The Vengeful Vampire (4 page)

Panic jolted through her at the idea that she might forget his face or how he’d made her feel. Suddenly, remembering this man was more important than dealing with the abusive husband she remained terrified to walk away from.

“Find me again,” she whispered to the empty kitchen.

Realizing she had spoken aloud, her cheeks flushed and she worried Jackson may have heard her above the television. How absurd to think the man would give her a second thought, never mind come looking for her.

Feeling stupid, she carefully pushed to her knees and began to gather trash—empty cans, an old cereal packet, a pizza box—toward her. Tomato sauce and bits of pasta from last night’s meal clung to the floor. Sauce stuck to her fingers and she wiped them on the seat of her pants in disgust. Like an old woman, she climbed to her feet, using the wall for support. She righted the big metal bin and proceeded to refill it.

“I hope that’s my dinner you’re crashing about making,” Jackson shouted from the living room.

“It’s coming,” she managed weakly, but the coil of anger from earlier raised its head again and lashed its tail. Her body might be weak, but that didn’t mean the woman inside had to be as well.

Things needed to change.

Serenity had been curled up
in bed for an hour when she heard Jackson’s heavy footsteps on the stairs. Her whole body tensed, but she forced her muscles to relax and made her breath steady and even, hoping Jackson would think she was asleep.

She listened as he went through his nightly routine in the bathroom; brushed his teeth, washed his face and took a leak. Jackson shed his clothes on his side of the bed. She would be the one to pick them up again in the morning as he slept on regardless.

He slid his warm body in beside her. She faced away from him and he pressed himself up against her back, fitting his knees into the back of hers. He wrapped an arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered into her hair. “I love you so much. Why do you make me do these things to you?”

A mixture of beer and toothpaste scented breath washed over her and the strange combination stoked the fire growing in her belly. She didn’t want him anywhere near her.

“Hey, I’m sleeping,” she said, trying to move away.

He grabbed her upper arm and he pulled her over to face him. Serenity tensed, her body hard and unwelcoming, but Jackson ignored the physical messages and kissed her face with frantic, hard pecks.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he told her.

“Jackson,” she said, pulling her face away from his. “Not tonight. I’m tired.”

“Shhh,” he said and put his hand over her mouth, stopping her words. Her heart picked up a beat and she tried to twist away from him. He climbed on top of her, forcing his knee between her legs, pushing them apart.

“Jackson...” she protested, her voice muffled beneath his clammy palm. “Stop it.” The words came out ‘sho-iik’ and he ignored her. She tried to clamp her legs back together, struggling against him.

“I love you,” he murmured, as though the three words could heal her wounds. “You know how much I love you.”

He took his hand off her mouth and grabbed hold of her right arm, pinning it behind her head. With more force, he shoved his knee back down, bruising the inside of her thighs.

“Jackson!” she shouted, fear tainting her voice. “I said no. Get off me!”

She tried to push him away, but the position he held her in, with one arm above her head and his whole body pinning her down, meant she couldn’t move.

He kissed her again, forcing his mouth on hers, mashing her lips against her teeth. His free arm reached down toward her panties, trying to pull them aside.

Fear raced through her. Would he do it? Would he actually rape her? Jackson was free with his fists, but he’d never stooped so low.

“For fuck’s sake, Jackson,” she yelled. “Get the fuck off me!”

For a moment, she thought she’d got through to him, he’d listened to her for once, but then she felt the unnatural way he lifted off her.

Jackson
flew
away from her, leaving her half-naked and exposed on the bed. He soared backward through the air and crashed into the dresser on the far wall, opposite the end of their bed.

He hit the unit with a sickening crunch and slumped down to the floor, groaning.

Frightened, Serenity sat up, pulling the sheets around her.

“Jackson?” Tentatively, she called her husband’s name and tugged the sheets tighter around her body. Adrenaline sent blood rushing through her ears, her eyes pricking with tears of fear. What the hell just happened?

