Dust flew up from behind the pickup truck rolling down the dirt road. Loud music and drunken shouts poured out the windows and into the open country air. In the bed of the pickup several teenagers- two girls and a boy- were laughing and singing along to the lyrics they knew by heart. The boy had his arm draped over the shoulders of the blonde girl who laughed suddenly as her friend rose up, knees bent to steady herself on the floor of the speeding vehicle. An abrupt bump in the road sent the girl crashing back down on her friends' legs, eliciting more cheers from the passengers.
"Rhoads!" The driver shouted, slamming on the breaks before a solitary farm home.
"See ya, babe." The boy slurred into the blonde's ear. She laughed and kissed the top of his head. All but falling out of the back of the truck, she stumbled up the dirt drive to her house.
With the doorframe to support her, the girl clumsily let herself inside, smiling until she came into the kitchen. The lights were still on over the kitchen table where two figures were slumped over steaming mugs of coffee. Both looked up and in an instant the sleep in their eyes was replaced with pure disappointment.
I woke up to the sounds of repeated electric beeping coming from the alarm clock next to me flashing 8:00 and the usual city traffic penetrating my apartment walls. I thought about going back to sleep and not waking up until tomorrow night, but as soon as I closed my eyes I would be unable to fall asleep. Grumbling, I rolled out of bed and fumbled through the dark into the bathroom where I flicked on the yellow lights.
I looked in the mirror and saw the girl from my dream. The drunken blonde teen high on life, love, and cocaine. I grinned and closed my eyes, expecting her to be gone when I opened them again. Nope. She was still there, but she was changed. Changed back into the heartless killer with pallid skin and cold, dead eyes. I cast my reflection a nasty glare and turned off the lights as I left the bathroom.
Navigating across the room in the dark was easier now that I was conscious. I rifled through my closet, which was brimming with a collection of silk kimonos, gothic corsets, evening gowns, phosphorescent raving gear, posh designer jeans, and other such costumes. That's all they were; costumes. Tools for when I was in the mood for something other than the usual gutter punk blood that was so easily come by.
That was just fine for tonight though. I figured I'd wander the streets, beguile a pretty little gamin, try and catch Ben, and call it a night. I glanced at the clock behind me. Twenty past nine, yeah, I had time to meet up with Ben before he left the newsstand, but I'd have to hurry. I pulled on jeans, a black tank top, some ratty old Doc Martens and grabbed a heavy army jacket off the couch as I left my apartment: a nice third story room in an old brick tenement that was rented out under a name I couldnt remember with money stolen from people who were rotting peacefully in their graves.
True, I was stuck with a 16-year-old's body, but over the years I had developed the walk of the older generation, my generation. It's not hard, when you've lived a life such as mine, to imitate that walk; the one that speaks of experience. It's not even so much a walk as it is a stride. Shoulders back, chin up, eyes focused straight ahead. And if that doesn't work, a pair of 4-inch stilettos never hurts. I pull off 19 real easily; anything above 23 is a stretch.
On my way to meet Ben I ducked into an alley and spotted my target immediately. A single boy, just barely seventeen and so painfully obvious in his innocence, stood illuminated beneath a lighted doorway. I caught his gaze and the next minute I was kneeling on the filthy pavement in the shadows, the boy's limp body cradled in my arms as I drained him of his sweet blood. Crimson on my tongue, taste of metal, and I was back to the first time I took a life.
Dressed in only a thin red dress, the cold night wind stabbing at my bare skin, and coated in dirt that clumped in my hair, I ran over the damp grass of the cemetery. I wasn't thinking about any of that though, I wasn't thinking at all, just letting my feet carry me where they wanted. A new kind of hunger pained my stomach and drove me on faster and faster. Through the gates across the street into the old part of town, over the railroad tracks, and then I saw him. A delicious smelling assemblage of flesh and blood walking down the street. I sensed his fear of this night and I loved it.
When he saw me coming I could hear his heart rate quicken. I was clumsy. Crashing into him, I had my victim pinned against a wall. He screamed and fought back, but I overpowered him and instinctively sank my fangs into his neck.
That was over . I remember drinking in th40 years ago. I was bitten one night while I was in town with my friendse blood that he, Alden the vampire, offered up to me. It burned and gave me life again, changing me, and then I passed out. Doctors declared me legally dead and I remained buried for a day until the bloodlust forced me from the grave.
