lump in his throat, he descended down into the foyer. And as he made his way over to the winding, wooden, staircase, he suddenly halted in his tracks at this distant childish laughter; coming from upstairs.

  Staring up the staircase, he was pleasantly surprised to see a little girl scurry past.

  There was something strange about this little girl. She had golden blond curls, wore a fifties pink party dress and...Well, there was really no better way to describe her, but to say that she had this translucent appearance.

  Yet, while he had thought her appearance strange, he, being the deplorable human he was, still found himself aroused by this pretty little girl; little girls had always done that to him.

  He had thought that this would be just work. Now, though, he knew that there was a treat waiting for him after he killed the slayer.

  With a new bout of relentless energy, he swiftly made his way up the stairs. He was so busy thinking about what he would do to that little girl, before killing her, that he wasn't paying much attention to anything else.

  If he had, he would of noticed that the little girl now stood at the top of the stairs' landing – with her back to him.

  The moment he got to the last step, that's when he noticed the little girl.

  Up close, she looked different; her hair wasn't as golden as he had thought it was. It was more dull and she didn't seem as lively as she had appeared from the bottom of the stairs.

  As it was, he could only see the back of her. Yet, it was that mere sight of her that had him even more aroused.

  He was tempted to have his treat, before finishing his business.

  As his fingers itched for a touch of her, he had to sustain his arousal by reminding himself what his mistress wanted.

  Yet, because the child was so close, he rationalized that just a taste shouldn't hurt.

  “Hello, sweetie...Want to play?” he leaned out to touch her.

  The moment his fingers touched her hair, he was surprised by it's dryness – there was a scratchiness to it that irritated his fingers. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out, why her hair felt like that, but it reminded him of how hair felt when...dead.

  Shrugging away his uneasiness, he repeated his question, “Want to play, sweetie?” this time he turned her around.

  Hollywood would never have come up with anything as frightening as what was staring at him, at that very moment. The little girl he had thought was pretty at a distance, was nothing more than a dead monster. Her skin was ash white, her eyes, possibly the most terrifying feature about her, had this dead gray, gleeful malice, in them. And when she smiled at him, there were rows of rotten teeth in her mouth.

  The moment he yanked his hand away from her, she leaned out to touch him and, in his efforts to try and get away from her, he had forgotten that he had been standing on the second to first step of the stairs.

  He didn't even have time to correct himself, before he slipped backwards down the stairs. The last that he heard as he tumbled to his death, was his own screams and the little girl laughingly asking, “Want to play?”

  XXX

  Cirpian suddenly came awake; instantly bolting up in bed, he, unseeingly, looked around the room.

  He hadn't been sure what had woken him. He knew that it wasn't yet dark out. His body and senses told him, that at the latest, it was only late afternoon.

  Yet, regardless of that, something or someone had woken him.

  After draping his legs over his bed, he sniffed.

  It was this faint human odor, that walloped him like a fist to his nostrils; alerting him, instantly, that someone was in his house, and this person's stench was far from welcoming.

  Unlike Genevieve's provocative aroma, this individual's foul odor picked away at his senses.

  He knew what this person's intentions were, and he had a pretty good idea who had sent him.

  Once he had dealt with his uninvited guest. First getting out of him, who his master was—he felt strongly that it had to be Adrian—he would then deal with this vampire.

  After hastily grabbing his sword, he swiftly made his way to the door.

  Yet, no sooner had he flung the door open, did he hear this blood curling scream; coming from the landing.

  One would have thought that the scream, alone, would have had him speeding up in his haste. Yet, it was the exact opposite with him; he slowed his pace and just leisurely made his way over to the stairs.

  When he finally got to the stairs' platform, he was instantly met by the presence of the little girl – a little girl, he had come to know as being quite mischievous. The way she rationalized her actions, was that she was really the true owner of this house. And had decided that she, herself, would pick out a tenant to live with her. When it came to the other potential tenants for this house, she had deemed them all unfit; she wanted someone a little more like herself – that's why she had scared off the others and chosen Cirpian to live there with her.

  To be honest, it was like having a roommate. Yet, where other roommates were alive, she...wasn't.

  As she stood next to him, gazing down the stairs at the dead intruder, she, grabbing his hand, inquired whimsically, “Did you have a nice sleep?”

  “It was pleasant..., thank you.” he smiled.

  Leaning down he picked her up, and, as he descended down the stairs, he asked, “So..., how was your day today?”

  Once they had reached the bottom, Cirpian, stepping over the dead body of Caftan Hobbs, headed toward his library.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The way that Genevieve found out about Caftan Hobbs' death, was on the ten o'clock news. She had been readying herself for bed, when she heard the news announcer say that Mr. Hobbs had died in a terrible car accident.