She climbed off the bed, taking the sheets with her, and approached her spouse as she would a wounded wild animal. “Jackson? Are you all right?”

He groaned again and clutched at his lower back.

Serves you right, you fucking bastard,
came a spiteful, bitter voice in her head.

Jackson’s eyes flickered, the whites showing unnaturally bright. For a moment, Serenity thought he would pass out cold, but then he bolted upright, his eyes darting back and forth, scouring the bedroom.

“Someone was in here,” his voice broke. “Someone grabbed me and pulled me off you.”

She shook her head in confusion. “There’s no one else in here, Jackson. It’s only us.”

Bravado deflated, his shoulders hunched, his eyes wide. He was as scared as her, but Serenity knew from experience—a scared animal was also a dangerous one.

“No. Someone else was here, someone grabbed me. I felt his hands on me. I felt his cold, fucking hands on me!”

Cold hands,
she remembered.
Cold hands and soft, pale skin.

No. It couldn’t be
possible
! Nevertheless, Serenity found herself looking around the room, half-expecting to see her stranger materialize out of thin air. She caught herself. That was crazy. There was no way someone had gotten in and out of the room without either of them seeing.

Serenity’s face betrayed her; her guilt flickered across her features.

“Who is he?” Jackson demanded. “Some guy you’re screwing? Have you let another man in here?”

Her eyes widened with fright, but again the stranger’s face appeared in her mind like a subliminal image on a television screen.

The memory made her pause too long and Jackson seized upon her silence.

“You have!” he said, incredulous, as though he never truly believed her capable of an affair, despite his constant accusations. “You little whore! You’ve been seeing someone else!”

It wasn’t a question anymore but a statement.

She shook her head, desperate. “No, no, I haven’t. I swear to you.”

Jackson’s injuries prevented him from leaping across the room and strangling her. A lump the size of an egg protruded from the back of his head. Reaching up, he tentatively touched the bump. He pulled his hand away, fingertips dark with blood.

The sight of the blood threw him off his rant. She could always rely on Jackson to put his well-being ahead of everything else. “I need to get to hospital,” he said. “I’m hurt. You need to call an ambulance.”

Serenity stared at the blood and a sliver of malice slipped down her throat. She wanted to tell him to suck it up. He’d given her far worse injuries and she’d never been able to seek medical help. But years of silence weren’t broken in a day and she held her tongue.

Grateful to be out of Jackson’s company, if only for a minute or two, she left the bedroom and ran downstairs. Crossing the living room to where the phone sat on a side table, she lifted the receiver and dialed 911.

“What’s your emergency?” asked the tinny voice of the operator.

“I need an ambulance.”

“Can you describe the incident, Ma’am?”

“My husband’s had an accident in the bedroom,” she said and a bark of hysterical laughter almost escaped her. She managed to clamp her mouth shut and the laugh came out as a strange, strangled cough. Images of Jackson in some weird perverted mess with a pair of handcuffs and a candlestick danced through her mind. Hysteria lurked perilously close to the surface but if she gave in, Jackson would kill her.

“I was attacked,” Jackson shouted, still finding the strength to try and control her actions. “Tell them I need the police as well!”

For once Serenity ignored him; she gave the operator their address and hung up. Taking a deep breath, she made her way back up to the bedroom.

“Jackson,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. She sounded authoritative, not like herself at all, and her tone made him look up. “What are you planning to tell the police? That some invisible intruder attacked you? The first thing they’re going to ask is if you’ve been drinking, which you clearly have, and then they’ll send you for psychiatric tests.”

He opened his mouth to protest and shut it again.

Serenity knew he’d been weakened by his injuries, but even this small victory lodged like a powerful rock inside her.

But she had to wonder, what
did
happen? Jackson didn’t leap backward by himself and she couldn’t ignore the shock on his face. Her husband hadn’t jumped off voluntarily, but she was crazy to think the man she’d met today had somehow saved her and then promptly disappeared.

