Original Sin

by Samantha Towle

I see his eyes flicker in recognition to the name, Elijah. That, and something more.

  “Or he just couldn’t stop feeding,” he says. “Sometimes they lose control. Surprising though, it’s usually only the younger vampires that have little to no control. Maybe there’s something about your blood that pushed him over the edge.”

  Contemplation passes over his face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

  “He was old?” I inquire.

  “Very.”

  There’s something in his tone that crawls across my skin and I shiver at the involuntary memory of the dirty fangs in my neck, draining me, his body pinning me to that cold floor.

  As it flickers through my mind, I have to ask, “You did kill him, didn’t you?”

  He smiles. There’s an edge to it. “Sure I did.”

  “How?” I’m curious.

  I’m a Vârcolac and I couldn’t take the fucker down.

  He sits up straighter in his chair. “I shot him with a silver bullet, clear through his heart.” He shrugs.

  “Silver bullet?”

  He gives me a suspicious look. “You do know what can kill you, don’t you?”

  I feel a rush of anger. “Of course I do. I just didn’t know it could kill vampires too.” In the limited discussion I had with Nathan about these things he never specified on that. But then, I never asked.

  “Silver kills vamps, were’s and vârcolac’s.”

  I glare at him, biting the inside of my cheek. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

  Silence hits the room like a drunk stumbling in late to the party and I start to feel severely uncomfortable again, and not just with the pain in my ribs and neck.

  When am I going to heal?

  I can’t remember a time I felt as beat up as this. Actually, I’ve never been beat up, apart from the attack which turned me into this monster, but thankfully I’ve never had a memory resurface of that.

  Staring into the fire, I take a drink of blood hoping it will help, also unable to stave my hunger off any longer. I start to feel better the instant it washes down my throat, running through me like a healer.

  I’m having a real sense of déjà vu here. This situation reminds me a lot of the first time I woke up in Nathan’s room. Except it’s not. And there wasn’t a fireplace. And of course, he’s not Nathan. He’s nowhere close. No one ever will be.

  I feel a pang for Nathan in my chest so hard it almost takes my breath away.

  Putting the glass to my lips again, I try to pull my mind away from him. Now is not the time to get my Nathan head on.

  I drain the contents. My fangs return home. I feel cleaner. Better. Then with a lot of effort, I get to my feet. I need to get out of here. And when I say here, I don’t just mean this house, I mean this town.

  That vampire might be dead but there could be more of them here, anywhere, lurking, just waiting to get me. I can’t risk wasting any more time.

  The blood will start to work soon. I’ll feel better in a minute I’m sure of it. I just need to get moving.

  Putting my empty glass on the wooden side table next to the sofa, I say to Zeff, “Thank you for all your help … for saving me.”

  He smiles a heart-warming smile. “Anytime.”

  I turn away, and my head goes light, stumbling I grip hold of the sofa arm to steady myself.

  Zeff is at my side in an instant, his hand on my elbow. “You should sit back down. You lost a lot of blood. Give it a few hours and you’ll be back to normal. But until then you’re going to need to take it easy. Rest here until you’re better, then I’ll drive you home.”

  I shake his hand off, “No. Really, I need to go.”

  Eyes scanning the room, I look for my rucksack.

  “Where’s my rucksack?” I ask, voice edgy, alarmed that I can’t locate it.

  “It’s in the kitchen. I’ll go fetch it.” He crosses the room and retrieves my rucksack from behind the kitchen counter. Carrying it back to me, I can see it looks like it’s seen better days.

  “I cleaned it up the best I could,” he says, handing it to me. “But I had to throw your bottles away. They were all broken. Your tube and spade were okay, they’re still in there, as is the flick blade.” I see the ghost of a grin over his lips. “The wipes I binned and your clothes I put on to wash, they were soaked in blood. I did manage to save most of your money, it’s in your bag.”

  I can feel my heart pumping hard against my chest. “There was a picture – a newspaper cutting … ”

  He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, it was ruined. I had to throw it away.”

  I bite my lip as tears burn the backs of my eyes. The only photo I had of Carrie, gone.

  I see Zeff’s lips turn down at the corners and I get the distinct impression he’s got more bad news for me. “Your passport, it was also ruined. I’m sorry.”

  “What?!” I gasp.

  A sinking feeling starts to shove my heart down into my stomach, ramming it down even further, when I actually see my passport which Zeff has just reached in and pulled out of my rucksack.

  “Oh no!” I groan, taking it from his hand.

  I examine it, flicking through the messed up pages. I drop my bag to the floor, despairing as I scour the pages, looking for some hope in them which is clearly not there. It’s completely ruined. Blood staining every page.

  I’m completely fucked. Out of the few possessions I own, which are very little believe me, this was the most important one of all. And it’s ruined. I could have lost any of those other things, all replaceable, but not this.

  I can’t be restricted to one country; I need to constantly keep moving around. And as stupid as it sounds, it was also the last thing Nathan gave me. The one last remaining thing I had from him.

