The Nightlife: New York (The Nightlife Series) (2 page)

* * * *

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.  A cool, soft palm hit Aaron’s face three
times.  He opened his eyes to an angel, a halo of light around her tousled,
golden curls like the corona encircling the sun.  She had the most succulent
puffy lips and a benevolent shine of concern and compassion.

“Are you an angel?”  His beautiful seraph began swearing up
a storm in melodic French.

“
Le réalité’ et toi vous ne vous entendez pas, n’est-ce pas
?
” 
She remarked on his disconnect with reality.

He didn’t know what to say.  How do you greet the angel of death?

“
C’est
vraiment des conneries
!
” 
The words seeped in slowly, sparking a memory from French
class––
this is bullshit
.  Are angels supposed to curse?

The heavy weight of exhaustion settled in with a cold
numbness. 
Is this what it feels like to die?
  He drifted back into
unconsciousness, content in the belief that heavenly hosts carried him off to a
better place.

* * * *

CHAPTER 2

She knew she couldn’t stay on the street.  The detectives
would not remain incapacitated much longer and the gun shot would probably
bring a 911 call from the restaurant down the block.  The unfortunate boy who
foolishly tried to intervene on her behalf was bleeding to death.  A decision
had to be made.  She felt guilty, responsible for what happened to him.  If she
had paid closer attention she’d have disarmed the fat, idiot cop before hitting
him with the Taser.

“
Je suis ici pour toi.
 
I am here for you.”  She tried to comfort the young man in his
pain and delirium.  Living most of her life in Paris, she tended to backslide
into her native tongue in moments of high stress.

“
Je
vais le regretter
.”
 Knowing she would probably regret it, she made
the snap decision to take responsibility for him.  Without another second’s
delay she scooped him up in her arms, cradling him like a child.  He weighed
about 165 lbs., nothing for her preternaturally strong physique.  Though only
110 lbs., she could easily lift several times her own body weight.

She sped down the street, away from the restaurant and the
blood-splattered sidewalk.  She opted for the dark alleys, keeping out of sight
as she ran flat out with the young man in her arms and her Prada heels hanging
by the straps in her teeth.  It was damn near impossible to run in high heels.

She reached her fourth floor apartment via the fire escape
catwalk and took stock of the situation.  He’d lost too much blood already and
was losing more every second.  She had to stop the bleeding, now.  He smelled
delicious, wonderful red syrup all over his shirt, and the scent raw meat.  She
could barely stand to be near him without feeding.  Her sharp teeth came out
full length, ready to sink into all that juicy flesh.  She swallowed down her
urges and forced herself to lean in close.  Her mouth filled with venom like a
dog salivating over a meal held under its nose.  Might be helpful.  The boy
need the healing and pain-killing properties of her venom.

Forcing herself not to bite, she licked away the blood and
gore to reveal his lean, well-toned chest.  He had long striated musculature
from work and everyday use––no iron-pumped, steroid-induced, weightlifter bulges. 
Not an ounce of fat on his young, sleek torso.  His high cheek bones and
angular features lent him a sharp, elfin look.  He had light skin with dark
hair and eyes, reminiscent of a Spaniard or Italian. 
Il est très bea.  Oui
, he is very
fine.  The gaping wound does spoil it
.

The boy’s bleeding slowed, but didn’t stop entirely. 
Somehow he managed to gain consciousness for a few moments.  His lazy eyes
looked up at her, glazed and drugged.  Her venom had worked its chemical magic
of pain-killer-endorphin-dump.  But it was not enough.  A more drastic remedy
would be necessary.  She noticed the change in his aura, and smelled his
impending death from shock and trauma.  Her first aid could only delay the
inevitable and perhaps make his demise relatively painless.

The only way she could see to reverse his fate was to give
him her life blood, making him as she was.  She hated to do it, had purposely
avoided it for many years.  If he survived the change, it would create an
unbreakable psychic bond, bending his will to hers.  She would be his master,
and he enslaved––not a convenient arrangement for either party.

She knew how it felt to be enthralled and enslaved by such a
bond to a master.  She had hated every single minute of it.  The irresistible
imprint had forced her to submit to her former master’s every command, her body
and mind acting according to his will.

She vowed years ago to never subject another person to the
humiliation of enslavement that she had endured.  Granted, she didn’t believe
herself to be sadistic or intentionally malicious.  Until now, she had never
been willing to do this with anyone.  If she was to try, it shouldn’t be
without his consent.  That’s how it had been with her, forced, with no knowledge
of what was happening at the time.  At the very least she should give him a
choice before going forward.

“What is your name?”  He smiled up at her as she licked his
blood from her lips.

“Aaron.”  A huge stupid grin slid across his face.

“Aaron, you must listen carefully.  I cannot stop the
bleeding.  Your wound is very serious.  Is something I can do for you.  But you
must understand first.  If I do this, you will be bound to me always.  If I
give you this lifesaving gift you must serve me in all things.  Your life will
belong to me.  Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”  The strong pain-killer of her venom had obviously
done its job.  That goofy grin of his just wouldn’t quit.  “You must be an
angel.  Keep talking, I love the sound of your voice.”

“I do this, it cannot be reversed.  Is very important you understand.”

He licked his dry lips.  “I need a drink.  I am so thirsty.”

“
Oui
,
in a moment, but do you comprehend?”

“Yes, it’s okay.  Do what you have to, but I’d like a drink
now.”  His eyes rolled shut.  He was slipping away.

A quick flick of her nails across her wrist opened a
lifeline for him.  With his permission, she gave him a drink.  He almost gagged
at his first taste as she rubbed her wrist over his lips, but this urge was
quickly overcome as he continued to lick at her.  Soon his lips sucked from her
skin with a will of their own, like an infant’s involuntary reaction to a
mother’s nipple placed in his mouth.

Greedy for more, he grabbed her arm and gripped her tight,
sucking harder.  After a moment, she decided he’d had enough.  She couldn’t
afford for him to weaken her too much.  She pried her arm from his two-handed
grip with a yank and a wet sound as she broke his suction from her wrist.

It was done and could not be undone.

* * * *

Drifting through a hazy blend of pain and drugged happiness,
he felt his body begin to tingle all over.  The slight tickle-tingling
sensation gradually changed intensity to an ache.  The ache began to throb,
coming on in waves, and then became a constant pain.  The pain morphed to a
burning sensation, which became an all-consuming inferno raging through his
body.  He kicked and thrashed.  He cried out in agony as flaming trails of
molten fire blazed across his flesh.

He fainted repeatedly from the intense scorching pain, only
to awake to more agony.  He welcomed the periods of unconsciousness, the pain
receding as he sank into oblivion.  Eventually he reached such a point of
exhaustion and fatigue that the pain no longer woke him.

In the midst of his delirium of pain he dreamt.  He dreamed of
Delia.  She smiled invitingly, slipping her hands over his arms and chest with
soft little strokes.  A Delia far nicer and sweeter than she’d ever been
before.  Then her features changed to a vicious scowl, mocking him with words
of rejection and taunts.  A little closer to the Delia he knew, though a bit
harsher.  Her cute little half smile alternated back and forth to a sneer.  At
one point she even swung at him, cursing him for leaving her behind as he moved
on to somewhere else … somewhere different where she couldn’t follow.  These
nightmarish dreams replayed repeatedly.  Over and over, more of the same theme,
Delia invited him in with seductive attentions, and then turned on him viciously
as they became intimate.

On occasion his mother appeared asking
what are you doing?
 
Are you
ever planning on going to college?
  Strange to see her
there.  She rarely ever called and virtually never stopped by his apartment, so
why should she be in his dreams?  The one person he needed to see most never
showed up, he’d been gone for six years.  Aaron stopped dreaming of his father
years ago.

At some point in his delirium, the dream sequence changed.  He
became angry, violent.  He seized ahold of Delia with great strength and shook
her bodily like a rag doll.  She laughed as though it was nothing.

Then his guardian angel arrived.  The blond angel’s smile
radiated a sense of calm.  With her touch, he stilled instantly, all concerns
erased by her charisma.  She soothed him, taking away the aggression, and removing
Delia from his nightmares.

The tenor of his dreams shifted.  It turned into a tour, a
ride through a video game.  He became a passenger in someone else’s world.  A
strangely exhilarating experience in a strange city where the people spoke in
foreign languages.  He dreamed of racing through the night, moving at
unbelievable speeds through the streets.  It was like living in someone else’s
body while he ran at the velocity of a motorbike with nothing but his own two
feet to propel him.

His guardian angel came and went repeatedly.  She helped
cool his burning fever with a wet washcloth, but her eyes and her touch brought
the most comfort.  She fed him warm broth from a cup.  It tasted wonderful.  He
wanted more to quench his thirst.  It seemed he could never get enough of her
broth.  She shushed him and assured that
all is well
in her sensual
French accent, but she denied him more drink––
not too much,
mon cher
.  His angel held him
cradled in her arms like a baby.  At times the fever and pain, so intense, he
knew he’d died and gone to Hell, burning in the eternal lake of fire.  She held
him even when he felt so hot his skin would surely burn her from the incredible
heat.

Always the visions of Delia returned, laughing, mocking him,
until his angel arrived to chase her away.  He’d been banished to a special
level of Hell, tormented endlessly by demonic versions of Delia.

Sometime later, maybe days, or perhaps even weeks, the Delia
attacks ceased.  His life had been claimed by the angel.  She fought off his
demons and took a permanent position as his guardian.  Delia no longer held sway. 
But the dreams became more disturbing, visions of stalking through the dark
alleys at night.  He moved swift and sure, attacking his prey ferociously.  He
fed from their necks, drinking blood by the gallons––from hundreds of faces of
men and women in all parts of the world, all colors and races.  No matter how
much blood he drank it could never be enough.  His horrible thirst could never
be sated.

* * * *

CHAPTER 3

Michelle had never done this before.  She wasn’t even certain
it would work.  Her own transformation hadn’t been accompanied by an
instruction manual.  Many aspects of her life had been learned the hard way,
through painful mistakes and experimentation.  Her former master hadn’t been
very forthcoming.  The bastard had no regard for her or anyone else.

She watched Aaron as he thrashed and squirmed, tossing the
covers from his feverish body.  Seeing this trim, fit, well-endowed young man
in her bed inspired a mess of conflicting emotions.  A flush of arousal warmed
her as she slid her hand over him, feeling his hot feverish skin.  His face
pinched in anguish, and she wished there was more she could do beyond a
soothing word and a cool, wet cloth.  Her touch seemed to calm him.  He kept
complaining of thirst, so she fed him a little more blood, but not too much. 
She beefed up her own feeding schedule to accommodate Aaron’s demands.

As time stretched into the third night, and his fever hadn’t
subsided, she began to think that perhaps he wouldn’t make it. 
What a
shame, such a lovely boy
.  She considered it might be more humane to kill
him now, put him out of his pain and misery.  She wasn’t sure how long the
process should take, it seemed like it should be a couple days, but who knew?  Perhaps
it was different with each person.

She kicked herself for doing it.  Surely a mistake, she
should have let him die.  What would she do with him if he did come out of it?  She
had lived alone for decades.  She wasn’t exactly prepared to share her life
with anyone.  What a foolish, impetuous thing to do.  She should end it now,
save both of them from years of complications.

She put her hands around his neck.  It would be so easy, one
flick of her wrist, spinal column severed.  He opened his eyes delirious with
fever.  For a moment he looked at her, recognized her, and his expression
morphed to relief.  He mumbled something about
my angel
.  The fool was
hallucinating.  He smiled at her with adoration and undisguised worship.  That
did it.  She couldn’t go through with the dirty deed.  It wasn’t in her to be
so cruel.  It would have to wait until he provoked her.  Then she could get
past his damnable boyish charm.

What would it be like to share her life with someone?  It
had been a very long time since she’d let anyone get so close and personal.  She’d
tried to have relationships with a few men before––what a disaster.  A painful
lesson she had learned repeatedly––she didn’t mix well with people, at least
not for any length of time.  Those experiments always ended in death.  No
matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, men always died.  They were
so frail, their bodies so easily broken, withered by time and sickness, by her
need for blood.  A sure recipe for heartache.

But this would be different.  This man would be subject to
her command.  He wouldn’t be able to beat and abuse her like her master did. 
The kid better watch himself.  If he became a problem, she knew how to handle
it, but he’d get his chance.

She reached back through the years to remember her life long
ago with a male vampire.  Those memories were too dark, filled with violence
and malice.  Her former master had been quite the sadist.  But there were some passionate
moments of wicked pleasure.  She remembered how they molded together in
painful, savage sexual adventures.  He dominated her like no other, so strong,
so vicious, and she had enjoyed it immensely.  And the synchronous bites! 
Those wonderful sensations of blood, sex and venom all rolled into one insane,
chaotic blend.  There was nothing like it.

Aaron would have his chance.  She’d be gentle with him at
first.  He was definitely an innocent.  This time she would dominate, the boy
would answer to her in all things.  But if he began to exhibit the signs, if he
became anything like her former master, she’d snap his neck without a moment’s
hesitation.