She found her gaze drifting to the window where the full length drapes lifted and flapped in the breeze.

Something stirred within her; shouting that something wasn’t right. She stared at the window, trying to figure out what nagged her.

Realization dawned.

They never slept with the window open. Jackson always complained about the amount of noise from the road, especially first thing in the morning when everyone else left to go to work or take their children to school. If there was a breeze, it meant the window was open.

Serenity got to her feet and pulled the sheets around her, most of them trailing out behind like the train of a wedding dress.

“Serenity?” Jackson called out, but she ignored him and continued to the window.

Goosebumps rose on her skin, prickling their way down her naked arms. With a shaking hand, she reached out and touched the thick, cream-colored fabric. Did someone hide behind them, the same someone who had helped her? She paused for a moment, taking a shallow, jittery breath, and then whipped back the drape.

The empty window stood ajar, looking down onto the street below. Serenity frowned and stepped forward, craning her neck to peer out into the night. No solitary figure stood in the street, yet someone must have used the window to enter and leave the room. Did they balance on the ledge, pull the window partially shut behind them, and jump?

No, she shook her head. Impossible.

Just like it’s impossible how someone threw Jackson across the room without being seen.

“Serenity?” Jackson said again, irritation coloring his voice. His initial shock faded, he was waking up. “Serenity, what the fuck are you doing? Get over here and help me up.”

I should leave him there,
she thought.
I should step over him and walk out the door.

But what she should do and what she did do were two different things. Where would she go? She had no friends or family, and their bank balance would only buy her a couple of nights in a motel. Besides, he would find her. He would find her and he would make her sorry.

I’ll know the right time to go.

For years, she’d told herself something inside would tell her when the time was right to leave. She had no idea when that would be. Maybe she was making excuses to herself—a coward giving herself a get out—but that was how she felt.

Deep down, she hoped someone, somewhere, would find it in their heart to help her. She wasn’t strong enough to walk out on her own.

Reluctantly, she helped her injured husband onto the bed.

Chapter Three

The ambulance took almost twenty
minutes to arrive and by the time the sirens cut through the night air, Serenity stood outside her front gate waiting to usher them in.

She didn’t care about her husband’s state of health, but the longer they took, the more time there was for him to come out of his doped-up stupor and beat the living crap out of her. At least now an ambulance would be ready.

Two men jumped out of the vehicle; a younger one with short dark hair, and a slightly chunky man in his late forties. Serenity didn’t speak, she just showed them up the stairs to the bedroom where Jackson lay on the bed.

“What happened?” the older of the paramedics asked.

Serenity glanced at Jackson, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.

“We were fooling around,” he said, his voice dull. “I slipped.”

The two paramedics took in the sight of her wearing her bathrobe and Jackson in his shorts, and they shared a glance of their own. They would be drinking out on this one tonight. Serenity could hear their voices now, ‘You should’ve seen the state of what this guy’s missus did to him! Must be an animal in bed!’

Screw them,
she thought.
They don’t know what they’re dealing with
.

The older paramedic examined him. “Doesn’t look too bad, but we better take you in for observation. Chances are, you’ve got a concussion and will have a headache for a couple of days, but we’d better be sure”

“Where are you taking him?” she asked finally.

“Good Sams, the hospital down on Wilshire Boulevard,” he said. “It’s the closest one to here with an emergency room.” He took her question as concern. “Don’t worry; you can ride in the back.”

Jackson turned to her. “You’ll come with me, won’t you, Baby?” he asked, turning into a little boy when it suited him. “You know how much I hate hospitals.”

She forced a smile, “Sure.”

The ambulance moved silently down
the freeway, not needing the siren since Jackson clearly wasn’t about to die anytime soon.

Serenity sat on the narrow bench beside the gurney. The younger of the paramedics, John—according to his name badge—sat opposite her.

Jackson lay between them. He’d fallen into a heavy sleep and still managed to snore, despite the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth.