We are our own little community of vampire hunters. It has really exploded since the internet, but there has always been a network of vampire hunters and enthusiasts that you can count on, whether it was through carrier pigeons or smoke signals. We're like ufologists in that no one outside of our group takes us seriously. We don't have a public website, and we don't appear in search results. We're in the deep internet, surrounded by a load of security protocols that keep our identities and IP addresses safe. I don't know how it works, but it does. My cousin Carl did it, and he’s certain that no one can track me.
They are a good group, like a bunch of close friends, most of whom I'll never get the chance to meet. I trust them implicitly, because they've proven time and time again that they're nice, good people.
I pull up the boards and make a post.
All good, bagged two baddies, I type into the window. Hope everyone is fine. I don’t mention my scar. While they know what happened, I don’t want to give them cause to worry. I also don’t mention that I lost a lead on Anthony, again. I don’t want to sound more disheartened than I already am.
Within seconds, another comment pops up beneath mine that makes me roll my eyes.
good to have you back cuz.
It's from Carl, my eighteen-year-old cousin. I check the clock and it's almost 4:30. What the hell is he still doing up?
I ask him and the reply comes back just as quickly: speedrunning castlevania. U should play.
I stifle a smile as I shut the lid of my laptop without answering. I know he won't mind my disappearance. The room is thrown into darkness when my computer screen shuts off. After a brief shower to wash off the vampire blood and grime, I can collapse into my comfortable bed. Then I will have to make the most out of my four hours of sleep.
I strip off bits clothes as I make my way to the Jack-and-Jill bathroom that I share with Amelia. My clothing falls in forgotten heaps behind me, and I have no intention of picking them up tonight. Messy, I know, but I'm getting more and more tired with each passing step.
I flick the lights on in the bathroom, wincing at the reflection staring back at me. I look so gaunt, like I'm half the person I used to be. It's true that I've lost quite a bit of weight since Christmas, some of that muscle mass, but I haven't really looked at my reflection in a long time.
A scared twenty-year-old girl who I don't recognize stares back at me, her hazel eyes faded to a dull mossy color. My cheek is swollen and purple from that male vampire's punch, but it should be healed by tomorrow. My thin black and red hair hangs limply past my breasts, tangled and matted with thick blood. No wonder Graeme was taken aback by my appearance. Anyone in their right mind would have been just as disturbed by it.
I futilely comb a hand through it.
My right shoulder is already purpling from being dislocated and reset. My favorite tattoo, which says, "And so it goes" and runs along my collar bone, is threatening to be overtaken by bruises. An unfinished tattoo sleeve encases my right arm, while other tattoos dot my body.
Before everything, I considered my body to be a canvas for art. Now I consider the entire thing to be a corruption.
My left side is where it gets interesting. That's the side where I was bitten. An angry, crimson scar like a bad birthmark wraps its way up my forearm and spreads across my back and chest. It's only now starting to head up my neck. I tenderly run a tentative hand at its furthest reaches on my ribs. The scar isn't aching right now, though it is itchy at my touch.
It has spread a bit since this morning when I checked it. Not a whole lot, but there are only so many days of small growth before I'm completely covered in it. And not long after that, I’ll die.
I have nothing to help me except a hot amnesiac vampire that I may or may not have feelings for, a group of vampire-loving misfits, piles of old documents, and the ghost of my sister Meghan.
“You’re screwed,” I say aloud.
Pain explodes from my scar, spreading like wildfire throughout my body. Another attack from the infection. When the scar flares up and spreads, every time, it's a battle to maintain control of myself.
I cry out and hug my arm to my body, breathing heavily to wait while it passes. It’s like waiting for the axe to sever your head from your body.
I curse under my breath, grabbing at my hand as the spasms war through my body. It's sheer agony. I can't breathe through my now paper thin lungs and my nerves are on fire. I manage to keep myself from screaming, only barely.
The pain leaves me with a vengeance, and I'm panting.
It’s getting more frequent.
I glare at my reflection in the mirror, as if the girl glaring back at me is the reason to blame. And I do. I do blame myself for it. I stiffly straighten, keeping eye contact with myself. I'm left looking tired, strung out.
I turn on the shower with the intent to jump in and out, mainly to get the gunk out of my hair. A quick wash. Once I get under the water, however, I can't hold it in anymore.
With a sob, I collapse on the tile floor.
I'm not a strong person. Not anymore.
5
Jude
I hate when my hosts are too willing. I guess it’s worse if they’re not willing at all, but there’s something disturbing about the ecstasy in those who are all-too-ready for you to go in for the bite. It’s like some sort of perverted version of love that they think they’re getting. Or it’s the glamour that is getting them high.
Vampires have a word for it: junkies. There are normal humans who know that vampires are real and they become hosts in order to get closer to you or to get a hit of glamour.
The girl whose neck my lips are suctioned to makes moaning noises as her hands move towards her nether regions, touching herself in her reverie. Ugh, how can she think this is hot? I’m sucking the life out of her for Christ’s sake!
