The edges of Luca’s lips turned downward, but she didn’t want anything to happen to him.
Back at the house, Luca pulled out his homework from his huge backpack and set the paper down on the coffee table to work on it.
Wes turned on the TV, still scowling with frustration about the entire incident.
“Another man has been shot and killed as he tried to attack two teenagers walking home from basketball practice. One suffered a broken arm, and the other numerous scratch marks. A policeman who drove by saw the incident and intervened. Details from the crime scene reveal there was no blood from the shot wound of the attacker. There were also two punctured holes found on the side of his neck. We are still waiting to find out the identity of the unknown man and are unsure if this case is connected to the one we previously reported. We will keep you informed,” the female reporter stated.
Wes’s wide eyes fixed on Bray. “That’s the same guy. You saw the two punctured holes on the side of his neck.”
Bray nodded because she most certainly did. The two incidents had to be connected. She didn’t have a clue how and wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know.
15
Brenik
Rana knocked on Brenik’s door a little after five. He was still feeling full and satisfied from feeding on the homeless man the night before.
He opened the door to see her wearing jeans, a floral print shirt, and a smile on her face. “Come on in.”
“I have a better idea,” she announced. “Let’s go out to eat—I’m craving Mexican food.”
Brenik felt his stomach shudder, but still tried to appear thrilled.
She must have noticed his slight grimace. “What, you don’t like enchiladas smothered in sauce?”
He couldn’t say he did. “No, but I can see what else they offer.”
“I don’t know if I can be your friend anymore,” she joked.
Brenik felt fine earlier, but now he was suffocating again. The food situation was going to destroy him, and he didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do about eating at that place. He sure as hell couldn’t just sit there and watch her chow down.
“Is that what we are, friends?” he teased, brushing away his anxiety.
She stayed quiet after his response. He knew she wanted him as much as he did her, even if she pretended not to.
After hopping in Rana’s car and her driving for about fifteen minutes, she pulled into a small parking lot. The restaurant was once a house, and a small sign out front read: Maria’s Mexican Food. Brenik was not impressed.
“Don’t get that stupid look on your face. This place has the best Mexican food you will ever have in your entire life.”
Brenik glanced up at the peeling pink paint and the patchy roof shingles. “I am sure it does,” he replied sarcastically.
“It does!” She thrust her index finger at the building.
Brenik held both hands up. “Okay, okay, I believe you.”
The restaurant appeared larger on the inside than the outside. There were four small square tables, and wooden chairs with padded green cushions pushed into each spot.
They seated themselves at one of the tables near the front door. A short Hispanic woman with streaks of gray throughout her black hair set down two paper menus in front of them, followed by a basket of chips and red salsa. When the waitress asked for their drink orders, Brenik just mumbled, “Water.”
The basket lingered in front of him. He didn’t find chips pleasurable, even when he could eat normal food. It was a good thing he didn’t have to pretend not to like their throat-cutting, knife-like edges.
“What? You don’t like chips either?” Rana asked, smiling as she grabbed a chip.
“No. They scratch my throat to the point where it feels like it may bleed,” Brenik said, his voice serious.
“Overdramatic, are we?”
“No, I just know what I like.” He held her stare, and she was the first to look away, her eyes tilting down at the menu.
Brenik pulled up the yellow paper in front of his face and scanned over the items. He thought he could try to sound out the words, but he was unable to read them. Maybe he could ask for some type of animal blood to test out. No, Rana would probably be too weirded out about that idea. He knew they had to have quesadillas, so he would try that.
The waitress came back and set their drinks in front of them. Rana went ahead and ordered the three-cheese enchilada plate. The sound of it was making his stomach heave just thinking about it.
“I’ll take a chicken quesadilla,” he said, holding back the bile. The smiling waitress wrote down their order and walked away.
“You’ll love it, I swear,” Rana promised and placed her hand against her chest. He almost believed her—almost.
