Drink the woman dry, the thirst whispered.
I'm not a killer! The cold reality of what Sabine was doing sickened her, and she pulled away.
The thirst compelled her to give the wounds a parting lick. Waste nothing, the voice in her head whispered.
Sabine watched the wounds close. Amazing, she thought. Her body ached for more, but she knew that taking more might kill this woman. The blonde fainted, going limp in Sabine's arms.
"I'm so sorry," Sabine said, setting the woman down in the dirt behind the guardrail. The people at the nearby scenic overlook spots seemed unaware of her attack.
Sabine stared at the blood stains on the blonde's shirt and sucked in a shaky breath through her fangs. She could hear the woman's steady breathing and thready heartbeat. Still alive.
Feeling a sudden need to run from what she'd done, Sabine followed the road toward the Golden Gate Bridge. She found a secluded spot in the bushes where she could wait for the sky to darken a little more.
The air shifted, bringing a scent of cologne and sweat. Sabine looked down the trail that wound under the bridge, and spotted the heat-aura blowing toward her, carrying the scent. She focused and saw a man hiding in the bushes, snapping pictures with a telephoto lens. She looked down the hill where the lens was pointed, and saw a group of female joggers in stretch pants under the lights of the bridge.
Drink. Kill.
Sabine shuddered, fighting the impulse; but gave in and started walking toward her next victim. He didn't seem to hear her approaching. The last few yards between them were covered with thick bushes, and she worried that the bushes would rustle and alert him to her approach.
The thirst was impatient. Jump him from here!
Sabine jumped, amazed that she cleared so much ground as she toppled the man. She straddled him as he lay on his back in the dirt.
"Hey! What the hell!" He yelled, fighting to push her off.
She pinned his arms at his side, straddling him as he tried to buck her. She felt something hard pressing against her, and almost jumped off him. Then something made her grind down on him instead.
He stilled, taking in a deep breath.
She rocked forward, holding herself against his lap even though the thought of contact with the evidence of his arousal over watching joggers through a telephoto lens revolted her. She let her dirty dark-brown hair fall around his face. He shivered, pushing up against her.
"You like that?" she asked.
He nodded, and Sabine felt his thoughts. He worried that she was some homeless woman, but started fantasizing about how she was really a supermodel on a wicked bender. He couldn't make out her face in the darkness, and his eyes hadn't adjusted from staring at the joggers in the lights of the bridge.
Sabine's stomach roiled, half from hunger and half from the perverted images she saw flashing through the man's mind. The shock of hearing and seeing his thoughts made her pause, but the thirst drove her forward. She nuzzled his neck, finding his pulse point. He moaned as her mouth closed over the side of his neck. Her fangs sank in, and she felt his sharp intake of breath.
She bent his neck back and pulled more blood from the wound, pinning him with her weight.
He took another breath to yell for help. Oh God, what's she doing? She's killing me!
Sabine covered his mouth with her hand, smothering his planned yell. She held him as he thrashed until lack of blood weakened him. She licked the wound until it closed and stared at the spot where her bite should have left a mark. Nothing marred the skin, amazing her. She dropped him back on the ground and whispered "sorry" as he collapsed, barely conscious but alive.
Sabine shivered and tried to calm herself as she approached the bridge, blinking and shaking her head. She had never sensed other people's thoughts before, except Neville's. This time was different. The thoughts of everyone she passed seemed to float on the wind.
She tried to look inconspicuous as she walked across the bridge. The other evening pedestrians cast glances her way and tried to avoid her.
Dirty wretch. Homeless. I hope she doesn't beg for money.
The thoughts flowed into her mind. She winced and shook her head, wishing the voices would stop. She tried to make sense of what was happening, but that just made the voices louder.
Nut-job. Insane. Schizophrenic. Why do they let people like that out on the street?
She glared at the strangers as she fought the urge to attack them, guilt washing over her even as the shock of hearing their thoughts made her shiver. I'm as bad as they think I am. Worse.