  Oh God. How the hell am I going to get out of Italy now? It’s not like I can just start crossing state border lines.

  Or, could I?

  No, not if I want to end up in prison, which wouldn’t end well. There’s not exactly an endless supply of animal blood in prison, and an orange jumpsuit really wouldn’t suit me.

  Seeing my obvious despair, Zeff says, “You can get a new passport through the British Embassy, I’m sure it wouldn’t take long. Just don’t tell them how the old one got destroyed.”

  He smiles, obviously trying to lighten the mood, not understanding my real and actual problem.

  But I’m barely listening to him anyway.

  I’m scanning my mind trying to come up with ideas and just coming up blank. This is hopeless.

  I’m on the verge of letting those tears out. I can’t breathe. I’m going to have a panic attack. I sink back down onto the edge of the sofa, putting hands on my knees. Leaning forward, I attempt to inhale deep calming breaths.

  “Are you okay?” Zeff crouches down in front of me. “It’s not that bad, it’s only a passport, it’s replaceable.”

  Lifting my head, I shake it. “It’s not replaceable.” I bite my lip. “It wasn’t actually my passport … what I mean is it wasn’t a real one. It was a fake.”

  I cast a glance at him to catch his expression, but it doesn’t change from his current, concerned one. “And I can’t apply for a new one, because … well … I can’t.”

  A tear leaks from my eye. I brush it away.

  I shouldn’t have told him that. I don’t know why I even did. He could tell someone. The police or anyone. Crap.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

  No, calm down. He doesn’t know my real name, only the one that was printed on the passport if he checked it, or could still read it. He doesn’t know anything about me. Except for that I’m a Vârcolac. The only female Vârcolac. Shit.

  This is so much worse than I realised. It takes until now that I start cataloguing it all for me to realise. Sometimes I wonder how I manage to make it through the days. Seriously.

  I need to get out of here and figure out what to do next. A thought appears in my mind. I could ring Craig and ask him to send me a new passport. I still have hi
s card with his number on, back at the apartment.

  No, that wouldn’t work, because I’d have to give him a postal address and he’d tell Nathan where I am.

  I could ask him not too.

  But then I’m putting him in an awkward position and that’s not fair. And would I listen if I were him? Nope. I would without a doubt tell Nathan where I am if I were Craig. Guys may like to deny it but they are just like us women in that respect.

  Nathan might not even care where I am anymore, so it could be a moot point, but I can’t take the risk.

  Okay, so that’s that out of the window. Now what?

  Nothing. I have absolutely nothing. Maybe if I just start moving something will magically appear in my head.

  Okay, so not highly likely, but here’s hoping.

  I reach down to retrieve my bag, when Zeff says, “I know someone who could get you a fake passport. Might take a week or so and it’ll cost, but I’m pretty sure I can get you one.”

  My hope lifts. “Pretty sure?”

  He smiles. “Definitely sure.”

  I could kiss him. I won’t though.

  “How much?” I ask.

  “I’d say, maybe a thousand euros.” He shrugs.

  And my hope wilts as quickly as it rose. I shake my head disconsolately. “I don’t have that much money. You saw everything I have.”

  “No money in the bank?”

  I shake my head.

  He drums his fingers over his lips. “Let me talk to my guy,” he says kindly. “I might be able to get it cheaper. Either way, we’ll figure something out.”

  Suspicion casts its cloud over me again. “Why are you helping me?”

  “Cause I’m a sucker for a pretty face,” he grins.

  I blow out a sigh.

  Ignoring his wit, I say, “Look I don’t mean to sound rude or ungrateful, but you know what I am. And you’re a hunter. It doesn’t make sense that you saved me from that vampire, let alone that you would want to help me further.”

  Standing up, he moves away from me and sits on the chair arm, opposite. “Does it need to make sense?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it just does.” Because I have to be suspicious of everyone. It’s how I survived this long. I don’t say that last bit though.

  “I killed a vampire – a regular occurrence for me. It just so happened to help save you in the process. From where I’m stood you don’t appear to be the murdering kind, you haven’t done anything to me, and you seem to have enough problems to deal with right now. I’m generally a nice guy, you need a passport, and right now I’m the only one who can help you with that, and I’m just not the type of guy who can ignore a girl in distress.”

  “But I’m not just a girl, am I?” There’s a challenge in my tone. I don’t even know why.

  He folds his arms across his chest. “Well I wouldn’t exactly say you’re a threat. You hunt rabbits to feed on and then dig them little rabbit sized graves to bury them in afterwards.”

  Shit, he saw that. My cheeks flame red hot.

  “And don’t worry, bunny girl,” he adds as an afterthought. “I gave those ones a funeral after I’d finished draining them.”

  Smirking, he tilts his head in the direction of the empty, bloodstained glass.

  If my face was red before, it’s now reached mass spectrum. I’ve honestly got no come back.

  “So do you want my help or not?” he asks in a neutral tone.

  I take a moment to consider my options. I don’t really have many. I can chase my own arse around Italy, but in the long run I need a passport, and he’s my only key to that.