When the plates came, he stared at the quesadilla like it was an enemy he was trying to turn into a companion. He ate one slice and although it tasted like paper—which he knew because he had tried to eat paper before—it stayed down.
Patting his stomach and smiling broadly, he gave his abdomen one more rub to fake the delight. Rana’s eyebrows were battling which direction to go as she watched him—one stayed up, and the other one hunched down.
But Brenik knew it. He fucking knew it. And he should have stopped there. As soon as he swallowed the first bite of the second slice, Brenik felt the uncontrollable heave as the gagging started.
Rana’s eyebrows figured out what to do at that moment as they both flew up in distress. “Are you okay?” She shot up and skirted the table, slamming her hand against his back. “Do you need me to do the Heimlich?
No, he didn’t need her to perform the fucking Heimlich so he could shoot black shit all over the table. Throwing down the cloth napkin, Brenik took off in the direction leading to the bathroom, a thick sludge slowly crawling up his throat.
The bathroom smelled like piss because some jackass didn’t know how to aim his dick at a toilet. Avoiding the splashes of urine on the floor, Brenik heaved and a long, black worm-shaped thing came up and dropped into the water, splashing him in the process.
Brenik didn’t care—he just wanted the shit up and for this to stop. Grabbing his hair and moping over to the small rectangular mirror, he pulled the locks so hard that some strands were left in between his fingers when he let go.
Enough. He had had enough. No more food of any kind unless it was human blood—someone worthless.
Glaring at whatever was in his way, Brenik scuffed his feet out of the bathroom to a worried Rana. She gnawed at the edge of her lip and blinked one too many times.
“That was not the best food I’ve had in my entire life,” he said as horror crossed her face. But he couldn’t help but smile at her reaction.
Rana pulled something out of her purse. “Gum?” she asked and handed him a stick.
Despite not wanting another thing in his mouth right then, Brenik reached for the silver wrapper, unfolded it, and stuck the gum in his mouth. “Thanks.” As long as he didn’t swallow it, he would be more than fine.
Rana apologized several times on the way back to his house. It wasn’t her fault, and he told her that. She assured him he could choose a place the next time they went out to eat.
Brenik just nodded and tried to look excited. When he turned his head to gaze out the window, he shut his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his head. Too many dark thoughts swirled in there, and he didn’t want any of them.
“Do you want to come inside?” Brenik asked when he reached for the door handle after Rana parked the car.
“I would, but I have to finish grading a whole stack of papers I neglected over the weekend.”
Disappointment hit Brenik, but he understood. “Maybe another day?”
“How about Friday? I can leave work straight away if you want to catch a movie.”
A movie sounded nice. It would be another way to feel normal.
“I can meet you at your work,” he said. “The school is close by here, anyway.”
“If you really feel like walking.” She grinned. He didn’t mind it one bit, especially if it was to see her.
Opening the door to step out of the car, Brenik instead pulled back and closed it. He leaned toward Rana, and fiercely pushed his mouth against hers. There was no way he was going to leave this car without a kiss from those red lips that he had been craving to touch.
Rana stilled for a moment and Brenik wasn’t going to force her lips to move, but then she slid hers against his. Her lips searched and explored, and then her tongue entered his mouth, meeting his.
Brenik reached down and pushed the button to unlock her seat belt. She was too far away. His hand lightly entwined in her hair as the other pressed on her back to draw her closer. As he leaned back, she came with him, keeping her mouth against his while she crawled on top of him.
He wanted her. He wanted her so damn bad as her lips left his and trailed down his neck. Brenik’s skin was filled with triggers and nerve endings on edge. Pushing her waist down, he ground his hips against her, feeling her, wanting her, needing her to get closer.
But Brenik knew she had to leave and he reluctantly moved her face away. Then he pulled her back to kiss her slowly once again, and not so needy this time. Even though he craved more, it felt good nonetheless.
Rana moved back and rested her forehead on his. “So, Friday?”