Revulsion makes me quit sooner than I want to. I can’t take it anymore. I release her and retract my fangs. I don’t even lick the wounds for my saliva to help them heal. I can’t bring myself to do it.
“I’m full. Thanks.” My voice sounds strangled even to myself.
Her eyes are fuzzy when she opens them to look at me. Confusion and disappointment make her face crinkle.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her voice feather soft from breathlessness. “I—”
“I’m done.”
She looks like she’s about to cry since she didn’t get the full treatment. She thinks I’m rejecting her. I actually feel bad about that, but I’m doing her a favor. She really is a pretty girl. I hope she can get away from this lifestyle before she gets killed.
She gives a curt nod, knowing that this was her only ride tonight. There are strict rules at this hive: no two feedings off the same human in a single night. It gives them a chance to regenerate their blood, and it keeps the older vampires from being too possessive over their latest prey. Fights have broken out when a vampire immediately feeds off another human, usually ending in the human’s death.
We really are a fucked up bunch.
“Okay, then…uh…?” she pouts.
I push her off me. Maybe my rejection will snap her out of this. I can only hope.
I comb a hand through my hair, my tongue idly playing with the piercing in my lips. Nervous habit.
After seeing Edie tonight, I was almost too famished to make my way back to Austin before sunrise. It became a matter of either finding some food or holing up here for the night. Given Edie’s track record, I don’t want to leave her out of my sight for too long. She seemed a little distracted, like something is really bothering her. I remember her reaction when I said she looked like she’d seen a ghost.
So many questions, not enough answers. She won’t let me go too far into her private life.
I decide that’s it’s probably time for me to leave. I’m in a hive that’s in a basement of an office building near Uptown, one that I’ve visited many times over the years. The leaders know me, so it’s not like I’m invading, but it is out of my com
fort zone to be around this…unbridled hedonism. It feels like an exclusive, upscale club, where there are VIPs and the normal club-goers. Only here, there are different kinds of VIPs. All around me, while rave music plays, vampires and humans alike are either lounging around on the couches or they’re fucking from the bloodlust. I hate being here, but it’s the easiest place to find food on short notice.
I need to get back to Austin. Sunrise is only a few hours away, and while I can travel in daytime, I’d rather not risk it.
I’m about to get up from my couch when another body slides in next to me.
“Jude! How’s it hanging?”
“Fucking perfect,” I reply.
It’s Dean, a vampire who’s only thirty years young, yet manages to always get caught up in the wrong crowd. He’s going to get himself killed long before his time. He’s actually put on a bit of weight since I last saw him, but he still has this pallid, rubbery skin that makes him look like a shell of human.
He’s always frightened for his life, which is a horrible way to live. He only has himself to blame though, and my instincts are to stay as far away from him as possible.
“You look good, Jude,” Dean says, his eyes bugging.
“You too.” I guess.
Dean seems distracted. “Those piercings still aren’t healed?”
“They’re silver. They’re not going to heal.”
Dean nods, perplexed. “Right. Sooo why do you—”
“What do you want?” I ask tiredly. He always did have a bit of ADHD.
He nods again, sweating. “How’s that search for you-know-who going?”
We’re all too frightened to say his name in case one of his cronies hears us. That’s why it’s been so hard to get any information about Anthony. We’re constantly speaking in code to those who are too terrified to even say the word “Anthony”. I have to be careful about who I ask and how much information I divulge; if some found out that it’s for the Harker, they’d kill me first and then kill her.
“As of tonight?” I chuckle bitterly. “Another dead end. I don’t have anywhere else to go with it.”
Dean nods again. “Man, sorry to hear that.” He goes silent for a moment, and I have to look at him. He looks like he wants to say something, which makes me examine him further.
“What’s wrong?”
Dean licks his lips. “I…I might have some information.”
I lean into him, and catch the whiff of bad body odor. “What information?”
I hear his pulse racing through his veins. He’s nervous as fuck, like seriously nervous for his life. “Something that I heard through a…through a friend. About you-know-who.”
“And?”
“Can we…talk somewhere more private?” He looks around the room, his eyes wild. “I don’t want someone hearing it that shouldn’t.”
“Where did you get this information?”
It has to be from a dangerous source. Dean has never been too smart about who he chose as confidants.
“C’mon man,” I say, sliding out of my booth. “We’ll find somewhere quiet. I want to hear everything you know.”
Dean swallows and nods. I can tell that he’s already regretting spilling the beans to me. “I’m scared, Jude.”
“Of what?”
“Of who Anthony is looking for.”
6
Edie
"Grande decaf nonfat latte with an extra shot and whipped cream," my coworker Ben announces, setting the marked coffee cup in front of me.
I stare blankly at it. "Whipped cream? On a nonfat?"
After working at Sacred Grounds Coffee for five months, I shouldn't be surprised, but with less than four hours of sleep, everything is harder for me to comprehend at the moment.