At the south side of the bridge, a man stood by a taxi at the back of the gift shop parking lot. The smoke from his cigarette flowed over the van that blocked him from view by passersby. His pulse sang to Sabine. She attacked as he was snuffing out his cigarette. She pinned him face-down on the ground and drank a mouthful before gagging on the taste of tar and nicotine.
"God that's gross," she closed the wound with a lick, nearly retching. She spat the foul taste from her mouth and hovered close to the man's face. "Do you know how bad smoking is for you? You need to quit. Seriously."
Before the man could respond, she pushed off his back and ran into the growing fog.
By the time she reached the Palace of Fine Arts, she felt raw with emotion, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She stopped to stare at the pond and the Greco-Roman architecture. She sat under a tree and took a ragged breath, fighting back a sob.
What have I become?
Fierce anger welled inside her. The looks on Regina and Michaela's faces haunted her.
She sighed and stared at the pond in front of the majestic dome, the water as dark as her thoughts. A hundred fluttering little avian heartbeats sang a chorus in her ears, pointing out all the ducks and various other birds. The water glittered, reflecting the building in a dazzling clarity she'd never seen before. Looking around, she saw passersby, the air around them shimmering with their body heat. She felt her heart beat again; once for every hundred beats of the people around her.
She wished she'd stayed in L.A. and hadn't moved here to find Doug. But she'd felt so alone after her parents had died. Not that her parents actually cared about her. She'd been struggling with what to do with her life. Now she knew. The vampires had given her a mission in her new undead life: kill all vampires.
Her fangs ached as she remembered all the old horror movies she used to watch with Doug. He had run out on her while watching one. Not that he was a wuss; he'd defended her countless times at school when they were kids. They had just been laughing at a scene. She'd leaned against him over the popcorn, and he'd gone spacey. She'd thought he'd wanted to kiss her, and she remembered realizing that she'd wanted to kiss him. Then he snapped out of it and jumped away. He never did explain why he'd left in such a hurry, and then distanced himself.
She stared as a homeless man walked up, his thoughts a confusing mix of anger over corporate control and the secret alien invasion conspiracy, wondering which one made drugs feel so good. When she watched old horror movies with Doug, she'd be afraid for guys like this homeless guy, alone with the monster. Didn't he know a monster was sitting in the dark less than twenty feet from him? He'd be the monster's next victim for sure. She watched his pulse and the waves of his body heat as he pulled cans and bottles from a trash bin and loaded up a plastic bag.
Feed.
Oh shut up. She got up and trudged barefoot toward her apartment, wishing the vampires hadn't stolen her purse along with her boots. Would the bus drivers even let her on a bus looking like she did? She stopped at a newspaper box and stared at the date on the paper. November 7th. She'd been in the ground for a week.
A man with a little terrier turned the corner down the street and approached her. He had a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and short, dark hair. He wore a red sweater and blue jeans. She caught his scent on the wind, along with his thoughts; cologne and contentment. She didn't want to attack anyone else, but the thirst made her feet start moving on their own.
No... please... The street was oddly quiet in the fog. The man paused by a van as his dog sniffed a patch of planter around a street tree. The dog looked up and barked at her as she approached. She glared at it, and it whimpered once as she stared it down.
He thought she was a beggar. He said something she didn't hear. Her brain wasn't in charge.
The man was strong, and fought back. Sabine found herself using her martial arts skills as she flipped him into an arm lock. His neck ripped open as he struggled against her bite. She lapped at it, desperate to stop the flow. She drank, holding the man on the ground, face-down.
The poor guy passed out, finally allowing her to clean up the blood and close the wound. Her saliva erased the damage from his skin, as though the attack had never happened. But she knew it had.
He would know too.
Weren't vampires supposed to be able to erase memories? Use their vampire glamour to cloud people's perception? She'd missed the class on all that. The vamps had been too busy killing her. Sabine sat back on her heels and listened to his heartbeats as the dog stared at her. Guilt assailed her. She needed to know the man would be okay.
The man stirred, then moved to get up.
"I'm so sorry, Sir," Sabine mumbled. She stood and ran before he could respond.
