by Martha Woods
“You okay?” Damon asks.
I turn and press a chaste kiss on his lips before snuggling my body against him again.
“I haven’t felt this good in a long time,” I say.
He laughs at me, running his hands through my hair and tossing his head back in a sigh.
“Come on, let's get a shower. And not to put a damper on the mood, but we’ve got a werewolf to kill.”
I frown as he helps me out of bed. The moment of bliss is fading as I realize it is dark outside. I follow him into the shower, where he takes care to touch me any way he possibly can. We kiss each other, hold each other, and let the hot water beat down on top of us, trying to make the moment last as long as possible.
Chapter 12
We are barely out of the shower and only half-dressed when there is an angry knocking at the door. It sounds like whoever is knocking is about to break down the door and could easily do it. Damon’s hair is still wet, and he’s not fully dressed, but he walks casually to the door, holding his gun, and looks through the peephole as I towel dry my hair and watch from the bedroom door.
“It’s Vincent,” he says, not sounding pleased.
“Well, let him in,” I say, surprised Vincent didn’t decide to go through Damon’s balcony like he had mine.
Damon opens the door and Vincent is standing there, looking pissed. He lets out a hiss, showing his fangs at Damon before he spots me and tries to make himself look more human.
“I see you two have been keeping busy in a time of crisis,” he snarls.
“Jealous?” Damon says, always there to poke the bear with a stick.
My cheeks flush because I know that Vincent is completely aware of what Damon and I were just doing. He still just stands in the doorway without barging inside like I expect him to.
“Aren’t you going to come in?” I ask.
“I can’t,” he says, the frustration showing on his face.
“My door has runes on it; nothing supernatural can enter. Faye blessed the door for me so I don’t have to worry about uninvited visitors,” Damon says, not hiding the glee from his voice.
“It’s most annoying.”
“Could your apartment keep Elric out?” I ask.
“Yes, but that doesn’t keep him from harming others,” Damon says with some reluctance. He knows what we have to do, and neither of us looks forward to it.
“We need to talk and form a plan,” I say. “I think that means we need to go into my apartment.”
I don’t want to go in there. Damon comes to my side and squeezes my hand. I towards the door and Vincent, who is looking as arrogant as he can manage. He won’t look me in the eye, and I’m at once okay with that and also slightly disturbed. Somehow I feel sorry for Vincent, and I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t feel badly for a vampire, but something deep inside of me wants to reach out and embrace him. He’s not doing a good job of hiding all his emotions, and I can sense an undercurrent of jealousy beneath his masked face.
“Does he keep the nightmares away?” he asks quietly when I come close to him.
“We weren’t exactly sleeping in there,” I say, trying to be cheeky, but that damn blood rises to my cheeks. Vincent’s hand hovers at the door like there is an invisible force field there. He wants to touch me; a part of me wants him to. Damon is suddenly behind me, putting his arm around my waist, drawing me to him as if marking me as his property. I don’t like that. I pull away, walking through the door and brushing past Vincent.
“Come on, we don’t have much time before he kills again,” I say as I head towards my apartment, and the two men follow me.
When I open my front door, Vincent freezes, one foot over the threshold, looking around as if seeing things no human eye could. Then he looks at me, and I can see him struggling with his emotions again before looking down at the floor.
“I am sorry. I did little to protect you. I didn’t think he would come if you weren’t here.” His words come out a rasp. The apology is heartfelt, and I feel like I should acknowledge it, but I don’t know what to say. I touch his shoulder instead. He looks up at me, and there are tears in his eyes. I can almost see the human he was.
“His death will be apology enough,” I say softly.
Vincent gives a curt nod and stands up straighter. Damon is busy laying out all sorts of weapons on my kitchen table. Swords, knives, guns. On the blades, he begins to pour some of the holy water from Faye, which makes Vincent hiss and take a step back.
“You two have a plan then,” he says.
“Yeah. We talked to a witch today. Apparently, I can call up the girls Elric has killed, and they’ll lead me to him. I don’t have to be asleep to do it. I just need to say their names,” I tell him.
“So you’ll be going straight to the werewolf?” Vincent asks.
“With you two as backup,” I say.
“I do not like this plan,” he addresses Damon.
“Neither do I, but nothing else has worked,” Damon says. “He killed her dog to get at her, who knows who he will go for next?”
“I want the nightmares to stop,” I say.
That gets Vincent. He starts pacing my apartment. It’s difficult for my eyes to follow his movements. He is moving so quickly he seems to blur. He’s not working on acting human, or maybe he’s just displaying to Damon how powerful he is.
“Stop,” I tell him. He freezes mid-step and looks back at me.
“You’re making me dizzy watching you.”
“So your plan is that we let Amy take us to Elric, then we both work to kill him,” Vincent says.
“Our plan,” I interject.
“You are not equipped to fight a werewolf,” Vincent says. “When the fight starts you run.”
“I’m not a runner,” I protest.