"Yeah," Ben says, unamused by my denseness. "Just do it, Edie." He gives me another weary glance before turning back to the register. Maybe my makeup isn’t covering my healing face as well as I had hoped.
I can't afford to be slow on a Saturday morning at a coffee shop. It's only ten o'clock, and already I've served up more drinks than I can count and there are plenty more lining up. A stress headache is brewing around my temples.
Two more coffee cups are set in front of me by Tammy, the other barista on the cash register. She runs through their equally picky orders and I nod along, even though they go out the other ear. My mind is murky at the moment, and I can't hold onto a single thought.
It's going to be a long day.
When I left school in order to help Graeme pay the bills, I thought that working at a coffee shop would be perfect. With daylight hours, it wouldn't impede my nightly hunts.
Yet, as I look down at the cups, I can't remember what's supposed to be easy about it.
Grande decaf nonfat latte, extra shot. I fill up the portafilter with decaf coffee from the grinder. I twist it onto the grouphead, hit the shot buttons, and put the cup underneath it.
I prep the other two cups, feeling numb. Why didn't I call in sick today? After my breakdown in the bathroom last night, I dragged myself to bed and had horrible nightmares about Meghan's ghost body turning to a skeleton and accusing me of killing her. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well at all with what precious time I got in bed.
I froth the skim milk for the first order, my hand touching the bottom for temperature. Especially after long nights like last night, I hate that high-pitched noise of the steam stirring the milk. I wince, wondering if the other baristas think I'm hungover.
Time slips from me, and I reflexively snatch my hand from the bottom, hissing in pain at how hot the metal pitcher has gotten. I look down and the milk has curdled, and I suppress a groan that I can't serve it this way. I dump the milk, grab a new pitcher, and start again.
Now the customers are getting antsy waiting for their cuppa joes.
"Miss, where's my grande decaf nonfat latte?" the mousey man on the other side of the counter demands.
"It's…coming…" I say, trying to grab the coffee cup when the espresso machine finishes. Only, my aim is off, and I accidentally tip the coffee cup with two scalding hot shots of espresso.
It spills all over me.
Time stands still for a moment as the liquid burns my right hand and my leg where it's dripping down off the counter. In that first instant, I don't even feel the pain, but my body knows it's coming. My senses and my adrenaline spike, then everything comes crashing down on me and explodes.
I lose it.
When you're a vampire hunter with magic powers and you lose it, that's a bad thing, especially in front of a group of innocent people. Even if they are a bunch of grumpy customers.
My grip on my powers lessens, threatening go nuclear on the whole place. I've never experienced such a surge of angry power before, it's as if I want to let the dark side of the Force loose on everyone inside. My insides heat up to the point where I don't even notice my burned areas any more.
I have to stop it, otherwise something very bad is going to happen.
Stop it, Edie.
"FUCK!"
Through my haze of pain, I find the sink and turn the water on cold blast.
I throw my hand into the stream of water. It grounds me in an instant, and the fury and anger that I felt are now gone, leaving me alone in an exhausted shell. I slump over the sink, letting the water cascade over my blistering hand, bringing me back to sanity.
That was close. Too close.
Relief floods through me, and I breathe out deeply. Nothing bad happened. Everyone is safe.
I look up, and my cheeks color at the attention that I've drawn to myself. Everyone watches me with bewilderment plastered on their faces. The entire coffee shop is silent with all eyes turned on me. Even my manager Rob comes out of the back office to see what the ruckus is all about. I smile weakly, the pain in my hand forgotten. A thousand excuses and lies barge through my head, each one more ludicrous than the next. I can't tell everyone that I nearly exploded like a bomb. Anything else sounds like I overreacted. So I do what any
normal, sane person would do.
I spin away from everything, the running water from the faucet forgotten, and head out to the alley behind the coffee shop, oddly reminding me of the alley I was in last night, even though I'm back in Austin.
The metal door slams behind me, leaving me alone.
A sob is stuck in my throat, and rather than let it out, I take out a smoke from the back pocket in my jeans. My hands shake so much as I try to light the cigarette between my trembling lips, I nearly lose everything altogether. The end takes light and I groan, combing a hand through my hair.
I could have really hurt people in there. My powers are growing faster than I can keep up with, and if something like being tired and spilling coffee on myself is enough to set me off like that, then I scare even myself.
"Shit." I take a spot on the edge of the steps and look out the buildings behind us.
Where am I going in my life? I'm stumbling around in the dark with little to go on to avenge Meghan's murder. I'm exhausted beyond belief, and I might have lost my job. I feel lost, tumbling around in an abyss of broken dreams and fate.
"Mom, Meghan.” I close my eyes. “What do I do?"
The door opens behind me, and Rob is standing there with his arms crossed.
"What the hell was that back there?" he asks.
"I spilled coffee on myself. It hurt." I keep my eyes wide.
"Edie," he says, his voice rough, "you're not allowed to smoke here."
Oh, right. The laws in Austin say that I can't smoke on restaurant premises or outside. I stub the cigarette on the ground in answer, knowing what's coming next.
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 26