Trapped in a coffin. I cried out in horror, fear inspiring a preternatural strength I never knew I had that coursed through my veins like fire, allowing me to break open the top of my confinement and let moist dirt spill in around me. I didn't need to see, I didn't need to breathe, I just needed to keep digging through the earth.
I didn't know what had happened or what I had become. I probably would have died a second time if Alden hadn't shown up. He took me under his wing and taught me all I needed to know. "You are a vampire, and you belong to me."
Belly full of warm blood, I casually continued on my way down the street. Ben worked the late shift at a newsstand. About every other night I stopped by to pick up the evening paper. I had quit relying on the television to catch up on current events a long time ago. The television didn't talk with me, argue opinions, or buy me drinks. Ben always obliged. From where I was I could see him leaning back in his chair with a magazine propped on his knee and signature Yankee's cap tipped forward on his head.
"Hey, Em!" He greeted when I walked up.
"Hey! Anything good?" I asked, picking up a copy of the paper and scanning the headlines.
"Ehh...not really."
"Mhmm. Whats this?" I pointed to a short article inside the paper. Next to the print was a black and white photo of a girl who looked vaguely familiar.
"Oh, just another kid gone missing. Y'know she probably just-"
"I know her."
"What?"
"I know her. She's my niece."
"Your-"
"Niece. Yes." I looked up at Ben whose expression was of pure confusion. I was thinking about my sister younger sister who had grown old and had kids in those 40 years while I had remained unchanged. "Listen. It says, 'Morgan Lewis was reported missing on Sunday. She was last seen at a school dance on Friday night but did not return home that evening or the next day.'" I gasped, "oh, God. I have to go." Without further explanation I spun on my heel and headed back down the sidewalk.
I wove through crowds of people without them ever knowing I was there.
Back at the newsstand I had come to a sudden, fearful realization. What if the same thing that had happened to me, happened to Morgan? What if she had been stolen away from her friends that Friday night by a vampire, like I had been? What if she had been turned into one, like I had been? What if Alden had done it? He was notorious among vampires for that sort of thing: taking unsuspecting teenagers and turning them, 'working the Dark Trick' as some called it.
I'm not sure why I jumped to that conclusion. It could just be that she had run away or death could have found her some other way, but intuition alone had me taking a taxi across town to the home I used lived in with Alden and a few others of a small coven.
It was an old house, a well built one of red and gray bricks and pine wood. Dark shades blocked all the windows; even the crystalline glass in the newly stained door was opaque with crimson hangings. The yard was overgrown and full of neglected weeds that crept across the sidewalk and walkway over which I traversed.
The door clicked open, welcoming me inside like it always had. As far as I could tell, there were no lights on anywhere or even any sign that anyone was home. I probably would have wasted a good ten minutes unsuccessfully searching the rooms if it had not been for the creaking of a floorboard on the second floor that alerted me I wasn't alone after all. Up the stairs I crept, turning right at the first room. It wasn't until my fingers came in contact with the doorknob that I realized this was my old room. In the time it took to blink I relived my last night here in my mind.
"What have you done?" I cried out, seeing the small body lain out on the couch in a position that mimicked sleep.
"What? No thanks? He's not quite gone yet; I thought you would like to finish." Alden grinned, scooping the comatose boy into his arms and offering him to me.
"He's a child!" I screamed, aware, but ignoring the fact that I was barely more than a child myself.
"He's human. An underling. Food, girl."
"You-you-you-ugh!"I shoved Alden in the chest, catching him off guard so that he stumbled backwards. I couldn't believe he would be so heartless as to take such a young life.
"Don't you ever," he threw the boy's body to the floor, "do that again!"
I found myself pinned against the wall, my feet dangling above the ground, and Alden's hand around my throat. It hurt, and I struggled, but it did nothing to choke me.
"Let go." Alden only growled in response and pressed me harder into the wall.
"Let me go." I clawed at the hand that kept me hanging. "I said, 'let. Me. Go!'" This time I spat in his face. It worked as far as him releasing me, but when I looked up from the floor where I had fallen I knew I had made a huge mistake. Alden was the angriest I had ever seen him. His white cheeks were flushed and a great crease formed between his brows when his black eyes narrowed on me.