“He’s right, Amy, because if he catches you—”
“He has us as well. He’s found a weakness and he will draw it out. I would prefer locking you in Damon’s apartment and hunting him down,” Vincent says.
“But you can’t find him,” I say.
“No, I can’t, which is the only reason I’m letting you do this.”
Letting me do this? Well, apparently his arrogance is back. I hate that he is talking about me like I’m just property of his, a little toy that intrigues him, that he doesn’t want to get broken. But then again, he’s a vampire, and I’m just dinner.
“Are we all okay with this so we can start the hunt?” Damon says as he starts to place the blades on him. The sword is strapped to his back. He has two guns at his waist, with a clip full of silver bullets. I’m not sure where all the knives have disappeared to.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I say, but my gut begins to sink. I feel a tingle of fear crawl up my spine. I’m about to do something truly dangerous with only police training and a few days’ exposure to the supernatural. It seems wildly insufficient. I’ve never even killed an animal before, never hurt a human, and here I am about to go out and slaughter a werewolf. Looking at both Damon and Vincent, I imagine they will do the majority of the slaughtering. I just have to believe in their abilities.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and the visions of those dead girls come easily. I reach out a hand to one in my mind and say her name.
“Jane,” it comes out a weak whisper. The room suddenly becomes icy. I watch both men tense up. I open my eyes, and there she is before me, a decaying angel.
“You must free us,” she says.
“I’m trying. You have to take me where he is,” I say.
“Is she here?” Damon asks.
“Something is here,” Vincent mutters.
“I will show you, but I cannot help you,” she says. She reaches out a hand that is skeletal, rotted, with tendons clinging to it. Why do the ghosts of the dead seem to decay quicker than their actual bodies? It is a question I will have to ask Faye another day.
I take Jane’s hand, and I feel her veins wrap tightly up my wrist like snakes. I try to pull back, but I can’t move. She begi
ns to walk, and I am forced to follow, my two guards trailing behind me, though it is only Damon’s steps I hear.
“Help us,” Jane whispers as the cold chill of death makes a hole in my heart.
Chapter 13
We walk out of the apartment complex and towards a sewer drain. She points down at it, and I kneel and try to pry it up, only to be nudged aside by Vincent. He picks it up like it is a poker chip and tosses it to the side. Damon flips on a flashlight and shines it down into the murk before going down the manhole. I start down the ladder, but Jane tugs at me insistently, and I slip, falling backward only to have Vincent’s strong arms there to catch me. When did he even get down here?
It smells like rot; my shoes are immediately full of sewage. It is about ankle high, but the smell is covering me like a cloak. I don’t have time to be disgusted as Jane pulls me forward. I begin to feel the others trailing with her; I can’t see them in the light of Damon’s flashlight, but I know they are there. I swear I can hear the maggots from their eyes dropping into the water as we walk.
“Charming place,” Damon mutters.
“He has access to any place in the city, can move during the day without detection. This is an ideal location for him to dwell,” Vincent says.
“Where do you sleep?” I ask.
“In more comfortable conditions, I assure you. I have little reason to hide,” he replies.
There are so many twists and turns. I can’t keep track of where we are going. I’m lost after only a few turns and hope the other two are better at tracking where we are going then I am. Jane comes to a sudden halt, and I nearly trip over my own feet, but I catch myself at the last minute. I feel the tendrils leaving my arm, and she turns to face me.
“He allows us no further. He is ahead,” she says, and I watch her as she begins to vanish.
“Wait! Why are you trapped here?”
“He is death. Do not become one of us, Amy,” she says before I can feel nothing but the coldness.
“He’s ahead,” I whisper, but the words barely get out of my mouth before I feel strong arms dragging me forward at a speed much too fast to be natural. Claws dig into my arm painfully, and I let out a scream because there is little else I can do. I hear Damon and Vincent call my name, but they seem so far away. The tunnels become a blur before everything turns black.
Then there is light, a curtain of red, a bed of black. The sewage in this area seems to be blocked out, forming a river around a strange living quarters. Still, the smell permeates every molecule, and I suddenly understand the stench that accompanied Bella’s mutilated remains. In the center of the room, there is a chair with straps attached to it, and I’m thrown into it. Before I can let out a word of protest, I feel my legs being strapped down to the chair’s legs, my arms to its arms. It’s made of metal, and I look down to see it is bolted to the floor. Whoever is doing this, I can’t see them, they’re moving so quickly.
“Let me go,” I manage to get out, but all I hear is laughter.
“So, she comes to me,” says a voice. The shadows seem to part, and I look at the figure of my nightmares. He is bald, his face looks as if it has half been burnt off. He wears a leather jacket, a white shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. But there is something off about his proportions, as if I’m viewing his through a funhouse mirror. The creature does little to hide his canines. They are thick, sharp, discolored, lacking the precision of Vincent’s fangs. I want to look away, but he grabs my head and forces me to stare into yellowing, deranged eyes.
