Read The Vengeful Vampire Online

Authors: Marissa Farrar

Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Historical, #Paranormal & Urban, #Two Hours or More (65-100 Pages), #Literature & Fiction, #Short Stories

The Vengeful Vampire (3 page)

BOOK: The Vengeful Vampire
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Serenity realized she wasn’t going to wait for the lights to change. Stepping out into the road jolted her bruised ribs. Bright sparks of pain speared through her, making her gasp for breath.

Someone blasted their horn but she barely took notice. Instead, she half-stumbled, half-ran across the street.

People stared at her, curiosity and concern creasing their eyes. One woman put out her hand as Serenity passed, “Are you okay?” she asked, but Serenity shrugged off the kind woman and ran.

Blind to everything around her, she pushed past people, knocking shoulders and elbows as she went. Shouts of protest followed her, but the blood rushing through her ears muffled the sound.

“Hey, crazy lady!” one man shouted as she stomped on his foot in her effort to get by. Her heart raced and pressure built up inside her head, as if she teetered on the edge of something terrible.

Serenity ducked into an alley. Security lights illuminated the unoccupied space. Large commercial bins stood against the walls and Serenity sank between them, seeking shelter amid their tall plastic sides. She bent over, ignoring the pain, and rested her hands on her thighs. With her head hung, she gasped for breath. Her lower back screamed in agony. Jackson always hit where it hurt the worst and in places no one saw—her kidneys, ribs and the bottom of her spine.

Just a panic attack,
she told herself, as the certainty she was about to die faded away with the adrenaline.
Nothing to worry about. You’ve had them before.

Slowly, her breathing returned to normal and her heart lost its trippy beat. She’d begun straightening up when the solid weight of a hand touched her shoulder.

Serenity shrieked and leaped away, jarring her poor ribs once again.

“I’m sorry,” a man’s voice said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“By scaring me half to death!” Quickly, anger replaced the fear and she looked up.

The most beautiful man stood in front of her. Well over six feet tall, dark wavy hair fell across his forehead and curled around his broad throat. The square jaw and wide, generous mouth of a catalogue model graced his features, but his eyes blew her away. She did a double take and something deep inside jolted, like a flick back in time. Despite the darkness, his eyes were almost a fluorescent, bright green.

Green? Not yellow? Hadn’t they been yellow?

She pushed the strange thought away.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. Did she hear an accent, something European? “You seemed to be in distress. Perhaps I can help?”

“No. I’m fine. Please, just leave me alone.”

The hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He stepped forward, hand held out.

He fixated those amazing eyes on her, “At least let me help you to your feet.”

She stared at his hand in mistrust, but couldn’t help glancing at the rest of him. Well-dressed in a smart woolen overcoat and expensive shoes, he gave the impression of someone of importance, of someone who knew his place in the world.

He was everything Serenity wanted to be.

His hand was large, strong and inviting. He certainly didn’t look like a lunatic.

Could this man do much worse than what I’ve got waiting at home?

The anger melted and she found herself incapable of resisting. Instead, she
wanted
to take his hand, touch the soft, strangely pale skin. Serenity reached out and slipped her small palm into his.

She gasped and would have pulled away if not for the strength of his hand closing around her own.

Cold. He was so cold.

It wasn’t just his temperature catching her breath. His touch fired every synapse in her body and goose bumps prickled her skin, her heart stuttering in her chest. Again, her brain jolted like a static discharge realigned her nerve cells. It felt as though someone had reached in and moved parts of her memory around, as if she’d experienced something she should forget. Black blobs clouded her vision. Her legs folded and the world swam away.

His arms locked beneath her before she fell, his easy strength holding her, and she came back to the surface.

“Sorry,” she managed, embarrassed. “I don’t know...”

She tailed off, unsure of what to say.

“What were you running from?” he asked.

Serenity glanced up at him. Concern softened his eyes and the sight melted her; he was the first person in a long time to show her any kind of compassion.

“Myself,” she whispered. “I was running from myself.”

