He was picking at the tape around his IV when the nurse came in.
“I found a dinner tray left over—” She looked up and stopped. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to get out of here,” he answered. “There’s—I have something very important to do.”
“Stop that.” She rushed over, shoved the tray on the bed, bumped into Tristan’s knees harshly and smacked at the hand he was using to pull off the tape. “You just woke up after being unconscious for a week. You need rest and tests. You can’t leave.”
He grabbed her arms, making her stop fussing with him and look him in the eye. “You don’t understand… It’s so important that I leave. Please, help me. Pull this shit out of my arm, give me some drugs for the pain and let me check out. There’s someone I have to see.”
She dropped her shoulders. His pleading, those honest and sad deep blue eyes made her weak. She was on the edge of her decision. Tristan decided to try for her softer side in hope of her understanding. He was going to leave with or without her help, but he wanted to give her the choice to do right by him.
“Please, it’s for someone I—” He caught himself something dangerous slipped past his lips. Was that his real feeling? Naoko gave him a curious look. He took a deep breath and said, “It’s for someone I care about very much. I’m afraid for their life.”
She sighed and reached for his arm. Shaking her head, she pulled the tape free. “Just know this is a really stupid idea young man.”
He chuckled. She looked younger than him. She pulled out the I.V., and the catheter, blushing the whole time, and sent him off to the bathroom to get dressed in the go-home clothing the hospital provided. With pink cheeks Naoko explained that he had only been wearing leather pants when he was brought in and they cut those away. She then showed him how to wrap the brace around his ribs, since they were broken and technically should have still been—Tristan was thinking not since there was only a dull ache. It was his stomach, the gaping hole he had there from before, that really hurt. Naoko left him to dress while she went in search of drugs.
In the bathroom, Tristan stopped for a moment to take inventory before the mirror. Considering he took on a handful of jikininki and three Master vampires, and Yuki with his “fuck off”, it could have been worse. His stomach wound was pink and smooth under a row of stitches. There was going to be a nasty scar when it was completely healed, something to show for his efforts.
His left forearm had faint teeth marks lined with purple engraved onto it, but no open wounds. His right forearm, the one Aaron split open, what felt like a year ago, was completely healed. The stitches were gone and replaced with pale pink scar tissue. There was a small cut over his left eye and both eyes were lined in dark purple. The bottom of his right foot hurt and he couldn’t think why—then he remembered smashing one of the jikininki’s bony necks to pieces under his foot. Yeah, that’d do it.
Feeling a surge of mild panic again about needing to find Ash, he dressed quickly and went back to the room to find Naoko fussing with Kimura. The old man was in the middle of a coughing fit so that all she could do for Tristan was nod towards his bed.
“Those are yours,” she said and put her attention back to the old man.
Tristan smiled when he opened the little plastic bag and saw his car keys. He marched over and gave Naoko a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much for your help. You don’t know what it means to me.”
The old man laughed through his coughs as the nurse blushed hard.
On Tristan’s way out the door a familiar, feminine voice, called out, “Ne, Ryōshi-san!”, and he stopped, goose bumps rising all over. Slowly, he turned with wide eyes to look at the old man in the bed. Naoko, tucking in the edges of his sheets, didn’t even notice the change in pitch of her patient’s voice. “Remember, I have faith in you.”
Tristan’s mouth dropped open as he started at the old man. Where his eyes always that pale?
…Yuki?
The old man smiled at him before closing his eyes and resting his head back to sleep.
Shaking off the totally impossible notion that it was the old crazy vamp, Tristan left. He never bothered to stop at the desk to check out properly. No one stopped him either. He found his car in the darkest, farthest corner of the parking lot. He kept glancing over his shoulder, searching the darkness for Ash or another vampire, even Desmond would have been invited at this point. No such luck.
He pulled out onto the main road and realized he was very close to his apartment. He sped through the streets as fast as his little car could handle towards his building, hoping to find Ash there. That she had decided to live, even if it was selfishly just for him. He couldn’t imagine not having Ash in his life. Some part of him called to her like no other person he’d ever known. He wondered, briefly, if it was the Uruwashi part of him, but he didn’t really care at that point.
Tristan practically fell through the front door of his apartment, panting from the exhausting jog from the car and his side practically killing him. The place was exactly as he had left it over a week ago after sneaking out of Ash’s house during the day. He had only one other place he could think of to find her. The trip took more than two hours. He couldn’t remember exactly how to get there—that was the point of having a home out in the middle of nowhere when you were something like a vampire.
He forced himself to go slow up the gravel drive. A flood of emotions overtook him when the small form came into view, crouched at the edge of the remains of a charred home. He almost cried, he was so relieved. He parked the car and got out. It was colder out than he had noticed before and shivered in his borrowed hospital clothes as he walked slowly towards the woman picking at a pile of ashes that was once her home. Tristan stopped just behind her, waiting for her to acknowledge him. It was a feat in itself; the urge to grab her, kiss her… it was nearly crushing. He was just so happy to see her.
Ash picked up a brunt scrap of wood and examined it. “I had not planned to return here.”