  By the time first responders had responded to his accident, his car had been engulfed in flames and any chance of retrieval was a lost cause.

  The whole time Genevieve had been listening to this, she had been rolling her eyes.

  Who...the hell...cared?

  The man that these stupid reporters were reporting on, was a monster. He was a child molester, who had gotten away with countless crimes against children. The last crime he had gotten away with, just so happened to be the molestation of his own niece.

  According to the prosecutor, Mr. Hobbs had been molesting his niece for six months. Yet, no matter how hard the prosecutor tried to stress this point to the jury, because of insufficient evidence, and an unwilling witness, the bastard had been acquitted; the jury just couldn't find him guilty.

  Well, while the courts couldn't find him guilty, someone up there had thought it only right to give these poor innocent children justice. So, now, Mr. Hobbs was spending his eternity in hell.

  Before the reporter could go into anything else, Genevieve turned off the television. She had just tossed the remote on to her coffee table, when there was a knock at her door; she hadn't a clue who would be visiting her at this time of night. As she cautiously looked over at her holstered weapon, she was immediately tempted by the idea of retrieving it.

  In this day and age, it was never safe to just open the door.

  No telling what kind of nut case could be wai
ting for her on the other side.

  It was that second knock, that had her ultimately deciding against her gun. And making that short distance over to the door, she stared out the peephole. When she saw who it was, she was pleasantly surprised and, at the same time, leery of the man that stood on the other side of her door. She would have been lying, if she had said she hadn't been thinking about him; he had in fact been a plague upon her thoughts for most of the day. Whether or not that was a good or bad thing, she wasn't entirely sure.

  Upon her flinging the door open, she was about to say, “What are you doing here?” when he, pulling her into his arms, planted his mouth squarely on hers; instantly putting an end to her apprehension and quizzical curiosity on why he would be on her doorstep at that time of night.

  While Cirpian conquered her mouth, he silently closed the door behind him, and once he had locked it, he hauled her up into his arms and carried her back toward her bedroom. At that very moment, he was so ravenous, that he could only think of the unbearable desire that he had felt that whole day for his Genevieve; wanting to be with her had been like an uncomfortably, unbearable, itch that he had wanted to scratch, but couldn't.

  Later that night, though, and once he had taken care of Caftan Hobbs' body, Cirpian had found that he could no longer resist the siren call of Genevieve's blood. While he had no intention of taking her blood, without permission, he needed to be with her; right then and there.

  So, here he was now. Desperately yearning for the woman, that he held in his arms, and, yet, knowing, he should really try to distance himself from her; the only problem, was that he couldn't.

  While he knew that he shouldn't be with Genevieve, he just couldn't seem to help himself; he wanted her too bad. Most likely he was in the same or worse condition as Brian.

  Wasn't the life of a vampire grand?

  He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

  On the one hand, he could be with Genevieve and eventually suffer through the same unbearable blood lust that Brian was and had suffered through for Jewel Freemen. Yet, on the other hand, he could let Genevieve go and just suffer through a pain that was worse than any amount of blood lust or physical pain that could be inflicted upon him.

  Decisions, decisions.

  In the end, what Cirpian decided to do was just live in the moment and enjoy the wonderful, sensual, feel of Genevieve's warm body. He wouldn't think about the consequences at this time. Hell he wouldn't think about anything, except, that is, the pleasure coursing through him as he thrust into her warm, compliant, body.

  XXX

  As he stood in the shadows, furiously, watching her bedroom window. He felt this unbearable urge to go to her apartment, break down her fucking door, rip that bastard slayer's heart out, and make her eat it.

  It was upon seeing those lights go out in her bedroom, that had him wanting to hurt someone; preferably both the slayer and that temptress bitch. The only reason why he wasn't trying to seek his revenge on both, was because he knew that the slayer would be on him the moment he kicked that apartment's door open; he wouldn't even have a chance to plan some semblance of attack or reconsider his actions.

  As he stood there in the dark, glowering, he made plans on tracking down a prostitute and making her pay for what his bitch was doing right at that moment.

  If not for his new gifted, and, at the same time, cursed vampire senses, he wouldn't have heard and smelled her desire as she fucked that blind vampire slayer.

  It was the stench of that very desire, that had him wanting her even more.

  She was his.

  Didn't the little temptress know that?

  It was possible, that she didn't even know that she was.

  Yet, he had convinced himself, that she was only doing this to make him jealous.

  He would have to teach her another lesson. Looking over at her car, he rubbed his hands together, and, as headed over to it, his smile became even more sinister.

  Oh yes, he would definitely teach her another lesson, and, hopefully, this time it would stick.

