Blood Reaction A Vampire Novel (3 page)

But my gut told me that my death, the one that I would die tonight, was going to be the definition of violence. It was hatred, rage, and jealousy all rolled into one and there would be nothing peaceful about it except that it would eventually be over.

Having been fully focused on the terror coming from behind me, I finally took note of the spasmodic barking coming from my left. Sparing a glance, I could see Samuel was making a stand. Foam spattering from his mouth, eyes wide, hair standing up like a mantle around his neck, he looked rabid. He was not moving forward, but he was not backing down either.

In the next second, silence took over the house and Samuel lay on the floor, his paws jerking spasmodically as his eyes rolled up. I still had not moved except to take that quick glance at Samuel.

Feeling an unusual sensation to my right, I glanced forward and it was then I saw him out of the corner of my right eye. Sitting on the couch not two inches away from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in mockery of my own stance, he looked straight ahead as if he were merely a spectator and not the cause of this terrible scene.

Automatically, I jerked back and as far away from him as I could, not quite making it to the end of the couch. It was then that I opened my mouth to scream for the first time. My lips were dry and very little sound came out at first, but eventually I worked the paralysis out of the muscles of my larynx and the terror was released. It did no good as there was no one to hear me. The nearest house was at least four miles away.

Maybe he knew that or maybe he didn’t care. At that point, I wasn’t sure. Having lost all of my breath and the ability to create any more sound across my raw vocal cords, I could do nothing more than lay there and watch him, death itself, observe me. He must have scrutinized me for only a minute or so, but it felt like an eternity.

Finally he spoke, and the normality of his voice was incongruous with the terror he inspired. “I was afraid you were going to end up like your dog so I am glad you quieted before I had to break your neck too. Noise like that can drive me to early violence. My hearing is so sensitive and I would not want you to ruin my meal. I am voraciously hungry tonight.”

I was about a sentence behind him the entire time, each word sinking in a couple of seconds after he said them. Confusion hit me when he mentioned food and I looked automatically into the kitchen at the spaghetti sauce I had been cooking.

I should have pulled it off of the burner by now and it was starting to burn on the bottom of the pan. I could hear the quiet sizzle that would soon get louder and the pungent odor of the burning sauce was now filling the house.

Realization and a new-found hope hit me suddenly. In a few more minutes, it would start smoking, setting off the fire alarms, which were tied into the house’s security system. It was the only part of the system, besides the panic button, that was active even when the system was disarmed.

The panic button! Hope glimmered but then faded just as quickly as there was no way to get to it now. I had put it down on the stand at the bottom of the stairs a few minutes earlier. I had laughed when the alarm representative had told me to always keep it in my pocket.

“You never know when it just might save your life,” he had quipped cheerfully as he handed it to me. The idea had seemed a little overboard at the time, but now it became evident that the overly happy alarm man was brilliant.

But I still had a chance. If the smoke alarms went off, the fire service would be dispatched immediately. It was the only agency that could not be turned back with a code word. The trucks would come until the return was ordered by the fire marshal and I had met him before, usually when I was cooking, and he was always very thorough. No turn-around orders from him until he had surveyed the scene with his own eyes.

Maybe I would survive after all. Turning my head slightly to the right, I could see the alarm on the ceiling. The urge to watch for that first glowing red light indicating it had been triggered became almost impossible to ignore, but I pulled my eyes away from it as quickly as possible, vowing not to spare it another glance. It was certainly my only hope, however small it might be.

Thinking desperately of any other possibilities, I remembered the gun my ex-husband had left me, but it was locked in the safe. Fighting the urge to glance back at the stove, which might give me away as easily as the fire alarms, I turned my attention to him instead of what might save me.

My eyes fell first on his mouth. His lips were pulled back in a full smile, framing one-half inch paired fangs on each side that stood in sharp contrast to where his canines and incisors should have been. They were shiny, wet, and sharp at the tips. His lips were arched and colored a deep red, standing out sharply against his very white teeth.

I lost track of time as I stared at those fangs, having a hard time getting past them and the barriers that my mind was throwing up. Only partly believing what I was seeing, I finally was able to look up into his eyes and despite looking human, there was little that could be called human about them.

Deep green like the pastures of May before the rain has become scarce, the irises seemed to have more depth than usual, the pupils were darker and wider. Cold and hard, I could see in them his eagerness for what was to come.

I’m a rational person and not prone to flights of fancy. I believe in God, but have never believed in any other kind of supernatural. I live and exist in a very real world. But what was sitting across from me was not human. That fact I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt and the hope that had been building in my mind drained out of me in one moment, replaced by despair. The fire marshal would show up, but I would already be dead and he would probably die as well for all his trouble to come here.

He must have recognized when my logic had been replaced by reality and he began to slowly lean towards me. Attempting to move as far away from him as possible, I shifted in response, only to realize there was nowhere to go but forward. Without thinking about it but acting on pure instinct only, I jumped forward, trying to evade him.

