by Kim Petersen
Dizziness threatened to overtake me when she lifted her chin long enough to blink at me through bloated eyes. Her head lulled forward, the afternoon sun catching the blood staining her scalp.
“Scarla.” Her name clung on my lips and panic seized me. I stepped across the threshold but ginger-beard sidestepped closer, blocking my way to the stairs.
A thick layer of grime crammed the wrinkles around his eyes as laughter erupted among the group. He cocked his head. His voice was gruff.
“Let’s start over, shall we? If you’d like to avoid watching the tart bleed like a dirty pig today, I suggest you give me what I came here for.”
My eyes stung as I glared at him and slowly reached into my pocket to retrieve the vial of blood that represented my daughter’s death and Scarla’s torture. The same drops of blood I knew would forever represent the death inside of me. Things were different now; everything felt bloodless.
10
The Void
“Marla!” Dark eyes flickered at me. Ginger-beard licked his lips as he clutched the vial of blood.
Void.
Some moments were barren of thought. His eyes bored into me. My mouth was a desert. A thin figure pushed through the hawkers crowding the stairs. A woman.
I glanced at her as she took the vial, pausing to look at me with a twisted grin. Her skin appeared cracked and discolored beneath the dull shine of the studs and hoops adorning her face. Her gray eyes were cold.
“How long?” Ginger-beard said.
“Six minutes.” Marla pulled a small box from her jacket pocket – a blood test kit. She dropped to her knees and began fidgeting with it with tremulous fingers.
Ginger-beard scraped the end of his switchblade across calloused knuckles and grunted a reply. Scarla sobbed as hawker fingers knotted in the hair at her nape. A rusty blade balanced at her throat. She trembled as she looked back at me. Torment. It killed. I could barely control the pain. The sound of his voice was like salt on a wound.
“People like you always thought you were superior to everyone else. White collar bullshit blinders. Used to get around like your shit didn’t stink in your cars and shiny suits.” He gave a half laugh. His breath was a stench. “I’m not a bloodsucker lover, but I can’t help but take satisfaction in how things have turned out … I always believed that one day people like you would get what’s coming to ya; white collar crimes finally caught up when your biological poison went wrong.”
He leaned closer. “Justice. That’s what that is. You people were so caught up in your own asses that you never saw it coming, did ya? Where did all that education and privilege get ya at the end of the world, eh?”
I tightened my grip on the machete.
“I’m still here, fucktard.”
He laughed. “I’m looking at a dead man walking. You don’t have what it takes to see this out. This world isn’t made for your kind anymore.”
The hawkers lingering on the stairs chuckled but I ignored them as Marla stood up suddenly. She waved a piece of cardboard between filthy fingers. The silver rings on her brows lifted.
“Score!”
My breath quickened.
Void.
Some moments seemed endless. I swung my eyes back to ginger-beard. A pasty yellow tongue stuck out as he grinned.
“Well, well, the blue-eyed white neck delivered after all.”
My throat felt like sharp glass.
“That’s right. You’ve got your ransom.” I flicked my chin. “Leave the woman and get the hell off my property.”
His eyes pierced into me. “You might just have a half decent set for a club-fed.” He gave a snigger and my blood ran cold. Marla laughed.
His voice filled my head. “Bleed the pig!”
Void.
Some moments swallowed you whole. My brain felt like an acute explosion as the hawker yanked Scarla’s head back. The sound of her cry blasted in my ears as the rusty blade sunk into her throat and slid across her skin, releasing a flood of blood from the jagged wound.
“Scarla!”
I roared and swung the machete as I charged forward, collecting Marla in the back of her skull just as she spun around to move away. The blade cracked against bone. Manic gripped me. I drove the shank forward with the thrust of the motion as loud cracks rang out across the yard. The sound of the gunfire instantly purified my mind.
Clarity.
Some moments feel as if you see the following scene unfold before it happens. Time slowed. Marla dropped to the floor as the hawkers on the stairs lunged forward, propelling blades and swinging chains ahead of them.