“Friday,” he whispered as he angled down to the crook of her neck to kiss her there for a moment, not feeling any urge to feed off her.
With swollen lips, Rana settled back in her seat, looking shyly at him.
“I knew you could be an animal if you wanted to,” he purred, not able to take his gaze off her.
“Whatever, just leave.” She laughed and rolled her eyes at him, but he could see yearning there, too.
Brenik headed inside the cabin, where he would need to take care of himself on his bed.
Brenik would be seeing Rana in a couple days, and he had an idea he wanted to try. It was something he should have attempted earlier, and he needed to find an animal. There were plenty of those all around the forested area of his cabin.
He remembered the raccoons living underneath the house, and he debated crawling beneath the cabin. But those creatures were intelligent, and it smelled of feces down there, so he tossed that idea away.
The damn squirrel was too fast as he dodged for it, and the furry animal darted straight up the tall tree. Another idea stirred in Brenik’s mind as he watched the squirrel scurry past a bird’s nest. The tiny chirping struck his ears, and he let out a small sigh for what he was about to do. Why he felt worse about killing a baby bird over a human being, he wasn’t sure. Maybe because humans had choices. The homeless man didn’t have to be a drunk. Jeremy, on the other hand, was a regret that continued to fester inside his head.
Swallowing his dread, Brenik effortlessly climbed up the thin pine branches that somehow managed to hold his weight. When he reached the next limb, he quietly peered over the edge of the nest and saw two small baby sparrows. He didn’t know whether to separate them or take them both, but he decided to leave one for the mother bird.
Tenderly, he lifted the little sparrow as it squeaked and writhed its tiny head, smacking its beak open and closed.
Climbing back down was more of a struggle with the bird in his hand. He didn’t want to perform the deed outdoors, so he walked the little bird inside the cabin, stroking its gray and pink back each step of the way.
When Brenik reached the kitchen, the creature ceased making any noise as it looked up at him trustingly. It wasn’t trust he was trying to provide, but a comfort for what he was about to do.
Closing his eyes, Brenik swiftly twisted the bird’s fragile neck to the right, and a light crack echoed through the cabin. Brenik opened his eyes and looked down at the lost life—he hated feeling like a predator.
Brenik pulled open the kitchen drawer and drew out a knife. Lowering the blade to the sparrow’s stomach, he cut a small line and watched blood bloom to the surface. Then he brought the fragile body to his lips and drank, the taste of metal filling his mouth. A satisfaction instantly hit him—it worked. Not that he wanted to kill baby birds forever, but if that was what he had to do, then he would do it.
Resting the dead sparrow on the counter, Brenik went into his room and pressed the last drop of blood to the portrait. The canvas absorbed it, but he didn’t feel anything.
Something felt off, but he ignored the feeling and picked up the bird to go bury it outside. After he finished covering the small creature with dirt, he felt it. The urge to get the heinous thing out of his stomach.
Brenik would not do it. He was going to hold it down because he had found a new way of fulfilling the task. The unsettling truth was that he hadn’t.
He dug the palm of his hand into the bark of the tree, firmly keeping his lips sealed. But it came back up in a thick black solid form like all the other times. Brenik squeezed the bark as hard as he could, staring down at his blackened failure.
Defeated, he yanked his hand away from the tree and gazed at the hairline scratches left behind on his palm. Brenik needed help, and he needed to talk to Bray.
When the day grew dark, Brenik headed back to the tree hole. A red truck and a blue car sat lifelessly in the cracked driveway—the house seemed to be fully moved into already.
A sadness enveloped him—it was as if Ruth had never been there at all. The porch was lit, and he could see freshly planted blue and white flowers in the front yard.
There were lights on in the house, and Brenik thought maybe he should have waited until an even later time. He quietly rounded the corner of the house and opened the gate—a small amount at a time to avoid any squeaking.