“Amy, you couldn’t have made this easier. Following the ghosts right to me. And all this time I thought you were trying to ignore them. Don’t worry, you can join them…after a few hours. I’m feeling leisurely today. I have so much time to play with you,” he says, tangling his fingers in my hair and jerking my head back. I am immobile, I can’t struggle as his canines brush against my check. His breath smells of rancid meat. Another harsh tug makes me cry out, and he shoves his tongue down my throat. It tastes metallic, of fresh blood.
“I’ve been holding that just for you,” he says as he stands straighter. “How do you like the taste of your dog?”
I begin to gag. I try to spit it out, but he holds my jaw closed, bruising my face. My fear is through the roof, my heart beats so fast it might give me a heart attack. I plead that it does; I don’t know what else this monster will do to me. I’ve already decided I’d rather die than find out. I swallow just so he will let go and try to keep the bile down.
“Crying already? Oh, we have just begun,” he says, moving his hand to catch a tear that trails down my cheek. He licks it off his finger.
“So sweet. Now I see why Vincent has such an interest in you. You’re not entirely human; I can’t take over your mind. You have seen my dead. It may be lonely now, but it won’t be when I’m done. You’ll stay close to me forever. The best part is I can’t block the pain. I won’t even try, I want the screams to echo through these tunnels.”
“I have two people following me. They’ll stop you,” I spit out at him. Try to be brave, Amy.
“Ah yes, a hunter and a vampire who hasn’t been able to catch me for centuries. They may find me, but it won’t matter much to you,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because,” he says as his claws rip through my shirt, shredding the material and leaving my breasts and chest bare. The silver necklace suddenly flares to light, and he backs off. The metal pulses, and it seems to be burning into my skin it is so hot. I cry out in pain, but clench my jaws together – this is keeping the creature away.
“So, you are not completely defenseless,” he says, with a touch of amusement in his tone.
He takes a sword that has been sitting by his bed and walks closer to me again, shielding his eyes. I hear the crackling of his own skin as he moves the tip of the blade under the chain. The cross sticks to my skin and burns brighter as he pulls the chain up. There is a sucking noise as the cross comes off my skin, then the necklace is jerked, the chain broken, and both chain and charm go flying somewhere into the sewer, losing their glow. I can smell burning flesh and look down to see what looks like a brand on my skin.
“Now that we have that out of the way,” Elric says as he leaps forward towards me. I begin to struggle as he breathes down my neck. It’s like my nightmares, but I am unable to move. Past him I can see the dead girls, looking at me with remorse, holding out their arms to me as if welcoming me to their sisterhood, even though I was their last hope.His elongated canines tease the flesh at the side of my neck.
“If I bite you, you will become one of my kind.” Elric laughs, and then he scrapes his claws along the side of my neck. He plays with the blood leaking from my neck with his claws and his tongue and I am revolted. I am in agony. I can’t move, I can’t get away. I want to escape from this anguish – I’ve never wanted death so badly before in my life.
Chapter 14
Elric does not just maul my neck; I start to feel his sharp claws digging into my lower torso, beginning to sink into the flesh there as if my skin is water that gives under his touch. He draws his face away from the wound, looking into my gaze as his claws sink in deeper. It is a new type of pain, blossoming from the tips of his claws and spreading throughout my abdomen with horrible swiftness. I squirm, writhing under his touch as if it can ease the pain.
“I’m going to rip out your small intestine and make you eat it,” he whispers to me, stroking the side of my face with his free hand.
Elric is suddenly knocked away from me by a force I can’t see. He’s down on the ground with Vincent on top of him. I can feel blood dripping from my neck and look at the puncture wounds on my stomach – they’re not as deep as I’d feared; he was toying with me, after all, he wanted to make it last. But still, blood is trickling from the puckered wounds.
“And I thought tonight would be dull,” Elric says. He’s up on his feet, Vincent close at his heels, and my eyes can’t follow their movements. Vincent is enraged, primal growls escaping hi
s lips as he lunges for the werewolf. I hear the slam of their bodies connecting, and my hair blows past my face, letting me know they are fighting. Elric’s laughter sends shivers up my spine. There is a terrible crunching sound before a hand suddenly falls in front of me and I let out another scream. I can’t tell if it is Vincent’s or Elric’s, but the fighting doesn’t stop.
I follow their movements through the drops of blood that are left in their wake. I can tell that Vincent is trying to keep the fighting away from me while Elric pushes towards me. I’m the weakness.
“Don’t hold back,” I whisper, because I don’t have the ability to speak any louder. “Please stop thinking about me.”
For the first time, I feel something brush against my mind; maybe it is because the loss of so much blood has weakened me, but I believe Vincent is there. His presence in my head is not invasive, it is warm and soothing. A strange comfort, as if he has taken me out of this hellhole to someplace warm and clean and safe, where I can wash away the blood and grime. There is a promise to take me there, no words spoken, just a vow to make up for all the pain he has caused me.
The fighting intensifies as the vision fades. I relax back against the chair, my pain still with me, but dulled somehow. And then I feel someone cutting at the straps that hold me in place. I open my eyes, and Damon is in front of me. He’s sweating, out of breath from running.