Tristan let the dead silence of the night hang for a moment before answering. “I know.”
Ash sighed and tossed the wood away. “When I first met you, I thought you were just an ignorant, loudmouthed, rude American. I thought that I had to have been mad to bring you to my home. Yukihime taking my memories just compounded the whole blasted thing. I could not remember why I was helping you… but I, I wanted to. As you got further under my skin and I got to really know you, understand you…” She fell silent.
He waited to hear what she had to say.
“I like you,” she said plainly. “I can read your mind, and yet, you still manage to constantly amaze and surprise me.”
He gave a short laugh, relaxing. “Just because you can read my mind, doesn’t me you know me.”
She nodded, standing. “As it would seem.” She looked over her shoulder to him. “I really do like you, Tristan.”
He smiled and went to her. “Yeah.”
She plunged her hand into the fold of her kimono top and came back with a thick, crumbled envelope. It was Tristan’s will and note to his friend from back home. “I was going to mail it for you… When I thought you would not recover from your wounds.”
He shut his eyes tightly, thankful he lived. When he opened them again, he took the envelope from her and shoved it in his back pocket. “Thanks.” He was not sending it to Gillian anymore. He sighed and looked over the ruins of the home again. “I’ve decided to leave. Head back to the U.S.”
Ash looked at him, frowning. “Oh. I see.”
He chuckled and met her eyes. “You’re coming with me.”
She cracked a small smile. “Am I now?”
“Yep. See, it’s already been decided. You’ll like it there.” He gave her a stellar smile.
Ash smiled back to him. “When did you decide this?”
He let out a long sigh, looking out towards the mountains. “On my way here. I… well, honest? I was terrified. I couldn’t imagine you being gone. Then I t
hought that if you were really okay then I’d be the one to be there for you, always. I’d stay by your side, just like Haruka. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not saying I’m her replacement…” The two looked at each other. “Just maybe a halfway decent stand-in. If you’ll have me.”
She smiled and slipped her fingers between his, squeezing his hand. The pair stopped to look over the remains of Ash’s home in quiet reflection.
“You meant to die with him all along.” He made it a statement because as far as he was concerned, it was a fact.
“Yes,” she answered coldly, taking her hand back to hug herself. “That had always been my plan, for decades.”
So Yuki knew. God he had so many things to say to that loony bat. “But.”
She shook her head and turned enough to look up at him. “Haruka helped heal a great deal of the parts of me Malik broke. She saved me. But she’s gone now…”
“But…,” Tristan said, turning all the way around to face her.
“Well,” she said with a smirk, “You are no Haruka. You have terrible manners and the worse mouth I have ever heard… but you do have a kind heart and a strong will. I think perhaps, you will be good for me.”
He smiled big and took her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her, but there was one thing on his mind and it had nothing to do with the fact that she wouldn’t allow it. He’d already dodged being transformed by Malik’s invasive goodbye kiss. “Is it okay? I mean, for you and I to be together. I’m—”
“Uruwashi.” She sighed and looked down to his chest for a moment in thought and then back up to meet his eyes. “Does it matter?”
“To me? Fuck no.”
She smiled big, despite herself, tightening her arms around him. That was the power he had over her, his charm. “Me either. You are who you are and nothing will ever change that. I am prepared to deal with what may come. The true question, I present to you Tristan Daniel Blum is, are you? Once word of a true Uruwashi reaches the ears of the vampire world, you will be sought after in earnest. You will be marked for death by an entire race that would gladly see you die a gruesome death. Malik, he was a single Master vampire. Are you ready to take on the entire race?”
He thought about it a moment, then answered, “I decided awhile back that I want to live. I’m no murderer, but I can’t die yet. I’ll do what I have to to survive. Any vampire that’s stupid enough to break the rules, cross the Uruwashi, will have to answer to me. I’ll put them in their place or give them their beautiful death.”
“And what exactly are these rules?” the vampire leaning into him asked with a concealed smirk.
Tristan tightened his arms around her and answered with a big smile, “Do something naughty and find out.”
Ash Wednesday
IT was a Wednesday like any other.
The night smelled of snow. And something… more. The wind picked up, wiping silver strands of hair against the soft exposed flesh of her face. It carried with it that sweet scent of the Something More and her whole body answered its call, mouth watering, pulse thrumming, stomach growling.
How long had it been?
Hours, days, months… What did the lapse of moments matter to those who had no concept of human time?
Or those who sought to repent for the sin that they embodied.
She moaned softly, twisting and wringing her fingers together as if the new pain would somehow help distract her from the deep hunger in her belly. Nothing could distract her, not now that the scent had consumed her completely. She was its slave, yesterday, today and forever.
Instincts were roughly pushed aside for the promise of something far less tactile yet infinitely satisfying if the task could finally be carried out. Tonight was the night, it had to be.
There was no moon to illuminate her path, but eyes could lie, even hers. It was her nose tonight that she relied on, calling her towards that sweet scent like a siren’s song.
Suddenly, her feet refused to move, steadfastly fixed to the earth as she caught a new scent on the cold wind, the undeniable stench of death and sex that was his cologne, his distinctive pheromone. The breath left her in a sinful sigh.
