Harsh Light of Day

by Jaye A. Jones

  **

  “Why do you resist?”

  Declan did not look up at the vampires addressing him. There were two, and though he had never met the pair, he knew them by their notorious reputation.

  They were called the Ghosts. Accounts of their abilities were like gruesome fairytales. They were infamous.

  Though one was male and one was female, they looked nearly exactly alike. They dressed in black cloaks and capes, nothing but their long, crooked fingers and their ashen faces shown of their skin. The deep set, extremely light grey eyes never blinked, and never looked away from their target. Their hair was long and white. It did not glisten in the firelight of the torches nor seem to have any movement when they glided around the room.

  The Ghosts truly were like phantoms, and took pleasure in the haunt.

  Long, glistening fangs remained extended at all times, like the Old Ones. Not because they were unable to retract them, but because they chose not to.

  “We think you are odd.”

  “Yes, we think you are odd,” the pair said in an identically sinister whisper.

  “Why might that be?” Declan asked, proudly mimicking the disdainful tone he had heard Lena use so often.

  He knew why they thought he was strange. They could not penetrate his thoughts. As long as he stayed focused, as long as he resisted distraction, Declan would be safe.

  “Your Vampire King has asked us for a favor. We are to take something from you. But you will need to help us find what it is we are to take.”

  The stories had been true. Now Declan knew for sure. And he would not be able to keep up his focus forever.

  But he would be able to distract his thoughts away from her. They could not know about her. With all the strength left in him, Declan would fight to keep her.

  “Show us what you do not wish us to take,” one of the ghouls hissed.

  And the other mimicked. “Yes, show us.”

  Declan focused harder, closed off his mind tightly and met one of the Ghost’s eyes, “Why not just kill me? I don’t care anymore.”

  “Your Master requested you return to him unspoiled.”

  “Charles is no longer my Master,” Declan said, setting his jaw and curling his lip as Lena used to do.

  Suddenly, a gloriously familiar feeling struck Declan. It showered over him like hot water and warmed him from the inside out.

  He did not know how it happened. He could not know for sure where it came from. But he knew he had wished for it repeatedly since being locked in the transformation room. It hardly mattered that this was the worst time possible. His wishes had finally been granted.

  The memories came to him so vividly, Declan would have been powerless to resist even if he wanted to try. It felt as though he was there again, back at a time when his existence had meaning, when he had hope and joy.

  Declan remembered the hot, moist feeling of her skin as he traced the length of her naked spine.

  The way she reacted to each of his kisses as if reacting to electric shocks.

  The incredibly content feeling it gave him when she nuzzled his neck the way she always did.

  “Ah,” one of the Ghosts whispered as they began drifting towards Declan. “Thank you.”

  “Yes, thank you,” the other one sighed. “Your assistance has been most helpful.”

  The pair descended upon him, but Declan paid them no notice. The memories, the connection was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

  His mind struggled to grasp out to the world. The thoughts replayed, but the feeling, the emotions behind them were gone.

  He had sensed her once again, smelled her sweet, honey scent, felt the warmth of her body. His heart knew the presence of her. There was no mistaking it for anything.

  She must have reached out to him, and he felt her, just as before. Like when she was a vampire.

  They were still connected. Declan would be able to find her. With practice, the ability would grow as it once did.

  When he escaped this place, he could go to her.

  Declan would see her again.

  She stood in his memories with gentle, hazel eyes reflecting violet. The sun kissed her light brown hair and made her tanned skin glow. The sweet scent of honey and human blood made his heart quicken.

  The Ghosts flanked him now. Declan did not care. He felt alive again, filled with hope.

  Each of the wraithlike vampires extended their white, boney hands from underneath their black cloaks. The first hint of an expression shown on their identical faces. They looked ravenous.

  There was nothing to fear.

  Lena was all that mattered, and she would be waiting for him.

  As soon as he escaped.

  The Ghosts’ skin made contact with Declan’s temples simultaneously, and his thoughts exploded into white hot visions of agony. He fell to the stone floor, breaking the link the Ghosts had with him.

  The pain only lasted a moment. Seconds passed, and Declan wondered how he had ended up face-down on the ground.

  He rose swiftly and placed his feet back on the floor with ease. The Ghosts stared at him, expression gone once again from their ashen faces.

  “How do you feel?” both vampires asked in unison.

  Declan squared his shoulders and raised his eyes to meet their stare. “I feel well.”

  “Your Vampire King has requested to see you,” one of the ghouls whispered.

  “As my Master wishes.”

  The Ghosts nodded once, and motioned for Declan to lead the way.

  As he walked to meet with his Master, Declan took stock of himself. Something was missing, but he did not waste time considering what it might be.

  Declan never had bothered contemplating what he was.

  He was a vampire and that was enough of a definition for him. He drank blood, he honored his Master, he followed the rules.

  That was the way of things.

  That was all that mattered.