Limerence (23 page)

Damn, she tastes good.
I lick my lips and open my eyes.

Mr San watches me nervously. “Do you see now? Do you see why we must destroy him?” His eyes plead.

“No.” I pull my hands back from his. “He’s always been good to me. I won’t help you hurt him. He fed me…he stopped the pain…” I lean forward. “I think he loves me.”

“Mia, his love for you I actually don’t doubt—surprisingly for me, and everyone else. Nevertheless, he has quite literally killed you; he has killed everyone you love. You must remember that?”

I stare at him in puzzlement and try to gather my thoughts before replying.

“But I don’t love anyone else but him.”

Mr San sighs heavily. “Very well then, Mia.” Standing, he walks to the door without looking back.

“Wait, where are you going?” I ask petulantly. “You haven’t answered any of my questions.” My chin trembles. “You didn’t give me the blood.”

He turns around and looks at me, his eyes a mixture of sadness and anger. “In time I’ll answer them, but not now. I fear I might lose my temper with you if I sit here any longer. Trust me, you won’t like me when I lose my temper.”

He opens the door. “The blood is on the side, Mia. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He steps into the hallway and I rush for the glass. It is mercifully full to the brim. I don’t question the fact that it’s full, and yet Mr San has been drinking it. Instead I pick it up and greedily gulp it down. I gag when the contents, which are barely lukewarm, pour down my throat.

I wipe my hand across my mouth. “Wait, what did you say your name was?” I shout to him, but the blood buzz hits me and I sag against the cabinet. It may taste disgusting but at least it works.

“My name is Mr San,” he calls back, shutting the door behind him.

I shrug and down the rest of the tepid blood. It’s not at all like when I drank it straight from the girl. That was delicious: warm, and thick, like hot chocolate, warming me up from the inside out. I smile and shrug again.

This is like tea left to brew and go stagnant. Nevertheless, it makes me feel good. My eyesight sharpens steadily over the next few minutes; I can see the room for all its dinginess. It’s small. There’s only a bed, a tallboy, and a table. Pictures hang on the walls—mundane, boring pictures of the countryside. My skin tingles as the blood tickles my nerve endings, making the hairs on my arms rise. I spy a window with the curtains drawn on the far wall and go to it, but when I pull them back I find nothing but brick. The window is a ruse, a fake. It dawns on me that I am a prisoner. I can’t decide if that bothers me or not.

I pace the room; I hum, I sit, and I stand. I am bored out of my mind. I can’t sleep. I don’t know whether it has been minutes or hours. Time stands still for me. The blood works its way around my organs, transporting me into another world for the time being, and I sit and stare into space, enjoying the peace that has descended upon me.

I’m unconcerned as to why I’m here. And then I’m concerned by the fact that I’m unconcerned, which just confuses me more.
Should I be bothered?
I don’t know what to feel anymore
.

I’m a god-damned vampire. Surely being held prisoner is the least of my worries.

He said that Mr Breckt had killed everyone I love. I can’t imagine him doing that. He seems to genuinely care for me, perhaps love me, so why would he want to hurt me? Who could he hurt that would affect me so much? Hurt me, even? I can’t think of anyone I care about right now—certainly not more than myself, or my thirst. I think of Mr Breckt.

Maybe him? I care about him.
The giver and taker of life.

I search my memories to try to understand what Mr San was talking about. But there's a gap where those thoughts should be. Every time I see the image that I am searching for, it dances out of my reach. I know that I am missing something important. The blood buzz is fading and things are beginning to clear. I can’t help but be frightened.

Mr San wants information from me, but I don’t know anything. What will he do to me if I can’t give him what he wants? I curl up on the bed, my stomach in knots—although blissfully not from thirst.

I close my eyes and think of Mr Breckt’s handsome face. His gorgeous smile and piercing green eyes. The way it feels when he holds me close, crushing me to his hard, toned body. I know he will be coming for me. He wants me, and I certainly want him. I smile as I think of him, his face hovering above me, his eyes looking deep into mine as he thrusts himself inside.

His eyes so dark and brown, like…
wait…no, his eyes are green. Who am I thinking of?
I try to focus on the face in my head. Sandy hair and rugged chin. Sexy brown eyes and a cocky smile, with a dimple in one cheek. I smile wider when I see the face smile back.

“Hey, sweet cheeks.”

“Hey, baby,” I whisper back to him. My eyes squeeze tightly shut as I try to hold on to the image.

He brushes my hair back gently from my face. “I know you?” I ask.

He nods and smiles again.
“Come back to me.”

“I never left you, did I?” A lump forms in my throat, and he leans over and presses his warm lips to mine. He cups my face in his hands.