The back porch was lit, too, and he silently cursed to himself, but at least he was able to see well. There was a light on in Ruth’s old sewing room, and he couldn’t help peering in through a small gap in the curtains.
A young boy with dark hair was in the room, lying on his stomach in bed while reading a thick book.
Soundlessly, Brenik backed away from the scene inside the room and headed for the tree. He stayed as silent as possible and easily found his way up the trunk to the hole.
“Psst… Bray, it’s me,” he spoke softly. No response. She may already be asleep, but he couldn’t see inside. “Bray,” he said again.
When she didn’t answer, Brenik snaked his hand inside to wake his sister on her hammock. It was empty, so he moved his hand to his bed, feeling nothing except the cloth. She wasn’t there.
Well, where the hell is she? he thought. Brenik shrugged off his disappointment, because he couldn’t expect her to sit around all day long in a tree hole, waiting for him to return. But he was used to it—she had always been there when he came back.
He would try another day, or maybe he wouldn’t. Another idea came to him.
It had been a while since he had drunk human blood. The urge would be coming soon. He didn’t want to be near Rana when it happened, so he would have to hunt before that.
Climbing down the tree, Brenik hurried out of the backyard and closed the gate without making a single peep.
Quickening his pace down the street, he headed straight for the park. Brenik didn’t know what would happen once he finished off the homeless people in that area. Eventually, he would have to find some elsewhere.
Security was gone for the night, and there lay several people inside the park already sleeping—some were still up doing suspicious-looking activities.
When he had murdered the homeless man—whose real name he found out was Larry Thibodeaux—he thought the people there would be too scared to come back to the park. Lucky for Brenik, when Larry somehow came back to life, he left the park premises.
Maybe he didn’t actually murder them when he drank their blood, which made him feel a little better about killing them.
From what the news had said, the attackers were crazy with rage. He found it odd that they didn’t change into what he was and pine f
or blood instead.
Brushing off his thoughts, Brenik stalked toward a woman in her late forties with stringy russet hair. A stretchy band was tied around her arm as she slid a needle into a vein at her inner elbow. What a waste of a human. But he was there to end her suffering.
Brenik knelt beside her and purred in her ear, “Hey, Darlin’, how are you this evening?”
She looked up at him with a glare, but didn’t hide the needle that was still in her closed fist. “Screw off.”
Feisty. “Do you want to go somewhere?” Brenik felt his pulse quicken, not really wanting to do it, but he had to fight the remorse that would come later.
“I won’t go anywhere with you, pretty boy. Unless you want to pay me,” the woman said with an inkling of seduction, as she pulled her shoulders back to puff out her sunken chest and breasts.
“How about we go into the bushes, and I’ll pay you a hundred bucks?”
Grinning with a mouthful of blackened and cracked off teeth, she said, “I would have done it for ten.”
Shrugging, Brenik helped the woman up—her hand was filthy and the skin dry. Pity struck him for a moment that this woman was willing to give herself to some strange person for only ten dollars. With the gift he was about to give her, she wouldn’t have to deal with those situations anymore.
They walked to the same place where Brenik had brought Larry. The woman stumbled, and Brenik grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Claire,” she slurred with flirtation.
He grimaced at her teeth as she smiled at him. “Well, Claire, why do you do this?”
“For money, you idiot.” Maybe he wasn’t feeling guilty anymore.
“Do you like living?”
“Not at the moment, no.” Claire didn’t even look sad when she shook her head.
“Okay, let me help you.” Ignoring the stench of her unbathed skin, Brenik drew her more than willing body close to him.
Dodging her mouth as she leaned in to kiss him, Brenik rested his forehead against her shoulder, and let his canines slide down. Without waiting any longer, since her hand was creeping near his crotch, he sank his teeth into her throat. Claire gasped in pleasure—he felt it was partly from her high and partly from him. The taste was immaculate and highlighted all that was good as it traveled down to the organ lusting for it.
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