* * * *

Aaron awoke to a bone dry thirst and a dull throbbing ache
in his chest.  He heard a myriad of sounds ranging from snores and grunts to
dishwashing and several televisions blasting over one another.  He breathed in
crisp, strong smells of linen, cotton, vinyl, paint, a woman’s perfume, carpet
freshener, and lemon furniture polish.  Each scent had its own distinct
signature.  He differentiated them with amazing clarity.

“Where the hell am I?”

Bemichis.  He had just left work, then the blonde and cops. 
And he’d been shot! He reached up to feel his chest. 

“Holy shit!”

Nothing, not a mark on him.  The gunshot wound had
completely healed, although he seemed to have some residual soreness.  That’s
when he noticed he was completely naked under the bed covers.  Though the
bedroom was dark, he could see clearly.  It seemed the room had light, but from
where?

Definitely not his room or his apartment.  This place had a
feminine touch, the bedspreads, furniture, candles.  A woman’s home.  And the
perfume scent evoked a sense of something vaguely familiar––cloudy, dream-like
memories of being soothed and comforted by a French-speaking angel with a
heavenly smile and golden hair.

Nothing made sense.  He should be dead, or in some kind of
coma or intensive care unit.  Yet he felt great

He listened to noises coming from outside this room, but not
just from the other room. 
Were those sounds from the neighboring
apartments?
 The walls must be ultra-thin.  The sounds came to him as
though they were people standing in the room right beside him.

Something waited at the edge of his perceptions, some sense
of another person, a woman in the other room.  She was coming to him, coming
towards the door to the room.  He felt an indefinable attraction to her.  She opened
the bedroom door, her golden hair illuminated from behind by the living room light
spilling through into the room.  His guardian angel.

He recalled how she held him, wiped his brow, tenderly ministered
to him.  She had somehow healed him, brought him out of the bowels of Hell.

He recognized the magnetic pull effect he felt was to her,
like an invisible line connecting them.  Michelle.  Her name was Michelle, but
he couldn’t recall how he knew it.  She had come for him, and she had many
things to explain.  And how did he know that?

* * * *

Michelle studied him for a second, taking in the small
details, the nuances of change.  Aaron’s aura held an animal magnetism that had
not existed prior to his change.  Much more attractive, somehow manlier.  She
wanted to sink her fangs into him and experience sex with one of her own kind
again.

She had grown so accustomed to these fragile and delicate
human men.  Like a carnivore forced to subsist on a vegetarian diet, she
hungered for some meat.  She needed a real man, a strong, virile vampire.

She restrained her carnal urges for the moment.  Plenty of
time for fun later.  And she didn’t want to scare her new companion.  He should
be brought into the fold gently.  Though he had come through the change, his aura
still displayed an innocent soul.  She sighed.  She expected that the inner
beast, the vampire’s true nature, would rear its ugly head soon enough.  Until
then, she’d handle him with kid gloves.

* * * *

“
Bonjour
,
how does it feel to be reborn?”  She smiled slyly.

“I could down a gallon of water right now.  Beyond that, I’m
good, all things considered.”  He tried for nonchalant, but felt childish and
unsophisticated in her presence.  He suspected she wasn’t an angel after all. 
He caught a sense, a feeling, that she was quite mischievous and not
necessarily benign.  He recalled a vague memory of extreme burning pain, but it
seemed as though it had all been a weird dream.  How could he have been in so
much pain and yet sit here in this bed, in good health, not a mark on him?  His
mind raced as she slowly advanced towards the bed, staring intently.  Confused,
clueless, he remained silent.

“Many things, they change for you now.  You have noticed you
can hear all the petit noises,
n’est
pas?
  You can smell and taste everything,
non?
 Your senses are very acute?”

“Ahmm … yeah, I guess”

“Listen and I will explain.”  She sat on the edge of the bed
next to him.  Her gaze held his, never blinking even once.  Creepy.

He finally had a chance to take a good close look at her. 
Michelle was far more attractive than he first thought.  Her eyes held a
vibrant shade of green he’d never seen before.  Her round face was pleasingly
symmetrical with a narrow, elegant neck sweeping up to her cheeks.  Graceful,
very patrician.  She had creamy-white perfect skin, a light, pink blush to her
cheeks.  Too perfect.  She could have been an airbrushed artist’s rendering,
unnaturally beautiful.  The smirk on her face led him to believe she knew
exactly what was on his mind.