“Come back to me, sweet cheeks.”

He kisses me again, his tongue forcing my lips to part so that he can caress my mouth with his. I sigh at the feel of him. It’s the most exquisite feeling on earth, better than a blood buzz—even straight from the source. Better than when Mr Breckt holds me. This feeling, this is how it’s supposed to be. This is what everything in my world is about.

Yet when this man’s face fades away, it’s Robert that I continue to think of.

*

The pain is excruciating. Shivers drag like nails across my skin. But it’s not the lack of blood that’s causing my pain; it’s the lack of Robert.

My love.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Why hasn’t he come for me yet? I don’t understand. In every memory of him that I have, he is saving me…or protecting me. Loving me.

Always. Or so he says. Yet here I am being held prisoner, and he hasn’t even bothered to come and find me.

I lie on my back, my eyes staring, unfocused, on the ceiling.
Robert. The girl. The blood. Robert. The girl. The blood. Robert. The girl. The blood.

The mantra goes round and round on a continuous loop. I see his face. His handsome, sexy face. His smile when he kisses me. His mouth hot and fierce on mine, my body trembling for him. I feel the girl’s soft neck, her blood warm and thirst-quenching. My stomach creases in pain, but it’s nothing compared to the hollow feeling in my heart. Why hasn’t he come for me? Does he mean more to me than I do to him? His face hovers close to mine; nose to nose, we stare at each other longingly. No, he cares. He wants me, he loves me. His beautiful green eyes tell me so. His green eyes that shine and sparkle amongst his perfect features. His rugged jaw, his lopsided grin. His dimple? Wait: Are his eyes green or brown? The image I see shifts to someone else. This isn’t my Robert. My forehead creases in confusion. Feelings are waging war inside me, trying to escape. Like a bubble ready to pop, I feel it building and building, until…

He pulls away and looks into my eyes, a tear springing at the corner. Realization trickles into my memories, slowly at first. Then without warning my mind is blasted full of them. Of him.

Of our life. Our love.

Like watching a film in reverse, I see it all, am forced to bear witness to it again—every beautiful and painful moment of our life together. It rewinds rapidly blurring as every memory and emotion unfurls in my confused mind. It becomes clearer and clearer until the pain is too much to endure.

“Oliver!” I scream and sit upright. I close my eyes quickly; I need to cling on to these memories before they vanish again. I need to see his face again, but he’s gone. His beautiful face is gone. I know he’s dead. Mr Breckt has killed him.

He killed my Ollie. I cry loudly. This evil man, this vampire, has destroyed my life, destroyed my love.

Wailing, I dive off the bed, unsure of myself, of what to do with this information. I seize the mattress from the bed and throw it against the wall. When it does no damage, I mercilessly rip at it and tear it to shreds. My fingers slash deep holes in the thick material until there isn’t much left of it. I pull the paintings from the walls and smash them against the floor. The glass splits and shatters, sending shards flying. I grip the hem of the curtains and tear them from their poles, ripping them up. The pain courses through me like a hot knife through butter. It slices up my insides. I lift the dresser and smash it against the wall, screaming out my rage until my throat is bleeding.

He killed Ollie. He killed me. Oh god, who else has he killed because of me? Rachael? Caitlyn? Mum? Dad?
I sob relentlessly as I see their faces too.

I will make him pay for this.

I sit exhausted amongst the mess, the debris piled up around me in heaps. I can feel my hair hanging in tangled black knots around my face. My hands are covered with scratches and cuts, but as I stare…they begin to heal. The tingle of my skin, slowly knitting itself back together, makes me want to itch until it bleeds again.

I will never get used to this.

I rub my hands across my face in a bid to hide my anxiety, and then pull my fingers through my knots. They glide through the locks with ease, as if my hair is made of butter. My tension builds regardless.

I think of Mr San and wonder whether he will be mad at the destruction that I’ve caused, or whether he was expecting this.

Do I even care?

Maybe that is why there was so little furniture. I look around at the blank walls, at the place where the curtain pole had been screwed in, and the pictures that were hung so crudely.

Yes, he knew.
My teeth grind together angrily.

So now what? He seems to hate Mr Breckt more than I do, which is something I can’t imagine right now. Mr Breckt is like a fungus, growing upon everything beautiful and destroying it, rotting it from the outside in. He is rotten. I grimace. But what can I do? And why would Mr San go to all the effort of rescuing me? Mr Breckt is much more powerful than I am, so what’s the point? I will die fighting him, making him pay for everything he has done. I know that, and I’m not afraid of the fact. It seems as good a reason as any to die.

