The Vampires of Soldiers Cove

Prologue

Murderous hunger.  For the last 50 years every single day had been a unique torture that no mortal could ever know.  He had come out into the night because he could no longer trust himself.  Countless lives had been lost, families destroyed, peace disrupted.  The vampire had been the cause of husbands burying wives and mothers burying children.  The hunger didn’t discriminate.

The hunger stalked him, and in turn he stalked his prey.

The others seemed to have a kind of control he didn’t understand.  He was never able to rein himself in to the point of feeding without killing.  It was a concept he didn’t fully apprehend, and honestly, wasn’t sure that he wanted to.  His resentment was too deep and his anger too sharp
, sharper even than the knives stabbing him deep in his belly.

It had been almost a month since his last feeding.  Now he was feeling the pangs of hunger more intensely than he had ever thought possible.

He took himself here, deep into the woods of Soldiers Cove Cape Breton, his home, to prevent more lives from being destroyed.  He had been wandering now for three days.  It would take at least another month to starve himself to death.  He imagined the sheer agony it would be and wondered if he would be able to hold out long enough to end his life. Perhaps a stake through the heart would be better.  He had to decide, and soon, what he was going to do because despite the anger and resentment he felt, the guilt was there too and that had more power over him than anything.

There was the matter of the council also.  Feeding to the point of killing was forbidden and they were threatening to put him into a death sleep. Truth is they would have done it years ago if not for the mercy they showed him
at the behest of his father.  Any of the others would have been put in the ground long ago.  Cleaning up his mess had become tiresome for the others and they openly lobbied for either his grounding or his demise.

The razors were slicing him open from the inside out now.  He lay on the ground and looked up through the canopy of evergreens and pines at the stars.  They had held such wonder for him as a child; he wished he could go back to that innocent place.  Back to a time of ignorance, before he found out that he didn’t live in the world he thought he did.  Back to the time before his accident.

The vampire closed his eyes and breathed deeply hoping to quiet the pain.  As he breathed he caught a familiar scent.  Faint…but there.

Human blood.

But what was a human doing so far in the woods in the middle of the night and bleeding?  And how would he resist it?  Perhaps, he thought, he had become so hungry he was starting to hallucinate.

Slowly he rolled over onto his belly, gathered his strength and got to his feet.  He tracked the scent, sometimes having to crawl through the underbrush on his hands and knees.  Normally he was much faster but not feeding had left him vulnerable and weak.

The scent was strong now, the human must be close.  Carefully he hugged the trees and stayed low not wanting to scare off his potential prey.  He hadn’t decided what he was going to do yet and didn’t know if he was tracking out of hunger and instinct or simple curiosity.

The smell turned into sound as he came closer.  It was a female and she was crying.  Of all the humans he hated females the most.  They reminded him of all that he would never have.  A home, children, a normal life.  They were easy to kill too.  Most were trusting and open, a weakness he had exploited over and over again.  This one would be particularly easy to kill.

She was sitting under a tree, hair tousled and knotted, wearing only a long white T shirt and her leg bleeding from a large gash that looked like it might have been caused by sharp branches or wire.  The blood was so close now and it filled his senses.  His body felt electrified, every hair stood on end.

I need to feed!

The young woman had her back to him and he could kill her before she even realized what had happened.  It would be quick this time, no suffering.  No need for any type of emotional connection of fear or lust, just the primal need to survive.

In the stillness of the balmy July night he noticed that she had her hands over her ears.  That was odd.  The only sound was that of the crickets and even that was so far off that a normal human would have to strain to hear.  What could she possibly be trying to block out?  Balling his fists up at his sides to steady the trembling of deprivation he decided he could keep his hunger down long enough to satisfy his curiosity.

Slowly he made his way over to her and very quietly knelt on the soft ground.  She looked no more than twenty years old.  As he reached out to touch her shoulder the young woman startled realizing she wasn’t alone.  He could sense her fear and had to swallow hard to quash the wave of hunger that was trying to wash over him.

“It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you.  Are you lost?  What happened to your leg?”  She simply looked at him and cried harder; pressing her hands against her ears with all the force she could gather.  “Why are you doing that?” he said.

“The voices, they won’t stop.  I just want them to stop talking.  They’re so loud.”  She was sobbing now.  “I need it to stop.”

She was suffering as well out here in the night, lost and alone
like he was.  For the first time he noticed she was quite beautiful.  Big dark eyes, long slim legs, full lips.  Before he took her life he thought he could at least turn off this faucet of noise that was coming from inside her own mind.

He gently took her hands away from her ears and placed them in his, and then pressed his forehead to hers.  It occurred to him that he could just kill her and end her suffering that way; surely he’d be doing her a kindness.  Something was stopping him though.  Something deep inside him was stirring that he’d not felt in a long time.

He used his blood influence to quiet her mind and then pulling away, he looked into her eyes. They were calm and steady now.

“How?” she said.  He didn’t know how to answer that.  For a long moment they simply stared at each other.

Tentatively she reached for his face and he moved closer allowing her to cup it in her hands.  What was he doing?  She should be dead by now and he should be sated.  He searched his mind for a reasonable explanation but there was none.

“I’m going to fix your leg,” he said, but he didn’t move.  There was something about the way she was looking at him, something that made him feel at peace, a feeling that had been absent from his existence since he became vampire.

Finally he forced himself to look down and face the one thing that had been his undoing and the reason he was an outcast among his own kind. 

The blood. 