Logical thought would have kept me sitting on the couch not believing what I was seeing. Instincts are usually stronger than logic but they did me about as much good as logic would have. I made it only a couple of feet before he reached down and caught my right instep in his left hand and in one quick jerk, he lifted me completely up in the air and slammed me back down onto the floor.

I hit the floor solidly on my back, the air knocked out of my lungs, but I just managed to keep my head from whacking the hard surface. Lacking oxygen to put up any fight, I lay there struggling for breath as he loomed over me, blocking the rest of my vision. Slowly, he dropped to one knee, I was sure he did it slowly to prolong the terror, then he dropped down to his hands to where he was suspended over me. His every movement seemed calculated to cause as much fear as possible.

My breath had returned and I began to scream until he pushed the air out of my lungs again by dropping his body onto mine. He was heavy, heavier than his frame appeared. There was little opportunity to struggle as he had pinned my arms over my head and I had to use what little air I could get in to maintain my hold on lucidity. I’m not sure why because I probably didn’t want to be lucid through what was coming, but it was a self-preservation step that my autonomic system was in charge of and I couldn’t stop.

He switched both of my wrists to his left hand and with the other he brushed my hair off my right shoulder. With a flick of his wrist and essentially no effort, he ripped my t-shirt at the shoulder. He paused then for just a moment, looking into my eyes, as he he slowly lowered his head, his eyes unfathomably cold as they locked onto mine. I couldn’t look away.

Fangs grazed my neck and seemed to follow the course of my carotid from my clavicle up, yet he didn’t bite. His movements were slow and lazy; I was sure he was playing with me. I lay completely still, not knowing what might or might not provoke him and unwilling to chance anything either way.

For a brief moment, he paused in his movements before grasping my hair with his free hand, bringing it to his face and inhaling. “What a myriad of smells you are.” With a savagery that was sudden in its intensity and surprising given his former stealth, he pulled his head back and then flung it down suddenly, driving his fangs into my neck, through the muscles covering the carotid artery.

I felt the spasm of the muscles in my neck first because of the speed and then I felt the slice of his fangs through my skin almost like an afterthought. Kind of like a nurse who is really good at giving shots. You feel the medicine being pushed into your muscle before you ever feel the needle. The pain was not as intense as I expected but within a few moments, my vision began to tunnel. I could feel his muscles contracting against my skin as he swallowed. My last coherent thought was of a small trickle of blood collecting in my hair.

two

The bleating of the fire alarm seemed exceptionally loud, but perhaps it was the massive headache banging in my head that added to the sound. Confused at first, I spread my hands out beside me attempting to determine where I was.

The lights were off and only a small shaft of light wrapped into the room from underneath a door. Continuing to palpate my surroundings, I recognized the smoothness of the silk bedspread that covered my bed. I started to sit up but the muscles in my back and legs were burning and I decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

Reaching up with arms of lead to run my fingers through my hair, I felt as though the left side of my neck was numb and tingled ever so slightly. I only noticed because of its contrast to every other part of me, which was aching and burning. Sudden remembrance made me gasp out loud and tracing the contours of my neck, I couldn’t find the puncture wounds that I knew should be there. I ran the sensitive pads of my fingers over the skin again and again till the skin on my neck became sore, but still I was unable to locate the wounds.

I doubted my sanity for a moment, questioning what I thought I had seen. But focusing on the tingling in my neck, I was sure that I hadn’t imagined any of the evening. I simply didn’t understand it especially the fact that I was still alive. Why was I still alive? Death had been inescapable, I was sure of it.

As I became more aware of my surroundings, I realized there were voices coming from the foyer; a smooth, calm voice and the rough gravelly voice of the fire marshal. I knew the last one well as I had set off a lot of fire alarms in the short time I had lived here.

This would probably be my last opportunity for help and I suppressed a twinge of guilt knowing I would probably get the marshal killed as well. I slowly got up off the bed, being as quiet as I could. My pain faded to the back of my mind as I made my way as stealthily as I could into the foyer.

From where I stood, I could see the monster talking to the fire marshal. He had his back to me, his left hand was resting on the top of the door, his right hand resting on his right hip. He looked casual, nothing like he had a short while before.

I didn’t think he had noticed me and I brought my hands up to signal nine-one-one to the fireman, but he turned, still very casually, and stopped me with one sentence. “Our daughter will be home very soon, in a week actually.” He smiled at me as he said it, cold and menacing, and I felt my blood run cold from my head to my toes, my hands dropped uselessly to my sides.

“Well, I’ll be getting out of your hair now. It was nice to meet you. Tell Ellie I said hi when she comes home.” Leaning around whatever kind of monster it was that stood in my entry way, the marshal, not realizing that I was in any danger, waved politely and reminded me to be more careful with my stove.

Dropping his voice lower, I heard him add, “I bet you’re glad you don’t have to eat her cooking much anymore.” The fire marshal was laughing to himself at his joke as he walked back to his truck across the lawn, unknowingly leaving me to face certain death alone.