To die avenging the one I love.
My terror is being swallowed up by anger. I can feel it bubbling inside me. Even when I look around at the mess that I have created, I still feel the need to destroy more things. But barring ripping the walls apart brick by brick, there is nothing left to destroy. My hands curl and uncurl into tight little fists. I know that I am so much more powerful than I have ever been. I could probably pull these walls apart. I stand, tempted to try out my theory—anything to stop the all-consuming rage that fills me—but I pause as I hear brisk footsteps coming down the hallway.

The door opens and a young girl enters. A different one from earlier, I note as I sniff for her scent. She is a vampire also. My stomach rumbles irately, running on empty again from the exertions spent redecorating this room. I’m surprised by how quickly I seem to be adapting already to my new senses. My sight is so much clearer than any magnifying glass. My hearing picks up the slightest of sounds. My sense of smell is powerful enough to detect the undead for sure, powerful enough to smell for fresh blood. I grimace.

I don’t greet her, but continue to watch her, my face frozen. She moves about the room, picking items up and checking the broken things. Her eyes dart to me every once in a while. She moves to the door, taking one more swift look around the room. Her eyes halt on me for a fraction of a second before she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

I know it’s not locked. Maybe that means I am free to come and go as I see fit. If so, I choose to go. I’m going after Mr Breckt. I take two steps before I look down and see that I’m still in a state of un-dress. My dressing gown hangs in rags around me, leaving little, if nothing, to the imagination.

My fingers grasp the flimsy fragments of what’s left of the dressing gown. I tut and huff and look around. My eyes fall on a pile of clothes in the corner.

Whilst I dress, I realise that this is why the first girl…

. . . the vampire…

…must have come in. To bring me some clothes. I step into tight blue jeans, a black racer back top, and knee high black boots. I feel better already: empowered and fierce, and ready to take on the world. And really, really pissed off.

I make for the door, but before I get there it reopens and Mr San comes in.

He looks about him in amazement. “Mia, quite a temper you have on you.” He doesn’t seem cross in the slightest. In fact, he seems quite pleased with my efforts. His eyes finally fall on me with an appraising look.

“I can see what he likes about you. It really has been quite the transformation, more than anything I think he would have expected.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I want to leave.”

“You need to rest. I’ll get some more blood brought to you soon enough, but first I think we need to clear this mess up, don’t you think?” He looks at me.

“I don’t care about the room. I want to leave. Are you saying I can’t?” I huff, placing my hands on my hips.

“You don’t trust me, do you, Mia? Well, yes, of course you can leave. You’re not a prisoner here…” I make my way to the door, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“…however, I really wish that you would reconsider. You’re needed here. I need you…
we
need you, Mia.”

I raise an eyebrow as I pass him. “I can’t see what help I can be to you, or anyone else. So if it’s all right with you, I have my own agenda to be getting to.” I take another step.

“Mr Breckt. Yes of course. I understand your urgency, but Mia, do you not realise how powerful you are? Of course we need you.” He follows me out of the door. “But you need us also.”

I refuse to listen to him and instead try to figure out which way to go. Both left and right look identical.
What is it with creepy vampire houses?
I choose left when I feel Mr San close behind me.

“We can help you.”

“No, thank you. I don’t need your help.” My stomach is beginning to throb again, a chill working through my bones. I clutch it tentatively, trying not to let him see that I am in pain, but he sees everything.

“At least have something to drink before you go, Mia.”

“No,” I state almost too quickly, my feet carrying me forwards. He’s starting to irritate me now. I don’t know whether to be afraid of him or not. Although his image makes him seem like a frail old man, I can sense that he is very powerful. It’s his demeanour, his calmness, and—if I’m completely honest—it’s his freaky aura which dances around him constantly. No matter what mood he seems to be in, it stays the same—unlike anyone else’s that I’ve seen so far.

“Mia, you’re going to get hungry very fast, and you will end up hurting someone if you’re not careful. I know that’s not what you want.” His voice is soft and full of empathy, and I know that he’s right. It would devastate me to know that I have hurt someone—killed them, even—that my hands would be tarnished forever by someone else’s blood, but I know that it’s a very real possibility. I know I wouldn’t be able to control myself. I’m barely holding myself together now. But I don’t care…I have to get away.

I storm down the hallway. The floor is thinly carpeted, but the original colour is anybody’s guess. The walls, however, are a different matter. As I walk, I take in the paintings that cover them. It’s like taking a history lesson. The history of vampires. Scenes of bloodshed and death, blood and rebirth. I don’t know whether to be disgusted or amazed by the images.