  “Yes. Thank you. But the vampires … I can’t stay here in this town.”

  “He was alone. There are no more here.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  He smiles, “I can’t be fully, but what other option do you have right now?”

  Well that hasn't exactly appeased my fears, but he is right. For the time being I’m stuck here until I get that passport. I’m just going to have to be on constant alert if I’m going to last this week out.

  With a sigh, I get to my feet and put my rucksack over my shoulder, wincing at the pain it causes in my ribs.

  Zeff stands too. Putting a hand in his trousers pocket, he pulls out a car key. “Come on, Bunny, I’ll give you a ride home.”

  My eyes widen with annoyance.

  “Don’t call me that,” I say with an edge.

  Zeff has already started to walk away, heading for the door, and looking over his shoulder at me, he gives me a nod, a cheeky glint reflecting out of his eyes. “Sure thing, Bunny.”

  Chapter 5: Bitch

  On the ride home Zeff tells me he’ll be in touch about the passport tomorrow. He’s going to speak to his friend first thing and let me know the cost and time-scale.

  He reiterated that I shouldn’t worry about any more vampires turning up. That vampire was alone and as far as he knew no more of them are here, and he was dead so no one else knows about me.

  But he hadn’t known that vampire was here in the first place so that doesn’t exactly appease me in any way. Not that I said that to him.

  Even still, I don’t really have much of a choice. I’m stuck here until Zeff gets me the passport, and I need to keep working to earn the money to pay for it.

  Can I trust him?

  I’m not entirely sure. But I really haven’t got any other option. Except for getting in touch with Craig, and I know what that will lead to, so I can’t. I need to keep Nathan safe. That’s the whole point of this. And safe is far far away from me.

  After Zeff drops me off at my flat, I go straight to take a shower. But not before I take a look at the bite that vampire has so generously bestowed on me.

  I pull the gauze off that Zeff applied to find it’s still in the healing process. By the looks of it, he sure did take a chunk out of me. A shudder charges through me.

  I thank God every single day that I am not like that dirty bloodsucker. Thankful that Nathan was the one who found me and made sure I stayed on the right path. The only path.

  If I’d been left alone who knows what would have happened to me. And sure drinking animal blood is gross – not to me anymore it isn’t of course – but in general it’s considered disgusting, and anyway, you know what I mean, and it sure beats eating people. Or other supernatural beings for that matter.

  Carefully I remove my dirtied top, my ribs still sore. Looking down I see a big purple bruise over my ribcage. I glance at the scar below it. I have two bitemarks on me now. Well, at least the one on my neck will go, even if it is taking its sweet time. That one I’ve got forever.

  Then without warning a memory of me in bed with Nathan, him kissing my scar, looking up at me with those beautiful green eyes of his, flashes so vivid in my mind it nearly knocks me off my feet.

  I grip the edge of the sink for support. Deep breaths, Alex. Deep breaths. It will get easier. You will get over him.

  After my shower I put my pyjamas on and climb into bed, close my eyes and think of happy things, okay Nathan, because I can’t get him out of my head, until I drift off to sleep.

  But I don’t sleep well because my dreams are filled with vampires and hunters.

  The first thing I do when I wake, is get out of bed and check my neck has healed. I can’t exactly go to work with a wound like that on my neck. I could wear a scarf I suppose, but thankfully it’s healed. Gone, like it was never there, and so has the bruising on my ribs.

  I take a shower, brush my teeth and dress for work. Sitting on the stool at the breakfast bar I drink a cup of coffee, eat my toast, and drink a bottle of blood.

  I’m going to have to go hunting again tonight after my less than successful night last night. Not a prospect I’m exactly relishing, and I’m going to have to get some more bottles to replace the ones I lost. Those poor little bunnies lost their lives for nothing. I hate that fucking vampire. I hope he’s gone straight to Hell.


  Rinsing the empty bottle out in the sink, I grab my rucksack off the side and head for work.

  I’m just ending what has been a very long day when Zeff shows up at the café. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey trousers and a white button down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. Pretty much the same attire as yesterday. But certainly not the same clothes. I imagine he’s the kind of guy who has a shirt for every day of the year.

  He always looks so smart, so well groomed, screaming of money. The complete opposite of Nathan.

  I do find his appearance surprising now I know he’s a hunter. I just have an image of what a hunter would look like, and it’s not him. I mean, the clothes he wears are not exactly hunting clothes. He dresses like a businessman.

  Maybe it’s his disguise. You know like Superman and Clark Kent.

  “Hey, Bunny,” he drawls, approaching the counter, that same twinkle in his eye as last night. I get the distinct impression he’s enjoying winding me up.

  With a sigh I ignore his comment, and ask in a lowered voice, “Any news on the passport?”

  Leaning forward, I rest my arms up on the high counter.

  He nods. “All good. I’ll tell you about it soon. What time are you finished here?”

  I cast a glance at the clock on the wall. “In fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay, pour me a coffee and I’ll wait for you to get off. We can go and grab a bite to eat and I’ll fill you in on the passport stuff.”