The dog started barking as she turned the corner at the end of the block.
When Sabine turned back and hissed, she scared herself more than the dog, but the barking stopped. Apparently, she could make animals obey her. She wondered if that might come in handy someday as she ran down the next block.
Sabine climbed the stairs to the tenth floor of her building, hoping to avoid being seen. She reached into the fire extinguisher cabinet at the landing, and felt her spare key stuck inside with a wad of gum. She closed the cabinet and opened the stairwell door.
Chad looked up from where he sat in the hallway outside her apartment, his blond surfer-boy hair pulled into a short ponytail. A large duffel bag blocked her door, and a backpack sat next to Chad. He smelled like old gym socks and patchouli.
He stood as she walked closer. "Sabine? Where the hell have you been? The neighbors keep threatening to call the police on me for squatting. I realize how much you mean to me now, since Nina kicked me out. Why are you so dirty? Did you get into mud wrestling or something?"
Sabine stopped and glared at him, fighting not to stare at the throbbing pulse in his neck that seemed to dance a staccato ballet just for her. It reminded her of a little lighthouse, showing the way home.
She shook herself and looked up to his eyes. She ground her teeth, wondering which of the million things she wanted to say would be the most appropriate, before one spilled from her mouth. "Are you fucking mental?"
"I got evicted. I guess one too many checks got lost in the mail," he said. Then he smiled and cooed at her, reaching a hand toward her dirty hair. "Baby, I think we're meant for each other."
Sabine dodged his hand and licked her fangs as they descended again. She had just gotten them back in, too. She thought about how if anyone on the planet deserved to be bitten by a vampire, it was the two-timing leech standing between her and her apartment door. She'd need some time to find the vampires who'd taken her life – not once, but twice – and she'd need a regular donor while she searched. She'd need to learn what she could do. Chad's lack of morality and conscience meant he'd make a great training dummy. Best of all, nobody would come looking for him. People tended to avoid him. Chad didn't deserve the trust she had once given him. She smiled, thinking that he deserved the monster she had become. Maybe he was meant for her.
"You know what Chad? I think you may have a point."
Or two…
CHAPTER 2
"Happy Anniversary, Fangs," Sabine said, holding a glass of Tequila to the predawn sky.
Fangs, the rooftop cat, watched her with curious eyes. He purred from his spot next to her on the lounge chair as she downed the shot of tequila.
She shrugged at him. "What? Haven't you ever seen a vampire drink tequila before?"
Fangs flicked his tail in accusation.
"I know what you're thinking," Sabine said, even though she didn't really know. Other people's thoughts constantly intruded, but the little kitty never added to their noise. She pointed at the glass. "This is what got me in trouble last year to begin with."
She tossed the glass off the side of the building and rubbed Fangs behind the ear. The alley behind the building echoed with the tiny sound of a shot glass breaking more than a hundred feet below them. Sabine stretched and listened to the sounds of the city in its predawn slumber, under a foggy blanket of fading stars. She adjusted the lounge chair's throw pillows and settled in, taking a deep breath that she didn't need for the sole purpose of a dramatic sigh. The dazzling panorama of the San Francisco skyline from her rooftop sanctuary did wonders to calm her mood.
Another failed night hunting vampires. One year had passed. The night before Halloween again, and she had yet to find any other vampires. Regina and Michaela had disappeared. Doug lived in this building, at least according to the PI she'd hired. She'd moved in six months before becoming a vampire, in hopes of sighting him, but he'd disappeared too. She'd convinced the landlord to let her pay Doug’s rent after someone came and reported that Doug wouldn't be back, even though all his stuff was still there.
Her Louis Vuitton boots hadn't shown up on eBay or Craigslist, either.
She'd been watching.
Fangs assumed his standard position on her lap, probably because she was wearing black jeans and he could leave fur graffiti. He reached a lazy paw over her orange "BATTITUDE" T-shirt and flexed his claws. His warmth felt good, even though the pitter-pat of his little heartbeat had her own fangs stretching in her mouth. She mentally chastised her thirst. The cat is off limits.
