by Juniper Hart
“What the hell…” he muttered.
Opening up the secondary envelope first, both of them gaped at the contents. It was a stack of photographs. Killian slowly flipped through them in horror. They were images of a white blur in the woods—Killian. The blurry figure got closer to the camera in each photograph. Then an aerial photograph of him drinking pouches of blood on his deck. The photographer had clearly been in a tree when the photograph was taken.
“Who in the hell took these?” Killian asked loudly, forcing Charlotte to her feet when he stood.
As he paced about with the photographs clutched in his hand, Charlotte picked up the disc and walked over to his television. Inserting the disc into the DVD player, Charlotte turned the television on and moved back.
The video feed turned on and quickly zoomed in on the frame. The picture was mostly black, but a set of headlights cut through the darkness. The car grew closer and came around a curve before coming to a stop. A light came on inside the car, and the figures were lit up. One was blurry, but the other was a short pale woman with a chin-length bob. Charlotte. Her jaw dropped as she watched the video of herself. The camera stayed on them until they disappeared inside.
It then cut to a video taken in the woods. Within just a moment, Charlotte was in the frame again. This was taken on one of her early morning hikes through the forest with her camera. It played a montage of videos of her on her hikes, some shot from afar, some disturbingly close. The final clip in the video was from just a short while ago, of them making love at the river. The camera was zoomed in close on Charlotte’s face as she moaned in pleasure as he fingered her from behind. There was heavy breathing coming from the cameraman, then the ruffling of clothes before breathy moans sounded. It panned all over her body as she rode Killian on the bank. But then the blurry figure was at her chest, their movements intensifying. The moaning stopped from the cameraman, and it zoomed in on her chest, a trickle of blood on her skin.
Then the screen was black. Charlotte was frozen in horror of what she had just seen. This man was following her, too?
Killian hugged her tightly. “This man isn’t going to hurt you. I assure you of that. I’ll rip his bloody head off with my bare hands before he touches you,” he told her.
Charlotte was in complete shock, unable to respond to him. Killian moved her to the couch with him, sitting her down with his arm still around her. Taking a deep breath to compose himself before the anger took over completely, Killian plucked the letter from the coffee table.
“I wonder what this sick prick has to say,” he faintly said as he unfolded the paper.
A few more pictures fell out when he opened it, ones taken just after she had fallen down the hill in the forest. Charlotte gasped, remembering hearing the sound of a camera shutter—but she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her after hitting her head. Killian tossed the photos to the side, his jaw clenching as he read the note.
KILLIAN WALSH.
YOU WERE BEHAVING, BUT THEN YOU WENT AND GOT A BLOOD BAG. RELEASE HER BY MIDNIGHT, OR ELSE I WILL COME REMOVE HER—AND YOUR HEAD.
“Blood bag?” Charlotte read aloud. “What in the hell is he talking about?”
Killian was wide-eyed at the note. “He’s referring to you,” he muttered, his eyes still not ripping away from the paper in his hand. “It’s a hunter causing all this…”
“What would a hunter want with us? Seemed more like a pervert to me.”
He shook his head, putting his face in his hands. “Not like a trophy hunter, dove. A vampire hunter.” His hands rubbed vigorously at his face. “I suppose he crossed paths with me while he was hunting some other vampire and was watching me to see if I hurt anyone. He must have seen that I don’t harm humans, but then saw me bring you home. Now he’s on a self-righteous mission to free you from me,” he contemplated aloud. “Of course, the fucking pervert just had to watch us make love and see me feed from you. Couldn’t have looked away like a decent bloke,” Killian grumbled.
He didn’t sound upset that the man was a hunter out to kill his kind, but more upset over watching them have sex and spotting the one time he dared a taste of her blood. “He shouldn’t have been following you around anyways. Clearly, if you were in danger, you would have just went running off into the woods and not come back to my house…”
“What do we do?” Charlotte frowned. “It isn’t like when he shows up to ‘rescue’ me that he’ll be willing to sit down and hear us out…”
“There’s only one option,” Killian sighed, wringing his hands together when he sat up. “I’m going to have to kill him.”
Charlotte stayed curled into his side, her eyes wide open as they lay in the dark. Killian tried to convince her to sleep, but it wasn’t going to happen. Her entire body was wracked with nerves, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt.
“It’s going to be just fine, Charlotte,” Killian soothed her, rubbing her back. “Once this man is six feet under, we won’t have any worries, and we can focus on us.”
That sounded nice, but it didn’t exactly calm her. A man was coming there to try and kill Killian. Even though she didn’t doubt his strength or abilities whatsoever, Charlotte couldn’t help but worry that something could happen and this hunter could actually kill him.
Midnight was fast approaching, and Killian headed downstairs to get outside before the hunter arrived. He should have left a while ago, but it was so hard to leave her side, especially when she was so scared.
Killian pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back in just a little bit; I swear to you.”
She wanted to latch onto him, to keep him there with her, but she knew he had to go. Nothing could be done, except face the hunter. He slid from the bed and got to his feet.