He smiled again. “You didn’t get very far.”

“No. I never do.”

She suddenly realized he still held her in his arms, her breasts pressed up against his broad chest, his face inches from her own. He seemed aware of their close proximity at the same moment and stepped away, leaving them both flustered.

Serenity stared down at the ground, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. What had gone through her? Had he somehow reached inside and touched the essence of who she was?

She shook her head slightly, alarmed at her own thoughts. The stress must be too much.

“I... I have to go,” she managed, pushing past, not trusting herself to look at him again. She sensed him about to reach out to her, but he didn’t and she kept walking. Only when she reached the main street, with its lights and bustle of people, did she dare glance back.

He was gone.

A strange ache of disappointment and relief filled her and she chewed at her lower lip, worrying at a piece of dried skin. Serenity found herself trying to commit his face to memory, to remember how she’d felt when he took her hand. She would bury the moment deep inside and dig it out like an old forgotten favorite teddy or blanket when things got really bad.

The thought made her want to cry but she pressed her lips together and fought the tears. She wouldn’t let herself cry. Not anymore.

It was getting late; Jackson would already be wondering where she was. Hoping to do damage control, she fished in her handbag and found her cell phone. She only had three numbers programmed in; home, work and Jackson’s cell. Hitting home, she put the phone to her ear.

It rang twice before her husband picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “I just wanted to let you know I’m going to be a bit late. The traffic is terrible and I couldn’t get on the last bus, it was full of Japanese tourists.”

He stayed silent on the other end. Serenity held her breath in anticipation.

“How long are you going to be?”

She heard the measure in his voice, as though every additional ten minutes would buy her another punch.

“Half an hour,” she said. “Quick as I can.”

Air whistled down the phone as he huffed through his nose, something he always did when he was pissed, a bull shown a red flag.

“Fine, but hurry up. I’m getting hungry,” and he hung up.

Serenity hurried down the road toward her stop, praying the bus wouldn’t take long to arrive. To her relief, the big blue bus trundled down the road toward her and she broke into a trot, ignoring her protesting ribs, desperate not to miss this one.

Making it in plenty of time, she joined the line. There was no hint of the panic attack she had suffered earlier at this same close proximity of a crowd. Strangely, she felt better within herself, as if the nugget of hope she had stored within herself fed her strength.

She flashed her travel card at the driver who barely bothered to check. Passengers filled all of the seats so she grabbed hold of one of the standing poles.

With her free hand, Serenity fingered the thin silver necklace nestled at her throat, the letter ‘S’ hanging from the chain. The necklace was the only present she’d ever received from her mother and she rubbed the cool metal like a good luck charm whenever she grew nervous, which was often.

As the bus pulled away, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. She swung her head around and peered through the bus window. It was as though her eyes sought him out through the crowds, like some part of her deep down knew exactly where to look, exactly where to find him. For there, on the other side of the street in the shadows of a doorway, stood the man who had tried to help.

Watching her.

Chapter Two

Serenity arrived home
over an
hour late.

Standing outside her front door, she couldn’t help but admire the little duplex despite the person within. Though the yard was small, she spent what free time she had keeping the window boxes pretty and the space tidy. Jackson’s father died a few years earlier, leaving Jackson a good sum of money and astonishing Serenity, who assumed the man would have drunk any savings away. With his inheritance, Jackson bought the two bed duplex in Glendale, a decent district of LA.

She put the key in the lock and, like a teenager sneaking home from a late night party, turned it as quietly as possible. The door opened with a click. No sounds came from inside; a bad sign. When Jackson relaxed, he put his feet up in front of the television. With the television not on, Serenity knew she’d find him sitting at the kitchen table, brooding with his forearms resting on the surface in front of him.

Serenity hung her bag and coat on the hooks behind the front door. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore her heart. It thumped so hard she thought the organ might burst from her chest.

I can’t do it,
she thought
. I can’t tell him I got fired. He’ll kill me.