Fuck.
More shots fired. My ears buzzed. I jabbed the machete in front of me, piercing leather as a stabbing pain detonated in the side of my gut. My flesh felt like sponge. The odor of blood mingled in the air along with the shouting hawkers. Pain was a welcome friend beneath the repeated strikes of ginger-beard’s switchblade. I stumbled back, instinctively reaching to quell the wound as I managed to stabilize my footing.
My fingers were warm, sticky. My head began to spin. Ginger-beard cackled like an old hag. Sinister. Wicked. His ugly face contorted before me as I swung the machete. The effort was lost as the end of a chain caught around my wrist. Metal stung my flesh as the machete clanked to the timber floor and gunfire reverberated over the cottage. The sound of squawking birds mixed with laughter. I balled my fists and launched a right hook at a converging hawker. A blade plunged into my gut. Images distorted.
Scarla.
My heart felt like a blackened husk as I doubled over. My boots were awkward. I stumbled again. Sweat dripped into my eyes. Or was it blood? I couldn’t breathe. My hands clenched my stomach as my head filled with pain.
Thwack! A white flash zapped behind my eyes. Then I was spiraling. My legs gave way and I fell hard to the brutal blows of dirty boots and blunt chains.
Void.
Some moments are not spent within our fleshy exteriors. I drifted away. Darkness beckoned as ginger-beard bent over me to trace the switchblade across my cheek.
“I was wrong about you, white neck.” He paused the blade, digging the pointy end into the flesh just below my eye. “You ain’t got nothing between your legs that your high-end pussy didn’t have. We did her real good. She was a running train and screamed just as loud as one.” He gave a throaty chuckle and stretched to his feet. “I’ll let you think about that while you bleed. We did ya solid.”
The image of receding boots doubled as numbness took hold. A chill ran across the back of my neck and radiated through my body. My eyes felt heavy. Heavy. A whirling sensation overtook and then there was nothing.
Void.
11
Score
“Dance with me.”
“I’m an awful dancer.”
“You’re wrong. Your soul dances with mine every day.”
There are some places you can’t remember but can’t forget. She had a secret; a garden filled with precious blooms and wild roses. Eden. I had never known a love so deep; so pure. She was a gift on earth. Now, she was nothing. Her dreams were invisible dust on lost memories. Scarla was gone.
“Bella donna.” I didn’t recognize my voice as I hunched over the steering wheel of the pickup and struggled to focus on the road. Sun groaned. The sound of her voice startled me as her head lulled on my lap.
I glanced down at her, flinching as the moonlight struck golden hair stained crimson. Our blood mingled. My hands were tacky as I reached to stroke her forehead. Her skin was ice. “Almost there. Stay with me.”
Her body lay curled up on the pickup bench seat. She was limp and pitted from the bullets that had hit her. Her lips were tinged blue as her jaw slackened beneath fluttering eyelids.
“Wha – where are we going?”
I barely heard her above the rumbling engine as we careened through city streets. The broken white lines on the road flashed against the headlights like apparitions. Death is unforgiving. I was clawing at its door. Stay or go? Nothing left
to breathe for; nothing except the score. It’s strange how we find our greatest strength when looking down the barrel of oblivion.
“We’re going to level the score.”
My body felt raw. I was butchered and bleeding. It hurt to breathe and my mind was a hazy impression of honey-amber eyes and sensuous plump lips. The place I can never remember; the place I’ll never forget. Grief lingered somewhere above me. Or perhaps it was grief that froze my heart and overrode my senses as the pickup skidded around the final corner, but it was hatred that motivated me when I slammed my foot on the brake outside the building.
An eerie quietness shrouded the cabin when I killed the engine. The moments stilled as I peered ahead at nothing. Nothing. I didn’t see the darkness flooding the street nor the towering shadows cast by the buildings. All I saw were fading memories of a life I would never know again.