  XXX

  The moment she awoke in the partially dark room, she instantly noticed the cold side next to her. While she couldn't help hogging most of the bed, as she slept, she still had been hopeful about Cirpian staying. Yet, apparently, he had either gotten tired of having to sleep on the edge or he had just decided to teach her a lesson.

  After all, that morning, she hadn't woken him to tell him that she was leaving.

  As she groggily looked over at her clock, she noticed that it was half past midnight.

  Sighing, she fluffed her pillow and laying face down upon it, she let her brain shut down. It did dawn on her, before her body and brain had succumbed to sleep, that she should check the door to make sure it was lock, but her grogginess had already done wonders on her exhausted body.

  Besides, why would Cirpian leave the door unlock?

  He would have either woke her or taken her spare on her coffee table.

  Since he hadn't woken her, she was willing to make an educated guess that he had taken the spare.

  As she continued to lay there, in the darkness, on the verge of sleep, yet not quite there, she felt herself start to doze. The moment her eyes closed and she let this dark, blissful, drowsiness overwhelm all her senses, she started to dream...

  XXX

  As dreams went, this one was truly strange.

  It didn't start out as really anything.

  She was walking around in a sheet of dense fog. Unable to see anything—not even her own hand in front of her face.

  If that wasn't strange enough, the fog itself, felt greasy and slippery against her exposed skin.

  A part of her wanted to turn back, but something told her that she needed to keep going. Besides, even if she wanted to, she wouldn't have been able to go back—an invisible force kept pushing her forward.

  If the push wasn't enough of a consistency, the constant weight on her right side was weighing her down to the point that she was having to stop every few seconds.

  She couldn't see what this weight was and every time she tried to look at it, she couldn't even move her neck to do so.

  The one thing she knew, was that she could look forward but she couldn't look back or side to side.

  When the fog eventually became less dense, and, she started to see clearly through it, she was able to make out a few details in front of her.

  She was walking down a long corridor, and the walls—while she couldn't turn her head to get a better look at them—had graffiti on both sides.

  It would have been nice to slow down and read the graffiti; possibly she would have been able to get a better grasp on where she was at.

  Yet, no matter how hard she tried to stop or slow her pace, she found that she couldn't.

  She just kept on, aimlessly, walking.

  When eventually she did stop at this fork in the corridor, she felt the weight on her right bump her.

  She knew that she couldn't stay put, but she hadn't a clue on which way to go.

  The extra weight, was becoming too much – she was getting tired. Yet, she couldn't just leave it. For some, strange, reason, she was very much inclined to take whatever it was with her.

  She had just decided to go left, when she adverted away from that destination and instead went right.

  It was unclear on why this was. All she knew was that she didn't technically want to. Yet, because she was being told, by someone, that going left was unwise, her mind had directed her feet to go right.

  It was her desperation to get out of this strange place, with the weight on her right side, that had her willing to follow anyone – even the devil, himself...

  XXX

  Jewel had just gotten off work a few hours ago. Yet, her reason for arriving back at the campus so late, was because of the horrible Tucson traffic she had had to battle.

  This was the third job in less than a week that she had gotten, and, hopefully, she could keep it.

  The
first, after the diner, had been at an animal shelter, which, after working there for only one day, she had been fired that following day. What had pissed her off about that, was the disrespect that her employers had had for her – leaving a voice-mail message on her phone, telling her that she was fired.

  Who did that?

  The second had been an insurance company, that had done the exact same thing to her as the animal shelter. Except, that is, they hadn't left a message, they had actually been able to get hold of her; and then they had fired her over the phone.

  Her third job was as a waitress over at Applebee's. And she wasn't entirely sure, considering her track record, that she would actually be able to keep this job. She gave herself the rest of next week into the weekend, and, if she still had the job after that, then she would start feeling more relaxed.

  It didn't take Jewel long, for her to eventually find a parking place in the garage. Yet, by the time she did, she had already gotten to that point, that she was blaming herself and Amelia for her stupid decisions.

  Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered listening to Amelia Or why she stayed in Tucson.

  Why she hadn't put her foot down about attending college?

  Why she had let Amelia control her life?

  These questions and more were constantly bothering her.

  She had taken those art and writing classes over at Pima, that would help her improve in these desired areas. Since she just wanted to write, and, try and make it in this desired profession, she didn't see the point in getting a degree. Yet, Amelia, some how, had coerced her into attending the U of A.

  For the life of her, she couldn't figure out why she had let Amelia make that decision for her. It was, after all, her life. Why couldn't she live it the way she wanted to?

  Really there was nothing more, she could do about her situation; she was halfway to graduating and it seemed such a waste of money to just throw in the towel, and say, “The hell with it, I give up.”