Killian stole another glance of Charlotte in his bed before heading to the door. But before he even walked across the room, the door flung open. A middle-aged man with oily blonde hair and pale blue eyes stood in the door frame, glaring hard at Killian before his eyes drifted to Charlotte.
His eyes darkened at the sight of her, and then he winked. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m here for—.”
Before the hunter could finish his sentence, he tumbled to the ground as Killian tackled him. Charlotte sat up on the bed, watching with beady eyes as Killian beat the hunter.
“Don’t even look at her!” Killian screamed as he beat the man, his fist repeatedly colliding with the side of the hunter’s face while Killian’s other hand was around his throat. But then, there was a struggle, and Killian rolled away to dodge something. Charlotte couldn’t quite make out what was going on. In fear that the tables were turning on Killian, Charlotte stood to try and get a better look, wanting desperately to help him. But as she took just a few steps closer, a sudden pressure ripped through the center of her chest. Charlotte stumbled back from the force of it, her eyes blinking rapidly as she became dizzy and her ears ringing loudly. Her mind was completely blank, not even feeling the pain at first.
It didn’t even click anything was wrong until she heard Killian scream, “No, no, no!”
Charlotte’s looked down to see her chest completely soaked in blood. A shaky hand pressed to it before peeling back, her eyes staring at the warm blood covering her hand. She had been shot? And like someone flipped a switch, Charlotte fell to the floor, her body going into shock. The commotion of fighting sounded miles away, all sounds muffled greatly by the ringing in her ears. The fighting ceased and quick footsteps came her way.
Killian cradled her face as her eyes stared up at the ceiling with dilated pupils. “What has he done to you?” he painfully whispered, his eyes dimmed with his agony.
Charlotte was still breathing, but she was gasping. And she was still moving, but it was twitching and shaking from the shock. The hunter had tried to shoot Killian but missed and got her instead.
Guilt weighed on Killian’s chest as he tried to think of what to do and how to save her. There was so much blood… the sweet red fluid pouring fr
om her chest into a puddle around her. He lived too far from a hospital to get her to one in time—hell, even if there was one right next door, she might not have made it. He couldn’t lose her, he just couldn’t.
Even though he didn’t want to damn her to eternity like him, Killian knew it was the only way to keep her from dying. With glossy eyes that begged to cry but couldn’t, Killian raised his wrist to his mouth and punctured himself with his fangs, not even flinching at the pain. Lowering the wound to her lips, he let the blood trickle into her mouth. Charlotte’s body involuntarily swallowed as the droplets hit the back of her throat. Killian held it there, watching with cautious eyes as she drank some of his blood.
Her eyes were suddenly animated from the daze they had been in, but they were on fire with pain. As the blood reached her stomach, it burned as though his blood were made of acid. The pain radiated from her stomach throughout her entire body, her heart racing a mile a minute as the chemicals in his blood worked rapidly throughout her bloodstream and organs. Charlotte screamed out in agony, tears pouring down her face. Getting shot didn’t hurt as badly as the transformation did. Every cell of her being was in sheer agony. She screamed until she was blue in the face and everything went black.
When her screaming stopped, Killian moved to hold her, not caring about the blood that soiled his clothing. He cradled her in his lap, his fingers sifting through the soft pecan brown locks on her head. The transformation didn’t take long, but it was excruciating. Killian had forgotten the pain associated with dying and being reborn and wished he could have gone through it for her somehow. He hated that he had to make the call over her mortality. Charlotte had just discovered that he was a vampire, and now he had made her one too. What if she didn’t want to be one? What if she had wanted to move on with her life to have kids and grow old? What if she hated him for literally all eternity for what he had done? His chest ached at the thought.
Charlotte’s head turned in his direction, and Killian’s breath caught in his throat. He watched in silence as she slowly stirred, her big brown eyes opening to beam up at him. She stared up at him in confusion as she remembered the events that just took place. The hunter, the gunshot, his wrist in her mouth... Charlotte held her breath, and moments ticked by, and she felt no pain from holding it in. She didn’t need to breathe.
Charlotte was a vampire. When the realization truly clicked within her, her eyes went wide, but as she stared up into his jade-green eyes, seeing the pain, regret, and concern swimming in them, a calm came over her. Killian had saved her life, and by the look on his face, he was tormented by his decision. A weak smile appeared on her lips, reaching her brown hues. Killian watched as she raised a dainty hand and held his cheek, “I love you, Killian.”
Killian exhaled as his chest swelled, and his eyes glossed over. “I love you too, Charlotte,” he breathed to her. He bent his neck down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, unable to believe that she had said those words after he had just turned her. And for the first time in his life as a vampire, he felt blessed to be immortal because he knew for certain Charlotte truly would be his forever.
THE END
Part II
Vampire’s Revenge
By Alexis Davie
1
Lucy
Just like any other night, the bar was quiet, save for the drizzle of local regulars that flitted in and out of the doors. Lucy kept herself busy removing the glasses from every shelf before wiping the wood and replacing the glasses. Every so often, she would stop to serve one of the elderly men another pint of beer or pour a glass of wine for one of the wives. Yet every time she looked at the clock that hung above the front door, she found that only a few minutes had passed.