Sometimes, the choices we make aren’t ours to decide. Sometimes, the path forces us to unfathomable places. My choice to come here felt as if it was out of my hands. I’d come here for retribution. I’d come to do the unthinkable; to pledge the remainder of my days to darkness, violence and yield to the thirst of blood. I’d come here to be undead. But I couldn’t make that choice for Sun. She had to choose for herself.
I gazed at her as she drifted in and out consciousness. She was pasty. Her breath was shallow and erratic. Like me, she wouldn’t survive her wounds for much longer. My tongue felt thick as I swallowed and tried to rouse her, stroking back a lock of her hair and speaking her name. She groaned softly.
“You’re a survivor, Sun. A ray of light in a world of fear and shadows.” I paused as she opened her eyes to gaze up at me. I forced a smile. “You have to choose now – death or eternal life in death.”
Her lashes clung together as she blinked and stiffened. Her bottom lip slackened before she lifted a hand and reached for my chin, wincing.
“J -Jett?”
I cupped my hand over hers and leaned my chin against her palm, squeezing my eyes shut as my heart shredded along with the blood oozing from my gut. Her skin was clammy and cold. Yet, the gesture was profoundly comforting and among the last I would ever know in my humanity. When I looked back at her, she merged with the tears blinding my eyes.
Her lips quivered as she inhaled sharply.
“I’ll die with you tonight, Jett.” She flinched and coughed. Her eyes dimmed as she looked at me again. “I’ll go where you go.”
I pressed my lips to her forehead. “Whatever happens, don’t let them take your soul.”
The sounds of unearthly screams caught in the still of the night and echoed along the street. My ears pricked and I felt my pulse quicken. I felt a sense of detachment as I climbed from the pickup and scooped Sun in my arms.
Cold.
I felt like a ghost despite the warm air that blew as I carried Sun toward the lobby doors of the building where I’d left my daughter the day before.
Weight. My knees almost buckled beneath the strain. I welcomed the pain. My veins throbbed but I relished the last of the fading warmth beneath my skin. I barely heard the distorted cries and harrowing shrieks carried on the slight breeze as they became closer. Closer.
The shadows came alive as dark figures emerged from the darkness. I balked as I clung to Sun and looked at them. Neon eyes glinted back at me from pallid expressions and milky skin. Scarlet lips curled up to reveal the dull gleam of fangs; hair glossed over shoulders clad in satiny attire as they regarded me. One of them started to move closer.
She regarded me from under a veil of vibrant red hair that cascaded to her waist. She reached out to stroke a talon across Sun’s cheek before flicking her cat-like eyes at me. Full lips broke into a grin.
“Welcome to the Mysticus clan, your daughter awaits you.”
12
Black Heart
Black hole. Black heart. Black everything.
I looked up at the night sky. Silvery clouds stretched across the half moon and the stars shone like cryptic messages. Bats soared on silent wings while the sounds of night creatures echoed in my ears. Nothing had changed. Yet, everything had changed. No single element appeared the same to my vampire senses. Everything was accentuated. Everything was striking.
“Are you ready, dad?” Avila’s eyes flashed electric blue through the dark. Her skin appeared luminous and as pale as the clouds overhead as we stood at the foot of the forest assessing the cabin in the clearing.
The torment swirled in my gut and almost quelled the thirst biting at my veins when I looked at her. My girl. Ribbon laced braids and days at the fair. Lipstick on prom night. The way her eyes turned green before she was about to tell me a lie. Warm blood and a human heart. My girl had died and I wasn’t there for her. She had been reborn into the cold-blooded beings now dominating our world. She was now a vampire. It was time to level the score.
I gave a slight nod and glanced at Sun who stood next to Avila. Her golden hair tumbled over shoulders clad in black leather. It was just as lustrous as the eyes gleaming back at me. Her long talons clung at her hips as her gaze deepened.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
My jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Boisterous laughter erupted from behind the weathered timber walls of the cabin as the door flung open. A hawker male swayed as he gripped the balustrade to steady himself before making his way down the stairs. His voice slurred when he mumbled. Whiskey and tobacco mingled with the sickly odor of week-old sweat and carried on the breeze. His boots dragged across the clearing toward a tree. He belched repeatedly as he fiddled with his fly. The sound of his beating heart was intoxicating. I groaned inwardly and stepped forward, stopping when Sun grabbed my arm. Her fangs glinted with her hiss.