Sabine sighed. If it weren't for all the negatives to being a blood-sucking monster, she'd be a huge fan of her current state. Drinking blood wasn't so bad once she got used to it. But she'd had to box all her silver jewelry because it burned her skin. Crosses made her eyes itch. She'd taken to wearing a gold one, since she could. She used to love garlic, but now even the smell of it made her nose tickle. She couldn't keep down solid food, and she missed food almost as much as the sunlight she hadn't seen all year. Whenever dawn came close, she'd feel like lead weights were hauling her down.
How many mornings had she gone to bed wishing she could be normal again? She found solace in nightly vampire hunts, dressed in skimpy outfits under a trench coat with a short Japanese wakizashi sword hidden in a sewn-in sheath in the spine. Starting every night with Kendo lessons helped her prepare to use the sword against another vampire. She'd had it silver-plated with some of the money from her inheritance, and knew from trying it on her finger that its damage healed human-slow. "VanHelsing451" on the vampire hunter forums had found vampires in Oakland and Sausalito, but she got an intensely weird feeling when she tried to cross the bridges.
Most nights she got propositioned by sleazeballs. She had finally learned some mind control tricks by practicing on Chad, which helped when she ended up biting the ones who wouldn't take "no" for an answer to their propositioning, or the ones that tried to mug her.
Feed, the thirst whispered.
Shut up and die.
She stared at the skyline before lifting the Tequila bottle in salute. Dawn would come soon, and vampires would be tucked away for the night. She should be too, but depression and frustration gnawed at her. The tequila burned as she drank it, adding to the half bottle in her gut already. Her body tolerated the liquid as "non-blood" that didn't satisfy the thirst, but other than that it had no effect. Her mother had been a drunk. Sabine had been headed that way herself after her parents died. Then she had decided to sober up and find Doug.
"Eighteen months sober!" She smiled. Chalk up another good thing about being a vampire.
She lifted Fangs off and got up. Tossing her long dark-brown hair aside, she gazed over
the side of the building to contemplate the drop. She rested her chin on her forearms and tipped the last bottle from her liquor collection to watch it fall to the alley below. It crashed in the empty dumpster, joining the shot glass. She'd start her second year as a vampire with a clean slate.
A divot in the alley's asphalt, bearing an uncanny resemblance to a negative of her face, mocked her from beside the dumpster.
Somebody really needs to fix that. Turning away from the ledge, she called out to her former boyfriend. "Chad!"
Her blond minion scampered over the pipes and ducts from the spot where she'd left him by the roof access door. "Ooh la la! What's a gorgeous babe like you doing up here?"
She shook her head. Part of her regretted using him for memory wipe practice so many times. "Do you remember anything about the last year? About living with me?"
"I lived with you?"
Sabine breathed a sigh of relief. She could read his thoughts, and knew the last year was a blur to him. After discovering how many times he'd cheated on her, and the truth behind his lies, she had only a smidgeon of remorse for fucking up his mind.
"No, Chad. You lived with Karma. She can be a real bitch. But now you're going to say goodbye, go find a job, and forget I ever existed, 'kay?"
"Okay, bye!" Chad smiled and climbed back over the pipes.
Sabine listened to him leave the rooftop, trot down the flights of stairs and walk out the building, whistling as he went. Gotta love vampire hearing. Sometimes.
Feed.
Sabine ignored the cramp tying her stomach in a knot. You're a shitty companion, you know that?
Tires squealed on the pavement a few blocks away, and a car engine revved, getting closer. Predawn was too early to be rushing to get someplace. Even the stockbrokers weren't up yet.
A car screeched to a stop below, sounding like it was on her street.
Sabine rested back on her pillows. Her ears twitched at the sound of footsteps in the stairwell a dozen stories below. A pair of men's shoes pounding up the stairs in a hurry was definitely not normal at oh-dark-thirty in the morning. None of the residents of this building would have the energy to take the stairs two at a time. A dragging sound accompanied the footsteps.
Reborn to Bite (Vampire Shadows Book 1) Page 2