Standing became difficult and I fell to the floor as I began to hyperventilate. How did he know about Ellie? How did he know she was coming home soon? Now my survival became unimportant, I only cared about Ellie. He must not be here when she came home. I would need to be dead by then and he would need to have moved on. I didn’t think it would be hard to accomplish, but I needed to make sure of it. How was I going to ensure my own death?

I tried to bring my breathing back under control, but I was terrified so I had little success. Without looking away from me, he shut the front door behind him and walked over to me. Kneeling down beside me, he sat for a few moments, simply looking at my face. Slowly, my breathing calmed and I knelt there looking back at him. “What are you?” My voice cracked and produced little sound.

“What do you think I am?” he questioned me. I sat looking at him dumbly. The only answers that came to my mind seemed ridiculous and I couldn’t make myself put them into words. “Twenty-first century thought tells you I cannot exist,” he noted, smiling at me sardonically.

“You can’t,” I mouthed back. Before I could finish the last word, I was staring at his fangs, glistening, and razor sharp, centimeters from my eyes. My brain didn’t even register his movement, it was so fast.

The fangs were just as impressive the second time I saw them and I felt my heart rate go up just by seeing them. His full lips were pulled back from them slightly, giving me the full view.

“I would not think you would doubt me so soon after you encountered these?” His voice was a whisper, deadly yet smooth.

Managing to pull my eyes away from his fangs and search out his gaze, I had to tip my head back to look up into his eyes. The movement exposed my throat and noticing this, he ran the back of his hand along the path of my left internal jugular. Chills ran down the entire length of my spine, but I forced myself not to move, thinking of Ellie.

He needed to kill me. The sooner the better. Surely then he would not wait around for six more days. A poor plan I knew, but I didn’t have a better one. “I won’t doubt you anymore,” I whispered back. Then I reached up and slapped him full in the face with as much strength as I could find.

He didn’t flinch despite me having used every last ounce of muscle. I didn’t even leave a hand-print on his face nor did he seem to be angry. His gaze remained level, no emotions were evident in his expression. Trying again, I doubled up my fist and hit him square in the jaw. The same. No emotion, no reaction at all except one whispered word.

“Ellie.” From his mouth, her name was like salt in a wound and I froze, my hand in midair.

“Leave her alone. She’s just a baby. Kill me, do whatever you want to me. I’ll cooperate. I’ll give you anything you want, but leave her alone. I’ve got money in the safe and a car. Just kill me and go. Please!” I was begging.

Grasping his shoulders with both hands, I pulled myself up so that my face was level with his as I continued to plead for my daughter’s life. Offers that I wouldn’t have ever thought I could have put into words rolled off my tongue until I could think of nothing else with which to bargain.

He said nothing, did nothing. He seemed to be waiting for something but I had no idea what. Finally, he smiled. His face was friendly, but his eyes were mocking.

“I’m immortal and a nomad. I have no need of money or cars. The only need I have is blood, which you and your daughter have and I plan to take. You have nothing to offer me in the place of her.”

His voice died away, but my mind clung to his mention of being a nomad. I was right about that part. He would be unlikely to stay here for a week if he killed me soon. My mother wouldn’t  bring Ellie to the house if she couldn’t get in touch with me. I thanked God silently for her cautiousness now. It would probably be my saving grace. The only protection I could offer Ellie now was my mortality. I would have died a thousand times for her, but I could only do it once.

Letting go of his shoulders, I bent forward on my knees in a position of prayer and began to pray in earnest. I noticed in my periphery that he had sat down as well and was watching me with a trace of humor on his face.

“Yes, pray for your life. Pray for my immortal soul too if you can spare the words. Pray for your daughter. Pray that yours and her deaths be quick. Pray to me that I might grant you this kindness,” he intoned softly and mockingly. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. I continued to pray while my left hand snaked out to grab the edge of a nearby pine knickknack shelf, bringing it crashing to the cool wood floor. A crystal vase, my prime target, shattered into hundreds of sharp shards.

The majority of the shelf had landed on him and as he looked up, I noticed that there was no surprise on his face. He must have picked up on my movements. Quickly before he subdued me, I grabbed a shard of the fallen glass, but he only laughed thinking I considered it a weapon against him.

His expression went cold as I shoved the glass as hard as I could into my left brachial artery, buried deep in the bend of the elbow, and jerked it to the right with a slicing motion. Hot, bright red blood spurted out as my aim had been good. I stood up while I still could, not wanting to die at his feet.

He was on his feet now too, his eyes focused on the red flow dripping onto the floor, making a red lake at my feet. His fangs were extended, lips curled back, eyes hot. I had him; he couldn’t resist my death wish now.

I was losing blood quickly since I had severed a fairly large artery, I knew I didn’t have much time and I tried to take a few steps towards him before the blood loss took my vision.

In one second, he was there. Grabbing my left arm, he wrenched it up and placed his mouth over the pulsing artery.

Swallowing is a complex act, one that we all take for granted every day, and how strange that I should think about that in the last few moments of my life. Watching him drink for about half a minute, I began to sink down onto the floor and he followed me down. My last act as a mother was to look to the mantle and find my daughter’s face there; I focused on her image while he drank, until I felt nothing and the world went black.