Walking into the kitchen, she found Jackson exactly as she’d pictured him, sitting with his back to her. His narrow shoulders and long back hunched over the table, his too long, light brown hair hiding his neck.

She moved around the table to face him, but he didn’t even raise his eyes to glare at her through his rimless, rectangular glasses.

Jackson wore his glasses most of the time, even though he only needed them to read or for computer work. He liked to appear intelligent and thought the addition did that for him. To anyone else he appeared harmless; a slightly geeky guy. He certainly didn’t fit the look of a wife beater.

“Hi honey,” she said, trying to make her voice bright. “Sorry I’m late.” She bent down and kissed his cheek. “How was your day? How did the writing go?”

She acted overly cheerful, compensating for the dark mood radiating from her spouse.

“It was fine,” he said still not bothering to look at her. “What’s for dinner?”

Food had been the furthest thing from her mind, but suddenly the question loomed huge. Giving the wrong answer would be the final spark to his tinder, the thing to ignite his temper.

She gave a smile, the expression false on her face. “I thought I’d do us some old fashioned bacon-burgers and fries, maybe with extra cheese?”

His shoulders relaxed and she stopped herself breathing a sigh of relief.

“As long as you miss out the cheese and fries for yourself.” He reached out and slapped her on the backside, a more than playful smack that left her skin stinging. “You know how easily you pile on the extra pounds.”

The slap made up her mind. She wouldn’t tell him about getting fired.

Serenity opened the refrigerator and pulled out a cold bottle of beer. She cracked the lid off and handed it to Jackson, who took the brew with a faint smile.

“Why don’t you go into the living room and make yourself comfortable,” she said. “Let me do my thing in here.”

He was reluctant to leave her. She knew he still hadn’t made up his mind about whether to punish her for being late but she was heading in the right direction and so pressed on.

“Go on, hon. You must be exhausted. I understand how hard you work.”

“I am tired,” he admitted. “The words just didn’t seem to want to come today.”

“How much did you get done? Do you have any idea when you’ll be finished?”

Jackson raised his face to her, head tilted to one side, his eyes narrowed. “Are you giving me a deadline, Serenity?”

“No... No… Of course not,” she tripped over her words. “But I know how frustrated you feel when you...”

He was on his feet in an instant, his chair crashing to the floor behind him. His face pressed up against hers, breath hot against her skin. His thick fingers wrapped tight around her neck, squeezing. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers dug painfully into her trachea, choking her.

“Don’t you fucking tell me what I feel!”

He shoved her backward and she fell, crashing into their large, silver trashcan. Trash spilled out on the floor and the can hit the tiles with a reverberating clang. Pain shot up through her ribs, red hot spears of agony, and she instinctively curled up into the fetal position, her arms protecting her head.

“Look what you’ve done,” he spat, kicking at the spilled contents of the can. “I hope you’re going to clean this mess up.”

Jackson snatched the beer bottle off the table and stalked out of the room. Within seconds, the roar of the television reached her ears; the rage built up inside of him now released. What she’d said hadn’t mattered; he’d been itching for a fight. Even if she’d stayed utterly silent, he still would have found some reason to hit her.

Despite the pain, part of her was relieved. Maybe now he wouldn’t read the truth in her face? Maybe now he wouldn’t see her secret?

Serenity rolled to her side, cheek pressed against the cold tiles. She stayed there for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside. Slowly, the initial stabbing pain dulled to a familiar ache. She squeezed her eyes shut and prepared for the fresh wave she knew would come as soon as she tried to move again.

I will leave him,
she promised herself for the millionth time.
I don’t deserve this.

From out of nowhere, the stranger’s face rose in her mind and she remembered the feel of his touch. That was what she wanted. Someone who stirred such intense emotions, it made her gasp for breath, and not because he’d inflicted pain. She cradled the hand her stranger had touched to her body and closed her eyes, recalling every sensation. Something welled up deep inside, a wave rolling through her body, wiping out the pain. Would she see him again?

BOOK: The Vengeful Vampire
11.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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