The calve on the right side had been torn open and was still bleeding.

If I don’t kill her she’ll die from infection anyway.

The hunger was talking now, but he took a deep breath and pushed it down further.  He told himself he was going to be in control of his instincts this time.

Cautiously he turned away and lifted her leg up toward his mouth touching his tongue to the wounded flesh.  Immediately his fangs ran out and he felt the familiar heat that signaled the darkening of his eyes.  He fought to make his fangs rescind, but he was too weak and hungry.  Making sure his face was fully turned away he licked her leg, slowly and gently until the flesh healed.  When he was finished he continued to kneel on the ground with his back turned, not wanting to face her.

If he turned around now she’d see him for what he really was and panic.  He’d have to kill her then, like the others.  He didn’t want that.  There were times he had taken lovers to his bed with every good intention of simply feeding, but he hadn’t mastered the blood influence completely and so when they saw his true self they’d been horrified.  It always ended the same way.

“Don’t go,” she whispered to him.  Her hand was on his shoulder now and she pulled him back toward her until they came face to face.  He held his breath waiting for the moment he knew all too well.  The moment she would get the familiar look of fear in her eyes and begin screaming.

It didn’t happen.

Once again she took his face in her hands.  He felt like a little child.  This was the first time in so long that he felt even remotely human.  Vulnerable and completely exposed to her, the feeling was so overwhelming he thought he might cry from contentment.

Positioning her thumbs on his fangs she touched them ever so gently.  It was too much.
He closed his eyes drinking in the bliss of the first real tender moment he’d had with a woman in fifty years.  Then her soft lips were brushing up against his and he kissed her back, gently, not wanting to hurt her.  Who was this woman?

She moved closer and pressed her warm body up against him.  He slid his arms around her as she did so
, feeling the smooth curve of her back and the softness in her hair.  Gently he slid her down onto her back into the warm ground and lay on top of her as she kissed him and continued to touch his face.  Why wasn’t she afraid?

He removed her lone piece of clothing leaving her naked and then did the same for himself.  Her heart was beating so hard he could hear the blood rushing like a river current all through her body.  Still hungry
, he knew any artery would do, but he was in control now.  He slid himself inside her and on the first full thrust smelled blood all over again.  The smell heightened his senses and he gently bit her neck.  She gasped quietly but didn’t protest.

Slowly and carefully he fed as he listened to her heartbeat.  It was strong, and he was becoming strong too.  She climaxed heavily underneath him and he tasted the sweetness of it in her blood.  As her heartbeat began to slow he had enough strength now to rescind his fangs. 
Then, bringing his mouth to hers, he kissed her deeply, and she responded in kind.

Finally he had his release.  She moaned as he did dragging her nails down his back drawing blood of his own.  When they finished he lay on the ground and pulled her onto his chest.  She was warm and breathing
… and alive.  Everything was different now somehow.  He had changed and there was no going back.

“Stay with me,” she whispered to him as she drifted off to sleep.

“Always,” he said.

Chapter One

When I was sixteen years old I began to hear voices.  My parents, doing what any good parents would do, took me to see a doctor.  I could tell they were frightened, hell so was I.  Who wants a crazy person for a daughter?  They wanted me fixed.  They wanted their happy, optimistic, sometimes bratty teenager back instead of this sullen, sad, mumbling idiot.  That
happy girl, whoever she was, never came back.

What followed were years of hospitalizations, some voluntary, some not, at psych wards all over hell and creation as my father would say.  Sure they loved me, but I knew I was a burden.  I could feel their disappointment and resentment seeping out of their pores and into whatever room I was in.  They weren’t happy, but neither was I.  It’s not amusing or entertaining to hear people who don’t exist.  It’s especially disturbing when they decide to fight.

Living with an arguing couple in your head, not to mention other voices makes it very hard to concentrate.  A year after being diagnosed with Psychotic Depression I ended up dropping out of school, sleeping all day and staying awake all night which thrilled my parents even more. 

              Life actually got a little easier then because for some reason the voices were much more muted at night.  Still around, but not nearly as bad.  That was unless the couple decided to go at it, but they took long reprieves which I was grateful for.

My parents worried about me a lot, up until they died in a car accident last year.  They died with the guilt and shame of having a mentally ill daughter, and I lived with the guilt and shame of existing now that they were gone.  I knew the long drives they took were a means to escape from me and the insanity I sometimes couldn’t control.  They were in that car running away from something I could never seem to outrun mysel
f.  In a way they had escaped. I however, would be forever trapped.

I was twenty four years old and alone in my little house in Soldiers Cove.  Soldiers Cove is not a city, or even a town.  It’s a tiny little community along Route 4 in Cape Breton Nova Scotia.  Population, probably less than a hundred.  People drive through here on their way to and from other places but never really stop.  It’s never anyone’s destination.  When you’re in Soldiers Cove you’re someplace in-between.

My house is on top of a hill surrounded by trees.  It’s a cute house, a pretty shade of pale blue, one story, and two bedrooms.  It can’t be seen from the road so unless you know someone lives here you’d never come looking.  I was isolated physically and mentally from the world, but what had the world ever done for me?  The world could go fuck itself for all I cared.

The only contact I had with people was through my sweet little old aunt Sarah who lived down the road. Once a week she’d call and ask if I needed to go into town for anything.  Sometimes I’d go but only if I really needed food or something I couldn’t buy online.  In crowds of people the voices would get worse so I stayed away from town as much as I could.