She opened her eyes, not having remembered shutting them and let out an annoyed huff, forcing herself onward. Not that her instincts needed much coaxing, it was her sensibilities that knew better, the lesser used part of her being.
Her geta found the wood of the rear deck running the length of the single-story home with a soft clap. A light push and the rear door opened without any objection. Night spread into the home, consuming everything in shadow, and yet she could see it all with the clarity of daylight. She was standing at a main room, a social place where the family would gather. This was where the trouble had started.
The smell was stronger here, the source only a few feet away, in the room beyond this one. The scent of the family’s earlier meal was still in the air, the hot pot meal adding a dense moisture to the home’s interior. Too bad the scent of their meal made her sick to her stomach. As did that all too familiar sonance coming from the other room. The one she was following, he was still here, committing his second favorite sin... gluttony.
She took in a deep breath meant to be cleansing, calming, but it only excited the voracity in her. She floated through the twilight, passing through a sea of broken glass from the television. Something soft and wet squished under foot and the scarlet mist wafted up to her sensitive nose. Faltering, she gripped at her chest as the scent filled her sinuses, threatened to consume her. Every breath was torture as it started to come in and out too quickly. She didn’t need to breathe, but chose to. She chose to suffer.
She looked up, startled to find herself suddenly at the other end of the room, facing an interior sliding screen. She couldn’t remember crossing the remainder of the space and lifted her hand, pressing her palm against the wood of the frame. A glimmer of excitement, a spark of sexual energy licked her presence. He was shielding his mind, but that lust, it could never be suppressed, not from someone like him. Besides, he wanted her to know he was there. That her being there to witness his plight excited him deeply.
She sighed, knowing what she would find and pushed the fusuma aside. Calmly, with a disconnected self she’d learned so well how to set into place over the real her, she sent a languorous gaze about the room, taking in the whole bloody spectacle. The low dining table was pushed against the far left wall. Evidence of the dark ritual showed across the mahogany wood, etched in hardened candle wax and cooling blood. A solitary candle was lit on the corner, somehow unscathed by the chaos.
A confetti of shredded clothing littered the room. Thick paint of dark crimson decorated the walls, exploded outward from the center where a heap of meat was piled. Blood spread from the heap, staining the tatami straw dark brown. They were once bodies, this dark meat, two by her count, plus the family pet. A dog, by her best guess of what was left. Now they were nothing but empty dolls, broken and haphazardly piled; forgotten toys of a sadistic monster.
Amongst other parts, an arm had been lost in the fray, the frenzy of bloodletting. It lay at her feet, fingers outstretched towards the door as if the dismembered limb could free them from the room. Alas, it was too late for this family—all but the little girl the frighteningly beautiful monster stood over. This monster, he was a god in his own right. All but called himself such, such was his ego. His skin was pale and creamy as milk, and ever so cold to the touch.
His body was exactly as she remembered. Every line, every muscle, every knot of scar—the price the son of a whore had to pay to live—every last detail the same as the day he claimed her for his own. She swallowed back her emotions, a burden she did not want or need.
No doubt having heard her from the moment she arrived, the beautiful monster finally turned and acknowledged her, fixing vibrant eyes upon her. His graceful mien was all but ruined by the destruction of the room and when he smiled, she remembered him exactly for the devil he was. His fangs seemed to glow yellow in the candle light, giving
them a putrid hue that turned her stomach.
Making sure she really saw all of him, he pushed a hand down his chest, fingers splayed to rub over his nipples and harden them. Her eyes followed, unable not to as if he commanded it. The front of his body was covered in dark red, a morose imitation of battle paint. The thick mud was starting to dry and flake, coming free under his hand.
He moved to grab himself and she looked away quickly, pulse heavy in her ears. She could not look down, no matter what her eyes and admittedly, body, wanted. If she looked down and found him at her ready she might completely forget why she came here. She swallowed hard, forcing her gaze to those amethyst eyes again.
His lips stretched into a knowing smile as their eyes met, that familiar crooked smile that spoke of triumph, mastery over the weak. “Ah!” he exclaimed, as if he had just realized she were there, “fancy meeting you here.”
“Yes,” she hissed. She was thankful her voice was not breathy as she imaged it would be. “Imagine the coincidence.”
“Coincidence? Always the joker. I know you had to see me, my naughty little As—”
“Damare!” she screamed, stepping into the room. Her body hurt, the muscles tight with the need to lash out at him physically as she had verbally.
He grinned, positively giddy and took a step forward to match her. “I knew you would be hungry for me, sooner or later. A shame it was later, I was growing tired of waiting. Thirty-three years…” He took another step closer and another, each silent. “Is a long time to be patient for someone like me.
“Or did you want to play one of our old games again... partake in the slaughter? I’m sorry I didn’t save you more but I didn’t think you’d actually show yourself this time after dawdling in the dark for so long.”
Of course he knew she’d been silently following him all these long years, building up her resolve to finally face him and put an end to his reign of madness.
Beautiful Death Page 31