“They’re fascinating, aren’t they?” His voice is beside me, and I realise that I have stopped to stare at a particular picture. Its representation is particularly horrifying: A woman on her knees is surrounded by blood—pools of it…oceans of it. It flows from a pile of bodies that looks to be taller than any man. Each face of each body is drawn and empty; the eyes stare blankly at me.

Women, men, children…babies, even. I am repulsed, and yet my stomach gurgles. The picture seems alive to my sensitive eyes—moving, almost. I see the woman in the picture taking each life. Grabbing each human and drinking her fill, and then leaving them to drain out around her. Too greedy to be bothered to drain them and put them out of their misery.

His voice is quite in my ears, and I turn to look at him with wide, sorrowful eyes. “I know that you don’t want to hurt anyone, Mia. But believe me, you will; you can’t control yourself right now.”

I feel a sob building in the back of my throat and swallow it back down. I close my eyes to seal everything back in whilst the tension rolls from me in heated waves. The intense emotions are making me feel sick—one minute furious, the next dizzy with sadness
.

“I wish that you would reconsider leaving, Mia.”

It just feels like one step too far. I think of all the things that have happened to me in such a short space of time.

“You know what I wish?” I spin around to look at him, my temper flaring once again. “I wish that someone had asked me what
I
wanted…preferably before I was turned into one of the undead. My life has been destroyed, my fiancé killed, my best friend god knows what, and now you have brought me here and keep talking in riddles.” I’m fuming and continue to glare at him. “I don’t want anything to do with you, or whatever is going on here. I want my life back.”

“That life is over now, Mia. Robert has taken it from you,” Mr San says calmly, his eyes downcast in sadness. My infuriation reaches a new level when he adds. “But you aren’t the undead. That implies that you’re a zombie, and they don’t exist,” he chuckles, and watches my face for a reaction.

“Well, up until a few days ago, I didn’t think that vampires existed. So go figure, huh? And if I can ever get out of this rat maze, than I’m going to kick his arse for everything that he’s done to me… and my family. Now move out of my way.” I charge past him, going back the way we had just come. My steps are faster now that my temper is boiling over.

I can still feel him following me, but decide to ignore him. He says I’m free to go, so I’m going. As I walk down the corridor, doors open on either side of me. People—or vampires, I think it would be safe to assume—step out. They watch me silently. Their auras are all much the same: light blue with dashes of brown. From the looks on their faces, they are curious but anxious. I wonder randomly what my aura looks like.

“No one can see it,” his voice sounds out behind me. I’ve no idea what he’s talking about, until he continues. “That seems to be your particular skill, Mia.”

I stop mid-step and turn to face him, my jaw slack from his revelation.

“And yours, I’m guessing, is that you can read minds,” I state whilst I watch him with wide eyes.

“Yes, that is correct. However, I cannot read everyone’s. Only those that aren’t guarded against me. I have other powers too, as do you.” He smiles.

“Like Mr Breckt’s?”

He nods. “Yes. Like Mr Breckt.” I watch him in amazement
.

I look behind him as a group of vampires walk towards us, smiling, with their fangs drawn. Mr San turns to see what has caught my attention. He turns back to face me, a confident smile on his face.

“Don’t mind them, Mia, they are just simple vampires. Emancipators, to be more precise.”

“Emancipators?” I say, with an arch of an eyebrow.

“Yes, Emancipators. I think the literal description is
to free somebody from slavery, restrictions, or conventions.
Or something along those lines.” He waves his hand about. “They were Pawn’s to the Queen, until I freed them—saved them from her, and now they are emancipators.”

“Emancipators?” I say the word again more carefully, as if learning as new language. Perhaps if I keep repeating the word it will make more sense to me.

Mr San tilts his head to one side, trying to gauge my reactions. “I know that this must be very confusing for you Mia. This whole new world that you have stumbled upon. Bastions, Emancipators…”

“Vampires!” I interject with contempt.

“Yes,” he laughs darkly, “yes, yes, and vampires. There is so much that you need to learn. There’s a hierarchy which you need to understand. But first, I think that you need to come to terms with everything that has happened. Perhaps then you may see that what we are offering you is…well a sanctuary, really.”

He reaches for me, his fingers barely grasping my wrist as I flinch from him.

“Don’t. Please, just don’t…” My lips pinch together as my emotions sway. “I don’t want a sanctuary. I want vengeance,” my voice trails off and my eyes look to my feet. I draw in a shaky breath.

His voice softens. “Mia, we can help you achieve that. That is what we are all after. But we, like you, cannot do it alone. We need you and whether you like it or not…you need us.”

I look at him. I can feel the tears building in my eyes. “I want to make him pay for what he’s done!”

“And he will, Mia. I’ll make sure of it.”