“Is difficult, we are strangers.  But you must believe what
I say is the truth.  Do you trust me, Aaron?”

“I’m pretty sure you saved my life, why shouldn’t I trust
you?” he replied with false bravado.  Who was she? Why did she bring him to her
apartment?  Her words started to freak him out.

She nodded.  “I did something I promised to never do.  I
gave you new life.  Is like a special kind of virus.  This allows for miraculous
regeneration and healing.  There are changes you will notice, you are very
different now.”  She sounded so sexy purring biological terminologies with her
poetic accent.  He didn’t have the first clue what she was saying, sounded like
sci-fi mumbo jumbo.

“Your body now needs regular infusions of fresh blood.  Is
the only nourishment you require.  You will not consume food or drink, only
fresh blood.  You noticed the thirst is intense,
oui
?
”

He didn’t know what to make of her.  He stared at her with a
raised eyebrow. 
Are you for real? Are you properly medicated?

She continued, “
Arriver
au point
, you are now a vampire, and you must feed on fresh blood
very soon.”  Her cute accent now held the potential to become irritating.  He
shook his head no, an involuntary reaction to the overpowering denial
resounding through his mind like a pounding drum beating out a steady rhythm of
No!  No!  No! No!
 This had to be some kind of sick joke.  At any moment,
people would fill the room with cameras and smiles yelling, “Hey dude, you’ve
been punked!”

She didn’t give him much time to react. “I can see you do
not believe me. 
Donc
,
I will demonstrate!”

With a flick of her hand she sliced her wicked nails her left
wrist and held it a couple inches from his face.  The wondrous smell of sweet,
delicious blood assaulted his senses.  His mouth watered at the strong, savory
perfume pulling him down to lick from her wrist.  Like a shark drawn to the
scent of blood in the water, he couldn’t resist its lure.  His mind reeled in
revulsion, but his thirst overwhelmed him.  He latched onto her wrist with a
snake-like chomp, sucking frantically. 
Awesome
.  He couldn’t resist,
and he was
sooo
thirsty.  He bit down hard into her open wound, his
sharp little canines punctured through her flesh like biting into a juicy
peach. 
Oh God, that’s wonderful, more, more, MORE!  
He devoured every
drop of the succulent syrup.  He had never tasted anything like it.  He didn’t
think he could ever stop.  He wanted to drain her arm, wring it dry like a
sponge.

Michelle moaned.  Her breathing quickened, she panted
heavily like a dog and her legs squirmed. 
“
Oui! Oui!
”
  Small gasps of intense pleasure
spilled from her lips.  Suddenly she sat back and in a deep, resonating timbre
of voice commanded,
“
Enough!
Ça
suffit!
”

Reacting instantly to her command, he released his lockjaw
hold on her wrist.  The truth hit him like a bucket of ice-water, drenching him
with shock.  He had just fed from her slashed wrist like some bloodthirsty
animal.  He reeled and pitched, losing equilibrium.  He leaned back against the
pillow of the bed as his head spun.  He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t believe. 
He tried to deny the delicious smell of blood in his nostrils and the
gut-gnawing hunger for
more
.  He tried to plug his nose, to think of
anything other than the blood.

He couldn’t deny what he’d just done.  He had to face the
irrefutable facts.  He enjoyed her blood immensely.  It was the most wonderful
sensation, almost better than sex.  He understood without a shadow of doubt
that he needed blood.  He’d do anything to get it, like a junky jonesin’ for a
fix, like a fish needs water to breath.  He had the blood
smores
, and he
needed
more.
  The burning, itchy, dry throat was bad, but to top it off
he had a
hunger
,
a potent
need
.

Michelle twitched and made little groaning sounds, still
pulsing with her response to his bite.  She watched him with a half-lidded,
lazy-eyed look, as though drugged.  “Mmm …
oh
la vache
!
 
Ooh … I like that very much.”  She paused to regain her composure.  She
retained the lazy
Garfield-the-cat
half-lidded smile.

“There are details I must explain first and then we will see
to our needs properly.”  She wiped a hand across her face. “When you were dying
from the gunshot, I fed you the same way, from my blood.  This has brought on
the change.  You are now like me, but also
tied
to me.  This is a
very special connection.  You are blood of my blood and you will answer to me
when I command.”  Michelle paused for a moment then continued, holding his gaze
with a look of apology in her eyes.