She sighed with frustration. It was going to be one slow night. Already exhausted from her day shift at the bakery, she couldn’t wait to change into an oversized t-shirt and climb into bed.
“Everything all right in here?” a familiar voice sounded behind her.
Lucy looked up from where she was crouching to reach the bottom shelf to see her boss standing in the doorway leading up to the office above. He frowned at her as though wondering what she was doing, and she smiled up at him.
“Everything is fine,” she told him. “I just thought I’d clean up while things are slow.”
“You’re a good girl, Lucy.” He grinned back at her, “I’ll be up in the office if you need anything. You okay to lock up for me tonight?”
“Sure,” Lucy grinned, though she was not pleased her shift would be lengthened by the tiresome job of waiting for all the patrons to clear out after last call.
“Great, I’ve got an early start in the morning,” Gerry told her. “Got to get over to the supply store.”
“Do you need me to come in tomorrow?” Lucy asked, praying that he wouldn’t say yes. She hated how her mouth always started talking before she’d thought about what she was offering. The last thing she wanted was to come back into work early before her next shift at the bakery.
“No, I think I’ve got everything covered this time,” Gerry’s words were a relief, and she had to stop herself from sighing in front of him, “Thank you for the offer though. I’ll see you later.” With that, he turned and headed up the stairs, the door clicking shut behind him.
Lucy finally released the sigh she had been holding and pushed herself up onto her feet again.
Someone on the other side of the bar cleared his throat. Still crouching, Lucy spun around and looked up into the familiar handsome face, that had the most mesmerizing eyes she had ever seen. Lucy rose to meet his gaze.
He was tall, towering over her, even as she stood on the raised platform behind the bar. His hair was dark, slicked back from his face, which was sharp with rugged features. Lucy was almost sure she could physically smell the pheromones coming off him in waves; she felt her mouth go dry at the sight of him.
“Can I help you?” she asked. The man, who she deemed her handsome stranger, had been a regular at the bar for more than a year, but never engaged in conversation. He always ordered the same thing, then sat at a booth at the back of the bar. She’d tried to talk to him on many occasions, but he was always cold and aloof.
“A glass of Merlot, please,” he said as he pulled his wallet from the pocket of his black jacket. Lucy barely managed to stop herself from gaping at him. Even after seeing him several nights a week, she couldn’t get over how attracted she was to him. The mystery that surrounded him made him even more appealing.
He was nothing like the usual clientele she was used to serving. He was the only person who every ordered any sort of red wine. Most of her patrons preferred the ales, lagers, and spirits, except for the white zinfandel that most of the women ordered. She had no idea why he kept visiting the dive bar. He was a breath of fresh air in a sea of stale beer and sweat.
“Sure,” she grinned at him and turned to pull a wine glass from the rack above her head. “Can I get you anything else?” she found herself glancing behind him, as she always did, expecting to find a beautiful woman as his companion.
“No, just the wine,” he said simply, almost impatiently. She poured the thick, red liquid into the glass and slid it across the bar to him.
“That’s four dollars and ninety-five cents,” she told him, as she held out her hand to receive the money he had produced from his wallet.
“Keep the change,” the man told her as he picked up the glass and walked away from the bar. Lucy stared in amazement at the hundred-dollar bill he had just placed in her hand. He was typically a great tipper, but this was exceptional. It was more than she would typically make in a night, considering the regulars rarely left more than fifteen percent, if they left anything at all. Quickly, she cashed out his bill and shoved the remains into her jeans pocket, making a mental note to pay her electricity bill first thing the morning. She was short this month, so his tip had saved her from getting her power shut off. Maybe he could read minds? Probably not, because then he’d be fully aware of how
much she thought about him and imagined him ravishing her night after night.
When she glanced back into the bar area, Lucy noticed the man had taken his drink and settled down into his usual a corner booth, seemingly to sit as far away from the cluster of other patrons as possible.
Lucy turned back to her work, though now her head wasn’t really into it. She couldn’t concentrate knowing that someone so good looking sat just feet away from her. With every movement, she felt as though eyes were on her. Pull yourself together, she snapped at herself as she began pulling another row of glasses off their shelf. He is not watching you.
2
Erik
The bar was quiet, just how Erik preferred his hunting grounds, searching out the very dregs of society to quench his guilt over the kills he had to make to survive. The beautiful woman behind the bar was a sight for sore eyes. Her long flowing blonde hair cascaded down the back of her black tank top, and whenever she stood, he could see her pale face reflected in the mirror on the back wall of the bar.
It seemed he was not the only one watching her though that night. Three men huddled around a table a few booths away. Erik didn't need to strain his ears to hear what they were whispering to each other.
"I bet she tastes sweet," one of them whispered.
"She'd look good tied up," another cackled.
"I bet I could make her scream." The third licked his lips before smacking them together hungrily. The vile words made Erik feel sick. The growing disrespect for women in society made his skin crawl, and he wanted nothing more than to break each one of their arms to stop them from ever touching her.