“Marius will kill you.”
My veins bulged with the venom coursing through me. It took everything I had to tame the rage. I reached for her hand. Cold on cold. Darkness accompanied apathy. It was consuming. I held her gaze. My lips barely moved when I replied.
“He already has.”
I released her hand and spun around before sprinting toward the hawker. The shadows were a part of me; the breeze was my ride. Blood was my lover. I stopped behind him and tilted my head to the side, watching as he stiffened before slowly cranking his neck around to look at me. Spidery eyes widened as I grinned.
“Hello, friend.”
He gasped. The tips of his filthy beard fell as he stumbled back.
“Wha – what the hell?”
“Suitable word.”
Black hole.
I could feel the pressure splintering in the pit of my stomach. My pulse throbbed desperately. I ensnared a hand around his throat. My talons cut into his skin as I rolled back my lips, hissing. My movements were effortless. The sound of his wail distorted in my ears when I flung my jaw forward to sink my fangs into his flesh, instantly relishing the taste of the blood he offered. His pulse was ecstasy.
Sweet. Salty. Warm.
In the cold-blooded creature I’d become, it was the warmth I craved above all else. But there was not enough blood to bring back my humanity. There was not enough vengeance to bring back Scarla nor return Avila to her mortality. But there was the blood of dreams and dreams were yesterday’s wishes – and those wishes were my retribution.
I’d come here for more than just the blood of the hawkers that had killed Scarla. I had come with the promise of returning to Marius the rare blood he so desperately sought to possess. Promises made by the undead remained undead.
A growl tore through my throat as I released the hawker. He slumped at my feet. His blood coursed into my being. Elation gripped me. I felt my eyes blaze as Avila and Sun watched silently, the hunger in their stare unmistakable. I nodded and licked my lips.
“The ginger-beard is mine. No survivors.”
Demons. That was the word circling in my mind as we took the steps onto the cabin porch before crossing the threshold into the sitting room. Demons for the merciless creature
s we had become and for the treacherous acts we now bestowed upon surviving humans. We had become what I had despised the most – slaves to the darkness and forever damned.
Avila and Sun stood either side of me as we paused to take in the scene. About a dozen hawkers sprawled on the lounges and lingered around the edges of the room, cackling. One of them sat on the floor and strummed an old guitar. Smoke curled from makeshift ashtrays and glowing pipes. Through the haze a withered coffee table crammed with bottles of whiskey and dirty glasses was the center of their world.
Black heart.
Silence fell as they became aware of us. Promises of death foreshadowed. It had never sounded so pleasing. My nostrils flared as I inhaled fragrant gifts. Sour pickings. Riffraff lineage flowing in sanguine fluid beckoned as I curled my upper lip and my eyes settled on ginger-beard.
His dark eyes flashed as he stood up. The machete he fingered was familiar. Sweat formed across his brow and clung to the tips of his beard as he squared his shoulders, facing me. The machete balanced ahead of him.
Some of the hawkers gathered beside him; others cried out and made for the doors leading to other parts of the cabin. There was no place they could hide.
My gaze rested on the machete.
“What do you think you’re gonna do with that, hmm?”
Ginger-beard swallowed. His heart thumped in my ear.
“I shoulda known you was a traitor to your kind.” He shook his head. “Club-fed pussy. Taking deals with the devil and feeding on the blood of the innocent. This was the only the way you could make it in the new world.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” I stepped forward. “But sometimes the people claiming to be our kind force us to make choices we never dreamed possible.”
He took a sharp breath. His fingers tightened around the machete handle. Avila and Sun began to advance. The hawkers standing next to him started to back away. Ginger-beard’s lips trembled.