I was helplessly pinned again by Alden, his elongated canines hovering over my throat. "You sorry, little ingrate," he snarled before his fangs sliced across my throat like a white-hot blade, conjuring a gurgled scream from me. "Get out of my house. Dont come back."
Even as Alden's last words rang in my ears, still threatening, I opened the very door behind which he stood.
Sure enough, when the door swung open I was face to face with the vampire himself. Considering he was an unchanging being, he looked a lot different from the last time we had met. His skin was paler, like white marble, and his long black hair had been chopped short into a modern shag. I also noted that there was a thin stream of dry blood running from an invisible wound on his wrist.
"What are you doing here?" His tone of voice and the fact that he had been waiting for me behind the door implied that he knew exactly what I was doing there. I didnt answer, instead I ducked and shifted to try and see behind him into the room. A glimpse of a chair by the window was all I got, so I ducked to his other side and saw what I was looking for: Morgan, bound and gagged. Half of me was relieved that I had found her, the other half was terrified that I had been right.
"What are you doing here?" He repeated when I didnt say anything. I looked up into his angry eyes before his fist came in contact with my stomach and I was sent flying backwards, hitting the wall outside the room. I didn't have time to dwell on the pain because whatever damage he had done was healed by the time I was standing up again. Quickly analyzing the situation in my head I knew I had to get into the room. And that's as far as my plan went.
Mustering up all my strength, I charged at Alden, ramming my shoulder into his chest. It wasn't enough to knock him over, but it at least got me over the threshold. Annoyed, Alden shoved me down to the floor, and then stooped over me. Curling his nimble but strong fingers around my neck, he picked me up and threw me across the room like a rag doll.
My head cracked against the windowsill, the wood splintering into several pieces around me. Although I could feel the wound healing, I found it near impossible to move. My eyelids were heavy as if with sleep, but when I finally lifted them I saw Alden leaning on the opposite wall. His arms were crossed over his chest and a snide grin was situated on his face.
"I warned you not to come back." He said in an I-told-you-so tone of voice.
"Well, you obviously missed me enough to go and take my niece." I mocked, "lonely, Alden?" He looked angry for a second, but that emotion was gone just as soon and cool sereneness settled back into his features.
"Lonely? No. A bit bored though. The coven hasn't changed since you left." He laughed. This was getting ridiculous; I was not in the mood for a friendly conversation or catching up on old times.
"Why dont you just kill me?"
"Is that what you want?"
I was taken aback and didn't answer Alden. I really didnt want to die, but I didn't see any way or chance of beating him. Suddenly I realized I had feeling and strength back in my arms when I clenched my fists in frustration. In doing so, I brushed my hand against one of the bits of splintered wood. Discretely, I glanced down at the piece of tapered sill and silently thanked whatever gods were listening.
"Sure. Why the hell not?"
He must have known something was up, but he bit anyway. Growling as he advanced, he knelt before me. While his eyes were locked on mine, studying me, I was able to seize the wood by my hand without him seeing.
"Don't worry, I'll take good care of Morgan." He hissed, bearing his gleaming fangs.
The makeshift stake skewered the vampire's heart when he lunged forward. I kept his gaze, watching the life flicker out of those obsidian orbs. He fell and rolled off my outstretched legs, clutching at the stake and ripping it from his chest. Blood poured freely from the perforation, but Alden didn't say anything or make a sound and I wondered briefly if staking a vampire through the heart to kill him was just an urban legend. It wasn't. The shimmering red liquid suddenly ignited like kerosene. Hypnotic tongues of blue and ochre flame danced through sanguine, engulfing Alden.
It was over in a matter of seconds. Nothing but his charred silhouette and ashes remained. The mixture of witnessing such a death and the stench of burnt flesh lingering in the air caused me to spit up. Coughing and wiping my lips with the back of my sleeve, I turned to look at Morgan. She was shaking, tears discolored by mascara and eye shadow ran steadily from her tightly shut eyes.
I crawled over to her, undoing the bindings that restricted her and removing the gag. The poor girl threw herself into my arms. I held her like a mother holds her child, patting her back and letting her sob into my shoulder. After a while we pulled apart and I gasped as I looked at her, my heart sinking. She had grown a perfectly sharp pair of fangs that she bit lightly into her quivering bottom lip
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